It's been a beautiful month. Alice has lived in private states of happiness heretofore unknown to him, an almost-perfection he thought unobtainable. (It's not perfect. He's not deluded enough to believe that this is the best he can give, or expect; he knows there are complications lying in wait, and there are skeletons in closets, and there are conversations that will one day be had.
But not today. Not this week. Maybe not for a while.)
It has also been a stressful month. The additional (pleasurable, mm, exciting, Christ) 'burden' of caring for Treavor is still work, in addition to the eighty-hour work week he was already clocking. In addition to the necessities of his own routine. ('Necessities.' Cleaning. His own meticulous fastidiousness.) Thankfully, he has some expertise at multitasking. Thankfully, some of the eighty hours was already earmarked for Treavor's indulgences.
Thankfully, it feels so good to indulge. (Washing that godawful shirt, important memory shirt, by hand, with the good detergent, and pressing it on low heat.) (Sliding a lunch in front of the other man every other day or so.) (Fussing over his appearance - combing his hair, no, you have to button that button right now, you can unbutton it after this meeting, I'll even unbutton it for you, making sure he never wears the same clothes twice or goes unwashed.)
It feels. So fucking good.
(Lately, he's been thinking, and thinking, and thinking, about the slow and gentle scrape of a straight razor along Treavor's jaw, and feeling like the stars might explode behind his eyes.) (Poff.)
Still. It's nice to have some time without responsibility, without work or worry or even the pleasant indulgence of caring for Treavor.
Just Alice, and Hope, and some plants on the balcony.
She has her own stash growing in a planter with the rest of the greenery he cultivates. Alice buys what he needs from a Reputable Source of Good Shit, of course. Just enough for an afternoon spent lazily in a hammock, enjoying the first truly warm day of spring, some blues playing tinny and light from his phone. Hope now loafed and purring in her own cat bed nearby - a hammock-like sling he thought was funny and still finds funny.
He doesn't do this often anymore. But he does know what he needs to get where he's going. How much will get him to that place of boneless contentment rather than giggling stupidity, or philosophical babbling, or worse, cravings.
He's almost there, thinking about blue sky and Treavor's perfect curving mouth when he hears someone talking.
Lifting his head, he looks around and then down at the cat as if to say, did you hear...? And then looks over his shoulder toward the balcony doors.
There's movement, lanky and wandering, and oh, he knows that body. (He'd like to know that body.) (Should he have that thought?) (Can Treavor he..ar that thought?) (Probably not on that side of the glass. It's okay.)
Alice reaches back with his empty hand and gently raps his knuckles on the doors. And smiles faintly.
Out here, you beautiful creature. Magnificent being. Starlight and chaos and harbor water and fish. ]
no subject
It's been a beautiful month. Alice has lived in private states of happiness heretofore unknown to him, an almost-perfection he thought unobtainable. (It's not perfect. He's not deluded enough to believe that this is the best he can give, or expect; he knows there are complications lying in wait, and there are skeletons in closets, and there are conversations that will one day be had.
But not today. Not this week. Maybe not for a while.)
It has also been a stressful month. The additional (pleasurable, mm, exciting, Christ) 'burden' of caring for Treavor is still work, in addition to the eighty-hour work week he was already clocking. In addition to the necessities of his own routine. ('Necessities.' Cleaning. His own meticulous fastidiousness.) Thankfully, he has some expertise at multitasking. Thankfully, some of the eighty hours was already earmarked for Treavor's indulgences.
Thankfully, it feels so good to indulge. (Washing that godawful shirt, important memory shirt, by hand, with the good detergent, and pressing it on low heat.) (Sliding a lunch in front of the other man every other day or so.) (Fussing over his appearance - combing his hair, no, you have to button that button right now, you can unbutton it after this meeting, I'll even unbutton it for you, making sure he never wears the same clothes twice or goes unwashed.)
It feels. So fucking good.
(Lately, he's been thinking, and thinking, and thinking, about the slow and gentle scrape of a straight razor along Treavor's jaw, and feeling like the stars might explode behind his eyes.) (Poff.)
Still. It's nice to have some time without responsibility, without work or worry or even the pleasant indulgence of caring for Treavor.
Just Alice, and Hope, and some plants on the balcony.
She has her own stash growing in a planter with the rest of the greenery he cultivates. Alice buys what he needs from a Reputable Source of Good Shit, of course. Just enough for an afternoon spent lazily in a hammock, enjoying the first truly warm day of spring, some blues playing tinny and light from his phone. Hope now loafed and purring in her own cat bed nearby - a hammock-like sling he thought was funny and still finds funny.
He doesn't do this often anymore. But he does know what he needs to get where he's going. How much will get him to that place of boneless contentment rather than giggling stupidity, or philosophical babbling, or worse, cravings.
He's almost there, thinking about blue sky and Treavor's perfect curving mouth when he hears someone talking.
Lifting his head, he looks around and then down at the cat as if to say, did you hear...? And then looks over his shoulder toward the balcony doors.
There's movement, lanky and wandering, and oh, he knows that body. (He'd like to know that body.) (Should he have that thought?) (Can Treavor he..ar that thought?) (Probably not on that side of the glass. It's okay.)
Alice reaches back with his empty hand and gently raps his knuckles on the doors. And smiles faintly.
Out here, you beautiful creature. Magnificent being. Starlight and chaos and harbor water and fish. ]