Llewellyn Watts (
pocketpretzels) wrote2022-07-18 10:18 pm
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MHA #15, Tuesday Afternoon
Watts was in an exceptionally good mood today-
Or rather more accurately, Watts had been in an exceptionally good mood, when he'd gone to the post office to check for his regular correspondence with the fellows back home and had found a parcel waiting for him.
But now that he was back home and said parcel was sat on his dining room table he was in an exceptionally nervous mood. Not about the gift itself; he and Steven had already established that gifts between friends were acceptable, and if that were true than by the transitory property, gifts between two people who were seeing each other romantically was more than all right. (Jack had never been one for gifts, giving or receiving, aside from that one nearly-ill-fated cake, and his past relationships with women were even less help as a guide, for a number of reasons.) In any case, it wasn't the gift itself that was cause for his sudden bout of nerves. It was the manner in which he was currently planning on giving it to Steven.
Perhaps he should have waited until Thursday and taken it by the museum? Or Friday, even. Kept it in his desk at the Trooper Station and hoped Steven could swing by for lunch again.
But no. Instead of waiting, he'd called Steven, asked him to come over, with no pretext at all. Just. Telling him he had a gift to give and inviting him over, like that. That, he feared, might be terribly forward.
Thus the pacing he was doing back and forth in his bedroom, picking up his suit jacket and putting it on, and then discarding it, only to pick it up again and put it back on- and, well. You get the idea.
[ooc: for the sweetheart. up early in deference to timezones and vacations.]
Or rather more accurately, Watts had been in an exceptionally good mood, when he'd gone to the post office to check for his regular correspondence with the fellows back home and had found a parcel waiting for him.
But now that he was back home and said parcel was sat on his dining room table he was in an exceptionally nervous mood. Not about the gift itself; he and Steven had already established that gifts between friends were acceptable, and if that were true than by the transitory property, gifts between two people who were seeing each other romantically was more than all right. (Jack had never been one for gifts, giving or receiving, aside from that one nearly-ill-fated cake, and his past relationships with women were even less help as a guide, for a number of reasons.) In any case, it wasn't the gift itself that was cause for his sudden bout of nerves. It was the manner in which he was currently planning on giving it to Steven.
Perhaps he should have waited until Thursday and taken it by the museum? Or Friday, even. Kept it in his desk at the Trooper Station and hoped Steven could swing by for lunch again.
But no. Instead of waiting, he'd called Steven, asked him to come over, with no pretext at all. Just. Telling him he had a gift to give and inviting him over, like that. That, he feared, might be terribly forward.
Thus the pacing he was doing back and forth in his bedroom, picking up his suit jacket and putting it on, and then discarding it, only to pick it up again and put it back on- and, well. You get the idea.
[ooc: for the sweetheart. up early in deference to timezones and vacations.]
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Could do now if you like?
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that will do. i’m home be
Sigh. Once again, the tiny keyboard refused to input the correct letters.
now
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What Steven was referring to, of course, was that he wasn't going to go over to Llewellyn's while dressed in Marc's clothes. How that might be interpreted by someone currently having jacket related angst was to be determined.
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He didn't want to make a bigger deal of things than Llewellyn was, since he didn't want to make Llewellyn uncomfortable. At the same time neither did he want to look like he'd put no thought into his outfit whatsoever.
Finally, after taking long enough that even Marc threw in an opinion ("Steven, I swear if you don't pick something I'm taking over the body and dressing you myself."), Steven went with khakis and a loose fitting dark blue t-shirt and hoped he was in the appropriate area as far as dress was concerned. (Though this was helped by Marc's added, "You look fine, stop worrying." before giving Steven his privacy.)
All that done, Steven went across the corridor and knocked on the door to Llewellyn's flat.
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Watts himself had decided on no jacket. Or more accurately, had that decided for him as he’d slipped on a different waistcoat and then there was the knock at the door which meant no time to put the jacket back on, let alone choose a new jacket and trousers.
So it was that hatless, jacketless, but wearing the brown trousers and a deep burgundy waistcoat, he answered the door.
“Come on in,” he gestured, stepping aside so that Steven might enter. A Steven who Watts thought looked more than fine, for the record.
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But close the door he did, eventually, and then he was leaning against it as he gave Steven a soft smile.
What he wanted to do was surge forward and offer him a kiss hello. What happened instead was those nerves again, and,
“You made it,” as if they didn’t live across the hall from one another and could have easily met up some other day if today hadn’t worked out.
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Which would have been true in general but appreciation had to be shown for the lack of a coat. Steven was beginning to learn why a shed layer could feel downright intimate under the right circumstances.
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“That’s a good colour on you,” he replied, reaching out to touch the sleeve of Steven’s t-shirt. “I like it.”
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It was a genuine question. They were still stood by the door. If Llewellyn didn't think that was private enough, Steven would respect it. He'd suggest they move of course, but he'd respect it.
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“Please do, yes,” he confirmed.
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His own hands, meanwhile, were teasing their way under Steven’s shirt, much as they had done the other day in the Trooper Station.
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But if these were the sorts of things that were on the table then Steven had no recourse but to slip one hand higher and start sliding his fingers through Llewellyn's hair.
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The hand in his hair felt nice, though, and Watts felt he ought to encourage that. And what better way than grinding up against Steven who was already pressed so very close?
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Since he'd briefly broken the kiss, Steven took a moment to look fondly into Llewellyn's eyes. He brought his hand down to Llewellyn's cheek to draw him near again for more kissing. And if this time there was an element of possessiveness in the gesture, as though Steven was thinking Mine, well there was good reason for it.
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Yours, was the message conveyed by the way Watts melted in to that kiss.
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He wasn't talking about the decor.
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