Cal winced at the screeching noise the hangers in his closet made as he pushed them from one side of the rail to the other, trying to find the puce colored shirt he wanted to wear. He couldn’t understand why it was so difficult to spot until he realized he had more purple shirts that were really necessary for one person. That and he was finding it hard to concentrate with Harry glaring at him from the bed.

“You know you could help, instead of just lying there,” Cal muttered, too intent on getting dressed on time rather than having to deal with Harry’s tantrum. Cal hadn’t asked him to show up unannounced or to pass judgement on his life choices but if he had to be there, he figured Harry should at least try to make himself useful. He pulled out a shirt and held it to his bare chest as he spun around. It wasn’t the one he’d been looking for but it was okay. “What about this one?”

Sitting with his back to the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle and arms folded tight across his chest, Harry’s scowl matched perfectly with his generally pissed off aura. “No,” he bit out, then seemed to soften a little. “Not if you’re wearing those jeans. Which you shouldn’t be. Being that you shouldn’t be going anywhere tonight.”

Cal sighed more at Harry’s tiresome mother hen routine than the dismissal of his fashion sense, and turned away replacing the shirt and making the hangers screech again. “I’m not getting into this with you.”

“Well, you need to get into it with someone. Should I call Reece? See what he has to say about it?” Cal would have laughed but he knew Harry would, so he shot a look over his shoulder that was murderous enough that Harry wilted, knowing he’d gone too far. “I don’t like it. Any of it.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of this.” Cal was exasperated, and just a bit of a liar. He knew full well why Harry was so against his new arrangement with Ben but he’d be damned if he was going to bring it up.

Harry barked out a laugh. “Yes, you do.”

“It’s just dinner, Harry.”

“It’s dinner with a client. Or someone who should have stayed a client. This whole stupid arrangement is going to blow up in your face, Cal. I just know it is.”

Cal rolled his eyes and considered maybe wearing something red instead. “Well, then you’ll be able to say, ‘I told you so’, when it does. Although I don’t see why it should. I’m having great no-strings-attached sex with a man who isn’t terrible company. What’s not to like?”

“I’ll tell you what’s not to like.” Harry scooted to the edge of the bed, placing his feet on the floor, his elbows on his knees and counted off all Cal’s bad decisions on his fingers one by one. “First, you say you don’t want to take any clients, then you change your mind and say you’ll do it the once. Then, the guy becomes a regular. Then,” each ‘then’ increased with intensity as he went on. “Then, the guy starts coming to you direct instead of through me, which was for your protection I might add. Then, you drop him as a client and start fucking him for free?” Cal opened his mouth to respond but clearly Harry wasn’t done. “Then you start going out to dinner like you’re dating or something? Can you not see how I might be worried? Don’t you think this is history repeating itself?”

Cal had been ready to let it go up until that point but Harry had taken it too far. Rounding on him, Cal pointed his finger. “Don’t.”

“This is exactly what happened with Graham.”

“Don’t—” Cal’s breath caught in his chest and for a moment he thought he was going to choke before his his lungs started working again and he managed to speak without screaming. “This is nothing like that,” he rasped out. “And don’t you speak that name in my house.”

Harry at least had the decency to look apologetic even though he didn’t seem inclined to back down. “It might not be, but can’t you see where I’m coming from.”

Cal shook his head and turned back to start assaulting his shirts again. “They’re nothing alike.”

“Aren’t they? You telling me this guy doesn’t have a temper, ’cause that’s not how it sounded when you called on Monday.”

Cal gritted his teeth and winced, knowing Harry couldn’t see him. “Ben didn’t hurt me. He didn’t even yell. He was just in a bad mood.”

“Bad enough to insult you. And don’t act like the worse thing about what happened to you before was physical. It took years for your head to get straight after that prick—”

“Yes, thank you!” Cal glared over his shoulder. “I can remember just fine.”

“Do you? I’m worried, Cal. Really worried.”

There was something in Harry’s voice, something so vulnerable and genuine, that Cal sighed, all the fight going out of his body and he went over to the bed, sitting close enough to his friend that their thighs and shoulders were welded together.

“You have to listen to me,” Cal said gently. “I know I said would only see this guy the once, but that was because I wasn’t sure what to expect. If he had been just another john, then there was no way in hell I would have offered to see him again. And when he sent that stupid email asking for another appointment, it was my decision to contact him direct. You read it. You know there was no pressure from him. And the same thing applies so this whole friends with benefits deal. He didn’t ask for this, I offered. I didn’t feel right taking his money, and things are just too complicated with my job. But I like him. He’s a nice guy. Who I want to have sex with. This has never been, and will never be, like it was with Graham. He won’t hurt me.”

Cal felt that he couldn’t make himself any plainer, that he had said all he needed to say to get Harry to understand. 

That was until Harry turned to look at him, shaking his head and looking resigned. “You don’t get it,” he said. “I’m not worried about him hurting you. I see the way you look when you talk about him. God, don’t you hear yourself? You’re going to fall for him, Cal. You’re going to fall for him and he’s going to break your heart.”

Cal wanted to argue, wanted to make some kind of a joke about Harry telling them that he didn’t have a heart, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he smiled sadly, leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s cheek before he stood up and went back to the wardrobe saying, “In that case you better help me pick something so I can look good when it happens. Because I think you’re a little late.”