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James Wilson will pay for lunch. (thestraightman) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-25 22:44:00

Who: James Wilson + Percy Weasley
What: Birthday dinner.
When: 8/22
Where: Their condo.
Rating: PG-13 for mentioning Gay Tentacles in Space.
Status: Complete!




Percy had taken an early day at work (meaning he'd left sometime around five PM), and was currently making up a list of the pros and cons of just laying on the couch for the rest of the day.

Pros:
+ It was very comfortable.
+ There was a book not an arms length away, so if he wanted he could read and not feel like he was being too lazy.
+ Wilson encouraged naps for life longevity, and Wilson was a doctor so clearly he was right.

Cons:
- It was a little too comfortable, and he could be doing something more productive.
- That book in arms reach was probably some kind of merman or were hedgehog porn.
- Even if Wilson was right, acknowledging that fact would make him seem less contrary, and that always seemed like an issue.

Truly, his concerns were many today.

Wilson came home soon after, liking to take his half days at the same time as Percy. He came bearing pastries, and he called out when he entered the room. His arrival was accompanied by barking from both cat and dog, and he smiled to himself. “I’m home!”

Percy actually wriggled on the couch into a half seated position and rose his eyebrows at Wilson, and subsequently the pets that didn't seem to go wild until Wilson came home. Percy suspected it had something to do with treats, but refrained from commenting.

"Excellent," he said, adjusting his glasses primly like he wasn't being some kind of lazy motherfucker right now. "Hello." Coy, he was not.

“Hi.” Wilson smiled, taking off his shoes and walking over to Percy. Still in his lab coat, still in his tie and sweatervest, he moved to give Percy a kiss, leaning down and letting the pastries rest next to his fiancé. “How’s your day been?”

Percy took the kiss, and then another quick one before Wilson had the chance to stand up straight again. Even numbers were important.

"Oh, you know," he said, glancing over at the pastries curiously before turning back to Wilson, taking in the lab coat (Unf. The lab coat. Percy dreamt about that thing sometimes), and smiling slightly. "About as good as any other work day." A pause. "Although, I was rudely reminded by my brothers that it was, in fact, my birthday." Look. He didn't pay attention to things of these sorts.

Wilson smiled and started to loosen his tie. He always took it off before his lab coat, if only because the tie was more uncomfortable. “Oh? Huh, that’s funny, they didn’t remind me. Lucky them I remembered on my own.”

"You might have reminded me," Percy said, standing and giving a stretch -- languid but still somehow stiff. Really, only Percy could manage something like that. "I might have started commiserating a little earlier."

Percy was always a little sad to see the tie go. And the lab coat. Everything was a shame, some days.

“But then how would I surprise you with your favorite book?” Wilson smiled, walking toward his room, shedding the lab coat as he went. He’d actually spent an awful lot of money on the book, as well as a wooden case for it, seeing as he wanted to protect the first edition copy. “The gift wrapped box in my closet didn’t give it away?”

Percy followed, a little like a puppy, or maybe just a cat that thought it was a puppy. There was some intrigue on his expression, but it was clear he was trying to keep a lid on it. For appearances sake. "I don't make it a habit of pawing through your closet," he said, although it wasn't necessarily true.

“I figured you might need a tie sometime.” Wilson handed Percy the box, wrapped in a dark navy dropcloth. Wrapping paper didn’t really seem to fit Percy, nor the gift. “Open it.”

Ties were at the top of the closet, hanging properly and in organized by colors. Let's not get silly here, Wilson.

"Oh," Percy said, looking momentarily concerned and interested both. Gift receiving was odd. People watched. He didn't have anything to give in return. He undid the wrapping of the drop cloth anyway.

Wilson moved to wrap his arms around Percy from behind, letting his head rest on the ginger’s shoulder. He really liked just standing with Percy like this, liked watching how the lines around Percy’s eyes got a little crinkly when he really smiled. “I hope you like it. I just remembered how you came up with Scout’s name.”

Finding it in a perfect first edition had been the hard part.

He opened the box, and was a little beyond shocked at the book. "Oh." said Percy again, in that tone he got when he was exceptionally overwhelmed by something. Wilson had not been wrong; To Kill a Mockingbird was his favorite book. And this one was very old and very perfect. "James."

Kissing Percy’s neck, Wilson smiled. “Do you like it?” It was signed too, but Wilson wasn’t about to tell him that.

Percy would figure that out eventually (probably soon), and then have a spazz about it, as was his wont with things that most others might consider nerdy. Except Wilson. Wilson understood completely.

"I do," he said, tone soft and almost brittle. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

“I think last night before bed, but I like hearing it.” Wilson pressed a kiss to the top of Percy’s head, letting his chin rest there. Percy always smelled like shampoo and conditioner and something else that was just him, like book leather and pen ink. Of course, Wilson romanticized things at the best of times. “I figured this will soften the blow for the dolphin porn later. I squeak.”

That broke down Percy's nerves, and the redhead barked out a laugh -- just one, but that was good enough. "You mustn't read that tonight, I don't know I could handle it." But he was hardly paying attention to that at all, mostly just the overwhelming feeling of fondness he had for the older man.

"I love you," he repeated.

“I love you too,” Wilson smiled, kissing his cheek again. “I don’t know, it seemed like the best way to celebrate your day. You love books, you’re a lawyer now, and you’re a good one.” Wilson smiled, kissing Percy’s cheek. “You’re my own personal Atticus Finch. I’m okay with being Scout’s mom.”

"I'm hardly that good," Percy said, looking both embarrassed and delighted at the same time. It was a strange mix, but like most things strange, the redhead seemed to manage it with little effort.

He closed the box and then turned in Wilson's arms in order to kiss him properly.

Accepting the kiss, Wilson wrapped his arms around Percy and let his fingers curl into the hair at Percy’s neck. “Are you hungry?” He murmured when they’d come up for breath, and he couldn’t help himself. “You should open the book for the title page. Another surprise there.”

That was two different topics at once. "I could eat," he said, which was his usual response. It was rare Percy was actually hungry, but he always seemed to eat if something was handed to him.

He opened the box again, and then the book therein. And then took the time to have a little freakout that wasn't very little at all. "Is this -- really? Oh my god, James. I can't -- this has got to be --" Entirely. Too. Expensive. "No."

“Yours.” Wilson smiled, sitting down on the bed. He’d always been frugal, always had prenuptuals. He didn’t even live in a fairly expensive condo. Other heads of departments in the OC drove Jaguars, Benzes, Beemers. He drove an eight years old Solara. If he couldn’t spoil the love of his life, the man that he’d never let go, what else could he spend the money on?

That freakout was still happening. Percy had to stop looking at the book completely in order to calm himself down a bit. It was silly, he knew. James wouldn't spend out of his means, and never did. But that didn't mean this gesture wasn't ridiculous. He'd only gotten Wilson cupcakes for his birthday, for gods' sake.

Albeit, they'd only known each other for something like twelve hours at the time, but still.

"Oh." he said again.

Tugging gently on Percy’s arm, Wilson smiled at him. “It makes me happy to see you happy,” he offered as an explanation. “Sometimes I think you have this smile that you do, this ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m not smiling but I should be so here goes’ smile. You use it around your brothers.” Not the ones that Wilson hadn’t met, but the ones that were boisterous and bouncy. “You’re a Rabbit in a family of Tiggers. But when you smile - really smile - your eyes go all crinkly and I don’t know. It makes me want to propose to you all over again.”

Percy had the grace to look embarrassed over that, like he'd been caught in an act. Which, he supposed, he had. The assessment was wrong, but he'd seemed to have been able to get away with it for a life time before meeting James Wilson.

And there it was, out in the open. He wasn't really sure what to say about it.

"Well," he said, and then gave a pause, scooting over so that his shoulder brushed against James'. "My hair is combed this time."

“Do you still want to marry me, Percival?” Wilson took his hand and kissed it. “For the record, I’m a bit of an Owl/Rabbit hybrid.”

Now was not the time to mention to Wilson that Percy had never been fond of Winnie the Pooh. That bear? It was really stupid and never seemed to learn it's lesson. At least, that was what Percy had gotten out of it before giving up and moving on to better things. Like frowning.

"Yes," he said again, and probably had one of those eye crinkling smiles on. "Of course I do." He secretly delighted in being called by his full name.

“Good. Because I kind of might have made you my beneficiary on everything already.” Wilson wrapped his arms around Percy, tugging him to lay down.

"Oh," Percy was becoming a terrible broken record, but couldn't seem to do anything about it at all. The box was settled down with care before he ended up further on the bed, sharp knees and elbows carefully steering clear of Wilson.

“There’s nobody else I’d want to leave it to.” Even if he’d been close to his brother, James Wilson had no idea where David Wilson was, or if he was even alive. His parents would likely not outlive him, and he wanted to leave it to his spouse, damn it.

“So. Your family’s obviously going to come - did you want to invite mine? Mom’s chomping at the bit to meet you and buy you shoes. That’s her thing.”

"Thank you," Percy murmured, feeling a little small and awkward at the topic. It made him remember to go over his own paperwork later on though. Not that he had anything to leave behind if anything were to happen.

Well. He supposed he had a very nice signed, first edition of a classic book. Probably wouldn't make up for the school loans, though.

"Shoes?" he said, feeling vaguely bemused as he wriggled closer to Wilson, tucking his head under his chin. "I don't need shoes, but I would like to meet your mother."

“Her first husband was a podiatrist. I think she’s still secretly sad I didn’t pick that for my specialty. I can have her and Dad fly down. Any excuse, really, they love it out here.” They kept threatening to move to Irvine, but Wilson said that if they did so, they weren’t living with him. That generally stopped the conversation.

Percy appreciated not having to live with his soon to be in laws. Sharing space with Wilson was one thing, but any more than that and he would forever be on second away from a whole new anxiety attack.

"That seems like a good plan," he agreed. "Maybe they'd enjoy staying with my parents. Saves on… hotel or something?"

“Oh, I don’t mind footing the bill for a hotel. Reminds them that they are never, ever going to live with me.” He’d pay for their own apartments, or even assisted living, but not for them to live with him. His mother was every Jewish stereotype rolled into one loud New Jerseyian woman, and his father was more quiet with his guilt trips. Neither made for a good housemate. “We will, however, have to have a chuppah at the wedding. Mom will insist.”

"Explain," Percy said, immediately, because he was actually probably a very poor spouse when it came to things like paying attention to religion, or rituals to do with them.

“It’s a canopy that goes over the arch at a wedding. I was raised Jewish, and while I’m really ... probably the worst Jew ever, considering how much I love bacon, Mom will bring one anyway. It symbolizes the home we’re going to make together. It makes a roof, and the arch is the walls. It’s a sweet tradition.” Wilson liked that Percy was always eager to know things.

"Oh," said Percy, tilting his head forward so that his nose was pressed up against Wilson's neck. He smiled to himself, thinking on that description. "I think that sounds nice, actually. I enjoy a good metaphor." Of course he would think of it like that. He also thought Theo would happily work that into her scheme of organizing things prettily and slipping Percy more concoctions that inspired more protein. Or something.

“And we’ll have to sign the ketubah. In Judiasm, it’s a document that’s a lot like Christian marriage vows, only we actually make it a binding contract. They’re beautiful. It’s basically saying I owe you sex, love, working to form a household, things like that.” Wilson hadn’t done that with his previous wives. Sylvia Wilson would be over the moon.

That sounded nice too. Pleasant, but not overwhelming. And Percy did always enjoy binding contracts. Really it was a bit like dealing with work. Rules and regulations were bread and butter for him.

He hummed out a noise of approval, nodded a little, and then gave pause. "Will they be upset? I mean. I'm not Jewish. I'm not anything."

“No, they won’t be upset. Only one of my previous wives was Jewish, and even then, she wasn’t practicing.” Wilson was himself not very religious, but he did it for his mother. “And I’ll step on the glass.”

"With a proper pair of shoes, hopefully." Maybe his mother would see to that.

Percy felt mostly okay about that reassurance, but was better than most at feeling like maybe he was still doing something wrong, so he let that consideration sit there for a moment.

“Don’t worry, Judiasm is passed down through the mother. It’s a religion, but it’s also cultural as well in that even if you’re an atheist born to a Jewish woman, oh well. Still Jewish.” Wilson smiled, kissing Percy’s neck. “My mom just wants us to get married.”

"Well, she's certainly getting that," Percy said, pleased at Wilson always seemed to be able to find the right words to appease him, even when he didn't say he needed any appeasing.

Then again, they were both aware that Wilson possibly read Percy better than he did himself. He snuggled closer.

Wilson closed his eyes, turning his head to just breathe in the smell of Percy’s shampoo. “Thank god. I love you so much.” Really, asking out the cute boy from the internet for drinks had been the best thing he’d ever done.

Even if he hadn't really asked him out. Never forget, Wilson. It all started with an accidentally secret date.

Percy smiled, as much for Wilson as himself, and then nosed at his chin. He wasn't sure why, it had just seemed like a cute gesture. "You too. Obviously."

Shivering, Wilson smiled. “Thank god you bragged about passing your bar exam.” Wilson was in a thanking god mood, apparently. But really, Wilson felt like he had a lot to be thankful for or the first time in his life.

Percy snuffed out a noise that was probably a laugh at that, rolling over until he was on top of Wilson, looking down at him fondly. "Yes, that," he agreed, almost wryly. "We both know I'm not generally one to brag." False. So false.

“You’re very humble and it’s adorable.” Wilson raised his head so that he could kiss Percy, grinning. “Then again, you help balance me out. I’m a terrible braggart.”

"Yes," Percy agreed, leaning down for another kiss, a slower, kinder one. "You are. It wouldn't be so bad if you also didn't steal candy from children. But I suppose I will just have to behave extra well to make up for that as well."

“Oh, crap!’ He rolled over, reaching for his iPhone. That had reminded him that he hadn’t fed Mr. Snuggles that day. Thank god for the Furby app. He laughed out loud when he heard a loud ‘MMM’ from the living room.

Percy paused. No. He stilled. Eyes going wide behind thin frames and his head tilting toward the direction of the living room. "No." he said, serious. "What was that?"

“There’s a little girl on my ward who has a fairly bad prognosis. She’s left her Furby with me for the time being, because she doesn’t want Mr. Snuggles to see her in pain.” Wilson looked a little sheepish.

It was hard to feel contrite when Wilson brought up possibly dying patients. So the redhead sat up, cleared his throat, and then tilted his head a little to look at the app. Well. Squint at it. Even with glasses sometimes, Percy was a mess. “What is Mr. Snuggles?”

Wilson grinned, hopping up, and went to the other room to fetch a hot pink Furby that also had a teal mohawk. Upon returning to the bedroom, he handed it over to Percy. “He likes to be tickled.”

Percy stared at the toy like it was possibly a demon from hell, come back to reclaim souls. He put it down gingerly on the bed and just stared at it. “I’m not tickling that,” he said very primly.

“Aww.” Wilson touched a panel on the side of the toy, grinning when it made a loud giggling sound. “It’s kind of cute.”

"If by cute you mean horrifying," Percy agreed, looking for all the world like he wished that thing might disappear. He cleared his throat, glanced at Wilson, and then shook his head a little, bemused. His silly quotient was up for the month. "What shall we do for dinner?"

“Oh, I figured we could order Indian. I’d kill for a proper curry.” Wilson turned his head to nuzzle at Percy, trying not to giggle when the Furby fell asleep. “Can you poof that thing to my office or something?”

Could he do that? Percy frowned, considering. He still wasn’t amazing at the very advanced magic, and while it was probably possible, he just couldn’t recall how. Really, he wished he had some books from his dreams. He gave a face, shrugged and then picked it up and apparated away with a crack, only to return with a similar sound a few seconds later. Sans Mr. Snuggles.

Wilson smiled, tugging Percy back. “Thank you. I’ll use the phone app to feed him.” He nibbled a bit on Percy’s neck. “What did you want for supper? I could make us something if you don’t want curry.”

"Oh no," Percy said, adjusting his glasses and then moving from the bed to find a proper place to put his entirely too expensive jesus christ what were you thinking Wilson book. "I'd quite like a curry, actually. You know, it's a shame I can't teleport such a long distance. I do sometimes miss the curry in England." Which was weird, but hey.

“Oh, I sometimes miss this little hot dog stand in Connecticut. Sometimes food just ... hits a chord,” Wilson chuckled. He dialed the number of the Indian place they liked best on his phone, ordering them both curry and samosas, naan and some mango lhassi.

Percy just trusted Wilson to get what they’d both liked, because that was how things went. Wilson fed them. Percy gave fond looks followed by wry looks. Oh, and he cleaned the place. So did Wilson, but Percy did it better. So there was that.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed hot dogs,” he admitted, moving to shuffle through the organized mess of terrible, horrible books under the bed.

“Super Duper Weenie is amazing,” Wilson grinned. He loved the name of that place. “And they have vegetarian hot dogs.” He leaned over to nuzzle at Percy’s neck. “We’ll have to go someday.”

Percy actually laughed at that, biting his lip and looking pointedly at all those awful books. He wanted a good one tonight. “I feel like I go there quite often.”

“Aww, you think it’s super duper?” He laughed and nipped Percy’s shoulder, giggling to himself.

"No more of that," Percy said primly, although he was well aware that he'd been the one to start it. Still. He gave a sniff and then gave up looking at all the awful books and all the awful book titles.

“Do you want to pick out the book for tonight, or do you want me to?” Wilson loved reading to Percy, and he’d been trying to find ones that would make Percy laugh ever since they’d started the tradition.

"You'd best," Percy said, standing and washing his hands of the filth underneath the bed. "I think you're better at picking. Probably because you've read them all already." How that was even a possibility was beyond the redhead, but he often found that James Wilson was made up of impossibilities. It was rather nice.

“Not all of them. I get a lot of terrible romance novels specifically for us to read together.” Speaking of, Wilson fished a book out from the nightstand, already giggling. “How about this one? I haven’t read it yet, and I must admit, ‘Gay Tentacles in Space sounds ... honest.”

Percy took the book, turning it around in his hands as if it just weren’t real enough, even though it was clearly a tangible thing.

“Honest.” He licked his lips, considering. “I guess. I mean. The plot is very succinct.” It was nearly like approval. For Percy.

“Unless it’s about something other than gay tentacles in space.” If it were about the Civil War or something, that would be the worst title ever.

Or the best title ever, considering. "But," he said, looking at the cover again. "They're tentacles. What makes them gay, if they're clearly threatening to have their way with a completely different species, anyway?" Shouldn't they just be sleeping with other tentacles?

“I’ve never seen tentacles that aren’t attached to something else. Are they sentient tentacles? Gay implies sexual preference.” Wilson grinned, sprawling out against Percy. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Trans species gay?” Was that a thing? Why was Percy thinking about it so hard? He shook his head, settled down, cross legged on the bed (no use getting too comfortable, food was on its’ way) and looked at Wilson rather expectantly.

Chuckling, Wilson moved to wrap his arms around Percy before starting to read. He used his own voice, authoritative yet comforting, reading the narration calmly. They were waiting on food, why not?

Percy loved this more than he probably would ever admit out loud - Wilson really could have read any sort of books, but there was something spectacularly silly and so them with these tawdry, ridiculous choices.

Resting his head on his fiance’s shoulder, Percy snuggled closer yet -- reading along.

For some reason it was a story about a space marine who found a tentacle monster and then did what any sensible space marine would do - stuck it up his butt. Obviously. Wilson made it through about eleven pages before collapsing into a pile of laughter.

Obviously.

Percy was glad for the break, as he was forced to remove his glasses and wipe away silent tears of laughter. “Where. Where do you find these.”

“The internet,” Wilson wheezed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “God bless the wonderful world of self publishing.”

"You pay for these, don't you? You encourage this. James Wilson: patron of the worst arts." Percy wiped his glasses clean even as he flopped backward on the bed, amusedly.

“A dollar each,” he smirked. “Come on, this is someone’s dream we’re dealing with here. Someone wants to quit their day job and write tentacle porn full time.” Wilson tried to sound stern, but he ended up laughing harder.

"And that dollar you gave them might have made it a possibility," Percy responded, sounding very much like Wilson was kicking puppies and starting forest fires. Possibly starting forest fires while the puppies were being kicked into the flames. How dare you, James?

“Hey, it could be worse. I can return it for a full refund within three days.” Wilson waggled his eyebrows.

"No, no. You've got to keep it. Your under-bed shelves of shame would be terribly incomplete without." Percy liked this, and didn't feel bad for it. It was sort of a first. He pulled James forward in order to give him a proper kiss.

Only because he was fond, not because tentacled aliens up the butt was a thing he found erotic, thank you.

“I suppose you’re right, my integrity would be compromised.” Wilson was pleased to be pulled forward, and he returned Percy’s kiss happily. “What kind of patron of the horrible arts would I be?”

"The worst kind," Percy said firmly, but smiling and ruining it all anyway. "But I don't think you've got integrity to compromise in this particular venue."

“Hey now.” Wilson giggled, rolling over and settling on top of Percy. “You may be the birthday boy, but I’ll swat you.” Birthday spankings were always a good tradition in Wilson’s mind.

"It's come to threats already? How terribly cruel of you, James." Percy settled his hands on Wilson's waist, always happy to reclaim the spot he considered his own.

“I’m a monster,” was Wilson’s cheerful reply. He happily kissed Percy, cupping his cheeks and pulling him closer. “But you like me.”

“Generally, I love you, yes.” It came out so easily, it was a wonder that it wasn’t something Percy had been practicing saying for the most of his life.

“Thank god for that,” Wilson murmured. It was a quiet, serious thought, but one he had often; he didn’t like entertaining the thought, but he was continually thankful he had Percy. His life was so much brighter with the young wizard in it.

Percy went back to stoic with that tone, and it was easy, easier than flipping a switch. Like this was his default mode, and joking was harder. “Yes,” he agreed, sounding thoughtful as well. “Or just whatever fate there is. I’m happy. You know.”

“I do know.” He turned his head to look at Percy. “I don’t know if you’re my fate, but I do know that you’re my good luck. I pinch myself every day.” He looked sheepish as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I was a forty-something guy who’d been divorced three times. When I first took you out, I didn’t think you’d end up being into me. I’m not exactly a catch.”

Percy rolled his eyes at that -- sure, it wasn’t the kindest response to such heartfelt honesty, but he was Percy, and sometimes it couldn’t be helped. “Of course you’re a catch. I’ll make a list of all your positive attributes, but you really ought not fish for compliments, James.”

“I’m not! The only one I can think of is that I’m a doctor who keeps getting divorced in community property states.” Wilson blushed, pouncing on Percy to kiss his neck in revenge for the eyeroll.

Percy looked sympathetic over the community property issues, but figured the less said on the divorces the better. Instead he took the kisses, tilting his head up further to maybe just promote more of the same.

"If you say so," he murmured, still apparently bemused, but letting it drop because sometimes it was easier to take kiss than it was to think up lists. (But not all the time. Obviously.)

Nibbling on Percy’s lower lip, Wilson sighed happily. “Either way, I’m the luckiest doctor ever.” He couldn’t help himself, and he chuckled a little to himself. “It worked out well that you happened to like me too.”

“Unrequited love would have been fairly awkward,” Percy agreed because he rather knew about those sorts of things. But was lucky he didn’t have to anymore. “Good for us, really.”

It could have gotten sappier, but the doorbell rang signifying food arriving and saving them from further declarations of love, wrapped in rainbows, hearts and glitter.

Sighing, Wilson stood up and went to the door to get them their food. He tipped the driver well before moving to put everything on plates for them.

"What's on your mind?" Percy asked, pouring wine for them both because it was his birthday and also Thursday, and clearly that meant wine with dinner. "Not that I don't enjoy all the fondness, and -- you know." He just didn't want to be obtuse, didn't want to be missing something obvious if it were there to be missed.

“Nothing, really, just happy you’re here. Can’t an old man be sappy for no reason?” Wilson nipped a little at Percy’s neck, amused that Percy was pouring wine for himself.

"You just aren't that old," Percy pointed out, smiling. "Anyway, it's my birthday, I'm the one meant to be lamenting. I've hit that age, haven't I? Pushing thirty? Oh, dear." Mostly, he was teasing, turning around a little to take the kiss instead of the bite.

“Thirty was my favorite decade until I met you. I kind of figured out who I was then.” Wilson’s twenties had been a blur of med school and his residency, too little sleep and too many coffees.

Percy liked too much coffee - it gave him a reason to think that feeling anxious was normal and caffeine induced.

"I don't know," he said, seating himself at the table and picking over his food until he found what he actually wanted to eat. "I've enjoyed this last year very much."

That made Wilson grin. “Fair point. Well, here’s to many happy returns, right?” Wilson held aloft his glass of wine in a toast.

Percy mirrored the gesture, giving a vague smile and nodding in return. Funny, that less than a year ago he might have not wanted to toast to an idea like that. And some days, admittedly, he still didn't. But today he definitely did. Couldn't think of anything else he might like better than spending all those many returns right next to Wilson, toasting with wine that didn't suit the meal and smiling like he was just stupidly in love.

"Right."