Remember Us? (M/M)

28.

'So first, there were beers. Then we got talking. You told me that Tiffany was pressuring you to exercise and join her at the gym, but you really couldn't be bothered. The only thing you liked was running and you didn't want to join her at the gym. I suggested that you tell her you'd be embarrassed and you'd go to the gym alone, but instead come here. It sounded like a good idea at the time, and it kept her off your back.

So every time you went running, you'd end up here, and we'd hang out. Mainly at weekends and the odd morning before work. You kept some spare work clothes here for that.

And then you told me about her getting rid of random things you had or liked, or she'd hide it away. She didn't like your stuff just hanging around the house. So you started leaving the odd thing here or there at mine. We were like best buds to you, and we seemed more like roommates with all your crap littering my apartment - not that I minded, of course.

You started telling me all about your mom and that you wished you could talk again but didn't know how. So I made it easy for you - I grabbed your phone, found the number, and rang it. Once you got over the initial shock, you choked out a sorry to her, and the rest was history. It became a thing for you to phone her round here once a week. Even I would speak to her sometimes. Then you got a call from an old friend out of the blue, telling you how the café was going under. You knew you had to do something, so you gave them your savings. It was pretty great of you, to be honest.

Then it dawned on us that we'd only ever ordered take-out together, and you said you missed cooking and eating tasty things. That's when we realised we shared a passion for cooking. So when one night, work ran late, I suggested I cook you something nice that you didn't get to eat around Tiffany - something Italian which I'm obviously good at.

So you sat in my office and worked on a design whilst I prepared the dinner. I kept popping in and out to work with you at the same time, but you looked so damn sexy working away that I spent more time in the kitchen avoiding you. Not that that worked. I think it was during the moment I set the mince-meat on fire you gave up trying to concentrate and joined me in the kitchen. But then again, it was, and I quote,'the thousandth time something smelt like it was burning or overbubbling', and you had to intervene.

I'd lost focus so badly thinking about you and trying not to think about you. I was completely off my cooking game, to say the least. So much so, the next time you insisted on cooking for me because you didn't believe I could actually cook.' Tim laughs again, and I find myself smiling away at the stories.

'But as I previously told you, you nearly set my kitchen on fire when you cooked.'

'No, I never! Really?' I responded.

'Yes. Although I guess it was sort of my fault. You were concentrating so much that you seemed to forget I was there. So I threw something at you. We ended up having a mini food fight, and you forgot about the fish in the oven, and it caught fire.

By the time we got it under control, food was absolutely everywhere, and the place looked like a bomb site. But there you were, triumphant with a dinner on the table - even if I ended up having to help - and there was flour on your nose and I went to wipe it off and caught the strangest look in your eye. I think that was the moment I realised I was a gonner for you. Hook, line, and sinker.

The next time, we decided to cook together and save it from the firemen. At this point in time, I finally felt a little more relaxed around you and stopped overthinking myself. If I caught a glimpse of you looking cute, then I decided to enjoy it. I could restrain myself from kissing the crap out of you if it meant keeping the friendship and keeping you around me. Even it was just as a friend.

And then you kissed me. Well, not right away. I'd had the patience of a saint all night whilst cooking, and it wasn't easy. Your arm would brush mine, or we'd go to grab the same thing and accidently grab a hand, or we'd walk straight into one another. But I didn't make a move. And then the dinner was done, and we were both so relieved and pleased it had all gone so well that we gave each other a congratulatory hug. And then you snogged me stupid.