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Okay, Carey thought. This is it. This is the day I finally talk to Paprika.
This was not the day Carey finally talked to Paprika.
He sighed as he slid an envelope with a sizable check (as always), addressed to Paprika, across the ticket counter.
“Thank you as always, Mr. Price,” Eddie behind the counter chirped, pulling the envelope safely behind the glass window of the ticket counter. “Did you enjoy the show?”
Carey smiled thinly. “I did, Eddie, thank you.”
“Just so you know Paprika won’t be performing next week, Mr. Price. She has the week off,” Eddie said.
“That’s okay, Eddie. I can’t make it next week.” He and Braden had an important meeting about their merger that evening. Everything was almost complete, and they were looking at putting the finishing touches on everything within the next two weeks.
I’m so pathetic, Carey thought, kicking dead leaves into the air as he trudged to his car in the crisp, fall air. He’d been coming to see Paprika’s shows for three years now, and he never once had the guts to talk to her, or even approach her while she performed. Instead, he left a tip via check every week with the young man working the ticket counter at the club.
The thing was, Paprika was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. She was classy and charming, funny and witty. She was graceful, yet bold, kind, yet quick with a scathing remark. Her performances were captivating, but her personality more so, and Carey had been in love with her for years.
Yes, Paprika was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Except, perhaps, for Braden.
Braden was a delight to work with and spend time with. He was dedicated, both to his family and his work. He always knew what to say to make Carey laugh, what to say when he had a bad day. They had started out as mere acquaintances, both running in the same fashion circles, but as time went on and they decided to merge their companies, Braden became less of a co-worker and more like a best friend.
Carey couldn’t imagine a day without Braden’s good morning texts, his anecdotes about his brothers and his nephews, his strangely perfect timing with lunch and coffee.
Carey like Braden a lot, but he loved Paprika, and he needed to talk to her.
Next time.
"…And then Tom started crying because Andre said he’s Team Jacob,” Braden laughed, slapping the table in his mirth.
Carey quickly grabbed ahold of their coffees so they wouldn’t topple over, laughing more at Braden’s excitement than the story.
This was Carey’s favorite way to spend his lunch breaks. He and Braden took turns picking where they’d eat during the lunch break, usually settling on a small café or a bistro where they could sit together quietly and take a break from spreadsheets and lawyers and company mergers for an hour or so.
Carey could admit to himself, this was his favorite part of the day.
“…Carey”? Carey, you okay?” Braden’s voice filtered through Carey’s musings. Carey startled and blinked himself back to reality.
“Uh, yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I spaced out there for a second,” Carey laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
Braden chuckled. “Well that won’t do. I’m the most handsome and interesting person you know. If I can’t entertain you, who will?”
I don’t know, Carey thought. Then he felt guilty about not thinking about Paprika first.
“So what are you?” Carey asked.
“What do you mean?” Braden furrowed his brows. God, he was so handsome when he did that.
“Team Edward or Team Jacob?”
Braden blinked, caught off guard. Then he threw his head back and laughed. It was a big, heaving thing. Braden’s shoulders shook, and his eyes were closed in mirth. Carey couldn’t help but laugh along.
The sun was shining, the coffee was good, Braden was laughing, and oh fuck, Carey was in love with Braden.
Ah, fuck. How did he not realize before? Kind, funny, smart, dedicated, loyal, thoughtful, handsome Braden. Shit, this was complicated.
When Braden’s laughter finally subsided, he wiped his eyes and leaned forward, gesturing that Carey should do the same.
“Wanna know a secret?” Braden whispered. Carey gulped. Braden’s lips were right there.
“Sure,” Carey responded, voice shaking on a little.
“I’m Team Carey.” And with that Braden winked, booped Carey’s nose, stood up and a downed the rest of his coffee.
“Come on,” he said, not noticing Carey was having a small breakdown. “Let’s get back to work. You can buy me a drink later.”
Wednesday night saw Carey sitting around a table in a conference room next to Braden and a bunch of suits. Carey tried to comfort himself with the fact that Paprika wasn’t performing tonight anyway, but he’d much rather see her show than sit at this meeting. Braden was the only thing that made it bearable. And god, did he look delicious in that tight-fitting suit with the polka dot socks peeking out between his shoes and the hem of his pants. Carey would kiss those delicate socked-ankles if he could.
Wait, what? Focus, Carey.
“Carey? What do you think?” Braden asked.
I’m Team Carey, floated helpfully through Carey’s brain.
Wait, that wasn’t the correct answer.
“Sounds good to me,” Carey said instead, hoping that was the right answer. God, this was his and Braden’s company. He should pay attention. To the company. Not Braden. Yes, the company.
“Alright, you heard him, people,” Braden said, clapping his hands and pushing away from the table. “I think that’s quite enough for one night, don’t you think? Make sure you send me those files, Carol. See you all tomorrow.”
With that the meeting ended, and the conference room filled with the sound of chattering and bags opening and closing as people started to filter out for the night.
Carey wondered if Paprika was having a good night.
“Do you wanna go to the bar near Alex and Nicky’s house?” Braden asked, stretching his arms high above his head. The way his suit clung to his torso as he did so made Carey’s mouth water.
Ever since he realized that he’s been in love with Braden last week, Carey’s mind has been a mess. He thought that Paprika was the love of his life, and he did still love her, but he also loved Braden. He’d been pining after Paprika for years, but here was Braden right in front of him. Braden who smiled and flirted outrageously (how did Carey not notice before, God he’s stupid).
But Paprika had to come first. If he just asked Paprika out then all of this confusion would end. Next week, he would finally talk to Paprika.
Someone calling his name brought him back to the present. This needs to stop happening.
“You keep zoning out on me,” Braden accused with a frown.
Carey groaned into his hands. “I’m sorry, Braden. I’ll make it up to you.”
Carey squirmed under Braden’s squinted gaze. He was really in for it this time. But then Braden broke into a wide grin.
“Come on,” Braden laughed. “You can buy me a drink.”
A week later saw Carey at the club again.
He was sitting in the audience, clapping wildly for Paprika as she took her final bows for the night. She was as beautiful and captivating as ever. Dammit, he should have brought flowers or something.
As the crowd started to thin, Carey got to his feat and headed towards the ticket counter to leave his usual tip for Paprika with Eddie. Maybe he’d just talk to her next week.
“Hey Mr. Price,” Eddie greeted, happy as ever.
“Hey, Eddie. Here’s…”
Carey thought about parading Paprika around on his arm at company parties, about taking Paprika out for a drink, coming home to their house, introducing Paprika to his family. But he also thought about parading Braden around on his arm, taking Braden out for a drink, introducing Braden to his family.
Carey drew in a shuddering breath.
This is it.
“Eddie?”
“Yes, Mr. Price?”
“I… I’d like to meet Paprika.”
Eddie’s grin could light an entire city. “Right this way, Mr. Price.”
Carey was going to throw up. He was going to throw the fuck up all over himself and probably Paprika and then she’d hate him and do a bit in her next show about how some fan freaked out and projectile vomited into her brand new eight-inch heels and the audience wouldn’t know but Carey would know it was him because of course he’d still be there watching Paprika’s show and oh god here she comes holy shit fuck-
“It’s always so nice to meet a fan- Carey?” Paprika stopped dead in her tracks.
Carey froze. “H-how do you know my name?”
“Carey, what the fuck. It’s me Braden,” Paprika (Braden?) said, reaching up to unpin her (his?) wig.
Carey stared, slack-jawed. His brain shut down. Error 404. Cannot compute. Dial tone. The silence was definitely getting too awkward now. He had to say something. Anything. Come on, Carey. Words. A single word. Any word!
“What.”
Braden shifted uncomfortably. “I was going to tell you-”
“What the fuck. I’ve been in love with you for years! I’ve been coming to your shows for three years. I’ve been leaving you tips with Eddie ‘cause I’ve been too scared to talk to you! I finally got the balls to do it because I’m also in love with you- like you, you, Braden, you, not Paprika you, fuck. I’ve been angsting over this like a goddamn teenager and all this time you’ve been the same person, what the fuck.”
Carey panted heavily, feeling like he just ran a marathon. And Braden, what the fuck, Braden was just laughing.
Braden was bent in half, clutching his stomach, howling in mirth. Tears rolled freely down his face as he stomped his foot, heels clacking off the floor loudly.
What is my life, Carey moaned internally.
Braden straightened up and wiped a tear from his eye, still giggling. “I’m sorry, Carey. It’s just- you’re so fucking stupid.”
“I- huh?”
“You’ve been coming to my shows for three years and you never recognized me? Carey, we spend all day together nearly every day of the week. You’re my best friend. How did you not recognize me? Why did you never bring Paprika up? Why did you never talk to me? Holy shit.” Braden was still laughing.
“I’ve definitely had better moments, yes,” Carey admitted.
Braden leaned forward and brought his lips to Carey’s. Carey immediately wrapped his arms around Braden’s neck and leaned into the kiss, sighing contentedly.
After a minute, Braden broke the kiss gently, chucking softly when Carey whined and chased after his lips. Braden stroked the soft hairs at the nape of Carey’s neck gently, bringing their foreheads to rest softly together.
“Well. That went better than expected,” Carey said.
“Mm, I’d say so. I was just going to give you an autograph and send you on your way.”
“I love you,” Carey said.
Braden pulled away, grinning. “Carey, you’re so fucking stupid. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Braden laughed, linking his arm through Carey’s. “Come on, you can buy me a drink.”
And Carey knew that meant “I love you, too.”