The Pub

by Anonymous

Summary:

Torturing one of your best mates until he gets his shit together is a difficult, thankless job. But luckily, Rhod's there to do it regardless (with a little help from his wife).

Notes:

• For MadameQuagmire.
• Inspired by The Library by MadameQuagmire

After reading chapter 8 of MQ's phenomenal The Library, I was struck with inspiration, and she was incredibly kind and gracious enough to let me play in her sandbox.

I can only hope I've done the remarkable world she's built justice!

This won't make sense without reading her fic first so, hint, hint, go read her fic if you haven't. Spoilers through chapter 8. Same disclaimer as always: the real people exist out there somewhere and I'm just borrowing a pale imitation of them.

“I’m just saying,” Rhod said, for about the fourth time in the last quarter hour, somehow managing to slur more with each repetition which did not bode well for how hungover he was liable to be come morning, “you’d be happier if you got laid.”

Greg squinted at the bin in the corner before lobbing a crumpled-up napkin in its direction, missing by a wide enough margin that, to anyone who hadn’t been paying attention, it didn’t even look like he’d been aiming for it. He grunted and grabbed his glass, pulling a face when he realised it was empty. “I put it to you that the only person whose sex life you should be concerned about is your own.”

Rhod stood automatically to get both himself and Greg another pint, despite the fact that neither of them needed to continue drinking at this point. He paused halfway to the bar as Greg’s words sank in. “You know something I don’t?”

Greg giggled. “Mate, the gross tonnage of things I know that you don’t—”

“About my marriage, you prick,” Rhod said, scowling, as he set their empty glasses on the bar and slipped behind it. One of the benefits of owning a pub was not having to wait in a queue for more beer.

The other benefit was getting to faff about with your mate long after the pub had closed for the night, which eliminated the queues altogether, come to think of it.

Greg just smirked as he called to Rhod, “My answer remains the same.”

“Fuck you,” Rhod grumbled, filling his glass and only half-filling Greg’s because, well, fuck him.

Greg didn’t even notice that Rhod had only given him half a pint, just raising his glass in a mocking toast before asking, saccharine sweet, the twat, “Do you even remember what Sian told you when she left?”

Rhod thought about it for a moment. “To lock up and not wake her up when I get home?” he guessed, because usually when leaving him and Greg at the pub to their own devices, that was the only thing she ever said, bless her.

“Besides that?” Greg prompted, and when Rhod just scowled at him, he grinned. “She really will be making you sleep on the sofa for a week at this rate.”

He sounded far too fucking smug about that, and Rhod’s scowl deepened. “Not if I tell her you were the one practically pouring lager down my throat.”

An idle threat, and they both knew it. “Because I really needed to twist your arm on that,” Greg said dryly.

“Well I couldn’t let you drink alone, now could I,” Rhod said, arching an eyebrow as he added, “Be pathetic even for you, wouldn’t it.”

Greg’s smile disappeared. “Fuck off, Rhodri.”

Rhod shrugged unconcernedly. “Fine, I’ll drop the topic of you getting laid if you tell me what Sian asked me to do that I’ve obviously forgotten.”

For a moment it looked like Greg might again tell him to go fuck himself, but then started digging in his pockets for something. “Inventory.”

Rhod’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t fucking smoke in here, you twat—” he started, recognising the motion of Greg looking for his cigarettes, but then froze as the memory flooded back. “Oh, fuck, inventory.”

“I’m not smoking, I’m vaping,” Greg told him, and Rhod just flipped him off as he practically jogged back to the bar to grab his laptop. 

“Can’t do that either.”

Greg ignored him, taking a large puff from his vape pen and watching with obvious amusement as Rhod did his level best to drunkenly place their usual supply order. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ordering supplies,” Rhod said, glaring pointedly at the crumpled napkins littering the floor around the bin, “since you keep wasting ‘em, you fucking—”

Again Greg ignored him, pulling the laptop around to face him instead, raising both his eyebrows. “Fucking Christ, is that the price for serviettes?”

Rhod snorted. “Gone all posh working in the library, have you?” he practically chortled. “Yes, Greg, this is how much napkins cost, which really puts your little game earlier into perspective, now doesn’t it.”

Greg gave him a look. “You say that like you weren’t fucking throwing them along with me.”

“Again, I see a man well past his prime doing things on his lonesome and I have no choice but to—”

“Fuck off,” Greg repeated. He frowned down at the computer with a quizzical look that Rhod recognised was a man who had never given a single stray thought to overhead costs outside of a library budget in his life. “That’s serious money, that. You could buy…”

He trailed off as if thinking of other things that could be purchased. Rhod just snorted a laugh, closing one eye to stop the laptop screen from wavering too much as he hastily added things to the cart. “The only thing I’m going to buy is the two week supply of napkins my wife has asked me to, thank you very much.” 

To his surprise, though in retrospect, it really shouldn’t be a surprise, given everything, Greg started giggling, hiding his mouth behind his hand, and Rhod glanced warily up from his laptop. “What are you giggling at?” he asked, suspicious.

“Nothing,” Greg said, still with his hand over his mouth, and Rhod’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you nothing me, Gregory—”

Greg let out what he clearly thought was a delicate sort of cough, though in reality it sounded far more like a hastily muffled guffaw. “Just thinking about how much porn you could buy with that many pounds.”

Rhod stared blankly at him, trying to decide if he was drunker than he thought or if Greg had really just— “How the bleeding fuck did you get from napkins to porn?”

Greg wheezed. “Jacobellis versus Ohio,” he managed, and Rhod blinked.

“Bendith,” he said automatically, one of the few bits of Welsh he knew and only because he was too baffled to think that whatever combination of syllables Greg had just said was anything other than a sneeze.

“Hilarious,” Greg said, finally managing to control his laughter.

“I know I am, thanks,” Rhod said. “And you seem to have developed some kind of speech impediment.”

Greg lowered his hand. “It’s a United States Supreme Court case.”

Rhod gaped at him. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Greg gave him a smug look. “That’s what comes from actually opening a fucking book every now and then,” he said with a smirk. “You actually learn something.”

Rhod couldn’t even muster the energy to pretend to be insulted. “Fuck off,” he said good-naturedly. “What, did one of your nightmare patrons ask you to look it up for them?”

Greg’s smug look immediately disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “How’d you know?” he asked sulkily. 

“Because you may work in a library but you’re thick as pig shit,” Rhod said genially. He didn’t give Greg a chance to feign offence. “So did this court case have to do with pornography or is there another wild leap there?”

Greg crossed his arms in front of his chest, dangerously close to pouting. “Actually, yeah, it did, so, you know, fuck you.”

“And dare I ask why one of your patrons—” Rhod broke off and shook his head. “Actually, I don’t really give a fuck what you fucking lunatics get up to at the library. But how the fuck did this court case involve pornography?”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t fucking remember that, now do I. You should be lucky I remember anything—”

“Given your advanced age?” Rhod asked blithely.

“We’re the same age, you fucking prick!”

Rhod ignored him, putting the final things that he could remember in the shopping cart online. He’d almost certainly have to make another purchase in the morning once he’d gotten past the hangover, but that was a future problem. For now, he probably had enough to at least show Sian that an effort was made, and he knew that given everything, it was probably more than she expected. “Done,” he said, somewhat triumphantly. “And you’re mad if you think spending a thousand pounds on porn is a good use of anyone’s money. Especially since, and I realise this is hard for you to grasp given how ancient you are, but porn is free on the internet.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m well aware of the shit that’s on the internet,” he huffed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t buy—”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t buy it,” Rhod said, talking over him. “Just that you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, well, for those of us who aren’t notorious tightwads—”

“If I was a tightwad I’d make you pay for all of your drinks, you fucking—”

At some point Greg had grabbed the laptop and started pulling up a variety of websites that Rhod was going to have a hell of a time explaining to Sian in the morning. “See?” he said after a moment, turning the computer back to Rhod. “You’re not getting this for free on the internet.”

Rhod’s eyes widened. “Fuck me,” he muttered appreciatively. “Well, that’s ambitious.”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that, you kinky fucker,” Greg said, smirking. 

“If you think that’s kinky, you should see this—”

Ten minutes later, both men were holding their sides as they practically fell over with laughter, each having to one-up the other with weirder and more niche porn. Finally, Greg clicked on a random link, squinting at the computer. “Well this isn’t half-bad,” he said.

Rhod glanced at it and snorted a laugh. “You would say that, it’s practically the same age as you,” he said good-naturedly.

“Vintage,” Greg countered. “And the whole lot of it is only a third of the price of your fucking napkins.”

“Something I’ll keep in mind in case the mood ever strikes to purchase an entire lot of vintage porno mags off of eBay,” Rhod said dryly, pulling the laptop back to him. 

He was about to ask Greg if he wanted one final beer before they both stumbled home when Greg’s phone dinged and Greg groaned a sigh. “I swear to fucking Christ, if this is someone begging me to take their opening shift tomorrow on my day off—”

It was, of course, and Rhod knew without asking that Greg was going to agree to do it. Soft, he was.

“S’pose it’s time for me to head home as well,” he said, suddenly feeling exhausted and very, very drunk as he glanced at the clock. “Fuck me.”

“Not that desperate, mate,” Greg muttered into his beer glass, giggling as Rhod tried to hit him and missed. “You’re not driving, are you?”

Rhod shook his head, yawning. “You better not be either,” he said, trying and failing to give Greg a stern look. “Not that I give a toss if you drive off a fucking cliff at this point, but it is bad for business.”

“So is drinking half your stock, I’d wager.”

“Which is why I should really make you pay,” Rhod said with a sigh. “So get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and figure how to work the till.”

Greg snorted a laugh. “All things considered, I’ll take my chances,” he said, standing and grabbing his jacket. “Give Sian my love.”

“I will,” Rhod promised. He stood and stretched, debating over washing their glasses and deciding immediately to leave it for the morning. He started to close the laptop before remembering he’d never actually placed the order for the fucking napkins and groaned, squinting at the screen until the blue ‘Buy Now’ button swam into focus. He clicked it, clicked through a few other screens that came up without reading, grateful that technology had advanced far enough to store his credit card details, and as soon as he saw the words ‘thank you for your order’ on the screen, he shut the laptop before finally stumbling home to try not to wake Sian up.

---

 

He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and only the dimmest recollection of everything that had caused it. “Fuck me,” he rasped, and from her spot next to him in bed, Sian let out a disapproving hum.

“I hope it was worth it,” she said mildly, scrolling through her phone. “Did you even remember to place an order for supplies?”

Rhod squinted at her. “Maybe?” he managed, scrubbing a hand across his face before sitting up, which was a horrible mistake. “Don’t you get emailed a receipt?”

“Usually,” Sian said.

“I’ll assume you didn’t get one?”

Sian gave him a look, tempered, as always, by the smile she never could quite hide. “Well I’m certainly not asking you on a lark, love.”

Rhod heaved a sigh and reached for his phone, smirking just slightly when he saw the text from Greg, timestamped two whole hours earlier: Fuck you for letting me agree to this. He thumbed the screen, frowning down at his own email, which also boasted no emailed receipt from their supplier.

He looked sheepishly up at Sian, who just shook her head and sighed. “Typical,” she muttered, and Rhod winced.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

She quirked an eyebrow, glancing up from her phone. “What did you have in mind?” she asked. “Especially since I doubt you can stand up without falling over at this point.”

Rhod considered it for a moment. “Well,” he said finally, “there is something I could do that doesn’t involve getting out of bed.”

He smirked and she rolled her eyes, her own grin widening. “You know, when most husbands promise breakfast in bed, I don’t think this is what they mean,” she said, even as she scooched towards the headboard to give Rhod ample room to settle between her legs.

“Probably not,” he agreed, “but this is so much better.”

And Sian certainly didn’t contradict him.

Needless to say, Rhod had thoroughly forgotten all about the mysterious supply order that wasn’t until a few days later when a massive box was delivered to the pub. “Did you order something from eBay?” he called to Sian as he lugged the box to a bar stool.

She poked her head out from the office. “Wasn’t me,” she said with a shrug.

Rhod frowned down at the box and grabbed a knife from the bar, ignoring the sticker that said ‘DO NOT USE BLADES TO OPEN’, slicing through the tape and opening the box flaps to be confronted by—

“What is it?” Sian asked, emerging from the office, and Rhod physically threw himself on top of the box, panicked. She stopped and stared at him, amused. “Can’t be my birthday or Christmas present. So what is it?”

“Don’t,” Rhod practically yelped, and Sian raised both eyebrows.

“Well now I absolutely have to see,” she said, crossing over to him.

When later he told the story, he’d say that he put up quite a fight but in truth, Sian barely shoved him and somehow Rhod wound up on the floor, wincing, as she opened the box to reveal—

“Rhodri,” she said, and he was in trouble if she was using his full name, “is this pornography?”

“Erm,” Rhod said. “Think that’s really up to the individual to decide for him or herself—”

She cut him off with a look. “Explain,” she said calmly.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on how one looked at it, opening a box chock full of vintage porn had rather nastily caused Rhod’s memory of his late night with Greg to resurface, and he gave an abbreviated version of the conversation.

Even more luckily, his wife had a very similar sense of humour, and by the end of the retelling, was wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “So instead of placing our supply order,” she summarised, still laughing, “you accidentally bought—”

“£300 worth of vintage pornography?” Rhod supplied. “Including, from the look of it, some very graphic novels, some VHS tapes, and I don’t even think we own a VCR anymore, and more magazines than any one person could ever go through.”

“Dunno, I think if you really applied yourself—”

Rhod snorted. “Thanks,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, “but I prefer the real thing.” 

He shook his head as he surveyed what may easily have been the worst accidental eBay purchase of all time before bending and gathering up an armful of magazines. “What’re you doing with those?” Sian asked, amused.

“Not sure yet,” he said, “but I’ll figure something out between here and the library. Maybe wallpaper Greg’s car with ‘em.”

Sian pursed her lips, and Rhod frowned, certain she was about to tell him to leave Greg alone.

Luckiest of all, in addition to sharing a sense of humour, he and his wife also shared a deep and abiding love for torturing Greg. “I have a better idea,” she said, and Rhod grinned.

“By all means,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

---

 

It became a thing they did. Some couples did puzzles together, some gardened or golfed or what the fuck ever. Sian and Rhod defaced public property.

And best of all, Greg had absolutely no idea, which made his apoplectic rage as the ‘porn monger’ escalated from sliding dirty novels and magazines into the book return to creatively improving the covers of classic literature all the more hilarious.

“Can’t believe he doesn’t suspect me,” Rhod said one night as he and Sian sat at the table, surrounded by all their arts and crafts materials, like the weirdest scrapbooking group of all time.

“It’s because he’s never known you to be this committed to the bit,” she pointed out as she carefully trimmed a magnificent pair of breasts for Rhod to rubber cement to the cover of one of the books he’d taken from the library earlier.

“I’m plenty committed,” Rhod mumbled, adjusting the angle of the cock and balls he was adding to an illustration.

Sian glanced over and reached out to nudge the dick into a better position. “Yeah, but most of your bits tend to be low effort,” she pointed out. “And this is decidedly not low effort.”

Rhod considered it for a moment. She had a point. Had he been left on his own in this prank, he probably wouldn’t have made it past a month of chucking porn into the book return, let alone the slow and careful escalation. “S’pose not,” he agreed, squinting down at his handiwork. “Worth it, though.”

Sian chuckled. “You’re only saying that because Greg doesn’t know it’s you,” she reasoned. “If he was about to kick your arse, you’d feel differently.”

“That oversized manatee would probably injure himself more than me if he tried,” Rhod said, with obvious affection. “Besides, he’s got something else on his mind these days.”

Sian gasped and whacked Rhod on the arm. “He’s dating someone and you didn’t tell me!”

Rhod winced and rubbed his arm. “He’s not dating anyone,” he said grumpily. “Mooning over someone, more like. Some patron that comes into the library to do research for his radio show.”

“Tell me everything you know,” Sian ordered and Rhod rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know anything!” he huffed. “You know how Greg gets when he likes someone, goes all tight-lipped and terse like I won’t be able to put the pieces together on my own. Only thing I’ve got out of him is that this bloke Horne is tall, and annoying, and has terrible taste in friends.”

Sian nodded. “Unlike Greg, who has excellent friends.”

“Exactly,” Rhod said, nodding as well as he pasted a penis on Miss Havisham on the cover of Great Expectations.

“Speaking of,” Sian said, setting her scissors down and flexing her hands, and Rhod reached out automatically to take her hands between his, rubbing her knuckles, “I do feel like we need to take this even further. He must be expecting the vandalised book covers at this point, and sooner or later, he’ll realise we’ve put the porn inside the books as well.”

Rhod brightened. “I had an idea for that, actually.”

Sian grinned. “Go on, then.”

“Let’s just say, porn confetti and balloon in the book return.”

Sian’s grin widened as she thought through the implications. “Oh, I always knew I married a genius,” she said. “And that level of genius deserves a reward.”

Rhod glanced at her, his interest piqued. “A reward?” he repeated.

She nodded, tugging her hands from his to lift up a page from one of the magazines. “What d’you think?” she asked innocently.

Rhod’s eyes darkened. “Yes, please,” he said, grinning, practically knocking his chair over with his enthusiasm as he stood.

Needless to say, Greg’s sex life might be verging on hopeless, but Rhod’s had never been better.

---

 

Rhod had known Greg’s romantic life was practically a lost cause, but when he saw him and Horne together, when he had convinced Horne and Key to hold their celebratory drinks at the pub, when Greg had been grinning in a way Rhod hadn’t seen in years, he had actually thought for a moment that maybe he was wrong.

On this particular subject, he would be more than happy to be wrong.

Unfortunately for him, all too soon, Greg was storming out the door, something dark in his expression. “And where are you going?” he shouted at Greg’s retreating back.

Greg didn’t so much as pause. “Get fucked, Rhod!” he called and Rhod scowled, shaking his head as he turned back to the bar.

He’d already resolved to call Greg as soon as he could duck away, if only to satisfy his curiosity at whatever the fuck had happened, when the man Greg’d been mooning over leaned down to rest his elbows on the bar, a partially drunk glass of beer in his hands. “Need another?” Rhod asked, nodding towards the glass.

Horne looked down at the glass as if he’d forgotten he had it. “Oh! No. Er, this was, er, Greg’s, and, erm…” He trailed off miserably. “Looks like he won’t be drinking it now.”

“Ah.”

Rhod reached for the glass but paused when Horne asked, in what he clearly seemed to think was a casual sort of way, “Did he, er, say anything before leaving?”

He looked immediately guilty for asking, and guiltier still when Sian brushed her hand against Rhod’s shoulder, leaning forward to take the glass from Horne. But Rhod knew it was her subtle way of telling him to finish this conversation while she looked after the bar. “Well, he told me to get fucked,” Rhod told him. “But from Greg, that’s practically an ‘I love you’.”

He meant it as a joke, of course, but Horne’s brow furrowed as he tapped one of his long fingers against the polished wood of the bar. “Is it?” he asked.

Rhod winced. “Well, you know Greg—” he started, a little awkwardly, but Horne shook his head.

“I really don’t,” he said, a little shortly, then sighed and added, “Or, er, well, I thought maybe I might, but…”

He looked miserable again, and despite himself, despite the fact that every attempt thus far of him trying to meddle in Greg’s love life had blown up spectacularly, Rhod couldn’t help but sigh, “Fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you’re as hopeless as he is.”

Horne’s eyes snapped to his. “Sorry?”

“Forget I said anything,” Rhod said automatically, suspecting or at least hoping that Alex would in fact do the opposite.

Sure enough, Horne frowned again. “No thank you, I don’t think I will.”

Rhod sighed and leaned in like he was about to share a secret. “Look, Horne—”

“Call me Alex, please,” Alex corrected.

“Right, Alex,” Rhod said, unperturbed, and he leaned in even further to confide, “Greg’s thick as pig shit.”

Alex jerked back, his frown deepening as if he couldn’t quite decide whether Rhod was joking or not. “I think he’s quite intelligent, actually—”

Rhod barked a dry laugh. “Good to know or I wouldn’t let you anywhere near him,” he said cheerfully. “But for all the fucking books he’s read, he’s still got the emotional competence of a thimble.” Alex looked like he might argue further but Rhod didn’t let him. “I’ve known him for twenty years now, and I promise you, he would only act the way he does around you if he had some kind of unresolved feelings.”

Alex blinked. “Feelings?” he repeated. “For me?”

Maybe Alex was as thick as Greg was. “Well, they’re certainly not for Key.”

Alex worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “He does act like Timmy irritates him, too, though,” he pointed out. “And does the same with you, too.”

Rhod snorted a genuine laugh. “Oh, Christ, no,” he practically chortled. “Him and me– I mean, he had his chance, but if anything, that just goes to prove my point. Wouldn’t know a good thing if it ran naked in front of him.” He shook his head, rueful and affectionate. “Thick as pig shit, he is.”

But Alex was eyeing him warily. “Did you actually, er—”

“I wasn’t fully naked, so I don’t think it counts,” Rhod said helpfully.

Alex just shook his head slowly. “Right,” he said, after a moment. “So it’s a flirting thing, the irritation and grumpiness.”

He didn’t pitch it like a question and Rhod just shrugged. “Something like that, anyway.” He gave Alex a look. “Just like I suppose the winding him up and driving him mad is your version of flirting.”

A blush darkened Alex’s cheeks. “Something like that, anyway,” he echoed, giving Rhod a small, tentative smile before pausing and asking, “And, er, what’s the porn meant to be, then?”

Rhod’s heart dropped to somewhere around his knees. “Sorry?”

“The pornography,” Alex said, and something in the way he emphasised it made it sound like he’d never actually said the word aloud before. It was strangely endearing, and Rhod thought he might just get what Greg saw in him. 

But that was a thought for a different time, as Alex was still looking expectantly at him. “You can deny it,” Alex added when it was apparent Rhod wasn’t about to admit anything. “But I figure you could also save us both the time.”

Rhod didn’t bother with the denial. “What makes you think it was me?” he asked instead.

“Means, motive and opportunity,” Alex said, ticking them off on, weirdly, his forefinger, middle finger and pinky finger, skipping his ring finger entirely. “The crime triangle.” At Rhod’s blank look, he added, “One of the themes for an early episode of our radio show was police work in fiction.”

“So an entire quiz about Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot?”

Alex nodded. “And Columbo and Jessica Fletcher, and– Well, you get the picture.”

Rhod just shook his head. “Right. So that gave you enough expertise to think that I’m Greg’s mystery porn monger?”

“That and two additional, vital pieces of evidence,” Alex said, something like mischief lifting the corners of his mouth into what could have been a smirk.

Rhod’s eyes narrowed. He really did get what Greg saw in him. “Go on.”

Alex nodded down at Rhod’s hand. “The plaster on your finger, right about where a paper cut would be.”

Rhod flexed his fingers involuntarily. “And the second?”

Alex arched an eyebrow, looking inordinately pleased with himself. “The fact that you haven’t denied it,” he said smugly.

The prick.

He and Greg were perfect for each other.

“Ah,” Rhod said, scratching the side of his neck. “Bit late now, yeah?”

Alex shrugged. “Probably.”

“Well, I can assure you, the porn’s not flirting,” Rhod told him. “Consider it…motivation, I guess.” He shrugged. “Something to remind our giant friend that there’s more to the world than just the fucking library.”

Alex considered that for a moment. “And because you find it really funny,” he added, and Rhod grinned.

“And because I find it really fucking funny, yeah.”

Alex nodded slowly, his finger again tapping against the bar, a nervous tic, clearly. “Are you going to tell Greg I, erm, I’ve been flirting with him?” His blush deepened. “Or trying to, anyway?”

Rhod shrugged. “That depends.”

“On?” Alex asked.

“Are you going to fucking do something about it?”

Rhod asked it calmly, pleasantly even, but Alex still flinched. “Oh. Erm. I– I haven’t really given it much thought.”

It was very clearly a lie, but Rhod just shrugged again. “Well, that’s my condition, then,” he said. “You have to actually do something about it, or I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to tell him.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed, something stubborn creeping into his expression. “What if I tell him you’re the porn monger?”

Rhod eyed Alex with newfound respect. “Feel free,” he said, far more blithely than he actually felt. “First thing he’ll do is ring me, I’ll deny it, he’ll believe me because he really is a massive softie at heart who wants to believe the best in people, and then you’ll be no better off than you were before.”

Alex didn’t look remotely convinced and Rhod sighed. “Look, how about this,” he suggested. “If I’m wrong, and Greg’s not interested, I’ll tell him myself that I’m the porn monger.”

After another long moment, Alex nodded slowly. “That seems reasonable.”

Rhod grinned. “So have we got a deal?”

Still Alex hesitated. “You seem a little too eager for this,” he said, suspicious.

“Greg’s one of my oldest friends and he deserves to be happy,” Rhod said, which was absolutely true. As was the rest of his reasoning. “Besides, I reckon helping you two get your shit together will be my get out of jail free card to stop Greg from beating the shit out of me once he does finally realise it’s been me all along.”

Alex laughed, a loud, honking sound that had everyone in earshot glancing at them. “Now that I do believe,” he said, grinning widely enough to show off the gap in his teeth, and he held out his hand for Rhod to shake. “All right, we have a deal.”

“I’ve got the easy end of the bargain, you realise,” Rhod told him as he shook his hand. “You’re the one who has to figure out how to tell him.”

But Alex didn’t look concerned as he pulled his hand back. “Actually, I, er, I may have an idea for that,” he admitted, and he gave Rhod an appraising look. “But I could use a little help in pulling it off.”

Rhod grinned. This wasn’t how he’d expected the night to go by any means, but he couldn’t say that he was disappointed that it had.

“Go on, then,” he said, his grin widening. “What did you have in mind?”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 19 of Taskmaster Collection