Daniel (danhoffman) wrote in neogenesisrpg, @ 2009-01-15 23:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | dan hoffman, gil hatayama, jason song |
Who: Dan Hoffman & Jason Song (and cameo by Gil Hatayama)
What: Movies and food and violins on a Saturday.
When: Sat, Jan 10.
Where: Dan's apartment
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Fingers drummed the side of the chair in a steady heartbeat, just as they had for the past hour. Dan yawned. He hadn't really slept much the night before, viewing and reviewing all the scenarios that could turn this into complete and utter failure. For one thing, he was a fickle bastard and his temper shot up at the most inconvenient of times. For another, he wasn't sure that playing with fire wasn't going to get him burnt just because he handled it with incombustible gloves. It didn't make sense to him that Jason would want to see him again and it made even less sense for him to have agreed.
Too late to back out now, he thought, jumping half out of his skin at the sound of the intercom.
Even though it wasn't a date, and they were supposed to be merely spending time together, Jason felt as nervous as if it was more than that. He was so anxious that he could barely sleep the day before.
In the hours before he was supposed to arrive, he spent possibly far too much time on deciding on what to wear and then on his hair. If he put this much effort into looking like he wasn't headed on a date, he couldn't help but wonder what he'd do on an actual date.
Jason managed to arrive at Dan's apartment building five minutes early, popcorn and all, yet he didn't actually press the intercom button until a minute past twelve.
Dan breathed a "Yeah?" into the intercom even as he felt ninety-nine percent sure that there was only one likely person who'd come see him at this hour on a Saturday - barring any surprises from Joel. He felt a fleeting concern that his brother might show up to check on him, breathing a little easier when he remembered the other man was out of town for the weekend.
And anyway, this was a not-date and not-dates could be interrupted. Could be altered and could factor in more people than the ones who'd planned it. But it could also go terribly terribly wrong.
"Hey, it's Jason," Jason answered as nonchalantly as he could manage. He smiled that his voice didn't sound as nervous as he truly felt. "I hope you don't mind, but I forgot the secret password."
"Then how do I know you're not a government plant?" Dan grinned into the intercom, straining to hear Jason's voice through the static. "Never mind. I'll take my chances. Come on up."
Jason practically skipped through the building once he was buzzed in, and hummed along with the ambient elevator music. Once on the twentieth floor, he willed back his enthusiasm as he knocked on Dan's apartment door.
Dan swept another look around the place, lowering the shades not for atmosphere so much as to sell the Hitchcockian mood, and rolling to open the door before Jason made it to the doorbell. He couldn't explain the excitement he felt in every passing second and didn't try to. He wasn't sure he wanted to analyze that part of himself just yet. This was a nice illusion to entertain.
Jason smiled when the door opened and held up the rather large bag of popcorn he was carrying. "My store has a movie theater popcorn machine in the deli, I don't know why, but they have it. Tastes better than the microwave kind anyway."
Jason cut off his rambling with a soft laugh. "Oh, yeah. Hi."
"I'll forgo greetings for popcorn any day, but hi." Dan smirked, making room for Jason to come inside. He didn't mind the rambling, it made up for his awkwardness. "Good to know you sampled a batch. I think I got us too many Hitchcock movies. Well. All of them. But you get the choose. Otherwise we'll be here 'till tomorrow."
"Wow. All of them?" Jason whistled as he made his way to the living room. "It's a good thing I left the rest of today free. Since I get to pick we have to start with either The Birds, Psycho, or Dial M for Murder."
Dan followed close behind, trying hard to suppress a shit-eating grin. What was he, sixteen? "And where does North by Northwest feature in that list? Rear Window? Vertigo? If you don't know those, you'll need the rest of the day, definitely." And if he smiled a little at the thought, he figured it was just the mood setting in. Creepy was on the menu.
"I was going for the ones I already saw, that way I wouldn't embarrass myself by covering my eyes and cowering," Jason sighed dramatically and dropped onto the couch laughing. "You caught me. I haven't seen Rear Window or Vertigo."
"For shame," Dan sighed in much the same manner, rolling his chair past the arm of the couch and up to the home entertainment console. "I'm particularly fond of Rear Window. But you'll see why later. First... Psycho. So we get Norman out of the way, what do you say?"
"Psycho it is," Jason nodded in agreement, "it should be the usual start of any Hitchcock marathon, right?"
"Only if you go by IMDB ratings," Dan commented as he clicked the case shut and pressed play. He wheeled back to Jason's side, feeling unduly pleased with the way things were going. Five minutes and counting and he hadn't screwed it up.
"Well, it is his most well-known movie," Jason pointed out as he looked at Dan with a smile, "I mean, the first time I saw it I was in Korea. Though I was five at the time and couldn't read most of the subtitles, and all I really remember was my mom being pissed that my dad took us to see an old scary movie."
Dan's lips curled into a grin. "I caught it on TV one night. Figured a black and white flick couldn't possibly be that scary, you know..." As the opening sequence unfolded on film, he darted a look in Jason's direction. "Have you been able to shower with the curtain drawn since? I'll own up to it, I still can't. I keep picturing a very skinny Anthony Perkins coming at me with a kitchen knife."
"I'll admit, I don't close the curtain all of the way, I like to keep an eye on the door," Jason grinned at him before he turned his attention back to the screen. "If it wasn't the movie, it comes from being the only man in the house. Locks do nothing when a woman needs something from the bathroom."
A snort escaped him as Marion Crane and Sam Loomis frolicked about on a bed. "I grew up with brothers. I can safely say the same applies. Especially if there are girls to impress. Maybe it's a family thing. No concept of privacy and least of all in the bathroom?" For the most part, Dan made an effort to keep his eyes on the screen, but he knew the movie and Jason's profile was a lot more interesting.
"It must be a family thing, privacy must be reserved for strangers," he laughed and ducked his head briefly.
While Jason was paying more attention to the film, it was the first time watching it in a language he fully understood at an age that he could grasp exactly what was going on after all, but he couldn't help but be aware that the other man kept looking in his direction.
He tried not to draw attention that he was not aware of it, but was most likely failing by how often he fussed with his hair or turned his face to try and mask the smile that bloomed even when the scene on the screen should evoke the opposite response.
"Must be," he agreed, tongue twisted in his mouth as he fought to focus on the film instead. It didn't help that he knew it, every line and every frame, the way Hitchcock had built it and why, the symbols and what they meant. It was ridiculous if he stopped to think about it, that he had room for so much trivia in his head. Luckily, he had better things to contemplate.
Like whether Jason minded the dark or if it wasn't dark enough. "Want me to lower the rest of the shades?" he suggested, unable to sit still. "It'll feel more like a cinema."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," Jason had jumped when addressed, though that could be easily explained by the particularly tense scene on the screen when Dan choose to speak. "There would be less glare on the screen."
And he'd be less worried about getting caught blushing whenever the other man looked at him for more than a few seconds.
"Okay." Darkness meant he was less likely to see Jason but he couldn't argue that out loud without sounding like a complete creep. They could watch the movie instead.
Using one of the many remotes, Dan plunged the room into complete darkness, reducing Jason to an outline in the white TV screen light.
"That is really cool," Jason murmured as he unconsciously scooted closer since he couldn't really see the other man that well. "I wish I had a remote controlled apartment. Life would be easy, as long as I didn't run out of batteries."
"You could use solar power. Long as you have windows you could recharge them. Granted, we live in Seattle so I'm not sure how practical that would be, but..." Dan shrugged, finger curling around the armrest. "It would be doable. And less polluting than switching batteries every two months or so."
"As long as enough sunlight gets through to cast a shadow, a solar panel will charge," Jason said with a smile, "clouds only reduce a solar panel by fifty percent. And I should be paying attention to the movie and not talking about weather stuff."
He held up the yet to be opened bag of popcorn. "Popcorn?"
"Sure," Dan nodded, momentarily distracted from the film. "Although I can tell you how it ends and if you've missed anything important. Weather stuff is interesting." And he wasn't just saying it, he realized. He had no reason to try to get on Jason's good side. He was actually looking forward to the things the other man knew. For someone as closed off to the world as he could be, it was a change.
He opened the bag and passed it over. "You are one of the few people outside of the lab that I've actually hear say that. Don't you know how boring weather is supposed to be? Most of the people I know would rather not talk at all than talk about weather."
"I'm not most people," Dan pointed out casually, picking at the popcorn and passing back the bag. "But I can adjust the perception. Pretend it's very boring that we're getting acid rains and snow in March." He shot him a smile. "At least you're not talking about how pretty dead birds can be. I consider myself lucky."
"You're not like most people," Jason agreed and reached over, instead of grasping the offered bag, he lightly touched Dan's arm, "that's why I like spending time with you. At least I know you don't ignore the effects of global warming. Most people have the 'it will work out on its own' mentality. Which never help."
He cleared his throat and grasped the bag, "I think the only dead birds I find pretty are well cooked. Like roasted duck. That's pretty."
"Animal," he teased, thankful for the darkness for once. There wasn't much difference between hearing the words spoken online and hearing them spoken here, except the tendency to disbelieve was higher. The doubts rose in him twice as fast.
"At least now I know you won't be starring in a remake of American Beauty any time soon."
"I don't know, I think the time I had to film leaves in the wind is pretty close to filming a plastic bag caught in the wind," Jason teased back, "we did make a lot of American Beauty jokes while we were filming. We even tried to catch a bag, but the wind wasn't strong enough."
After a pause from picking at the popcorn and watching the action on screen he had to ask, "what do you mean, animal?"
"I was teasing," he placated, shaking the parallels between Jason and the weird outcast drug dealer from the movie. "Unfortunately, environmentally conscious is where my love of nature stops. I never managed to be a vegetarian. Or a real animal rights activist. Although throwing cans of paint on fur coats sounds like a lot of fun."
He looked away from the screen just as Norman made a comment about eating like a bird. Watched Jason's profile for a moment. "Did I just put my foot in my mouth without realizing?"
Jason shook his head quickly and let out a shy laugh, "no, no, I was starting to worry I put my foot in my mouth. I like animals, but I'm not an extreme animal rights activist, as fun as paint throwing might be there are more important matters to worry about. I mean, what is the point of protecting the animals of the planet if the planet is no longer habitable?"
"Good point," he breathed, relieved and at the same time intrigued to find that they were bot unnecessarily nervous. And not about Norman's impending attack on Marion. "Heads up. Famous shower scene coming up," he added, nodding to the TV. And in the same breath, he noted: "There's always the option of chaining yourself to a tree in that case. I've always wanted to do that."
"I have chained myself to a tree, it is not as fun as you think," Jason laughed and was trying more to see Dan in the dimness of the room than paying attention to the scene that made the film so well known.
"Especially when it started to rain two hours in, torrential rain, and it wasn't even a protest. It was a contest. I won a hybrid."
"You must've really wanted that hybrid," Dan teased, picturing the scene with a small smile, gaze trained on the screen but mind resolutely elsewhere. He had stopped pretending to follow the movie, thankful that at least he knew this one well enough that his memory could fill in the gaps. "Two hours in torrential rains? Remind me never to compete against you... in anything. "
"I'm not that competitive, I just really needed a car," he explained as he self-consciously brushed his bangs away from his eyes, "I heard about the contest on the radio and figured I'd at least try. For the record, I was chained there for sixteen hours. I only won because the runner-up passed out a minute before I did."
"So you're scarrily determined when you want something?" Dan hid a grin behind his hand, fingers brushing against his lips. "Did you find the ensuing pneumonia pleasant?" The odds of him getting out of sixteen hours of waiting around in wet clothes unscathed were very slim.
"I'll never give up if I think I have a chance," Jason pursed his lips together and nodded firmly. "I ended up in the hospital for a few days, and then I felt sick a good month after, but it was worth it. My car is awesome."
Dan almost replied something about wanting to see it some day. Old habits, he thought. "At least you know it was worth it. No pain no gain and all that."
"The sound system alone was worth it," Jason grinned. "Next time, they'd have to offer something extremely better for me to try something like that again. I'd rather watch Hitchcock movies."
"Hey, you're making it sound like it's on the level!" Dan protested with mock offense, aware that he was covering Norman and not caring. "If I'd known that, I'd have put a prize out there for watching. But you already have car, so I'd have to come up with something else. Maybe a barometer."
"I already own a barometer," Jason scoffed playfully, "I've built tornado machines, you'll have to think of something I'd really want that I don't have. Especially if I sit through every Hitchcock film in existence. That should be rewarded."
Dan arched an eyebrow. "Next time we make plans, I'll make sure to read the small print," he teased. "But okay. I'll play. Something you'd really want that you don't have." He pressed his palms together, considering. "Some antique violin once played by Georges Enesco. Or a Mac. A telescope?"
"Hey, I kept my end of the bargain," Jason teased as he held up the bag of popcorn as evidence, "you're the one who added new terms."
Watching the movies were all but forgotten, his attenton now tuned completely on Daniel. With the exception of the computer, Jason didn't have any of those items, which of course peaked his interest. "Do you really have an antique violin?"
"I have a lot of things I don't need," Dan answered with a grin, as on screen the mystery behind Norman's mother was revealed. He still remembered how he'd jumped out of his seat the first time he'd seen the movie. For all that it was old, the scene was effectively frightening.
He noted that it wasn't interesting to Jason and decided it was just as well. "Want to see it?"
"Yeah, of course I would," Jason replied with a wide smile. "That would trump a movie any day. I mean, that is something of real value. And cool, did I mention how cool that is?"
He was probably the only person Dan knew who'd think an old violin was 'cool', but hey, who was he to pick at details? Pausing the movie, he nodded to Jason to follow him down the hall. "I think it's still in playable condition, eighty years later."
"Most of the well-made ones are still played. I mean, the best violins in the world were made in the fifteenth or sixteenth century," he said as he scrambled to his feet and followed after Dan. "The only parts that need replacing usually are the strings. Not that I'm going to ask to play it, just looking at it is good enough for me."
"Mmmhmm," Dan murmured his acquiescence, slowing to round the corner into the middle room that dubbed as study and stock room both. "What if I ask you to play it?" he shot over his shoulder. With a nod of the head, he pointed out a dark Plexiglas case in the open bookcase. "Top shelf, if you can reach it."
"You'd really let me play it?" His eyes probably widened to ridiculous levels, but he was too stunned to care how silly that would make him look. "How could I say no?"
It wasn't a surprise when Jason realized he wasn't tall enough to reach anything on the top shelf, even standing on his toes. He needed the assist of a chair to reach. He pulled the case from the shelf and carefully stepped down. Jason briefly brushed his hand over the top of the case before he opened it.
Absorbed in watching him watch the case like it was the holy Grail, Dan almost forgot to answer. Clearing his throat, he smiled. "Uh, it's from the late twenties, so the tuning is probably all over the place... but you're welcome to it."
More than. "Besides, after that recording you posted up online, I'm curious to hear you live." He didn't mean to put pressure on him, not really.
"I'll see if I can do anything with it," Jason lifted the violin from the case and looked it over carefully. It was in excellent condition, and the violin was in better quality than any of the violins he had touched in his lifetime. The horsehair bow was in pretty good shape, all it needed was a little tightening and some rosin.
The strings looked like they were made from gold plated steel, which meant that even if the violin was in tune at some point, temperature changes and sitting untouched would have changed the intonations. He lifted the violin in preparation to tune and murmured apologetically, "this might sound pretty bad."
He closed his eyes and began to tune the strings to match the correct tones that played in his mind. While he considered himself out of practice, tuning a violin by ear was a skill he had since he was a child.
Dan folded his hands into his lap, surprised that Jason jumped at the opportunity. He wasn't sure why he'd assumed he'd suffer from stagefright - if it was due to something Jason had said or his own baggage projected onto the younger man - but it was a pleasant surprise to find he was wrong.
The violin screeched as Jason tightened the strings and Dan winced a little, despite the warning. "I'll try not to consider that a preview," he teased, sitting back to watch him. He couldn't fully appreciate the difficulty of what it meant to play an instrument since he'd never tried it himself, but he saw the effort reflected on Jason's face and in the way he gripped the violin, and felt more than a little bit awed.
Jason chuckled softly, as he twisted the appropriate peg, "that was a very tight D string."
Jason didn't speak much after that, completely engrossed in the task at hand. He didn't look up until he had tuned the strings to the closest he could get to G-D-A-E. "Wow, the tone on this is great."
"What should I play?" He was so excited at the prospect he was bouncing on his toes.
Dan tilted his head to the side, contemplating the possibilities. "Something appropriate," he answered, which didn't really mean much, if he thought about it. "Something contemporary. Recent." He didn't mean to rule out Vivaldi on principle, but he wanted to hear something aggressive. It was just a whim. "Do you know Prokofiev's sonata in D? It's Russian so not very patriotic, but we won't tell anyone."
"Second movement?" Jason queried as he lifted the violin to his shoulder, and began to play a flurry of notes, very reminescent of the melody at the start of the sonata. He suddenly stopped sixty seconds in and looked worriedly at Dan. "That's the one, right?"
"That's the one," he grinned, surprised that Jason actually knew it and could play it by ear. While he could read music, he couldn't necessarily transform it into something else, like Jason could. "Keep going." It sounded different without the piano, but Jason's skill made up for the absence.
"Jae-Mi played it during a performance last year, I think I remember most of it," Jason explained with a sheepish laugh. "It sounds different without the accompanying piano, but I think I can do it."
He took a deep breath and started over. This time assured he was playing the correct piece, he was able to pull enough sound from the instrument to fill the room. The bow danced over the strings as he pulled out the melody from his memory. His upper body swayed with the tempo as the song slowed in the middle of the piece, playing the long softer notes with a light vibratto.
The melody picked up again, and he seemed surprised when he lowered the violin that he managed to soldier through the entire piece. Not counting the several mistakes he inevitably made when he improvised notes whenever his memory drew blanks.
If that was how Jason sounded when he was out of practice, Dan couldn't help think he'd like to hear him when he was at the top of his form. There were mistakes, of course, but he played without a guide, without a conductor or a memory aid and he did it beautifully.
"You're good," he complimented, at a loss for a more descriptive way of putting his thoughts into words. It was a rare thing: if Dan knew anything it was how to make a case out of thin air and instinct. "You're really good."
Blushing wasn't close enough of a word to describe Jason's reaction to the compliment. His eyes were shielded by his bangs and his gaze seemed fixed at his shuffling feet.
"I'm not that good. Most of the credit goes to the violin, it wouldn't sound half as decent on my violin at home. The tone is totally different. I mean, I've been playing since I was little, most of it is just muscle memory."
"Yes, I'm sure it's the eighty year old violin that did it," Dan agreed with a smile that belied his true meaning. As much as he liked Jason, there was only so much tolerance anyone could have for a butchered piece by Prokofiev. Like Paganini, the man hadn't left much room for interpretation.
"Take the compliment," he advised. "You've earned it, muscle memory and magic violin or not. Oh. And you can take the violin too. It's just gathering dust here."
"But-" Jason began to argue but fell silent when Dan mentioned he could take it. He was stunned to the point that all he could do was stare at the other man for a good minute. "What? I just can't take it, this is..."
He gestured to the violin in his hand. "I wouldn't even feel right borrowing it. Even though it is only eighty years old, it used to belong to Enesco."
"And then he died and it was passed from collector to collector to collector until it ended up here. Gathering dust," Dan repeated with a shrug. "I don't play it. I don't even take it out to look at it." It wasn't something he was necessarily proud of, but a fact nonetheless and facts mattered if he was trying to make a point.
"Besides," he smiled, "it's fair, isn't it? Psycho for Enesco's violin." Everything payable. Everything equitable.
"Okay, this is your last chance to change your mind," Jason finally looked up from his feet to look Dan in the eye, it was clear he had been smiling the entire time. "If you really want me to have it, I'll take it. And I'll play for you anytime you want with it, that seems more fair to me."
"I want you to have it," he repeated, unwavering in his decision. "And you can come serenade me any time you feel like it." It dawned on him that it could be misconstrued, as a gift, but he trusted in Jason's ability to discern the intention behind it. If only he really was disinterested as he acted, there wouldn't have been a small flicker of guilt at the back of his mind.
"Okay, I'll take it. And it is a deal, I'll serenade anytime I feel like it." Jason smiled. He lifted the violin and began to play a few strains from Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet Love Theme before he stopped with a sheepish laugh. "Okay, that was lame."
Dan mirrored his laugh. It was impossible not to. "Yes," he agreed. "Not the smoothest lead in. Did you know Mozart actually wrote a serenade?" A broad grin stretched his lips. "For future reference." Because if Jason's attempt was lame, there was no reason why he couldn't follow in his footsteps.
"For future reference," he repeated with a wink before he began to place the violin back in its case. "I'll make sure to memorize a few more serenades that aren't primarily used in comedic love scenes."
"Why? Humor is the basis for some of the best relationships out there," Dan teased as he wheeled past him. "Take Laurel and Hardy. They were great friends when they weren't trying to kill each other with falling pianos."
Jason picked up the closed case and followed Dan out of the room. "You've got a point, but I should have a wide repertoire of serenades at my disposal. That way I'll have something to play for every mood. I'll even make sure to have killing with falling piano music on hand."
"Or you could just play Paganini and pianos will start falling from the sky as a result," Dan threw over his shoulder as they made their way back into the living room. "Can you stand to watch the end of Psycho or do you feel like something else?"
"Paganini summons killer pianos," Jason laughed in amusement, "I'll keep that in mind."
Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and hummed as he thought over the question. "Let's watch something I haven't seen. I remember how Psycho ends."
Dan returned the smile and nodded. "Okay. Something you haven't seen... How about Frenzy? It'll shock you. It's probably the most violent film Hitchcock ever made."
Which wasn't necessarily a good thing, but it could be captivating.
"You're the host. I haven't seen anything that made me want to cower and cover my eyes in awhile," Jason settled back comfortably in his previous movie-watching position. Which he couldn't help but notice that of all of the places in the living room he could sit, he continuously sat as close to the other man as the furniture would allow. Or that the other man didn't seem to mind.
"Yes, I'm the host and it's my duty to make you cower," Dan surmised. "That makes perfect sense. Frenzy it is." He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to the movie so much as Jason's reaction - and whether that wasn't entirely healthy was another issue. He shifted closer, replacing Psycho for the second DVD and pressed play. When he returned, he somehow ended up a little closer to the couch proper, settling in for the ride. "Just don't say I didn't warn you..."
This film was considerably more successful in holding Jason's attention. He did end up cowering during the more grisly scenes of the movie. Brenda's murder in particular had him turning completely away from the screen. He was too caught up in the moment to differentiate between the armrest and Dan's arm, which wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Told you," Dan heard himself muttering half-way through the movie, considerably more put off by the murders here than he ever had been by Psycho. Where the previous film focused on suspense, Frenzy made up for it in brutality. He felt a pang of concern for pushing the limits and covered the hand on his arm with his fingers. "Do you want to switch to something else?"
"No, it's okay, I want to see if Rusk gets caught," Jason looked up when he felt Dan's hand cover his own. Instead of moving he merely smiled and turned his attention back to the screen. "After all of that, I want to see how it ends."
Dan thought about telling him how the movie ended and sparing him the rest of the gruesome show, but relented. It was Jason's decision, if he thought he could stomach the rest. "Okay," he conceded, but kept his hand where it was. Jason didn't say anything, so neither did he. The average thriller these days was much more violent and much more bloody, but there was something about good editing and psychotic killing that didn't require all that artifice. It could be scary enough on its own.
The movie's ending was abrupt, which was fitting given the overall editing and pace of the film. The movie was suspenseful enough that he didn't speak until the credits began to roll. "I know you warned me, but I didn't think it would be that bad. Good, but I still flinched."
"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly, settling back in the chair. "It's pretty grim. Then again, this was the seventies. And it was Hitchcock's second to last movie. He was pushing limits in terms of making his audience uncomfortable." The explanations didn't really explain why he'd suggested it. If it had been a whim or a desire to jostle Jason out of his comfort zone.
"No need to be sorry," Jason returned the sheepish smile with one of his own, "at least you aren't like my sister and screamed at the worst parts just to freak me out. She loves doing that."
Jason sat up, but didn't move his hand from Dan's arm. While it was a natural for him to be in contact with the people closest to him, he couldn't help but feel shy when he caught himself doing so with the other man. Even though there was likely no reason for him to be.
"Your sister sounds a little cruel," he commented with a soft smile, trying - and failing - to pretend Jason touching him was normal. Maybe the other man just had a different concept of personal space. Maybe it din't meant anything. Why would it? He'd told him he wasn't interested, there was no potential for anything. Anywhere.
"And I'm not sure Hitchcock would work for that. You can't really scream while you watch it. It tends to sever your vocal cords. At least in my case."
"She likes to pick on me, my mom said she even picked on me in the womb," Jason spoke with a soft laugh, "but she really is sweet. She's just a louder more outgoing female version of me."
Since it was his left hand, he began to lightly tap out the chords of the song he just played along his arm. No real reason other than he felt like it. The other man could always tell him to stop if it bothered him. "Oh, you'd be surprised. She'd make it work, if that was her goal."
"Poor bullied Jason," Dan teased lightly, shaking his head with mock pity for the man. "She probably does it out of love. Who says only boys tease the ones they like?"
In an effort to retrieve his hand without making it seem like he was trying to - because he wasn't, not really, not if he was honest with himself - he pointed to the TV. "Another one? We're making very slow progress." The purpose of the visit were still the movies and he tried to stick to the plan, regardless of what he wanted; regardless of what his mind conjured up as alternatives.
Realizing that the only way that the movies could be switched would be for him to let go, while noting that Dan seemed as reluctant as he was to break contact, Jason decided to break the awkward stalemate and move first. He pointed to the stack of DVD boxes. "Hey, it isn't my fault we're going through these slow, you keep distracting me."
"Not that I mind," he added for good measure before he returned to the topic at hand. "How about Vertigo?"
"You're the one asking for payment," Dan countered weakly. "Vertigo is fine by me. And fits with all the other one-word titles."
Far be it for him to suggest that they'd watched enough. That they should take a break. He moved to the DVD player, exchanging one disk for the other.
"Which I got in advance," Jason retorted as he drummed his fingertips over the top of the violin case that was still at his side. "After this one, how about lunch? We can watch one of the spy movies, or Strangers on a Train. I think I could eat watching those."
"If we don't overdose on popcorn by then, it's a plan," Dan agreed as he pressed play. He still had a stocked up fridge, courtesy of Jason delivery a few days back. "Although it'll probably be time for dinner soon." It was dark enough and he'd been engrossed enough in the other man's presence - and the movies they were watching - that he didn't really know what the time was anymore.
"You're probably right," Jason said as he settled back into his previous viewing position, leaning on the armrest with one hand on Daniel's arm. He was comfortable sitting that way, and the other man didn't seem to mind. "Lunch-dinner, same thing."
"If you don't have anywhere to be," Dan nodded, finding himself hoping that it was the truth; that the rest of Jason's evening was free. He didn't protest the press of fingers against his arm, having become used to the idea by now.
"I told you my weekends are free," he smiled, "while most of the people in my dorm go out on the weekends, I'm the one who stays in. If I wasn't here watching movies, I'd be studying, practicing, or sleeping."
"Is that my cue to feel bad about distracting you from such worthy pursuits?" Dan teased him with a smile, aware that he was talking over the beginning of the film again and not really caring much about it. "Because it's falling short of the goal, in that case."
"I can always catch up tomorrow," Jason pointed out, "this is far better than any of that anyway. So far today has been pretty close to perfect. You can't feel bad about that."
Dan felt like smiling at that, but refrained because there was only so much he dared to do at once and multitasking wasn't his forte when it came to emotions. Instead, he took Jason's hand off of his arm and intertwined their fingers. He waited a short moment to see if it was alright before he let his eyes flicker back to the screen.
Jason began to speak when it seemed that the other minded, but when Dan laced their fingers together he felt silent. He tried not to put too much thought into the gesture, as that was what ended burning him before, but it was hard to remind himself that Dan wasn't interested in him. Not when he looked at Jason like he feared being rejected, if only for the briefest moment. Jason merely smiled and followed Dan's lead by turning his attention back to the movie. At least he tried to.
James Stewart did a good enough job of holding Dan's attention as the action unfolded in faded colors on screen. He knew the plot and he knew the lines, but he didn't know how Jason would like it, so that made rewatching the whole thing from start to finish more than worth it. "And the crazy woman jumps out of the belltower..." he muttered softly, the silence eating at him. "Surprise surprise."
"I had a feeling that was what would happen," Jason chimed in, silent through the course of the movie only because he got caught up in the unfolding story, "everything seemed to be setting up for it. "I didn't think the shadow was going to be a nun, but it makes sense."
"I didn't see it coming either," Dan confessed, his hand still in Jason's as the credits rolled. One more movie over. One step closer to the time Jason would inevitable, unavoidably have to leave. "Cutting the branch from under your feet's is just one of those things Hitchcock's good at."
"He is good at it, that's why his movies are worth watching," Jason nodded, "I think I liked this one better than Frenzy."
He looked over at Dan, as there was no reason to keep looking at the screen since the credits were over. "So...dinner or another movie?"
"Dinner," he decided, reaching for the wrong remote with his free hand and raising the sunshades instead. It was just as well. Outside his window, Seattle was dark and shone with too many street lights.
He spent less time looking at it than he did Jason. "Let's see what's edible in the kitchen."
"Yes, let's," Jason smiled, while the view from the windows was impressive, Jason's attention was elsewhere. He didn't want to let go of Dan's hand, so he didn't, until he got to his feet and realized the other man needed his hand free to maneuver his chair.
He freed the other man's hand and settled on resting his on Dan's shoulder, "even if you have a fraction of what I brought the other day, you have plenty."
"I have a standing order for too many things I don't need," he agreed, maneuvering out of the living room. "Most of which gets thrown away."
He slid into the kitchen with a sideways glance in Jason's direction. "I'm a very wasteful guy. Now you know my big ugly secret."
Jason tsked and nudged Dan's shoulder teasingly, "that's a really bad habit. Or a good habit, depending on how you look at it. You can be wasteful, or you can put a spin on it and say you're prepared."
Jason moved from standing behind Dan's chair to standing beside him. "So what's on the menu?"
Part of having a home that was built for a man in a wheelchair involved having few doors than needed to be pulled open. Everything slid in and out of place, groceries and frozen goods coming into view.
"We have... about eight different kinds of rice, pasta, enough frozen meat to feed an army... and day old Chinese. And for some reason, beer. What was I thinking."
"At least you have variety?" Jason laughed softly, "if an army ever stopped by demanding to be fed, at least you wouldn't have to call out for catering. Hmm, I wouldn't mind eating any of it. It beats cafeteria fries."
"And if we somehow got snowed in, I'd be still standing weeks into a second Ice Age," Dan countered with a smile. "Granted, there wouldn't be much point, but yeah." He thought about fries, decided he hadn't had any in a while and checked the pantry. "I have potatoes. If you can stand the peeling."
"At least if we got snowed in, I wouldn't have to worry about food or company, it might be a problem later on once the food ran out," Jason grinned, "so homemade fries and beer? I have no complaints."
"Cannibalism isn't your thing?" Dan teased, nodding to one of the two chairs in the kitchen. "Then sit. You drink beer?" He couldn't pinpoint why that surprised him but it did. Maybe beer and violins didn't go together. What about violins and wheelchairs?
"Not if I had to survive at the cost of someone I cared about, I'd rather it be the other way around," Jason explained with a sheepish laugh. He pulled over a chair and sat down. "I drink beer, it just depends on the kind. You just happen to have a brand I like."
"Interesting concept of self-preservation," Dan commented lightly, trying not to stumble at the thought that Jason cared for him. He wasn't interested. He'd said so and he (mostly. not at all. not even a little.) meant it. He took two beers out of the fridge, uncapped and slid one in Jason's direction. "Cheers."
"Cheers," Jason lifted the bottle in a mock toast before he brought it to his lips, "I guess in my case it wouldn't be self-preservation, preservation of others maybe."
Jason gathered a handful of potatoes and a paring knife. While his cooking skills were limited when compared to the other members of his family, Jason was rather practiced in peeling potatoes. It didn't take long before they were peeled, even though he seemed to take his eyes away from what he was doing every few seconds or so to look over at the other man.