A/N: How about a little something different? This is a oneshot.
Give a Little Bit
Tom Quincy was having a very bad day. He had just broken up with his girlfriend, Sadie Harrison, and his protégé, Jude Harrison, was angry with him … again. But Jude's mood swings no longer fazed him; he had learned to just roll with the punches.
"One Skim Latte, please," he said, smiling at the pretty brunette behind the counter. With a look of pure boredom on her face, she punched his order into the cash register.
"Will that be… Oh my god, you're Tommy Quincy! From Boyz Attack! I know I sound like such a pathetic fan girl right now, but could I please have your autograph?" Tommy's smile vanished immediately. He had thought she would be the one girl not to recognize him; he now longed for her look of boredom to return.
"Of course." He said, making an effort to smile. As he whipped a black pen out of his pocket, she hesitantly pushed a recycled brown napkin across the counter. He signed it and paid for his coffee, walking away with a groan. He heard a tinkling laugh emanating from a nearby table.
"Oh man, Little Tommy Q can't even order a cup of coffee without being fawned over, now, can he?" Kwest was grinning up at him. Tommy stopped in his tracks. Thankful for someone not of the opposite sex to talk to, he sat down in the chair across from the sound engineer.
"Hey, man," Kwest started, an amused look darting across his face. "How do you know I'm not meeting someone? I mean, I don't just sit in coffee shops waiting for you to show up, Tom."
"Because I know you aren't seeing anyone now. And I don't know who else you would be meeting." Tommy took a sip from his latte and stared around the coffee shop. Bringing his gaze back to Kwest, he smiled inwardly and wondered why Kwest hadn't been in a relationship for a while. Outwardly, he said, "So, how are you? I mean, we work together everyday, but all we ever seem to do is talk about me."
"Or Jude… Or Sadie." Tommy threw his head back and laughed at this truth.
"No shit, man. Well, now I'm asking you about your life, so seize this rare chance to vent." Tommy drew his cup up to his lips and realized that he had finished his latte. "After I get another cup of coffee."
Kwest watched the producer meander across the coffee shop. The male cashier seemed immune to Tommy's celebrity, and Tommy sighed with relief.
"One mocha latte, please."
"Will that be all?" the cashier asked, tiredly repeating the phrase all businesses train their employees to say.
Tommy looked at the cashier sympathetically, for, despite all his griping, he rather loved his job and would never trade working with Jude for anything in the world. She may act a bit wearing at times, but nobody's perfect, right? "No, thanks." Slipping a five-dollar bill into the tip jar, he slid his hand around the cup of coffee being handed to him. Turning on his heel, he spied Kwest staring intently at him. Walking briskly past the staring females, he muttered, "Do you want to get out of here as much as I do?"
"No. Actually, I'm rather enjoying this," Kwest murmured as one girl tentatively tiptoed up their table. Tommy exasperatedly turned his face in her direction.
"Bonjour, est-ce que j'aurais votre autographe?" she asked.
"Mais, bien sûr," Tommy said. "Quel est votre nom?"
"Marie."
He grabbed the pen and paper she was holding out and signed his second autograph of the day. "Au revoir, mademoiselle."
"Au revoir, Tommy."
A scraping of chairs and tables followed her farewell; suddenly every girl in the coffee shop had found the courage to approach the former boy band member. Tommy buried his face in his hands, and Kwest looked at him thoughtfully. "Now can we leave?"
"Alright, man. No problem."
Suddenly, Kwest leapt up and assumed the role of bodyguard. Shielding Tommy from his female fans he made his way to the door of the coffee shop. Breathing in the fresh air, they both began laughing hysterically. Tommy doubled up holding his ribs. Kwest put a gentle hand on his back, patting it to calm the producer down. Surprised at his friend's touch, Tommy immediately stopped laughing and pulled away from him a little. He glanced at the sound engineer with a softened look in his eye. Kwest turned away quickly and strode off down the street lined with little cafés and antique shops. He darted down a side alley with Tommy right behind him.
"Kwest…" Tommy stopped running, his voice just above a whisper. His friend slowed but kept walking.
"What?" Kwest whirled around. "What do you want?" Tommy silenced him with a soft hand covering his mouth.
"Are you…" The words caught in his throat. He began pacing back and forth across the alleyway thinking hard. "Are you gay?" Kwest nodded, taking pains not to look Tommy directly in the eye. "Then…do you…" He still couldn't finish the sentence.
"Do I what, Quincy?" Tommy registered the switch to his last name. "Do I have a crush you? What is this? High School?"
But Tommy was no longer listening. "God, this is weird. I feel like…maybe it's because all the women in my life are just being ridiculous right now; I don't know. Why do I…" His eyes filled with fire and his jaw set. He closed the distance between himself and Kwest in two steps. Tommy's breathing quickened as he placed his shaking hand on his friend's shoulder. It dropped a little under the weight. He let it fall to his side and stared at it, bewildered. They both stood there awkwardly for ten seconds, neither one saying anything.
"Fuck it," Tommy snarled. "Fuck them, fuck everyone." Taking a sharp breath, Tommy grabbed Kwest by both shoulders and pulled his friends body to his. As he enveloped Kwest's mouth with his own, he felt heat rush to his fingertips. Grappling with the bottom of the sound engineer's shirt, Tommy remembered where they were. He pulled away hastily.
"Oh man, oh man, oh man," he repeated. "What have I done?"
"Nothing, man," Kwest was smiling now. "This is Canada, not the U.S."
"That wasn't what I was worried about," Tommy grinned back. "I was just thinking about what Jude's going to say."
A/N: Is he gay? Is he bi? Does it even matter? Please review, I want to know what your thoughts. No flames.