ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (arcane) wrote in summerview, @ 2019-03-03 13:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | player: mj, roman etana ka'uhane, zjames byrne |
place my livin', laughin', lovin' bones
Who: Roman & James
What: An adventure off the island, to thank James for the healing potion
When: A day or so after he helped with Koa's silver wounds
Where: Back into Summerview~
Rating: Mostly low
Status: Complete
Roman had not been lying when he’d promised James that he would make it up to him for the help he’d extended to Koa during the time he’d been hurt. It honestly meant the world to him because Koa was his heart he really was and Roman had been totally powerless to help him and that really sucked, beyond all explanation. And the dragon did this by taking James to Atlantic city for a dinner he didn’t have to cook himself and then they’d spent the rest of the evening in a bar which had pool tables attached to it so all in all it was a pretty good night or so Roman liked to think. Now with the evening was winding down they were on their way back to Summerview. Thankfully Roman couldn’t really get drunk so there was no concern over his ability to drive so he was definitely safe behind the wheel. “So…” he drawled as he glanced over at James in the passenger seat. “You have a good night?” A dinner where he didn’t have to cook? Be still, his heart. Trust and believe, it was actually welcomed - as the head chef at his place of employment, James rarely got a night off. When he did luck into one, it was always appreciated when he could lay his cooking utensils to rest and let someone else take care of that part. He didn’t mind, of course, and was glad to have guests over for a good meal. But it was a bigger bonus when he wasn’t making the meal. “Aye, I did,” he confirmed, plenty relaxed from the whiskey he’d consumed but not exactly drunk. He was part Irish, he could hold his liquor with the best of ‘em. “Thanks for the night off the island, I know you don’t leave very often,” he added, reaching over and patting Roman’s cheek affectionately, fingers twisting some of that luxurious hair he had before James kept his hands to himself. The bar Roman had taken him to had reminded him of some of the 'best' in the UK but a few steps up. A blinking, flickering, sad neon fruit machine in the corner (except this one had video games, Pac-Man or something), floor scarred with cigarette burns, formerly white ceiling in the spaces between wooden beams turned yellow from the nicotine stains and smoke drifting upward. Yet it was actually somewhat crowded, because apparently lots of people had low standards and wanted cheap drinks, and to play pool on a table that leaned. It was a delightful time, actually. ‘How about you, was it good for you?” he asked cheekily. James really didn’t need to keep his hands to himself. Roman loved the feeling of fingers in his hair even more so when the fingers were attached to somebody he actually liked. “Mmhm,” he replied as he reached across to squeeze the inside of James’ knee before his touch retreated back to the steering wheel. “Had a lot of fun. Glad you did too. Wouldn’t really have been any kind of thank you if you hadn’t.” And James was right, Roman didn’t leave the island very often a all but when he did it was for a very special reason. “Now I just gotta make sure you get home safe. Pretty sure you’re long past your curfew.” He flashed James a grin before winking as they both knew they were too old for that sort of thing. “Aren’t you sweet,” James returned the grin - and, likewise, Roman didn’t really need to keep his hands to himself either. In fact, James went for the knee touch too (it might have been a thigh touch, but who really was keeping track?). “I still maintain that you didn’t need to make it up to me, but I’m not complaining. And ensuring I get home without stumbling into traffic - I feel downright special.” But no, he certainly didn’t have a curfew. Never even had one when he was a youngster, either. Though that reminded him... “Koa’s still doing fine, yes?” he asked, wanting to make sure. It was obvious Roman had a soft spot for his kid, but it should be that way - too many parents were neglectful, James’ own father included, and look what kind of issues that gave way to. Honestly. Roman chuckled and was content with where James’ hand was though admittedly he knew it felt much better skin to skin than skin to denim. He turned off onto the intersection which would start them back in the direction of the bridge that would take them back to the island. “Yeah, he’s doing loads better. He’s back to moving around really easily and he’s not in pain anymore.” Huge relief for Roman especially as he didn’t think he was getting the sight of Koa wounded and hurting on his doorstep out of his mind anytime soon. If Koa hadn’t killed those hunters then Roman would have. “Glad to hear it,” James nodded, and he meant that - Koa seemed like a good kid (though he wasn’t actually a kid, in terms of age), his disdain for vegetables about as funny as Roman’s own disdain, and really, the fire witch had been glad to do what he could. It wasn’t often he got to exercise his potion skills - he preferred to keep a supply of healing and sleeping potions on hand just in case, since they tended to come in handy or were the sorts he could sell easier than others, but he didn’t make a habit of bubbling and brewing. He wouldn’t have blamed Roman for offing the hunters who attacked his son either. What a bunch of twats. “You make such an adorable da, you know,” he chuckled, patting Roman’s knee again. “Are most dragons so paternal or is it just you?” Admittedly, he didn’t know much about dragon culture - just knew that not all of them breathed fire, but no matter what, they were creatures one shouldn’t exactly trifle with. “My dad was pretty great,” Roman shared with a warm smile. “Really involved, definitely knew he loved me and wanted me to do well in life so I’m thinking my old man must’ve rubbed off on me.” Besides when he’d found Koa he’d been so small and so afraid and everything in Roman had screamed at him to take the kid home and make sure he was well taken care of. “Dunno about other dragons.” He knew from speaking to Danny that whoever had sired him had fucked off pretty early on so it wasn’t like every dragon was a good parent. “But I do kinda have a thing for bringing strays into my life though.” “Do you?” James acted like he was just so surprised by this revelation. “I wouldn’t be able to tell, not from the veritable zoo that is your house, darling.” He supposed that some felt the pull to be nurturing more than others - the gods knew that some also shouldn’t breed, period. For him, some days he thought it might be nice to have a family - one or two children, definitely not more than two. Settle down, exercise his own paternal instincts, that sort of rubbish. But who knew if it would happen. They rode back into Summerview, and James observed the night sky - the stars looked still, like they were watching over everything, but just think, to be closer meant observing galaxies tumbling; he’d always loved the constellations. “My old man was a lazy alcoholic, and couldn’t be motivated to do much of anything besides drink himself to death. Which he did. Likely not an uncommon end for an Irishman.” Roman gave a warm chuckle at James’ teasing statement and snorted quietly. “Keeps life interesting.” And it definitely did do that and Roman wouldn’t change anything about his life. He did glance over at James when he shared what he did about his father and frowned, hand moving to squeeze the hand which still rested on his leg. What was it with shitty fathers in Summerview? “His loss,” he assured James with a distinct thread of certainty in his voice. Admittedly, James hadn’t met many people who didn’t have a shitty father, or a shitty upbringing in general - it was like those who were traumatised were attracted to a place like Summerview, to potentially turn their anger or sadness into weapons, and use them against others. That seemed to be the whole point of that bloody ‘Malcontent’ movement, anyway - personal trauma expressed through violence, in the name of ‘helping.’ Not that he was against violence. He’d certainly been guilty of enough of it in his life - but he never made any excuses for what he’d done. “Well, he’s dead anyway, so aye - I believe it is,” he returned the hand squeeze. “At least I know what not to do, should I ever become a parent?” There we go, silver lining. “True,” Roman agreed. “So that’s something.” It wasn’t much longer before he was pulling up to a stop in front of James’ house and Prince could be heard barking from inside. “I think somebody’s missed you.” He smirked as he killed the engine and tipped his head to look at James. “I’m glad you had fun though.” That bloody ridiculous dog. James adored Prince, however - there was just something fantastic about coming home after a long day, an endless shift at the restaurant, and there was Prince. Wagging his tail and so excited to see his best friend - it was so pure, when few things in the world were. But still, he was currently in a car with a handsome dragon - so Prince could wait five more minutes for the reunion. “I did have fun, thank you,” he said, and took hold of Roman’s face. Hands curled in his hair, and James kissed him with a fervor - then when he breathed back out it was in a tremble, because he was dizzy and hadn’t cared much about oxygen right then. “Do you want to come in?” he asked. “For a coffee or a drink, or a pot roast?” That was a joke - they’d already had dinner, but he knew Roman’s appetite. Roman made an approving sound at the fingers in his hair and happily returned the kiss, his own hand having found purchase around the other man’s hip where it tightened. “Yeah,” he agreed with a smirk. “A coffee sounds good. Maybe save the pot roast for later.” Roman pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car before following after James. Coffee he could do (technically he could do a pot roast too - it just might take a little longer), heading into the house. First James had to greet Prince though, whose tail was thumping so excitedly on the floor - and whacking against the wall, that thing was a veritable weapon. The spanador couldn’t decide who he was more happy to see, James or his faaaaaaavourite for all the walkies, so he basically chased his own bum in delight. Then James opened the patio door so he could run outside and take a much-needed piss in the yard and then run back in - because good lord. Cheeto, meanwhile, was hiding elsewhere - far too important to come say hello. Besides, he likely remembered what happened the last time he was in the same room with the two of them. The cat got random articles of clothing flung in his general direction, while he was minding his own business and grooming himself. At any rate, James planned to make them Irish coffee, which meant he got the pot going with its brew and procured the brown sugar and whiskey from their cabinets. But it would take a minute for the coffee to get all piping hot (or not really, considering fire witch - yet he wasn’t in a hurry, he’d just let the electrical appliance do its thing), so he curled around Roman and kissed him again, backing up against the counter. “Now that you’re here, it might be too late to go home, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “You should just stay over.” Hidden agenda? Perhaps (alright, it was not so hidden, who cared). Roman grinned as he felt his back hit the counter as James kissed him again, hands lifting to bury themselves in his dark hair as he returned the kiss. An eyebrow lift accompanied the amused expression that flickered across the dragon’s face. “Well, you may have a point there,” he agreed as he dropped his head and pressed a rather firm fairly impossible to miss kiss to the underside of James’ jaw. “Wouldn’t wanna wake Koa. Growing boy like him needs his sleep.” Oh yes, that growing boy in his mid-twenties. James tilted his head for better access, scruffy throat exposed and Adam’s apple taking a dive when he rumbled a laugh; his own hands traveled, they slid up Roman’s shirt, tracing the ripple of muscle, forging a path that was a bit familiar. “Hopefully you get back before the lad sees you doing the Walk of Shame,” he teased, fingers curling along Roman’s sides - he wasn’t ticklish, was he? That would be quite a sight. “Though I’m sure he’s got his own places to run off to at night.” Not to burst the fatherly bubble of perceived innocence of the kid or anything, of course. “Oh I don’t doubt that,” Roman rumbled as he ran his mouth down the side of James’ neck. “He’s a good looking boy after all.” He slid his hands out of the other man’s hair and brought them around to catch in the buttons of his shirt. Each one loosened and popped open with a skilled hand. “Yes, he is,” James agreed - and while he did concur, he wouldn’t extrapolate on that. Especially when he was about to extrapolate Roman’s jeans, or at least, that was the plan. Having a discussion about how good-looking his son was, now that was a bit counter-productive to the goal. So he changed the trajectory a little, fingers slipping down to tug on the belt loops of those jeans - he’d just politely pull Roman off to his room, and they could continue whatever discussions there. He’d have aimed for the living room but, well, he just got that couch. No need to break it so soon. The coffee pot would stay hot for two hours and then shut itself off. Thank the gods for modern technology. Burning the house down would be a bad end to the evening, and it had been so delightful why ruin the winning streak? |