Page 26 of Second Chance

“The evidence was compelling.” Without so much as seeing his face, Tony can hear how prim he sounds.

“No one is getting arrested this time.” On the couch between them, Daniel’s hand balls into a fist.

Tony lets his own hand rest next to it, pinky outstretched just enough to reach it.

Of all the parts of last year’s shitshow, Colette’s arrest was the worst for Daniel. He doesn’t dream about getting shot. He doesn’t dream about dangling off the side of a boulder with nothing but Tony’s slipping grip stopping him from plunging into the Hudson a mile below. He doesn’t dream about the fight that nearly stopped him and Tony before they ever started. He doesn’t dream about Stacy Allan, literature professor turned murderess, handing out cookies on this very couch as if she wasn’t the reason Mario Lombardi was dead.

Daniel dreams about Colette, stuck in prison because he couldn’t get her out.

He dreams about the phone call he got about Andrew Clayfield.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jeff says. “But I have very little faith in you.”

God, Jeff is blunt. Tony likes that about him, though he doesn’t want to admit his grudging respect for Daniel’s ex. He says, “I promise to keep them from breaking and entering into any crime scenes.”

Daniel shoots him a look.

“Will you also not get yourself kidnapped whilst snooping?” Jeff’s voice is so dry it balances out the fact that he uses ‘whilst’ and ‘snooping’ in the same sentence.

Daniel nods vigorously. “What he said.”

“It was barely a kidnapping.” Tony has argued this point before. He’s aware it’s ridiculous and incorrect, but it makes him feel better. “I was only missing for an hour.”

“Some would argue any amount of time missing is too much.” Colette examines her turquoise-painted fingernails studiously.

Short of any other defense, Tony admits, “Some would.”

“Anyway.” Jeff is business-like and firm down the phone line. “I’m going on a two-week retreat to Malta with Tatyana, so please don’t get into trouble.”

“We’ll do our best.” The corners of Daniel’s lips twitch up as they do every time Jeff says anything about Tatyana. Tony doesn’t have any experience with exes, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s both a little weird and a little sweet that Daniel and Jeff are so mutually invested in each other’s relationships. “Have a good time.”

Colette picks up the phone, switches off speaker, and proceeds to ask Jeff a series of increasingly personal questions about his trip and presumably his girlfriend. She stands in the entryway, nearly out of earshot to do it, but it must be serious because she switches to French partway through.

Tony takes her departure as his cue to start cleaning up dinner.

He’s almost through loading the dishwasher when Daniel shows up with the breadbasket.

“And again, you don’t let me help,” Daniel complains.

“Sweetheart, you don’t want to help.” Tony hip checks him a little to the side so he can rinse the worst of the salad bits off the last plate before loading it up. Daniel’s dishwasher is a tragedy, the cheapest model IKEA has on offer. He doesn’t know how to clean the drain out properly by himself, and it’s Tony’s least favorite chore. All the better to avoid the damn thing getting clogged in the first place.

Daniel pouts, arms crossed as Tony finishes up. “I do want to help.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t ask.”

Tony grabs a rag, gets it damp, and heads to the living room to wipe down the coffee table.

Daniel follows, spluttering. “That doesn’t make any sense. If I didn’t want to help, why would I ask?”

“To be polite.” Tony gathers up the crumbs in his cloth. “You want people to say no.” He’s watched Daniel execute this maneuver with his ma over and over again. He offers about three times to be polite, she shoots him down every time to be polite back, and Daniel never even has to get up off his chair.

In a testament to how far gone Tony is he thinks it’s kind of cute how transparently Daniel has no real interest in helping around the house. He’ll do it if he has to. He makes Tony dinner every other day, and while his apartment does have a sort of standard clutter to it, it’s reasonably clean. But if Daniel has the option, he’d rather not.

Someday, Tony thinks, it might bug him how much Daniel likes to stay put and let himself be served.

That’ll have to be the day he says yes when Daniel asks if he needs help.

Tony tosses the rag into the kitchen sink and laughs when he turns to find Daniel clearly upset, sitting on one of the bar stools and watching Tony clean. “You’ll know when I really need your help, baby.”

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