Safe and Sane

Edmund was balancing a large basket of new, fresh apples on his hip.

It was a little before noon and the temperature was barely skipping past forty-five. The apples had been freshed picked that morning, cleaned by Edmund before he realized he had far, far too many. So he brought the basket of fifty apples to the club, neatly placing them on the counter with a vaguely proud smile.

Memorial Day weekend meant that most people had three days off and intended to spend it either in sloth or trying to cross off as many things as they could from their "to do" list. The club was prepared for both cases.

They'd cleaned and restocked all the rooms, put up some new decorations and made sure everything was bright and shiny.

They'd also stocked up on burgers, dogs, and other picnic essentials and put grills and tables in the back parking lot. There was a threat of rain but if that happened, everything could be hauled indoors to one of the fire-safe play rooms. (Of course, that hadn't stopped some wit from putting an "in case of fire" sign on the inflatable kiddie pool.)

The main lounge had tables stocked with drinks and finger foods for those who didn't do meat or simply weren't the picnic type. Friday afternoon rolled around and everything was set.

"Nuns and small boys run your life," Edmund announced, walking into Gale's living room, Oscar attached to his leg. "Said nun is making a snack for us, and you, Oscar, and I are going to watch a movie."

It was a no nonsense voice, from Edmund, and surprising for that. "Come on then."

The light tap of his fingers on the keyboard were the only sounds in an unusually quiet kitchen, and Gale stretched to ease the strain between his shoulder blades that had come from working in a space that wasn't his office. Not that his office was his office at the moment. The movers had hauled the rest of his things into the loft space in the barn to make way for the decorators due to arrive on Monday.

His office was set to become a guest suite, more specifically Eva's suite. It made more sense. Privacy would be available to her as needed, and there was a full bath attached as well as a small area that could serve both as sitting room and office so that she needn't feel trapped in her bedroom.

Atilla was out on a nun-date, and Oscar was with Edmund learning to ride that damned pony-beast. Meanwhile, Gale was typing out a particular vivid little scene involving a priest and a novice in a forgotten broom closet in the bowels of the Vatican. Lots of angst, loads of yearning and very little underwear. It would, no doubt, be a best seller.

The arrival of Edmund and Oscar was announced by the slam of the front door hitting the wall, and Gale laughed as he slid off the stool and met the rampaging elephant tromping down the hallway disguised as his son with open arms, scooping him up with a smile and wink at Edmund. At least he was smiling until he got a good whiff...

"Holy sh..." He cut himself off in the nick of time. "You.Stink."

Edmund was in costume again today- jeans, jumper, trainers, glasses on his nose. He had a bit of mud on his jeans when he shrugged out of his coat, hanging it up and then standing awkwardly in the foyer of the club, feeling a bit exposed, the expression showing on his face. He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and headed into the club proper, going to start another pot of coffee.

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.

Edmund had been horseback riding on the barely snow covered ground. He was still flushed from the exertion, the wind on his face, the cold at his cheeks. He'd showered, so he didn't smell of horse and sweat, but it meant that his hair was still wet, snow flakes melting on his black hair, when he came into the club, almost thrumming with energy. He was happy and it showed on every inch of him as he came up beside someone at the bar. "May I get you a drink?"

The pony. Next on the list of things to be dealt with.

After he left John's house, Gale stopped to get coffee and called Edmund while waiting in line to be served.

My dearest Henry,
( Letter )

Without asking, Edmund brought two cups of tea over to Chris, putting one at the elbow of the other man first, then sitting with the other next to him, making himself slightly more comfortable. By which he unbuttoned his jacket, kept on his vest, and crossed one leg over the other at the knee.

He waited silently for Chris to decide if he wanted to talk, comfortable with the silent companionship.

The Christmas tree no longer dominated the main room. The bits and pieces of wrapping paper that spread out from it like a blast zone, however, did. And in the middle of all of it, there were toys and a hyper Oscar to keep the epicenter whirling while the adults, if any of them were truly adults that day of all days, clung to the fringes of the room, some still in pajamas, and drank heavily laced eggnog or Mimosas or Bloody Mary's or high-octane coffee, whatever suited them.

Matilda had ensured the smell of cinnamon filled the house, and the baked goods were spread from one end of the dining room to the other, spilling into the kitchen where enough food to feed an army waited to be served as the day went on. The nun in question was in the driveway giving her present a test drive, and Gale had enough batteries to power every toy in the club and then some spread out on the coffee table, a set of screwdrivers and wire cutters and had put together more toys than any elf.

He'd been up since well before dawn, was cursing every five seconds when a wag of the dog-pony's tail caught him in the nuts or he'd stepped on one of Oscar's toys, but he'd not change a second. Watching Oscar race from Eva to Ben to Edmund to Jon, to sneak up and whisper to Auri's belly and tell the baby secrets, to drag Bobby under the tree to dig out just one more present that had been missed or outside to scoop up snow... he'd not trade the madness for anything.

It was his madness, it was their madness. It was family.

Their flight... flights had been delayed at nearly every turn and he'd carried an already sleeping Oscar straight to bed, pausing only to take off his shoes before tucking him in. The luggage had tripled somehow during the course of the trip and he left it piled in the foyer before stumbling into the shower to wash the grime of traveling off his skin. His bed was a welcome oasis and he laid down to text Ben and Jon to let them know they'd made it safely. A text to Eva said much the same, and he dialed Edmund's number while rubbing his eyes and trying to figure out if he was too tired to stumble into the kitchen and find something to eat.

Edmund rubbed his temples, heading behind the counter at the bar. His jacket and neck scarf were gone, his sleeves slightly rolled up. He looked, and was, rather tired. He called out to whomever was at the bar, a little quietly and without looking, as he started filling the pot, "Coffee?"

Dear Gale,

I hope Italy is beautiful and you and Oscar are having an amazing time. I'm thinking of you both. The weather's beautiful here; there's snow on the ground near constantly, and the air tastes crisp. The sun shines coldly but is more beautiful for that.

I miss you, I miss both of you actually. Silences and laughter and the way you smell. I don't know why that surprises me as much as it does. Of course I miss you. You're Gale. You taste like popcorn and laugh into my hair.

I'm not fair to you. I know that. I try to be, but I get caught up in circles in my head and forget to simply say things.

I miss your fingers in my hair. I miss the way the tender spot under your chin tastes. I miss the way our hands fit together. I miss swimming with you.

I want to take you and Oscar sledding. I want to bring you on a sleigh ride and hold your hand so you don't get splinters in your nails from holding onto the sides while you pretend you aren't terrified of horses and I let you do it. I want to see you with snow in your hair and your laughter ringing out, threading deep into my bones and warming me from the inside out.

I want to make you laugh. I want to make you feel safe. I don't know quite how to do that.

But I want to.

Love from,
Edmund

Edmund was flushed, eyes wide open and happy looking, hair ruffled as he laughingly stumbled into the club. He had snow in his hair and he was fairly soaked. He had a snowball shaped mark on his chest.

John was at the club Sunday evening. He was curled up in a chair, Jack (the puppy) on his lap. The puppy was wearing a white shirt with 'Not available you sick freak' written along the back in black marker. John was dozing, but that wasn't obvious since he was wearing sunglasses, and petting his dog.

When he'd talked to Gale on the phone Saturday afternoon, Gale had sounded. Odd.

Edmund had thought about it, before deciding to invade Gale's personal space and going over, in casual trousers and jacket, neck cloth abandoned. He brought a bottle of wine, a bag of popcorn, and a coloring book he'd picked up for Oscar a few days previous. It was full of knights and dragons.


He parked, gathered his things, then went and knocked on Gale's front door around 7, trying to relax from the guilt of the lack of manners in not calling.

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.

Edmund was at the club late, following a dinner out with a colleague. He'd drunk his half the bottle of wine with Ian, so he'd gone to the club to settle before driving. He had a cup of coffee at his elbow and a newspaper on his lap. He smiled at the only other person in the lounge, "Good evening."

Edmund bounced a little, coming in from outside of the club. He was covered in snow, cheeks rosy and grinning like an idiot. He loved snow. It had just started. He rubbed his boots dry on the carpet. "It's beautiful outside," he announced.