by KC Burn
Tony closed his eyes and savoured the image that generated for a second before he forced his mind back to the conversation. “I’m just calling to say hi, but if you’re busy, I can let you go.”
Giving Dean an easy out probably wasn’t a good idea, but neither did he want to become that guy who wouldn’t go away.
“I’m good. What happened today?”
Tony smiled. Dean was getting better at small talk, and he described a bit about the clothing drive and the flock of biddies older than his mom who kept giving him conflicting instructions. He managed to eke a few laughs out of Dean.
“So, you’re active in the church?” Dean had an odd note in his voice, one that made Tony instantly wary. He hadn’t realized he was somehow treading on treacherous ground, and the wrong step here might demolish the foundation Tony was trying to build.
“No, not at all, but my mama is. The church does a lot of charity stuff this time of year, and there tends to be a shortage of able bodies, so my mama drafted me. Usually my sister helps out, since I’m not normally here, but with her husband deployed overseas, she had to take care of my three nieces.”
There was an extended pause. Tony had answered truthfully, but that didn’t mean Dean was happy.
“I think you said you left home after you came out. Have you not been home for Christmas since?”
The short answer was yes, he had been home since, but he’d sensed from the very first day that he was going to have to be more open in the hopes of getting Dean to open up even a tiny bit. Which meant Tony was going to have to mention a few family issues he didn’t normally trot out for people he’d just met.
“I waited until I was eighteen before I came out.” He desperately wanted to ask if Dean had been kicked out for being gay, but he’d already learned direct questions only made Dean uncomfortable. “It was a good thing, too, because I left the next day.”
“The next day? They kicked you out?”
“Not exactly. But my papa was almost every negative stereotype you’ve ever seen of a traditional Italian-Catholic patriarch. Our relationship had been strained for years, maybe because he knew about me but hoped to change my path. The fight afterward was vicious and just short of violent.” The details didn’t matter, mostly because he didn’t want to recall the ugly things his father had said to him.
“And that’s when you left?”
“Yeah. It was only a matter of time before I was given an ultimatum, so I left before he kicked me out. Then I wandered around the country until I ended up in Vancouver, which I told you about the day we met.”
“I guess you forgave your parents then?” Again, there was a weird note in Dean’s voice, but there was no point in sugarcoating the truth. Not with a guy he was hoping might be someone special.
“I never forgave my papa, no. His interpretation of the Bible was more important than our familial ties, and I couldn’t accept that. But my mama, I think she might have left him eventually. She’d had a job when they got married, but he made her quit to become a housewife and mother. After Nicki finished university and got a decent job, she tried to convince our mama to get a divorce. Nicki was in a position to support them both, but my mama dithered for six years, while my parents’ relationship unraveled, and then my papa died so the point was moot.”
Dean gasped. “I’m… so sorry.”
Tony shrugged even though Dean couldn’t see him. “It was a long time ago. Even when my papa was alive, though, my mama found ways to get me money if I needed it, and called all the time when my papa wasn’t at home. My issues with my mama were minor, and we worked them out ages ago. I came back home a couple of times for the holidays.”
God, this discussion had taken a depressing turn.
“And Nicki’s your sister, right? Is she younger than you?” The only thing that was weird about their family was the complete lack of uncles, aunts, and cousins. Oddly, his parents were both only children, and his grandparents on both sides had died when he and his sister were young kids.
“She’s two years older. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
This time, Tony wasn’t sure if the one word answer signified a topic Dean didn’t want to talk about or was because Dean didn’t seem to have much experience with small talk. But either way, a change of subject was in order, and he had just the thing.
“I know how much you love Halloween… guess what I did this year?”
“Um. I don’t know. Go to a bar?”
Tony laughed. “Oh, hell no. All those years bartending on Halloween? Not a fucking chance. It’s too crazy.” It wasn’t the same thing as hating Christmas because of his job, but he realized maybe he had more in common with Dean than he’d first thought.
“Hand out candy to trick-or-treaters? I do that at the store, since I’m usually at work.”
Tony smiled at the enthusiasm in Dean’s voice. “Do you dress up?”
“Of course. This year I went as Sherlock Holmes.”
Hot. “Mmm. I’d like to see that sometime.” It was like Dean was made for him. Go Yuletide spirits!
“Well, I didn’t hand out candy this year. I had to take the girls out trick-or-treating. They wanted us all to go as princesses.”
He waited. Dean spluttered for a moment. “You too?”
“Yup. I was a pretty, pretty princess for Halloween.”
“You were not.”
“I was, too. Nicki was able to buy ready-made costumes for the girls, but she and my mama had to sew one for me.”
“Shut the fuck up. Your mom helped you dress up as a princess? Didn’t you just tell me she was religious?”
“Yeah, but she’s still pretty cool about the gay thing. Not all religious people think we’re damned, you know.”
There was another pause, and Tony wondered if Dean’s parents had been ultra-religious. It might explain a lot.
“Sure. I know.” Dean didn’t sound like he entirely believed his words, and Tony didn’t blame him. It took him a while to wrap his mind around the concept, after having dealt with his father.
“My dress was blue with gold lace.”
That got him a laugh. “If there aren’t pictures, it didn’t happen.”
“Oh, there are pictures.” Tony immediately emailed a copy of him posing with his nieces.
There was a pause. “Holy shit. You look awesome.”
“Thanks.”
They spoke for a few more minutes before both of them mentioned they hadn’t eaten dinner. Since it was edging toward nine, they ended the call. Tony had a smile on his face as he warmed up some leftovers. Maybe it was stupid to be so happy about a simple phone call, but he was going to make a point of talking to Dean every day, unless Dean said otherwise.
CHAPTER THREE
TONY DREW IN A DEEP BREATH, the frigid air almost painful as it entered his lungs. He needed to grow some stones, rather than freezing them off out here in front of Dean's apartment building. Thing was, what had seemed a romantic idea earlier in the day, now seemed horribly presumptuous.
Talking on the phone wasn't enough for him. It was too easy for Dean to keep things superficial, and Tony wanted to know all there was to know about Dean. Sure, he had a tentative plan for their next holiday-themed date, but he didn't think he'd be able to coax the super-serious Dean on a mid-week date downtown, which meant waiting until the weekend. And he didn't want to wait.
Still, if this was going where he hoped, Dean was going to have to get to know the real Tony, and the real Tony was sometimes impulsive. The worst thing Dean could do was shut the door in his face.
Screw it. He was putting his faith in whatever fates had steered him to Dean in the first place. This was meant to be.
Tony strode up the battered walkway and followed an older lady pushing a bundle buggy full of groceries through the front door. He smiled at the woman, who fortunately smiled back without any suspicion, which was a bit of a miracle, considering the dilapidated state of the building's entran
ce. Maybe it was the bouquet of three pink roses in his hand that eased her mind.
The slowest elevator in the world shook and jerked as it lumbered upward, having seen better days circa 1970. Grocery lady was going to the top floor, poor thing. Tony only had six floors of terror to endure. Next time, he was taking the stairs.
Tony stepped out of the elevator, fully expecting the thing to plummet to the basement, grocery lady screaming and apples flying. No wonder Dean liked horror movies. Might as well embrace the terror if you had to deal with it daily. Jeez. The linoleum tiles—probably chock-full of asbestos—were worn and dirty-looking, but after a certain age, those tiles were almost impossible to keep clean.
The place wasn't exactly a shithole—the whole neighbourhood was filled with older apartment buildings, and its proximity to Dean's store was likely a big factor in the choice. Didn't mean Tony wouldn't worry about Dean's safety. After all, he'd just walked right in and he could be anybody.
Made it easier to arrange a surprise visit, though.
Tony followed the numbers—some hanging at drunken angles—to the end of the hallway and took a deep breath. He hoped Dean was in the "this is a romantic gesture" camp and not the "oh no, I've got a stalker" camp.
The sensation of an obviously solid door beneath his knuckles as he knocked relieved his mind a bit. It would take someone pretty determined to get through.
Waiting was excruciating, and no sounds of life got past the heavy door. After another few moments, Tony knocked again, harder this time.
A shadow moved in the pinpoint of light behind the peephole. Tony pasted an innocent smile on his face, because Dean could still choose to ignore him standing out here.
Endless seconds later, the click of a heavy deadbolt drawing back and the scrabble of a chain preceded the door swinging open.
Despite the suspicious frown, Dean looked utterly delicious. Hair slightly mussed, thin track pants, and a lean, toned chest, bared for Tony's delight, and looking more relaxed than Tony would have believed possible.
"Tony? What are you doing here?"
"I brought beer, Mr. Murphy. And roses." Tony swept the bouquet up and proffered it. "I hope you don't mind pink. I'll let you in on a little secret—I love pink."
"Uh. I don't mind pink." Dean took the flowers almost automatically and sniffed at them. "But I don't understand. Did we have plans?"
"No. Not exactly. But I thought maybe we could watch that movie you were talking about on Saturday. The Village? And you could exercise your culinary skills calling for a pizza." Tony smiled, hoping his hesitancy didn't show. "It's not like either of us have to be up early tomorrow." Conveniently, neither of them had to work first thing in the morning. Dean was doing some shift change thing, and Tony’s normal Thursday morning client had already hied off to Florida for the snowbird months.
"It's not a Christmas movie, you know." Dean wasn’t completely shutting down Tony's idea, which was promising.
"I love Christmas, but I'm not obsessed by it. I can do other things." And if other things allowed him to spend more time with Dean, he would embrace every horror movie in the world, wholeheartedly.
"Um. Okay. Come on in." Dean moved back, allowing Tony to step in, despite his obvious confusion. "Let me just put on a shirt."
"Mmm. Don't put yourself out on my account." At Tony's suggestive words, Dean's entire upper half pinked right up. Possibly the sexiest thing Tony had seen in a long fucking time.
Dean's hunted look made Tony back off. Showing up unannounced and uninvited at Dean's door was already coming on a little strong. No need to spook his prey, a.k.a. the potential boyfriend.
"I'll just sit on the couch and wait for you, okay?"
That got him a smile before Dean disappeared through a doorway that had to lead to Dean's bedroom. Tony didn't sit right away. He wandered around the "public" areas of Dean's apartment. It didn't look anything like he'd expected based on the age and decrepitude of the building. The decor was sparse but clean, comfortable but created on a budget. He hadn't expected the hardwood floors, probably original to the building, and they added a nice warm touch. The only thing missing to make this perfect would be a fireplace.
He put the beer away in an almost empty fridge and found a decent vase-like container for the roses before settling down on the couch. Whatever Dean had been watching was paused on a scene that involved a giant knife dripping blood. Safe to assume Dean hadn't been lying about his love of horror movies.
Instead of grabbing the remote and flipping around stations, Tony peered around the room seeking answers to the enigma of Dean Murphy. There wasn't a single photo of anyone visible, which could mean so many things, including that Dean had only recently moved in, but there wasn't any evidence of unpacking. In fact, he was pretty sure one of their phone conversations had touched on Dean's apartment, and if Tony recalled correctly, he'd lived there at least five years.
His date was taking an awful long time finding a shirt. If he didn't know better, he'd start wondering if Dean had slipped out a back way. But he'd been called bull-headed more than once, so he merely settled back into the couch cushions, took a swig of beer, and prepared to wait out his wary date.
Dean stood in his bedroom fully dressed, but he wasn't sure if the fleece shirt was enough armor. He'd shamelessly proven after their date Saturday night that he'd welcome Tony into his bed, but Tony showing up at his door, all casual and sexy and unexpected, just hanging out in his place, made Dean feel vulnerable and more naked than he'd actually been.
Every second he hesitated only made it worse. But after Tony's gentle rejection of his previous advances, he'd assumed he was getting the brush off. Even the daily phone calls hadn't convinced him otherwise. He'd just figured Tony was trying to ease him into friend territory or was too nice for his own good. Most guys figured out after a single date that Dean was a lost cause if they were looking for a relationship or feelings.
If he'd been given the opportunity to wager, he'd have bet his last dime that Tony showing up with flowers and beer was a sign of the apocalypse. Dean snorted. Opportunity or not, he wouldn't have bet a single thing—he'd been too close to destitute in the past to foolishly waste money on gambling.
But he couldn't leave Tony out there forever while he dithered in his bedroom like a scared virgin.
With a deep breath, he threw open the door and strode out. Tony twisted around from his spot on the couch and smiled. An open beer waited for him on the coffee table, and in the center, Tony had arranged the bunch of roses in a tall zombie glass, which was the closest thing Dean had to a vase in his kitchen.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies took wing in his stomach, completely unexpected. This level of consideration was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. This was going to end so badly for him, and yet, he wasn't willing to kick Tony to the curb. Not until he'd had a chance to thoroughly investigate those tattoos hiding under a navy sweater. With his tongue.
Ignoring the thrum of desire in his belly, Dean sat next to Tony, careful not to touch him. As much as he wanted to get Tony into bed, he couldn't forget the sting of rejection. Tony didn't look like the type of guy who needed or wanted to get to know someone before they had sex, but Dean should have learned a long time ago not to judge people by the face they showed the world. Behind closed doors, things could do a complete one-eighty, and Dean wondered if he’d see Tony’s true colours tonight. Any actual sex, though… Tony would have to initiate. Dean had already put himself out there and been rejected. That wasn't going to happen again. Not if Dean could avoid it.
"Want to order pizza before we start the movie? I'm starving." Tony's words and expression were completely guileless, and Dean let himself be swept up—again—in Tony’s plans. After all, it wasn't like he wasn't willing to have sex with Tony, and he didn't think Tony had come here with any other nefarious intentions. He hadn't even brought anything vaguely Christmassy with him as a sneak attack.
"Ah, sure. What do you like?"
"
I usually get veggie pizzas but I'll eat anything but anchovies and Italian sausage."
Veggie pizza was fine, but Dean squinted at him. "You don't like Italian sausage?"
Tony winked. "I think there's already enough Italian sausage in this apartment."
Heat flooded Dean's cheeks at the over the top innuendo, but he rallied. "Yeah, but the only way to guarantee any of it will get eaten is if it shows up on pizza."
Tony's mouth opened like a guppy's for a second before he let out that deep, infectious belly laugh that gave Dean alarming satisfaction.
When he finally took a few shuddery breaths, and the laugh petered away, Tony patted Dean's knee. "I didn't come over for a booty call." Dean didn't know how to interpret the warm look in Tony's eyes. Even though he'd been joking around, he'd been shot down again. Tony wasn't here for sex, but Dean couldn't figure out exactly why Tony was here. Because his eyes had darkened with what Dean had assumed was desire but obviously wasn't.
Then again, if Tony was only offering friendship, maybe Dean ought to accept. Wasn't like he had any real friends now. He'd thought for so long he was better off on his own, but he couldn't deny that having someone in his apartment for the sole purpose of watching a movie and eating pizza made him want to smile. A real smile, not the plasticky ones he threw around like confetti at work.
As though Dean hadn't made a huge concession, Tony continued talking. "Besides, I was trained at an early age to love Italian sausage." This time, there was no salacious edge to his words. "But most pizza places don't do it right. Not like my mama makes. So, I usually just avoid it. And most other meats are too greasy for me."
What? "Your mother makes sausage?" Dean couldn't even fathom what would go into that. Sounded like a hell of a lot of work.
"Mmm. Yeah. I'll bring you some next time she makes them up."
Wow. It might be worth being friend-zoned for access to homemade sausages. Could they really be that different? But they still hadn't decided on pizza toppings.
"What about chicken? For the pizza, I mean."
