Who: Staas & Ira & Koemi. When: Monday, February 29th, 2010. Where: Little Sprouts. Rating: PG-13, just in case. Summary: Family business. Warnings: None at all. It’s not like Staas swears or anything.
A pale Monday evening saw Ira crunching along the snow-strewn sidewalk on Solaris at a fast clip, skirting puddles of salt and pepper slush. He told Key that he had to leave a little early and couldn’t stay for closing, and at five minutes to five o’clock he’d excused himself apologetically from the antiques shop to make his way up the street to El Torro. The sun was shining dull above the clouds but it was still nippy as all hell, with stray winds throwing thin handfuls of snow down from the sky. Ira was huddled into his coat against the absurd chill as usual but for once he didn’t care, hot inside with giddy, tense anticipation.
It wasn’t dinner that he was heading towards with such antsy spirit, however. Saturday night Staas had surprised him with a suggestion to authorize Ira as a secondary pick-up person for his kids at their day care center, just in case something came up in the future. Which was a huge enough responsibility all on its own, but Staas had added that he also wanted to add Ira as an emergency contact for them, if Ira was okay with it. As if Ira would have ever refused such an incredibly touching request.
It was just that Ira could hardly believe that it had been enough time for the other man to consider him family enough for such a duty, considering that Staas had only known Ira for, what? All of a couple of months, not much time at all, Ira had realized once he’d thought about it, with great surprise. Though Ira too felt that the Moorens were as good as family just as strongly as Staas seemed to think he was to them, it was still amazing just how quickly that close connection had come together. But this matter was a heavy trust, and somewhat intimidating in that way; Staas was fiercely protective of Theo and Alida, and Ira couldn’t help a nudge of apprehension at what might happen to their friendship if somehow he screwed it all up.
Not that Ira felt that he wasn’t up to the task. He’d said yes in a heartbeat, and had meant complete commitment by it. And was in all likelihood taking things far too seriously, but to Ira, family was just that: serious fucking business. Which, actually, was probably why Staas was so comfortable with the idea of releasing his children into Ira’s custody if ever he had to.
He’d had a lot of time to think about it since then, but still it was hard to keep off his mind. Even the excitement of his downtown adventure to Heliotrope last night had gotten a little sidetracked by thoughts of the Moorens. Ira had made the best of the night, of course. The club’s heady atmosphere of young endorphins was hypnotic, and idiotic dancing along to independent pop in a drenching violet glow of black and neon lights always made for a lot of fun, but all that stimulation couldn’t distract Ira completely from the thought of what Monday might bring.
And here he was. Pushing through El Torro's big double doors and walking into the warm, spicy air of the restaurant with familiar pleasure. Shaking his head at the host on shift to indicate that a table wasn’t necessary, he wasn’t having dinner just yet, that Staas was expecting him and could you tell him that Ira was here, thank you so much. And watching with all of his overwhelming sentiment well contained as a waiter was called over to fetch the boss from the office.