Chapter Text
Liam has been helping Mason plan his wedding since they were kids. Since the day they swore to always be best friends via the oldest and most sacred form of pact—a pinky promise.
Things have changed, over the years. The colour scheme has been maroon, or blue, and green just the once. The cake always fluctuates between three or four tiers, multiple themes, but is never anything but chocolate. And the wedding party and groom? Well, they’ve varied the most, depending on who Mason had a crush on or was dating, and who their friends were at the time.
Noah from third grade. Alec from Model UN. Danny from college. And Corey Bryant. Twice now.
But three things have remained a constant, through all the years of planning and changes and growing up.
One: Liam is his best man.
Two: his husband-to-be has to be hot, with a good sense of humour.
Three: the wedding must be EPIC. Outdoors. White tent preferred but not required.
“Maybe not blood shed, lives ruined epic,” Liam says, grinning brightly over the edge of his champagne glass. “But certainly spanning years, and soon to be continents if they take my suggestion for a European honeymoon.”
The words elicit a chuckle from several of the more pop culture friendly guests in the room. Liam counts it as a win, and winds down his speech, focusing his gaze on his beaming best friend and the man standing with him.
“Mason. Corey. Your love story hasn’t been painless, or simple, but then, they don’t write about the ones that come easy, do they?”
Corey rolls his eyes affectionately, while Mason lets out a loud, happy laugh. The skin around his eyes crinkles, and he gives Liam a half-hearted shake of his head. “I cannot believe you just quoted Veronica Mars in my engagement party speech.”
“I’m not done,” Liam winks, and his best friend quiets, reaching out to tangle his fingers with his fiancé’s. “You’ve come a long way, you know? You’re not the same people you were when we met in high school, the first time you fell in love. The only time, really. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe this was always the plan, for time and circumstance to shape you into two people who had always been meant for each other, but needed to grow up a little first. Separately.”
Corey leans forward, resting his chin on Mason’s shoulder. Cheek to cheek, they both offer soft smiles to Liam as he continues, eyes glistening. “When we went to our high school reunion last year, they hadn’t seen each other since we were college sophomores. But when they saw each other, there was little doubt in my mind. It was like no time had passed at all. Like distance hadn’t kept them apart, like they had never stopped loving one another.”
His lips twitch upwards proudly. “And seeing them together again… how the rest of us melted into the background, how they only had eyes for each other that night—how their night ended earlier than anyone else’s—” Liam waggles his brows, laughing merrily as the two flush scarlet, Corey burying his face in Mason’s neck in a futile attempt to hide. “Well, it was clear they never had stopped loving one another. That they’d always been meant to reconnect and rekindle their love. And that the rest of us, myself especially, would be honoured to go through that journey with them. To help charter the next step in their lives together. To reopen the wedding album Mason and I started when we were kids, to the dog-eared tab with Corey’s name on it, and put the finishing touches on a dream my best friend had when we were in high school.”
He raises his glass, and his delighted grin brightens by a thousand watts as everyone else around the Hewitts’ living room does the same. “To Mason and Corey!”
“To Mason and Corey!” They chorus.
And the countdown begins.
Seven months to wedding.
The apartment smells of sausage, crisp bacon and freshly scrambled eggs. Liam has successfully used every pan at his disposal, and even the one pot to mix the eggs in given he’d run the dishwasher full of plates and bowls before starting breakfast, like an idiot.
He thanks his lucky stars that there’s two plates left. Only one of them is dinner sized, so his own food is overflowing on the tiny snack plate, but he doesn’t much mind. He thinks it worth it when he looks up from setting the table to see Brett wander out of the bedroom, hair mussed from drying it with the towel now wrapped around his waist. He sees the moment the other man catches a whiff of breakfast, because he looks up, eyes wide, nose twitching.
“Is that tempeh sausage?” He asks, tone excited. Practically salivating.
“Sure is,” Liam beams. He lowers himself into his seat, patting the spot to his left. “You have time this morning, right?”
He tries to squash the naked hope in his voice. They never get mornings together when Brett stays over. They barely even get evenings, given how late the other man often stays at the office. So despite not having class until noon, Liam had gotten up with the sun to cook them breakfast, in an attempt to steal a few quiet moments with him.
Brett looks over his shoulder, back towards the bedroom, as if debating. He hesitates only for a moment before shrugging, and quietly making his way over. Liam lets out the breath he’d been holding, and digs into his plate as the other man takes the seat next to him. Slowly, they eat in companionable silence, but Liam can feel the question building on his tongue. The pressure tightening his chest like a spring, ready to burst, apprehension a vice around his heart.
“So,” he says, just as Brett’s taken a massive bite of eggs. Liam focuses mostly on his plate, trying his best to quell his nerves by not looking directly at the other man. But it’s a little difficult with his heart pounding his ears. “We missed you last night.”
Brett grunts, chewing at his food. He doesn’t look up.
“Mason made sure they had that beer you like.” Liam hates it, because it tastes stale, but it’s better for his diet or whatever.
“That’s nice of him,” Brett says. “I’ve got a few left at the office.”
Liam’s nostrils flare, taking a deep and calming breath. “Not to like, give you. To drink… at their engagement party?”
Brett was supposed to meet him there, and Liam had texted him several reminders throughout the day, sure that he could find his way there without him. Not only hadn’t he done that, but he hadn’t responded to a single text until just before he was meant to be there, apologizing and saying he had to stay late at work.
“Right,” Brett’s lips thin. There’s a stagnant pause, and then he offers Liam a small smile. It’s tight around the edges, awkward. It looks a little forced. “I was just really swamped with the Donati case, y’know? Stewart’s been riding my ass hard in court, and we’re so close to putting the little shit away. I totally lost track of time.”
Silence settles between them, and Liam realizes after a moment that Brett’s waiting for a response. His hands rest on either side of his plate, and his blue eyes are focused on the shorter man. Expectant.
Liam pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth, lips parted in an ‘O’ shape. The question still lodged in his chest twists, sending butterflies loose in the pit of his stomach.
“Oh, yeah,” Liam nods, running his free palm across his thigh beneath the table. It’s sweaty, pulling at the cotton of his pj pants. “Yeah, no, it’s cool. They understand.”
Brett’s smile relaxes, and he leans over to pat Liam’s cheek softly before wolfing down the massive bite of egg on his fork. He flashes Liam a wolfish grin, and returns to his own breakfast. The tightness in his shoulders is gone, and it’s clear that he’s done with this conversation. Chapter closed, crisis averted.
It’s just too bad that Liam’s not.
“So, do you like maroon or blue better?” Brett slows his chewing, glancing towards Liam. He’s sure the slightly raised pitch of his voice is obvious, if the confused stare he’s receiving is of any indication. “For your tie.”
“M’tie?” The question is muted, spoken around eggs.
“Yeah, for the wedding.” Liam’s words are backed by a nervous laugh. He stands from the table, taking his plate to the sink. He dumps the last bit of bacon he’s lost the appetite for into the compost, and then braces himself against the counter. “Mason’s always wanted blue or maroon to be the theme for the groomsmen, and since we’ll have to get you a matching tie—”
“Liam.”
The rest of his sentence dies on his lips, instead replaced with a heavy sigh. He’d expected that tone, really.
“I don’t remember saying I was going to the wedding,” Brett says, and reluctantly, Liam turns around to face him. He looks rather unimpressed, even if he is sitting at the kitchen table in nothing but a towel. “Did you tell them I was?”
“Well, not exactly,” Liam winces, lifting a hand to motion between them. “But I mean, I figured you’d—uh, y’know—be my date?”
Brett raises a single brow, and Liam’s heart plummets into the depths of his stomach.
“Your date.” The words snap in the taller man’s mouth, caustic. He puts down his fork, turning in his seat to properly face Liam. His bare chest rises in a sigh, and he looks all kinds of uncomfortable, face and nose scrunched up. Sort of the way Liam’s little cousin gets when he’s constipated.
“Yeah,” he nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His hands feel clammy, and for some reason, words continue to fall unbidden from his lips, like a leaky faucet. “There’ll be a vegetarian alternative, Mason’s little sister is vegan. And an open bar, I’m pretty sure. We haven’t quite worked out all the details yet, still early, y’know?”
“Are your… parents going to be there?” The hesitation pricks at his skin like needles.
“At my childhood best friend’s wedding?” Liam chuckles, but it comes out more like a wheeze. “I mean, they might be. Maybe.”
“Hm.” The noise is noncommittal, uncertain. Brett sucks in a breath, then exhales through pursed lips. “It feels a little serious, y’know? Going to somebody’s wedding as your date?”
“ Somebody ?” This time, Liam’s laugh is jaded. Tinted with anger and frustration. No matter how prepared he’d made himself for this conversation the last two weeks, it doesn’t make the truth hurt less. “You know Mason and Corey. You like Mason and Corey. They’re your friends.”
Brett lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, wiggling the fingers on one hand in a gesture that reads ehh.
“Besides,” Liam continues, ignoring that every breath he draws burns on the way in. “It’s been almost eight months. I feel like—I mean, is that not serious?”
The look on the other man’s face is pitying, and it stings. “We’re not dating, Liam.” Brett’s face is one permanently drawn out wince. “We’re just fucking around. You know that.”
“I know, but—”
The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as Brett stands up, knocking it back a foot. His brows pinch into an uncomfortable frown. “Liam. We said this wasn’t about feelings.”
“It’s not!”
“That means no strings. No weddings and meeting parents and stupid shit.”
“I know that.”
“So why would you even ask me?” He sounds exasperated, running a hand through his messy curls; and it snaps something in Liam’s chest, like an elastic.
“Because I’m tired of this!” He says, throwing his hands into the air. “I’m tired of sleeping around, having no commitments. I want someone who’s there for me, who I can count on, who I can bring to my best friend’s wedding, one of the most important moments in my life. I want someone who appreciates when I wake up at the ass crack of dawn to make breakfast for them!”
The look on Brett’s face is aghast, as though Liam’s just punched him clean in the jaw. The urge to do so is certainly thrumming under his skin, fingers twitching, but he tamps down on it. He can’t afford a colossal slip on his anger right now.
“You know that’s not me.” Brett’s voice is quiet, low. Small.
And disappointed.
“I know,” Liam’s answering whisper is only a little anguished. He’d known it was coming, the moment he brought up the engagement party and Brett’s eyes had widened like a deer in the headlights. Longer even, since he’d come home two months ago with the great news that Mason and Corey had finally popped the question. On the same night, no less.
He knows Brett’s never been boyfriend material. And truthfully, he’s not disappointed or upset. At least, not in anyone but himself, for letting it go on this long when he knew there was nothing more to it. Nothing but a bit of fun.
He helps Brett pack up his things. There isn’t much; he’d never wanted to leave anything too important here, never took more than a drawer with some extra boxers and shirts, and the one suit hanging in the bedroom closet. Not even a toothbrush or deodorant, both things the other man keeps stocked in his office for late nights and early mornings.
Everything fits into the duffel bag he’d brought them in, once upon a time. Easy to carry alongside his suitcase. To anyone else, it would just look like he’d gone to the gym before work.
To Liam, it looks like goodbye.
A textbook break up. But could you really experience a break up with someone you’d never really been with in the first place? Did it really count if you didn’t crave a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream immediately after it happened? Or was that only for people who got broken up with as opposed to… whatever this was, this mutual parting of ways.
“Well,” Brett says, rocking back onto his heels in the open doorway of Liam’s apartment. “It’s been real, dude.”
“Really?” Liam huffs, raising a brow. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“What else do you want me to say, Liam?” Brett sighs, and the shorter man hugs his arms tighter around himself, shrugging.
He knows full well sorry isn’t on the table.
“I don’t know.”
Brett leans down, dropping a chaste kiss on Liam’s neck, then cheek. Lips brush against the shell of his ear as the other man whispers: “Call me if you change your mind about this romance bullshit.”
And then he’s gone, turning towards the staircase that winds down and away from him.
“I won’t!” Liam yells, and he’s met with a laugh from beyond the banister.
And directly across the hall from him.
He glances over, sees miles of tanned skin and a complete lack of clothing and lets out a boyish yelp. “Gah!” He slaps a hand up over his eyes, cursing under his breath.
Just his luck that there’d be a naked person in his fucking building this morning. The building was old, with an elevator that’s broken down more often than it’s functional, and two weeks ago they’d replaced the key lock at the front with an electronic fob reader. Only, it didn’t actually lock yet, so anyone could just walk in.
Which apparently meant naked homeless people at seven am.
“You alright there, bud?”
“No. There’s a naked man in my hallway.”
“Pretty sure you just had a naked man in your apartment ,” the guy chuckles. “So tomato, tomahto. Plus, I’m covered and still technically in my apartment.”
Against his better judgement, Liam splays out his fingers, peeking through them. Though he still sees way more skin on the stranger than he’s comfortable with, he does in fact notice the hand hovering over his junk, holding a dish towel. The other hand is wrapped around the newspaper he’s obviously come out to pick up. From the apartment he’s clearly standing in the doorway of.
6A.
“Better than a homeless man, I guess.”
The stranger’s eyes light up, and his shoulders roll with an easy chuckle. “Excuse me?”
Liam realizes with horror he’s spoken aloud. “Nothing! Have a good day!”
And then he spins around, racing back into his apartment and slamming the door shut behind him. He leans against it, trying to quell his pounding heart. His face feels hot, and he knows if he went to the bathroom mirror he’d see a fierce blush flooding his skin.
So far, not the greatest morning for him.
“I told you Brett was a bad idea months ago,” Lyana says two weeks later, when he finally fesses up.
He’s going out for drinks with Mason and Corey and the full wedding party to celebrate, now that the boys have officially finished choosing everyone. And though his sister isn’t one of them, it is being held at the bar where she works nights, so she graciously offered to pick him up on the way.
He was thankful, up until about five seconds ago.
“Thanks,” Liam mutters. “Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.”
“Is that really applicable when I literally told you it wasn’t going to work?” She keeps her eyes trained on the road, but the smirk on her lips is no less obvious or irritating.
“Not helping,” Liam grumbles, slumping forward in his seat and smacking his forehead against the dashboard. His sister makes a noise of protest, which he ignores. “Now I’m going to have to go without a date.”
“What?” Lyana snorts, loudly. She flicks a disbelieving look his way. “You’re the best man, you need a date!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs, waving her off. “With my luck? Unlikely.”
“Why not?” His sister softens, tone gentle and almost placating. “There’s still plenty of time to find someone, Liam. With a face like yours? C’mon. Everybody likes dressing up fancy and going to parties, even if it is a wedding.”
“That’s it, Lya! I don’t just want another casual relationship.” He knows he’s whining now, not unlike a child, but he doesn’t much care. He doesn’t really know how else to articulate the cold, empty hollow in his chest. The aching need for something real, something good . “I want something serious.”
Lyana offers him a patient smile. “Okay. So no more sleeping around until then. Tell Mason he’s off flight attendant duty tonight.”
Liam chuckles, light and loose, and her smile brightens, telling him that’s what she was aiming for. “Okay,” he nods, and she looks pretty pleased with herself. He figures it’s the perfect time to ask. “You know… it would just be easier if you came with me.”
Her answering laugh is high-pitched and nasal, and then she’s shaking her head at him, green eyes sparkling with joy. “Firstly, I’m already going to the wedding, dumbass.”
“Are you?” He says, knowing he’s being difficult on purpose. The shit-eating tone in his voice is far from accidental. “We’ve got a long way before invites go out.”
“I used to change Mason’s diaper when you were babies. I’m invited.” Liam can hear the faint click-click-click of the blinker, and then watches as she smoothly changes lanes. Once she’s settled, she holds up two fingers where he can see them. “Secondly, you can’t take your sister as your date, that’s just sad.”
He huffs, sinking back into his seat with a pout. Because of this, he nearly misses the third finger she raises, and the way her voice wavers ever so slightly as she continues speaking.
“And thirdly, I…” Her earlier bravado takes a back seat, and Liam sits up straighter immediately. “I already have a date.”
Lyana drops her hand, returning it to the wheel, and Liam’s brain implodes. “You what?”
“I have a date,” she repeats, this time more sure of herself, of her words. It does nothing against Liam’s shock and sudden confusion. He leans forward a little too quickly, and the seat belt politely reminds him where he is.
“Since— buh —since when ?!”
A small, nervous laugh escapes her parted lips, so soft Liam barely hears it. “Since last week, when I asked her.”
“Her?” Liam feels as though his eyes might fall from his skull. “Who’s her? Why is this the first I’m hearing of a her?”
His sister merely smiles, eyes soft at the corners. She makes another turn, this time into the underground parking across the street from the bar. Quietly, she kills the engine, putting the car into park and getting out. Liam scrambles out of the vehicle after her.
“Lyana!” He cries, scolding. She grabs her bag from the back seat, then stands to look at him over the top of her little car, still smiling. Only now it’s more coy, and far less demure.
“Yes, Liam?” She tilts her head, almost like a puppy. Innocent, when she’s far from it.
“You can’t just drop that on me and not give me details, woman!” He rolls his wrists in a go on motion. Lyana’s eyes—green, like their mother—glance down at them, then back up to meet her brother’s blue ones.
“Can’t I?” And she starts off towards the exit, leaving him in the dust. He races after her, cursing the universe for giving him the most annoying older sister in existence. Especially one that teaches gymnastics during the day, and who was a track and field sprinter in high school. He doesn’t play nearly enough lacrosse these days to keep up with her.
More than once in his life, he’s wondered why he couldn’t have gotten Mason’s little sister, Naomi. She’s delightful.
“Listen,” Lyana says as he catches up. She offers him a sidelong look, chewing on her bottom lip. “If you give me this, I’ll get you free drinks tonight.”
“Really?” His mood brightens in an instant.
“Within reason,” she adds, and he can hear the warning in her voice, long before she holds up a finger to point at him. “And only you. You’re not buying rounds for the whole table and stealing all my tip money.”
Liam holds a hand to his chest, mock gasping. “I would never .”
He has. Twice.
His sister pauses again, this time as they’re about to cross the street.
“And try not to get too drunk again.” It sounds like a request, but he knows later, he’ll probably think it a challenge. Once he’s a few drinks in, anyway. “Braeden always gives me the weirdest vibes when you do, like she’s gonna fire me over your antics even though she thinks you’re a harmless puppy.”
“I would never!” He repeats, and this time Liam knows full well the mischievous smirk is plainly visible on his face.
“Mhmm,” Lyana hums, sounding unconvinced. “Just do me a favor. Take care of yourself, okay? Breakups are hard.”
“It wasn’t a breakup,” he mutters, but catches her stern eye. He throws his hands up at his sides, palms flat. “Okay, okay! I’ll be careful.”
“Love you, nerd,” she smiles, dazzling and warm as she reaches over to ruffle his hair.
“Love you too.” His words are spoken around a light huff as he swats her hand away from his now disheveled locks. After all the care he’d taken to tame them before leaving the apartment. “Jerk.”
They head in, and he scans the bar for his friends. His sister finds them first, patting him on the shoulder and pointing to the other end of the room, where the round booths are. He spots his best friends immediately, and his lips curl into a massive grin as he realizes almost everyone is here already.
“Have fun, nerd.” His sister wraps an arm around his waist and gives him a tight squeeze, and Liam has just enough time to drop a kiss on the top of her head before she slinks off through the crowd, towards the bar. Leaving him alone and headed for his friends.
Mason and Corey are squished together in the middle, sitting practically on top of one another. Fitting, considering that’s all they have eyes for. Tracy is in the seat next to Corey, and is rolling her eyes somewhat affectionately as Josh and Lucas argue beside her. Across from her on Mason’s other side sits Lydia. The redhead is scrolling through her phone and looking otherwise occupied, but she glances up the moment he gets close and offers him a soft smile.
Which means they’re just waiting on…
“Liam, dude!” Garrett claps him on the back, his laugh rich and warm. Liam half turns to look at him, and is met with blue eyes, sparkling with joy. “Long time no see!”
When Liam wakes the next morning, he knows he’s hungover almost immediately, and he knows it’s a bad one. The sun is entirely too bright through his bedroom window, like the earth has moved closer to it overnight. His skin feels like it’s on fire, clammy in all sorts of unpleasant places. And his head is pounding out a steady drum solo, something that matches the beat of the bass from the bar last night.
At least, he thinks it does. He can’t really remember, honestly. A few drinks in, the remainder of his night blurs into shapes and sounds, bright and colourful but very hard to make out.
Which means Lyana is absolutely going to kick his ass when he sees her next.
Actually, he feels a little sore, so maybe she did kick his ass before he left the—
“Mornin’ sunshine,” a sleepy voice mumbles, breath caressing the bare skin of his shoulder and neck. When lips press against the same space, Liam tenses up, eyes widening. Who the hell…
Slowly, he turns, and ends up with an arm resting across his chest for the effort. An arm that belongs to someone with sleep-mussed blonde hair, a chiseled jaw, familiar bright blue eyes and a soft laugh that cascades warmly over Liam’s skin.
“Garrett?” Liam’s unused voice cracks in the early morning quiet, and the previous night comes flooding back to him in an instant.
Every toast to the happy couple, each one longer and more extravagant than the last.
Every shot that accompanied it.
Every heated look Garrett sent his way, growing increasingly more frequent as the two flirted their way through an evening of celebratory drinks.
And the very knowing look Mason shot him as they took their leave, Garrett offering to split an Uber to Liam’s seeing as his hotel wasn’t terribly far. Obviously, he’d never made it there.
“You know,” the blonde grins, fingers dancing across Liam’s chest. “Normally I think you’re supposed to wait until the wedding to try and bag the groomsmen?”
Liam groans, burying his face in the other man’s neck. “This was not supposed to happen.”
“So you told me, three times last night,” Garrett chuckles, running his hand in a soothing circle across his back. “Of course it was while making out with me, so it was a little hard to judge how serious you were.”
“Very.” Liam’s tone is petulant. “But my sister says I’m tragically weak-willed around hot guys. Especially the bad ones.”
His laugh vibrates through his chest, warm and delighted. “I’m offended, Liam. I’ll have you know I’m quite a catch.”
Liam reels back, lifting himself up on one elbow and narrowing his eyes down at the blonde, trying to ignore the handsome smile on his lips. “You slept with two thirds of the swim team in high school. Concurrently.”
“A talented catch,” Garrett corrects himself, winking.
“ Oh my god , please shut up,” Liam slides back and away from him, snagging his pillow and smacking the other man in the face with it.
Garrett laughs, catching the soft weapon before it hits him a second time. He peers around it, eyes bright. “Relax, Liam. It was just a bit of fun between old friends.” He tilts his head to one side, inquisitive. “At least, I had fun.”
“I did too!” Liam’s quick to say, a rush of guilt flooding his chest. He hadn’t meant to sound like he was regretting it, because he did have a good night. “I just—well, don’t take this the wrong way but—”
“You’re looking for something serious,” Garrett nods. “I get it.”
“I’m sorry.” And he is, really.
He’s sorry that he doesn’t have more to offer Garrett, that he wants more than the blonde has to offer him. He’s sorry he hadn’t reconnected with him sooner, before Brett. He’s sorry for a lot of things he doesn’t have the words for, that he can’t put into words, that he’s not even sure he needs to be sorry for. Not where Garrett’s concerned, anyway. Not when he’s known the guy since they were kids, and he sounds more than understanding.
It’s simply a pity they want different things.
“Don’t be.” Garrett leans forward, pressing a kiss to Liam’s shoulder before rolling out of bed. He leaves the other man with a delightful view of his bare ass as he searches for his boxers, tossing a grin over his shoulder as he pulls them on. “This can stay between us, if you want. No harm done.”
Liam remembers the look on Mason’s face, his best friend’s eyes tracking them all the way out of the bar as they walked arm in arm, blissful smiles stretching across their lips. He groans and faceplants into his pillow. “And Mason. Mason definitely knows. If he doesn’t, he’ll know the moment he looks at me. I’ve never been able to hide anything from him.”
“Which means Corey knows,” Garrett points out, chuckling.
Liam makes a noise of despair, rolling over onto his back and watching as the blonde tugs on his jeans. He scratches absently at his chest, sitting up. The bed sheet pools around his waist and he frowns at the other man. “You don’t have to leave, you know. I’m not like, kicking you out.”
“I know.” Garrett flashes him a smile. “But I should probably get going. My flight back to Maryland is early tomorrow morning and I said I’d swing by mom’s while I’m close to home. She’s got a leaky faucet and a toilet that needs replacing, and promised me a batch of brownies if I fixed it. She thinks the plumber hits on her whenever he comes over, so.”
Liam hasn’t seen Mrs. Warbucks, Garrett’s adoptive mother, since their early college days. But he remembers the baked goods she used to send with her son to the lacrosse team’s fundraiser bake sales were to die for. He’s actually pretty jealous.
The thought of food gets his stomach going, so he reluctantly drags himself out of bed, procuring boxers and a shirt from his dresser while the other man finishes finding his things. He’s about to turn and ask Garrett if he’d like some coffee before heading out when there’s a knock at the door.
Both men exchange slightly startled looks. Garrett raises a brow, and Liam shrugs, dumbfounded. He makes his way to the door and opens it, not bothering to check first.
On the other side stands the naked neighbor from across the hall. Although this time, Liam is relieved to note he’s fully clothed in grey sweats, a white tee and a slightly wrinkled plaid shirt.
“Morning, 6C!” The guy offers him a bright, handsome smile, holding up a folded newspaper. “I believe this is yours.”
“Uh, thanks?” Liam frowns, reaching out to take it. He turns it over in his hand, frowning. “I don’t think I get the paper, though.”
“You don’t. But I sort of locked myself out of my apartment,” he says, rocking back on the balls of his feet. One hand rubs at the back of his neck. “No keys, no wallet. So I was wondering if I could borrow your phone?”
“Uh, s—” Liam’s barely begun the word when the other man breezes past him into the apartment. “—ure. Okay.”
6A strolls in, glancing around the living room and kitchen. “Man, this place is nicer than I expected.”
Liam scowls, unsure whether or not to be offended. He opens his mouth to respond, but Garrett steps out of the bedroom, buttoning up his shirt. He pauses, locking eyes with the newcomer and blinking owlishly. 6A’s brows rise into his hairline, and he shoots Liam a smile.
“I’m sorry,” he says, though he sounds anything but. His eyes travel up and down, giving Liam a once-over, who realizes with a fierce blush that he isn’t wearing any pants. “I didn’t realize I was intruding.”
“You’re not!” Liam knows from the way the guy’s smile morphs into a smirk that the words were spoken too quickly. “He was just leaving.”
The amused look doesn’t dissipate, it only worsens. Liam’s face burns.
“I was, actually,” Garrett laughs, saving him from further torture by approaching 6A and offering him his hand. “Garrett.”
“Theo,” his neighbor grins, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” And then he heads for the door and Liam. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, for the suit fitting. Mason said he’d let me know when you guys decide on a date.”
“Yeah, sure.” Liam nods, pressing his lips into a tight, thin line. This goodbye feels far more awkward than it should have, and he’s sure it’s because they have an audience. An attractive one, Garrett notes as he slinks past, low enough that only Liam can hear him. He chuckles, shaking his head as he goes to close the door behind him.
Which means that he has a clear view of the girl coming out of 6A, wearing a cocktail dress and matching purse. She doesn’t look up as she makes for the stairs, stomping past Garrett on her way down.
Liam’s eyes narrow, and slowly he turns to face the stranger in his apartment. Only he isn’t standing in the middle of the living room anymore.
“That’s weird,” Liam says loudly, slamming the door shut. “I feel like the girl in your apartment probably could’ve helped with your lack of keys, no?”
He finds his neighbor standing in his kitchen, safely tucked out of sight of the front door and anyone leaving his place. His hands are braced on the counter in front of him, and he’s leaning against it, an easy laugh rolling his shoulders.
“You’re not wrong,” he chuckles, nodding. He looks up at Liam, innocently batting his lashes as he pushes off the counter, coming around it. “I might’ve had a bit of a situation to get out of.”
“And so you used my apartment to hide out until it just went away?” Liam scowls as the other man strolls past and into the living room.
“I was just trying to avoid hurt feelings,” the other man shrugs, nose and face wrinkled in something of a wince.
He can only roll his eyes in response. “Classy, dude.”
“Hey, it wasn’t unlike your situation!” He raises a hand, waving it towards the door. “I feel like my timing was pretty key there, Liam.”
“It wasn’t. He was literally leaving,” Liam huffs, pursing his lips. He heads for the coffee machine and presses the on switch. He’s going to need a lot of it to rival the ugly hangover bouncing around in his head. And the pleasant, repetitive you fucked up it keeps trying to hammer home. Literally.
Seriously , Liam thinks. That’s it. No more casual hookups. No more partners leaving in the morning.
He clears his throat, half turns. “Speaking of leaving… Theo, was it?”
“Hey, these are really nice,” he hears Theo say, effectively ignoring him. The words set the hair on Liam’s neck rising. “Where’d you get them?” He whips around, finding Theo flipping through a stack of paintings tucked behind the couch. His pulse skyrockets, his shoulders tensing up.
Theo’s lips part in a nervous smile, and he gently places the canvases back in order. He steps back, holding up his hands, palms flat. “Okay, my bad,” he winces. “I take it you painted them?”
“Uh.” Liam scratches at the back of his neck, nodding. “Yeah, I did.”
“Weird, I thought you taught history.” Theo’s forehead puckers thoughtfully. A moment passes, and then he shrugs.
Liam’s eyes widen, and he blinks once, twice, tracking Theo’s movement as he ambles towards the entrance. Then, the words hit him fully, and Liam launches after him. “Wait a minute!” He calls, skidding out of the kitchen and around the corner. “How do you know that?”
Come to think of, Garrett had introduced himself when Theo had walked in, but Liam hadn’t, and a few moments ago…
“And how did you know my name?” He presses, eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember telling you.”
“Probably because you didn’t,” Theo says, and throws an awkward smile over his shoulder. “I uh, I’m pretty good with finding information. I used to be a cop. Or I almost was, anyway.”
Liam remains slack-jawed as the other man waves. “See ya!” And then promptly disappears through his front door.
He’s left staring, trying to process whatever just happened to his morning and decide how much he should worry about it.
And then his hangover politely reminds him that it’s still very relevant, and Liam elects to pretend the whole thing never happened. Instead, he heads for the kitchen to resume his abandoned coffee plans and sit down for a weekend of grading essays.