The Irishman, The Ex-Accountant, Their Nosy Friend and His Insecurities by elfin, PG-13

"I'm ba-ak!"

Tanned and glowing, Fran positively bounced into the bookshop.  Bernard's momentary glance up from his habitual morning funk didn't dampen her enthusiasm one iota.  Even when she put her brightly coloured bag down on the desk and he asked,

"Where have you been?"

"Spain.  For two weeks."

"You didn't tell me you were going to Spain!"

"Yes, I did," she explained patiently.  "I left the address and telephone number on the fridge for you.  Manny came to see me off at the airport."

He frowned.  "Well where's the Duty Free?"

"I brought four bottles of Spanish red," she declared happily, pulling three bottles and a brown paper bag and letting the carrier drift to the floor.

"Why are there only three?"

"I had one last night to celebrate being home."  She reached for the corkscrew and started in on one of the bottles, pouring two glasses.

"What's that?"

"What?"  She followed his finger and picked up the brown paper bag.  "It's for Manny," opening it, she peered inside, smiling to herself.  "He told me about this little wooden doll his parents bought him back from Spain once.  He'd lost his somewhere so I bought him another one."  She looked up and saw the expression on Bernard's face.  Her sunny disposition started to melt away, being slowly replaced by dread.  "What?"

"Manny doesn't live here anymore."

"What?"

"He left me.  He's gone."

Her stare turned to stone.  "What did you do?"

"Don't blame me!  It's not my fault!"  He emptied his glass in two gulps.  "Christ, that's revolting."  Still, he waved it in front of her until she refilled it and then handed him the bottle.

She tried the gentler approach.  "What happened?"

For a couple of moments he stared at her, then he looked away, sighed, and began to talk.


**Four days ago - midnight**

"Where have you been?"  Manny flinched at the words that came out of the darkness.

"I'm sorry.  I got caught up."

"Who with?"

"Some friends."

"What friends?"

"Just some friends."

He felt Bernard close the distance between them and stood absolutely still.

"Why can I smell perfume?"

The desk lamp came on suddenly, bright in the eerie, musky darkness of the shop.

"Look, I'm sorry I was out late."

But the apology didn't hide the words that weren't said and he knew it.  Bernard stepped back and with a growing horror in the pit of his stomach Manny saw the hurt in the large brown eyes, saw the pain he'd inflicted. 

And he couldn't believe it was there.

"I'm sorry -"

"You said."  The usually animated voice was flat.  "Get out."

"Bernard...."

"Get out!"

Biting his bottom lip, Manny nodded and crossed the shop.  "I'll get my things tomorrow."  When there was no answer, he glanced back.  Bernard was no longer standing there.  Opening the door, Manny stepped out into the cold.

**end flashback**


Fran exploded.  "What is it with you?!  Why are you so possessive?  Why couldn't you just let him have a life of his own?  He isn't yours, Bernard!  He was never yours!"

She was so absorbed in her anger that she almost missed the quiet words, "Yes, he was."


**flashback - seven days ago**

They were so drunk.

"This reminds me... of the time I drank a bottle of neat blackcurrant... stuff."

Manny turned the glass in his hand, looking through the glorious red liquid as the light touched it.

"It's not that bad.  It's a little... heavy."

Bernard regarded him over the top of his glass.  "Heavy?"

"Yeah, you know.  Like... a rock."

"You can't drink rocks."

With that definite declaration, Bernard picked up the bottle and refilled his glass, leaning over to dribble a few drops into Manny's glass. 

Manny moved it away.  "I think I've had enough," he slurred gently.

"Nonsense."  Determined, Bernard pushed the bottle between Manny and his arm, wrapping fingers around the hand holding Manny's glass.  He tried to pour but the wine missed and dripped over Manny's fingers and down his wrist.

Chuckling, Manny raised his drink to his mouth despite Bernard's arm being in the way.  He was still smiling around the rim of the glass when a soft mouth touched his hand and a warm tongue lapped at the trail of wine over his skin.

He froze as the sensation of heat shot along his nerves.

"Bernard...."

Big brown eyes looked up at him and the world stopped turning.

Manny met and held sparkling gaze.  He caught his breath as Bernard deliberately drew his tongue up along one finger to the glass where, after the briefest of hesitations, he licked the wine from Manny's lips.

Tentatively tilting his head, Manny silently invited Bernard into his mouth.  He tasted of wine and cigarettes and his lips moved restlessly, tongue sliding over tongue.

His hand still wrapped around Manny's, Bernard lowered their glasses to the kitchen table, shifting on his chair, moving closer. 

Manny's arm went around his shoulders, still unsure of his welcome.  But not for long.

When they eventually broke apart, Bernard was almost in Manny's lap, fingers twisted in the fine auburn hair as large hands stroked his back uncertainly.

"Bernard....  This....  We can't...."

The dark head moved once, side to side.  "Don't do that.  If you don't want me just say so but don't say we can't do this because we can.  Nothing's stopping us."

**end flashback**


Fran spat her wine over the desk and stared at him, eyes wide.  "You had sex with Manny?"

Exhausted, red-rimmed eyes stared back.  "Yes."

She was lost for words, only able to find two.  "How?  Why?"

He ignored the first question and answered the second.  "It just... happened.  Several times... it just happened."

"Several?  How many times?!"

"I can't remember!"


**flashback - six days ago**

Manny could feel intense eyes on him as he cleaned the shop.  This morning he'd woken with Bernard cuddled up to him and not wanting to break the magic of the previous night, he'd slipped out of bed and had had a quick bath before starting breakfast.

Bernard, then, came down to a hot, full English fry-up but no Manny. 

Picking up the plate of sausages, fried egg, buttered toast and crispy bacon, Bernard took it and a fork through to the shop.  Manny was in one of the alcoves, frantically dusting.

Making himself comfortable in his chair with his breakfast, Bernard asked in his usual inquisitor's tone, "What happened?" before tucking in.

Manny jumped, startled.  "What?"

Regarding his live-in assistant and now his lover, Bernard assessed, "You're panicking, I know you are."  He flopped the egg onto the toast and cut into the yolk.  "Why are you panicking?"

Lowering the duster, Manny glanced at him and then away.  "I wasn't sure....  After what we did....  I mean, you've never shown any interest in me before and I know we said we weren't interested in men just standard lamps and you didn't even say that, you said you'd thought you might be once but you weren't and all the girls you've chased - well, both of them and I guess you weren't really chasing them but -"

"Manny!"  Bernard held up his fork in a halting gesture.  "Enough!"

"Right.  Sorry.  But that's why.  That's why I'm panicking.  I know I quit on a daily basis but I don't leave and I don't want to have to leave.  I don't want to leave you because I like you, a lot, and I don't think you should run the place alone because on the whole you're not a great cook or a great bookshop owner but you're you and I like you and I don't want to -"

"Manny, for Christ's sake will you calm down!"

He took a deep breath.  "Sorry."

"You're making a big deal out of this.  Stop it.  It's you and me.  We slept together.  So what?  I enjoyed it."

Manny took a step towards the desk.  "Really?"

Bernard smiled, bemused.  "Yes.  I thought you did too, actually."

"I... I did.  It was... great."

"So what's the problem?"

"No... no problem.  Do you want to... to do it again?"

The smile gentled.  "I think we should open the shop."

"Oh.  Of course."

As Manny turned, Bernard reached out and snatched his wrist.  "I mean, I think we should open the shop now, and have sex again later."

Eyes widened and a wide smile broke out across Manny's face.  Happily he went to unlock the door and greeted the first customer already loitering on the step outside.

Bernard spent the day scowling and smoking and drinking as usual, but it was on a full stomach and the promise of another night like last night.  The shop was unusually busy but a couple of times he reached out and brushed his fingers over Manny's hand as he walked by.  It won him the softest of smiles.

**end flashback**


The tinny Nokia ringtone broke the heavy silence and Fran ignored Bernard's scowl as she hunted through her handbag and finally took out her mobile.

She didn't recognise the displayed number and almost rejected the call.  But something made her take it.

"Hello?"

There was a pause before she heard Manny's voice.  "Fran, if you're in the shop don't say anything.  Just listen.  I need to talk to you.  Frank's Cafe in ten minutes?"

She hesitated and then put on her best horrified expression, exclaimed,  "God, I'm so sorry!  I completely forgot!  I'll be ten minutes.  See you there." and hung up.

"You can't leave me like this!"

For once, she felt for him.  She'd never seen Bernard in such a state before.

"I'll be back in an hour with booze and a takeaway, I promise."  She grabbed her bag.  "Okay?"  He didn't look at her and he didn't say anything but he nodded.  "Okay."  She was halfway across the shop before a thought occurred.  "Don't do anything stupid, Bernard."

He did look at her then, head to one side, eyes curious.  "Like what?"

She smiled, "Like trying to cook or anything."

"Very funny."

Hoping she'd bluffed it well enough, she left.

~

Manny was sitting at a table in the window of the run-down cafe a couple of streets down from Russell Square.  He was nervously playing with the condiments and as Fran stepped inside he tipped over the salt by accident and watched it scatter over the tabletop.

He was still sweeping it into a small, tidy pile with his hand when Fran sat down and within seconds they were joined by a bored waitress.

"Two coffees, two doughnuts," Fran ordered without a second thought.  Cappuccinos and chocolate cafe just weren't options in here.

Reaching across the table, she covered his hands with her own, stopping the anxious movements.  He gazed at her and she could see the same desperation in him that was less obvious but no less raw in Bernard.

"Are you okay?" she started.

"No.  Yes.  I don't know."

"Where are you staying?"

"With a couple of friends in Bloomsbury.  How's Bernard?"

"How do you think?  You know how he is.  He told me what happened, from his point of view.  He told me everything."

Manny nodded vaguely and took a deep breath.  "How was your holiday?"

Fran smiled affectionately.  So like him to think of her too.  Unlike Bernard.  Manny deserved better than a sour, drunken Irishman who didn't appreciate him.  But it was no good telling him that, not now.

"It was lovely," she told him with a happy sigh.  "But I don't think I'll be going away for two weeks again."

"Why not?" 

The waitress brought their order, barely managing not to splash coffee all over them.

"Because I can't trust the two of you to still be speaking to one another when I get back."

He stared miserably into his murky coffee and thought about the Espresso machine that Bernard had bought him.

"It's my fault."

She hesitated to tell him otherwise.  "Did you...."  She tried again.  "Bernard told me about the night he threw you out.  He said... you slept with a girl.  A friend of yours."

Manny sighed.  "I didn't sleep with her!  I don't see her very often and we had a cuddle.  It was nothing."  She realised he was apologising for it.  "I just didn't realise how seriously Bernard took what had happened."

"You mean the sex."

"Yes."

Fran looked at him with sympathy.  "He loves you."

Snorting, Manny shook his head.  "I don't think so."

"Of course he does!  He's just never had this before and he doesn't know what it is or what to do with it."  She squeezed his hands.  "He looks... lost."

"Even if he'd take me back, I don't know if I want to go."

"You know he'd take you back.  You didn't have to leave."

"He was really angry, Fran."

"You know what he's like!  He tells you to get out on a daily basis.  You say no, he has no comeback to that.  The only defences he has are what you see.  Go deeper than that and he can't protect himself so he lashes out.  You're usually the target because you're closest to him."

Nodding, Manny prodded the stale doughnut and pushed the plate aside.  "I need to get my head straight.  He's not easy to live with at the best of times but after this, after what we did...."

She waited but he didn't say any more.  As sorry as she felt for him, she was fascinated.  She could ask Manny things she wouldn't dare ask Bernard and could be fairly certain of getting an answer.  She just wasn't sure now was the right time....

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Start this with him.  I don't mean to be insulting but... I mean... it's... it's Bernard."

Manny smiled wryly.  "He started it."

"But what's the attraction?"

"He is.  He may be rude and obnoxious and ridiculously possessive but he lives the way we all secretly want to live.  There is nothing false about him at all, no pretence.  You know where you stand and I know..." he dropped his voice, a little ashamed, "I know he'll never leave me."

"He needs the same trust in you," she told him, touched by his honesty and surprised by her own.

"I hate myself for what I did.  I hurt him and that's unforgivable."

"Manny!  He hurts you all the time!"

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does!  Now stop beating yourself up.  Come back with me."

"I can't.  Just... take care of him, Fran."

~

She caught the faint hope fade from Bernard's eyes when he opened the door.

"You've closed," Fran commented, following him inside.

"I couldn't cope with them."  He loped over to the sofa and sat down with a glass of wine cradled between his hands and a cigarette hanging unlit from his lips.

Putting the takeaway and the carrier from the off licence down onto the desk she knew she had to brave the kitchen to find chopsticks and a wineglass for herself.

The sight that met her stunned her where she stood. 

"Oh my God....  Bernard... you cleaned!" 

The place was immaculate.  There was no washing up in the sink or on the draining board.  There was no rotting food on the work surfaces and she could see her own face in the tabletop.

Gingerly she opened the cutlery drawer, terrified that actually he'd simply thrown away everything.  The silver glinted in the light for a second before she heard a tiny clink and the bulb went out. 

"Bollocks."

"What is it?"

"The light bulb's gone."

"Bollocks."

Carefully she collected four clean chopsticks and found a sparkling glass in the cupboard on the wall.

"You do have it bad, don't you?" she teased him gently.

He glared at her, holding out his own empty glass.  "Just pour."

She opened a fresh bottle, refilled his glass, handed him his usual Chicken Chow Mien and a bag of prawn crackers with a pair of chopsticks, and finally flopped onto the sofa next to him.

"I saw Manny," she told him carefully.

"What?  Where?"

"While I was out."

"What's he doing?  Where's he staying?  With that tart of his probably.  Hairy bigamist that he is."

"Bernard, he didn't sleep with her.  And he's still sorry."

"So where is he?  Why's he apologising to you and not to me?  When's he coming back?"

"I don't know."

He shifted into the corner of the sofa, leaning down to drop the foil tray of noodles and chicken to the floor.  "I don't want him here anyway," he muttered into his wine.  "He makes the place look untidy.  And he attracts customers."

Fran smiled fondly.  "You do want him back."

"I don't!  I can look after myself.  I did before he came along and spoilt everything.  I'm a grown man!"

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"What have you had to eat today?"

He hesitated.  "Nothing."

"You see?  You're not going to eat properly until he comes home."

"This isn't his home!  It's my home.  My shop."

The mix of determination, anger and despair behind his words concerned her.  In all the time she'd known him there hadn't been anyone like Manny in his life, no one who'd been as important to him or held so much of his happiness in their hands.  Not that his usual mood could be described as 'happy'.  Stable, perhaps.  Even contented, in a strange way.

She kept quiet, eating her rice quietly, until finally he looked at her, expression as miserable as she'd ever seen him.

"I miss him."

"I know."  Reaching over she almost poked his eye out with her chopstick as she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.  "He'll come back.  He just needs to do it in his own time.  You remember, when he ran away that time?  He just came back and it was like nothing had ever happened."

He looked at her darkly.  "Something did happen, though, didn't it?  There was that casino chip...."

"It's nothing like that this time," she crooned softly, "he's staying with some friends not far from here.  He looks fine."

"Well, I don't need him either."

It was quite a mental leap, as if Bernard had had a part of the conversation in his own mind without involving her.

Leaning down, she picked up his food and handed it to him.  "Eat."

"I don't want to."

"You're a miserable bastard.  Just eat!"

"No!"  He hurled the carton across the shop, watching as the contents flew out gracefully in its wake.  Fran watched too, amazed.

"That was actually quite impressive."

"Do yours."

"No.  It's a waste."

"What else are you going to do with it?"

"Eat it."

"All of it?"  He indicated the two untouched cartons of egg fried rice on the desk.

"It's childish."

"Why?  It's food on a floor.  I'll clean it up later.  You're turning into Manny!  Just do it!"

With no idea why, she threw her carton in the same arc Bernard had.  Her Special Fried rice went everywhere, falling to the floor like snowflakes.

He grinned at her and refilled both their glasses.


Around midnight, Fran poured Bernard down onto the sofa and cleaned up the mess they'd made of the floor.  She couldn't find any spare light bulbs so she left it, making a mental note to pick some up in the morning.  Someone had to look after him and she had promised Manny.

Crouching down next to the sofa she eased her hand over Bernard's wild hair.  He was out of it, snoring softly.

She could only hope that Manny came home soon.  She wasn't sure how he did it, but she knew she wouldn't be able to do this for long without going clinically insane.

Taking the key from his set on the desk, knowing she'd be back long before he returned to the world of the living, she locked the door on her way out.

~

Bernard woke slowly, head pounding as usual.  He ignored the sickening lurch of the world as he sat up, refusing to give in to his unsettled stomach.

He struggled into the kitchen and stared helplessly at the blender.  He had no idea how to make the wondrous hangover cure Manny had invented a year ago.  Instead he grabbed the Alka-Seltzer and dropped two into a glass before filling it with water.

The tap spluttered and coughed out suspiciously murky water and he wondered briefly if the pipes were okay.  Still, the fizzy chalky taste hid any bitterness and Bernard emptied the glass in one long swig.

A search of the kitchen turned up nothing to eat.  Manny hadn't been around to go shopping. 

But Manny hadn't always been around and determined that he could look after himself, Bernard grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out.

Only he couldn't leave.  Because the door was locked and his key was missing.  He couldn't understand it.

How could he have locked the door if he'd lost his key? 

When would he have lost his key? 

The only other person with a copy was Manny and he hadn't been back.

He stared at the front door.  He had no idea what had happened to his key but he had to get out.

Pulling his shirt sleeve down over his left hand, he thrust it through the rectangular pane of glass just above the door handle.

"Bernard!"  Fran's horrified cry mixed with his own yelp of pain as the glass shards cut into him.  "Don't move!"

Dropping her bag to the step, Fran grabbed his hand and held it steady as she pulled the thankfully few and large glass pieces away from the wooden frame, plucking a couple of bits from his skin.

Then she took the key she'd stolen the previous night from her pocket and unlocked the door.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she asked as she eased his arm back through the broken window and led him over to the sofa, sitting him down.

"I've lost my key," he muttered, watching the blood start to seep from the various cuts in his hand and wrist.

"I've got it!  And what were you going to do anyway?  Why did you think that breaking a window would help?"

"I don't know."

Finding an ancient first aid kit in the bathroom upstairs, Fran filled a bowl with hot water and grabbed the cleanest cloth she could find.

"You might need to go to hospital." 

But on investigation, the cuts didn't seem that deep.

Making sure she'd got all the glass out, she wrapped a long, slightly yellowing bandage around his hand and wrist, fastening it tightly.

Only then did she realise there were tears in his eyes.

"Bernard...."  Finally rescuing her bag from the doorstep she hunted out a packet of paracetamol and found a clean glass for water.  "Take these and just stay there, okay?"  For once, he did exactly as he was told.


She found a piece of card and taped it over the broken window.  Then she went out to the corner shop and bought some basics - bread, milk, cornflakes, eggs and wine. 

On the way home she checked her mobile's 'last numbers' list and found that Manny hadn't called from a phone box but from another mobile.

With the briefest of hesitations, she called it. 

It rang a couple of times before it went to the answer service. 

"You've reached Jenny.  Please leave a message and I'll get right back to you."

Taking a deep breath as the woman told her what to do if she wanted to re-record her message, Fran said, "This is a message for Manny.  It's Fran.  He's in complete meltdown.  He'll never admit it but he misses you.  Please come home."


Back at the shop she made cheese-on-toast for lunch, marvelling at Manny's saintly patience as she did so.  Bernard grouched and complained but she felt his heart wasn't in it and by mid-afternoon he'd fallen into a silent mope.

Sitting opposite him at his desk she put her elbows on the surface and her chin in her hands.

"Come on, Bernard.  What did you tell me last time Manny left?  It used to be just me and you.  We were okay then, weren't we?"  He glowered at her and stubbed out his cigarette just to light another one.  "I mean, I know you hadn't slept with him at that stage...."

"Shut up."

"Well, at least I got a couple of words out of you."  She squeezed his hand.  "He'll come home, Bernard."

With a grunt he pulled his hand away and pushed back his chair, heading for the toilet.  Fran sighed as the door slammed shut.

"Let's just hope he does before you self-destruct."  But she said it very, very quietly.

~

Frowning at the cardboard covering the broken section of the window, Manny let himself in quietly. 

It was just after three in the morning and he knew Bernard would be unconscious somewhere inside.  Either on the sofa or over the desk, probably.  Possibly on the kitchen table or even - although it was very unlikely - in bed.

Or hanging himself from the kitchen light....

"BERNARD!"  Running across the shop, Manny put one foot on the chair, one on the desk and leapt through into the kitchen, grabbed Bernard around the waist and crashing them both to the floor.

Bernard's head cracked back against the fridge door, falling to Manny's shoulder as the impact stunned him.  Still, terrified, he tried to struggle out of the arms holding him firmly.

"Get off me!  Get off!"

"Bernard."  Tipping his head back gently, Manny forced the brown eyes to look at him.  "It's okay, it's me."

"Manny."  A wide, drunk, lop-sided smile greeted him.  "You came home."

"Of course."

"I feel sick."

"That'll be the head against the fridge thing.  Sorry about that."  They both tried to stand up, but Bernard put a hand to his stomach and moaned softly.  Manny eased him back down.  "Maybe we'll stay here for a bit."

"Okay."  The usually strong Irish voice sounded deflated and tired.

Closing his eyes, Manny pressed a kiss to the mop of dark hair.  "You can't attempt suicide yourself every time we break up," he murmured quietly.

Happily, Bernard snuggled into Manny, not really caring about his head or his queasy stomach.  "I was changing the light bulb," he clarified.

"What?"

"The bulb went last night, I was changing it."

Manny laughed softly.  "I thought...."  He hugged Bernard tighter, knowing this was a limited once-in-a-lifetime offer.  And for a long time they just stayed on the floor in the dark.

Eventually, Bernard sat up and leaned forward, whispering into Manny's ear before they shared a long, deep kiss.

"Bed," Manny instructed softly, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"With you?"

"Yes, with me.  Who else?"

Carefully they made their way up the creaking wooden stairs, touching as much as they could get away with.  Manny smiled to himself.  The peeling wallpaper, the smell of rising damp, the death trap of a bathroom and a half-drunk Irishman on his arm.

Heaven.

Home.


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