It happened over breakfast.

Saturday morning brought rain. Dark clouds, and mild thunder, and the sound of heavy drops drumming against the windows and the glass balcony door, the yellow light of the lamp beside the sofa enveloping him in warm light. They'd just turned up the radiator, but the chill had set in during the night, and Thomas shrugged deeper into the jumper he was wearing, feet pulled up on the sofa beneath the blanket they'd dragged from James's bed.

James's apartment was a riot of color. There were flowers everywhere, bright colored walls, and James himself, auburn and vibrant and so very alive. Here, he existed in a pocket of summer, hiding from April's treachery. The smell of fried eggs and coffee surrounded him, James was humming something off key in front of the stove, and Thomas thought, I'm falling in love with him.

It didn't matter that he'd met James just over a week ago. It didn't matter that falling in love in so short a time should be impossible.

Thomas blinked, and reality shifted. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed, except everything had changed.

Reality swelled in his chest like a balloon, almost painful in the fullness of it, and utterly inescapable.

I'm falling in love with James Flint.

He might possibly already be in love with James Flint.

His breathing hitched and he pressed a hand to his own chest, his heart thrumming in time with the rain.

Bare feet appeared in his field of vision, and he followed them up, all the way up, to find James holding a tray with their breakfast, frowning in concern.

"You alright?"

Thomas beamed, his smile full and helpless, his cheeks flushing with his newfound revelation. James was soft around the edges, hair sticking up, tattered t-shirt hanging off of one shoulder, his sweatpants hanging low, and those lovely bare feet. His lips were swollen from their morning kisses, and the aura of sleep still hung around him. The intimacy of it hurt in the most wonderful way.

He nodded.

"Budge up, then," he told Thomas, and set the tray on the coffee table. Thomas made room for him and James sat, immediately pulling Thomas's feet into his lap.

He couldn't tell him, not yet. It was the most exciting realization Thomas had ever had, and he'd never wanted to share something more than he wanted to share this with James. But he wasn't ready. There would be time, and he didn't have to rush it. The truth lived in him all the same.

James already knew how he took his coffee, and he'd bought mushrooms to put in Thomas's omelette, even though James hated them. James couldn't abide sleeping with socks on, even though Thomas had to when it was cold. And there was a cluster of freckles at the base of James's spine he had spent five minutes learning by heart last night as he'd fingered him until James had cried out, desperate for Thomas to be inside him, and for now, that was good enough.

When Miranda called him to finally come and meet Teddy in person, Thomas wasn't sure what he expected. Both of Miranda's previous husbands had been charming, suave, and remarkably good-looking, in addition to being very wealthy.

Those marriages had ended with mistresses, heartbreak, and Miranda walking away with newfound fortunes of her own.

It was no more than those wankers deserved.

Thomas supposed he expected more of the same. Some rich, gorgeous, dark and tall pillar of society, hopefully marrying Miranda for Miranda this time around, and not for her connections.

Well. He was surprised, that was for certain. Whether he was pleasantly surprised, Thomas didn't know. What he was sure of was that he was… underwhelmed, to be honest.

Teddy.

Teddy, to Thomas, seemed like no more and no less than the embodiment of the color beige.

The only thing Thomas could say in Teddy's favor was he was clearly head-over-heels in love with Miranda. More than any of Miranda's previous suitors had been. Thomas wasn't quite sure he'd ever seen any man so enamoured with a woman before in his life.

"Teddy and I put together our registry this morning. We had a lovely time, didn't we, dear?" Miranda's eyes gleamed and her teeth shone as she smiled at Teddy, and the man was lost. The way he stared at her, one could believe he'd been waiting his entire life for that smile. Here was a man who could hardly believe how lucky he was that the universe had brought him and Miranda together.

Thomas was familiar with the feeling. He didn't begrudge Teddy one ounce of it, no matter how boring he was.

"The china you selected was lovely. I still think you should have put the second set on the registry as well, perhaps as a backup set?" Teddy leaned in to her like she was the sun and he was trapped in her orbit, wanting nothing more than to stay there forever.

Teddy garnered a few extra points for that comment. He may have been bland, but at least he was doting on Miranda as befit her.

Thomas eyed the man's clothes. He was wealthy. That much was clear. His suit was well made, if somewhat dull, his watch gold. To be fair, he had to have money to be able to afford to marry Miranda at all. She had expensive tastes and couldn't help it. A wedding at the Four Seasons, a month long honeymoon in the Caribbean. He wasn't quite sure what Teddy did for a living, the man had explained at some point, and Thomas had found himself zoning out.

Whatever it was, it enabled him to pick up and fly off halfway across the world at the whim of his fiancee without a moment's trouble.

Miranda was laughing at something Teddy had said. She was truly happy. Her eyes sparkled and Teddy soaked up her laughter like a desert soaked up rain.

Well. That was alright then.

"Teddy, I've finished my coffee. Would you be a dear and get me another one? I'd like to talk to Thomas alone for a bit."

And Teddy… Christ, Teddy wasn't put out at all. He just nodded, kissed her cheek and went off to get in line again.

Thomas watched him go with a raised eyebrow. "He's more cocker spaniel than fiance, I'd say."

Miranda smacked his arm, and Thomas grimaced theatrically.

"Don't you dare. Teddy is doing his best. And he's sweet."

Thomas grinned at her teasingly. "Dear, sweet Teddy." Very well, the man had passed muster, but he still had to ask. "Honestly though, Miranda. What… what do you see in him?"

Miranda sighed. "Can't you just for once-" she caught his eyes. "No, I suppose you can't, can you?"

Thomas waited.

Miranda shrugged. "He - he makes me laugh. Honestly," she added, at Thomas's incredulity. "I know people find him dull, but..." She shook her head. "There's something comforting in that. There's something comforting in knowing that he'll never want anyone else, never be drawn to anyone but me. I - I've played the game long enough, Thomas. I'm tired."

Thomas took her hand, rubbing his thumb along her knuckles. She stared at their hands for a moment and then turned her palm up to grasp his fingers.

"He can provide the life to which I have always been accustomed, he is sweet, and makes me laugh, and he loves me." Miranda glanced back towards the line, and there was Teddy, smiling back at her, utterly in love and utterly ordinary and something in Thomas's heart twinged.

"He loves me, Thomas. Genuinely."

Thomas dropped his shoulders with a sigh, and brought Miranda's hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "You know me, my love. I've only ever cared that you're happy."

"I am," she told him in earnest. "Teddy is lovely. Most people would kill for a Teddy."

"I don't know." He smiled. "I'm quite happy with my James, thank you very much."

Miranda beamed at him. "Your James?"

He bit his lip and kissed Miranda's hand again. "I- I think I might…" He couldn't say the words, not yet, not out loud, but Miranda understood.

"Well. There's only one thing to do, in that case."

Thomas tilted his head in question.

"Come cake tasting with me this week. Both of you."

Teddy appeared, taking his seat again after setting Miranda's coffee on the table, and not even batting an eye at their clasped hands.

Thomas smiled. "Alright. Let's eat some cake."

"Who the fuck is Max?" Gates sounded put out. More put out than usual.

"Hello, Hal. How are you? How's the family?" James asked, wiring gerbera daisies while he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

"Fuck you, been better, and still putting up with me so I guess that makes me a lucky bastard. Who the fuck is Max?"

"She's the new manager this side of the Atlantic."

Silent rage echoed on the other end of the line. "The new manager."

James rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"On that side of the Atlantic."

James sighed, dropping the red gerbera he was halfway done with and grabbing the phone. "Gates, you can't expect to stay on top of schedules and events in two separate time zones. You knew I'd have to get another manager eventually."

"You were managing the shop. I didn't mind."

"Well, I was drowning. And since Max took over we've booked two diplomatic events as well as the American Ballet's spring gala, and I'm still working normal hours."

Gates was quiet for a moment. "Well, bugger me," he finally said, wonder in his voice.

"Yeah," James agreed.

They both fell silent, now that Gates's fury had subsided.

James ran a hand through his hair. "Any news on the the review?"

"Nah, the Royal Chamberlain's office hasn't got back to us yet. These things take time, I keep telling Titanosaur, but that boy's on the verge of doing something stupid again, I can feel it."

"Just keep him away from-" what? Mobile phones? Newspapers? The fucking internet? James shook his head. "Just try to keep Billy busy with other things."

"Yeah. Been doing. I know what I'm about, James. But you go on and hire a new fucking manager…"

"Hal."

"Fuck. Yes, alright. And I suppose it was good she called me. Said she's gonna keep me updated. She set up a weekly meeting, can you imagine?"

James could. Max was running all their lives at this point. Him, Howell and Idelle. She had her own set of keys, and had reorganized the storage room and the register desk. He wasn't arguing. He had more time for Thomas when Max was in charge.

"So, anything else I should know?"

James considered telling him about Thomas. About how this was the first time he'd ever looked forward to closing up shop. About how he was planning ahead on a personal level, in a way he never had before. About blond hair, and blue eyes, and smiles he felt down to his toes.

Picturing Gates's reaction to all of that made him laugh.

"I'm seeing someone. It's going well."

"Yeah?" Gates sounded surprised, but pleased for him.

"Yeah."

"I know a good florist for the wedding."

James laughed and hung up, but spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about what he'd like in a centerpiece for a change.

James knew a fair amount about putting a wedding together. He worked in the industry. The ins and outs were common knowledge.

It was one thing to book the Four Seasons with less than three weeks' notice for a wedding in New York City. Though who was he kidding? It was fucking madness, he still had no idea how Miranda had done it.

But when Thomas told him Miranda had invited them both to taste cakes with her, he didn't expect a similar miracle a second time.

Heh.

He left Max in charge of the shop and and walked across the street to the tattoo parlor, greeting Abigail when he walked in.

"Hi, Mr. Flint," she said, without glancing up from her college textbook, chewing absently on the end of a pen.

"I've told you, you can call me James."

She nodded, frowning. "Sure thing, Mr. Flint."

James sighed.

"He's in the back?"

Abigail nodded.

"Anyone with him?"

She shook her head, making a note in one of the margins.

James followed the narrow hallway to the back room where he found Thomas cleaning up. He'd just finished packaging up his used tools in sterilization bags and was setting them into the autoclave.

James had demanded a breakdown of the process, listening raptly as Thomas had explained everything from how tattoos worked to aftercare and cleanup.

"Do I look like a Mister to you?"

Thomas laughed. "That's an interesting way to start a conversation."

"Being called Mr. Flint in a business setting is one thing, but…"

"Abigail?"

James nodded.

"Well. 'Mr. Hamilton' was always my father, though heaven knows he's holding out for a lordship." He shuddered. "I suppose I understand. I could never be 'Mr. Hamilton'."

James shook his head. "My father was McGraw… I took my grandparents' name. So it's more the 'mister' than anything else that's bothering me…"

Thomas laughed. "Why James. It's a bit early for a mid-life crisis, wouldn't you say? Next you'll be asking me for a tattoo."

James wasn't quite ready to broach that subject yet with Thomas, but a little shiver went down his spine. Here in the back room, it was so easy to picture it. A quiet night, just the two of them, Thomas's hands on his skin, inking something permanent and beautiful and by Thomas, onto his side, or his back, or his shoulder… He hadn't quite decided yet.

"So? Ready to go?" Thomas finally asked, pulling off his latex gloves with a snap, the sound bringing him back to himself. "I'll just be another minute."

James hopped up on to the client bed, watching Thomas wipe down the steel counters. There was something fascinating about how much care Thomas took to keep the place clean and sterile, and still feel comfortable and welcoming.

In truth, he'd been giving Thomas's work more and more consideration lately. He'd gone online a few nights ago, working late at the shop, and searched for more about Thomas's art. He had an entire fan following. Apparently, his last tour had been completely booked, with people lining up outside the convention centers in the snow and rain to get a tattoo by him.

James would never have guessed it. Thomas was level-headed and down-to-earth He was warm with his clients, or at least the ones James had met. There was not an ounce of pride in him, all things considered, not haughty pride at least. Perhaps pride in a job well done and in a satisfied customer.

Thomas always made it seem like he was the one who was lucky to be given the chance to do this for them, not that they were the lucky ones to have him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Thomas murmured, stepping in between James's knees.

James shook his head. "I just… like watching you work."

Thomas took James's hand and kissed the knuckles lightly.

"Shall we?"

He let Thomas pull him from the table and lead him out of the back room.

"I had to reschedule with a client to meet Miranda, so I'll have to work late tonight," Thomas said, grabbing his coat by the door and pulling it on. "I'll stop by after. Oh, Abigail," he added, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "I should be back in about an hour and a half. You're alright here until then?"

"Yup." She didn't even look up from her book.

"I've got some tools sterilizing in the back. Don't forget to open the autoclave when it's done. Don't bother putting the things away, I'll do it when I get back."

"Mmmkay."

Thomas glanced at James and grinned, holding a finger to his lips. "Also, I need you to find a time slot for a couple of pirates coming in for tattoos later today."

James snorted.

Abigail finally tore herself away from her textbook with a sigh. "After-school rush doesn't start until two," she said, holding up a finger, "and I'm not expecting many walk-ins. Besides, you'll be back by then." She held up a second finger. "I know how to run the autoclave, and every other piece of equipment we have back there." A third finger. "And you're booked solid, but if you really want me to fit in some make-believe pirates, I can ask Ms. Bonny to reschedule again."

Thomas blanched, and laughed nervously. "Never mind... Forgive me, you seemed a little distracted."

Abigail lifted an eyebrow. "I'm always paying attention. Always."

James flashed back to yesterday morning when Abigail had been listening to music with her headphones in, typing away on her laptop. He'd pulled Thomas into the kitchenette and pushed him back against the counter, kissing him and grinding against him until they were both breathless.

The look she gave the two of them was pointed. "Yeah."

She went back to her reading.

He imagined his blush was probably as pronounced as Thomas's.

"Well then."

James took a deep breath. "So Miranda?"

"Yes, Miranda."

They hailed a cab and slid into the back seat together and finally let themselves break down laughing.

"Future snogging will happen at the flower shop, for your information," Thomas stated, cheeks still red, but with laughter.

"Right, because Max is much less perceptive than Abigail."

"Fair point."

They grinned at each other, and James threaded his fingers through Thomas's, holding his hand in his lap.

"So, where are we headed? Who's doing the cake?" James was familiar with several vendors.

"You'll see," Thomas said mysteriously.

Ten minutes later, James stood gaping at the sign for Sylvia Weinstock Cakes, the wind stinging his cheeks, as Thomas paid the cab.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he murmured.

Thomas leaned in next to him. "Yeah. Come on."

They found Miranda and Teddy already seated at a little table in the corner, Miranda laughing at something Teddy had said.

"That's Teddy?" he asked Thomas in a surprised whisper. Teddy was… not what he'd expected.

Thomas suppressed a grin. "Mmm… I had the same reaction."

He didn't get a chance to ask any more questions because Miranda had spotted them.

"Thomas! James! I'm so glad you could make it!" She got up and hugged them, kissing them each on both cheeks. James blushed, quite pleased.

Something about Miranda made him feel like she already considered him her friend, like she'd been his friend for years, instead of having met him only a week ago. It was grounding and comforting in a way he hadn't expected, after moving so far from the London.

A waiter brought them all coffee, and then rolled a small dessert cart over with enormous slices of ten different types of cake.

"Hope neither of you had lunch," Teddy said with a wink.

"How did the two of you meet?" James asked, as Miranda handed a different cake to each of them.

"Take a bite and switch, that seems the best way to do this," she said. "Keep track of the ones you like."

Teddy picked up a fork as Miranda set a dark cake with white frosting in front of him. "Oh, we met at a charity gala at the British Museum back in January." He took a bite. "Mmm. This is good. Honey and… lavender, I think? Here, taste." He scooped another piece on to his fork and fed it to Miranda. Her eyes sparkled.

Thomas and James exchanged a look and hid their grins behind their own bites of cake.

"Anyway, no one could keep their eyes off of Miranda, she was the most beautiful woman at the event."

"Oh, quiet, you'll make me blush."

Thomas snorted. "Please. If at any given moment you're not aware you're the most beautiful woman in the room, I'd be very much surprised. You and I have never believed in false modesty, Miranda."

Teddy nodded. "I'm only stating a simple fact, dear. Oh, is this chocolate and raspberry? That's my favorite!"

James was fascinated by this conversation, and by Teddy, if he was to be perfectly honest. There was something so unassumingly plain and down-to-earth about him, and he was completely un-embarrassed by his own devotion.

Miranda frowned at both Teddy and Thomas. "I should have known better than to attempt humility with the two of you here. James, be a dear and promise me you won't be swept up with these two flatterers, or else at some point my head will grow so large it might never go back to normal."

"It would still be lovely," Thomas argued, winking at her.

James took a bite of cake and hummed in surprise. "Lemon and poppy seed. I don't usually like poppy seed, but this is…" he took another bite. "So Miranda was the most beautiful woman at the event?" he prompted Teddy.

"Yes, undoubtedly." Miranda rolled her eyes but stayed silent. "She was wearing an emerald ball gown-"

"Oh, Miranda in green is a sight," Thomas interjected.

"Should I be jealous?" James asked with a raised eyebrow and laughing. Thomas responded by kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"You could buy a green ball gown," he said, his voice low. "You'd look marvelous in it. It would match your eyes."

James blushed to the roots of his hair and Miranda smirked at him from across the table.

Teddy passed his cake to Thomas and took another plate from Miranda. "What's this one? Oh! This is the lemon and poppy seed, yes, I see what you meant, James." Teddy didn't seem to mind at all that his story kept getting derailed. He was genuinely enjoying eating cake. "I've never been a terribly brave man, but I'm not a coward either, and I asked her to dance. Amazingly, she said yes."

Miranda smiled around her fork. "Mmm," she hummed, holding her hand to her mouth. "How could I turn him down? He had such kind eyes."

Teddy beamed at her.

James wasn't a fan of the chocolate raspberry, but he agreed with Teddy about the honey and lavender. "Miranda, I have to ask…"

"Yes, dear?"

"Well, first the Four Seasons, and now the cake from Sylvia Weinstock…" he wasn't sure how to frame the rest of his question.

"Oh Sylvia's a dear, isn't she? She did my first wedding, you know. We've stayed in touch ever since."

James let out a small snort of disbelief. "Did you give her three weeks' notice that time as well, or...?"

He received a sharp and discreet elbow to his side and then Thomas passed him another plate.

"Mmm, so good," he mumbled around a bite of cake, pretending none of it had happened. Thomas snorted.

It was too much, and they were all stuffed by the time they were through.

"I don't know how I'll fit into my dress," Miranda said, sitting back with a sigh. James refrained from asking whether Vera Wang was personally sewing her wedding gown. He was too afraid of the answer.

Thomas was counting tally marks on a napkin. "So that's three votes for the lemon poppy, three for the coffee rum, and three for the honey lavender. Sorry Teddy," Thomas said at the man's sigh. "You were the only fan of the chocolate."

"I think it's only fair Teddy get to break the tie," Miranda said, but Teddy demurred, so Miranda settled on the honey lavender and she and Teddy went to make the last arrangements in the back office.

"Oh, before we go, would the two of you go in for tuxedo fittings with Teddy on Monday, please?"

Thomas pulled his phone out to check his appointments that day, and James frowned. "I was just going to wear a suit, I don't-"

Miranda cut him off. "Nonsense! You'll be one of the groomsmen of course."

James, struck dumb, turned to Teddy in surprise.

"Oh, would you? My brother will be standing up with me, but other than him, I haven't got anyone else. I have a few good friends, but none I felt like asking."

That didn't answer James's concerns in the least, but once again, Miranda had a way of making him feel important - like his developing relationship with Thomas was more than a run of the mill affair - something entirely different.

"I'd be honored," he said.

"How does she do it?" he asked Thomas later, as they left, heading towards the subway station. His hands were freezing. He rubbed them together, breathing into them.

"Do what?" Thomas took one of James's hands and pulled it into his pocket.

His heart skipped a beat, and James tightened his grip on Thomas's hand, smiling. "The venue, the cake, whatever famous designer I imagine is doing the dress."

"Not to mention one of the most popular up-and-coming florists in New York City."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, that too."

Thomas sighed. "These things just seem to happen for Miranda. Life has a tendency to go her way. At least when it doesn't come to love." Thomas glanced back towards the bakery. "Though maybe that's changing now as well. She deserves it."

James didn't want to pry, though he'd already understood Miranda's other marriages hadn't ended well.

"Ever seen Star Wars?" Thomas asked him.

James gave him a look.

"Alright, I'm sorry I asked!" He laughed. "My point is, Miranda is like a Jedi. There's something about her - people want to do nice things for her. So she asks for something, and then people just… fall in line. Over time, I've stopped questioning it." He paused and then added softly, "You will too."

The implication that James would be around long enough to get used to it was not lost on him. He squeezed Thomas's hand again and they turned towards the subway station stairs.

"He's a good sort, Teddy," he said as they reached the bottom.

"Hmm. He really is."

"Thomas?" James asked, pushing through the turnstile.

"Hmm?"

"Is... is Teddy English?"

Thomas glanced over at James with a frown. "Of course he is, isn't he?"

James barely remember what Teddy looked like, much less what he sounded like. Thomas stopped, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Fuck. I have no idea," he said with wide eyes.

Their incredulous laughter accompanied them onto the train.