Equity Part Forty Three
Jan. 28th, 2010 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesAdam, meet Aunt Jolene. *grin*
Adam gaped after Stephen, somewhat mortified that his jealousy had prodded him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, not to meet Stephen's wife or girlfriend, but instead his kindly-looking, borderline elderly, auntie. Adam had feared retribution from the blond, but the kiss and small squeeze of his wrist led him to believe that Stephen was possibly not as annoyed as he appeared.
The muted sound of the shower came to him and he tried not to think about Stephen stepping into the hot water. Now was not the time to become aroused. He pushed the blond out of his mind and regarded the diminutive woman, instead.
"Um. Hello?" he tried, stepping further into the kitchen and smiling winningly at Jolene.
She looked at him critically. "All right, then. Turn around, let's see you." She raised a hand and swirled one finger in a pirouetting motion.
Adam frowned, but obediently turned in place, feeling a bit like a puppet... or a show dog.
"Well, you're handsome enough, that's certain. How long have you known Stephen?"
Despite her friendly-sounding words, there was steel beneath them. Adam sidled over to lift Stephen's half-empty beer bottle and took a grateful swig, trying to buy a moment. He had the impression that a wrong word would have Aunt Jolene as his permanent enemy.
"Not long," he admitted. "Although I have... admired him for quite some time."
"And where did you meet?"
Adam leaned back against the counter, affecting a relaxed pose while he tried to prepare for Gestapo-worthy questioning. He supposed it was sweet that Stephen had someone to look after him. "At the bank," he admitted, which was true. They hadn't officially met until Adam had crossed the threshold of the building.
"Are you a customer, or an employee?"
"Neither, actually," Adam replied and hoped she would not delve too deeply into that line of questioning. Admitting that he had stalked her nephew from the bus stop was not exactly aboveboard.
She frowned, but instead asked, "And where do you work?"
"Nickerson Studios," he replied, feeling even more uncomfortable while wishing he had a more high-class place of employment.
"And what do you do there?"
Adam felt like tugging at the collar of his shirt, which was alarming, considering he was not normally the nervous type. "Well, I work in the recording studio. We mix audio for different things. Advertisements, announcements, training programs. And music, of course."
"I see. And are you a musician, then?"
Adam wasn't certain, but he sensed disappointment in her tone. His cheeks warmed and he took another drink. He already knew he didn't deserve someone of Stephen's stature, but he had tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on accepting whatever Stephen was willing to give him. In truth, their time together had already been more than he had ever expected. The fact that he wanted more had little bearing on the reality of the situation.
"Yes. I am," he replied. "I sing when I can."
Jolene sighed. Try though he might, Adam could not decipher it. Was it a sigh of regret? Disappointment? Annoyance? Her face was so blank he feared for anyone that would dare to play poker with her. "Do you think you could make me a cup of tea? My arthritis is acting up today and my hips aren't what they once were."
Adam blinked at her abrupt change in topic. He sensed a trap. "Certainly, although you might have to help me find everything. I have only been here once before."
"You have?"
The surprise in her tone drew his attention, but her features were still carefully guarded.
"Yes, um, Friday evening." He forced his mind away from the memory of their first encounter, although a pleasant warmth tickled his insides. He blurted, "Stephen cooked. And then last night we stayed at... I mean. We went to my place. For a while." A long while. Adam knew his face was flaming, so he said loudly, "So, tell me where he might keep a teapot."
"Hmmmm," she said enigmatically and then added, "The teapot is in the lower cupboard next to the stove."
Adam turned around gratefully and wrenched open the cabinet in order to bury his head for a moment. He heard the shower shut off and he mentally willed Stephen to hurry up and rescue him.
"Teapot," he muttered and stared blankly at the rows of silvery pots and pans.
Adam gaped after Stephen, somewhat mortified that his jealousy had prodded him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, not to meet Stephen's wife or girlfriend, but instead his kindly-looking, borderline elderly, auntie. Adam had feared retribution from the blond, but the kiss and small squeeze of his wrist led him to believe that Stephen was possibly not as annoyed as he appeared.
The muted sound of the shower came to him and he tried not to think about Stephen stepping into the hot water. Now was not the time to become aroused. He pushed the blond out of his mind and regarded the diminutive woman, instead.
"Um. Hello?" he tried, stepping further into the kitchen and smiling winningly at Jolene.
She looked at him critically. "All right, then. Turn around, let's see you." She raised a hand and swirled one finger in a pirouetting motion.
Adam frowned, but obediently turned in place, feeling a bit like a puppet... or a show dog.
"Well, you're handsome enough, that's certain. How long have you known Stephen?"
Despite her friendly-sounding words, there was steel beneath them. Adam sidled over to lift Stephen's half-empty beer bottle and took a grateful swig, trying to buy a moment. He had the impression that a wrong word would have Aunt Jolene as his permanent enemy.
"Not long," he admitted. "Although I have... admired him for quite some time."
"And where did you meet?"
Adam leaned back against the counter, affecting a relaxed pose while he tried to prepare for Gestapo-worthy questioning. He supposed it was sweet that Stephen had someone to look after him. "At the bank," he admitted, which was true. They hadn't officially met until Adam had crossed the threshold of the building.
"Are you a customer, or an employee?"
"Neither, actually," Adam replied and hoped she would not delve too deeply into that line of questioning. Admitting that he had stalked her nephew from the bus stop was not exactly aboveboard.
She frowned, but instead asked, "And where do you work?"
"Nickerson Studios," he replied, feeling even more uncomfortable while wishing he had a more high-class place of employment.
"And what do you do there?"
Adam felt like tugging at the collar of his shirt, which was alarming, considering he was not normally the nervous type. "Well, I work in the recording studio. We mix audio for different things. Advertisements, announcements, training programs. And music, of course."
"I see. And are you a musician, then?"
Adam wasn't certain, but he sensed disappointment in her tone. His cheeks warmed and he took another drink. He already knew he didn't deserve someone of Stephen's stature, but he had tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on accepting whatever Stephen was willing to give him. In truth, their time together had already been more than he had ever expected. The fact that he wanted more had little bearing on the reality of the situation.
"Yes. I am," he replied. "I sing when I can."
Jolene sighed. Try though he might, Adam could not decipher it. Was it a sigh of regret? Disappointment? Annoyance? Her face was so blank he feared for anyone that would dare to play poker with her. "Do you think you could make me a cup of tea? My arthritis is acting up today and my hips aren't what they once were."
Adam blinked at her abrupt change in topic. He sensed a trap. "Certainly, although you might have to help me find everything. I have only been here once before."
"You have?"
The surprise in her tone drew his attention, but her features were still carefully guarded.
"Yes, um, Friday evening." He forced his mind away from the memory of their first encounter, although a pleasant warmth tickled his insides. He blurted, "Stephen cooked. And then last night we stayed at... I mean. We went to my place. For a while." A long while. Adam knew his face was flaming, so he said loudly, "So, tell me where he might keep a teapot."
"Hmmmm," she said enigmatically and then added, "The teapot is in the lower cupboard next to the stove."
Adam turned around gratefully and wrenched open the cabinet in order to bury his head for a moment. He heard the shower shut off and he mentally willed Stephen to hurry up and rescue him.
"Teapot," he muttered and stared blankly at the rows of silvery pots and pans.