Work Text:
Greg hunched over his keyboard, absently brushing the flowers that had appeared on his desk into the trash.
“Roses? Did Drake screw up again?” Catharine grinned, settling on the stool next to Greg.
“I'm not talking to, or about him.” Greg mumbled, typing madly.
“Ah. He fucked up.” Catharine helped herself to the chocolates that had just as suddenly appeared, guarding the box from Greg. “Hey, these are the good ones, you are NOT throwing them away.”
“Fine whatever.” He angrily hit 'send' on his email. “He keeps sending me emails, saying he's sorry.”
“Maybe he is.” Catharine slowly chewed a caramel praline. “What did he do?”
“I said I didn't want to talk about it.”
“Oh.” Catharine tilted her head, reading his body language. “Y'know, Sarah once got drunk and ended up sleeping with Gil. Did he do something like that?”
“No.” Greg snapped at her.
“That's good, nothing like knowing the one person you truly love is leaving peter tracks with someone else.” She smiled when Greg giggled.
“Peter tracks? That's so crude, Cath.”
She shrugged, choosing another chocolate, almost purring when she bit into it. “You really oughtta try one of these.”
“Don't want to.” But he eyed the rapidly disappearing chocolates with despair and hunger.
“So, did he do the ultimate no-no?”
Greg caved and snatched a chocolate. “What's that?”
“The only thing that can make me force Sarah to sleep on the couch.” She swallowed. “Did he call someone else's name when he came?”
Now Greg was slightly scandalized. “No, he would never do that. Ever.”
Catharine grinned. “Neither has Sarah. So what did he do? You two haven't been together long enough for fag bed death to set in...” She trailed off when Greg started to cry. “Greg?” She held him when he turned to her and sobbed on his shoulder.
“Last... last night, we went to... to bed, and nothing I did...”
“He couldn't perform?” Catharine patted his back.
“No. He said it wasn't me, but I knew he didn't want me anymore.” Greg fairly wailed, burying his face in her neck.
“Oh, sweetheart, he does. The roses, the candy, the emails. He loves you.”
“NO, he doesn't.” Greg sniffled.
“How many times do you two do it?”
“Three or four times a day, sometimes five.” Greg drew back and looked at her. “Why?”
Catharine couldn't help it, she laughed. “Greg, he really is a LOT older than you, and body parts wear out. That's all. Little Drake was just tired.” She blushed. “There have been plenty of times when Sarah and I just curl up together and sleep, because one or both of us just couldn't make love.”
“So it's not me?” Greg smiled.
“Well, in a way it is. Let him rest a little more often. I don't think he's going any where any time soon.” Catharine looked up when the shadow fell across the desk. “Talk to him, Greg, he looks like a whipped puppy.” She stood, and gave both men a kiss on the cheek. “The chocolates were wonderful.” She walked out, closing the door behind her.
Drake stared miserably at Greg, waiting. “I'm sorry, Greg, I really am.” He stopped, because Greg had jumped up and kissed him.
“I'm sorry, sweetie, I... I sometimes can't understand why you stay with me, and I got scared.”
“I stay because I love you.” Drake grinned, taking Greg's hand and placing it on his groin. “I just needed time to recharge.”
“I love you too.” Greg smiled, and began to slide to his knees. “May I?”
Drake shuddered in anticipation when he felt, and heard, his zipper go down. “Yes, please.”