saraid (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} saraid) wrote,@ 2006-10-30 18:45:00 |
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| Current mood: |  contemplative |
| Entry tags: | huang/goren |
The Adventures of Bobby & George
***
Bobby shifted again, this time backward. He laid his head back, eyes closing almost in spite of themselves. Though he knew sleep could be distancing behavior, George also knew his lover was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He made himself more comfortable on his side, knees drawn up, his head on the big chest. Sleepily Bobby lifted a hand to his back to keep him from leaving. A night-and-day difference from how he first responded to sleeping in close proximity to another person.
***
The first two dates were stilted, awkward affairs. He let Bobby choose where they had dinner the first time. The big man chose a family-style steakhouse, completely disrupting George’s expectations.
Inside it was noisy with children and clattering dishes. They tried to make conversation.
“Tell me about your family,” Bobby said after they ordered. He’d chosen a basic steak-and-baked-potato combination; George had opted for what he hoped would be an edible Cobb salad.
“The usual, I suppose,” George raised his voice to be heard. Though they had been sat in a back section of the very large restaurant, they were the only pair of men eating together among the families and couples. He felt slightly out-of-place in his suit, and could tell Bobby did as well. Goren was sitting quite straight, his body canted to the right, the direction he always seemed to choose. George reached for the bread, which was on Bobby’s side of the table.
“Did any of them spend any time in the camps during the war?” Bobby pushed the bread closer, but George’s hand stopped as he reached for it. He dropped it to the table and gave his head a slight shake, then covered his mouth to cover his expression.
“Ah. I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” Bobby looked away, not the first or last time George would see this mannerism. The bigger man put his hands in his lap. “Perhaps you should guide the conversation.”
“No, you’re doing fine. I just need to catch up,” George chuckled. “Yes, both of my parents and several of my aunts and uncles, even a couple of cousins were guests of the government for several years.”
“Have they overcome the experience?” George could see what Bobby was asking now. He buttered a piece of the dry bread, chewed on it slowly as he drank weak tea.
“They have moved past it, and prospered. My mother became an elementary school math teacher and my father does computer-aided drafting now. He studied to be an architect when he was young, but that was interrupted. I don’t think he’s bitter.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“An older brother, who *is* an architect, and two younger sisters. One is a pediatrician and and the youngest, whom I’m closest to, got married instead of going to college. But she was forgiven because she provided my parents with grandchildren quickly.”
“What are their names?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“No,” Bobby gave him a sad smile, almost sweet. He hadn’t moved since his perceived faux pas minutes ago. “I won’t.”
“Their English wasn’t very good when they picked out the names for their children. They did it while they were confined. They wanted to keep it simple, and my father had a fondness for the name Gerald…”
“So you all have names beginning with ‘G’. That’s not so bad.”
The waitress came back with their food, confusing the order, giving George Bobby’s steak and Bobby his salad. They exchanged with a minimum of fuss, but George saw Bobby watching as he began to eat.
“You should have told me you’re a vegetarian,” he said softly. George looked up.
All of the food on Bobby’s plate had been carefully separated so it didn’t touch any of the other, and he was using bread to clean the areas in between.
“It’s not important. I can eat off any menu.”
“I couldn’t have chosen a worse place.” Bobby’s head swung back and forth a bit. He was clearly agitated.
“Careful, or I’ll start to think this is important to you.” George teased, wanting to let him off the hook. Lighten the mood. He speared a forkful of eggs and cheese and spinach. It didn’t look too bad.
In apparent reaction to his words Bobby set his silverware down, neatly to the sides of his plate, and put his hands flat on the table. He leaned in a little bit, and George was struck by the force of personality in his vibrant eyes.
“I –“ Bobby seemed at a loss for words. The sudden tension in him, the way his body lifted from the seat, and George was suddenly aware that his date was seriously considering getting up and leaving. “You don’t know I am?”
“Yes, Bobby, I do. Of course I do.” Damn the location, George reached over and covered one of Bobby’s hands with his own. He leaned over the table and put the other on Bobby’s shoulder, feeling, for the first time, the firmness of muscle and the fineness of the material of his suit. “I apologize for – making light of your effort.”
“I’m not going to be eating anymore,” Bobby said slowly, easing down. George glanced around, always on the lookout for possible confrontation. Being gay and small, he’d been careful the way he had to be.
There was a man two tables over looking their way and standing up.
“Just sit a minute, alright?” he asked Bobby, and there must have been something in his voice, because Bobby sat up all the way, and looked past his shoulder. George started to turn his head, but Bobby gripped his hand gently, and tugged on it.
“Finish your meal, George,” he said, and there was that smile again. From it George could tell that Bobby believed he had failed at something.
He kept hold of George’s hand even when two shadows came up beside them. It was all George could do to keep his hand from shaking when he picked up his fork again.
“May I help you gentlemen?” Bobby asked, and it was all politeness, with an edge of not-so-well-hidden teeth that George had never heard before. He knew than man had a reputation for getting confessions, for getting people to trust him, and for frightening the scariest of perpetrators – which even Elliot Stabler couldn’t do – but George had never heard him like this before. Yes, it turned him on.
“We couldn’t help but notice you two were sort of, well, make a bit of a public display over here,” one of them said, almost diplomatically.
“I’m sorry,” Bobby said. He wrapped his hand around George’s, engulfing it completely. It felt very, very nice. “I’ve left my politically correct dictionary at the office. Perhaps you could define ‘public display’ for me? First we’d have to compare educations, of course, to decide which of our definitions had the most merit, and I’m afraid Dr. Haung here probably has us all beat with his PhD.”
“Bobby!” George spluttered and reached for his glass with his free hand. *That* had definitely not been what he’d expected. After he’d taken a couple of seconds to clear his throat, he dared look up at their tormentors.
They looked like everyday folk, for the most part. One in jeans, one in less-worn Dockers. One was in his fifties; one was maybe in his thirties. Protecting their wives and children from perversion.
“You don’t have to make such a big deal of it. Keep it at home, like, where the rest of us don’t see it, is all.” The older one said. The younger looked angry, his face turning red.
“Ah, so your children can grow up and accost complete strangers during dinner for holding hands. What a good idea.” Bobby glanced at George, who picked up his fork again.
He had the game plan now. It wasn’t one he’d used before. Ignoring them seldom worked when you were Asian, slightly built and 5’9”.
“If you’ll excuse me, my food’s getting cold,” Bobby gave them his best blank police smile, and picked up his own fork. He took a bite of his potato, and looked across at George.
The two men were still standing there, apparently unsure of how to deal with the situation.
“I’m glad I came out with you tonight,“ Bobby told George.
George laughed.
“You can’t just ignore us like we’re nobody!” the younger man’s voice raised. A few people looked over to see what was happening, but there were only a half dozen tables in the secluded area.
Bobby barely glanced at him. “I’m sure you’re someone in your life, but you’re not anyone in mine. People like you come and go and we’re still here. Nothing changes except more people are on our side than ever.”
“Perhaps you might choose not to shout,” George spoke very softly. He didn’t want to aggravate the situation. “You’re beginning to frighten the children.”
And, indeed, several small children at nearby tables were starting to cry. Other parents were looking their way with angry glances.
“I don’t care – I hate fags and I don’t care who knows it!”
“Then don’t smoke,” Bobby smirked. George gave his hand a tug; don’t tease the animals.
“We just tried to have a peaceful word with you –“ the older man started, grabbing at the younger. “If you don’t want to listen –“
“Yes, yes, I know, death and destruction, I know,” Bobby said with a long-suffering sigh. “I could arrest you just for the threat, but I’m on a date and I don’ think that’s proper date behavior. Unless, of course, your date is an FBI Agent…” he looked at George, almost hopefully.
“Not tonight, Bobby,” George answered with a smile. “I was looking forward to you walking me home.”
“You’re not a cop, cops can’t be fags, stupid fuckin’ fags…” the younger man was still muttering while the other got him back to their table. George waited, but Bobby didn’t let go of his hand.
He gave it an experimental tug, and Bobby looked up from his plate, which he’d been studying intently. “Do you want that back?”
“Not if you want to keep it.”
“I like it where it is.”
“So you didn’t do it for –" George nodded toward the other table, which was gathering up to leave.
“I think we had this conversation just a little while ago.”
“Oh,” George said, a bit stupidly. “Good. I really like that.”
“So I haven’t frightened you off yet?” Bobby was looking down at his plate again.
“You’ve displayed a sense of humor I wasn’t expecting. I’m thrilled to see *that*. You handle confrontation outside work with skill I wouldn’t have expected.”
“I thought you weren’t studying me.” Bobby pushed his plate away, apparently finished with it. He hadn’t eaten much, just most of the potato and some of the broccoli.
To his surprise, George had eaten almost all of the salad. “I’m allowed to comment on behavior I witness,” George said, perhaps just slightly defensively.
Bobby looked doubtful. “Okay.”
“Want to get out of here?” George asked.
“You get enough to eat?” Bobby stood.
“More than you.”
Bobby shrugged. “Confrontation puts my appetite off.”
“Confrontation with me or the confrontation with those guys?”
“Confrontation,” Bobby shrugged. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you.” He came around to pull out George’s chair.
“Please stop apologizing. Everything is fine. We’re making progress. Getting to know one another. This is the way these things work.”
“If you say so,” Bobby said, smiling again. It was happier now, he held out George’s coat.
“So tell me the your sisters' names. Did they fare better than Gerald and George? I won’t ask the middle names, I can tell from your earlier expression that’s not a good idea.”
They paid the bill, Dutch, though George wanted to pay since he had asked, but Bobby insisted, and then stepped outside. It was beginning to get cold.
“Taxi?” Bobby asked.
“I really did want to walk a bit. I enjoy walking,” George answered honestly.
“Then you shall have a very large bodyguard,” Bobby replied with a sweep of his arm. The movement wasn’t graceful the way some men might have made it and George couldn’t quite tell why, but he decided it didn’t matter; it was just part of being Bobby.
The larger man put himself on the inside, where the worst of the predators lurked in the city and they walked a block in silence.
“Gabby,” George said suddenly, remembering. “Gabrielle. And Gail. Pretty good names, I think. If I ever have the chance to have a daughter I would name her after my sister Gail.”
“Why?” Their hands were both tucked into pockets, but George brought out the one closest to Bobby and let it swing.
“Because for almost five years she was the only member of my family that spoke to me.”
Bobby didn’t say anything, but he did take George’s hand. And he held it as they walked six more blocks, as they walked around people, singles and groups and couples, some who stared and some who didn’t seem to notice.
He held it until it got late enough and they got cold enough to give in and take a taxi. Bobby insisted on dropping George off first, even though Bobby’s place was closer.
When the cab pulled up Bobby asked the driver to wait, and then got out and ran around to grab the door just as George stepped out of it.
“You’re an old-fashioned gentlemen, aren’t you?” George teased gently.
Bobby shrugged. “It got my foot in the door.”
“You don’t have to do it to impress me. I’m not a delicate Asian flower or conservative American woman. I don’t need it.”
“Do you like it?” Bobby asked, the door between them, his hands on the top of it and going red from the cold. George had to take a minute to think about it.
“A little goes a long way.” He offered with a smile.
“Ah.”
George couldn’t tell what that meant. “I do like it. I don’t want you to feel obligated to it, and I don’t want to start feeling feminine.”
“Okay.” Bobby paused, then nodded. “Thank you for explaining.”
George waited another minute, then asked the big question.
“Do you want to come up?”
Bobby took a step back, his head shaking no automatically.
“I’m sorry, I’m not – ready.”
“It’s okay.” George stepped around the door and closed it, they were out in the street now, hardly any traffic. “Bobby, It’s okay. There’s no timetable.”
“I feel like I’m letting you down.”
“I know you do, and I know why you do.”
The big man stood in the street, heat rising off his clothing in the cold, head bowed, hands stuffed in is pockets. Dejected, but bearing it upon those wide, strong shoulders.
George moved a couple of steps closer, hands in his own pockets. “Do you feel like you’re letting yourself down?”
A low voice, tight with emotion, answered. “I don’t know how I could do that. As relationships go – there’s no place to go but up.”
George caught a breath, but this wasn’t the time or place to broach the subject of Bobby Goren’s rock-bottom self-image. It might not even be his place.
It still hurt, to hear the pain in Bobby’s voice. To see it on his face.
“Do you believe me when I say everything’s going fine and I’m enjoying our time together more than I’ve enjoyed anything in a very long time?”
Bobby glanced up. “You wouldn’t lie to me.”
“That’s right,” George said, relieved. “I won’t ever lie to you.”
“Then I believe you.’
“Then I think it’s time to say goodnight, Bobby.”
“Goodnight, Bobby.” A cocked head and the hint of a smile.
George chuckled as he went around the cab, the driver looking bored, and up his stairs. He was just unlocking the door when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned in time to see Bobby take the last three in a bound. Startled, George spread his arms for balance, and Bobby took that as an invitation, taking him into an embrace.
He held George for a minute, his body stiff, his face close to George’s neck. He inhaled deeply; George felt his chest swell though they weren’t that close. When Bobby let out the breath it was slow and heated by his body. George shivered.
“I just wanted you to know,” Bobby whispered, in the general vicinity of George’s ear, “That I’m having a very good time with you. Even if I am screwing it up, I, too, am enjoying our time together.”
He started to pull away, but George held on, ducking his head and moving in at just the right moment to bring their lips together. Bobby froze, and then he relaxed further into the embrace.
The kiss was soft and chaste, just lips moving, noses touching. It was followed by another and then a third before Bobby pulled away reluctantly, and George let him go.
“Goodnight, George. Thank you for a lovely evening,” Bobby said, one hand drifted up to touch the side of George’s face.
“The same to you, Bobby.” George knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t stop. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“I look forward to it.”
With a whirl of coat, Bobby was gone, back into the cab. Though it waited at the curb until George was safely inside, the windows were too dark for him to tell if Bobby was watching. He chose to believe he was, and so gave a small wave as he entered his townhouse, to fall into bed far too late for all the right reasons.
***
The townhouse was quiet. George allowed himself the opportunity to look around, to study it. This was their place: haven, sanctuary, *home*. He knew, without having been told, that this was the first place Bobby had ever felt safe. The first place he’d felt like he belonged.
Their lives were so busy, with hardly a moment left to breathe some weeks – he cherished the time, time like this, when they could just sit and be together. Yes, together with Bobby’s demons, but every day they became more manageable.
It was more than he’d thought they would have together. In the beginning it had been so difficult to work around them.
***
