Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
I see. We've fairies. Faery. [The homonym sounded no different for the repetition, but Newt hardly noticed.] I wonder if they're you. [He'd no idea.—The echo of Daniel's words, or their adjacent, earned Patrick a look, a squint of amber eyes as Newt tried to figure out what precisely was meant by it.] He's rather old-fashioned. [Now, Newt'd expected the talk of Adrian to work against him. He'd rather hoped Patrick'd been asking about feelings, but when the man said sex, he'd carried on. He watched it resurrect guilt that'd not yet laid to rest to the surface.] Should I not've said? [He shrugged as Patrick seemed to him to backpedal.] Well, yes. People tend to have a preference, but of course, not everyone does. Women, I've heard, however, can top, with the right equipment. [Newt said nothing in response to Patrick's florid description of sex with Destiny and he offered, in return, no answer to the bit about Sue. He looked at Patrick, brows lifted.
A smile pricked back to his lips slightly.] Yes. That is the joke. [Newt didn't manage to get to his sandwich. He started upon his buttons. He expected to be stopped. And he only smiled, rather teasing, when Patrick's hand planted itself warm on the center of his chest, over his working hand. He waited, expecting the other man to retreat, but he said nothing when he didn't. He only looked at him, closer now, and wondered what on earth they were doing. Only once did his gaze slip to the man's lips and that was, to Newt's mind, a triumph in and of itself.] Yes. It did occur to me. [And back Patrick went.
He took the mobile when it was handed to him, and looked down. Distractedly, he replied:] No. I'm asking if you're—[He trailed off as he read. At some point, he must've gotten to the bit about stupid bowties, because he touched his throat. After a minute, he passed the phone back to Patrick, his expression a furrow of brows hidden behind drooping fringe. He took a breath. Self-consciously, he busied himself with buttoning his shirt back up, then settled his wrists against the edge of the table, fingers curled toward his palms. He didn't look up.] I'm not angry with Jack, Patrick. But I don't want you to think I'd say something about you like that. I wouldn't.