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Tom is sick to his stomach. He's going to throw up. With trembling fingers, he puts the envelope on Pete's bedside table, not bothering to put it back where he'd found it. It's the final straw, the nail in the coffin, the last puzzle piece that Tom needed to build a complete image of what had been going on the last few weeks, and he feels his heart breaking. Nearly thirty-five years together, flying side by side, building a home, loving deeply (or so he'd thought), and now... now it's over. The truth is staring Tom in the face, and he doesn't know what to do with it.
Pete is having an affair.
The first sign had come early in the month, a notification in Tom's personal email for a charge to his and Pete's shared credit card. It was for $150.00, and while that wasn't an unusual kind of purchase to see (Pete often used the account for plane parts or repairs on the Kawasaki), Tom hadn't recognized the business name, more suspiciously, when he went to look a little further, he couldn't find it.
Tom had let it go, though; Pete would probably tell him all about it when he got home from the hangar. His partner was never one to keep shop talk to himself. Only, when he did return, Pete had given him a quick kiss and then didn't mention anything that might explain an expense such as the one Tom had seen.
Tom hadn't let himself linger on it. Pete was a grown man, and Tom didn't have the grounds to question how he spent the money they'd agreed to share. He certainly hadn't had a reason to be worried about it. At least, not then.
Looking back, Tom could admit he'd been distant; work seemed to pile up endlessly, back-to-back assignments, debriefs, and meetings that refused to end. However, he still prided himself on being a doting lover, ensuring that even if he couldn't be there with Pete directly. But, despite his absence at their home, his suspicions something wasn't right with his lover had started to bloom.
There had been two more charges on their credit card. Both were in the hundreds, and both Tom had been able to track down.
A part of Tom had felt guilty, like it was a breach of the trust he and Pete had built after so many years, but he hadn't been able to help himself, not when Pete continued to not talk about it.
The first had been a restaurant Tom hadn't heard of, but upon finding could immediately tell it wasn't Pete's usual hole in the wall, fish and chips after. It was nice. Champagne flutes and a dresscode nice. The second, within hours of the restaurant purchase, was for a hotel Tom recognized immediately. Sometimes the Navy hosted events there. It was also very nice.
Tom's first thought hadn't been of anything nefarious. In fact, he'd been tempted to halt the card in case of fraud, but something pulled at his brain. Pete had been acting odd over the last few weeks. There were these silent moments, instances where Pete would be on the computer or his phone, looking one second brimming with joy and then frowning pensively. Then, in the blink of an eye, when he'd become aware of Tom's presence, Pete would grow guarded, his smiles looking forced. It was that underlining strangeness that had led Tom to call the hotel.
He had brought up the charge, provided them the credit card number, and waited with bated breath, hoping they would tell him there'd been an error.
"Oh yes, I see that card on file. It's under the name Mitchell. Pete Mitchell." Tom hadn't been able to say anything to the kind hotel clerk, Ethan, as a response. He'd just hung up the phone and let the information wash over him—hotels like that needed photo identification. There had been no mistaking it. Pete had made the charge.
Tom had almost called Pete right then to demand an explanation, an excuse at the very least, but he hadn't. It wouldn't do, jumping to conclusions without more proof, and Tom owed it to Pete and the love they'd based their last decades around not to fly off the handle.
But he couldn't stop the thoughts from coming in, couldn't help analyzing every moment that started to pass. Was Pete kissing him the same as he usually did? Why hadn't Pete taken the opportunity to join him in the shower before work? A chance they hadn't had in months. Was Pete finally realizing that Tom was getting older, slower, and less exciting with age? It was a struggle to circle away from those ideas when the mounting stress from more work piled on, dragging him from home more and more.
Something was bound to break.
Then... then Tom found the envelope.
He had only been looking for the spare letter opener, trying to get an early jump on the mail while Pete was on his morning jog. Instead, he'd stumbled upon the last piece of evidence his brain needed to reach the foregone conclusion he'd been pretending wasn't there.
Inside the unassuming little pocket were a keycard, a reservation slip, and a note.
Love,
Being apart like this is killing me. Let's run away together.
Yours,
Pete
Tom's entire world starts crashing down, and he doesn't even realize that his breathing has grown shallow until he tries to stand and can't, suddenly dizzy. He should be angry. He should be filling up with rage and fury at this evident betrayal, but Tom only feels a wash of cold numbness. He doesn't even register the tears on his face until he hears the sounds of footsteps thundering up the stairs, a slightly out-of-breath Pete rounding the corner in his track pants and sweat-damp t-shirt, grinning like nothing is at all the matter.
"Do you wanna do breakfast at Brad- Tom?" Tom watches through blurry eyes as Pete's smile slips, and it shouldn't hurt Tom to see the expression go, he shouldn't feel bad that he's caused a look of blind panic to replace it, but he does. His heart still traitorously hoping he's made some mistake.
Pete is in front of him in seconds, kneeling so he can meet Tom's suddenly down-turned face.
"Tom, hey, what's going on, baby? Talk to me." He reaches for Tom's hands, but Tom feels a sudden and sickening revulsion at the idea of being touched. He yanks himself away, and when Pete flinches back, Tom tries not to let it hurt him too. "Tom-" Tom doesn't let Pete finish, simply points to the bedside table where the envelope sits.
Pete is deathly silent for a moment, and Tom can see how he's frozen.
"Oh."
Oh? Tom feels something press between his ribs, a cold knife poised to strike.
"You... weren't supposed to see that."
His heart is cut clean in two.
The sound that leaves Tom's mouth is shattered, and he bites at his lips to keep any more from escaping. It's only when Pete makes to grab him again that Tom finds the strength to stand. Pete's on him, though, small but strong and wrapping him up so tightly that Tom can't fight him off. They tumble to the ground in a heap, and the only reason Pete is able to get the upper hand is that Tom is fighting hyperventilation.
There's more panic in Pete's eyes, but Tom is happy to see it now, thankful he's feeling even a shred of what Tom might be.
"Tom, Tom, I need you to talk to me, breathe baby, breathe."
Once he's able to suck in a ragged lungful of air Tom can't make the words stay inside.
"What did I do? What did I do wrong, Pete? Is it because I've been gone so much? Is it the workload? Have I not been around as much as I should?" He needs Pete to explain this to him because sick as it might be, infidelity aside, if Tom can fix it, stop it before it becomes more than what it already seems it is, he'll do it. To keep Pete beside him even if it tears him apart, he'll do it.
Tom's breathing is only marginally steadier, but he doesn't feel as untethered as before. Pete still hasn't let him go; still hasn't lost that wild, confused look as he readies himself to speak.
"I mean, yeah, it's was kinda about the work, Tom, but-" Tom makes to break from the circle of Pete's arms, nauseous all over again with the confirmation of his accusation. He thought he could take the answer, but he can't. "Hey! No, hey, hey, Jesus, Tom! Stop, what the hell-" Pete manages to get Tom locked down again, frustration now breaking through. "Why the hell are you acting like this? It was supposed to be a surprise! I thought you'd like it."
Tom feels the blood drain from his face, and finally, finally, the anger takes hold.
"You thought I'd like it? " He knows his tone is incredulous and is satisfied that the way its bite makes Pete shrink back. Still, the man is nothing if not evenly matched to Tom in all ways, never one to back down first.
"Yeah, Tom! I don't really get what all this-" he gestures to Tom's still wet face and the fact that they're on the ground, "is all about."
Tom finally manages to get Pete off him, giving himself space to gather himself, maybe even enough to feign dignity.
"It's about the fact that you're having an affair, Pete." He manages as much venom as he can, waiting for Pete to recoil in shame like he should be, like he should have the moment Tom had pointed out the most damning evidence of all. But that isn't what happens in the slightest. Instead, Pete's face goes slack with shocked confusion, all bubbling agitation wiped away in its wake.
"I- Tom, what?" Pete's voice is dumbfounded, soft in his surprise as he deflates from his position on the ground, and Tom, damn him and the love he has for this man, feels himself sinking too, the wind gone from his sails as he watches more and more as that profound lack of understanding takes over Pete's expression.
Suddenly... Tom doubts himself.
"I- there were charges on the credit card. A restaurant. A hotel." Tom feels something uncomfortable twist in his gut. "You've been acting flighty, and then there was the note, I..." The more he speaks, the longer pauses he takes, a terrible realization starts to unfold. Pete's eyes uncloud, but then well-up with hurt so deep, Tom feels it in his own chest, and fuck, oh fuck, he'd messed up, hadn't he? "Pete-"
"It was supposed to be a surprise," Pete's voice cracks just a little. "You've been so overworked lately, and I know I'm not the most romantic guy, but I thought- Tom, I would never, how could you think..."
And Pete's right. How could he have ever thought, even for a moment, that Pete would do that to him?
He sits there, the silence hanging over them uncomfortable and heavy, and mortification sets in.
"I'm sorry," Tom manages to choke out after a minute or so, heat stinging behind his eyes. He feels ridiculously young for a man his age, sitting on the bedroom floor, his husband across from him; ready to ball his eyes out again for a situation he'd been the one to create. Really, how had the thought even crossed his mind?
"Hey, hey," Pete shuffles up close, palms warm and soothing as they cup Tom's face. "It's okay, Tom, it's okay." It's not. No matter what Pete says, it's not okay that Tom has let himself jump to the conclusion that the other man was stepping out on their marriage. Excuses aside, he'd let everything press down on him until he'd broken, and in the process, he'd hurt Pete too.
"It's not-"
Pete shushes him, careful and hesitant, as he climbs into Tom's lap to weigh him down like he does when Tom jerks awake in the middle of the night from terrors his waking brain can't chase away so easily.
"I love you, okay? You know that, yeah?" And Tom's heart breaks all over again. He'd deluded himself into thinking this man might want something other than him when all evidence, aside from the pieces he'd allowed himself to misconstrue, pointed to the opposite.
"I know, God, Pete, I know, I just- everything's been so, so much lately, and I just... I can't believe I let myself think-" Pete presses a kiss to his mouth, once, twice, then trails a few more around his face for extra measure.
"Breathe, Tom." And he does, relaxing as Pete runs his fingers through his hair. "How long have you been underwater, huh? God, here I was, in my own world, and you've been struggling." Tom shakes his head, eyes clenching shut. Even after the last twenty minutes, Pete is letting it go, moving past it just to take care of Tom. It helps as much as it hurts. He'd doubted this? This love?
Eventually, Pete gets them off the ground and through a shower because he's sticky from dried sweat and Tom has been left feeling scooped out and empty. When he's pulled to the bed, Pete wrapped around him, Tom is finally calm again.
"I'm sorry, Pete," Tom squeezes the smaller man tightly, Pete humming and pressing a kiss to Tom's chest, right above his heart. "I should never have doubted you." Pete's bite makes him squawk, but then it's soothed over with a swipe of his tongue and another brush of his lips.
"We'll talk about it later, okay? Get you to spill all those nasty thoughts out of your head so we can deal with them together." Tom, emotional exhaustion making him tried, lets himself be lulled by the comfort of Pete's body and nods his agreement.
It won't be fun later. Dragging it all up, addressing it, but it's needed, and Tom has always felt braver with Pete by his side to get through it.
Right when he's about to drift off completely, Pete whispers again.
"Hey, Ice?" Tom can feel Pete's small smile on his skin. "Run away with me?"