Harvey Stonewall (loveislove) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-01-28 13:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | democratic party, lgbtq culture |
Who: Glibt and Mark.
What: Lots and lots of talking.
Where: Mark's brownstone.
When: Late Friday evening.
Warnings: Possible language, alcohol.
The defense had unofficially rested on Wednesday, after what Glibt saw as a rather good day in the court room. Glibt had hung around, connecting with the plaintiff's lawyers and wishing everyone involved good luck in the closing arguments that were coming up in March. When he was in the hotel room that night, he contemplated going back to New York. Part of him didn't want to, however, part of him wanted to avoid Mark and the lies for as long as he could and, on Thursday, he did manage to play the avoidance game. College missed Adonis and since Adonis was in a homosexual relationship, it wasn't that hard for Glibt to cast out his senses over the surrounding states, zipping through the minds of his people before he settled on the right mind. Then, it was only a matter of tracking down Adonis in a New Mexico club. It hadn't taken much to convince the weak Greek god to head back up toward New York City but that meant that Glibt had ran out of excuses not to go back to New York himself.
The flight on Friday was long and boring, Glibt sleeping through most of it. Proposition 8 was draining; listening to the homophobia spewed throughout the court room was weighed down on Glibt almost as much as Mark's betrayal weighed down on him. He was simply... tired. Exhausted. The fight was what kept him going but the daily grind of it was starting to catch up with him. He dozed off in the cab ride from the airport, only waking up when the cab lurched to a stop and the driver turned around to shake his shoulder lightly. Sighing heavily, Glibt paid, dragged his suitbase out of the trunk and shivered in the chilly New York air. It was warmer in California, warmer close to Castro Street and Harvey. Glibt's lips pursed tightly as he gazed up at the brownstone, able to feel Mark's presence within. There was a small part of him that had, when he'd first found out about Mark's marriage, had felt it wasn't worth it, wasn't worth hiding anymore, wasn't worth being lied to, even if Mark said he had simply forgotten about his marriage. The thought had scared him when he'd originally had it and it was that fear that urged him forward quietly, through the door of the brownstone to set his suitcase in the front hallway and stamp the snow off his boots. As angry as he was at Mark, his love for the god surpassed his anger.
That didn't mean, however, that Mark was out of the doghouse.
Glibt took his time before heading toward the study, the room where he could feel Mark's presence across their connection, feel it like a magnet drawing him toward his boyfriend. He first stopped in the kitchen, happy to see that there was enough beer to at least get a buzz going. Grabbing two, he paused in the hallway to light a cigarette, breathing in deeply and staring at the door to Mark's study. Pushing open that door took mental strength; everything in him was telling him to just go to bed and worry about everything in the morning. But he set a bottle of beer down in front of Mark and opened his own as he sank down into the plump leather chair in the corner, drinking down several large gulps of beer.
"Hi." It was said softly, said for lack of anything better to say, as Glibt rubbed at his tired eyes.