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They bump into Matt on their way out of the museum. Lee doesn't notice him until he feels a hand on his shoulder, and when he turns around that familiar, 100-watt smile is directed at him. "Holy shit," he mumbles, a little shocked, and then they're hugging and a laugh spills out of him. "How've you been?" he asks when they draw apart. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Figured I'd surprise you," Matt grins. "They're shooting a film here and I have a part in it, so I'm back for a few months."
Lee gives his congratulations and takes a moment to look Matt over with admiration. He looks better than good, and Lee is a little gratified to find Matt glancing at him with similar intensity.
A cough from his right side makes him bite his lip and turn to Richard with a guilty little smile. "God, sorry. Richard, this is Matt Bomer. We went to the same school for a while, until Matt decided he'd rather use his looks than his brains to get through life."
Matt snickers and Richard smiles politely as he offers his hand. "I'm Richard Armitage."
"I know who you are, of course." Matt shakes Richard's hand with a wicked grin. "Your reputation precedes you."
A small frown creases Richard's brow, but his smile stays firmly in place. "If Lee told you he has won more cases, let me assure you he is lying."
"Not the sort of reputation I meant," and Lee suddenly has a really bad feeling about this. "I'm glad Lee's stopped pining, though. Was a bit hard to have normal conversations with him for a while there."
The gambit falls flat. Richard's face is closed off suddenly, and Lee is hard pressed not to glare at Matt. "We have to go," he says, placing a careful hand on Richard's tense arm. "We have an appointment to get to."
If Matt knows he's lying, he doesn't let on, only nods. "We should catch up," he says. "Maybe sometime next week? I should have some free time then."
"Of course," Lee readily agrees. "Let me just check my schedule and give you a call." A smile, a small wave, and he's quickly steering Richard towards the car before Matt spills any more of his secrets and ruins what little is left of Lee's dignity.
He keeps casting sidelong glances at Richard while the prosecutor winds through traffic, until Richard sighs. "You're staring."
"Sorry." Lee bites his lip. "Just, you're pretty quiet."
The silence stretches on a little longer, until Richard finally asks, "You discussed me with your friends?"
"Just Matt?" Lee tries, and Richard gives him a look. "Okay, and maybe one or two others." He pauses. "And my mom," and Richard's lips press firmly together at that. "It was a difficult phase, okay?" Lee mutters defensively. "I was kind of really smitten with you and you barely acknowledged my existence."
Richard looks unconvinced.
"Besides," Lee continues with sudden inspiration, "are you going to tell me you never discussed me with Graham?"
"That's completely different." Lee just raises an eyebrow until Richard fidgets and then sighs. "All right, I concede that you have a point. I was just a little-- uncomfortable, that's all."
The tight lines around his mouth are softening, and Lee stifles a grin. "What, afraid I told the handsome Broadway star all sorts of horrible things about you?" Richard snorts, and Lee leans towards him. "You've seen some of his work, haven't you. Do you have a crush on him?" he continues, and when Richard shoots him an incredulous look he settles back with a laugh. "Don't worry, I won't tell him."
"Idiot," Richard mutters, but it's fond and Lee relaxes into his seat and closes his eyes with a smile.
The drive continues in companionable silence for a while, and Lee wonders if Richard would let him get away with napping until they get to his house. But then Richard asks, "Do you?" and suddenly, sleep is the furthest thing from Lee's mind.
"Do I what?"
Richard's tone is carefully neutral. "Have a crush on Mr. Bomer."
The question catches Lee by surprise, and he mumbles, "Well, not anymore." Richard's hands grip the steering wheel as if it's a lifeline, and Lee frowns. "We were together for a while when we were younger, but Matt wanted to act on Broadway and I wanted to stay here and go to law school." It was a difficult breakup, and it took Lee a long time before he even felt like dating again. "We managed to stay friends though."
"How long were you together?"
"Six years, give or take." He watches Richard thoughtfully. "Are you going to tell me what this is really about?"
Richard sighs and looks a little annoyed, a little guilty. "You seemed comfortable with him."
A warm feeling spreads through Lee and he barely manages to stifle his smile. "He's a good friend," he says, and watches with unholy glee as Richard's expression darkens.
"I see," Richard mutters, and Lee can't hold his laugh back any longer. Richard glares at him (and flushes a little, which only makes Lee grin harder). "I fail to see anything amusing about this."
"You're right, jealousy isn't funny." Lee still remembers the ugliness of it all too well, but it doesn't do much to sober him. "I just never thought you'd be jealous over me," he blurts out without thinking, and Richard's flush goes a little darker. Fascinated, Lee watches it spread to the tip of the prosecutor's ears.
"I'm not very familiar with the feeling," Richard says dryly.
"What, you weren't jealous over Sonia?"
He seems to consider his answer carefully. "I don't think I was," he finally says. "I was too angry to be jealous, and after that too hurt. Maybe if it had been another man I would've been, but drawing comparisons between myself and Sonia wouldn't make much sense, would it? She can give him different things than I could."
"I think I would've been equally jealous if Nesbitt had breasts," Lee points out, and Richard chuckles.
"Mr. Bomer seems more like your type, I suppose."
There's a world of insecurity hidden beneath that simple statement, and Lee stays quiet as Richard parks the car in his garage. He waits until they're inside before pulling gently on Richard's arm, tugging him closer. "You realize you don't have anything to worry about, don't you?"
He doesn't like the look in Richard's eyes, and before he can even reply Lee presses a whisper-soft kiss by the corner of his eye, his cheek, finally trailing his lips over Richard's and deepening the kiss.
They end up with Richard's back against the wall, foreheads pressed together as they catch their breaths. "I waited two years for you, Richard," Lee breathes in the quiet space between them. "I'm hardly going to give you up now."
There's more he wants to say, but words are hollow: easily given and easily shattered. He maneuvers Richard to the bedroom instead and lets his touch do the talking for him, until the only thing he can see in Richard's eyes is sated happiness.
"So you only call me when you need to whine, is that it?"
Lee avoids Matt's sharp elbow with an ease borne from years of practice. "That's not true," he protests.
Matt raises an eyebrow. "Then how come I didn't know that you finally managed to talk him around?"
"It's not something I've been broadcasting." Lee leans back against the fenced wall of the McKellen-Weaving rooftop. The fences are a new addition, commissioned by Ian himself, and Lee is pretty sure they were put in to discourage him from coming up here so often. Not that it worked. "Besides, we've been taking it slow."
His friend snorts softly. "If we're going by your definition of slow, you'd be dating for about a month now." Lee carefully avoids his gaze. "What, two?"
"Eight, actually," he finally mutters, and Matt lets out an indignant yell.
"You fucker! I talked to you two months ago and you didn't say a word!"
"Sorry?"
When Matt jostles him this time it's oddly gentle. "Is everything going okay with him?"
Lee glances at him, a little surprised. "Yeah, it is. More than okay, actually."
"So why feel the need to hide it then? It isn't like you."
He has never minced words with Matt -- they know each other too well for that. Matt knows about every crush, every breakup, and they've seen each other through plenty of heartache. He was there when Lee hit rock bottom two years ago after the Rivendell Hall event. He'd been a mess then -- aching over Richard and trying to get over it by going through as many flings as he could. Matt heard it in his voice somehow, and flew over to provide an endless supply of alcohol and a night's solace in familiar arms. It steadied Lee in a way none of his other one night stands had, and after Matt he'd calmed down and gotten on with life.
If there is one person he would've told, it'd be Matt.
"Part of me was afraid I'd jinx it. That if I started telling people, it would come crumbling down around my ears."
Matt lets out a sigh rife with understanding. "Never took you for the superstitious type," he jokes gamely. He squeezes Lee's arm, and Lee feels his forgiveness and support. He smiles, bumps their shoulders together, and watches as the sun disappears behind the buildings.
He waits until after they're settled on the couch. Richard is relaxed against him, loosely holding a half-empty glass of wine, and Lee's fingers play absently with the wisps of dark hair at his nape. "Do you have any plans for Friday night?"
Richard hums thoughtfully. "Not that I can recall. Why do you ask?"
"Matt invited us for dinner at his hotel." He can feel Richard tense up against him. "He'd like to get to know you, he said."
"Would he."
"Well, he's heard so much about you," Lee babbles inanely. Richard sits up suddenly, and the remnants of his body heat quickly disappear, leaving only cold behind. He wants to reach out but Richard looks distant. It reminds Lee too much of all the times he tried to get closer to this man only to be rebuffed, walked away from, ignored, patronized.
He hasn't felt this unsure about them since before Richard abandoned his travel plans.
Richard finally moves to put down his glass. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Lee asks, nonplussed.
"I don't see the point of it." Richard's arms are crossed over his chest now, his lips pressed firmly together -- the unapproachable star prosecutor, so different from the man Lee has become used to spending his nights with.
He scoots closer and lays his hand carefully on Richard's arm. "The point is for you to get to know my friends," he mumbles softly, thumb gently rubbing in circles. "What's so strange about that?"
Silence stretches between them and Lee waits it out. Eventually, Richard turns to him, still with that slightly pained expression, and says, "I'd really rather not."
He could make an issue over it. He could put his foot down, insist that he's forced to put up with Richard's friends and ex frequently so why should he be the only one. He could leave in a sulk, refuse to spend the night, make Richard feel guilty enough that he might unbend a little.
He could end up back where he started: alone.
So he nods, and lets it slide. "Are you okay with me going?" he asks, carefully watching Richard's expression.
Something flits briefly through those expressive blue eyes before it gets stowed away. "Of course," Richard says, but Lee can read the lie behind it.
"Richard," he warns. The prosecutor glances away, looking fairly guilty in Lee's opinion, and he is just about to make a Big Deal of it when a kiss shuts him up.
"It's late," Richard murmurs against his lips. "Let's go to bed."
And what can Lee really say to that except "fuck yes"?
Lee is used to sometimes not seeing Richard for several days in a row. Their jobs have not grown less demanding, and Richard is still as much of a workaholic as he ever was. He doesn't mind. Usually.
The thing about often working directly opposite Richard however (and also having Dean at his beck and call), is that Lee has a fairly good idea of what Richard's schedule will be like any given week. He knows for a fact that the prosecutor doesn't have any big cases on his docket at the moment. And yet, Richard has managed to avoid him four out of six nights since his dinner with Matt.
He parks the car a block away from the house in a fit of paranoia, and tugs his scarf tighter around his neck. The cool air stings, and he's fairly sure his ears are red by the time he reaches the front door and knocks. It takes Richard longer than it should to answer, and Lee wonders for a moment if Richard was debating whether to leave him standing in the cold or not. The door opens right as he's about to use the key Richard gave him, and Lee's outstretched hand quickly latches onto him.
Richard goes willingly when Lee tugs him into a kiss, and his sour mood slides away. "You're warm," he mumbles with a sigh, and Richard chuckles and steers him into the living room. The fireplace crackles merrily, casting a warm glow over the bottle of wine and sheets of paper scattered on top of the coffee table. Working then -- maybe he should check with Dean again.
He tosses his coat over the back of the couch, Richard's grumbling notwithstanding, and flops into an armchair as his hands work to unwind his scarf. "New case?"
"Not mine. Orlando asked me to help him with one of his."
Lee puts on his best and brightest smile. "Perfect. That means it isn't critical and I get you all to myself."
"Lee," Richard sighs, "I need to get this done tonight." He looks faintly apologetic but also expectant. Lee frowns and seriously considers refusing to move on principle. He wonders how much trouble he'd be in if he "accidentally" made sure Richard's workload landed in the fireplace.
His phone rings before he can think of a suitably smarmy response. He casts a glance at the display and then at Richard.
Richard looks back, eyebrow raised. Lee sighs and answers the phone.
"Did they fire you already? If they did, you should sue. I know a great lawyer."
"You're hilarious," Matt tells him with a laugh, and Lee can't help grinning. "Any steamy plans for tonight?"
He rolls his eyes. "Doesn't look like it," and he can't help the mournful tone, because Richard is wearing that brown cardigan he likes so much and his hair is slightly mussed, and all Lee really wants is to cuddle next to him on the couch and maybe mess him up a little more.
"Some colleagues told me about this new club, so how about it? Feel like dancing?"
"Don't you guys ever get tired? I thought you had a full day of shoots."
"I did, but when has that ever stopped me? Come on, it'll be fun!"
Lee sighs heavily but gives in nonetheless. "Text me the address, I'll meet you there." He disconnects the call with Matt's whoop still ringing in his ears. Richard is back on the couch, busy with the case that isn't even his, because it's not as if he has a boyfriend he'd rather spend time with or anything.
"Matt wants me to meet him at a club somewhere," he says carefully, already full of misgivings. Richard nods without looking up, and Lee sighs again. "I'll get out of your hair, but let's have dinner together tomorrow, okay?" He moves to stand next to Richard, running his fingers briefly through his thick locks. "I haven't seen you in days," he mumbles, "I've missed you."
The serious expression on Richard's face cracks at the edges when he smiles, and Lee reads the acceptance in it with relief. "I'll come by around seven then. And tell Orlando he definitely owes me for being so understanding." Richard snorts, and Lee bends down to press a gentle kiss against his lips.
He quickly leaves then, before the urge to drag Richard bodily to the bedroom becomes impossible to resist. Doubt continues to plague his mind as he follows Matt's directions. He hadn't missed Richard's closed-off look when he figured out who was calling. It makes him feel guilty for agreeing to meet Matt (even though Richard was kicking him out anyway), and the fact that he's feeling guilty at all irritates him. Matt is his friend, and it isn't as if they're doing anything improper. Surely Richard knows that.
But his eyes seemed to suggest something else.
A knock on his window startles him from his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes at Matt's boyishly eager expression as he pulls the key from the ignition.
"Where's this club then," he says, stepping out of the car and pushing his misgivings aside as Matt slings an arm around his shoulders, and steers him towards the loud sound of music.
Plenty of time to deal with it later.
The lights are already off when he finally pulls up in front of Richard's house. Lee swallows a curse and jogs to the front door, fingers fumbling with his keys. He tries to be quiet as he opens the door and slips inside, making sure to lock up again because Richard is extraordinarily paranoid about these things.
He's about to head upstairs when he notices a faint light from beneath the closed door to the study. He knocks softly before pushing it open. Richard's head turns slowly to face him, and Lee makes his way towards him with guilt gnawing at his insides. "I'm really sorry," he sighs. "Something came up last minute and I just couldn't get away." His knuckles brush over Richard's cheek and the prosecutor stiffens before pulling away. Lee blinks and lets his hand fall. "Richard?"
"You should go."
"What? Why?" Richard doesn't answer, moves away sharply when Lee tries to touch his arm. His hand comes up to cover his mouth and Lee suddenly feels cold all over. "Tell me what's going on." He tries to stay calm, rational, but he sounds desperate even to his own ears.
He hates the way Richard is looking at him.
"Where were you?"
Lee fights the urge to cross his arms, knowing it for the defensive gesture it is. His fists clench at his sides. "I got held up because of work."
"I see." Richard's eyes look dark and stormy in the dim lighting. "So you weren't with Mr. Bomer, then?"
And just like that, Lee understands.
"I was, actually," he says, struggling to keep his voice even. "Matt called me at three, asked me to look over a new contract for him because his lawyer was indisposed and he needed it today. He came to the office and we looked at the paperwork. But some of it had to be renegotiated, which is why it took so long."
A harsh sound spills from Richard's throat and he quickly turns away. Lee watches the tense expanse of his back, notices the faint tremors that Richard is trying so hard to hide. His own back is rock steady, unflinching -- only his sweaty hands betray him.
"Just go, Lee," and the little broken hitch in his name sends stabs of pain through him. He reaches out blindly, refusing to let Richard slip away this time, and firmly grasps his arms.
There'll be bruises, but he can't find it in him to care.
"I'm not going anywhere," he bites out. "You're angry, but it's completely unjustified. I've been held up at work before, Richard, and that's all this was."
Richard laughs harshly. "You sound just like Jimmy," and Lee reels back as if slapped. "Don't you think I've heard this story before? I always believed him, too."
"I'm not fucking Nesbitt."
"No, you're not," Richard nods in agreement. "And I would've believed you. But you didn't even call to say you'd be running late. You always have, before." He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, lips twisted in a mockery of a smile.
Lee releases Richard's arms, and Richard instantly takes a step back and curls them around his midriff. "Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?"
Richard sighs softly. "That doesn't mean anything. Anyone is capable of infidelity."
"Does that include you, then?" he asks coldly, and Richard starts to frown. "Because I can't count the number of times that Nesbitt dropped by out of nowhere and demanded your attention. I never made an issue of it because I trust you. But maybe I shouldn't have." He pauses and takes a shallow breath, but the ugly words on the tip of his tongue refuse to be swallowed back. "Is that what happened, then? Did you cheat on me with Nesbitt?"
It is amazing how easy it is to judge Richard's state of mind by watching his eyes. The melancholy is wiped away in an instant, and replaced with scorching fury. "I would never do that."
"I know that! And I trust you with him despite your history, despite the fact that you're still half in love with him and that I know you'd run back to him as soon as he asked!" His throat feels constrained, and his chest is heaving. "But I guess that trust only goes one way."
Richard stares at him silently, and Lee can't stand the look in his eyes. He turns on his heels and leaves the study, leaves the house, gets in his car and drives away from what seems to be the beginning of the end.
He considers finding a bar and getting completely shitfaced, but the tiny part of him that still dares to hope stops him. Instead, he drives around in aimless circles as the argument replays in his mind, over and over until he isn't even sure what he feels anymore.
Still anger there, definitely, but the more he drives, the more he starts to feel as if the blame (at least a huge chunk of it) lies at his feet. He had forgotten to call, something he usually remembers to do as a matter of course. But the lack of faith in him and in them hurts like a gaping wound, and try as he might, Lee can't see his way out of this. Because if Richard doesn't -- can't -- trust him, then what are they doing?
What's the point of trying, if all that Richard will ever see when he looks at him is someone else just waiting for the chance to hurt him?
His phone rings and he scrabbles for it. The caller ID shows Matt's name, and he rejects the call with a bitter taste in his mouth. The time display in his car tells him it's a little past midnight -- only two hours since he stormed out. It feels like it should be longer, judging by the emptiness he feels. He can hear the ticking of a huge clock in his head, counting down the seconds until...what?
Until he loses Richard for good?
The thought brings him up short.
Every inch of him screams denial of that eventuality. Not now, not after he finally won Richard over, tasted him, learned what makes him smile and what to do when he comes home from a tough case, how he likes his tea and that he secretly enjoys bubble baths and has a weakness for chocolate ice cream that reminds Lee very strongly of his mom, a comparison he's sure neither of them would appreciate.
He turns the car around with an ear-rending screech, and speeds off towards Richard's house.
He can still fix this.
At least he hasn't changed the locks yet, Lee thinks a little hysterically as he opens the front door and steps inside. It's still just as dark as it was a few hours ago, and even the light in the study seems to be out. He goes there anyway, hoping to find Richard sitting quietly in the dark, but when he flicks on the light all that greets him is an empty room.
He takes the stairs two at a time and heads straight for the master bedroom, only to find it just as unoccupied as the study. "Richard?" he calls out, hoping. The house stays silent, and Lee slowly begins to panic. He checks the other rooms, the bathroom, the kitchen Richard is so fond of, but then he finally has to admit that Richard isn't simply hiding from him. Or if he is, he isn't doing it here.
There's really only one place he would go that Lee can think of, and after fifteen minutes of reckless driving and ignoring all speed limits, Lee stops the car in front of Richard's office. The elevator ride up is eerily reminiscent of the last time he visited the building past midnight, and he rushes to Richard's door with a heart that's beating just a tad faster than normal. He tries the handle, but the door is locked. He knocks loudly for good measure. "Richard? Come on, open up."
Nothing.
Fear is starting to take hold of him, making it harder to think. He stops by Kircher's, scans the crowd for that familiar mop of black hair, only to have the last vestiges of hope wither. The bartender confirms he hasn't seen Richard for a few days, and when Lee settles back in his car his heart is beating in a staccato rhythm of panic. He doesn't know where else to look.
A stray thought lodges in his mind and stops the breath in his chest. He didn't check Richard's room all that thoroughly, didn't open the closet to check if it's empty.
Rationality reasserts itself, and Lee turns the car away from the road to the airport and back towards the suburbs. If Richard hasn't left the country, and it doesn't seem likely that he has, there's only one place he would go.
When Graham stumbles blearily down the stairs and opens the door to find Richard standing on the other side of it, he doesn't think twice about letting him in. Richard is shivering, and Graham wordlessly pushes him onto the couch and slips back upstairs to grab a blanket. He tucks the blanket gently around Richard's shoulders because he seems incapable of even thinking to do that much. Then he sits down next to him, and waits for the shudders to subside.
"Tea?" he offers, and Richard wordlessly shakes his head. "Whiskey then?" Richard lets out a soft snort, and his hands come up to hide his face. Graham puts his hand on Richard's back and waits patiently for his breath to even out. "Talk to me," he says then, keeping his voice firm yet gentle.
Richard seems to shrink in on himself a little more, but at least he stops hiding his face. "I'm sorry for bothering you this late. Did I wake Gwen and Honor?"
Graham rolls his eyes. "Those two would sleep through the end of the world." Richard's lips twitch a little, and Graham rubs his back encouragingly. "What's going on, Richard?"
He watches as Richard silently seems to struggle with something before finally letting out an exhausted sigh. "I don't know how to start," he admits.
"Maybe I can help you along then." Richard sits back against the couch, and Graham moves his hand to Richard's shoulder. "This has something to do with Pace?" A nod. "Had a fight, did you?" Another. "About James?"
Richard blinks. "What? No. Why would we fight about Jimmy?"
There are so many ways to answer that question, Graham muses. He squeezes Richard's shoulder. "Nevermind, it's not important. So what happened?"
"We had a fight, and he walked out."
"What about?"
He watches Richard carefully, notices the way he's avoiding eye contact. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, and Graham bites back a growl.
The sharp sound of his doorbell shatters the peace. Richard tenses, and Graham pinches the bridge of his nose and curses. "Stay here," he tells Richard, and goes to deal with the menace on his doorstep.
He slips outside and closes the door behind him, crossing his arms and staring the intruder down. "It's two in the morning. You'd better have a really good reason for waking me up."
"Where is he?" Pace's eyes are wild, and his hair looks as if he's done nothing but run his fingers through it all night.
It doesn't soften Graham one bit. "Where's who?"
Pace growls. "Don't fuck around. I know Richard came to you, I saw his car, so where is he?"
"Stop yelling before you wake up the whole neighborhood." Pace's jaw is set. At least he's stopped shouting like a madman. "Go home, Pace."
"I'm not going anywhere until I talk to Richard."
Graham raises an eyebrow. "Richard isn't interested in talking to you at the moment. Maybe you should cool off and try again tomorrow morning when you don't sound like a raving lunatic."
The next thing he knows, his back is colliding with his solid front door. "So you have plenty of time to brainwash him into leaving me? Fuck you." Pace's hands are fisted in his t-shirt, and there's a glint in his eyes that reminds Graham of the look police officers get when they are about to take someone down.
Well, he can't have that. And on his lawn, no less.
A practiced move has him twisting out of Pace's angry grasp. He grabs Pace's wrists and turns, forcing Pace to move with him or risk breaking something. Years on the force have taught him how to deal with men too angry to listen to sense, and Pace's face soon connects with the damp grass. His knee easily pins Pace's legs. He plants his hand firmly in between Pace's shoulder blades, pressing him down, and Pace lets out a muffled groan.
Graham waits until Pace begins to struggle before giving his arm a little twist. "Are you ready to listen to reason?" he growls as Pace gasps, and doesn't loosen his hold until Pace nods frantically. "You will go home," he orders, "get some sleep, and tomorrow you can come back here and you can talk to Richard, if he wants to. Or you can continue to annoy me and spend the next few nights in prison when I ask my old friends to arrest you for trespassing. Your choice."
He gets up then and brushes off his ruined pants. Pace stays where he is for a few moments before finally rolling over. And Graham has seen that look before, too.
He offers his hand and Pace allows himself to be pulled up. The fight has gone out of him -- nothing remains of the man that just slammed Graham into the door, and Graham is almost sorry to see him go. But he relentlessly urges Pace back to his car, and stands by the door until he's in the driver's seat. He turns around and walks up the path to the front of his house, waiting for the sound of the engine that doesn't come.
With a muttered curse, he turns back around to give Pace a peace of his mind, but the sight of him sitting in his car stops him short. He's only ever known Pace to be self-confident and positive to the point of being obnoxious. But the man he sees before him now looks like the empty shell of the attorney he dislikes so intensely. Pace looks hopeless and defeated, hands resting limply on the steering wheel. As he watches, Pace's hands curl slowly into fists and slam repeatedly against the wheel.
Something inside Graham twists, and he walks back towards the car with a sigh.
He knocks on the window, and waits patiently until Pace has composed himself enough to roll it down. "You look like hell," he says quietly. "Nothing good can possibly come of it if you talk to him now, when you're both riled up."
"Then why do I feel as if I'll lose him if I wait?"
Graham snorts. "Lee Pace, giving up? Never thought I'd see the day." He doesn't even get glared at. "I'll do my best to get him to talk to you tomorrow, all right?"
Pace lowers his head, and Graham is moved to pat his shoulder. He stops himself just in time, because even though Pace might appreciate it now, he would definitely hold it over his head later. "Just-- tell him I'm sorry," Pace mumbles, "and that I'll do anything to make it up to him." His hand twists the key in the ignition and Graham nods and steps away from the car. He raises his hand in farewell, and Pace nods at him before finally driving away.
With a deep sigh, Graham heads back inside to deal with the other half of the problem.
Richard is still sitting where Graham left him, but his back is bent and his face is buried in his hands. He's shaking, but it isn't from the cold this time. Graham sits down on the glass coffee table, right in front of Richard, and puts his hand on Richard's nape and tugs him in. He draws Richard's head down to his shoulder and ignores the soft hitches, the trickling moisture, the way Richard's hand holds onto his shirt as if it's a lifeline, the only thing left between him and the deep plunge.
"He wants me to tell you he's sorry," Graham mumbles when Richard seems more composed, "and that he'll do anything to make it up to you." Richard only sighs, his breath warm against Graham's collarbone. "Will you tell me what he's done, at least? I'd like to know before I put him six feet under."
"He was out with one of his friends," Richard begins haltingly, and Graham soothingly strokes the back of his neck. "Someone he used to be involved with came back on business, and they've been--"
"Spending time together?" he supplies when Richard falters, and Richard nods. "Then what happened?"
"We were supposed to have dinner earlier tonight, but--" and his voice drops to a whisper, "he didn't come when he said he would. I kept waiting for the door to ring, and when I heard nothing I thought--"
Graham nods; he knows all too well what Richard thought. "He must've turned up at some point."
"He said he got held up at work," Richard mutters with a broken, harsh laugh. "He could've at least tried to come up with a more original excuse. He didn't even deny it when I asked him if he'd been with his friend."
"He said his friend was the reason he had to stay longer at work?"
Richard shrugs awkwardly. "He claimed he was looking at contracts."
"Maybe he was," Graham points out. Richard stiffens and tries to pull back, but Graham gently but firmly holds him in place. "I know what you're thinking, Richard, but sometimes it really is work."
"That hasn't been my experience," Richard retorts flatly. Graham's thumb rubs in soothing circles until the tension in Richard's neck dissipates. "He accused me of sleeping with Jimmy," he says then. "I denied it and he said that, since he trusts me when Jimmy comes by, I should trust him as well. And then he left."
They sit quietly for some time, and Graham chews carefully on his words before venturing, "Why are you so sure that Pace was lying?"
The answering whisper is so faint, Graham almost doesn't catch it. "He didn't call."
He sighs. "It's possible he got so caught up that he simply forgot, isn't it?"
"It's equally possible that he was too distracted by someone else."
"I'm hardly fond of the man, but Pace really doesn't strike me as the type to do what you're suggesting," Graham mutters gruffly. "I'm not saying he's innocent in this, and it's clear that...hurtful things were said. But Richard," his tone softens, "don't you think that maybe he has a point?"
Richard does pull away then, and Graham can see anger on his face before he smooths it away. "You know I would never do that to anyone."
"I know that," he soothes. "I didn't mean he was right to imply that you might sleep with James. But you are very close to him."
"We're just friends."
"Are you?" Silence. "You're not lovers anymore, but you aren't just friends either. Everyone can see how close you still are. Can't you imagine that Pace might feel a little threatened by that as well?"
"If he felt uncomfortable, he should have said something."
"He knows that you enjoy James's company," Graham points out. "Not to imply that he's a doormat, but he does tend to go out of his way to fit himself into your life without making too much of a mess." He pauses for a moment, eyes searching Richard's. "Isn't it about time you met him halfway?"
Pain flashes through those blue eyes. Graham's heart clenches with remorse. He scoots forward until their knees are touching. "Richard," he says softly, "I'm on your side."
Richard looks at him, and Graham knows they are both remembering a time when that wasn't true. But then Richard smiles, a small, crooked twist of his lips. There's still hurt there, but it's a start. Graham is fairly sure that everything will end up all right.
It isn't even seven o'clock when Pace insistently rings the doorbell. Gwen has already let him in before Graham has navigated the stairs, and he can hear her exclaiming over how pale Pace looks. An offer of breakfast will be next, he knows, and he takes the chance to slip quietly into the living room, relying on his wife and daughter to distract Pace a little longer.
Only the top of Richard's head is visible from underneath the blanket. Graham bites back a smile and gently shakes his shoulder. "Pace is here," he murmurs when Richard blinks sleepily up at him. "I'll sneak you up so you can wash up a little and change if you want to. You can borrow something of mine."
Richard covers his mouth as he yawns and wobbles to an upright position. He'd better smuggle up some coffee as well, Graham decides. He isn't about to give Pace the chance to outwit Richard.
He waits until Richard is safely locked in the bathroom before venturing into the kitchen. He steps up to his wife and curls an arm around her. "Morning, love," he whispers against her temple, and she turns her head and smiles against his lips.
"Look Daddy, Uncle Lee came for breakfast!"
"He's not your uncle," Graham grumbles, but it falls on deaf ears as always. He glares at Pace. The attorney has the good grace to lower his eyes, and it feels incredibly satisfying. "Do we have coffee yet?" he asks, already reaching for two mugs. Gwen hands him the pot and he smiles in thanks. He stirs sugar into one of the mugs and picks both up, making for the door. Pace stands up and Graham glares at him. "My wife is making you breakfast," he says, and Pace winces a little at the implied threat. But it keeps him in the kitchen long after Richard has emerged and finished his coffee, and when Graham finally goes to get him he finds Pace standing at the sink, washing the dishes while Gwen dries them.
Must feel really guilty then, Graham thinks with a malicious smile.
"Come to the living room when you're done." Pace's shoulders hunch a little when he nods. Gwen shoots him a strange look, and softly says something he can't catch. Pace smiles at her, dries his hands, and walks towards Graham as if he's going to the gallows.
Richard looks calm enough when they walk in, but Graham can see the tension running beneath the surface. He points Pace towards the chair furthest from Richard, and Pace settles down without a single word. He keeps shooting glances at Richard, full of relief and guilt, and Graham suppresses a sigh.
"Gwen and I will walk Honor to school, so if you must yell try to do so within the first fifteen minutes." Richard shoots him a slightly panicked look, and Graham almost caves. But he has no place in this argument, no matter how much Richard wants him to stay. It's time to extricate himself.
"Don't break anything, and don't leave the house," he orders before walking out and closing the door resolutely behind him. He sticks around for a moment, listening carefully. All stays quiet, and he moves away with a heavy sigh.
Neither of them say anything after Graham abandons them to their fate. Richard resolutely keeps his eyes on his hands, but he knows that Lee is staring at him. He hasn't felt this awkward around Lee since...never, actually, because Lee always had a funny remark or joke to break any possible tension on his part. But there's none of that now, and Richard doesn't know how to begin mending their situation.
He can always rely on Lee to take the first step for him.
"I'm sorry. I understand why you're angry. I'm angry at myself, actually."
That makes him look up. Lee's fingers are laced together, knuckles white with how hard he's clenching them. He doesn't recall ever seeing this side of Lee, although the sight of him like this strikes a familiar chord. Sympathy and protectiveness well up within him, and he wonders if this is how Lee felt all those times -- this fierce, all-encompassing need to comfort and make everything better.
"I have no excuse for not calling you," Lee continues, "and I should've known better. I do know better." He sighs and finally lifts his head. "I fucked up, Richard," and his voice is rough and shaky. "But I promise I will make it up to you. Just-- please, give me one more chance."
"I'm sorry, too." Lee's eyes go wide. "I may have...overreacted."
He shakes his head. "I should've been more considerate."
Richard's lips quirk up in a smile. "Is this what they call the blame game? I can't say I've ever played it before." Lee snorts softly, a little of that melancholy dissipating from his eyes. "We both said things we shouldn't have. But you were right."
"Er, I was? About what?"
"You never complain when I go out with Jimmy. You never even ask me where we go." His eyes search Lee's, but the attorney only looks somewhat confused at this turn in the conversation. "You deserve to be with someone who trusts you."
"Richard," Lee breathes, a hint of panic creeping into his voice, "what are you saying? Because if you're giving up, I--" He launches from his chair, pacing the length of the coffee table a few times before sitting down on it and reaching for Richard's hand. Richard watches, bemused, as Lee grips it intently.
"I'll try anything if it means you won't throw me out of your life," he says, achingly sincere, and despite the seriousness of Lee's plea Richard finds himself smiling with some amusement.
"That would be quite difficult, seeing as we are bound to see each other in court. Or were you planning to move to a different city entirely?"
"If-- if that's what you--"
They've been together long enough that Richard knows exactly how to make Lee stop talking when all that is coming from his mouth is nonsense. A kiss is the most obvious choice, but there are other methods that work just as well, and with more subtlety. He lifts his free hand and runs his thumb along the skin right behind Lee's ear, and sure enough, Lee shivers and grows still. Richard smiles.
"I meant that I will work harder on my lack of trust." Lee's hair is soft against his knuckles, and he indulges the urge to run his fingers through it. "It isn't fair, measuring you and Jimmy against the same stick."
"I'm pretty sure I'm taller anyway," Lee mutters, and Richard throws him an affectionately exasperated look. It makes Lee grin, sudden and wide and brilliantly happy, and before he can think to move, Lee is firmly settled on his lap, hands carding gently through his hair. Richard closes his eyes and leans into the touch, and when Lee's mouth seeks out his he meets it eagerly.
He isn't sure how much later it is when they're interrupted by a knock at the door. They break apart and he tries to shove at Lee's thighs, but Lee just gives him a look and refuses to budge, and by then the door is already opening.
Graham stands in the doorway with a scowl on his face. "So you've obviously kissed and made up then," he states grimly.
Lee's grin grows wicked. "Well, I wouldn't say just kissed..."
"Lee!" Richard hisses as Graham growls and takes a few quick steps towards the couch. Lee raises his hands in a gesture of innocence that couldn't be further from the truth, but does finally consent to clamber off Richard's lap and find his own feet. Richard quickly follows suit, struggling to keep his face from heating up. Graham is staring at him, one eyebrow quirked in an obvious question, and Richard gives him a small nod. His friend smiles then, for just a moment, before turning back to Lee with a dark frown.
"You'd better not make a habit of this, Pace. As delighted as I am to kick your arse any time it needs it, I'd much prefer if you could stick to normal hours in the future."
"That's not how I remember it," Lee protests, and Graham smiles suddenly, showing all his teeth.
"Is that so."
Lee gulps and his eyes seek out Richard. "Maybe we should go?"
He's already carefully moving past Graham, snagging Richard's hand along the way, and Richard suppresses his chuckles and follows. "Let me just grab my clothes," he says. Lee shoots Graham a wary look but lets go of his hand nonetheless, and Richard quickly gathers up his things and heads back downstairs.
He hears Graham's voice when he sets foot on the landing. "All I'm saying is, you need to be careful."
"I am." Lee sighs. "I usually let him know anyway, it's not like I don't understand basic courtesy."
"It's not just about making sure he knows, Pace," Graham grumbles. "You need to be the one to do the calling. Don't foist it off on your drones."
There's a moment of silence. Richard quietly tries to calm his rapidly-beating heart, rubbing his sweaty palms over his bundles clothes. When Lee finally says, "I think I understand," his breath catches in his throat. But Lee's voice speaks of understanding rather than annoyance or, worse than that, disgust. Richard closes his eyes, inhales deeply, and climbs down the rest of the stairs with a smile.
Lee's face brightens instantly. "Can we go now?" he pleads, and quickly dodges away when Graham takes a menacing step towards him. Richard chuckles and follows him to the door, but Graham's hand on his arm stops him in his tracks.
"If you need anything..."
Richard smiles. "I'll call."
Graham nods, satisfied, then tugs him the rest of the way into a hug. Richard gratefully leans into it.
They say their goodbyes quickly after that and head outside, but Lee hesitates when Richard is about to walk towards his car. "You're going...home?"
He sounds tentative. Richard gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm hardly likely to go anywhere else." Lee bites his lip, and Richard looks at him, searching. "Would you like to come? If you don't have any plans today, maybe we could..." He trails off with a little shrug.
Lee smiles. "Sleep half the day, and then spend the rest on the couch with a movie?"
"That does sound good." He leans closer and brushes his lips over Lee's. "I'll meet you there then."
They do end up sleeping, but never actually get to the movie part of the day. Lee seems to have quite a bit of anxious energy to get rid of and, even though Richard won't ever admit it out loud, maybe there's a little bit left of the jealousy he felt over Lee's previous relationships.
Not always the healthiest relationship, Richard reflects wryly. But they can make it work.
They will.