Re: In Time RP (Polo!)

[Dreambug]

Toby didn't stir as the assassin struggled and spat obscenities at him. He was used to that sort of treatment after working at the bar like he had, having to deal with angry and violent drunkards. He just rolled his eyes at her words, unimpressed. And here he thought she was supposed to be a professional.
Finally Griffin arrived, and the two exchanged brief banter for a few minutes, until Griff had the assassin stuck. Just like that, she'd transformed from a terrifying assassin to a stupid, sulky child.
“Sit her down, Toby. ”
Nodding obediently, Toby turned her around and jerked his knee into the back of hers, forcing her onto her knees.
“And you too. Let's all sit down and discuss this like adults.”
Toby shot him a look, but got down on one knee anyway, keeping her arm twisted behind her back. He wasn't trusting her to stay put yet.
Griff explained the situation to her, looking surprisingly menacing with such an innocent face. Toby knew the darker side to this man. He knew exactly how he'd interrogate this woman. He wouldn't need to use pain, or threats, or anything violent. All he'd need to do, is talk her to death.
Which is something he was a master at.
This thought made Toby smirk.
Eventually the assassin answered with a childish pout, far less confident that before. Griffin wasn't offended by this, and instead ordered Toby to bring her with him, like he was some body guard working for his boyfriend. Still...
He pulled off the scarf around his neck and used it to bound the assassin's hands in front of her. Then, shamelessly, he began to pat her down.
She was well-armed. He found three blades hidden under her clothes and in her pockets, as well as one hidden in her sock. He'd also found a gun in her belt, hidden beneath her shirt. Clever. But once he was sure she was safely unarmed, she was a surprisingly harmless-looking person.
“Griffin.” He called as he yanked her to her feet. “You sure about this? We're gunna show her where we both live?” He raised an eyebrow. It didn't sound like a good idea at all, but it wasn't like they could just leave her in the street for someone else to find, or give her another chance to come at them again.
But still. It didn't seem the best plan Griff had come up with, for a genius.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"Oi!" Griffin jabbed an accusing finger at Toby, narrowing his eyes threateningly, "Nobody said you could live there, Buster. You're just a house guest, got it? As for her..." He looked back to the assassin, to find her rolling her eyes and muttering something about 'lovers' quarrels' to herself. He glared boredly at her, then said bluntly, "I don't like you."
"Well the feeling's mutual, Slick." She snarled back, scrunching her nose in disgust.
"What sort of a face is that? You look like a pug!" Griffin's words brought a blank expression to the woman's face, and as she blinked at him in stunned surprise, he straightened his collar in a smug fashion, and walked over to Toby's bike, setting it carefully upright.
"I suppose you're right, Tobes." He conceded at last, sighing, "But we can't let her go, either, or she'll just try to kill me again." He scowled, rubbing the back of his neck miserably, "I'm still not convinced that that dart didn't put some sort of slow-killing poison in me. So," He perched a hand on his hip, "What are we going to do...?" He trailed off, sighing heavily as he glanced at his wrist.
"You know what? It's late, and I'm tired. Let's just take her to the station and toss her in a cell."
The assassin's eyes widened, and for a moment, fear flickered across her face. Griffin felt his lips twitch. He knew he had her. The prisons in New Greenwich were not the luxurious barred hotel rooms that most seemed to expect. As the apple of the world, NG had very little tolerance for criminals, and it cared neither how much they suffered, nor for how long they suffered before succumbing to death. Obviously, this assassin knew this. Griffin was no rookie; he knew that in her line of work, there would be faces in prison that she hoped never to see.
"Unless..." He continued, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "She's ready to talk."
"Never!" She spat in his face, but Griffin just ducked his head casually to one side, clicking his tongue scoldingly.
"Well, jail it is, then. I daresay the inmates will teach you some manners fairly soon." He smiled, that sickeningly sweet look that gave him the face of demonspawn, "You're quite pretty, aren't you? I think you'll..." He grinned dangerously, "Fit right in..."
She looked at him, eyes wide, then shuddered, and broke.
"Okay!" She cried, slackening her knees to force Toby to hold her weight, "I'll tell you who hired me." She hissed in a breath through her teeth, "But only if you promise to let me go free."
Griffin ran his tongue over his lips, pretending to consider the offer. Of course, he intended to do just that, but why not let her stew a little?
"Hmm... Seems a little sketchy ethically, doesn't it?" He turned to his boyfriend, "What so you think, Toby?"

[Dreambug]

“Oi!” Toby blinked at the finger pointed accusingly in his direction, wondering what he'd done wrong. “Nobody said you could live there, Buster. You're just a house guest, got it?”
He smirked at this. A house guest for as long as I like though. Well, either he lived there eventually or he visited so often he might as well have lived there anyway, it didn't really matter. But that wasn't the issue, here.
He listened boredly as Griff and the assassin started bickering like brother and sister. Griffin was intelligent enough to have a plan, he just hoped he really was using his brain and not just talking for little reason.
When the subject of jail popped up, Toby felt the assassin's body freeze in a moment of fear. He didn't know what was so scary about some rich kids prison, but by her reaction it couldn't be as pleasant as he'd presumed. From this moment on Griffin taunted her with the possibilities, playing with her fears, just like Toby knew he was capable of, and eventually, the assassin snapped.
“Okay! I'll tell you who hired me.” Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and Toby felt her go heavy in his grip. “But only if you promise to let me go free .”
That seemed like a fair deal, but when Toby and Griff met eyes, Toby knew Griff wasn't going to let her off so easy. Toby smirked.
“Hmm... Seems a little sketchy ethically, doesn't it?” Toby had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling. His Griffin was a really devious one, wasn't he? “What do you think, Toby?”
“I'm not sure.” Toby snarled in her ear, rather enjoying this form of vengeance. “I mean, how do we know she's telling the truth? She could just give us any random name.”
He squeezed her wrist to emphasize his point.
“And my patience is draining.”
Don't mess with us, honey.
He had to admit, times like this reminded him of his time with Cal, interrogating poor sods on the street, pulling their strings, making them dance. As much has he hated the person he'd been back then, he had to admit he was enjoying this. It was for good, after all. It was for Griffin.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"She couldn't give us a fake name." Griffin pointed out fairly, "If somebody hates me enough to hire someone to kill me, then I'm pretty sure I'd recognize the name." He coughed, ad rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly, wincing when his fingers touched the tender spot left by the dart. He could feel that a large, swollen blister had been raised from the poison. He was glad he couldn't see it.
Shuddering at the thought, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and nodded at the assassin.
"Who was it?" He asked firmly. The lighthearted tone was gone from his voice, and it was clear that he was done messing around. Now, he meant business.
"What's his name?"
The assassin's lip curled in fury, but as she felt Toby's firm grip on her from behind, and saw Griffin's deadly eyes blazing in front, she heaved a sigh, and gave in to the inevitable.
"His name is Charles Renwick." She conceded glumly, "And if he finds out I squealed, he'll have my head, so for God's sake..." She squirmed, trying in vain to twist free of Toby's grip.
Meanwhile, Griffin's expression had turned grim, his lips set in a stoney line. That was a name that he had hoped never to hear again...
Teeth clenched in carefully concealed fury, he raised a hand and said, "That'll do, Toby. Let her go."
He remained silent, lost in thought, as he watched the assassin finally pull away, and quickly vanish from sight, sprinting down the nearest alleyway. Again, Griffin rubbed the back of his neck. The painful lump filled his vision with blurry white stars, but he seemed oblivious to the pain. He had far more pressing matters on his mind...
So it begins at last, old man... But do you really think you can get me, before I get you?
"Come on, Toby." He smiled, his expression turning back to normal in an instant as he shelved his thoughts. "Let's head home - I still have several hundred games to beat you at on the PlayStation."

[Dreambug]

Toby didn't recognise the name she gave, but he could see through his boyfriend's reaction that he did. Toby was hesitant to release the assassin, but as her squirming became too much, he slackened his grip and let her go free. He watched her disappear into the shadows with his lip curled in disgust, and wondered vaguely how many lives they could have saved by arresting her there and then. Then again, that's what some people thought about him.
“Come on, Toby.” Griff chirped up suddenly, his expression unnervingly bright in comparison to merely a moment ago. The memory of his coldness still gave Toby the shivers. “Let's head home - I still have several hundred games to beat you at on the PlayStation.”
“Great.” Toby replied, his voice lacking any enthusiasm for the matter. “But first...” He dragged his eyes back from the ghost of the assassin's presence. “Are you gunna tell me who the Hell Charles Renwick is? And don't try change the subject or tell me it's no one important. I saw the look on your face.” His brow creased with worry, and although he should have been worried in case someone was listening in to their conversation, he was more concerned about Griffin.
Not only had someone sent an assassin to kill him, the person was troubling him.
“Griff.” He said, more quietly now, and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. “Who is he?”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

The moment Toby mentioned Renwick, Griffin tensed, the carefree expression melting away from his face. His jaw locked stubbornly, and he turned his head away. He didn't want to talk about it. His past was his own business, and Toby had no right to know about any of it if he didn't feel like talking.
"He's no-one." Griff answered snidely, not even bothering to hide the lie from his voice. They both knew he wasn't telling the truth, and he wasn't trying to fool Toby, either. He was merely trying to get a point across.
I'm not going to talk to you about this, Toby. So if I were you, I'd back the hell off.
He started grinding his teeth, and just as his fists began clenching at his sides, he felt a hand on his shoulder. In a heartbeat, the tension fell away, and his shoulders dropped several inches. He turned back, and looked at Toby, eyes searching his face.
“Griff.” His boyfriend pressed gently, “Who is he?”
Griffin's expression hardened again, and with tight lips he snapped, "He's just some guy that's trying to have me killed. That's all that matters." He shrugged off Toby's hand, and walked over to the bike, laying a hand impatiently on the handlebars. "Come on, let's go. I'm tired."
Without waiting for permission, he swung his leg over the bike and started the engine   - Toby had left the keys in the ignition.
"Get on," He ordered harshly, "Or I'll leave you here."

[Dreambug]

The sharpness of Griffin's gaze took Toby by surprise, and his own expression changed to far more concern than before. He'd not seen Griffin so bitter like this, and although he knew what had caused it, Griff didn't seem too happy to talk about it. Who was the person who's sent the assassin? It was evidently someone important.
“He's just some guy that's trying to have me killed. That's all that matters.”
“'Just'?” Toby echoed, raising his eyebrows. Griff wasn't fooling him. He probably wasn't even trying to. He didn't want to talk about it but Toby was going to find out sooner or later.
Well, maybe it just wasn't the time or place to bring it up, but it wouldn't be the last Griff would hear of it.
“Come on, let's go. I'm tired” Griff nagged as they reached the bike. He didn't even wait for Toby to get on, instead he mounted and turned the engine back on. He was damn near ready to leave without Toby.
“Get on,” He ordered firmly. “Or I'll leave you here.”
“Hey.” Toby warned, mounting the bike in front of Griff's thinner body. Whether Griff intended to drive or not, Toby wasn't going to let him. “It's my bike, remember?” He reminded him, replacing Griffin's hands with his own on the handlebars. “Don't order me around like a child.”
Just because I care about you doesn't mean you have the right to treat me like I've done something wrong.
“Hold on.” He said with an authoritative tone, just to spite his boyfriend. Then he kicked up the side-stand, lifted his feet and set the bike forward at sixty miles an hour, until they reached the motorway.

No one spoke all the way to Griffin's house, not until they'd even entered the lounge. Even then, it was when Toby pointlessly told his boyfriend that he was going to put the food leftovers in the fridge. After this, he kicked off his boots, took off his jacket and tossed himself onto the sofa in a sitting position.
There had been too much excitement that evening. Too much of too many different kinds of excitement. He'd have much rather made out with Griff than go through everything that had happened.
And now they weren't talking.
And he still didn't know why.
He watched Griffin walk across the room, still as concerned as before. If there was someone out to kill Griff, Toby wanted to know about it. He wanted to know if he was supposed to be worried or not.
Well, obviously he was supposed to be worried that someone was out to kill his boyfriend, but was he supposed to be prepared to jump in and take a bullet for him, or something?
“Griffin.” He murmured. “Talk to me.”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin was not surprised that Toby seemed annoyed that he'd 'commandeered' the bike, so when his boyfriend took the handlebars, he did not complain. He merely shifted meekly back, and held onto the seat, staring aloofly out into the distance.
“Hold on.” Toby told him, but Griffin just stuck out his tongue at the patronizing attitude. Then he wrapped his arms around Toby, squeezing slightly harder than was necessary for a moment.
I hope that bruises, asshole.

They drove back in silence, and when they reached Griffin's house, he swung his leg over the saddle of the bike and hopped off before it had even stopped. Without waiting for Toby, he strode into the house, pulled open the door, and heartlessly let it shut behind him. By the time Toby walked in, Griffin was sitting on the couch, pulling off his shoes. His boyfriend said something about putting their leftovers in the fridge, but Griffin didn't dignify it with a response. He wasn't even sure what he was angry about... Or rather, he was fairly sure that he wasn't angry at all, but he was still upset by the incident with the assassin, and taking it out on Toby helped. He was a big boy; he could take it.
Kicking off his shoes, he stood abruptly when Toby sat on the couch beside him, and made a bee-line for his bedroom, intending to go straight to sleep. But before he reached the door, a soft voice called him back.
“Griffin.” Toby said gently, the concern evident in his voice, “Talk to me.”
Griffin froze, then dropped his head, uttering a heavy sigh. "What do you want me to say, Toby?" He asked softly, frowning as he picked at a hook on his thumbnail, "That I know the bloke? Fine," He shrugged, turning back to face Toby, but still not lifting his gaze from the ground, "I know him. Or rather, I know who he is. Charles Renwick." He flicked on the TV, and almost instantly, an image of the man's face cropped up, speaking passionately in an advertisement about some fancy, soul-sucking bank. "He's the owner of Renwick National Bank, and one of the richest and most powerful men in the world." Griffin turned off the TV, "He's also, technically..." He was about to say it, then he stopped, the words hovering on his lips. With a shake of his head, he sighed them away. "Forget it. It doesn't matter." He pointed across the hallway, "The guest room's over there, and there's spare blankets and pillows in the cupboard. Sleep well, Toby." With that, he turned away, and reached out to twist the doorhandle, retreating into his bedroom.

[Dreambug]

Toby kept his guard up, although he wasn't sure what he was so worried about. Perhaps the fact that he'd never seen Griffin like this before, and the fact that he was angry enough to take it out on Toby was faintly worrying. Had Toby even done anything wrong?
“What do you want me to say, Toby? That I know the bloke? Fine, I know him. Or rather, I know who he is. Charles Renwick.”
Toby was about to get frustrated at this. He recognised the name, yes, but he was sure it couldn't be the same guy. And repeating the name meant nothing to him.
Just then, Griff turned on the TV and a few moments later a familiar face popped up.
But no...
Surely it couldn't be that Charles Renwick?
He was the richest man alive, had probably been living for centuries by now, so why did he want to kill Griffin? Had his boyfriend done something wrong?
He doubted it. Otherwise Griff wouldn't be in the profession he was in.
He stood, gaping in shock at the TV screen as Griff explained who this man was, which Toby already knew. He'd been a friend of Elijah's. They were always doing business, since Elijah was a Time manager and Charles owned a bank. But he still couldn't understand what all this had to do with the assassin.
“He's also, technically...” Griff began, then seemed to change his mind. “Forget it. It doesn't matter.”
Well. That was a load of bull.
“The guest room's over there, and there's spare blankets and pillows in the cupboard. Sleep well, Toby.”
“No, you don't.” Toby insisted, running through the door before it slammed in his face. That would have hurt. “Hey. Griff, stop.” He reached out and grabbed Griff's hand, gently wrapping his fingers around it. His touched relaxed them, if only for a moment.
“He's also technically what?” He asked quietly, studying Griffin's expression. There was no mistaking the hatred Griff felt for this man, and the feeling was obviously mutual. But Toby had seen something in Renwick that he hadn't noticed before. A slight relation. Maybe it was the eyes? The nose? Hell, even the shape of the ears? Certainly not all of those, but there was definitely no mistaking it.
“He's your father, isnt he?” Toby whispered flatly, his brow drawing together. He sensed a dark past unravelling, although he didn't expect Griffin to tell him what it was.
“Why does he want you dead? I need to know.” I need to, so that I can protect you. Please don't push me away again.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin was about to vanish into his room for the night, but then Toby darted around in front of him, stopping him with a firm voice, “Hey. Griff, stop.”
He nearly pushed past, but then Toby grabbed his hand, and the feeling of those familiar, rough fingers twisting between his made the tension drop from his shoulders. He looked up uncertainly, his eyes searching Toby's face. In the absence of his usual armour, he looked suddenly fragile and insecure, like a baby bird fallen out of the nest way too soon...
“He's also technically what?”
Toby's eyes seemed to burn right into them, and with a little shake of his head, Griffin looked away, shrinking back. He didn't want to say it, but as it turned out, he didn't have to. Toby, it seemed, was sharper than Griff had ever given him credit for. His guess was spot on.
“He's your father, isnt he?”
Griffin's silence was answer enough.
“Why does he want you dead?" Griff shook his head stubbornly, but then Toby added, "I need to know.”
Something in the man's voice changed, and Griffin looked up at last, searching his eyes. At last, he seemed to realize why Toby was pushing him so hard. He was just worried... Because he cared. Griff swallowed thickly. Toby had a right to know.
"Because," He sighed softly, "I'm not supposed to be alive."
Turning his head shyly aside, he lifted his shirt, showing Toby one of the old bullet wounds still scarring his skin. Horrible, pinkish marks formed a gory star shape just below his ribcage, marring his otherwise flawless skin. He dropped his shirt, and looked back at Toby. A moment's silence traveled between them, then Griffin pushed gently passed, and headed for the bed. He took Toby's hand with him, and gave it a gentle tug as he sat down, gesturing for his boyfriend to do the same.
"You know how it is when someone's been twenty one for three hundred years." He murmured softly, playing with Toby's fingers to occupy his hands as he spoke, "He's got enough kids to fill the Titanic, but that doesn't mean he wants all of them. He's my father, but," Griff shrugged, "I've never even met him. I've met his 'employees', though." He snorted bitterly, then shook his head. "Okay, Toby, you want my life story? Then I'll bore you with the pathetic details. I guess it's time I told somebody, anyway..."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked down at the big hand between his, and traced a finger along a line on the palm as he spoke.
"My mom was an amazing woman. She lived in Dayton, and you know how it goes. The only way to get by is to buff some rich boy's shoes, and whatever else he wants buffed." He chuckled grimly, "Well, she fell pregnant, and he ordered her to have an abortion. 'Ordered'," He scoffed, "Like she was his property. He just didn't want it to get out that he'd fathered a child with some ghetto housekeeper. It would be bad for his reputation if the media realized he had some halfbreed bastard son running around, and I don't think his wife would have liked it much, either. But Mom was stubborn," A fond smile curved his lips, and he shook his head, chuckling at the memory, "That never changed. She was smart, too. I don't know how she did it, but she managed to run away, and hide out in Dayton for ten whole years. She raised me on her own, and even though we struggled, I don't think I once saw her without a smile on her face. She was my best friend." His smile softened, and he blinked quickly, "I know any kid would say this, but... She was the best mother a guy could ask for. She was always there for me, and we were happy... But eventually, they tracked us down. They barged in, with these big machine guns," Griffin dropped Toby's hand, holding an imaginary gun in his hands, "Dressed all in black, sunglasses on. They stormed right into the living room, and pointed those guns straight at me. At a kid. I was ten, man." He looked at Toby, and shook his head in disbelief, "What sort of monster can do that? My mother begged them. She was so proud, that was the one time I ever saw her on her knees. I never saw her cry before, either, but she did when she asked them to spare me. They laughed in her face, kicked her down, and pointed the gun at me. I closed my eyes, but when I heard the shot, I had to look." He smiled bitterly, "I kinda wish I hadn't, now. To this day, I can still see-" He froze, then closed his eyes, shaking his head. He had watched his own mother ripped apart by bullets before his very eyes. He had felt her arms turn limp around him, and watched her die with a smile on her face, while her blood soaked his clothes. There was no way to explain that... No way at all. Instead, he said simply, "The bullets reached me, but thanks to her, I survived. Renwick thought me dead... Until I came here. There was no escaping it, then. I kept the name she gave me." Griffin shrugged, "I knew it might be the death of me, but who I am... Is all I have left of her... I- I just couldn't throw that away. Even though Renwick knows I'm alive now, and he probably won't rest until I'm six feet under, especially now I've set foot on 'his turf'..." He sighed heavily, dropping his eyes to his feet as he kicked at a scuff mark on the floor.
"And there you have it, Tobes. That's my story."

[Dreambug]

Thankfully it didn't take much more pressing for Griff to crumble, and eventually he spoke up.
“Because, I'm not supposed to be alive.”
He lifted his shirt and revealed the bullet wounds Toby had noticed before, pointing to each in turn, then lowering his shirt back down. Frowning, Toby allowed himself to be led to the bed and sat beside his boyfriend, keeping his fingers intertwined.
Toby knew then that he'd hit the nail on the head. Renwick was Griffin's father.
And with this, Griff told his story.

It was particularly heartbreaking knowing it was his boyfriend that had gone through such a trauma, first being born in Dayton was pretty much something in itself, especially being only him and his mother in the family, with no siblings and not even a father. Another was knowing his father didn't want him – more than that, loathed him, and knowing he was supposed to have been aborted from fertilisation must have been hard. But Toby had to hand it to Griff's mother, she was a brave one. And definitely kept Renwick sweating for at least twenty-five years. Besides which, Toby was damn well glad she hadn't had Griffin aborted.
Then came the part Toby had hoped wasn't going to come.
Of course the New Greenwich bastards had found them eventually. With their technology no one would be able to hide for long. But ten years was a damn good try.
Still... They'd actually pointed a machine gun at a ten-year-old boy? Toby remembered the bullet wounds on Griffin's chest. They must have shoot him eventually, but no one would be able to survive a clear shot of a machine gun. Not without help.
Griff's mother had given him that help.
By the end of it Toby's heart ached for Griff, ached for his mother and what she'd gone through. But he thanked her, silently, for doing everything she had.
He's turned into a Hell of a man because of you.
“I kept the name she gave me. I knew it might be the death of me, but who I am... Is all I have left of her... I- I just couldn't throw that away. Even though Renwick knows I'm alive now, and he probably won't rest until I'm six feet under, especially now I've set foot on 'his turf'... ”
Nodding in silent understanding, Toby reached up and gently pushed away the messy fringe that had fallen over Griffin's eyes, shadowing his face. He didn't want Griff hiding from him anymore.
As Griff finished talking, Toby kept his fingers gently toying with Griff's fringe, raking back from his eyes.
What this man had done was unbelievably brave, keeping the name his mother had given him, even though he knew Renwick would come after him. It was more than Toby could afford to do. Then again, Griff was keeping his name because he was proud to be born. Toby had changed his name because he wasn't.
He had no words to say on the story, but he was evidently grateful to hear it finally. Everything about Griffin made sense now.
Instead, he whispered. “I don't want you to be alone, tonight.”
His eyes twinkled earnestly, and as he trickled his fingers down Griff's soft cheek, down to his shoulder and arm, then finally back down to his hand, Toby's aching love was evident.
“A lot's happened today.” He continued softly. “Let me sleep here, please, I-... I don't want you to be alone again. To feel like you have to take all this on... Without me.”
He didn't try to hug Griff, or kiss him. He knew through experience empty gestures didn't make the emotional pain go away. Words didn't help either, but he had to at least give it a go.
“I'll sleep on the floor, if you want me to.” He added quietly. “Just as long as you let me stay with you.”
Then, despite what he'd thought before, he wrapped an arm around Griff's shoulders, easing him closer and kissing his hair like a royal's ring.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

As he finished talking, Griffin felt a gentle touch on his forehead, and as Toby's fingers raked through his fringe, Griffin looked up at him, his eyes darting over the familiar rugged features he had come to so adore. As he always did, Toby knew exactly what to say. And this time, it was nothing.
The silence folded warmly around him, and Griffin closed his eyes, sighing softly as his shoulders dropped an inch of tension. He had been holding onto all that for a very long time. To have said it out loud at long last... It actually felt good.
“I don't want you to be alone, tonight.” A husky voice whispered at last, drawing Griffin's eyes back to Toby's face. He felt the man's fingers slide over his cheek, then down his arm. When they reached his hand, Griffin allowed Toby to take it, squeezing his fingers gently.
“A lot's happened today.” Toby pressed, “Let me sleep here, please, I-... I don't want you to be alone again. To feel like you have to take all this on... Without me."
Still silent, Griffin looked away, hiding the smile that was growing on his face. Of course he would never think of turning Toby away, but hearing his own boyfriend beg to stay at his side was certainly not an opportunity he was willing to pass up. It had been so frightfully long since anybody had cared about him that much... He had almost forgotten when it felt like. But now, with Toby's hand in his and his loving eyes burning into the side of his head, Griffin realized that despite all that had happened, he was happier than he had been in years. He felt a warmth spreading through him, and as Toby went on, his hidden smile only grew.
“I'll sleep on the floor, if you want me to.” Toby's arm folded around his shoulders, and he felt a pair of lips brush softly against his hair, "Just as long as you let me stay with you.”
"Toby," He looked up at last, his whole face alight with his smile, and took his boyfriend's rough cheeks between his hands. "You don't have to sleep on the floor." His eyes sparkled, crinkling at the corners as his smile stretched to dimple his cheeks. Silently, he slid his arms around Toby's shoulders, and hugged the man close to him, resting his chin on Toby's warm shoulder.
"Thank you." He murmured softly, his hand sliding down to stroke Toby's back absentmindedly, "I'm sorry I've been so bitchy with you." He chuckled, "I've just had to look after myself so long, I... I guess I forgot how to let anyone else care about me."
He pulled back, setting Toby at an arm's length. "I love you." He said earnestly, the twinkle in his eye showing just how much he meant those words.
I didn't think I'd ever let anyone in again... But you were just too special not to. Either I'm really lucky, or that God my mother talked about has finally decided he's got my back. Better late than never, big guy.
((That's 'Girl' to you, Griffin. -_- ))

[Dreambug]

Glad to see the smile dimpling Griffin's cheeks, Toby wasn't expecting any more words to answer his pleas. He'd half expected Griff to get angry and throw him out of the room, but thankfully that didn't happen. He'd spent an entire week building up his ego to prepare for anything, but it didn't mean he wanted it.
Suddenly a pair of hands clutched his face, and, blinking innocently, Toby prepared himself for whatever deep, spiritual answer Griff was going to give him.
That's not what he got.
“Toby. You don't have to sleep on the floor.”
He snickered cheekily at this, his twinkling eyes grinning at Griffin's. “I know that. I just said it to guilt-trip you.”
Obviously he'd have slept on the floor if it meant Griff would let him stay in the room, but it was far more comforting knowing he was going to sleep in a pleasant bed that night.
His words didn't get him a punch or slap – or maybe Griff was just ignoring him? Instead he earned himself a decent hug, and he wrapped his arms comfortingly around Griff's neck, rpessing his cheek into his hair.
Apology, accepted. He thought cunningly to himself.
“Thank you.” Griffin cooed, rubbing a hand gently over Toby's back. “I'm sorry I've been so bitchy with you. I've just had to look after myself so long, I... I guess I forgot how to let anyone else care about me.”
“Well, now you know.” Toby replied warmly, kissing Griff's ear. “So no excuses next time.” You do it again, and I'll spank you. He thought cheekily, smiling to himself. Griffin would sooner floor him than let him touch his backside. Affectionately or not.
He quickly bit back his smile as his boyfriend held him at arm's length, eyes twinkling, and told him earnestly, “I love you.”
Toby replied. “I love you, too.”
But instead of leaving it there, Toby's smile darkened for a moment, then he added cheekily, “Does that mean I'm allowed to sleep with you?”
He didn't mind if Griff took that as 'sleep' or 'sex', just as long as he wasn't thrown out of the damned bed that night. It was wonderfully comfy.
He pondered over this for a while, then added innocently “Can I sleep shirtless tonight?”
Just to, ya know, spite you.
Chuckling deviously, he leant forward and pressed his lips to Griff's brow, closing his eyes in contentment. “Thank you for telling me.” He whispered, referring to before, and squeezed the man's hand reassuringly.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

When Toby said, “I love you, too.”, Griffin would have been quite content to welcome the man back into his arms, and cuddle lovingly with him perhaps all the way until morning. But unfortunately, as always, Toby wasn't stopping there. His smile darkened, and Griffin narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“Does that mean I'm allowed to sleep with you?”
These words made him groan, and with a look of incredulous despair, he slapped a palm to his forehead. It was as if Toby intentionally tried to sabotage himself. Just when Griffin wasn't looking for excuses to push him away, Toby would go ahead and give him one, anyway.
"No, Toby." He answered wearily, "No, it doesn't."
Obviously not taking the hint, Toby put on his most innocent voice, and added infuriatingly, “Can I sleep shirtless tonight?”
With that, Griffin's patience snapped. The moment was long gone.
Apparently oblivious to his annoyance, Toby leaned forward, pecking him on the brow. Griffin accepted it like royalty.
“Thank you for telling me.”
"Hmph." He grunted, patiently removing his hand from Toby's grasp. Too little too late, Buddy. You lost it.
"You know what," He smiled sweetly - too sweetly - and cupped Toby's cheek gently in his palm, "You can sleep shirtless tonight, because you and your macho little chest hairs are going to be sleeping on the couch after all." He gave the man's cheek a rough pat, flashing a crooked grin, "Good night, Toaster. Don't let the scary Timekeepers get you." He winked, smiling cruelly, and raised a toe to poke Toby's backside off his bed.
Better luck next time, Superman.

[Dreambug]

Apparently Toby wasn't as charming as he thought, because Griffin's reaction surprised him. Blinking at the look on the man's face, Toby felt himself tense as Griff's lips pulled up into the sickeningly sweetest of grins. “You know what,” He purred, cupping Toby's thin in one hand. “You can sleep shirtless tonight, because you and your macho little chest hairs are going to be sleeping on the couch after all.”
Toby's face fell in despair. Ah, shit.
Well, that certainly hadn't worked. But he was certainly not going to be sleeping on the couch, or in the spare room, in fact. If Griffin wasn't letting him sleep on the bed, he'd sleep on the floor.
And pray there weren't any cockroaches by his face when he woke up.
The ma patted his cheek roughly, which Toby pulled a face at. Then, before he had the chance to stand up for himself, Griff shoved a surprisingly pointy toe at his backside, causing him to jump up in surprise.
“Good night, Toaster. Don't let the scary Timekeepers get you.”
Sulking, Toby pushed himself to his feet and headed to the door. The opportunity had gone as quickly as it came.
Something occurred to him then. When wolves wanted accepting in packs they'd lick the chin of the alpha to show lower authority. Perhaps Toby wasn't going to go quite as far as rolling on his back and expecting a belly rub, but he could take this hint. One thing he did know, he didn't want to sleep alone that night.
So, with a cheeky little smile, he ran back, dived on the bed on all fours and reached his lips over to kiss Griffin's chin in short, loud pecks.
“I'm sorry.” He kept repeating, his eyes twinkling. He didn't man-handle Griff's face or grab his hand, or even caress any part of him. All he wanted was forgiveness, and he was prepared to let his ego shrink a tad to get what he wanted.
“I'm sorry.” He said again with a cheeky smile, dipping and angling his head to reach underneath Griffin's chin and jaw.
“I promise to wear a shirt and sit on my hands if you let me sleep here.” He cooed, pouting his lips, and resting his head against Griffin's shoulder.
“And no more sex jokes tonight. I promise.”

((*waves goodbye to Toby's dignity* ))

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Once Toby had started walking toward the door, Griffin turned away to fluff up his pillows, getting ready to go to sleep. But before he could get into bed, Toby had suddenly raced back to him, diving onto the bed and knocking him onto his back like an enthusiastic puppy.
"Hey!" He objected, unsure whether to sound annoyed or amused. But then Toby started kissing his chin, apologizing over and over, and Griffin went with the latter. "Hey," He giggled, trying to swat Toby's face away, "Oi, hey! Stop it, that tickles." He squirmed out of reach, and pushed Toby's face away with his hand. Then, grinning, he sat up, fixing Toby with a fond scolding expression.
“I promise to wear a shirt and sit on my hands if you let me sleep here.” His boyfriend begged, laying a heavy head on his shoulder.
"Oh, get off me." He complained with a laugh, shoving Toby away.
“And no more sex jokes tonight. I promise.”
"Okay then," He leaned forward, giving his boyfriend a quick peck on the lips, "Fine. If you promise to behave, then I'll trust you. But Mister, if you try to touch my butt even once, then you can forget about the couch, or even the floor, because you'll be sleeping outside so fast it'll make your head spin." He grinned, and ruffled Toby's hair affectionately, "Just remember, Superman. No matter how big and bad you think you are, I'm still in charge." His eyes twinkled cheekily, "I'll always be in charge. Now slap on some pajamas, would you? And I don't mean boxers. You can be as proud of your hairy body as you damn well please, but save it for when I don't have to put up with it." Winking, he offered Toby one last peck on the lips, then stood up and trotted to his chest of drawers, pulling out a pajama suit that was clearly not intended for adults. It had little race cars on it. Unfortunately, only 'boy' sizes would fit Griffin, unless he was willing to wear a woman's nightgown, and he most certainly was not.
"Later Superman." He trilled, blowing his boyfriend a kiss as he skipped off into his en suite bathroom to change.

[Dreambug]

Toy sat up and grinned like a Cheshire cat, feeling rather proud that he'd got his way. Maybe he'd lost a bit of his dignity, but that didn't matter if he got results, did it?
Gah! I sound like a rent boy... He thought, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“Fine. If you promise to behave, then I'll trust you. But Mister, if you try to touch my butt even once, then you can forget about the couch, or even the floor, because you'll be sleeping outside so fast it'll make your head spin.”
Toby nodded in complete understandng of this. So the butt was off-limits. That was fine. How about tummy? Legs? Neck? Shoulders? His 'front door'?
He then realised he'd heard something which he thought he must have misheard, and he frowned for a moment.
He'll be doing what so fast it would make his head spin? Would he have to touch Griff's butt to find out?
He smirked deviously at the thought, then blinked it away. Griff was still scolding him.
“Just remember, Superman. No matter how big and bad you think you are, I'm still in charge. I'll always be in charge. ” Griff told him, eyes twinkling angelically. Tobyb nodded solemnly at this, knotting his fingers together like a naughty boy getting a scolfing. He'd learned his lesson. So was he allowed to go to sleep yet?
Finally Griff ordered him to go get into his Pjs. But he wasn't allowed to wear what he usually wore. He had to actually 'cover up'.
He stood up, sulking, and headed to his shoulder bag. He'd gone shopping for night clothes, yes, but they were for people who wanted to look like granddads. They didn't even suit him.
It was a silk nightset, navy, with a white band around the collar and sides. It made him almost look like some ancient Japanese warrior. But not in the cool way.
He appeared back in the bedroom with a rather unhappy look on his face, sat down, and yanked the covers up to his chest. When Griff finally appeared, Toby was sulking like a spoilt child.
“I look like a kung-fu instructor.” He sulked. “And it makes my crotch itchy.”
Grumbling pointlessly to himself he rolled over, adjusting his top. And least he could unbutton it a few buttons. Showing some man-cleavage wasn't the same as being shirtless, was it?
“And I'll have you know I shave my chest... Sometimes.” He smirked sheepishly, waiting for Griffin to get in the bed.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin emerged to find Toby lying in the bed in his pajamas, and even though he was the one with little cars zooming over his crotch, he couldn't help but laugh. The sulky expression on Toby's face was priceless.
“I look like a kung-fu instructor.” He complained sulkily, “And it makes my crotch itchy.”
"Well don't expect me to scratch that for you." He answered shamelessly, pulling up the covers and sliding into bed beside Toby. He felt his heart flutter at the thought, and though he shushed it quickly, he could still feel heat rising to his cheeks. No matter how innocent, he was about to share a bed with his first boyfriend. It was an exciting thought, if somewhat terrifying. He just hoped Toby wouldn't cross too many lines. Honestly, he was grateful for the man's presence. He didn't feel like fighting any more.
“And I'll have you know I shave my chest..." Toby went on beside him, "Sometimes.”
He looked over to see a sheepish grin on Toby's face, and slowly raised an eyebrow. Then his lips split into a grin.
"You shave your chest?" He asked incredulously, snickering to himself, "God, and people think I'm a girl. What are you trying to prove, Slick?"
Cheeks dimpled with his fond smile, he leaned over, and pecked Toby on the cheek, brushing his hair back from his face. For a moment he smiled softly at him, playing with his hair, and looked vaguely as though he wanted to say something. But then the moment passed and, smiling shyly, Griffin kissed Toby goodnight.
"Sleep well." He murmured, his eyes searching his boyfriend's kind, handsome face. "And hey... Come into work with me tomorrow." He flashed a mysterious little smirk, "I have an idea. Also..." He glanced left and right, as though checking for listeners, then beckoned Toby closer with his finger, and leaned in to whisper, "I think your little kung fu suit looks pretty cute, Bruce Lee."

[Dreambug]

“You shave your chest?” Griff replied, surprised, then seemed to look far more amused than Toby wanted. His brow creased defensively.
“Only sometimes.”
“God, and people think I'm a girl. What are you trying to prove, Slick?”
“That I'm hot?” Toby suggested, narrowing his eyes. He'd bruised his ego enough today, if Griffin wsn't careful Toby was just going to throw caution to the wind and kiss him there and then. At least then he'd be able to remind himself that he had that power.
He might end up sleeping outside, but he still had that power.
For a few short moments he lay there, sulking to himself, when Griff suddenly pecked his lips gently. They soon eased into a smile at the contact and when Toby felt the touch in his hair, he leant gratefully into it. Soon enough his hand had mirrored the gesture, gently twirling a strand of Griff's hair around his finger.
“Sleep well.” He closed his eyes contently at this, expecting it to be the last thing spoken before morning.
“You t-”
“And hey... Come into work with me tomorrow.”
Toby's eyes shot open. Griff wanted him to do what?
“I have an idea.
“Oh yeah, I bet you do.” Send a wanted murderer into Timekeeper HQ. Yeah, that'll go well. He just prayed Griff knew what he was doing. Was this some joke? Toby hated Timekeepers. Mostly because they terrified him. He'd trust Griff's idea, but he would also keep his guard up.
Jesus... Griff would tell him this right before he was about to go to sleep, wouldn't he?
“Also...” Griff glanced left and right, as if anyone was going to be around to hear them. Then he urged Toby closer with s suggestive curl of his finger. Raising an eyebrow, Toby did as he was beckoned. “I think your little kung fu suit looks pretty cute, Bruce Lee.”
Toby glared at him. “Nice save.” He replied dryly, kissing the tip of Griffin's nose gently. “On the contrary, the cars rolling around your bottoms turns me on a bit.”
He grinned, stupidly to show he was joking, and wrapped an arm around Griff's waist, pulling his boyfriend into a soft hug. “G'night, Gryfindor.” He whispered, kissing Griff's earlobe.
With that, he released his boyfriend, rolled over and went to sleep.

He awoke in the morning with his top on the floor, looking suspiciously like it had been ripped off him and tossed off the bed.
Ha. He probably ripped it off himself because it was so unbelievably warm. He'd been sweating like a dead pig all night .
Rolling off the bed – he rolled a little too far and ended up falling to the floor – he picked it up, too tired to care that he was flaunting his muscles, something Griff had told him not to do, and reluctantly threaded his arms through the sleeves. It smelt like something dead.
Curling his lip in distaste, he waddled to the ensuite bathroom with it open, running a hand through his messy hair with a wide yawn.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

“Nice save.” Toby said, pecking Griffin's nose. He wrinkled it in response, pulling a face. “On the contrary, the cars rolling around your bottoms turns me on a bit.At this, he raised an eyebrow, but the goofy expression on Toby's face brought a smile to his lips, and he did not object to the arm around his waist. "That sounds like something you should be telling your shrink, not your boyfriend." He pointed out innocently, smiling at Toby with the lips of an angel.
“G'night, Gryfindor.” He smiled, returning his boyfriend's hug.
"Good night, Superman."

With that, Griffin rolled over, laying his head heavily into the soft feather pillows. He closed his eyes, and didn't open them again until morning came, and the sound of bare feet moving quietly over the wooden floor woke him from his slumbers. Yawning, he sat up, rubbing his eyes with his fists, then checked the other side of the bed. Empty.
"Toby?" He blinked in surprise, tilting his head to one side and pulling back the covers as though to make sure that Toby wasn't hiding there. Then he heard movement in the bathroom, and looked up to see his boyfriend standing there, shirt wide open. Rolling his eyes, he smiled, shaking his head silently to himself.
"Looks like somebody got a little hot." He teased, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, then getting to his feet. He started his arms over his head, then trotted over to Toby, tossing his arms casually around the man's neck. "Morning, Stinky." He smiled innocently, giving his boyfriend a brief peck on the lips. That was all he was getting until he brushed his teeth.
"Go take a shower," He instructed, "There's another bathroom down the hall. Have a shave too, would you?" He lifted a leg, and poked Toby sharply in the backside with his toe, urging him out of the bathroom. He had both the flexibility and the balance of a gymnast, but whether he had the grace of one was a point to be argued.
"Go on," He pressed, "I've got big plans today, and I'm not having some Five o'clock shadow messing them up. Move it, Sasquatch."
Without waiting for Toby to leave, he turned his back, and pulled off his shirt, tossing it into the laundry hamper. He needed a shower too, and he was in a hurry. He didn't have time to wait for his snail of a boyfriend to get out of his way.
I guess I'm not as shy as I was yesterday... What happened?

[Dreambug]

“Looks like somebody got a little hot.”
Toby grunted like a hungry warthog, glaring tiredly at Griffin through dry eyes. He was almost daring the man to tell him to button up his shirt, because he wasn't in the mood fr it. At that moment he felt like a teenager woken up from his one chance of a lie-in.
Don't tell me it's time to wake up already?
Griffin seemed far too happy to take into account his tiredness, and instead flung his arms around Toby's neck. The touch of Griff's shirt against Toby's bare stomach made his face flush.
“Morning, Stinky..”
“Morning.” Toby replied, unashamed of his new nickname. It was Griff's fault for not letting him sleep without a shirt on.
Griff kissed him, then ordered firmly, “Go take a shower. There's another bathroom down the hall. Have a shave too, would you?”
“Yessir.” Toby shot Griff a mock salute with two fingers. “What would you like me to shave?” He asked with a suggestive wink, scratching his morning stubble absentmindedly.
He earned himself another poke in the backside, and grunted again in faint annoyance. He wasn't in the mood to be shoved around.
“I've got big plans today, and I'm not having some Five o'clock shadow messing them up. Move it, Sasquatch.”
Toby made a whining noise under his breath, about to waddle out of the bathroom, when he heard the sound of clothes ruffling behind him. Smirking deviously, he turned round, knotted his hands behind his beck and kissed Griff's shoulder. Then, before he prepared to run for it, he angled his head and quickly, childishly, licked the man's neck.
Chuckling under his breath he scuttled away, kicking off his clothes as he went.

Half an hour later he came out of the shower, dressed and shaved – face-wise, at least – with hair soaked and a towel around his shoulders. He still looked like he wanted to stay in bed all day.
“Your plan had better be one huge fluffball of fun.” He grunted to Griffin as they met, making a beeline straight for the kitchen. “It's moments like these that make me choose evening jobs instead of day ones.”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin thought that Toby would be long gone by the time he removed his shirt, which is why it came as something of a surprise when he suddenly felt a pair of lips brushing his shoulder.
"Hey!" He jumped, head snapping around to glare at Toby, "What do you think you're-"
But before he could finish, Toby's tongue slapped his neck, and griffin was so shocked that he very nearly fell on his face, grabbing the nearest counter to hold himself upright. Stunned, he blinked blankly as Toby fled the scene. Then sense returned to him, and he groaned frustratedly, slapping a palm to his forehead. Now he had let Toby get away with behaving like a complete animal. Great.
Slowly, his lips curved into a smirk.  It wasn't like he really minded. He loved everything about Toby, even his little quirks. Not that he'd ever admit it.
"I'll get you later!" He shouted, slamming the bathroom door so hard that the roof shuddered, "You can count on that!" He echo was lost behind the closed door, and with a roll of his eyes, Griffin stepped out of his race car pants, and started the shower running.

One hot shower later, he emerged - hair neatly done and all dressed for work - and skipped off to find Toby. He found his boyfriend heading for the kitchen, and fell into step beside him, slinging an arm casually around his shoulders.
“Your plan had better be one huge fluffball of fun.” Toby grunted irritably beside him, “It's moments like these that make me choose evening jobs instead of day ones.”
"That's a lie." Griffin challenged innocently, "You just don't like sleeping."
He hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. More than once, his foot hit Toby's chest, but he didn't apologize.
"Besides, my plan is genius." He grabbed an apple, and took a bite, continuing through his mouthful, "I figured that if you're going to be here, you'll need a job, but you'll also have to keep off the Timekeeper's radar. Then I thought, what better place to hide, than right under their noses?" He grinned, tossing another apple to Toby. "Brilliant, right? They'll never suspect one of their own, if you just lay low and keep your nose clean. And it's perfect timing, because we're looking for a new field worker in my department. I'm only doing office work these days." For a moment his smile seemed to dampen, but he quickly fixed it back into a bright grin as he added, "It'll be fun, working together. What d'you say, Tobes?"

[Dreambug]

Toby decided to ignore Griffin's retort, mostly because me was far more aware of being kicked in the stomach more than once, and when he noticed his boyfriend's expression and realised it was intentional, he narrowed his eyes. Griff was getting him back for the incident in the bathroom.
Shrugging it off, Toby began working around Griffin to get his breakfast, deciding on egg on toast, working swiftly in order to content his aching stomach.
“Besides, my plan is genius.” Griffin told him proudly, stealing an apple from the fruit bowl. He had to reach over Toby's worktop in order to get it. “I figured that if you're going to be here, you'll need a job, but you'll also have to keep off the Timekeeper's radar. Then I thought, what better place to hide, than right under their noses?”
Toby stopped to catch the apple thrown in his direction, then frowned at Griffin. What was he planning?
“Brilliant, right? They'll never suspect one of their own, if you just lay low and keep your nose clean. And it's perfect timing, because we're looking for a new field worker in my department. I'm only doing office work these days. ”
Toby had just taken a bite out of his apple when he heard this, and the words made him nearly spit it out in shock. He covered his mouth with his wrist, swallowed it before he could make a mess, and stared incredulously at Griffin. Was he actually crazy? He wanted Toby to work as a Timekeeper?
“It'll be fun, working together. What d'you say, Tobes?” Griffin asked him brightly. His smile made Toby sick with nerves.
Toby... He was Byron Willoughby. A wanted man, especially in New Greenwich. Hell, Griff had said so himself back in Dayton. He was still fresh on the Timekeeper's radar. What's more, Toby was terrified of Timekeepers. Visiting Griffin's work was one thing, but actually spending all his time in one of their offices?
He realised Griff was still waiting for an answer, and swallowed nervously. Then, very slowly, he put the apple on the worktop and turned around. He didn't want to sound like a coward, so instead he thought of all the other reasons why it was a bad idea.
“I don't know... Wouldn't I need some sort of qualification? It is the top branch, anyway.” He clenched one of his fists around the worktop, away from Griff, in an attempt to contain his nerves. “And they'll want to know about my history, probably.” [i]That's what your whole 'family tree' thing was for, idiot. “What other jobs I've had. Hell, I've never worked in an office before. And I can't exactly say I worked in a Dayton bar before I came here.”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

When he realized that Toby was less than pleased with his plan, Griffin's face fell, and he picked sulkily at the half-eaten apple in his hands, annoyed to have his plan thrown back in his face. He was used to having people worship his ideas...
“I don't know..." Toby murmured dubiously, "Wouldn't I need some sort of qualification? It is the top branch, anyway.”
"That's the thing," Griffin shrugged, "Everybody here is too damn scared to set foot outside the office. If you're willing to step out there and enforce the laws that they're cooped up studying, they won't give a damn what sort of qualification you have." He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow expectantly as he waited For Toby's next shot at his brilliant plan.
“And they'll want to know about my history, probably.” Toby continued, “What other jobs I've had. Hell, I've never worked in an office before. And I can't exactly say I worked in a Dayton bar before I came here.”
"Why do you think you created a new identity for yourself, moron?" Griff demanded, his tone losing some of its patience as he glared at Toby from behind folded arms. Grunting irritably, he hopped down from the counter, and walked over to the fridge to get himself a glass of milk. "Listen, if you're going to live here under a false alias, then you've got to sell it. My coworkers might be a bunch of lazy cowards, but they're smart, Toby, and they're good at what they do. If you don't play the game a little, they're going to catch you out eventually."
He glanced down at the milk carton in his hand, then at the sink, where all his glasses stood dirty. Shrugging, he lifted the carton to his lips and took a swig. With a wipe of his lips, he screwed on the cap and replaced the carton, then turned back to Toby, closing the fridge door behind him.
"I know you don't like Timekeepers." He sighed, summoning the last of his patience to walk up behind Toby, threading an arm around his waist. He rested his chin on the man's shoulder, staring blankly down at a spot on the counter. "If you don't want to do it, that's fine, but you have to get some sort of a job, and fast. It doesn't go unnoticed when some bloke with a name no-one's ever heard shows up in New Greenwich, and starts living on nothing but the Time on his wrist." He gave Toby a brief peck on the cheek, then pulled away. "Just think about it, okay? I have to go to work."
With that, he turned away, picking up his laptop, keys and wallet on his way to the door. Honestly, he was disappointed. He had rather hoped that he'd have Toby around to watch his back that day... Without him, the lonely drive to work and back seemed somehow more intimidating than it had before. It would be so easy, really, just to make him disappear... Like he should have from the start.

[Dreambug]

“Why do you think you created a new identity for yourself, moron?” Griff's retort caught Toby off-guard, and the sudden sharpness in his tone was enough to take him aback. He knew Griffin was looking forward to bringing Toby to work, like 'bring your pet for show and tell', but the thought made him nervous. Couldn't Griff just take that into account? It wasn't like he'd said 'no'...
Toby didn't have time to make his eggs, so eventually he gave up and did himself just toast instead. He tried to ignore Griff and his milk as he did so, and munched away at his food quietly.
“I know you don't like Timekeepers.” Griff murmured, which made Toby's stomach clench. Didn't like them? He said it like it was so pathetic. Like dogs didn't like cats. Like flies didn't like spiders. Like worms didn't like birds. It had nothing to do with that. I was like Griff wanted him to go sit in the Lion's den and wait until they ate him alive.
Griff wandered behind him and Toby tensed. He wasn't sure what he thought what was going to happen, but having an arm shamelessly wrapped around his waist and a chin on his shoulder wasn't it. This surprised him, and it took him a while to digest it, that this man who was too shy to kiss Toby without a great amount of persuading, would suddenly display affection so naturally. It wasn't comforting, more like guilt-tripping, but Toby was kind of grateful for it.
His boyfriend continued, telling him patronisingly that he needed to get a job otherwise the Timekeepers would catch him out. This frustrated him somewhat. How long had he been in New Greenwich? Not even twenty-four hours, and Griff was already nagging him to get a job. It was on his agenda, obviously. But Griff could at least let him settle in, first.
But he couldn't argue out loud with Griffin holding him like that. He couldn't even get angry. That was probably why Griff had done it.
Finally Griff pulled away, but not before planting an innocent peck on his cheek. “Just think about it, okay? I have to go to work.”
With that, his boyfriend gathered up his things and headed for the door. Toby just watched him, dumbstruck. So Griff had decided he'd declined, just because he'd asked a few questions.
Toby spent a few seconds arguing silently to himself. Timekeepers terrified him, yes. And he last thing he wanted was an office job and working as one of them. But... But Griff had held him. Kissed him. That had never happened before.
I'm so screwed. He thought, rolling his eyes at himself. Then, he pushed himself away from the work top, leaving his half-eaten toast on the work top.
“Hold on.” He said firmly, walking past Griffin to the coat hooks by the door. “Let me get my jacket.”
He huffed irritably at himself, grabbed his leather jacket ad yanked it on. Then, before he let Griff get any ideas, he swung round and jabbed an accusing finger in his direction. “But I'm only going for an induction. Don't get any ideas.”

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