2020-03-17 - An Awkward Talk

Eleanor has been waiting for August to arrive after his work day. His schedule has been busy, so it's definitely a 'her place' kind of night, so he doesn't have to make the longer drive to his A-frame. She paces back and forth in the kitchen, in front of the island that separates it from the dining area, and chews on her thumbnail in worry. It's something that has to be done. She's just not sure how she will get through this conversation without dying.

She's wearing a t-shirt from her 10-year high-school reunion at Teddy S. Addington, under a flannel, one of her own, not his she wears to bed often. She has on sweatpants and slippers as well. Looks like it was a 'do research from home' day for her, as she has her glasses on as well, and her hair back in a loose ponytail.

August comes home in his mostly functional car, reminds himself that they could go to Portland instead of Seattle to replace it, then he could see about another tattoo, check out some wedding venues, see the girls... Yes, he's a man with a lot to do. And he only has three months to do it in. (Need to talk to Hyacinth about bands. Thoma about where to get a ring. Does his mom still have her mother's? Maybe...)

These thoughts are running around in his head when he comes in, preoccupying him enough that he doesn't notice Eleanor's state of dress. He's in heavy hikers (still a little dirty despite washing them off before he left work, so he leaves them in the entry way), a black and white flannel over a dark red turtleneck, and jeans. All of which he'll likely change out of shortly for a shower, since it was clearly a heavy lifting day. "Hey hon, how was..." He blinks, doubletakes. "You okay?" He's on the verge of checking her for a flu or cold, the shaping Art at his fingertips.

Eleanor looks up when the door opens and she wrings her hands a little in front of her. "What? No! I mean yes, I'm fine. Nothing is wrong. We just need to talk, if that's ok. If you want to grab a shower first, go for it. I can put on some tea," she offers, trying to look as relaxed as possible which, because she's Eleanor, is not very.

She moves to get the tea kettle off the stove and fill it at the sink, busying herself with the tea-making task, so she doesn't have to look at him, because he reads her all too easily.

August relaxes a hair to hear she's not sick. Not that he should heal something like that, but he could check it, take the extent. Except she's wringing her hands and wants To Talk, which puts him on alert.

Now he has to decide. Shower, or address this first? Nope, definitely talking first. He'll just take a twenty minute shower while his stomach ties itself in knots that would do any sailor proud.

He deposits his work bag on the couch, moves to join Eleanor in the kitchen. "Let's talk, then I can shower. No need to make you wait." He moves close, reaches out to take a hand so she'll stop wringing them. "What's up." He tries, and mostly succeedes, in sounding calm and unperturbed. Amazing, considering the nightmare scenarios his mind is assembling.

Coffee mugs get set out with tea bags in them to await the whistle of the kettle. That's really all she can do right now, until the water is ready. She should have offered to bake cupcakes or something. Eleanor leans on the island with both hands, her shoulders hunched up around her ears, freckles standing out starkly against her skin as she goes a tiny bit pale from worry.

"It's, ah, it's nothing horrible, I don't think, so don't panic," she offers, holding up one hand in a calming gesture that she really should be using on herself. "There are just a few things we haven't gotten around to discussing and I think they are important to talk about, and work with."

August watches Eleanor as she sets up the tea. He nods, slowly, regards her with a level expression. He leans one hip against the island, folds his arms. "You mean related to the whole getting married thing," he says, just to make sure they're on the same page. There's dirt under his fingernails and smeared here and there in his neck; it was definitely an active day out in the allotments.

Eleanor glances at the dirt smudged on him, and she grabs a dishtowel and wets it at the sink, before handing it over to him to at least wipe down a little. "Right, yes. So, what we have is amazing, SO amazing. But you were upfront with me before we even started dating seriously, that you are bisexual. So you enjoy being with women AND men. And well, if we get married, how is that going to effect you? I mean, I want you to be happy, and I don't want to deprive you of something you take joy in. So I thought we should, ah, talk about how to handle that."

And so the blushing begins. Lo, the red riseth on a pale face, harbinger of nervous laughter to come.

August accepts the dishtowel with a quiet thank you, wipes off his neck and hands, starts working some of the dirt out of his nails. He glances at Eleanor throughout this process, listening with an open, curious expression. Her blush makes him smile, almost laugh. "Deprive me? Sweetheart you're not depriving me of anything I wouldn't be deprived of if I married anyone else. Settling in with someone is always letting go of other things. That's just how it is."

His brows gather in a puzzled friend. "Handle it?" He sounds confused. "How do you mean." He doesn't look like he's trying to tease her. He seems honestly uncertain of what that would entail.

Eleanor is scarlet across her nose and cheeks, and it's starting to creep down and up as well. This is so hard for her to talk about. It's adorkable. "That's not fair to anyone. There are things you enjoy that I don't...." Wide eyes, hands moving in frustration as she looks for the words, "...have the equipment for! I don't want a life with me to mean you can't experience that ever again. That just sounds like punishment, and you are too wonderful for that August."

She grips the edge of the countertop for support so she can get all the words out, because the embarrassment factor is exponential the longer this talk goes. "I mean there are things to, ah, compensate. Toys and...um..strap ons and stuff? But I don't even know if that is something that would work. I dunno if you were a um...top or bottom? Is that what they say? I don't know the terminology. I can tell you half a dozen words for Glimmer but gay sex is not my wheelhouse clearly!"

August starts to say something like, 'That's ridiculous, it'd be the same situation if one of us couldn't do something the other liked because of trauma,' because that's certainly a situation he's been in. Except then she's talking about sex toys. Strap ons. And if he was a top or a bottom.

He stares at her. Well, she's right, this is a conversation they needed to have, but damned if he hadn't expected it to happen in this context. (What had he expected? Casual pillowtalk about how he liked it however his partner did, and the best part was bringing them off, so if that meant he was the one bent over he was still going to have a great time? Okay, maybe he had expected that.)

He clears his throat, suddenly the awkward one. He glances at the kettle. "You're right. Definitely a talk to have. Let's grab our tea and, ah, go sit on the couch." Unfortunately now he has to not think about Eleanor drilling him with a strap on and stay focused. A true test of his willpower.

The tea kettle whistles and Eleanor gets their mugs filled and carries them to the coffee table, slumping onto the couch, still wide-eyed as if amazed she is able to get this conversation out at all. She needs a medal for bravery, right? Something? Anything?

She is on a roll now, a roll of flailing embarrassment of epic proportions. "I mean I think some couples have a 'hall pass' sort of thing where they have an unspoken rule that they can sleep with someone else for X or Y purpose on occasion?" Her brows knit as she tries to ponder how to better explain that, dunking the tea bag in and out of the hot water in her cup like she's trying to drown it slowly. "Like with a favorite celebrity or something if the opportunity came up. More it'd just be, hey, you really miss the D, so go spend a night in Seattle and get laid by a stranger, just be careful, or something. I don't know how safe that is though." She's talking herself into even greater states of frantic now.

August joins Eleanor on the couch, settling in next to her and resting a hand on her leg to give it a squeeze. He blanches at the idea of a hall pass. "Woah, no--no." A short, nervous cough. "I definitely don't need a hall pass or any anonymous banging in Seattle." Another squeeze for her leg. "Let's back up, though. To the part about you depriving me of anything." He raises his eyebrows, leans over to take up his mug and have a sip. "Because you're not. Sure, I'll miss it." He laughs, shakes his head. "Itzhak and I even joked about my stag party being a farewell to dick party. But I love you a whole lot more than any amount of dick I won't be getting, Ellie."

"That is a sweet sentiment, August, but I don't think it holds up. It'd be like never having coffee again, or being banned from hiking or something. You'd have regrets, you'd miss it, resentment would build. So I'd rather you be able to explore that side of you when you need to. Does that make any sense?" Eleanor is now crimson down to the collar of her tee. "So I am willing to talk about how we can not have that be an issue. I want you to be happy and not miss dick." She takes in a breath and lets it out again. "So I want to consider other ways to make that a non-issue."

She ponders a few more moments. "There are always um, swingers? Couples who uh share with other couples, or just a third party, once in a while? That could be done but it'd have to be someone we could trust because who wants that getting out there? But if it's someone we'd trust we'd know them and they'd know us and I might die of mortification every time I ran into them because they saw me naked but I guess I would see them naked too so that would be an equal footing kind of thing and..." Breathe Ellie, breathe.

"Oh babe. It's a lot more than just a sentiment." August sets his mug down, reaches out to cup her cheek with his hand. "The reason I stopped being poly was I couldn't really handle the way things got complicated in a hurry. And anything with us sharing, even just swinging..." He falls quiet, thinking about it, winces. "I think the same thing might happen." He ducks his head. "I don't think I'll get resentful, but I agree we should keep an eye on it." He glances up at her, down to one side. "We can check in with one another. See how we're feeling. Take it a little bit at a time."

Eleanor's cheeks are downright toasty from all the blushing. It clearly took a lot for her to bring this up. She probably stewed over it for a week or more. She lets out a relieved breath at his words though and nods a little. "Ok, yes, ok. Just promise me we WILL talk about it instead of letting it stew. You being happy makes my life better. You being YOU makes my life better, and I don't want to cancel out any part of you. Understand?" she murmurs.

August makes a low sound, looks up again and pulls Eleanor close. "I swear I won't let anything like that stew. And I'll check in with you to make sure it doesn't." He sighs, kisses her hair. "You make me better in every way. So all I want is to make sure I do right by you."

His expression shifts, a little hesitant now. He licks his lips. "Are you serious, though, about...toys? Because I'm more than happy to get into that, but only if you are." His mouth twitches in a small, teasing smile. "And I like both riding and being ridden, to answer your other question."

Eleanor nestles into his embrace with a sound of relief, which turns into a squeak at his latter words. "Hell yes I'm serious!" she declares, amidst a whole new round of blushing. "We can totally go shopping for something. Just uh, not in Gray Harbor. I don't want to know what insane curses could wind up on sex toys in this town."

"Not Gray Harbor." August grimaces at the thought. The most he might agree to is ordering online for delivery. But, "I was thinking, we could go down to Portland, instead of Seattle, to get me a new car. See about getting your tattoo done. There's some nice farms around Mt Hood we could look at, for a place to get married." He leans his head back so he can look down at her. "And we could go to a store, get a free things to try. See how you like it." He runs a finger over her lips, arches a brow.

She's still blushing, but her eyes are also glinting mischievously. "I like the sound of that. That'll be a nice little shopping trip. Count me in." She kisses the side of his neck. "You should probably go shower," she notes with a grin.

"I should, so I can get started on dinner." August leans into the kissing, runs his finger from Eleanor's lips down her neck to the hollow of her throat. "Wanna come help me clean up?" he murmurs. "Then we can get started on dinner."

"Never thought you'd ask," Eleanor quips, before she's rushing towards the master bathroom with a giggle, dragging him by the hand.