by Liam Livings
“I’m doing a pros and cons list for this job I’m thinking of applying for,” Nick said quietly, grabbing Tony’s attention as he looked up from his screen.
“Job? But you’ve got a job here.” Tony frowned.
“It’s in Brent, in London, so I’d have to move. That’s going on the pro and con list, actually. Both sides.”
“Why are you applying for that?” Looking around the office to check no one else was listening, Tony said, “Why are you telling me this? People don’t normally tell their current employers when they’re thinking of leaving.”
“Technically, you’re not my employer. And you’re not my boss either. I report to Barbara like you do.”
Tony shrugged.
“Besides, I thought we were beyond office formalities. I was going to invite you round for dinner to go over the list. But if you’re not interested, I’m sure I’ll manage it with my friend’s help.”
“Laura?” Tony asked.
“I do have more friends than Laura. But yeah. Why?”
“Will wine be involved if I come round for dinner?”
“And food. That’s generally what happens when you eat dinner at someone’s house.” The sex, Nick realised, was optional, but he’d worry about that if and when it came up. Literally. Hoping for both to happen—
“When?”
“Tonight? Or tomorrow. I’m sure you’re busy at the weekend, so school nights it is. Besides,” Nick went on, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “I’m doing the application over the weekend.” This was a lie. He had another few weeks until it was due, but he was hoping for a return to their midweek second-tier friendship and holding onto it for dear life.
“Tomorrow. I’ve got a thing tonight. But tomorrow’s free,” Tony replied, turning back to his screen. “Shall I bring something?” The question seemed like an afterthought.
“Only yourself and your knowledge of social work jobs.” Nick knew Tony was as busy tonight as he was himself, but they were both continuing to move whatever it was they had back to a nonchalant relationship where they didn’t want to be seen to be prioritising what they had over other events, in case it seemed too serious, too coupley or—dare Nick think it?—too boyfriendy.
Well, two can play at that game.
***
The following evening, Tony had insisted he didn’t want to travel straight from work to Nick’s place in case anyone saw them and put two and two together and made exactly four. So Tony had gone home first and was now, when Nick checked his watch, about twenty minutes late.
Tony was taking ‘disinterested’ to whole new levels, and Nick was impressed—and a little bit pissed off—as he stirred the Bolognese sauce in one pan while checking on cheese sauce in another.
Half an hour later, Tony arrived, full of apologies due to traffic and staying late at work.
Nick hugged him and briefly kissed his cheek—which felt restrained, considering what else he’d kissed on Tony’s body—before showing him to the kitchen where he’d been keeping everything warm, ready to dish up.
They ate, discussing the week and how the busyness didn’t seem to have any let-up, before Tony said, “The mentoring proposal—it’s been approved. For use across Wilts. Apparently, some of the neighbouring councils are interested, but I won’t hold my breath. Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you. And I told them that.”
“I enjoyed it. Working with you. I like a good deadline to focus the mind.”
“Seems a shame you’re leaving.”
“Not definite. Thinking about it. I need to do a pros and cons list. I think I’ll still apply, no matter what it comes up with. Good experience.”
“Yeah.” Tony sounded unconvinced.
“You favour a pros and cons list, don’t you?”
“Do I?” Tony frowned.
“I saw a few in your notebook when I was looking through for the presentation we did.”
“Did you? I don’t remember doing any for…” The look of recognition hit Tony’s face.
“One list, actually.”
Putting his cutlery down, Tony said, “Did you read it? Or just see it was a pro-con list?”
Realising this was his opportunity, Nick swallowed his mouthful of food. “Bit of both.”
Tony said nothing, instead playing with the cheese-sauce-covered pasta shells and mixing them in with the Bolognese sauce. “Novel, this meal. Like a sort of deconstructed lasagne, I suppose.”
“Suppose,” Nick replied, willing Tony to say something about what they were really discussing. He let the silence settle for a few moments, but Tony spoke up before Nick had a chance.
“I wrote that for myself. I never expected anyone else to see it. It’s like you’ve gone inside my head.”
“This deconstructed lasagne…” Nick said, the thought suddenly occurring to him.
“I feel a bit violated, to be honest, that you’ve read it. Like there’s been a breach of my trust.”
Nick had expected that but not quite so eloquently phrased, and he’d already thought about a response: “If I’d gone through your notebook when you’d left it on the desk, that’s a breach of trust. You handing me your notebook, back pages open for me to read through, me turning to a few pages about stuff I wasn’t meant to see, that’s not a breach of trust. That’s a mistake. Telling you—that’s me trying to be adult about it. Which, in contrast to how you are at work, is not how you are quite often, in your personal life—from what I can see.”
Tony considered that for a moment before he said, “I agree. But work Tony is not home Tony. Work Tony is logical, organised, professional. Home Tony is…well, he’s not any of those things. There’s a lot more to home Tony you don’t know about.” He paused, watching Nick out of the corner of his eye. “He’s making it up as he goes along.”
“Aren’t we all?” Nick asked, shrugging.
“Are we?” Tony wouldn’t look at Nick.
Taking Tony’s hand, Nick said, “Yeah, I think most people are.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Tony obviously deep in thought, until Nick said, “Sorry, but I didn’t mean to look at your pro-con list.”
Tony nodded. “So, this deconstructed lasagne?”
“It’s got me thinking. Is that basically what we have together?”
“Full of meat, sloppy goodness and carbs?” Tony laughed, forking another mouthful together.
“Friendship, sex, comfortable being together. If you put those three together, it looks like it’s—”
Tony put his hand over Nick’s mouth. “Don’t.”
Nick peeled Tony’s hand away. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to spoil it. That’s why the pros and cons list is bollocks. Because what I didn’t add at the bottom of the pros list is…is…the fact that… No. Doesn’t matter.”
“You can’t say that and then stop. You can’t emotionally edge me like that.”
Tony laughed. “And we all know how much you love edging.” Taking a breath, he said, “You’re you.”
“That’s it? At the bottom of the pros column is the fact that I’m me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tony stared deep into Nick’s eyes. “That when I’m with you, I enjoy it, and when I’m not with you, all I can think about is the next time we’re together.”
Nick swallowed. “In bed.”
“That too, but not only that.”
Nick knew this meant one thing and one thing only. And that thing was exactly what both of them had said they didn’t want, yet here they were talking about it. “So what are we meant to do?”
“Can’t we see how things go and not talk about it?” Tony leaned forward, and Nick closed his eyes as he was kissed. Soon, he stopped worrying about anything else because all that mattered was the two of them, in his flat, and later in his bed, and as they showed each other how they felt using their bodies, the rest of the world around them fell away.
***
The next morning, Tony was
staring at Nick as he slept next to him. After some very enjoyable sex, they’d talked about plans and what to do next and whether they should be more open about their relationship at work, and Nick had said probably not and Tony had said they should. And that was where they’d left it.
Tony jumped out of bed and threw on the dressing gown hanging on the door; he returned to bed soon after with two strong coffees.
“If we tell them at work, they’ve not got anything to hold against us,” Tony said, handing a gently waking Nick his coffee.
Stretching and chewing nothing, Nick opened his eyes. “What?”
Tony repeated himself, sipping his coffee, then added, “But we need to tell them the nature of our relationship.”
“Do we?” Nick sat up in bed, revealing his rather delicious hairy chest that last night Tony had enjoyed in a variety of creative and sexy ways. “Do we really need to?”
“They’ll want to know. Unless we’re clear, they’ll make stuff up. And that’s where the whole me taking advantage of you vibe will come from, and before we know it, I’m being called into HR and being suspended.”
“They wouldn’t?” Nick said, rubbing his stubble, his eyes wide.
Tony nodded. This was possibly true, but equally, if they said nothing, it was unlikely to get out because they were hardly rogering each other on the desks, so why would anyone notice? This, Tony realised, was his way of forcing Nick’s hand—making him describe what they were to each other and therefore being clear to himself. The pro-con list had done the work for him to decide whether or not he wanted to become more serious with Nick. All it took now was them both to take the leap into admitting what they really were to each other. Together.
“I don’t want to say anything,” Nick said. “If you lost your job, I’d never forgive myself.”
Tony didn’t believe that; he thought Nick was just saying it to avoid having the conversation he was very much trying to have at that moment. “I’ll live. I’ll take the risk.” Swallowing, Tony added, “For you.”
Nick sharply took in a breath. “I’m getting dressed,” he said in that laid-back yet elegant way of his as his lithe, hairy body slipped out of the bed. Standing by the door, his pert, hirsute behind facing Tony, he put on the dressing gown Tony had worn moments before. Inhaling deeply, Nick turned back. “Don’t go doing anything for me.”
“Why not?” Tony asked, desperate to understand the change in Nick’s behaviour. Why the cold shoulder? Why the withdrawal? Especially after last night and how connected and passionate they’d been together.
Holding the door ajar, Nick said, “Cos you don’t know how long I’m going to stick around,” and then he left, closing the door behind him.
Tony had never felt so deflated and let down. His emotional hard-on had disappeared. Gone. To be replaced with a feeling of inevitability. Of course Nick had pushed him away when he’d forced him into describing them. Nick had extricated himself from a long-term relationship and had expressly said he didn’t want another commitment, and here Tony was, trying to extract precisely that from him.
Big mistake.
So perhaps telling everyone at work wasn’t the best course of action. It certainly wasn’t going to make Nick quantify anything. And if Nick got the job in London, it would have all been for nothing.
A while later, Nick returned, damp and gorgeous with a towel wrapped around his waist.
Tony sat up in bed to admire the magnificent sight before him. “If someone asks me, I’m not going to lie, Nick.”
“About what?” Nick was searching his wardrobe and drawers.
“Us being more than friends,” Tony said carefully. This was more than they’d admitted before, but surely Nick couldn’t disagree with that. They were friends. They’d slept with each other many times; therefore they were more than friends.
“If you want,” Nick replied nonchalantly. “I suppose it cuts down on the lies we’re telling.”
Just. Like. That. Tony thought he heard someone singing ‘hallelujah’ from the rooftops. It may have been himself, he wasn’t sure.
“More than friends it is,” he said. “Shall we go in together, late? Really give them something to talk about?”
“We’ve got plenty of time.” Nick checked his watch.
“Not after what I’ve got in mind.” Tony quietly moved until he was standing behind Nick, so when he stood up again, having picked clothes from the drawers, Tony was able to kiss his neck, put his hand on his stomach and very carefully, as he continued kissing Nick’s neck, unfasten the towel so it fell onto the floor.
“And what do you have in mind?” Nick said, pushing himself backwards onto Tony, whose naked body responded as enthusiastically as Nick’s.
***
Not long afterwards, they showered together and dressed, then arrived at work together—to many raised eyebrows from colleagues.
“You’re late,” Barbara said to Tony. “And so is Nick. Which arouses my suspicions, but I’ll let it pass this time.” She marked their lateness on a whiteboard by her desk. “Are you two dating or something?” Her tone implied she was joking.
Nick raised an eyebrow at Tony and said, “More than friends.” He coughed. “We couldn’t seem to get out of bed this morning.”
Barbara’s eyes opened wide. “Bed? Together? This morning? I see. I was merely commenting on your timekeeping. What you two do out of work is none of my business.”
Tony, now at his desk said, “Good. Well, in that case, it won’t matter when I tell you Nick and I are more than friends.”
Nick nodded solemnly in a show of solidarity he knew was important to Tony, even if there was more to it than simply being ‘more than friends’, but Nick wasn’t ready to admit it—to himself or others. The thought of diving headlong into a proper relationship after the ex was terrifying. Even if Tony was nothing at all like the ex, it didn’t fit with Nick’s plan to be free and single for a while. Or, belatedly, to take a break from dating altogether. He seemed to be failing on both counts.
Inhaling loudly, Barbara said, “I can’t say I’m surprised. Not remotely. Well, as long as you don’t let it affect your work…” She solemnly turned to Tony, who shook his head, then Nick, who did the same. “I assume that’s why you stayed in one room at the conference and neither of you complained.”
Tony, suddenly red-faced, said, “I’m going to make a drink in the kitchen,” and he left.
Nick, alone with Barbara, felt equally as embarrassed but unable to follow Tony for making the whole situation worse. “It just sort of happened,” he said quietly. “Sofa bed and double bed.”
“I don’t want to know. The less I know the better. But rest assured, if anyone complains, if I find out there’s been any inappropriate behaviour at work, I’ll come down on you both like a ton of bricks. Understood? Ton. Of. Bricks.” Gesturing to her keyboard, Barbara said, “As you were, please.” And then she was gone, into her office, the door closed.
Tony returned, still slightly red-faced, and put a drink on his desk. “Didn’t make you one. I thought it might look a bit…”
“We’ve told her now. I think that ship’s sailed.”
Tony reached across the desk to touch Nick’s hand, but the Nick pulled away.
“Not here. Not now. Not ever. Inappropriate behaviour at work, she said.”
Placing his hand on the keyboard, Nick resumed what he’d been doing, but he couldn’t make sense of what he was reading because all he was thinking about was that now everyone knew they were more than friends, which made him regret agreeing so quickly to tell colleagues. It was all suspiciously looking like a relationship from where Nick was sitting. He wished they’d stayed in their comfortable web of lies.
“Of course,” was all Tony said and solemnly turned back to his computer, and they continued the morning not talking to each other. Nick felt it was going a bit over the top but understood why.
*
“Fancy a drink? To celebrate…” Tony asked at the end of
the day. He sounded very light-hearted.
“What?”
“Coming out to everyone. It not being a big deal.”
“Maybe later this week.” While he was pleased that Tony was happy it was out in the open, Nick felt worse than before. He should have stuck to his original stance of a no, rather than going along with what Tony had wanted simply to please him and cut down on the lies. Because, Nick realised, it had opened up the potential to more conversations about them being more than friends. And right now, Nick didn’t feel up to those at all. Even though he’d been the one wanting to force the conversation, mentioning the list he’d seen in Tony’s notebook, it had taken him further than he’d wanted to go. Further towards acknowledging there was some sort of commitment between them, which was only a hop, skip and a jump away from a proper relationship like the one he’d just escaped from. And that made him want to run away screaming.
“I’m going to have a quiet night in,” he said. “Alone.”
“Right.” Tony left without a wave or a wink or anything they usually shared.
And Nick knew, as surely as he knew anything, that not only had he messed up the casual fun arrangement he’d had with Tony, he was also terrified of where this recent serious announcement of their relationship left him.
That night, Nick went for a drink with Laura and told her the cat was out of the bag about them being more than friends, and it hadn’t caused any problems.
“So why the emergency cocktails?” Laura asked, twisting her conical glass and popping a cherry in her mouth.
“Have you ever really wanted something and then, when you’ve got it, not wanted it anymore?”
Frowning, Laura said, “Don’t you want him? But I thought you’ve been having him—or you’ve been having each other—for months.”
“We have. I have. He has.” Nick swallowed the rest of the Manhattan cocktail in one gulp. It burnt the back of his throat, helping to numb the feelings of the day. “I agreed with him to describe what was going on between us. And now I want to run away. I applied for that job in London.”
“Why?”
“Commitment. Looks like it’s getting serious. Because I might have a good chance of happiness with Tony. So I’m running away.”