[46] Eat and get the hell out!
[Eat and get the hell out.]
[Sam Harper, likes_cameras and Stella Daniels, iwould_join used with permission and love. All characters referenced to with permission.]
"Remind me why we're doing this?" Devon asked, his hand on the dashboard. The passenger side of Sam's Saturn was spacious enough that Devon would have no problem staying there for the duration of Sunday brunch. His mother would understand...in time.
Sam's head appeared at his window.
"Because it was your idea."
Devon would have denied this until the end of time had it not been his idea. But, somehow when his mother called wanting to know how he was doing he was wrangled into last minute Sunday brunch with both her and Sam.
Sighing, Devon stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. Sam put his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders and squeezed lightly. "You'll be fine."
A small half-laugh escaped as Devon felt Sam's arm slide around his shoulders as they made their way towards the restaurant.
Devon was not a fan of Sunday brunch. He was a fan of sleeping in until the last possible moment. Sunday was his off day. Sunday was his damn day of rest. How he'd been convinced to do Sunday brunch earlier that morning baffled him to his core.
The hostess led the two of them to a table in the very middle of the restaurantMaking a scene was now out of the question. Too many witnesses. And trips to the bathroom would be noticeable. He was going to have to wait it out...he was going to have to eat brunch...he was going to have to eat brunch with his mother and Sam.
"Dear," she addressed, standing up and giving her son a long, warm hug. Sam realized Stella hadn't closed her eyes while hugging her son. Instead, her eyes were fixed on him. So, this was the boy who'd stolen her son away from her. He would always be that guy. "Sam," she added, as Devon quickly sat down. She took his hand and tilted her head giving him a small smile before sitting down in her own chair. Sam nodded quietly while taking his own seat.
"It seems like forever since I've spoken to you boys."
Devon knew what that meant. It was a dig at him. It had been a long, drama-free two months and Devon was not complaining. Then again, the last time she had spoken to Sam she had made them a re-thanksgiving dinner. Or was it un-thanksgiving. By this time, Devon couldn't actually remember. The time in New York after that was just a bad memory.
"Well, we've been busy, Mom," Devon replied, forcing a smile.
"So, Devon said you were coming into town," Sam interjected. "I thought you lived in L.A." Devon turned to him, ready to scold his boyfriend with his eyes until he realized he too had thought the same. The question merited an answer.
"I used to. I live outside of Los Angeles now. Corona. You've heard of it?" Stella took a sip of her water before sitting back and fingering her gaudy, over-sized necklace. Devon was just horrified his mother now lived in a city named after a popular beer.
"Corona, mom?" he asked.
"Corona? Got it," the waitress answered, marking it down on her pad. Devon hadn't realized the petite ball of energy had been standing at their table and had even taken his boyfriend's drink order: Iced-tea before moving onto him.
Lunch was long and tiring. Devon learned his mother had moved hearing of the impending collapse of the economy. She sublet her apartment and moved into a condo in Corona. A condo close to the man she was now seeing. It took Devon a helping of eggs, bacon, and a toasted bagel to really feel the weight of that revelation.
"Congratulations, Mrs. D," Sam had said, a genuine smile on his face.
"Thank you, Sam." She smiled warmly at her son's boyfriend before bringing her hand up. "And please, Stella. Mrs. D was my mother. Even my patients call me Stella."
The rest of the meal went by uneventfully. Devon mentioned his possible promotion, a fact that had surprised Sam. The two crossed paths on their way out and into the bathroom respectively.
"You asked to be a critic?" Sam's arms were crossed.
"I was going to tell you. I haven't accepted the position yet." Devon found it hard to look Sam in the eye. It wasn't like this was a secret. It was good news. Why had he kept it from him? Why had his mother wanted to have brunch?
"You should," Sam answered, sighing. "I should sit down." Devon grabbed his hand as Sam moved past him and took a moment to embrace the photographer.
"I wasn't keeping this from you."
"I know," he answered into Devon's shoulder.
When talk of dessert turned into coffee, Stella had insisted they retire somewhere else to have after brunch coffee. It was apparently wrong to have coffee at the same place where one partook in brunch. This confused and bewildered Devon. Sam's offer floored the future critic.
"How about we have coffee at -- our place?" Sam asked. First, Devon had never called Sam's apartment their place. It was Sam's. Devon still had his apartment - it was just...emptier then he had been in the past. And second, they hadn't actually moved in with one another. It just happened that Devon ended up at Sam's by default.
While Sam and Devon (it took two people to make coffee) were in the kitchen, Devon could see his mother inspecting the living room. She stood in front of one particular piece of art for far too long for Devon's taste. A photograph Sam had taken of an abandoned swingset that Devon had liked. Sam had had it framed. And now Stella was focused on it.
That was, until there was a knock at the door.
"I'll - uh, get it," Devon offered. Sam nodded, pouring the first mug of coffee. "Please, don't - I'll get it," Devon deadpanned in the direction of his mother who was still fixated on the photograph. Devon had figured Marion needed something or even possibly Andy. Possibly the both of them - with Serena in tow, even had decided to wrangle together some kind of fun activity. And if Marion were there then Alex would be to. He was not ready for two worlds to collide.
"Oh-" Devon exclaimed, his breath and voice both lost in the same moment.
"Who is it?" Sam called from the kitchen. Devon couldn't answer, turning back. He had a voice, right? Hadn't he used it a second ago.
"Devon," the woman answered. Her eyes were wide but her smile conveyed a warmth Devon couldn't fathom in that moment.
"Mrs. Harper," was all he could rasp out.
[Sam Harper, likes_cameras and Stella Daniels, iwould_join used with permission and love. All characters referenced to with permission.]
"Remind me why we're doing this?" Devon asked, his hand on the dashboard. The passenger side of Sam's Saturn was spacious enough that Devon would have no problem staying there for the duration of Sunday brunch. His mother would understand...in time.
Sam's head appeared at his window.
"Because it was your idea."
Devon would have denied this until the end of time had it not been his idea. But, somehow when his mother called wanting to know how he was doing he was wrangled into last minute Sunday brunch with both her and Sam.
Sighing, Devon stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. Sam put his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders and squeezed lightly. "You'll be fine."
A small half-laugh escaped as Devon felt Sam's arm slide around his shoulders as they made their way towards the restaurant.
Devon was not a fan of Sunday brunch. He was a fan of sleeping in until the last possible moment. Sunday was his off day. Sunday was his damn day of rest. How he'd been convinced to do Sunday brunch earlier that morning baffled him to his core.
The hostess led the two of them to a table in the very middle of the restaurantMaking a scene was now out of the question. Too many witnesses. And trips to the bathroom would be noticeable. He was going to have to wait it out...he was going to have to eat brunch...he was going to have to eat brunch with his mother and Sam.
"Dear," she addressed, standing up and giving her son a long, warm hug. Sam realized Stella hadn't closed her eyes while hugging her son. Instead, her eyes were fixed on him. So, this was the boy who'd stolen her son away from her. He would always be that guy. "Sam," she added, as Devon quickly sat down. She took his hand and tilted her head giving him a small smile before sitting down in her own chair. Sam nodded quietly while taking his own seat.
"It seems like forever since I've spoken to you boys."
Devon knew what that meant. It was a dig at him. It had been a long, drama-free two months and Devon was not complaining. Then again, the last time she had spoken to Sam she had made them a re-thanksgiving dinner. Or was it un-thanksgiving. By this time, Devon couldn't actually remember. The time in New York after that was just a bad memory.
"Well, we've been busy, Mom," Devon replied, forcing a smile.
"So, Devon said you were coming into town," Sam interjected. "I thought you lived in L.A." Devon turned to him, ready to scold his boyfriend with his eyes until he realized he too had thought the same. The question merited an answer.
"I used to. I live outside of Los Angeles now. Corona. You've heard of it?" Stella took a sip of her water before sitting back and fingering her gaudy, over-sized necklace. Devon was just horrified his mother now lived in a city named after a popular beer.
"Corona, mom?" he asked.
"Corona? Got it," the waitress answered, marking it down on her pad. Devon hadn't realized the petite ball of energy had been standing at their table and had even taken his boyfriend's drink order: Iced-tea before moving onto him.
Lunch was long and tiring. Devon learned his mother had moved hearing of the impending collapse of the economy. She sublet her apartment and moved into a condo in Corona. A condo close to the man she was now seeing. It took Devon a helping of eggs, bacon, and a toasted bagel to really feel the weight of that revelation.
"Congratulations, Mrs. D," Sam had said, a genuine smile on his face.
"Thank you, Sam." She smiled warmly at her son's boyfriend before bringing her hand up. "And please, Stella. Mrs. D was my mother. Even my patients call me Stella."
The rest of the meal went by uneventfully. Devon mentioned his possible promotion, a fact that had surprised Sam. The two crossed paths on their way out and into the bathroom respectively.
"You asked to be a critic?" Sam's arms were crossed.
"I was going to tell you. I haven't accepted the position yet." Devon found it hard to look Sam in the eye. It wasn't like this was a secret. It was good news. Why had he kept it from him? Why had his mother wanted to have brunch?
"You should," Sam answered, sighing. "I should sit down." Devon grabbed his hand as Sam moved past him and took a moment to embrace the photographer.
"I wasn't keeping this from you."
"I know," he answered into Devon's shoulder.
When talk of dessert turned into coffee, Stella had insisted they retire somewhere else to have after brunch coffee. It was apparently wrong to have coffee at the same place where one partook in brunch. This confused and bewildered Devon. Sam's offer floored the future critic.
"How about we have coffee at -- our place?" Sam asked. First, Devon had never called Sam's apartment their place. It was Sam's. Devon still had his apartment - it was just...emptier then he had been in the past. And second, they hadn't actually moved in with one another. It just happened that Devon ended up at Sam's by default.
While Sam and Devon (it took two people to make coffee) were in the kitchen, Devon could see his mother inspecting the living room. She stood in front of one particular piece of art for far too long for Devon's taste. A photograph Sam had taken of an abandoned swingset that Devon had liked. Sam had had it framed. And now Stella was focused on it.
That was, until there was a knock at the door.
"I'll - uh, get it," Devon offered. Sam nodded, pouring the first mug of coffee. "Please, don't - I'll get it," Devon deadpanned in the direction of his mother who was still fixated on the photograph. Devon had figured Marion needed something or even possibly Andy. Possibly the both of them - with Serena in tow, even had decided to wrangle together some kind of fun activity. And if Marion were there then Alex would be to. He was not ready for two worlds to collide.
"Oh-" Devon exclaimed, his breath and voice both lost in the same moment.
"Who is it?" Sam called from the kitchen. Devon couldn't answer, turning back. He had a voice, right? Hadn't he used it a second ago.
"Devon," the woman answered. Her eyes were wide but her smile conveyed a warmth Devon couldn't fathom in that moment.
"Mrs. Harper," was all he could rasp out.