2020-02-04 - In Theory and in Practice

Cristobal did call as promised, even if it was a very short conversation to warn Dante that he was coming over. The 'when' was left rather vague but assuredly it was 'soon'. Now as Dante answers the door following a quick knock, Cris is sliding into the other man's apartment before even standard greetings are exchanged. He's toeing off cowboy boots and shrugging off his canvas jacket to leave him in white tank and open flannel shirt over his typical low slung jeans. "Hey." There. A word was spoken, even if it betrays little.

And Dante was actually rather slow to respond to the message. The reason why becomes more evident when Dante opens the door. He looks just barely awake, his hair is a mess and he's squinting like people do when they're, well, hungover. He's in a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. "Good morning?" He's holding a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

There is a mixture of emotions suddenly playing across Cristobal's face as he fully takes in Dante's appearance. There is a flicker of amusement, a scowl of concern, and a tick of anger before it all slides behind his normal arrogantly smug expression. "Rough night?" At least he blessedly doesn't steal Dante's cuppa, but he's prowling into the kitchen like he owns the place, in search of that french press that no doubt is about somewhere.

The French press is on the counter, half full, with a mug waiting nearby. He watches the prowl, sips his coffee, then meanders over to the piano to pick up his glasses and slide them on his face. "Is this an early morning booty call? Seems rather luxurious, don't you think?"

"You saying I'm getting greedy?" Cris asks, glancing over briefly with a tick of an eyebrow before he turns back to pouring his own coffee. When it's filled, he wraps a hand around it, finger threaded through the handle to hold the burning heat against his palm as he leans a hip against the counter.

Dante walks over from the piano and leans on the breakfast counter, coffee in both hands. "Not at all. Just a bit unexpected. I'm not much of a morning person. Side effect of setting my own hours for years." He twitches a smile, but it's a fleeting expression.

"The more I would have waited, the more I would have stewed about it. And I don't do well with stewing." Cris looks down into his coffee, then back up at Dante, the expression in his eyes plaintive. "You wanna tell me what that was all about in the bar. You were too polite to tell me to fuck off, but you clearly didn't want to sit with us."

Dante was expecting that. He pulls over the stool at the breakfast counter and slides up into it. He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he bites the corner of his lip and nudges his glasses back up his nose. "There's a difference between accepting you seeing other people and being the third wheel on your date, Cris. I realize I've absolutely no call to be jealous or to demand anything of you considering my own double-dating. And I don't have a problem with who you see. But..." he looks away, "...it doesn't mean I want to be there while it's happening."

"But you had ZERO problem with being paraded around like a prized peacock when we were on our date." Cris' voice doesn't raise, but it does seem to become more intense. One doesn't have to get louder with their words for there to be a barb on the tongue that delivers them.

Dante blinks, sits up a little straighter. His brow furrows in confusion. "I'm...not sure I see the connection?" It's not a denial of Cris' statement, but he does look puzzled. "The date was your idea?"

"And I loved taking you out, but you sure as fuck didn't have any problem with Sparrow then, did you?" Cris really shouldn't be feeling angry, but he is, even if it's born more out of guilt than anything else. He sets his coffee mug down on the counter a little too roughly so a slosh of dark liquid cascades over the side.

Dante looks down at the counter. He goes quiet for a moment as he decides how to respond. He spreads his hands. "I'm not sure what you want me to say." His words are quiet, and he addresses it to the counter. "Other than to ask, quite honestly, how you would have felt if it had been me and Elias on a date and you were sitting across from us while we flirted."

Cristobal seems to literally chew on that, his teeth worrying against each other in a grind. "So you were jealous, is that it? Felt I was flaunting it in your face? I was trying to share that with you. I'd share anything with you, don't you get that by now?"

"Of course I was bloody jealous, even though I know I've no right to be. But it's easier to keep that down when it's not happening in front of you." Dante laces his fingers together and grips them tightly. Tension rises across his shoulders. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. "I'm not...as adventurous as you are. Sexually. And I haven't been with a woman since my divorce."

Cris abandons his lean against the counter and approaches Dante in a prowl that has his shoulders rolled to his ears as he stalks the few feet. His palms come up to catch Dante's face between them, one still warm from its grip on the coffee cup. "What. Do you want from me."

Dante doesn't resist. When he looks Cris in the eye, there's something sad in his. Something broken, or at least badly bruised that he usually covers up with a twinkle and a wide grin. "I...don't know. I thought it would be easier. Being open. Then you're both free to find what I can't give you. And it stops me from..." his voice hitches, "...sabotaging things with the nuclear option of infidelity."

Cris says quietly, "I have certain...proclivities I can't, I won't, subject you to." He pets the side of Dante's hair, disrupting the arms of his glasses a bit that he resettles correctly with a press of his thumbs. "And there are things I can't give you. Elias is what's going to keep you sane, and so I don't pull you under my tidal wave."

"I know," says Dante to the mention of Cris' proclivities. He might not know what they are, but he can hazard a few guesses. And they've had the conversation about darkness and attraction - without him actually being very dark himself. He swallows. "I know I can't...fully satisfy you. Especially since, well, I have a feeling we've rather flipped ratios when it comes to the number of men to women we've shared our beds with. So I don't begrudge you that. But..." he takes a breath in, "I wasn't thinking about taking you both to bed last night. I was seeing what I couldn't be. And..." he pulls in a breath. "I can deal with that. In the abstract. Do you understand?"

"I wish I were the type of person who deserved to be happy, but I'm not Dante. I think you feel the same way about that too, about yourself. But I need you to know I wasn't trying to rub your face in it. As far as I'm concerned, you're the number one in my life. And I know that means little, but it means something. You are the call I will always answer." Cristobal angles a brief kiss to Dante's forehead, if he'll accept it.

"I know you weren't. That's why I'm not angry. I recognized what you were trying to do. And I was...embarrassed that I didn't want to. Thinking I should be more...adventurous, and be with you on that part of your life." Dante closes his eyes and leans into him. He's taller, but Cris is stronger. "I'm a selfish bastard. When we're together, I don't want to share you. And I want the Cris who opens up to me. Who laughs with me and steals my bloody coffee." He chuckles. "Don't get me wrong, your swaggering jackass act is hot. And I'll play the part of the vain peacock to your swagger. It's fun. But..." he kisses the side of Cris' jaw. "We might not feel we deserve to be blissfully happy, but maybe we can steal a few moments here and there?"

It's as if Cris is drawn towards the kiss that Dante places on the side of his jaw, rather than turning that way of his own free well. A hand is on his ribs, tightening into the material of the white t-shirt. "I won't...I won't mention anyone else when we're together if that's what you want." He nuzzles against the side of Dante's face. "But I won't hide anything either if you ask. How about that? And I'll tell you where I am when I'm out with someone else. And I'll no longer try to involve you."

"No, I want you to be honest with me," says Dante. He cups the back of his neck. "I don't want you to pretend like you aren't seeing anyone else. That requires too much mental energy and would just make you resent me over time. I just..." he inhales. "You can tell me, oh I was with Sparrow last night. You can even tell me dirty details if you want. But...don't ask me to be a third wheel on your date? And allow me to make a graceful exit if we run into each other unexpectedly about town?" He fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "The only way this has a chance of working is with honesty. How much do you want to know about what I do with Elias?"

Cristobal gives a firm nod, thin-lipped at what Dante wants and doesn't. A silent vow, an agreement, an acknowledgment all rolled into one brief gesture. "Good, because I kind of like having you to talk to. I think I'd go crazy if I couldn't, and not in a sexy way. In a completely self destructive sometimes I think you're the only thing keeping me sane, way. And I can't lose you. And I think that's what Elias gives you, counteracts my darkness. Brings you back some sunshine after dealing with all my shadows." The only thing he wants to know about Elias - even if that's not really what Dante asked - "He's a totally nancy bottom isn't he?" Cris' face breaks into a smirk.

"I don't think you're as dark as you think you are. If you were, you wouldn't be concerned with what you do and don't deserve." Dante hooks an arm around Cris' waist. "When you tell me about what you've been up to, then I'm experiencing how it made you feel. And chances are it would make you horny again. And that's rather fun. Like watching her strip, then coming home with me." He grins. "And I'm not saying I'd never want someone else to join us in bed. I'd just..." he bumps his forehead against the side of the other man's. "...want to plan it?" Ah, Mr. Control. As for Elias? He leans his head back and chuckles. "Mhmmm." Which neither confirms nor denies. "You know he's bi as well, yes? Something about this town draws us switch hitters here."

Cristobal is ringed by that arm and he steps closer, so their chests bump against each other. "That's not really what I meant by sharing, but I get your point. No doubt my mind would have turned that way in short order." As to him not being as dark? Well that gets ignored completely, clearly they have higher opinions of each other than they do of themselves. He seems to trail after that head bump, as if chasing after the nearness of his face. "I think more that in this place, life means more, so why limit yourself? Why hide your proclivities. Whether you're gay or bi or queer. This place is bound to kill you, one way or another. Might as well go out with a smile."

"How morbidly romantic," Dante drawls. "But I'm serious about Elias. I've avoided talking too much about him because I thought it might make you uncomfortable." He swallows and closes his eyes, fingers moving along the back of his neck. "I also want you to know that I'm...not with anyone else. Not casually. Nothing more than my base level of flirting I have a hard time turning off. I'm not saying I wouldn't be...weak if an opportunity presented itself, but I'm not looking to make this even more polyamorous. Or open. Or whatever label suits."

"You can tell me whatever you want to, and I'll listen. Occasionally grind my teeth, and then be forced to remind you just how little he threatens me by sucking you dry." How's that for romantic? Well, if that won't suit, Cristobal mutters something else. "Polygamy. Because the only one I foresee falling in love with. Is you." Not that he admits to anything beyond the fact that it could be an outcome, but the affection alone is notable.

Dante chuckles roughly. He takes that as it is - as Cris' version of romantic. He gives his ass a soft slap. But then he gets serious again and rocks back and forth on his heels. "What about Ms. Bird? You two seem quite cozy and fond of one another. I know it's notable for you to return to the same bed with any regularity."

"Gray Harbor changed things. You changed things. I know it sounds dumb but remember what you told me, the second time we were together. And you showed me affection? That lovers should have fun. It made me rethink some things, about being in a small town. So while Sparrow is sweet and feisty?" Cris shakes his head slightly, "She's more than I can handle, so all her other lovers will have to pick up the slack. By the way, also bi. As is someone else I've also taken up with, his name's Joseph Cavannaugh. But you're the one I want to come back to, and I want you to believe that. I need you to believe that."

There's a flicker of something at the mention of another lover, but it fades in the face of words Dante recognizes are quite vulnerable and rare coming from Cris. "In a lot of ways, I'm a bloody romantic. As impractical as that might be in our situation." He chuckles softly and rests his forehead against Cris'. "I'm in this for intimacy. Just hard and fast and random sex can be fun. Like our first meeting. But the older I get, the more I gravitate towards...well, a connection. And I am pleased that you've opened up to me."

"It's scary." Another rare admission from Cristobal, an emotion he doesn't speak about frequently, rarely, if at all. He gives a long exhale that sounds a bit shaky at the end. "There's a lot I think I want you to know about me, but they're things that people don't normally speak about. And saying some things out loud makes the more real. But first, let's get you poured back into bed, because clearly you need a few more hours before that beauty sleep thing kicks in." He grins then, warm and teasing as he forcibly tries to turn Dante back to his room and steer him back to bed.

"Ouch," says Dante with a tight smile. "Do you mean beauty sleep, or..." the quotes are obvious when he speaks, "'beauty sleep'?" The quoted words are said directly into Cristobal's ear. "Or did Ms. Bird wear you out?"

"Oooh, shots fired back." Cris gives a little snippet of laughter, his turn to make a swat for Dante, this time delivered to the man's hip. "You wish, but I'm pretty sure I was ready to go the moment you opened the door looking all sleep disheveled and hungover. But I have mercy, and at least will let you get a little nap in after I pour water and aspirin down your throat. Then I'll wake you up later by showing you what my throat is for."

"Mhmmm," murmurs Dante. "You're terrible. Lord knows if we were exclusive, you'd give me a heart attack with your libido. You're more than any one man can satisfy. Or woman, apparently." His tone is wry and teasing rather than accusatory. There's also a fair bit of warmth as well.

"I'll still be chasing you down the hall at the retirement home when I'm eighty, paddling my walker as fast as I can. So make sure you stay spry, English, because Viagra ain't got nothing on me." Laughing, Cris gives him a little shove into the bedroom towards the bed.