Happiness YAY (Thomas, Spectre, James, Mara)
May. 3rd, 2010 06:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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darker_londonThomas had spent the morning at the theatre and he had just returned home after a few hours of line-learning. He was now leisurely chewing on a cinnamon roll while he fixed himself a coffee in the kitchen. He didn't hear anyone come up behind him, but he felt something take hold of his arm and when he turned to the side he saw his roll which had a large bite taken out of it, and his happily chewing husband was standing beside him, beaming. Spectre swallowed and then he grinned impishly.
"That's dangerous," Thomas laughed. It was fortuitous he hadn't been freaking out about food lately. Still, "what if I'd lashed out, Baby?" If Thomas accidentally hurt Spectre, he would be beyond upset.
"I can duck," Spectre replied easily, though if Spectre hadn't been so obviously happy, that answer would have made him feel queasy. Spectre was oblivious, and he stood on his tiptoes, craned his neck, and stole another bite out of the roll Thomas was still holding. After swallowing, he said, "I'm very quick, Thomas."
Thomas laughed and then he shook his head. "Here, Baby," he said, handing the roll over. "You eat that."
"I'm stealing your elevensies!" Spectre protested, but he still took the roll he had been eyeing -and stealing- hungrily.
"It's okay," Thomas assured his husband. "I had a big breakfast. I only got that because I liked the look of the thing. It looked big and sticky and you know me. I like sticky things. You want some coffee?"
"Yes!" cried Spectre, and then he tore off a significantly un-Spectresized bite of roll with his teeth and he bounced around as he chewed it.
"Those bites are fit for a T-rex," Thomas chuckled, busying himself with the coffee. "What have you been doing all morning since the answer is clearly not 'eating breakfast like I should have done'?"
Spectre swallowed before answering because even if his bites were not dainty, Spectre still was. When he had finished, he looked at Thomas and, completely seriously, he said, "making magic, Thomas, my love. Making magic." And he wiggled his fingers around to accentuate said magic.
"Have you now?" Thomas asked cutely, and he wrapped his arms around the tiny Spectre while Spectre finished off the cinnamon roll. Thomas wanted to touch his husband, but he didn't want to interrupt a hungry Spectre's eating.
"I have! I wrote a song and once it's developed with Flynn and Serenity, it will be wonderful. And I didn't need help playing. It's a slow song, but I still feel like I accomplished something. I feel fantastic. I feel Spectral!"
Thomas grinned and he kissed Spectre's nose; something he knew his husband loved. "Well, Spectral Spectre, that is great to hear."
"And I fit into my fancy pants without having to wear a belt done up to it's very last hole," Spectre said, stepping away from Thomas only so he could pull the waistband of his trousers out to show he was nearly back to having them fit correctly again. He was always tiny and rail-thin, but his encounters with the Templar had made him lose a lot of weight he absoluetly needed to have on his bones. He had looked beyond emaciated. Thomas was glad to see Spectre looking better. It had cut him to the core to see Spectre so wasted away. When Spectre proudly showed Thomas his waistline, Thomas grinned and then Spectre pressed himself up against Thomas again and all thoughts of coffee disappeared, even as the heady aroma still hung in the air. Thomas' entire world was happy, little Spectre.
His husband was in front of him, up against him, and as happy as he had been in months. Thomas' darling Spectre was acting like something of himself again and while Thomas hadn't blamed Spectre for being withdrawn and terrified for a second, he now realised just how much he need Spectre too. Something inside Thomas which had been holding out for the day his husband was happy again released, and Thomas felt such utter joy and simply existing; at being given not just a second chance at this weird and wacky life of his, but a third too.
"I think you're beautiful, no matter how you fill your trousers, Spectre," Thomas said with a smile. "But I'm glad you're gaining weight. I'll bring you more cinnamon rolls tomorrow!"
"Oh goodness gracious, don't do that. You'll cause me to have an atrocious diet. And then what would we do?"
"I don't know...you could try being a rock star who has to give concerts on stage which happen to burn off a lot of cinnamon rolls. Don't you know someone in the industry?"
"You're a menace," Spectre grinned. "Thomas, I'm so relieved. Writing that song today...it means the next album is happening. I thought I was going to have to turn the band over to Flynn..."
"I'm relieved too, Honey. I wasn't worried because I knew you'd get through it, but I know you were worried. You'll still be my little rock star."
"And you'll be my big...everything... How was rehearsal?"
"Great!" Thomas grinned. He loved working in the theatre again. "I love playing Benedick! I was practicing his monologues and Deirdre caught me so she ran the lines with me. Kerrigan wasn't in today, but I think I'll see if she can come in tomorrow. Deirdre's so good though. It's a shame you steal her away and drag her all over the world and force her to sing for you," Thomas winked.
"Yes, she really seems to hate the spotlight, I don't know what it is," Spectre replied, amused. If anyone couldn't possibly hate the spotlight less, it was Deirdre Gallagher. She thrived in it. It was as if she feasted on attention. And she happened to be an amazingly talented singer, so it worked. "What else did you do?"
"Jogged. My heartbeat scared me again. I'm not used to it in there, pounding away. I took out my earphones and GAH! Heartbeat! All loud and in my ears. I thought I was being chased."
Spectre leaned forward and he kissed Thomas' chest, directly over his heart. "You just make sure it keeps on beating," he said softly.
"Ah, hear that," Thomas asked, taking Spectre's hand and placing it over the spot he had just kissed. "Feel it. It speeds up when you do that. When you kiss me. That part I don't find so unnerving. That feels pretty damn special."
Spectre looked up at Thomas, his hands still on Thomas' well-muscled chest, and he smiled. "I feel it."
The two men stared at each other for another few seconds, their eyes locked together, and then it was as if they had been pulled towards each other with a magnet. Thomas wrapped his arms around Spectre and he lifted him up, setting him on the kitchen bench so their heights were more equal. Spectre squeezed Thomas' arse and then he pulled Thomas' shirt on up over Thomas' head, leaving his hair in a mess. And then they were kissing as if they hadn't kissed in months, and in a way they hadn't. Not really. Not like this.
Spectre wrapped his legs around Thomas, and Thomas pressed up against Spectre's chest and he ran his hands up inside Spectre's shirt, and they kissed deeply-
The men heard a coughing sound behind them and immediately, Thomas pulled away, turning to find Mara, Spectre's 13-year-old sister, and their three and a half year old son James standing there watching them. “In the kitchen. Nice,” Mara said, wiggling her eyebrows. She bent down and retrieved Thomas’ shirt for him. “I believe this is yours?” She held it up and she gave them a faux 'you are so busted' look.
“Heh…” Thomas pulled it over his head while Spectre gave his sister a sly smile that was about as innocent as it was regretful. Meaning it was neither. “We got carried away…”
“Why is daddy on the bench?” James asked, looking up at Spectre who was still perched up there.
“Because I’m king of the kitchen,” Spectre said, hopping down so he could scoop James into his arms. It was hard going because his body still ached, and his wrists hurt, but he managed it. He had missed holding his little boy. “Which would make you the kitchen prince!”
“Does that mean I’m the queen?” Thomas asked, amused and yet it came out dry.
“Something like that,” Spectre said, leaning up for a chaste kiss to make up for all the kisses that would have to wait now. “Will I catch you later, Lawrence Olivier?”
“You absolutely will, Mozart,” Thomas grinned right back. Mara, for her part, rolled her eyes. But she did so with a grin on her face. Things were getting back to normal and every single one of them was certainly glad for that.
"That's dangerous," Thomas laughed. It was fortuitous he hadn't been freaking out about food lately. Still, "what if I'd lashed out, Baby?" If Thomas accidentally hurt Spectre, he would be beyond upset.
"I can duck," Spectre replied easily, though if Spectre hadn't been so obviously happy, that answer would have made him feel queasy. Spectre was oblivious, and he stood on his tiptoes, craned his neck, and stole another bite out of the roll Thomas was still holding. After swallowing, he said, "I'm very quick, Thomas."
Thomas laughed and then he shook his head. "Here, Baby," he said, handing the roll over. "You eat that."
"I'm stealing your elevensies!" Spectre protested, but he still took the roll he had been eyeing -and stealing- hungrily.
"It's okay," Thomas assured his husband. "I had a big breakfast. I only got that because I liked the look of the thing. It looked big and sticky and you know me. I like sticky things. You want some coffee?"
"Yes!" cried Spectre, and then he tore off a significantly un-Spectresized bite of roll with his teeth and he bounced around as he chewed it.
"Those bites are fit for a T-rex," Thomas chuckled, busying himself with the coffee. "What have you been doing all morning since the answer is clearly not 'eating breakfast like I should have done'?"
Spectre swallowed before answering because even if his bites were not dainty, Spectre still was. When he had finished, he looked at Thomas and, completely seriously, he said, "making magic, Thomas, my love. Making magic." And he wiggled his fingers around to accentuate said magic.
"Have you now?" Thomas asked cutely, and he wrapped his arms around the tiny Spectre while Spectre finished off the cinnamon roll. Thomas wanted to touch his husband, but he didn't want to interrupt a hungry Spectre's eating.
"I have! I wrote a song and once it's developed with Flynn and Serenity, it will be wonderful. And I didn't need help playing. It's a slow song, but I still feel like I accomplished something. I feel fantastic. I feel Spectral!"
Thomas grinned and he kissed Spectre's nose; something he knew his husband loved. "Well, Spectral Spectre, that is great to hear."
"And I fit into my fancy pants without having to wear a belt done up to it's very last hole," Spectre said, stepping away from Thomas only so he could pull the waistband of his trousers out to show he was nearly back to having them fit correctly again. He was always tiny and rail-thin, but his encounters with the Templar had made him lose a lot of weight he absoluetly needed to have on his bones. He had looked beyond emaciated. Thomas was glad to see Spectre looking better. It had cut him to the core to see Spectre so wasted away. When Spectre proudly showed Thomas his waistline, Thomas grinned and then Spectre pressed himself up against Thomas again and all thoughts of coffee disappeared, even as the heady aroma still hung in the air. Thomas' entire world was happy, little Spectre.
His husband was in front of him, up against him, and as happy as he had been in months. Thomas' darling Spectre was acting like something of himself again and while Thomas hadn't blamed Spectre for being withdrawn and terrified for a second, he now realised just how much he need Spectre too. Something inside Thomas which had been holding out for the day his husband was happy again released, and Thomas felt such utter joy and simply existing; at being given not just a second chance at this weird and wacky life of his, but a third too.
"I think you're beautiful, no matter how you fill your trousers, Spectre," Thomas said with a smile. "But I'm glad you're gaining weight. I'll bring you more cinnamon rolls tomorrow!"
"Oh goodness gracious, don't do that. You'll cause me to have an atrocious diet. And then what would we do?"
"I don't know...you could try being a rock star who has to give concerts on stage which happen to burn off a lot of cinnamon rolls. Don't you know someone in the industry?"
"You're a menace," Spectre grinned. "Thomas, I'm so relieved. Writing that song today...it means the next album is happening. I thought I was going to have to turn the band over to Flynn..."
"I'm relieved too, Honey. I wasn't worried because I knew you'd get through it, but I know you were worried. You'll still be my little rock star."
"And you'll be my big...everything... How was rehearsal?"
"Great!" Thomas grinned. He loved working in the theatre again. "I love playing Benedick! I was practicing his monologues and Deirdre caught me so she ran the lines with me. Kerrigan wasn't in today, but I think I'll see if she can come in tomorrow. Deirdre's so good though. It's a shame you steal her away and drag her all over the world and force her to sing for you," Thomas winked.
"Yes, she really seems to hate the spotlight, I don't know what it is," Spectre replied, amused. If anyone couldn't possibly hate the spotlight less, it was Deirdre Gallagher. She thrived in it. It was as if she feasted on attention. And she happened to be an amazingly talented singer, so it worked. "What else did you do?"
"Jogged. My heartbeat scared me again. I'm not used to it in there, pounding away. I took out my earphones and GAH! Heartbeat! All loud and in my ears. I thought I was being chased."
Spectre leaned forward and he kissed Thomas' chest, directly over his heart. "You just make sure it keeps on beating," he said softly.
"Ah, hear that," Thomas asked, taking Spectre's hand and placing it over the spot he had just kissed. "Feel it. It speeds up when you do that. When you kiss me. That part I don't find so unnerving. That feels pretty damn special."
Spectre looked up at Thomas, his hands still on Thomas' well-muscled chest, and he smiled. "I feel it."
The two men stared at each other for another few seconds, their eyes locked together, and then it was as if they had been pulled towards each other with a magnet. Thomas wrapped his arms around Spectre and he lifted him up, setting him on the kitchen bench so their heights were more equal. Spectre squeezed Thomas' arse and then he pulled Thomas' shirt on up over Thomas' head, leaving his hair in a mess. And then they were kissing as if they hadn't kissed in months, and in a way they hadn't. Not really. Not like this.
Spectre wrapped his legs around Thomas, and Thomas pressed up against Spectre's chest and he ran his hands up inside Spectre's shirt, and they kissed deeply-
The men heard a coughing sound behind them and immediately, Thomas pulled away, turning to find Mara, Spectre's 13-year-old sister, and their three and a half year old son James standing there watching them. “In the kitchen. Nice,” Mara said, wiggling her eyebrows. She bent down and retrieved Thomas’ shirt for him. “I believe this is yours?” She held it up and she gave them a faux 'you are so busted' look.
“Heh…” Thomas pulled it over his head while Spectre gave his sister a sly smile that was about as innocent as it was regretful. Meaning it was neither. “We got carried away…”
“Why is daddy on the bench?” James asked, looking up at Spectre who was still perched up there.
“Because I’m king of the kitchen,” Spectre said, hopping down so he could scoop James into his arms. It was hard going because his body still ached, and his wrists hurt, but he managed it. He had missed holding his little boy. “Which would make you the kitchen prince!”
“Does that mean I’m the queen?” Thomas asked, amused and yet it came out dry.
“Something like that,” Spectre said, leaning up for a chaste kiss to make up for all the kisses that would have to wait now. “Will I catch you later, Lawrence Olivier?”
“You absolutely will, Mozart,” Thomas grinned right back. Mara, for her part, rolled her eyes. But she did so with a grin on her face. Things were getting back to normal and every single one of them was certainly glad for that.
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