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Tom is probably having a mid-life crisis, that’s all it is. She’s not too worried about it, but it hasn’t escaped Shiv’s attention that he’s running around town with Greg most evenings now, coming home smelling of nightclubs and vodka, if he comes home at all.
Tom can do what he wants, that’s the stock response if anyone asks her about it. Tom is a grown up, just like she is, and if he wants to pretend he’s 25 years old again then that’s up to him. At least he’s doing it with Greg and not a different girl every night. As far as she knows, at least, but she’s pretty convinced Tom doesn’t have it in him to partake in their arrangement, which she’s honestly quite inwardly happy about.
The problem is that sometimes she ends up feeling like a parent rather than a wife and that’s what she takes issue with in particular.
She’s woken one Saturday morning very suddenly by glass smashing in her kitchen. She sits bolt upright, immediately looking over to Tom to see if the disturbance has woken him too, except he isn’t there. He mustn’t be home yet. She checks the time and frowns when she realises it’s 4am. Does Tom usually stay out this late?
She shakes her head out of it, steeling herself to deal with kidnappers or would-be burglars, but instead what she finds when she follows the noise is Tom sweeping glass up from the floor whilst Greg hangs onto one of their kitchen counters like his life is depending on it.
Tom catches her eye and immediately looks guilty, “Oh shit, hey honey.”
Shiv gestures at Greg, who is now sliding down her counters until he’s a crumpled heap on the floor. Luckily, Tom discerns exactly what she’s asking.
“Greg here has, uhh… Overdone it a little bit.”
“And he decided to take it out on our crystalware?” She asks, rubbing her forehead.
“Ha, yeah, no, he just wanted a glass of water. A bit too enthusiastically.”
“You couldn’t have enthusiastically taken him home?”
Tom grimaces, “Here was closer…”
Shiv sighs, “Well if you can get him to bed without destroying the rest of our apartment I would appreciate it, Tom.”
“Sure thing, hon. Absolutely,” he says, tipping the broken glass into the trash.
“Tom,” Greg yells, suddenly, “I think— I’m— Oh god.”
“Inside voice, buddy,” Tom says, offering Greg a hand to haul him up.
Shiv rolls her eyes and turns to go to bed, leaving them to it. She gets halfway down the hall before something compels her to turn around. She isn’t sure what it is, maybe a gut instinct or something, but she listens to it, looking over her shoulder.
She watches them together for a minute, just to see what they do. The second Greg is up he has his arm slung around Tom’s shoulder, and Tom’s immediately goes around his waist, holding him up.
“You’re going to get me into so much trouble, Greg, I’ll be lucky if I still have balls tomorrow.”
Greg honest to god giggles at that, “You’re— You are so funny, that’s so funny. I think I might throw up.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Tom says, leading them away to one of their bathrooms.
She should go to bed, she thinks. She has an early morning meeting, and she has better things to do than listen to Greg retch. And yet…
5 minutes won’t hurt. She’ll stay out of sight. She’s just curious. She only really sees glimmers of Tom’s relationship with Greg, and even then it’s usually in the office. Maybe she can get some dirt on one of them whilst they’re drunk and loose.
When she catches up with them, Tom’s pulled the bathroom door mostly closed, but not all the way. There’s enough room for her to see in, unseen if she’s quiet.
“What if I, like, die, Tom?” Greg says, forlornly. He has his head on the toilet seat and he’s taking deep, measured breaths.
“Then I would give you a wonderful send-off. Maybe I’ll have a stripper burst out of your coffin, spice things up a little bit,” Tom says. He’s sitting next to Greg, back against the wall, hands in his lap, feet crossed at the ankle. He looks quite serene, Shiv thinks, but he’s definitely got a spinning head, she can tell by his glassy eyes and small frown as he concentrates on one specific part of the bathroom. She wonders where they’ve been tonight, and how they got into this state.
Greg makes a sound sort of like a whine, his eyes closing, and Tom laughs softly at him.
“Maybe the tequila was a bad call.”
“Don’t say that word,” Greg murmurs, taking another deep breath and huffing it out, “Never again.”
At that, Tom reaches out and starts to rub a palm soothingly up and down Greg’s back. Every so often he squeezes the back of his neck and Greg does this sort of contented sigh, despite the fact he’s curled awkwardly around a toilet.
Shiv watches Tom’s hand, looks at his wedding ring in particular, and frowns. This all just feels a little too friendly.
She’s cast back to the first time she ever got drunk. Fifteen years old on vodka that Roman stole from their dad’s cabinet. She was in a similar state to how Greg is now, except Roman had strictly forbade her from throwing up. She was never one to turn down a challenge, so she had her hand clamped over her mouth the entire time whilst Roman laughed at her as silently as he could.
It’s worlds apart from this, and that was her own brother.
“Tom,” Greg murmurs.
“Yeah, bud…”
“Tommy…”
“What is it, man.”
Greg just sighs, “I think… I would like some water, or something…”
Shiv ducks back a little as Tom smiles and stands up, grabbing the cup they keep their spare toothbrushes in from the medicine cabinet and filling it with water.
She carefully leans forward again, watches Tom as he squats down and hands it to Greg. There’s a pause as Greg looks at it, then blearily reaches for it, their fingers touching and staying there for a moment. Shiv frowns.
When their hands finally break apart, Greg barely moves, just looks at Tom, and Shiv wonders what silent conversation they’re having until Tom gingerly extends a hand, his fingers trailing along Greg’s forehead to brush his hair out of his eyes.
Greg swallows and so does Shiv.
“I think we better get you to bed, buddy. You can’t stay here all night.”
“I would,” Greg says, earnestly, and Tom just nods.
“I know.”
“Tom…” Greg’s voice is low and he’s blinking slowly up at Tom with big eyes and Shiv’s heart begins to race because she knows that look. She invented that look. That’s the ‘Please fucking kiss me like you mean it’ look. She wants to burst in there and ask Greg what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but she has to know what Tom’s going to do about it. She has to see it play out for herself.
Tom’s just looking at Greg like he’s got the world in his eyes, swallowing thickly as he drags a thumb softly down Greg’s jaw until it rests at his chin and they’re so close. Inches apart. She watches Tom’s thumb brush against the corner of Greg’s mouth, watches Greg lean in just a little, watches the rise and fall of Tom’s chest as he breathes faster in response. Shiv is convinced she’s about to see something horrifying when Tom suddenly drops his hand and clears his throat, standing back up to full height and rubbing his head.
“Jesus, you’re out of it, we really should get you to bed.”
Greg exhales a shaky breath before nodding, taking a drink of water before accepting Tom’s hand once again to get him up but making no effort to stand.
“Yeah. Sorry. About—“
“Me too,” Tom says, “We are so drunk. I blame you entirely, of course.”
“Of course,” Greg says, nodding slowly, “Absolutely. Two wasted idiots, right?”
Tom finally pulls him up and Greg gets to his feet slowly, unsteady once he’s finally up, like all that height is giving him vertigo.
“I have a spare room,” Tom says, uselessly, “You can sleep there.”
Greg nods, swaying a little, “And where will you sleep?”
“With my wife, Greg.”
Exactly, Shiv thinks, pleased at least that he hasn’t forgotten he has one.
Greg takes Tom’s shoulders in both of his hands and squeezes, staring into his eyes, “Would you stay with me for a bit? My head might explode, I think I drowned it or something.”
Tom sighs, looking contemplative and Shiv realises his hands are on Greg’s hips to keep him steady and upright. It looks soft and romantic and totally alien to her.
“Maybe just for 5 minutes,” he says, quietly, “Just to make sure you don’t suffocate under the weight of my expensive sheets or something equally pathetic and tragic.”
Greg nods, “Thanks. Thanks, Tommy. I would appreciate that very much.”
Shiv takes off before they exit the bathroom, not wanting Tom to know she’s seen all of that before she knows what she’s going to do with the information. She needs to objectively process it, try and figure out if they crossed the line, or whether she misread the situation. She doesn’t want to even consider the fact something could be going on, so she goes to bed and thinks, waits for Tom to eventually join her, and hopes that when she wakes up all of this was a dream.