by R. J. Moray
Nate smirked. “If that’s not enough for you, you’ll get free food and champagne at the demo. Plus we’ll film it, you’ll get your names in the credits, and you can link to the video on social media or whatever, so it’s a CV stuffer if nothing else.”
That seemed to cheer people up a bit. Nate named a project management team, and told everyone else to go knock out as many customer support tickets as possible to get them out of the way.
He caught Ewan’s eye at the end and made a frustrated face, but Ewan just shrugged.
good excuse for bailing, Ewan texted. Nate sent back a string of unhappy emojis and one of a puppy, for no immediately obvious reason.
Ewan wasn’t wrong about the unpaid overtime, but even so, he couldn’t help but note that Nate was last to leave every night. He seemed thinned by it, determined but burning too hot to sustain it for long. Ewan watched him living on sugar and coffee and thought, No. This couldn’t be allowed to continue.
So when his phone pinged on a Saturday morning to tell him ‘N.Scott’ had approved the pull request for his code (clearly working over the weekend), Ewan decided to Do Something About It.
working from home? he texted.
Nate took a few minutes to get back to him, so Ewan showered and brushed his teeth.
Actually, I’m enjoying a beautiful morning in the office. Scenic.
It was raining again, heavy and blustery and Ewan smirked because he could imagine Nate with his blinds pulled, tapping away in the dark.
does my swipe card get me into the building on weekends?
He pulled on jeans and his faded Toshiro Mifune ‘Yojimbo’ t-shirt, lacing up his boots while he waited. This wasn’t a date, he reminded himself, this was just…helping out a friend.
Nate had texted back. It does now. Should I expect company?
Ewan didn’t bother answering it, just grabbed his coat, scarf, and laptop bag, and headed out.
It was weird, swiping himself into work when the place was practically deserted. The weekend helpdesk team were just a skeleton staff, but the place felt so empty with just them and the cleaners. Ewan waved to Bennie, the one member of the janitorial staff who he knew by name, and ducked out onto the dev floor.
There was no-one in the bullpen. The only office that wasn’t dark was Nate’s, and the door was open so Ewan went straight in, stomping a little in the corridor so Nate might hear him coming.
When he came in Nate grinned at him, mussed and casual in a baggy hoodie. “Hi. Is that coffee?”
“Latte,” Ewan said, detaching a cup from the holder and setting it on the desk. “And, uh, egg and bacon bun.”
Nate grinned. “You brought me brunch.”
“Morning tea,” Ewan corrected him. He pulled one of the chairs up to the end of Nate’s desk and started setting up his laptop.
Nate leaned back, just watching him. “Moving in?’ he asked, deceptively smooth.
“Thought I could help.”
For a little while Nate didn’t say anything, and then— “You know, the work expands to fit the available resources. Like, you can’t help me get this done any faster.”
“Only better,” Ewan agreed, firing up the laptop. “I thought you might like some company.”
Nate leaned on one elbow and smiled over the lid of his coffee. “I do.”
They ate brunch, worked on the switching module, and Ewan ducked out to grab burritos at about one o’clock.
When he got back Nate had taken off his shoes and propped his feet on a chair. He looked tired and ruffled, and tore into his burrito as if he was starving.
“Mmm, you got the black beans,” he said, sighing happily. “You spoil me.”
“So you do like them.”
“Didn’t I say?”
Ewan shook his head. “I guessed.”
It made Nate light up, his eyes bright. “Aw, you’re getting to know me. That’s adorable.”
“Fuck off,” Ewan grumbled, tossing a napkin at him, and Nate laughed, a low throaty chuckle.
“Be good. Don’t make me give you a demerit.”
“What does a demerit get me?”
Nate shrugged. “Another ten minutes in the humbler,” he said, as if the door wasn’t open. “A set of ten with the flogger. The cane,” he added, grinning.
“I hate the cane,” Ewan lied.
Nate snorted, and licked sour cream out of the corner of his mouth. “Sure, Brer Rabbit. I bet you’d hate a cold caning, though.”
Ewan shuddered. A cold caning? With no warm up? Would definitely be more punishment than fun.
“You know, I was really looking forward to taking you out,” Nate said, sounding genuinely disappointed. “But this fucking demo…”
“It’s okay.” Ewan shrugged, as if his chest wasn’t trying to crush his lungs. “I mean. I’m not in a rush.”
“Can you wait another week?” Nate asked, and Ewan wrinkled his nose.
“I guess.”
Nate chuckled. “Wow, such confidence.” His expression softened. “Thank-you, though. I appreciate you coming by to keep me company. And feeding me.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Ewan said, feeling…nowhere near as prickly as he should.
Nate grinned. “I’ll try. No promises, though.”
And if there was a tagline for this whole thing they were doing, ‘No Promises’ pretty much covered it.
⁂
Ewan did not make out with his boss at work. He regretted this later, lying in bed and remembering the way Nate's hands moved on his keyboard, the quick tap-tapping of the keys. His bare feet braced against the carpet and the slope of his throat in the neck of his hoodie. The intense dissatisfaction on his face as he stared at shitty code on his screen. His smile when things came together, or he remembered Ewan was there.
Ewan rolled onto his belly, smothering himself in his pillow. Nathaniel fucking Scott. Bane of his existence. Why couldn't he think of literally anything else?
His phone buzzed quietly. He cursed at it, but checked his messages.
Nate. Thanks for today. You made a sucky Saturday not suck half as much as it should have.
Was he taunting him? Ewan debated taking that wording and running with it. He chickened out in the end, settling for a non-committal, NP. Need you fully functional after all.
Except that backfired because Nate was an enormous nerd and texted him back with a still of Data from the drunk Star Trek: Next Generation episode and Ewan hadn't even meant it that way!
Ugh you're so old, he texted back.
Lies. I'm the same age as Harry Potter.
I hate that fact more than you can possibly imagine.
He got back an emoji of an octopus and one of a lipstick kiss, which made no sense at all in any kind of context ever. Let me make it up to you. After the demo, I'll take you on that date I promised. Okay?
The anticipation was ridiculous. Ewan told himself he was not impatiently waiting for this. He was chill. He could be chill and it would be fine. How soon after the demo?
About half an hour?
He realized he was smiling, but couldn't make himself stop. Acceptable.
Goodnight, then. Keep warm.
It felt like a hug, and Ewan didn't know what to do with it. You too, he sent, and then he shoved his phone under his pillow, determined not to think about Nate for the rest of the weekend.
Well, maybe at least until tomorrow.
Chapter 4
After all the fuss, Nate was surprised but pleased when the tech demo went off without a hitch. Jack showed up late (of course) disappeared toward the end very obviously (in Nate’s opinion) to fuck his boyfriend in his office, but no-one else seemed to notice and Nate managed to escape by half-past eight.
That gave him time to swing home, change, and pick Ewan up before nine.
Ewan had opted to skip the demo in order to take a nap. “If you’re keeping me up all night,” he’d said, smirking obnoxiously. And, since Nate planned to do exactly that, it seemed reasonab
le. He sent Ewan a text, already wondering what he should wear.
The thing, he thought, was whether or not to show off. Nate had date suits, expensive things he’d got because Jack had introduced him to a tailor who was an actual fucking genius and liked to be paid for his work. He had designer jeans and Italian leather shoes, ties that cost more than he’d made in a month back when they’d started JNNS. And Ewan dressed like…Nate didn’t know if there was a term for it. Not quite a hipster. Shabby-chic? Without the chic?
If he dressed up and Ewan was wearing combat boots, would that make Ewan uncomfortable?
And, really, as much as he wanted to peacock for Ewan, he didn’t need to. He could afford to dress down. That’s how rich he was. (Plus, they weren't going anywhere fancy. Quite the opposite.)
So he pulled on his comfortable going-out jeans, a blue v-neck sweater soft as butter, leather shoes and a navy blazer, and ruffled his hair up until it looked like he’d crawled out of bed. His stubble was just long enough to be soft, verging on a beard at this point. He left it, considering Ewan’s soft face and the sensitivity of his thighs. Not that he was banking on tonight going a certain way, but, well. Best to be prepared.
He grabbed the watch Jack had given him for Christmas two years ago, the one Nate had joked was worth more than his car. That was it. Maybe a scarf. Okay. Good enough.
It was a strange feeling, the desire to impress someone. He hadn’t felt like that in years. These days people either took him or left him, no big deal. Nothing lost if someone found him not to their taste. He didn’t care. He didn’t need to make a good impression because his reputation preceded him, professionally and at the Club. Now? Ewan McKinney had somehow become someone Nate wanted to impress.
He didn’t try to tell himself he didn’t know why.
When he knocked on Ewan’s door all he got was swearing. “Just a second!” There was a clatter and a thump, and then the door opened to reveal Ewan, looking flustered and pink.
Nate leaned up against the door-frame. “Hey.”
“I’m almost ready.”
“Okay.”
Ewan hesitated, and then he stepped back. “Do you want to come in?”
“Sure.”
The living room was the way he remembered, maybe a little tidier. The smell of damp and feet had been replaced by nag champa, which made Nate grin. Was Ewan a stoner? It made a certain kind of sense.
Ewan disappeared into the bathroom, and Nate sat down on the sofa. There was a book on the coffee table with several paper tabs in it—Nate flipped it open to take a look.
When Ewan came back he stopped dead in the doorway.
“The Art of Game Design?” Nate said.
Ewan frowned. “A friend lent it to me.”
“And you’re studying it.”
Ewan shrugged. “It’s just for fun.” But he took the book from Nate pretty quickly, tucking it under a pile of unopened envelopes. “Um. I’m ready.”
He’d made some effort to find clothes that fit. Nate liked his jeans, tight enough to show off his lean thighs and his ass, and the t-shirt cut into such a deep V that it was obvious to anyone who looked that he waxed his chest. He’d found a jacket covered in buckles and rolled the sleeves up to show his wrists strung with leather bands, a cuff around one of them studded with black-metal rivets. He had another bit of leather looped three times around his neck, a coin with a hole in it hanging down the front. His hair was an artful mess, and there were smudges of black under his eyes.
Nate liked all of it, even the combat boots.
“You look very unwrappable,” Nate said.
Ewan blushed. “You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” he said, looking away, and Nate stood up.
“No. But it doesn’t matter. Come on.”
“You’re still not going to tell me?” Ewan demanded as he followed Nate out to the car.
“Do you hate surprises?”
Ewan wrinkled his nose. “No.”
“Then I thought it could be a surprise.”
Ewan sighed. “Fine.”
⁂
The cinema was down on Russell Avenue, a peeling old Streamline Moderne building with all the original fixtures. Ewan squinted up at the marquee out front, his brow furrowing.
"You're taking me to a kaiju movie?"
Nate nodded, hoping he hadn't misjudged. Ewan had all those figurines on a shelf beside the TV. It had seemed a calculated risk.
Ewan smirked, bumping into Nate's side. "I get popcorn, right?"
"Sure. And all the candy you can stomach," Nate told him, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around and pull him up tight.
Inside it was red and gold, with threadbare carpet and dusty velvet curtains. The concession stand stocked things like Pocky, Hi-Chews, maple candy, and jelly babies, and Nate let Ewan pile things up in a basket, simply paying for them when it was done. He dropped a fifty in the donation box as well—this place could barely cover costs and he felt he owed it to them for all the nights he'd spent curled up in the back row with smuggled-in Red Vines, soaking up Korean horror and Hong Kong action movies, anime and monster-flicks and Stephen Chow.
And moping about Jack. If he was honest.
The cinema was nearly empty. Ewan made a beeline straight for the back row, plonking himself down in the center and propping his boots on the chair in front. Nate tapped one with a finger and Ewan rolled his eyes, but kicked them down to the floor. Then he opened all the candy packets and poured them into one bag, shaking it up.
"Pot-luck?" Nate asked, amused.
Ewan shrugged. "Surprises," he said, glancing at Nate sidelong.
Nate settled into his chair, arranging the drinks and the popcorn around them. This place was old enough not to have cup-holders on the armrests, so he propped his soda on the floor.
"I've never seen you drink Coke before," Ewan said, his tone sharply suspicious for no obvious reason.
"I only do it at the movies," Nate told him.
"Health nut?"
"I don't really like it. But it's right at the movies."
Ewan nodded solemnly. "Like popcorn."
"Exactly." Nate offered him the bucket and Ewan took a handful, stuffing it gracelessly into his face. It left fragments on his lip. Nate watched him lick them off, and thought about biting down on him. He pushed the thought away. Not tonight.
Once the lights dimmed, Ewan snuggled up to Nate's shoulder. He put his mouth up next to Nate's ear and muttered into it all through the vintage trailers, the opening spiel, until the monster appeared. Then he snickered, and started critiquing the film in general, which Nate didn't hate at all.
He'd seen it before. It was fun, in an 'old things are fun' kind of way. Kaiju movies didn't ask a lot of you intellectually, except a certain suspension of disbelief. Most of the fun was in seeing miniatures get trashed by guys in rubber suits. It was cathartic, in a way. All that hard work destroyed for a couple of minutes of footage. Tragedy.
Ewan didn't shut up once. "He's an idiot," he muttered in Nate's ear. "She's not even into him. Why doesn't he get that?"
"Maybe she'll come around," Nate murmured back to him. "Maybe she's playing hard to get."
"Maybe she doesn't like him," Ewan insisted.
Nate didn't argue with him about it—she did come around in the end, but that was bad writing more than the way things should be. Personally, he agreed with Ewan. Sometimes people just didn't like you. Better to get over it and move on than make a big deal out of changing their mind. No-one ever really changed their mind, anyway.
When all the miniatures had been crushed and the kaiju returned to the deep, the designated couple reconciled and order restored (Nate always wondered about after, the post-kaiju-apocalypse drama) Ewan tipped his face up to look Nate in the eye. "Are we staying for the second one?"
Nate shook the bucket. "We still have popcorn left."
"I gotta take a break," Ewan said, unfurling to his feet. He shoved the bag of mixed candy into Nate's hand, and slun
k off somewhere, probably to pee.
Nate pulled out his phone. He considered texting Jack to tell him he was actually on an actual date with an actual person watching a movie in a cinema where his shoes stuck to the carpet and he was probably in danger of catching something from the seats. He didn't, in the end, just took a photo of the popcorn bucket with the candy tucked inside and snapchatted him: Godjira and Chill
It took a moment for Jack to reply with a photo of a lean-muscled chest framed by the hanging edges of an unbuttoned shirt: Channon says you're fucking a giant radioactive lizard??
Of course. Jack had never Netflix and Chilled in his life.
Welp, that's date night, he sent back.
The next photo was of a smooth, hairless abdomen, and a belt unbuckled, trousers unzipped, hands gripping the waistband of the underpants beneath hard enough for the knuckles to flush white. Have fun
So. Nate put his phone away. Of course Jack was undressing his boy. What else would he be doing?
"You know," Ewan said, sliding back into his seat, "I wasn't expecting kaiju movies tonight."
"What were you expecting?"
Ewan shrugged, picking at the seam of his jeans. "Some fancy fucking restaurant with no prices on the menus."
"You aren't dressed for 'Some fancy fucking restaurant with no prices on the menus'," Nate pointed out, but it only made Ewan grin.
"I know."
"You do look good," Nate said, meaning it wholeheartedly.
Ewan smirked at him. "I know that too." He jiggled the arm of the chair and— "Hah!" It swung up. Nate hadn't ever thought to check if they could do that; he'd never brought anyone else here so he'd never needed to. Then Ewan was shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it on the seat next to him and leaning up against Nate's chest, practically in his lap. "That's more like it."
Nate shifted to make room for him, and ended up half wrapped around him. It was warm, and comfortable, and Ewan allowed himself to be fed pieces of popcorn, even licked the tips of Nate's fingers free of salt and butter. It felt good. Right. The way it should be. Nate ducked his head to inhale Ewan's clean, coconutty hair, and Ewan wriggled back against him, tugging Nate's arm down to lace their fingers together, low on his belly.
