Lance had no idea what the hell that had been.

Travis had looked like a freight train had hit him when Lance had said that he was going on a date that night. Lance had thought that maybe, for a moment, hope bubbling up in his chest…

But then, Travis had just fled the apartment.

What the hell?

He hadn’t even grabbed his cell phone, so Lance had no way of knowing where Travis was or what he was up to. He considered texting Jake or Luke to check and see if Travis was with one of them, but decided against it. If he told one of them that he didn’t know where Travis was, then they’d tell all the others, and soon everyone would be on a manhunt to find Travis. Lance always knew where Travis was and what he was up to. If he didn’t know, the others often joked, it’d be the goddamn apocalypse.

Then, of course, they’d all want to know why Lance didn’t know where Travis was, and they’d poke and prod and pry, and eventually get the full story out of him, and he just couldn’t deal with that nonsense.

Instead he just… went about his day and hoped that Travis would come back.

He didn’t.

Travis managed to stay out of the house all day. He didn’t even have his wallet with him—Lance found it in the pocket of his pants from the night before. He supposed that meant that at some point, Travis was with Matthew, because Matthew was a sucker raised with the idea of Southern hospitality and if you showed up at the back door of the café he’d let you sit in dry storage and would feed you something.

So, at least Travis was okay. If he wasn’t, Lance would have heard about it by now from someone, or Travis would have shown back up at the apartment looking worse for wear. Neither happened, so he had to be fine.

Didn’t quite stop Lance from worrying but, as he reminded himself in a stern pep talk in the mirror, he was not Travis’s boyfriend. Travis was not his responsibility. Travis was a grown-ass man and it was about time that Lance stopped playing babysitter and taking care of everything for Travis. God, even their friends thought of them as a unit and would ask Lance things about Travis, like what Travis’s work hours were and what his favorite kind of soup was.

It was time for that to end.

As if to punctuate this whole idea, Tom texted him and asked if picking him up at six o’clock was okay. Lance said sure, and then texted the guys for the poker game, asking them to come at six fifteen and to let themselves in. He told them that food would be set out, and that Lance himself was going to be out but not to worry.

It took him forever to figure out what to wear. Tom had told him they were going to a restaurant, but Lance had no idea what kind of restaurant. It could be the steakhouse that had been open for so long that everyone’s parents had gone there for date night, or it could be the new Italian place that had opened up a few blocks down.

Ah, the problems of being a tech guy who worked from home. Lance didn’t exactly have a lot of outfits to choose from.

Damn, he hadn’t been on a date in years. Normally this was the part where he’d ask Travis for advice. He’d wonder what tie went with the jacket, and ask if the colors complemented his eyes, made them pop more instead of looking like watery sludge.

No. This was about being independent from Travis. This was about moving on. He could pick out a goddamn outfit.

When he got a knock at the door at five ‘til six, Lance nearly jumped out of his skin. When he opened it though, Luke was standing there, beers in hand.

“Hey?” Lance said, questioningly as he opened the door further for Luke to enter. “I thought I said six fifteen.”

“You did,” Luke replied. “I just wanted to stop by a little early and see if you needed any help setting up.” He saw what Lance was wearing and stopped. “Is that a dress shirt?”

“Yup. Mind helping me with this tie?”

“What, got a fancy date or something?” Luke asked, helping Lance out with the tie. “You’re lucky Adam has to wear a suit to work every morning. I used to suck at these.”

“Oh no, your boyfriend wears tailored suits and waistcoats, however do you survive,” Lance replied. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

Luke paused. “Wait. You what?”

“I have a fancy date.” Lance paused. “I think it’s fancy...but it’s definitely a date. This tie goes with the jacket, right?”

“Um, yes, it does—wait.” Luke shook his head like he was trying to shake water out of his ears. “You’re going on a date?”

“Yes.”

“With who?”

“Tom. The new fire chief.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” Luke looked like he had inadvertently stepped into a parallel universe. Lance was pretty sure that it was physically impossible for Luke’s eyebrows to get any higher. “Why?”

“Because Matthew put up that stupid sign about my being the town’s most eligible bachelor, and Tom saw it, and when he ran into me at the grocery store he asked if the sign was true, and I said that the bachelor part was, so he asked me out, and I said yes.” This was not rocket science.

“But…” Luke made some kind of vague gesture, like he was trying to speak in sign language without actually knowing any sign language. “You and Travis…”

A rush of cold, like a block of ice, ran down Lance’s spine. “Me and Travis what?”

Luke cleared his throat. “Travis, uh, was shooting the shit with me for a while earlier. He had a lot of hickeys. He said that, uh, you gave them to him.”

Lance was going to strangle Travis to death with his bare hands when he next saw him. “Oh, he did, did he?”

Luke frowned. “Did something go wrong? Because I gotta say, he sounded…”

“Angry? Proud?”

“Lost,” Luke corrected. “He sounded completely lost.”

“That’s not my problem,” Lance said.

There was another knock at the door. That had to be Tom. “Look, I don’t have time for this, or whatever other bullshit Travis is putting me through, again. I have a lovely date I’m looking forward to. Just let the other guys in when they get here. All the food’s laid out, and have fun. Just make sure that Travis cleans up afterwards, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Luke said faintly. He sounded like he was scrambling to put various puzzle pieces together while a timer was counting down. “Uh, have fun, I guess.”

“Gee, thanks Luke,” Lance said. He opened the door to find Tom standing there.

To Lance’s relief, Tom was also wearing a button-down shirt with a jacket and a tie. Tom looked him up and down, smiling in appreciation. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Sure, Tom’s smile wasn’t making his insides melt the way that Travis’s smile did, but it was a sweet smile. Maybe it would grow on him over the course of the evening. “Remember what I said, Luke, I want this place cleaned up when I get home.”

“Sure thing,” Luke said. He looked more in place now, like he’d found his bearings. He also looked oddly determined. “Have fun!”

“Thanks.”

As he closed the door behind him, he had a moment to wonder—what the hell did Luke have to be looking so goddamn determined about?