For the next few months, things seemed to be settling into a routine between Dylan and I. We'd wake up, have sex, have a shower, eat breakfast, go off to our respective employers, come home, have sex, eat dinner, watch some TV and cuddle, have more sex, and go to sleep. Sometimes there was more sex, though. I'm getting a little starry-eyed just thinking about it.
I moved into his place exactly three months from when we started dating, and everything was going so perfect, I can't describe it. Even my shitty day-job seemed to be flying by. My parents were less-than-thrilled, especially my mother, but that seemed to make everything even sweeter.
Even when Dylan had to work late, it didn't seem so bad. I trusted him enough not to start worrying that he was cheating on me – not to mention, his boss looked like my boss. As far as I knew, Dylan didn't lust after sixty year old men. I'd eat dinner by myself, and usually fall asleep on the couch watching an infomercial with Soda draped across my legs.
It was different last night, though. Dylan phoned me at work to let me know he was staying late to work on the case he was doing, and would be home sometime around midnight. This case had been stressing him out, too. From what I understood, there was a gay couple a little older than us.. one of them was in a car accident, and he didn't have a will, and they weren't married, so the dead guy's family was basically leaving his boyfriend (partner? Am I too old to call Dylan my boyfriend?) nothing, telling him he didn't have the right to anything.
The shitty thing with Dylan being a lawyer is that he couldn't tell me anything specific because of that lawyer-client confidentiality thing. Stupid thing. Wait, can he? Ah. A quick sidetrip to Google has told me that he can't unless the client tells him he can. It's a mite frustrating to have my lover stressed out and not being able to do anything or say anything to console him.
I ordered Chinese food from that place uptown that doesn't bloody deliver, which meant that Soda and I got to go for a car ride, and I had to try and keep him from eating my lemon chicken. I watched some television, and fell asleep around eleven. God, I'm old.
Soda woke me up a little later, and when I looked at the clock, I realized it was almost one. Frowning, I climbed off the couch, hearing the scratching of the dog's claws on the hardwood floor. Whoops, looks like I knocked him off. "Sorry, Soda." I muttered, half-asleep, and stumbled up the stairs, stripping down to my boxers and climbing into bed, feeling the dog climb up and cuddle against my back. Soon, I was treated to the melodic sound of dog snores.
I sighed and closed my eyes, and was woken up again feeling weight against my body. "Nn, Soda, shoo. Need sleep." I mumbled, moving to push him away. I felt my arms moved away and heard muffled crying. Slowly, I blinked my eyes open and looked down to see Dylan, still fully clothed, with his arms around my chest. And.. he was crying.
It was truly bizarre, and I had to wrack my brain to think if I'd ever seen him cry before. I mean, sure, at a movie, or when he slammed his finger in a door, but never like this. He was outright sobbing.
"Don't leave me.." I heard him choke out, and managed to wake up a little more.
".. Dylan, what's going on? Are you okay?" He nodded against my chest, and then shook his head. ".. well, which is it?"
"It isn't fair… h.. his boyfriend dies… and a.. and they're telling him he c.. can't have their things.. a.. and it isn't fair… a..and I love you so much."
It took me a second to decipher it all, and I picked up a faint scent. ".. Are you drunk, Dylan?"
"Y…yeah." He sniffled. I sighed and stroked his hair.
"Go to sleep. We'll talk about it in the morning, Pickle."
I figured the only way to cheer him up in the slightest was to use the nickname I'd given him when we were kids. When I heard the name 'Dylan', it was just the first thing that came to mind. Dill pickles. And I liked pickles… I loved sucking on them until the juice came out… which.. may have been a big red gay flag, in retrospect.
He managed a little smile, and caught his breath, wiping his eyes. Soda kept right on snoring behind us. "I.. I'm sorry, baby.. Just.. this case.. I.. I keep thinking about.."
"Don't. We're finally together, and we're going to be just fine." I kissed him lightly. He smiled a little more.
"I haven't heard you call me Pickle since we were kids."
"I know." I smiled. "Get ready for bed.. You look like hell."
He undressed and curled back against me, closing his eyes, and the room was silent once again.
"I love you." He mumbled, and I smiled, stroking his hair.
"I love you too. Go to sleep."
".. I'm gonna be so hungover."
"Your own damn fault for getting drunk without me."
I heard him chuckle, and felt him relax. Where Dylan fell asleep almost instantly, I stayed up for a while, lost in my own thoughts, which is a very frightening place to be. It was autumn now, and getting colder… we were fast coming up on Christmas, and that meant I had to get a good present for Dylan.
… Is lawyerly a word?
A quick sidetrip to Google has confirmed that it is, indeed, a word.
Finally, at around three in the morning, I managed to fall asleep, but I assure you, for two hours, my thoughts were pretty much like that. I think I wrote a haiku about peanuts in my head at one point.
When I woke up, Dylan was still asleep, half-hanging off the bed. I kissed his temple and had a quick shower, putting on a pot of coffee. I had a feeling he'd need it, my poor drunk lawyerly boyfriend.
I heard a 'thud' as he rolled out of bed – literally- and then there was the sound of footsteps and running water. I smiled to myself and made myself a couple of pieces of toast, waiting to see if Dylan would notice what time it was.
Ah. Yep, he noticed. He ran downstairs, frantically trying to do up his tie. "Oh, shit. I'm going to be so late.."
I stuck a piece of toast in his mouth. "Eat." I said, and he rolled his eyes, starting to talk, but I held him still and did his tie for him while he munched on the piece of toast. I handed him his jacket, a cup of coffee, and two Tylenol. "Take these."
".. God, I love you." He kissed me on the cheek and grinned as I brushed the toast-crumbs off. "Come to lunch with me. I'm working late again tonight."
I nodded and had my toast while Dylan finished off his coffee. "I'll meet you at your office at noonish?"
"Mm. Sounds good." He gave me another kiss. "See you then."
He called a caband I smiled a little, shaking my head. Dylan always did bounce back fast. Even though I knew he was still upset, he'd pretend he wasn't. I put my coat on and took a little sidetrip before I got to work, getting on the computer. There was already an instant message flashing on my taskbar when I sat down.
I clicked on it, blinking.
GhettoAstronaut: hey sexy a/s/l
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing.
VelvetUnderground: Hey, Pickle. How's your head?
GhettoAstronaut: Eh. Serves me right for getting drunk. Won't be doing that again.
VelvetUnderground: You better not. You had me worried.
GhettoAstronaut: Sorry. How about the Keg for lunch? To make up for my drunkenness last night.
VelvetUnderground: You sure?
GhettoAstronaut: I'm sure. I'll see you at noon at my office. Gotta run. Love you.
VelvetUnderground: Love you.
I closed the message and went back to work, but I was too excited to keep my mind on the boring paperwork I had to get through. It's hard to pay attention to paperwork when you were about to surprise the possible love of your life in mere hours.
By the time noon rolled around, I was practically bouncing in my chair like a five year old on a sugar rush. I actually left my office with thirty-nine seconds to spare, but I just wanted to get to Dylan before he left.
When I got to Dylan's office, pretty much everyone had left for lunch, but he was in his office, typing away. ".. Hey."
"Hey, baby. Ready to go?"
".. I.. um.. Dylan?"
He blinked and turned off his computer. "Yeah?"
I walked over to him and sat on the corner of his desk, and swallowed any fear I might have. "I.. what you were saying last night, it really made me think. I.. I love you. But.. I .."
"… I want more."
He wet his lips and stood from his chair. ".. More? Lucas, what are you talking about?"
This was it.
I got down on one knee and reached into my pocket for the little ring I'd bought before work. Dylan just stared at me as I opened the velvet box. "I… don't want to be without you, Dylan. Not again. So I.. um.. Well.. d.. do you wanna?"
".. Wanna what?" He just stared at me as if I told him I had a vagina.
There was complete silence, and then Dylan leaned down and punched me in the shoulder. I almost toppled over.
"You fucking scared me! I thought you were breaking up with me!"
"Sorry." I rubbed my shoulder. "You still punch like a girl." I stood up, and found myself in a very nice kiss. "Is this a yes?"
"Yeah." He smiled, and ran his fingers along my cheek. "It's a yes.. "
I know, being the narrator and all, I'm supposed to keep a fair, objective view of things, and not stray too far from the story, but…
….eeeeeek!! We're getting married!