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Tom was just barely out of reach. He hovered close to Greg, he would reach in and touch Greg, but Greg could never touch him.
He runs his hand along Greg’s back and leans in close to say hello, but jumps back in disgust when Greg places his hands on Tom’s chest. This dance at the RECNY Ball continues.
Tom smiles brightly at Greg’s presence.
Tom pelts him with water bottles.
Tom places a caring hand on Greg’s arm.
Tom wrestles him into the ground.
Tom promotes Greg.
Tom berates him.
Tom looks at Greg like he hung the moon and the stars.
Tom looks at him like he’s disgusting.
Tom was there, Tom wasn’t there. He loves me, he loves me not. With Tom, the highs had him soaring above the stars, but the lows had him buried deep underground. So Greg stops reaching out for him.
Tom continues being fickle, but Comfrey is always reliable. Greg looks at her and he sees his way out of this continuous cycle of Tom, he sees a stable option. Comfrey’s nice, she laughs at his jokes, she never makes fun of him, she’s beautiful. Greg needs to have it.
Then Tom walks back into Greg’s office.
“Helloo,” He says. He looks fundamentally different, and his tone is unusually chipper. Greg returns the greeting. That unreadable expression in Tom’s eyes stays there and they look so lifeless as Tom crosses the room over to stand right next to Greg. Hovering. So close that he could almost be sitting on Greg’s lap if he chose to bend his knees. Tom breathes heavily as he places his hands down on Greg’s desk. “Thank you, Greg.” Then he’s off.
Tom is a force of nature. A tornado that rips through Greg’s tiny little office. Greg can’t help but admire his boss in shock as he hollers and tears the room to shreds. That unreadable expression turned into one of unbridled glee. He looks free, freer than Greg thinks that Tom's ever been.
Tom pounds his chest like an ape and Greg holds out his hands defensively, almost in the way that someone would hold their hands out when approaching a rabid animal, because Tom is a rabid animal. Tom walks up to him, and he looks so happy that he almost looks like he’s about to cry. Greg isn’t completely certain that Tom won’t punch him in the face, so he backs up. But he doesn’t.
“What- is going on?” Greg asks, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
“Apologies Greg, I may have gotten a little carried away,” Tom’s trying to catch his breath and can barely mask the excitement in his voice. “But I just popped ‘round to say that no one’s going to jail. Gerri spoke to the DOJ, and the Waystar Two...” he motions to himself and to Greg, and his shaky voice almost cracks. “...are free.”
“Okay,” Greg gives a nervous smile. “Is it real?”
Tom nods and walks forward. Even closer. He stops hovering.
Tom is there. He’s in Greg’s space and his hands are firmly holding Greg’s face.
Tom is there. His chest is pressed against Greg’s trembling hands as he leans forward.
Tom is there. His lips gently plant on Greg’s forehead, burning into it.
Then Tom is gone. He walks out of the office, and Greg can only give a meek thumbs up to the people watching outside his door.
Once again, Greg was soaring.
Greg was soaring at Kendall’s party as well, but he knew that he had to safely land before he inevitably crashed to the ground again. But seeing Tom’s face and demeanor change after he brings up Comfrey, Greg can’t help but wonder if he’s the one who started the crash this time.
Comfrey looks happy to go out with Greg, but Greg doesn’t feel like he’s soaring. He got up off the ground, but he isn’t flying high.
God, he wishes that Comfrey could be enough. But she isn’t. She’s there, she’s good, she’s something tangible, but he wants more. He can’t see that perfect life he used to be able to envision with Comfrey.
But why not? She’s there, she likes him, he likes her, but it’s not good. Greg supposes that he just misses the chase, and so he tries to move up the ladder like the Roys told him to.
The princess is perfect. Imagine him, Cousin Greg, becoming a king! She seems interested in his conversations with her, and he’s satisfied. This could be good. This will be good. Comfrey wasn’t good enough, but the princess is.
He can get back on track with her. He needs to stay focused. But Tom looks really nice in his white suit.
Then, at the wedding, Tom stopped hovering again.
Greg had really tried to keep the distance. He went over to Tom only to talk about the princess. But Tom sits them both down and leans in again.
Their knees are barely apart. Tom is right here, he’s right in front of Greg. As Tom starts talking to Greg, Greg realizes that things are in motion, that it’s now or never, and that right now Tom is here.
But Greg still pushes back. Just in case.
And then there it is.
“Who has ever looked after you in this fucking family, huh?”
It’s a question that doesn’t need to be answered because the answer is obvious. That first day, Tom had told Greg that he would look after him. And he did look after Greg.
Greg feels like a moron for not realizing sooner. Tom had always been around for Greg. Sure, he definitely hovered, but he stuck by and supported Greg. He was the only one who ever did.
Greg could never touch Tom. He’s sure that becoming a homewrecker would probably damn his soul or something like that, so he could never touch Tom.
But he does want to be Sporus. He does want this deal with the devil.
“Well, what am I gonna do with a soul anyways?”
Tom looks at Greg like he hung the moon and the stars. Greg looks at Tom like he saved him from a burning building.
“Souls are boring,” Greg says, and the smile that lights up Tom’s face makes Greg know he’s making the right choice. “Boo, souls!”
Greg reaches out for Tom’s shoulders and shakes them. Tom doesn’t pull away. The handshake lingers too long for it to be business and the hug that follows is too personal. Greg holds on to Tom’s back like he’ll die if he lets go.
Tom leaves to deal with whatever else needs to happen, and Greg is left standing alone as the sun starts to set and the wedding dinner gets slowly cleaned up. Everything and everyone is getting put away except for him. He stands in the same spot for a while, just staring ahead, until he realizes that he’s getting some weird looks and shuffles off to a more secluded area of the property to smoke.
Greg doesn’t know how much time he spent smoking on the front lawn. He sits on the cool grass against a tree, his long limbs awkwardly bent, waiting for Tom like the good little attack dog he is. Any thoughts of Comfrey or the princess are completely gone from his mind. Doubts about Tom’s true intentions still danced around in his mind.
Greg knows he could never be Shiv. But he is Sporus. And Nero is gone, off to take care of business. Greg assumes that Shiv is getting pushed down the stairs. When Tom eventually comes back, he does have the look of a man who just murdered his wife, especially since that wife was standing right next to him.
Their car rumbles up the driveway and Greg watches from a distance as Tom and Shiv get out quietly. The evening is warm, it’s Italy after all, and the sky is a beautiful mix of pinks and reds, but the air around the couple is frigid. They have a brief conversation that’s muttered under their breath even though there’s no one around but Greg, and Tom gives Shiv a chaste kiss on her cheek before they split. She walks back towards the house and Tom looks around for Greg. He spots him quickly and Greg can see the ice melt away from Tom’s composure.
“Hey, Greg.” Tom says quietly after he walks towards him. Greg gives him a meek little wave. Tom just gestures for him to get up and points at the car.
“Where are we, uh, going?” Greg asks as he scrambles up.
“Your hotel,” Tom responds like it should’ve been obvious. Somehow, while walking the short distance to the car, Tom’s hand ends up on the small of Greg’s back. Greg most definitely isn’t thinking about it.
In the car, if Tom’s hand finds its way to Greg’s knee, Greg also isn’t thinking about that. And if Greg’s hand is on top of Tom’s, it’s just a coincidence. Neither of them says a word for the entire drive.
“So, um, what’s going on exactly?” Greg asks once they’re finally in his hotel room and Tom has shut the door behind them. “With the uh, company and all that.” Tom chuckles and strides across the room to open the mini fridge.
“Well, dear Gregory-” He starts rooting through the contents. “ Goddamn, you really don’t have any wine in here.” Tom looks back up at Greg. “Essentially, you and I are one step closer to being at the bottom of the top and well, the top.” He throws one of his standard Tom smirks over to Greg. Greg can’t help but smile back.
“So this- are we- Shiv’s out?”
“Everyone’s out,” Tom answers him. “All the Roy siblings are gone, it’s just you and me, buddy.” Tom finds some beer in the fridge and saunters over to Greg to hand him one. “We’re making our way up. It’s really happening.” He taps his bottle against Greg’s and takes a deep drink. Greg mirrors him as Tom mutters something about it “tasting cheap.”
Greg’s barely listening to Tom talk. His eyes are glued to Tom’s. Tom is so here . He’s standing in Greg’s space, he’s drinking Greg’s beer, he’s rambling about how it’s just them against the world.
Greg is pulled back into reality when he feels Tom’s hand cradle his face. The tenderness of his grasp helps Greg finally understand. Greg would never be Shiv.
“So it’s just us?” Greg asks quietly.
“Yes, Greg. It’s just us.”
Tom is here. Tom is now. Tom isn’t hovering, he’s reaching out and Greg is matching him. Their lips finally press together and Greg smiles into the kiss. Tom is smiling back.