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Pat awoke with his arms around Fiona, her body nestled against his, and for a moment he just stayed there. It wasn't the first time they had spent the night together but it was the first at his place. His home was his sanctuary. The place where he could be himself with no judges no recriminations but this felt right. It was tempting to just lay there and not move, freeze the clock and ignore the outside world but it wasn't the the outside that drove Pat from his bed. It was a biological need that pulled him from her arms.

With great care he slipped from the queen sized bed, covering Fiona as he went. He traversed the room in the dark with very little hiccups, only stumbling over shoes once, before ducking into his hallway and making his way to the bathroom. It didn’t take long before he reappeared in just his boxers and made his way to the kitchen, turning on the radio as he went by route. As the music started to play he broke out the supplies for some French toast. It was a general favorite at the firehouse so he was at least confident that he wouldn't poison Fiona.

He became so wrapped up in the process that he wasn't aware that he had started to hum along with as the random collection of songs bounced around. He finally broke out into song as he whisked the necessary set of eggs into froth. “‘The biggest word you ever heard/And this is how it goes, oh/Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’.”

Pat was was still working on the egg mix for the toast, adding spices and stuff while trying to make it a bit better than just lame french toast, when he heard Fiona calling out to him over the sound of the music. “In the kitchen,” He explained, not turning away from his current work. He dipped the first piece of bread into the mix and placing it in the skillet on the stove even as he asked, “You want bacon or sausage or both?” He was already planning on what to make next after the toast was done. Since he really only knew two ways to do eggs, hard boiled and scrambled, Pat was figuring on a side of scrambled eggs and the meat along with the toast would be a good breakfast. Sadly he didn’t have any fruit, strawberries would… His train of thought derailed when he heard Fiona’s voice. The question in it was pretty clear, curious he flipped the piece of toast over and stuck his head out into the hall only to freeze when he saw where she was standing. When he saw which door she had opened.

“I… I can explain.” He sputtered out even as he took a few abortive steps towards her, his eyes a bit wide and startled even as his complexion alternated from pale to flushed. How did one explain a grown man having a room full of costumes and tailoring paraphernalia? He collects it? But then how to explain the half finished stuff on the tailor dummies he had set up? He stored it for his cousins or a local theater troupe? But the equipment had obviously been in use and there were bolts of fabric stacked on the side. There was no easy way to explain the room besides the truth which was totally not something a guy should admit too. What kind of guy ever admitted to like making outfits? To acting like someone else from a anime, tv show, or movie? He definitely didn’t want to admit that some of the dresses were fitted to him. Every time he lost a damn bet with Lily he ended up dressed as another redheaded woman from some show she picked out. It was embarrassing as hell and he sure as s**t didn’t want to tell his girlfriend about it.

He hadn’t actually ever lied to her… omitted the truth some times mostly with regards to the nights he was ‘working’, but never actually lied to her. But still. The tall redhead hesitated, unsure how to say it. How to admit just how childish and ‘girly’ his hobby was. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the screech of the smoke alarm making him jump in surprise as he turned tail and ran from the pending conversation. The alarm cut off abruptly with a good thwack of a broom, Pat shoved open the kitchen window to help get the smoke out and tossed the blackened bread. Even with the reprieve over he found that it was hard to leave the smaller space, to confront the inevitable distaste that he was sure Fiona would show when he told her the truth. What kind of woman wanted a guy who liked ‘playing dress up’?

Pat had just been standing there staring into nothing trying to mentally work out how to respond when Fiona laughed in his face. That's what some of his exes did at least. Granted that was when he was a lot younger, he had gotten better at hiding his little hobby since then. Normally by either locking that door or just not having women over. Not that he had a date let alone a girlfriend since moving to Destiny City. He remembered one particular girl who did a bit more then just laugh at him, there had been a few choice phrases and terms that were just not accurate… or socially appropriate anymore. His father was right when he tried to convince young Pat that sewing and costumes and ‘dress up’ was for girls and no real man took interest in such things. Not unless he wanted to get into fights on a nearly daily basis. The redhead was so lost in thought that he startled slightly when he felt Fiona touch his bare skin, her hand resting on the small of his back.

“Cosplay,” His correction was just as quiet as she had been. “It’s cosplay. I…” He trailed off, his fingers digging into the edge of the counter before finishing. “I cosplay. I create outfits based on movies, tv, books, and games for myself and others.” Pat just stood there facing the counter, the wall, his fingers just digging into the laminated wood counters in only his boxers. He couldn’t face Fi. He couldn’t take the disgust and recriminations that he imagined were written all over her face. But since he had started he might as well put the last few nails in the coffin that was their relationship. “I go to cons, conventions,” he added to explain, “dressed as these characters and pretend to be them. Pretend to be a Jedi or a Samurai or any one of a hundred people.” He didn’t try to explain that it had started out as just an extension of Halloween when he was a kid but morphed into a way to escape harsh reality now that he was an adult. He didn’t explain since he didn’t think Fi would really care why he played dress up like some child. It wasn’t fair to the petite redhead standing behind him but right then his past history was coloring everything, even his thoughts. And it wasn’t with rose colored glasses thats for sure.

His gaze seemed far away even when Fi got him to look at her, he wasn’t really seeing her. He was seeing the past and his own imagination not the flesh and blood woman standing there in his shirt. Pat blinked down at her, some life coming back into his purple gaze as she informed him that she just didn’t give a crap about his hobby. Surprise and relief chased its way across his face, no one ever said he had a poker face, as he subconsciously eased his tight stance, turning towards her slightly. She might have been the first female, besides his mother, in his life who just didn’t care that he cosplayed. Everyone else, as far as he could remember, disliked that hobby of his, at best they thought it was ‘cute’ and ‘amusing’ if he told them at all.

Pat smiled weakly even as part of his brain filled away that little ‘joke’ for later. It had it’s merits especially with some of the things he had made over the years but that would be dealt with later. Right now he faced her fully, his eyes studying her face even as he asked, “You really don't care? You’re not just saying that?” Hope fluttered hesitantly in his stomach even as he went on, “It's not like it's normal behavior for a guy. What kind of ‘real man’ plays dress up?” The question was said with more than a little bit of scorn, making it clear that it was a comment he had heard more times then he would be willing to admit too.

He remained silent as she spoke her piece his hands absently resting on her hips until she sat on the counter at which point he cupped her face with both of his hands, his thumb brushing over her lips. “You are fantastic, you know that right?” He murmured before placing a kiss on her forehead. “Ceann daor,” it was a term he had used before, a pet name almost. “Did you know you are the first not to mock it? Besides my mother that is. She was the one who taught me at first, she was the one who encouraged me even as basicly the whole world said I shouldn’t.” It might not have been quite an accurate statement in the grand scheme of things but for Pat it was true. There was a wide fan base for cosplay but all Pat was thinking at that moment was his exes and his own father. How they all thought it strange, an unmanly hobby as ever there was.

“As for the outfits… I got to say I like the one you have on right now.” He grinned at her before he leaned in to kiss her, his one hand wandering down to the buttons on the shirt even as the other shifted to cradle the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. By the time he broke off the kiss his nimble fingers had worked their way into the shirt, even now his hand had snaked around her torso and pulled her closer. “You don’t have to prove it but I won’t stop you if you want to anyway.”