Work Text:
“Manager said we can wear costumes on Halloween!”
Those decorating the break room whooped and cheered. Thomas and Charles hi-fived. Billy, the one who asked the manager and delivered the good news, received many thanks and shoulder pats as compensation. The process of accessorize the space with child-friendly Halloween ornaments sped up with enthusiastic zeal. Everyone began to question one another about their costumes, some coordinating together for a common theme. Everyone seemed to be revitalized by the prospect of dress-up fun on Halloween.
Except Phillip Hart. He kept reading his historical novel, occasionally bringing his steaming cup of raspberry herbal tea to his mouth and sipping it. This book was decent so far, if a little paint-by-numbers, but it was written well enough for Phillip to like it. In a way, the cliches were a little assuring. If nothing surprised him too badly, it made for a relaxing read. And when his team squawked about the possibility of a costume contest, relaxation was in short supply.
It’s worth it, he reminded himself. Frank hadn’t been as difficult to convince before Billy asked as Phillip had expected. Their manager was an eccentric man himself, always insisting on curling his hair into the same ugly perm every few months and dressing way out of date for the 21st century. Eye sore colors, terrible patterns, anachronistic accessories- nothing was off the table. When Phillip had planted the idea of costume wearing into Frank’s head, the man thought it over, muttering to himself about how he could use the opportunity to wear “that.” Phillip possessed no desire to learn what “that” was, but it did mean that he more readily agreed that allowing costumes on Halloween would cultivate office morale, and now it was Phillip’s job to ensure that that morale didn’t subsequently distract his team from their actual job while on the clock.
He also… didn’t have a costume. To Phillip, Halloween fell under the category of ‘Things that Were Fun as a Kid but Lost Novelty as an Adult.’ It’d been at least a decade since he’d worn anything for the holiday, when he tried out one college party and left early. He considered wearing his normal attire and letting the rest have their fun. This was all more about keeping the team happy and not having them quit all at once (again) than it was about Phillip’s own festive enjoyment. Maybe, if he bought a few cheap accessories, he could cobble something together with what he already had in his closet.
Before he could decide whether he wanted to go with plastic vampire fangs (which would probably be uncomfortable) or wings (he wondered which would look the least stupid), a buzz in his pocket distracted him from his inner debate. Phillip checked his phone to skim the notification. It was a text message. The name of the sender read, “Rome” with a winking emoji. That was how the sender himself entered in the number, and though Phillip made sure to scoff when he saw it, never did he change it.
Hey, got any plans for Halloween?
Phillip blinked, then reread it again. His fingers typed out a response.
Only work, why?
My roommates and I are throwing a
little Halloween party the night of. I
wanted to know if you might swing by.
Phillip blinked again. He knew adults threw Halloween parties. That wasn’t very surprising. The surprising part was more that Phillip had been invited. Anyone who knew Phillip personally- and who knew Phillip vaguely- knew that parties were the antithesis of what Phillip considered an enjoyable environment. Too many people he’d never approach, too much noise that would overwhelm him and too many smells lingering in the air and mixing together. Small gatherings with at least some people he knew? Fine. Great, even. Even reserved recluses needed a little socialization sometimes. But big parties? Absolutely not.
But it was Rome asking, and Rome always had a way of making Phillip feel like he could go out of his comfort zone. Worst part was, the bastard really had no idea how easily Phillip agreed to things simply because the request came from him. All Rome had to do was smile, and Phillip’s normally sharp tongue about things he hated was rendered useless. If he got five minutes with Rome out of it, Phillip would do a lot of things he normally wouldn’t.
Maybe I will, if I can figure out a costume.
He would.
When his break ended, Phillip returned to his cubicle and brought a fresh cup of tea with him. He sat down in his mediocre swivel chair, not even fazed when the bad leg squeaked under the pressure. Phillip turned his office computer on again and entered the login information. Some days, like that day, the bright light from the device harshly scorched Phillip’s eyes, and he blinked and rubbed at them far more often. Maybe he needed eye drops. Or to not be hunched over at an office job. Or just to rest for a while.
While he waited for his home screen to load, Phillip’s phone buzzed again.
I can help with that.
I’ve got angel costume I don’t
plan on using, if you’re interested.
Well that was easy. There had to be some kind of catch, right? But Rome wasn’t the type to pull a deception like that.
Sounds great, thanks.
Anytime.
Why don’t I pick you up from work?
I can give it to you then.
Sure, that works.
See you then.
Talking so casually about borrowing costumes and picking each other up from work, many would assume that Phillip and Rome had been years-long friends. In reality, they’d only known each other a measly six months. For Phillip, maintaining a friendship that long was an accomplishment, but he doubted Rome, someone so charming and photogenic that he made a living modeling, really thought the same. A man like him probably made friends in minutes and knew people everywhere. He wasn’t like Phillip, who struggled to find anyone he enjoyed the company of. The two made an odd pair, one that shouldn’t work as well as they did, but Phillip wouldn’t trade their unlikely friendship for anything.
Well, maybe one thing, but he didn’t allow himself to hope for that.
Phillip tried to focus on his work after that, but every now and then, his mind would wander and wonder what costume Rome planned on wearing, if he wasn’t going to use his angel one. Maybe a demon, he mused to himself. It would certainly highlight their contrasting personas. But Rome could easily make any costume look good. The possibilities were endless.
Still, the idea of him as a demon continued to plague Phillip’s thoughts. Phillip chuckled at the mental image of Rome wearing red horns attached to a headband and holding a small, matching trident. Knowing Rome, he’d make sure that the clothes were properly suited to the theme. They’d probably lean towards a punk or rock look: a tank top with a dangerously low neckline that would make Phillip’s mouth water; that leather jacket Rome let Phillip borrow after cold outings that Phillip would wear to bed afterwards; a belt studded with spikes that unnecessarily held up ripped black skinny jeans hiding a prize Phillip would get on his knees and beg for if he thought it would work out well-
What Rome would be wearing didn’t matter. It was nice of him to offer the angel costume. That was what Phillip needed to be focusing on.
But what he wouldn’t give to have one night where Rome would do whatever he wanted with Phillip’s body. Seize him, strip him bare, have his way with him and ruin him. Phillip would try to make it good. His experience with sex was laughably little for a man in his early thirties, but he’d do his best-
“Mr. Hart!” Thomas called for him. “Are you going to wear a costume for-“
As he entered the cubicle, he found Phillip hunched over his lap, covering it, his eyes refusing to look anywhere near the intern.
“Mr. Hart?” Thomas repeated, concerned. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Phillip wheezed out. “Just… having a stomachache.”
“Oh. Do you need me to get you-“
“I’ll be fine on my own, thanks.”
After that near disaster, Phillip forced himself to think of work and nothing else. He turned the brightness down on his computer and checked his email for anything pressing. There were a couple he could write short answers to, and the rest required longer messages. Once his inbox was dealt with, Phillip could focus on his actual tasks that still needed to be completed. The day’s workload wasn’t unbearable. It was mostly surveying the progress of the current project and a bunch of numbers that had to be calculated, but Phillip felt perfectly content with numbers. He prepared himself, however, for whatever awaited him once he asked his Halloween-happy team members if they’d actually gotten anything done in the last hour.
“Ah, sorry, Phillip! I’ll get on it now.”
“R-Right away, sir!”
“Oh, right! Thanks for the reminder.”
Absolutely none of them remembered their actual jobs. Of course. Hopefully, they’d be calm by tomorrow, or Phillip was going to start regretting every life choice that led him to be nice.
By the time he clocked out, Phillip had largely put the small fiasco out of his mind. It was embarrassing, yes, but he avoided the worst-case scenario, and that was enough. It wasn’t a big deal. It was nothing, because nothing significant happened and there was no significant reason it happened. Simple as that.
He’d nearly forgotten Rome’s promise to pick him up, so when Phillip saw the man’s car parked outside, it was a split second before he remembered why it was there. His feet redirected themselves towards the sleek black car, guiding him there by autopilot. This wasn’t the first time Rome had picked him up from work. Not even the tenth. It was to the point that seeing Rome’s car and walking over to it was a natural occurrence. Phillip presumed this was normal for friendship. He didn’t have many references outside of his sisters. Rome never treated it as anything out of the ordinary, so Phillip took his cues from him.
Phillip slid easily into a leather seat that was pristine, just how Phillip liked. The car’s entire interior was well-maintained, and a freshener always hung from the rear-view mirror. This month’s was candle shaped, displaying an image of pumpkins on the front and back. Its scent was inoffensive and certainly better than the others that made him feel ill after a while. He reached for the seat belt and buckled himself in before turning towards the man in the driver’s seat watching him.
Even dressed down, Rome couldn’t help his handsomeness. He had a sort of lumberjack look going on, with a red and black flannel jacket over a white shirt and blue jeans to complete the outfit. Straight brown hair fell to his shoulders, which Phillip knew from a few lucky allowances was soft to touch. Tan skin remained unblemished, and Phillip was convinced Rome never had acne a day in his life. Bright brown eyes and a sweet smile greeted him.
“Have a good day?” Rome asked.
Phillip ignored the unimportant incident. “It was alright. Everyone is excited that they can wear costumes in the office on Halloween.”
“Right, before I forget…”
Rome reached into the backseat. His shirt rode up, unveiling the tiniest sliver of torso. Not that Phillip stared. He very respectfully looked away and willed himself to not fixate on the muscle or the hair or its proximity to other parts Phillip Hart had no business thinking of. After some effort, Rome pulled back, holding a maroon fabric bag in his hand. Philip accepted it with quiet thanks and opened it to peek inside. A costume halo and pair of wings were delicately placed atop a silken shirt tinged with the lightest shade of blue and snow white trousers.
Phillip furrowed his brow. “The clothes are pretty high quality.” And not really what he’d expect from a store-bought angel costume.
Rome scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, right. About that. Most angel costumes come with the ugliest robes, so when I dressed up as an angel one year, I only got the accessories and just raided my closet for the clothes. Luckily, I still had everything.”
Phillip looked in the bag again. These were Rome’s clothes. Not just a one-off costume for a holiday. Clothes he presumably wore with some frequency. And he gave them to Phillip to wear. He was going to be dressed in Rome’s clothes.
This had to be fine, right? Phillip had borrowed Rome’s jacket before. He bought Phillip those earrings that he still couldn’t believe the price of. This wasn’t completely unprecedented. Maybe Rome didn’t wear these shirt and slacks much anymore, and he didn’t think much about lending them to Phillip. Right. That had to be it. Reading too much into things could only end in avoidable awkwardness that would definitely crush Phillip’s soul a little-
“Or you can just take the accessories,” Rome offered, hands already reaching for the bag, “if that’s all you really need-“
“No,” Phillip replied quickly, pulling the bag to his chest. “This is good. Thank you, Rome.”
Rome smiled. His dropped into a relaxed pose. Phillip hadn’t even noticed they were tense until then.
“No problem,” Rome told him. “Are you hungry?”
Being picked up by Rome almost always meant getting a meal together. They had a few favorites by now, like the café they frequented on Saturdays, or the seafood place Rome drove them to that evening. Like every other decent restaurant they went to, the lights were dim, even as the sun began to set while they were inside. White table cloths, white plates and white napkins without stains bragged of cleanliness. The servers all dressed in wrinkle-free button ups and kept their hair short and neat or long and tied up. The presentation was a little upscale, but the prices were reasonable, so it was a good fit for them both.
Phillip was consistent in what he ordered. A small plate of calamari and some fish and chips. Rome varied more in his taste, typically cycling through a few different options and occasionally trying something new. That day, it was a filet of halibut with a balsamic vinaigrette. Phillip steadily ate at his food, having become fairly peckish since lunch.
“So, your work is allowing costumes on Halloween?” Rome asked between bites. “That’s nice of them.”
“I thought it’d be a harder sell, honestly,” Phillip admitted, “but management was pretty agreeable to the idea. They’re all looking forward to it now, although they were a little too distracted by it for a while…” He noticed Rome’s suppressed grin. “What?”
“Nothing,” Rome answered. “Just… when we first met, you would have had a lot more complaints about it. Now you’re only a tad annoyed that people were slacking off.”
Phillip felt his cheeks flush. What Rome said wasn’t wrong, but the unspoken part of that observation was that Phillip’s recent leniency with his team was because Rome called him out on his micromanaging and strictness as the reason his first team all quit. At the time, it’d been harsh, but with hindsight, Phillip appreciated the honesty. Things were better work now mood-wise, and the office didn’t collapse because Phillip stopped breathing down everyone’s necks constantly- and not needing to do that all of the time also lowered some of Phillip’s blood pressure.
Jesus, how had they only known each other for six months? It became harder to remember that there’d been a time before Rome taking him or for lunch or dinner and holding Phillip accountable for his bullshit and making him want to be a better man so he could see that radiant face of approval Rome was giving him now. Before, Phillip hadn’t taken much stock in the idea that there were people you just clicked with. But Rome made him a believer in many things he hadn’t believed in before.
“Think you’ll wear the costume to work?” Rome pressed further. “Or just for the party?”
Phillip mulled that over. “I might. It’ll be easier than needing to change. And I guess I could stand to go along with everyone else for a day.”
Rome nodded in agreement. “I think they’d be pleasantly surprised.”
The tables at the restaurant were small, leaving a scant amount of legroom. Because of this, Phillip and Rome’s feet were always a mere centimeter from touching. So when Phillip felt the toe of Rome’s shoe against the side of his foot, it didn’t faze him very much. And when it lingered, he decided not to dwell on it.
“How many people are going to be at the party?” Phillip inquired. “If you and all of your roommates are throwing it, I’m guessing it’s going to be a big gathering.”
Rome shrugged. “I guess. I know that’s not super your thing, so you can always hide away or leave early if you need to. Any time you can spare already means a lot.”
“I know it does, that’s why I’m going.” And any time I can have with you I will gladly take. “I can endure a little party.”
“Still, if you need the break, you can hole up in my room. I keep it locked when I have parties, but I’ll give you the key.”
Phillip’s chest tightened. “Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of trust to be putting in me.”
Their calves pressed together. A shiver worked its way through Phillip without his consent. Vicious fluttering in his stomach interrupted his appetite. His heart beat so fast he felt the pulse in his throat. But this was fine, because Phillip wasn’t accustomed to casual touch outside of his family. Or Rome holding his hand. Of course he experienced a notable reaction. This. Was. Normal.
Rome leaned over the table and softly said, “Good thing I trust you, then.”
Gentle warmth heated Phillip from the inside out, fighting diligently against the restaurant’s chilling air conditioning. Must be his body’s way of regulating his internal temperature. But it was surprising, and maybe a bit flattering, to hear Rome say out loud that he trusted Phillip with something as important as his own room, his private space. But he was probably trying to accommodate for Phillip to be nice. Rome was considerate like that. It was sweet. Phillip really liked that about him.
“Okay, then,” Phillip replied. “Thank you.”
I like you more than I should and that scares me.
When they left the restaurant, Rome drove Phillip back to his tenement. Phillip tuned out the easy listening station that the car radio played through the speakers. Otherwise, the ride back was quiet, and Phillip breathed in deep, finding an inner calmness through the scene of the dark sky, passing streetlights, him and Rome sharing the peaceful night.
“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” Phillip questioned. Familiar buildings came and went from outside the passenger window.
“No,” Rome answered, eyes on the road. “Do you want to do something?”
“If you want to.” Please want to.
“Of course. What time?”
They agreed to an afternoon movie to see that new fantasy film Rome had been looking forward to the last few months. Rome pulled up to the tenement and put the car in park. The engine hummed, keeping the vehicle alive and running while it waited to be on the move again. An emptiness nagged at him when he opened the door, knowing he had to go back up to his flat by himself. That didn’t used to happen before… before…
Rome reminded him, “Don’t forget your costume.”
Right. Phillip nearly forgot. He grabbed the bag and said, “Thanks. For the costume and the invite and everything else.”
A bit of hair dislodged itself from Phillip’s bun, its sandy blonde hue at the corner of his vision. Before Phillip could move to fix it, Rome did so instead. His warm, slightly calloused fingertips brushed against Phillip’s temple as he pushed the stray strands out of the way. Those kind brown eyes and sincere smile made Phillip dizzy. His mind stuttered. His chest beat wildly.
“It’s no problem,” Rome assured him gently.
The fingers didn’t retreat. Instead, they traced their way down to Phillip’s jawline and stayed there, cupped around the hinge and ghosting the bottom of Phillip’s ear. Phillip’s breathing picked up. Despite it, he wasn’t sure he was getting enough oxygen, with how fuzzy his thoughts were becoming. They muddled into an incoherent stream of consciousness that lacked organization or filter.
“Hey, Rome?” Phillip mumbled.
“Yeah?”
“Could… uh…”
Who says we have to say goodnight yet? Come upstairs with me. Press me against the door and kiss me. Take me to my bed and shag me into my mattress all night. You could have me all to yourself.
“Could you pick me up for the movie?”
Rome’s expression didn’t change, but he paused for a moment before answering, “Sure.”
Rome did a lot of funny things to Phillip. And one was those things was that he turned Phillip into a coward.
***
Once the accessories were on, Phillip checked his appearance in the mirror. He hadn’t realized it until he’d actually taken it out of the bag, but the shirt Rome gave him had an extremely low cut. So low that a sizeable triangle of his chest was visible, hair and all. That would be fine at a party, but he had to go to work first, so he threw a white tank top beneath it for the time being. The trousers were fine for a work setting, though they were tighter fitting than what he’d normally choose for himself. He couldn’t say the clothes didn’t look good. Actually, he hadn’t realized he and Rome were that close in size until now. The shirt hugged his waist properly, its sleeves widened fashionably at the ends, and when he finally ditched the tank top, he might even look something resembling attractive. Phillip didn’t bother with revealing clothes, but if Rome liked it on him- but he might have to consider them more after this. At least for an occasion that would suit it.
Phillip noticed that the wings were a bit crooked, so he righted them as best as they would allow, but, being a cheap costume piece, it was finicky at best. The halo was fastened well enough, and after many minutes of deliberating, Phillip decided it paired best with only the sides of his hair tied back. He hoped he didn’t accidentally bump into a doorframe with the extra centimeters. There’s also been a white ribbon in the bag that he hadn’t noticed at first that fit his neck enough to tie there as a choker. What if Rome choked him with it? It looked better than he expected, so he kept it on.
At the office, he never told anyone he’d be wearing anything, and they must have assumed he wouldn’t have been very invested in the idea of dress-up. So when Phillip arrived in attire much different than his normal getup, complete with the halo and wings, he earned surprised stares from just about everyone he passed by. When his own team saw him, their jaws hit the floor.
“Oh wow, Mr. Hart!” Thomas exclaimed. He went with a classic vampire look, cape and all. Fake blood trails were painted from the corner of his mouth to his chin. “That’s a great costume on you!”
“You were holding out on us,” Billy remarked. He was dressed as Sherlock Holmes. A magnifying glass poked out of his breast pocket. “Who knew you could do something fun?”
“Hey, Holmes,” Charles called. He was wrapped with white streamers to complete his mummification. “Where’s Watson?”
“At Serendipity,” Billy answered. “Raphael’s dressed as him.”
“Ha, nice. I want a picture of that.”
A wolf whistle came from behind. Phillip turned around and stifled a groan once he saw who it was. Felix, as arrogant as the day he started working there, smugly ogled around Phillip’s arse. A short-tempered frustration flashed in Phillip’s chest, overheating his brain.
“Damn, Hart,” Felix assessed. He donned one of those policeman costumes that were meant to be sexy, and Phillip can only wonder how it passed the dress code with shorts that short. “Who finally taught you how to dress?”
“Your mom,” Billy retorted flatly.
Johnny cackled and slapped a werewolf paw over his mouth. Charles and Thomas similarly snickered at Felix’s reddening face. At the office, most people on Phillip’s team had initially been too scared to ever say a word against him. The only one to ever push the envelope was Billy, and once Phillip started becoming more lenient, Billy became freer with his thoughts. This led to a very important, unspoken rule: At the office, the only one allowed to bully Phillip was Billy, and he took that title very seriously. If anyone ever dared, they’d end up on the receiving end of his unbridled commentary.
“Piss off,” Felix hissed. “Nobody asked you.”
“Nobody asked for you to take up oxygen in this room, either.”
Felix ignored that quip and returned to leering Phillip up and down. “Seriously, though, where was this hiding in your closet? Don’t tell me you leave all the fun clothes at home.”
Phillip seethed inside. “They aren’t from my closet,” he announced and only realized it a second too late.
Everyone was already staring.
“Oh?” Felix raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Who did you get them from? What’s their number? They sound like a good time.”
Don’t talk about Rome that way, you wanker. I’ll make sure you shut up.
“My partner gave them to me,” he answered coolly. “He was very insistent that I wear this.” Phillip looked down at his covered chest. “Well, except the tank top. You know how HR can be. But I’ll have it off when I see him later.”
The immediate reactions were, admittedly, pretty funny. Felix’s expression froze into one of pure helpless befuddlement. Thomas and Johnny’s jaws dropped for the second time, and their eyes could have popped out of their head at any moment. Charles stared, unblinking, and when Billy cleared his throat and held out his hand, Charles grumbled as he handed Billy a fiver.
Phillip was going to pretend that that last part didn’t happen.
Sorry, Rome. I’ll clear things up with the others later. Just not this one knob.
“You? Have a boyfriend?” Felix questioned him. “Since when?”
Since I made it up. “Why would I tell you?” Phillip deflected. “He’s throwing a party tonight, so he gave me something to wear.” Phillip added again, “Minus the tank top.”
Felix snorted. “He’s going to let you at a party looking like that? He’s stronger than me. I would’ve had that for my eyes only.”
Phillip could roll his eyes. It wasn’t more scandalous of a costume than that stupid cop outfit. The whole thing reeked of annoying possessive machismo. Something Feliz was spouting just to get the desired reaction out of him. Too bad.
“Good thing I don’t like insecure men, then.”
Charles laughed so hard tears sprung from his eyes. Billy smirked with a nod of approval. Thomas giggled and tried to hide it. Felix clenched his teeth and glared at him.
“Yeah,” Jonny egged on, “you think Phillip would put up with that rubbish? Phillip? Have you gone mad?”
“If anyone here would refuse to compromise their standards,” Billy said, “and choose to die alone instead, it would be Phillip.”
...He was going to let that one slide.
“Is there anything else you needed?” Phillip demanded, eyes narrowed at Felix. “Or did you just come in here to waste everyone’s time?”
Felix scoffed. “Whatever. I was trying to be nice. You don’t look that good.” And he walked away in a huff.
Finally. What an arsehole.
“Mr. Hart?” Thomas wondered, “Do you really have a boyfriend?”
Phillip sighed. “No. I did have a friend give this to me for his Halloween party, but that’s all.” He sent them all an icy stare that had the team straightening their backs. “So don’t go telling people I do. And don’t go correcting Felix’s… perception of things.”
Johnny raised his hand. “But what if we catch Felix telling other people you have a boyfriend?”
“…Call him gullible. Rub salt in the wound.”
“Yes, sir!”
From then on, the workday progressed in a fairly ordinary fashion. There were some more genuine compliments towards his costume which he accepted contentedly. It even felt a little nice to be on the receiving end of the positive attention. The hours ticked by until 5, and then Phillip was free to return home and get ready for the party.
First, though he knew exactly what kind of responses he’d receive, Phillip texted his sisters about his whereabouts for the night in case anything happened. Phillip trusted Rome, but that didn’t mean everyone at the party would be trustworthy. Once that was done, he took a shower. He’s probably need one again after being in a house with so many germ-riddled people, but he at least wanted to show up fresh, and he needed to wash himself sooner than later so his hair could dry. And after that, he could put the costume’s trop, trousers and choker back on without any undershirt, and the accessories could wait until he left. And when he checked his phone after his shower, a very predictable series of texts awaited him.
Jane: Oh?? You, going to a *party?*
Jane: Shouldn’t be surprised. It’s *Rome* after all.
Penelope: Be nice. Have fun at your party.
Elizabeth: Oo! What are you wearing?
Angel costume.
Elizabeth: Pictures, please!
Phillip put the halo and wings back on for a moment to take the photo in his full-length mirror. When he sent it, the responses were instant.
Elizabeth: omg you look great!
Jane: Woah, that looks way to good for a store costume.
Jane: That shirt also doesn’t look like
something you would wear.
Damn her and her perception.
They’re from Rome.
I’m borrowing it.
Jane: …I see.
No smart remark?
Jane: Penelope says I’m not allowed.
Penelope: It was very nice of Rome to
give you something to wear.
Elizabeth: What’s Rome wearing?
No idea. I’ll tell you later.
Elizabeth: And send more pictures <3
Phillip shook his head to himself fondly. His sisters could be a handful, especially Jane, but they were some of the closest people in the world to him. Even when they were being pains, he loved them dearly.
Lastly, he made sure to eat a decent meal before he left. He most likely wouldn’t stay long, but he wouldn’t feel like cooking when he returned, so it would be better to have dinner beforehand. He whipped up an alright spaghetti and meatballs and opted out of red sauce. He didn’t need to risk staining the clothes Rome had been generous enough to lend him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t sent a picture of himself in the costume to Rome. He considered sending the one he just sent his sisters, but something in him refrained.
He’d rather see Rome’s reaction in person.
So Phillip left, double-checking that he had everything he needed. He’d been to Rome’s house a few times, but he’d only been driven there by Rome, so he had to figure out a route there ahead of time. Now that it was farther into the evening, more kids ran amok their neighborhoods, parents in tow, some in costume alongside their children and some dressed normally. Phillip saw superheroes and villains, angels and demons, vampires and werewolves and zombies of all kinds, fairies, elves, and attire that Phillip could only assume were specific characters he had no awareness of. Pumpkin guts permeated the air on his way to the tube. Bags of candy filled up as they were carried from door to door.
A hint of nostalgia lightened Phillip’s mood as he walked. There was something heart-warming about watching children enjoy the simple pleasures of childhood. At least for a night, an infectious joy spread to those willing to participate, and now that Phillip was among them for a change, it began to take hold of him, too.
About half an hour later, Phillip made his way to Rome’s street. Looking through the colorful lights and music blaring through several households, there was more than one party that night, but Phillip knew what his destination looked like enough to discern it from the others. Not that he needed much help. He could have guessed that someone as popular as Rome would throw a party so large that an entire crowd would be littered around the front lawn with red solo cups, elaborate makeup and costumes of wildly different qualities. That alone would be enough to make Phillip pause and reconsider on most occasions, but... he just got there. The least he could do was find Rome, say hi to him and stay for a few minutes.
Phillip stepped up to the front door. Most people on the lawn ignored him, either too drunk or too busy with their own good time to care about a new arrival. He crossed the threshold into the living room, packed from wall to wall with an ocean of bodies, vast, moving in waves and roaring with noise. Phillip waded through them, wrinkling his nose at the telltale scent of vapes and weed, and lord knows what else. People could do whatever they wanted, sure, but at least keep it outside and not in a stuffy enclosed space. Breathing it in for too long made him queasy. He got distracted when he saw someone dressed as a genie blow a ring of smoke and accidentally walked into somebody.
“Sorry-” Phillip said and then noticed who he bumped into. “Oh. Hi, Rooster.”
Rooster was one of Rome’s five roommates. Six, if you counted Rooster’s pet chicken, who was probably safely confined to her owner’s room for the time being. The man in question wore a cockroach-shaped suit. The extra appendages hung loose from the body, and where the body cut off, regular jeans were there to cover his legs. His white patch held strong over his right eye, but the left was as expressive as two when it brightened at the sight of Phillip.
“Phillip!” Rooster shouted over booming music. “You came! Rome will be very happy!”
“Uh, yeah.” Phillip scanned the area. “Do you know where he is?”
“What?”
Phillip asked louder, “Do you know where Rome is?”
“Downstairs! In the gaming den!”
“Thank you!”
They waved goodbye at each other, and Phillip made his way over to where he knew the basement stairs were. He covered his ears. This music was beginning to wear him out already. What was the point of deafening yourself like this? At what point did the neighbors file noise complaints? Not to mention the speakers belted out popular trash. On a good day, Phillip wasn’t very interested in hearing anything mainstream unless Rome showed it to him, but having it forced upon him like this only soured his attitude further. Ugh. The amplification was so strong he could actually feel the vibrations, especially in his chest. It was the worst.
The door to the stairs had been left open and the lights on. The musty stench had been diluted with rose-scented air freshener. Phillip descended the steps, careful of the ones that creaked under stress, sighing with relief at how the upstairs music was muffled by the walls and distance. Not silent, but bearable. Once he reached the bottom, he headed right, towards the gaming den, and began to hear new music, much less loud but almost drowned out by cheers and shouts of encouragement.
Phillip poked his head inside. He hadn’t seen many gaming dens in his life, but he imagined that this set up must count as elaborate. There was a main tv mounted to the wall over a shelf that stretched across the entire wall, holding game cartridge cases and consoles alike. Red and blue lights lit the room in lieu of white bulbs, creating a sense of illumination and darkness simultaneously. There were couches pressed against the free walls and bean bag chairs that would be centered on the floor most of the time, but that night, they were moved to sit next to the couches.
All seating was occupied by partygoers, who watched at the empty space on the floor was taken up by four people holding Wii remotes. The tv showcased four faceless, neon characters dancing on screen. The four players matched the movements best they could, though they were much less graceful than their reference. Ah. So they were playing Just Dance. Phillip wasn’t sure which version, since it wasn’t really his area of expertise, but the look and premise of the games were easily recognizable.
As Phillip entered, he trailed along the wall best he could to get a better look at the players. Sure enough, Rome was among them, dressed as a cowboy of all things. A brown vest over a lighter brown button-down shirt, and a beige pair of those trousers that you typically only see cowboys wearing, but Phillip didn’t know the term for. The kind made of suede and sometimes had fringes. Secured around his waist was a belt, which had a small pouch attached to it. A red bandana was knotted around his neck, and somehow, the quintessential cowboy hat managed to stay on his head despite him moving around. His hair, normally free, was done in a loose ponytail.
Rome himself positively glowed with the fun he was clearly having. While the other three players focused on keeping up with the moves, Rome breezed through them with a wide, gleeful grin on his face. Sweat seeped from his skin, dampening the multi-layered attire in small splotches. As he danced, Rome’s arms flexed, his shorter sleeves showing off built biceps and solid forearms. When the characters on screen swiveled their hips, Rome committed to it, to the delight of many audience members.
Does he have a lasso, too? Would he tie me up with it?
The current song, which Phillip couldn’t name but vaguely recognized from hearing it played before, neared its end, and the players finished the round with final poses. The scores weren’t even close- Rome blew everyone else out of the water. The crowd cheered him on as he soaked it in, gesturing for everyone to keep up the applause. He turned around, looking at everyone in the room and only paused once his gaze landed on Phillip. Surprise flashed across his face for a moment before he broke into a grin again. Rome abandoned his previous gloating to walk up to Phillip, not glancing at anything else while his stare raked up and down Phillip’s form. Once he was close enough, Rome ducked his head towards Phillip’s ear
“You look great,” he murmured. His breath warmed the shell of Phillip’s ear.
The rowdy room’s cacophony may as well have been put on mute with how little Phillip heard it now. His scope of awareness narrowed until it was just the two of them in that room, close together for no other reason than to be close and not because they needed to be heard over noise. Phillip’s sides ached to be held by strong hands that pulled him into an intimate embrace. His lips tingled with the need to be kissed. But it was a pipe dream. Someone as incredible as Rome was at least three leagues away from Phillip. Phillip tried very hard to quash these thoughts most of the time, but when Rome ignored everything else in favor of him, a pathetic speck of hope grew in his chest.
Phillip swallowed. “Thanks,” he said. “You, too.”
Rome pulled back to tip his hat towards Phillip and said with exaggerated twang, “Well, that’s mighty kind of you.”
Phillip rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t resist an amused smile. He tried to cover it with his hand, but going by the twinkle in Rome’s eye as his sight lingered around Phillip’s mouth, he didn’t conceal it in time. Or he was really just that obvious when he covered his mouth. Regardless, Rome saw right through him, as always. Phillip wondered how long it would take until he saw the truth behind all of Phillip’s facades, the real thoughts and feelings he kept under extensive lock and key.
But it seemed his secret remained so, for now. Instead of a deep realization settling in Rome’s face, he plucked Phillip’s halo from his head and replaced it with his hat, punctuated with a wink. Phillip held his breath, not trusting what might happen if anything in him moved an inch with Rome so very close enough to drive Phillip to impulsiveness.
“Hey, Phillip,” Rome wondered, “want to save a horse?”
...Huh?
Phillip tiled his head, eyes narrowed in confusion. Horse... horse... what about horses? Was this something Phillip should have understood?
It must have shown on his expression, because Rome chuckled. “Never mind,” he said, then turned back to the other players and called out, “Leon! Hand me your controller! I want Phillip to play.”
A guy in a ninja turtle costume crossed his arms. “Give him yours, then,” he argued.
“But I want to play with him,” Rome countered.
A girl dressed like a ballerina offered, “He can have mine! I need a break.”
“Thanks, Rachel,” said Rome. He took the offered remote and held it out towards Phillip with an award-winning smile. “Please? Just one round?”
Phillip’s insides fluttered. “Okay.”
Rome allowed Phillip to fasten the remote’s strap to his wrist before dragging him over to the other players. Other than the ninja turle guy, there was a woman in a witch’s robe and hat.
“Hi!” the witch greeted. “I’m Mia. Nice to meet you.”
Turtle guy nodded at Phillip. “Sup?”
Phillip waved shyly and said, “Nice to meet you, too.” He hoped he didn’t sound insincere. His awkwardness often skewed his tone without him intending to.
Rome leaned in towards Phillip again. “Did you want to pick the song?”
Phillip snorted. “You’ve met me. Do you think I’ll be partial to any of them?”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I’ll pick something you won’t hate.”
“And something easy?” The last thing Phillip wanted was to embarrass himself.
“You got it.”
Rome flipped through the game’s options. Short clips of the song catalogue played rapid-fire, interrupted by the next, until the selection stopped on “Something Stupid,” which had as low a difficulty rating as you could get. The preview of it played a slow, romantic song that was soothing to the ears. The Spanish guitar flirted with loving orchestra strings, all to the steady beat of light percussion. There were only two characters in this song, a mermaid and a diver who danced together as a pair.
“How about this one?” Rome suggested. “We can do it in pairs.”
“I’m good with that,” the turtle guy agreed.
“Ooo, I remember this one!” the witch exclaimed. “It’s fun!”
Phillip quelled his racing heart. This was a coincidence. He specifically requested an easy dance, and this happened to fit his criteria. Nothing more. In a game centered around pop songs, it was only natural that love songs pervaded it with their overwhelming presence.
“Sure,” Phillip said. “This seems fine.”
Rome selected Something Stupid, and the tv moved on to the character selection. The pairs sorted themselves out easily. Turtle guy and witch girl drifted to one another, wordlessly picking the mermaid and diver respectively. Rome watched Phillip, waiting, so Phillip waved his remote in the direction of the screen until his cursor hovered around the diver. He pressed the button to select. Rome, taking that cue, designated himself to be the second mermaid, and after a brief loading screen, the game play video began.
“No just moving your hands,” Rome challenged. “I don’t do this halfway.”
“Yeah,” Phillip remarked with a good-natured huff, “I noticed.”
There was a brief intro before the actual dancing began. Schools of fish glided across the background. Bubbles rose from clams in the foreground. Strips of light lazily sauntered the ground. The diver sank to the ocean floor as the mermaid gracefully perched herself on a rock before joining her partner’s side. And then the first dance commands slid on screen from the side, communicated through color-coordinated pictures.
Phillip roughly understood how this game worked. Mimic the character you selected as the pre-recorded dance routine played, your score based on the accuracy of your movements and timing. It sounded simple on paper, but Phillip wasn’t much of a dancer. However, as promised, the dance for Something Stupid comprised mostly of easy-going hand movements. The diver moved around the screen more than the mermaid, which sent Phillip frantically trying to match up to his character’s position. When he circled around Rome, he glimpsed back and saw the other man’s appreciative smile focused on him. He didn’t even need to watch the screen to know what he was supposed to be doing.
Unlike Phillip, who needed to break eye contact immediately if he didn’t want to fall behind.
Towards the end of the first chorus, a command surrounded by golden light appeared. It depicted the diver, already kneeling on the ground, holding the mermaid’s hand and kissing it. Phillip hardly had the time to process it before it was time to go through with it. Rome stood on his left, offering his hand holding the remote with an expectant expression, and Phillip overcame his swirling thoughts to cup it and pretend to press the kiss there. Rome followed the next command, bashfully pulling away but still watching Phillip from over his shoulder.
“C’mon,” Rome teased. “I said no halfway,”
He was trying to kill Phillip. He had to be.
The dance resumed with relaxed movements. The next verse included more touching the partner’s hand and facing them, and Phillip couldn’t help but greedily take in more of the sight of Rome’s full attention on him. Rome’s eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. Phillip wished that he could see them better in this light, that he had more time to memorize them. But then the earlier movements began to repeat themselves, and as the chorus neared its end again, Phillip was better prepared for the hand kiss. Without the surprise, and Rome’s words echoing in his mind, Phillip lightly touched the back of Rome’s hand. The skin there was smooth, salted with sweat from earlier dances.
“Better,” Rome commended when he pulled away again, “but you can still do better.”
What the bloody hell did he want?
All of the previous movements repeated again. By this point, Phillip had an idea of what would happen next, allowing him the grace of focusing less on the tv and more on the man dancing with him. Rome went through motions as fluid as water, like he’d done this exact dance a million times before. And he probably had, but when Phillip remembered that that meant Rome had done this with other people, bitterness seeped into his guts and spoiled them into a rotting infection.
Rome had done this before. This wasn’t special.
Phillip wasn’t special.
Phillip got on one knee again. When the kiss came again, Phillip grazed his lips against Rome’s hand half-heartedly. He thought that would be all but unexpectedly, the hand kiss came back for a second round. Phillip, his heart still being poisoned by his dose of reality, pressed the kiss more forcefully than before, channeling his petty agony into it and flickering his eyes upwards towards Rome.
The man’s expression stilled into an odd countenance. His sudden shift in demeanor stumped Phillip, leaving both of them frozen in this strange moment. They stared at one another, neither pulling away. Phillip assumed it was his own cognition grinding the moment to a halt, but a shout from the audience blasted them for missing the next move, and he realized that he and Rome blanked on what they were meant to be doing. He scrambled to his feet to get back on track. Rome snapped out of his bizarre state and followed suit in ending the dance.
Once the scores were tallied, Phillip felt pleasant surprise. He earned three stars, a decent total for his first attempt. It really was an easy dance. Rome’s score, while not perfect, was nearly so, just a few points off from five full stars. The other pair, whom Phillip had completely forgotten existed, both scored solid fours. They hi-fived. Phillip returned his focus to Rome. He wanted to ask why he made that strange face, but Rome was quicker.
“Did you want to get a drink?” he asked. “I’ll make you something.”
It sounded like a better place to talk, so Phillip answered, “Sure.”
They handed their remotes to eager audience members. Phillip trailed behind Rome as they ascended the creaky stairs. Rome turned left, and Phillip followed, sticking close when they were enclosed by the main party crowds and loud music. Phillip covered his ears again, and when Rome glanced back to check on his guest, a frown formed on his face. Rome opened up his costume pouch, retrieved his phone, and tapped on it for a few seconds. The music quieted, not by an incredible amount, but enough that Phillip released his ears. Rome’s expression relaxed with him, and they resumed their walk.
The kitchen wasn’t as busy as the living room, but it still hosted at least half a dozen people. Rome waltzed to the fridge, his hips swaying in small motions to the current song. Phillip, though he desperately fought the urge, found his eyes drawn to the magnetic movement. Rome swung the fridge’s door open, ending his private dance as he gauged its contents.
“What do you want?” Rome prompted. “I’ve got some sodas, orange juice, cranberry juice... or I could get you water or some tea.”
“Cranberry juice is fine.”
Rome nodded and fetched the red beverage. He closed the fridge door as he walked over to the cupboards, opening one up to reveal clean glasses. Phillip observed how he casually grabbed one of the glasses and shut the cupboard with his elbow before placing both glass and cranberry juice onto the marble kitchen island without paying any mind to the other bodies. Phillip leaned slightly against one of the free stools on the other side of the island.
“I know you don’t drink often,” Rome explained, “and I figured you wouldn’t want to be three sheets to the wind while surrounded by this many strangers.”
“Ah,” Phillip said. “Yeah, I really wouldn’t. Thanks.”
He hadn’t even thought about that, in all honesty. He forgot that alcohol was popular at events like this. But Rome considered it ahead of time and made sure Phillip would have some alternatives. His pitiful heart squeezed. It wasn’t fair how Rome made simple gestures and decency so enchanting. It should be an automatic thing to do, the bare minimum to accommodate somebody, but one of the funny things Rome did to Phillip was that these acts only further entrenched Phillip in sentiment he shouldn’t allow himself the privilege of feeling.
Rome poured a glass of juice before pushing it towards him. Phillip gripped the cool drink between his hands and drank it steadily, letting the tangy flavor coat his tongue and slide down his throat. It contrasted the stuffy, overly warm atmosphere of a house full of other people, providing a small relief for the moment. Rome got another glass and filled it with water for himself. He sat himself next to Phillip, the two sharing their non-inebriating beverages while the party around them raged on.
“Are you not drinking, either?” Phillip probed.
Rome scrunched his nose. “I don’t like drinking at my own parties. What if something happens and I’m too shitfaced to do anything about it?”
“Good point.”
Partygoers moved in and out of the kitchen, usually snatching snacks from platters or beer cans from coolers before leaving the same direction they came from, back where the most excitement awaited. But Phillip and Rome remained at the kitchen island until their glasses were emptied. Rome took both and brought them to the sink to. Phillip observed him from where he rested on the stool, crossing his arms on top of the counter and laying his head there.
Over the music, if he tried hard enough, Phillip made out Rome’s faint hums as he scrubbed the first glass with a soaped-up sponge. Frothy bubbles spread over its surface until it was covered to Rome’s satisfaction, and then it was rinsed and placed on the drying rack. The second glass went through the same process, and once he finished, Rome wiped his hands on a dish towel.
“Do you want to keep hiding out here?” Rome inquired. “I should probably make sure no one’s set something on fire yet.”
Phillip replied, “I can join you.”
Rome pivoted, regarding Phillip with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure? It’ll be a lot.”
“I don’t mind. I can keep going for a while.” I’m only here for you. I’ll take whatever time I can get.
Given that Rome’s home housed six people and a chicken, it provided quite a large venue, even with most of the bedrooms closed off. First, they patrolled the inside, moving from room to room as they surveyed the situation in each. Wherever they went, people flocked to Rome, some to greet him, others to hug and share a longer conversation, and some to flirt so shamelessly that even Phillip recognized it as such. Rome never engaged long, but he also never shot any interested party down directly. With each one, a new needle stabbed through Phillip’s heart, slowly bleeding it out. It pained him all the more because he had no right to be saddened. He was not with Rome. He didn’t even take the risk to change the situation. Why was a coward like him mourning in silence?
“Who’s this?” one alien guy asked Rome, an arm around Rome’s neck while he gave Phillip a once-over.
“That’s Phillip,” Rome explained. “He’s, uh...” he hesitated. “We met more recently.” He shucked off the other guy’s arm. His hand crept its way to Phillip’s, slotting their fingers together.
Once they ensured that nothing inside had been broken, they exited through the front door and circulated around the front. The music muted drastically, remixed with chirping crickets and buzzing streetlights. A lot more people huffed chemical air outside than inside, but at least it easily dissipated into the open air, swept away by the windy night. The pitch-black sky above them was free off greying clouds.
Phillip and Rome circulated the premise, from the front lawn to the back, the latter of which was livelier thanks to the larger area, lawn chairs and fire pits. Caoimhe oversaw a modest campfire in the pit, slipping their hands out of their sloth suit to properly handle the logs. August laid back in one of the chairs, whatever costume he wore concealed by a fuzzy blanket bunched around him. Fire smoke wasn’t Phillip’s favorite odor, but it was certainly preferable to cigarettes.
“I see the backyard hasn’t burned down,” Rome jest as he approached. Phillip followed a step behind.
“Don’t jinx it,” Caoimhe warned. “Someone tried throwing their trash in the pit. Had to get it through their wasted head that it would pollute the fumes.”
Rome sighed. “There’s always some troublemaker.”
August waved. “Hi, Phillip! Are you enjoying the party?”
Phillip felt the hand holding his. “So far.”
“Why don’t you stay for a bit?” Caoimhe suggested. “It’s a nice night.”
Rome scanned the area. “Only one free chair left.”
Caoimhe shrugged. “And? They’re large. Just share.”
Phillip prayed for lightning to strike him down, for he knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to raise an objection if Rome didn’t.
“Only if Phillip’s comfortable,” Rome said.
Another funny thing Rome did to Phillip- he made Phillip very weak.
In all fairness, the lawn chairs were, indeed, large. Not quite big enough for there to be space between two people sitting in them, but not small enough to necessitate one person sitting entirely in the other’s lap. So instead, Phillip was stuck in blissful limbo, his legs covering Rome’s as their sides wedged together into an odd cuddle. It was easy to drift off into a mindless haze of thoughts while Rome chatted with August and Caoimhe, who now shared a chair themselves. At first, Phillip tried to keep up with the conversation, but as he sank further into such a pleasant, relaxing feeling, his eyes began to droop.
How much sleep had he gotten last night? And the night before? Phillip wasn’t sure. Or perhaps his sudden fatigue was brought on by the comfortable body pressed into him, a psychological trick by reminding him of a warm bed. He was right about to slip into darkness when fingers brushed themselves across his cheek.
“Sleepy?” Rome teased. “Does somebody need to use my room?”
Oh right. He offered that when he originally invited Phillip. And maybe that would be for the best. Phillip shouldn’t hog all of Rome’s time and attention like this. As much as his body begged for him to fall asleep like this, it would be less inconvenient to Rome to go up to his room and...
...Rome just offered to let Phillip sleep in his bed.
His eyes flew open.
“Maybe,” he mumbled. How pathetic was he?
Rome shoved his hand into his pouch and handed Phillip the key. It looked like a normal house key, with the initial ‘R’ engraved into its head. It glinted under the light of the campfire, a tiny little object that did such tremendous things to Phillip’s heart.
“It’s the only copy,” Rome told him, “so don’t lose it. But even I won’t be able to bother you if you don’t want me to.”
“I’m not going to kick you out of your own room,” Phillip retorted. Please come bother me. We can be alone all night.
Phillip detangled himself from Rome, though it pained him to his bones, and waved everyone farewell as he made his way back into the house. He hadn’t missed the booming music or the hot, stifling air, but he marched on to the steps leading upstairs. Along the way, he passed drunk dancers and passionate couples their lover’s faces. Phillip avoided staring at them, perturbed and envious at the same time.
The second floor didn’t have as many people. Probably because most areas other than the bathrooms were locked. It served as refuge for people who wanted easier conversation and a group playing cards. Phillip side-stepped them all, reminding himself of where Rome’s room was until he was faced with the man’s own headshot framed and hung on the door. Phillip rolled his eyes with immense fondness. How this man found room for ego and thoughtfulness, Phillip would never understand. He used the key in the lock and, once he turned it the right way, opened the door.
Phillip had been in Rome’s room once. The scene before him was as messy as he remembered it. Stray pieces of clothing strewn around the room; knickknacks placed on desks and shelves without rhyme or reason; mismatched objects stacked precariously on top of each other, Jenga towers waiting for the right push.
And of course, the bed. Rumpled, its covers opened and inviting for anyone to sneak their way under. It beckoned Phillip, and he nearly forgot to lock the door before he all but threw himself onto the mattress and shoved his face into one of the dented pillows. He breathed in the scent of ocean shampoo and conditioner. The same smell Phillip recognized whenever he was close enough to Rome. Phillip closed his eyes, focusing on it, pretending that he was still outside with Rome, falling asleep on him.
But it was good he hadn’t done that. It wouldn’t have been fair to force Rome to babysit him at his own party because Phillip dozed off.
Or maybe Rome would have gathered into his arms and carried him up to this room. Rome would have gently lowered him onto the bed, tucking him in while Phillip sleepily mumbled nonsense in an effort to get him to stay.
***
He didn’t notice he’d fallen asleep until he’d woken up. And he didn’t wake until sudden shouts from downstairs bypassed the walls and bounced around Phillip’s ears recklessly. Phillip opened his eyes and rubbed the grogginess from them as he sat up. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out for, but it probably wasn’t long. He found his phone in his pocket and checked the time. Only about half an hour. Now that he was up, his brain shook off the remnants of the tiredness that had compelled him to fall unconscious in the first place.
Phillip considered leaving the room to try and find Rome again, but… surely, he was busy with other people by now. He’d have more fun without constantly needing to gauge and adjust to Phillip’s needs. That reasoning was why he went to Rome’s room in the first place. Maybe he’d leave in a few minutes…
He stretched his back, sighing as the tense muscles loosened. His eyes drifted around the room again, drinking in the vibrant display of Rome’s inner self, when they caught on the opened closet. Jackets and other fine pieces of clothing dangled from hangers, many of which Phillip had seen Rome wear before. But what Phillip focused on were the outfits on the far-left side. Several costumes, all roughly the same size, mingled at their own get-together. Phillip crept over, running his fingers over sequin scales and faux armor plates. Rome had more spare costumes than just the angel attire Phillip ended up wearing. So why hadn’t Rome mentioned them at all?
It was then that another realization struck him: None of these costumes had normal clothes amongst them. Only the one fitted around Phillip’s shoulders, cinched around his hips, silhouetting his legs. And all of a sudden, Philip became once more conscious that he had been parading around in Rome’s clothes at Rome’s party in front of Rome’s friends.
His phone buzzed.
Penelope: Checking in!
Jane: Are you dead?
I am *alive*, thank you.
Elizabeth: Are you having a good time?
Phillip wondered the same thing.
He had to be overthinking this.
His sisters. They’d tease him, but they’d give him a reality check.
Taking a break in Rome’s room.
He has a *lot* of costumes.
Didn’t even tell me about these ones.
Elizabeth: Ooo, you need to tell us what
he’s dressed as!
Cowboy. Forgot to take a picture.
Jane: So he picked the costume for you?
Jane: Weird he didn’t give you the option.
Penelope: Jane, no assumptions.
Jane: Right, sorry. Other than that, how’s the party?
Phillip glanced back at the bed. The cowboy hat laid on its side. He’s forgotten he had it on in the first place- it must’ve come off when he planted onto the bed and slept. But seeing it reminded Phillip of that reference he hadn’t gotten earlier, and with all the other strange occurrences, his curiosity overwhelmed him.
What does it mean when someone asks if
you want to save a horse?
Jane: Context?
Rome asked it to me when I showed up.
Penelope:…And you said he’s dressed
as a cowboy?
Yes.
Elizabeth:...
Penelope:...
Jane:...
What?
Jane: Sisters, I’m afraid our brother...
is terminally uncultured.
Penelope: I shouldn’t even be surprised.
You only listen to Broadway and
rock bands nobody’s heard of.
Elizabeth: Oh dear. Hold on, I’ll go get the link.
What? Is it that big of a deal?
Jane: I’m going to hold your hand when I say this...
???
Jane: He’s asking if you want to ride his dick.
WHAT
Elizabeth sent a link into the sibling group chat. The preview popped up on Phillip’s screen, and there it was in clear letters: “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.”
Somebody, kill him. He was never living this down.
Penelope: It could be a joke!
Don’t jump to conclusions.
Jane: Nah.
Jane: Phillip, ask this man if he’s flirting fr.
Sure, if I feel like being laughed at.
I’m going home. I’m exhausted.
Phillip muted the chat and shoved the phone back into his pocket. His ears burned. The rush of his own blood roared loud enough to deafen the muffled music. Penelope was right. It was probably a joke. If Rome meant it, why not ask directly? Why speak in code and references? He wasn’t a coward like Phillip. It wouldn’t make sense for him to be so indirect.
…Or was it supposed to be flirting?
But why never take it farther?
Unless it wasn’t serious. It really was a joke. Because that was all Phillip was.
There was a knock at the door, followed by, “Phillip? Are you awake?”
Rome.
Phillip raced towards the door on stumbling feet, yanking it open. There Rome was, startling at the door’s sudden movement. The cowboy scrutinized Phillip up and down, his brow furrowing and those reddish, perfect lips souring into a frown.
“Are you okay?” Rome whispered. “You look… spooked.” He smoothed some of the bedhead Phillip had accumulated. So, so tender.
Something in Phillip shattered.
“Have you been flirting with me? As a joke?” His voice cracked awfully, but Phillip couldn’t be bothered to care. He was too preoccupied with the stinging behind his eyes, the choking in his throat.
Rome’s expression fell. “What?”
Phillip sniffed. “Never mind, it’s stupid-“
“No, it isn’t.” Rome surveyed the hall outside before returning his attention to Phillip. “May I come in?”
Phillip stepped aside, giving Rome the space to enter. He closed the door after him and watched as Rome sat down at the edge of his bed and met Phillip’s gaze.
“You don’t need to sit next to me,” Rome clarified, “if you don’t want to. Or if you want to sit on the bed instead-“
“Just get on with it,” Phillip pleaded.
“Right. So, the first thing I want to say is…” Rome clutched the weird cowboy pants in his fists. He released a breath with a shudder. “You aren’t a joke to me, Phillip. I needed to make that clear, because you look like you’re about to cry.”
That was still completely possible.
“I just-” Phillip sniffed again and wiped his nose. “I just kept noticing things, and you know I’m not good at analyzing this stuff. I like it when people are straightforward.”
“I know.” Rome sighed and withdrew a petite, colorful bag of sour gummies, its plastic crinkling at being handled. “I snatched something from the candy bowls, if you want to eat it while I explain.”
Phillip neared the bed, timidly accepting the offered treat and sitting beside Rome. He ripped an opening into the bag, picked at the candy pieces and popped them into his mouth one at a time, alternating between different fruity sour flavors.
“Do you remember the first time we got really drunk together?” Rome asked. When Phillip nodded, he continued, “We’d been talking about a bunch of random stuff, and then about relationships, and then there was a point I thought you were going to kiss me.”
Phillip remembered. Getting drunk around Rome always tempted him into stupidity. It lowered his guard too much, and he’d had numerous close calls when he almost said or did something he shouldn’t have while not in his right mind. That first time, a couple of months after they met, he’d started pulling Rome into what would have been a kiss if he hadn’t chickened out. It haunted him for weeks, until he grappled with the reality that Rome was, in fact, handsome and kissable and deserved much better than Phillip.
“But you didn’t,” Rome said. “And you looked really scared, like when you opened the door a minute ago. I kinda got the impression that you needed time to- I dunno. Process it, or accept it, or something. I wanted to wait until you were ready before being direct. But maybe I should have taken some initiative sooner.”
Oh. Oh. Of course it was Rome trying to be considerate. Phillip was an idiot for even humoring the idea that it had all been at his expense.
“Well,” Phillip mumbled, “I’m also kind of a coward. So I guess it’s on both of us.”
“I’m really sorry, Phillip. I never wanted to upset you.”
Phillip glanced towards the closet. “When you picked this costume for me, did you choose it because I’d be wearing your clothes?”
“Uh, ha. About that.” Rome rubbed the back of his neck. “I did think you’d like it the most. I had a feeling you wouldn’t appreciate a mermaid tail and seashells. But I can’t deny that the clothes were a bonus.”
Phillip fiddled with the cuffs of the sleeves. He murmured, “I really like wearing your clothes.”
Rome inhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
Screw it. They already made it to this point. Phillip flicked the candy bag away and hoisted a leg up and over Rome’s lap, half-straddling him as he leaned closer to the other man’s stunned and awed face.
“Yeah.”
Rome’s mouth tasted of pure sugar, a myriad of sweets blending together. Hands gripped his waist and pulled him fully on top of the warm, sturdy body. Those same palms then slid down his back and groped his arse, wrenching a moan from Phillip.
“I’m so happy I was right about these trousers,” Rome groaned. “They fit you perfectly, darling. Everyone was staring.”
“Were they?” Phillip muttered. “Didn’t notice.”
Rome chuckled. “You never notice the discreet looks. But I do.” He mouthed down Phillip’s neck, untying the ribbon in one swift pull. “People can look, obviously, but if you’d ever gotten uncomfortable, I would have kicked them out.”
Phillip hummed. “Guess I was a little distracted by something else.”
Mischievous eyes twinkled up at him. A pair of lips pressed against his clavicle’s pulse. “Like what?”
Phillip toyed with the hem of Rome’s vest. “Like the only person I want to look and touch.”
Rome grinned, cat-like, and nipped at a sensitive spot in Phillip’s skin. Phillip squirmed, encouraging Rome in his biting, which kept Phillip wriggling in his lap. He unintentionally rutted his hips against Rome, eliciting gasps from them both. Rome grabbed him by the scruff and yanked him into a filthy kiss while using his other hand to press Phillip’s hips back down onto his again, grinding them together. Phillip whimpered into Rome’s mouth, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life.
“Hey, Rome,” someone said as the door opened, “are you in-”
Rome and Phillip separated their faces, but not the rest of their bodies. They looked towards the door, where Wheat stood in the threshold, dressed as... a slice of bread.
Oh. Wheat bread. Ha. Not bad.
“Out,” Rome ordered his roommate.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wheat answered. He shielded his eyes from the promiscuous view. “Whatever. Learn to lock your door if you don’t want voyeurs.”
Wheat left, all but slamming the door behind. Rome carefully glided Phillip off his lap and onto the bed before standing. He paced over to the door, and once the lock snapped into place, he whirled around to leer at whatever state Phillip was in from afar. Phillip shivered all over.
“No more free shows,” Rome announced lowly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Phillip leaned back against his palms, waiting. “Why are you loitering all the way over there?”
“Just soaking in the sight.” Rome stalked closer, unhurried. “You, in my bed, in my clothes, ready for me. It’s hard to decide what to do with you first.”
“Didn’t you already tell me? I have a horse to save.”
Rome froze. “I thought you didn’t pick up on that one.”
“I didn’t. I...” Phillip mumbled, “had to ask my sisters.”
Rome’s eyes widened. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I am so sorry-”
“You better be. I expect you to make up for it.”
Phillip chucked away the wings, which had miraculously remained undisturbed by everything they had been through. He reached down to his socks and peeled them off. Rome’s gaze tracked the movement, staring especially intently at the newly exposed ankles. He resumed his trek to the bed, undoing his belt and tossing it aside by the time he loomed over Phillip.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he purred. “I’ll make it worth the trouble.” He seized Phillip’s chin. “But I’ve got a few rules. First, no pulling my hair; second, no choking me; and third, most importantly, you need to tell me whether something feels good or bad. Did you get all of that?”
Phillip nodded. “No hair-pulling, no choking, and communicate.”
Rome grinned. “Good boy.”
Lightning shot through Phillip’s nerves. He writhed, trying desperately not to focus too much on the blood quickly pooling in his groin. But Rome, in his keen observation, only grinned wider, showing off pearly white teeth.
“Did you like that, good boy?” he asked, uttering the pet name with a sultrier tone. “Does my Phillip like hearing about how sweet and good he is?”
“Rome,” Phillip whined. “Touch me, please.”
“And so polite, too. Don’t worry, we’ll get to that. But first, darling, I want you to touch yourself.” Rome regarded Phillip’s tenting crotch with lecherous intent. “Show me how much you like being in my clothes.”
Phillip gulped. His fingers twitched. Slowly, he shifted his hand over his groin and pressed down. He bucked up into his palm with a soft mewl. The hand clutching his chin gripped harder. He kept pawing at his clothed, hardening erection, his moans increasing in volume and pure arousal. Rome’s second hand snuck under the v-neck of Phillip’s shirt, squeezing the firm flesh there.
“That’s it,” Rome goaded. “Just keep going. God, I wanted to have you in my lap so badly when we were outside. Would’ve made out with you if you had let me. But then you started dozing off, and you were so cute I wanted to keep you there, but I thought you might like a bed better.”
“W-Would’ve been better,” Phillip stuttered back, “if you’d b-been in the bed with me.”
“I’ll take that into consideration next time.”
Rome’s hand wandered under the shirt, pinching the nipple his fingers grazed against. Phillip jumped a little. He winced.
“That- That didn’t feel great,” Phillip admitted.
Rome stopped immediately. “Thank you for telling me.” He pecked a kiss on Phillip’s cheek. “Lay down, darling. I’m going to get you ready.”
“Okay, but..." Phillip twiddled his thumbs. “It’s been a while.”
“That’s okay. I’ll go slowly.” And his hands slithered under the hem of Phillip’s shirt, beginning to lift it up.
“Wait,” Phillip said. “I want to keep it on.”
Rome blinked. Then he grinned. “As you wish.”
If there was one thing Rome was, it’d be true to his words. Once he had Phillip’s legs bare and his cock freed, he fetched lube from his nightstand and smeared it all over his fingers. From there, he opened Phillip up, gently prodding at an unrushed pace. Bit by bit, he loosened, clenching the sheets beneath as he fought not to tense up. Eventually, Rome used his free hand to hold one of Phillip’s and press reverent kisses to the knuckles.
“You’re doing so well, Phillip,” Rome assured him. “Just breathe and relax for me.”
Another few minutes later, Rome was satisfied. He stripped himself leisurely, making a show of it while making direct eye contact with Phillip. First it was the vest unbuttoned and rid of, followed by the shirt. Then, he removed the weird cowboy trousers, revealing normal jeans underneath, which were also quickly discarded. All that remained were tight-fitting boxers, outlining the cock Phillip had imagined more times than he’d want to admit out loud. Rome slinked it off, and at last the meaty appendage was visible, fully erect and thoroughly appetizing.
“Do you want to touch it?” Rome offered.
Phillip nodded as he sat. Rome tossed him the lube. Phillip slathered a generous amount on one hand before daring to touch Rome’s member. The other man sighed when Phillip wrapped his fingers around the cock, experimentally stroking it. Phillip tried it again, and then again, until he established a moderate, steady rhythm that had Rome’s eyes fluttering and his head resting against Phillip’s shoulder.
“Ready?” he mumbled into Phillip’s ear.
“Yeah,” Phillip agreed. “I think I am.”
Being on top of Rome gave Phillip a high he hadn’t expected. Seeing Rome, perfect, handsome, incredible Rome underneath him, while his cock stuffed Phillip’s hole, was intoxicating. That morning, he’d been convinced that Rome would never look his way like that.
He’d never been happier to be wrong.
It felt even better when Phillip started moving. His insides heated into molten lava. The first time he hit that spot, his thoughts had screeched to a halt for a full second. He sought it again best he could, basking in the glorious sensation of Rome’s hard dick shoved in and out. Rome held onto his hips, gasping and panting while Phillip bounced. Phillip shook with effort, but he kept going, chasing that building fire boiling in his guts, degrading into harsh, irregular thrusts.
“Be a good boy,” Rome commanded, breathy, “and come.”
Another funny thing Rome did to Phillip: Phillip had a hard time disobeying.
That night…
“Hey, Wheat. Did you find Rome?”
“He’s shagging that blonde twink he can’t shut up about. Now, where’s the bleach? My eyes need a dose.”