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Greg sneaks out as soon as he gets Tom’s text. He’s not having a terrible time as wakes go. Mattsson seems to really like him now and he managed to namedrop himself and Tom to Menken.
But still he wishes Tom had been there at the funeral. Maybe he would have known how to stop Ewan from getting up and reading his eulogy. Roman isn’t going to forget that any time soon - although maybe the video of him squealing like a stuck pig which is circulating might distract him for a while.
All in all, Tom is only at the wake for 20 minutes. When Greg finds him waiting in the car downstairs he looks exhausted, dark circles under his expressive eyes and a defeated slant to his mouth.
“Back to the hotel?” Greg asks when the car starts to move and Tom slides his hand across the seat to intertwine their fingers.
Tom sighs in bone-deep fatigue. “Shiv said I can go to the apartment, try to get some sleep there for a few hours.”
“Oh, uh… you think it’ll help?” Greg asks.
“I don’t know,” Tom shrugs. “Gotta be worth a try.”
Having experienced firsthand just how little Tom has been sleeping, Greg can’t help but agree. “So are you dropping me off on the way there?”
Tom squeezes his fingers. “If you want. Or…”
“Or?” Greg repeats.
“Or we say fuck it, and you come with me.”
“Are… are you sure that’s wise? Not that I don’t want to but - y’know, Shiv?”
It seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Tom’s expression darkens.
“Forget Shiv. I don’t care about Shiv,” he says.
“You do though,” Greg says quietly. “About her and the…” He trails off. When Tom doesn’t say anything, Greg smooths his free hand over Tom’s knee. “I’ll come home with you. If it’s just for a few hours we’ll probably be gone before she gets back.”
“Yeah,” Tom says. “Probably.”
The car arrives outside Tom and Shiv’s apartment building and Greg disentangles himself from Tom so they can get out. A careful distance is maintained as they walk past the doorman and step into the private elevator, Tom walking stiffly and like every step is costing him more energy than he has or will ever regain. It’s only once the apartment door closes securely behind them that Greg allows himself to drift close enough to touch.
He presses gently against Tom’s waist, guiding him towards the spare bedroom Greg knows he secretly favours over the master. It’s a testament to how tired Tom is that he doesn’t protest, just allows Greg to herd him onto the bed and slowly peel him out of his suit.
When Tom is down to his his boxers and undershirt, he crawls under the covers and gestures for Greg to join him. Even though he isn’t really tired yet, Greg does as requested, propping himself up next to Tom who throws an arm over his waist and presses his face into the pillow next to Greg’s thigh. He settles a hand into Tom’s hair, stroking gently and within minutes Tom’s out like a light, snoring softly. Greg pulls out his phone and watches Tiktoks on mute.
Four hours later and Greg is woken from his dosing because Tom startles next to him. Backlit by the orange glow of the city lights, Greg watches Tom look around like he’s expected to be surrounded by people, then relax back into the pillows.
“You okay?” he asks, patting Tom’s chest, long fingers stretching across his sternum.
“Yeah, fuck. Dreamt of the plane again.”
“Oh,” Greg says. “Was it the one where it was you instead of Uncle Logan?”
Tom nods, scrubbing at his face. “Yeah,” he sniffs. “Fuck. At least you didn’t do the creepy smiling thing Kerry did.”
“Yeah, I uh don’t know how much smiling I’d be doing, if you y’know, died, Tom,” Greg assures him.
There’s an oddly happy expression on Tom’s face at that statement and Greg pushes down a wave of absurd fondness for the ridiculous man next to him.
Tom reaches for his phone, scrolling through the dozens of messages from ATN employees. “Shit, it’s 10 already? I need to get back to the office.”
“Yeah,” Greg says. “You probably should.”
“What do you mean ‘you’?” Tom scoffs. “We’re both going back as soon as I’m dressed. I still need you gregging for me. Until this shit show is over.”
Greg sighs. “Really, Tom? I kind of thought now the election is over… And I talked to Menken for you and told him what we did!”
“Well don’t say it like it isn’t good for both of us that you did that,” Tom retorts. “I need you, Greg. Why does it seem like lately all you’re doing is trying to get away from me?”
“I’m not,” Greg says quietly as Tom gets dressed as stroppily as any middle aged man in a ten thousand dollar suit can.
“Whatever,” Tom says. “I’m going back to work and you can’t stay here so let’s go.”
Greg slides into his pants as quickly as he can, leaving his shoes untied as he follows Tom out into the main living area.
“Straighten yourself up, I can’t have my doorman thinking you’re some low-rate rentboy,” Tom snaps.
This is the version of him that Greg likes least. Insecure and prickly, lashing out at Greg just because he’s there and not willing to cave to Tom’s every whim. Still, Greg does as he’s told, handing off his phone to Tom so he can tuck in his shirt, tie his shoes and fix his hair.
“Greg?” Tom asks slowly, elongating his name until it’s barely recognisable. “Why is Lukas Matsson texting you?”
Greg shrugs. “I don’t know? You asked me to get close to him, he texts me sometimes now.”
“Uh-huh, yeah sure. And what part of that explains why he’s calling you ‘sexy’? Are you… are you stepping out on me Greg? Because I was very clear how I feel -“
“Tom, Tom stop,” Greg interrupts. It’s like he can see Tom unravelling before his eyes like a skein of wool. “He just… he’s been flirting, it’s what he does. But that’s it. I promise.”
He snatches his phone out of Tom’s hand and unlocks it, immediately returning it to him so he can see the text history. Tom’s thumb hovers over the screen but doesn’t move. Then he locks the phone and gives it back to Greg.
“I don’t… I don’t want to see that. I don’t need it.”
Greg doesn’t say anything, just nods reaching out to Tom. “Ready to go?”
A deep sigh escapes Tom but he nods. “Yeah, come on.”
They’re at the door when his phone buzzes again. “Wait, Tom. Mattsson texted again.”
“Greg, I just said you don’t need to -“ Tom says, exasperated.
Greg holds up a hand to shush him and Tom looks so offended, Greg almost laughs. “Sorry, Tom, sorry. No, it’s just. He said Menken is going to allow the Gojo deal to go through.”
“Oh.” Tom relaxes. “Well, that’s good for us right?”
“Uh-huh, yeah for sure except maybe better than good?”
Tom’s eyebrows shoot up. “And why is that, Gregory?”
Greg can feel a sort of manic grin spread across his face. “Because he says that he needs an American CEO… and Shiv has put herself forward but he ‘would value my recommendation’.”
“Your recommendation,” Tom repeats, face slack. “And you’re going to say, what? Yourself?”
“Why not?” Greg pouts. “You said I could be a CEO someday.”
Tom laughs. “Oh sure, sure. Someday being the operative word, Gregory. You don’t think you’re ready now though?”
“I mean… maybe?”
Something softens in Tom’s expression and he reaches out to frame Greg’s face with his hands. “Greg, you know i know how smart you are and how ambitious, right?” He waits until Greg nods before he continues. “And you know I wouldn’t guide you in the wrong direction?”
Greg sniffs. “I mean… I did sell my soul for you?”
“It’s not the right time,” Tom says and kisses him. And then keeps kissing him, softly but passionately, threading his fingers into Greg’s hair and tugging gently. “Okay?” he whispers when he lets go.
“Okay,” Greg replies.
He lifts his phone and replies to Mattsson before locking it and putting it back in his pocket.
Tom eyes him warily. “What did you tell him?”
Greg smiles and steps out of the apartment. With an angry noise, Tom slams the door shut and follows him into the elevator.
“Greg? What did you tell him?” he asks again. “Come on, you know you’re too Canadian to be enigmatic.”
Tom’s distracted by his phone ringing. He pulls it out of his pocket, then shows it to Greg.
“Good boy, Greg,” Tom says, pressing a kiss to Greg’s cheek, clearly no longer caring that there’s a security camera in the elevator.
Then he answers his phone. “Hey Lukas, what’s up?”