yours forever?”
“You're cut off from drinking right now.”
Griffin laughed, leaning against Jim. “I love you. I love teasing your grouchy ass.”
“Mmmmm, tell me that's a euphemism for something, please.”
“We have a play to go to, but afterward, I promise.” He tipped his head for a kiss and Jim, as per usual, was unable to resist.
“Ahem,” Jim heard Matt say as they pulled apart. Matt and Evan had returned; Matt was smiling, a little sadly, and Evan—Evan was looking around in a slightly frantic way, as if to see what reactions around them were.
There were, of course, no reactions that Jim cared about, but he gave a glance as well. No one seemed moved by their tame kiss to look up from their meals.
“Sorry,” Jim said, giving Evan a sympathetic look. Suddenly the discomfort seemed to be a bit clearer.
“Don't be. Just don't get carried away. Don't want Evan to have to arrest you,” Matt said lightly. He sat down and shook his empty beer bottle. “Seen the waiter?”
“Yeah, we should get some coffee,” Griffin said, though he looked a bit longingly at his martini glass.
“Maybe Irish coffee is a good compromise,” Jim offered. He looked around until he caught the eye of their waiter. He hoped he communicated, “Come quickly, please,” to get him to hurry.
“Dessert? Coffee?” he asked.
“God, yes—and another round of drinks.” Griffin bit his lip a second later. “Let me speak for myself—just me is fine.”
“And me,” Matt said.
“Hey, ditto.” Jim coughed into his hand. “And a pot of coffee.” He glanced at his boyfriend. “Chocolate cake?”
“How well you know me.” He turned to the waiter. “Two pieces of chocolate cake.”
Jim looked at Matt, who looked at Evan, who looked at the waiter. There was a long pause.
“Sounds good. I'll have the same,” Evan said finally.
“Nothing for me but the beer.” Matt finished off the ordering, and the waiter left. The silence lingered.
“So, Evan”—Griffin leaned on the table, all fake cheer—“thanks for having dinner with us. I know it must be a little awkward.”
“Oh God.” Jim kicked him under the table so hard his shoe nearly flew off.
Griffin ignored him. “Really. I think it's great that we don't let any of that ruin Jim and Matt's friendship.”
Evan's mouth moved, but didn't open; he was flat-out flummoxed.
“I mean—hey, let's face it. We don't come into a relationship without baggage, right? We have all this stuff that comes with us. And you have to deal with it, or whoa—elephant in the room.”
“Which I wish would sit on you,” Jim murmured. He looked helplessly at Matt.
“I'm just saying, I understand.” Griffin rolled his eyes. “I'm being sympathetic.”
“You're also being a brat. Sorry.”
“Ugh, did you just apologize for me? Jesus Christ, Jim—I'm going to pop you in the jaw when we get outside.”
Matt…laughed.
“I like him,” he said. Jim noticed he didn't have his arm on the back of Evan's chair, wasn't leaning into his space.
“You want him? He's housebroken.”
Griffin was still focused on Evan; they were locked into some sort of staring contest.
“Shut up, like you could live without me.”
Jim considered this. “An excellent point.”
Griffin settled in, elbows on the table, not blinking.
Evan did the same.
Jim looked around for the waiter.
* * *
“Really? That was just crazy shit,” Jim fussed, herding Griffin into a cab after saying good-bye to Matt and Evan—who had headed off toward the parking garage with a cloud of “oh we're gonna fight” gliding over them. “Did you have to get into a pissing match?”
“There was no pissing. There was staring.” Griffin gave the address of the theater to the cabby. “And you know what? I get all the other shit, I do. I get he's uncomfortable with you, with me. But did you catch his expression whenever you got too close to me? My grandmother is more tolerant than he
“You're cut off from drinking right now.”
Griffin laughed, leaning against Jim. “I love you. I love teasing your grouchy ass.”
“Mmmmm, tell me that's a euphemism for something, please.”
“We have a play to go to, but afterward, I promise.” He tipped his head for a kiss and Jim, as per usual, was unable to resist.
“Ahem,” Jim heard Matt say as they pulled apart. Matt and Evan had returned; Matt was smiling, a little sadly, and Evan—Evan was looking around in a slightly frantic way, as if to see what reactions around them were.
There were, of course, no reactions that Jim cared about, but he gave a glance as well. No one seemed moved by their tame kiss to look up from their meals.
“Sorry,” Jim said, giving Evan a sympathetic look. Suddenly the discomfort seemed to be a bit clearer.
“Don't be. Just don't get carried away. Don't want Evan to have to arrest you,” Matt said lightly. He sat down and shook his empty beer bottle. “Seen the waiter?”
“Yeah, we should get some coffee,” Griffin said, though he looked a bit longingly at his martini glass.
“Maybe Irish coffee is a good compromise,” Jim offered. He looked around until he caught the eye of their waiter. He hoped he communicated, “Come quickly, please,” to get him to hurry.
“Dessert? Coffee?” he asked.
“God, yes—and another round of drinks.” Griffin bit his lip a second later. “Let me speak for myself—just me is fine.”
“And me,” Matt said.
“Hey, ditto.” Jim coughed into his hand. “And a pot of coffee.” He glanced at his boyfriend. “Chocolate cake?”
“How well you know me.” He turned to the waiter. “Two pieces of chocolate cake.”
Jim looked at Matt, who looked at Evan, who looked at the waiter. There was a long pause.
“Sounds good. I'll have the same,” Evan said finally.
“Nothing for me but the beer.” Matt finished off the ordering, and the waiter left. The silence lingered.
“So, Evan”—Griffin leaned on the table, all fake cheer—“thanks for having dinner with us. I know it must be a little awkward.”
“Oh God.” Jim kicked him under the table so hard his shoe nearly flew off.
Griffin ignored him. “Really. I think it's great that we don't let any of that ruin Jim and Matt's friendship.”
Evan's mouth moved, but didn't open; he was flat-out flummoxed.
“I mean—hey, let's face it. We don't come into a relationship without baggage, right? We have all this stuff that comes with us. And you have to deal with it, or whoa—elephant in the room.”
“Which I wish would sit on you,” Jim murmured. He looked helplessly at Matt.
“I'm just saying, I understand.” Griffin rolled his eyes. “I'm being sympathetic.”
“You're also being a brat. Sorry.”
“Ugh, did you just apologize for me? Jesus Christ, Jim—I'm going to pop you in the jaw when we get outside.”
Matt…laughed.
“I like him,” he said. Jim noticed he didn't have his arm on the back of Evan's chair, wasn't leaning into his space.
“You want him? He's housebroken.”
Griffin was still focused on Evan; they were locked into some sort of staring contest.
“Shut up, like you could live without me.”
Jim considered this. “An excellent point.”
Griffin settled in, elbows on the table, not blinking.
Evan did the same.
Jim looked around for the waiter.
* * *
“Really? That was just crazy shit,” Jim fussed, herding Griffin into a cab after saying good-bye to Matt and Evan—who had headed off toward the parking garage with a cloud of “oh we're gonna fight” gliding over them. “Did you have to get into a pissing match?”
“There was no pissing. There was staring.” Griffin gave the address of the theater to the cabby. “And you know what? I get all the other shit, I do. I get he's uncomfortable with you, with me. But did you catch his expression whenever you got too close to me? My grandmother is more tolerant than he
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