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There had been a myriad of things Gavin thought he would never see happening in his lifetime.
But after living through a global pandemic and several economic crises, as well as witnessing the creation of frightfully humanoid androids in the wake of it, he thought that now there would at least be nothing left that could truly surprise him anymore.
How wrong he had been.
"Hey, Reed."
"Allen."
While Fletcher's visit in these early morning hours hadn't been a surprise, his call only 20 minutes earlier certainly had been.
Not actually waiting for Gavin to invite him in, Fletcher awkwardly scurried past him to get out of the pouring rain and into the dry apartment; but he didn't really make it past the doormat.
After all, it was… awkward.
Him, being here.
Not because this was Fletcher's first time being here – quite the opposite, even at this hour of the night – but because of the reason that had made him come back now, after…
"There's towels in the bathroom, and beer in the fridge," Gavin stated plainly when he closed the door behind Fletcher, and walked back into the apartment – seemingly unbothered by both, his visitor's presence as well as his own duty of at least having to pretend to be a good host.
Fletcher hesitated for a moment, before finally taking off his drenched jacket.
"I hope I didn't wake you earlier," he started, in an attempt of feigned politeness – which, despite his best intentions, didn't do anything to make the situation less weird.
Neither did the fact that Gavin didn't seem to acknowledge his struggle at all, and seemed too preoccupied by his attempts of placating a very crudely awoken cat.
Yeah...
As if the person he'd been fucking far too regularly until a couple of months ago hadn't just called him up at an ungodly hour in search of shelter for the night.
They had to… talk about this?
Acknowledge the fact that they hadn't talked or seen each other in months, and that now Fletcher had somehow thought that Gavin was the right person to ring up in the middle of the night after his recently acquired fiancé had kicked him out of the house due to a fight about something so inconsequential and stupid that Fletcher couldn't even remember it anymore.
"Reed," he started, and approached Gavin, who was currently busying himself with giving his cat a very thorough belly rub on the dining room table.
"I just… wanted to thank you for–"
"Listen," Gavin interrupted, and added without taking his eyes off the cat, "that kinda bootlicking doesn't suit you, Allen."
The cat chirped happily in between purrs, as if in agreement.
"I don't need you to kiss my ass because of this. If you need to make this weird, go and call another one of your… friends."
But, that was the thing, wasn't it?
Being as committed to his work as Gavin was – a fact which they had equally bonded and antagonized each other over – Fletcher, too, had little to no social life outside of work. And it still was a miracle to him how he had actually managed to end up in a committed relationship, and at that with someone other than… Gavin.
Which was a paradox in and of itself, as – and this had been something Fletcher had to experience very painfully first-hand – Gavin was not someone to have a relationship with. And while this, and their resulting arrangement, had been fine for them much longer than any of the two would have had expected, they both had been quite aware about their impending expiry date.
Unsurprisingly, Fletcher had been the one to end it.
And, equally as unsurprisingly, it had seemed to Fletcher that Gavin hadn't even been bothered by that.
Which had hurt Fletcher a lot more than he really liked to admit to himself.
But, at the very least, this pain should have made it easier for Fletcher to move on…
It didn't.
Hence, albeit there had been only a few other people he could have called tonight – hell, he could have driven to a random motel, if all he needed had been a roof over his head – somehow Gavin had been the only person he had wanted to call.
And what that meant… Fletcher really didn't know.
Or want to know.
"Right…" Fletcher concluded, trying to sound as non-committal as possible while pushing down the lump in his throat.
They stood in silence for a moment – until the cat decided that she had received enough belly rubs for the night, and jumped off the table before disappearing somewhere in the apartment.
"I… I don't want to keep you up. I'm going to take the sofa, and I'll be out of your hair early in the morning–"
"Bullshit," Gavin started, and the unexpectedly sharp tone almost startled Fletcher. "That old thing is gonna break your back. And I'm certainly not gonna be held responsible for breaking the golden boy's – what is it now, seven? – year streak of not calling in sick to work."
Ok, no. Stop.
Fletcher's brain immediately decided to skip a couple of the steps of this conversation, as he was fully aware of where Gavin was trying to go with this particular line of reasoning – and that was not why he had come here.
… it was not.
"Reed, let me make this very clear: I'm still engaged, and I'm not here to have sex with you–"
At this, Gavin finally looked up at him.
"I wasn't offering."
Holding the eye contact, Gavin let the silence draw out for much longer than necessary, before he concluded, "Also, if we were to have sex, I wouldn't let you sleep over anyway."
Letting that statement hang in the air, he started making his way to the bedroom, and gently shoulder-checked Fletcher in passing.
And this stupid flex shouldn't have made Fletcher laugh, and definitely not in embarrassment – but it did.
Fletcher stood there for a moment, watching Gavin disappear into the bedroom – the dissonance of the now almost uncomfortable familiarity as well as the strangely charged novelty of this situation weighing heavily on him – before Gavin yanked him out of his thoughts with a shout.
"Stop just standing there like one of those weird plastic pricks, and come in here – but, phcking hell, dry yourself off first!"