2021-02-14 - One. Whole. Year. Wow.

Some might argue other anniversary dates might make more sense.

It has to be admitted January 11th has a decent claim, what with being the date of that LGBT night at the Twofer where they properly met (previous meetings as unknowing Dream personas do not, of course, count), and particularly given that it somehow resulted in one or the other or both of them picking the other up and ending up in this very flat.

But then it was over a month before they even spoke again. Hard to claim something was really going on, there.

May 31st has an even better one, being the admission of the fact that what was going on was not in fact casual; that breaking things off would make them both miserable; that they did, in fact, qualify as boyfriends.

But one doesn't admit to something that's only starting at that moment. One admits to something that's been true for some time.

February 14th comes with the added baggage of being, well... cliché. Trite. Valentine's Day, really? And imagine all the competition for tables at restaurants or rooms at nice hotels! Ugh.

But there it is, nonetheless. There's no other day in between that makes any real sense. No day but the one where an artist brought his muse a painting, and it and he both stayed. Even if it did take three months for them to face it.

So Valentine's Day it is, and there they are. In a way it's efficient: two relationship-focused events in one day! And let's face it, if anyone around here were going to plan ahead enough that competition for tables or rooms wouldn't be an issue, Vyv is definitely on the shortlist. Today, though, he hasn't. Today, by whatever sort of agreement's been established, they are celebrating at (Vyv's) home.

There have been a couple changes to the place over the last year. The couch is not one of them. It is not the world's most comfortable couch, if one's entirely honest, but it is art and Vyv loves it. Plus, if it's just him, he usually sits in the Eames lounge anyway. The couch is going nowhere, even if it's become clear to him over time that Bax would probably prefer it were the world's most comfortable couch¹. Instead, a television (and appropriate concealment) has shown up in the bedroom, with a good view from the (quite comfortable) bed. The downside here is that it does somewhat encourage eating in/on the bed, and Vyv has never been thrilled with the prospect of crumbs outside the kitchen. As it turns out, however, he really wouldn't kick Bax out of bed for eating crackers², though he might demand he help change the sheets.

Today, there are no crackers. But there are various other snacks, mostly that he made, and drinks, and shows of various levels of 'terrible'. Also, napkins. Quite a lot of napkins.

¹ The world's most comfortable couch resides in Aidan's trailer, and Vyv would probably burn the hideous thing on the spot if he encountered it.
² Assuming the crackers properly qualified as food by his lights, of course.

"Where do you want to go?" Vyv asked him. "Absolutely nowhere. I got nothing else I want or need." Bax answered. It'd be a hell of a lot more romantic were he mostly awake when he said it, but it is truth all the same. He didn't want to go someplace where his hearing aides were going to be tapping out on being useful so they can dress up and fight crowds so he could not enjoy Vyv at his Vyvviest. Well...there's an argument that seeing him berate his little cheflings in training as 'future arsonists' rather than chefs for burning the caramel? That might be iconic Vyv. He wants the one that speaks freely without shields and pretense that will sing ABBApella and dance with him in the kitchen.

That took 11 months to get out of him for those counting.

Tonight? Tonight's for them and not the public and as such there's at least a tablecloth he's subbing as a 'breakfast in bed but at night grade picnic blanket. He picks at the prosciutto and cheese wraps and asks, "Cher-cuterie board... did she do something super special to get a whole food mood named after her or just go after Sonny with a bunch of teeny tiny toothpicks and eat all his bacon or what?" His foot nudges Vyv's curious about the answer. Yes. This is a normal conversation for them and there is every delight in the skater that it is.

To be fair, there was something in the air that night, the stars were bright...

It's a valid point, though. There are many things Vyv that Bax is more likely to encounter in privacy. One of them is that little smile at the secondary supposition of how things might have come about -- not a full one, but more than the quirk it might otherwise get. "Oh, I'm sure she did. Not for any naming reasons, just because if one could go after Sonny with tiny toothpicks and steal all his bacon, why wouldn't one?" He, for his part, reaches over to steal one of Bax's little rolls of prosciutto, albeit sans toothpick, and pops it into his own mouth. Nom.

A couple seconds of chewing, and a swallow, before he volunteers, "It wouldn't be unheard of, either. Pavlova is named for a ballet dancer. And have you ever heard of the opera singer Dame Nellie Melba? Escoffier named four dishes after her. Peach Melba, Melba toast, Melba sauce, and Melba Garniture. I believe that may be a record. Though of those five I feel as though only pavlova could aspire to be a mood. Maybe Melba toast, but on its own it'd be a rather depressing one."

This time, rather than commit further theft, he reaches for an as-yet unclaimed slice of the duck pâté en croûte, and the little spreading knife beside it to add some of the cranberry mostarda as he speaks, foot sneaking over to nudge Grant's in some sort of idle retaliation. "As it happens, though, no Cher involvement. Though for all I know it's her favourite. Charcuterie," he says it in proper French, with a little emphasis on each syllable and care to let Bax see his lips forming them, "is in a way the prepared-meats version of what I do. I believe it's from la chair, the flesh, cuit, cooked, -erie... mn, more or less shop, I suppose. The place of the thing. As la pâtisserie is the place of pastry." A bite of the pâté en croûte, and then he offers it toward the skater, that he might bite it as well if so inclined. "I suppose Chercuterie could be the name of her favoured tanning salon..."

Grant nudges the foot back with his and finds one of the tiny cheese chunks and holds it out for Vyv. Yeah yeah, fucking adorable and shit. It's called spending your Valentine's Day first 1 year anniversary in comfort with your companion that loves and tolerates him.

Considering the Melba...everything there's a pause and a very slight grin signing <<I will have to do something so you name something after me then. We can totally do better than toast.>> The eyebrow arches in slow conspiracy. Yeah. He asked. It's a big damn ask! The tanning salon comment makes him snicker though, an easy, wide grin forming. Leaning on his elbow he murmurs, "You know I can't believe it was a year ago I was running through a damn... blizzard away from karaoke to haul the painting across town for you. I almost lost a shoe. My dad was so pissed when he heard saying something about a ride but like...it was a quest. Sometimes you have to do the quest process but...it seems like forever ago and only a couple months and...I'm really glad you answered teh door. I didn't know if you would."

They're alone, and comfortable, and the day belongs to them. Vyv doesn't fight the fucking adorable. Not hard, anyway. Depends in which direction one counts the intentional nip to the fingers that comes along with claiming the cheese, perhaps, though 'adorable' isn't the usual adjective for that sort of wicked teasing look. «Have you considered opera?» Not that, regardless of what some might expect, he's ever shown any particular interest in it. He hasn't shown an active dislike for it, though, so who knows? A slow smile, not particularly larger than the public versions get, but freer. «Am sure you'll think of something. And that we can do much better than toast.» It's not like it would be the first at-least-partly-Bax-inspired dish, after all. He is fact loved and tolerated.

Vyv finishes the bite he's chewing, follows it with a mouthful of the wine. Does he happen to shift in a little closer? Coincidental, surely. The little smile gains a near-silent little laugh at the mention of nearly losing a shoe, and a brow lifts at the mention of Grant's dad. "You told your dad about that? What, and he thought you ought to have asked him to drop you by?" The chef considers this a moment, over another small sip, then shakes his head. "Mn, no. Would spoil any questiness. Also feels far too much like a playdate."

A tiny nosewrinkle, but it fades away into a smile, smaller than the last. "I'm glad you texted. And I'm glad I said yes. It was... mn. Well. It was a vast improvement to my Valentine's day." A pause. "And to the rest of the last year," he admits, briefly rolling both eyes and head at saying it, and away from looking right at Bax while he does. Still, when he looks back, the small smile's still there, crooked. "It's not just you on the time. It does rather feel forever ago and only a couple of months."

Another little pause-- no, a hesitation, glancing in the general direction of the rest of the apartment. "You said it was supposed to go here, the painting. That you were bringing it home. Is that a matter of place, or person? If I decided to move house, say. Could it come along? Should I make a choice assuming it will go with me?"

Grant looks to his foot a it's wiggled back. It's so simple and normal and a 'people' thing to do. That Vyv ever makes little gestures to 'reach out'or make contact in a non-confrontation manner is never going to fail being a delight to Grant. He considers with a grin signing as Vyv leaves his fingers bereft of food. <<What makes you think I can sing? Or are you checking my validation card for 'pro musicals'?>> There's a wry grin and he's really considering his opinion on this not really having considered this it seems, <<I really like the choreography. I think I'm pro. Why are we making one or watching one? This may change my answer here>>

<<Dad...wants me to be okay. For all the bad shit that goes on and we disagree about? He just wants me to figure my things out for myself and not die while doing so>> Bax signs. There's a pause with a small, warm smile, <<He respects you for that too. He like you. I know. I see that. He's VERY good about people too.>> His dad does shine. A lil bit. Makes sense.

Then there's a ...rather big question. Why is there a knot in his stomach at that question? Beeecause change is exciting and exciting things are scary as hell. His fingers twitch and flex into a light ball, stretch, and back, but he asks singing only <<Where?>> "Where... would it go?" There's a pause and he looks at the back to the wall it's hanging on. The glimmer shifts like little particles and he can feel it and the elements in the paint suspension. He looks down and finally back to Vyv, "You're its home." He signs <<With you.>> "...is it taking a vacation?"

«I've heard you sing,» Vyv points out with amusement as he chews. Birthday karaoke! Randomly around the flat! That Dream at Sitka! Whether or not this leaves him of the opinion that Bax can sing is not specified, but even if it has it probably hasn't given him the impression he's the next Pavarotti. «History just suggests it's an effective way to get food named for you. That and war. Given the choice, I'd take opera.»

It's quite clear that while that explanation regarding the elder Baxter's point of view makes reasonable sense, the chef is still finding the whole idea of him feeling Bax should have asked him for a ride to Vyv's that night just... weird. Or perhaps he's trying to imagine the same with his own father. Grant's met him. It would feel like a weird fit. The part about being respected and liked, though -- Vyv's relationship to other people's opinions may be a complicated one, but this person and opinion not so much. It makes him mirror that smile of the skater's, for a moment, and let the whole matter of the theoretical ride go.

Stomach-knots are the in thing right at the moment. Plenty for everyone. Vyv's relaxes only the barest fraction at the assertion that he's the painting's home, though it comes with a fleetingly melty sort of look before he sets it closer to normal, glancing toward that wall again. The painting's on the other side of it, but the very same Physical sense lets him feel where it is, what it is, bar one important aspect that belongs to another Art.

"I don't know yet, exactly. But somewhere it fit. Part of why I ask, as far as making sure..." Voice and signs both trail off, and he's silent for a breath, looking at Bax. "No vacation. I'm thinking about moving." There. One part of it set out in straightforward terms. A beat as he lets that settle with himself, then adds as though abruptly realising that statement could cause concern, "Not far. Probably still somewhere on Bayside, actually. But-- I keep finding myself thinking about a house. Blame your Caroline and Pierce, perhaps, I don't know. I don't know yet if there are any for sale or even existing there that I'd be happy with, or if I'd have to find a spot and have one built, but." His jaw makes a small shift, eyes searching the younger man's face for the space of another, slightly longer breath. "...should I make a choice assuming the artist will go with me too?"

Grant looks at Vyv and OH the top of his ears turn red, a blink, and a faint smile. The smile fades as his eyes widen and there's a thunder flash from nowhere on their mental link Not to L.A.?! no. here. The sigh that's let out of Bax is small but somehow chills out the whole damn room with it. Good cover, Vyv. Good catch.

Blaming Caroline and Pierce from the Homes show actually does make him laugh with a quiet snicker. "Oh but Piiiierce, Don't you just love how the water comes up to just crash into break front in monolithic existentialism? Quite exciting that!" His Caroline's not terrible! Hearing Bax go Brit though is very odd to say the least.

But the other half of of the question might have just given his brain literal whiplash. Was he supposed to be answering that? Or breathing to answer it? That's a super stunned look right there. It's a lot to unpack there, and a lot of emotion. Generally speaking Grant wears his heart on his sleeve and good or bad he's usually good at making attempts to be self-sufficient.

Poor Vyv is about to get the waterworks. Words form and un-forms a question he was handed the answer to. His brow furrows and he catches his breath trying to hold himself together, wet face overwhelmed with confusion and surprise at the same time. Finally, "I... was ready to go with you to the far reaches of space already. I mean yeah... Yes. I want to move into a beach house. With you. Or anywhere." His hand finds Vyv's and squeezes it hard. "Holy shit, lookit you doing big change! Are... are you sure you're good with that?"

Nope, apparently Vyv fully intends to continue regularly flying out to do things with the L.A. branch and then flying right on back. It's not a shock but still a bit pleasing to feel the way things calm with the confirmation that no, he isn't planning to go very far. Not least because Vyv could frankly use a bit of calm himself, for all that he's making his usual attempts to keep that less than obvious.

Hearing Bax go Brit is very odd, even if the imitation could be worse. Maybe because the imitation could be worse. 'Monolithic existentialism' has a part to play as well in the small, startled, and slightly stressed snicker it elicits. Might have been more of a laugh if he were anything like as calm as he's attempting to appear -- an attempt that is not particularly helped by Bax dissolving into tears and not, immediately, answers. Vyv's eyes widen fractionally at the crying, and a hand moves toward the nearest of the napkins, with a murmured, "Don't--" before he cuts himself off, and waits.

For all the active composure being exerted, there's still a notable exhalation when Bax gets to the yes this time and Vyv's stomach unknots. He returns the hand squeeze just as firmly before turning his hand a bit to interlace their fingers. ...and offering that napkin with the other hand. "I don't often do things unless I'm fairly certain," he points out, "when I have the choice." There's a flicker of a glance around the room, then settling on Bax again, watching his face. "I... mn. You know I'm still going to be me about the general decor and things being where they belong and all that." Half warning, half simple fact. "And the kitchen. But I-- like you in my space. I like when I wake up to you in it. I like when I come home to you in it. So, yes. I want to try having an our space."

Don't- he's not trying to! Bax is trying so hard to process everything at once. There's a loft of feelings and elation and anxiety and...Kleenex foist upon him. It's distracting enough and for a moment he stares at it like what do I do with this bu the gesture in and of itself is 'you are distressed and this is what I know what to do'. He takes the tissue and quickly mops his face with it in a short laugh and the sign <<Thank you>>.

Bax holds onto his hand. He can feel the self-conscious fear in those muscles. Fingers lace with his and he squeezes the hand back a few times. I got ya. "Uhhh yeah I was gonna say weee... will need to talk but I think..." Looking around i's all very familiar but also very much all Vyv's space. "I like the feeling of our. I mean if it's got a place for me to build that'd be...ideal? I don't know I'd be painting in the middle of the living room like I do at 7 Oak but...we'll work out what we need and maybe make a list and see how it all, ya know, goes..."

Looking around his lips press together quietly beaming. He leans until he falls very inconveniently into and on Vyv's personal space murmuring with a dopey grin, "You keep this up I'm gonna start to think you like me." Yes. He think's he's hilarious, but he is pretty thrilled.

Feelings and elation and anxiety. Yes. Very uncomfortable, though that middle one might be worth it. Bax isn't wrong on his interpretation of the napkin offer, and that it's accepted is a tiny relief. So are the return squeezes once fingers are laced, and there's a tiny nod to the remark about a place to build. Vyv looks, in fact, like he's about to say something, but it's interrupted by getting fallen on, and by the sudden laugh and briefly entire smile it elicits as the movement takes him down from sitting into the pillows. "Don't squash the pâté en croûte, darling." As if the skater weren't easily dexterous enough to avoid it.

He can't be that worried, either, given the way his other arm wraps itself around Bax and more or less encourages him to squash the chef instead. "Mm. You're... tolerable," he teases, the smile still in his eyes and threatening to reclaim his mouth. "I'm not un-fond of you." He lifts his head far enough to try to kiss that grin, and when he drops back down against the bed again, the smile's still lingering around the edges.

"I was thinking," he says, studying Grant's face, "that it needs to have a good workshop space for you. Somewhere you could paint, and build things. Sculptures, skateboards. Somewhere with good light. Good kitchen, obviously. I thought... perhaps some kind of family room, den sort of spot along with the proper living room. Though I'm not sure how... painting-conducive it would be..." His brow furrows, probably with some discomfort at the likelihood of paint migration, but a tiny headshake wards it off, and the corner of his mouth turns up again, a bit softer than usual for that. "I suppose we ought to make some sort of list, yes."

Grant lounges there, right there and nowhere else more important than now. And no he didn't fall in the fershtuken pâté en croûte! This would never happen in public but it's happening and while Vyv lays his many anxieties to rest in that universal gesture of 'no universe this is mine' without actually making hissing sounds? Bax settles right into it. His head tilts up and though it's not great to see he can hear pretty well. Honestly given the received pronunciation Vyv grew up with? The clean diction is quite the bonus benefit.

The idea has an easy smile that settles in his expression, almost tired from the sudden adrenaline drop. "I want a kitchen, if we can," he has kitchen opinions now?! "With one of them islands, or space for one cause ya know if you let me we can do that. Or you have friends in cabinets and stuff-" who will never, if he is lucky, know they've been called a cabinet and stuff person, "I like sitting at the end of the island whole you do things so I can draw and you can...not reach me to swat at me with a spatula." not an unreasonable request.

He hears out the rest and murmurs, tilting his head around with a wry grin of pure adoration, "We'll make it super cool and then Caroline," Vyv gets a smooch, "And Pierce," one more, "will have to visit and tell you what amazing taste" last one? Oh hell no! "you have... I like our 'our' list. Right now, though I don't need anything else."

NOW the pâté en croûte is at risk.