Safe and Sane

The weather had been up and down -- freezing cold, not bad, and, if the forecasters were correct, outright pleasant for the rest of the week. The crew at the coffee shop had given up trying to predict what was going to sell and had decided to just offer everything up. Hot, spiced, cold, chocolate. If you wanted it, you could have it.

Bobby was playing with his water bottle, carefully shredding the paper wrapped around it in neat format. He seemed singularly focused, like he didn't even notice the person coming around to the bar for their own drink when he asked suddenly, head snapping up, blue eyes bright, "Do you think a puppy would be a good idea?"

Miles wandered into the club, spotted a familiar blond head--he hoped--on the couch and braced his hands on the back of the sofa, bending over to put his mouth near one ear and murmur, "Sleeping in public?"

Another Wednesday, and for once, the cafe was relatively quiet. The manager was taking advantage of this to train up some rather wide-eyed looking new staff, who weren't entirely certain how the coffee machine worked, or the till, or where anything quite was.

Bobby stood in front of Armand's armchair for a moment, head cocked like a puppy before he put both of glasses of lemonade down on the side table, then climbed into Armand's lap. "I brought you juice." He said like he wasn't curled in Armand's lap.

Miles wasn't really dressed up. He didn't have a tie on or anything. He had, however, showered after work. He'd put on a nice oxford and a good pair of jeans. He had his hair pulled back and he'd trimmed up the goatee. Good impressions and all that.

And he was not pacing because that was just stupid. He was waiting. Anxiously.

Hey.

Do you want to meet me somewhere? Cafe, club, it's up to you.

Got something I want to ask you.

Miles

Wednesday again, and a happier Wednesday than the previous one. The weather seemed to have warmed up especially for the inauguration, and the evening was mild enough that the cafe had tables set outside for more than just the smokers. A general air of celebration lingered from the previous day, and the cafe owner had decided to celebrate by offering free upgrades to larger sizes of coffee, or free muffins with the smallest ones.

Sugar and caffeine highs all around.

Beth wasn't really terribly good at drinking.

Beth was, on a Saturday night, in a bar, on her own, after Ellie had left early to answer the babysitter's call, and flicking morosely through the entries in her mobile phone's contacts.

Beth was drunk.

Which was probably why calling Bobby seemed like such a good idea, her nails drumming against the bar as she waited for him to reply, and for her next drink to be delivered to her.

Bobby had a mug of hot chocolate and was in his pajamas. He stretched out on the floor, between a couch and a table, half hidden by each until he was nearly invisible. The mug was on the table, ignored and forgotten while Bobby slept, silently.

His pajama pants had tiny penguins on them.

Miles had been to a poet's party. He'd had a couple drinks there, but he was drinking water from the bottle now. He was still loose and comfortable in his skin. Happy as he walked on up to Bobby, put his hand against the small of his back and said, "Hey there."

Bobby yawned, rubbed his eyes, and quietly, very quietly, found a lap to curl in. He was actually in pajamas- Improbable, yet very warm pajamas.

He was half asleep and more than half down, which would be the only reason he crawled into a lap without permission. Thinking he was asleep for a while, his dom had wandered off to get a blanket and Bobby hadn't wanted to be alone when he'd woken up. .

Bobby's eyes were red and his face was pale under scrubbed red cheeks. He sniffled, just once, then curled on the couch, asking a little plaintively, "Pet me?"

He and Matilda had perfected the art of compromise. That they'd near killed each other once or twice in doing so was their little secret. As per her instructions, the house had been decked out for Christmas, but Gale had won out when it came to decorations and but for the small tree in Oscar's room, there were no angels or crosses, nor any red and green anywhere in sight. The lights were white, non-twinkling and covered not only the tress set up in nearly every room, but those outside so that the reflection in the lake seemed to dance with light, and the ornaments were every shade of autumn, golds and burgundies, burnt oranges and siennas.

Gale won out when it came to hiring caterers, though that had been a gimme. She was, after all, one teeny nun, and he'd given her control of the menu after ensuring that there would be a wide selection of food, not simply the traditional, and yes, vegan fair as well, clearly marked and set aside. He'd taken care of the bar and they'd both decided on setting up a large, heated tent in the backyard, though the house was open, as well.

Aside from the club members, Connie and Max had come early, which meant Oscar and Max had been running full throttle since the first car had pulled up, while Connie and Gale had found a quiet corner and a large bottle of Scotch with which to fortify themselves, and by the time the guests started arriving, all of them had changed and were ready to leave the serving to the caterers and simply enjoy the party.

That the nun would hop in her golf cart with the kids and take them to her house once the meal was done and the party moved into, well, party mode - that was something they all agreed on, though Connie had decided to stick around.

Someday he was going to stop sleeping at the club.

It wasn't tonight, honestly. He curled up on himself, looking tiny and even younger than he was, face pressed against his shoulder as he curled up in the space of a single cushion on the couch. He had a pair of glasses pushed up, tangled in his hair and his shoes and books were in a messy pile on the floor, just the space of one couch cushion.

Friday night in Sal's was always a busy night. This Friday was a touch busier than most, because there was no chance in hell Lin was playing a set on his own when Carl was in town, and if Carl was playing, Lin was going to move heaven and earth to get him a good crowd. Didn't take much, a word here and there in the right ears, spread around the bar, the club, onwards and through.

It meant that Friday night was busier than most, but the crowd was in a damn fine mood. Mellow and easy, celebrating the end of the week with a couple of beers, a couple fingers of Jack, or just a couple of guys down one end of the room, playing guitars and singing together like their voices had shaped the songs together from their birth.

For some of the songs, that much was even true.

Wednesday night again. Fall past, and winter setting in with a vengeance. The outside tables had been cleared away, and the cafe was doing a brisk trade in hot chocolate, hot soup, and hot tea.

Only one problem.

The coffee maker was broken.

For one night only (because the repair man had been threatened, on pain of pain, to get the damn thing up and running again before opening time the next morning) the cafe was a coffee-free zone, and the staff were already looking stressed.

After his time with Jason, Armand was relaxed and ready for his plans with Bobby. He'd invited him over Friday evening, ordered food in and spent a quiet evening talking and eating and touching. Later there was a shared shower and slow, leisurely sex in Armand's king-sized bed.

He wanted Bobby to be completely relaxed, completely at ease with him before they started their official scene.

It wasn't until late Saturday afternoon that he tugged Bobby a little closer on the couch and wrapped his arm around his waist.

"Are you ready to start?" he asked softly.

Gale wasn't running late, but Oscar was. Or rather, he was simply running. In circles that grew wider and wider still until he was racing around the yard from front to back while Gale sipped a cup of coffee in the driveway watching with something akin to awe as his wild child chased the wind. He'd meant for Oscar to be well away before Bobby pulled up, but Oscar was fascinated by the idea that his father had a playdate, which was the only way his six year old mind translated Gale having a friend over for a sleepover.

When Bobby pulled up, he'd barely gotten out of the car before Oscar was barreling in his direction with a loud 'HI' followed by a machine gun fast blur of short words and signing that was hindered by the fact that Oscar was bouncing like a spider monkey on crack.

Gale rescued Bobby by walking over and covering Oscar's mouth the hand not holding his coffee cup, his smile wide.

"I apologize for Monster. He came home with piles of candy and..."

He grimaced as his son licked his palm and yanked his very wet hand away, revealing the mirror image of his own devilish grin plastered across his son's face.

"EW."

Bobby curled up on a couch, his white hat pulled down and tied. He was completely in white: Trousers, sweater, socks. Black loafers were under the couch. He curled up on himself and he was totally, absolutely asleep.