...That is an alarming thing to have written on the wall for a variety of reasons, only some of which have to do with the fact that Marlo is very sure that he's dead. 

A door opens and a white-haired man steps in. He looks a bit like a grandfather-- not like your specific grandfather, but like the archetype of grandfathers everywhere, wise and benevolent and continually on the verge of giving you candy.

"Hello, Marlo! Come in."

Of all the things for the person who welcomes you into Heaven to be, the archetype of a grandfather isn't the strangest. Marlo follows him. 

"Sit down, Marlo. I'm Michael. How are you today?"

He sits. 

"I'm doing fine, aside from being dead." 

"You have passed to the next phase of your existence! It's not the Heaven or Hell that you were raised on, but generally speaking, in the afterlife, there's a good place and a bad place. And you, Marlo"-- unnecessarily long dramatic pause-- "are in the Good Place."

He nods solemnly. It's not unexpected, although of course it was never assured. 

"During your time on Earth, every one of your actions had a positive or negative value, depending on how much good or bad that action put into the universe. Every sandwich you ate, every time you bought a magazine, every single thing you did that rippled out over time and ultimately created some amount of good or bad. When your time on Earth has ended, we calculate the total value of your life using our perfectly accurate measuring system. Only the people with the very highest scores, the true cream of the crop, get to come here, to the Good Place."

...sandwiches and magazines are not the examples he'd choose of morally significant actions. He nods again and does not voice this objection, or any of his others. He will deal with the fact that he and nearly everyone he knew was apparently wrong about how people get into Heaven for all of his life later, when he's not in the middle of being welcomed into the afterlife. 

"The point is, you are here because you lived one of the very best lives that could be lived. And you won't be alone. Your true soul mate is here too, and you two will spend eternity together." He ruffles some papers. "Her name is Chris Parker."

...he is more than a little skeptical that he lived one of the very best lives that could be lived, and also the entire concept of salvation by works, but he's fairly sure you aren't supposed to question the judgement of the person welcoming you into Heaven. "Did I fail to meet her in life, or —?" 

Michael is visibly relieved that Marlo ever asks questions. 

"There are seven billion people on Earth, Marlo, it's very unlikely that you'll meet the single person who's best for you in the whole world over the course of, what was it, 24 years?"

He would think that if you had a predestined soulmate then you would be predestined to meet them at some point, but clearly not. "That makes sense." 

"As it happens, although she is American, Chris Parker spent your entire adult life in Japan."

"...can you tell me more about her?" He's leaning forward, interested. 

"Well, mostly we like to leave you to get to know each other! It would hardly be perfect if I told you everything about your soulmate before you even met her! But there are a few issues I should address before you two are introduced."

Nod. He's still leaning forward. 

"Chris Parker suffered some--" He pauses, searching for the correct word. "Traumas, in her life on earth. She coped with them by dissociating herself from her body and presenting herself to the world as a man, to the extent of taking hormones and getting surgeries that allowed her body to more closely resemble a male body. Of course, over time, we expect her to heal from her traumas and feel comfortable in her womanhood. But the Good Place gives everyone the bodies they're most comfortable in, and right now she's most comfortable in a male body. And to avoid distressing her we use male pronouns for her when we're talking to her. I hope that won't present a problem."

"Of course not, she's my soulmate," which apparently Heaven has, which is another thought he will deal with later. "It won't be a problem." 

"Good, good! The other issue is her... employment. Certain humans, on Earth, find their greatest fulfillment in service to other humans. A secret organization called the Marketplace emerged to match those people to people who wouldn't take advantage of them or abuse them. The Marketplace calls its clients slaves, but it is important to understand that it is consensual slavery only, only among those who are most fulfilled by being slaves. Chris Parker herself was a slave when she died, and was widely recognized as one of the greatest slave trainers of her generation."

...well, she's here, and apparently one gets here through good works and not through faith, which he is, again, going to deal with later. "Alright," he says. 

"Do you have any questions you'd like me to answer about the Good Place in general or Chris Parker specifically?"

They said they preferred to let soulmates get to know one another naturally.

"...just to check, one definitely gets into — the Good Place — through good works, and not through faith?" 

"Yes! It's based on the sum of all the good things you did in your life, minus all the bad things you did in your life."

"...obviously you don't have to answer but I'm curious, how does one quantify the positive or negative effect on the world of somebody eating a sandwich?" 

"Even a sandwich can be very complicated, Marlo. For example, there's the positive effect of the enjoyment you yourself have from eating the sandwich, and negative effects such as the fact that the tomatoes were picked by slave labor and the bacon produced by tortured pigs."

He was mostly asking how you get a number from that, but if Michael doesn't want to tell him then Michael doesn't want to tell him. He nods. 

"If you don't have any more questions, I can show you to your house."

"There's nothing else I particularly need to know, no." 

And the office disappears! They're suddenly in the living room of a small cottage.

The single word that best describes the cottage is "cozy." There are only three actual doors; two have large windows and appear to lead outside, and the third must go to the bathroom. There are half-walls that seem to indicate that various sections of the cottage are intended to be separate rooms, but there's no privacy; anyone in any of the rooms can see inside any of the other ones. The kitchen is tiny, more useful for heating things up than for cooking; there's a tea kettle and a microwave and a fridge, but very little counter space and no stove. The living room has soft plush couches and chairs and bookshelves covered in knickknacks instead of books. Art adorns all the walls-- beautiful natural scenes, portraits of Biblical scenes, inspiring messages, fantasy art where knights kneel before lovely maidens to swear their fealty. 

There's only one bed in the bedroom.

The person reading a book on the couch really, really doesn't look like a woman. 

She-- he?-- is very short for a man, but that's the only sign of his-- her?-- femininity. The person has short, neatly trimmed hair and a square, masculine jawline; he or she is well-built, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow V of his or her hips. 

"I'm Chris." The person's voice is deep. "I assume you're Marlo."

"Yes, I am. It's — good to meet you." He wants to say more than that but the words are not arranging themselves into sentences. 

"Apparently we're soulmates."

Chris seems to have a grudge against this entire idea.

"Apparently," he agrees. He's — she's — Chris is his soulmate and he wants to make a good impression but every sentence he can think of to come after that sounds incredibly stupid. 

"You missed the orientation."

"Marlo and I had to talk through some unique characteristics of his stay in the Good Place."

"Did you."

"What orientation was this?" he says, instead of elaborating on the unique aspects of his stay in... Michael seems insistent about calling it the Good Place but Marlo can't actually make himself use the term, not internally. 

"They add up all the good things and the bad things you do in your life. Doing good things means you go to the Good Place, doing bad things means you go to the Bad Place. They're being very mysterious about what the Bad Place is like. There are three hundred and sixty two people who have all been selected to create a harmonious afterlife together. Soulmates, apparently, exist, and you're mine. There's an absurdly cheerful robot lady named after the female protagonist of Rocky Horror who can answer any question and create any physical object you want, but don't say her name, it summons her."

"I don't actually know the name of the female protagonist of Rocky Horror, but I'm sure I'll hear it at some point. I did ask about the adding up but he didn't seem to want to tell me how they get their numbers." 

"Oh, it's a very complicated system, Marlo. You'd have to study for tens of thousands of years to be able to understand it."

"You don't know the name of the female protagonist of Rocky Horror? But Michael said you were American." 

"I am American." He does his level best not to sound offended.

"What gay boy in America hasn't at least heard the soundtrack to Rocky Horror?"

"...I'm not gay." 

He's about to correct himself to "bi, then" and then he looks at Marlo's face.

"This place," he says to Michael, "is very poorly run." It sounds like he's cursing.

"All we want is your eternal bli--"

"I realize. Get out of my house."

Marlo is fairly sure you are not supposed to tell the person who has just welcomed you into Heaven to get out of your house, but there is part of him that agrees that this can't possibly be the best way to introduce them. He keeps very quiet and very still. 

When Michael leaves, Chris's face softens. "I apologize. I clearly misunderstood some aspects of the soulmate selection process. It was not my intention to erase your sexual orientation."

"I don't understand it either. I'm — sorry that I'm not what you hoped for." 

"This entire place is profoundly irritating but none of it is your fault. The thing I hoped for does not appear to be available at all, and the second-best thing I will be able to find regardless of your presence. I hope we can get along, since we will have to live together in this--" Chris gestures-- "gallingly tiny space."

"I keep thinking everything will make sense eventually but I really can't imagine why the kitchen wouldn't have a stove. I'm still sorry I can't help more." 

"We can summon food from the absurdly cheerful robot whose name is"-- he sighs-- "Janet."

A woman with an enormous smile on her face appears. "Hi there! What can I do for you?" 

He could just ask for a stove, since she can apparently create any material object, but there isn't really anywhere to put it. "Not yet, I don't think?" 

"Thank you, Janet, we don't need anything right now."

"Bye!" she says cheerfully and disappears.

"…you were really not joking about 'absurdly cheerful.'" He sits down on the couch, leaves space between himself and Chris. 

"Everything here is appallingly cheerful all the time. If you take a walk through town you'll see it-- all the stores are named things like The Pesto's Yet To Come and The Small Adorable Animal Depot."

"…I can't say I expected Heaven to be trying too hard." 

"Perhaps we got misfiled into the Heaven for tacky people and someone will be along shortly to tell us that we're actually supposed to go to the Heaven with lots of horses and boxing gyms and no puns."

"Maybe!" and he's laughing, just a little bit. 

Marlo wants very much to put his head on Chris's shoulder. Chris has given no indication at all that (he she) that Chris would be interested in that. Marlo doesn't. 

"If you like horses and boxing, the decision to make you my soulmate might be the first decision they've made I'm not irritated by."

"I like horses. I don't have an opinion about boxing but I can be persuaded." 

"I can take you sometime, if this grossly inadequate Heaven has a stable. --Speaking of inadequacy, have you noticed we only have one bed?"

"I have. I can sleep on the couch if you'd prefer." 

"I'm used to it. Before I died I slept every night on a cot at the foot of Tetsuo's bed."

…right. Slave.

"This couch is significantly more comfortable than what I'm used to sleeping on." 

"We could alternate."

"We could." He shifts closer to Chris on the couch. It's really a very soft couch. 

Huh.

Chris shifts towards him. Their legs are just touching.

Oh. That's nice. Having Chris like him feels — nice. 

He's maybe leaning on Chris, just a little. 

Chris wraps an arm around him and says, "we could just share the bed, if that would be easier."

Having (her him? her) Chris want him is really nice. "It — probably would be." 

"Then it's settled. It's been a while since I've shared a bed with someone, Tetsuo didn't like it." He puts a particular intonation on 'Tetsuo,' like he's saying 'master.'

…right. Slave. Traumatized. Marlo puts a protective arm around Chris's shoulders. 

Chris nestles into Marlo's shoulder. 

Chris suddenly looks very vulnerable and very sad.

He holds (him? her) Chris closer, puts a hand on the back of Chris's head. "I've got you," he says, very softly. 

"We should go walking through the Good Place at some point. See if it has stables, or-- I don't know what sort of things you like--"

"At some point." He strokes Chris's shoulder. 

"I've been catching up on my reading while I waited for you to arrive. There's not a lot to do here."

He nods. "Are you going to be okay?" 

He chooses his words carefully. "I... perhaps should have anticipated that the dead grieve those they've lost the way the living do."

...he hadn't been thinking about that and it's only just now that he realizes he'd been doing so deliberately. He pulls Chris closer to him, keeps his hands on Chris's hair and back.

"There are three hundred and sixty two people in this town and I have not heard them say anything about provisions for visitors or immigrants."

"I'm sorry," he says, still very soft. He's so so gentle with Chris. 

"I... did not see my brother Ron or my best friend Rachel very often when I was alive. I was very busy. But it feels different to not have the option to see them if I choose." He pauses. "My brother is a good man. If I made it I'm sure he will."

He wants it to be like when he was overseas, but it isn't; they could write, or video call, and there was always the chance that he'd see them again. (He was going to call Melissa tomorrow — and instead she's going to hear that —) 

"I'm sure they will." 

"It is difficult to imagine a set of criteria for the Good Place which Rachel would pass."

"...right. Salvation through good works, apparently." He holds Chris closer still. 

"Lucky for me. I've never had faith in anything."

"Lucky for a lot of people, I'm sure, I'm not actually objecting, it's just — it's an important thing to be right about and I can't go back to tell anyone how wrong we were." 

"Good Christian boy?"

"I tried, anyway." 

"You got in here. I'd say you did well."

Thinking of himself as good, with no qualifiers, feels deeply incorrect on a level he doesn't think he can verbalize. "...I suppose you aren't wrong, it's just strange to think of it that way." 

"It is strange for me as well. It seems as though God objects to drug use, slavery, and promiscuous gay sex less than I was led to believe."

…he doesn't interact with any portion of that statement, because he's not sure he can do so in a way that wouldn't be hurtful, and keeps holding Chris. 

"Ah," Chris says, not without affection. "Sheltered good Christian boy."

"I spent the last six years in the military but if sheltered is the word you care to use I can't actually stop you," he says mildly. 

"You are sheltered with regards to what it is like to be sold as property or to have sex in order to have a place to sleep, and I am sheltered with regards to how much time I've spent worrying about being blown apart by an improvised explosive device, which is perhaps the more important kind of sheltering."

"...fair enough." He's holding Chris noticeably closer. 

"...One of the reasons it is different is that, unlike your experiences, none of my experiences were unpleasant."

"I'm glad for that." He doesn't let go, though. 

"I was not aware you were in the military and I apologize for the implications of my comment."

Chris's face goes oddly intense whenever Chris apologizes, but Marlo doesn't know Chris well enough to be able to tell where the intensity is coming from. He files the thought away to examine when he has more to work with. 

He... doesn't mention his actual objection to hearing his life referred to as sheltered; it seems unlikely to help anything. "You had no way to know," he says, instead of 'the world outside of your subculture is just as real as the world in it.' 

"It was thoughtless. I should take more care to avoid making assumptions."

Chris is still doing the strangely intense apology face and Marlo doesn't know how to interact with that. He pets Chris's hair instead, which seems much less likely to go disastrously wrong. 

Chris sighs happily and rests his cheek on Marlo's shoulder.

Good. It's — good, when Chris is happy. He keeps petting Chris's hair. 

At some point Chris will say, "maybe we should go explore the Good Place."

"Presumably there are things other than small animal shops," he agrees, and lets go of Chris and stands up. 

"I'm going to change. I didn't actually put on a new shirt this morning. I hope you don't mind...?"

"I don't." He very much hopes this house has clothes in it. 

Chris opens a drawer and strips off un-self-consciously. 

If Marlo's looking, he might notice that Chris is compact but well-muscled, the sort of muscles that come from use rather than working out, and that he has a penis. 

He's not looking; the house might not give them much privacy but he is capable of being polite anyway. 

Then Chris will dress in a black T-shirt and subtly expensive black jeans and they'll go outside. 

The Good Place looks like a more modern version of Main Street, U. S. A in Disneyland. It's not like there's anything that you can point to and go "this! this is the thing that's objectionable about this design." It has sidewalks and broad streets, small businesses and people's homes, flower gardens and trees. It just... doesn't look like a place where people live. It looks like a theme park designed by a person who thinks small towns are the epitome of virtue and who has never lived in one. 

Chris reaches out to hold Marlo's hand.

There is, technically speaking, nothing objectionable, but Marlo is reminded of what he'd said earlier about trying too hard — the grass is too perfectly cut, none of the paint has faded, everything is in colors that go together, nobody's front yard has dandelions.

He takes Chris's hand. 

Things that exist in the Good Place:

--Let's All Eat Yogurt
--Hot Dogs On A Stick On A Stick
--The Good Plates
--Good Place's Best Yogurt
--Hawaii 5-Dough
--From Schmear To Eternity
--You Do The Hokey Gnocchi And You Get Yourself Some Food
--Yogurt Acres
--Lasagne Come Out Tomorrow
--Sushi and the Banshees
--Ponzu Scheme
--Custard's Last Flan
--Yogurt Horizons
--Chicken Soup for the Mouth
--Cake Canaveral 
--The Unbearable Lightness of Yogurt
--A bar with a rainbow flag outside named The Man-a of Heaven
--Everything You Need (it turns out, on inspection, to sell yogurt)

Things that do not exist in the Good Place:

--Libraries
--Gyms
--Stables
--Churches

...he can kind of understand why Heaven wouldn't have churches. 

He has no idea whatsoever why Heaven wouldn't have libraries. 

He keeps holding Chris's hand. 

Chris is increasingly irritated at every horrible pun. 

He pauses briefly in front of Man-a of Heaven but doesn't seem to become any less irritated.

This street has a building that looks like a giant Gothic cathedral with stained glass!

He's not Catholic but it's better than nothing! He walks toward it with more purpose than he'd been walking with before. 

When he opens the door, he sees a sign that says A THOUSAND FLAVORS OF YOGURT! MORE FLAVORS THAN ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE GOOD PLACE!

....are there at least stained glass windows? 

There are stained glass windows!

The stained glass windows depict happy people gleefully eating yogurt.

Then he will find a space that's largely empty and look at the light from the stained glass windows falling on the rest of the building. It is not remotely like being in his church back home but he's willing to settle. 

If he looks around at some point, he may be surprised to find Chris sitting next to him in complete silence. 

...he's not that surprised. They're soulmates. It makes sense that they might find the same things beautiful. 

He takes Chris's hand again and looks back up. 

Chris waits patiently for as long as Marlo wants to look.

After a couple more minutes he squeezes Chris's hand. "It's better than nothing, anyway. Want to go?" 

"If you're done. I don't believe in interrupting sacred things."

None of the ways to parse that make sense with what he knows of Chris so far. "I'm done, but I can wait if you want." 

"This place is unbearably ugly. I was waiting for you."

Long sigh. "You aren't wrong, but it's the closest I'm going to get. Let's go." 

When they leave, they're accosted by a woman from Tea for Two Couples' Cafe. 

"Soulmate special!" she says. "It's a special dinner to honor the fact that everyone has just met their soulmates!"

He glances at Chris. 

"We'll eat somewhere else."

"All the other restaurants are closed, so everyone can take advantage of this opportunity to bond with their soulmates," the woman says perkily.

"Soulmate dinner may or may not be terrible. Eating Janet-summoned food in the cottage is mediocre and somewhat depressing. Up to you."

"...might as well try it." 

"You can sit here!" the woman says, guiding them to chairs and a table. 

Chris has an expression on his face that can probably best be described as "professionally offended."

"We could also not," Marlo says quietly once the waitress is out of earshot. 

"It is not her fault she has no idea how to wait tables at a formal dinner."

...that face is mildly terrifying but if Chris wants to stay than Marlo is happy to stay. 

"Here are your menus!" the waitress chirps. "Sorry, our menus only come in 'men' and 'women', because you're the only set of same-gender soulmates! But I'm sure you wouldn't mind, Chris." 

"That is fine."

For once, Chris doesn't look annoyed. He looks like he is focusing very hard on the third leaf on the bouquet of roses in front of them. 

...He hands Chris his menu, takes the one the waitress gave to Chris. 

Something flashes across Chris's face.

The menu Marlo receives is bright pink and adorned with lace. 

It says: "Deep Thought of the Day: "I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13). How does your soulmate strengthen YOU?"

That's. No. What? No. 

He looks at the actual menu. 

Appetizers

Caprese Skewers With Balsamic Vinegar

Fresh Peach Crostini With Whipped Honey Feta and Balsamic Drizzle

Almond-Crusted Warm Goat Cheese Salad with Cherries

Main Course

Homemade Pizza 

Dijon-Brown Sugar Marinated Steak

Mediterranean Shrimp Skillet

Dessert

The Thing You Love Most

"Did you get a deep thought? Mine is asking me to contemplate whether you were born great, became great, or had greatness thrust upon you."

"Mine is a quote about being strengthened by Christ followed by 'how does your soulmate strengthen you,' and I can't tell whether it's trying to say that we're all meant to be partnered to the Divine or if it's saying that purely on accident." 

"I'm guessing not, since they missed that 'greatness thrust upon you' is a sex joke."

"The thing they wound up saying is actually not uninteresting. Shame it's almost certainly unintentional. What do you think 'The Thing You Love Most' is referring to?" 

"Is it bad that I'm curious? I'm sure it will be disappointing but what kind of disappointing I have no idea."

"Hopefully not, I'm curious too." 

The waitress comes back and Chris orders the caprese skewers.

The pizza will probably wind up edible. Chris's face is still scarily intense.

Caprese skewers turn out to be a tomato and cheese and basil on a toothpick. If he tries one, they're very good.

"I ordered something I thought you might like."

They don't really look like a meal, he could say and doesn't. "…thank you?" he says instead. 

There are slaves who were trained in the art of maintaining a conversation. Chris is not one of them.

Chris can manage employees, train slaves, and act as a butler to a large house. He can wait in silence for his master to finish his work, bring up a concern without being presumptuous, and apologize flawlessly for a mistake. He can serve at table for British aristocracy, Japanese executives, or American slaveowners. He cannot, he discovers, maintain a conversation with a stranger who is his equal at a formal dinner. 

Chris had not realized how much he'd come to rely on the comforting scripts of slave etiquette in the past six years.

They eat in silence. 

The food is fine. Marlo keeps feeling like there's something he should be saying — everyone around them is speaking comfortably with one another — but he can't think of anything to say, and Chris doesn't seem like someone who would want to talk just for the sake of it. He's quiet. 

The waitress comes around again once they've finished their meals. "What do you want for your main course?"

"Pizza," Chris says before Marlo has a chance to speak.

"And while we get that ready for you we have questions for you to ask each other to get to know each other and spark some exciting conversation during the main course!"

It takes her a moment to figure out which set of questions goes with which person; Chris gets the pink and lacy page this time. Marlo's questions say:

1. What do you like about me? Be very honest, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.

2. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

3. What did you most regret not having told someone before you died?

"…I suppose it's probably part of the point that these questions are incredibly intrusive. Should I go first or do you want to?" 

"You can start," Chris says.

He uses a very obvious reading-out-loud voice to say "What do you like about me? Be very honest, saying things you might not say to someone you just met," and makes a face at the end. 

His face is very soft. 

"I liked the way you looked at the light from the stained glass windows. I don't know enough about you to know why it was important to you, but it was, and-- it felt like it was important to you in the same way some things that are important to me are important to me."

He sounds very soft when he says "It reminded me of my church, back home. If I ignored the windows themselves, anyway." 

"We should ask Janet to make you a place to worship in. It's not the same without people, but.. it might help."

"It would. Thank you." 

"My first question is 'tell me about your best friend in high school.'"

"His name was — presumably still is — Alexander. He was the most intelligent person I knew, it seemed like he knew something about everything, he was — very opinionated, he could talk about almost any subject you handed him, but never sharp about it." 

"Sounds like a good friend."

"He was." 

…the smile fades as he remembers just how many people he won't be able to talk to again. 

He uses the obvious reading-out-loud voice again to say "When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?" 

"I last cried in front of another person when I was being caned for breaking one of Tetsuo's most prized dishes. I last cried by myself shortly before my trainer Anderson told me that I no longer had to wear women's clothing and be referred to with female pronouns."

…right. Yes. That is… not something Marlo knows how to interact with at all. He makes a soft interested sound and doesn't say any of what he's thinking. 

"How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most people's?"

"Most people's in the world, probably. Most people's in my peer group, I have no idea. I'm not sure I'd call it warm but we —" he wants to say are, present tense, but catches himself — "were close." 

"Close but not warm? How does that work?" 

His voice is gentle, curious.

"Not not warm, but they — believed that the best way to love someone was to want the best for them, and to want them to be their best." 

"I'm sympathetic to that. I have been lucky enough in my life to have many people who wanted me to be my best, and to have the opportunity to help others become their best."

"I'm glad," very sincere. 

"It's your question."

Right. 

"…what do you most regret not having told someone before you died?" is a terrible topic of conversation. 

"In life I was... neglectful, as a friend. I didn't call, I rarely wrote. I was busy. The work expanded to fill the hours in the day, and Tetsuo always wanted more from me. There is an email from my brother I hadn't answered for three months, and I meant to congratulate Robin on her latest auction, and Rachel had asked to hear my voice..." He pauses. "I wish I had told Ron and Rachel and Robin that I loved them."

He nods quietly and shuts down the part of his brain that's thinking about how long it's been since he called his sister. 

"What is your most terrible memory?"

He flinches. 

"Dying is near the top of the list." 

"I don't know why they thought that was good dinner-table conversation."

The pizza arrives! It is bright pink and shaped like a heart.

"I don't know either." Why is it pink. 

It's really unclear!

Chris takes a slice. "It tastes like normal cheese pizza," he reports.

"This is such an inexplicable series of choices they're making." He eats. 

"Possibly it's supposed to be romantic. They ought to be more aware that nonromantic soulmates exist, though. They were the ones who assigned a male soulmate to a heterosexual man."

"Yes, that's one of the inexplicable choices."

He is very aware of what Michael told him, and does not mention it. 

"At least the pizza is good."

He is very sure that nothing should ever make Chris make that face. He has no idea what to say to fix it. "At least." 

Time to eat in silence!

Time to eat in silence. 

"I'm glad you've had such a great time with your soulmate!" the waitress chirps. "Now to help you work up an appetite for dessert, we're going to dance!"

....great. That sounds like a good idea. He glances at Chris's face, gauges Chris's expression. 

Chris stands and offers Marlo a hand. "Shall we?"

He takes it, stands up. 

The ballroom is playing music Marlo probably doesn't recognize: it sounds like it's from the 1940s. 

Some people already out on the floor are tossing their partners around in an acrobatic fashion. 

"Ah, swing!" 

He looks happy.

It's nice when Chris is happy. 

"I don't know how to do this at all, you'll have to teach me." 

"I assume there'll be a beginner lesson."

There is! The cheery waitress and a man are standing at one edge of the room with microphones. 

"Alright, men in a column to the right, and wo-- uh, follows in a column to the left," the waitress says. "Now, men, take your la-follow's left hand in your left hand, giving them space like a cup... Follows, hold your man's hand gently yet firmly. Now men, put your right hand at your follow's shoulderblade. Follows, rest your right arm against your man's arm."

"Your hand goes here," Chris says.

Wow, that's obnoxious. Marlo puts his hand where Chris says to. 

"Now, men, copy me," the man says, "and follows, copy Kimberly."

Chris whispers a string of instructions into Marlo's ear. "Shift left, shift right, step back."

He's nudging Marlo a bit with his hands and the way he shifts his weight, so that it's most natural for Marlo to dance the way he's supposed to.

They are awfully close together.

Chris is very good at this — it feels so natural to follow where Chris leads. He still isn't great at it but he doesn't mess up much, with Chris guiding. 

"Curtseying at the end of the dance is optional but can be fun! Part of what I like about swing dancing is the chance to feel like a 20s flapper," the waitress chirps. 

Chris does not curtsey. 

"You did well."

"Thank you, you were great." 

During the second song Chris starts doing more complicated things: hip swivels, kicks, different steps, once even a jump. He doesn't miss the beat and he keeps talking Marlo through what he's doing.

Marlo almost looks like he knows what he's doing.

Chris is really, really good at this — technically Marlo is leading but he isn't, really, and it's good, to know that the person in control knows what they're doing; he's always liked that trust. 

The beginner's lesson stops, along with the misgendering. Free dancing starts.

By the time they're done, Chris has talked Marlo through a dip.

He's having way more fun than he'd expected. 

When they return to the table, dessert has been served. 

It is probably a cake. There are cakes which are sculptures, and it would be weird to serve a completely inedible sculpture as dessert. 

But what it looks like is Marlo's old church from where he grew up, and outside it stand what is recognizably Alexander, in a purple sweater falling off his shoulders, and some of Marlo's friends from the army. 

If he glances at Chris's cake, it's a castle, and outside it are a woman in a stereotypical French maid's outfit, a woman in blue jeans and a T-shirt, and a man wearing nothing but a leather harness and a jockstrap.

"…it's gorgeous," he says, very soft. (Oh God, there are so many people he misses so dearly.) 

He glances at Chris's cake and then glances away, looks back at the miniature faces of friends he can no longer speak to. 

"I don't really want to eat it."

"Neither do I. 

Who are the people outside yours?" 

He taps the man in a leather harness and jockstrap. "My brother, Ron." The woman in a French maid's outfit. "My best friend, Rachel." The woman in blue jeans and a T-shirt. "Robin." He pauses. "She was the love of my life."

"What was she like?" 

"Robin was flawless. She had the most thirst for service of anyone I have ever trained. I only trained her for two weeks and I could sell her, which is just-- impossible, no one is ready for the block without two months in training. But she had good instincts and she always wanted to be perfect." He's smiling, remembering her. "She was an art dealer. We scheduled our vacations for the same time so we could go riding together and talk. I love her."

(Right. Slave. Traumatized.) 

"She sounds lovely." Chris's smile is lovely. 

"Who are yours?"

"This one is Alexander," and he taps each of the men in uniform in turn when he says "and this is Sam, and Carlos, and Lucas, friends from the army." 

"If that's an accurate depiction, Alexander has good taste in sweaters."

"I don't recall him ever wearing this in particular, but he was significantly smaller than I was and borrowed my jackets a lot." 

"Would you like me to cut you a slice of the cake?"

"Yes, please." 

He does. 

"I assume your cake is your church from home? Mine is Kaleigh Castle, where I learned such useful skills as how best to cut oddly shaped cakes."

"It is, yes. Yours is beautiful." 

"It's more beautiful in person. I wish I had gotten to stay there longer."

Chris cut Marlo a piece with minimal fondant, but even so this cake is clearly sacrificing taste in favor of resemblance to a church. 

It's still fine. He's enjoyed worse. "I'm sure," he says. (He catches himself almost-saying "maybe you could go back some time.") 

Chris has, much to his relief, found a conversation topic. 

He tells Marlo some of his best PG-rated Kaleigh stories. The Time Chris Was Sent To Find A Snipe. The Time Everyone Had The Flu And Chris Had To Wait Tables For A Duke Despite Never Having Waited A Table Before. The Time Chris Taught Himself To Ride Horses Even Though He Had Been Expressly Forbidden To Enter The Stables. He carefully avoids any mention of sex, physical punishment, or what he was at Kaleigh to be trained as. 

He avoids the kinds of army stories that tend to get horrified looks from civilians but is happy to share the time he was sent to find a snipe! 

Snipe hunts! A cherished tradition in many hierarchal organizations!

When they've finished their dessert, the waitress says, "Our last activity is the Fuzzy Handcuff Game!"

"...do we want to stay for this," because Marlo definitely doesn't. 

"No. We'll be going. Thank you."

"You don't even know what it is! It's a great opportunity to get to know each other."

"Marlo is straight."

"We don't need to know what it is. We're going."

Does Marlo want to hold his hand when they walk home?

He does. 

It's late by the time they get home. 

"I normally sleep naked but I am concerned that would make you uncomfortable."

"Six years ago it might have but not anymore." 

"All right." He strips down and throws the laundry into the basket. "I think they gave you pajamas."

He nods and opens a drawer. 

The drawer is much larger on the inside than it is on the outside.

Many of the things in this drawer Marlo can identify. The rope is pretty obvious, as are the knives. He can probably figure out the use of the whips, canes, and paddles. A few of the dildos are shaped like very realistic penises, which can provide some enlightenment about the ones that look like scrapped alien designs or abstract art or are simply far too large to fit inside a normal human body. He's probably even used lube. 

But many of them have no obvious use at all: egg-looking things with flared bases, in various sizes; something that looks like a bright purple rubber cactus; a set of thin silver rods; several tubes with inner holes the size of a banana.

Some of the things seem to have an obvious use, and that use is 'torture.'

Blink. Blink. Blink. 

He closes that drawer and opens a different drawer. 

This drawer has pajamas.

Good to know. He puts pajamas on. 

The bed is very small. There's no way to sleep on it without cuddling. 

That's fine; they can make themselves fit. 

Chris rests his head in Marlo's shoulder. His face looks peaceful.

Now Marlo probably can't politely avert his eyes from the reality that Chris is very well-built and has a penis. 

Those are both true facts. He mostly looks at Chris's face; seeing his soulmate this relaxed feels — good. 

He closes his eyes and goes to sleep with Chris on his shoulder and his arm around Chris. 

Chris is still and motionless when he sleeps.

In the middle of the night, when he's only half-awake, Marlo looks like Tetsuo.

Marlo isn't motionless but he doesn't move much. At one point he murmurs a few nonsense syllables and holds Chris more protectively. 

Chris wakes up early because Tetsuo preferred it that way. 

He wakes up early because it was the habit he got into in the army, and because the person in his arms is awake now. 

"Are you alright," very quietly, when he looks down at Chris's face. 

"I'm fine. Janet?" 

"Hi!" the obnoxiously cheerful robot lady says. 

"I'd like miso soup, rice, and salted salmon, please, and a copy of The Brothers Karamazov." 

"Here you go!" She places it on their living room table.

He's not sure how much he believes Chris that everything's fine. He gets breakfast from Janet (eggs) and stays with Chris. 

As he eats, Chris says, "I'm planning to check out the gay bar tonight. With luck, I won't be home."

"...good luck, then," seems like the only possible response to that announcement. 

Unless Marlo interrupts him, Chris spends the day curled up on the couch reading the Brothers Karamazov. 

It seems like Chris doesn't want to be interrupted; he'll draw. 

Then in the evening Chris will open the drawer full of sex toys, pack up a bag, and leave. 

He doesn't come home that night. 

Marlo has slept alone nearly every night of his life and there is no reason at all that he should be unable to sleep now. After trying and failing for an hour and a half or so he gives up and goes back to drawing. 

In the midmorning, Chris returns home. "How was your night last night?"

"Uneventful. How was yours?" 

"I can tell you if you want but I don't particularly expect that you want to hear about it."

"So it went well, then. Your book is still on the table there are just papers on top of it." 

"It did." He glances at the papers. "Your art is good."

"Thank you." 

Most of what he's drawn so far is more fantasy art — not the knights swearing fealty to fair maidens that are on the walls, but Bradamante in full armor, a sleeping dragon. None of it has colors or backgrounds. 

"You can cuddle me while I read if you'd like."

"— Thank you." 

He moves to be next to Chris; once his head is on Chris's shoulder it takes almost no time at all to fall asleep there. 

That is both cute and moderately worrisome.

Chris reads Dostoevsky and silently resolves to hook up in the afternoon from now on.

He looks different, relaxed. His face softens; he can't be self-conscious about the way he fits himself to Chris. 

He's very cute. It makes it somewhat hard to concentrate on reading.

When he wakes up he pulls away, just a little. "Sorry," he says, not quite sure what he's apologizing for. 

"It's fine."

"Have you thought about the possibility that you might be attracted to men?"

"— I haven't. Why?" 

"I could be wrong, I haven't seen you interact much with other people, but normally when people look at me the way you do they really want to kiss me."

"I don't especially, I just — like being close to you."

"I suppose. Do you want to test it?"

"…not really, no?" 

"Well, tell me if you change your mind. You're very attractive."

"…thank you?" 

Marlo is distinctly less cuddly for the next few days. 

Huh. Maybe he actually was straight.

Chris reads the Maltese Falcon, Treasure Island, and the Hobbit. He eats mostly Japanese food. He does pushups and situps and air squats until he's exhausted. He disappears sometimes with a bag full of sex toys. If Marlo seems uncomfortable with them sharing a bed, he stays overnight. 

He tries to keep an inch of distance when he's awake, and immediately melts into Chris once he falls asleep. 

He reads. He draws, mostly portraits — Faramir and Eowyn, his sister Alana, his girlfriend Melissa, his parents, Carlos and Lucas and Sam and other army friends, Joan of Arc, Alexander. He tries to draw Robin; he remembers the face well enough to know that everything he draws is wrong but not well enough to know how to fix it. 

In that case Chris will reserve his gay sex for the afternoons.

One day he pauses and looks at what Marlo is drawing. "Is that Robin?"

"I don't actually know her face well enough for this but it's trying to be." 

"Janet?"

"Hi!"

"The picture of Robin that was on my desk, please."

"Here you go! We in the Good Place strive to give you lots of reminders of the people you won't be able to see again for hundreds of years!"

"Thank you, Janet."

Robin has brown hair; she's pretty, in a generic sort of way, nothing that would make you blink twice if you saw her on the train. 

Now that it's in front of him he can see where he'd been wrong and fix it most of the way, anyway; after twenty more minutes it isn't perfect but it's much closer. 

He hands the drawing to Chris. 

"Thank you. I should have asked the robot for a way to hang it up."

"It's about the same size as the one of Lot's wife turning into a pillar of salt, which I assume is not your favorite, we could take that down and use the frame." 

"If you wouldn't mind." As he's replacing it, he says, "I'd like to replace more of the paintings with your art."

"I like some of them but there are others that could definitely use replacing." Who thought the serenity prayer was a good idea? "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to draw?" 

"Things you'd like to look at."

"More portraits, then." The next one is Alexander, laughing with his head ducked and his shoulders curled forward, lovingly shaded. 

A knock on the door.

He puts the drawing down to answer it. "Hello, Michael." 

"Hello, Marlo! I'm going around talking to everyone to see how they're adjusting to the Good Place. Do you have a minute?"

"I do." He steps outside. 

Poof. They're in Michael's office. 

"If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to bring them up! I want to make your Good Place experience perfect."

"...would it be possible for there to be a church somewhere?" 

"Why would you need a church?"

"I don't strictly speaking need one, I'm aware that everything around me is already Heaven, but they're beautiful and I miss having a space that's meant to be treated as sacred." 

"Humans are so fascinating. What does 'sacred' mean? Does it mean staring off bored into space while thinking about the gluteal region of the woman in the next pew?"

"If the answer is no you can just tell me no." 

"Of course it's a yes, Marlo. Every aspect of the Good Place has been optimized down to the smallest atom for the complete and utter happiness of everyone here, but if you want a church, you shall have a church. Where do you want it?"

(He sounds utterly sincere.) 

...He is definitely going to feel guilty about this in twenty minutes. 

As a rule, he should not do things that he knows full well he'll feel guilty about in twenty minutes. 

"...can I know why there isn't one, at least?" 

"Of course, Marlo! Churches are a thing you go to on Earth that give you more points. They don't belong in the eternal bliss of the Good Place. You might as well say we should have a soup kitchen, or starving Rwandan orphans, or the ability to watch The Wire!"

.....that seems like a really fundamental misunderstanding of churches and why people go to them, but. 

"I guess without the community it wouldn't be the same anyway. Thank you for telling me." 

"Anytime!"

He grows serious. "I wanted to ask you how your relationship with Chris is going. I just feel terrible about having to mar your perfect experience of the Good Place with a traumatized soulmate."

"Chris is lovely and being with Chris isn't marring anything." 

"Great! I'm glad you two are getting along so well. Any progress on the gender front?"

"I haven't been pushing; Chris seems bothered by reminders of it." 

"You're her soulmate, I'm sure you know best."

He fights down the urge to explain himself. 

"Is there something you wanted to say?"

"There isn't, no." 

"Our files say you need lots of hugs and physical affection to make your Good Place experience the best it can be. Do you feel comfortable with that, with Chris looking the way she does?"

"It doesn't matter what" he "she looks like. It's still Chris." 

"Good! Lots of physical affection is good for Chris too, she won't ask for it but she needs it!"

...He'll keep in mind not to avoid contact, anyway. He nods. 

"Do you have any other questions, or comments, things you've been wondering about, suggestions for improvement...?"

Your idea of what a small town looks like comes straight out of a theme park, he doesn't say. 

Stop conspicuously treating Chris like a girl; Chris hates it, he doesn't say. 

"Not particularly," he says. 

"Great! I'm glad the Good Place is making you so happy."

And Marlo is poofed home. 

Chris is lying on the couch with his eyes closed and a facial expression he normally only has when he's cuddling Marlo.

That's....odd. Not that more things shouldn't make Chris make that face, but it's odd. Marlo stands next to Chris instead of trying to find space on the couch. "Is everything alright?" 

His voice is sort of distant and floaty.

"Can't believe it took me this long to check if Janet makes drugs."

"...do you need anything?" 

"I'm all right."

Okay. Marlo is definitely still concerned but okay. 

He lifts Chris's head and sits down and puts Chris's head on his leg, where Chris will be difficult not to keep an eye on. 

Chris seems perfectly fine with this. He doesn't seem very inclined to move or talk. 

At some point he falls asleep.

Marlo pets Chris's hair, very gently, and draws, and keeps an eye on Chris. 

Over the next few days, Chris adds "taking drugs" to his list of regular activities, along with "exercise," "reading classic literature," and "disappearing from the house for a few hours for activities Marlo doesn't really want to think about."

Marlo makes sure to stay near Chris while Chris is high and does his best not to worry about the amount of drugs that are being taken. It's not like they aren't already dead. 

And then Chris walks in the house one afternoon and says "Marlo, please touch me-- I'm rolling-- I need you to touch me."

He stands up and hugs Chris, holds Chris steady. 

"I've got you — c'mere, do you want to sit down —" 

"No, we should lie down on the bed-- want to touch all of you--"

"Okay. We can do that. C'mon, I've got you." 

Marlo keeps holding Chris once they're lying down, pets Chris's hair. It's not actually any closer than they've been before but it feels — different. 

Chris makes happy little whimpery noises when Marlo touches him.

"You're so good, Marlo, I love you."

He puts a hand on Chris's hair and the other on Chris's back, presses a kiss to Chris's forehead. "You're lovely." 

Chris pats him ineffectually. "You're so beautiful, Marlo, I love you so much."

"You're beautiful too," Marlo says, and holds Chris closer. 

He tugs at Marlo's shirt. "You should have fewer clothes. Nicer to touch your skin."

...Marlo takes his shirt off as best he can without moving away from Chris. 

Chris is not very coordinated and he doesn't want to stop touching Marlo but he eventually manages to take off his shirt, pants, and underwear.

Marlo will help with the shirt and keep holding Chris. "I've got you," he repeats, very softly. 

Chris is staring at him with a look of awe, almost worship. 

"You're so beautiful."

Another kiss to Chris's forehead. His hands are on Chris's back, Chris's side. "I've got you, I'm here." 

He appears to notice that Marlo is wearing pants. 

"Less pants, Marlo, please-- I love you, I want to touch you, I want to feel you--"

"You're high." 

"Wouldn't want to touch you so much if I weren't high-- love you, trust you, you wouldn't do anything I wouldn't like--"

"Okay," in a whisper, "okay, I've got you." 

He takes his pants off and goes back to holding Chris. 

Chris keeps making these happy little sounds he's never made before. He touches Marlo all over his body, his chest and back and neck and hair. Their legs wrap together. Chris rubs up against him, chest against chest and stomach against stomach, like he's trying to figure out how to combine into a single person.

"Love you," he says, and "you're beautiful, so good, best thing in the world, so happy I can touch you."

"You're lovely, I love you," they're so close, "I love being near you," and he holds Chris closer still.