'John'. Just 'John.' (
prodigalflame) wrote2015-08-05 06:47 pm
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[For Bobby] Welcome home.
Heathrow was a bitch. Okay, that was discriminatory. Heathrow was a fucking nightmare. "It would have been so much easier to just take the train," John muttered to himself as he drove around the short-stay car park. But while taking the rail link to and from town would have been convenient and cheap, it would have also meant exposing Bobby to a bunch of people in a train carriage. And for all that the trip had gone well (or so he'd been told) and the flight across the pond was not so long (or so he'd experienced), John just couldn't do that to his boyfriend.
After having to spend happy fake time with his family and probably lying through his teeth all the while (which John didn't question, even if he took some umbrage in the back of his head), John wanted him to have some privacy and the capacity to relax a little.
So he'd hired a car. He didn't have one in London; didn't need one. They were close enough into town to use the Tube, walk to the shops, and get to college. But that day he'd gritted his teeth, picked up a car from the lot and remembered to drive on the wrong side of the road.
About half an hour later he was inside the surging mass of humanity, found the gate Bobby's plane was arriving at, and then he stood there in chinos and a t-shirt because it was still warm in the London summer, tapping his toe anxiously with no lighter to flick.
Whereas some of the starched shirts in the crowd held up signs for the people they were picking up, John did as well - but his simply read 'my boyfriend'.
After having to spend happy fake time with his family and probably lying through his teeth all the while (which John didn't question, even if he took some umbrage in the back of his head), John wanted him to have some privacy and the capacity to relax a little.
So he'd hired a car. He didn't have one in London; didn't need one. They were close enough into town to use the Tube, walk to the shops, and get to college. But that day he'd gritted his teeth, picked up a car from the lot and remembered to drive on the wrong side of the road.
About half an hour later he was inside the surging mass of humanity, found the gate Bobby's plane was arriving at, and then he stood there in chinos and a t-shirt because it was still warm in the London summer, tapping his toe anxiously with no lighter to flick.
Whereas some of the starched shirts in the crowd held up signs for the people they were picking up, John did as well - but his simply read 'my boyfriend'.
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"...Well," John thought, rousing himself from some of his pity party, "maybe after your folks leave, mine can move in for a week. Share the trauma," he suggested, and reached across to place his hand on top of Bobby's, thumb rubbing across his knuckles, a simple affirmation that they were in this together.
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John's next words drew a low groan from him, though. "I'm not sure our sanity would survive doubling up like that," he commented wryly. "Anyway, no one mentioned a visit while I was there, so hopefully they won't think of it anytime soon."
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Still, he did acknowledge Bobby's quiet assurance, and squeezed his hand. "Have I mentioned already how glad I am to have you back?"
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He smiled and rubbed his thumb along the side of John's hand before pulling it back again so he could finish eating. "Not as glad as I am to be back?" he replied with a grin between bites. "This is really good, by the way." Beat the hell out of airport food, that was for sure.
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He shook his head a little at the compliment, and then reached for a handful of fries to dump them on his plate: "If you ever meet my mom, you can thank her for teaching me how to cook." Which was the kicker, wasn't it? His eyes glinted with amusement. He probably was more like his mom than he'd ever want to admit.
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"I can do that." It would be something to say to her, anyway. He was extremely nervous at the thought of meeting John's mom, but it would probably happen someday, if they stayed together. It was kind of inevitable.
He drained his beer and reached for another one as he popped a fry in his mouth. "So what do you want to do after dinner? I want to try to stay up a little longer before I crash, if I can."
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"She'd probably love you though, so I wouldn't have to be too mean to her." Because being mean was practically part of the big brother code, along with random humiliation and punching people who cat-called your sister. The Allerdyces' love was a rough form of love, that was for sure. "And thanks. I know I probably make Mom sound a bit scary." He didn't add anything about how he'd found Magneto easy to deal with after his mom. Because she totally was more than a bit scary.
"We could watch a movie. Snuggle. I think you're too gone for wild sex," John murmured, in a deadpan, affectionately grouchy tone.
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"Yeah, I'm...definitely nervous to meet her, but I think that's pretty normal, right? I mean, most people are nervous about meeting their boyfriend or girlfriend's parents." he shrugged a little.
He chuckled at John's words and nodded. "Sadly, I think you're right. Much as I want to, mind. But after I sleep for about a million years--well, just don't plan to get out of bed tomorrow. Clear your calendar."
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"And Dad will probably teach you more stupid jokes, not that you need any." He reached over and took the last fry with a grin.
"You pick a movie, I'll clear up." Because sometimes Bobby did need a little push, after all.
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"I always need more stupid jokes," he protested, getting to his feet.
"Are you sure? You cooked, I don't mind being on dish duty."
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Gathering up the dishes to forestall any further protest, John shot him a look across the dinner table, one that said I love you, so sit your ass on the couch. "Bobby," he pointed out, reasonable and not unkind, "you've had to deal with your family and all that entails. You've had to lie and smile and be nice and know each and every moment of it that you're changing your life for me and this and God knows what happens next. You should put your feet up."
He moved into the kitchen without a further word, glancing across the counter to eyeball Bobby a little more as he placed the dishes in the sink.
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"It wasn't that bad. It's not like I'm not used to it," Bobby murmured to himself, shrugging as he watched John head to the kitchen, then went to pick out a movie. He pondered a few options before picking Guys and Dolls. Sinatra, a fun storyline, and a show familiar enough that when he lost the inevitable fight to jet lag and fell asleep midway through it wouldn't be a big deal.
He loaded the disc and grabbed the remote, sprawling on the couch as he navigated the menus. "Want me to wait?" he called into the kitchen, the film paused on the opening frames.
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"No, it's fine. You just sit back and enjoy," John called back, and started getting things all soapy. The domestic rhythms of washing up gloves and doing the dishes were familiar to him, reassuring in their own way. Gave him something to focus on, something to do, and took him back to a simpler time.
When the dishes were done, the sink clean, the towel hung up and the gloves put away, John took a moment to appreciate he had a fucking good kitchen thanks, before exiting and closing the sliding door behind him. It cut the rest of the house off from the living area (not that he was thinking tactically - okay, so he was, but also it gave the back half of the house an air of privacy he appreciated, cocooned away from the rest of the world.) Moving past Bobby half way through one of the opening numbers, he gave his boyfriend an automatic pat on the leg, and settled in on his other side, able to keep up easily enough with the rhythm and storyline.
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He fought the urge to just close his eyes, comfortable and content as he was with John's warmth next to him. He loved Guys and Dolls, surely he could at least make it to the end of the movie.
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"Yeah, it is," was what he said, keeping an eye on Bobby, half expecting him to fall asleep on the couch. Not that he'd grumble if Bobby did.
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There was a light blanket in one of the cupboards in case of people crashing, and John used it now to drape across Bobby's sleeping form. Thumbing the film off, he put the remote down and then just took a moment to watch Bobby sleep, and knew - knew - that he could do this for a very long time. I could marry this guy, was what he thought, the idea bubbling up from somewhere, and he swallowed as it took hold. The reality of it was kind of shocking.
Although next time the lunkhead fell asleep on the couch, John would be sure to kick his ass all the way up the stairs. But tonight he was okay sleeping by himself for a change.
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He trudged up the stairs and undressed in their room, stripping to his boxers before he climbed into bed and scooted over to slip an arm around John.
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