Home Sweet Home. Maybe.
They hadn't been back from Charleston for long at all. Long enough to unpack, catch up on his laundry, get food in the fridge and get started preparing for the school year that was, no matter what else hit the fan, going to start sure. Long enough to develop any kind of new routine with Damon, work things out, figure out how to be, now that they were back home? No way. Not even close. It sure as hell hadn't been long enough to figure out any of the more complicated questions that he still wasn't letting himself ask until they were staring him in the face.
But, he kept his word and kept taking Damon's calls and being his friend. What they might be, he didn't know, but he'd meant it when he said he valued the friendship and it wasn't going anywhere.
Which was how he ended up on a bar stool at the Grill, with a glass of bourbon in front of him. He didn't even bring his work along, since he knew he'd be meeting up with Damon. Greeting Damon, as it turned out, was a bit awkward. His inclination was to stand up to meet him, reach out to touch him, but that was right the fuck out with an audience. So he looked over his shoulder and said, "Hey," instead. That was normal, right?
But, he kept his word and kept taking Damon's calls and being his friend. What they might be, he didn't know, but he'd meant it when he said he valued the friendship and it wasn't going anywhere.
Which was how he ended up on a bar stool at the Grill, with a glass of bourbon in front of him. He didn't even bring his work along, since he knew he'd be meeting up with Damon. Greeting Damon, as it turned out, was a bit awkward. His inclination was to stand up to meet him, reach out to touch him, but that was right the fuck out with an audience. So he looked over his shoulder and said, "Hey," instead. That was normal, right?