*
Patrick comes in at gone midnight, when Noah’s once again sitting up alone in the darkness, watching the telly.
Noah’s not seen him since the incident in the club’s bathroom, Patrick having disappeared soon after, and he’s glad for it. He wouldn’t have been ready to face him this morning, wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye without wanting to die, the ground to open and swallow him whole.
But he’s had an entire day to come to terms with it now, and he’s not fine about it, not at all, but he can cope.
Patrick stops in the living room, looks at the TV.
“Come Dine With Me?”
“Yep.”
“D’you want a cuppa?”
“Yeah, if you’re making one.”
And just like that Patrick goes to the kitchen, and he puts the kettle on, and things feel normal enough. And while Noah knows he’s lying to himself, it’s a coping mechanism that’s working for him, so he goes with it.
“Here you go,” Patrick says a minute later, handing him a hot mug of tea.
“Ta.”
Patrick sits beside him, puts his feet up on the coffee table, blows the steam from his mug. “So where are we tonight?” he asks, nodding at the telly.
“Southampton.”
“Went there on holiday once.”
Noah turns his head to look at him. “When you were a kid?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, nodding. “Connor’s family used to own a house down there. Not sure if they still do.”
Noah huffs out a laugh. “They seem to own houses everywhere.”
“Well at least you know you’ll never be homeless,” Patrick says with a smirk.
They settle into silence, and they make it through half the episode before Noah’s coping mechanism disintegrates around him. He was fine while Patrick wasn’t here, and he was fine while Patrick was talking, but now they’re just sitting here, and they’re not saying anything, and the elephant in the room is swelling and expanding until Noah has to mention it, can’t just sweep it under the carpet like he so wants to.
He sucks in a breath of courage. “Look, about last night—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Patrick says instantly, cutting him off, as though he was waiting for it. His tone is low and dark, and there’s a hint of warning there.
Noah can’t let it go, though, because he’s a tenacious idiot, and Patrick might not be affected by what happened, but he is. He’s never been in that kind of situation before, seeing something he shouldn’t, something dangerous, unable to look away from it. He can’t get it out of his head, and he doesn’t want Patrick to think that he doesn’t care, that he feels no guilt or awkwardness about invading such an intimate moment. Not just invading it, but sticking around to watch.
“I just. I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”
“It’s a public bathroom, Noah,” Patrick says levelly. “You’re hardly to blame.”
“Do you—I mean.” He can’t believe he’s about to ask this, but he has to know, has had the question going round in his brain all day. “Is that something you do a lot?”
Patrick takes a few moments to answer. “A man has needs,” he says slowly, his tone measured. He looks into his mug as he speaks. “But I’m not usually so… I like to think I have more dignity than that.”
“So why’d you do it last night?”
“I guess I just didn’t have the patience to go somewhere more private.” He smiles wryly to himself, and then he looks over at Noah, and it’s the first proper eye contact they’ve had since he walked in and Noah’s hit with it, his chest seizing. “I was too…worked up.”
Horny , is the word he’s looking for, and Noah licks his lips, wants to press for more, searching Patrick’s face for a hint of something else. But he doesn’t know how he can ask more questions without coming across as massively inappropriate, so it’s with a sigh of disappointment that he decides to drop it.
“Well, still. I’m sorry.”
Patrick still hasn’t looked away, and the television
Patrick comes in at gone midnight, when Noah’s once again sitting up alone in the darkness, watching the telly.
Noah’s not seen him since the incident in the club’s bathroom, Patrick having disappeared soon after, and he’s glad for it. He wouldn’t have been ready to face him this morning, wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye without wanting to die, the ground to open and swallow him whole.
But he’s had an entire day to come to terms with it now, and he’s not fine about it, not at all, but he can cope.
Patrick stops in the living room, looks at the TV.
“Come Dine With Me?”
“Yep.”
“D’you want a cuppa?”
“Yeah, if you’re making one.”
And just like that Patrick goes to the kitchen, and he puts the kettle on, and things feel normal enough. And while Noah knows he’s lying to himself, it’s a coping mechanism that’s working for him, so he goes with it.
“Here you go,” Patrick says a minute later, handing him a hot mug of tea.
“Ta.”
Patrick sits beside him, puts his feet up on the coffee table, blows the steam from his mug. “So where are we tonight?” he asks, nodding at the telly.
“Southampton.”
“Went there on holiday once.”
Noah turns his head to look at him. “When you were a kid?”
“Yeah,” Patrick says, nodding. “Connor’s family used to own a house down there. Not sure if they still do.”
Noah huffs out a laugh. “They seem to own houses everywhere.”
“Well at least you know you’ll never be homeless,” Patrick says with a smirk.
They settle into silence, and they make it through half the episode before Noah’s coping mechanism disintegrates around him. He was fine while Patrick wasn’t here, and he was fine while Patrick was talking, but now they’re just sitting here, and they’re not saying anything, and the elephant in the room is swelling and expanding until Noah has to mention it, can’t just sweep it under the carpet like he so wants to.
He sucks in a breath of courage. “Look, about last night—”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Patrick says instantly, cutting him off, as though he was waiting for it. His tone is low and dark, and there’s a hint of warning there.
Noah can’t let it go, though, because he’s a tenacious idiot, and Patrick might not be affected by what happened, but he is. He’s never been in that kind of situation before, seeing something he shouldn’t, something dangerous, unable to look away from it. He can’t get it out of his head, and he doesn’t want Patrick to think that he doesn’t care, that he feels no guilt or awkwardness about invading such an intimate moment. Not just invading it, but sticking around to watch.
“I just. I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”
“It’s a public bathroom, Noah,” Patrick says levelly. “You’re hardly to blame.”
“Do you—I mean.” He can’t believe he’s about to ask this, but he has to know, has had the question going round in his brain all day. “Is that something you do a lot?”
Patrick takes a few moments to answer. “A man has needs,” he says slowly, his tone measured. He looks into his mug as he speaks. “But I’m not usually so… I like to think I have more dignity than that.”
“So why’d you do it last night?”
“I guess I just didn’t have the patience to go somewhere more private.” He smiles wryly to himself, and then he looks over at Noah, and it’s the first proper eye contact they’ve had since he walked in and Noah’s hit with it, his chest seizing. “I was too…worked up.”
Horny , is the word he’s looking for, and Noah licks his lips, wants to press for more, searching Patrick’s face for a hint of something else. But he doesn’t know how he can ask more questions without coming across as massively inappropriate, so it’s with a sigh of disappointment that he decides to drop it.
“Well, still. I’m sorry.”
Patrick still hasn’t looked away, and the television
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