Page 3 of Conflict Mediation
“Do you disagree,” James pushed, “that our firstchallengesstarted the day we met? I feel like you’ve had an issue with me since the beginning.”
Leon rolled his eyes and James noticed for the first time that there were hints of mahogany and umber amidst the muddybrown of his irises. Perhaps they weren’t so muddy after all. More like freshly turned earth at the peak of summer.
The ticking clock seemed to count James’ breath as he waited for Leon’s answer and fought to school his meandering thoughts. Now really wasn’t the time to wax poetic about his archnemesis’ eyes.
“I didn’t have a problem with you from the start. I gave you a chance, same as I give everyone a chance, and you proved yourself untrustworthy. Just like everyone else.”
James recoiled like he’d been slapped.
“Trust is essential to any relationship,” Katherine said, but James couldn’t tear his gaze away from those stupid brown eyes to acknowledge her.
“What on earth could I have done to make you think I’m untrustworthy? I submit all my projects on time, always keep my word, and have a team that relies on me and trusts me?—”
“For fuck’s sake–” Leon paused and glanced sidelong at Katherine. She made a sort of “keep going” gesture with her hand and Leon cleared his throat. “I don’t care about your work or your team, James. It's your integrity that matters, and you clearly have none. You made that apparent right up front–which I guess I should actually thank you for. Better than wasting my time thinking you’re something you’re not.”
James scoffed and leaned as far away from Leon as he could. The absolute gaul of this guy, claiming James didn’t have integrity while Leon would often ignore their IT requests for days. Then when he did show up, it would be right at the end of the day, wearing his stupid ripped jeans and faded band shirts, forcing James and his team to stay late.
His team members didn’t seem to mind too much. In fact, some of the braver ones even tried to flirt and joke with Leon, but the higher-ups clearly disliked him. James’ boss had made countless comments about Leon’s hair, his tattoos, andhis numerous piercings. On anyone else, James wouldn’t have minded all that. Hell, he probably would have found it sort of hot, but on Leon “The Asshole” Rabinowicz, he hated it. Why couldn’t he just dress for the job he wanted, not the job he had? That’s what James always did. His colleagues and even his boss wore polos and khakis, but James showed up every day in a suit and tie.
“You’re one to talk,” James said, pushing his knee against Leon’s to try and get a little more space between them. This only succeeded in jostling James, as Leon barely moved an inch. “You want to talk about lacking integrity? What about how you’re always late, can’t be counted on to deliver what you promise?—”
“I have never failed to follow through,” Leon snapped.
“And I have?” James said, his voice rising an octave as he once again tried to scoot away from Leon. He felt like he was in a nightmare, trying to move through water to escape.
All he managed to do with his shifting around was tip sideways. He was forced to throw out a hand to balance himself. Unfortunately, the only thing he could grab onto was the edge of Leon’s leather jacket. Leon immediately tried to pull back which threw James even more off balance, until he had no choice but to steady himself with a hand on Leon’s calf where it was resting across his knee. His jeans were worn to an almost buttery texture, and his calves were as defined if not more so than his thighs. Damn him and his stupidly impressive physique.
“Before you answer him, Leon,” Katherine interrupted. “I think you should both take a moment to assess. James, you’re feeling heightened emotions, and yet, you’re clearly reaching out for Leon, even if only subconsciously. Leon, I want you to take a moment to inventory how you’re feeling and if you’re willing to meet James halfway.”
Both James and Leon shot incredulous looks at her. She just smiled back at them, in what was probably meant to be a compelling way, until they turned to look back at each other.
James was still clutching onto Leon’s jacket. He was half expecting Leon to rip his arm away, but instead he lowered his arm down between them, until James was back in a more balanced position.
“Very good! Many clients I see hold hands to help regulate their emotions, even when things get tense.”
James couldn’t help but roll his eyes this time, and when he met Leon’s gaze, he noticed a flash of something that looked almost like mirth. Were they really going to hold hands? To… conflict mediate?
“It doesn’t work for everyone, but those who are really committed to the process often find the best results through shared connection points,” Katherine added unhelpfully.
James wondered if it was too late to check the woman’s credentials. Was this really standard conflict mediation practice for coworkers? Sadly, he figured it was probably a bit too late for that. Leave it to Kevin to get them some new age mediator who probably wanted them to align their chakras or something. At least she’d opened the session by offering her pronouns. That was leaps and bounds better than some other spaces James had been forced to inhabit.
As James and Leon continued to stare at each other, Leon’s lip twitched into a slight smirk, and James felt the exact moment the gauntlet was thrown. Leon’s calf muscle tensed, and he twisted his arm, grasping for James’ hand like maybe if he could grab him first, he would somehow win the challenge.
Not to be outdone, James leaned across Leon’s chest to snatch his other hand. They grappled for a moment, each trying to grip the other like they were in a dance, fighting to establish who would lead and who would follow. Finally their fingersslotted into place and, surprisingly in sync, they brought their joined hands to rest between them.
A rare moment of peace settled over them, and James was surprised by the warmth and steadiness of Leon’s grip. He had noticeable calluses on his palms and the insides of some of his fingers.
Right before his mom got sick, James used to go rock climbing at the local gym. He’d never been very good at it, but his belay partner, and a fair bit more than just climbing partner, Eli had callouses like these. James had loved the way they felt on the skin of his back when Eli would help him out of his shirt after a climbing session. If he thought really hard about it, he could almost still feel the way they would scratch along his arms and press against the soft skin of his inner thighs.
Of course, the last time he’d felt those calluses had been Eli wiping away a tear on James’ cheek the day Eli ended things between them. They’d managed to make it through his mother’s diagnosis and every one of his father’s transphobic rants at the dinner table. In the end, though, Eli had refused to stand by and watch James abandon his dreams to become his mother’s caregiver.
James had never admitted out loud, but that was the moment he’d started to question if love really existed. Then his dad had left, leaving them dependent on James’ shitty salary, at his shitty job, and he’d given up on love entirely. He’d given up on a lot of things that winter, putting all of his attention into keeping his job and being there for his mom’s treatment.
James could feel his hands beginning to sweat, and when Leon shifted his grip, the calluses felt like sandpaper against his palm. James desperately wanted to let go.
If he were being honest with himself, he wanted to let go of this entire façade. The buttoned-up, well-manicured, had his shit-together, cis/het presenting guy with no social life, whosemost intimate contact in months was holding hands with his sworn enemy who apparently thought he had no integrity–one of the few things James actually thought he had left.
He’d never managed to find queer, or godforbid trans, community while living under his father’s thumb. He’d counted on finding more than enough in New York City, but that had fallen through, along with everything else, when he’d decided to stay in town almost a decade ago. His first job had been horrendous, and this new job was only slightly better. He barely had any friends to his name, and he was too scared to open up at work about his gender and sexuality, but he tried, hereally tried, to be a diligent employee and a decent coworker. He thought he’d been successful, seeing as how he’d been promoted after only two years on the job, but apparently he’d failed at that too.
