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“Excuse me?”
Tom had seen them approaching long before they had reached his table. Two young men, each wearing a Stanford sweater, bookbags slung over their shoulders, looking over at their table. One nudged the other sharply before, at last, they began their approach.
Letting his menu fall to the table, Tom forced a media-ready smile to his lips, biting back the urge to snap at them. Couldn’t they see he was busy? He was on a date. With his boyfriend. Nothing else could possibly be as important.
This was why Tom preferred to go to the kind of place that required reservations and tablecloths, yet didn’t blink when he wore a suit jacket without a shirt. The kind of places that were used to customers of Tom’s calibre, rather than the kind of places where they took down a name on a clipboard and everyone was just, what, expected to wait for their turn? And find their own table?
This place had neither. There were laminated menus on the tables and a chalkboard advertising the day’s specials by the tills. Someone had – badly – drawn a little smiling latte holding hands with a spoon alongside the semi-legible text. Rows of little two-person tables were squeezed along the front window, the lunch crowd just starting to fill them out. And, Tom had found out much to his dismay, the simple wooden tables were sticky.
It wasn’t the kind of place Tom would pick in a million years. No; as far as he was concerned, it was definitely a compromise. No reservations or tablecloths, but food that didn’t make Ryland wince at the price – or lack of visible pricing, as Tom had come to realise made his partner just as nervous as seeing salads that cost more than his weekly grocery bill.
Lips drew up into a familiar, albeit tired, smirk. Gail had been getting on at Tom to treat his fans better. Something about trying to ‘improve his image’ if this ‘whole thing with the teacher’ was going to go any further. It was almost as if she thought dating Ryland was some sort of PR problem that needed managing rather than the best thing that had happened to him in years.
Tom was pretty certain that ‘the teacher’ was actually his soulmate. He just had to convince Ryland that this was more than a casual thing for him. And start playing nice with Colt, if he wanted to get even vaguely close to getting the other man’s blessing for their relationship. But that was more of a long-term goal; the ring wasn’t even ready yet. Tom still had weeks for that!
He had to actually start playing nice.
Though, Tom maintained that, if fans would just be respectful in the first place and not approach him while he was clearly on a date, they wouldn’t have half as many problems in the first place.
He should have brought security with him. That new guy, what was his name – Tan? – wouldn’t have let them get within thirty feet. Tom had already caught the kid behind the counter looking at him twice, and there was no telling who else had noticed him.
But something about bringing security with him on dates seemed to make Ryland nervous. And so, no security for them. Just lunch three blocks from Ryland’s school, tucked into a little restaurant with enough noise from the kitchen and the lunchtime crowd to give them some privacy. Close enough for it not to be too much of a detour for Ryland, without having to resort to the abomination that masqueraded as cafeteria food for Tom. He had to set the line somewhere.
The taller of the students – a lanky young man barely out of his teens – was the one to brave approaching their table. He clutched a book between his hands, while his friend held their phone in his hand, hovering just behind his shoulder.
“I’m just such a huge fan,” he said sheepishly, his nerves making his voice waver.
Tom knew what this routine meant by now. Really, it was impressive the guy was talking with only a little bit of a wobble in his voice. Though, the awe was a nice touch. Tom sat up straight, letting the fork he had been fiddling with fall to the table with a light thump. He glanced towards Ryland ready to apologise on his fan’s behalf, but Ryland was already looking at the pair, eyes flicking between the book and the student’s face. A faint pinkish hue began to creep up Ryland’s neck, staining his ears and cheeks. Oh. Oh, now that was adorable. Tom needed to get a picture of that for sure.
“Do you think…” the student managed to squeak out, courage clearly waning as his voice trailed off.
Right. Fans first.
Tom smiled and nodded. “No problem. D’you wanna do a selfie first, or an auto–”
Before he could finish, Tom watched as Ryland accepted the book. “I thought they took my chapter out for the fifth edition.”
Tom blinked. Why were his fans crowding around Ryland? Why was Ryland rifling through his bag for a pen? Wait. Why was Ryland’s face in that textbook?
“Oh, they did. This one was cheaper,” the taller student admitted without a hint of shame.
“You’re not supposed to say that,” the other student hissed at his friend, elbowing him hard.
Lips quirked up into a lopsided smile as Ryland tried not to laugh. He accepted the pen with a soft smile. Back when he was a student, he’d done the same thing himself more times than he cared to admit. As long as he stuck to just one or two editions prior, it was, in his experience, typically indistinguishable from the newer one. Well, unless you were unlucky enough to be assigned the one chapter that had actually been rewritten. Sometimes getting just one edition earlier could mean the difference between surviving on ramen for half a term, and actually being able to buy something approaching a vegetable.
Ryland could sense Tom’s confusion from across the table. He sent him a quick, apologetic look. It wasn’t often he got recognised these days, but it seemed rude not to speak with them now that they were there. Besides, they were students. Not his students, but still. They were nervous, slightly awkward students who had probably spent the last five minutes arguing over which one of them would go over and see if it was really him. Ryland knew exactly how much courage that took.
He could remember his own undergraduate days. He'd have killed for five minutes with some of the scientists whose work he'd been devouring, even if all he'd managed to do was ask one stupid question and embarrass himself.
“Hey, you’ve got to save money where you can. It’s not like student grants are unlimited,” Ryland said, watching some of the tension leave their shoulders. There was no reason to make them feel bad about it. He’d been there. “I still buy second-hand where I can.”
His dented bicycle was proof enough of that.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tom trying to peer none too subtly across the table at the book in his hands. Ryland tilted the cover so that he could see.
The title was familiar enough that Ryland didn’t need to read it himself. He knew the cover, knew the chapter number, knew exactly which parts they had probably been assigned and how they would try and pick apart his theories. Good times.
“Foundations of astrobiology: an introduction to the search for extraterrestrial life,” Tom said slowly. The more he read, the higher his eyebrows rose. Ryland pointedly turned his attention back to the waiting students. If he looked at Tom now, he suspected he'd have to explain himself, and he really wasn't prepared to explain himself over lunch. He had told Tom that he used to be more of a researcher. He just… hadn’t gone into much detail.
“Did you really want me to…?” A laugh escaped him as the student in question nodded enthusiastically. Balancing the pen between his fingers, Ryland flicked towards the right chapter.
“Defining life and the habitable zone?” Tom craned his neck to one side, trying to get a better look at the page. His eyes flicked over the dense wall of text, then back to Ryland. “You wrote this?
Ryland shrugged modestly. The students had less reserve.
“Yeah! We had to read it for Dr Bennett’s seminar. It's actually really cool!"
“For like, an assignment?” Tom asked, and Ryland shrugged. “You wrote a textbook?”
“Technically, it's a chapter in a textbook.
“That’s… what I said?”
“No, you said I wrote a textbook. It’s… just the one chapter,” Ryland said awkwardly. He shifted his attention back to the task at hand.
He could feel Tom’s eyes on him as he scrawled his name next to the title of his chapter. He did his best to keep the dark loops of his signature away from the actual text itself. There was no point in making the book unreadable just because he'd signed it. He stopped himself just in time before he added the date; this was an autograph, not a lab note.
Ryland never had got used to people recognising him, back before his little academic crash out. And since… well. There was a reason he'd ended up teaching middle school.
As Ryland turned back towards the table, an apology for Tom already on his lips, the other student stepped forward, holding out his phone. “Could we… maybe get a picture?”
“Uh, sure.” Ryland shifted in his chair again, expecting the usual awkward attempt at an arm’s-length selfie, only for the student to hesitate.
“Actually…” The students glanced towards Tom.
Tom tilted his head, a cocky grin stretching the corner of his lips as he straightened. “Of course, I–”
“Would you mind taking this for us?”
Tom blinked, mouth open. An awkward beat stretched between them.
“What? Me?” Tom accepted the phone automatically, looking down at it as if he didn’t quite understand what it was. A small, incredulous laugh escaped from between his lips. “Seriously?”
“If that’s okay?” the student asked, already shifting to stand beside Ryland.
Tom looked between the phone, Ryland, then back to the students. The cocky grin slipped, softening as blue eyes finally came to rest on Ryland. “Sure, why not?”
The lunchtime crowd had grown louder around them, cutlery knocking against plates. Someone behind the counter called out an order number loudly to be heard above the hiss of the coffee machines. Ryland barely noticed any of it as he glanced back towards the phone.
It didn’t take long for both of the students to crowd in beside him, one on either side. Ryland summoned what he hoped was a normal smile and looked at the phone. He was suddenly uncomfortably conscious of every muscle on his face, as though he’d forgotten how photographs worked somewhere between leaving academia and becoming a teacher. At least it would be over with quickly, and he could get back to his nice, normal lunch date.
Except Tom didn’t seem to have gotten the memo that this was supposed to be quick. He took the phone, holding it up and frowning at the screen. He shifted slightly to the left. Then the right. Ryland watched him through the corner of his eye as Tom leaned forward, then back, apparently dissatisfied with every possible angle.
“Hold on.”
Ryland’s eyes flicked up and away from the phone to meet Tom’s. “What is it?”
“The lighting is terrible from here,” Tom complained, leaning back as far as he could until his back bumped against the window. He let out an exasperated huff. “Maybe if we go outside–”
“Tom. It’s fine. It’s a selfie, not a magazine cover,” Ryland reminded him gently, holding out his hand for the phone. He caught sight of his watch; he really didn’t want to spend his entire lunchbreak on this.
Tom held it up high out of reach. “No, it’s not fine. Lemme take a couple more.”
Ryland’s smile wobbled as Tom took another, then another, and another. Apparently one more photograph was insufficient. There was something almost bemused in Tom’s expression, Ryland noted, like he was still trying to work out how the situation had managed to turn itself completely upside down.
“Hold on, the light’s still shit.”
“Tom!” Ryland said, exasperated.
Tom sent him a lopsided grin, before holding the phone out towards the students. “I think I got it.”
“Thanks, man,” the student said, clutching his phone to his chest. “Thank you, Dr Grace.”
Ryland smiled. “No problem.”
He settled back into his seat, taking a long drink of the overpriced sparkling water as he tried to collect himself. When he glanced up again, Tom was still watching him. Ryland couldn't quite read his expression, and that was beginning to make him nervous.
Ryland wondered, belatedly, if he'd managed to ruin their date. Tom had agreed to lunch, not an impromptu academic meet-and-greet. And here was Ryland, barely speaking to him for the past ten minutes – other than to snap instructions at him while expecting him to act as their photographer. He would have to find a way to make it up to Tom later.
When the students were finally out of earshot, Tom spoke. “So.”
“...yes?” Ryland glanced up to find him watching the door the students had disappeared through, a slow grin spreading across his face. He turned back towards Ryland, then leaned forward across the table, resting his elbows beside his plate.
“You. Have fans.”
Heat flushed across Ryland’s cheeks. “Not really. I mean, they’re students.”
“Who were very excited to meet you.” Tom was still grinning. That was a good sign, right? Tom shook his head, looking almost disbelievingly pleased with himself. “You have fans. Who wanted me to take a picture of you.”
Ryland blinked. Tom truly sounded delighted at the prospect. Huh.
“I think this might be the best day of my life. I didn’t realise I was dating an actual celebrity.”
“Oh, come on,” Ryland could hear the smile creeping into his voice despite himself. “You’re being ridiculous."
“I’m being serious.”
“Tom. Stop teasing me.”
“Baby, I’m absolutely not teasing you.” There was such obvious sincerity in Tom’s face that Ryland found himself looking away again. He wasn't sure what was worse: Tom teasing him, or Tom actually meaning it. Tom reached across the table, catching Ryland’s hands in his and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I knew there was something special about you. I mean, obviously. I’ve been saying it for months.”
Ryland swallowed. Compliments had always been easier to deflect when they were about something tangible. A good lesson plan. A well executed paper. A successful experiment. Something he could explain. Tom had a terrible habit of saying things that left Ryland with nowhere to hide.
“Tom–”
“But this?” Tom pressed on, thumb brushing over Ryland’s knuckles. “Watching those two practically vibrating because they got to meet you? Over something you wrote?”
Tom gave Ryland’s hand another gentle squeeze, the warmth of his smile bringing a matching grin to Ryland’s lips. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”
Some of the tension Ryland hadn’t realised he was holding finally eased out of his shoulders. He’d been so certain Tom would be annoyed, that he’d somehow managed to turn their quiet lunch into an interruption neither of them had wanted. Instead, Tom was looking at him like this was something to be proud of.
Ryland shook his head, but he couldn’t quite hide his own smile anymore.
“Y’know, Gail is going to be insufferable after this.”
“What?” Ryland blinked. What on earth did Tom’s favourite producer have to do with anything?
“She’s always wanted me to be part of a power couple. It’s why she always pushes me to date my co-stars.” Tom’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “She never did specify if I should be the bigger name or the arm candy.”
Ryland stared at him for a moment. “You’re… serious?”
“Obviously. I’m gonna have my assistant find that selfie online so I can get it framed.”
“Tom.” Ryland shook his head, laughing despite himself. “You weren’t even in it.”
“I know.” Tom squeezed his hand, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss across Ryland’s knuckles. “Still. Best date ever.”