A/N: I'm honestly not sure what happened. I was working on the new chapter of 'A Lion and A Snake', and Vicious was on in the background. I noticed that Penelope and Mason are almost always together, and they seem closer to each other than to the other characters, and this fic came about.
She was forgetful, absentminded didn't even cover it anymore. He would consider it a sign of age, but she had always been forgetful. Age just made her more so.
He had a small thrill whenever she remembered his name even as she constantly mixed up Stuart and Freddie, and only remembered Violet's name occasionally.
He found it hard not to laugh at some of the things she said, as well as other people's reactions to her. Somehow he was always the one escorting her home once she annoyed Freddie or Stuart enough for them to want her to leave.
She told him things she had never told the others, despite how long they had been friends. He and Penelope had been friends since they were children, and there were things he took for granted as common knowledge about her that Freddie and Stuart still didn't know.
He had never married and she was a widow, and he could imagine the looks on their friends' faces if they found out. Truly, Freddie and Stuart had little room to criticize, their relationship was borderline toxic at times, but he still enjoyed keeping their relationship a secret.
Penelope would never tell them. She kept much of herself secret from them, although she never hid from him.
He had encouraged her to find out who she was, once her husband died, and he was glad that she liked who she was as much as he did.
Freddie, Stuart, and Violet, as well as that new boy, Ash, usually had the monopoly on discussing their problems. Penelope often was called upon as a confidant by one of them (even the boy was beginning to confide in her), but none of them knew that he was her confidant, her companion.
He laughed with her when she confessed to getting Freddie and Stuart mixed up once again, smiling at how sheepish she looked at her mishap. Stuart would likely be annoyed, but would brush it off as Penelope being Penelope.
He stayed in her flat the night of Freddie and Stuart's forty-ninth anniversary, listening to her talk about her marriage, more present than she usually was.
He was her best friend, that he knew without a doubt. He was the one she confided in, who she trusted more than the others in their group.
There might not have been much left for them at this point, but a quiet night in front of the fire with a drink, sitting side by side, conversation meandering aimlessly, he was content.
Mason was not a happy man, ordinarily, but on these nights with Penelope, thinking about the many facets of his oldest friend that only he was privileged to see, he was content.