Dorian Gray (doriangray) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-10-04 23:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, dorian gray, tony stark / iron man (616) |
Who: Dorian Gray & Tony Stark (616)
When: Friday, October 4th
Where: Myopic Books, Chicago
What: On Dorian and Tony’s last afternoon in Chicago, they visit Myopic Books where they visit the Oscar Wilde section and uncover a battered and abused copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. As homage to Mr. Wilde, the log is written as a play, with dialogue and stage direction given as necessary.
Rating: PG-13
Status:: COMPLETE!
DORIAN: (Bends and plucks from the shelf a sad, cheap, battered edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray from a low shelf which he holds up proudly for Tony to examine) Well there we have it, you see? I can age, after all. TONY: (Smiles -- or mostly smiles, it's sort of a fond head shake with an accompanying quirk of the lips -- and accepts the book, running his index finger along the book's spine and gingerly thumbing through the pages) If I didn't know better, I'd say it was the copy I had back home. This one might be in slightly better shape. DORIAN (Imploringly) I would have thought you kept better care of your books, Mr. Stark. TONY: (Shrugs, continuing to examine the book) Usually. I certainly take excellent care of the books I don't read. But, uh. This one, this one I'd had since high school. Sort of lived under my mattress. Probably wasn't good for the binding. DORIAN: That’s not the side of the mattress I prefer to be on. (Smiles, gently, and moves a bit closer to STARK as though he means to glance at the yellowed pages, but he’s beyond familiar with the text, and finds himself looking more at STARK’s reaction to the text than the book itself) I knew you’d read the -- my -- book but I had no idea you were so intimately familiar with it. You’d never told me so. TONY: Well, next time you pick the hotel. (As he skims the pages, his smile is both fond and distant, at once a bit nostalgic and struck by how odd it is to be reading the book in the presence of Dorian Gray) I don't know, it seemed like… an odd thing to tell somebody. That they were in a book that meant something to you when you were a kid. Well, teenager, I guess. I'm sure it wasn't the same as growing up when you did, but -- the 80s, it was… difficult. You know? DORIAN: Not personally. I missed the 80s, which is probably for the best. I think collarless sweatshirts might have been the end of me. (He places a hand near on STARK’s forearm, close to his elbow, and his tone shifts to something more serious) I... can’t say that I’m glad, entirely, that it meant so much to you. You understand that I mean that only because I know why. It’s the reason, really, those Greek poems meant so much to the boys passing around The Spirit Lamp, something hidden, something secret that they understood which the world they were a part of did not. But I’m also pleased, very pleased, that you found it. That you had it. That it was yours -- I say with some authority that I’m sure Oscar would have been equally as pleased. It was written for you, not the critics who demolished it. TONY: I know. (He looks up at Dorian, a sideways glance to avoid full eye contact, and chews on the inside of this cheek ) With my dad being… how he was, and the rest of the world saying that people like-- well, that they deserved the things that were happening to them, that no one was going to help… People didn't talk about it. It was easy to feel alone. But I found that book, and it felt like it was written for me. I don't know that I'm glad it resonated with me, but I'm glad I had it. I won't hear it when people try to tell me that The Picture of Dorian Gray isn't one of the most important books of the last hundred years or so. It -- you -- were important. To me, you were very important. DORIAN: Alfred Douglas read the book no less than fourteen times before he’d even met Wilde, did you know that? That always strikes me an interesting, because no matter how good or bad their relationship ended up being, that’s how it started, with a young man reading my book and realising that he wasn’t alone in what he felt and no matter how the world may have viewed it all, it’s so important to know that you’re not by yourself in it. That’s all any of us can hope for. (He frowns slightly) But the end... of the book. My end, the end that so discourages Basil or at least leaves him believing that he is justified in thinking that he felt something wrong, did something wrong, did that discourage you? I can’t help but think that E. M. Forester might have been a better bedmate for you, Darling. TONY: You know, it-- it didn't, really. Maybe Forester would have been better, but I found Wilde first. The book, I guess I took what I wanted from it. Even with how it turned out, I think the idea that you could just, that you could just be, that it was possible to not care, to not be afraid. Even if it was magic, even if it was fiction, to see you not be paralyzed by the things that scared me, that was encouraging. There were always plenty of other things to discourage me. DORIAN: Forester’s book wasn’t published until decades after he died because it never would have seen the light of day as it was, with a happy ending, with hope attached to an unmentionable sin. I do think that mine was the only way the story could have been told at all -- and even as it was, Oscar had to defend it. I think in Reading Gaol he finally put down what he meant. I certainly won’t defend everything he did, he said awful things about the people who cared about him, towards the end of his life he tried to manipulate all of his friends for money, and he was living off an allowance from his estranged wife even while he lived with Douglas. But at the same time, I can’t hold him entirely at fault for his actions -- because what could he do? (Pausing for a moment, he reaches forward and takes the book from Tony, now holding it much more carefully than he did when he first lifted it from the shelf, he treats the pages with care as he flips to find the passage he wants) And of course, if you look -- if you really look. There is hope in it: But there was no other place in the house so secure from prying eyes as this. He had the key, and no one else could enter it. Beneath its purple pall, the face painted on the canvas could grow bestial, sodden, and unclean. What did it matter? No one could see it. He himself would not see it. Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his soul? He kept his youth--that was enough. And, besides, might not his nature grow finer, after all? There was no reason that the future should(Dorian’s voice fails him and he has to stop and take a breath) be so full of shame. Some love might come across his life, and purify him, and shield him from those sins that seemed to be already stirring in spirit and in flesh--those curious unpictured sins whose very mystery lent them their subtlety and their charm. Perhaps, some day, the cruel look would have passed away from the scarlet sensitive mouth, and he might show to the world Basil Hallward's masterpiece.-- You see? TONY: (His expression softens in a sad smile, and he tips his head to look at GRAY rather than that pages. As GRAY's voice breaks, Tony reaches out to wrap his arm around GRAY's shoulders, his thumb smoothing over the fabric of GRAY's jacket in a gentle, repetitive motion. ) Well, I don't know if love can wash away the stain of 'sins' that should never have stained your portrait in the first place. I don't know if it can purify you. I don't know that you need to be purified, I don't know that you need to be shielded from anything. But-- whether or not love can do any of those things… I am certain that you have it. DORIAN: No, I -- (He seems to sway a bit closer to Tony, encouraged by his arm, the hand on his jacket. He takes a hand off the book and taps the center of Tony’s chest.) I wasn’t talking about me. Well, yes I was in the book, but not now. Maybe you don’t have a portrait locked away in a safe somewhere, but it’s no different than looking back at the things you’ve done and seeing yourself as -- as seeing someone you don’t like. Feeling things you shouldn’t feel. I told you that I don’t let my clients call me Dorian anymore. That’s because [...] being Dorian finally means something to me. It never did before, and I want -- you’re the person who needs it, Tony. Love, forgiveness, a chance to feel something stronger than the way you feel about yourself. Something to clear up the self-portrait that--that you see. You have it. TONY: You think so? (It isn't really a question, and if it were, it wouldn't really be the question he's asking. Tony looks at GRAY for a beat without saying anything, but the air between them is heavy enough that it doesn't really feel like silence. He swallows. He'd meant to say something else, but his throat feels thick, and he can't seem to manage it. Instead, Tony's free hand settles on the back of GRAY's neck, while the arm he'd wrapped around GRAY's shoulders pulls him closer in a warm embrace. Objectively, it's probably awkward. GRAY still has the book in his hand, and the R.T. node is probably pressing uncomfortably against GRAY's shoulder, collarbone, but Tony doesn't seem to notice. Instead, he tilts his head down to rest his cheek against GRAY's temple, and leans in.) I uh. I've always wanted to be Iron Man. Never had any doubts about that. But you, you know. Sometimes, you make me want to be Tony Stark. DORIAN: (He shifts in STARK’s arms, sliding his arms around the taller man’s waist; pressing the book in his hand against STARK’s back. GRAY shuts his eyes, settles onto the balls of his feet and kisses the shoulder of STARK’s jacket, then he looks up without shifting away and meet’s STARK’s eyes. There is a moment, feeling the R.T. node through the fabric, that he’s reminded of the last time they were anywhere near this close and he has to smile; it’s shy. GRAY’s cheeks might have even turned a bit pink.) That’s good, that’s great really. Because you see, Tony Stark is someone that I really admire, he’s someone that I love, that I would do anything for and who could never do or say anything that would change how I feel about him so I think -- I really think -- that you might like him, and everything about him, if you gave him the chance. TONY: (He swallows again, attempting to clear his throat. He doesn't quite manage it. He wonders, absently, if it's possible that the words he wants to say and knows he shouldn't have formed a knot that refuses to dissipate. And it's ridiculous, clearly it's ridiculous, but he still feels like he's waiting for something that he shouldn't be waiting for. His lips quirk in a smile as he looks down at GRAY, and if his thumb slides through the hair on the back of GRAY's neck, who's going to know?) I hope you're right. For what it's worth, having known that guy in some capacity for a long time now… I'm pretty sure he loves you, too. |