He’s in the bathroom washing his hands when he hears the car pull up. Walking toward the front of the house, he pauses by the window and watches Jim unfold from his little red car and walk up the drive. He opens the door.

“Hey, Toby.”

“Hey, Jim. I’ve been trying to call you.”

Jim walks past him through the door and into the house, tossing his keys on the small table in the kitchen. He reaches into his pocket, holding up his cell phone.

“Dead. I need to get a new battery. I figured Sasha and I could go on a mini road trip.”

“That’s what I was trying to call you about.”

Jim sits down and stretches out his legs, smiles.

“Did she decide that she’s too cool for me? Or have you decided that you just can’t tear yourself away from her?”

Toby chuckles slightly.

“A little of both. My ex isn’t dropping her off until tomorrow now, and my appointment today got cancelled.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s ok…this way I can spend more time with her.”

“Plus, you can save money since you won’t have to pay me to watch her.”

“I don’t pay you.”

“Yeah…. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“Oh, really?” Toby raises his eyebrows.

“Uh huh. What is the going rate for babysitting these days? $2.00 an hour?”

“I might be able to spring for $2.50.”

“Wow. My next door neighbor, who is a certified babysitter, by the way, will be so jealous.” He places a hand over his chest, grins.

“Certified? I’ve been settling.”

Jim nods, looking thoughtful.

“You have, Toby. You have.”

A distant buzz causes Toby to move from where he was leaning against the counter.

“I should get that.”

“Hmmm?”

“Dryer.”

“Oh. Laundry day?”

“Yep. I figure since I’m home today, might as well.”

“Oh, of course. I know that’s what I do when I have a day off.” He stands up, follows Toby into the basement. Hopping up to sit on the washer, he leans on the dryer, jumps back. “Jesus, that’s hot.”

“It gets that way…it’s pretty old.” Toby carefully opens the metal door, starts pulling out things and folding them. “You ok?”

“Yeah, luckily this is the coldest appliance here, so it can soothe me.” He presses a hand on the white lid under his thigh, spreading out his fingers.

“So what do you have planned for tonight?” Toby shakes the wrinkles out of a shirt, grabs a hanger from the table behind him.

“Nothing. Frankly, I’m pretty bummed that I won’t be seeing my favorite girl today.”

“She’ll be upset too, she says that no one plays dolls like you.”

“Well, obviously. Though, I would appreciate if you kept that quiet.”

Toby laughs, reaches in the dryer again as Jim picks up a bottle on the side of the sink.

“Lavender and Vanilla?”

“What? It’s fabric softener.”

“You use fabric softener?”

“You don’t?”

“When I remember. So, no. I don’t.”

“Well, you should. Sasha loves this stuff, says that I make her clothes smell the best.”

“One small victory for Toby.”

“Hey, I take whatever I can get.”

Jim is silent for a moment, and when Toby glances over he’s changed; his eyes are downcast and his easy smile is gone. He studies an invisible spot on his jeans.

“So how are you….with everything?”

Jim snorts.

“You mean, have I recovered from the rant that I unleashed on you yesterday.”

“Well…”

“Yeah. It just…I don’t see why she has to plan everything at work.”

“A wedding is a lot of work.”

“I know. It just seems wrong, taking over the conference room every day, calling the caterers from her desk. Talking about how she’s going to do her hair.” The last sentence is muttered under his breath, and Toby folds another pair of pants. “I mean, isn’t that against…something? Some rule?”

“You care about the rules?” Jim looks away, sighs.

“No.”

“Do you…”

Jim cuts him off.

“I don’t know…maybe I didn’t mean anything. I just…don’t want her to find out I said something.”

“Well, I know we’re friends, but I’m also your HR representative…that’s just between us. You could even redact it, if you wanted.”

“Redact?”

“Yeah.” He motions for Jim to move, edges past him to start another load. “It just means basically you take back whatever you said or did. No one would know who said it.” His hand closes over a small frilly sock. It always seems, no matter how long between visits, that he always washes at least one of Sasha’s socks. He smiles, tosses it in.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m always redacting something when it comes to her.”

Toby glances back, at Jim standing with his head down. He closes the lid and starts the washer.

“We’ll have to watch out, this thing is old too…it shakes it’s way across the room nearly every time.”

Jim doesn’t move. Toby hesitantly touches his shoulder.

“Jim?”

“Truthfully, Toby, you know what my plans were tonight?”

“What?”

“Hmmm, well, if I couldn’t make Sasha play with me all night and force you to ask me to have dinner with you guys, I was gonna go home. Probably think about Pam. Well, not probably. I would. That’s what I would do. Sad, right?” His eyes look slightly glassy.

“That’s not sad. You aren’t sad.”

“Right.” Jim turns, leans against the washer next to Toby.

“I know that it’s hard…getting over something.”

“I know…I know you do, Toby. God, I’m sorry. Here I am complaining about some stupid...crush, and you’ve had a marriage fall apart.”

“It’s not a crush.”

“I know.”

“It will get better. If you don’t think that you could ever tell her – “

“I can’t.”

“Then you’ll have to watch her get married. Try to move on.”

“I just can’t see myself moving on from her.”

Toby smiles for a moment.

“You would be surprised, the things that you are able to do when you think everything is impossible.”

Jim looks over at him, meets his eyes.

“Yeah. Thanks, thanks Toby. Have I mentioned that I miss sitting next to you?”

“Not since yesterday.”

The washer suddenly starts vibrating, causing them both to jump. Toby opens his mouth to laugh, but he barely moves his lips before Jim leans into them. Startled for a moment, Toby blinks; Jim’s eyes are closed and their eyelashes nearly collide.

It’s not the first time that Toby’s kissed another man; one night in college he and his roommate got spectacularly drunk, ended up making out in the middle of their room while some crappy music played on the radio and the lava lamp bubbled in the corner.

When he doesn’t remember it, Toby can never say how it started, only that he had more hair then; his roommate tangled his fingers in it and pulled, causing their teeth to clack painfully together.  When Toby returned after getting a towel to staunch the blood flow coming from his upper lip, his roommate cried, called him a fag.  Toby couldn’t think of anything to say, just stood there with the bloody towel as his roommate ran out of the room.  He called another friend the next day to take him to the dentist.

He only told one person, his ex-wife, when they were together and at the stage where honesty is best and you can see forever; forever never includes an ending at that point.  She listened closely, then declared it strangely hot as she climbed on top of him.  She didn’t mention it again until years later in a harsh whisper outside a courtroom, telling him he had to give her everything she wanted.  He did.  He bit down on his lip that day, tasting blood and remembering that painful kiss.

Jim doesn’t pull him forward, kiss him too hard; but his lips are chapped, and they scrape against Toby’s as they fumble together. He licks his lips and Toby can taste his toothpaste. After a few minutes Toby finds himself taking control, pushing Jim against the washer, pressing against him and moving down his body while Jim closes his eyes.

Jim doesn’t tangle his fingers in the sparse hair on the top of Toby’s head; instead, his fingertips seem to flex somewhere around Toby’s ears before resting on his shoulders, brushing his neck. As Toby leans forward, the washing machine causing Jim to vibrate in his mouth, he can feel tiny points of steady pressure dotting the top of his collarbone, and he feels like he’s doing something right, for once.

A groan starts at the back of Jim’s throat and escapes, and Toby can feel it rumble through him.

“Jesus. Toby, I –” his hands move up, brace against the cool metal of the washer. His knees shake.

Toby wraps a steadying hand around Jim’s knee, moves his legs further apart so he doesn’t fall over. Jim’s sigh is nearly drowned out by the washer, and Toby discreetly wipes his mouth on his sleeve before he raises himself up, slightly nervous about meeting Jim face to face again. But Jim’s hands close over his shoulders and he finds his mouth again before Toby can meet his eyes.

The washing machine is still beating rhythmically against Toby’s hip when Jim wraps his hand around him. His hands are cold, and Toby flinches at first, but Jim’s so hot everywhere else that Toby finds himself sweating. Jim’s lips leave his and settle low on Toby’s neck and everything becomes concentrated and complicated leaning against the washer.

Jim bites at Toby’s neck and squeezes slightly, increasing the pressure as Toby comes, gasping and gripping Jim at the waist. The washer stops just as they’re done, panting and catching their breath in the silence. Toby reaches over to one of the baskets, pulls out a towel to hand to Jim. They don’t talk.

Jim tosses the towel on top of the pile on the floor as Toby buckles his belt, straightens his shirt. Jim opens the washer and they toss the clothes in the dryer before walking upstairs. Jim breaks the silence.

“I should go.” He rubs his hand absentmindedly across his stomach.

“Yeah.”

“But I’ll see you Monday.”

Toby finds his smile.

“I’ll see you then. Will you be ok?”

Jim pauses in the doorway. He starts nodding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Thanks, Toby. For everything.”

Toby doesn’t watch him drive away, but he can hear the engine just before he starts the shower.

-------

Jim comes back to his desk on Monday morning. Toby looks up, and is grateful to see that he grins at him and looks the same.

“Hey, Toby?”

Jim perches on the end of Toby’s desk, so Toby has to look up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“You know the other day?”

Toby isn’t sure which day he’s referring to, but he nods anyway.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I would like to…you know, redact it. Redact everything.” Jim looks down, into Toby’s eyes.

Toby understands.

“Oh. Ok, no problem.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah, I’ll…take care of that right away.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jim stands up, starts to walk away.

“See you around, Toby.”

“See you.”

Toby pulls out the folder and redacts the complaint before walking into the bathroom and splashing water on his face. Looking in the mirror, he pushes down his collar and examines the reddish bruise low on his neck for a moment before carefully covering it up again.

He makes a point not to look at it again until it’s faded to the point that he can convince himself it’s a trick of the light.