Work Text:
greg was like, so over today. still faded from the super massive party cool cousin kendall threw at his (their) crib last night wasn’t the best state to be in for a monday morning at gaystar boyco. tom somehow sensed with his invisible antennae (that would fit with the bug like vibes greg gets from him) that greg wasn’t in tip-top shape, and decided to be extra irritable today. in fact, he was seemingly waiting for greg directly outside of the elevator when he arrived to work scaring the absolute shit out of greg.
‘well if it isn’t gregory! where’ve you been, huh gregory ?’ tom’s eyebrows were floating near the top of his sizeable forehead, clearly unhappy. was one quiet day too much for greg to ask?
‘oh! i, uh, well kendall had uh-‘
‘i don’t fucking care about kendall, gregory. i asked about you .’ tom shoved his finger into greg’s chest, pushing him against the now closed door of the elevator. ‘where have you been, gregory. and why isn’t my monday fucking morning latte with you?’ tom’s finger now wrapped itself around greg’s tie that he really hoped tom wouldn’t notice was from walmart. ‘huh, gregory?’
‘i’ll, uh… i’ll get right on it sir!’ greg went to salute, but him and tom were too close together and he ended up karate chopping the back of tom’s head. something ignited in his eyes, something that made greg very afraid. tom slammed the down button on the elevator and pulled greg a bit closer, still holding his tie.
‘make it fucking speedy, you oversized asshole,’ he whispered in his ear. greg thought he saw tom go on his tippy-toes, but before he could say anything, the elevator dinged, the door opened, and tom pushed him into the elevator.
after finally making it to the cafe, greg realized that his ‘oversized asshole’ needed to evacuate it’s occupants. so, like any normal person would do, and god knows greg is the most normal of them all, he makes his way to the shitter. he tries to open the door, which is a bit of a fuss, as, funnily enough, it wouldn’t open. he pulled the door, jiggles the knob, and eventually asks one of the baristas to do it for him, which they do wordlessly, perhaps even throwing him a dirty look. he isn’t sure. either way, when the door is finally open, all he sees is his beloved cool cousin kendall doing lines off of….
is that stewy?
a naked stewy?
greg isn’t sure. he’s seen him around with kendall, but he’s never been introduced by name, only by several surface google searches. after making brief eye contact with his no-longer-cool cousin kendall, he slams the door and decides to hold his shit in for when he gets back to work. tom told him to hurry up anyway. greg almost leaves the cafe, before remembering the latte that he was sent to get. he orders quickly, then rushes back to his temperamental sugar daddy boss.
greg stands outside tom’s office, waiting for him to finish the ongoing call that he could hear him on. problem was, tom’s office door was wide open, so, throughout the end half of the call, tom was making direct eye contact with greg while he talked about shares or something. greg doesn’t fucking know. he was too busy staring into his cousin-in-law’s deep blue eyes that reminded him of that guy from that movie his mom made him watch like 15 years ago.
‘greg. gregggggg. GREG. YOU GIANT OMELETTE.’
oh fuck yeah, he forgot about the latte.
‘oh fuck yeah, i forgot about the latte,’ greg said, making his way over. ‘got it!’
tom stood to meet him, and wrapped two hands around greg’s hand that held the latte. he manoeuvred greg’s hand so that tom was able to drink his latte without letting greg go. it was like tom was a small toddler, and greg was his big mama. normal mama? normal sized mama.
‘tank you gwegowy’
what the fuck
‘what the fuck, man’
‘what i said what completely normal, greg. leave me the fuck alone, i have work to do.’ tom grabbed the latte and sat down, now pointedly ignoring greg. not exactly wanting to sit down and discuss what the hell just happened, greg went on his merry way.
on his way to his own office, his phone buzzed with a text from cool (?) cousin kendall.
Hey man, anything you saw today stays between us, okay?
fine with him.
fine with me
after a while of doing typing speed tests and online quizzes, greg heard a little shout. the little shout was very familiar, and was growing from a little shout to a bigger shout. it was his beloved tom wambsgans, and he was banging at his door!
‘uh, come on in tom!’
‘GREG’
‘tom, the door’s unlocked!’ greg got up to go to the door, just in case it somehow was locked.
‘GREG YOU SMALL LITTLE WIENER’ greg paused his journey for a quick look down his pants. he sighed in relief. tom was just saying lies.
while fiddling with his second door of the day, it slammed opened into his nose. ‘GREG’
greg was now on the floor with a bloody nose.
‘GREG DID YOU REMEMBER TO GET OAT MILK IN MY LATTE’
oh fuck.
‘euuuurghh’
‘oh get up off the floor, you’re so dramatic,’ tom said, finally noticed greg on the floor. he all but picked him up and leaned him against his desk, where he grabbed a handful of tissues and began cleaning up greg’s nose. greg groaned when tom touched it, but he was shushed.
‘you dumb little slut.’
greg’s giant doe eyes looked at tom.
‘i’m going to shit myself, dumbass.’
his head tilted.
‘i’m lactose intolerant! i don’t ask for oat milk because i care about the environment like some weird teenage lesbian, greg.’
he looked down and said a quiet and nasally sorry . tom brushed a piece of greg’s hair back.
‘you didn’t know, it’s okay you dumb fucking bambi.’
greg looked back in tom’s eyes. what was that movie called? he had to rewatch it. maybe it’ll satisfy this weird urge.
‘i only brushed your hair back because you almost got blood all over it.’ tom decided to stop being nice and threw the rest of the remaining tissues at greg. ‘i have a very important meeting in-‘ tom stopped to check his watch. ‘-24 minutes. the latte will have made its way through my system by then.’
‘what does that have to do with me?’
‘i need you greg.’
.
.
‘uhhhhh’
.
.
‘like, need need? like in what way, tom?’
tom flushed. ‘i don’t need you to satisfy some sort of weird sexual urge, gregory . i’m planning for intense diarrhea, not the boner of a lifetime.’
‘oh, haha yeah duh of course i don’t know what i wa-‘
‘i need you there in the conference room with me. i need you to come up with an excuse to get me out of there the moment the shit hits.’
‘how- uhm- how precisely will i know when, as you say, the shit hits?’
‘i’ll signal to you.’
‘a signal?’
‘with my eyes.’
‘oh.’
oh his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes! like the guy!
‘we should go now.’
‘was that really 24 minutes?’
‘no, but i’m just really sick of talking to you.’
twenty minutes into the meeting and, as tom would say, the shit has not yet hit. something has hit the limits of greg’s pants, and it is in fact his penis. looking deeply into tom’s eyes for 20 minutes straight has been absolute torture for greg. apparently his resolve is much shorter than he thought. he doesn’t even know what tom is talking about. THEN! he sees it! the flash of urgency! shit is about to hit! but, after being distracted for 20 minutes, he completely forgot to come up with an excuse.
‘tom!’ he almost stands, then remembers his protuberance. he settles on a squat stance, that perhaps makes things more obvious. ‘we’ve got another meeting! right now!’
‘you’re so right!’ and with that, tom and greg sprint out of the conference room.
‘where the fuck is the bathroom greg!’ tom stage-yells as they make their breakaway.
‘i don’t know! why would i know?!’
‘what have you been doing for 20 minutes? staring into my piercing eyes, fantasizing about making love to me?’
when greg doesn’t give tom a response, he stops running. they’ve ended up in a hallway with, conveniently, no other people.
‘where are we?’
‘greg that’s not an answer to my question.’
‘hmm?’
‘you’re supposed to answer with some weird stuttery mixed of ohh gee noo way! and i’m supposed to keep poking fun at you until we reach a washroom.’
‘am i?’
‘greg…’ tom spared a glance down. sure enough, greg’s little greg was still awake to say hi. ‘really?’
an apology wasn’t even at the front of greg’s mouth by the time tom’s came crashing into his.
‘woah dude!’ tom tugged away.
‘why the fuck did you call me dude, greg.’
‘that was cool, but don’t you still have to shit?’
‘oh, don’t worry about that anymore greg. it’s all taken care of.’ tom smiled softly as he tucked greg’s hair behind his ear. what the fuck does that mean!!!
greg was mildly alarmed but was mostly satisfied with the answer, and very happy that he wouldn’t have to ask his mom what movie they watched that one time. now he could just jerk off to the real tom!