“Bad touch?”
Fallon smiled and shook his head. “No. Just…different. You have a lot of calluses.”
“Yeah. Being a firefighter kind of fucks you up. You lose a bit of softness.”
“Not where it counts,” Fallon said quietly.
Gage had no idea what to say to that. It was too kind. Too…much. So he said nothing at all. He just squeezed his new friend’s hand lightly and tugged him to the curb, leading the way to the front doors.
Inside the shop was a little warm, no windows open and only a small overhead fan spinning. It smelled faintly of weed and a lot like Chinese takeout. The small crowd of people were gathered at the table, and he realized the one guy he didn’t want to see was sitting where Gage was meant to.
His eyes narrowed in a glower at Oliver. “Um…”
The other man smirked from his place beside the DM’s chair. “Oh. We didn’t know if you were coming tonight. Why isn’t Lucas here?”
“You fucking know why,” Gage snapped. Everyone at the table looked vaguely guilty, though no one said a word. He was starting to regret this. “So, are we not finishing my campaign, or…”
Oliver shrugged. “We decided to start a new one. And we don’t actually have room for an extra member, so your little friend should probably sit this one out.”
“I think I should go,” Fallon muttered. His right hand began twitching at his side in a stim, much like Lucas did.
Oliver’s gaze zeroed in on it. “Oh my God, you brought another one of those…people?”
“Oh my God,” Gage mocked, “You’re such a fucking ableist asshole.”
The room went totally silent.
“Honestly, I can’t believe you fuckers are just going to sit there while he says shit like that.” He walked up to Ivy, whose eyes were very wide behind her thick lenses. “You’re fucking disabled, and you’re going to let this stand?”
“He doesn’t mean it like that,” she started.
Gage let go of Fallon’s hand and pressed both of his palms to the table, staring at Oliver. “How do you mean it, Oliver?”
He said nothing.
“Really. How do you mean it? What did you mean by ‘another one of those’?”
Oliver still refused to answer, though his cheeks were flushed pink.
Gage smirked and leaned even closer. “God, if I wouldn’t get fired over punching another asshole in the mouth, I would knock you out right here.”
Oliver paled. “Excuse me?”
Gage stood back. “You know…it’s almost worth it though. And my dad is the chief, so he could probably save my job. Fuck, it would feel so good.”
“Gage,” Ivy said quietly, “we don’t tolerate that kind of thing here. This is a safe space.”
He almost choked on his own tongue. “For who? Your ableist faves? But fuck Lucas for existing as himself, right? And fuck Fallon for having the audacity to stand in the same room as him. Oliver can say whatever he wants, but the moment someone claps back, they’re making it a toxic space?”
Ivy turned her face up toward him. “You should go.”
“God, I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to come back here. I—” he started, turning to face Fallon. But he was gone. “Motherfuck.” Turning to look at Oliver one more time, Gage grinned. “Pray to all your gods that you don’t run into me outside this shop. I promise you won’t like what happens. And I am not afraid of jail.”
With that, he turned and bolted, catching sight of Fallon just before he reached the main road. His chest was heaving by the time he made it to him, and he didn’t reach out and touch him this time because it was obvious Fallon was struggling.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Fallon shook his head. “It’s fine. It happens. I just…I can’t be in there. I can’t take it…”
