RP Logs: Stephen and Wardens: Part II
From here.
Solace came down the stairs within moments of their entrance to the house. Max thought wryly that they probably made quite a picture. Stephen had... barely spoken a word during the drive. Or the walk to the house. Max's face was set, but even he hesitated under her eyes.
"What happened?" He could almost imagine her thinking, or adding, it is way too early for you to be that drunk.
So true.
"We, uh. Sparred."
"What? No wait. In there." She indicated the door to the library. Ah. Somehow it wasn't past Aidan's bedtime. True. The boy didn't need to see that and start asking questions. We all have questions.
She led the way, and when Max sat Stephen down on one of the couches, she just settled beside him, holding his hand.
That lasted for a couple of minutes, which might have been a personal best except that Stephen had only rarely been this bad off before, so it was hard to tell what his average time for going from upright to fetal was. But within a few minutes he was stretched out on the couch, one foot tucked behind him and one foot flopped on Max's thigh, head in Solace's lap. Turned away from her, but his cheek rested on her thigh and he closed his eyes and maybe everything would be all right if he just... kept his eyes closed. Yes.
"Warden Morgan stopped by today," he drawled, his voice almost normal. "Apparently the Wardens have suffered too many losses to scruple at who they recruit."
Not that that was hostile or anything.
Max had... leaned his head back for a moment. Just a little too drained to immediately tell things - gathering a bit.. his thoughts, he supposed. But his head snapped up and his eyes open when he heard Stephen's voice. Almost normal. And the phrasing of that last sentence made him frown.
Solace was like... carved from marble. Only her hands moved, smoothing hair away from Stephen's face, caressing his brow. Eyes down on him, face... frozen. Not tense, nor her body. Just frozen, so still. He swallowed, then supplemented the parts he knew.
"He refused. Was very angry. I... thought it would be least... bad if I got him to spar with me. Which we did for a while. And later he just blanked out." Collapsed. Somehow. "I don't understand."
And now her lips moved too. She didn't look up, at him, at all. Just at Stephen, and one of her hands moved to rest on - no, to hold - his shoulder. "Not so, love. They need good people." [But whatever possessed Captain Luccio to send Morgan to you is beyond me. Temporary dementia, perhaps. Or I pray it's temporary. For... the survivors' sake.] Max frowned at that, but didn't repeat the last statement/question. He wanted to understand, but was beyond pressing. Too worried. Just placed his hand in turn on Stephen's shin. Warm, hmm? Well, let that be so.
And then she did answer him. He almost missed the brief glance she gave him. Except that he didn't, and was relieved it wasn't of ice. "Stephen tried to get into Warden training when he was younger. He was rejected. He was told some pretty unjustified things that still--" [haunt him]. "-- matter, and they shouldn't, since they were a wrong call in the first place. He was told them by Warden Morgan."
Max... digested this. And the evening so far. And Stephen's statment. His other hand balled in a fist. "Son of a bitch."
That about covered it. And yet at the same time he was content to let them talk over and around him. To hide. To melt into the couch, except for the fact that they were sitting on the couch, between him and the couch which sort of made melting into it an impossibility. His head was starting to hurt. No, his entire body hurt. Everything hurt. And he felt naked and vulnerable and he didn't want to, hated to feel that way.
Everything seemed so far away.
"It was a long time ago," he said, in a far away voice. "Father had some damn fool idea in his head that I was to be groomed to be a Warden, someone of dignity and respect and power. Someone rather like your father," he said abruptly, thinking of that, looking up at Solace. Warden DuMorne, he realized then, was exactly who his father had wanted him to become.
"At any rate." He looked back down again, down at the carpet. "Luccio was kind but suggested that perhaps it was not the best of ideas for me to become a Warden, to train to be a Warden at that point, and she... Suggested that it was not my decision at the time. In retrospect she was probably right. I thanked her for her time and left. Warden Morgan was outside the door. We had some words." Words which now choked his throat and kept him from saying anything further, at least for the moment.
"My personal morals are apparently not to Warden Morgan's ..." He shook his head slightly and sat up. Too fast. His head spun, started to throb, and he barely knew what he was saying as he just couldn't seem to stop talking... "Liking. Perhaps growing up in a household as I did lent me too much of a sense of moral ambiguity, the sense of..."
He had no idea what he was saying. He shut up, planted his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. Maybe if he was very, very lucky the rest of the world would go away for a moment while he pulled himself together.
Solace put an arm around him, shifted closer and leaned to him. Protectively, Max thought. His mind reeled. Hell. And the man had the... gall to come and... he rose-- or rather, creaked to his feet, but the difficulty just made him grit his teeth and keep at it. Paced back and forth while wondering what he could say now that he knew... yes, now that punching bag made sense. And the fury. And... how the hell...
He couldn't find anytning that could help. So he just kept silent. Silently walked to the bar. Silently poured three glasses of the purest poison there. Silently left one at Solace's side when she didn't reach for it. Silently placed one of Stephen's hands around the second glass. At least it was aromatic. And warming.
And silently sat back at his end of the couch. Sipped. Then also moved closer to Stephen. Just that.
Stephen stared at it for a moment, still feeling the warmth of Max's hands around his, wondering if he was shivering in Solace's arm, wondering why. When, or why, or how. And he didn't even know what he was wondering, or... he tossed back the drink. Sharp. Almost choked on it. He hadn't choked on a drink since he was seventeen. The glass dangled from his fingertips as he leaned into Solace.
It was reminding him of all the times he'd stared at the bottom of an empty glass and wondered where the solutions lay. After Liliane had the miscarriage. After the first incident with Morgan. Here, after the second. After Archangel, before Solace had come back. One of his hands reached blindly around to his other side, seeking Max's. Warm. And Solace, steady. And himself, something of a wreck. Mind whirling. He couldn't think of what to say. Couldn't think of much of anything.
God, get a grip on yourself you damned fool.
"I still can't think of anything," he muttered.
Max held his hand. Took the glass away too. Didn't feel like getting up, so put his own between their feet. Disconnected motions. Silent offer. "Don't have to, tonight. It's past working hours, remember?" Very intelligent, Max. He tossed his head, and squeezed Stephen's fingers. On second thought, he wondered... "You did right by us when you turned him down." Us, your employees. If ever there was a responsible choice... Us, us two. "Hell, you did right by you when you refused." Difficult as it probably was to see that tonight - or unclear, or painful. It needed to be said. More. Stephen needed to hear it.
Solace's hand had gone up to caress his face again as he was leaning against her. For their slowness, one could think they were light caresses. But from this close, Max could see they weren't. Warm, full-palmed touches. Slow for being deliberate. He couldn't decide if she was angry. Hell, he couldn't decide if he was angry, but that may be because he didn't have the energy left to be so. "We've got you." That's what she said. Quietly, but clearly, and then, "I've got you." [Fall and crash to pieces. Be pushed and crash to pieces. You're not alone.]
The answer wasn't in the drink, Max thought, leaning his other arm around his friend. Although it would be nice to pass out drunk. But that would just delay having to face things. The answer was... well damned if he had any clue. Maybe the answer wasn't in tonight.
Tonight was for keeping the world from demanding more answers of Stephen.
Stephen opened his eyes briefly, looked at each of them, then closed his eyes again. Huddled, half in on himself, half against Solace and back into Max's arm, fingers closing tight around his. He could feel control slipping, if he'd had any left to begin with. And while the part of him that always kept himself so tightly held and upright, so cold, rigid and unyielding and hard as stone hated to be this vulnerable mess, part of him recognized the necessity. The part of him that didn't argue with Max. The part of him that curled up with Solace late at night and spoke of things in calm, even tones that would have otherwise undone him. The part of him that dealt with unyielding necessities with unflinching straightforwardness.
So, let it. He thought, with a sudden belligerence. Let that control slip. If he couldn't, here in the presence of the two people he trusted (cared for, let's be honest with yourself here even if you can't be honest aloud, loved) most, then where or when could he? He wasn't stupid. He knew it was impossible to live like that.
Given free reign to feel, to express, it wasn't much different from what he had been doing. His body tightened, trying to curl in on himself, clenching out of the pain of too many conflicting sources to sort out. His jaw locked tight on whatever words he could have even thought of, preventing him from saying anything. And the tears did, now, finally, perhaps decades later than they should have, began to fall.
Solace drew a sharper breath, moments after Max felt Stephen's body tighten. He looked up, seeing her small frown, and then noticed her hand was still on her husband's cheek. She leaned just enough to kiss his brow, hugging him tighter. "We've got you," she said yet again. "I love you."
Magic words, he'd discovered recently enough. True, he'd heard these two say them... occasionally. Not till he and them knew each other a lot, too. But they hadn't penetrated till... well. Till Dia had taken initiative, brilliantly. But it was a different tug when he heard them said now. He spoke barely audibly, yet the room was quiet enough...
"So do I."
Her words soothed over his skin with the reassurance that they always had, steadying him in small ways inside, righting the world again.
His words, though...
It was a strange feeling. As though his heart seemed to stop for at least a minute, then lurched to a start again. Vertigo spun his head about and it felt as though he was rolling, falling off the couch, through the floor. Falling through space even though he hadn't moved. He could tell by their warmth still against his body. This was... this. For a moment he tried to convince himself that this was some sort of mistake, that he hadn't heard what he had just heard, but that only lasted long enough for his ruthlessly practical side to remind him that while some words did carry ambiguous meanings, those six did not.
So, then. This was new information. Significant information. This required something to be done about it.
He sat up a little, shifting gently as he could manage until he was sitting still in Solace's arm but with her body at his back, leaning into her. And facing Max. With his steadiness and his wisecracks and, apparently, other things as well. Other depths. He didn't let go of the other man's hand, not if he could help it, but he sat up and against Solace to face him, to face this new and startling revelation, to prop one foot up on the couch cushions between them and the other on the floor (narrowly avoiding the glasses) and put his free hand on his shoulder.
"So." Pause. He wasn't entirely sure that was specific enough. "You... do."
Wisecrack. "Oh. You heard that." Max smirked. No, he'd not meant it not to be heard. Deep breath. Eyes looking into Stephen's. "Yeah." He glanced up, seeing Solace look at him even more decipherably than usually. But the admission was out there and it was her fault anyway-- no, it wasn't. "I love you." He had met Stephen's gaze again. "Doesn't mean anything's got to change or stuff. Hell, it doesn't mean in any way that I love Dia any less." He slumped a little, then winced - at his own body, not at what he was saying! - and wondered whether he'd managed to tie up a moderately but comfortably complicated situation into undetangleable knots.
Stephen blinked a couple of times. Significant information indeed, made all the more significant by the fact that Max had followed up the admission with a fair amount of defensive babbling. Which was not like him at all. Max was rarely defensive, or babbled, as much as he could crack wise at some questionably appropriate times.
Never mind. Well. Perhaps not never mind, but that whole line of thought was irrelevant, and Stephen discarded it. In favor of looking back over most of their interactions in the previous years, at least since... what, since that one woman at the bar when he'd first caught Max looking at him with that sort of interest? Putting it all into the context of this new information. It wasn't any one thing but it was a collection of small moments, remembering things that were likely blurred-together compilations of even more moments he didn't remember clearly, times when they'd fallen asleep together. Conversations in hallways. Moments of danger. Touches, after that first sexual experience, intimacies, shared glances, moving in and out and around each other in combat, Max's stupid jokes. Stephen pointing out that he'd die with a wisecrack on his lips.
Stephen pointing out that he'd make a good Warden, and Max's response. For some reason he remembered that vividly just now.
He shook his head. Well, it was what it was. Certainly not anything that people talked about, nothing in the ordinary way of things, but nothing about any of them had been ordinary for a very long time now. "Sacre merde," he muttered. Squeezed Solace's hand (oh, they'd be talking about this later, those late night just prior to sleep talks that he needed) and leaned forward, one hand curling at the back of Max's neck. So be it.
"You are a damned fool," he murmured, barely audible himself. He had to be, he could barely form the words. "And I love you very much."
Max let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. On the one hand, Solace was most emphatically not storming out of the room. So at least... oh hell he was too tired to sort things more than the last sentence went. He leaned his forehead against Stephen's for a moment. "Now that's what a damned fool finds quite ... gratifying." A beat. "Being called names." Stop that. He breathed out softly again, and then his tone was as non-wisecrack as moments ago. "Thank you." And then he met Stephen's lips with his.
Surprisngly chaste. Just confirming.
It felt... surprisingly - or not - like a kiss with Stephen. Oh right. There was that bit where while this was the first time when they'd spoken it... it wasn't something new. As such. Love. Whoever said it was not a manly thing, obviously didn't know Stephen LaMarck.
Stephen smirked just a little as they settled back and just shook his head a little. This was, of all places... "This is not where I expected to end up this evening, you know," he started with something resembling a laugh. Albeit a startled laugh. That settled, after a moment, to a thoughtful murmur. "This is not where I expected to end up at all."
But then he did lean back into Solace again, settling. Snuggling. One hand reaching out for Max's again, but to slide his hand up along the other man's arm, to touch his cheek and trace his lips. Had he ever done this before? He didn't know. Couldn't remember. Possibly; their sexual intimacy had certainly been extensive after a while, which perhaps should have been his first clue. He and Solace took others to their bed before, but few so reliably and repeatedly. Few that he missed on occasion when they were gone. Few, here, for a value of one.
"The Wardens can keep their strictures and their laws, their codes of conduct and their investigations, their damned cloaks and all the secrets they hide." It was the words of an outburst but it wasn't one, more of a slow measured declaration of what he was realizing, finally, now. "I don't need their permission to protect my people, and I don't need to wear the cloak to do what I do every day. And..." Softer, now. Quieter. "Perhaps I would have been a more healthy, or more stable person for it. But I wouldn't trade my life for any mother's son of them, not with all this ..." Love. Bounteous, wonderous love.
Wryly, then: "Though how you both put up with me is a wonder."
A small laugh puffed Solace's lips. "Quite conveniently, I assure you." That would have been a reply to the how they put up with him.
Max just... blinked. "There's something to put up with?" Well it wasn't quite a wisecrack. Not quite. Despite occasional disagreements and excedingly rare misunderstandings (that rarity could have been another sign, right?) the two of them worked way too smoothly as a team for Max to consider it... a chore? Trouble? To do it. To spend time with him. To... whatever.
Solace's hand had covered Stephen's brow at his ... words about the Wardens. Which had been true. He lifted his hand to cover his, and turned his face to kiss the inside of the palm. "I am sure glad you see it this way. I would much rather you stay here. With us." Which was, of course, sort of figurative. Since their work probably offered no fewer dangers than that of the Wardens. In its way.
Quite irrelevant.
"Oh very much." If there was something specific in her voice that made this sentence make more sense, Max didn't catch it. Oh wait. She did have a little more insight in the life of a Warden, didn't she. Huh. He looked at her again, but her attention was focused on Stephen again. Actually, she tipped his head a little further back and leaned forward for a slow, long kiss. It made Max smile a little. Well. He'd not broken that. Go me.
Mmm, Solace. He let himself sink into the kiss, let himself be warmed and reassured and loved by it. She still loved him. Always -- perhaps not always but had for some time now. Despite all his faults and flaws and insecurities. Somehow, she still loved him. Amazing woman.
When the kiss settled again he dropped his head to her shoulder, forehead against the curve of her jaw. It had been a long, strange day. No, the day itself had been ordinary and benign, but the evening had started off with Warden Morgan and just turned strange from there. And emotional. He felt drained, exhausted, and yet peculiarly at peace as well. Perhaps Max had something to do with that. He glanced back over at him with a smile and drew light fingertips down the strong jaw, feeling the light stubble underneath. Every so often it still seemed strange to him that he, who had never inclined that way before, had such feelings for the other man.
"And now?" he posed the question to the room at large.
"The smart thing would be to actually get some sleep." Max was honest. Although the touch of Stephen's hand on his face, the smile. God, he wasn't ... nah, that wasn't actually a question, now was it. He grinned back, the expression feeling a little odd on his face... after everything that had happened. Small sigh. "I should at least call Dia. Don't want to make her disproportionately worried." Or he could go home. His eyes strayed to Stephen's again. Would he be all right? After that speech... resolution... realization, whatever. He thought so. And perhaps I've intruded into what these two have - quite enough for tonight. It was a different kind of intrusion than sharing their bed, after all.
Not that he also didn't want to stay and... something. The mutual admission. That made him smile in a bit of wonder again.
Solace's voice interrupted his reverie. "I should check on Aidan too. It's..." Ah yes. There were people who would put him to bed. Get him to sleep? Now that could be a little more tacky, if he recalled well. "Are you up to coming for it with me?" The quesiton was, of course, to her husband.
"Of course," he sat up, with only a flicker of disappointment and (as strange as it felt to feel) sharp and painful loss. Admissions made, it felt as though something more should have happened, something... special? No. This isn't an admission of newness, this is confirmation of what has been. Things were as they should be. And that thought made him smile a little. The emotional free-fall stabilized, the world righted itself again.
"I'll be up in a moment," he sat up, feet on the floor, pulling himself together not to artificial control but for the purpose of getting things accomplished. "Max, did you want to call or just go home?"
Solace kept her hands on him a moment longer, but then she nodded, and muttered, "I'll let him know - if he's still awake." She leaned to kiss his cheek, squeezed his shoulder again, and walked quietly out.
Max was... "I want to stay and I want to go." It felt strange to say it. Not like his heart was torn. More that he knew what he should do, and, well. He didn't always do the smart thing, did he. Old habits die hard. Quietly, he answered. "Go home. You need to get some rest too." His lips quirked. "The Taylor file will still be in your office in the morning." As well as another pile of decisions to be made. And he didn't like how cold that sounded, because it was wrong, after all that had passed between them tonight.
It was his turn to place his fingers along Stephen's chin, warmly, gently turning his face - and leaning in to kiss him. To disspell the distance of his words with reaffirming what they meant. Feel better. I want you to. Need you to. That too.
Stephen's breath caught as their lips touched, at Max's hand along his face. Whatever uncertainty or nervousness had been coiling back up began to uncurl again, leaving him warm and calmer, quiet. And more exhausted as well. Still he smiled into the kiss, against the other man's lips, leaning forward as he tugged him into his arms for a tight embrace. Pressing another soft kiss at the corner of his jaw. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything, thank you. I don't know what I would have done tonight if you hadn't been there." As angry as he would have been, something stupid that Sol likely would have suffered for after the wreckage had been cleared away.
Trains. Cars. Broken hands in drywall. Finding Warden Morgan again and confronting him after the fact. Something stupid, no doubt. Of all the things that could undo his carefully built self-control that had been one of them. Now... well. In the space of one night, things seemed to be different. Which made him smile a little, again. And hug Max a little tighter.
Max's arms were tight around Stephen as soon as he was held. One of his hands raised to bury his fingers into the dark curls, and didn't pull far back as he smiled a bit too, at least at the beginning of the other man's words. The ending... felt like a shadow passing over him. "And I'd do it again." Trying to chase that chill away. Holding tight helped. Here. Stephen was here. Max echoed Solace's words from earlier. "I've got you." He couldn't have let him alone, earlier, not seeing how he was. And the reason why he was considering going away now was that he felt things were better. And he was in safe hands.
Safe loving hands. Like his.
He breathed in. Stephen's hair smelled of the shower stuff they'd taken together; his clothes had his own usual scent. Wanted to pull the other man's head against his chest. To bury his head against Stephen's chest. Something. Instead, he just hugged him again tighter, cheek to cheek. "Don't need to think of what would have been, otherwise. There's no otherwise." Too many what-if possibilities.
Only one reality. Here and now.
Stephen nodded a little, digging his fingers in where they were curled around his shoulders and clinging without much in the way of compunction or shame. His breathing was slow, controlled. More controlled than usual.
More controlled than the rest of him at any rate, which put him into two pieces. A part of him was irritated at how he was bouncing up and down the emotional scale, all right at one point and then something as simple as a hug and a few words could undo him. And then again with everything that had happened, everything that had been said and done (and how did three small words carry so, so much weight, sitting now on his chest but not unpleasant, only heavy and tight) perhaps it was no surprise that he was feeling shaky. Perhaps he should take the day off tomorrow. "Perhaps I should give you the day off tomorrow," he murmured, his voice only quavering a little. Smiling, though.
He turned his head for about half a head-shake, into Max's neck. "Perhaps we should both take the day off tomorrow," he murmured then, blinking away the definite tears that he would refuse to own up to even if they were streaming down his face. At lest for a while. "Recuperate." He did, at least, acknowledge the emotional and mental needs of his employees. It was his own that he attempted to work through and refused to allow for half the time.
He was crying, Max realized. He'd thought it possible twice earlier tonight. But right now he could feel the moisture against his skin. It made his own throat tighten. He swallowed, then murmured, "that might not be that bad an idea." He tightened his fingers in Stephen's hair for a moment, holding him close, then lifted his face up. Kissed the forehead. Slow, warm. Then the lips. If the voice, if the words wouldn't own up to those tears, then he wouldn't notice them either. Even if he wanted to kiss them away from his cheeks. "I can even come over at some point. Tell you some things again." Yes. They would be still here in the daylight. Even in the gray daylight of this cold season. Another kiss. Long.
And then he grinned against Stephen's lips. "How much do you think we actually will keep from talking about work, calling the office repeatedly, and deciding it was an odd and inconvenient idea to not show up there?" Why yes, he thought it was funny. Since both of them knew well enough there were more things to be said - or, well, done - than would let them turn it into an actual workday. He pulled back just enough to take in the familiar... the loved face in again, one of his palms against the side of it. He liked looking at Stephen. Oh wait. Nobody present was actually surprised by that, right? He looks drained.
"Not a bad idea at all, withall, for both of us. Your call." He'd be at work if he was needed. He thought... rest could do them good.
He smiled slightly back at Max; the other man knew him very well. And perhaps, allowing as that Max knew him very well, perhaps it was time to allow that Max's less clouded judgment was a good one. And if he was still this shaky, tomorrow might not be much better. "All right," he said softly. "We'll take the day off tomorrow, and if need be, we'll work from home." His home, or Max's, or both, depending on how the night finished up. After everything that had happened Stephen was not about to try to predict who would end the evening in what bed, or where they would be the next day.
And yet even knowing that the likelihood was that Max would go back home to his little Claudia, it surprised Stephen a little to feel a near-complete lack of jealousy. No sense of possessiveness, only a slight wish that he could stay. Not that he would, that he could. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising, he thought, again. They'd had this odd little arrangement for years and this was only the first time they had spoken the words.
He'd be thinking that a lot over the next few days, he decided.
But then he did smile. No, Max couldn't stay, but that was all right. They'd have tomorrow, and then the next day they would go to work and things would resume their course and the only thing that would change was that they would have the memory of having said things that possibly had needed to be said and acknowledged. Before it was too late. Which, in their professions and Max's especially, could be tomorrow. Any tomorrow. The smile faded a bit, but not entirely. They had said and acknowledged those things. So that was all right, too. Still. He kissed him again, just because he could, and this one he made long and lingering and sweet. The words still came awkwardly but that did not mean he couldn't convey it in other ways.
"I'd like it," he murmured, husky and slow, "If we could talk tomorrow."
Max actually couldn't help but let out of a soft laugh at that last part. "Oh we'll get to talk. Promise." Of course they could talk. And ... other things. Which that husky voice put him in mind of a little, but right now... "I think if we sit still much more, we'll need significant help to get upright and mobile again. Like hand tractors." He wasn't sure that even a workout like that should have resulted in muscles as sore and willing to lock; he did keep in good shape, after all. Had to. Or perhaps it was... the staying and keeping tense after that. Or perhaps it was something entirely else based on the entire experience of this evening. Or all three. But while his heart was lighter than it had been for hours now, since he'd seen Stephen storming out of his office, there was still... The exhaustion creeping in.
"Thank you." His turn. "For tomorrow. For tonight. For everything." For your heart. "For not rejecting me and..." oh god he hadn't meant to say that, had he. "Just thank you." He took a deep breath, as though getting ready to stand up, then changed his mind and tightened his arms and kissed Stephen again. His friend. His lover. His beloved. After that, his lips quirked, and he moved to remind him, a whisper in his ear. "Aidan."
"Mm-hmm." But that was a grin now lighting up his face, and how many kisses had they shared today now? Enough, at least, for his lips to feel tender and warm, that always pleasant feeling that usually precluded something more. Not tonight. Or at least, not with Max. "And Claudia." They both had others to take care of now that they were all right. And they did seem to be all right.
He took a breath and let it out again in something almost like a laugh. "Although I don't particularly want to move right now. Not only," and perhaps it didn't need to be said but he was saying it anyway. "Because of the workout earlier." He shifted forward, as he had done at least two or three times before on various couches, suggesting that a different sort of workout was what he was thinking of. And then kissing him again just to underscore the point. Kissing him a lot.
But, Aidan. And Claudia, and discussing things with Solace most likely. She was his touchstone in more than one regard, and helped to put things into perspective. And Max could use the lighter side of things, someone to hold him while he talked about whatever it was he might need to talk about. Or perhaps talk about nothing. They had settled as much as they were going to settle tonight, apart from possibly their sex drives and lust for each other. Stephen kept kissing him just a little while longer, pulling back only to kiss him again. And then again. And then, no, yes, it was time. He took a breath, kissed him softly one last time, and forced himself to get off the couch and off of Max's lap.
Which was easier thought than done, as stiff as he was. There was a hiss of pain and his movements were far creakier than he would have wanted them to be in front of anyone else but someone he trusted. Someone to whom he held out a hand and a rueful smile, offering a hand up.
Max didn't laugh at the hiss. He understood. Clasped the hand offered, hand-to-wrist, and used his other hand to push himself up too. Not that he thought Stephen would object to being pulled down onto him again. It would just be embarrassing. He did wince anyway, and it seemed to him more things were pulling out in his body than had the right to. Not when this simple touch - clasped hands - right now made him just not care for how sore he was. His ascent to vertical position took a bit more time than his usual springing up. He stretched his body up, just attempting to ease it off a bit. Then he pulled Stephen closer again, closing his arms around him, and his mouth on his - his turn for just ONE more kiss. Or two. As his hands rubbed warmly over shoulders and upper back muscles gone hard again.
"You know. Next time you want a massage in the shower, you can just ask." That, and just about anytning else. He kept his arm around Stephen's shoulders walking out. Privacy now. Another few moments.
And tomorrow again. As long as they had. Whatever came, they had... what they'd had already. Tonight included.
"I'll be here when I can persuade the covers to release me."
Stephen chuckled softly; Max's jokes, as inane or borderline-appropriate as they could sometimes be, also helped relax him in a way that nothing else could do. It made him wonder, now and then over the years, what he would have done without Max there to keep him from locking himself into a routine of sobriety and stoic cold. One hand rubbed lightly over Max's shoulder as he leaned briefly into him, as they headed out to the garage. "I'll hold you to that," he told him. "Both the massage and the bit about the covers"
There might have been a slight smirk there. "Take your time, though. I hear covers can be wily."
... One more kiss. Because he could. Not because he was clinging at all or anything. Or either of them were. Really.
"Yeah, I was afraid that might be the case. I'll fight valiantly." A pause. Well. Kiss. Then he registered the direction. "Um. I think a cab might be a better idea. My car's back at the offices." And he couldn't exactly be sure his driving would be the best of ideas right now. Heh. One of the reasons he did stay on top of the things was that he knew his limits. And he was... Well, not over them. But in a place where he'd rather not risk taking too much responsibility for reacting correctly without a good reason. "Of course you'll hold me to it. To all." All that was spoken tonight. Hey, at least he knew that with the people he loved? What he spoke, what he said, mattered. Yes, it did at work too, and had for a while. But just with people, it was still kind of new, too. Well. With Stephen, not quite that recent. But still.
It made him grin, despite the acknowledged need for a taxi. Oh wait. Was 'I can speak up of what I need' one more of the signs about... Well it felt better than otherwise anyway.
"I know," Stephen smiled a little. "That's why I thought I'd call Lee to drive you home." Lee being his driver, when he needed such, and mechanic, when he needed such. Which, given the penchant for wizardry to play merry hell with anything involving higher mechanics, was quite often. He paid the man well for his services, though. "One of the privileges of being rich is you get to pay people to take care of you and your loved ones sometimes." And one of the responsibilities of being rich was not abusing that privilege. Stephen had, at least, learned that much from his father.
As reluctant as he was to leave the shelter of Max's arm, though, he did slip away gently to the phone on the wall, calling up to the house and requesting the man's presence, apologizing for disturbing him at the late hour. Thankfully, not that late. Hanging up, he glanced ruefully over at Max. "Do you think Claudia will give me yet another thrashing for keeping you out late?"
"Only after she's done with me. So that will be your warning." She wouldn't be too happy about certain aspects of what would be revealed when he came home. But at least it really wasn't that late. And he certainly felt he'd had reasons for acting as he had. Every step of the way.
... okay. She'd definitely not be happy about the bruises. "We'll work on ways to make it up to her." Both. Hah. Well between them they could probably accomplish it.
Max's mouth twisted in a lopsided smile. "Thank you." 'You didn't have to' would have been a bit inane by this point. And he did appreciate it. And he did smile at the smooth way Stephen handled his people. Courtesy. Not many people in his position realized the importance of-- Scrap that. There was nobody quite like Stephen, and that was just it. He grinned at that thought. Never be it said that Max Parker didn't know how to value what he had in his life. To the last dreg. And Stephen was not in that category. Rather, quite the other end of things.
Stephen was already working on ways to make it up to her, though he'd share that with Max tomorrow. Instead he smiled an almost mirrored (entirely unconsciously, but still) lopsided smile back, one hand touching his shoulder lightly in a gesture that would have been more of an embrace if he'd been at the proper angle, or more of a gentle squeeze if they both weren't covered in bruises. Mm, and perhaps they could give each other massages tomorrow. Later, though. After sleep. And in his case at least, after talking things through with his lady. After spending time with his son.
"We'll make it up to her," he nodded, rubbing lightly over Max's shoulder before letting his hand fall again. And there was the sound of footsteps on pavement and keys jingling from a distant belt-loop. His rueful smile turned into something almost like a grin. "I'll fall on my sword if I have to. Metaphorically speaking."
Normally he wouldn't have clarified it, but after the events of tonight he decided it needed to be said. Just in case.
"Sure hope it was metaphorical." A beat. "Left-hand or right-hand sword?" Smirk. No, he didn't want to joke about it. But he could. Two swords. The side of his ribs twinged. And the sweats were definitely better feel at his hip than jeans would have been. "Never mind." He could hear the approaching man too, and he nodded. "See you tomorrow. Stay safe." Routine, that. Kind of rattled worse, tonight. One last hand-clasp - too close to be a handshake, too public to make it an embrace - and he followed the driver, settling in the car and giving directions.
As he'd promised Claudia that he would. He was going home. Maybe a bit late, definitely a bit worse for the wear. But home.
ooc: Takes place... Nov/Dec 2004 in the WR timeline. RP log with Stephen: delamarck. Solace: dumornes_sol appears too. Dia is drgatesjones. For those who didn't know. And it's LONG so be warned! So long actually that LJ didn't want to post it. So. Split in two! This is part two.
Solace came down the stairs within moments of their entrance to the house. Max thought wryly that they probably made quite a picture. Stephen had... barely spoken a word during the drive. Or the walk to the house. Max's face was set, but even he hesitated under her eyes.
"What happened?" He could almost imagine her thinking, or adding, it is way too early for you to be that drunk.
So true.
"We, uh. Sparred."
"What? No wait. In there." She indicated the door to the library. Ah. Somehow it wasn't past Aidan's bedtime. True. The boy didn't need to see that and start asking questions. We all have questions.
She led the way, and when Max sat Stephen down on one of the couches, she just settled beside him, holding his hand.
That lasted for a couple of minutes, which might have been a personal best except that Stephen had only rarely been this bad off before, so it was hard to tell what his average time for going from upright to fetal was. But within a few minutes he was stretched out on the couch, one foot tucked behind him and one foot flopped on Max's thigh, head in Solace's lap. Turned away from her, but his cheek rested on her thigh and he closed his eyes and maybe everything would be all right if he just... kept his eyes closed. Yes.
"Warden Morgan stopped by today," he drawled, his voice almost normal. "Apparently the Wardens have suffered too many losses to scruple at who they recruit."
Not that that was hostile or anything.
Max had... leaned his head back for a moment. Just a little too drained to immediately tell things - gathering a bit.. his thoughts, he supposed. But his head snapped up and his eyes open when he heard Stephen's voice. Almost normal. And the phrasing of that last sentence made him frown.
Solace was like... carved from marble. Only her hands moved, smoothing hair away from Stephen's face, caressing his brow. Eyes down on him, face... frozen. Not tense, nor her body. Just frozen, so still. He swallowed, then supplemented the parts he knew.
"He refused. Was very angry. I... thought it would be least... bad if I got him to spar with me. Which we did for a while. And later he just blanked out." Collapsed. Somehow. "I don't understand."
And now her lips moved too. She didn't look up, at him, at all. Just at Stephen, and one of her hands moved to rest on - no, to hold - his shoulder. "Not so, love. They need good people." [But whatever possessed Captain Luccio to send Morgan to you is beyond me. Temporary dementia, perhaps. Or I pray it's temporary. For... the survivors' sake.] Max frowned at that, but didn't repeat the last statement/question. He wanted to understand, but was beyond pressing. Too worried. Just placed his hand in turn on Stephen's shin. Warm, hmm? Well, let that be so.
And then she did answer him. He almost missed the brief glance she gave him. Except that he didn't, and was relieved it wasn't of ice. "Stephen tried to get into Warden training when he was younger. He was rejected. He was told some pretty unjustified things that still--" [haunt him]. "-- matter, and they shouldn't, since they were a wrong call in the first place. He was told them by Warden Morgan."
Max... digested this. And the evening so far. And Stephen's statment. His other hand balled in a fist. "Son of a bitch."
That about covered it. And yet at the same time he was content to let them talk over and around him. To hide. To melt into the couch, except for the fact that they were sitting on the couch, between him and the couch which sort of made melting into it an impossibility. His head was starting to hurt. No, his entire body hurt. Everything hurt. And he felt naked and vulnerable and he didn't want to, hated to feel that way.
Everything seemed so far away.
"It was a long time ago," he said, in a far away voice. "Father had some damn fool idea in his head that I was to be groomed to be a Warden, someone of dignity and respect and power. Someone rather like your father," he said abruptly, thinking of that, looking up at Solace. Warden DuMorne, he realized then, was exactly who his father had wanted him to become.
"At any rate." He looked back down again, down at the carpet. "Luccio was kind but suggested that perhaps it was not the best of ideas for me to become a Warden, to train to be a Warden at that point, and she... Suggested that it was not my decision at the time. In retrospect she was probably right. I thanked her for her time and left. Warden Morgan was outside the door. We had some words." Words which now choked his throat and kept him from saying anything further, at least for the moment.
"My personal morals are apparently not to Warden Morgan's ..." He shook his head slightly and sat up. Too fast. His head spun, started to throb, and he barely knew what he was saying as he just couldn't seem to stop talking... "Liking. Perhaps growing up in a household as I did lent me too much of a sense of moral ambiguity, the sense of..."
He had no idea what he was saying. He shut up, planted his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. Maybe if he was very, very lucky the rest of the world would go away for a moment while he pulled himself together.
Solace put an arm around him, shifted closer and leaned to him. Protectively, Max thought. His mind reeled. Hell. And the man had the... gall to come and... he rose-- or rather, creaked to his feet, but the difficulty just made him grit his teeth and keep at it. Paced back and forth while wondering what he could say now that he knew... yes, now that punching bag made sense. And the fury. And... how the hell...
He couldn't find anytning that could help. So he just kept silent. Silently walked to the bar. Silently poured three glasses of the purest poison there. Silently left one at Solace's side when she didn't reach for it. Silently placed one of Stephen's hands around the second glass. At least it was aromatic. And warming.
And silently sat back at his end of the couch. Sipped. Then also moved closer to Stephen. Just that.
Stephen stared at it for a moment, still feeling the warmth of Max's hands around his, wondering if he was shivering in Solace's arm, wondering why. When, or why, or how. And he didn't even know what he was wondering, or... he tossed back the drink. Sharp. Almost choked on it. He hadn't choked on a drink since he was seventeen. The glass dangled from his fingertips as he leaned into Solace.
It was reminding him of all the times he'd stared at the bottom of an empty glass and wondered where the solutions lay. After Liliane had the miscarriage. After the first incident with Morgan. Here, after the second. After Archangel, before Solace had come back. One of his hands reached blindly around to his other side, seeking Max's. Warm. And Solace, steady. And himself, something of a wreck. Mind whirling. He couldn't think of what to say. Couldn't think of much of anything.
God, get a grip on yourself you damned fool.
"I still can't think of anything," he muttered.
Max held his hand. Took the glass away too. Didn't feel like getting up, so put his own between their feet. Disconnected motions. Silent offer. "Don't have to, tonight. It's past working hours, remember?" Very intelligent, Max. He tossed his head, and squeezed Stephen's fingers. On second thought, he wondered... "You did right by us when you turned him down." Us, your employees. If ever there was a responsible choice... Us, us two. "Hell, you did right by you when you refused." Difficult as it probably was to see that tonight - or unclear, or painful. It needed to be said. More. Stephen needed to hear it.
Solace's hand had gone up to caress his face again as he was leaning against her. For their slowness, one could think they were light caresses. But from this close, Max could see they weren't. Warm, full-palmed touches. Slow for being deliberate. He couldn't decide if she was angry. Hell, he couldn't decide if he was angry, but that may be because he didn't have the energy left to be so. "We've got you." That's what she said. Quietly, but clearly, and then, "I've got you." [Fall and crash to pieces. Be pushed and crash to pieces. You're not alone.]
The answer wasn't in the drink, Max thought, leaning his other arm around his friend. Although it would be nice to pass out drunk. But that would just delay having to face things. The answer was... well damned if he had any clue. Maybe the answer wasn't in tonight.
Tonight was for keeping the world from demanding more answers of Stephen.
Stephen opened his eyes briefly, looked at each of them, then closed his eyes again. Huddled, half in on himself, half against Solace and back into Max's arm, fingers closing tight around his. He could feel control slipping, if he'd had any left to begin with. And while the part of him that always kept himself so tightly held and upright, so cold, rigid and unyielding and hard as stone hated to be this vulnerable mess, part of him recognized the necessity. The part of him that didn't argue with Max. The part of him that curled up with Solace late at night and spoke of things in calm, even tones that would have otherwise undone him. The part of him that dealt with unyielding necessities with unflinching straightforwardness.
So, let it. He thought, with a sudden belligerence. Let that control slip. If he couldn't, here in the presence of the two people he trusted (cared for, let's be honest with yourself here even if you can't be honest aloud, loved) most, then where or when could he? He wasn't stupid. He knew it was impossible to live like that.
Given free reign to feel, to express, it wasn't much different from what he had been doing. His body tightened, trying to curl in on himself, clenching out of the pain of too many conflicting sources to sort out. His jaw locked tight on whatever words he could have even thought of, preventing him from saying anything. And the tears did, now, finally, perhaps decades later than they should have, began to fall.
Solace drew a sharper breath, moments after Max felt Stephen's body tighten. He looked up, seeing her small frown, and then noticed her hand was still on her husband's cheek. She leaned just enough to kiss his brow, hugging him tighter. "We've got you," she said yet again. "I love you."
Magic words, he'd discovered recently enough. True, he'd heard these two say them... occasionally. Not till he and them knew each other a lot, too. But they hadn't penetrated till... well. Till Dia had taken initiative, brilliantly. But it was a different tug when he heard them said now. He spoke barely audibly, yet the room was quiet enough...
"So do I."
Her words soothed over his skin with the reassurance that they always had, steadying him in small ways inside, righting the world again.
His words, though...
It was a strange feeling. As though his heart seemed to stop for at least a minute, then lurched to a start again. Vertigo spun his head about and it felt as though he was rolling, falling off the couch, through the floor. Falling through space even though he hadn't moved. He could tell by their warmth still against his body. This was... this. For a moment he tried to convince himself that this was some sort of mistake, that he hadn't heard what he had just heard, but that only lasted long enough for his ruthlessly practical side to remind him that while some words did carry ambiguous meanings, those six did not.
So, then. This was new information. Significant information. This required something to be done about it.
He sat up a little, shifting gently as he could manage until he was sitting still in Solace's arm but with her body at his back, leaning into her. And facing Max. With his steadiness and his wisecracks and, apparently, other things as well. Other depths. He didn't let go of the other man's hand, not if he could help it, but he sat up and against Solace to face him, to face this new and startling revelation, to prop one foot up on the couch cushions between them and the other on the floor (narrowly avoiding the glasses) and put his free hand on his shoulder.
"So." Pause. He wasn't entirely sure that was specific enough. "You... do."
Wisecrack. "Oh. You heard that." Max smirked. No, he'd not meant it not to be heard. Deep breath. Eyes looking into Stephen's. "Yeah." He glanced up, seeing Solace look at him even more decipherably than usually. But the admission was out there and it was her fault anyway-- no, it wasn't. "I love you." He had met Stephen's gaze again. "Doesn't mean anything's got to change or stuff. Hell, it doesn't mean in any way that I love Dia any less." He slumped a little, then winced - at his own body, not at what he was saying! - and wondered whether he'd managed to tie up a moderately but comfortably complicated situation into undetangleable knots.
Stephen blinked a couple of times. Significant information indeed, made all the more significant by the fact that Max had followed up the admission with a fair amount of defensive babbling. Which was not like him at all. Max was rarely defensive, or babbled, as much as he could crack wise at some questionably appropriate times.
Never mind. Well. Perhaps not never mind, but that whole line of thought was irrelevant, and Stephen discarded it. In favor of looking back over most of their interactions in the previous years, at least since... what, since that one woman at the bar when he'd first caught Max looking at him with that sort of interest? Putting it all into the context of this new information. It wasn't any one thing but it was a collection of small moments, remembering things that were likely blurred-together compilations of even more moments he didn't remember clearly, times when they'd fallen asleep together. Conversations in hallways. Moments of danger. Touches, after that first sexual experience, intimacies, shared glances, moving in and out and around each other in combat, Max's stupid jokes. Stephen pointing out that he'd die with a wisecrack on his lips.
Stephen pointing out that he'd make a good Warden, and Max's response. For some reason he remembered that vividly just now.
He shook his head. Well, it was what it was. Certainly not anything that people talked about, nothing in the ordinary way of things, but nothing about any of them had been ordinary for a very long time now. "Sacre merde," he muttered. Squeezed Solace's hand (oh, they'd be talking about this later, those late night just prior to sleep talks that he needed) and leaned forward, one hand curling at the back of Max's neck. So be it.
"You are a damned fool," he murmured, barely audible himself. He had to be, he could barely form the words. "And I love you very much."
Max let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. On the one hand, Solace was most emphatically not storming out of the room. So at least... oh hell he was too tired to sort things more than the last sentence went. He leaned his forehead against Stephen's for a moment. "Now that's what a damned fool finds quite ... gratifying." A beat. "Being called names." Stop that. He breathed out softly again, and then his tone was as non-wisecrack as moments ago. "Thank you." And then he met Stephen's lips with his.
Surprisngly chaste. Just confirming.
It felt... surprisingly - or not - like a kiss with Stephen. Oh right. There was that bit where while this was the first time when they'd spoken it... it wasn't something new. As such. Love. Whoever said it was not a manly thing, obviously didn't know Stephen LaMarck.
Stephen smirked just a little as they settled back and just shook his head a little. This was, of all places... "This is not where I expected to end up this evening, you know," he started with something resembling a laugh. Albeit a startled laugh. That settled, after a moment, to a thoughtful murmur. "This is not where I expected to end up at all."
But then he did lean back into Solace again, settling. Snuggling. One hand reaching out for Max's again, but to slide his hand up along the other man's arm, to touch his cheek and trace his lips. Had he ever done this before? He didn't know. Couldn't remember. Possibly; their sexual intimacy had certainly been extensive after a while, which perhaps should have been his first clue. He and Solace took others to their bed before, but few so reliably and repeatedly. Few that he missed on occasion when they were gone. Few, here, for a value of one.
"The Wardens can keep their strictures and their laws, their codes of conduct and their investigations, their damned cloaks and all the secrets they hide." It was the words of an outburst but it wasn't one, more of a slow measured declaration of what he was realizing, finally, now. "I don't need their permission to protect my people, and I don't need to wear the cloak to do what I do every day. And..." Softer, now. Quieter. "Perhaps I would have been a more healthy, or more stable person for it. But I wouldn't trade my life for any mother's son of them, not with all this ..." Love. Bounteous, wonderous love.
Wryly, then: "Though how you both put up with me is a wonder."
A small laugh puffed Solace's lips. "Quite conveniently, I assure you." That would have been a reply to the how they put up with him.
Max just... blinked. "There's something to put up with?" Well it wasn't quite a wisecrack. Not quite. Despite occasional disagreements and excedingly rare misunderstandings (that rarity could have been another sign, right?) the two of them worked way too smoothly as a team for Max to consider it... a chore? Trouble? To do it. To spend time with him. To... whatever.
Solace's hand had covered Stephen's brow at his ... words about the Wardens. Which had been true. He lifted his hand to cover his, and turned his face to kiss the inside of the palm. "I am sure glad you see it this way. I would much rather you stay here. With us." Which was, of course, sort of figurative. Since their work probably offered no fewer dangers than that of the Wardens. In its way.
Quite irrelevant.
"Oh very much." If there was something specific in her voice that made this sentence make more sense, Max didn't catch it. Oh wait. She did have a little more insight in the life of a Warden, didn't she. Huh. He looked at her again, but her attention was focused on Stephen again. Actually, she tipped his head a little further back and leaned forward for a slow, long kiss. It made Max smile a little. Well. He'd not broken that. Go me.
Mmm, Solace. He let himself sink into the kiss, let himself be warmed and reassured and loved by it. She still loved him. Always -- perhaps not always but had for some time now. Despite all his faults and flaws and insecurities. Somehow, she still loved him. Amazing woman.
When the kiss settled again he dropped his head to her shoulder, forehead against the curve of her jaw. It had been a long, strange day. No, the day itself had been ordinary and benign, but the evening had started off with Warden Morgan and just turned strange from there. And emotional. He felt drained, exhausted, and yet peculiarly at peace as well. Perhaps Max had something to do with that. He glanced back over at him with a smile and drew light fingertips down the strong jaw, feeling the light stubble underneath. Every so often it still seemed strange to him that he, who had never inclined that way before, had such feelings for the other man.
"And now?" he posed the question to the room at large.
"The smart thing would be to actually get some sleep." Max was honest. Although the touch of Stephen's hand on his face, the smile. God, he wasn't ... nah, that wasn't actually a question, now was it. He grinned back, the expression feeling a little odd on his face... after everything that had happened. Small sigh. "I should at least call Dia. Don't want to make her disproportionately worried." Or he could go home. His eyes strayed to Stephen's again. Would he be all right? After that speech... resolution... realization, whatever. He thought so. And perhaps I've intruded into what these two have - quite enough for tonight. It was a different kind of intrusion than sharing their bed, after all.
Not that he also didn't want to stay and... something. The mutual admission. That made him smile in a bit of wonder again.
Solace's voice interrupted his reverie. "I should check on Aidan too. It's..." Ah yes. There were people who would put him to bed. Get him to sleep? Now that could be a little more tacky, if he recalled well. "Are you up to coming for it with me?" The quesiton was, of course, to her husband.
"Of course," he sat up, with only a flicker of disappointment and (as strange as it felt to feel) sharp and painful loss. Admissions made, it felt as though something more should have happened, something... special? No. This isn't an admission of newness, this is confirmation of what has been. Things were as they should be. And that thought made him smile a little. The emotional free-fall stabilized, the world righted itself again.
"I'll be up in a moment," he sat up, feet on the floor, pulling himself together not to artificial control but for the purpose of getting things accomplished. "Max, did you want to call or just go home?"
Solace kept her hands on him a moment longer, but then she nodded, and muttered, "I'll let him know - if he's still awake." She leaned to kiss his cheek, squeezed his shoulder again, and walked quietly out.
Max was... "I want to stay and I want to go." It felt strange to say it. Not like his heart was torn. More that he knew what he should do, and, well. He didn't always do the smart thing, did he. Old habits die hard. Quietly, he answered. "Go home. You need to get some rest too." His lips quirked. "The Taylor file will still be in your office in the morning." As well as another pile of decisions to be made. And he didn't like how cold that sounded, because it was wrong, after all that had passed between them tonight.
It was his turn to place his fingers along Stephen's chin, warmly, gently turning his face - and leaning in to kiss him. To disspell the distance of his words with reaffirming what they meant. Feel better. I want you to. Need you to. That too.
Stephen's breath caught as their lips touched, at Max's hand along his face. Whatever uncertainty or nervousness had been coiling back up began to uncurl again, leaving him warm and calmer, quiet. And more exhausted as well. Still he smiled into the kiss, against the other man's lips, leaning forward as he tugged him into his arms for a tight embrace. Pressing another soft kiss at the corner of his jaw. "Thank you," he whispered. "For everything, thank you. I don't know what I would have done tonight if you hadn't been there." As angry as he would have been, something stupid that Sol likely would have suffered for after the wreckage had been cleared away.
Trains. Cars. Broken hands in drywall. Finding Warden Morgan again and confronting him after the fact. Something stupid, no doubt. Of all the things that could undo his carefully built self-control that had been one of them. Now... well. In the space of one night, things seemed to be different. Which made him smile a little, again. And hug Max a little tighter.
Max's arms were tight around Stephen as soon as he was held. One of his hands raised to bury his fingers into the dark curls, and didn't pull far back as he smiled a bit too, at least at the beginning of the other man's words. The ending... felt like a shadow passing over him. "And I'd do it again." Trying to chase that chill away. Holding tight helped. Here. Stephen was here. Max echoed Solace's words from earlier. "I've got you." He couldn't have let him alone, earlier, not seeing how he was. And the reason why he was considering going away now was that he felt things were better. And he was in safe hands.
Safe loving hands. Like his.
He breathed in. Stephen's hair smelled of the shower stuff they'd taken together; his clothes had his own usual scent. Wanted to pull the other man's head against his chest. To bury his head against Stephen's chest. Something. Instead, he just hugged him again tighter, cheek to cheek. "Don't need to think of what would have been, otherwise. There's no otherwise." Too many what-if possibilities.
Only one reality. Here and now.
Stephen nodded a little, digging his fingers in where they were curled around his shoulders and clinging without much in the way of compunction or shame. His breathing was slow, controlled. More controlled than usual.
More controlled than the rest of him at any rate, which put him into two pieces. A part of him was irritated at how he was bouncing up and down the emotional scale, all right at one point and then something as simple as a hug and a few words could undo him. And then again with everything that had happened, everything that had been said and done (and how did three small words carry so, so much weight, sitting now on his chest but not unpleasant, only heavy and tight) perhaps it was no surprise that he was feeling shaky. Perhaps he should take the day off tomorrow. "Perhaps I should give you the day off tomorrow," he murmured, his voice only quavering a little. Smiling, though.
He turned his head for about half a head-shake, into Max's neck. "Perhaps we should both take the day off tomorrow," he murmured then, blinking away the definite tears that he would refuse to own up to even if they were streaming down his face. At lest for a while. "Recuperate." He did, at least, acknowledge the emotional and mental needs of his employees. It was his own that he attempted to work through and refused to allow for half the time.
He was crying, Max realized. He'd thought it possible twice earlier tonight. But right now he could feel the moisture against his skin. It made his own throat tighten. He swallowed, then murmured, "that might not be that bad an idea." He tightened his fingers in Stephen's hair for a moment, holding him close, then lifted his face up. Kissed the forehead. Slow, warm. Then the lips. If the voice, if the words wouldn't own up to those tears, then he wouldn't notice them either. Even if he wanted to kiss them away from his cheeks. "I can even come over at some point. Tell you some things again." Yes. They would be still here in the daylight. Even in the gray daylight of this cold season. Another kiss. Long.
And then he grinned against Stephen's lips. "How much do you think we actually will keep from talking about work, calling the office repeatedly, and deciding it was an odd and inconvenient idea to not show up there?" Why yes, he thought it was funny. Since both of them knew well enough there were more things to be said - or, well, done - than would let them turn it into an actual workday. He pulled back just enough to take in the familiar... the loved face in again, one of his palms against the side of it. He liked looking at Stephen. Oh wait. Nobody present was actually surprised by that, right? He looks drained.
"Not a bad idea at all, withall, for both of us. Your call." He'd be at work if he was needed. He thought... rest could do them good.
He smiled slightly back at Max; the other man knew him very well. And perhaps, allowing as that Max knew him very well, perhaps it was time to allow that Max's less clouded judgment was a good one. And if he was still this shaky, tomorrow might not be much better. "All right," he said softly. "We'll take the day off tomorrow, and if need be, we'll work from home." His home, or Max's, or both, depending on how the night finished up. After everything that had happened Stephen was not about to try to predict who would end the evening in what bed, or where they would be the next day.
And yet even knowing that the likelihood was that Max would go back home to his little Claudia, it surprised Stephen a little to feel a near-complete lack of jealousy. No sense of possessiveness, only a slight wish that he could stay. Not that he would, that he could. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising, he thought, again. They'd had this odd little arrangement for years and this was only the first time they had spoken the words.
He'd be thinking that a lot over the next few days, he decided.
But then he did smile. No, Max couldn't stay, but that was all right. They'd have tomorrow, and then the next day they would go to work and things would resume their course and the only thing that would change was that they would have the memory of having said things that possibly had needed to be said and acknowledged. Before it was too late. Which, in their professions and Max's especially, could be tomorrow. Any tomorrow. The smile faded a bit, but not entirely. They had said and acknowledged those things. So that was all right, too. Still. He kissed him again, just because he could, and this one he made long and lingering and sweet. The words still came awkwardly but that did not mean he couldn't convey it in other ways.
"I'd like it," he murmured, husky and slow, "If we could talk tomorrow."
Max actually couldn't help but let out of a soft laugh at that last part. "Oh we'll get to talk. Promise." Of course they could talk. And ... other things. Which that husky voice put him in mind of a little, but right now... "I think if we sit still much more, we'll need significant help to get upright and mobile again. Like hand tractors." He wasn't sure that even a workout like that should have resulted in muscles as sore and willing to lock; he did keep in good shape, after all. Had to. Or perhaps it was... the staying and keeping tense after that. Or perhaps it was something entirely else based on the entire experience of this evening. Or all three. But while his heart was lighter than it had been for hours now, since he'd seen Stephen storming out of his office, there was still... The exhaustion creeping in.
"Thank you." His turn. "For tomorrow. For tonight. For everything." For your heart. "For not rejecting me and..." oh god he hadn't meant to say that, had he. "Just thank you." He took a deep breath, as though getting ready to stand up, then changed his mind and tightened his arms and kissed Stephen again. His friend. His lover. His beloved. After that, his lips quirked, and he moved to remind him, a whisper in his ear. "Aidan."
"Mm-hmm." But that was a grin now lighting up his face, and how many kisses had they shared today now? Enough, at least, for his lips to feel tender and warm, that always pleasant feeling that usually precluded something more. Not tonight. Or at least, not with Max. "And Claudia." They both had others to take care of now that they were all right. And they did seem to be all right.
He took a breath and let it out again in something almost like a laugh. "Although I don't particularly want to move right now. Not only," and perhaps it didn't need to be said but he was saying it anyway. "Because of the workout earlier." He shifted forward, as he had done at least two or three times before on various couches, suggesting that a different sort of workout was what he was thinking of. And then kissing him again just to underscore the point. Kissing him a lot.
But, Aidan. And Claudia, and discussing things with Solace most likely. She was his touchstone in more than one regard, and helped to put things into perspective. And Max could use the lighter side of things, someone to hold him while he talked about whatever it was he might need to talk about. Or perhaps talk about nothing. They had settled as much as they were going to settle tonight, apart from possibly their sex drives and lust for each other. Stephen kept kissing him just a little while longer, pulling back only to kiss him again. And then again. And then, no, yes, it was time. He took a breath, kissed him softly one last time, and forced himself to get off the couch and off of Max's lap.
Which was easier thought than done, as stiff as he was. There was a hiss of pain and his movements were far creakier than he would have wanted them to be in front of anyone else but someone he trusted. Someone to whom he held out a hand and a rueful smile, offering a hand up.
Max didn't laugh at the hiss. He understood. Clasped the hand offered, hand-to-wrist, and used his other hand to push himself up too. Not that he thought Stephen would object to being pulled down onto him again. It would just be embarrassing. He did wince anyway, and it seemed to him more things were pulling out in his body than had the right to. Not when this simple touch - clasped hands - right now made him just not care for how sore he was. His ascent to vertical position took a bit more time than his usual springing up. He stretched his body up, just attempting to ease it off a bit. Then he pulled Stephen closer again, closing his arms around him, and his mouth on his - his turn for just ONE more kiss. Or two. As his hands rubbed warmly over shoulders and upper back muscles gone hard again.
"You know. Next time you want a massage in the shower, you can just ask." That, and just about anytning else. He kept his arm around Stephen's shoulders walking out. Privacy now. Another few moments.
And tomorrow again. As long as they had. Whatever came, they had... what they'd had already. Tonight included.
"I'll be here when I can persuade the covers to release me."
Stephen chuckled softly; Max's jokes, as inane or borderline-appropriate as they could sometimes be, also helped relax him in a way that nothing else could do. It made him wonder, now and then over the years, what he would have done without Max there to keep him from locking himself into a routine of sobriety and stoic cold. One hand rubbed lightly over Max's shoulder as he leaned briefly into him, as they headed out to the garage. "I'll hold you to that," he told him. "Both the massage and the bit about the covers"
There might have been a slight smirk there. "Take your time, though. I hear covers can be wily."
... One more kiss. Because he could. Not because he was clinging at all or anything. Or either of them were. Really.
"Yeah, I was afraid that might be the case. I'll fight valiantly." A pause. Well. Kiss. Then he registered the direction. "Um. I think a cab might be a better idea. My car's back at the offices." And he couldn't exactly be sure his driving would be the best of ideas right now. Heh. One of the reasons he did stay on top of the things was that he knew his limits. And he was... Well, not over them. But in a place where he'd rather not risk taking too much responsibility for reacting correctly without a good reason. "Of course you'll hold me to it. To all." All that was spoken tonight. Hey, at least he knew that with the people he loved? What he spoke, what he said, mattered. Yes, it did at work too, and had for a while. But just with people, it was still kind of new, too. Well. With Stephen, not quite that recent. But still.
It made him grin, despite the acknowledged need for a taxi. Oh wait. Was 'I can speak up of what I need' one more of the signs about... Well it felt better than otherwise anyway.
"I know," Stephen smiled a little. "That's why I thought I'd call Lee to drive you home." Lee being his driver, when he needed such, and mechanic, when he needed such. Which, given the penchant for wizardry to play merry hell with anything involving higher mechanics, was quite often. He paid the man well for his services, though. "One of the privileges of being rich is you get to pay people to take care of you and your loved ones sometimes." And one of the responsibilities of being rich was not abusing that privilege. Stephen had, at least, learned that much from his father.
As reluctant as he was to leave the shelter of Max's arm, though, he did slip away gently to the phone on the wall, calling up to the house and requesting the man's presence, apologizing for disturbing him at the late hour. Thankfully, not that late. Hanging up, he glanced ruefully over at Max. "Do you think Claudia will give me yet another thrashing for keeping you out late?"
"Only after she's done with me. So that will be your warning." She wouldn't be too happy about certain aspects of what would be revealed when he came home. But at least it really wasn't that late. And he certainly felt he'd had reasons for acting as he had. Every step of the way.
... okay. She'd definitely not be happy about the bruises. "We'll work on ways to make it up to her." Both. Hah. Well between them they could probably accomplish it.
Max's mouth twisted in a lopsided smile. "Thank you." 'You didn't have to' would have been a bit inane by this point. And he did appreciate it. And he did smile at the smooth way Stephen handled his people. Courtesy. Not many people in his position realized the importance of-- Scrap that. There was nobody quite like Stephen, and that was just it. He grinned at that thought. Never be it said that Max Parker didn't know how to value what he had in his life. To the last dreg. And Stephen was not in that category. Rather, quite the other end of things.
Stephen was already working on ways to make it up to her, though he'd share that with Max tomorrow. Instead he smiled an almost mirrored (entirely unconsciously, but still) lopsided smile back, one hand touching his shoulder lightly in a gesture that would have been more of an embrace if he'd been at the proper angle, or more of a gentle squeeze if they both weren't covered in bruises. Mm, and perhaps they could give each other massages tomorrow. Later, though. After sleep. And in his case at least, after talking things through with his lady. After spending time with his son.
"We'll make it up to her," he nodded, rubbing lightly over Max's shoulder before letting his hand fall again. And there was the sound of footsteps on pavement and keys jingling from a distant belt-loop. His rueful smile turned into something almost like a grin. "I'll fall on my sword if I have to. Metaphorically speaking."
Normally he wouldn't have clarified it, but after the events of tonight he decided it needed to be said. Just in case.
"Sure hope it was metaphorical." A beat. "Left-hand or right-hand sword?" Smirk. No, he didn't want to joke about it. But he could. Two swords. The side of his ribs twinged. And the sweats were definitely better feel at his hip than jeans would have been. "Never mind." He could hear the approaching man too, and he nodded. "See you tomorrow. Stay safe." Routine, that. Kind of rattled worse, tonight. One last hand-clasp - too close to be a handshake, too public to make it an embrace - and he followed the driver, settling in the car and giving directions.
As he'd promised Claudia that he would. He was going home. Maybe a bit late, definitely a bit worse for the wear. But home.
ooc: Takes place... Nov/Dec 2004 in the WR timeline. RP log with Stephen: delamarck. Solace: dumornes_sol appears too. Dia is drgatesjones. For those who didn't know. And it's LONG so be warned! So long actually that LJ didn't want to post it. So. Split in two! This is part two.