Plaid versus Paisley

by KC Burn

  “Okay, okay. Let’s pretend I believe you. What are the fucking odds?”

  “I know! He has to be stalking me, right? Or thinks he’s got some vendetta against me?” The ideas had floated through his mind a number of times over the past week, but saying them out loud made them sound even more ridiculous. Will wasn’t the sort who inspired that sort of passionate emotion, good or bad. For the most part, he faded into the background.

  “I suppose colossal coincidence is right out?”

  “Isn’t it? The universe doesn’t work like that, does it?”

  “Does he seem dangerous?”

  Will shrugged. The guy had killed a large number of paisley beasts to support his tie habit, but so far Dallas only proved dangerous to his equilibrium. “I’ll keep an eye out. Maybe coincidence isn’t off the table, but I don’t know why he’d leave a lucrative job at a Fortune 500 company to come and screw me out of a job. Then again, he comes from money, so he probably doesn’t even need the job.”

  “Can’t assume things like that. Stefan comes from money too, but he had to scrimp and scrape to get where he is now.” Raven’s tone was reproving, and rightly so. Those were the sort of assumptions Will shouldn’t be making, especially since he was ostensibly Dallas’s boss, for however long this farce lasted.

  “Sorry. But if he boots me out of this job, I’m coming to crash on your couch. Warn Caleb.”

  Raven laughed. “It’s not going to come to that. Stefan needs you and needs this new guy, and probably needs another twelve of you. As long as this guy does his job, you’re just going to have to figure out a way to get along. Remember, Stefan might be completely inept when it comes to technology, but he’s damn good at reading people. Almost as good as Jaime. I doubt this kid could pull a fast one on Stefan. Your job is safe. But just in case, my guest room is yours if you need it.”

  The sincerity in Raven’s offer gave Will a measure of relief. Bunking with his folks before he’d moved to Florida had been uncomfortable, but it was a safety net he didn’t have here. The economic climate wasn’t as bleak as it had been two years ago, and he’d probably find a job quickly, but knowing there was a fallback plan eased a deeply rooted worry.

  “What happened? Why are you so serious?” Caleb dropped four bottles of water on the table before slipping into a seat.

  Raven scooted his chair closer to Caleb, curling into him like a cat seeking warmth. “Nothing really. Just offering Will my guest room if he needs it.”

  “Oh, sure.” Caleb looked utterly confused. “Something wrong with your apartment?”

  Will didn’t feel like getting into it again, and Raven would surely tell Caleb all when they got home. “Nah, just a hypothetical.”

  Raven nodded. “Yup. Hypothetical. Now get your hypothetical ass out on the dance floor for a bit. You’ll feel better after, I promise.”

  Dancing might keep his mind off his troubles, so Will obeyed.

  DALLAS TOOK some extra care getting ready for work. Considering this was his first—partial—week back at work since his surgery, he felt really good. Without the triple threat of wondering where he’d live, how long his store of ramen would last, and whether he’d ever work again, he’d made giant leaps in recovery since moving in with his brother. Eating good vegetables and protein instead of salt and noodles probably didn’t hurt either.

  Defiantly, he picked up his most aggressively paisley tie—sue him, he liked paisley—and tied it carefully. He wasn’t sure if he could consider Will’s interaction with him yesterday as a win, but any attention had to be better than the complete absence and avoidance he’d endured the first three days. As long as he approached his new work relationship with Will cautiously, he hoped he could get Will to trust him. After all, out of almost pure luck, Stefan and Will needed someone with precisely his education and experience. He could easily be a valuable asset, an integral part of the team Will needed—badly—to build.

  His stomach rumbled, and Dallas smiled. It had been so long since he’d looked forward to eating. Almost forever since his stomach hadn’t been a source of fear.

  The scent of bacon wafting into his room had him rushing down to the kitchen. Getting fed like this, especially during the workweek, was going to spoil him.

  He slid into his now customary spot at the table, where a large mug of steaming herbal tea waited for him.

  “Morning,” he said to Stefan and Paul, who stood at the stove, cooking.

  Paul grunted, but Paul was never very vocal first thing in the morning. Stefan smiled at him. “You’re looking much better than when you first showed up.”

  “I feel better too. I think I might start working full-time next week.”

  Stefan frowned and shook his head. “No. No, didn’t you tell me you had a few weeks of part-time? Doctor-mandated?”

  Yesterday had been good for reasons other than Will actually speaking to him. “I went to see that new doctor you found for me. He said I’m good to go as soon as I feel well enough.”

  “Don’t pretend to feel better because you… I don’t know… don’t want to disappoint me or something.” Stefan all stern was something Dallas hadn’t seen since Stefan had babysat him as kid. It was a surprisingly welcome déjà vu. The best part was he trusted Stefan like he’d never trusted anyone else in his life. He’d never seen Stefan be anything but sincere, and his concern for Dallas, even when he’d shown up without a phone call’s notice, was always genuine.

  “I’m not. I swear. But if I start to feel like I’m relapsing or something, I promise I’ll cut back on my hours.” Despite the fact that Will clearly needed more than one full-time employee, but that was a battle for a later day.

  Stefan quirked an eyebrow upward. “Promise? Pinky-swear promise?”

  Dallas laughed at the more blatant reminder of his childhood with Stefan as a big brother. “Pinky-swear promise.”

  Stefan nodded, then went back to checking messages on his phone. Paul slid a plate bearing an omelet and bacon in front of Dallas, before plating breakfast for himself and Stefan. Maybe he’d treat himself and eat one slice of bacon.

  “Thanks, Paul, this looks great,” Dallas said as Paul sat down. Paul had done most of the cooking since he’d arrived, but at some point maybe Dallas would have to crack open a cookbook and see if he could become more useful than a sickly houseguest. But he’d just promised Stefan he’d take it easy, so that was a project for further down the road.

  Paul took a long swallow of coffee, and Dallas bit back a wince. He still hadn’t quite gotten over his love-hate relationship with coffee, but whether or not he felt like drinking it, it was still off his officially allowed consumables. His doctor had been adamant about that. But the gorgeous herbal tea that had shown up in the pantry the day after he’d arrived almost filled the gap. Dallas had tried a number of herbal teas, desperate for something with flavor that wasn’t water, but apparently he hadn’t been buying the right kind. Paul had a knack for the culinary, that was for sure.

  Then Paul looked over at him. “Another suit? Honey, do you even own anything else?”

  Dallas tried not to blush, but the heat in his cheeks told him he failed. “Yeah, but not much. For the past couple of years, I just worked and slept.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to take you shopping? You’re making me sweat just looking at you. We’d be happy to cover the bill. Consider it a housewarming present.”

  Now Dallas’s blush was accompanied by slightly burning eyes. Paul had been every bit as welcoming as Stefan, and his offer was so damn sweet.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’ll get some casual clothes with my first paycheck, but I like wearing suits to work.” He had reasons, not the least of which was that they could freeze sides of beef in the server room, it was so damn cold. Obviously it had to be, to keep the equipment from running too hot, but it was a lot cooler than the cube farm in Savron Dynamics had been. The commute to Idyll Fling sucked because his car’s A/C took a while to cool down, but Dall
as was super grateful for his suit jacket while he was at work.

  “How is work going?” Stefan set his phone aside again.

  That thought dried up his eyes right quick. Dallas shrugged. “You were right about Will needing help. And it’s help I’m qualified to give, but I don’t think he’s very happy with me or you right now.”

  Dallas didn’t want to come right out and say he was afraid Will hated him, but he’d worried about it several times earlier in the week, when Will’s brief appearances in the server room had been punctuated by clipped orders issued in an annoyed tone.

  Yesterday, though, had been different. Will’s scrutiny had been like lasers roving over his skin, searching for flaws. It had taken all his effort not to look up every time he felt Will staring at him. Perhaps Will had figured out Dallas was familiar, and was wondering why, rather than sizing up how to get Dallas to quit.

  “Yeah, he’s always been a little territorial. But he’ll get over it. And soon, or I’m going to do some more hiring on my own, because I know damn well he’s running at full throttle and he’s barely keeping his head above water.”

  Dallas squinted at the odd metaphor but just nodded. Stefan wasn’t wrong, but hiring more people without Will’s involvement might not be the best solution. Stefan had lucked out with Dallas’s skill set, but he might not be so lucky next time.

  The conversation moved away from work while they ate, but just before Dallas pushed back from the table, Stefan caught his eye. “You okay getting yourself dinner tonight? We’ve got a shoot starting today, and our hours will be all over the place this weekend.”

  “Of course I’ll be fine.”

  “I got groceries yesterday, so there’s plenty of things here, unless you want to order takeout,” Paul said as he gathered breakfast plates to go in the dishwasher.

  Takeout. Not hardly. Stefan’s advance on his salary had been enough to make sure his cell phone kept working and that he had gas in his car, but he didn’t have enough left over for takeout. If he asked, Stefan would probably give him more, but after battling his father almost constantly since he graduated high school, it was a point of pride for Dallas to be able to stand on his own two feet, at least as much as he could. Besides, simple sandwiches and salads, the sole extent of his cooking capability, were better for him than anything he’d get as takeout.

  “Thanks, I’m sure I’ll manage. I’ll see you when I see you.” Dallas waved at Stefan and Paul before heading out into the early morning inferno that was Orlando in the fall. He hoped by the time summer rolled around, he’d be better acclimated.

  WHEN DALLAS pulled into the parking lot, his car and Joanie’s were the only ones there, which seemed odd considering Stefan had said they’d be shooting today. With a shrug, he walked in the front door.

  Like he’d done every morning this week, he stopped at the reception desk. “Good morning, Joanie.”

  “Good morning, Dallas. Don’t you look handsome today?” She said that to him every day, but he didn’t care. It was a pleasant start to his workday.

  “I thought there’d be more people today. Stefan said they were filming, but it looks like just you and me.”

  “Oh, there will be plenty of people here soon enough. It’s a night shoot, so they won’t start showing up until afternoon.” She reached under a shelf and pulled out a plastic container. “I made some cookies. Would you like some?”

  Dallas hesitated. He’d been burned by Joanie’s “cookies” once already.

  Joanie giggled. “These are the good ones, I promise. The healthy ones are in the container with the red lid.”

  She peeled back the lid, and the sweet, buttery aroma of homemade cookies burst into the reception area. He didn’t know how the models could eat the “healthy” ones when these were on offer. He’d also thought his diet after his surgery had been draconian, but it wasn’t anything like what some of the models adhered to, including eating “cookies” without gluten or butter or sugar or taste. But according to Joanie, the “healthy” cookies—Dallas never wanted to offend her by calling them cardboard—were a big hit, and she always went home with empty containers whenever she made them.

  He took one out, and Joanie tsked. She grabbed a napkin and piled another four cookies on it before handing it to him. “Take more. You deserve a little treat.”

  “Thank you.” Maybe he did deserve a little treat. Cookies weren’t exactly on his diet, but neither were they expressly forbidden.

  Joanie patted him on the cheek. “Has anyone introduced you to the models and film crew yet?”

  Dallas shrugged. He’d met one naked model on his first day, and Kyle had threatened him with the “good tour,” but that hadn’t materialized. “Not really.”

  “Oh, that Will. Out of everyone here, he ought to be most familiar with proper onboarding of new employees.”

  Not for the first time, Joanie had made it clear that she’d worked in Corporateville at one point in her life. Given the new purple streaks in her lavender hair, the job had probably chafed, but even after a week he understood how valuable she was to the organization, keeping Idyll Fling on course like a tightly run ship.

  He popped a cookie into his mouth, and the amazing taste melted his good sense. “I don’t think Will likes me very much.” Oh fuck. He hadn’t meant to admit that to anyone, much less someone who’d worked with Will for a long time. How unprofessional of him.

  “Don’t you worry about Will. For a man who looks like he ought to be surfing and calling everyone “dude,” he can be a bit of a curmudgeon.”

  Unable to contain his laughter, Dallas choked a bit on his cookie. Joanie offered him a bottle of water, and he drank gratefully. Will was about thirty years too young to be a true curmudgeon, but the description was surprisingly accurate. As was the surfer-geek chic Will sported. There had always been a hint of it back in Savron Dynamics, but now that he’d let his hair grow longer and dressed super casual, he was even hotter.

  As soon as he’d caught his breath, Joanie bustled out from behind her desk to envelop him in a giant hug.

  “Dallas, honey, you just go in there and do your best. If you stop by my desk on your way out today, I’ll take you back and introduce you to everyone. If nothing else, you can probably find some boys your age to hang out with.”

  “Thanks, Joanie.” Aside from the purple hair and working for a gay porn studio, she was the epitome of everything he thought grandmothers were supposed to be. His own were as remote as his own parents, and Joanie had already hugged him more in the past week than he could remember either of his grandmothers doing since he’d been a kid.

  A hug, a cookie, and encouraging words from a grandmotherly woman were an awesome way to start a workday. Everybody ought to do it.

  He gathered his napkin full of cookies and made his way to the server room. Good thing Stefan had given him the code, since—again—there was no one around who could let him in.

  He stopped short. Someone had dragged in a small table and set it up in front of his office chair. It wasn’t a proper desk, but it was better than having to share Kyle’s, especially during the hours Kyle was actually working. Was that Will, warming up to him already? He could only hope.

  With his newly acquired mug, cookie stash, and computer, it felt like his. He slipped his messenger bag under the desk by his feet. Although Will hadn’t wanted his personal computer to access the network, he was pretty sure he could piggyback the Internet at least to play his game during downtime. Seemed weird to plan to play video games during work hours, but so far, Will hadn’t seen fit to give him enough work to last even the partial day he was planning to work. Dragon’s Ruin had to be less objectionable than porn, and that hadn’t gotten Kyle fired. Ideally, though, Will would have a proper task list or project for him today.

  In the meantime he logged into his work computer and took a look at the outstanding “contact us” e-mails and the blog comments. There were a fair number of both, but nothing he couldn’t take care of in a c
ouple of hours or less. Not exactly the sort of work he was accustomed to, but it still had to be done and there wasn’t anyone else around to do it.

  He didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate yet, while waiting for Will to show up. Yesterday had been a real test of his self-control. When Will had burst into the server room, pale blue Aquaman shirt clinging to him like he’d been auditioning for a wet T-shirt contest, Dallas’s cock had immediately sprung to life. The entire day—well, half day—had been a constant adrenaline rush. Between freaking out about whether Will was going to bite his head off and freaking out about Will noticing his frequent state of arousal, it was a wonder Dallas hadn’t made a complete ass of himself.

  When Will’s hair dried, waves all over the place, Dallas couldn’t think of much else besides plunging his hands into that wild mass of blond hair and kissing Will senseless. Those four hours had been some of the longest hours of his life.

  Sitting and waiting was going to drive him crazy, so he grabbed his mug and headed to the kitchen. Might as well make some tea. Coffee might be forbidden, but he’d always enjoyed the ritual of morning coffee as much as the beverage itself. And it was still fucking cold in the server room. Hot tea would help warm him up.

  AN HOUR later, shortly after Dallas had made his second mug of tea and dealt with all of the messages he could without input from Will, the man in question burst into the server room looking a little worse for wear.

  His hair was all over the place, although Dallas had to admit Will didn’t seem the type to worry overmuch about being styled or tamed. His clothes were rumpled, and bags had taken up what looked like permanent residence under those hazel eyes. He was also carrying two enormous paper cups from the local coffee shop.

  “Sorry. Late night.” Will bit out the words. Before Dallas could respond, he thrust one of the cups at him. “Got you a latte.”

  Disappointment filled Dallas. Once upon a time, he’d loved a good latte, and not only that, Will had done a nice thing for him, however small. A minor peace offering, but Dallas couldn’t accept. The only question was how to respond without making himself sound like a pathetic dork. “Thank you. But I don’t drink coffee.”