“I’m sure they’re great,” Sam said, not sounding convinced. It cut through him, and he could feel the joy of every compliment Nash paid him about his photos dripping out of him.
They finished up their meal and cleaned up, and Sam hit the restroom, leaving Rory and Nash alone in the kitchen.
“It’s okay. Now he gets to be pleasantly surprised. Don’t take it personally,” Nash said, holding Rory's face in his hands. Rory could feel his heart rate relax. Nash gave him one small peck, and right as their lips touched, they heard a noise and jumped apart.
Sam had dropped his phone on the concrete floor.
“Holy fuck,” he said, picking his phone up to inspect it and slipping it into his pocket when he assessed there was no damage.
“Listen,” Nash said, hands out like he was calming a lion.
“Maddie is going to fucking flip when she finds out she was right. Fuck. I owe her those shoes she’s had her eye on.”
“What?” Rory asked, confused enough about his brother’s reaction that he forgot to be afraid.
“She said that sending you two to Italy together would be the thing that finally cemented”—he gestured between Rory and Nash—"whatever this is. She was pissed you didn’t end up as a couple after our wedding.”
“She knew about—?” Nash asked.
“You two were unsubtle. She was already planning double dates between nineties hits on the dance floor that night.”
“I figured you’d be pretty focused elsewhere,” Rory said, feeling his cheeks heat.
“When nothing happened, I thought that if it was going to happen, it would have. Maddie was convinced something would happen to push you back together for long enough to figure your shit out.”
“Thanks for having your insides explode,” Nash said, tangling his hand with Rory's.
Sam laughed. “Alright, lovers,” he said, with a cartoonish grimace on his face. “Let’s see these photos.”
Sam and Nash sat on chairs at the dining table, computer between the two of them, as Rory wrung his hands and paced behind them. He thought his photos were good. Nash said he thought they were good. But Sam’s opinion mattered in a different way. Both for the brotherly approval Rory rarely got from him, and as confirmation that Rory hadn’t screwed up a job that Sam had cared about a lot.
“Wow. God, I missed out on a lot,” Sam said, as Nash scrolled through the photos that he mostly took, and some of the ones Rory took that looked more traditionally like wedding photography. “Italy is so beautiful.”
“We didn’t exactly get to go explore, but the grounds of this place were an easy backdrop to work with,” Nash agreed.
“These are great,” Sam said, as they scrolled through the rest of the normal photos.
“These are the portraits Rory took,” Nash said, and Rory held his breath as Sam pulled the computer closer to him, using the arrow keys to page through the photos. The colors were bold, the poses were casual and silly, but not over the top. The ones Rory liked the best were the ones where he got the perfect shot mid-laugh, either because another guest was making them laugh, or because Rory was. That was the most fun part of the job for him.
“Dude,” Sam said, his voice soft as he approached the end of the photos, then paging backwards through them again. “Wow, where have you been hiding this?”
“Uh, I haven’t been hiding anything.” Rory had an Instagram where he posted photos he took. The portraits didn’t seem so outside of his style to him.
“Well, fuck, I sent you on this job to hope that having a second body would be helpful enough for Nash. I didn’t realize you’d do such a good job.”
The compliment was backhanded, the way all of Sam’s compliments toward him had been their entire lives.
“Thanks,” he said tensely, grateful for the hand Nash settled on his hip. He wanted to sit on Nash's lap and disappear.
“I’m sorry, that made me sound like an asshole. I’m not surprised that you did a good job. I’m so used to the kinds of photos Nash and I take. These are great. If you wanted, we could offer this as a package option for future gigs. You could come in and shoot for a couple hours, and then split.”
“I’ll think about it,” Rory said. If he wanted to be a wedding photographer, he would have pursued it. But some extra cash here and there might be good.
“I’m beat. Surgery takes it out of you. Nash, I’ll be in touch and we can go through the photos in depth together. Rory, thanks again, man. You saved the day.” He grabbed the bag of film, gave Rory another hug before he left.
“Good news about him not caring we’re together,” Nash said, a smile creeping onto his face. “Come on, let’s go get your mind off of this.” Nash shut the lid of his laptop, closing Italy inside of it. “We can eat bad American pasta afterward for the full sex-and-pasta experience.”
“I don’t think it’s quite the same in the American Middle West,” Rory said, but let Nash drag him to the bedroom anyway. Incredible pasta in Italy, or technically fine pasta in Ohio, Rory was just glad to get to share it with Nash.
