“Eh, next time I'll let you take me to that diner.” Jim pondered the “next time” as he ate, careful not to spill any crumbs—
then realized that Griffin was watching him out of the corner of his eye.
“What?”
“What what?”
Jim put the plate on the nightstand and licked the chocolate off his fingers. Griffin was sitting there, still with the cupcake in his hands. “Why are you sitting there like that? Eat the cupcake before I reconsider my generous sharing and take it back.”
Griffin put the chocolate cake in his mouth, throwing Jim looks now and again.
“What?”
Griffin swallowed. “Just wanna make sure it's cool if I stay here tonight.” Jim snorted. “No. Get your shit and get out.” He snapped the new sheet over them and contemplated another blanket.
Griffin didn't lie back right away, even as Jim restacked the pillows and lay down.
“That was a joke.”
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“I know.” Griffin sounded a little defensive, but he lay down anyway, rubbing his hands over his hair.
“I'm having a good time. Wasn't what I expected at all, but it's…fun.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I thought we established I don't know how to have fun. Or date,” Jim said drily.
“Oh, right.” There was a pause. “So this is a date.”
“Well, technically. Unless all your business dinners end this way.” Jim turned his head to give Griffin a stern look. “Do they?”
“God, no.” That finally elicited a laugh from Griffin.
“All right, then.” Jim folded his arms behind his head and contemplated another blanket for a second time. “So we had a date. And it, uh…went well, I think.”
“I think so.” Griffin coughed theatrically.
“Are you ready to sleep?”
“You're the one with the actual job that requires an alarm clock. I'm gonna sleep until you kick my ass out. This bed is amazing.” Jim threw back the sheet and slid out of bed, his muscles echoing that yes, this was a date, and it was a good one. He walked to the closet to grab the second comforter and heard a wolf whistle. And snickering.
“Shut up. Just for that, I'm waking your ass up at five a.m.” Jim threw the comforter over Griffin, then climbed back into bed.
“Five? That's like—six hours from now.” Griffin sounded horrified. “That's not enough sleep.”
“I have to be in by eight,” Jim said, kicking the sheets around until they were the way he liked them—and realized that he hadn't shared a bed since Matt in New York.
“God, real jobs are horrifyingly early.”
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Jim considered telling him that usually he slept for two hours, went to the gym, and was at his desk by six a.m., but he didn't.
“Yeah, what can I tell you? But, uh…you don't have to get up that early.
You can sleep, hang out. Whatever.”
Jim rolled over to face Griffin, who was still half sitting up, a surprised expression on his face.
“Wow—thanks. I was joking before…”
“Well, I'm not joking now. Just sleep in, do whatever you want. We can, uh…have lunch if you're still around.”
It's just polite. Payback for the dinner
. At least that's what Jim attempted to tell himself.
“Okay, sure. Thanks.” Griffin finally settled down under the covers, watching Jim as he pulled the covers up to his neck. “So you know, this is like that weird moment when you drop someone off at the end of the night and aren't sure if you should kiss them…”
“We're a little bit past that point.”
“Yeah, clearly. I haven't ever dropped anyone off at their front door naked.”
“Good to know, good to know.”
They were close enough to kiss, and Jim thought that might be a nice idea actually. He thought about Griffin's move on the street after dinner and smiled, rolling closer as he snaked his arm around Griffin under the covers, pulling their bodies flush.
“I had a very nice evening; thank you so much for dinner,” Jim said politely.
Griffin snickered. “You're so welcome, Jim. I hope I can call on you again.” Jim lifted his head and angled his mouth against Griffin's.
* * * * *
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Eventually Griffin drifted off, facedown on the pillow and snoring lightly.
Jim listened to the sounds, felt the warmth of another person beside him, and watched the lazy circles of the ceiling fan move shadows over the walls.
When the day started, he'd dreaded the outcome. He had no expectations, let alone expectations of going to sleep next to someone like Griffin.
He could still taste the kisses on his lips, the chocolate…
He drifted off before he could remember that he never fell asleep this early or this easily.
* * * * *
He sat up and glanced at the red numbers, wondering for a moment if it was a dream. He didn't remember setting it for so late; he was usually at his desk already…
“Sorry,” a voice mumbled sleepily next to him. “Got up to pee around four and realized you hadn't set it, so…hope seven is okay.” Griffin. Jim took a deep breath and nodded, clearing his throat. “No, thanks. I completely forgot.”
“Yeah, you were out.” Griffin snuffled at the pillow, then smiled up myopically in Jim's direction. “You want me to make coffee or something?”
“No, no, go back to sleep. I'm gonna grab a shower and get out of here. I'll call you later.” Jim's heart still thudded in his chest as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Cool.” Griffin rolled back over, taking the bulk of the comforter with him.
Jim stumbled downstairs and straight to the shower.
* * * * *
77
met were like Griffin, he'd be okay with the idea of dinner and sex and waking up and second dates.
All guys, however, were not like Griffin, or at least Jim was bad at meeting them.
Eventually the water turned cool and Jim hustled out. He was starting to actually consider the possibility of being “late”—and that never happened.
Clicking into high gear, Jim skipped shaving, brushed his teeth, and raced back upstairs to grab a suit. He was halfway down the stairs when he realized he smelled coffee.
Griffin was standing at the counter, stirring a mug of coffee. A second sat on the edge of the counter, waiting.
“Milk or sugar?” Griffin called, yawning widely.
“Black.” Jim tied his tie, trying to be casual about a naked, hair-askew Griffin leaning against the countertop.
“Of course.” Griffin gathered up the mug and put the spoon in the sink.
Jim grabbed his keys as he slid on his shoes. “I'll, uh… There are extra keys here by the door and the elevator one…that's on the red cord.”
“'Kay.” With another huge yawn, Griffin walked over and rubbed his forehead. “Gonna sleep a few more hours; then I'll give you a call.”
“Great.” There was a pause, and Jim felt the urge to say something else or…
Griffin, of course, reacted before he could formulate something; he leaned in and kissed Jim hot and dirty, a coffee-flavored delving of his oral cavity that completely belied the sleepy expression on his face.
“Later.” Griffin took a step back and shuffled off, nude and clutching the coffee mug.
Eventually Jim clicked his jaw shut, took his own mug, and headed into the elevator.
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Chapter Twelve
Terry didn't just toss an onion bagel on Jim's desk with an easy lie as soon as he walked in—he threw the bagel, then rolled his chair around to sit next to Jim, grande tea in hand and an expectant smile on his face.
“So…”
“Good morning, Terry. How was your evening?” Jim asked, professional and innocent as a babe as he peeled the wrapper off the bagel. “By the way, could you ask them to make a mistake with a raisin-walnut tomorrow? Lightly toasted with butter.”
Terry waved his cup. “Yeah, sure—my evening was lovely, change of bagel…now talk.”
“About what?” Jim took a bite of his bagel.
“You and the screenwriter.”
“We had dinner.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Terry smirked. “You have a mark on your neck.”
“Shaving.”
“You bit yourself shaving?”
“Okay, you got me. The screenwriter is a vampire. Now go to your own desk and call Mimi so she can call me and I can get my day started.” Laughing, Terry took a sip of his tea and bowed. “Okay, you got
me
. I'm on a scouting mission. Ben and Liddy and…”
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“And Heather and Nick. Right. The Heterosexual Power Cabal wants to know my business.” Jim tried not to blush, but the heat in his cheeks told him he was losing that war. “Send out an e-mail, tell everyone I had a nice birthday, okay?”
Terry seemed pleased and content with this answer and rolled back, cackling intermittently as he turned on his computer.
Jim wondered how many e-mails he was going to get that were the equivalent of getting a high five in the gym.
The truth was, he had more than a nice birthday. Nice dinner, nice guy, great sex, and a kiss at his door that rattled his brain cells. All that he could probably deal with, but the truth was, he was way beyond that right now.
Griffin was still at his apartment. They'd talked briefly about meeting for lunch.
Now Jim sat at his desk, less than an hour after leaving, wondering if Griffin would stay another night.
Another
night.
As in a two-night stand.
He should be more terrified than this.
Then his phone beeped. And beeped again. And again. A quick scroll of the messages revealed some nonverbal high fives and a little smiley face laughing at him from Mimi.
Gosh, he was so glad to provide entertainment for the Cabal.
* * * * *
When Griffin offered casually to stay until Jim got off work, Jim had a thousand good reasons to shoot this down, to tell him to go back to Hollywood, 80
Tere Michaels
but he ended up asking Griffin if he liked Italian and could he grab a bottle of wine from the store around the corner.
Later, as he and Terry drove back to the station, Jim tried to mentally blame the seemingly permanent misplacement of his guard on old age. Or loneliness. It'd been a few months since Ben had moved out. He didn't have anyone to come home to; sex aside, sometimes it was just nice to eat leftovers with another human being while you watched ESPN.
Then work boiled up again, and Jim went from his desk to the interrogation room down to Narcotics and back again until Terry announced it was time to go.
And for once, Jim didn't feel like arguing. Instead he shut down his computer and called Direnzo's from his cell to order ahead of time. He went a little overboard on the amount of food, not giving the conversation a second thought until he hung up and saw Terry's wide-eyed look from over the divider.
“Wait… You…you just ordered for at least two people. Do you have plans again tonight?” Terry was well and truly shocked by this amazing development.
Jim pocketed his cell and put on his jacket, head ducked to avoid any eye contact.
“Yeah, actually.”
“Wait—is this with the same guy?”
“Yeah, actually.” Jim rolled his chair under his desk and headed for the door, Terry at his heels.
“Wait—so he stayed, at your apartment, and he's…staying another night?” Jim might have announced that he and bigfoot were expecting a baby given Terry's breathless shock. He hit the elevator button impatiently.
“Yes.” Jim tapped his foot, then reached over to punch Terry in the arm when he started snickering. “And don't even think of texting Mimi so she can harass me.”
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“Oh yes, please share more details of my personal life with your wife. I know I'm like a hobby to her.”
“Now, Jim, she just wants you to be happy…” They got on the elevator, and Jim sighed with begrudging acceptance.
“Yeah, I know. I know you and Mimi and Heather and Nick and Ben and Liddy are wanting the best for me… I just don't want you all holding your breath waiting for me to end up like you.”
“You mean heterosexual or happily married?”
“I don't want to get married.”
“Well, we've discussed it, and we'll all settle for happy.”
* * * * *
His friends wanted him to be happy—they wanted it passionately and sincerely and with great gusto. And that level of enthusiasm really brought the point home as to how miserable his world must look from the outside.
And God knew he tried to pretend it didn't suck most of the time, but that was getting more and more difficult. He may tease the Heterosexual Power Cabal, but ultimately they had people to go home to, people to share their lives with, and he had…nothing. An unrequited crush, a lot of anonymous shit in bars he was way too old for, and his only real family was a guy spending his days planning for the rapidly approaching end.