Sometimes Missiles Are Thrown
28th June 2013
Jamie woke up, his head felt heavy. The event he was hosting tonight could push his career stratospheric. Since the break up he ploughed all his nervous energy into making it the success he hoped it would be. If his relationship was to end, he made it his mission to have something positive come out of the past three months of misery.
He’d reflected deeply since delivering the letter. There was every chance Dean was no longer on the same page as him anymore, perhaps he’d already closed the book. All evidence pointed to this tragic possibility.
Jamie rolled onto his back. His mind wondered. Everything ached for Dean to be there. On top of him. Under him. Pushing himself against his thigh. Hands pulling his legs apart. The first push inside. Jamie gasped.
He missed him. His smell. Woody, soapy. Dean. His eyes - wide and searching. Always hungry for, worrying about, looking for Jamie. His hands - strong and capable of making Jamie scream in absolute pleasure or wiping worry away with a gentle clasp of the back of his neck. His lips - so soft, in a permanent kiss. Capable of the sweetest words and the most intimate filth. Lip quivers and giggles.
Jamie dragged his nails across his chest. Closing his eyes he saw Dean, pulling his stubble across his skin. Marking him. Branding him. You’re fucking mine Arden. Remember that.
Jamie gasped again and grabbed himself. Dean’s mouth came back into view. The tongue, the tongue that was capable of making him forget his own name. Jamie flexed his hand, he’d give anything to plunge it into the thick waves of black hair as Dean would look up at him hungrily for approval from that favourite place. The duvet would have to do for now. That slight throb of a vein in Dean’s right temple as he opened Jamie up. I’m working hard for you babe. Give into me. Dean’s cheeks would flush some more, a sheen building on his brow. Good boy. Naughty boy. Big Boy.
“Fuck.” Jamie buried his face in his pillow. Wishing it was Dean’s chest. He came. Frustrated. Hard. Defeated.
Later that morning.
“Em, hey! Good to hear from you. How is my little GG? I miss you both.” Jamie could barely hold his phone when Emily FaceTimed him with George. Jamie’s eyes swole. He missed his ally in the family and the beautiful little boy pawing at her neck. A miniature Archer, god help the world. More broken hearts would follow.
Emily sniffed back tears. “Oh hello handsome. I’m so gutted about all this. I wish everyday you will sort it out. For the record, the whole family is defending you. Even Lee. He usually keeps himself to himself but even he thinks Dean is mad.”
“Don’t cry Em. I’ve done that enough for all of us. George? Give Uncle Jai a smile, I need some love at the moment.” George pointed a finger clumsily at the screen and smiled. “Ucle Jai.” Jamie wiped his eye.
“Well done GG. Look after mama for me. I’ll see you soon I hope. I love you both very much.”
They ended the call. It was almost futile, it made Jamie frustrated. A part of him wanted to punish Dean for keeping him away from the two most innocent people in all this. It was a war after all. The casualties were inevitable and the bodies were piling up.
Later, he took out his phone and scrolled through his camera roll. Examining every photo of moments they’d shared in the past three years.
He smiled painfully at a photo of Dean turning back to the camera. Pouting playfully, Dean never did that usually. That was never his style but Jamie laughed. Goofy Dean was adorable. His profile, strong and handsome. A pale blue shirt and a crown stamp on his cheek. It was William and Catherine’s wedding. Jamie demanded they make their way to Westminster Abbey to catch a glimpse of THE dress. Dean was hungover but dug deep for Jamie to get his peek at the most photographed dress in history.
Then he slid through to another image. Christmas 2012. He had to gasp. A life they could live. Dean in front of the large Christmas tree at the foot of the stairs at the Archer family home. Bottle green turtleneck. The one Jamie bought him that year. Gucci. On Dean’s lap, Jamie in the same but in black. Nestled in Jamie’s arms, George. They both looked at each other not the camera. Jamie remembered the look. They never talked about it, but a sense of longing for this to be their life too one day filled the screen and escaped into Jamie’s heart. His breath caught.
He scrolled again. Jamie held in Dean’s arms. On the beach in Greece. Their tans were deep. The laughter was loud. Dean’s body looked incredible. In board shorts. Jamie laughed at remembering him refusing to put a speedo on. Even in private. “You on the other hand, I won’t protest. As along as you put a fucking towel round you when you walk around.” Dean’s playful possessiveness was cute and made Jamie want him more.
In no image could be found any part of Dean he didn’t miss. He tried and failed happily. He loved and lusted after him still. Fucking make the right decision.
5 PM
The evening approached and Jamie peeled himself off the sofa and began to get ready for the evening. It was quiet, subdued. His hype man was missing. Every chore felt exactly that. A chore. He used to live for dressing for the occasion, his limbs were heavy with doubt.
Holland Park
Dean walked from his apartment to Adam’s. He knew tonight was his deadline. He knew Jamie wasn’t giving him an ultimatum, it was his way of telling Dean he had to have an end point or his head would spiral. He still understood. He wasn’t forcing Dean’s hand but he was asking for Dean to be kind at the very least. Dean could give him that.
He had decided. The realisation was heavy on his heart. But he just couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t lead him on. Making him have hope that something would happen.
Dean arrived at Adam’s. He pulled him in with a hug. Dean squeezed him tightly. He was going to do this.
“Good to see you. Have a seat, I’ve opened a bottle of red, we’ll have dinner a little later and…”
“Adam. Stop. I’ve been a complete bastard. I can’t do this anymore.” Dean clasped his head in his hands. “That boy you saw me with in the Eagle a few weeks back. He’s…”
“The love of your life?” Adam smiled, a little defeated. “Dean. Can I tell you something?”
“Of course. I’m so sorry.” Dean leaned back. A little relief.
“Stop apologising for being in love. That’s ludicrous. Look, I’ve put my career, material pleasure in front of love all my life. I’m fifty one next month, I have a great home, cars, watches, holidays, but I go to bed alone. I finally want to share it with someone, that person isn’t and can never be you. Your heart is somewhere else. I knew it that night. The fact he was dressed as an angel was fucking overkill.” They both laughed. “But I’d be cruel demanding you stick with me when that broken winged boy is out there, waiting for you. Go get him. Go fix his wings.”
Dean smiled broadly and bit his lip. “You’re a complete gentleman Adam. I’m so sorry again.” Dean stood and kissed his forehead. “Ok, so I’m doing this? I’m getting my boy back?”
Adam grabbed his hand. “Absolutely you are. With my full blessing. This world is tragic enough, soul mates need to be together. The look you exchanged that night, I didn’t know if you were going to kiss each other for the rest of your lives or kick the shit out of each other. No one can stand in the middle of that. Get out of my house!” Adam slapped his behind and they both laughed.
Dean raced home and remembered Jamie’s request for a black shirt. He grinned as he riffled though his shirts. He opened the safe for his Rolex and cufflinks. Then he saw it. Danny’s poem. He ran it under his palm. “Danny, reckon he’s going to come home? That he wants to? If not, you’ll have to go live with him mate. He promised Earl.” He had to swallow hard. Jamie had stated his case, there was nothing to say he hadn’t had a change of heart in the last couple of weeks.
7 PM
“Good evening everyone. Thank you for taking the time to be here. Please all take this opportunity to explore strategies we’ve put together for you. My team will be on hand to answer any questions. Thank you to the team at Somerset House for having us. It’s fitting we stage this creative evening in such a beautiful venue dedicated to people like us. Help yourselves to champagne. I always think business is a little sweeter with some bubbles.” He winked at the room, a little laughter peppered the gathering. “So go ahead, network, build futures and don’t be shy.” Jamie slinked away into the corner of the room as everyone applauded. The energy was electric. Jamie was excited for what could happen for the business, despite the gnawing rumble of an unanswered question deep in his stomach. He scanned his phone, no text, no call, but the time. 8 PM. He huffed.
8:30 PM
Dean was ready. Black shirt, charcoal suit, loafers. He was out the door. He ran for the tube. Nerves prickling every part of him. If he could fly he would. He laughed, Harry probably could find him a plane to fly over central London. He missed him still.
The tube was busy and warm. Everything felt as if it was placed just to hold him up. He bounced on his heels and groaned as people meandered off the tube as he tried to get out of Covent Garden tube station. I’ve got a boyfriend to win back, get the fuck out of my way, he translated into noticeable grunts.
He burst onto the street and gasped. The heat was stifling.
Jamie stole a minute to himself and checked his phone again. Still nothing. He kept to the periphery of the crowd. All busy making deals. Fiona rubbed shoulders with other industry heavy weights in the room. He had to smile. He was proud. But he wanted his main cheerleader there to tell him he was proud of him too.
It quickly turned to 9 PM. Two hours since the event had started. Dean never showed. The space on the glossy floorboards where Dean should be stood next to him seemed to mock him. The emptiness screaming at him, reminding him that he was alone again. He had to lean against the wall as the realisation set in that Dean had finished their book. He was done. They were completely, utterly, tragically and finally over.
He closed his eyes to stop tears from bubbling up. Then he froze. His phone throbbed in his hand. He opened his eyes, frowned and began to shake.
Big Boy calling.
Jamie snapped his head around to make sure a stealthy exit was safe and moved out through a set of double doors onto the veranda of the function room. He couldn’t have distractions.
“D, Dean? Hi.” His voice was wobbling. Everything was off balance.
“Good evening Trouble.” Jamie closed his eyes and smiled. “I had a reminder today. Your big night. I’m sorry I’m late. I was finding a black shirt as instructed.” Dean sighed. “Jamie I fucked up. I got spooked and ran for the hills. I’m sorry. My life is so quiet without you, I thought I needed that, but that’s at the expense of you being in it. I don’t make sense anymore without you. We said years ago, normal is fucking boring anyway. Remember? I read your letter, can this just be a chapter in our book? Please?” A nervous giggle escaped Dean. Jamie melted.
He hugged both hands over his phone. Holding Dean’s beautiful, steady voice close.
Jamie whispered, “where are you Big Boy? Come kiss me.”
Dean ended the call and the crunch on gravel got louder to Jamie’s ears. He looked up. His cheeks hurt, he hadn’t smiled like that in three months. He put his hands to his mouth. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There he was. His magnificent Dean. He ran and ran. Jumping into Dean’s arms.
They kissed. Nervous, excited, back where they belonged. Dean grabbed Jamie’s face. “Oh wow. I’ve missed you.” Dean’s voice faltered as he pressed his forehead against Jamie’s. Jamie settled on his feet.
Jamie grabbed his lapels. “You’re here! You’re real again, Dean. You’re real again!” He squashed his face against Dean’s chest. The strength and safety was like anaesthesia against every pain and problem he’d ever had.
“Hey Trouble?” Dean put his hand to Jamie’s chin. There it was. Home. Understood. It was their version of perfect. “I love you. Come home.”
“Oh I love you so much. Try and stop me.” They kissed again and the jazz band Jamie had booked for the evening began to play.
“Jamie Arden. My boyfriend. Again. I hear jazz, will you dance with me?” Dean bowed with his hand out in invitation.
“Absolutely.” Jamie laced his hands around Dean’s neck and they swayed.
Fiona looked around the room. A very important shock of blonde hair was conspicuously absent. She smiled with a gentle satisfaction. Jamie was the master of mood and detail. The jazz band started their slow thrum and frantic networking quickly moved to detailed conversations. Deals being sealed. “This is why you gave him the chance.” She said to herself and took a swig of champagne.
Her mind wondered to Jamie these past few weeks. Despite the upheaval at home, his dedication to his work never wavered. She’d known him since he was a wide eyed twenty one year old intern. She knew he would have been taking a moment to himself. Her eyes went to the open double doors.
As she approached the doors she spotted Jamie, slowly swayaing in the courtyard of Somerset House with a dark haired man. The summer sky casting a blush pink behind them. She smiled and watched. Relieved.
Dean clocked her first and whispered something to Jamie.
“Fi! I’m so sorry I’ll come back in now. I just…”
Fiona put her hand up to him as he scrambled to her. “Jamie. No. You’re done.”
Jamie frowned and almost lost his balance. “Fi? What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re done here. Jamie, you’ve created something special and might I say lucrative in there tonight. Despite uncertainties you’ve had to battle in your personal life. I want you to take next week off. No arguments. I knew I could trust you and here it is. All that success in there, it’s all you. More importantly, now you’re happy again, get out of here and go be in love.”
Jamie ran to her. “Oh Fi, thank you! You mean everything to me. You’ve always believed in me. I’m so proud of us.”
She hugged him lightly and pecked him on the cheek. “I’m proud of you. Now go.”
She turned to walk away.
“Fi?”
“Yes?” She turned still smiling. He made everyone smile.
“How did you know I was happy again?”
“Two things make you happy. Even I know that. Dancing and that gentleman over there. You were dancing. He’s here. Simple.”
The observation made Jamie jump and run back to Dean. “Love you Fi!”
“Thanks Fiona, have a great weekend!” Dean grabbed his hand around Jamie’s waist and they walked out into London.
Jamie broke free and ran for a cab. Dean giggled as his blonde hair fluttered in the evening light. He wasn’t going to tell him to calm down or try to distract him. He knew Jamie needed to go with his enormous feelings tonight. Get lost in his head. Dean chuckled to himself. “Fuck, I really have missed this.”
It was a new version of them as they stepped into their next chapter. Dean would take with him from then on, that any growth spurts they would encounter together, will come with growing pains they’d need to face. It wasn’t perfect but as Ali had pleaded with him three months ago, it was pretty damn close.
Trouble and Big Boy had left the party.
Next Morning
The next morning Dean woke Jamie with a coffee. “Good morning Arden. Fuck I’ve missed you in this bed.”
Jamie woke, one eye open, his fringe stuck to his forehead. “Hello, I love this bed too.” Dean pushed him to his back. “Fuck my head.”
“Yeah you went hard on the cocktails in SoHo last night. Don’t you remember?” Dean tickled his neck.
“Oh fuck off. Haha!” Jamie buried his head in his pillow, it was the best high he’d ever felt. Laughing because Dean made him.
“I’m so happy you’re home though.” He dived in and play bit Jamie’s neck. Jamie grabbed his head and stared into Dean’s eyes.
“Just checking.” Jamie looked around his face.
“At what you weirdo?”
“It’s been three months. I’ve learned every part of this face, I’d be devastated if I missed anything. But I think we’re ok.”
“Yep. You’re a fucking weirdo.” Dean giggled. Jamie’s face was serious.
“Babe, your weirdo though right?” Jamie asked. A little hurt.
“Of course.”
Jamie broke into an instant smile. “I’m cool with that then. Come here. Just lie on top of me. I’ve missed your weight on me. Please?”
Dean snuck under the duvet and pressed his body against Jamie. Dean’s thick hair tickling Jamie’s chest. “I love you. In the end, the one that allows you to love yourself is who you need to be with. You’re so special Archer.”
Dean turned his head, stubble stinging Jamie’s skin. Do it again. He did. “Jamie.” Dean kissed his chest, his stomach, Jamie’s cock rose against Dean’s cheek.
“Yes?”
“It’s been three months.” Dean was at his cheeks now, tongue dancing. Jamie screamed.
“Oh my god.” Jamie blurted, forgetting for a brief moment how Dean could play him.
“Three months without my morning plough. I don’t intend going another day without. You know what I’m like in the morning.” Dean pushed himself deep inside. Making up for last time. Jamie gasped and clambered with Dean’s back, taking a moment to remember how strong and beautiful those muscles were.
They collapsed in sweat. It was quick, a race they’d been waiting three months to complete.
Dean pulled Jamie onto his chest. The heat in June was overwhelming, Jamie didn’t care his sweat was running from his forehead straight onto Dean’s chest. This is where they should be. He gasped as Dean wiped a drop of his sweat and ran it over his own lip. Filthy boy.
“That was disgusting and hot at the same time.”
“Fuck off Arden. I’ve not had you in bed in three months. I love all of you. Even your sweat. It’s mine and I’m not letting any of you go ever again.” The words were almost threatening. The hug got tighter. Jamie sighed with a smile. He was back where he needed to be. Back where Big Boy felt most secure - Jamie by his side.
“Well I can’t argue with that babe. But yeah, gross.”
“You love it. I just made you scream my name. You know what’s good for you.”
Jamie jumped on top of him. “Fuck. What’s gotten into you? Who is this? This cock of the walk?” Jamie tensed his behind on Dean.
“Just a man who saw someone he was about to lose and hunted him down. You’re mine Arden. Again. You’re not going fucking anywhere.” Dean grabbed him by the throat.
“You think you have that much power over me?” Jamie let his hand stay, tighten as he dragged himself over Dean’s mound, waking him up again.
Dean’s face faltered. “I’m playing. I missed you. How did I break my own heart? Jamie I’m sorry.” Dean pushed him away gently and got up.
Jamie needed to comfort him. Jamie realised over time, he was stronger in some corners of their relationship. Over the years he’d had to face self doubt, self loathing, self hate and stare straight into their ugly faces. Some of the feelings Dean was coming to explore were new, he was innocent. His heart was innocent. Jamie had to guide him through. He walked up behind and squeezed him from behind. The sensation of holding the solidness of Dean felt complete. Final. A reminder of how much he loved him.
“Hey.” He kissed the back of his neck. “We’re going to go through stuff that’ll test us. But, feel this grip here?”
“Yeah?”
“That won’t stop. Mine on you and yours on me. Even when you feel sometimes like it’s not there. Know that it is. That’s where our trust and love comes in.”
“Ok.” Dean whispered grabbing his hand tightly.
“I’m here baby. Don’t ever doubt that. Can you stop worrying now? Finish what you started with me? Three months. All I’m saying.” Jamie grinned as Dean turned. Guiding Big Boy back to bed.
Following another desperate, frantic episode, Jamie was dozing on Dean’s chest.
Dean whispered. “You know what we have to do now?” Curling a blonde wave round his finger.
“What?” Jamie said sleepily.
“Build bridges. I have to make up with Lars. Man to man. I have to speak to him.”
Jamie bolted up. “Why? What happened between you two?”
“Put it this way. You’ve got one hell of a friend in him. I bumped into him and he gave me a tough talking to. I miss him, he’s my brother.”
Jamie sank. “Oh god I didn’t know. He never told me. Be kind to our little one. I know you will but I think our war has caused a lot of injuries. I think there’s someone else we need to talk about.”
“I know who you’re going to say. Jaim I don’t know if I can come back from that. That’s betrayal.”
Jamie jumped on him slapping Dean’s chest. “Hey! We were both hurting, we have to take accountability, this was our war, sometimes missiles are thrown out of desperation. He thought he was defending you. True the words were awful. Mine were too.”
“What did you say?”
“For the record I’ve never thought this or ever meant what I said. He slung shit so I slung it back.” He huffed and gripped Dean’s arm. “Ok, I said you’d never fuck him and that he’s going to be alone jerking off. Something horrendous like that.”
Dean laughed. “Fuck me, you went absolutely in on each other.”
“Yeah. And I slapped him.”
“Are you serious? Wow, Jamie’s gone all street on me.” He giggled. “Ok, I’ll give him a call.” Dean went to pull up and kiss him again. Jamie pushed him back down.
“No. I have to speak to him and then we’ll come meet you. Will you let me do this? I want him back in my life.”
“Ok. Whatever you want.”
“Wrong answer. I want you to make up with him because he’s your best friend and you want to. I need you to be friends. I can’t deal with destroying a friendship. Dean I can’t.” Jamie became frantic.
Dean got up again and grabbed him tightly in his arms. “Fuck Jaim calm down. I will. I miss him too. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Jamie settled with a sigh.
Shoreditch later that day.
“Who is it?” Harry came to his door.
“Uh, Baby Boy? At least I hope I still am. May I come in Harry?” Jamie wrung his hands together.
There was a sigh then the clang of locks. “Of course.” Harry gestured with a defeated smile.
“Thank you.” Jamie walked past him into the living room.
Jamie spun around to speak.
“Jamie. Let me say something.” He rested on the kitchen counter. “I’ve always been reserved with genuine emotion, always kept them deep down. It’s just who I am. When we literally fought that night I realised how horrible I had been. When you walked out I felt absolute loss. Dean is my best friend, was at least, you have no idea why though. You probably think I went to uni with him an out loud and proud boy right? Ask him what happened. Then you’ll understand. That’s his story to tell. I understand why he reacted the way he has. But, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all. I mean it. I lost two best friends and I’m gutted.” Harry slumped his head down.
Jamie walked over to him and hugged him. “You haven’t. I’m sorry too. I really am.” Jamie grabbed his face and kissed his forehead. “For the record, you were a total bitch.” He slapped his chest playfully. Harry laughed flatly. “But, I’ve spoken with Mr Magnificent and said I will not be happy and will not put out for him unless he makes things right with you.”
“Really? He wants to talk?” Harry would usually have jumped on the dirty humour, Jamie was shocked, he really was hurting.
“Grab your jacket Step Mother, we’re going to meet him now. Oh and, I will ask him about uni. But I’ll do that when we’re alone. Harry, you had struggles too? You could have told me. Me and Dean have a saying. Normal is fucking boring anyway. We shout it a lot, absolutely helps.” Jamie pulled him back in for another squeeze. “We both love you very much. We were all hurting. But let’s leave that in the past.”
They walked slowly and quietly to the pub around the corner from Harry’s. No loud music, no nonsense. Just two men who needed to hash it out.
Jamie smiled at Dean. Dean fell in love with him again, a boy he’d almost thrown away moving mountains to get him and his former best friend talking again.
“Hello. We come in peace.” Jamie went to the bar to grab drinks.
“Hi mate.” Dean said. He was sheepish. He wanted Harry back in his life but the words he threw at Jamie were so damaging. Acidic. He knew they burnt Jamie deep.
“Hi.” Harry sounded small. A handsome charismatic man reduced to just whispers.
“Dean look..”
“H, I…”
They both looked at each other and started to laugh a little. Jamie returned.
“Oh the boys are laughing. This is good.” Jamie returned with a bottle of white wine, glasses and ice. Smiling, a little comforted.
Harry smiled at Jamie then back at Dean. “I’m sorry for what I said about this one. That was awful. I dug so deep I ended flinging flaming hot magma at him. I understand your reaction. Please accept my apology. Jamie has, and I’ve accepted his.”
“H, I love you. You know that. But even when me and him weren’t together I was worried sick about him everyday. I know I’ve been in relationships before, you’ve been there for me. But this, what I feel for Trouble over here? It’s oxygen. I literally need it. I cut myself off for a little while and it felt wrong. Inhuman. That’s how much he means to me.”
Jamie’s mouth opened slightly. What Dean was saying was stunning him.
“When I heard what you said I wanted to run to him. It broke me. And the fact it came from you broke me some more. But, he won’t rest until we’re friends again, that’s another thing, his compassion is insane. Of course I want to make up and have my friend back. In fact.” Dean playfully kicked both their feet. “That’s for making my life so fucking miserable.”
“Oh babe, but you asked for it.” Jamie swigged his wine winking. Dean grinned, grabbed the ice from his glass and flicked it at Jamie. Jamie bolted up and laughed. Tapping his jeans dry.
“Oh you’re not safe H.” Dean did the same. Harry jumped up. Laughing.
“Oi, less of that in here please.” The barman shouted.
They all fell together laughing.
“Thank you D. I’ve missed you. Both of you.”
Peace after the war. Restored.
The following week Jamie reached out to Lars.
JAMIE: Hey Little One. Dean told me you had a fight when you saw him. You didn’t tell me. Thank you for defending me. I love you. He wants to make it up to you. I can’t bare it if you don’t make up. Please say you will. X
P.S Get him a cake. He’ll be putty in your hands. Carrot Cake. Trust me.
LARS: I didn’t want to because you had so much to deal with already. I was just trying to protect you. Of course, I miss him too. My big brother. I’ll happily meet him. I will! X
That week Dean asked Lars to meet him for coffee near Lars’ offices on Fleet Street.
Dean was sat ready. He was nervous. He adored Lars. Lars waved but went to the counter and grabbed the cake and came back with two slices.
“Cake? I’m meant to be building bridges with you and you give me cake? Why?” Dean’s eyes lit up. Dean’s love of food was the stuff of legend.
Lars laughed. “Because bro, you don’t need to apologise, everyone was in some kind of pain, emotions running high. I understand you had to take time out but I’m glad you’re back.”
Dean grabbed his hand. “Thank you. I will apologise though, I was dismissive of how you felt. You had to support him. I respect you so much Lars. And the cake? I love cake! This is my favourite.”
“You really don’t need to. It’s fine.” Lars smiled brightly. Big bro was back. He felt protected and happy.
Dean frowned and became serious. “I lost an important person albeit momentarily this summer. I’m sorry. Lars you mean the world to me. I genuinely consider you a brother to me. If I went that long without speaking to Henry or Lee I’d be gutted. It’s the same with you.”
“Wow. Rugby players need to man up. You’re so fucking dramatic.” Lars tapped his hand, they laughed over their cake. It felt good, natural, how it should be.
“Fuck you Walker. You’re still not getting in my underwear draw.” He winked at his friend.
“Oh there’s still time. There’s still time. But thank you. I appreciate you meeting me. I’m just happy you two are ok. Nothing works without you two being ok.”
“We’re sorry. Maybe I’m Trouble sometimes too.”
