(no subject)

[extendedmetaphor]

Or, perhaps, somewhere, they did go for that drink.

There was a lot that Irwin was still trying to adjust to. The weather, for a start. The lack of palpable history is disconcerting. He's refusing to address the dinosaurs.
And then there's Dakin. Of course, there's Dakin. Inevitably. Irwin might have been the only one who was actually surprised.

They skirted around it for a few weeks but, in the end, it just felt inevitable. That he'd find himself waiting for Dakin with a drink in front of him.
It was just a drink. And everything would be fine.

Comments

[thesubjunctive]

It was just a drink.

Though that, of course, depended on whether or not you went in for euphemisms. Dakin quite liked verbal fig leaves and and for him that single drink could mean a great many things.

To ensure that at least one of them happened, he had prepared a lot. From the highly impractical for the heat leather jacket to his hair to his jeans, everything had to be right. Scripps had mocked the whole process mercilessly, but it was like a soldier preparing for battle, really. He had to be thorough for his best chance at an eventual victory.

By the time he appeared at Irwin's side, ordering his drink with a casual smile at the bartender, Dakin felt about as fucking prepared as he'd ever been in his life.

[extendedmetaphor]

And, as ever, Poland knew that something was up.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Irwin picked up his glass and took a sip of his drink, glancing at Dakin rather than looking at him directly. It all still felt rather...illicit, even though they were nothing to each other now, not teacher not pupil.

Free of that, really.

[thesubjunctive]

That illicit feeling hadn't left Dakin yet either, but he reveled in it. The thrill of it actually happening, of something forbidden, even if it technically wasn't forbidden anymore. He'd been missing some excitement in his life.

"I almost didn't think you'd show," he finally said, having let the silence stretch until it was almost uncomfortable, waiting until he had his own drink in front of him.

[extendedmetaphor]

"Is that what you think of me?" asked Irwin, managing to sound light, to sound amused, even if there's something churning in his stomach. At least in a classroom there had been some hope of controlling Dakin; there were boundaries, and rules.

Here, Irwin didn't know what chance he stood. Looking at Dakin, leather across his shoulders and the stretch of cotton across his chest, Irwin didn't feel like he stood a chance at all.

"I think I may be insulted."

[thesubjunctive]

"Really?" Dakin smiled, taking a sip of his drink, utterly confident. This would be easy. "You showed up though, didn't you? So what's the point of dwelling on the subjunctive?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"Ah, but you like the subjunctive," pointed out Irwin, leaning back in his chair a little - he refused to be put on the back foot this early. "It makes anything possible."

[thesubjunctive]

"Including your not coming and no drinks?" He shook his head, smile turning a bit more smirk like. "Maybe that's a possibility I'd rather not think about right now."

[extendedmetaphor]

"Well I did come, and there are drinks," said Irwin, pretending for all he's worth with that he was immune to that smirk. He wished he was. "So it's a start, at least?"

[thesubjunctive]

"A start," he admitted. It was very definitely only a start though and he was determined to see the whole thing through to the very end. He'd waited too long and put in too much effort not to.

[extendedmetaphor]

The thing was: Tom Irwin had never really been a brave man. Yes, he had bravado and, yes, he can lie with the best of them, but this? Wasn't that. Not at all.

"And what else do you think is going to happen?" he asked, trying to sound brave, at least. "Because I'm sure you've thought it through since the last time we had this conversation."

He was an idiot. He was such an idiot. But, God. He wanted to know.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin let the look in his eyes answer that question as he took a nice, long drink, licking his lips as he finished. Honestly, his imagination hadn't gone much further than the sucking off, which had usually been more than sufficient for a decent wank. Why go further? After all, that was the stated objective.

[extendedmetaphor]

Oh, Christ. Irwin had seen that look before, as it happened and on Dakin's face, too. Right before the word gerund rather suddenly entered the conversation.

Irwin cleared his throat.

"Or it could just be a drin."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin shrugged, the look in his eyes barely diminishing. "It could. But that's denying a whole slew of possibilities. Some things don't deserve to stay subjunctive forever."

[extendedmetaphor]

"It's probably safer if they do, though," said Irwin, taking another sip of his drink and then leaning back in the chair, arms folded across his chest. "Things have a way of getting out of hand."

[thesubjunctive]

"Yeah?" Dakin leaned in a little closer as the older man leaned back. He was a master of invading personal space and knew just how far to go for the moment. "Don't know until you try it though. Or are you basing this on historical precedent?"

[extendedmetaphor]

He was intensely, acutely aware of how close Dakin was to him, just then. God, he hoped he didn't blush.

"History is doomed to repeat itself," he said. "How did Rudge put it?" His eyebrow lifted. "One fucking thing after another."

[thesubjunctive]

"Only once someone does something about it." He inched just the slightest bit closer. "Someone has to started something. Cause a reaction."

[extendedmetaphor]

"See, that sounds very like chemistry," he said, and he refused to pull away. "Not my area of expertise."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin stopped his leaning forward, content to just sit smugly where he was. "So history isn't cause and effect, then? Choices and events and reactions to them?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"That's very glib," said Irwin, not leaning back anymore, staying where he was, even though there wasn't much space between them. "Even for you. You can do better."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin's eyes narrowed a bit at the 'you can do better' and he sat back somewhat. He'd thought he'd been doing quite well up until then. "Is there a problem with glib? This is a bloody bar, not the examination for Oxford."

[extendedmetaphor]

"Yes, I can see it's a bloody bar," said Irwin, feeling a little bit better, a little more in his element. "And glib might serve you very, very well most of the time. But not here. Glib's not interesting. Glib's...expected."

[thesubjunctive]

Expected. Fucking expected. He had not spent all his time and energy on this for Irwin to critique it like another essay on the reformation.

"So what would be interesting and unexpected?"

[extendedmetaphor]

He'd seen that sulky look before and, of course, it followed that it would look so bloody attractive on Dakin's face.

"Well, it wouldn't be either if I told you, would it?"

[thesubjunctive]

"Perhaps." Dakin shrugged and took a sip of his drink, trying to look as if he could have cared less whether or not the other man was interested or not, though nothing could be farther from the truth. If only the bar allowed smoking. Nonchalance was so much easier with a cigarette.