![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Paris and Dave: Hanging on the Telephone
"Yeah Mom, I haven't forgotten."
It's still early, and Sunday, so I left Dave sleeping when I heard the phone ring, and slipped downstairs. I talk as I walk to the back door, and open it, letting Ise and Giz out into the yard.
"I'm flying up on Friday night, and staying with Steve so as not to spoil the surprise."
Wandering back to the kitchen, the phone nestles against my shoulder as I spoon coffee into the cafeteria and wait for the water to boil.
"Is Helen gonna be there?" I snort with laughter at her reply. "And I thought I was supposed to be the prodigal child!"
The hot water, just off the boil, soaks into the grounds, filling the place with such a strong scent you can almost taste the caffeine on the air.
"Yeah Mom, I'm still listening, just making coffee."
While Mom has a mini rant about Helen and me being so alike, I rummage through the fridge in search of … ah, two egg rolls left from last night's takeaway. Sunday breakfasts have become a tradition. One of our first traditions, I suppose. Dave is in charge of the cooking, and I watch him from the breakfast bar as he works, occasionally helping with the chopping of tomatoes and pouring of juice, but whichever house we end up at on Saturday night, he's in charge on Sunday mornings. Which is fine with me, as I've always loved long, slow, lazy Sundays. But since he's not up yet, and I'm feeling a little hungry, surely a couple of little egg rolls can't hurt?
"Mmmm hmmmm." I finish the first one off, totally agreeing that Steve is the only sensible and steady one in the family, even though I know he was pulled over for speeding in that new flashy Merc of his last week. Some things mothers never need to know about. And I'm just about to bite into the second egg roll when a finger pokes me in the ribs and I let out a gasp, turning to find myself looking into a pair of blue eyes that look strangely awake for this time of morning, and more than a little disapproving. The grin on my face is sheepish as you pluck the egg roll from my fingers and graze your lips over my bare shoulders making me shiver before dropping the offending roll into
the bin.
"No, Mom, I'm fine, just … stubbed my toe."
You turn and snicker at me, and I grin back as you push a coffee towards me, and start breakfast.
"Yeah, that's Dave, making breakfast … erm no, I haven't asked him, not yet."
You glance at me with your eyebrow raised, and I roll my eyes and wander through to the dining area.
"Yes, I know everyone will be there … which is maybe why it's a bad idea … no Mom, I know everyone loves me … I'm not ashamed of him!! He's gorgeous, you must have seen photos … look, Mom … yeah, you told me before, but I don't think Auntie Eileen's obsession with Faramir is a good way to … "
How is it that she can still make me squirm like a thirteen year old that isn't doing as he's told?
"I'll ask him, I promise … yes, right now … no, you will not "hang on", I'll phone you back."
Clicking off the phone, I wander back to find you slowly beating eggs, obviously having heard all of my side of the conversation from hell. I sit down at the bench, and pick up my coffee. We haven't even talked about family stuff so this feels a little awkward, almost like I'm asking you out on a first date or something.
"It's my Dad's birthday next weekend, and Steve has organised a surprise party for him. Do you want to go with me?"
Dave: I can barely suppress my snickering. I wish your mom would call more often, she brings out a side of you I've not seen before. I like it - sure, it's obvious she likes to put you on the spot, but this is your family. This is where you came from, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't been curious as hell to meet them.
"Course I want to go with you! I don't think Auntie Eileen would forgive you otherwise. Hmm. I could wear Faramir's cloak, the weather's getting cooler and it's good and warm. You think that would go over well?" You give me a wide-eyed look and I laugh and pull you close, laying a smack of a kiss on your forehead.
"I'll behave. I promise. I can't believe you told your mom I was gorgeous. Now I'm gonna have to comb my hair and find a shirt that doesn't make people twitch."
Paris: I'm a bit taken aback by your enthusiasm, but maybe that's because I'd built it up in my own mind into being such a big deal for you, or would that be ordeal? And you really seem to have no problem with it, which makes me relax a lot.
""Hmmmm, maybe I should pick out something for you to wear." You throw a tea towel at me and it's my turn to snicker. "But no Faramir cloak … no Faramir either!!" I suppose I'd better ring Karl and see if we can move the horseboys visit into the following week. Théo has more of a social life than me lately.
I slink up behind you and kiss your neck. "You sure you're okay with it?" Then my hand sneaks round your waist and grabs a bit of cheese off the bench before I beat a hasty retreat back to my seat. "Uncles and aunties and cousins … it can get a bit crazy. We would have these huge family games of Trivial Pursuits at Christmas, everybody goading and teasing everyone else, really rowdy and a lot of fun, and my Mom, the cultured, proper one of the family got banned from asking questions after she spent a whole game giving rival teams bogus ones …Auntie Eileen is her sister, and they're totally different. My Mom is tall and elegant, never a hair put of place, and Eileen is this sandal and cheesecloth wearing hippy type. Very laid back, and she always had a soft spot for me when I was a kid. Apparently Eileen and my Dad hung around with the same group of friends when they were younger, and that's how he met my Mom. Everyone thought Eileen was more his type, but she says once he laid eyes on my Mom, there was never gonna be anyone else for him …"
I realise I've been sitting here rambling on and can feel the colour rising in my cheeks as I give you an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I guess I miss them more than I admit sometimes."
Dave: I grin back at you, not missing that embarrassed blush. No reason for it, though. "Course you miss them. They're family, and from all I've heard you say, they're good people. I know Steve is, and that's a fact. I've been hoping for a while to get a chance to meet the rest of them."
The aroma wafting off the stove yanks me back to the task at hand, and I grab the pan and slide a hot mushroom omelette onto a plate and hand it to you, then grab the other pan and tilt out my own. Figured out a while ago that two pans mean no waiting. Just one of those little changes in habits you take on when there's more than one taking their meals at home. Good Christ, I'm in deep, aren't I?. Hearing you go on with your mum, this talk of family, two omelette laden dishes thunking down solidly on the table… I snicker when I think back on that meeting with my agent last Tuesday, she was pretty damned wide-eyed about yet another Hollywood lure. I told her then in no uncertain words that I'm not about to move to a smog-laden coast filled with egos and posturing, that I like my life here, and to please get on with staying in tune with the Australian film industry. That's not so far away, and my family's there. Which brings up the matter of certain introductions amongst my own sprawling family tree.
It's not as if I'm hiding Paris from the tribe, far from it. Maree's been the bluntest, as usual. Not long after Paris and I got back together, his name came up in a casual phone call. Not that any phone call with Maree's ever a casual one, I know damned well that what gets said to that sis gets said to the entire family within 24 hours. So, when she stopped me cold in mid sentence and asked me flat-out, 'So, this young Paris. You love him? Or is he just a nice bouncy toy to help you forget Craig?' I'd bit back words I'd really regret saying later, and reminded myself that as blunt as my sister can be, it comes from a caring heart. And she liked Craig, a lot. After I got control of my temper, I told her the truth. 'I love him, Maree. He's not Craig, and he doesn't need to be. You'll see when you meet him. There's no way I can't love Paris, and I even tried to screw it up once! He didn't let me get away with it.'
My omelette’s getting cold, and you're giving me a curious look. I smile, and reach for your hand. "Family's tricky sometimes, Paris. Yours sounds like good folk, though. Sure, they'll have their quirks, what family doesn't? Makes it all the more fun. I can't wait to meet Auntie Eileen!" I squeeze your hand, and go from playful to serious. "And I've been hoping for a chance to let them all know how serious I am about you, love."
Paris: My omelette is long gone by the time you snap out of your thoughts, and I've got a retort about meeting Auntie Eileen on my lips when your tone changes, and my smile softens as I squeeze your hand, letting you see the love in my eyes. And then something strikes me.
"Did you know it's been over a year since I rode into Wellie, thinking I'd stay a few days before moving north. Never guessed then where this year would take me, who I would meet …" And it's been a rollercoaster, but everything that's happened got me to where I am right now, sitting here having breakfast with the guy I love, and that makes it all worth it. I squeeze your hand again, and lean closer, a teasing note in my voice. "So you're serious about me, huh? Maybe you'll survive the Wellington Inquisition next week then. And please, just ignore my Mother if she asks what your prospects are."
A little closer and I spear a piece of your forgotten omelette on my fork, a piece minus the ham, munching on it as I think about what you said. We love each other, and that's all I need to know. I can't imagine life without you anymore; you've become part of me since we got back together. I used to live in a world without a future, where I lived day to day, and could never let myself make plans. It wasn't that long ago that all my stuff would still have fitted in my backpack, and I could have walked out of the door and left nothing I treasured behind me … but that's not the case anymore. The roots I've started to put down have begun to dig deeper, and they're strong, and it's a good feeling, being anchored to a place … to a person. I steal a kiss before pouring you another coffee.
Dave: Over a year. Has it been that long? In some ways I feel I've barely begun to know you, but as I glance over at you right now, I swear I can read your mind through your eyes. And I like what I see. "I've got no intention of ignoring your mum, love. I haven't even met her but I already know we've got the same priorities. The best life possible for someone we both love very much."
My words are confident, but I have to admit to a little nervousness. I'm sure it's a common feeling. I want your family to like me. Even more... I want them to accept me. I know that takes time, and one get-together isn't likely to clinch the deal in their minds. I've had a year and a day to realize what we have. There's so much about our lives together that we can't share with them - the shifting's seen to that. But that's not all of who we are, and there's a lot we can share. I'm a decent sort, I think.... and then I gulp, hard. I do have a bit of history with your family, though I've pushed it off to the side for so long. Hopefully Steve will let bygones be bygones, too. I'm probably being overly sensitive, but if your family is the type to put a guy like me under a microscope... stop it, Dave. You're giving me a curious look now, and I reach to tuck a long strand of hair behind your ear, and smile. "Occurs to me that you've not asked me what my prospects are either." My eyes crinkle as I stifle a grin and reach for my coffee. "So, should we head out Friday night? Or earlier? Can we go on your bike? I'd like that."
Paris: I can feel your nervousness, and smile. They're all gonna love you, how could they not? Including my Mom, once she gets past the "are you good for my son?" bit. And with that in mind, I think there's something you need to know. "Steve was the only one who knew about us the first time round, you know. The rest of the family thought I was working for you, and that we got together later." I don't want you to think that I was ashamed of our relationship, that wasn't it. "It was a weird time for me, getting back in touch with them and sort of settling in Wellie, and I didn't want to swamp them with everything, but I told them all about us last time I was back. And I really want you to meet Steve again on better terms."
Your offer to take the bike makes me grin. "You'd ride all the way to Auckland on Leelu?" I grin at you. You know I hate driving in cars for long distances and I can see you mean what you say, but there's a practical reason for not being able to do that this time. "I'd love to babe, but we've gotta fly. I've been working on a present for my Dad, and I don't think you'd be able to carry it all the way there on the back of the bike." I take you by the hand and tug you over to the doors to the yard, and then across to my workshop.
Standing by the bench is a four foot tall carving of a horse rearing up. It's carved out of one solid piece, curved as if it's twisting round and its raw and untamed.
"Théo sketched it out for me. He's got a similar piece in his chambers back in Edoras, and my Dad used to ride a lot when he was a kid. Thought he might like it."
Dave: My brother Peter would laugh, he always said I had a lousy poker face. And of course you saw that nervousness about my past history with Steve. "Steve's a good man, and I'd like a fresh start with him." I let you lead me out, a little disappointed that we aren't taking the bike, but curious about why.
That disappointment falls away when we enter the workshop. "Christ, that's..... " I walk forward almost reverently, and reach to touch the curve of the horse's neck. "....this is beautiful! Paris, I had no idea." You've walked up next to me, beaming, looking every inch the nervous but proud artist. I turn to face you, grinning wide enough to almost hurt myself. "Your dad is going to love it. I'm... so damned proud of you right now."
And I'm amazed, too. "I didn't know Théo could draw. Damned horseboy is full of surprises, isn't he?"
Paris: A wide smile breaks out on my face at your praise, and my fingers tangle with yours. "Thanks." And I'm blushing for the second time this morning. I love the look on your face, and have to admit to being nervous about showing this to anyone. Which is weird, as it's really just an extension of the carving I do for the stable projects. I know it's the idea of having shades of Edoras around their stables that got me the latest job, and wonder how they would react if they knew the Prince of Rohan had provided the original sketches.
"Yeah, he's full of surprises alright." I spread all the sketches he's done on the bench for you to look at, all with a distinctive T in the corner, and slip my arms around your waist from behind as to go through them.
"So I was thinking of flying out on Friday morning, staying with Steve for the night, and then we're all driving up to the hotel on the coast on Saturday morning, and my Mom is bringing my Dad up that evening. He thinks it's just the two of them having dinner there. Then I was gonna hang around Sunday, and fly back on Monday. You okay with that?" Your fingers play on my arm, and I kiss your shoulder, and suddenly remember who else is invited. "Jason will be there, babe, he's a good friend of Steve's, and knows my parents." I don't think for one moment there'd be a problem, but wouldn't want you meeting him unexpectedly.
Dave: I run my fingers over the intricate 'T' in the corner of the sketch I'm studying, thinking that learning to get along with your shift was the easy part. "Wow. Give me a minute here, Paris. I want to go. And I'm going to go, meeting your family is important to me. I like the idea of staying at Steve's too, he's a good guy and I think we both need to hit a re-set on our friendship. It's just… wow."
I let the sketch slip from my hands and turn in your embrace to face you, trying not to look too nervous, but I am. "If Jason's still welcome at your family gatherings, and good friends with Steve… how do I compete with that? He's already been accepted. What if they don't like me? What if they'd rather you were there with him?"
Suddenly I remember what being sixteen years old again feels like.
Paris: Pulling you closer, your arms slip round my neck, and I rest my forehead on yours. "You don't compete, because you don't have to. He's a family friend, and yeah, they did like the two of us together, once they got over the initial shock he was a guy." I grin at you. "He's been with his current partner for four years now … who's also called Dave, by the way. He's not my ex any more, he's just Jason.”
I rub my face down yours and kiss your neck before telling you a little of our phone call at New Year. "I guess I needed to know he was really okay, and he was the same. We've both moved on, and I'm glad he's happy." I trail kisses over your shoulder. "And I'm
very happy …" and back up your neck. "And my family are gonna love you …" and around your jaw. "Although maybe not quite in the way I do." I kiss you, slipping my tongue lazily over your lips.
Dave: Before I realize it, I'm smiling, relaxing against you, nuzzling you back. "Thank you. I needed to know all that, love." I take a deep breath, and lean back, giving you a more resolved look. "Four years? I guess that's all right, then. And everyone needs a Dave in their life." I give you a smile, I swear those old insecurities are hard to hang onto when they're backed down by a face as full of love as yours. "So. We should pack. Oh, Christ. I need better shirts! I have to shop. I have no sense of taste in clothes. I love you. I'm fine. I'm not panicking. I need an Inquisition shirt, though." Well, maybe the insecurities are still gasping for breath.
Paris: My smile widens as you ramble, and I kiss you again, which stops the flow of words, momentarily at least. "I love you too, and why don't we wander into town, see what's open and I'll choose some shirts for you?" And I make a mental note to hide that black and white one you seem so fond of.
Pulling you back out into the yard, and closing the door, I grab your hand and pull you back towards the house. "C'mon, lets get some clothes on and see if we can find you some that people can look at without the aid of sunglasses.”
It's still early, and Sunday, so I left Dave sleeping when I heard the phone ring, and slipped downstairs. I talk as I walk to the back door, and open it, letting Ise and Giz out into the yard.
"I'm flying up on Friday night, and staying with Steve so as not to spoil the surprise."
Wandering back to the kitchen, the phone nestles against my shoulder as I spoon coffee into the cafeteria and wait for the water to boil.
"Is Helen gonna be there?" I snort with laughter at her reply. "And I thought I was supposed to be the prodigal child!"
The hot water, just off the boil, soaks into the grounds, filling the place with such a strong scent you can almost taste the caffeine on the air.
"Yeah Mom, I'm still listening, just making coffee."
While Mom has a mini rant about Helen and me being so alike, I rummage through the fridge in search of … ah, two egg rolls left from last night's takeaway. Sunday breakfasts have become a tradition. One of our first traditions, I suppose. Dave is in charge of the cooking, and I watch him from the breakfast bar as he works, occasionally helping with the chopping of tomatoes and pouring of juice, but whichever house we end up at on Saturday night, he's in charge on Sunday mornings. Which is fine with me, as I've always loved long, slow, lazy Sundays. But since he's not up yet, and I'm feeling a little hungry, surely a couple of little egg rolls can't hurt?
"Mmmm hmmmm." I finish the first one off, totally agreeing that Steve is the only sensible and steady one in the family, even though I know he was pulled over for speeding in that new flashy Merc of his last week. Some things mothers never need to know about. And I'm just about to bite into the second egg roll when a finger pokes me in the ribs and I let out a gasp, turning to find myself looking into a pair of blue eyes that look strangely awake for this time of morning, and more than a little disapproving. The grin on my face is sheepish as you pluck the egg roll from my fingers and graze your lips over my bare shoulders making me shiver before dropping the offending roll into
the bin.
"No, Mom, I'm fine, just … stubbed my toe."
You turn and snicker at me, and I grin back as you push a coffee towards me, and start breakfast.
"Yeah, that's Dave, making breakfast … erm no, I haven't asked him, not yet."
You glance at me with your eyebrow raised, and I roll my eyes and wander through to the dining area.
"Yes, I know everyone will be there … which is maybe why it's a bad idea … no Mom, I know everyone loves me … I'm not ashamed of him!! He's gorgeous, you must have seen photos … look, Mom … yeah, you told me before, but I don't think Auntie Eileen's obsession with Faramir is a good way to … "
How is it that she can still make me squirm like a thirteen year old that isn't doing as he's told?
"I'll ask him, I promise … yes, right now … no, you will not "hang on", I'll phone you back."
Clicking off the phone, I wander back to find you slowly beating eggs, obviously having heard all of my side of the conversation from hell. I sit down at the bench, and pick up my coffee. We haven't even talked about family stuff so this feels a little awkward, almost like I'm asking you out on a first date or something.
"It's my Dad's birthday next weekend, and Steve has organised a surprise party for him. Do you want to go with me?"
Dave: I can barely suppress my snickering. I wish your mom would call more often, she brings out a side of you I've not seen before. I like it - sure, it's obvious she likes to put you on the spot, but this is your family. This is where you came from, and I'd be lying if I said I haven't been curious as hell to meet them.
"Course I want to go with you! I don't think Auntie Eileen would forgive you otherwise. Hmm. I could wear Faramir's cloak, the weather's getting cooler and it's good and warm. You think that would go over well?" You give me a wide-eyed look and I laugh and pull you close, laying a smack of a kiss on your forehead.
"I'll behave. I promise. I can't believe you told your mom I was gorgeous. Now I'm gonna have to comb my hair and find a shirt that doesn't make people twitch."
Paris: I'm a bit taken aback by your enthusiasm, but maybe that's because I'd built it up in my own mind into being such a big deal for you, or would that be ordeal? And you really seem to have no problem with it, which makes me relax a lot.
""Hmmmm, maybe I should pick out something for you to wear." You throw a tea towel at me and it's my turn to snicker. "But no Faramir cloak … no Faramir either!!" I suppose I'd better ring Karl and see if we can move the horseboys visit into the following week. Théo has more of a social life than me lately.
I slink up behind you and kiss your neck. "You sure you're okay with it?" Then my hand sneaks round your waist and grabs a bit of cheese off the bench before I beat a hasty retreat back to my seat. "Uncles and aunties and cousins … it can get a bit crazy. We would have these huge family games of Trivial Pursuits at Christmas, everybody goading and teasing everyone else, really rowdy and a lot of fun, and my Mom, the cultured, proper one of the family got banned from asking questions after she spent a whole game giving rival teams bogus ones …Auntie Eileen is her sister, and they're totally different. My Mom is tall and elegant, never a hair put of place, and Eileen is this sandal and cheesecloth wearing hippy type. Very laid back, and she always had a soft spot for me when I was a kid. Apparently Eileen and my Dad hung around with the same group of friends when they were younger, and that's how he met my Mom. Everyone thought Eileen was more his type, but she says once he laid eyes on my Mom, there was never gonna be anyone else for him …"
I realise I've been sitting here rambling on and can feel the colour rising in my cheeks as I give you an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I guess I miss them more than I admit sometimes."
Dave: I grin back at you, not missing that embarrassed blush. No reason for it, though. "Course you miss them. They're family, and from all I've heard you say, they're good people. I know Steve is, and that's a fact. I've been hoping for a while to get a chance to meet the rest of them."
The aroma wafting off the stove yanks me back to the task at hand, and I grab the pan and slide a hot mushroom omelette onto a plate and hand it to you, then grab the other pan and tilt out my own. Figured out a while ago that two pans mean no waiting. Just one of those little changes in habits you take on when there's more than one taking their meals at home. Good Christ, I'm in deep, aren't I?. Hearing you go on with your mum, this talk of family, two omelette laden dishes thunking down solidly on the table… I snicker when I think back on that meeting with my agent last Tuesday, she was pretty damned wide-eyed about yet another Hollywood lure. I told her then in no uncertain words that I'm not about to move to a smog-laden coast filled with egos and posturing, that I like my life here, and to please get on with staying in tune with the Australian film industry. That's not so far away, and my family's there. Which brings up the matter of certain introductions amongst my own sprawling family tree.
It's not as if I'm hiding Paris from the tribe, far from it. Maree's been the bluntest, as usual. Not long after Paris and I got back together, his name came up in a casual phone call. Not that any phone call with Maree's ever a casual one, I know damned well that what gets said to that sis gets said to the entire family within 24 hours. So, when she stopped me cold in mid sentence and asked me flat-out, 'So, this young Paris. You love him? Or is he just a nice bouncy toy to help you forget Craig?' I'd bit back words I'd really regret saying later, and reminded myself that as blunt as my sister can be, it comes from a caring heart. And she liked Craig, a lot. After I got control of my temper, I told her the truth. 'I love him, Maree. He's not Craig, and he doesn't need to be. You'll see when you meet him. There's no way I can't love Paris, and I even tried to screw it up once! He didn't let me get away with it.'
My omelette’s getting cold, and you're giving me a curious look. I smile, and reach for your hand. "Family's tricky sometimes, Paris. Yours sounds like good folk, though. Sure, they'll have their quirks, what family doesn't? Makes it all the more fun. I can't wait to meet Auntie Eileen!" I squeeze your hand, and go from playful to serious. "And I've been hoping for a chance to let them all know how serious I am about you, love."
Paris: My omelette is long gone by the time you snap out of your thoughts, and I've got a retort about meeting Auntie Eileen on my lips when your tone changes, and my smile softens as I squeeze your hand, letting you see the love in my eyes. And then something strikes me.
"Did you know it's been over a year since I rode into Wellie, thinking I'd stay a few days before moving north. Never guessed then where this year would take me, who I would meet …" And it's been a rollercoaster, but everything that's happened got me to where I am right now, sitting here having breakfast with the guy I love, and that makes it all worth it. I squeeze your hand again, and lean closer, a teasing note in my voice. "So you're serious about me, huh? Maybe you'll survive the Wellington Inquisition next week then. And please, just ignore my Mother if she asks what your prospects are."
A little closer and I spear a piece of your forgotten omelette on my fork, a piece minus the ham, munching on it as I think about what you said. We love each other, and that's all I need to know. I can't imagine life without you anymore; you've become part of me since we got back together. I used to live in a world without a future, where I lived day to day, and could never let myself make plans. It wasn't that long ago that all my stuff would still have fitted in my backpack, and I could have walked out of the door and left nothing I treasured behind me … but that's not the case anymore. The roots I've started to put down have begun to dig deeper, and they're strong, and it's a good feeling, being anchored to a place … to a person. I steal a kiss before pouring you another coffee.
Dave: Over a year. Has it been that long? In some ways I feel I've barely begun to know you, but as I glance over at you right now, I swear I can read your mind through your eyes. And I like what I see. "I've got no intention of ignoring your mum, love. I haven't even met her but I already know we've got the same priorities. The best life possible for someone we both love very much."
My words are confident, but I have to admit to a little nervousness. I'm sure it's a common feeling. I want your family to like me. Even more... I want them to accept me. I know that takes time, and one get-together isn't likely to clinch the deal in their minds. I've had a year and a day to realize what we have. There's so much about our lives together that we can't share with them - the shifting's seen to that. But that's not all of who we are, and there's a lot we can share. I'm a decent sort, I think.... and then I gulp, hard. I do have a bit of history with your family, though I've pushed it off to the side for so long. Hopefully Steve will let bygones be bygones, too. I'm probably being overly sensitive, but if your family is the type to put a guy like me under a microscope... stop it, Dave. You're giving me a curious look now, and I reach to tuck a long strand of hair behind your ear, and smile. "Occurs to me that you've not asked me what my prospects are either." My eyes crinkle as I stifle a grin and reach for my coffee. "So, should we head out Friday night? Or earlier? Can we go on your bike? I'd like that."
Paris: I can feel your nervousness, and smile. They're all gonna love you, how could they not? Including my Mom, once she gets past the "are you good for my son?" bit. And with that in mind, I think there's something you need to know. "Steve was the only one who knew about us the first time round, you know. The rest of the family thought I was working for you, and that we got together later." I don't want you to think that I was ashamed of our relationship, that wasn't it. "It was a weird time for me, getting back in touch with them and sort of settling in Wellie, and I didn't want to swamp them with everything, but I told them all about us last time I was back. And I really want you to meet Steve again on better terms."
Your offer to take the bike makes me grin. "You'd ride all the way to Auckland on Leelu?" I grin at you. You know I hate driving in cars for long distances and I can see you mean what you say, but there's a practical reason for not being able to do that this time. "I'd love to babe, but we've gotta fly. I've been working on a present for my Dad, and I don't think you'd be able to carry it all the way there on the back of the bike." I take you by the hand and tug you over to the doors to the yard, and then across to my workshop.
Standing by the bench is a four foot tall carving of a horse rearing up. It's carved out of one solid piece, curved as if it's twisting round and its raw and untamed.
"Théo sketched it out for me. He's got a similar piece in his chambers back in Edoras, and my Dad used to ride a lot when he was a kid. Thought he might like it."
Dave: My brother Peter would laugh, he always said I had a lousy poker face. And of course you saw that nervousness about my past history with Steve. "Steve's a good man, and I'd like a fresh start with him." I let you lead me out, a little disappointed that we aren't taking the bike, but curious about why.
That disappointment falls away when we enter the workshop. "Christ, that's..... " I walk forward almost reverently, and reach to touch the curve of the horse's neck. "....this is beautiful! Paris, I had no idea." You've walked up next to me, beaming, looking every inch the nervous but proud artist. I turn to face you, grinning wide enough to almost hurt myself. "Your dad is going to love it. I'm... so damned proud of you right now."
And I'm amazed, too. "I didn't know Théo could draw. Damned horseboy is full of surprises, isn't he?"
Paris: A wide smile breaks out on my face at your praise, and my fingers tangle with yours. "Thanks." And I'm blushing for the second time this morning. I love the look on your face, and have to admit to being nervous about showing this to anyone. Which is weird, as it's really just an extension of the carving I do for the stable projects. I know it's the idea of having shades of Edoras around their stables that got me the latest job, and wonder how they would react if they knew the Prince of Rohan had provided the original sketches.
"Yeah, he's full of surprises alright." I spread all the sketches he's done on the bench for you to look at, all with a distinctive T in the corner, and slip my arms around your waist from behind as to go through them.
"So I was thinking of flying out on Friday morning, staying with Steve for the night, and then we're all driving up to the hotel on the coast on Saturday morning, and my Mom is bringing my Dad up that evening. He thinks it's just the two of them having dinner there. Then I was gonna hang around Sunday, and fly back on Monday. You okay with that?" Your fingers play on my arm, and I kiss your shoulder, and suddenly remember who else is invited. "Jason will be there, babe, he's a good friend of Steve's, and knows my parents." I don't think for one moment there'd be a problem, but wouldn't want you meeting him unexpectedly.
Dave: I run my fingers over the intricate 'T' in the corner of the sketch I'm studying, thinking that learning to get along with your shift was the easy part. "Wow. Give me a minute here, Paris. I want to go. And I'm going to go, meeting your family is important to me. I like the idea of staying at Steve's too, he's a good guy and I think we both need to hit a re-set on our friendship. It's just… wow."
I let the sketch slip from my hands and turn in your embrace to face you, trying not to look too nervous, but I am. "If Jason's still welcome at your family gatherings, and good friends with Steve… how do I compete with that? He's already been accepted. What if they don't like me? What if they'd rather you were there with him?"
Suddenly I remember what being sixteen years old again feels like.
Paris: Pulling you closer, your arms slip round my neck, and I rest my forehead on yours. "You don't compete, because you don't have to. He's a family friend, and yeah, they did like the two of us together, once they got over the initial shock he was a guy." I grin at you. "He's been with his current partner for four years now … who's also called Dave, by the way. He's not my ex any more, he's just Jason.”
I rub my face down yours and kiss your neck before telling you a little of our phone call at New Year. "I guess I needed to know he was really okay, and he was the same. We've both moved on, and I'm glad he's happy." I trail kisses over your shoulder. "And I'm
very happy …" and back up your neck. "And my family are gonna love you …" and around your jaw. "Although maybe not quite in the way I do." I kiss you, slipping my tongue lazily over your lips.
Dave: Before I realize it, I'm smiling, relaxing against you, nuzzling you back. "Thank you. I needed to know all that, love." I take a deep breath, and lean back, giving you a more resolved look. "Four years? I guess that's all right, then. And everyone needs a Dave in their life." I give you a smile, I swear those old insecurities are hard to hang onto when they're backed down by a face as full of love as yours. "So. We should pack. Oh, Christ. I need better shirts! I have to shop. I have no sense of taste in clothes. I love you. I'm fine. I'm not panicking. I need an Inquisition shirt, though." Well, maybe the insecurities are still gasping for breath.
Paris: My smile widens as you ramble, and I kiss you again, which stops the flow of words, momentarily at least. "I love you too, and why don't we wander into town, see what's open and I'll choose some shirts for you?" And I make a mental note to hide that black and white one you seem so fond of.
Pulling you back out into the yard, and closing the door, I grab your hand and pull you back towards the house. "C'mon, lets get some clothes on and see if we can find you some that people can look at without the aid of sunglasses.”