by Kris Jacen
“So what about Bottom and his pals?” Zack snorted. “Oh, my God, I just got that joke. Bottom…ass. Twenty years since I first saw that play, and it took me this long to figure that out.”
“Humans can be pretty slow sometimes,” Robin teased. “Look, I’m really not interested in giving you the whole story. Point is, if the first person you’d seen after having the flower stuff in your eyes had been a woman, your sexuality wouldn’t have mattered.”
“It would have to me.” Zack narrowed his eyes. “So you wanted to mess with me. Looks like that backfired on you just a bit. What are you going to do now?”
“I have the antidote.” Robin nodded toward a patch of green several yards away. “I’m not stupid enough to grow Cupid’s flower without having the counter to it on hand. This is kind of fun, though. I’ve seen it happen to so many other people, but I’ve never experienced it myself.”
“Being dosed with love juice?” Zack muttered.
“Being in love.” Robin rested his palm against Zack’s cheek. Zack jerked his head back. “I really am making you nervous, aren’t I?” He sounded proud of it. “What do you think will happen if I touch you, Zack?”
He leaned into the van, and Zack had no room to back away. Part of him didn’t want to. Robin was hot, no question about that, especially without a shirt. Maybe it didn’t matter that the flower had caused all this. He’d been attracted to Robin from the moment he’d arrived, and if Robin wanted him too, there was no real reason not to give in.
“I have to get back to work,” he stammered, trying to convince himself as much as Robin.
“Call them and tell them the installation took longer than you thought.” Robin leered. “I’ll show you all about installing things.”
Zack rolled his eyes. “That’s probably the worst proposition I’ve ever heard.”
Robin shrugged. “I live out here in the middle of nowhere, and I’m a thousands-year-old Fae. You expect me to be good at pick-up lines?” He stroked Zack’s cheek with a finger. “Stay for a while longer. Surely you don’t have anything else scheduled today. It’s too late. By the time you get back to your office, it’ll be time to leave. So why not just call them and tell them you won’t be back till tomorrow?”
He was far too persuasive. For several seconds, Zack couldn’t think of any reason at all to leave. Robin traced his finger down Zack’s cheekbone to his neck, then further to his chest, and Zack’s cock rose to full hardness. He wanted Robin, and the only thing preventing him from staying was the fact that he was driving a company van that had to be returned.
“Tell them the van broke down,” Robin said softly, as if he’d heard Zack’s thoughts. He leaned so close his warm breath seemed to caress Zack’s face. “Tell them you can’t get a tow truck to come this far out, so you’re staying the night and someone will fix the van in the morning.”
“They won’t believe that,” Zack said hoarsely. “They have a contract with a tow company. They’ll send someone out to fix the van tonight.”
“How long did it take you to get here?”
Zack considered it. “About an hour, I think. I’m not even sure if you’re in my office’s region. This place really is out in the middle of nowhere.” He stared at Robin. “This is still in the real world, right? You don’t have any weird Fae portal on that dirt road?”
“No portal,” Robin assured him. “You’re still in the human world. Like I said, I retired.”
“You retired from playing pranks. You didn’t say you retired from being Fae.”
“Well…”
He turned away from the van. Zack caught himself reaching for the other man to pull him back. Maybe he’d gotten a dose of the flower after all. He definitely was developing strong feelings for Robin, feelings that made no sense without some kind of magical explanation. He’d only just met the guy, after all.
Robin took an audible breath. “I didn’t exactly retire from being Fae. More along the lines of being thrown out. I did mention that Oberon wasn’t exactly happy with some of the pranks I’ve played, didn’t I?”
“I think so.” Zack slid out of the van and put his hand on Robin’s shoulder. While he didn’t approve of the man trying to use some kind of love drug to make him stay, he knew what it was like to be lonely. If Robin really had been forced to leave the Fae world, it was no wonder he’d go to extremes to keep someone around for company. “I’m sorry. It must be hard for you not to have any of your people around.” The thought that Robin might only be making a play for sympathy crossed his mind. “How often do you have company here?”
“Pretty much never.” Robin sighed. “Don’t stay if you don’t want to. I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. Humans and their pity are pretty annoying, to tell the truth.”
“Then why did you tell me what you just told me?” Zack let his hand fall back to his side.
Robin turned to face him. A lone tear trickled down his cheek. “Even when I was with the Fae, I was alone. Everyone knew who I was. They didn’t want me around. They just wanted entertainment, and some of them didn’t think that was worth the cost of being associated with me. Oberon treated me like a servant, not a friend. Fae don’t really have friends, actually. Or lovers. That whole thing between Oberon and Titania was a political alliance, nothing more. You don’t have any idea how lonely it can be.”
Zack’s heart ached. He wouldn’t have expected Robin to be so open. The snarky part of his brain said that Robin was just trying to guilt trip him into staying and he shouldn’t fall for it.
Naturally, he fell for it. “No, I don’t know how lonely it is to be Fae.” He sighed. “I don’t have many friends either. I think you only want me to stay because of that stupid flower, though.”
Robin shook his head. “I want you to stay because I love you.”
“Because of the flower,” Zack repeated.
“Maybe. Who knows?” Robin took his hand. “Will you stay?”
Even if Robin did only think he loved him because of the influence of the flower, that wouldn’t change unless he used the antidote. Zack would make sure he used it the next morning. For tonight, why not stay? Having companionship would be nice. Even if the companionship stayed G-rated, which somehow he doubted it would.
He fished his cell phone off its holster on his belt. To his surprise, it showed a faint signal. He pressed the button to auto-dial the office. The call went through, and Kate, the receptionist, answered. “Hey, Kate, it’s Zack,” Zack said.
“You’re awfully late.” Kate didn’t sound impressed.
“What do you expect when you send me out on a full install with no assistance?” Zack snapped. “Anyway, I’m going to be even later. Something’s wrong with the van, and the homeowner’s letting me crash in his guest room till tomorrow.”
“Or I could just send a tow truck out,” Kate said. “Because we kind of don’t like having our employees spending the night with customers.”
“I’m not spending the night with him.” Out of habit, Zack crossed his fingers against the lie. “I’m spending the night in his guest room. By the time the tow truck gets here, it’ll be after dark. This place took me over an hour to get to. It’s out in the boonies. If we wait till morning, the guy thinks he might be able to fix it and get me on my way.” He glanced at Robin, who nodded. “It probably isn’t anything major,” Zack added to Kate. “Just something stupid, but we can’t seem to get it running right now.”
“Boss isn’t going to like this,” she warned.
“Yeah, well, he can fire me after I bring the van back, then.” Zack laughed. “I’m sure he will, and I’m equally sure I don’t care.” If he was fired, he could come back here and spend more time with Robin.
Yeah, that flower definitely did something to me, even if I didn’t realize it.
“I’ll tell him,” Kate muttered. “Keep your phone on, because when he blows up, I’m not going to let him take it out on me.”
“Whatever. Thanks, Kate.” He hung up and re-hols
tered the phone. “Okay, Robin. What now?”
“Come inside and we’ll talk about it.”
Robin smiled and extended his hand. When Zack took it, another jolt shot through him. This was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but it was still perfectly right.
As they climbed the steps to the door, he said, “Maybe you should grab one of the antidote flowers.”
“Don’t need it,” Robin replied cheerfully.
“You don’t want to keep me around just because you’re under the influence, do you?” Zack said.
“I’m not.”
Zack let go of his hand. “What do you mean? Not keeping me around because of that, or…?”
“Not under the influence.” Robin turned to face him, eyes twinkling. “Those flowers? Perfectly normal pansies. The powder was just baby powder. Both of us were interested, neither of us dared to say a word, so I just moved things along a little. I’m Puck. It’s what I do.” He grinned and took Zack’s hand again. “Now, come in so I can teach you about installations.”
For half a second, fury clenched around Zack’s chest. Then he shook his head and let Robin lead him inside. Flower or no flower, trick or no trick, he wanted to be here.
He would just have to make sure Robin didn’t mess with him again.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Dear John...
I fear I am remiss. Possibly to the point of making a grave error in our relationship. I have, in the depths of my cynicism, (or despite them) have placed you on a pedestal so high you must surely experience nosebleeds!
Perhaps I would not have noticed the altitude at which I have forced you to operate were it not for a brief comment you made recently.
Why, John, why did you not tell me so much sooner that I am not all that unusual after all?
Here I was, for months and more, fretting over what appeared to be a reversal of commonality. My consideration was no doubt fueled by my overanalytical, overactive imagination to believe the very worst of outcomes to our continued interaction-- that I would inevitably leave your gentle humor and thoughtful regard far behind.
And yet, in five simple words, you turned all of that asunder with all the speed, power, and mixed blessings of an earthquake that destroys life and property even as it reveals a pocket of raw gold. My foundations heaved all the way to bedrock, and yet, in the aftermath I found a bright gleam in Stygian darkness; the thought that failure might not be my inevitability after all.
I have to thank you for that, gentle John, despite the discomforts of the past.
Perhaps I am still provisionally amenable to playing our game yet a while. Maybe.
Certainly, you’ve given me reason to doubt the halftime score.
So, at the risk of base callousness on my part, I must hand you cotton balls and ask you to shove them up your nose, for you are still my hero, still dear to me, and still perched on a column of finest marble. I shan’t let you down unless we both fall together, and even then it’s pretty damned iffy.
Thanks, Big Guy.
Patric
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
The Aftermath of Inevitability
They say that only death and taxes are inevitable, and while that’s true enough, I beg to differ.
Having recently had ample opportunity to examine both in various guises, and for various reasons, I’ve noted a few more “inevitables.”
The sun rises, government services are a reluctant ally at best, there are only two possible outcomes to an illness, and people will surprise you.
The sun is a given. Even here in dreary winter, the hope and promise of a new day is merely masked by clouds, a degree of tilt in the earth’s axis (it’s axle, if you will), or perhaps a deluge of rain or snow. Behind it all, the sun remains a driving force, a promise, and something bright to look forward to in coming months. That it will be there when I need it most is inevitable.
Government services were covered in a previous post, and while my comments were noisy, I find they are not at all unknown to many. Their very nature makes them inevitable. (Notice I’m leaving out ‘useless’ as well....)
Illness will either be cured, or it will kill you. Never mind remissions and declines and all those degrees of distinction, the outcome is inevitable.
In my case, there is reason to believe (and forgive my pragmatism, but I ain’t holding hope until Time, another inevitability come to think of it, proves out.) that I am headed for a remission. We’ll have a better idea in two weeks when I have a CAT scan and get the results back. Final determination will be a bone marrow biopsy to be sure, but in the midst of my being cranky with John prior to starting the sixth chemo cycle, I asked him what he expected to find. His very simple response was “That things are returning to normal.”
How much or for how long remains a mystery of course. We’re dealing with a rather uncooperative form of lymphoma here, but I’ll take what I an get, despite vocal evidence to the contrary. :)
If the results are good, The Sixth (note the proper noun status) will be my last cycle, and it will be unlikely that I have to have that fabled bone marrow transplant. (As a note in passing, there is an irony here. Having a bone marrow transplant is an *automatic* grant of Disability. Give that agency’s reluctance to give over, that tells me all I need to know about how hairy that procedure must be. heh)
At any rate, I could do with a last cycle. This one sucks already. Not even one bona fide Happy Day. Mutter.
And finally, one last inevitability.... People will surprise you. I “met” a lovely lady working in another branch of the social services (SSI) who was patient, willing, and *did not* automatically expect me to start screaming and yelling. The one from Disability could take lessons from her!
She helped me grasp nuances in the system I had missed, specifically in terms of what I was actually paying out and how it should have been classed from the start (my bad) and because of the courtesy of her time, I now have the means to survive until either I can work again, or until I have to have a bone marrow transplant. Laugh.
One way or the other, I’ll still be underfoot, writing and causing mischief when I’m not snoring or whining.
It’s inevitable. :)
Patric
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Point of Reference
Sometimes you just need a little reminder that the world is on track, regardless of the situation. Whether it’s coming out of an exam room to find someone waiting for you, patient and constant as always, or in this particular case, seeing reminders that the rest of the world goes on.
I really, really like stuff like this, and especially on days like today. Little gifts from a larger world.
And for those who’ve read the previous post, do please note that the sun is shining. :)
Patric
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Price of Freedom
Or perhaps that should read “The Price of Gifts” because most of yesterday was surely a gift, at least until I had to take myself to a simple appointment.
Seems my built in chauffeur has a life of his own. Who’d have believed such a thing?
So off I go, and by the time I return, having rested in a few parking lots along the way back, I now have every side effect I usually get over the course of a week, all happening at once. Plus new ones.
WFT?
Details spared, thats pretty much the reason why I disappeared so suddenly today. Apologies, ladies.We were having a good time in Z’s group, I think.
It’s also why I’m still awake now, even after not having slept for three days, except in fits and starts, until the hiccups kick in again. Mutter.
Yup. A gift and a slap. They seem destined to go together, at least this week.
Laugh. (What else can you do, ‘cept laugh?)
Maybe sleep a bit, come to think of it. G’night. :)
Patric
Saturday, January 16, 2010
FYI
Just a short note for those who�
�ve been asking....
Not such a good day today, unfortunately.
I’ll be off line and (hopefully) sleeping until further notice. My apologies for the abrupt fade-to-black.
Patric
A Silver Shard
Tame Adams (chrysalis)
Silent darkness, stillness, unseen forces
And yet, a silver shard darts forth.
Where it has come from, we know not
To whom it will devote illumination?
I care not.
I watch you, that shard, unfettered by human hands,
condescend and fall upon my meager existence.
My mental anguish, my willful pain
finally illuminated by your brilliance.
And I…I am caught in my own web
Of patent thin veneer and self-deceit
Burning, your fire begins to dart at my heels
Now unshrouded and unfettered—utterly brilliant.
My hands lift, to capture… to feel… to know
That drive, that passion, that breathless descent.
I begin to capture colours, daguerreotypes, images,
My senses desperate to envelope you in.
And then, as if by a whirlwind made flesh & bone,
you were at once torn almost asunder,
left bare, thin.
The vulnerability of your essence,
Dimming that fevered brilliance
I stand there, helpless, needy,
Witless.
As you struggle to maintain that powerful presence,