Participants:
| Scene Title | Actual Grown Ups |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Or are they? Faking their way as best they can involves teasing each other about strip poker, apparently. |
| Date | March 10, 2011 |
His intention had been to go home, but then Graeme realised that he was hungry. And stopping for dinner wouldn't make him all too much later back, and so Graeme found himself occupying the corner booth at the Nite Owl, with what remains of one half of a sandwich in front of him, some fries, a milkshake, and to one side on the table, his tablet, propped up slightly and opened to the pages of a Piers Anthony book that makes the man smile. The top several buttons of the light blue oxford shirt are unbuttoned, his sweater off to the side. It's just approaching what tends to be the dinner hour, and so Graeme has had relative quiet in which to enjoy his food, occasionally glancing up towards the door to watch people come and go.
And there's a Felix. For once, he doesn't have that absurd Russian fur hat on. Instead, it's a gray fedora. Keeps his head warm, nonetheless, and goes with the plain gray overcoat he wears. He's got that abstracted expression on, but it changes to a very warm smile when he sights Graeme. He heads for the younger man, as if sure of his welcome.
And welcome it is. Books are good company, but people are better company, and friends are better company yet. Graeme looks back down to the tablet, with a tap to mark his place for when he next goes back to reading it, and then there's a sheepish smile on his face as he straightens the plates that he has slightly taken over the table with so that they're properly in front of him, and gestures for Felix to sit. "Hey there." Graeme sounds glad for the company, and glad to see the other man.
He hangs up hat and coat, as if intending to stay for a while. "Hello there," he says, the smile lines around his eyes deepening. "Not disturbing you, am I?" A bit belated, that. But polite, nonetheless.
Graeme shakes his head, getting up momentarily to greet Felix with a hug, and then there's a gesture that Fel should sit down. "Not at all." Graeme sits back down as well, leaning forward onto the table. "How're you?"
"I'm beautiful," he says, calmly, gazing at Graeme with something akin to possessive pleasure. "You?" ANd he looks it, for once. Healthy and relaxed, with some color to his face, despite the end of winter.
Oh dear, well, at least Graeme's sitting down, and once again, at least his roommate isn't present. There's slight blush though, and Graeme grins. "Yes, you are," he admits, picking up his milkshake and taking a sip of the cold chocolate drink as he ponders his own answer. "I'm doing alright, I think." The grin fades to a mild smile. "Better than I was."
"Your sister?" he says, laying the question gently on the table, as if it were something that might explode. "Any news on that front? If it isn't prying to ask." It might be.
There's a slight grimace, but it's not a topic that explodes, and even if it is prying, Graeme speaks anyway, though slowly. "Asked me to give her space." He pauses. "Says she won't go to them about anything, and. Cardinal wants to believe her. I want to believe her. But hell …" It worries him and such, clearly, but is as much out of his hands as anything can be. "But there's only so much I can do. I've been getting a little more sleep, at least. It helps."
Felix agrees, with real fervor, "Boy, does it ever. What else have you been up to?" Totally prepared to barge in on Graeme's space.
Another sip from the milkshake before it is put down. "Not too much," he admits. "Teaching a bit, a day or two a week. Middle schoolers. Today was eighth graders. Made me wonder if I was like that in eighth grade. They're terrors to substitutes." Graeme grins. "Working at what's left of the relief efforts by the dome… Remi playing matchmaker." All of these things usual. "Aric. He's a friend of Liz's, and well." There's a half a chuckle.
"Well?" Fel prompts, patiently. It's a name he knows, but he doesn't admit that. Not when it has Graeme talking.
Graeme smiles a bit. "He's nice," Graeme says. "He's going to be cooking dinner, with Liz and Remi both there, I think tomorrow or Saturday, or some time. When schedules allow. I like him." Another sheepish grin. "And it's nice," Graeme is being very erudite at the moment, really, and he then he shrugs, picking up the glass with the milkshake again.
It makes Felix smile, almost tenderly. Good. Graeme isn't dangling after him. "Good," he says, aloud. "Good. I'm glad to hear it." There's that wistfulness in his face, though. Missing someone absent.
"And he asked me to dinner after that at some point too," Graeme adds, picking up the part of a sandwich that's left, and sliding a menu over towards Felix from where it'd been at the edge of the table near the window. "So what've you been doing?" Turn the tables time.
"Just work," Fel says, amused. "Just work, really. I……should get out more, honestly," he notes, with a rueful twist to his lips.
There's a smile on Graeme's face, and he speaks in between bites of sandwich, which looks like it had been, when Graeme started eating, a hot sandwich. "Perhaps." He pauses. "It's a good thing to do." Graeme's been doing the 'keep too busy to think' thing, which isn't the same, but, it's close enough. "All work and no play…" there's a teasing tone to his voice.
Felix rolls his eyes. "That would be me," he concedes, in a plodding, rather Eeyorish voice.
Graeme laughs, softly. "So, you said it yourself. You should get out more." There's a half a grin. "I owe Liz a poker game at some point, because she thinks my poker face is bound to be terrible. You should come, when we figure out when that's going to happen." He tilts his head to one side, and for a moment, his face takes on a very poker-face-type expression. "I am capable of a poker face. But don't tell her. It'd ruin the surprise when I manage to win a round or something. Though I'm terrible at poker." And then just as fast, Graeme's laughing again. At the moment, he can't keep a straight face for very long.
Felix notes, wryly, "Do you really want to play poker with someone trained by the FBI?"
"I'm terrible at poker to begin with," Graeme says. "So, you should come. I doubt I stand a chance anyway, but it'll be fun." He chuckles, quietly. "The only thing that I'm good at about the game is when I happen to get good cards."
"And then?" The Russian prompts, tone amiable. He's grinning a little. Perhaps looking forward to the idea of fleecing Graeme at cards.
There's a pause before Graeme answers. For the moment, he's paying more attention to the chocolate milkshake in front of him. "And then," Graeme admits, "I haven't really played poker more than one or two games at faculty night things, since I got out of college. So we'll have to see if I can still manage." He shrugs. "It'll be fun."
"We should make it strip poker," Felix opines, perfectly deadpan.
Graeme turns beet red, though he manages not to look away, blink, shut his eyes, or anything else. But clearly, there's a small amount of embarrassment, but perhaps a greater flush of pleasure. "Yes yes," He manages, voice … a little bit cracking. "Knowing that I am likely to lose a fair amount …" Finally, he picks up the milkshake again, almost hiding behind it.
Felix can't help himself. He grins like a fox. "It's nice to find someone who embarrasses as easily as I do."
"I've been told I blush as easily as I breathe," Graeme admits in between sips of his drink, and then pressing his hands, cold from having been wrapped around the glass, to his face. There's a pause and a bit of a grin. "I'd argue that with the knowledge I'm going to lose more, you want it to be strip poker." Not that Graeme can't understand the sentiment, but.
"What do you mean?" he says, tone decidedly arch.
For response, Graeme just raises an eyebrow, and the face that he makes is not quite leering. More teasing. And then he sets about to finishing his milkshake.
You can't outface a Russian when it comes to deliberate crudeness. Especially when it's precisely what he had in mind. "You'll lose, if we play," he reminds him, and he does openly leer.
For a reward to the Russian's words, Graeme simply turns a deeper shade of red, and grins. "We'll just have to play enough times that you lose some too."
"I don't lose," Fel says, with utter and complete assurance.
Graeme chuckles quietly again. The blushing doesn't quite cease, but it does fade some, and Graeme looks across the table at Felix. There's an amused smile on his face. "Maybe, maybe we'll play strip poker." He chuckles. "I can't say I'm not tempted."
It makes Felix grin. But now he also blushes. He can only take that barefaced flirtatiousness so far. "I was mostly joking. I don't imagine Liz going for it."
There's a satisfied look on Graeme's face now. "She'd laugh, I think," he says, quietly.
"She would," Fel agrees, grinning again.
Regardless of whether Liz would grin or not, Graeme, who is red all the way to the edges of his ears, isn't going to be the one to mention this particular thing to her. Instead, he just sits there, smiling slightly. The companionship, even in silence, is nice.
Felix's lips are in that lazy, pursed smile, not quite a smirk. Quite obviously contemplating the prospect of Graeme in his skivvies.
As Graeme sits, there's a small stretch of his arms going out above his head, muscle shifting beneath his shirt. "It's funny," he comments, back onto a slightly more serious topic, "I don't think I really know how to deal with being tired. Emotionally." Then he's frowning just a bit, though still blushing. "Hell, I'm going to be thirty-two soon. Somehow I used to think I'd have it figured out a bit better by now."
"I know. I keep waiting for my card in the mail that certifies I am an actual grownup," Fel notes wryly. "And I'm pushing forty."
"'s nice to know it's not just me," Graeme says, that grin creeping back onto his face. Apparently even serious topics can't keep him from contemplating what'd happen if the other man did happen to lose some at strip poker.
Felix spreads his hands. "Let me know if you get it. I haven't. I'm just faking my way along as best I can."
"Yeah." Graeme grins a bit. "I somehow doubt I'm going to be finding a magical 'adult' card any time soon. Just the part of it that means I forget my birthday, and subsequently wonder various things about why I had." There's a half a shrug that does that causing various formations of muscle to show through his shirt again. "I guess, I got caught up in moving, and then stuff, and then before I know it. Next week. I think." Yes, he has to think about when his own birthday is.
Graeme just grins and shakes his head ever so slightly. "On the other hand … this is enough time that Remi doesn't accuse me of hiding stuff from her, and a small enough window that I won't be subjected to anything outrageous." There's a pause, and the following question is softer, a bit. "If your schedule allows it though, would you come to whatever celebration she chooses to subject me to?"
Felix's smile is far more gentle, now. "Of course. I'd like that very much," he says, simply.
There's a grin on Graeme's face. "Thank you," he responds. He'll try and convince Remi to keep whatever it is quiet. And maybe a few days after his birthday.