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Lightning flashed across the dark sky, followed quickly by a loud bang of thunder, rumbling so loud it almost felt like it was vibrating through the building. Harry grimaced as he pulled his leather jacket on, followed by his scarf, and a pair of gloves he’d been thankful to find in his desk drawer.
He’d walked to work that morning, enjoying the brush weather of the Autumn morning, but he really hadn’t been expecting a storm to be thundering overhead when it was time to leave. He’d even thought to check the forecast for the night—not something he always remembered to do—and there had been no indication or prediction of so much as a shower.
Now, he was facing a two and a half mile walk through the worst weather imaginable, and all of his friends had already left the office an hour ago, so he couldn’t even ask someone for a lift.
He sighed, pulling his scarf tighter around his face as he watched the rain bounce off the ground through the glass door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed on the door.
“That doesn’t look like the best idea,” a voice said behind him, and Harry turned to see Riddle, his boss, leaning against the reception desk.
Harry groaned internally; Riddle was the very last person he wanted to deal with right now.
“You walked this morning, didn’t you?”
“How do you…” Harry trailed off, shaking his head. “Nope. Never mind. You’re a stalker, I know.”
Riddle chuckled. “Is taking a vested interest in the health of your employees really considered stalking?”
“When you know if I walked or drove to work, that’s less ‘vested interest’ and definitely more stalking. I’m sure that you don’t know if Pansy rode her bike in today, or if Ginny carpooled with her brother.”
“Ah, but the difference is, I don’t care about either of them. I have a vested interest in you, Harry. You know that.”
“Did I mention that I’m resigning?” Harry asked. “Because you know, the paperwork has all been filed with HR.”
“I told them to disregard it,” Riddle replied, a glint appearing in his eyes that Harry knew all too well. The man simultaneously seemed to love and hate being challenged. Especially by Harry. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re the best designer I’ve got, and if you’ve been offered a better contract elsewhere, I’ll better it again to keep you here.”
Harry just sighed. “You know that it’s never been about the benefits of my contract, Riddle.”
“Let me drive you home,” Riddle offered, taking a few steps towards Harry.
Harry had to force himself not to back up into the wall, standing his ground as his boss neared him. There was a smirk on Riddle’s face, like he knew exactly how affected Harry was by his presence. The arrogant sod was probably loving it.
“I’m—”
“You’re going to make yourself ill, if you walk home in this,” Riddle said, interrupting as he nodded his head to the outside, where rain was still bouncing off the ground, and thunder still rumbled through the sky, interrupted only by the occasional flash of lightning.
Harry glanced behind him and then sighed. “Fine. You can drive me home, I guess. Thanks.”
“Just let me get my coat,” Riddle said, smugly. “Wait here.”
He walked away, and Harry stopped himself from watching, turning back to the door. Even if he made a run for it, Riddle would only follow behind him in his car and trail him until he gave in and got into the car anyway, so it was pointless to try and escape.
Riddle returned in mere minutes, his long coat covering the grey fitted suit he wore, and with a long, black umbrella in his hands. He led the way from the building, putting the umbrella up and tilting it, so that it covered Harry as well.
The car was parked close to the front of the carpark, an advantage of being the boss, Harry supposed. Riddle held the umbrella over Harry’s head until he’d climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him, before he rounded to the driver’s seat. He shook the excess rain from the umbrella and threw it into the back as he got into his own side.
“You remember where I live, I suppose?” Harry said, as the engine started at just the push of a button.
Riddle arched his eyebrow at Harry and didn’t reply as he pulled out of the parking spot, speeding out of the carpark. The roads were quiet, and the only sound came from the blowing of the heater, and the storm raging outside.
Harry looked out of the window without really seeing, trying not to pay any attention to how close they were sitting, or the way that Riddle’s hand would brush Harry’s thigh whenever he changed gears.
It had been a long time since Harry had been in Riddle’s car, and it had been under much different circumstances.
Harry forced himself not to think of them, instead turning his attention to trying to remember what food he had in his flat. He had a sinking feeling that he would be calling out for takeaway again, and he felt bad that he would be making someone deliver in the horrible weather.
It wasn’t even that he didn’t like cooking, he really did, he just didn’t often see the point in cooking for just himself; not to mention that he rarely had the time to do any real grocery shopping.
Usually, when he did cook, it was with ingredients he’d managed to find at his local corner shop rather than from the butchers, or even one of the larger supermarkets only a few miles away.
“Do you trust me?”
Harry blinked and turned to look at Riddle. “Not even as far as I can throw you. Why?”
Riddle laughed. “That was definitive.”
Harry smiled slightly. “Why did you ask me that?”
Riddle looked through the windscreen as he pulled the car to a stop. “You really don’t pay attention to your surroundings, do you, Harry?”
Harry looked out of the window to see that they’d pulled up to Riddle’s mansion, rather than Harry’s small flat. He grimaced. “Why are we here, Tom?”
Riddle smiled. “I love it when you say my name, Harry. You’ve been calling me ‘Riddle’ exclusively for months now.”
“For good reason. Take me home.”
Riddle sighed. “Just come in and talk to me. Please, Harry? I promise you, if, when we’re done talking, you still want to leave, I’ll take you home with no arguments.”
Harry cursed softly under his breath. “Fine.”
…
The mansion looked just like Harry remembered it from the first—and only—time he’d visited. He arched his eyebrow at the singular difference he could see; an emerald green case filled with admittedly stunning flowers.
“It made me think of you,” Tom said, noticing where Harry was looking. He led the way through to the kitchen. “Sit down,” he added, gesturing to the leather topped stools tucked up against the breakfast bar. “I’ll make us something to eat.”
“You said that you wanted to talk.”
“And I do,” Tom replied. “But I also want to feed you. Don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you’ve lost weight, Harry.”
“My weight is none of your business.”
Tom rolled his eyes, but pulled eggs and bacon from the large, american-style fridge. Harry tapped his fingers impatiently against the breakfast bar while he waited, and soon enough, he was served eggs and bacon in slightly burnt ciabatta. Just the way he liked it.
“I know you don’t drink coffee at night, but I have orange juice or apple juice?”
“Orange please,” Harry replied, wrinkling his nose slightly. He likely would have actually taken a coffee; having his wits about him was important when dealing with Tom, after all.
A tall glass of juice joined the plate on the breakfast bar, and Tom joined him a minute later with a matching meal of his own.
Tom gestured to Harry’s plate. “It’s not poisonous, you know?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, I was waiting for you to sit down. I do have some manners, you know?”
They ate in a somewhat companionable silence, though Harry could help but sneak the odd look at Tom, who seemed to be perfectly comfortable, in spite of the fact that they hadn’t been alone together apart from the occasional meeting at work for… a while.
When their plates were clean, Tom guided Harry into the lounge.
“I was fine in the kitchen, you know?” Harry offered, when he was seated on the plush sofa.
Tom just quirked his lips and sat down beside him, entirely too close for Harry’s liking.
“I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks now,” Tom said, leaning even closer. “But you’ve always had somewhere to be, someone else to talk to.”
“If I didn’t know that the weather was beyond even your control, I’d think that you’d arranged the storm just to get me alone,” Harry muttered, shaking his head.
Tom chuckled. “Just a… rather advantageous happenstance.”
“Uh huh,” Harry replied. “What’s all this about, Tom?”
“I want you back, Harry.”
Harry arched his eyebrow, unimpressed. “I was never yours to begin with. By your choice, I might add.”
“That’s… true, I suppose,” Tom admitted. “I was… an idiot. I thought that love was… impossible for me, and so I didn’t recognise it, even when I was feeling it, and so I pushed you away. But Harry… I want you.”
“But do you love me?” Harry challenged, because he wasn’t willing to even engage in this lunacy unless he knew that Tom was serious. He’d put himself through enough of that before he’d finally called it a day on their ‘arrangement’ for fear of losing himself entirely.
“I do,” Tom replied, softly. “I do love you, Harry. You are… perhaps the only person that I ever could love.”
“Tom—”
“I believed that I was happy,” Tom continued. “Building my empire, scratching the itch whenever I felt like it with nameless, faceless people who I cared nothing for. I thought that I was happy when you took me home and we… We had sex, and then you let me leave in the morning with the promise of nothing changing at work. I thought that I was happy when you took me home for a repeat, because it was good sex, and there were no feelings involved. I thought that I was happy, Harry.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, slowly. “What changed?”
“We were… well, I’d never been sleeping with someone as long as I was with you, so that was new. But then, you told me you loved me, and you asked me for more. Do you know that you caught me completely off guard that day, Harry? I thought… I suppose I thought that you were getting the same from the relationship as I thought I was. Good sex, with no strings attached. I never believed for a second that you could have developed real feelings for me; you, who is so good, so… so charming, and kind, and the complete opposite of me.”
“You can be plenty charming yourself, Tom,” Harry said, though he knew that he was blushing furiously.
Tom laughed. “An act, Harry. You’re naturally charming, you don’t even have to try for it. And so this… secret you’d been hiding from me—”
“I wasn’t hiding anything,” Harry replied, defensively. “I honestly thought that you knew. Hell, Tom, I asked you to come with me for my high-school reunion!”
“I thought you wanted to show me off,” Tom admitted, with a careless shrug. “A well known CEO as a partner. There are plenty of people who would do that, Harry. I just didn’t take into account that you’re not one of those people, and perhaps I should have.”
“All of this is water under the bridge,” Harry pointed out.
“I’m explaining,” Tom replied, reaching out to boop Harry on the nose.
“You just like the sound of your own voice,” Harry retorted, though he leant into the cushions.
Chuckling, Tom shook his head. “You’re the only person who ever dares to speak to me that way. Another thing I realised I’d grown to love. But I’m getting ahead of myself. When… When you told me that you loved me, I was surprised, and I immediately felt the need to distance myself from you. You told me we couldn’t see each other any longer, if I didn’t feel the same way, and I accepted that as a relief from awkwardness, from the responsibility of hurting you. Even then, Harry, when I was still in complete denial about my feelings, the thought of hurting you was reprehensible.”
“And after?”
“It was little things. The way you wrinkle your nose when you don’t like something, or the sparkle in your eyes when you laughed at me. The defiant look on your face when you disagreed with me over something, and the way you spoke to me like we were equals. I missed all of that, and I found myself sitting alone at night, wishing that I could come and see you, because you were the only person I truly wanted to speak to.”
“You didn’t… you haven’t been with anyone else?”
“I tried,” Tom admitted. “A few weeks after you told me to leave. It was… the least satisfying experience of my life, because he wasn’t you.”
Harry knew that he shouldn’t feel good about that, but he couldn’t help the flutter of satisfaction in his gut.
“And so, I sat and I considered, and I denied, and I thought about you, and… eventually, I came to the conclusion that the only possible explanation for the way that I was feeling was that I’d fallen in love.”
“Why did it take you so long to come and talk to me?”
Tom looked away for a moment, and for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I tried… very hard… to turn it off. You have to understand, Harry, I’ve spent my entire life thinking that love was for lesser people. Thinking that love wasn’t meant for me. Entirely believing that love was impossible for me.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Okay. And now?”
“Now?”
“Why now?”
Tom looked thoughtful. “I… suppose that I’ve given up. Given up on trying to deny it, when it was only making me unhappy. I’ve given up on pretending that I’m not burning for you. I love you, and I can’t turn it off, and now… Now I don’t want to. I just want you.”
He reached up to stroke Harry’s hair, playing with the ends of the strands with the tips of his fingers. “So now, I suppose the real question is, do you still love me?”
Harry stared into Tom’s grey eyes for a long moment, and then he sighed. “Of course I do. Why do you think that I put my resignation in, Tom?”
“Which I still don’t accept, by the way.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry added, “I gave you my heart and you just… didn’t care. And I get it—sort of—but I don’t know if I can just ignore all of that. It’s been a long time, Tom. Months.”
Tom shifted closer, so close that Harry could smell the alluring scent of his cologne, and something that was simply purely Tom, and he closed his eyes, because how could he be sensible when Tom was that close.
“I love you. I loved you then, when I was being a fool, and I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow, and I’ll love you always.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I do,” Tom argued. “Do you really think that after believing myself incapable of love for so long, that I’ll let go of the one person to prove me wrong? Don’t be so utterly absurd, Harry.”
Harry blinked his eyes open and looked at Tom. “Will you take me home? I’m not… I’m not saying no,” he assured Tom, when he paled. “I just… I need to think, and I can’t do that when you’re right here, and—”
“Of course, Harry. I promised you, didn’t I?”
…
It had been three days since Tom’s confession, and Harry still wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it. He loved Tom, he really did, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust him.
He wanted to give in—had never wanted to give in so much in his life, in fact—but he didn’t want Tom to think that some pretty words would sway him when he wanted something.
“Riddle is being an asshole,” Ginny complained, when she stopped by Harry’s desk. She startled him from his thoughts, and chuckled when he glared at her. “Sorry.”
“You mean he’s being more of an asshole than usual?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. He hadn’t noticed a difference, but then, he, admittedly, hadn’t really seen much of him. There may have been some purposeful avoidance on Harry’s part when it came to their boss.
“I mean, we all know he’s abrasive, but Jesus, he’s in a right horrible mood. Something has definitely upset him.”
“Fun,” Harry muttered. He hoped that it wasn’t him that had left Tom in a foul mood, but he had a sinking feeling that it probably was. Tom wasn’t used to being told no, or to wait for the things he wanted. It happened so rarely, after all.
“Just… try and avoid him if you can. We all know that he’s got a… thing with you, and he’s likely to tear your head off with the way that he’s shouting at everyone else today.”
Harry nodded, biting his cheek. “Thanks for the warning.”
Ginny left for her own office, and Harry glanced at the pile of work he had to take to Tom’s office to have it approved. He’d avoided him for about as long as he could, and he knew it, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready to see the man.
Or maybe he really was, and he was just scared of admitting it.
Ignoring Ginny’s advice, he took a deep breath and scooped up the pile of completed work in one arm, before he made his way to Tom’s office. He knocked once and waited with baited breath.
When Tom barked for him to enter, Harry pushed the door open and then closed it quietly behind him.
“Hi,” he said, when he realised that Tom didn’t even know it was him, having not looked up from his paperwork.
Sure enough, at the sound of his voice, Tom’s head shot up and their eyes locked.
Tom looked… unkempt wasn’t the right word, but he certainly didn’t look as sharp as he usually looked. He still looked amazing, he always did, but there was just something… uncaring about the way he was dressed and the mess of his charcoal hair.
“Harry,” Tom murmured. “I… you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I needed the time to think,” Harry reminded him. “But I need you to sign these off, or tell me what you want to change, so…”
Tom nodded silently, and Harry joined him at the desk, talking him through the work he’d done. Tom signed all but one of them off, and gave Harry copious notes on what he wanted changed on the remaining one.
Harry smiled at him when they were done, and stood, stacking his work again. “I’ll see you after work?”
“Harry?”
“We need to talk,” Harry said, softly. He reached out to touch Tom’s cheek. “Stop being so mean to the staff, okay?”
Tom chuckled. “I’ll see you after work.”
…
Harry was leaning against the bonnet of Tom’s car waiting for him when the man left the building. He’d only been waiting for about ten minutes, and it was a nice evening—completely different to the last evening he’d spent with Tom.
“I like seeing you like this,” Tom said, as he approached. “You should wait for me like this more often.”
Harry smiled at him, and when the car unlocked, he slid into the passenger seat.
“Where are we going?” Tom asked, as he started the engine.
Harry thought for a moment, and then said. “Uh. Mine or your place is fine. It’s up to you.”
They travelled in silence once more, and Harry wasn’t particularly surprised when they pulled into the long driveway of Tom’s place. Tom offered him food, but Harry shook his head.
“Can we just sit and talk for a while?”
“Of course.”
For the second time that week, they sat side by side on the sofa. Harry curled up with his legs beneath him, and then snagged Tom’s hand between his own. He traced nonsensical patterns on the smooth skin.
“I love you. And, I thought about everything you said,” Harry started, glancing up to see Tom watching him with hungry eyes, the hope almost blinding in his expression. “And I argued with myself on whether I could trust you again, and then… I realised that none of it really matters. Because I love you, and I’ve always believed that it’s better to have loved and lost, you know? So… I want to try. Because I may not fully trust you, but I believe that you love me.”
“I do,” Tom whispered. “And I’ll regain your trust, Harry. For you, I’ll do just about anything.”
Harry pushed forward and wrapped his hand around Tom’s neck, pressing their lips together. God, but he’d missed kissing Tom. Tom quickly took control, as he always did, and within seconds, Harry was sprawled across his lap, being assaulted in the best way possible by lips, tongue, teeth and Tom’s hands, which seemed to be trying to touch all of him at the same time.
They parted, panting, and Harry gazed up into the grey eyes that reflected the passionate way in which Tom wanted him.
“I love you,” he murmured, reaching up to brush Tom’s lips with his fingers. “Don’t make me regret that.”
“Never.”