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Keefe really likes his new job.
He finally bought a real comforter, and is now planning on upgrading his mattress. Solreef Industries is even covering his health insurance, so he can have yearly check-ups now! And sure, he only got this job by subtly dropping his last name, but do they really need to know how estranged he and his father are? Keefe will figure it out. He's not worried.
Also, his coworkers are great. Linh is really kind and Sophie is really funny and Fitz is really—well, everything. He's smart and sarcastic and hot, and after all the initial confusion, he turns out to be a good friend. It feels like he always notices the little things, stuff even Keefe doesn't actively realize.
Like, he always helps Keefe with financial reports because he knows Keefe's head begins to swim looking at all those numbers. And he keeps a million energy bars in his desk, so when Keefe's stomach growls at two in the afternoon every day, he tosses one over without a word.
And now, he's even agreed to let Keefe come for lunch with his sister, who's so cool and clearly adores Fitz.
"Wait, so, you're two years younger than him?"
"Yeah!" Biana says. "I have soo many stories about him as a kid. Like, one time we went kayaking, and he insisted on not wearing a life jacket. The second we pushed off into the water, he took it off. And then we got to sort of a bumpy portion of the ride, and guess what?"
"He fell off?"
"He fell off!" Biana exclaims. "It was awesome. Totally spluttering in the water, and it was really windy that day too, so he was shivering for the rest of the ride. And then he got sick for a week."
Keefe laughs and turns to Fitz. "Did you really?"
Fitz seems occupied with other thoughts, vaguely replying, "Oh, um, yeah. I remember that."
Keefe keeps looking at him, hoping Fitz will elaborate, maybe give more insight into his thoughts and childhood and life, but Fitz just stares at a far-off building.
Disappointment flickers in his chest. Keefe decides not to dwell on it. "So, Biana, any other embarrassing stories?"
"Oh, yeah, he was super into calligraphy at some point. And he liked this one girl, so he wrote her this letter, and it was all in fountain pen and perfect cursive. It was anonymous too, but no other boy in the grade was that into calligraphy, so she figured it out pretty quickly."
"No." Keefe can't help it, he's delighted. He sneaks a peek at Fitz, who's gazing at a faraway stop sign and gives no sign that he's listening. "And then what?"
"Oh, well, she'd had a crush on him for years."
"I'll bet," Keefe says, and Biana laughs only after giving him a curious look.
They both continue to carry the conversation. Keefe glances at Fitz every time they bring him up, which is pretty often, but Fitz never pays notice. What was Fitz thinking about that was so interesting? Keefe can't even begin to guess. He realizes he doesn't know all that much about Fitz's life. Does he have a girlfriend? Is he thinking about his girlfriend right now?
Keefe sort of hopes not.
Biana is now talking about a brief fling she had in Brazil with a gorgeous girl who was addicted to buying fridge magnets. They'd broken up amicably.
Has Fitz recently broken up with someone? Is that why he's so quiet right now? Keefe begins plotting how to find out. He must be subtle. Strategic. Can't be too forward, of course.
"You know, I'm currently single!"
Biana stares at him. Then at Fitz, who has only now snapped to attention. The full weight of his gaze rests on Keefe, who swallows nervously and turns away.
"What?" Biana says.
"Sorry," Keefe says quickly. "I was just—Because you were talking about a breakup. And I wanted to say. That. I, too, broke up with someone."
Biana nods with a mix of interest and sympathy. "Oh, when?"
"Um." Keefe does a few calculations. He has had several dates, many casual hookups, and even more failed crushes, but those don't count. When was his last real relationship? "Five years ago?"
"Wow, the breakup was that bad?"
Keefe nods, then shakes his head, trying to buy time. He's stuck. He can either be someone so irresponsible and noncommittal as to not have seriously dated for the last five years, which is probably the truth, or he can be someone so deeply traumatized by an ex that he couldn't seriously date for the last five years.
He can feel Fitz looking at him intently, waiting for an answer.
Fitz is responsible. Fitz frowns when Keefe comes late to the office or almost misses his deadlines. Fitz is someone who would take a relationship seriously, who would not drift in and out of people's lives based on how he felt at that exact moment, who would appreciate and respect the consequences of a bad breakup.
"Um, yeah," Keefe says. His voice is suddenly very small. "Yeah, it was that bad."
Biana wraps an arm around him and squeezes. Fitz's face doesn't twitch, and he begins walking ahead.
All this, and Keefe doesn't even know if Fitz is single or not.
They continue on a little longer. Keefe is beginning to wish they just called a cab. This is only a fifteen minute walk, but it feels like hours, and Fitz isn't really saying a word. And Keefe kind of wants him to say words. To him.
What's the point of getting lunch with your hot coworker if he ignores you the entire time?
And also, Keefe is beginning to think he has some issues in the relationship department. His current emotional state is so shameful he has felt the need to lie about it. That's bad, right?
He's busy contemplating all of this when he notices the crosswalk light turning red, the cars revving up ahead. Fitz is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't seem to notice. He's still walking determinedly, about to step onto the road.
Without thinking, Keefe sprints forward, grabbing the back of Fitz's shirt and yanking him close—"Woah!"—just as a car scrapes the air in front of them. A scream escapes Fitz, and he falls easily against Keefe, his composure collapsing right into Keefe's arms.
Keefe's brain momentarily goes berserk. His hands, firm on Fitz's back. His chest, rising and falling against Fitz's head.
"Fitz, are you okay? Wow, that was close!"
What does Keefe do now? Do they kiss?
Then Fitz wrenches away from him and Keefe remembers his promise to stay professional and he feels overwhelmingly guilty. He cannot think of things like that anymore, especially not now when it looks like Fitz is freaking out. Those eyes are wide, cheeks flushed, breaths rapid.
"Did you eat peaches for breakfast?"
"What? No?" Keefe wonders what the signs of a concussion are. But Fitz didn't even hit his head!
Biana's rushed to her brother's side. "Fitz, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah. All good. I just… zoned out for a second."
"Um," says Keefe. Because Fitz looks like many things, but not "all good".
Biana seems to agree, wincing as she says, "Fitz, you don't need to get lunch with me if you don't want to."
Keefe and Biana exchange a silent look of agreement. Keefe says, "Yeah, like. If you... want to go back to the office?"
Secretly, he's looking forward to walking back together. Maybe Fitz will lean on him more. Maybe he can ask Fitz some questions about his childhood. Keefe is so excited.
Fitz is looking between them, his eyes practically turning to saucers. Keefe reaches out, thinking maybe Fitz would calm back down with a grounding touch, but Fitz flinches away and so he immediately drops his hand.
"Are you… good?"
"I can't believe this," Fitz announces. And he begins striding toward Keefe, his gaze so intensely focused that it reminds Keefe of the last time he'd been kissed.
Then Fitz pushes past him. Keefe pinches his arm, tells himself to focus.
"Fitz? Where are you going?"
"Back to the office! Have fun together!" Fitz calls back, and he sounds—angry? What?
Keefe must have misheard. "Oh—Okay. Um."
Fitz turns a corner. Keefe is pretty sure that way leads to an alley, and not the office, but what does he know? He's the newbie.
He turns to Biana. "Is he okay?"
Biana nods, though her brows are furrowed. "He'll be fine. Just needs some space."
The deli was only one more block away. Keefe and Biana snag a table at the corner after ordering, and Keefe stares down at his yet-to-be-eaten sandwich, replaying the way Fitz ran off, the press of their shoulders just before.
Well, it's a little too late to chase after him. Keefe refocuses: Figure out Fitz's relationship status.
"So, your brother. You know him pretty well."
"Um, I guess."
"Is he…" Keefe doesn't know how to continue. Gay? Single? Interested? "What's his deal?" he finishes lamely.
"He's great," Biana says, which is nice to hear if not exactly what Keefe was looking for. "My favorite older brother. He likes you, you know."
Keefe's heart does cartwheels. Backflips. All sorts of gymnastics. He takes a huge, happy bite of Reuben. "Yeah, I mean, I think we're really starting to be good friends. Professionally."
"Of course," Biana says sweetly. "And I would never judge if you were hoping for more than a professional friendship."
"Oh, thanks," Keefe says, and then his heart trips over itself. "What?"
"Am I wrong?"
"Did he tell you?"
Biana shakes her head. "Fitz has no clue."
Keefe immediately stops feeling like he's been poisoned. "Oh, thank God."
There's a moment of pause. They keep eating. Keefe can't help but stare at Biana, hoping she'll say something else enlightening.
Finally, she wipes her mouth clean and brushes crumbs off her hands. "For what it's worth, I don't think he'd mind a little straying from professionalism. For you, at least."
Keefe smiles.