Date with Alcuin
He'd done someone a favor, asked them to run a note up to Alcuin's home. It was done on one of the index cards he'd brought over with him, and carefully inked with his precious, precious fountain pen. He was going to miss that when the ink was gone. He'd even made an envelope carefully folded out of a bit of paper.
Rupert Giles requests the ( Read more... )
Rupert Giles requests the ( Read more... )
He could not pretend that he hadn't been looking forward to this. Though he also had to admit that he was a touch uneasy - or perhaps that was not the right word, perhaps confused was more accurate - about what the seeds of a romance with Rupert might mean for his relationship with Mohinder. He knew that Mohinder had seemed pleased that Rupert was finally showing an interest in him, but then, Mohinder had also told Alcuin he loved him - and though there were certainly no expectations of monogamy between them, Alcuin suspected that Mohinder realized that his feelings for Rupert extended beyond the desire and affection he felt for his other lovers. It was a confusing state of affairs, and not really something he had encountered before.
In any case, he put it out of his mind for now and resolved to simply enjoy himself and let things fall as they may. He dressed nicely but not formally, in a pair of fitted blue trousers and a loose linen shirt, and left his hair down, so that when he finally approached Rupert on the beach, it was blowing behind him in the slight breeze.
He smiled. "Rupert. I am pleased to accept your kind invitation."
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He pulled himself to his feet and offered a smile. "Alcuin. I hope you don't think your invitation was a bit silly. I went back and forth six times on it."
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The scenario was not entirely unfamiliar, though the similar situations in his memory necessarily began with the promise of sex - because however courtly and romantic a patron's fantasy, that was always the ultimate point.
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That did mean his small talk was awkward, at first. After the third self-conscious polish of his eyeglasses (when he realized he'd been quite excitedly expounding on a new declination he'd been re-learning in Latin) he deliberately put them in his pocket so he'd leave them be.
"Some day soon," he offered, as he was tucking away the last of the leftovers into a bag he'd borrowed for the occasion, "I would like it if you'd teach me about the music from your home. I'd like to play something of yours for you."
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He had allowed himself only a small glass of wine for similar reasons, though it was enough to settle his nerves a touch. He felt relaxed and happy, which after dealing with Dr. House and the theft of his diary (including the ensuing awkwardness with Daniel), was a nice change.
"I'd be happy to," Alcuin said. "Though I was never really much of a musician. I sing a little, and learned the play the harp passably for parties when I was younger."
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His tone was more curious than judgmental. "When I was expected to entertain, be at another's beck and call, I always -- always -- resented it in the end. When it's my choice, it's my pleasure. But the moment you take my choice away...." He glanced up. "And the expectations my family put on me were a great deal lower than those put on you."
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"I was being groomed to be a Watcher, when I was that age. In the meetings, I was there to listen, watch, gather information. And to cultivate the interest of anyone who might want to take me on as a protege. I was eight the first time I was invited, told the secrets of my family. So removing the sexual element -- and god knows it's important, but let's not fight the hypothetical -- we lived in a similar sort of land."
He glanced up with a half smile. "One of expectations of performance, of perfection, of adult responsibility at a tender age. You took to it like a duck to water. I like a wild horse to harness -- it chafed, I rebelled, I was miserable and lonely. Perhaps the difference was all in our masters. My father was not a kind one."
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His eyes softened into sympathy at that last statement. "I am so sorry, Rupert. Indeed, kindness can make all the difference." He sighed a little, rubbing his thumb idly over Rupert's hand before saying, "Though I suppose there is some irony that it was my love for Anafiel that led me into sacrilege." He looked up at Rupert. "I know that I rarely speak ill of my former calling, but... Elua forgive me, there were parts of it that I despised, even if I did it all for love."
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He kept his eyes down, watching the little shiftings of their fingers. "And then there was Buffy, and that's why I left again. And for that matter returned. Again." The next chuckle was a little more real. "I'm not a particularly indecisive man, I promise you. To be honest, it was more that Buffy bent the council to her will. And I just stayed on her side of it."
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Though speaking of formidable women... "You had a chance to meet Phedre, yes?"
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