Work Header

The Guys Find Out

Chapter Text

Richard’s first thought, when they find out, is memory wiping. The second one is threats. The third is bribes. Really big bribes.


“Yeah.” He says, except it sounds like yeammf because he’s saying it face down into a pillow. It had never happened before, it was just that once, it was -

“Obviously you know I’ll support you whatever you choose to do.”

“Yup.” Yuffp.

“If you want me to draw up nondisclosure agreements -”

Day woont sann.”

“They certainly will sign, if that’s what you want. I have sufficient material on every one of our coworkers to secure a signature.”

That very nearly makes Richard curious enough to lift his head off the floor. Jared has material? Fuck, of course Jared has material. And technically he has material on Richard now. No wait - does it count if he was involved? Of course it does. No matter how you look at it, Jared knows something about Richard that Richard doesn’t want other people to know. Like everybody else in the house. And anyone they’ve talked to.

And he knows that it doesn’t matter, or, it shouldn’t matter? But it does, it does, it bothers him so much, he doesn’t want them to know, he doesn’t want them to, to think things. It’s none of their business. It just isn’t any of their business.

Jared sits next to him, cross-legged on Richard’s bedroom floor. He’s been there since - ok Richard isn't sure how long he’s been there. He went away after the guys found out, after they… but then he came back. And he sat down where he is now. He’s been quiet ever since whenever that was.

But now he’s talking.

“But is it okay if I - Richard? There’s something I’d like to know?”

“What?” Still face down into the pillow, so, more of a wrrrmt.

“Do you regret what happened?”

That gets Richard’s face off the floor. “What?”

“Do you wish you could take it back?”

“No.” He scrambles up to sit across from Jared. “No.”

Something - something happens to Jared’s face. Like he’s about to cry, but also he has cartoon hearts in his eyes. And as though answering that something in Jared’s face, something happens to Richard’s chest.

Suddenly shameless and reckless and just, just needy, Richard asks, “do you wish you could take it back?”

The answer is obviously ‘no’ but he’s - he wants to keep feeling what he’s feeling right now. He wants to see Jared’s face when Jared tells him no. He wants to see what kind of reaction Jared can't stop himself from having when he tells him no.

Jared’s eyes become comically big. It’s… gratifying. “You cannot be in any doubt that -” suddenly he blinks, stops. Moves his hand towards Richard’s on the carpet.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want, Richard, even if it’s just because you like to hear it.”

“I do. Like to hear it.”

“Richard.” He moves his hand even closer.

They haven’t touched since it happened, and Richard suddenly looks at Jared’s hand and he wants it, he wants Jared to take him in his arms and hold him. Fuck. He’s never wanted a hug so much in his life. “Yeah?”

“Richard, I don't regret anything. I don’t want to take it back.”

“Ok.” Richard touches the tips of his fingers to Jared’s. “Do you. Want. To do it again?”

Chapter Text

So Monica got married. Also, Jared was propositioned by Tim Cook, and Richard lost his mind. In that order.

The ceremony wasn't that big; only two hundred guests. Guests who seemed chosen for their linkedin profiles more than for their proximity to the couple, to be honest, but that fit with Monica’s groom-to-be. That guy was really into networking. He’d even scored the CEO of Apple, which made sure that everybody and their mom wanted to attend the wedding, and that was before the news of his divorce.

Anyway the ceremony wasn’t that big, but the reception was in a giant sprawling winery. In like, the countryside. But it had wifi so it was fine. Also, it had a lot of hidden corners. Which was helpful. For when you didn’t want to talk to people.

The seating plan for dinner had Richard next to an engineer from Flutterbeam, who seemed to know Monica from college. Her name was Georgiana, she was tall, she had short brown hair, and she made the entire table giggle with an impression of Monica pretending that cigarettes falling out of her bad weren’t hers. And she smiled at Richard.

The seating plan had Jared next to Tim fucking Cook, who didn’t seem to be making anyone at the table laugh, and had eyes only for Jared. And Jared kept beaming at him. At his whole silver fox, newly single, can’t-be-Steve Jobs-and-should-definitely-stop-trying.. deal. There was something about it, it was - Richard didn't like it. He didn't like that they were way at the other end of the room where he couldn't hear them, and he didn't like - did Tim Cook just give Jared a bite of his vegan lasagna? What the hell.


Try as he might, Jared could not recall ever seeing Richard look in his direction as much as he did that night. Every time he turned towards Richard’s table - they were at separate tables - there he was, looking at Jared. The first few times, Jared raised his eyebrows and made as though to get up from his chair. A wordless question: do you need something?. But Richard blinked and jerked his head, no. Jared even texted Richard from across the room: do you need something?. But again, no. So Jared turned back to the very interesting conversation he was having with his fellow guest, the perceptive and fascinating (and rather elegant) Tim Cook.

But Richard’s gaze - it didn’t stop. It was always turned in Jared’s direction, always, always, every time he looked. His expression studiously blank to anyone happening to look in his direction, but to Jared, who knew him, it wasn’t blank, it wasn’t placid, it was mutinous. Mutinous, obstinate, piercing.


Things came to a head - ha ha - in the men’s room.

There had been a lot of wine. For everyone. Just - a lot. Richard didn’t want to get up from the dinner table, but even he had had so much wine that he needed to urinate. So.

He pushed the door of the washroom - a heavy, polished oak thing - and it opened soundlessly. When it closed he was cut off from the sounds of the reception, and everything was hushed, with subdued lighting. And that’s when he heard them.

He could just hear whispers and shuffling, but he moved forward a few paces, turned a corner, and then he could see them. Against the sink. Tim Cook with a hand sliding up Jared’s arm, leaning over and whispering in Jared’s ear. Jared’s cheeks flushed bright red.

Richard jaw dropped. “Um.”

Both of them whipped around to look in his direction. Tim, confident and unruffled, his suit all perfect like fucking James Bond, a possessive hand still on Jared’s arm. But Jared… he was flushed, pupils dilated, and his collar was undone.

“Richard!” He squeaked.

Richard’s entire brain went offline. “Uh -“

He watched, completely helpless, as Jared turned to Tim to wordlessly ask what to do. He watched Tim brush a thumb back and forth over Jared’s forearm. And then he had to witness Jared turn back to him, to make a truly intolerable attempt to act normal. Jared gestured to Tim like he was about to introduce him. “Richard, this is -“

“We’ve met.” Richard snapped. He’d regained the power of speech, but his patience had left the room.

Tim Cook just stood there, hand still on Jared, staring Richard down. Placid. Smooth. “Richard Hendricks, good to see you.”

Fucking - Apple fucking - James Bond social skills piece of shit.

“Yeah, hi. I need to talk to Jared.”


Washrooms do seem to be a recurring theme in Jared’s relationship with Richard. Though this washroom-related interaction seems unrelated to vomit, “night sweats,” or panic attacks. So Jared isn't entirely sure how to approach the situation.

“Richard? Do you need my assistance?”

Richard’s eye is on the washroom door, which Tim Cook just exited. Tim Cook, a terribly good-looking man, who just gave Jared his room number. Jared isn't ready to process that yet, though his body seems to be. Or, it was a few minutes ago.

“Ok,” Richard has turned back to Jared, and he looks… defiant. “I’m gonna pee, and then we’re gonna. Go somewhere.”

“Are you unwell?”

“No, I’m - no, Jared. Just, lemme -”

“Of course. I won't interrupt your urination.”

Minutes later he’s being pulled through a series of corridors and pushed into an alcove and Jared would be lying if he said it wasn't a little bit thrilling. He’s seen Richard at his most impulsive and unreasonable but he’s never seen him quite like this, so…commanding. He can have such a presence, gosh.


Richard’s eyes are blue and bossy and mesmerizing, and Jared, in a sudden, blinding moment of awareness, realizes he’s aroused. “Richard.”

“Look I know that he’s -“ Richard’s grip on his arm gets tighter. “And you - but.”

Richard’s hair is disheveled and his suit - he is so very rarely in a suit - fits him beautifully, and he looks every bit like a young man Jared crushed on at his first formal, except better, so much better.

“Richard, this is very disconcerting. Please, Richard, tell me -“

Richard shoves him further back, holds him against the wall, and Jared moans. This is - it has to be real. Richard has to feel his erection.

“The way you - look at him. That’s the way you look at me. Only me. Only me, Jared.”


“I. I’ll. Do whatever -”

Jared cuts him off. “There’s only you, Richard.”

Richard puts his hands on either side of Jared’s head and, half pushing himself up on his toes, half pulling Jared down, kisses him. It’s wild and reckless and more passionate than anything Jared ever imagined. He puts his arms around Richard and pulls him tight.


So how did the guys find out?

They didn't walk in on Jared and Richard’s night of passion. They didn’t hear about it from anybody else. They didn't even guess it had happened and then put together an elaborate prank to get either Jared or Richard to admit it.

They found out because, a month later, Jared wrote a letter to disclose the (isolated) incident to Pied Piper HR, and printed it out to get Richard to sign it. At which point Richard left it on a desk.

Chapter Text

Sometimes Richard wants to yell at Jared.

He knows it isn’t good. Richard isn’t very self-aware but even he can see that it isn’t good. It’s like - this dark little kernel of unreasonableness, of excessiveness, that lives curled around his heart.

He knows that he wants to yell at Jared out of an need for control; because sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, he feels like, if Jared does anything, anything at all, while thinking of someone or something other than Richard, it's an act of betrayal. Which even he can tell is creepily territorial. Like Jared is what, some kind of subjugated wife figure?

Mostly Richard looks on these moments of possessiveness as a sign that he has been working for too long and needs to get some sleep, which he mostly promptly does. Sometimes he goes so far as to take a note to look into therapy, though he never actually does look into it. But sometimes weird shit happens, because he doesn’t have any impulse control.

When he pushes Jared into an alcove at Monica’s wedding, it is because he wants to yell at him. He wants to force Jared to show how loyal he is, he wants to shout something about hook-up culture and about how the CEO of Apple doesn’t know or care about him, he wants to shout about impudence and shamelessness. When he pushes Jared into the alcove, he registers the way Jared lets himself be manhandled and it should soothe Richard’s need for control but it doesn’t, it doesn’t, because suddenly he’s imagining Jared letting anyone, attractive gay tech CEOs for example, manhandle him anytime they want. Instead of soothing him it makes him angry.


The look in Jared’s eyes isn’t one of fear or anger, and Richard wants to shake him. Doesn’t he understand how wrong this is? Doesn’t he understand that he shouldn’t let himself be pushed and mistreated and -


“Look I know that he’s -“ Richard grips Jared’s arm as hard as he can. “And you - but.” He can’t find the words, he doesn’t know how to say ‘that conventionally attractive guy propositioned you and you have needs that are currently not being met, but I have strong feelings about this and I think they’re important.’

“Please, Richard, tell me -“

Richard’s reaction to the way Jared says ‘please’ is wild. He likes it. He likes it. He wants to hear it again and again. Just, over and over. Like right now. And he wants to make sure no one else ever does. He wants - fuck. Richard shoves him, plasters himself against Jared, and now they’re both flush against the wall. And he really really needs Jared to know that he doesn’t have to go somewhere else, he doesn’t need some other guy.

“The way you - look at him. That’s the way you look at me. Only me. Only me, Jared.”


The way Jared says it, it’s more of an exhale than a word, and Richard can feel it, feel Jared’s chest contract as he breathes out; feel it against his cheek. Jared needs to know. Richard needs Jared to know. That he’ll give him what he needs.

“I. I’ll. Do whatever -”

Jared cuts him off. “There’s only you, Richard.”

Oh fuck. Fuck. Richard stops himself from blurting out ‘there better be’ by getting up on the tips of his toes and kissing Jared.

Chapter Text

Richard can’t concentrate at first, with his body reminding him that the bed is unfamiliar, the firmness of the mattress is unfamiliar, and the sheets are unfamiliar, and a voice in his head saying ‘there’s a dick in your mouth. There’s a dick in your mouth. You’re sucking somebody’s dick. This is real. You’re sucking it.’ He can’t process anything and he’s drunk and Jared is - oh.

Jared’s reactions are. Good. Like, Jared likes it. Jared is making helpless noises and involuntary movements and his dick is hard, so hard. This is fucking - good. This is fucking great.

They’re both lying on their sides, Jared’s crotch in front of Richard’s face, and Jared is sliding his dick in and out of Richard’s mouth like it’s a religious experience.

“Hmmm,” Richard hears himself moan around it.

Further up the bed Jared is pleading. “Richard, touch yourself. Please. Please touch yourself.” He says one please while pulling slowly out of Richard’s mouth, and the other while pushing back in. It’s fucking lewd.

He’s already kinda humping Jared’s leg (like… like a dog, his mind whispers) in pathetic little thrusts, but Richard reaches down with both hands for his jeans, running both hands down Jared’s thighs along the way. Jared is so long. And Richard feels… small. Which isn’t a feeling he normally puts up with. But this is - he’s fucking defenseless, now he thinks about it, and fuck if that isn’t making him harder.

He unzips his jeans, but he keeps Jared’s dick in his mouth as he does it, and after some fumbling ends up anchoring himself on Jared’s thigh with one hand and thrusting his dick in and out of his other hand, while Jared pumps in and out of his mouth. The too-smooth skin of his dick sliding obscenely against Richard’s lips. It’s fucking… filthy.

He’s so hard.

He touches himself, as instructed, and hears himself moan again. Except it’s more of a whine, to which Jared responds with a groan and - and he feels Jared’s hands on his face, suddenly, framing it, holding it in place as he moves faster. There’s something about Jared’s hands, he feels just really calm and centred all of a sudden, and, closing his eyes, Richard comes hard. Like really hard. He jerks forward from the climax and smears jizz on the unfamiliar sheets.

Jared’s fucking hard on is still in his mouth and Richard is still seeing stars a full three seconds later. And Jared is saying something, but he’s also running his hands through Richard’s hair, and Richard can’t even… Jared was fucking his face just now and it was… Anyway that’s when he starts to giggle.

He starts to giggle and he can’t stop. He’s in a foetal position, his limp dick hanging out, jeans and boxers around his ankles, and he cannot. Stop. His nervous, drunken, laughter.

“Richard?” Jared crouches over him. “Richard, don’t worry, you’re probably only experiencing mild delirium from the wine and the unfamiliar sex acts. It’s normal. I remember the first time I -“

Oh my god don’t tell me about the first time you sucked somebody’s dick.” Richard blurts out.

“Of course.” Jared, hunched over him, smoothing a hand over Richard’s brow. “I won’t. Shall I tell you something else instead?”

Something in Richard’s brain lurches back into place. This is how this happened, he thinks. This - the way Jared moves and talks and something about the look in his eyes, like he’s only ever there to make whatever Richard is thinking come to life, that’s how this happened. That’s how Richard ended up needing to be all the way on the other side of a banquet hall watching Jared getting hit on by some silver-haired minx in a James Bond suit, to realize, like some kind of late-to-the-party-with-the-epiphanies jackass, that Jared has fucking needs.


“Okay. “ Jared moves away from Richard, and starts to pull the comforter up.

“Don’t, fucking, tell me anything, Jared, just.”

“Just what, Richard?”

“Just use me to get off, okay? Just - do stuff to me. Or show me stuff I can do to you. Whatever you need to come as hard as I just did. Okay?”

Jared gasps, and then, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t more for… a while. He doesn’t move for so long, Richard starts to wonder if he’s supposed to say anything more.

But then, Jared shifts a bit and, never taking his eyes off Richard, he moves to push his pants all the way off his legs. He pushes them down, and then off, and then he lets them fall onto the floor. With his eyes still on Richard, he takes his cock in his hand. He squeezes the base.

“Richard, lie down.”


In the morning, he opens his eyes to see Jared, showered and fully dressed, standing over him with a steaming cup of coffee. “Ungh?”

“I’m about to go back to my own room, Richard,” he says, holding out the coffee. “But I wanted to say, I understand if you need for this to have never happened.”

The bed he’s sitting on is unfamiliar, the mattress is unfamiliar, and the sheets are unfamiliar, and a voice in his head is saying ‘that guy’s dick was in your mouth. It was in your mouth. You sucked his dick.’ Richard sits all the way up, takes the coffee and says -

“Uh. I. You know, maybe, I don’t know.”