Work Text:
Tom’s skimming an email from Matsson when Greg pops his head through the doorway.
“Hey, Tom - you have a minute?”
Tom does actually. Matsson’s email was overwhelmingly positive – just letting folks know he’s pleased with how the merger’s going, that he’s appreciative of everyone putting in the extra hours to make it successful. It’s an almost hilarious departure from what a typical email from Logan would look like. Amazing, the kind of changes new leadership can bring.
“I do indeed, Greg. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Greg steps fully into his office, one hand braced oddly behind his back as he lets the glass door swing shut behind him.
“So, uh.” Greg comes towards Tom’s desk with a bashful sort of energy. Tom’s curiosity spikes. “I have something to give to you.”
Tom leans forward in his chair. Greg’s never gotten him a gift before. This is new.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Greg pulls something from behind his back and places it carefully on Tom’s desk.
Tom stares at it.
It’s – well.
It’s a stuffed animal. A chipmunk, it looks like. There’s a blue bow tied clumsily around its neck.
Tom glances up at Greg, who appears to be anxiously awaiting his judgment, and then back at the chipmunk.
“Well, Greg,” Tom says slowly, “I appreciate the thought, but I’m a little fucking old for Build-A-Bear.”
“Oh,” Greg’s voice goes high, embarrassed. “No, I – it’s Mondale’s birthday today, right? I just, um. Got him a little something. If you could maybe give it to him for me? And tell him it’s from Cousin Greg?” Greg offers him a nervous smile, hands fidgeting with the bottom of his suit jacket.
Tom feels, abruptly, like he’s missed a step on his way down the stairs – like he needs to grab onto something to steady himself. He grabs the chipmunk.
“You got this for Mondale?” Tom asks, as if that’s not what Greg just said to him.
“Yeah - there’s a squeaker in it, too.” Greg reaches forward to demonstrate, squeezing the chipmunk while Tom holds it numbly in his hands. Sure enough, it squeaks. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
Will he like it? Tom almost laughs. As if there’s even the slightest chance Mondale won’t lose his mind over this. Honestly, sometimes, Greg makes Tom feel –
Well.
He makes Tom feel a lot.
This isn’t news, of course. Tom’s aware that the way he feels about Greg isn’t normal – isn’t an appropriate way to feel about one’s cousin-in-law. Lately, though, it’s been getting harder to ignore. Maybe because he and Greg are finally on the same team again, back in each others’ good graces. Maybe because he’s on the outs with Shiv and has been living in their guest bedroom since they got back from Italy, like they’re just absurdly rich roommates that don’t talk. Because they aren’t. Talking, that is. Tom has been enduring the world’s coldest shoulder for the past three weeks. He hasn’t even seen Shiv this week. Worse still: he doesn’t even care.
There’s something bubbling up in him now, washing through him like a fresh spring after the first rain of the season. He’s on the verge of something.
But first, he needs to know –
“How did you even know it was his birthday?”
“You mentioned it to me,” Greg says, “after Susan from accounting tried to invite you to her cat’s birthday party.”
Jesus, Tom told him all the way back then? “Greg, that was months ago.”
“Yeah, I – I know.” Greg shrugs and gestures vaguely at his phone. “But I put it in my calendar. So I would remember, y’know?”
Tom stares at him.
The thing is.
It’s such a small thing, isn’t it? Remembering Mondale’s birthday. Putting a little reminder for it in his calendar.
It’s such a small thing.
But.
It points to something bigger.
It tells Tom that Greg not only listened to him dropping little random tidbits of information about himself and his life, but cared enough to mark it down, to act on it later. It tells Tom that Greg understands Mondale’s importance to him, that his read on Tom’s priorities is likely fairly accurate. And it tells Tom that Greg is showing him more attentive consideration in this moment than Tom’s own wife has in…well. Their entire marriage.
Tom is no longer on the verge of realization. He’s in it.
“That is…” Tom’s voice comes out too choked, too raw. He clears his throat. “That’s very nice, Greg. Thank you. He’ll love it.”
Greg beams at him, sweet and pleased and happy.
Tom is going to leave his wife for this man.
“You think so?” Greg asks, unaware of how fully he’s just reordered Tom’s personal convictions.
“You know what,” Tom says, unable to stop himself. He’s fresh off a life-altering decision. He deserves to indulge a little. “Why don’t you come over tonight – give it to him yourself? You can witness how much he’ll like it first-hand.”
“Yeah?” Greg rocks back a bit on his heels, then forward again. It’s a tell Tom’s not sure Greg’s even aware he has, but Tom notices these things. Greg wanted this invite.
“Yes.” Tom’s forming a plan now. “And I was planning on taking him on a long walk later, as a treat. You should come with. We could stop at that new Mediterranean place – with that nice big back patio? It’s dog-friendly – get dinner there, take the scenic route back. What say you, Gregory?”
“Yeah, it sounds fun.” Greg reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear, then lets out a small laugh. “It actually, um. It almost sounds like a date.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Tom forces a laugh, hides behind a smile. Fake it til you make it, right?
Greg’s eyes widen, and his cheeks color faintly. “O-Oh. Should I, like. Should I go home and change first? Before I come over, I mean?”
“It’s just me and Mondale, Greg,” Tom says, heart beating so very fast. He tightens his grip on the chipmunk, grounding himself. This is really happening. Maybe. Hopefully. God, he feels like a fucking teenager. “You don’t have to get all gussied up for us.”
“No, I - I know.” Greg shrugs a shoulder, corner of his mouth pulling up slightly. “But. I think I might go home first anyway. Drop my stuff off, at least. And maybe, y’know. Change anyway.”
“Sure,” Tom says, mind definitely not occupied by thoughts of what Greg might change into. “That’s fine.”
“What, uh. What time should I come over?”
“Come over around six, six-thirty.”
“Okay, cool. Looking forward to it.” Greg’s shuffling back towards the door, but he’s grinning like he can’t help it, and he’s flushed the most lovely shade of pink. “I guess I’ll, um. See you at six, then?”
Tom finds himself grinning in return. He feels giddy. He feels bold. “It’s a date.”
Greg pauses at the door, biting his lower lip – his eyes are sparkling, smile bracketed by dimples. “Sounds good.”
With that, he slips out the door, giving an awkward little wave that makes Tom’s chest feel all warm.
Tom turns back to his computer and promptly closes out of his email.
Enough work for today – he has a date to plan.