Archive of Our Own

Brad Bakshi likes to feel wanted.

Needed, really. He craves it.

It’s why he’s in this business. It’s why he’s made himself essential. To be successful, sure, yes, that’s a big part of it. But the knowledge that they need him to function, that his absence heralds a descent into chaos--this is what keeps him at Mythic Quest.

Every action is carefully calculated and expertly executed. He has the office down to a predictable science in which he can orchestrate and manipulate. He owns them.

They need him.

When he leaves, though, is when the void enters. The absence of any other presence or any person that would require his.

So, he’s grown accustomed to seeking it out.

This has led him to dark rooms with bright, flashing lights. Not exactly the highest class, but it fits his needs. “Boozy and Boujee,” as he describes them. Jo seems to question him about it more than anyone else ever has, mostly due to her brazenly forward nature. Very soon into her internship when the two were first hitting it off, she practically begged him to fill her in on where he spends his evenings. He never lets her accompany him, firm in his intention of always going alone. It’s rare for him to leave that way, though.

Brad knows how to seek them out. Knows the textbook “look” to search for--seemingly carefree, but a thin veil that covers a certain nervous eagerness. It’s specific and very particular, but more common than you’d think. You just have to know how to pick up on the criteria. Brad does.

He knows how to approach them. How to read their expressions and act accordingly. The way he sways his hips, swirls his drink, smiles, moves his eyes--it’s all brutally intentional. All in an effort to loosen them so that he can work his magic. A few drinks and conversations later and they’re always eager to leave with him.

He knows how to caress a cheek the right way, assure them of their value, tell them what they want to hear. Then he leans back, listening to promises that aren’t meant for him, fleeting whispers of assurances and praises. He pretends they’re his in the moments before an unfamiliar name escapes the lips of the man above him. Then he ignores it, opting to still taste what desire he still can off of the other’s lips. Desire for him.

After that, the motions are simple. No strings attached. Another few nights, maybe. As long as he can pretend before he gets the inevitable phone call. ‘Hey, we actually were able to make things work’ or ‘I think it’s worth trying again’ or ‘I just realized what I was doing…with you…just wasn’t right.’ Always the same. Always ending in a “thank you”. Thank you for the fun, for the confidence boost, for the memories. Brad knows how it goes. He knows when it’s coming and when to let the call go to voicemail.

And then it’s back to the neon.

It’s a dark cycle and a true sickness, he’ll admit, but it’s one that he understands, so he continues. From one validation in male form to the next, he survives.

It’s no surprise, then, when the illness spreads to the workplace. It’s not exactly a pleasant concept to him, though. The risk is higher.

*****

Brad and David function in a rhythm. They’ve worked together in close quarters long enough to naturally do so. They each know when the other needs more coffee and what room temperature they prefer and when they require quiet. They move around each other like it’s choreographed. It’s how they work.

As time progresses, though, Brad finds himself more drawn to this odd dance partner. In the moments during meetings when C.W. says something ridiculous and they both instinctively look to each other, his stomach will flip. He finds his cheeks turning hot when David leans over behind his chair to look at something on his computer screen and his speech becoming choppy when he feels a hand rested on his shoulder.

That’s not an option. That doesn’t fit the formula.

Brad takes more shots than usual after work days like those.

Something shifts, though, and he’s quick to notice it. David seems different, more hesitant around him. The touches seem to last longer, and the glances have more behind them. It bewilders Brad, really. It’s outside of what he knows. He chalks it up to wishful thinking and then beats down that emotion with a chaser.

Then David announces his long-impending divorce, and Brad thinks “oh.” It suddenly makes sense.

Something begins to build to a point past the privilege of ignorance. Brad toys with him more than ever, even at the highest point of stress during the Raven’s Banquet release. He disappears for a day and leaves Michelle behind to report. The report is more riveting than he can bear, specifically due to one aspect of it: David desperately searched for him. It’s fun to see him nervous. It’s gratifying to feel missed. He pushes him to his breaking point during an ethics committee just to see where it lies, just to see how long David can put up with him. The result is impressive to say the least.

Yet the greatest surprise comes on a day where Brad had no purposeful intention to connect with him at all; rather, David reaches out to help him during a day of vulnerability. Weakness in the workplace is never something Brad is open to, and yet David knows exactly how to move him through it. His emotional armor hinders it from showing, but he feels a strange comfort from the closeness. A hunger is sparked.

And so, several weeks later, Brad finds himself in their office well after closing hours with the blond object of his infatuation working with his back to him. The thought comes too impulsively for him to suppress: “fuck it.”

“So.” He leans back in his chair. “Keeping yourself busy?”

David pulls back a headphone and turns. “Huh?”

“You keeping yourself busy? You know, with all the stuff you have going on.” He stands slowly, casual.

“I mean...I guess. I try.” David blinks. “What stuff?”

“Oh, you don’t have to dance around it, David. It’s out there. I know it’s got to be hard on you.”

“Ah, that. Right, well.” David clears his throat. “Well, you know it wasn’t my fault. She was just so…”

“I can imagine.” Brad is moving slowly toward the other man’s workspace, naturally gravitating nearer.

“You can?” David tilts his head.

“Oh, sure. I mean, I know you.” He half-sits on the edge of the desk.

“Yeah, but still…”

“You wanna go somewhere?”

“What?”

“Go somewhere. You, me, drinks, dancing. Come on, it’s dark out on a Friday night and you’re organizing your inbox.” Brad gestures to the screen. “It’s depressing.”

“I don’t really go to clubs…”

“Well you clearly don’t want to go home. I don’t blame you. Like I said, it must be hard. You need a distraction.” He traces a finger mindlessly across the cherry oak surface. “I can offer that.”

David takes a breath, brow furrowed and eyes slightly squinted. He stares like that for a few moments before responding. “Okay.”

Brad knew he’d say that.

*****

“It’s loud in here.”

“Hm?”

“I said it’s loud in here,” David raises his voice, eyes uneasy as he scans the room.

“Yeah, that’s the point.” Brad thanks the bartender as she passes him four shots. He knocks one back and nudges two of them toward David, who hesitantly picks one up. He grimaces at the way it burns his throat and Brad lets out a soft laugh.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” David croaks out, holding back a cough.

“No, it’s just…” Brad shakes his head. “Nevermind.” He nudges the other glass towards David and holds up his own. “On three. One…two…”

*****

David laughs when he’s drunk. Brad knows this from company parties. There’s a certain sorrow to him, though. A sadness that slips through when his gears are loosened. It’s masked by giddiness, but Brad can see it.

Brad is swaying to the music, drink in hand as David tries to mimic his movements.

“See, isn’t this nice?” He elbows him playfully.

David laughs and rolls his shoulder back. “I guess I can sort of see the appeal.”

Brad rolls his eyes, then turns to shout at the bar. “Hey Hannah, four tequila, please!” He brings them over once they’re poured, moving to the beat as he walks. “Here you go.” He sets them down on a high table next to them and motions for David to take one.

They drink together again, and Brad keeps his eyes open to watch David make that face. “God, you’re adorable, aren’t you?” slips out by accident. It was meant to just be a thought, but he supposes it should work. David’s ears are red. That’s a good sign.

“Am I…sorry, you said I was what?”

Brad shrugs.

“I…thank you…?”

“You’re welcome.” They’re close. Not on purpose; it seems to have just naturally happened, but Brad is suddenly hyper-aware of it. Their knees are practically touching. David must be aware of it, too, and yet he doesn’t make any effort to move away. That’s another good sign.

David clears his throat. “And, uh, thanks for inviting me out. I think you’re right, you know.”

Brad does know. “About which thing?”

“The not-wanting-to-be-home thing. I keep making work for myself to avoid it.” David shakes his head. “It’s slowly healing, but it’s…empty. Depressing, like you said.”

Brad nods understandingly. “You’re lonely. I get it.” He does. That was genuine.

David nods.

“You deserve better.”

He looks up. “Do I?”

“Oh yeah, David. Of course you do. You’re a good man.” His gaze moves from his eyes to his lips, then back up. “You shouldn’t have to feel otherwise.”

David looks at him, wide-eyed. Brad knows that look. He’s told him what he wants to hear. It’s more real this time, sure, but that doesn’t change the process. He’s sparked a hunger for the affirmation he can provide.

“You’re good, too, Brad.” His voice is soft. Real.

“Mhm?” They’re close. God, they’re close. And David is leaning in. That’s a very good sign.

“Yeah.”

And then they’re kissing. Deep and wanting but still gentle. It tastes like alcohol and cologne and Brad’s chest is doing somersaults.

That’s how Brad ends up in his boss’s bed on a Saturday morning, bare and sunbathed and thinking about what a mess he’s gotten himself into.

He leaves before David wakes up.

*****

When Monday comes, there’s some well-expected tension. They make eye contact and Brad shoots him a smile. David returns it, uneasy. They don’t speak much other than quick questions with two-word answers until it’s near closing.

“Hey, so, about…you know, last weekend—”

“There’s no need, David.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it. No need to be concerned with strings or people knowing or anything like that. Nothing has to change.”

“…Right.”

Brad plasters on a grin as he slings his bag over his shoulder and stands from his desk. “You’ve got my number, D-Man.” He runs a hand across David’s shoulder as he exits.

Work continues unhindered for the remainder of the week. Then, Friday night, he gets a phone call.

David is quick to answer the door once Brad knocks, and Brad is quick to pull him close.

“Woah, woah,” David mumbles between kisses, pushing the door closed behind them. “I’ve got neighbors, you know, Brad. Nosy ones.”

“My bad. What can I say? I missed this.” That was clearly the right response, judging by the shade of David’s cheeks.

“You…yeah?”

He laughs under his breath, still holding fist-fulls of David’s jacket. “Yeah. Can you blame me?”

“I dunno,” he stutters. “I guess I just didn’t expect that. Didn’t know if you’d even pick up.”

“Aw, of course I did.” He kisses him again, quick. “I was hoping you’d call, in fact.” Another. Another.

“Mhm?” David is falling into the rhythm of it, holding them longer until they’re slower, deeper. His hand moves to the back of Brad’s neck.

“Mhm.”

*****

Brad acts as if it’s not an issue. There have been men before David and there will be men after. That second thought isn’t quite welcomed for reasons that Brad both fully despises and doesn’t fully understand. It stings in the back of his brain every time the two share a glance or a kiss or a bed. He can bide his time, holding David close and trying not to let his guard down so much that it hinders his ability to predict action. It won’t alter the inevitable.

Every movement is pushed through another lens in his mind. Did Wendy hold his shoulders when he kissed her neck like this? Did she caress his jaw? Is he thinking of how her lips felt? How do they compare to mine?

He’s not a fool. He knows what he offers. It’s either a replica of a past partner or an idealized version of what they were wished to be. Brad only hopes he serves as the latter for David. Weekend after weekend, he finds himself waking in his employer’s bed. He makes it a habit to slip out quickly. If they’d drank the night before, he’ll slip out once he wakes. Sometimes he’ll leave right after the act. It’s a defense, sure, but it’s not to hurt David. Quite the opposite, actually. It spares him the moment of realization when he wakes up and sees it’s Brad that he’s beside. It spares him the let-down, the uncomfortable conversations. It spares him the shame.

It’s easier to just grab his clothes and keys and leave.

One morning in particular, though, he sleeps later than he means to. A slow rise to consciousness reveals the sensation of being held. It wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. They’d fallen asleep close to each other before, David’s head on Brad’s chest and vice versa. This is different. David is holding him from behind, arms wrapped around his torso and his head buried in the crook of Brad’s neck, sleeping soundly. There is something so profound about it, the strong intention. The want. The purpose. The selfless giving. It draws Brad in to close his eyes again, sit in the feeling, pretend it’s his. He goes off formula, and suddenly there’s movement behind him.

A heavy intake of air, and Brad feels David’s head lift up. He keeps his eyes closed.

“Oh. Hey.” David’s voice is drowsy, weighed with sleep and carried by a light rasp. A bird spreads to its full wingspan in Brad’s chest and flaps wildly. “You awake?”

Brad mimics David’s waking breath, rolling over and opening his eyes slowly. “Shit. Yeah. What time is it?”

David is propped up a bit, looming over him with one arm still underneath his shoulder blades. He glances at the clock on the bedside table. “Almost 10.” The blond lays back down, neck turned to look at Brad, who is still pretending to shake off sleep. “You have somewhere to be?”

“Uh, yeah.” Alone in my apartment, screaming at myself. “Guess I’d better…get up…”

And yet he doesn’t want to. He’s stuck there, staring at David’s stupid messy hair and those stupid blue eyes with that stupid look that he can’t quite place.

“You sure?” Is it despair? Admiration? Loneliness? Loneliness. That seems likely. The man clearly has an empty schedule today.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should get dressed.” He pushes himself up and reaches around for his pants, stepping into them and jumping to get them on. He faces the mirror as he begins buttoning his shirt and notices through the reflection that David is watching him. The other man now sits up on the bed with a certain longing in his eyes. Brad shakes away any thought that results from that.

“Alright.” He turns toward the bed. David stands to meet him as Brad picks up his things and drapes his sweater over one arm.

“Oh, hey, you uh…you missed a button.” David points, hands hesitant.

“Oh.” Brad looks down at his shirt.

“No, it’s okay, I got it. Your hands are full. Let me help you.” He stands close as he fastens it, his eyes seemingly glued to Brad’s chest. Brad looks at him with his eyebrows pressed together

The domesticity of it feels like poison. It’s seeping through his skin and attacking his nervous system.

David smiles up at him. “There you go.” His voice is sweet and his words seem to carry meaning. Brad has to get out before his organs shut down.

“See you Monday, D-Train.” He nods and turns as quickly as possible, heading straight out the front door.

*****

Monday comes and Brad continues the routine of casual smiling with the occasional shoulder brush. They somehow manage to keep much from changing in the office. By some miracle, it remains natural to work together still, and the others don’t seem to be suspicious. Brad and David always worked in tandem anyway. The dance simply continues.

That’s the thing that worries Brad the most—the connection. What will become of daily life once everything comes crashing down? He never had to worry about that with any guy that came before. Even if he was a regular at the same bars or a relatively close acquaintance, Brad has always known he can brush it off with an uncaring smile. David will be different. Of course, he will be. There’s no easy avoidance, no quick evasions, and worst of all, no want to be distant. Brad doesn’t have to fake laughter with David or scramble for something to compliment. It’s natural.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Some weeknights, he stays up in bed and wonders how the end will come. He figures it will have to be boredom, fatigue, or change. A new partner or perspective. He doubts that Wendy will return into David’s life in any form other than alimony. It’s not that she was entirely cold, she just wasn’t for David. Never felt satisfied. Brad wonders what she couldn’t see, then mentally slaps himself and forces his eyes shut.

*****

It’s Friday, near closing time, and Ian and Poppy are having a meltdown in the conference room. It’s entertaining as hell—their screaming, the horrified looks on the interns’ faces—but it isn’t hitting the same as usual. Brad slips out quietly after a while of watching, probably unnoticed (definitely not by the executive producer, but regardless).

He strolls to the kitchen area to get a cup of tea, something to clear his head. As the kettle begins to boil, he hears David approach behind him.

“Hey,” David says, putting a hand on Brad’s shoulder first. “Sorry, I didn’t wanna sneak up and scare you or anything.”

(He didn’t. Brad expected his presence.)

“No worries, Dave.” Brad grins as he picks one of his tea bags from out of a drawer. “You keeping a handle on them?” He nods toward the conference room, a slight smirk on his face.

“Them? Oh, well, you know. I tried. Gave them a firm talk so I think at this point, they know my stance. They’ll just probably take a while to soak it in.” He nods as he speaks, as if assuring himself. “Or they’ll scream until they lose their voices. Either way, victory.”

Brad releases a laugh. “Sounds smart to me.”

David’s chuckle follows Brad’s and then slowly decrescendos. “So, uh, my place tonight?” His voice is low. “I got a new bottle of red. It’s a cabernet.” David says it with such pride, as if he’d rehearsed beforehand. Brad guesses he probably did and then stops himself from melting into the carpet.

“Ah, perfect! And I got a pair of slacks that show off my ass.” Brad smirks, patting David on the shoulder and picking up his steeping mug of mint and honey. “See ya then, Dave!” He calls back as he walks toward the elevators.

*****

The ring of the doorbell is still echoing when Brad’s hands are on the buttons of his shirt and his lips are on David’s.

And then David’s hands are on his chest. They shove him off.

“Hey, what’s the matter, hot stuff?”

“Can’t we talk?”

“Talk?” Brad’s smirk falls slowly, and he fears his eyes might be flashing honest fear. “Talk. Right, uh…sorry, sorry I just…you called me and I…sorry.” He steps back, refastening his collar. “Change your mind?”

“No, no it’s not that I just…do we always have to jump right to it? I told you I had wine.” The corner of David’s mouth pulls up a bit and he folds his lips together. “I spent a lot of time picking it out. It looked nice.” His gaze is averted but dreamy, and Brad aches so deeply he thinks his bones might crumble.

“Yeah. I could go for a glass.” He straightens his shoulders and steadies his voice again. “Pour me one, handsome?”

David smiles, but it doesn’t feel full-bodied and radiating like it normally does. “Sure thing.” He walks toward the kitchen, Brad trailing behind him despite the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.

“I don’t normally splurge money on wine,” David muses as he steps behind the counter and pulls two glasses down from the cabinet. “Mostly because I drink it fast.”

“You’re not much of a drinker.”

“It helps me sleep.” David pops the cork and begins pouring.

“Does it?”

“Yeah.”

“And you need it?”

“Yeah. Kinda takes a lot to put me down these days.” He slides Brad a full glass and takes a sip from his own, his eyebrows rising at the taste. “You pay for what you get, I guess.”

Brad smiles and swirls the wine around, watching the legs run down the side.

“I know the way it does that says something about the quality of the wine,” David begins, apparently observing, “but I have no idea what.”

“You wanna know something?” Brad looks up, grinning.

His smile is matched. “What?”

“I have no fucking clue either.”

David laughs at that. It rings like chatter in the too-empty kitchen space.

“I just think it looks cool,” Brad giggles out. “People seem impressed by it.”

“Well, they do it in the movies.”

“Exactly!”

“I figured a drinker like you would know their shit more.”

“I’m a drinker, not a scholar. Usually happens in clubs, anyway. There, you just get it down the hatch and get out there to dance.” Brad shrugs, taking another drink. “I’d like to learn more, though. Get to understand what’s handed to me when it’s offered.”

“Me, too, honestly. Though I’m afraid it wouldn’t be kind to my bank account.”

“Ignorance is bliss, my dear.” Brad grins. Where is this coming from?

“I’ll tell you what I do know how to do!”

“What?” Brad leans forward, genuinely eager to see.

David reaches over to the sink to get his finger wet, then holds it up for showmanship before running it around the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“Hold on, I promise it’s cool.” He laughs. “I just have to get it going.”

A moment later and Brad hears it—a high ringing note coming from the glass. “Music.” He smiles.

“Cool, right? I told you!”

“Wow. Where’d you learn that?”

“My dad, actually. He was full of weird and miscellaneous tricks like that. Taught me a bunch when I was really young, before he kinda…y'know. Fell off the wagon.”

“Right.” Brad nods, knowing some wounds shouldn’t be prodded. “Well that’s quite the party trick.”

“Yeah, sure is.” David pours himself another glass. “Need more?”

“Nah, I still have some left.” Brad holds his up.

“Alrighty, then.” David walks toward the sofa while Brad trails behind, making an effort not to study his back too closely.

“How long have you been doing with that whole drinking-at-night thing?” Brad sits with one leg crossed underneath him.

“With sleep? Oh, well, y'know. On and off for a long time.” Sip. “But particularly on since…well. Wendy.”

Brad nods.

“I guess I got accustomed to sleeping with someone near me. Then I started waking up with no one there, and then going to sleep like that, too.” Sip. “And then I guess I just…stopped going to sleep altogether.” He lets out a light laugh that Brad sees through fully.

“I’m sorry. That’s really difficult.”

“Yeah it was. Still is sometimes.” David’s staring at his glass, as if taking in his own reflection for the first time.

“You don’t deserve that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why do you do the same thing?” David suddenly looks Brad in the eye.

Brad’s mouth hangs open. “I…what?”

“If you think it was wrong of her, then why do you do it, too? You never stay after. You never want to talk about it you…” He pauses. “I wake up alone again.”

“I…I’m sorry I...” Brad presses his lips together, his face hot.

“No, no don’t, I...” David exhales. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for your feelings. It’s wrong of me to...y’know...put you on the spot like that.”

Brad attempts pleading with his eyes, but David is looking down again.

“I’m sorry. Really. Just, forget I said anything.” He finishes off his glass and sets it down. “I think I’m tired, actually. Might go to bed earlier than usual.”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry for calling you over tonight.” David stands, hands in his pockets. “That was shitty of me.”

“No, no don’t apologize.” Brad follows suit, putting his hands in his pockets as he lingers. “Thanks for the wine. And for the, uh, trick.” He points to the glass.

“No problem. You…good to drive?”

“Yeah, yeah. Didn’t end up drinking much.” Regrettably.

“Alright, well. Be safe. Goodnight.” David offers a weak wave and then turns to head down the hallway. Brad feels sick as he turns the opposite way toward the door.

“Night, Dave.”

The night air is cold and Brad Bakshi feels like a fucking idiot.

So, this is how it ends: not with change or replacement, just with me.

*****

I should be used to this. He reminds himself over and over. I should be used to these next steps. He’s familiar with the stages of grief. This tastes a little too similar to denial. This is different. It’s so obviously different and Brad curses himself for ever letting himself begin, for letting the sickness spread to the one sacred place that didn’t require so much fighting to earn pleasure.

More than anything, he curses himself for letting it get to David. He knows the man doesn’t have something on hand to fill the void that Brad is leaving. He didn’t find inner fulfillment. There just isn’t a place where Brad is wanted anymore.

Navigating this new situation is a bit of a free-fall, but Brad manages. He knows the key things to strive for—avoidance of prolonged eye contact, feigning of casual energy. Above all, he does all he can to ensure he’s not alone in a room with David. This is no easy task, of course. He enlists the help of others to achieve it, which is a low he almost never sinks to.

“I need you to keep him busy.” Brad’s voice is lowered, despite them being the only two people in the conference room that morning.

“Busy in what way?” Jo has always stood on the outskirts of Brad’s personal life, peering in when she can but rarely getting much information. Still, she probably knows more than anyone else does about the situation.

“Out of our office when you can. Just keep him occupied at all costs. Can you get Ian to throw some sort of fit today?”

“Are you kidding? That’s nothing.” She lets out a light giggle that morphs into a concerned expression. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do, though?”

“Since when have you been concerned with ‘the right thing’?”

“I mean for you. Cold shoulder might not be the best approach this time.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but you know this time is different.”

“Of course, I know that.” Brad didn’t mean to snap. Still, Jo shrinks back just a little. He rubs his forehead and takes a pained breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t…” A loud exhale. “I’m still figuring it out, okay? Just, please. I’d appreciate your help.”

Jo nods, understanding. “I’ll take care of him.” She punctuates with a mischievous wink.

“What are you implying there?” Brad is lightly humored.

“Nothing. I’m just saying I won’t let him be an obstacle.” The same wink follows.

“Jo.”

“Brad?”

“No murdering David.”

“Fine.” She sighs, annoyed. “I’ll do my best.”

Brad smiles weakly as the door opens and more people file in to find seats. One of them is David. Eyes on the floor, Bakshi.

*****

The rest of the week is painstaking silence, weighted down by constant fear that David might question him. Any look shot towards him that offers any hint of ‘can we talk?’ is quickly blocked with a careless smile and a rare pat on the back as Brad walks briskly past. Jo, to her credit, is really good at keeping David out of the way. To be fair, it’s remarkably easy to make David freak out. Jo has mastered it like an art form.

The weekend reaches Brad like a wave of relief. He spends it drinking with his phone turned off.

*****

The next Monday, David calls a staff meeting. There are collective groans shared. Most are caused by the dread of listening to what is typically business discussion for a droning hour, featuring constant interruptions and grumbling protests. Brad’s dread is of a different variety.

David’s energy certainly exceeds the collective energy of the others in the room as he begins. “So, as we know, the end of the quarter is quickly approaching and I am happy to announce thaaat…'' He advances the powerpoint slide to reveal a graph with a confetti effect over it. “...it has been our best yet!”

He pumps his fist in a celebratory gesture as various applause fills the room. He smiles and nods his head, his shoulders shrugging slightly in that way they always do when David receives attention.

“Thanks to all the hard work you all have put into your departments, Mythic Quest is thriving!”

“Alright!” Brad hears Ian cheer and even witnesses a high-five between him and Poppy.

“Corporate wanted to give a special thank you to the department heads, particularly in our finance department.”

Brad is suddenly at the end of a reaching gesture from David. A split second of loaded eye contact is shared as the producer hesitates, swallowing. Brad tries to smile and brush it off. Luckily, the moment was masked by light encouragements from the coworkers in the room, but it doesn’t soften the feeling of dread when the moment passes. David clears his throat.

“Uh, due to Brad’s efforts this quarter, we were able to maximize income by limiting our spending of resources.”

Jo gives Brad a concerned smile. He tries to return an assuring look, but is sure the fruits of his labor are weak.

“Montreal is very impressed and wanted to reward his and all of our successes with an office party this weekend.”

The room still buzzes a bit, despite the knowledge that company parties are never as fun as they sound, unless you’re like C.W. and bring a flask.

“And, of course, bonuses.”

That’s more like it.

“So I’ll be sending out an email to all employees—”

“Great news!” Ian throws his hands up and then slaps the armrests to push himself to his feet. “Well, meeting dismissed!”

“No, well, actually, I think it’s my job to—” David’s protests are cut short.

“See you all later. Friday night! Party!” Ian is already heading out the door with the others following. Brad is among them, making sure that Jo follows behind as a shield. He turns for just a moment as he leaves and catches a glimpse of David sighing and packing up his computer. He wears a deep frown. Brad wishes he hadn’t looked.

*****

Friday comes like a rushing descent and Brad knows he has no choice in the situation but to attend. He tries to think of excuses—headache, family crisis, alien abduction—but all of those are equally transparent for him. Oddly enough, he really didn’t want to come off as a total asshole. Not to David, at least.

Jo had offered to drive him to the office. The two carpool pretty regularly, since she doesn’t live too far off and driving has always made Brad excessively anxious. She arrives at his place promptly at the time she’d texted, having freshened up from the workday. Their drive begins with smiles, followed by a minute or two of silence.

“You can get an Uber home, right?” Jo breaks it.

“Yeah, yeah. Why, do you have other plans?”

“I told Poppy I’d go to one of those late-night screenings with her. It’s some foreign film she’s been wanting to see. Don’t think it’s in English.”

“Ah, well. I hope you two have fun with that. And I hope there are subtitles, for your sake.”

Jo laughs lightly, then presses her lips together in thought. “You know, we were talking about work the other night.”

“Oh?”

“She brought up David.”

Brad’s stomach twists. “…Oh.”

She nods, clearly choosing her words carefully, which is not very typical of her. “He’s sad, you know. Well, sadder than he usually is.” They come to a stop at a traffic light, “Poppy doesn’t know the reason,” she clarifies. “They just noticed.”

“Well I can’t do anything about that.” Brad’s throat is burning.

“Can’t you?”

“Look, it didn’t work out. If he got hurt, then..” he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. David being hurt was a side effect Brad had hoped to avoid.

Jo is looking at him with sympathy that makes him want to vomit in the fluorescent glow of the red light. “You got close, didn’t you?”

“Can we not?” His voice is strained and he abhors it.

The light changes. “Yeah.” Jo turns on the radio. The remainder of the commute passes in silence.

*****

Brad regains his composure and office persona by the time they pull into the parking space, and Jo graciously pretends that nothing happened. She locks the truck and walks beside him toward the parking garage elevators.

They arrived nearly an hour into the festivities by design. The party setup isn’t too pitiful, honestly. There are tables of food and glasses of sparkling juice. Corporate even sprung for a banner that reads Mythic Quest, You’re the Best! Gross. Employees are ambling around, laughing and socializing. The annoying tester is with Dana in the corner of the room. Any other day, Brad would take the opportunity to laugh at how pathetically oblivious the two are with regards to their feelings for one another. He’s just not in the mood tonight.

Jo squeezes his arm as he surveys. “I’m gonna go talk to some people, okay? You gonna be alright on your own?”

Brad rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “You go have fun.”

Jo smiles and begins to walk away. “Just shout if you need me!” she calls back.

Brad smiles. He slowly drifts toward the tables to look at the food selection. Pathetic. For some reason, working at a video game company means that corporate thinks you’re a quirky child. Still, he hasn’t had dinner, so he picks up a fruity pebble krispy treat and takes a bite.

A few minutes pass before Brad hears the clinking of a glass, followed by Ian shouting. Poor idiot has never learned that clinking isn’t enough. “Excuse me! Hello! I’d like to propose a toast!” He’s standing in front of the banner with David, Poppy, and Jo flanking him. “To you all! For all your hard work in making my game so successful—”

“Our game,” Poppy interjects.

“Our game so successful,” he corrects himself. “It is because of your work that we were able to achieve such a record-breaking quarter. Special thanks to, uh, Poppy…and, uh..”

David nudges him lightly and rubs his fingers together in a ‘money’ gesture, nodding in the direction of the tables. Brad’s eyes widen ever-so-slightly.

“Oh! Brad! Where’s Brad?”

He waves a little so Ian can find him in the crowd.

“Thanks to Brad! Incredible job! Hey, everyone, give it up!”

Brad plasters on a smile as claps echo through the room. It flickers genuine as his eyes meet David’s. He’s shocked to find them sweet, almost apologetic. Brad breaks the eye contact after a life-long moment.

So, he’s sorry. So what? Space is still necessary. Move on.

The crowds begin to file out within the hour, slowly decreasing in numbers as the masses grow tired. Brad makes short conversation with a few people throughout the night and, most importantly, makes sure to ignore David. Luckily, Jo is still on his detail. Thank God for her.

He orders an Uber as the office area gets emptier and emptier. A night of drinking alone at home feels deserved. Of course, traffic is a fucking nightmare and his ride is delayed. Just his luck. He wanders to waste time, finding himself at the table with the refreshments. Picking up a champagne flute, he takes a sip. Sparkling grape. Could be worse. He sets it down and, in a moment of amusement, runs his finger around the rim of the glass.

“Your finger has to be wet.”

Brad nearly jumps, turning to see David behind him.

“Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you there. I just noticed…well you know it doesn’t make the ringing sound unless you...” He clears his throat, seemingly forfeiting the topic. “Can we talk?”

Brad feels his stomach sink at those three words. “Talk?”

“Talk. Somewhere more private?”

All alarms are blaring in Brad’s head, but he can’t exactly say no. No choice but to get it over with. He shrugs. “Sure. You lead the way.”

*****

David seems nervous as the two slip into their office, somehow unnoticed by the others. He’s clearly freaking out, so Brad tries to mask the fact that he is also freaking out as best as possible. It’s both defense and courtesy.

“So, uh, I just wanted to…to sort of ask what’s going on with you.”

“Sorry?”

“Well, I called you last weekend.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. More than once.”

“Oh. Well, what did you want?”

“To…to see you I guess? So we could talk?”

“About…?”

“Are you fucking with me, Brad? Can you quit playing dumb around me all the time?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

David’s nervous energy is gradually translating into frustration. “What the fuck do you think? Look, I’ll say it, okay. We...we had sex. Several times. Ring a bell?”

Brad swallows hard. Stalling isn’t an option anymore. He nods.

“So…that. I wanted to talk about that.”

“Look, David, I understand. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know how these things go. You don’t have to act or feel sorry because you grew tired of it.”

“Wh…What? When did I ever say that?”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, I know you.”

“And I thought I knew you!” David blurts. “But I never know what’s going on in your head or…or why you act the way you do or why you send me so many mixed signals.” His voice is making that high and strained noise.

“What do you mean?”

“You kiss me and compliment me and then you leave as soon as possible. You come over for conversation and then come onto me before I can get a word out. You ignore my calls and then act like I’m the one who ended it. I don’t fucking understand it, Brad.” His eyes look so pained. It’s stabbing Brad in the chest. He never meant for this.

“Look, David, it’s not to hurt you. I’m making things easier.”

“For who? For yourself?”

“No, for you!” He curses himself for getting worked up and letting his voice show it.

“How is this easier for me?”

“It would be if you weren’t fighting it.”

“Fighting? Why are you talking like this?”

“Because I know what I am to people! I’m not a fool.”

"What do you think you are?"

"I don't know how to...like a fucking... an..an interim?" Brad has never lost his composure like this before. It's a sensation of coils unwinding rapidly.

"Who gave you that impression?"

"Oh, don't patronize me and act like I'm not right about this. Like...like I'm not just some coping mechanism to help you get over Wendy."

David is visibly taken aback. "What? No!"

"Oh, so you don't think about her at all when you're with me?"

"No!"

"Bullshit, David."

"I don't!"

"When your eyes are closed and you're smiling, I know what that look is for. And who."

"You!"

"What?"

"When I close my eyes it's always you!" His voice softens slightly as he takes a breath to calm himself. "Always. Goddamnit, Brad. How could it possibly be anyone else?"

Brad is silent for a moment, his eyes slightly widened and his brow furrowed. "Do you mean that?"

"I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t."

"Then why did you call to talk last weekend...and...and why did you send me home?"

"I said I was tired, didn't I? And I...I guess I was just starting to think that...that you found me unlikeable?"

"No...no David I didn't...I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

"Did you really think that I was just...benefitting from you? Like this was just a throwaway thing for me to use you as a stepping stone?"

Brad presses his lips together and nods, silent.

"Did you...want it to be nothing?" David steps closer.

"No." Brad's voice is small. Honest.

"Then...why?"

"I thought it was the only option for me." He doesn't even try to cover the strain in his voice. "I didn't know what else to be." He chokes on the last syllable.

David's eyes are filled with a combination of concern and resolve as he gently reaches for Brad's hands. "You're a good man, Brad." It's a whisper, but one with more effort behind it than Brad can begin to wrap his head around. "You shouldn’t have to feel otherwise.”

Brad's shoulders drop and his breath shakes. His eyes meet David's again, and he's sure he's never been looked at like this before.

David slowly leans forward, bringing a hand to Brad's face and pressing a kiss to his lips. It's over in an instant, but it's followed by another. And then they're kissing each other, softly, like they're getting to know one another for the first time. Eventually, it becomes an embrace. Brad feels like his head was made to fit in the crook of David's neck, feeling the other man's hands softly run across his back as he recollects himself.

*****

He gives Jo a smile as he passes through the lobby with David. It must convey enough, judging by the smile on her face. They'll talk about it later.

David plays cassette tapes in his car. He taps the steering wheel when he drives. He offers a long list of amenities at his doorstep. He nods when he listens to you speak. He laughs easily at any comment Brad makes.

Brad could drink him in forever.

Fuck the formula. Brad falls asleep held and wakes up in the same position. He is held entirely as he is.

Maybe the poison was an antidote.