Chapter 10

TEN

Toby knew trouble when he saw it. Trouble had been the story of his life. And he'd had the feeling that something was going on with Robbie since the moment he'd picked him up for the trip the morning before. The question was whether it was his trouble to deal with or if Robbie needed to grow a pair and deal with whatever it was on his own.

"I didn't say something that offended him, did I?" Aaron asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Toby said, keeping strictly to his business accent. He smiled and clapped Arron's arm. "He probably just needed the loo."

"Oh, right," Aaron said, relaxing. "Filming is hard work without a lot of interruptions. Nature happens."

"It absolutely does," Toby said, leading Aaron back to the sofa. "I'll make sure you get your chance to gush over Robbie's talent when we all go out to supper later. In the meantime, tell me more about how Silver Productions chooses its location shoots."

It was a first-rate bit of diplomacy, as far as Toby was concerned. Whatever had Robbie's knickers in a twist, he wasn't going to let it interfere with the potentially monumental connections he was making.

Even before they'd set out for Staffordshire, Toby had started entertaining the idea that Hawthorne House would be the ideal sort of place for filming of all sorts. It had been the first thought that had entered his head when he'd driven up the long drive to the house on his first day of assessing the Hawthorne estate. It was a source of occasional sheepishness for him, but he was a rabid fan of period dramas, and Hawthorne House screamed for someone to come film there.

But it was one thing to be a pretty house with a nice garden and another entirely to lay the groundwork that would build the connections and lead to a production company taking notice. That was why Toby had been so excited to get on the set of The Ceramics Challenge, and why he'd brought his power tie with him.

So far, he thought things were going well. The production assistants were a wealth of information. Alex, who had shown them onto the set first thing that morning, had introduced him to Aaron, who just happened to be on location that day instead of at the office in London, probably because he genuinely was a fan of Robbie's, and the rest was all up to Toby.

He was doing brilliantly in the schmoozing department, if he did say so himself. But when Robbie never came back to the green room after going to the loo, and when an hour passed and the production team announced that it was time for the judging, and would someone please find Robbie and bring him to the set, Toby started to worry.

"I'll find him," he told Alex, pretending to be confident when he was anything but. "Which way to the loos?"

Robbie wasn't in any of the bathrooms. Toby even checked the ladies room, in case he'd gone there by accident. No one spent an hour on the toilet, so Toby didn't really expect to find him there.

He wasn't familiar with the old factory at all, and half of him thought it was probably too dangerous to go wandering around in, but he searched anyhow, even crossing over barriers that were marked out of bounds for the production. He was never one to stick to rules anyhow.

In the end, he found Robbie sitting out in what had to be an old employee courtyard with a low wall and the River Trent beyond. He was just there, looking out over the river, lost in his thoughts.

If Robbie had been smoking, it would have been perfectly understandable. Toby himself had been known to nip out and have a ciggie in peace when things got tough. But as far as he knew, Robbie didn't smoke.

"Oy!" he called out, pretending to be irritated instead of concerned. "What are you doing out here? They want you for the judging."

Robbie jerked, like he had been deeply in his thoughts and coming out of them was a shocking reentry. His eyes grew even rounder when he saw it was Toby who had come to get him. Something like hope, or desperation, made Robbie flush.

That moment passed quickly, though.

"Alright, I'm coming," he said with almost exaggerated irritation, getting up and heading toward Toby.

It was the first time Toby noticed how long Robbie's legs were and how confidently he walked, even when his expression hinted that he was in turmoil. It was almost like Robbie's body knew what it was doing, but his mind hadn't gotten with the program yet.

"What are you doing out here?" Toby scolded him when Robbie reached the door. "Didn't you see the signs that mark this place as out of bounds?"

They headed across the old factory floor to the active part of the building.

Robbie scowled at him. "Didn't you ? Or were you too busy making eyes at the guy from the production company to notice?"

Someone could have knocked Toby over with a feather, that comment surprised him so much. Robbie was jealous. It made no sense whatsoever.

Except that it made all the sense in the world, once he thought about it. The way Robbie had been so much on edge since they reached the hotel, the silence on the journey the day before. Even the way that they had bickered and butted heads for the last few days as they'd worked together to come up with a plan for Hawthorne House were clues. The joust was a dead-giveaway. They'd kissed.

"Is that what you thought I was doing?" he demanded, his voice echoing in the cavernous space filled with rusted machinery. "You think I came all the way out to Staffordshire with you to flirt with production company reps?"

"The two of you seemed to be getting along awfully well," Robbie said, flushed nearly crimson.

Toby huffed and shook his head, but he had absolutely no idea what to say. What could he say to a shocker like that, and with Robbie about to step back onto a set to film something that could change his career and his life?

"We're tabling this discussion until later," he said as he pushed open the door that would take them back to the part of the factory where they were allowed to be.

"There is no discussion," Robbie said with a tight shrug, standing taller when several confused production assistants spotted them and looked relieved. "Who you flirt with is no business of mine."

Toby wanted to smack him upside the head, but the PAs rushed forward to whisk Robbie off to the set for judging, so he didn't get a chance.

He followed, though, sticking quietly to the background and watching Robbie like a hawk as the final judging was filmed. At least Robbie was a good enough actor to pretend that nothing at all was wrong as he walked through the cups that had been created by the competitors, giving his feedback and ranking each one.

After the filming was done and a winner for the challenge chosen, the group had a nice Q and A session where the contestants had a chance to talk to Robbie and pick his brain about all things ceramic. Toby continued to watch, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He could only barely hear what was being said, but he could judge a lot more by body language.

For someone who had just guest starred on a popular television show, and whose artwork was recognized by someone as ordinary as Aaron, Robbie didn't seem to have a lick of confidence in himself. He hunched as he spoke to the contestants. He seemed to be apologizing when they gushed about how much they enjoyed his social media accounts and the pictures he posted there. Most telling of all, when someone mentioned the Hawthorne Community Arts Center and its classes, Robbie blushed and lowered his head and seemed to dismiss the importance of the whole thing.

Toby frowned. Two weeks was more than enough for him to have figured out that the arts center and the classes that the Hawthorne family taught meant everything to Robbie. Why he was acting like there was something wrong with all that not only baffled Toby, it made him furious. What was so wrong with teaching kids who wouldn't otherwise have been able to do art?

He didn't get a chance to share that fury until after everything had wrapped for the day and a large group of them headed over to the pub across the street that the production people favored. They frequented the place so much that the owners had an entire first-floor room set aside for them on filming days.

"I've just been told that this place does amazing sausages with all local, farm-to-table ingredients," Robbie said as the two of them waited at the bar for the drinks they'd just ordered. "We should get some of those for everyone."

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Toby challenged him. It was his first moment alone with Robbie since finding him on the wall.

Robbie balked and said, "I'm being nice to everyone who has been so kind to us. Maybe you're not familiar with the concept."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Toby said, inching close to him as someone stepped up to the bar behind him.

Robbie's expression darkened. "God only knows what you're talking about."

He tried to turn away, but Toby stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'm talking about the sneaking way for an hour by yourself," he said. "I'm talking about the not saying a word to me for most of the trip yesterday. I'm talking about this ugly, mopey thing you've got going on. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Now you think I'm ugly?" Robbie blurted, despite the people around them who looked uncomfortable as they vented their emotions. "In addition to thinking I'm squandering my potential?"

Toby blinked and flinched back so quickly he knocked the guy behind him. "I never said any such thing."

"But you think it, I'm sure," Robbie said. "You and everyone else. You think I'm the dark horse in an otherwise outstanding family."

Toby could have laughed if he wasn't so alarmed. "When have I ever?—"

He was cut off as the barman presented them with a small tray filled with pints of the local favorite ale. Robbie turned away from Toby to pick the tray up and didn't glance back at him as he carried it away from the bar toward the stairs that led to the production crew's room.

"Unbelievable," Toby muttered, shaking his head as he followed.

As soon as they reached the private room, Robbie was back to his old, charming self, if that self had ever been charming to begin with. Toby put on an act as well, chatting with anyone who approached him and laughing along with the fun that the crew was clearly having.

"How long have the two of you been together?" one of the sound guys who Toby hadn't talked to yet asked.

Toby laughed. He'd lost track of how many people had mistakenly though they were together at this point. "It feels like ages," he said, not caring that it was a lie.

He needed another drink.

Robbie apparently needed one as well. Toby noted that they were both on their second pint by the time the meal was finished and dessert was served.

By the time dessert was done, they were each on their third. Toby was drinking to have fun. That and to cool the frustration that wouldn't leave him where Robbie was concerned. He had no fucking idea why Robbie was drinking, but knowing his sort, it was probably because he was trying to bury or hide from something.

Of course, the net effect of so much strong ale was that Toby wasn't as sober as he wanted to be by the time the party broke up and everyone went their separate ways.

"Come on, mate. The hotel is this way," he told Robbie with a bit of a loose tongue as they started down the street for the hotel.

"I think I embarrassed myself," Robbie said as they tried to walk a straight line.

"No, you didn't," Toby said, slinging his arm around Robbie to keep him from slipping off the curb. "You just had a good time. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't have a good time," Robbie insisted, a little too loudly.

"Sure, you did," Toby said, picking up their pace a little. He had a feeling it would be a good idea to get the two of them off the street before the regret sunk in or the vomiting started.

Not that he was really that drunk. He felt warm and happy and like the armor he usually put on to keep him contained as he fought against the world was gone, but not completely gone.

Robbie, on the other hand, clearly wasn't as good at holding his drink.

"I would have come last, you know," he said as Toby bundled him into the lift in their hotel.

"Last in what?" Toby asked.

"In everything," Robbie said, slumping against the wall as the tight lift car swooped up a little too fast for Toby's liking. "In the competition today, in the joust, in my family. I come last in everything."

"I doubt that's true," Toby said, trying not to belch until they were out of the lift and walking down the hall. "You won the joust."

"No, I didn't," Robbie said. "I only kissed you because Keith was watching us. I wanted to make him jealous, and that's just pathetic."

They reached the door, and Robbie fumbled in his pocket for the key card. Toby took it from him and unlocked the door, pushing it open. All Robbie could do was scowl.

"You might have kissed me to make that wanker jealous," Toby said, shrugging out of his suit jacket as soon as the door was shut behind them, "but A, it didn't work, and B, I liked it and kissed you back."

"You did, didn't you," Robbie said with a lopsided smile.

As they slumped their way into the center of the room, both sitting on the bed, Robbie's mood changed abruptly again.

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" he lamented, droopy and definitely more drunk than Toby.

"Mate, you're far too drunk to get hard right now," Toby teased him in return, snorting with laughter at his own joke.

Fuck. Maybe he had had too much to drink.

"I should do more, be more," Robbie went on, wandering in his own thoughts. "Everyone else in the family is out there doing something spect-shpec-shh."

"You just filmed a spot as a guest judge for a popular show," Toby reminded him, knowing where he'd been going before the ale tied his tongue.

"It's why Keith left me, you know," Robbie sighed.

"So we're doing this now, are we?" Toby asked.

He made a show of kicking his shoes off, then shifting to sit on the bed facing Robbie, making a face like he was listening.

Robbie glanced mournfully at him. "We'd started talking about marriage and kids. And I know, I know, gay men marrying and having kids is getting so cliché and heteronomananv."

Toby grinned, too charmed by Robbie's slurring for his own good.

"I love kids," he said, resting a hand on Robbie's leg.

"And then he broke it off," Robbie said with a shrug that nearly tipped him off balance. "Just like that. Said I was getting too vanilla for him."

"Bastard," Toby said, lifting one knee so he could rest his chin on it.

"It made me feel like shit," Robbie said in a rush of emotion.

Toby's eyebrows shot up. Robbie wasn't really one for swearing. It came as a surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Robbie shrugged again, his eyes drooping. "What's so wrong with wanting a family?" he asked. "I love my family. I liked your family, too. Cute kids."

"Thanks," Toby smiled.

"And what's so wrong with that?"

Toby blinked, not entirely certain where Robbie was headed.

"It's a joke, you know," Robbie went on.

"What's a joke?"

"My name."

"Robbie? Doesn't seem like a joke to me."

Robbie laughed. "Robert Hawthorne, Jr."

Toby still didn't see the joke. He shrugged and shook his head.

"Dad hates the patriarchal, aristocratic system we came from. That's why he named his eldest Rafe instead of his own name, like he was supposed to do."

Toby sat a little straighter. Come to think of it, all of Robbie's brothers, except Nally, were older.

"He and Mum thought I was going to be their last, which I wasn't, so the joke's on them, so they named me Robert Hawthorne, Jr. as a joke. A joke." He snorted drunkenly.

"I still don't get it."

"A joke," Robbie said louder, opening his eyes and looking at Toby like he was thick. "Usually, the heir gets the family name, the most important son. Dad went ahead and gave it to the least important son as a way to thumb his nose at the system."

Toby made a long, humming noise. He was starting to get it. Robbie must have had all sorts of expectations heaped on him, with a name like that. Or maybe he'd lived his whole life feeling like he was the butt of someone else's joke. Either way, it couldn't be nice.

"You showed him, didn't you," he said, punching Robbie's arm weakly.

"But I didn't," Robbie said, sending Toby a mournful look and rubbing his arm where Toby had hit it. "I have no ambition. I just want to make mugs and teach people. What a...."

"Joke?" Toby suggested.

Robbie stared hard at him.

Toby's heart gave a sudden, sentimental lurch. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said, putting his hand on Robbie's thigh. "Teachers are wonderful. I would probably be on the streets or in jail somewhere if it hadn't been for my teachers seeing my potential and helping me reach it. I think you're wonderful to teach."

Robbie let out a breath, but instead of drifting off, his gaze focused suddenly on Toby's lips, or probably his lip ring.

"I liked kissing you," he said, his voice dropping a few tones.

Toby swallowed, wishing he was half as drunk as he was. He felt like a decision was coming, and he wished he was?—

"I want to kiss you again," Robbie said.

Before Toby could think of the best way to handle things, Robbie reached for him, hooking his hand around the back of his neck. Toby felt himself drawn firmly forward, and the next second, Robbie's mouth came crashing down over his.

It was sloppy and hot, but for some mad reason, Toby loved it. He kissed Robbie back without hesitation, reaching for his shirt and grabbing two handfuls to pull him forward. Robbie groaned and shifted the angle of his kiss, thrusting his tongue into Toby's mouth. Toby met it eagerly, sucking and teasing it.

It went downhill from there fast. He tugged at the hem of Robbie's shirt, lifting it up over Robbie's heavy limbs and breaking their kiss as he did. Robbie came at him in return, loosening his tie and pulling it off between kisses, then fumbling through the buttons of his shirt. Toby undid the buttons at his cuffs while trying to get Robbie's tongue back in his mouth, and when the last button was undone, he wriggled out of his shirt entirely, then pushed Robbie to his back on the bed.

Robbie made a warm, hazy sound of approval and searched for the fastenings of Toby's trousers as Toby crawled on top of him.

"This is a bad idea," he said between breathless kisses, stroking his hands up Robbie's sides.

Robbie made a sound of agreement as he abandoned Toby's trousers to brush his hands up his belly and chest. He then let out a cry when their mouths were crammed together as his fingers reached and fondled Toby's nipple piercings.

"Yeah, they're cool," Toby managed to say before going in for more.

They kissed again, panting, moaning, and groping, though neither of them seemed to have enough coordination to do more than fumble with the buttons of each other's trousers. It was still hot, and even though a little voice in the back of Toby's head said they were just drunk enough that they would either shoot off too soon or not be able to get it up at all, he loved it.

"I want you," he gasped as he took a break from kissing to lick his way down Robbie's neck and nibble his shoulder. "I'm on PrEP and I usually top, but I'm open to anything. I kind of like the idea of you fucking me, too."

Robbie tried to say something, but it came out as a strangled gasp once Toby finally made his way through Robbie's jeans enough to slip his hand in and fondle his balls.

Robbie moaned and pushed up into his hand, but just as Toby was really getting into it, Robbie's groan took on an entirely different feeling.

"I'm gonna be sick," he managed, then pushed frantically at Toby.

Toby rolled to the side as fast as he could, flopping to his back.

Robbie shoved himself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. A moment later, the sound of retching echoed from behind the half-closed door.

That shocked sense into Toby. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands into his face. His erection still pressed hard against his trousers. He hadn't even gotten far enough to bring it out yet.

Robbie retched again, and Toby couldn't help but laugh, as bad as he felt. Tonight was not the night. Maybe they shouldn't have even tried. Maybe, as much as he wanted Robbie he should just walk away from the whole thing and spare both of them any further embarrassment.