|scholarrose (scholarrose) wrote in repose,|
@ 2015-12-13 20:48:00
|Entry tags:||*log, cameron ward, dorian lockwood|
Alexandria: Dorian and Ward
Who: Dorian and Ward
What: Book Bros
When: early afternoon
Ward was still attempting to work out the kinks in his neck from a long work day. He pushed open the door of the bookstore, rolling his head and pushing his right fingertips into the muscle of his left shoulder. “I swear, give them a couple of extra days off and they come out swinging.” The comment was made to the store at large - though mostly directed at Dorian. Ward just wasn’t bothered about whether his grumbles were shared with any other patrons or not. It was all said good-naturedly, in any event. Nothing he could be criticised for. He loved his kids, even when they were high on the remnants of a long holiday weekend and greeting each other like they’d been away for weeks and didn’t have the benefit of social media connections meaning they still knew every breath each other took.
“Well, you're not supposed to be fighting with them,” Dorian said, putting aside the book he was reading through. He like when Ward visited, a kindred spirit. “That bad?”
“No - not that bad. Really, not nearly that bad. Just - first day back, whatever day, is hard. It’s like Monday on steroids,” Ward quipped. “But, I survived, they survived. I didn’t even have to give out detention. I’m calling it a win. So - how’s things going in the literary world?”
“That sounds about right. I remember those days when I was a kid. And so close to Christmas break as well.” Dorian looked around and shrugged. “Nothing too exciting. Nothing new that's for sure, but that's what I signed up for.” The calmness kept him at ease. “Oh, but look at these,” he said getting up and heading over to the edge of the counter where two clearly old tomes sat. “A widow brought them in, they were her husband's.”
“She need the money, or just hated the books and could never tell him?” Ward said, picking up the top volumed and turning it over in his hands. It had a nice hefty weight about it that appealed to him. The pages were thick, the type that felt meaningful to turn, like you were accomplishing something. There was a satisfaction in old books that he never got from the mass produced modern incarnation.
“I think she’s downsizing,” Dorian said. “Mentioned something about Florida.” He didn’t blame her. As much as he loved Repose, he could see the appeal of somewhere warmer. “I thought they were interesting though, even if the topic isn’t something that we’ll get much draw for, they’re definitely collector’s items.”
“Winter sun - can’t blame her. Definitely days when I wake up and had a burning desire to say screw it and work on my tan. She gets the weather, you get the books - sounds like a win-win situation to me.” Ward closed the tome, running a hand down its spine, like it was a purring kitten.
“Like you need to be better looking,” Dorian teased. “Though you’re right,” he added. “I get the books. They’re gorgeous.” He smiled when Ward took it in, leaning on the counter to admire it from a distance. He’d done just the same thing a moment before.
“Hey, can’t help it that I have just truly great genes,” Ward said, laughing. It was an old joke - Ward knew that he was a good looking guy, but he lacked the kind of arrogance and narcissism that may have detracted from it in the same way that he didn’t see the point in denying it just for the purposes of false modesty. He set the book back down on the counter with a sigh. They were lovely, but not only would they be bound to be out of his price range, but he also knew full well that he’d never get any use out of them if he did buy them. They’d just go to looking pretty on a shelf somewhere.
“And we all hate you for it,” Dorian teased, but not with any malice. He couldn’t complain about his looks either, but he didn’t think of them as worth much of anything. “That’s the same reaction I had to it,” Dorian said, waving at the book.
Ward gestured vaguely towards Dorian. “Like you have anything to complain about,” he said, with an almost fond roll of his eyes. Ward was pretty, Dorian was pretty - hence the running joke, at least as far as Ward was concerned. “To actually get on topic, I was wondering if that book I ordered last week came in?”
Dorian half shrugged, smirking at the running joke. He reached under the counter and brought the book up, setting it across from Ward. “I meant to email you. Here you are. It’s a good choice.”
“You think all my choices are good,” Ward laughed. Still, he took the book and flipped through it, as if he expected half the pages to be blank. In actual fact, it was nothing special - a more unusual look at certain parts of US history that he wanted to use with the historical society he was setting up with the AP students at the school. The kind of thing that the basic curriculum wouldn’t even pretend to start to cover.
“Because we’re of a like mind,” Dorian said. “And I like the idea of a book that takes an interesting angle. It’s a good idea, what you’re doing with the students. Make them see things differently.” They’d discussed Ward’s plan a little and Dorian had a general idea of what he was doing. For someone whose own history was interesting to say the very least, he could appreciate trying to look at things differently. While Dorian tended towards order, he’d seen what his brother’s chaos could do, and not always for the worst. Sometimes it was a necessary evil.
“I want them to think about things,” Ward said, pulling out his card to pay for the book. “Whatever conclusions they come to - I want them to be able to actually come to them. Instead of just believing what we feed them because we have to. History, everything - the world is more complicated than that. Nothing is black and white and the sooner they not only realise that, but they can consider that, take in the angles and then decide for themselves where they think the truth is - and understand how they reached that decision - the better.”
“It’s that idea that there’s two sides to every story, and history is usually written by the winners,” Dorian said, taking the card and processing the transaction. “If the Revolutionary War had gone differently, history books would be full of stories about terroristic rebels attacking the King’s good men, trying to disrupt the work Britain was doing in the new colonies.”
“I’m more worried about what the school board seems to be doing to what they do and don’t want us teaching right now,” Ward said. “I know you - if you knew what was going on, you’d pitch a fit. Word to the wise, if you don’t want to get that ulcer, or aneurism, just… best not to ask.”
“That’s why you’re the teacher and I work here,” Dorian gestured around him to the store he’d put together, mostly to cater to his own interests. “I hear that they’re mostly learning the tests, not the actual subjects.”
“Which is why I try and run as many extra credit classes for those that can deal with more as I can. I have to do certain things to just get the majority through, but they deserve more than that, wherever I can help,” Ward said, with a passion that he felt to his bones. These were his kids and they were his family. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to care about.
“Again, why you’re the teacher. I can always pick out your students when they come by here though,” Dorian said with a smile. “They seem to work harder than the rest.”
Ward raised a brow at that. “They do? Shit - maybe I’m setting my out of class work too hard again,” he quipped, as though inspired students was a surprise and not something he’d been carefully crafting at all.
Dorian shook his head. “Nah, builds character. They can’t be good at everything.”
“I don’t ask them to be good at everything - they do that all by themselves.” Ward grinned, unrepentant, then turned slightly more serious. “Talking of - any word from that brother of yours, the one that you said always seemed to think he was. Good at everything - well, everything except for keeping in touch.”
“Not an always thinks he was, he is,” Dorian said with a sigh. “No, nothing. But, that’s normal. We’re not really close.” And every time Mathias went missing for months on end, Dorian swore he’d never go back, but every time he did. It was inevitable. Mathias pulled people in that way. “He’s the sort that would just wander out of the fog and expect a couch to sleep on.” And Dorian would give it to him.
Ward shook his head. “Couldn’t imagine having family like that,” he said. He was an only child and whilst he wasn’t close to his parents, he knew that they weren’t going to just turn up out of the blue. Every year around this time, he thought about maybe going home and spending the holidays with them, but life always seemed to get in the way. Actually, he couldn’t even recall when the last time he even spoke to them was. Ward started to think how strange that was, before he realised that it would be rude to ignore Dorian to try and puzzle something out that probably wasn’t that important anyway. “So no holiday get togethers then?”
“It’s not like having much of a family at all.” Though as brothers they were deeply loyal to one another, they just didn’t spend time with one another. “No, not without something going wrong. We’ve mostly gone our own ways since though.” He canted his head to the side and watched Ward. “Everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine. Just thinking about Christmas - if you’ve not got plans, I might look at drumming up something for the stragglers round town.” Ward had never hosted Christmas before, but he figured it couldn’t be that big a deal.
“Oh?” Dorian considered that for a moment, then nodded. “I could do that. I doubt I’ll have anything more than being here and if I’ve learned anything from Dickens, working on the holiday is frowned upon.”
Ward nodded, thoughtfully. It wasn't something that had even occurred to h until a moment before, but somehow it eased something in his core, smoothing over something he couldn't even quite remember now, save for lingering feelings of something unpleasant and maybe even dangerous. “Great, well there's that then. Anyway, I should probably stop interfering with your work day…” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out cash enough to cover the cost of the book.
“Like I could ever complain about you interrupting,” Dorian said, but took the money. He enjoyed when Ward came by, a welcome distraction from everything else. Life was quiet in the store, which was what Dorian had wanted, but sometimes it could be dull.
“That’s because I always know when to quit.” Ward said, picking up the book and heading out.