day almost done - formal wear
JUST ONE MORE. And I outlined it at the conference I was at today, so it will definitely be done tomorrow, meaning I finished this all in February and with only three extra days! Only THREE! I'm so surprised at myself!
Anyway, I don't want to get ahead of myself. This is a direct sequel to doing something hot because I realized halfway through writing "doing something hot" that they were wearing formal wear in it and my brain just spiraled out into this.
***
formal wear (~1800)
***
The country club is being cooled to arctic temperatures and Charles actually sighs in relief when the door shuts behind them and they're hit by the first blast of air. Erik wants to sigh too. He may whine (slightly) less than Charles--who booked them a hotel room for two nights when their air conditioner broke in the middle of a heatwave last summer--but he's not too macho to acknowledge when it's just too fucking hot for a full suit and tie.
"Thank you again for coming with me," Charles says. Charles thanks Erik every time he accompanies Charles to an event. He knows Charles is just saying it to be polite and because he really does appreciate having Erik in his life, but each time Erik feels guilty all over again about the one wedding Erik almost skipped by accident over a year ago. It was a stupid argument and it was Charles' fault, really, but Erik can't stop the spike of guilt at how genuinely happy Charles is to have Erik with him for these things.
"You don't have to thank me," Erik says. "I'd rather spend the weekend with you than without you. Also, I entirely understand the need to prove that I'm better looking and smarter than Megan's sisters' boyfriends."
"How noble of you," Charles says, and elbows Erik as they continue down the hall. The club is huge and cavernous and old in a way that screams money, and as they pass the ballroom, he can hear hurried footsteps and mutinous mumbles from within. They leave it behind and continue down the hall to a smaller room with a placecard identifying it as the Dining Room. Charles pulls the door open and gestures for Erik to enter the darkened room. The tables and chairs are stacked to the sides, leaving a large, empty room that Erik can barely make out through the darkness. There are heavy curtains on the windows and they're all drawn shut. The light from the hall, though, is enough for Erik to make his way towards the unobtrusive door in the back--the kitchen.
He flicks the light switch once he steps inside, and the lights flicker on slowly, the industrial hum of them suddenly filling the room. Charles is at his back, affable and content, loose with a willingness to go along with whatever Erik suggests and just generally happy.
Erik always needs to take a moment when he thinks about how happy Charles is just from being with him. This time is no exception and he pauses in the middle of the kitchen.
"Something wrong?" Charles asks. He takes the bag from Erik and heads towards the large refrigerator in the back.
"No," Erik says. "Nothing. Just thinking." He pushes himself forward and moves to stand behind Charles as he puts the diaper bag in the fridge. Charles is still radiating heat, still flushed and sweating, and once the door is shut, Erik slides an arm around Charles' waist and pulls him backwards towards the door of the walk-in freezer.
"What are you doing?" Charles asks. Then, before Erik can explain, "No! I've seen enough television to know that people who go into walk-in freezers inevitably get stuck and nearly die from hypothermia before the dashing hero manages to save them."
"Well," Erik says as he pulls open the door with a wave of his hand, "I'm the dashing hero and I'll be in there with you, so we'll be fine."
Charles tips his head back and pins Erik with a look.
"Alright," Erik admits, "I'm probably the nefarious villain who put you there in the first place. Come on, I worked in the kitchens all through college and grad school. Freezers like this don't mysteriously lock and they're easy to open from the inside. We used to take breaks in the freezer all the time when it got really hot in the kitchen."
Charles sighs and lets Erik pull him into the darkness of the freezer, then sighs again when the chill first hits him, this breath longer and releasing some of the tension in Charles' back and shoulders. Erik kisses his temple.
"See? I have good ideas," he says.
"Sometimes," Charles agrees, and Erik releases him. "Just don't--" And pulls the door shut. "Erik!"
"What?" Erik asks. "If we hold it open, their ice cream will melt."
"Erik," Charles repeats, and fumbles for his hand. It's dark, yeah, and Erik's eyes haven't adjusted yet, but it's refreshing after so long outside.
"Relax," he says. He pulls Charles towards him. "Relax," he murmurs more quietly, and then leans over and kisses him. Charles huffs a quiet laugh but acquiesces and leans against Erik, hands on his waist. They're not exactly innocent kisses, but there's no real intent behind them. They're kisses for the sake of kissing, kisses because Erik likes the feeling of Charles' mouth beneath his.
They kiss until Erik's fingers start to go numb and Charles shivers against him, pulling away to cross his arms against his chest.
"I think we're sufficiently cooled down, now," he says, but leans forward for one last kiss. "Can we go somewhere it's lighter? Where I'm more secure in the flow of oxygen?"
Erik's eyes never really did adjust--the dark is pervasive. And he does like to look at Charles, especially on days like today, when he's wrapped in a three piece suit with a tie that matches the color of his eyes.
"Fine," Erik says. Then, because he's an ass and he can feel Charles' nerves and impatience jangling in the dark behind him, he pulls instead of pushes, rattling the door on its frame without actually opening it. "Uh-oh," he murmurs.
The sharp moment of hysterical panic, the intake of breath from Charles and the way Charles' fingers dig into his back, is worth the force with which Charles punches his shoulder.
"You ass!" Charles says, and shoves him. "Just let us out."
Erik pushes the door open, laughing.
"It was funny!" he says as he steps back into the kitchen.
"It was not," Charles insists, red-cheeked and fiery and incensed in a way that lights his face up. He's beautiful. "I wasn't panicking anyway, if it had locked, you could have used your ability to open it."
"Of course you weren't," Erik says, and Charles punches him again. "Ow."
"You deserve it," Charles says, pausing in the kitchen to straighten out his suit. He really does look amazing. The number one perk to weddings, even more than the free food and booze, is how incredible Charles looks when he puts aside his usual frumpy wardrobe and puts on clothes that fit. Not only clothes that fit, clothes that are tailored. Clothes that are fine and expensive, clothes that inspire him to style his hair and shine his shoes. Charles always looks good to Erik, even when he's wearing a three day old t-shirt and has bags under his eyes, but Charles dressed to impressed sends Erik's heart racing.
He's really disgustingly smitten. Some of it must be showing on his face, because Charles looks up and offers him a shy smile, the rest of his anger dissipating.
"The party's still not started," Charles says. "Meghan's mother is inspecting the ballroom as we speak."
"Well," Erik says, holding out his hand and pulling Charles towards him. "We should stay here, then. She might catch us if we try and sneak back out. Better not to incur ill-will on your cousin's wedding day."
"How noble of you," Charles says dryly.
They abandon the kitchen, hitting the light switch as they go, but only get as far as the empty dining room. Charles' fingers arelinked with Erik's, and he pauses in the middle of the room, pulling Erik to a stop with him. He looks around, considering, and then drops Erik's hand and drops to the ground, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows. Erik crouches down next to him and then mirrors his posture.
"It's funny," Charles says. "Billy is the opposite of all of this. He's the last person I'd expect to have a wedding this elaborate. Meghan, too, seems like a good egg. It's mostly her family's doing. But I really felt like...I suppose I felt like I'd finally escaped all of this when I stopped spending time in Mum's social circles. And here I am again."
That faraway look in his eyes means that Charles is on the verge of falling back into the past. Erik doesn't want that. Erik doesn't want dwelling. They have a wonderful weekend away and Erik wants them to happily enjoy it without something dark hanging over them.
"Not alone this time, at least," Erik says. "You get to bother me all throughout the reception and do indecent things with me in dark corners where anyone can see and at the end of the weekend, we go back to our shitty apartment and it's done with. It could be worse. Looks like Billy is actually marrying into it."
Charles smiles. It's enough, apparently, to steer him away from darker thoughts.
"I take offense to you calling our apartment shitty," he says, poking Erik. "It's just...rather over crowded right now."
Erik lies fully back on the floor, arms crossed over his chest.
"And who's fault is that?" he asks.
Charles rolls his eyes and twists around, maneuvering himself until he's straddling Erik's waist and leaning his weight back on Erik's thighs. This isn't a position they normally find themselves in while fully clothed, but Charles simply reaches out to take Erik's hands and hold them in his own.
"I resent that implication," Charles says.
"Doesn't mean it's not true," Erik says. Charles wrinkles his nose but says nothing, so Erik throws him another bone, because he's feeling good and Charles is sitting on his lap and weddings maybe make him a little soppy. "You look gorgeous."
Charles squeezes his fingers.
"Thanks," he says, his lips curled into a half-smile that's almost bashful. "You look rather good yourself. I quite enjoy making you dress up."
"You enjoy making me do things, full stop," Erik says.
Charles snorts but when he says, "I enjoy you, full stop," he's smiling. The look on his face is distantly blissful, perfectly content, and Erik wishes he could take a picture. He wishes he could come up with words that encompass how he feels, that he could put words to the things he knows without feeling clumsy and awkward. They're going to get married one day, he and Charles. They haven't discussed it, not really, but he knows. Of course he knows. He's not going anywhere--he has nowhere else to go, nowhere else he can imagine himself, nowhere else he could ever want to be. And Charles feels the same--Charles loves him more every day, or so he tells Erik, and Erik has no reason to doubt him. Something about them just fits.
Marriage is a long way off, though. Gay marriage still isn't legal in New York and with the legislative session ending in a few weeks, it probably won't even be on the table for a while, yet. There's still plenty of time to think about whatever the future holds for the two of them. For today, he's content to hold Charles' hands, to lie on the floor with him and let someone else go through the messy details of marrying, while they reap the benefits of free food, free booze, formal wear, and air conditioning.
*
the rest of the days:
1. Holding hands
2. Cuddling somewhere
3. Gaming/watching a movie
4. On a date
5. Kissing
6. Wearing each others’ clothes
7. Shopping
8. Hanging out with friends
9. Making out
10. Eating icecream
11. In a different clothing style
12. During their morning ritual(s)
13. Spooning
14. Doing something together
15. In formal wear
16. Dancing
17. Cooking/baking
18. In battle, side-by-side
19. Arguing
20. Making up afterwards
21. Getting married
22. On one of their birthdays
23. Doing something ridiculous
24. Doing something sweet
25. Doing something hot
Anyway, I don't want to get ahead of myself. This is a direct sequel to doing something hot because I realized halfway through writing "doing something hot" that they were wearing formal wear in it and my brain just spiraled out into this.
***
formal wear (~1800)
***
The country club is being cooled to arctic temperatures and Charles actually sighs in relief when the door shuts behind them and they're hit by the first blast of air. Erik wants to sigh too. He may whine (slightly) less than Charles--who booked them a hotel room for two nights when their air conditioner broke in the middle of a heatwave last summer--but he's not too macho to acknowledge when it's just too fucking hot for a full suit and tie.
"Thank you again for coming with me," Charles says. Charles thanks Erik every time he accompanies Charles to an event. He knows Charles is just saying it to be polite and because he really does appreciate having Erik in his life, but each time Erik feels guilty all over again about the one wedding Erik almost skipped by accident over a year ago. It was a stupid argument and it was Charles' fault, really, but Erik can't stop the spike of guilt at how genuinely happy Charles is to have Erik with him for these things.
"You don't have to thank me," Erik says. "I'd rather spend the weekend with you than without you. Also, I entirely understand the need to prove that I'm better looking and smarter than Megan's sisters' boyfriends."
"How noble of you," Charles says, and elbows Erik as they continue down the hall. The club is huge and cavernous and old in a way that screams money, and as they pass the ballroom, he can hear hurried footsteps and mutinous mumbles from within. They leave it behind and continue down the hall to a smaller room with a placecard identifying it as the Dining Room. Charles pulls the door open and gestures for Erik to enter the darkened room. The tables and chairs are stacked to the sides, leaving a large, empty room that Erik can barely make out through the darkness. There are heavy curtains on the windows and they're all drawn shut. The light from the hall, though, is enough for Erik to make his way towards the unobtrusive door in the back--the kitchen.
He flicks the light switch once he steps inside, and the lights flicker on slowly, the industrial hum of them suddenly filling the room. Charles is at his back, affable and content, loose with a willingness to go along with whatever Erik suggests and just generally happy.
Erik always needs to take a moment when he thinks about how happy Charles is just from being with him. This time is no exception and he pauses in the middle of the kitchen.
"Something wrong?" Charles asks. He takes the bag from Erik and heads towards the large refrigerator in the back.
"No," Erik says. "Nothing. Just thinking." He pushes himself forward and moves to stand behind Charles as he puts the diaper bag in the fridge. Charles is still radiating heat, still flushed and sweating, and once the door is shut, Erik slides an arm around Charles' waist and pulls him backwards towards the door of the walk-in freezer.
"What are you doing?" Charles asks. Then, before Erik can explain, "No! I've seen enough television to know that people who go into walk-in freezers inevitably get stuck and nearly die from hypothermia before the dashing hero manages to save them."
"Well," Erik says as he pulls open the door with a wave of his hand, "I'm the dashing hero and I'll be in there with you, so we'll be fine."
Charles tips his head back and pins Erik with a look.
"Alright," Erik admits, "I'm probably the nefarious villain who put you there in the first place. Come on, I worked in the kitchens all through college and grad school. Freezers like this don't mysteriously lock and they're easy to open from the inside. We used to take breaks in the freezer all the time when it got really hot in the kitchen."
Charles sighs and lets Erik pull him into the darkness of the freezer, then sighs again when the chill first hits him, this breath longer and releasing some of the tension in Charles' back and shoulders. Erik kisses his temple.
"See? I have good ideas," he says.
"Sometimes," Charles agrees, and Erik releases him. "Just don't--" And pulls the door shut. "Erik!"
"What?" Erik asks. "If we hold it open, their ice cream will melt."
"Erik," Charles repeats, and fumbles for his hand. It's dark, yeah, and Erik's eyes haven't adjusted yet, but it's refreshing after so long outside.
"Relax," he says. He pulls Charles towards him. "Relax," he murmurs more quietly, and then leans over and kisses him. Charles huffs a quiet laugh but acquiesces and leans against Erik, hands on his waist. They're not exactly innocent kisses, but there's no real intent behind them. They're kisses for the sake of kissing, kisses because Erik likes the feeling of Charles' mouth beneath his.
They kiss until Erik's fingers start to go numb and Charles shivers against him, pulling away to cross his arms against his chest.
"I think we're sufficiently cooled down, now," he says, but leans forward for one last kiss. "Can we go somewhere it's lighter? Where I'm more secure in the flow of oxygen?"
Erik's eyes never really did adjust--the dark is pervasive. And he does like to look at Charles, especially on days like today, when he's wrapped in a three piece suit with a tie that matches the color of his eyes.
"Fine," Erik says. Then, because he's an ass and he can feel Charles' nerves and impatience jangling in the dark behind him, he pulls instead of pushes, rattling the door on its frame without actually opening it. "Uh-oh," he murmurs.
The sharp moment of hysterical panic, the intake of breath from Charles and the way Charles' fingers dig into his back, is worth the force with which Charles punches his shoulder.
"You ass!" Charles says, and shoves him. "Just let us out."
Erik pushes the door open, laughing.
"It was funny!" he says as he steps back into the kitchen.
"It was not," Charles insists, red-cheeked and fiery and incensed in a way that lights his face up. He's beautiful. "I wasn't panicking anyway, if it had locked, you could have used your ability to open it."
"Of course you weren't," Erik says, and Charles punches him again. "Ow."
"You deserve it," Charles says, pausing in the kitchen to straighten out his suit. He really does look amazing. The number one perk to weddings, even more than the free food and booze, is how incredible Charles looks when he puts aside his usual frumpy wardrobe and puts on clothes that fit. Not only clothes that fit, clothes that are tailored. Clothes that are fine and expensive, clothes that inspire him to style his hair and shine his shoes. Charles always looks good to Erik, even when he's wearing a three day old t-shirt and has bags under his eyes, but Charles dressed to impressed sends Erik's heart racing.
He's really disgustingly smitten. Some of it must be showing on his face, because Charles looks up and offers him a shy smile, the rest of his anger dissipating.
"The party's still not started," Charles says. "Meghan's mother is inspecting the ballroom as we speak."
"Well," Erik says, holding out his hand and pulling Charles towards him. "We should stay here, then. She might catch us if we try and sneak back out. Better not to incur ill-will on your cousin's wedding day."
"How noble of you," Charles says dryly.
They abandon the kitchen, hitting the light switch as they go, but only get as far as the empty dining room. Charles' fingers arelinked with Erik's, and he pauses in the middle of the room, pulling Erik to a stop with him. He looks around, considering, and then drops Erik's hand and drops to the ground, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows. Erik crouches down next to him and then mirrors his posture.
"It's funny," Charles says. "Billy is the opposite of all of this. He's the last person I'd expect to have a wedding this elaborate. Meghan, too, seems like a good egg. It's mostly her family's doing. But I really felt like...I suppose I felt like I'd finally escaped all of this when I stopped spending time in Mum's social circles. And here I am again."
That faraway look in his eyes means that Charles is on the verge of falling back into the past. Erik doesn't want that. Erik doesn't want dwelling. They have a wonderful weekend away and Erik wants them to happily enjoy it without something dark hanging over them.
"Not alone this time, at least," Erik says. "You get to bother me all throughout the reception and do indecent things with me in dark corners where anyone can see and at the end of the weekend, we go back to our shitty apartment and it's done with. It could be worse. Looks like Billy is actually marrying into it."
Charles smiles. It's enough, apparently, to steer him away from darker thoughts.
"I take offense to you calling our apartment shitty," he says, poking Erik. "It's just...rather over crowded right now."
Erik lies fully back on the floor, arms crossed over his chest.
"And who's fault is that?" he asks.
Charles rolls his eyes and twists around, maneuvering himself until he's straddling Erik's waist and leaning his weight back on Erik's thighs. This isn't a position they normally find themselves in while fully clothed, but Charles simply reaches out to take Erik's hands and hold them in his own.
"I resent that implication," Charles says.
"Doesn't mean it's not true," Erik says. Charles wrinkles his nose but says nothing, so Erik throws him another bone, because he's feeling good and Charles is sitting on his lap and weddings maybe make him a little soppy. "You look gorgeous."
Charles squeezes his fingers.
"Thanks," he says, his lips curled into a half-smile that's almost bashful. "You look rather good yourself. I quite enjoy making you dress up."
"You enjoy making me do things, full stop," Erik says.
Charles snorts but when he says, "I enjoy you, full stop," he's smiling. The look on his face is distantly blissful, perfectly content, and Erik wishes he could take a picture. He wishes he could come up with words that encompass how he feels, that he could put words to the things he knows without feeling clumsy and awkward. They're going to get married one day, he and Charles. They haven't discussed it, not really, but he knows. Of course he knows. He's not going anywhere--he has nowhere else to go, nowhere else he can imagine himself, nowhere else he could ever want to be. And Charles feels the same--Charles loves him more every day, or so he tells Erik, and Erik has no reason to doubt him. Something about them just fits.
Marriage is a long way off, though. Gay marriage still isn't legal in New York and with the legislative session ending in a few weeks, it probably won't even be on the table for a while, yet. There's still plenty of time to think about whatever the future holds for the two of them. For today, he's content to hold Charles' hands, to lie on the floor with him and let someone else go through the messy details of marrying, while they reap the benefits of free food, free booze, formal wear, and air conditioning.
*
the rest of the days:
1. Holding hands
2. Cuddling somewhere
3. Gaming/watching a movie
4. On a date
5. Kissing
6. Wearing each others’ clothes
7. Shopping
8. Hanging out with friends
9. Making out
10. Eating icecream
11. In a different clothing style
12. During their morning ritual(s)
13. Spooning
14. Doing something together
15. In formal wear
16. Dancing
17. Cooking/baking
18. In battle, side-by-side
19. Arguing
20. Making up afterwards
21. Getting married
22. On one of their birthdays
23. Doing something ridiculous
24. Doing something sweet
25. Doing something hot