“Pass me the wrench, will you, dear?”
Tom paused in the middle of taking a sip of his coffee, nearly choked on it as he looked between David – standing on top of a stepladder, intent of fixing a leak – and Dave, who didn’t as much as blink as he handed over the required tool. Nah, there was no way David of all people would slip up and resort to pet names; he’d simply misheard him, that was all.
At least, that was what he kept telling himself, even as those instances started repeating more and more frequently. And the most maddening detail of all was how they both acted as if that was perfectly normal, and not at all one of those things that David had explicitly forbidden in the early days of their forced cohabitation.
“How’s the traffic looking out there, darling?” David rattled off into the microphone, fake cheerfulness firmly in place, even as he glanced at Tom out of the corner of his eye.
Oh, right, that made a lot of sense, actually. He sighed in mock annoyance as Dave pulled a face like a love-struck idiot, got up to help himself to a handful of biscuits.