Perfect Lady, part 2

Change comes in many ways, each one pushing, following, hurrying more change.
Sometimes, someone else does the pushing. This is a story about hard changes, and gentle, caring pushes.
I've published this before, here.
~

The story continues:

Rachel sat between them and held Richard's hand. She either held Barry's arm or slapped it as they told Paul and her about their Friday night.

She thought Barry was a complete idiot for not knowing that teasing Richard about his clothes would hurt him. She said as much, to Richard's embarrassment. Paul agreed with her, though, which helped.

She also told them a lot about Barry, a little like the scene in a movie where parents pull out the baby pictures.

Richard though it was wonderful, the way she cared about the little details of his life. Not the big public events, but the things that mattered, like his first house, or his happiness when he found a little dog huddled under his car, almost dead from the heat, and how he nursed it back to adoring health in a box in their office.

Or a certain Christmas party...

"Please, Rachel!"

Richard was torn between wanting to hear about the party and wanting to stop the story before Barry became even more uncomfortable, if that was possible, suit and all.

Paul wasn't making any of it easier for them at that point, smiling away and occasionally looking at the card he held, which read, "I'm sorry, love." And humming.

But Friday night was different for Richard now. He'd been so focussed on his clothes, and... his fear, he hadn't thought what he was doing. Talking about it, listening to Barry, trying to understand what he was saying, Friday was different.

He realized he was thinking like a child. Like a scared child, afraid to look at the monster.

Barry took him on a date. The lunches, for Barry, were little dates. He'd panicked on a date, and Barry thought it was because of him, on a date. He hadn't thought of that all weekend.

Barry had thought ~he~ knew they were dates. That they were dating.

He had to ask, but he didn't want to with the others there. Embarrassing wasn't the word. They already knew. Before now, before Barry explained.

Why had Rachel told Barry he should have known about him... his clothes... before?

They knew more than he did, about the... Friday. She did for sure, and maybe Paul, too. They understood more, anyway.

What had the... his friends, what had they been doing in the office that morning, waiting for him to come back, or whatever?

The flowers.

"What is it, Richard?" Rachel pressed on his hand.

They were looking at him, like he'd told them something, or was going to. He realized he'd been looking at Barry, at his face.... He kind of mentally shook himself.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

He didn't smile or any of the little things he normally did, just stared into space while he let the thought develop. They waited.

"Barry?"

'Mmm?" He leaned over an inch, past Rachel, enough. He was serious again. too, after all the laughing and smiling with Rachel's stories. After waiting.

Richard had to move away from them, just to think for a moment. He stood up. Then he sat back down and turned to look at his friend.

Then he leaned back. "I need a psychiatrist."

Nobody screamed that he didn't and that's what he expected. But he still had to do something for himself, to see.

He stood up again and then stepped over to the other side of them, the other side of Barry, and sat back down, slowly. They had to scootch over, but he ended up tight against Barry.

He reached both hands over and took Barry's right hand, the way Barry often took his. He was warm, dry, firm. His nails were neat, very short. He had little hairs along the back and side, some small scars. His cuticles had even half-moons.

He knew all of it.

He knew Barry's hand. He looked up at his face. Barry was waiting, not mad or scared, and not really thinking the way he did, just waiting to see.

And he knew that. He knew what his boss looked like. What he would be doing, waiting.

He let his hand go and watched Barry hold it awkwardly, put it in his lap after a second of thought.

How often did they touch each other?

All the time. And he... they looked at each other. Watched each other. Barry watched him do everything. He'd watched him that way his first day of work. Maybe at the interview. But everyone watched him at the interviews.

Oh, no.

He had to find out...

"Why did you hire me?" He almost accused, he could tell from his own voice in his ears.

Barry stilled.

"I didn't." He looked right in his eyes and then took his hand, the way he did.

"I took myself out of the hiring process during your first interview. The others... and the board, they hired you. I never told them a thing, just withdrew from the process." He took Richard's hand, rubbed it with his thumb.

"I didn't... I'm not even your supervisor. I don't have... the board and executive are your... immediate superiors. And they are ~extremely~ pleased with you and your work."

He looked in Richard's eyes and spoke more quietly, as if there weren't anyone else to hear him.

"If they hadn't hired you I would have gone to New York." He blinked.

"When they offered you the position I met with them, all the board and exec, and told them I could run the company, but I couldn't be your supervisor and they asked why and I told them I thought.... I thought you were...."

He focussed past Richard, as if he was remembering something, then back, at his eyes. He had a funny little smile.

"I didn't understand what was happening, but when we shook hands, and after at the interview, when I was there, and when I... well...."

He smiled the same smile he had a thousand times, but from a few inches, it was different.

"I'd never felt happier. Richard, you're intelligent, funny, gentle, the...."

He looked down, breathed. Kept breathing.

Paul got up and his movement stopped all of them. He went to Richard's desk and made a question with his brows, holding the top drawer. Richard understood.

Paul took out the small collection of cards and then sat back down. He read them quietly as he shuffled the tiny deck.

"Dear heart, Lovely person, with love, love... I feel like a fairy godmother...." He looked up and smiled at them both, more than his usual grin.

"Mr. Delaney, what do you have to say for yourself, with regard to these cards? Do you admit to writing them?"

Barry smiled at Richard. "Yes."

"Do you swear that what you wrote was true?"

He looked in one eye, then the other. "Yes."

Paul sounded far more serious. "Then you have to be honest."

Richard watched Barry flinch, but not from fear, or anger, or lying. Something else. Not bad, but hard.

"What?" He knew from Paul that it was something important, and Rachel was serious too.

But Barry didn't look unhappy, just a little red. He shifted, like sitting up a bit straighter, and looked him in the eyes. Then he fidgeted a little more and closed his eyes. Hard.

"Okay. You two have to leave us alone."

Rachel and Paul both made some kind of noise, but he insisted. "Look, this is hard enough without a Greek chorus commenting on everything I say, okay?"

He sounded pretty happy, actually, and Richard relaxed almost completely.

The office to themselves and the door closed, Barry sat back down and took his hand again. Then both of them.

"I'm not as good at this stuff as you...." He looked at the hand he was holding on top and brushed his thumb up and down.

Richard suddenly felt like taking his hands back, putting them in his pockets, sitting on them... anything but feeling that thumb. He stared at it, at the electric tickle and the fact that it didn't look any different at all....

Barry let go and moved away, and Richard suddenly needed to find out if the feeling would come back and if it would be the same... and he wanted the feeling of Barry's leg against his too. "No."

He moved back into contact and didn't want to mess up the experiment so he reached over for the hand but put his underneath, like before.

It worked. Actually, better than before, when Barry figured out that he wanted to try whatever he'd been doing again. Or so Richard thought; it was reason enough.

What ~was~ he doing!?

Before he could even begin to ask that rationally, Barry stopped it, or stopped whatever they'd have to try again later, maybe at lunch, or...

"Richard?"

"Hm?" He looked up from the hand that was suddenly so important. This was ridiculous.

"Yes?" He was an adult. He noticed that even just holding Barry's hand without the thumb... thing... was nice. Stop it. Pay attention. But hands were better than arms, backs.

"Yes?"

Barry was taking an awful long time for this, whatever it was that was so important.

For heaven's sake, he was thirty-three! He had an MBA! He sat up much straighter, and more professionally. He didn't want to lose the feeling of Barry's leg again, but he could act his age, and his position, even if he wasn't....

What ~was~ his position, his relationship, his ~business~ relationship with Barry?

Barry was watching him. Like something was wrong, but if he was his boss then maybe he shouldn't be touching his leg... but he was holding his hand, ~Barry~ held his hand.... He didn't want that to stop.

He might have to quit.

He was gay. Wow!

"Richard?"

"Yes?" He looked up at Barry, then smiled at him. Should... was this the right time to say he was gay? Was Barry gay?

"Are you okay?"

Barry was smiling a little, so he was. Okay. He wouldn't smile if he looked bad or something, and he felt great. Moving a little closer to Barry was even better. But....

He could quit if he had to. He could get another job. Closer. But this was the perfect job. Everybody....

Barry must be gay too. Holy cow. Was he?

Would a straight man be okay with him being this close? But he hugged other people.... Men. Not this close. Hard. It wasn't hard, but close. Very close.

It was still great. After all....

He needed a psychiatrist. ~Two~ psychiatrists.

He wished Barry should do that thumb thing again. Maybe he would. Why wasn't he? It was too embarrassing to ask.

He had to tell Barry first. It wasn't honest, or fair, it wasn't right if he didn't. But Barry was okay, or at least he wouldn't be mad, most likely. But he wanted him to be more than just a business friend. Breathe.

Breathe. Close eyes.

"I think I might be gay and I didn't have any idea until just now." He realized that wasn't enough. "I really didn't."

That still wasn't. And it meant Barry. He didn't want what it might mean. Not Barry, but all the other stuff... or Barry not....

But he held on tighter, in case it was the last time, even if it wasn't right. But... he had to.

"I'm sorry."

Barry's hand didn't pull away. It even tightened. But he'd do that too, to make someone feel better, to share a feeling that was bad, and needed touch.

And Barry touched him. Maybe he always seemed like he needed it? That was stupid.

Barry was still holding his hand. He wasn't mad, at least. He wouldn't be. Oh, God. He'd told Barry he was gay.

Three psychiatrists.

He was pulled across and just when his hand was released, Barry's arms wrapped around him.

Richard had stopped shivering and was sipping on a super-sugar-rich cup of coffee and enjoying the feeling of Barry's whole leg and ~body~ against his own. With Barry's arm around his back.

And had his regular (if not normal) brain back.

And remembered that Paul and Rachel had left them alone so Barry could tell him something important.

"What were you going to tell me?" Honesty. That's what Paul had said.

"Are you..." Barry trailed off. Richard looked to see what happened, but he was just thinking. He came out again and smiled at him.

"I think they wanted me to tell you about a memo the board sent them." He smiled a bit wider at Richard's face after he seemed to be switching into business-mode.

"It said I wasn't your supervisor and that they were to help you if anyone harassed you, or if I got too pushy."

"Too pushy?"

"It didn't say that, exactly." He smiled. "It said I was going to woo you." He smiled his head in half. "And they figured that no-one was going to interfere with me so Paul and Rachel should keep an eye out for you."

"They?" Richard had a bad feeling.

The, um, board of directors and-"

"The board...?"

He couldn't figure out what. That they knew Barry was wooing. Was ~going to~ woo. Him. Woo?

"Who says woo anymore?"

"I do, and the execs know too, and they had to because of our work relationship." Barry smiled and went on after Richard made question eyes.

"If I, if you were going to work here, and they ~really~ did want you, then I had to be out of your... well, chain of command, but not really, just for stuff about your job, like evaluations and stuff." He grinned. "Commendations."

"They all know you were planning to 'woo' me?"

Barry nodded and smiled.

"I told them, right after they hired you."

"Isn't that unethical?" Richard looked as concerned as he sounded. Barry got serious.

"It could be."

It was a long explanation. Technically, since ~he~ didn't hire Richard, wasn't part of that decision at all, and he had no say in his future with the company, even if he was the CEO, Richard's boss, he could be... he was allowed to be... reasonable. About wooing. And Rachel and Paul were part of it.

"The 'too pushy' thing?" Richard tried to look less unhappy at the whole explanation, even though he wasn't.

"They wanted to keep an eye on you, in case you were, in case I was, like I said... too pushy, or, hurt you... or..."

"Scared me?" He tried to keep the flash of real fear out of his voice.

"Yeah." Barry looked scared.

Richard had to think through all of the new information. Things. Situation. Feelings.

He was gay. And Barry was too, or so it seemed. He hadn't said. But. There was a kind of conspiracy to let Barry try to 'woo' him. (He still had to grin at that word.) And his best friends here were in on it. And the board of directors and the executive. Who else? And the company policy seemed to be 'do ask, do tell....'

"Who else knows about all this? And exactly when did Paul and Rachel get involved?"

He realized that that sounded pretty impersonal, or even rude, and he pressed a tiny bit closer to Barry just to let him know it was just a question. It seemed to work.

"Well...." Barry smiled. He actually got a bit red, but his expression was completely unreadable. He stopped, too, for quite a while.

"What does 'Well...' mean?"

Barry took a deep breath and then pulled away from him a little, turning so he could face him directly.

"Nobody outside the board and exec knows anything, officially, except them. And they were told before you came here. Rachel when I told the board."

He looked at Richard's hands, and then up into his eyes. "Paul was suggested by Rachel, from downtown. But besides them, people have been speculating about you, and us, for quite a while...."

He looked at Richard, all over his face. "Is that okay?"

He had to let all the things mix and re-order themselves. Of course people saw things. And figured them out. The flowers.

Were... did other people think those were lunch dates? Real dates? Barry had wanted Friday... But nobody knew about... wooing.

"Did people know the flowers were from you? All the roses?" He smiled that was okay. Barry's smile answered him.

"Well, I'm ~pretty~ sure Rachel and Paul figured it out...." He grinned instead of smiling. "But the building is almost pulling it's hair out trying to figure them out, actually. The flowers, I mean." He grinned even wider when Richard did too.

"I think a fair number have decided they ~might~ have been from me, or some of them, but most people haven't seen us together very often, so they don't see the way I look at you."

He looked at him, that way, and Richard understood that Barry's smile, the wonderful one, was more personal than he'd thought. The dazzle was actually in his eyes.

After a few more seconds than necessary, Richard looked down, just so he could speak.

"Oh."

Barry was quiet again. He wasn't usually good at silences, Richard knew. He looked up again. He'd lost the sparkle.

"Is something wrong?"

He had the horrible, irrational thought that he'd been completely wrong about everything Barry had told him and that he's just told him he was gay and that it was a terrible, crushing, career-ending, humiliating mistake. And that Barry was gone. A different fear.

Barry pulled him back closer.

"I... there's something else I need to tell you. Important... I mean, it's important that you know something that's happened. Still is happening."

He re-took Richard's hand and stood.

"I can show you better than I can tell."

He led the way to Richard's desk and sat, waking the computer, opening the link to the office net. He clicked through a few windows and opened the blog he wanted.

Richard sat and read.

People, at least one... more than one... many... oh, God... they thought he was... when was this... scroll back... oh, no!

He scrolled down, looked at the comments, went to a new thread... new thread....

He read.

"Are you okay?" Barry rubbed his arm and shoulder.

He wasn't.

Rachel and Paul were back, and Barry was holding his hand almost hard enough to hurt. The flowers were on the coffee table, like a sunset. He was safe, or didn't feel like anyone was going to kill him, anyway... which was better than just a few minutes ago.

"Everyone thinks I'm a... a woman?" Richard didn't like the whiny tone of that. Even if he tried to make it adult-sounding at the end. But he felt like whining.

"There's only a few...."

"Practically everyone I see! Practically everyone!"

Barry was no help at all, just smiling! Like it was anything! Nothing! Rachel ahemmed.

"Richard, dear.... I was one of the first to write a note, after the... that stupid joke.... Did you notice?"

"Yes, I saw...." He nodded. He'd seen her name.

"Did you read what I put there?"

He shook his head. He hadn't wanted to know by then. Going backwards, he'd seen her name near the end. It'd hurt to see her there.

"Can I read it to you? It's about you, after all?" She walked over and woke his monitor and quickly clicked to what she wanted. And checked with him again. He nodded after a moment, but closed his eyes. She wasn't reading, he could tell.

"I said that anyone insulting or... hurting any employee, or their family or friends, about their sexual or gender orientation would be disciplined... and I listed the policy sections. That's all."

She looked at Richard, who had opened his eyes. She must have seen how shaky he was. Barry massaged his leg. But she kept talking like it was just business.

"Did you read any of the entries? Okay, then you know a bit of what was there. Can I read you my favorite?" She went back to the screen.

"Here." She smiled at him and after he nodded, and read.

"Dear Abby: Yesterday morning I had coffee with the team and R and it was almost like K said, about the flirting thing, but I was mad when I thought about it afterwards. Now I just think about it too much. I don't think I'm gay and it wasn't sexual, and I do like men that way. But. What's going on!? Signed: Straight but Confused."

She looked up and grinned. "Here's the best response.... Dear Straight: You're not confused, you're perceptive."

Richard cringed. He hadn't read those two, but there were about twenty in a thread like that, all Dear Abby-ish.

"I'm a laughing stock."

Barry pulled his arm closer and Paul spoke up.

"Richard, they... none of them are laughing at you. They like you and are just trying to understand."

"But I'm not a woman! And nobody asked me! They're... you're all... talking about me...." He closed his eyes but looked at them again, after a breath.

"I trusted you...."

Paul's face twisted. Barry's hand on his arm stilled.

"Richard!" Rachel sounded mad. "You know we'd never do anything to hurt you! That was cruel!"

It was his turn to crumple. Unlike Paul, he couldn't hold back his tears.

"We all care about you, you know." Rachel was alone with him, trying to reassure him that they didn't hate him.

He thought they hated him. Or he knew they didn't, but he felt hate-worthy, and everyone had seen. Saying something... that... to hurt them. So they knew about him. He wasn't worth it.

"Are you listening?" Rachel gently squeezed his hand. He had to think.

"Richard?" She waited until he looked at her and then spoke quietly.

"Why did you leave New York?"

He stopped moving. Carefully. He knew she knew, or could have found out. He still didn't want to tell her. Or anyone.

After a long minute she pressed his hand again.

"What happened, dear?"

What happened. A sociopath and his... friends, a year of insults and threats, a... an... assault... firings and charges and counseling and

"Nobody is ~ever~ going to let it happen to you here."

He stopped thinking. He couldn't stop hearing.

"Barry..." She stopped and started again.

"Barry does ~not~ know about what happened. Only the board and I do. Your employers told ~just~ us. And just the public record. ~After~ we offered you the position."

He looked at her, almost too hopeful. She was calm, but started to smile.

"Barry... what he feels about you is... was as much a surprise for him as it is for you, I'm sure." She beamed. "He really, truly cares for you, dear."

He pressed a few tears out from tightly closed eyes.

"And the rest of us, your friends, care for you too. A ll the... entries, and the boards, they're about how all the people who work here feel about you, Richard, after just two months. They worry about you, and like you, and respect you. That's what they're talking about."

He shuddered and she wrapped an arm around him.

It was a good shudder. He knew, from long experience in therapy. With a psychiatrist.

"I am ~not~ a woman!"

Barry tried to look serious and respectful and maybe calm, but Richard could tell he was trying too hard on all of them.

"Okay, okay. Not a woman. Understood." He opened the car door and then sort of unwrapped Richard's arm from his and helped him in.

Richard buckled up and looked at the dash while Barry came around and got in.

"I'm not."

"Not what?"

"A woman!"

"Where?!"

Richard gave up. And reached over so Barry could take his hand when he wasn't busy.

They went to the same nightclub restaurant they'd gone to the first time. The doorman opened his door and helped him out and then smiled at him. He smiled more when Richard took Barry's arm as he came around the car.

"I like your other shirts better." Richard smoothed the fabric of the suit, more to feel the arm underneath than anything else. "You aren't going to wear suits all the time now, are you?"

As they walked through the doors the maitre d' stepped out to greet them.

"Good to see you again, gentlemen. Two for lunch?"

Richard couldn't help smiling, tapping Barry's arm with his other hand.

"See?"

"See what?" Barry covered his hand and smiled back.

"Gentle ~men~!" He pulled and laughed as Barry rolled his eyes.

The maitre d' looked concerned. Then upset. Then he smiled again.

"I'm very sorry, please forgive me." He did a tiny bow, or nod. "May I show you to your table?"

He turned and led them inside.

At the table he held Richard's chair and pushed it in. Then, after Barry had seated himself, he took Richard's linen napkin from the table and draped it across his lap, while Richard tried not to stare up at him. Or do anything else but be polite.

The maitre d' took the menus from the waitress already at his side and placed them carefully at each setting.

"Would Madame care for something to drink before dinner?"

Richard's look at Barry was eloquent. It said 'Rescue me!'

"We both enjoy your excellent coffee... and could we have a few minutes?"

As the smiling man left with their waitress, Barry caught Richard's eye.

"See?" He smiled and ducked as he said it, but Richard was still too stunned to do more than stare at him. Madame? He came back when he felt Barry's touch on his arm.

"Are you okay?" He wasn't smiling anymore, sitting nearer, his chair pulled around the table, but still managed to look happy. It was the right expression, and Richard relaxed enough to smile a little back.

"Psychiatrists. Three for me, and group therapy for all of you...." Richard looked over at the maitre d', who was talking to their waitress. "Him too."

Before Barry could come up with something, he went on, more seriously.

"People really see me like that?" He looked around the club, at the dozen or so tables that were visible. Nobody was looking at them. He looked back at Barry when his sense of timing noted the silence.

Barry was thinking. Looking at their hands, and deep in thought. He kept his hand, but held it without moving. Then he released it and sat back, as a waitress brought their coffees. They both thanked her, then Barry looked back at him, more normally.

"I don't, I think, but I've had trouble looking at you ever since we met. I keep getting dizzy, and stupid ideas keep pushing away my common sense." He reached the long way across the table with his left hand and Richard reached with his right.

"But what you saw on the net is pretty accurate, I think, about things in the office, anyway. I mean, the intranet's a real-time mirror of the business, all the people... that we all rely on. The board uses it too, I mean, they read it, and from what they let me know, they all think... well, that you're working out even better than they hoped and that everything else is gravy. But about you... they sort of manage me."

He smiled. And he didn't make a single thing clearer. Or even grammatical. Except maybe that it wasn't all that bad. Or bad at all, except for the woman thing. And he hadn't even answered the question. Except that his thumb was caressing the back of Richard's hand.

"You run a company with that brain?"

Barry smiled his laugh and Richard was back almost to the happiness he'd felt on the drive over. Something to do with Barry's touch, or his eyes. But he felt disconnected, too.

"Barry...." He trailed off. Barry waited.

"I'm a little... more than a little overwhelmed." He looked in his eyes. "Not at you, just, just so many changes, maybe too fast...."

Barry's hand curled around his.

"I know." He twisted his hand so he could hold Richard's fingertips. "Well, maybe not completely, but I have some idea. A few months ago I thought I was a normal," he grinned, "or maybe typical is a better word... a typical rich techie nerd." He looked directly in Richard's eyes.

"You know, I've only ever really kissed maybe five girls in my life? And three of them, that I can remember, were pretty lame. End of only date kinda things." His smile came back.

"And now, in... in such a short time, I find myself fallen head over heels for you... and I never thought I was even gay before you walked into that first interview and I couldn't take my eyes off you...."

Richard's smile reflected how overwhelmed he still felt, but how it wasn't all bad. Barry returned something like it.

"And... I mean, with the net, what people are talking about..." He lost a little of the smile, looked worried.

"Barry?" Richard watched him. "How do ~you~ see me? As a man or a woman?"

His smile returned to it's full dazzle. "Are you sure you want to hear this?" His eyes twinkled.

Richard nodded, the tiniest nod. Barry put his other hand on the table, palm up, and took both of Richard's in a firm hold.

"I see the most fascinating, intelligent, caring... and I'm sorry I don't have a better word... feminine... ~person~ I've ever... I could ever imagine." He blinked.

"And I love you. You... him or her, I don't care." He cleared his throat, never losing eye contact, and spoke hoarsely at first, then cleared his throat and was clear.

"I love you- your heart, your soul. I know it's only been four months since we even met, I don't care. When I see, when I saw you.... You. I don't care what you look like, or how anyone else sees you. I'll see you."

The rush of emotion Richard felt was... wrong.

Just months... weeks ago, it would have been painful, debilitating. He waited for the hurt. But it didn't come.

Instead, he felt Barry's hands, the warmth and safety. And his words.

He looked at his... friend. Who had lost his smile and instead looked fragile, vulnerable.

"Love?" He tried to just speak softly, but his throat had dried and it came out a whisper. It sounded scared, to his ears... not like he wanted. Not seeing Barry's face.

"Don't be afraid... That was the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He tried to smile, but it came out like his voice, a bit squeaky.

"The most expensive cup of coffee I've ever had...." He didn't know if he was apologizing or joking, but he'd only tried a few bites and hadn't tasted a thing except the coffee. He didn't think Barry had either. Maybe not even the coffee.

Barry didn't even hum, just kept driving.

Just after Richard had spoken, the waitress had come to take their orders, that they hadn't considered, and somehow they'd muddled through that, but the conversation, if that's what it was, stalled.

Barry had at least ~looked~ normal, but Richard had alternated between pale and red, achieving his normal skin tone only in passing. For the whole meal.

The maitre d' had looked frantic when they left, asking in several ways if everything had been satisfactory? Barry had handled that by saying 'Of course, yes,' and hurrying Richard out. During a pale phase.

The car had been ready at the door, cool and private, and Richard had stabilized. Enough for that one, weak joke anyway. And then instant remorse.

"Oh, Barry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make a joke out of anything...."

Barry looked left, right, in the rearview mirror, and wheeled off the main road into a busy lot, and stopped. Then he unsnapped his belt and stopped, himself.

Richard watched him and tried to read his face, his body language, and then slid his hand across, palm up, asking for Barry's.

Barry sat still for another few seconds and then picked up Richard's hand and looked at it, rubbing his thumb along the palm. And Richard figured it out.

He thought he remembered the proper words from the company respectful workplace guidelines, if not their... usage.

"Everything you said was positive, and welcome, and ~non~ threatening... and respectful, and...."

Barry seemed to re-animate as he heard each word. He clutched his hand, looking at it, not out the windshield.

"And it truly was the sweetest thing I've ever heard, and that ~you~ said it to me was the reason."

Barry looked at his arm, his chest. His expression was hopeful, Richard thought.

"And you didn't make a terrible mistake." He smiled as he answered the same fear he'd experienced just hours... moments before. Barry smiled.

"And I'm not a girl."

Barry laughed.

Then he stopped and looked at Richard, once again nervous and serious. But not... Richard couldn't put a word to it, but with no danger. Just... hard. Barry wrung his hand. And looked at it to speak.

"Richard...?"

It didn't seem like a real question so he just pressed Barry's hands back.

"I really have no way to say this. I mean...." He looked up, and his eyes were shiny.

"I want to, I really wanted what I said, I mean, to date... you, and...." He had to look down.

"Woo me?" Richard tried to make it good.

Barry nodded but still didn't look up.

"I guess we're too old to call it going steady, hunh?" Richard smiled a laugh. "And too young for courting."

Barry finally looked at him steadily and Richard caught his eyes.

"I would be honored if you were to woo me."

"Oh darn! It's already two!"

Barry looked at him like he didn't understand 'late.' They had just reached the office doors and Richard saw the clock on the wall.

"I have... had a meeting scheduled at one-thirty!"

He smiled. "I think Paul will cut you some slack just this once."

"You don't know him! He's strict!" Richard clutched his shoulder and looked nervously around. "He only lets me have four cups of coffee a day!"

"You have that many in the rest of the office every day. Everyone thinks you should be a quivering wreck." Barry smiled at him.

"Everyone thinks I'm a woman, too! Shows you what everyone knows." He pulled Barry's arm closer and fondled his hand. "You aren't going to keep wearing suits, are you?"

Barry stopped them just outside the HR office and turned to face Richard, keeping his hand.

"No, I promise to wear something more 'me' tomorrow." He smiled into Richard's eyes, which were smiling back. "But more importantly, I'd like to take you out tonight, for dinner, on a date.... Would you?"

Richard felt himself getting red and forced a nod before he froze up completely.

The afternoon dragged as he thought, worried and fretted. Finally Paul closed his office door and sat on the couch, looking over at Richard at his desk.

"Out with it. You're on about the fiftieth lap of whatever rut you're in." He smiled so it wouldn't hurt.

Richard sighed and moved over to the couch, looking at the roses. His roses.

"Promise you won't laugh?" He sounded nervous even to his own ears. And resigned. He needed advice. Or that psychiatrist.

Paul shook his head even though he knew it was rhetorical. And took his hand, the way Rachel did. "What is it?"

Richard sighed and made a small laughing noise with no humor at all, and looked at his friend.

"Barry asked me out on a date, again...."

Paul nodded. Richard had to look down, and took a deep breath.

"I have no idea what to wear...."

Paul, much to his relief, realized right away how big a problem it was.

"Maybe we should ask Rachel if she could... if she has any ideas?"

The buzzer nearly caused Richard to faint. Tension, he told himself, not fear. Tension. He pushed himself out of the kitchen chair that suddenly felt so inviting and made his way to the front door. The intercom light. Of course. He knew that. Barry.

"Hi, Barry. I'll be right down...."

When the elevator doors opened on his floor he stood back for a moment before he could step in, and then had to make himself push the "L" button. Committed. No floors in between. Oh God.

An instant later the doors opened and Barry was there, almost exactly where he'd been Friday... but standing, stiff.

He took almost exactly the same step again. He was wearing a linen shirt, short-sleeved and very nice. His tanned arms looked even more tanned against the light blue.

He smiled his best, most beautiful smile, and almost all of Richard's anxiety slipped away. He kept looking at Barry's eyes and all the rest dissolved. Barry took both of his hands.

"Hi...." He smiled even wider for a moment and had to look down.

"Could we sit down for a moment, first..?" Barry nodded to the lobby seating. Richard nodded.

After they'd sat and Barry had waffled a few starts, Richard took his hand again.

"I'd like tonight to be perfect, too, and I know that's impossible, especially after last, after Friday, I mean, after I ran- left you, like that." He smiled at the flicker of emotions across Barry's face.

"But it's already perfect, since you're here."

Barry lost all his uncertainty and beamed at him. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Richard grinned. "More than, Mr. Delaney, you're rich?" Barry grinned back.

"Much better than that... much." He twisted their hands and wrists, looking at them.

"I never even dreamed I'd ever feel this way about anyone...." He looked up, all over Richard's face, and spoke in a quiet, uncertain voice, very unlike him.

"I love you."

He rushed on, as if he had rehearsed and needed to hurry to remember it all.

"I thought I was happy, and I was, but now, I mean, every day is wonderful. I come to work smiling just at the thought of seeing you, of sitting with you and having a cup of coffee and listening to your laugh and voice, and what you're going to do that day or whatever you did...." He smiled as he slowed down.

"Just being with you is better than my best days, before."

"Hello?"

She didn't sound sleepy, or asleep. Maybe it was okay.

"Rachel? It's Richard. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't wake you or scare you calling so late... I really needed to talk to someone and..."

She'd insisted he come over so they could talk in person instead of bruising their ears and staring at blank walls. Even after midnight, she'd said. That she wasn't a friend just at civilized hours.

She smiled again at how he looked, the sleek sweater so different from his crisp shirts. It had been a surprise to both of them when the clerk in the exclusive store had suggested cashmere, and then insisted he try it on. It really did suit him. Soft and dramatic. Words that she hadn't associated before, but which fit Richard beautifully. Like the sweater.

Stuart brought in herbal tea after chiding Richard that he'd never get to sleep if he had coffee at one in the morning. Tea and scones. He set the tray on the coffee table and poured for each of them, distributing little plates and napkins, and then settled down in the easy chair across from the sofa with his plate and pastry on a tiny side table.

"Thank you, Stuart. This is much more than I needed and..."

"It's my pleasure, Richard. You can't talk without a cup of something warm, and I'd feel guilty if I couldn't give you something to nibble." He smiled at something. "And I'd be kept up all night myself if I gave Rachel anything stronger than mint."

"You be quiet." Rachel slapped in his direction with a smile. She then turned to Richard, touching his knee with the same hand.

"Now tell us all about it, if you want to."

Richard looked at her hand, or his knee, or his new pants. All of them. It was suddenly harder. He looked up and Stuart was watching them both, relaxed. Not just him. He took a breath.

"He told me he loves me. He loves me." He had to close his eyes at the feeling in his face. "And we didn't go out to eat again, but it wasn't bad... I mean, I didn't chicken out again or anything else." He looked up and grinned at them.

"We just talked... we had too much to talk about and never made it to the restaurant." That felt juvenile and foolish when he said it.

"That all sounds like a good evening."

Stuart was smiling. Richard blushed again and smiled back a little.

"It was, I guess... but I...." He lost his smile and blush at the same thought. He twisted so he could face them both.

"I... He wants us to date and... he wants to date me, see me, romantically, and that's wonderful, really, but I...."

He ran down. After a few seconds Rachel rubbed his leg. "And?"

Richard tried to find words that wouldn't hurt as much to say as the thoughts. They waited, seeing that he was just thinking, not stopped.

He finally looked out at them again. Then at Stuart, alone. It was easier, somehow.

"I was... at my old job... I was ... assaulted." He took a breath. "I guess I still have... issues."

He closed his eyes and felt Rachel's hand on his knee, and not much else. For a long time.

Then Stuart spoke, quietly.

"When I was in high school, I was beaten up. I lost five teeth and had a broken cheek and eye socket. I had to drop out for a term because I was so afraid it'd happen again. Just, afraid...." He stopped for a few seconds.

"When I finally went back everyone treated me like a leper because I was different, because I lost a... I wasn't someone they could understand anymore, because I'd experienced something... maybe they all were afraid of, and because I was different then."

Richard opened his eyes and looked at Stuart, who was looking at him with sad eyes.

"I didn't date again until I was in college, and even then I only... I only went on a few." He stiffened up a bit.

"It was some girls who beat me up. A class up and there were three of them and I was afraid to hit back until it was too late." He blinked, like it was hard.

"Until I met Rachel I was afraid of all women, really. Afraid they'd hurt me, or that I'd like them and then they'd find out and then hurt me a different way." He smiled a sad smile at his wife.

"They... those girls ruined my life for ten years, until Rachel made me tell her why I was afraid." He looked at her like she was everything. Then he smiled more at Richard, relaxed a little.

"I don't know if what happened to you was anything like what happened to me, and if you ever want to tell me, I'll listen and... I won't...." He blinked back something.

"I'm still afraid to go out, in crowds or whatever, some days. I'm more afraid of strange women than men. I keep house obsessively because I need the order, and because Rachel likes it and I like it, even if it's because of what happened." He wasn't smiling and his hands were shaking in his lap. His last words were very quiet.

"I'll never judge you, okay?"

Richard stood up and took a long step around to him, lowering to his knees and pulling Stuart into a strong hug. He just held him for a long few breaths and then slowly relaxed a little. When he felt Stuart loosen his own grip, he sat back, letting the taller man go.

He looked at him to see if he was okay and spoke very softly.

"I was raped, by a man I knew, a co-worker, and then harassed after... the, the... charges... became known, and it was a... two years ago." He took a shallow breath, but wasn't as shaky as he'd expected.

He tried to smile a little, because that was years ago, and a continent away, and Stuart wasn't those men. And Barry wasn't.

"I vacuum and dust every day, everything, and wash dishes to relax."

Stuart made a small laugh. "I do too... the dishes."

Rachel made a very small laugh too.

"What are you afraid will happen?"

Squeezed in between the two of them, it felt... possible, safer... to think about that. Because nothing bad had happened, so it was what he was afraid of in the future that was the problem.

It made it seem so irrational. Stupid. But he knew that was his fear talking all by itself, the past.

"I'm afraid... Barry... will hurt me... and it'll...."

"It'll all start again."

They were all quiet for a while. Nobody said that was crazy.

"The man... the man who hurt you." Stuart spoke carefully. "Why did he do it?"

Richard was very glad they were both so close. He needed their quiet contact to be able to think about that, to remember the conclusions he and his therapist had come to, that he still almost didn't believe. That he was still supposed to be working on.

"He hated me." He said it very quietly, in a flat voice, afraid to look at them.

"Why?"

Richard closed his eyes. Much harder.

"He... called me a... a... f-f-f-" He had to stop.

Stuart and Rachel both hugged him harder.

"He hated gay men, didn't he?" Stuart spoke in a whisper.

Richard nodded.

"He didn't even know you, really?"

Richard shook his head. They'd hardly even said hello to each other.

"I think.... I think Barry ~loves~ you." He spoke very, very quietly, as if to himself. "He's taken time, to get to know you, to learn about you... and he loves you. Even more."

Richard nodded. At the first, and the second, and the third.

They insisted that he sleep in the guest bedroom since it was after three when he finished helping clean up to Stuart's satisfaction and Rachel's quiet amusement. She'd said if they lived together they'd erode the house away every few years.

Outside his room, they both gave him hugs goodnight.

In the morning, much too early, Stuart made them a quick breakfast after making Richard sit down. As they sat around the table sipping good coffee and generally waking up, Stuart looked at him.

"You know, I took years of working things out all by myself before I could love someone." He spoke very matter-of-factly.

"It would have been hard, even if... if I'd met Rachel, back when it had just happened, any earlier.... I don't know if we could have overcome all the problems I had." He put his hand out and Rachel took it, on the table.

Richard looked at the two of them, and thought of Barry's hands. He didn't smile, but he felt one in his voice.

"I need a psychiatrist, fast."

He smiled at them, then just at Stuart.

"I'd hate to miss ~my~ Rachel."

the end, again