Just hand stuff. That was the plan. Casual, noncommittal. Perfect for two guys who just really liked each other. But as it turned, sticking with 'just hand stuff' was a big ask for two guys who really really like each other.
The plan was to meet up at the Bluth home and socialize for a bit, then head to the hotel Gob had booked for them.
For hand stuff.
Under assumed names, of course. The last thing either of them needed was for the press to find out about their casual . . . thing, and jump to the wrong conclusion. Like thinking it was some kind of torrid affair.
NARRATOR: It was a torrid affair.
Gob chuckled at the mere thought as he poured two tumblers of scotch. A more than generous pour. Then he paced back and forth, fidgety and nervous, waiting for Tony to arrive.
At ten passed noon he started to panic.
"We agreed on noon, didn't we? Did I get the time wrong? The day?"
NARRATOR: Gob promptly raced upstairs to check the several reminder post-its in his room.
There was the post-it on the upper left corner of his bedroom mirror: Tony, noon, 2/15.
The post it on his nightstand: CASUAL date with Tony, noon, 2/15.
The post-it on his bathroom mirror: Not even a date, Tony, noon, 2/15.
One on the inside of his closet door: Tony, noon, 2/15. Dress nice so he feels special.
Gob went to the mirror for what he told himself was a final inspection, then changed his tie and blazer. This had happened four times since morning.
"Theeerrrreeee it is. That's the look. He'll like this look." Gob cleared his throat and said to his own reflection. "He will casually like this look. Yeah," he smoothed down his tie. "He might say, 'hey you look nice,' or . . . or something. Or he won't. You don't care." He stepped close to the mirror and pointed a finger at the Other Him. "You don't care!"
NARRATOR: He cared.
Then came a knock at the door.
"Ohmygod, he's here!" Gob flew down the stairs in a very heterosexual manner, and flung open the door. "Tony!" He absolutely did not shriek.
"Hey!" Tony leapt across the threshold into a hug.
"God, when was the last time we saw each other?"
"When you came to my show at that outdoor auditorium by the beach. So, three days and nine hours," Tony replied.
"Really? Wow, feels like it's been forever!" Said Gob.
"Right?!" Tony agreed as the two separated and put several steps of distance between them. "It does feel like forever, doesn't it? It's not just me!"
"It's not just you," Gob shook his head. ". . . Nope . . . no sir, not at all."
"Yeah," Tony nodded. "But it's probably just 'cause . . . y'know, we didn't get to have any, uh . . . alone time-I mean like, guy time."
"Mmhm, mmhm," Gob agreed. "No guy time . . ."
A long silence settled around them as both men seemingly forgot how to stand still or actually walk anywhere. Nothing but awkward squirming for at least a minute.
"Oh!" Gob said at last, breaking the silence. "I uh, I poured us a few drinks."
"Great!"
"C'mon."
Tony followed Gob to the living room, and they sat down on the couch.
"Here. Gob picked up the tumblers of scotch off the coffee table and handed one to Tony.
"Thanks."
They each quickly downed at least half of the liquid, and set the glasses on their coasters.
"Mm," Tony said approvingly. "That is some good scotch."
"Oh, pfft," Gob waved off the compliment. "Haha. No, it's nothing fancy. Mid-shelf at best."
NARRATOR: It was sixty year old Lagavulin for which Gob had paid nearly three thousand dollars. But sure, mid-shelf.
Gob continued to laugh nervously. "W-we don't wanna get too fancy, right? . . . Y'know, 'cause then this, um, this thing," he pointed back and forth between them. "Might feel like . . . too formal.Like we're actually a couple or something." He took another large swig of scotch.
NARRATOR: To be clear, this is beyond top-shelf scotch he's gulping down like cheap beer.
"HAHAHA!" Tony laughed, a bit too loud. "Ha." He repeated at normal volume. "Wow, that would be . . . weird. S-so what hotel did you book for us?"
"It's called The Mckinley Brickhouse. It's made of brick. It's a historical building. Like a hundred years old or something."
Tony's eyes lit up, and Gob's stomach flipped over several times.
"Sounds fancy."
"But not too fancy!" Gob specified with what he hoped was a teasing smile. "Just . . . mid-shelf. Like the scotch. It's uh . . . perfect for, um, our . . . thing . . ."
NARRATOR: Their thing was dating. They were dating.
"Right," Tony moved closer and let his voice drop several octaves. "Our thing."
"Just a couple'a guys doing hand stuff." Gob attempted a nonchalant shrug. "We could . . . we could even, maybe . . . start now?" It was only a half-question, as hands were already moving to interesting places. "Like sort of a warm up? Or . . . rehearsal?"
"Sure," Tony nodded. "Stage pros like us." He moved closer and closer to Gob as he spoke, until he was practically in the man's lap. "It would be weird . . . if we . . . didn't . . . rehearse." By that point they were fully engaged in what everyone's sex-ed teacher would describe as, 'heavy petting.'
"Mmhm."
Tony rallied just enough sense to remember where they were. "Wait, what if someone catches us?"
Gob shook his head. "Everyone's out for the day. Trust me, I made sure." With that he leaned in and brushed his mouth over Tony's throat, his stomach once again cartwheeling around when Tony allowed and even leaned into the contact.
"Well, if you made sure . . ." he breathed.
NARRATOR: It was at this point that things got ridiculous. Blazers off, ties off, shirts untucked, belts undone absurd. I mean . . .
"We're not just gonna do hand stuff, are we?" Tony asked, barely audible, lips already ghosting against his friend's. His buddy's. His pal's.
NARRATOR: Just LOOK AT THEM!
Within five minutes of that moment they were in a state of partial undress and making out furiously. And loud.
So loud they didn't notice Lucille coming home to grab a purse she'd left in the kitchen. Nor did they notice when she stopped to observe the show for a second before moving on with a (casual) shrug.
"Huh," she mused on her way back to the car. "I always thought George Michael would end up the family homo."
Meanwhile, Gob and Tony stopped just shy of rounding third base before composing themselves and heading for the McKinley. At which point third base was rounded many times over.
Gob sighed, breathing heavily as he settled beneath the covers, Tony tucked comfortably against him. "Is sex always supposed to feel that great? I mean, I thought I knew what great sex felt like, but I guess maybe not?"
Tony gave him a smile that could almost pass for shy."I was literally just wondering the same thing!"
"Yeah?"
Tony nodded.
Gob tried to make sense of the strange puzzle. He'd had enjoyable sex before, but the last few hours had proven, if nothing else, that he'd never had great sex. Not once. Ever. "I'm sure it's just our 'no strings' arrangement though, right? No expectations, no pressure." He shrugged. "Takes the weight off. So we can just have fun."
"Yeah," Tony agreed, his giant smile faltering somewhat. "I'm sure that's it. Must be. Yeah," he repeated. "You're right. Totally right."
NARRATOR: He's mispronouncing 'totally stupid.'
"Still," Tony piped up after a few seconds of awkward silence. "It would be kinda nice if we didn't have to sneak around like this . . ." he let the inference dangle, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in his gut.
"I guess," said Gob. "But then we'd destroy each other's brand, and that can't happen. So, y'know, thank god we're just casually fooling around here, or sneaking around would be even more upsetting for us . . ." his eyes wandered away from Tony's. "Super painful, actually."
NARRATOR: At this point, Tony should have pointed out the obvious, and stated his feelings in plain english like a normal person. But instead, he did this:
"I, I just have to hop in the bathroom a sec." Tony bolted for the bathroom and braced himself on the against the sink while staring desperately at his reflection. "This is not casual!" He hissed. "How do I make him admit it?"
NARRATOR: USE YOUR WORDS!
"Come on Wonder, think!" He continued to whisper. "You're as brilliant as you are handsome, you can figure this out!"
The question squirmed around in his mind for several weeks before the perfect plan occurred to him out of nowhere while he was backstage getting ready for a show.
"That's it!" He cried out, once again in front of a mirror. "I'll tell him we have to stop messing around because I'm getting married! Yes! Then he freaks out, realizes how he feels, and fights for me!"
NARRATOR: Gob would only do two of those three things. Because Gob is, as we all know, an idiot.
"Hey, I'm here see my friend Tony Wonder," Gob said to the security guard hovering backstage. "See? Guest pass." He held up his laminated guest pass as though it were a police badge.
"Dressing room three," said the guard. "You're the boyfriend, right?"
"Wh-what?" Gob scoffed. "No! We're, I'm just, we-room three, you said? Okay." He took a deep breath and went looking for the right door.
"Who was that?" A nearby stagehand asked the security guard.
"The boyfriend."
The backstage was practically a labyrinth of hallways, so it took Gob a few minutes to find dressing room three.
"It's me, hope you're decent." he said softly, tapping the door as he entered. Tony stood up from his cheap folding chair. "Not that I mind indecent," Gob added with a smile. "That'd be okay, too."
Tony tried to wipe the sweat off his palms as he muttered under his breath, "You can do this."
"What?" asked Gob.
"I have some news."
"Good news?" A knot began to form in Gob's stomach.
"I think it's good news. No, it's great news. Really, just, just great!
"Well don't keep me in suspense!" Gob tried to sound light and carefree, but anxiety did have a noticeable effect on his tone.
"I'm getting married!" Tony tried not to let Gob's clenched no-really-I'm-fine face make him hesitate or abandon the plan "Yeah, yeah. Great, right?" He took a deep breath and got to the (fake) point. "But . . . so, we are gonna have to stop-"
"O course!" Gob interrupted, the knot tightening into truly horrible pain. Like he'd been stabbed. "No, of course we can't keep doing . . . what we've been . . . um, doing. So what's her name?"
It was not the response Tony had anticipated. In his plan, Gob insisted that he not get married so they could be together instead.
"Uh, Sal-" Tony almost said Sally Sitwell, but then he remembered that, as Gob and Sally sometimes crossed paths, and beyond that knew a lot of the same people, he'd get caught in that lie fairly soon. "Saaaalllll-amander."
"Salamander?"
"Mmhm, her uh, her parents were hippies."
Gob frowned. "What's her last name?"
"Notreel." Tony spit out without thinking. But he remained determined to commit to his lie and sell it all the way. "The 'reel' is spelled r-e-e-l."
NARRATOR: Like that made it more believable. But again, Gob is-
"Salamander Notreel. What a lucky gal," he tried to chuckle . . . casually. "I guess that's it for us then. So long 'no strings,' sayonara secret hookups."
"Yeah," Tony nodded as his heart sank to the floor and kept on sinking. "Yeah. I sure won't miss all the sneaking around."
"Got the wife now!" Gob tried for a playful shove but missed the other man's shoulder by several inches. "Got the . . . got the ol' ball-and-chain. What a relief!" He decided to offer Tony a doorway out of guilt. "Big relief. Yeah. I've been thinking lately this thing with us has kinda . . . played itself out. So good timing on the engagement!"
At that point Tony's heart hit the earth's molten core and vaporized. "P-played out. Totally. You're totally right. As always."
NARRATOR: As never. Literally never.
"So um, I'll just . . . cancel our room at the McKinley, then."
"Mmhm," Tony nodded, chewing his upper lip.
"Fun while it lasted, right?" Gob didn't wait for an answer before leaving the small room as fast as possible, and fleeing the theatre like there was a raging fire chasing him down the street.
A little over an hour later he sat at on a stool at the kitchen counter, staring at his beer.
"Hey Gob," said Michael, startling him.
"Oh! Oh . . . hey. Didn't hear you come in."
"Is something wrong?" Michael asked gently as he approached his brother's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You look upset."
Gob opened his mouth intending to say something along the lines of 'no, I'm fine,' but he couldn't. "I've made a huge mistake, Michael!" He sobbed, hugging his brother fiercely without rising from the stool. The position had him perfectly arranged to rest his head on Michael's shoulder and cry. "I've made a huge mistake! A massive, giant, awful mistake!"
"Heeeeeeey, it'll be okay, Gob. Just tell me what it is, and we'll figure out how to fix it." He wasn't normally one to care much about his big brother's antics and nonsense, but he'd never once seen the guy this upset.
"I'm in love with someone and he-he's getting married!" Gob went on sobbing. "It's T-Tony. I love him, and he told me today he's getting married!"
"Oh." Said Michael. "Oh wow . . ."
"I know, I know," Gob sniffed, wiping away tears and trying to get control of himself. "You must be shocked."
"No, it's not that. Mom told me weeks ago that she saw you two going at it on the couch, I just assumed she was extra drunk that day. Or lying. For some reason. So you're bisexual then?"
Gob shook his head. "I'm not."
Michael gave him a 'no, seriously' look. "Buddy, you've been with women and now a man, that's textbook bi-"
"I'm just gay, alright?"
"Hm . . ." Michael took a moment to absorb the information. "Why wait so long to come out, then? No one in our family's homophobic, and it would have spared us the parade of all your insufferable or age inappropriate girlfriends."
Gob took a deep breath, finally done with the tears. "I didn't exactly know."
"How the hell does a guy reach your age and not know?"
"I, I don't . . . I mean, for one thing I've never had close male friends. Which, in hindsight, was probably to avoid . . . y'know, feelings."
"Makes sense, I guess," Michael nodded.
"And all the women I've dated were probably . . . on some level . . . attractive because they were obviously wrong choices. The kind that'd never work out, regardless. And . . . the few times I did feel a little attachment I thought, 'yeah, okay, this is what love feels like, and all the romcoms and stupid romance novels are just exaggerating about it.'"
"Hm. . . okay, so let's set that aside and get back to Tony. Is it Sally Sitwell? It she the fiancee?"
"No. No, it's some woman I've never met called Salamander Notreel."
"Not real?" Michael frowned.
Gob shook his head. "No, it's spelled r-e-e-l."
"Um . . . buddy . . . she's fake. Yeah, she is absolutely a made up person."
"You think so?" Gob sniffed, feeling the tiniest bit hopeful.
"Think about it Gob. Really, really think. Just try."
Gob stared into the distance, fixated on nothing in particular as the name ran through his mind on a loop. Salamander Notreel . . . Salamander Notreel . . . "Oh my GOD!" He shouted finally, leaping up from his stool. "SHE'S NOT REAL!"
NARRATOR: And we finally get there!
"Yeah!" Michael cheered. "Which means you're still in the game!"
"B-but . . . he lied to me. Michael, why would he lie to me? To me?!"
"Maybe to give you an easy out if you didn't love him back? Or he expected you to fight for him?"
"Wow . . ." Gob stood there, wide eyed, dizzy, and amazed. "Wow . . ."
"So?! Go fight for him, you spectacular bonehead!"
"Right! Thanks Michael!"
"Yeeeeeees," Michael drawled out the word. "Thanks to me."
Gob turned around just before exiting the room, and spoke quickly, "and if you could call a family meeting while I'm gone and tell them I'm gay, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks again, you're the best!"
"But-" Michael tried to object, but it was useless. He knew Gob wouldn't hear a word of it anyhow, with his head so high in the clouds. "Great. I guess this is happening." He grumbled, taking his phone from his pocket to open a group text. "You can't just come out like a normal guy, nooooooooo. Gotta make it Michael's job . . ." the string of muttered complaints continued as he texted the words 'family meeting, ASAP.'
Gob knew Tony's magic show involved three other performers, thirty minute sets each, and there were two shows. One daytime, one evening. So odds were he'd still be backstage at the theatre.
"Or someplace nearby," Gob muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'll find him. I can find him. If nothing else, I'll wait 'til after the night show."
NARRATOR: Every once in a while perfect timing happens to those who really, really need it. This was one of those times.
Gob arrived at the theatre just as stagehands were getting everything reset for the evening performance.
"Hi boyfriend," the security guard greeted Gob with a nod as he rushed by.
"Hi Guard."
Gob barged into dressing room three without announcing himself in the slightest. "Hey!" He yelled, pointing at Tony, who stood in the middle of the room with a satin robe over his costume. "Notreel's not real! You lied!"
Tony folded his arms with an indignant huff. After Gob left earlier, he'd gone from grief to anger really quickly. "She could be real! You don't know!"
"She's not!" . . . Still, a tiny wiggle of doubt began creeping into Gob's brain like a parasite. "But . . . on the off chance she is: don't get married!"
Tony's eyebrows raised halfway up his forehead. "And why not?"
"Because!" The confidence borne of adrenaline and certainty began to melt away, and Gob shifted from foot to foot as he spoke. "Because we, this, you and me, we are . . . we are . . ."
"I go on int twent-"
"We're in love!"
Tony sagged with relief and let out the breath he'd been holding. "So why didn't you just say that before?!"
NARRATOR: Because he needed his brother to explain the obvious and tell him what to do.
"I don't know."
NARRATOR: Seriously, it's all Michael.
"I just, I love you. That I know. Also I came out to my family, so I've got no reason to chicken out here," Gob shrugged.
Tony gazed at him with a love-struck smile. "Y'know, that door does lock."
Twenty minutes and one dressing room quickie later, Tony took the stage. "Welcome, everyone!" He announced with all his usual grandeur and flair. "Before we begin, I would like to dedicate this show to my former nemesis and current boyfriend, Gob Bluth. He's standing right over there, just off stage. Honey, d'you wanna poke your head out here and give the people a wave?"
Gob obliged, nearly drunk on hearing the man describe him as boyfriend, then returned to his place offstage, leaving the spotlight to Tony.
"That's right friends! We've been having a secret fling for months now, and no one knew about it!"
NARRATOR: For some reason that line made the audience bust out laughing. I can't imagine why.
Gob and Tony shared a quick, sheepish glance.
"Okay," Tony flung out his arms. "That's enough announcements! On with the show!"
NARRATOR: And they lived Stupidly Ever After.
THE END