—a collection of items of the same type stored in a hidden or inaccessible place

_________________________

[Blake]

"You made him ask you to leave?" Xander raised a brow. "Great, you blew the deal and now I have clean up after your shit, is that right?"

I snorted. "I didn't blow a thing. His assistant was being—"

"A bitch, yes but we don't lose our temper over small shit like this," Xander downed the rest of his whiskey. "Blake you've been through this many times and you handled it well; fuck even my dad likes you more than he likes his son," he laughed, sarcastic. "It's just another one of those times. Why the hell did you have to go and say that? Turner hates it when people go against him."

I clicked my tongue in frustration. "It's not my fault, don't be such an ass okay? Look," I turned to him with an analogy. "If you were in my position, and say your secretary was Chip or something and someone pulled some shit like this on him—"

"They're good as dead," he finished, calling for another glass. "I'm not saying it's your fault, you little shit. I'm just saying you're not like your usual self. The ass I know wouldn't have blown up like that." Xander frowned all of a sudden. "And did you just compare you and your secretary to me and Angel? You're kidding right."

I cursed inwardly.

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Who's he again?"

"What?"

"The guy. Your secretary."

Wow, apart from Chip and Giselle, everyone else probably doesn't exist to him. "Ace Salander. Gay. Finds you hot." I snorted.

He only laughed indifferently, as though it didn't affect him in any manner. "You don't have to be so salty about it."

"I wasn't being salty," I frowned, taking his new bottle of whisky and pouring some into my empty glass. "This tastes terrible by the way."

"You fucking were."

The live jazz was starting on another song; one of my favourites when someone happened to crash into my Mercedes while it was playing over the speakers. It seemed really long ago, that accident. I barely recalled it now, and the frustration I felt then had simmered into a nothing. The block in my mind eased its way apart thanks to the alcohol, and I was beginning to let the day's events weigh on my shoulders.

"I kissed him."

Someone placed a bucket of rock ice beside our bottles, and Xander thanked him with a nod. He didn't say anything else.

I sighed.

"Some spur of the moment shit."

"I know," he admitted with a shrug. "Think I was six years earlier than you then."

"What?" I frowned.

"Spur of the moment shit, like you said," my best friend laughed, downing the contents of his glass. "Didn't think." He waited for my response, but I came up with nothing. The realization—that had come a little too late, yes—of my guilt sank the heart. I had messed up my work, confused myself, and confused Ace as well. Fuck everything.

"Couldn't think, really," Xander finished, tipping the bottle into his empty glass. Then he was quiet, staring at the bottom of his glass while soft music played.

I asked if he was okay, but received no response. We said nothing for a couple of songs.

"What are you thinking about?"

Xander snorted. "What do you think."

It was the obvious answer, then. Should have known.

"How is he?"

I waited for him to down another glass before he could carry on. This always seemed to happen whenever we would drink. It was hard to control his emotions when it came to Chip or Giselle. Xander couldn't speak for a while, only laid his head on the bar counter with his right arm as support.

"I miss him now."

"You just saw him yesterday," I pointed out with a snort.

"I know."

Xander hid in his arms, as though about to sleep. This lowest point of his...no one would ever see or know. It was getting worse lately. He was probably skipping the sessions with his psychologist so that he'd have time to see Chip. I don't think he'd be able to, otherwise.

"Where's your anti-depressants?" I was about to get him some water when he dismissed my hand with an impassive laugh.

"Didn't bring them."

I called for a glass of water regardless. "You need to get your shit together, Xander. Why didn't you bring them?" He retreated back into his arms and was quiet.

I couldn't see his face, but I knew what was happening underneath.

He laughed again;

Sadly this time.

"He made me ice cream."

"He...made me ice cream."

___________________________

Somehow there were preparations for the camp that involved Ace, which left me alone in the office on the last day of work before holidays. I wasn't doing much, just cramming the last two checks on administrative reports over skipped lunch while trying to think of a solution for some crisis that HR was in at the moment. Insufficient skilled workers that was causing lots of inefficiencies in the company.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," I said without looking up, and read the last few lines of a page before flipping it, raising my head whilst doing so. "Oh, Janna. Hold on—I'm almost done." I glanced at the table clock, noting that she was ten minutes early. Janna nodded, taking a seat on one of the sofas in the middle of my office.

I finished up the last few checks within minutes and was about to ask her how the HR department was doing when Janna held up a hand.

"Where's Ace?"

I frowned. Janna wasn't one to interrupt me on any ordinary occasion. "Helping out with tomorrow's trip. They needed a hand with the logistics and I said I could handle the remaining reports by myself. Why?"

My ex-secretary hummed quietly. "Nothing. Your coffee's store bought, that's all."

"He bought this for me."

She arched a skilful brow and appeared fairly amused. "Ah. What's the special occasion?"

Nothing. He was probably feeling guilty for the trouble he caused last night—

"I mean, you don't even pay him. For all we know, every time he spends money on lunch it's just depleting whatever he has," Janna paused in thought. "Do you think he has a night job or something? It'd be hard to pay for his expenses if he doesn't, right?"

I snorted. "What's your point, Janna?"

A year and a half with her taught me an effective but long-winded way of getting a point across; going in circles, waiting for the kill. That was how Janna worked. In fact, she didn't answer my question.

"Do you remember how much you used to pay me? Cost you a ton."

"That's because you were experienced, Miss Tallis," I gathered the files and handed it to her. "And I had to pay you because having a secretary is optional in this fucked up place."

"Well you're still here, aren't you Mr. Mason?" She smiled wryly. "And why should a mere secretary care enough to get you some branded coffee even if he can't afford it?"

Janna paused by the doorway and looked over her shoulder with a dry laugh.

"Even a fool would know."

____________________________

A/N: What's a story without angst ;-; sighs... *goes to corner to cri* The next chapter will be on the company trip though. Some fluff MIGHT be due. MIGHT :> Might because ugh these poor bois need some comfort ;-;