NYE
It’s painfully cold, absurdly so, every time the door to the bar opens a wave of the icy air flies in and the patrons turn to stare with enmity at the person who dared to come or go - a small little hole in the wall, unpretentious and usually forgotten but tonight it’s already had heavy traffic. Gabe watches the kids, they must be barely legal, ( Read more... )
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He'd already taken a lot of heat for having the audacity to ask for a table only two weeks in advance. Didn't have to add insult to the injury by showing up in what Frank would label hobo attire before bursting into tears.
There are a few angry glares when he enters the bar and Julien just shrugs at them. He can't walk through a closed door, can he?
"Hi! Sorry, I got stuck in traffic," he greets Gabe and deposits the gift on the stool before he shrugs out of his coat. Blue shirt, grey trousers, no tie, no waistcoat, no suit jacket. Feeling a little bit naked but that's just in his head.
"What are you drinking?"
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Gabe replies by way of greeting - but what he's thinking is kiss me, kiss me hello, why don't you kiss me?. The humble kiss has always been so ridiculously important to him, symbolising as it does affection and connection and something he signifies as greater than the rest. Even with his ex - that failed relationship with a guy that even now he insists on identifying as misunderstood rather than as a sadistic asshole, even with him one of the only things he'd insisted on in their relationship was a kiss good-morning and a kiss good-night. And Matt had acquiesced because really it wasn't so much to ask and because Gabe had never asked for much else apart from certain fiscal luxuries.
"You look nice. Is that for me?"
He means the gift not Julien's clothing.
"The present."
Stupid question, really. Who else is it for? His fingers play with the ribbon as he says it.
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He struggles a bit with his coat and scarf and ends up draping the thing unceremoniously over his stool. If it refuses to be folded up neatly, it'll have to content itself with being sat on.
"Yes. Yes, it is. Happy birthday." There's a huge smile on Julien's face and only a hint of hesitation before steps into the V-shaped space between Gabe's legs and wraps his arms around him for a tight embrace and a light kiss on the cheek.
"It's... well, just open it."
The gift is not something new but it's something Julien's loved ever since he was a little boy. An antique music box made of dark wood with delicate carvings on the side, playing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite.
He got it when he was five and it was broken when he was ten. He never had it repaired until now, hadn't thought about it until a month ago.
Julien loves this box even though he hasn't touched it in years. And now he's giving it away because he hopes it might make Gabe happy.
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The embrace feels so good and so right and Gabe's own arms stretch around Julien and hold him tightly for as long as he can get away with. He needs this, human contact, he craves it. He always has.
"Thank you - you didn't have to - "
Well, obviously he didn't have to.
"What I mean is that you being here is enough, is all I wanted - "
And his lightly tanned skin, tan faded in the winter months, flushes slightly, the blush colouring his nose a cheeks. So Gabe concentrates instead on unwrapping the present to reveal the little box underneath - so quaint and pretty and he's sure absurdly expensive. Julien really shouldn't have, he thinks.
"It's beautiful." And as he winds it he realises it works, a few bars of the Nutcracker play.
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