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 Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2012 12:53 pm
“Hey, Pooh Bear, can you grab a towel for me? I forgot to get one before I stuck my foot in the water.”
Indeed, Paris sat on the couch in the living-room of his and Chris’s new apartment, surrounded by burnt orange walls darkened by nightfall and patterned with candlelight, his right foot sunk in a bucket of cold water and ice. On the coffee table in front of him he had a collection of medical supplies years of dance experience had caused him to become intimately familiar with—pain relievers, band-aids, ace bandages, and a tub of extra strength icy-hot balm—along with spongy toe dividers and a few bottles of nail polish he hadn’t made use of yet.
The weather was terrible, but inside the apartment was rather cozy despite the fact that the power had gone out not long after Paris had changed into his pajamas and sat himself on the couch with his bucket of ice water. Sassy had made herself comfortable on the back of the couch behind his head, her fluffy tail lazily flicking out every once in the while to tickle the side of his neck or brush against the side of his face in a move Paris told himself was entirely affectionate. Further behind him, he could hear Anna munching on her food.
The TV was blank when earlier it had been playing some movie or another, but Paris didn’t mind its absence so much. He was quite good at complaining about boredom or else finding other ways to entertain himself. Only a few minutes ago he’d managed to get his hands on Chris’s guitar and currently sat playing a few random chords that didn’t really sound like a song, mumbling a lyric or two every once in a while but otherwise enjoying the general sense of peace and quiet that somehow came with such a loud and violent storm.
“Shoot, can you grab some yogurt for me, too?” he asked, turning his head this way and that to look around the front two rooms for his boyfriend. “I should eat something before bed. Just don’t keep the fridge open long.”
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Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2012 5:30 pm
"You know, at the old apartment, we wouldn't have this problem," Chris mumbled mostly to himself as he set the last candle down on the kitchen counter. There hadn't been many in the small apartment since, come on... when would he ever need to use a candle other than tossing one in the bathroom? Paris was already well aware of his less than romantic tendencies and they seemed to get by without them just fine.
Conveniently, there were a few scented candles both Paris and his mother had picked up over the past... who knew how many weeks. And so, they'd been set up here and there, in front of mirrors to multiply the light, and out of the way of being knocked over.
Chris got the towel first, which was easy enough since it was hanging on the rack inside their tiny bathroom. The yogurt he had to squint and feel around for, as the refrigerator light was of no help in a power out, but eventually grabbed the thin plastic container which held the sour snack. There was no way he'd grab one for himself, but he'd never say anything against Paris wanting something to snack on. "I can't really help how long I keep it open if I can't see what's inside," he grumbled some more, even though he'd already retrieved what he'd been looking for, and a spoon with which to eat it.
The wind howled outside, and another crack of lightning lit up the room just long enough for him to make his way around the coffee table and to plop down beside his boyfriend in a sigh of defeat. With the battery of his laptop threatening to last only a few more hours, and with no internet to do research, he was out of things that would entertain him.
And with Paris ready to go to bed early, as usual, Chris figured he'd save the last of his computer battery until after his boyfriend went to sleep. He reached out to place the towel down for Paris to take, and handed him the yogurt in exchange for his guitar, although he didn't play it... just set it down, out of the way of the water.
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Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2012 12:02 pm
“Grumpy, grumpy~” Paris teased.
He was in a relatively good mood himself, even though he supposed circumstances might dictate a different sort of behavior at any other time. Tonight he found the storm and the lack of power to be more amusing than annoying, especially with Chris mumbling and stomping around and being cute in his dissatisfaction. Without that distraction Paris didn’t know if he would have been able to keep a smile on his face as well as he was, what with his ankle being tender and needing an ice bath. Such things could have happened at a worse time, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t terribly inconvenient all the same.
Hoisting his foot out of the cold water, Paris took the towel as Chris offered it to him and wrapped his foot up in it to dry, gently patting around his ankle before soaking up the rest of his foot, careful around the blisters on his toes. The yogurt and spoon he set on the coffee table for the time being, intent on finishing this more important task first.
“The power could have gone out just as easily at the other apartment,” Paris gently reminded his boyfriend. He twisted on the couch so he could sit sideways with his back against the arm rest, keeping his bad foot bent toward him at the knee but thrusting his good foot out to flop it into Chris’s lap.
“If you’re bored, you can paint my toe nails for me,” he announced with a broad smile, reaching over for the toe dividers and vials of polish before tossing each in Chris’s direction. “I think maybe the bright blue. I can do orange closer to Halloween,” he decided.
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Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2012 2:58 pm
"No, it wouldn't have gone out," Chris insisted, his hands reaching out to take hold of Paris's foot as it was thrust into his lap. "There was a backup generator for when the weather was bad. They should offer one for this place," he continued to grumble, gently working his fingers into Paris's foot and ankle, massaging it and warming it back up.
He didn't hate the apartment. It just... wasn't the apartment he was used to. But Paris loved it, and he loved Paris and he wanted to make him happy. It was sickening when he thought about it, and he wondered if their relationship was... normal, in terms of emotional fondness. Anyone else acting as mushy as they did sometimes would probably make him gag.
It was only thanks to Paris being there, teasing him, staying in a relatively good mood, that he was able to ignore some of the things he didn't like about the place. It was small and made him feel claustrophobic. He had to watch his head around the lights that hung from the ceiling fan, and sometimes he felt as if the doorframes were too short as well. The showerhead was too low, the water pressure sucked, the dishwasher was loud, the washer and dryer shook the whole apartment, neighbors were... not as noisy as they could be, but after being used to having a penthouse...
"Pass it to me," he grunted, holding out a hand for the nailpolish, only for it to land in his lap as it was tossed.
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Posted: Mon Oct 08, 2012 9:24 pm
“You’re so cute the way you act like these things should come standard,” Paris observed, leaving Chris to his toenails while he grabbed the ace bandages and the box of band-aids for himself. “Wants and needs, Pooh Bear. Wants and needs. I promise you’ll survive a few hours without power. The storm’ll blow through and they’ll get it fixed and then that’ll be that.”
His voice was not unkind. He certainly wasn’t of a mind to rile his boyfriend up when Chris was already not in the best of moods. The last thing he needed was to be snapped at for something stupid like this, but he’d had plenty of practice in gauging Chris’s moods and could usually tell when he was a little more receptive to a few teasing comments. At the moment he seemed more petulant than full-blown angry, and so Paris felt safe taking things a little more lightly.
It’d been a while since there’d been any “damn it, Paris”es thrown around. A long while, in fact.
He was rather keen on continuing up his streak.
Opening the box of band-aids, Pairs pulled a few out and ripped his way through the paper packaging, pulling the plastic off the back of each and wrapping the adhesives around a few of the toes on his right foot where the blisters were the worst. Blisters were not an uncommon thing, nor were they always unwanted, but he was cautious about protecting them against infection. His feet were his life. Despite the fact that they looked so beat up, he took care of them when and where he could.
Next, he went about unraveling an ace bandage so that he could begin wrapping his right ankle. “You should be more concerned about my foot,” he joked, pausing to wince—not from the pain, but by the thought of what might be wrong. “I should probably give it a rest over the weekend. Don’t know how I feel about that, though. We’ve got our fall recital coming up, and then the Nutcracker…”
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 8:28 am
"They should come standard," he grumbled, trying not to think about it too much. Maybe he really was spoiled into thinking things like assured electricity should come standard for everyone. But now wasn't the time to get into how he had clearly been 'better off' so far in his life than others around him.
Chris relaxed slightly at Paris's teasing, gently kneading his fingers into Paris's foot and ankle, although he did pause to frown at the mention of being concerned. He didn't say anything right away, waiting to see if Paris would offer some kind of solution, before letting out the smallest of sighs though his nose.
"What if... we talked to Virgo...? Went to the Surrounding for a bit...?" he wondered, cautious with his words since if Paris had anything close to the same opinion as he did, he never wanted to step foot in the Surrounding again, if he could help it. Going back to scenes where he relive the memories of his failures wasn't exactly at the top of his list.
But... if being there would help heal Paris's foot... then it might be worth it.
"Have you seen a doctor recently?" he asked hypocritically as he subconsciously stretched out his right arm to try and ease the dull ache that came and went. A little stiffness was different from broken bones, though. Chris eyed Paris's handiwork with the gauze and bandaids, finding himself wishing there was more he could do to help him.
Unfortunately... he had not been blessed with healing magic.
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Posted: Thu Oct 18, 2012 7:05 pm
Chris’s proposal was not exactly the sort of concern Paris was looking for.
He did, however, pause for just a moment to think about it. Not very long. A handful of seconds at most—a fraction of a minute. Perhaps with better memories it would have required a bit more thought—and might have even resulted in agreement—but Paris wasn’t of the mind to relive anything that he didn’t absolutely have to, or put himself into a position to potentially run into people he didn’t really care to see. He worked with them if and when it was necessary to do so, but that didn’t mean he cared to deal with the stress that may come with another confrontation or disagreement if he chose to go.
Between ballet and his principles, he wasn’t quite sure which was more important to him, but until he had no other options left available to him, he was content to go his own way.
Instead, he ignored the question as if it hadn’t even been asked, continuing to wrap his foot as he responded to Chris’s second inquiry. “I see doctors all the time,” Paris said with a smile, forced as it might have been now that his mind was on different, far less amusing topics. “Shrinks, nutritionists, foot doctors. Haven’t seen one of them in a while, though. Haven’t really needed to. It’s probably not a big deal anyway,” he reassured his boyfriend, clasping his binding in place before carefully stretching that leg out as well.
“Probably just tendonitis. I’ll keep icing it every day and give it a rest until Monday and see what happens. The senshi healing has to be good for something.”
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 3:01 pm
"Probably...?" Chris mumbled with a grimace, still gently pressing his fingers into Paris's left foot and ankle, being careful not to hurt him as he tried to help relieve some of the tension in his muscles. He only knew enough about sports medicine to pass his classes and to realize when something was wrong with his shoulder that an icepack wouldn't fix. He never claimed to be an expert, but tendonitis didn't sound like something very pleasant.
Along the outside of Paris's left foot in fancy script were the words "Once Upon a Dream" next to a small blue rose, and Chris's fingers hesitated as he traced over them. Like his other tattoo, this one was usually covered up, and the only time Chris could recall seeing it was when he had his shoes off. Obviously he'd done it on purpose — not to hide it as though ashamed, but to remain professional in his appearance while dancing.
It was almost surprising to know that Paris cared about dancing so much that he would be that careful as to not let his tattoos be seen. What other reason would he have to not show them off? Paris liked to be able to express himself, after all.
"Why did you decide to get your tattoos...?" he asked slowly, glancing over at his boyfriend through the flickering of the candle light that illuminated the small room. "I know we've talked about the blue roses before, but... something as permanent as a tattoo...? What if you change your mind later...?"
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 3:24 pm
“Then I’m screwed, I guess,” Paris replied with a shrug. “Or I could just pay to get them removed. I got them in places I could easily cover on purpose, so…”
Done with his ankle for now, Paris reached over to the coffee table where he’d placed the yogurt and spoon Chris had gotten for him before. He peeled off the top and let it hang there on one edge as he swirled the spoon around to stir it up before bringing it to his mouth to eat. Leaning back against the arm of the couch with his feet jutting in Chris’s direction, Paris made himself comfortable as he took the time to give Chris’s question a bit of thought.
He glanced down at his foot every once in a while, not the injured one but the one Chris’s had been massaging, the one that had sparked the curiosity in the first place. He could just barely see the fancy script near a splash of blue petals. It had been there for… how long now? A year?
As if a year was really that long.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Because they mean something to me, probably. The first was sort of just because I could, because I knew someone who’d do it for me and it was sort of… dangerous and rebellious and sexy… and I guess I felt sort of lost about everything and I liked the symbolism… but I knew I still wanted to be a dancer so I put it somewhere it’d be covered by my costumes. And then the second one… I guess I meant it to be sort of like a reminder… not to take things for granted…”
He trailed off and stirred his spoon through his yogurt a bit more, pulling his eyes away from his foot to glance up at Chris with a sad smile.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 3:48 pm
A reminder, huh...?
"Do you think you'll change your mind about them...?" he asked, still curious but casual in his inquiries. It was a big decision to get something tattooed onto one's body, making it a part of themselves. And while it could be removed, it was a painful process.
He glanced over to Paris as well, thinking himself crazy for the thoughts he was having, but there was something about Paris that made it easy for him to decide on things. Easy and without regret. Maybe that was a bad thing in some people's eyes... but for him, he'd never felt like this, and he liked being able to settle easily into a decision about his life when Paris was around.
"What if I got one...?" he wondered, his fingers still brushing against the side of Paris's foot. "I was thinking about it before... a blue rose on my wrist... I could cover it with my watch if I needed," he added with a small shrug. It wasn't that he'd be ashamed of it, but... he wanted it to be something for himself, not for everyone else. He never cared much for flaunting his personal life around others. It was his business... his and Paris's.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2012 6:19 pm
Paris shrugged again. “I don’t think so. Maybe I would have if I’d been stupid enough to get them in a place I couldn’t easily hide them, but as they are now… only you and me’ll ever really see them.”
There weren’t very many other people who even knew about them, as far as he was aware.
Well, people who mattered, he should say. There were a bunch of nameless people out there somewhere who at least knew about the first one via one-off encounters at clubs and risqué parties, but he wasn’t too concerned about that anymore. If anyone else knew about them, they were either friends or family—Ladon, Chris, Peter, Mom, Momma. No one else’s opinion really counted for much. Few people ever saw the one on his lower back these days, and even fewer saw the one on his foot. If he needed to hide them, he could quite easily; if he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to.
It was as simple as that.
“A blue-… you were thinking of getting one?” he asked, shaking his head as if to rid himself of his thoughts so as to give the current conversation his full attention. He stared at Chris to let his boyfriend’s comment sink in, before shifting in place and trying not to feel all mushy on the inside.
“Why were you-… I mean… what made you think of doing that?”
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 3:25 pm
Chris looked back at Paris, shifting a little to face him better, his elbow resting on the top of the couch and tilting his head to rest against his forearm. There were a lot of things that made him think of getting a tattoo. Michael had some, but that hardly a deciding factor. He'd never been interested in tattoos before. Sometimes he thought they were distasteful or too much, even. He'd never want a sleeve of images, or pictures plastered onto various parts of his body. He had other ways of expressing himself, after all.
But the symbolism was something he could understand. The deeper meaning behind why someone would want a subtle, or not so subtle reminder of different things in their lives... that was something he could appreciate.
"This was because of me, wasn't it...?" he asked, his fingers still brushing against the script on Paris's foot, ignoring his boyfriend's question for the moment. He sounded rather full of himself, asking something like that... but after everything Paris had said, and being able to narrow down the time frame in which Paris had gotten it... It had been between the time they'd first broken up and got back together before Christmas.
"I guess... I want a reminder too... that I have something unobtainable. It'll be like keeping you with me all the time," he said with a lame half-grin, feeling kind of silly now that he said all that out loud.
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 4:34 pm
For about five seconds Paris actually made the effort to restrain himself. He squirmed and shifted in place again, ducked his head and stared off to the side thinking maybe that would be enough to keep him from just launching himself at his boyfriend, but in the end it proved to be a fruitless effort, and he set his yogurt and spoon back onto the coffee table so he was empty-handed as he crawled over to his boyfriend for a snuggle.
He made sure he was careful with his foot—which was probably the only reason he didn’t just throw himself at Chris and moved a bit more sedately instead, settling himself against his boyfriend and sliding his arms around him for a hug and that cuddle he’d wanted the minute he’d started to feel all warm and mushy inside.
“I could have just bought you a ring, too,” he teased.
Though, honestly, he was pretty sure he already liked this idea better.
“So… your wrist?” he asked, adjusting himself against his boyfriend so that he could sit comfortably and take hold of Chris’s left hand, unlatching his watch so that he was able to stroke the skin on the inside of Chris’s wrist with his thumb. “Here? I think that’d be nice. How big would you want it? Quarter sized? Or smaller?”
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 5:28 pm
Smiling softly in amusement, Chris shifted just enough to be able to wrap an arm around Paris once he'd decided he wanted to be closer. That hadn't been the intention, but... he definitely wouldn't have said no, no matter what his mood was. For now, he was rather content, his earlier frustrations ebbed away.
He let Paris unlatch his watch and leaned down to kiss the top of Paris's temple, holding his hand out for him to see. "Maybe a little smaller... Uh... you don't care if it's small, do you? I didn't want anything too obvious," he mumbled, hoping that Paris knew it wasn't because he was embarrassed or anything like that... he just didn't want to have to explain it to people who shouldn't be asking about it in the first place.
"You don't think that's weird though?" he wondered, curious if Paris might just be indulging him in his strange ideas. "You don't feel like I'd be taking something special from you, do you?" Because he definitely didn't want to do that.
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Posted: Mon Oct 29, 2012 6:28 pm
“I don’t mind sharing,” Paris said, glancing up at Chris with another smile. He kept his hand along Chris’s wrist and continued to gently stroke the skin there. “Especially if it’s with you,” he added.
They shared everything else as it was—an apartment, pets, money, food, saliva, all the things that really mattered and then some. Occasionally they shared clothes, or at least Paris wore some of Chris’s shirts to bed; Chris couldn’t exactly fit into anything of his. Once or twice Paris had even accidentally grabbed Chris’s tooth brush instead of his own. They shared their happiness and frustrations. They shared plenty of memories, too, and they might as well share a family with how much time they spent around them together.
Why shouldn’t they share this, too?
“But don’t get it too small,” he cautioned. “I want to be able to see it. It doesn’t have to be as big as the one on my back, obviously… not that that’s really big… but not as tiny as the one of my foot, right? I can go with you when you get it,” he suddenly suggested, excited by the idea. “Uh… but we don’t have to go to the place I went to, ‘cause that would be really awkward…”
He winced to himself and looked off to the side, trying to appear innocent. “There are other places. Plenty of other places. You’d probably think that one’s sketch anyway, even if it’s really not. But you know you and your standards. High class and all.”
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