(Tommy/Oliver)

Italian

Oliver smiled as the restaurant door swung open and Tommy entered. "Tommy," he greeted his friend.

"Oliver," Tommy replied with a curt nod. His suit was immaculate, and the black rose in his hand was beautiful. He kept a hold of it as he slipped into the seat across from Oliver.

Frowning, Oliver put the menu in his hands back onto the table. "Is everything ok?"

"Peachy."

Oliver glanced around the restaurant. The two waiters were preoccupied at other tables. "Your dad again?"

Tommy shrugged, but his shoulders became less tense, and he tried a smile. "Family. They're…"

"Family," Oliver said with a nod. He sighed, reminded of his own family and their issues.

"You know what?" Tommy said. "I don't feel like Italian. How about I take you home instead?"

"I'm starved. Do you have something we can eat there?"

Tommy's eyes glinted. "I'm sure we can come up with something."

fin.