Investigator of the Supernatural, Brewer of Tea (sedulus) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2018-01-14 20:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | bertie eden, dex kessinger |
Who: Dex Kessinger and Bertram Eden
What: A collision, a reconciliation, and a vision (or, The last supper flight of The Winged Sandals… [Part II])
When: 22nd Dec/4th Jan, depending on how you look at it [slightly backdated]
Where: A London street, then Dex's home
Rating: PG-13, heading enthusiastically toward NC-17 (adult themes), but never quite making it there
The days that followed after his talk with Gabriel, Dex had become extremely busy. There were plans of a new dig site in Egypt that he was considering going on when Spring hit. He thought it would be good for Sam and hopefully become a bonding experience. He would have to see what Katherine thought of going to Egypt for a month or so, but that was a question for later. He had also been busy with the museum as they were gearing up to do a show and were wishing to borrow some of his artifacts from his personal collection. He had also been thinking of New York and taking Sam so the boy could do his own search of his parents. He knew he needed closure and he hoped it would help him. Again, something else to ask Katherine about. She didn’t have to go, and might enjoy a break.
None of that, however, took away his thoughts on Bertie. The man was still very much there in his mind. Oh how Dex wished the man was a woman instead. Someone he could marry and be happy with. Not that he wasn’t happy with Bertie, quite the contrary, it was just a relationship that was extremely difficult to navigate in these days and times.
Something needed to be done about that.
It was Bertie who clouded his mind this day as he walked along the streets. His walking cane swung with each step and lightly clacked against the pavement, absently nodding to passersby who greeted him. It was in this state that he did not see the gentleman in his path, did not sense him or smell the familiar scent that would have had him side-stepping in the crowd of people but instead he ran into the being, the other bouncing lightly against his chest as his arms came up to grab shoulders so that the one he had ran into did not go flailing to the ground.
“Bertie…” he said the moment his eyes registered just who it was he held. “Forgive me..I..was not paying attention to where I was going…” How coincidental that the one man he really needed to speak to, that he had made his mind up to do so but had been so busy was the one he had literally run into. Coincidence or fate?
Bertie had been distracted as well, with investigations for once rather than ghosts or poetry. He still had no information for the terrifying Miss Shiverthorn, and now that they'd moved into the new year, with the holiday rush ended and thoughts of unfinished business on the minds of many, Bertie's apprehension that he would be yanked unceremoniously into another alley and held at knifepoint had increased daily. The weekend in the country had been a pleasant escape, but now that he was back in London, the presence of alleys seemed ever-present and nerve-wracking.
His nerves were not yet such that he registered a sudden collision with a fellow pedestrian as a threat--rather, his first thought was to babble profuse apologies, which caught on his tongue at the moment he recognized the hapless gentleman's face. And the arms holding him, for that matter. It had not been so long that Bertie had forgotten them. He thought, in fact, that it was rather unlikely he ever would.
The sudden buoyant feeling of hope and pleasure was quelled abruptly as Dex revealed that it was an accident on his part as well, and not - as a brief flight of fancy might imagine - that he was clasping Bertie with sudden unquenchable passion in the middle of a public street.
Bertie had, perhaps, been reading too many popular novels of late.
Apologies stifled, Bertie choked on a greeting as well, torn between the more formally polite but undesirably distant 'Mr Kessinger' and the familiar but perhaps unwelcome 'Dex'. Conversation seemed a treacherous landscape populated by pitfalls. Bertie told himself firmly to get hold of himself, and swallowed.
"It was my fault, I beg your pardon, I was distracted." He couldn't stop his eyes from drinking in Dex's face, thirsty for the sight of him even if Bertie had been the one to prematurely take his leave at their last meeting. It had seemed prudent, but he missed Dex's company and conversation--the way he so often made Bertie laugh, or bubble over with enthusiasm for some topic or another, and then seemed wholly surprised that he'd done so.
He tried to imagine where Dex might be going, failed utterly, and invented something instead as an excuse to open conversation. "Are you visiting the museum collection today? Have they acquired any new artifacts on which they wish your opinion?"
It was a poor substitute for 'how are you?' which was Bertie truly wished to ask, but it took less liberties, so he would begin there.
“I, too, was distracted,” Dex remarked, removing his hands from Bertie’s shoulders, though his arms ached to pull him in and hold him. Still, they were on a very public and crowded street, so there would be none of that.
His eyes roamed over the young man’s face, taking in everything, wanting to know how he was doing. “I am,” he said of visiting the museum. “And they have. They’ve asked for a bit of my own artifacts to help with a showcase, I’ve thought of just letting them have what I have,” he smiled and then took a look around them and realized that they could not have a conversation where they were at.
“Would you like…” he paused. “Would you accompany me to the museum?” He said, his eyes back to Bertie. “I would understand if you would wish not to, but I...I was going to invite you over for dinner anyway. I wanted to speak with you,” he said and then waited for an answer.
The way Dex was looking at him gave Bertie the boldness to ask what he otherwise might not have. Nothing he had planned for the moment couldn't wait, when this was the alternative he'd been offered. "Or I could accompany you to the museum now, and we could have dinner later," he suggested, nearly holding his breath for the answer.
Dex let a small smile touch his lips as Bertie seemed to read into the situation what he had wanted. He relaxed slightly and gave a slight nod of his head. “That would be an arrangement that I would delight in,” he stated. “Shall we, then?” He asked and started to walk once more. “I have to admit that running into you is quite the coincidence,” he said. “As I said, I was wanting to ask you to dinner, so we could talk,” he glanced over at Bertie.
Bertie knew that most likely the talk would be of friendship, and a careful groundwork of rules for when they were in one another's company, but he could never seem to stop the hope from kindling every time Dex hinted at enjoying his company. Which Bertie knew he did, in fairness--Dex was honest to a fault, and Bertie knew it wasn't that creating a necessary distance between them.
"That's very generous of you, with your collection, I'm certain the museum would be grateful," Bertie began, trying to choose a safe subject, but he found he couldn't keep to small talk, even if it was of Dex's collection of antiquities, which he did love hearing about. Halting, he began to speak again before realizing he would block the street, and hastened to catch up as Dex looked curiously back.
"I want you to know that I understand," Bertie rushed out, his eyes on the grime-covered street at his feet, words tangling over themselves. "And I'm sorry for running off, the other day. It was the wrong thing to do, and the height of rudeness to you. I do wish to be friends, and while I know I said that, I was the opposite of friendly, and treated you most unkindly. For that I cannot apologize enough."
Bertie bit his lip and risked a glance up at Dex. "I have no excuse for my behaviour, save that I was off-guard, I suppose, and acted without thinking. I can only beg your forgiveness, and ask for a second chance. I hope...I hope dinner might be a step in that direction, in making it up to you and proving myself willing to be a friend. Not willing," he amended quickly. "Most grateful. I've...I've missed your company."
Dex was quiet as they walked, nodded about his generosity about his collection. But then Bertie was stopping and Dex was looking over his shoulder curiously. He slowed his steps, shortened his stride, and wondered briefly if Bertie was having second thoughts. He would not beg him to come, he would not make him. If Bertie decided it was not a good idea, he would let him go and Dex would have to accept it.
Gratefully Bertie decided to catch up to him and he felt a bit of relief loosening up his chest. He listened as Bertie spoke. He gently shook his head and gave a small smile.
“Bertie..please,” he spoke softly. “Don’t apologize. You did what you had to in the moment, everything was...overwhelming,” he said, brushing off the apology. “There is nothing to forgive you for. In fact, it is me that needs to ask for your forgiveness.” He took a breath and continued walking.
“I sometimes worry too much about things that I probably shoulder,” he started. “I worry about status, my name, what my son will think…” he trailed off. “I...we were getting close and I started to worry about things. Things that might not even matter.”
"It does matter," Bertie said quietly. "Your reputation. Your position. Your son. I was selfish, to want you for myself, when so many others have demands on you. I thought only of how you made me feel, and our time together. When we part, you have duties and responsibilities to return to, and I...I'm a distraction, and even a danger to you. I should have considered more than what I wanted."
Bertie took in a breath, exhaling a puff of mist and recalling all the reflection he'd done over the weekend, when he hadn't been diverted by other things. "It's only...when you speak, I hear poetry. When you tell stories, I imagine adventures I'd never dreamed. When I'm with you, I feel safer than anywhere else, and forget to be afraid. I suppose..." He shook his head and sighed again, trying to force his mouth into a rueful smile of good humour, and only failing somewhat in the attempt. "I suppose that's what you mean by getting close. Closer than is perhaps wise, when you..." Bertie swallowed and nodded. "Samuel."
“You can’t help what you wanted, what you feel,” Dex said. “Where you thought you were only thinking of yourself, I was only thinking of myself and what others could say how it would effect me and it was wrong. It’s true that you are a distraction,” he gave a small chuckle. “But you were, are, a good distraction.” He ignored the danger comment. Danger was in all aspects of life and he would just have to handle it when it came.
He felt things in the rest of Bertie’s words, things that in a way he wished he didn’t feel. It would be better if he hadn’t, better if he could just leave Bertie alone, but he did and he couldn’t...didn’t want to. He instantly wished they were somewhere more private, somewhere where he could maybe kiss Bertie and let him know that he felt those things. Instead, he had to focus on using words. “You make me feel things,” he finally said. “Good things.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve done nothing but think of you since our last time together,” he sighed. “And I find that I am quite miserable without you..”
Bertie reached to nearly brush Dex's hand, stopping the motion before they touched but not before Dex could see it, and his lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm sure I was terrible company this weekend, moping about and reading poems that made me think of you," he confided. "There's one about a river god you might like. About how nothing is the same after you've touched it, and changed it."
Bertie sighed at that thought, not wanting to get too lost to sentiment before they'd sorted themselves out. "You're good for me, too," he said quietly. "You make me feel too much, almost. Do you think...would you like to speak, over dinner, of making some...arrangement? One we might both abide by, as much as we can? I want you to be happy. If that means some compromises on both our parts, but that I can continue to see you...I can manage that."
Dex smiled at the near touch, his eyes meeting Bertie’s for a moment before moving off. People were always watching and he needed things to be safe for them both. It felt good, however, to see that almost touch and the look in his eyes and it helped to elevate his mood. “Believe me, I was of no good company either,” he sighed. “There was a lot of drinking and grumbling on my part.”
“Meeting and talking over dinner would be nice,” he nodded. “If an arrangement can be made, that would definitely make things better,” he smiled. “And Bertie,” he glanced over at him. “I only want for you to be happy as well, so please do make this and any arrangements about yourself as well.” He wanted to make sure Bertie didn’t only try to please him, whatever arrangements they could make he wanted it to be in Bertie’s favor as well. “My cook had said she would be making a stew and bread to help warm me up from being out in the cold today. Does that sound suitable to you?”
Hope kindled anew, a candle flame in Bertie's chest. "I suppose I must be glad that someone is keeping you warm," he said, unable to help the sparkle of teasing in his eyes. "And doubly glad that it's a cook. That sounds..." He sighed, a weight seeming already to lift from his shoulders. "Like more than I could have hoped for," he finished quietly. "And I look forward to it."
Bertie met Dex's eyes again with another smile, and then cleared his throat and looked away before his eyes could linger too long and he walked into a carriage. "Now, tell me of this showcase? What pieces would they use from your collection? I'm getting to learn some of them, I think, however slowly," he laughed. "And I can't help that I always seem to be distracted when you speak of them. But tell me all, I want to hear everything about it."