Fic: Apologies
“Do you need anything else?” Eric’s assistant asked him. She was leaning over in the doorframe in her gray skin-tight jeans and blue silk button-up shirt, looking like she’d just struck a pose. It wasn’t intentional, though; she was just one of those naturally gorgeous girls. It probably had a lot to do with her exotic eyes and the faint dusting of freckles on her skin. If he liked girls . . . well, then she’d probably have done it for him. But he was pretty much past wishing for that anymore.
“No, I’m good Nula, thanks.”
“Okay, well just give me a holler if you do. I’ll come by and get you when it’s time for hair and makeup.”
Eric nodded as she left, giving himself a little shake to dispel the nervousness growing in his stomach. It was almost hard to admit how excited he was about this new job, because he hadn’t really been excited about work since he’d played for the Leafs. But something about working in TV was like a childhood dream come true . . . even if his original dream had been to be an NHL player. This was at least a close second.
His boss was a little hard to read, but other than that, everyone had been wholly welcoming. They even appeared impressed by his now almost-distant memory of professional hockey career. And his assistant Nula seemed like a genuinely nice person-- friendly and not at all uptight. With all this going for him it was easy to get a little nervous, like it might slip away if he wasn’t careful. He’d just have to hope his first show would go as well as the practice runs.
He composed himself in his office for a little while, going over his notes before Nula knocked and then allowed herself in.
“Time to make you handsome,” she grinned. “Or, more so, I suppose.”
He grinned back, knowing she was only teasing and not actually flirting. She’d already shown him she had a playful side, and he was grateful he’d ended up with her as an assistant rather than some straight-laced corporate type. He hadn’t made any new friends in quite some time, but this relationship seemed encouraging
“Yes, let’s get on that,” he said, and followed her out.
*
“Thank you for watching Penalty Shot.”
“And we’re good.” The cameraman nodded to him as the closing music sounded.
Eric unpinned his microphone and stood, giving the crew around him a relieved smile with a quick “thanks,” as he made his way out of the live broadcast room.
Greg, his boss, was waiting for him with narrowed eyes and a half-smile. “Good job, McNally,” he said rather sedately, and turned away when his secretary appeared beside him carrying a clipboard.
Nula was much more enthusiastic. She gave him two thumbs up with a wide grin. “You’re a natural,” she said.
“Thanks. I hope you weren’t expecting anything less,” Eric rattled off, using the levity to keep from blushing under her praise.
Nula rolled her eyes. “Anyways, you got a call while you were on.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She fidgeted with a slew of half-torn papers in her hand to find the one she was looking for, as her message-taking skills left something to be desired. “From someone named Sam,” she announced as she unearthed the desired note. “Didn’t leave a message, just said to call when you got a chance.”
“Oh,” Eric replied slowly, hoping Nula couldn’t detect any nervousness in his tone. Outing himself at work was currently at the top of his never-to-do list. “Alright, well thanks, I’ll catch up with you in a bit to see what’s on for tomorrow.”
He retreated to his office, fumbling with his cellphone on the way to call Sam back.
“Hey,” Sam answered cheerfully. “I wanted to ask you what you thought about repainting this weekend, since everything else should be done by then. I’d kinda like to have it all finished as soon as possible, so we can just go back to having our house to ourselves. Anyways, I was going to call some people out to give an estimate . . .”
“Sam, why did you call the office?” Eric interrupted in an exasperated tone.
“I . . . what?”
“Why did you call the office?”
“Because I couldn’t reach you on your cell, and I wanted to make plans right away if I got a good estimate.”
“You couldn’t reach me on my cell because I was unavailable, Sam. I was doing a taping."
“Okay . . . so, the painting? Can we start this weekend?”
“Fine,” Eric sighed. Sam either wasn’t getting it, or didn’t care. He’d been so wrapped up in the home improvement projects lately, it was all he seemed to think about. “Listen, I have to go, okay? I’ll see you at home.”
“Okay, bye.”
Eric frowned and set his cellphone down on the desk, deciding how best to put it to Sam when he got home that he didn’t really want him calling the office unless it was an absolute emergency. Sam would understand, he reasoned, but he’d just have to spell it out a little more clearly.
Nula rapped on his door a few times and then let herself in, as usual. “Greg and the others had a few notes,” she said as she approached with a pad of papers. “And he says tomorrow you’ll be doing your first interview. He wants to meet with you now to discuss it.”
“Alright, I’ll go over those notes with you later. I’ll probably need the moral support,” he joked as he made his way out.
*
Eric left the meeting with his nerves a little more unsteady than they’d been after his taping, due to the fact Greg could both compliment him on his work and make him feel like an amateur at the same time. As he headed back to his office he caught sight of Nula standing up at her desk with the phone receiver against her ear.
“Oh, hey, here he is,” she said, then tilted the phone away from her mouth. “It’s Sam again,” she added in Eric’s direction.
His stress level climbing several notches, Eric groped for his cellphone in his pocket before he realized he’d left it sitting on his desk.
“I’ll . . . I’ll take it in my office,” he said briskly before walking in and shutting the door behind him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Sam. Twice in one day?” was the first thing he said when he picked up the line.
“What?”
“You’ve called the office twice in one day now!” he repeated, his mounting frustration getting the better of him and his tone of voice.
Sam was silent for a moment. Apparently he was finally catching on. “Well, I tried your cell again but you didn’t answer. I thought you were done with taping for the day.”
“I am. That’s not the point. What do you need now anyways?"
“I was calling to ask you about the paint--“
“About the damn painting again? You called my office to ask about that? Look, you can’t just keep calling me here. My assistant is not stupid, you know.”
“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “I see. So I’m not allowed to call you at work now.”
Eric sighed, knowing Sam would be wearing his hurt look, which was actually more like a blank expression because he didn’t usually like Eric to know when he’d been offended. “Sam . . . come on. I’m new here and I need to make the right impression . . . you can’t just expect me to . . .”
“Don’t worry, Eric. I don’t expect anything,” Sam replied coldly.
“Sam, please don’t be like that,” Eric attempted to soften his voice, hoping it would soothe Sam’s feelings and create a way out of the hole he had rapidly dug for himself. “You can call me on my cell. You know I’ll always answer it if I can.”
“Right, okay."
Taking Sam’s curt reply to mean he was still annoyed, Eric decided to reach deep down in one last attempt to smooth things over. “Sammy, come on, I love you, you know that. It’s just-“
He was cut off by the knock that Nula gave as she simultaneously opened the door. “Hey, Eric,” she said brightly as Eric jumped up and clamped his phone into the receiver.
“Don’t you knock?” he practically shouted, more because he was shaken at how close she’d come to overhearing him at a particularly inopportune time than because he was truly angry.
She blinked at him a few times. “I did,” she replied.
“No, you knocked as you opened the door. That’s not what knocks are for. Knocks are for asking permission to enter. You can’t just walk in here anytime you please like you own the place. You’re supposed to be my assistant, and this is my office.”
“Oh.” She flushed, but quickly regained her composure. “Sorry. I’ll be sure to remember that in the future, Mr. McNally,” she said, and left the room.
Eric sank down in his chair again, dropping his head into his hands. He had no idea why he had just lashed out at Nula, as he was perfectly aware she was not the cause of his frustration. Sam wasn’t either, really. It was just a consequence of being who he was.
And right now he was a guy that had managed to piss off his partner and his assistant in a matter of mere minutes, so he could expect cold receptions on both fronts for the next few days unless he thought of a way to make things right.
Sighing, he picked up his cellphone and debated calling Sam back. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say to him, though, since he really did feel he had a valid case about keeping the work calls to a minimum. Sam, for his part, probably felt that after nearly five years together, and most of those in the same house, he had a right to be able to speak to him at work when decisions needed to be made that affected both of them.
Sometimes, just for a split second, Eric felt he’d been better off when he could only see his side of things--when he’d been a wholly self-centered prick. It left a lot less room for doubt and guilt, but then again, it left a lot less room for real happiness as well. In the end, the scales tipped in favor of making room in his life to admit when he was wrong if it meant he could have Sam’s love.
An unusual bout of courage overtook him and he rose, heading out to find Nula. She was crouched over her computer screen, typing in the schedule for the upcoming week.
“Listen, Nula . . .” he began.
She raised one eyebrow and regarded him warily. “Yes?"
Finding his mouth suddenly dry, he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been planning on saying. “What . . . what are you doing after work today?” was what came out instead.
Now Nula look confused.
“I thought maybe we could go grab a drink or something,” he paused, wondering if it sounded like he was trying to ask her out on a date. “You know, so I can apologize for being a dick.”
She smiled hesitantly. “Yeah, actually. I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ll be buying, of course, since you were the dick.”
Another point for Nula, Eric thought. She’s wasn't the type to hold a grudge.
*
They sat up at the bar, but over in the corner where they were fairly isolated from the rest of the crowd-not that many people would be able to hear them speaking over the din of the music and other loud conversations. Eric paid for the beers and then swallowed down at least half his bottle, hoping it would provide the encouragement he needed to get out the right words this time.
“So,” Nula began the conversation for them. “Is the beer itself the apology, or did you have anything else in mind?”
Her tone was light and mocking, and he had to smile warmly at her for breaking the ice.
“I’ve just been sort of stressed, being new and all. I really want this job to work out. I mean, I hope to make it a career, and not just a job. But that’s no excuse for jumping down your throat like that today.”
“Nope, it’s not. But I get it,” Nula smiled and took a lady-like drink of her beer.
“And, well, there’s something else, too . . . It’s about Sam.”
“Sam? The guy who was calling today?”
“Yeah, him.” Eric frowned slightly.
Nula must have caught the expression. “Let me guess, you don’t like him and you want me to screen your calls for you." She giggled.
“No, no, that’s not it."
“Oh?” Nula looked up at him expectantly.
“No, I like Sam . . . well, what I mean is, uh, I really like Sam.” Eric cringed, wondering how he’d been reduced to speaking like a teenage girl.
Nula still appeared bewildered.
“The thing is . . .” Eric picked at the label of the beer bottle, tearing the paper away. “The thing is . . . Sam is gay.”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant to say, but at least he was getting in the right vicinity. Though why it was easier for him to put the gayness all on Sam he wasn’t sure, unless it was because he felt Sam fit the bill better than he did.
The mischief had gone from Nula’s eyes as she blinked thoughtfully. “I see. And . . . are you?”
He nodded, thankful she’d taken the responsibility for saying the words out of his hands.
“So, are you two together?”
Again Eric nodded. “Assuming he hasn’t gotten tired of me yet.”
Nula grinned and opened her mouth, probably to say something witty or teasing, but Eric cut her off.
“Look, I’d really appreciate it if we could keep this between us. I just don’t want this . . . affecting anything in the work place.”
She smiled at him like the cat that had swallowed the canary. “I got it, boss. Mum’s the word.”
Finishing off his beer, Eric looked at his watch, more for show than for actually checking the time. “Well, speaking of Sam, I guess I really do need to go apologize to him. I was a little . . . short with him today, too.”
Nula nodded in understanding, pushing back her chair and grabbing her jacket. “Sure thing.”
They exited together and Eric walked her to her car, but as he turned to leave she shouted after him.
“Flowers,” she said.
“What?”
“You know, to apologize with. Maybe you should get flowers.”
Eric rolled his eyes and gave her what he hoped was a warning glare, although he wasn’t sure she could see it in the darkness. Nula just laughed, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she climbed into her car. “See ya tomorrow, Eric.”
*
As he drove home, Eric felt surprisingly pleased, and he was fairly certain he’d done the right thing to take care of his situation. Still, he’d been rather testy with Sam in general lately, mostly because he’d been wrapped up in his own nervousness about starting a new career. But Sam had stresses of his own; he worked full time, of course, and he was also wholly responsible for the home improvement projects, which Eric had to admit was a heavy burden, even if Sam was the one who had wanted them done in the first place.
Without really thinking about it---because if he had, he surely would have over-thought it--Eric stopped at the market. He walked in and paused by the display of potted plants, deciding on a small white orchid as he figured it would do to replace the last plant he’d killed by over-watering when Sam had been out of town. Satisfied with his selection, he tossed a few other random groceries into his cart so it wouldn’t look like he’d stopped by specifically for the plant and made his way home.
When he arrived he found Sam upstairs in his sweats, kneeling over in the bathroom and cleaning the floor of the remnants of grout the workers had left behind when they’d replaced the sink and toilet.
“Hey,” Eric said experimentally.
“Hey,” Sam responded flatly, and without turning around.
Evidently, he was still mad. Eric trailed down the hallway to their room and stuck the plant on the dresser, then backtracked to the bathroom where he crouched behind Sam, wrapping his arm around Sam’s chest and pressing up against his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he breathed softly into Sam’s ear.
He felt Sam’s chest expand as he sighed. “Okay, Eric.”
“No, really,” Eric persisted, dragging Sam up with him as he stood. “I’m sorry.”
Sam turned around to face him, a very stiff and somewhat patronizing smile on his lips. “Okay, Eric,” he repeated, brushing past him and heading towards the bedroom.
Eric chased him down the hallway and spun him around at the entrance to their room, forcing Sam into a hug. “I mean it. I’m really sorry. And listen, I told my assistant.”
A more genuine smile began to spread slowly across Sam’s lips. “Told your assistant what?”
Encouraged by the grin, Eric wrapped his arms more tightly around Sam’s body and pressed his hips against him. “About you. I mean, about us. So you can call a hundred times a day if you want . . . only, don’t.”
Sam’s smile was as full as it could get by now. “Okay, Eric. I promise I won’t abuse my privileges,” he said just as Eric met his lips for a kiss. But Sam broke the kiss off after a second, narrowing his eyes as he pulled back. “What’s that?”
Following Sam’s gaze, Eric saw that he’d spotted the orchid on the dresser. “Oh, that . . . I had to get something from the market, and I saw that and thought you might like it.”
“You bought me flowers?” Sam asked, his brows approaching his hairline.
“Well, it’s a potted plant, really. I don’t know that you’d call it flowers . . .”
“You bought me flowers,” Sam repeated, but this time it wasn’t a question, and the statement was laced with amusement.
“Fine, Sammy. If it makes you happy, then I bought you flowers,” Eric relented.
Sam smiled triumphantly and kissed Eric again, shifting to free his arms so he could begin to work on the buttons of Eric’s shirt. “You know the only reason I put up with you is because you still manage to surprise me.”
Not needing any further encouragement, Eric walked Sam backwards a few steps until he was flush against the bed. Grabbing Sam’s thigh for leverage, he hoisted him an inch or so off the ground before letting him plummet down on the bed. “I’ll try to keep the surprises coming, then,” he said with a grin.
*****