Work Text:
He was in love.
It wasn’t friendship. Nor a crush.
He was in love.
He wanted to shag him, of course. Kiss him. Bite him even. He’d love to bite him. Just above his collar. Behind his ear. He would smell his hair. Inhale the smell of Head and Shoulders like it was a gift from the heavens. Because it was.
Why didn’t he do that? Harry was there. Next to him. Knees almost touching. Face flushed. Lips red. Glistening from the pint in his hand. The light of the telly playing on his face. He saw that face everywhere. He could never have enough of it. His mind had to make it up from time to time. Five days. Eight hours, nine if he included lunch. Once it was too much. Now? Not nearly enough. And he was leaving.
Tom was leaving. Moving offices. Moving up on the never-ending ladder. Moving away from Harry. Moving away from that laugh. That toothy smile. Those dumb one-liners and the absolutely uncalled-for digs at his lunchbox.
“Will you insult their lunch?” The words slipped out before he could think better of it.
“What?” Harry blinked at him. Just him. “Tom, you could at least pretend you care about Hedvig’s stomach bug.”
Tom cared. He would go to vet school and specialise in felines for Harry. He would donate his stomach to that damned cat if Harry told him so.
“But no, I only insult people who eat like birds,” he cackled. “You’re a grown man. You can’t put your cheeky little apple and almond combo in a Tupperware and call it lunch. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Good,” he sighed.
The pressure from his chest didn’t go away. Four pints didn’t manage to lift it. He would get used to it. He would have to get used to it one day.
Harry crossed his arms. “Sometimes I reckon you think I have this unstoppable need to insult and have a pop at people.”
“We both know you do,” Tom smiled. He wanted to fight. Have one last spar.
Harry would forget him soon enough. Everyone liked Harry. Not how people liked Tom. They liked Harry because he was Harry. Smart, stubborn, witty, impulsive Harry. People didn’t know Tom, and that’s why they liked Tom. Harry knew him. Tom felt naked by their second week working together. He would love to be naked with Harry.
“Sod off, I only do that with you. And I see you hiding your smile when I tell you how Suzan still can’t convert a Word doc into a PDF and calls Excel ‘Axel’. You are no better. And I’m very well aware that you use the nickname I gave to Malfoy. I hope his father doesn’t hear about that, wouldn’t that be unfortunate for your promotion?” Tom would love to kiss that smirk off his lips.
“Very unfortunate,” he lied. “My new office has a view. I know it’s hard to imagine, but one day I’m sure you will also make it.” Their office had a view. He was lucky enough he could enjoy it from his living room sofa as well.
“Don’t you insult our view! Counting those bricks saved my job more than once. And what would you have done without me? What if you got that Crabbe bloke as your office mate? You’ve seen the wall by his desk! That bloody bogie collection!” Harry turned towards him, not even pretending to watch the match he came over for. Not even looking at the widescreen Tom bought so Harry would come over.
Their view. Theirs. There would be no their anything by next week.
“I like our view, too, you know.”