2020-10-31 - Couples Skate

The worst case scenario that does not requite emergency services being called. When Vyv returns home Grant is in the damn kitchen, jeans hanging on his hips, apron, goggles on, oven mitts bopping to A damn jaunty tune courtesy of Fitz & the Tantrums. Someone's neck deep into their project. "Oooh don't dpill don't dpill. Unnn Do not!" oh he's trying the Vyv voice!

Are we sure this doesn't require calling emergency services? Vyv steps in, off work and besuited, closing the door behind him and a look of faint annoyance shifting to first a hint of pleasure and then more of a sudden turn toward unease. "You're in my kitchen," he observes, heading over to make it true of himself as well, without even shedding coat or shoes first, "What are you doing to my kitchen?"

At least the last time Grant was doing things in it unexpectedly resulted in smoother drawer movement. But this one appears to be some sort of attempt at actually cooking.

"Weeeell you were busy and I couldn't invade your personal space so I, ya know, invaded your personal space. " Oven mitts grab the side of the goggles and slide them up on his hair. The other hand extends a mug to Vyv that is steaming, not boiling and smells of mulled apple spices, toffee or honey, and....chamomile and what seems like it might be whiskey. Stylized hot toddie? Seems so?

"You sounded kinda ready to be done with people earlier in your text soooo I thought I'd surprise you since i wanted to pick up a couple things and say, cheers. Welcome to the end for having to deal with people." There's a pause before he adds, "For today anyways. You do have to go back to work tomorrow."

Vyv looks past Bax to the stove itself, confirming that it has not met the same fate as the one in the trailer did -- either fate, really, though surely he'd have noticed immediately if the entire thing were burnt. In fact, surely he'd have smelt even the smaller version by the time the door was open, rather than this much pleasanter scent of apple and spice. And such.

There's still tension there as he's offered the mug, but as he takes it and looks the place over, it gradually relaxes. All right. Nothing appears to have been damaged or moved out of place, as yet. Still... "Worried enough for goggles, but not a shirt?" he inquires, looking the ensemble over and letting his free hand drift over to brush fingertips along a bare bit of side. "I'd generally prefer you invaded my personal space," he echoes the emphasis, "but this does smell... pleasant." Ambivalence is apparently something that's going to remain... but then again, it's his kitchen. Ambivalence is pretty close to a best-case-scenario. Particularly given Grant's demonstrated cooking skills thus far. He risks a sip; brows lift and there's a tiny head tilt suggesting this is indeed rather pleasant.

"For today," he agrees, and sighs. "And yes, I'd best go back tomorrow. But for now..." He sets the mug down on the counter, and leans in to steal a kiss. "I'm going to take my coat off. You tidy up. Then we can look into space invasion." The kitchen does still get one more careful look as he steps over to lose some layers, just in case he's somehow missed the terrible truth and been lulled into a false sense of security.

You melt a pot to slag ONCE...man...chefs never let you life that shit down. Bax does look though. Is is okay, right? Good. "Weeeell its halloween and I thought I'd see what I had left to salvage and that was my Warboy costume because it's pants, my boots and a pair of goggles and my collar which I left with you so I came over to take inventory and saw a thing on Pinterest..." There's a pause and a bleary shake of his head as he botes the oven mittens to take them off to sign, "I have no idea where I was going with that. Warboys don't have shirts' The oven Mitts get tosses on the counter as he adds, "They don't have apron or oven mitts either."

Hooking a finger in the vest he pulls the tie out with a pop of his finger and fishes it at the top button of Vyv's vest pleading, "You're home. Let yourself be-" he signs here. There's a pause and he looks to his phone and back with mild exclaim. "I can show you the rest of it if you want?"

Not in their own kitchens they certainly don't! But everything does still look in proper nick, so Vyv proceeds to shed both coat and shoes in their proper spots by the door and hang his jacket temporarily on the back of one of the stools before he pads back into the kitchen, intending to reclaim his mug.

"Oh yes, Halloween. Mn. Did you have plans for that?" he inquires as he approaches, and there's a small smile at 'Warboys don't have shirts'. "Something to recommend it, then. Might get a bit chilly, but I'm sure something could be done about that." Whether or not he lets himself be here, he definitely lets himself be disheveled a little, allowing the fingers. His own move to see about helping to fix the inaccuracy of the apron, though they pause on the ties without yet tugging them. "The rest of which? In any case, yes. Show me."

Grant is ecstatic to the point of actually radiating a bit of pure energy off of him. Vyv has the string of the apron and he half turns around it catches and then just bend finishing the 360 turning about with the fluid agility of Stretch Armstrong and a crazy straw's lost lovechild. "It's on my phone. I...will show you." It's already in hand as his thumb swipes and scrolls for the picture from last Halloween; right hand hiking the back of his pants up in the helpless battle against gravity. The futile effort is there. In five minutes with him antsing around the problem is doomed to return.

Finding wheat he wanted he bounds all both steps back to Vyv to show him the finished product complete with chalk body paint and schmutz. Really it's passable movie quality. "I was, um, last year I got really into doing airbrush effects and it turned out really awesome. I need a new compressor so i'm doing things by hand this year, but I liked it. Chilly but, ya know, comfortable as hell." He's about to continue on when he does a double take to Vyv's expression. His free hand falls to the Chef's back and traces his spine down to lower back and stops at rest there.

"There's a rave up the coast but, ya know, I though maybe instead we do something we're both into around here this year." So I...cleared my schedule."

The happy energy is contagious, and that bendy little twirl gets one of those tiny breaths of a laugh out of Vyv, who takes that moment of stepping away for the phone to hang the apron up as well. Leaning lightly sideways against the edge of the counter, he watches the pants-hiking with temporary resignation and the overall appearance with rather more lasting appreciation.

As the phone's tilted his way, he leans in to get a good look, brows lifting slightly. "It makes me want to wash you, but yes, it's remarkably good," he murmurs, studying the images he's shown. At the sense of a sudden longer silence, his gaze lifts from the phone to its owner again, right about in time for the hand to fall to his back. "Mn," he says to the mention of there being a rave up the coast, his own hand reaching to trail fingertips down Grant's bare side, and the rest of that 'but' gets a small smile. "Did you, now." There's a quiet appreciation in it, an unspoken acknowledgement of the likelihood Bax would, generally speaking, really quite like to go to something like that. "As it happens, mine's clear too. Did you have anything in mind, as yet? I can't say I'd given any thought to dressing up..."

Grant has that look of being damn proud with the work he did and more at the critique of it. With the threat of being scrubbed at there is an impish smile and a bit of preening, "Well then maybe I will have to consider it." The eyebrows waggle and his weight shifts to lean into the fingers at his side slightly. Sometimes relationships are about what a team builds, and sometimes about what one passes on to support the interests of the other. Something about balance in there.

There's a pause and a laugh, "I mean, ya know I could go as you. Give you my skate gear but I think you'd implode from the freedom of movement." Yes, he's ballsy enough to dare try to be the Beleaguered Baker of Bay St.

The little smile grows a level at the brow-waggle. "I could always just do it anyway," Vyv notes, easing in half a step, and the fingertips press in a little more firmly, lazily tracing some invisible design. It's been a long day. That earlier mention of invading his personal space clearly still appeals. So does the drink, which is still making the place smell lovely, but he doesn't reclaim it just yet.

He gives a small snort of a laugh at the idea of Bax going as him, and looks even more dubious at the mention of giving him the skate gear in exchange. "I don't think it's the freedom of movement that would do it, darling. In any case, your things wouldn't fit me right. Not that they fit you right." He will let this go when it ceases to be true. "My things probably wouldn't fit you acceptably either, though... mn, there might be something passable..." A pause, still amused as he studies Grant. "Now, is this an aim at being something terrifying? How would you ensure people knew you weren't simply being well-dressed for the holiday?"

The smile doesn't diminish, eye contact is maintained and as if some act of rebellion, reaches back to hike up his shorts where they're sliding off his skinny ass again already. Why does Vyv always have to have a point? Still! Undaunted the skepticism is its own challenge. "Baby, you don't think after 9 months of dating you I can't-" He sets the phone down, turns to Vyv sliding his fingers inside either side of the vest to pull him forward in a kiss like it's some sort of reset button and just signs 'Watch.'

He turns and walks into the living room by a few feet. His posture straightens right up with more precision to the walk, though lacking the longer legs to carry the same. Bax draws a slow very intense deep breath sinking into the armchair. Right hand dropping off the end of the arm, fingers fan curling closed at rest,. Other hand, fingertips press to his forehead, thumb to jaw in a wash over his expression as if to say God give me strength as that exhale of vitriol and disappointment leaves him; lips firmly pressed in a thin line until his hand comes to a full stop veiling his eyes in a Classico Roman posture of 'Why do I even fucking bother' as if sculpted by Rafael himself. There is, as if at the end of a long, long day that serves as some manner of Purgatory: peace. There is a pause and fingers part peeking between them with the faintest of grins hidden behind his hand.

Fft, it's not that skinny. It just keeps being put in ill-fitting trousers! Vyv will continue his unending quest to save it from them, even if so far the shorter-term prong of this assault has tended to be far more effective than the longer. It's a still a good start. So's the kiss, the pulling-into of which gets absolutely no objection. There is a small sound of complaint when he's released and Bax walks away, but he turns to watch, reclaiming both his lean against the counter and his mug of warm spicy welcome as he does.

"Oh, I am not that dramatic," protests the chef, who is absolutely that dramatic. And possibly trying to conceal that little upward quirk at the corner of his mouth by taking another sip. It really is a pretty decent rendition of his body language certain days, and it's hard not to admit it at least internally, feeling the vague echo of that movement. He saunters that way, bringing the mug along; it doesn't have the particular attitude Bax was mimicking, but even so one could see that stride within it. "You couldn't be irritated at things all night, though."

When Vyv protests how dramatic he is or isn't the hand drops and the eyebrow pops up high, though that amused smile remains as if to ask Really!? without saying or signing. Then he points out hos irritated he can't be and his arms spaghetti-hang off the sides as if he were a collapsing ragdoll, "Ugh don't call me out like this!"

His head picks up an d while he neither sits up nor moves really his foot hooks to the back of Vyv's knee and pulls it bent like gravitational nudging 'come here' "No. I couldn't. You'd never let me be that unhappy. You'd either cheer me up by being wonderful or eat it so. No fear. Also, there's a present for you in your room."

He's either getting better at surprises or he forgot he did that. This is why he's great at keeping secrets. He forgets.

Vyv arches an eyebrow right back, as though daring Bax to make that 'really?!' any more blatant. The amusement hasn't gone, though, and the complaint about calling out boosts it a fraction higher. He doesn't even complain about the potential effects of foot-hooking on his trousers, instead taking that nudge and moving there just as urged. Maybe a bit moreso, even, as there's a flicker of impishness across his expression, and he sets the mug down on the table beside the seat (on a coaster, of course) and essays to become even more there, setting a hand to either side of Grant's head on the back of the chair and a knee to either side of his hips against the arm supports, and settling in. This essentially doubles the usual height difference, but at the moment he doesn't seem to particularly care.

There was probably something to be said about wonderfulness or his general forbiddance of things making Bax unhappy, but it's pre-empted by that entirely unexpected 'also', which gets a small tilt of the head. "Is there? What for?" He does not immediately rise to go take a look; right where he is feels like it deserves that title at least a little longer. "...and I do broadly prefer you not to be unhappy."

Grant there is that moment where all that abundant manic energy, not sharp on the edges, but bright seems to get reflected out in the strained hum of the light bulb in the side lamp with a faint, but high pitched buzz. When Vyv crouches into his space the static zeros out and the bulb goes quiet. Bax might be glowing but the electronics are spared as the faint threads of his brain reaching out into many directions all seem to find their way back to center and right now. Hands find hips and slide around his back and hold the now origami chef there in his lap. Sorry time, this is his world for the moment. So much so...

"What...for?" Bax blinks and one can almost hear the dial tone sound of all his thoughts are dropped offline. The slightly widened look in his eyes that subtle indicator of him walking back in his memory to try to figure out what the conversation even was about. Good job, Vyv, ya broke it! "For...you? I can't buy gifts for myself that's... shopping not gifting." NAILED IT! Totally missed that it was exclaim and not a question but he found the conversation thread again! Fingers lock together behind Vyv's lower back. Nono, you're not moving. Work it out.

There are worse worlds, to be sure. Vyv seems fairly satisfied with this one as well, for the moment, settling in a bit more definitely when the arms slide around him. He studies Bax's expression, and a little smile begins to creep across his own at that sense of sudden focus and even moreso the loss of all previous. He broke it, did he? Naturally destructive he is not, but there's still a certain satisfaction taken in this derailment.

"I buy gifts for myself all the time," he murmurs, leaning in a little farther, ostensibly to be more easily heard but probably more because he wants to. The claim's a bit of an exaggeration, too, but precise truth value may not be priority #1 at present. "But I really meant, what's the occasion?" He doesn't give a lot of opportunity for the answer, though, with one hand sliding down from the back of the chair to the back of Grant's neck, and staying there as he closes the distance to kiss him more thoroughly than that last one. His other hand slips from the chair as well, this one over a bare shoulder and lingeringly down over the suitably warboy-shirtless chest.

Grant lets the grin fall easy murmuring, "yeah, you bought me for a quarter." When going on about needing an occasion there's a deep put on sigh that is really just the satisfaction of closeness crawled up in his lap. It's taken a lot of trust and trying many little things over almost a year for Vyv to hang up his guard when he leaves his jacket by the door.

Still, it never seems to not delight the painter with pure fascination and fondess. "Weeeeeeeell," he answers, "If i were to wait for an occasion you know we'd have infinitely more special occasions. I'd just keep making them. But it's, well it's you." The weight and the warmth and closness not relinquished and still held onto. "You make... food to sustain us you've made... a shit ton of revisions to plans constantly. You took a day off work when I was at my worst, and clothes when you had mine sentenced to be left behind in the burning of Carthage. SO." yes, he figured it out but he doesn't sound too pissed. No one knew there was going to be a fire afterall. "I made you something so you can have your tools your way in my world and still... be very much the you I fucking adore because I want you to be comfortable." he made a thing.

"One of my best purchases." The teasing's left subtle in the tone, but surely familiar to Grant by now. It's definitely taken time and patience to get this far into Vyv's comfort zone; it's a virtually unexplored territory, still slowly unfolding in little acts of trust, subtle risks to his dignity. And this one is new. Not the seating position per se, which has been clearly one he's appreciated for quite a while -- but it's always been the other way around, before. It seems inherently sillier this way, and yet there he is.

It is a bit silly. But there's only them to see it. And it's definitely got other qualities to recommend it. The lap remains colonized.

He still doesn't seem fully inclined to make answering easy, but does compromise and let Bax have his mouth back for talking purposes for a while, at least. It doesn't keep his hands still. "Mn. In my defense it was only the terrible cargo things I intended to be left behind..." And, yes, he didn't know there'd be a fire. Still, those he can't bring himself to mourn. A kiss to the side of the neck before he sits a bit further up again. "I don't think I see a real issue with us finding more special occasions. But. You made me a thing?" A thing aside from the nice warm drink currently being neglected, presumably. He's pleased and intrigued, and a brief glance toward the bedroom suggests he's at least considering getting up to go look. It's a difficult decision.

Grant is seized and if this is the reason all his evening plans are scrapped? Well that's called a 'win'. He does pause from being so damn please when the sound of something heavy sliding into something else with a quiet sh-thook happens from Vyv's bedroom. Hands tighten around him watching Vyv intently, "Nono, don't move." So much focus as the sound happens again as a cardboard box comes flying through the apartment at head level "Grabbit grabbit grabbit!"

Well something is heavy in there. And that something is a pair of quad rollerskates with a men's black oxford wingtip book attached to the trucks, and black wheels and ABEC 10 bearings, do let Bax go on. But they're a dress shoe so Vyv doesn't have to compromise style for the sake of sport.They do have sensibly heavier laces and the boot itself is a heavier reinforced leather than a standard dress boot for support. "You can add your own insoles. Not for in-apartment use." It's his other craft: build things to go fast. Sportscraft! What good is running a pro-shop if you can't scuttle it for parts and salvage to make something awesome??

Best laid plans, eh? It's probably for the best that the 'don't move' instruction's in there, because the sound did have Vyv shifting as though it were likely to be the catalyst to tipping his consideration over to the go-and-look side. The tightening of the hands probably wasn't necessary to counter it as well, but it's still nicely persuasive. It's also useful, because he was not expecting a fair-sized cardboard box to approach him rapidly at head-level, and both hands leave off what they were doing to, in fact, grabbit. He tries to compensate for the momentum by drawing it inward and down, which works, but without either hand helping to support himself anymore, it's just the tighter hold around his waist that keeps him suitably in place rather than in serious risk of falling off. Which would be embarrassing.

Instead, he blinks once as he recalibrates his balance and looks the box over, intrigued and slightly amused. "I can assume it's not a miniature horizontal guillotine?" he asks, settling the thing down between them so he can open it up. Interestingly heavy, that box. And inside-- he tilts his head, reaching to lift one of the boots up and out, and laughs once, softly. "You really are going to insist on putting me on wheels, mm? And without so much as an engine." He turns it in his hands, looking over the design and construction of the boot itself, then the plate and the wheels, never mind that the extent of his knowledge of parts is that a ball bearing is not one's deportment at a gala. After a moment, he looks up from them to Grant. "I believe these are the most attractive skates I've ever seen. Thank you. ...although non-apartment restriction notwithstanding, if I'm going to try them I will require somewhere we can test them out alone." He runs a finger down the leather of the boot.

"You mean a French onion slicer? No. It's not. I figured you had that little one, why clutter?" He watches Vyv explore the gear. Where the bearings are concerned the wheels spin well and go Whrrrrr! so what more can a civilian ask for? They do the spinny thing without too much effort and keep on going. Whee and whatnot. The compliment's there tihout critique and the skater is pleased.

"I am." is his answer to insist Vyv hop up on wheels. "And it's a good thing you know someone with a party at a skate shop SO! I'm glad you asked." Plan for everything. He watches V's fingers move over the stitching that is not his doing, he's not a cobbler, but he did find them online and order them, hunt up all the right parts and assemble them. "I figure my life moves pretty fast sometimes. I have faith you can keep up, and it's fun, and I want you to be there when you want to be there. You need your tools for that though, not mine, soooo... you. are. welcome."

Vyv breathes another tiny laugh. "I did not. I am not an onion of any nationality." And indeed the wheels appear to turn well and be soundly attached, but he'd expect nothing less. If he has any critique to give, it would likely be of the boots themselves, and in the context? Well, any shoe of the quality he'd have no criticism for would likely not be ideal for a skate, and turning it into one would border on sacrilege. But the broguing on these, the general nod to his own sort of style... it's pleasing. They are genuinely about the best skates he could imagine, given the requirement to imagine skates, and the provenance doesn't hurt in the least.

"A party at a skate shop is quite nearly the opposite of what I require," he points out, arching a brow. "So if you want me there, at least on these, you'll need to find me some suitable practice, first." Non-negotiable, apparently. But it does also imply a potential willingness to be talked into attending this party, despite the certainty of being at a skate shop and likelihood of being closer to the earlier-mentioned rave than anything with cocktails and live music. He settles the skate back more neatly into the box, and leans in just a bit more across it. "We'll see how it goes."

"Thaaaaaaaaaan we...go out there...this afternoon.... practice...and then... get dinner...and go back!" sayeth Bax between stealing kisses back leaving his hands on hips so Vyv doesn't slide off and it's a terrifically convenient excuse! "Open bar, one of the better electronica DJ's who is K-pop friendly, and... it's all the fun, but ya know, I get to be sober with you instead of losing my mind on what is like the best night of the year ever because no one can be mad if you dress like a pirate if you want. See?" There's a pause and OH THE LOOK, "And we haven't done halloween together and I reeeeeeally want to. We'll call your cousin and Ravn and the peeps and let them know."

Vyv absently lifts the box to settle it on the side table by his drink, making the kiss theft simpler and the likelihood of sliding off less -- though this is obviously no reason to invalidate any excuses. "Mn. All right, if there's a private bit," he murmurs to the first portion of the plan, still looking a bit dubious as the party itself begins to be described. It isn't as though he hasn't quite intentionally been to parties involving bars and electronica DJs... just not in the last handful of years. The bit about being sober with him, though, softens the look a touch, even if he does roll his eyes and shake his head lightly at the part about dressing like a pirate.

"I reserve the right to be irritated by the things people wear regardless," he notes, but... there's that Look. He's virtually immune to those from most sources, but as with so many things these days, Bax is something of an exception. "Mm. Well. I suppose perhaps if you reeeeeeeally want to..." a brow lifts, the impish little smile threatening to escape again, "...and maybe if you make it worth my while."

Grant doesn't miss a beat and immediately leans into the bartering with a snort and the side-eye glance, "Vyv you know I will absolutely trade you chocolate for sexual favors. At least challenge me. But yes, and we don't have to stay all night like ten or eleven. Then maybe hit up the Firefly Forest and wait for the Great Pumpkin."

There is the reprieve at least when Vyv relents his posture o why the rave is being given up and the painter mumbles, "I'm trying to stay clean around you cause when I'm with you I don't... I don't want to miss anything. I want you with me... faster and now on wheels dammit!" The grin grows and his head wobbles, "If you don't want to, you can go flat shoe, and I will just have to have eye-to-eye conversations with you for a change." There is a flash of a satisfied grin.

"Yes, but I haven't any chocolate on me right now," Vyv points out most reasonably. "And depending which direction you were contemplating the trade, I'm fairly sure you haven't either." His hands slide down the skater's chest again. "And the problem with waiting in that forest for the Great Pumpkin is it might actually show up." Around here, they might not much like the gifts it brings.

That mumble needs a little more focus to fully make out, but it's worth the effort. Difficult not to be charmed by the desire not to miss things with him, after all. "Good. I want you with me. And... we'll just see how this on-wheels plan goes, mm? There's worse things than seeing eye-to-eye."

He leans in a bit further, letting a bit more weight rest on his hands. "...now. By my calculations we probably have just about an hour before we need to get going if we're to get everything done. If you really want a challenge, I'm sure we can think of something. And if not... I'm sure we can think of something else."

"He damn well better show up! The plan got farkakt last year cause my roommates fucked off and left me there pumpkining alone and I had to save a bloody clown from this homicidal lil kid and missed him!" Still mad still so, so...nope! not mad right now. Bax tries to adjust his situation a bit and watches Vyv be ever so pleased. Long damn worthwhile journey really. Focus is not on the skates when Vyv leans in and the brush of a kiss gets a wry grin murmuring, "See, Vee, that's where you're wrong. I got a snickers in my pocket and I am also happy to see you... and I also have three tootsie rolls and a starburst." The eyebrows waggle. "I can work with an hour."

"None of those count as chocolate, zenko," Vyv replies in a tone that brooks no argument. There are Standards. "Still," he says, sliding a hand down one of Bax's arms until his fingers can curl around the skater's wrist. A shift of weight to counter any decrease in support, and he draws the captured hand around to introduce it to the buttons of his vest, a finger of his other hand finding its way up to hook into the costume's collar. "I suspect we'll find a way to make do."