Chapter 129 The Double Date

Chapter 129 The Double Date
Tyler's POV
Dylan is a perfect example of “don't judge a book by its cover”.
The Restaurant he picked alone told me a lot about him that I wouldn't think about if I saw him outside. It wasn't the kind of place that announced itself loudly. No valet line stretching around the block, no lighting designed to make everyone look like they were being photographed. Just a quiet corner restaurant in the west village with good wine and a menu that was ambitious without being ridiculous and tables spaced far enough apart that you could have an actual conversation.
Jake would never have chosen this on his own. Jake's idea of a good restaurant was any place where the food arrived quickly and nobody recognized him.
Dylan had done his research.
We arrived first. Quin and I were shown to the table and had been sitting for about four to five minutes before Quin said, without looking up from his menu, "You already texted Dylan to tell him we arrived."
"I did not."
He looked at me.
"I texted to say we were on our way," I said. "Which was before we arrived. Completely different."
Quin returned to his menu with the expression of someone who had made their point and didn't need to belabor it. I looked at the wine list and pretended I hadn't already decided what I was ordering before we left the apartment.
Jake and Dylan arrived a few minutes later.
Jake walked in with confidence obviously written all over him while Dylan walked in beside him looking completely at ease, one hand briefly at the small of Jake's back as they navigated between tables, a gesture so natural it was clearly habit rather than performance. No it was a bit confusing, Jake looked like a top but the way Dylan acts sometimes makes me think otherwise. I pushed the thought away. Curiosity for another day.
Jake spotted us and his shoulders relaxed.
They reached the table. Quin and Jake did the thing they always did which was a brief handshake that turned into something closer to a hug before either of them acknowledged it was happening. Then Jake looked at me.
"I wanted to hug you but Quin will have my head chopped off."
I couldn't help but laugh."like you haven't hugged me before."
Dylan laughed. The sound was warm and entirely genuine and I understood immediately why Jake had that look on his face whenever he looked at Dylan.
"So," Dylan said, picking up his menu. "Officially. I'm Dylan. Jake's boyfriend."
Jake looked at the table, waiting for our reactions.
"He said it," I said to Quin.
"He did, It took them so long." Quin agreed.
"I can hear both of you, you know?" Jake said.
"We know," Quin said pleasantly.
Dylan looked delighted. "Is it always like this?"
"Always," I confirmed.
Jake looked at Dylan with the particular expression of a man realizing he had created a situation he could not now control. "You're enjoying this."
"Thoroughly," Dylan said.
Jake sighed. But the sigh had no weight behind it. That was the thing I noticed immediately. The Jake who sat at this table was different from the Jake I had seen in high chairs outside warehouses and crisis situations and late night calls that started with something's wrong. He was still Jake. Still sharp and dry and occasionally devastating in his directness. But there was something looser about him. Like a knot that had been tied very tightly for a very long time had been quietly worked free.
Dylan had done that.
The food arrived in stages. Good food. The kind where you didn't have to think about it, it was just good. Conversation moved from one topic to another.
Dylan was easy to talk to. He asked questions and actually listened to the answers. He had opinions and stated them without apology and changed them when presented with better information without making it into a thing. He made Jake laugh in a way that told me Jake was down bad for Dylan.
At one point Dylan excused himself and went to the restroom. I waited a few seconds before standing up.
Quin looked at me. "Is there something wrong?"
" No. I need water."
"There is water on the table."
"Different water." I was already moving.
The restrooms were at the back of the restaurant through a short corridor. Dylan was washing his hands when I pushed through the door. He looked up in the mirror and smiled.
"Hello."
"Hi." I leaned against the wall. "Sorry. I followed you."
"I know," he said. "I saw you stand up immediately."
"Subtle," I said.
"Not really." He dried his hands, turned around. "What's up?"
I looked at him for a moment. He had an open face. The kind that didn't make you work for it. "I've known Jake for a while now," I said. "Not as long as Quin but long enough."
Dylan nodded. Listening.
"He's the kind of person who shows up," I said. "Every single time. Whatever the situation is, or whatever hour it is. He shows up." I paused. "I've watched him take care of everyone around him for as long as I've known him."
Dylan's expression was quiet and attentive.
"He doesn't do that for himself," I said. "He doesn't ask for it and he doesn't make it easy for people to give it to him." I held Dylan's gaze. "But I've watched him around you. And something is different."
Dylan looked at me for a moment. "Yeah," he said simply. "I know."
"I'm not telling you this to put pressure on anything," I said. "I'm telling you because Jake matters. He really matters. And he worries so much about everyone else that sometimes I don't think he notices when he needs someone to worry about him." I paused. "So just. Take care of him."
Dylan was quiet for a second. Then he smiled. It was the kind of smile that came from somewhere real.
"I plan to," he said.
I nodded. "Good."
"For what it's worth," Dylan said, picking up his jacket from the counter, "he talks about you too. You and Quin. The way he talks about you both." He paused. "You're his family."
My throat tightened unexpectedly. "Don't tell him I said that."
"Obviously not." He held the door open. "Shall we?"
We walked back through the corridor together.
Quin looked up the moment I reached the table. His eyes moved between me and Dylan trying to assess the situation
"How was the water?" he asked.
"Excellent."
"Different from the table water?"
"Significantly."
Dylan sat down beside Jake. Jake looked between us. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," Dylan and I said at the same time.
Jake looked at Quin. Quin shrugged. "I wasn't involved, I was with you."
"That's more concerning," Jake said.
The table laughed. The conversation moved on. Dessert arrived. Dylan stole something from Jake's plate and Jake noticed and moved it further away and Dylan reached across him for it anyway and Jake looked at him with an expression that was trying to be stern and completely failing.
I caught Quin watching me from across the table.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing," he said.
"What did you guys talk about?"He took a sip.
"Nothing. How did you know we talked."
"Because you followed him to the restroom and came back looking like you'd resolved something." He set his glass down. "And because that's exactly what you would do."
I looked at the table.
"What?" he said.
"Nothing. It's just." I paused. "You know me very well."
"Yes," he said simply.
I looked at him. The restaurant around us, the noise of other people having their own evenings, Jake and Dylan arguing quietly over the last of the dessert beside us. All of it ordinary and warm and entirely ours.
"I think," I said carefully, "that's still surprising to me sometimes."
Quin looked at me. "You should stop being surprised by it," he said. "I've known you since you were seventeen. We were apart for just a few years."
"You spent most of that time making my life complicated."
"And then I spent the rest of it trying to fix that."
I almost laughed. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Among other things."
Dylan and Jake had stopped arguing about the dessert and were both looking at us. "Are they always like this?" Dylan asked Jake quietly.
"Always," Jake said. He picked up his drink. "You'll get used to it."
The bill came. Quin handled it before anyone could move which Jake objected to and Quin ignored. We stood and gathered coats and made the gradual move toward the exit. On the way out Dylan fell into step beside me and said quietly, "Thank you. For what you said."
"Don't thank me," I said. "Just meant it."
He nodded. Jake appeared beside him a moment later and Dylan's hand found his without either of them looking down to locate it.
I watched it happen and felt something warm and uncomplicated settle in my chest.
Outside the air was cool and the city was doing its evening thing. We said our goodbyes on the pavement. Dylan and Jake headed in the opposite direction. I watched them for a moment before Quin's hand found the back of my neck and I turned.
We walked back toward the apartment. The restaurant wasn't far from our apartment. Quin said someone was going to bring his car back to the apartment.
Cooper would be waiting. He had developed a routine of sitting directly in front of the door when we were out for longer than two hours and looking at whoever arrived with an expression of profound relief followed by immediate demands for attention.
We walked for a while without talking. The city moved around us.
"Good night," Quin said.
"Really good," I agreed.
He glanced at me. "You're quiet. What are you thinking of?"
I looked at the pavement ahead of us for a moment then back at him.
"I think I'm ready," I said. He looked at me."To see a therapist," I said. "I think I'm finally ready."
The words came out simpler than I expected them to. Not weighted with everything they could have been weighted with. Just true. Just something I had arrived at and was saying out loud for the first time. I was ready to do anything to be a better person and husband to Quin.
He didn't make it into anything larger than it was. He didn't look relieved in the way that would have made me feel like I had been a problem he was waiting for me to solve. He just nodded once, the way he nodded when something made sense to him.
"Okay," he said.
"I think I've been carrying things for long enough," I said. "And I want to figure out how to put some of them down properly. Not just push them somewhere quieter."
"That's a good reason," he said.
I looked at him. "You're not going to say anything else?"
"What would you like me to say?"
"I don't know. Something."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I'm proud of you."
The words landed quietly.
I looked at the pavement again. My throat felt tight in a way that wasn't unpleasant.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay," he said.
We kept walking. The apartment building appeared at the end of the block. I put my hand in Quin's and he held it the rest of the way home.