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Graves is used to early mornings. That’s been ingrained in him since he was a child, and not being showered, dressed, and ready to start the day by six-thirty was a crime in the Graves household.
But he enjoys early mornings these days. It means Graves has more hours in the day to work and he does love his work. According to his friends and sister, he may be a workaholic, but Graves thrives on accomplishing a lot in his day and being successful.
And he is successful. Graves and Sera are partners of a prestigious law firm, and Graves is well known throughout New York. He’s one of the best litigators specializing in tort law around, which means he doesn’t handle a lot of cases at once, but they are big ones.
He wins, most often, and wins appeals too, even if a smaller settlement is rewarded. Millions are still millions in Graves’ book and his clients’ as well.
It keeps him busy, often starting the day at six and not leaving until six or seven in the evening. And while Graves thrives on it, loves everything about his job, he is aware that there are downfalls to never stopping.
Graves‘ blood pressure could use some work despite working out a handful of days a week and mostly living a healthy lifestyle beyond the whiskey. The greys in his hair at thirty-six are telling enough, too, because going grey early isn’t something that runs in the Graves family.
So, a month ago, Graves decided to carve out space two or three times a week to have some me time, as his sister likes to call it. Whether that’s reading the entire newspaper at home and enjoying his coffee rather than downing it, or going out for a quick breakfast, stopping at a cafe on the way to work… Graves does it for his health and sanity, probably, and it does help.
He won’t tell anyone it does, but it makes him slow down and appreciate things he hasn’t in a while.
The cafe Graves enjoys going to is out his way, which he chose on purpose, and it’s his favorite yet.
It’s comfortable and warm. Dark, shining hardwood floors and cushy chairs or booths with clean tables and tasteful art decorating the walls, lower lighting and an overall intimate feel. It smells fantastic whenever he walks in; coffee brewed strong and freshly baked pastries fill the air.
The cafe is small, owned by a family who believes in everything being fresh and tasting that way. Graves has had muffins, turnovers, croissants, and numerous danishes alongside their most robust brew of coffee in a large, round mug.
He even likes their mugs, a coffee-colored gradient from the bottom to a creamy-white around the edges, like a latte. It’s charming, and Graves wouldn’t usually pay attention to that sort of thing, but he’s making himself look around and appreciate life more.
It’s late September, the mornings crisp, and Graves sits at the same table he always chooses to watch the sunrise. He’s got a good view where he sits, the table pushed against the wall with only a booth directly across from him, but the expansive windows offer a good view over the Hudson of the sun rising.
Today, he’s enjoying a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin with his usual cup of coffee and occasionally browses through the newspaper. Graves is still learning to take things in stride, even if most of the articles in the paper tend to make him angry or lower his already poor opinion of humanity in general.
People usually start coming in about twenty minutes after the sunrise, which is when he’d like to leave, but Graves has been forcing himself to stay and be among the people rather than cooped up in his office all day.
The sun has only just started to crest over the horizon when someone sits in the booth across the way from him. He doesn’t impede Graves’ view, not of the sunrise, but he does attract Graves’ attention nevertheless.
The man is probably in his late-twenties, his dark hair brightened by the gold and violet light starting to shine through the windows. He’s turned to watch the sunrise, too, and Graves can’t help but look at him.
He’s wearing a honey-colored sweater that looks about two sizes too big on him. It’s slipping toward his left shoulder and the line of his collarbone is visible. He’s grasping the sleeve of the sweater in his hand as he rests his elbow on the back of the booth to gaze through windows.
The line of his jaw and his sharp cheekbone are immensely appealing, not counting the rest of him. Graves can’t remember the last time he was so immediately taken with someone, but maybe that’s what he gets for stopping to appreciate the things around him.
Handsome men too.
The man has a sketch pad on the table, Graves can see, and when his coffee - an actual latte - is brought to him, along with a muffin, he smiles.
It’s a good fucking smile and Graves can see the unique shape of his eyes as they crinkle at the corners.
Too damn long, Graves thinks with a sigh. It’s been too damn long since he last enjoyed someone’s company. Longer since it was romantically, and Graves is never looking for that, so the times he is looking for company, he tends to look at someone in one way.
And that hasn’t even crossed his mind now.
Appreciating his surroundings is less stressful than picking someone up at the bar, even if there’s a bit more reward in that. Sometimes.
Graves turns back to the newspaper, so he isn’t caught staring as the man picks at his muffin. Beautiful, that’s what he is, and he’s probably used to just about anyone staring at him.
So is Graves, and that helps when he’s at the bar, but it annoys him otherwise, and Eliza told him a long time ago he perfected the handsome but vaguely terrifying look that keeps people from approaching him.
Mostly.
Some people have no shame, but Graves ensures they never think about approaching him again. Which is why he looks away and doesn’t look at the man, even if he wants to.
Graves only looks when he’s leaving the cafe because he has to walk by his table. The man is sketching now and he glances at Graves as he walks by. He doesn’t look away very quickly, but it’s still only a glance and Graves steps outside into a fresh autumn day.
He looks at the sky before he sighs and hails a taxi so he can start his day.
The next time Graves goes to The Split Bean, he doesn’t expect to see him again. It’s Manhattan, after all, and even this homey, family-owned cafe has to see different traffic every day of the week.
But Graves does see him. Earlier this time, too, before the sun starts rising, in another overlarge sweater. Green today, still sliding down his shoulder, still too long on his arms, and Graves could cry.
He really could. The cafe is his place for me time and good coffee and pastries and sunrises, not incredibly attractive men with a very endearing smile.
It’s broad and genuine, kind and joyful, even. Thursday at twenty past six in the morning is not usually a thing of joy, but if Graves can enjoy these moments, he supposes other people might too.
He only has coffee today until someone at the counter says Credence, and Graves watches him get up and disappear around the corner. When he comes back, his muffin is steaming, fresh out of the oven, and Graves watches him sit down again.
Credence. Graves is sure he’s never heard of anyone with that name before and laments that it would be as unique as Credence himself seems to be.
Graves digs his fingers against his eyes for a while.
He’s tempted to find another cafe, but Graves is willing to give it a few more tries.
Of course, he ends up there every day, forgoing coffee at home or sitting down at a restaurant for a light meal. Graves is annoyed with himself for being drawn back to the damn cafe and even more annoyed when they start greeting him by his name whenever he steps through the door.
Credence is there every morning too. Like clockwork, a quarter past six every day, wearing a too-big sweater or occasionally a grey hoodie, and always with a sketch pad.
Sometimes he’s absorbed with whatever he’s drawing, and sometimes he only chips away at it because he’s too busy looking at the sunrise or watching people walk by.
Graves is not unaware that Credence has occasionally looked at him. Sometimes their eyes meet and sometimes Graves can feel Credence looking. It makes his heart flutter and his stomach tighten, which throws him right back into junior high, and Graves doesn’t like it.
He doesn’t have room for it. Sometimes he wants to ask Credence out, but it might ruin the cafe for one or both of them. If Graves tried to pick him up for nocturnal activities, well, it’d definitely ruin it by nature.
But Graves doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to disrupt a place he is growing increasingly fond of. He doesn’t want to upset this balance if he can help it.
Credence’s looks say nothing about who he is. His smile, the way he chats with the owners, his enjoyment of the sunrise, and his artistic side do. He must be an artist for a living and not a pretentious one.
Still, Graves tells himself he probably wouldn’t like Credence the way he doesn’t like most people.
It doesn’t stop him from looking, and Credence must feel something similar because he looks too. The vaguely terrifying thing doesn’t work on him, apparently, and that’s obvious one morning when their eyes meet, and Credence smiles, just a little.
Graves’ heart does all kinds of things, and he hates it, hates that he feels this way, like a schoolboy with a crush.
It’s unmistakable interest, and Graves should end it there, should make sure Credence knows he’s not interested.
But Graves’ willpower has gone down the drain in a short eight days, and he smiles at Credence. Thinks he shouldn’t come back after today, too, because Graves will ask him out and ruin this, and even if it didn’t ruin the cafe, even if something better happened instead, Graves doesn’t have the time for it.
He barely has time for himself, let alone someone else and tending to a relationship. It’s why he hasn’t bothered dating in years and why he enjoys casual sex with strangers he’ll never see again.
No one that might frequent the same cafe he does, anyway.
Besides, Graves got here first. He doesn’t think that would actually mean anything if things were ruined, but he’d ask for this in the divorce, so to speak.
They don’t approach each other, and despite another shared smile, Graves leaves feeling uneasy. He’s not sure if that’s because he knows he shouldn’t go back or because he didn’t talk to Credence. Didn’t introduce himself and get some kind of idea of what Credence is like.
Graves tells himself it’s not just plain old nerves.
He’s Percy Graves, for Christ’s sake, he faces down billion-dollar companies and their million-dollar attorneys in court and obliterates them the vast majority of the time. His cases make national news because everyone likes to watch cooperations and individuals fall when they’ve done something immoral or were neglectful in a heinous sort of way.
Graves has no problem facing these people down and arguing his case to the point of flawlessness and elegance, as Sera likes to say. He was born into a family that deserved their day in criminal court, so Graves has a certain tenacity in him to fight injustice with justice.
He’s a big fucking deal; Graves knows that. He also knows that mainly applies to the world of law, especially litigation, and not much outside of it.
Still, it’s where his confidence has been bred and feeling like a teenager with a silly crush while he’s less than four years from forty makes him uncomfortable in his own skin.
Graves goes back to the cafe because of lowered inhibitions and all of that. And, to Graves’ surprise and doom, most likely, Credence is there before him.
Fifteen minutes early, as it’s completely dark outside still as they creep through the first days of October. It means an entire hour if Graves lets it, and he tries not to think of it as he’s greeted and orders coffee and a raspberry danish.
They say they’ll bring it to him and Graves walks to his table. He isn’t surprised when Credence looks up at him with a smile that’s welcoming.
“Your name’s Percy, right?”
Graves wants to tell Credence he damn well knows it is, but he refrains. He stops and smiles instead.
“It is,” he says. “And you’re Credence.”
“Credence Barebone,” Credence says with a broader smile. He tugs his sleeve back and offers his hand.
Graves moves closer to take it, shaking it firmly. “Percy Graves,” he says. “You are one of very few people I know who look happy to be awake before the crack of dawn.”
Credence laughs and shrugs. “I have strange hours,” he says. “And I work from home. I really like the view from here.” He gestures at the windows behind him.
“It is a nice one,” Graves says. “I used to stop at the Starbucks in the lobby of my building, but I wanted a different view. Glad I stumbled upon this place.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” Credence says. “I was out of town for a while, but I’ve been coming here for a couple of years. You can sit. If you want.” He bites his lip and folds his hands, tucked under the sleeves of his sweater, and looks nervous.
Graves is powerless against that too and takes the seat across from Credence. “Thank you,” he says. Tries not to notice that Credence looks even better this close. “I was coming here for a month before I first saw you. You were out of town the whole time?”
He supposes he didn’t get here first.
Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says and smiles. “I was asked to do, umm… some workshops. Five-day-long courses at three different schools. It was my first time doing something like that, but I enjoyed it. I was pretty ready to get back home, though, at the end.”
“I imagine, after a month,” Graves says with a laugh. “That’s impressive. Is it for art?”
“Mhmm,” Credence hums, his cheeks pink. “I love to sketch,” he says when Graves looks at his unopened sketch pad. “But I work digitally, mostly.”
“Freelance?”
“Yeah,” Credence says with a smile. “I’ve worked on some projects that were nearly a year long, but it’s always off to something new after. What do you do for work?”
Graves chuckles. “I’m an attorney,” he says. “One of a million in this city, I know. I don’t get to travel often, but I do enjoy it.”
“What kind of law do you practice?” Credence asks. He looks nothing but interested but very apt to get Graves into trouble.
“I work litigation in tort law,” Graves says. “Which is legal jargon for I’m hired to sue the shit out of various people and entities in civil court and win single or class-action lawsuits for my clients.”
“Oh my god,” Credence says with a grin. “Most attorneys I meet don’t see courtrooms. You must be in one pretty often.”
“Weekly for discovery and hearings when we’re about to go to trial. The fun part is usually the light at the end of the tunnel,” Graves says with a smile. “For everyone not on the losing side involved.”
“It sounds like you love it.”
“I do. Very much,” Graves says. “You must love getting out of town and teaching students your craft.”
Credence smiles and shrugs a shoulder. “I do. When I get there, mostly, and after I’ve been talking for fifteen minutes, anyway. I never thought I’d teach anyone anything,” he says. “Workshops in New York are a lot different than workshops in different countries.”
“Different countries?” Graves asks. “That’s a bit further than out of town.”
“It was the first time I got an invitation like it,” Credence says with a grimace and rubs the back of his neck. “I almost said no, but room and board were covered. And I got to go to three universities in England. It was a bit scary, but fun too, once I got used to it.”
Graves smiles as he watches Credence talk. He’s modest and clearly a bit nervous still, and Graves isn’t thrilled that he likes him so much already.
“I’m sure it was a good time,” Graves says. “You didn’t bring anyone along?”
“No. They only paid for me, and a lot of my friends can’t afford that kind of trip. I couldn’t either,” Credence huffs. “I got lucky. They said they might invite me back next year.”
“You’re pretty young to be leading workshops across the world.”
“We grew up with computers,” Credence laughs. “I spent my entire childhood drawing and it was pretty easy to switch to digital when I could afford a tablet at thirteen. And that was fifteen years ago. So I’d say I’m just experienced.”
“Experienced and a hell of an artist, I’m sure,” Graves says and smiles as Credence looks down at his sketch pad with a smile of his own. “Is that why your hours are strange? Acclimating?”
Credence shakes his head. “No, I finally recovered from that, thankfully,” he says. “I have trouble sleeping, and work doesn’t care what my hours are as long as I get things to them by their deadlines. A lot of the time, I go home after this and sleep for a few hours before work.”
Graves thanks the owner when he brings his coffee and danish and smiles between Graves and Credence before leaving.
“I hope you’re able to find a day off now and then,” Graves says as he looks at Credence. “For some rest.”
“Occasionally,” Credence says with a smile and puts his chin in his hand. “You’re at work before seven. I have a feeling you’re not out by four.”
Graves chuckles. “You may be right,” he says. “I do best working long hours. I’ve never been good at resting myself. However, some people in my life insisted on it, and now I come here nearly every day. For the coffee, pastries, and a better view of the sunrise than in my office.”
“It’s peaceful here. Not as busy as other places,” Credence says and bites his lip. “How’s it been?”
“Took a bit to get used to,” Graves says with a smile. “I enjoy it now. I even silence my phone when I’m here.”
“I guess that’s all we sometimes need to start a day off right,” Credence says with some amusement and picks at his cinnamon crumb muffin. “Do you work seven days a week?”
Graves chuckles. “Officially, I am off Saturdays and Sundays. Unofficially, I spend most of them researching and answering more emails than I can count,” he says. “Not that I need to. But it’s less for me to do during the week.”
“Do you ever have an evening off?”
Graves peers at Credence and smiles as he sets the mug aside after taking a drink of coffee. “Depends,” he says. “Do you have something in mind?”
Credence shrugs and looks down at the table. “Depends,” he says and looks at Graves with a warm and hopeful smile. “If you do have a night off… maybe you’d like to go to dinner?”
“You know,” Graves sighs, “for you, Credence, I’m sure I can make the time. I’d love to.”
Thrilled to, honestly, and Graves wasn’t supposed to come back here, so this exact thing wouldn’t happen, but all he thinks of is fuck it when Credence grins. It’s dazzling and sweet and a little surprised, too, like he thought Graves would say no.
Graves doesn’t have time for romance, or so he tells himself, but it’s hard to believe that as he looks at Credence. He already has the desire to kiss him, but dinner first.
They exchange numbers and spend another half an hour talking. Credence shows Graves some things in his sketch pad, and his skill is even more apparent than Graves was already expecting.
Graves is reasonably sure that perspective, movement, anatomy and style are all good things in the art world, and Credence has them down.
Some of the sketches are colored with colored pencils - which can do a certain kind of magic Graves was unaware of - and Credence seems to be a fan of Halloween because half his drawings are familiar, stylized themes of the holiday.
Telling Credence he’s an excellent artist is probably understating things given his accomplishments so far, but Graves says it anyway, and the way Credence smiles, touched and shy, tells him it was alright to.
Graves does have to get to work, and they say goodbye.
Looking up at the morning sky as it brightens feels different today. Feels good, in fact, better than ever. Graves hails a cab and looks at the cafe before he gets in.
The Split Bean is something he hopes both he and Credence will continue to enjoy.
——
They text each other once that day. In the evening, Credence asks Graves if he’ll see him tomorrow, and Graves can only say yes.
Credence comes into the cafe a few minutes after Graves has sat down at his favorite booth, and Credence looks relieved to see him. Like he thought Graves might have abandoned the place altogether.
He might have been thinking about it, but one look at Credence’s smile was enough to do him in.
They talk for an hour that morning about everything, wherever their conversations lead them, and it’s easy. It’s easier than Graves has ever experienced before, and it surprises him that it’s with Credence.
They’re similar in some ways but vastly different in a lot of key ways too. Graves has, in the past, usually dated busy professionals just like himself. Not that Credence isn’t a busy professional, but he’s an artist who chooses his own work because his name is that well known; Credence has the luxury to relax during the day, to work at home and select his hours, and it’s with a pen that he puts in his hard work.
It doesn’t make him unavailable because he’s not a lawyer or doctor or executive of some kind. Credence primarily works alone and in his ultimate comfort zone. He’s a homebody too, not interested in networking or going to lounges with other professionals who are too busy discussing all their accomplishments instead of enjoying each other’s company.
Graves doesn’t do that either; not anymore, not since he realized he really didn’t have to and made his name through his dedication and hard work and nothing more.
But Credence wants to talk to Graves more than once or twice a day, and he says as much when he admits he doesn’t know if he should have texted at all the previous evening.
Graves tells him to text away because the idea that Credence is so different from who he usually dates being a good thing hits him. Maybe he was tired of the same thing, the same person, the same routines of barely speaking to each other unless they managed to find a day off and spent the entirety of it discussing work anyway.
Relationships haven’t been smooth for him, and Graves knows he’s a part of that too. It’s difficult to completely open up to someone with little time to do so. Falling in love is easy for anyone, but maintaining it has always seemed impossible to Graves.
He thinks his unwillingness to make time and open up to someone who isn’t exactly like him has been where he’s gone wrong.
Of course, it could just be that this is new, and Graves is prone to butterflies and looking at things with rose-tinted glasses like everyone else.
Still, Graves is glad to see a text from Credence throughout the day. Graves is eager to respond if he’s not on the phone or in a meeting, and it feels pretty damn incredible.
They talk on the phone that night, and Graves enjoys that too. It keeps him up two hours past his usual bedtime, but Credence is a night owl, and Graves doesn’t want to hang up. The way Credence curses and thoroughly apologizes when he notices it’s past midnight is so endearing that Graves is tempted to tell him to forget the time, but he doesn’t because he needs to sleep.
He suspects he’s in for losing some sleep himself as they start dating.
Dinner is good. Better than, really. Fun and intimate, and there are no awkward pauses or breaks in the conversation beyond enjoying their meal. Credence is intelligent, beautiful in an effortless way, both inside and out, and has plenty of entertaining stories to tell.
He’s just over seven years younger than Graves, twenty-nine this coming November, and while most twenty-somethings tire him on his best days, Credence doesn’t. He’s not boisterous and doesn’t care about superficial things; he doesn’t care about parties or being near many people, as he’s less than fond of those things.
Which only makes Graves like him more.
Credence is interested in him too, and the questions he asks are thoughtful, things Graves isn’t usually asked because he doesn’t meet new people in personal settings, and he isn’t sure they’d ask the things Credence asks anyway.
He’s exceedingly sweet, polite, and willing to make fun of himself. He’s also far too humble and Credence doesn’t seem to know what to do with compliments or praise. Graves wonders if that’s just how he is or if things in his life have made him that way.
There’s plenty to compliment and praise, after all, and Graves can’t be the only one doing it.
Credence mentions friends he’s close to, but he doesn’t talk about his family. He never mentions his childhood beyond his interest in drawing from a young age.
That could be one of the things they do have in common, Graves thinks - a shitty home life - but that can wait.
It’s an amazing night if Graves is honest with himself, and by the end of it, they’ve got a second date planned for a few days from now. Graves’ instinct is to kiss Credence good night, but he also wants and needs this to move at a steady pace. He suspects Credence feels the same way, but he looks like he wants to be kissed too, and maybe that’s not too much.
He tastes like cinnamon and raspberries, the spiced cheesecake they shared for dessert, and Graves finds Credence intoxicating for many reasons.
Graves sees him safely home to a small but handsome building about fifteen minutes from his own place. He takes the taxi home and thinks that, if anything, he’s glad for choosing to go back to The Split Bean.
——
They do move slowly through the first few weeks. Most days, they see each other at the cafe unless Graves has a particularly early start to his day or Credence has a bad night of sleep.
Otherwise, they go out once or twice a week, and it’s near-perfect every time. They’re enjoyable but relaxing dates, and Graves doesn’t think his interest will wane anytime soon. Certainly not in the next decade.
Credence seems to feel the same way.
A month after their first date, Credence invites Graves over for dinner at his apartment.
It’s cute, small, but cozy, and Credence has definitely made it his own. He has an impressive setup in his living room that takes up nearly half of it. His computer and tablet are high quality, and Credence has an iPad to work on files when he’s out or doesn’t want to sit at his desk.
He brought it to the cafe and showed Graves his work, things that have been published in books or card games, designs he’s made that have been in fucking video games and movies, which Graves has vowed to watch. Unfortunately, Graves is all too familiar with NDAs, and Credence doesn’t show him any of his most recent work but says he hopes he gets to soon.
Credence makes chicken cordon bleu, half of it already prepared, and lets Graves help him for the other half. It’s easier than it might seem, and Graves does like it, but he’s never made it at home.
“I like to cook,” Credence says with a smile. “I have to halve every recipe I try, but I enjoy trying new things. It’d be nice to enjoy them with you too.”
“Invite me over anytime, and we’ll enjoy them together,” Graves says with a chuckle. “I like cooking too, but I don’t make enough time for it.”
“We should make it a Saturday night thing then,” Credence says mildly as he makes a creamy dijon sauce. “Whenever you have the time.”
“Sounds good to me,” Graves says. He turns the chicken in a pan once it’s browned and kisses Credence’s cheek after. It’s easy to do in his tiny kitchen and Graves likes it. “You doing anything for Thanksgiving?”
“My friends usually invite me over. Just a few of us,” Credence says with a smile and looks at Graves. “What about you?”
“My sister and I are usually invited to Sera’s, along with a few other friends and colleagues,” Graves says. “I’d prefer to spend it alone with a good meal and a bottle of whiskey, but my sister says that’s unhealthy.”
Credence laughs. “Some of it, anyway,” he says with a grin. “Maybe we should have a Thanksgiving before or after. With the stuff we both like.”
“If I have the opportunity not to politely turn down green bean casserole, I will take it.”
“What about no turkey?”
“Ham instead?”
“The good spiral honey hams.”
“Sounds pretty fucking perfect to me. We can both skip politely telling anyone how good their bland ass turkey meat is.”
Credence snickers. “I’ve had it infused and deep-fried a few times. That wasn’t so bad. But I like the ham more,” he says. “I bet you don’t like sweet potatoes and marshmallows.”
Graves chuckles and squeezes Credence’s hip. “You’re getting to know me,” he says and winks when Credence looks at him with a playful eye. “Too damn sweet.”
“Stuffing?”
“As long as it doesn’t have mushrooms.”
“Bread rolls.”
“Hawaiian rolls.”
“Good choice,” Credence says. “Cranberry relish?”
“Not my favorite, but I’ll take a bite or two. Mashed potatoes are mandatory.”
“Of course. So is gravy. Since we won’t have a turkey, I can make one. Maybe sausage gravy to put over stuffing and eggs in the morning.”
“...that sounds absolutely fantastic,” Graves says and smirks at Credence when he grins. “Look at you and your creative mind.”
Credence laughs. “I saw it on Food Network,” he says and laughs more when Graves does. “We need vegetables. Maybe some roasted ones with almonds and balsamic.”
“Now you’re talking,” Graves says and removes the chicken from the pan. “What dessert are you going to torture me with?”
“Hmm,” Credence hums. “Maybe just some cookies. Nothing too rich, or you’ll be done for the night. Or you can pick up cheesecake for us on your way over.”
“Perfect,” Graves chuckles. “This is shaping up to be a good night.”
Credence nods cheerfully and kisses Graves before finishing the sauce. They plate dinner together and eat at the sofa because Credence doesn’t have a table. Perfectly fine with Graves, and he likes Credence’s apartment the more he looks at it.
Art materials are everywhere and more blankets than he’s sure an entire family needs, let alone one person, but it’s all distinctly Credence.
He’s in one of his numerous oversized sweaters that Graves enjoys too much. They’re soft and warm, and once they’ve both finished dinner, Credence leans into Graves’ side.
Graves wraps his arm around him and smiles as Credence rests his head on his shoulder. He rubs his arm and moves his fingers through Credence’s hair now and then.
Eventually, Credence grabs his iPad and works on a painting. Graves asks him to tell him what he’s doing as he’s doing it and understands very little of it, but it gets Credence rambling eagerly, something Graves could listen to all day.
“A lot of us are shifting to iPads,” Credence says. “The tablet is a bigger space to work with, which I use for work, mostly, but the iPad has almost everything I need.”
“You’re certainly making magic,” Graves says as he watches a desert landscape form under Credence’s hand. “When did you start professional work?”
Credence hums as he pauses for a moment before continuing. “When I was sixteen,” he says. “I was pretty good and a small-time game studio wanted to hire me for a project. It wasn’t a lot of money, and it took days to convince my mother to let me do it. I had to get her permission,” he adds with some distaste. “I didn’t want to take on any more work after because it wasn’t a great experience, but I knew I wanted to do this for a living, and I needed to build a portfolio. My mother enjoyed the money, at least.”
Graves strokes Credence’s collarbone and rests his hand over his chest. “I’m glad you kept at it,” he says. “Were you able to leave when you were eighteen?”
“No,” Credence sighs. “It took me two more years to save up enough. She couldn’t stop me from opening my own accounts and keeping the money. She wasn’t fit to be a mom.”
He says it quietly and with resignation rather than bitterness or anger. Oh, Graves understands it. Understands it too well, and he figured Credence’s home life was shit, especially considering he’s barely mentioned it in over a month now.
Graves knows the pain of it all too well. He’s gotten over it, and Credence might have too, but there’s always some part of Graves that feels bitter when he thinks about it for too long. He suspects it’s the same for Credence.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Graves sighs. “I’d say most people aren’t fit to be parents, but I might be biased.”
“I’d agree with you, but I might be biased too,” Credence says as he leans back against Graves’ chest more. “At least we’re better than what they said we’d be.”
“Miles better,” Graves chuckles. He brushes his thumb over the hollow point between Credence’s collarbones. “It’s hard to imagine I got this lucky, in fact.”
Credence laughs. “It’s only been a month,” he says. “You don’t know how you’re going to feel another month from now. Longer, if I’m lucky.”
“I think I know exactly how I’ll feel,” Graves says and gently pinches Credence’s chin. “You are my worst nightmare, though.”
Credence hums in amusement and tilts his head back to look at Graves with a smile. “Am I?” he asks. “Because I remind you you have feelings like everyone else?”
“That’s exactly right,” Graves says as he laughs. He kisses Credence’s forehead and thinks Credence’s grin is enough to make anyone fall in love with him. “The horror of waking up every morning thinking about someone other than me.”
“Terrible, I’m sure,” Credence laughs. He scoots back a bit until he can kiss Graves properly. “I kind of like it, but now I’m wondering if I’m actually just suffering alongside you.”
“As long as we’re doing it together,” Graves says with a smirk. He pulls Credence closer and kisses him again, and this one lasts.
Credence is half in his lap, his iPad forgotten on his thighs, and his arms are around Graves’ neck and shoulders. They stay like that for a while until Credence rests his head on Graves’ shoulder, his nose cold against his neck, but his lips are warmer.
They hold each other like that for a long time, occasionally talking about whatever comes to mind but not straying far from each other. Credence seems to need it on top of simply enjoying it and Graves is more than happy to give Credence whatever he needs. Probably another terrible thing, but Graves doesn’t want to put a stop to it.
He leaves later in the evening, after a long kiss, and goes home. Credence is on his mind often enough already, but Graves feels a familiar tug in his gut, a lightness in his chest that is mildly alarming, as good as it feels.
It’s been a long time for him, and Graves doesn’t know how long it’s been for Credence. They’ve only just started dating, but Graves is eager to learn more about him.
As long as Credence keeps letting him.
——
Seeing each other almost every morning helps them for the next few weeks. Graves has to dive into a new case, the beginnings of which means collecting thousands of documents to read, and it keeps him busy.
He makes sure to go over every Saturday night, but Graves can’t afford more than that until he’s familiar with the case and his clients. Of course, it means less time texting and on the phone too, but Credence only ever seems happy when Graves takes a breather to call him. He does hug Graves a little longer each time they say hello and goodbye, though.
Graves realizes one evening, as he sits in his office at home, that there’s no reason he can’t invite Credence over if Credence is alright with Graves working.
Credence is usually working late too, and he brings his iPad with him after Graves asks if he wants to come over. He spends a lot of time muttering oh my god as Graves shows him around the apartment, which is endlessly amusing, but Credence seems taken with it too, so Graves counts it as a win.
They’re only four days out from Thanksgiving and are planning their own on the following Saturday. Credence declares they’ll do it at Graves’ since he actually has counter space, and Graves doesn’t mind.
His office is big enough for numerous bookshelves, his desk, and a sofa. Credence curls up in the corner of it as Graves reads through everything his paralegals have sent to him.
Going up against a large corporation is daunting for his clients, but Graves treats them like he would any person that’s caused harm or done damage. He’s won cases by laying out the facts of the matter with not many dramatics because the facts are harrowing enough, and it’s what takes him the most time; reading what’s happened, what documents and evidence his clients have to back it up and preparing them for the numerous things they’ll need to do to gather even more.
It’ll take the better part of a year, and Sera will be working alongside him on it. Graves would usually be more than content not to speak with anyone but Eliza outside of work, but he plans on actually having a personal life this time around and is sure it’ll be rocky here and there as he tries to figure that out.
Having Credence nearby is surprisingly comforting. They talk here and there about their work or day, and Graves can’t help but look at him often.
Credence is wearing the honey-colored sweater Graves first saw him in. He’s concentrating on what he’s doing, squinting now and then at his tablet, or chewing on his lip.
They’re barely two months into this, but Graves is reasonably sure he’s in love, something he didn’t set out for, but here it is. He thinks he would regret telling Credence because Credence is setting the pace, and it’s slow.
Graves doesn’t mind slow. He’d wait as long as Credence wants to wait for more, whatever that might be, but he suspects he’d spook Credence if he told him how he feels too soon.
It’s usually Graves who would be spooked by that, who would force things to be slow if he were serious enough, and he supposes it had to be someone like Credence to change everything.
He’s special, unique in the best of ways, and Graves says goodbye to his heart, to his stability and reinforcements because they’re firmly in Credence’s hands now.
Credence looks over his tablet and smiles, raising his eyebrows. “What?” he asks.
“Just enjoying the view,” Graves says and smiles as Credence flaps his hand. “It’s a good one, you know.”
“From my side, I guess it is,” Credence says. “I don’t think so from your side.”
“I’m sorry, but are you saying you’re not aware of how unbelievably attractive you are?”
Credence laughs and his cheeks are pink as he looks at Graves. “I don’t see it,” he says and shrugs. “But I’m glad you think so.”
Graves shakes his head. “You catch the eye, sweetheart, and certainly not just mine. Thankfully, I am just unbelievably attractive enough to try and keep up,” he says and turns back to his monitors.
“I think we strike a perfect balance. I am just modest enough to make up for how vain you are.”
“Mhmm,” Graves hums. “It seems only fair to build you up while you knock me down.”
Credence snickers. “I bet you were the type to use to it your advantage.”
“What makes you think I still don’t? How could I have wooed you without these handsome features?” Graves mutters and shakes his finger. “My mother started telling me and everyone else around her how handsome I was from the day I was born to the day I stopped letting her. Fortunately, it was true, and I’ve been flirting my way out of trouble for twenty years.”
“I’m sure you have,” Credence says dryly. “You might be handsome, but you’re not friendly-looking until you smile.”
“Thankfully, that’s helped me not to get into too much trouble,” Graves says and looks at Credence with a smile. “Then you came around and forced me to smile.”
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything for you,” he says with a grin.
“You aren’t sorry at all,” Graves says. “But thank you for humoring me.”
“It’s hard to be sorry when you smile at me, you know,” Credence says and turns back to his tablet.
“I do know that feeling,” Graves says. “Every time you smile at me.”
“Maybe,” Credence says breezily, “we should both be grateful then.”
“I am, actually. Every damn morning,” Graves says and clicks through to another long page of documents. “Seems to only get stronger since I see you almost every morning.”
“I think I know what you mean,” Credence says, a smile in his voice.
It takes some concentration to get back to work after that. Credence only leaves to get them a drink, but beyond that, they manage to focus.
Graves’ eyes are starting to ache when Credence gets up and walks to him. He looks up at him and is mildly surprised when Credence leans down to kiss him.
It’s a good kiss, with intent and the sort of simmering passion Credence has about him.
Graves hums when Credence pulls back, but he doesn’t go far. “And what was that for?”
“It’s almost eleven,” Credence says with a sympathetic smile. “You look exhausted.”
“Fuck,” Graves sighs and looks at the time. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll be used to this in no time.” He looks up at Credence and smiles. “You want a lift home?”
Credence bites his lip and shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “I can call for a ride, too, you know. So you don’t have to drive.”
Graves hums and squeezes Credence’s hips. “Or,” he says, “you can stay the night. I have nowhere to be in the morning beyond right back here.”
“You’re not going into the office?”
“No one’s going to be there,” Graves chuckles. “And I’ve got everything I need here.”
Credence smiles and nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d love to. Maybe we can have breakfast before you’re right back here.”
“Deal,” Graves says and takes Credence’s hand to kiss the back of it. He turns to his computer to save his notes and lock it down. “You need anything?”
“No, thank you,” Credence says with a smile. “Just you.”
Graves smiles and thinks that’s no hardship. He kisses Credence again before they leave the office. The bedroom is at the end of the hall and Graves tells Credence to go on while he turns lights off.
Hears him mutter oh my god and laughs.
Credence doesn’t seem to have any problems getting comfortable, though, after he’s used the bathroom. He gets right into bed in his boxers and a soft shirt. Graves wouldn’t mind seeing more of Credence in his bed, but he’s not sure how often that’ll happen.
He gets into bed after using the bathroom and kisses Credence when he moves closer. He tastes like mint and something sweeter.
“Thanks, Percy,” Credence says softly when they part. “I’ll leave after breakfast.”
Graves peers at him, his heart twinging, and he smiles faintly. “I’d keep you here all day if I had the chance to,” he says. “Leave whenever you want, love. I’ll take you home. But I am more than happy to have you here past breakfast.”
Credence looks at Graves as if he’s trying to determine if he means it. It makes Graves a little angry because he thinks someone didn’t mean it before or that Credence has been made to believe he’s in the way beyond whatever his mother told him.
It makes him a lot angry, in fact, because Credence looks like he’s struggling to believe Graves. He doesn’t know what’s going through his head, but it’s not anything good, so he kisses Credence’s cheek and chin.
“When I saw you the first time, you were wearing the same sweater you wore tonight,” Graves says quietly. “The sun was coming up. You look good in gold, you know.” He smiles when Credence does, just a bit like he can’t help it. “I had to remind myself staring was rude, but I’ll never forget seeing you like that for the first time. The fact that you’re in my bed tonight, two months later, makes me the luckiest fucking man in New York, I’d say.”
“Stop,” Credence complains and wrinkles his nose when Graves kisses it. His eyes are bright, and his cheeks are ruddy, but he looks at Graves with such intensity, with the same passion he kisses Graves with, that it makes Graves’ heart thunder. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Graves thinks he might just believe him. “I think I’m pretty fucking lucky too.”
Graves laughs. “That’s not knocking me down, you know,” he says. “But as long as it’s a good thing.”
“It is,” Credence says with a warm, wobbly smile and rubs Graves’ back. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.”
“I’m sorry they didn’t,” Graves says. “Anyone that could look at you the way I’m doing right now and not feel the same way didn’t deserve you.”
“Percy,” Credence mumbles and squeezes his eyes shut as Graves wipes a tear away. “I’m really happy we saw each other.” He sniffs and looks at Graves. “Thank you.”
Graves smiles and kisses Credence’s cheek. He lies down next to him with a sigh, his arm around Credence’s waist. “Thank you,” he says. “Try and get some sleep.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Credence says. He moves closer until their legs are tangled together and his hand is curled between them. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Graves says.
He kisses Credence one more time and finds that there really is no problem falling asleep after that.
——
How Credence has managed to slip so effortlessly into Graves’ life, he’ll never know.
Graves knows where his faults lie and that he often doesn’t care to fix them. A partner or even a lover has called him difficult more than once, and Graves knows that’s true to some extent.
He doesn’t trust people as a rule, and that’s so deeply rooted in him that it makes trusting someone in his home, in his life, challenging to do. Graves could have worked on that sooner, but it was easier to let people go than try and put effort into it.
Then Credence sat across from him and threw everything he thought he knew about himself out the window.
Graves supposes it took the right person when he had long stopped believing in the right person.
Because Graves wants this and thinks he’d do anything to keep it. To keep Credence in his life, and thankfully, Credence doesn’t seem to want to leave it.
It feels natural waking up with Credence in his arms. And they both got decent rest, something that’s not true for either of them very often. It’s just as natural to go about their morning together, cooking breakfast and sharing it over coffee.
Credence doesn’t leave until mid-afternoon, so he can get more work done to submit it tonight. Graves takes him home and promises to see him in the morning. It’s something to look forward to and that’s such an unusual thing in Graves’ life that it makes him laugh.
He tells Eliza about Credence that evening, and while she teases him, she also says she’s happy for him. And Graves knows she’ll want to meet Credence soon, but Eliza understands that this is still at Credence’s pace, and they’ll get there when they get there.
Beyond coffee in the morning, the next few days are busy for both of them, with work and little time to breathe and having to join the festivities on Thursday at their respective friends’ homes.
Graves spends the entire time at Sera’s wishing he was with Credence instead. He gets a text from Credence around three when Graves is debating leaving early and not giving a damn.
I don’t know how you feel but I kind of wish we’d said to hell with it and done our own thing today.
It gets Graves laughing, and it feels good because, well, they always seem to be on the same page.
Credence comes over in the morning on Saturday. He’s brought half a refrigerator worth of groceries with him, while Graves has the other half, and Graves is only thankful they won’t start until the afternoon because he has to prepare for it first mentally.
But it means having coffee with Credence on the sofa and being able to relax finally. Credence takes his mind off of work, no easy task at the beginning of a new case, and Graves listens to him talk about his friends and what’s happening in their lives. He mentions they want to meet him whenever Graves is ready for that, and it gives Graves a thrill to know Credence is talking about him.
They watch a sci-fi thriller on Netflix and are halfway through it when Credence points out a monster in it and says he designed it. Graves suspects this will be a thing that occasionally happens to shock him and make him laugh. But that’s alright because praising Credence is enough to get him back since he can hardly tolerate it.
Eventually, they have to pause the movie because they’re too wrapped around each other. Credence’s fingers feel good in Graves’ hair as he kisses him and Graves slides his hands under Credence’s shirt and over his back.
There are a few marks on his skin, raised scar tissue, but when Graves looks at Credence, he only smiles and shakes his head.
Graves is more than willing to follow Credence’s pace, and he’s not going anywhere for the days they decide to open up to each other, to tell some parts of their stories.
But Credence wants more today. He doesn’t skirt around it, either, but tells Graves plainly that he wants him, and, well, what can Graves do but give himself to Credence?
It goes about the way everything has for them. Without any bumps, with ease and laughter, closeness and the ever-present desire to make each other happy.
Graves supposes Credence planned on it because he tells Graves they wouldn’t be capable of it tonight or in the morning.
“I would have been more than capable of putting something else in my mouth if I didn’t have to swallow it, so I’m afraid I can’t agree.”
“Oh my god,” Credence laughs and looks at Graves. His hair is still a bit damp, and his smile is lazy and satisfied. If a little exasperated. “Don’t make it sound like a challenge.”
“I like challenges,” Graves says and smirks as Credence shakes his head. “You might be right, though. It’s going to be a Netflix and early bedtime night.”
“Mhmm,” Credence hums with a smile. “I could get used to it. Well, not all of it. But Netflix with you every night.”
“Guess we’ll need to make it a habit,” Graves says and rubs Credence’s hips. “We should probably shower and go finish the one we started.”
Credence sighs and nods. “Alright,” he says. “I know it’s not a great movie, but I didn’t have to worry about rent for almost a year.”
“Shit,” Graves says with a laugh. “I am a big fan of not-great movies, so hit me with your best shot, Mister Barebone.”
“There’s plenty more,” Credence promises. He takes Graves’ hands after he climbs out of bed and offers them. “We’re going to have to start cooking afterward.”
Graves walks into the bathroom with Credence and turns the shower on. “I’m looking forward to it,” he says as he looks over Credence with an appreciative eye. “I think I might be looking forward to breakfast even more.”
“Stuffing, eggs, and gravy together are surprisingly good,” Credence says with a cheeky grin. “Not very refined, though.”
“You have a very low opinion of me,” Graves tsks. “It’s not all caviar and champagne in these halls.”
“Just occasionally?”
“Champagne, sure. You couldn’t pay me to eat fish eggs.”
Credence laughs. “I wish we had champagne tonight, actually. I like it,” he says and steps into the shower after Graves gestures for him to.
“I guess I forgot to mention my wine cellar,” Graves says and follows Credence in. “I’ve got plenty of champagne.”
“Oh my god,” Credence mutters. “You and your ivory tower.”
“You can join me in it if you want. Paint the walls and ceilings a la Michelangelo.”
“Just like Michelangelo was primarily a sculptor, I’m primarily a digital artist and not a traditional painter.”
“I bet Michelangelo didn’t complain about it.”
“He did, actually, and a lot,” Credence laughs. “Maybe I’ll paint something and print it so you can hang it on the wall.”
Graves chuckles and rubs Credence’s back as he watches him shampoo his hair. “I’m sure the place could use a little more life,” he says and kisses Credence’s shoulder when he’s done. “It’d be nice to have a piece of you here when you can’t be.”
Credence smiles and looks at Graves. “I wouldn’t mind joining you here more often,” he says. “It’d be expensive, though, to go back and forth.”
“I suppose you’ll have to bring your computer along someday.”
“Hmm,” Credence hums. “Maybe I will. Maybe by Christmas.”
Graves smiles and squeezes Credence’s hip. “That might be the best Christmas I’ve had in a very long time then.”
“It might be for me too,” Credence says with a broad smile. He slumps against Graves, his arms tight around him, and sighs. “The best one yet.”
Graves holds Credence, rubbing his back, and knows it would be for him too. And he’s going to do what he can not to fuck this up because Graves is lucky enough to have Credence in his life.
If Credence extends so much trust to him, Graves has no problem reciprocating like in the past. It just took Credence being the right person, after all.
He kisses Credence and will thank him later.
I love you is said in small ways for the next few weeks. In the way that Credence spends time on the sofa working while Graves is absorbed in his own work, and reminds him to eat occasionally. In the way he sighs as they make love and says Percy against Graves’ skin.
The way he paints a glass of whiskey and a filled, bubbling champagne flute next to it in such detail that they look real, and in the way he smiles when Graves puts a print up in his office.
It’s in the way he quietly tells Graves more about his life and listens as Graves tells him about his.
It’s in the long hug Credence and Eliza share, and it’s in the way Credence grins as Graves helps him set up one of the spare bedrooms, the one with the best view of Uptown, as his own office.
I love you is said on Christmas Eve after Credence has convinced Graves to drink hot chocolate with marshmallows with him and admire their glittering Christmas tree. It’s said after they both decide they’ll return the thing and go for something half the size next year because it shouldn’t take five hours to put together and decorate a tree.
Credence laughs as he leans against Graves, nose touching the crook of his neck, and says, “I love you.”
Graves smiles, and he’s gotten used to his heart doing that fluttering thing by now, but it feels pretty significant tonight. He makes Credence look at him because he knows he’s nervous, even if he’s happy too, and kisses him.
“I love you too,” Graves says.
He could look at Credence’s dazzling smile every day for the rest of his life and hopes Credence will continue to choose Graves, as he chooses Credence.
Whether that’s over coffee and muffins at The Split Bean or in whispered I love yous on quiet nights in, Graves will be grateful every day for Credence’s choice.