Who: Francis Radford & Lucien Prince What: Our two intrepid antiheroes are outstanding heterosexuals over a fluffy dog. Where: Manhattan, New York, a few blocks from Lucien's apartment. When: Tuesday, January 12; night Warnings: TBD, but probably pretty PG, since it's a puppy rescue.
Something had changed between Francis and Lucien, that night that Lucien had come looking for something to drive him out of his head. If it had been something that had broken, Francis would have understood it more, but instead he found himself spending more time with Lucien outside of sex. It was mostly at Here&Gone, and mostly getting a drink. It still, mostly, ended in hooking up back in Francis's room. There was talking, though, friendly chats and sometimes something a little deeper, if one of them had something to talk about. Francis never minded talking, never minded sharing his (Johnny's) opinions, if somebody asked for them. Most people didn't bother, didn't like what they heard, or didn't want more than the petty reassurance that they were something special, just like everyone else in his club.
Sometimes, though, they did something a little different. Much as Here&Gone was Francis's pride and joy, it was impossible for a man to really have a night off in a club he owned. If they were hanging out there, out in the main room, Francis was on the clock even when he wasn't. Mostly, he didn't mind, but some nights, he just wanted to get out of there and have five minutes to himself. Manhattan was far enough away that they weren't about go come and track him down for some emergency, though, and Francis only hesitated a little before turning his phone's ringer on silent. He and Lucien had plans that night, plans that involved a movie and then a drink that Francis would actually have to pay for (not that he didn't pay for the drinks they had at Here&Gone, one way or another). Francis hadn't tried being a normal guy with only a quarter of a century under his belt for a while. It was hard to make the shift from club owner, Resistance member, petty crook Power, but he was going to give it a try. If he didn't like it, it wouldn't take long to shrug those layers back on.
The two of them walked a respectable distance apart. Francis had to admit, when Lucien dove back into his closet, he did a good job of it. No one would think that the two of them had been doing anything less innocent than sharing a couple of drinks. Not that anything about Francis screamed 'flaming queer' the rest of the time. He was a private guy, by nature. He didn't make out with men on the dance floor, or get blown in the men's room. It was entirely possible that some of his newer employees didn't even realize he was gay, unless they'd seen him and Lucien disappearing back to his room a time or two. Yeah, just Lucien. Francis was picky, most of the time. He didn't know if Lucien had been sleeping with anybody else, and he didn't really care, but he hadn't seen the point in wasting his time finding someone else to fuck since he and Lucien had started going to bed on a semi-regular basis. It was rare enough to find one guy that was worth his time and effort, juggling two was pointless. He had better things to do.
They'd made it a couple of blocks from Lucien's place. It was cold in New York, that night. Francis had worn his thickest coat, with a soft gray scarf wound around his neck to keep out the rest of the chill. If it wouldn't have flattened his hair, he'd have worn a hat, too, but you had to make some sacrifices when you wanted to have a decent hair day. He had worn boots under his jeans, though, covering every inch of skin he could. Winter had gotten a late start, but it had finally arrived, for however long that was going to last before the year turned unseasonably warm again. In a bizarre twist, New York was at least warmer than Chicago that night. Small favors, because if the temperatures had been in the single digits in New York, too, Francis wouldn't have been walking to their destination. They would have been springing for a cab.