extendedmetaphor | (no subject)

"Perhaps," echoed Irwin, feeling more and more himself, if only because he thought he could see a flicker of uncertainty on Dakin's face. "But then, we are both here. The subjunctive doesn't really apply, does it?"

"Not quite." Despite any uncertainty, Dakin ploughed on ahead, unwilling to quit. "Events are already in motion, whether we want them to be or not."

"And do you?" He couldn't believe he was asking. All he could think about was that day in his classroom before everything went to shit. "Want them?"

Dakin's smile was back, not quite as focused and particular as before, but present all the same. "Would I be here if I didn't?"

"Well, I don't know," said Irwin, tilting his head a little as he studied Dakin. "I think you might do things just to see what happens."

"Isn't that almost the same thing? Wanting to be here and wanting the result? It all comes down to a reaction in the end." He could tell that Irwin was studying him and he shifted slightly in his seat, knowing full well just how he looked and just how to take advantage of that fact without seeming like he was taking advantage.

Edited 2012-10-11 01:25 (UTC)

That was the thing; it was that Dakin was so knowing, so precise, and Irwin...he really didn't have any defenses for that. But it was beter than the first time. He wasn't as scared shitless, for a start.

He'd come around to the idea.

"Ah, but it isn't, is it? Not quite. Because the result could be so many different things and they'd all come from being here."

Dakin was getting bored. Not that he didn't usually enjoy that sort of dancing around the subject and wordplay, but he was beginning to wish they'd just get to the point.

"And what result do you want?"

And that was direct enough to make Irwin blush. He hated himself, just a little, for that.

"I want..." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have to know, at this point. It's...cruel to pretend that you don't."

"I know." Dakin nodded, stretching briefly in his seat. The blush was a nice sign of progress. "But specifics are good, aren't they? You heard what I want. Now I want to hear from you." He smiled.

He was powerless not to watch the stretch, the irrestistable pull of cotton up over Dakin's belly. Which wasn't helping. At all.

"Here?" He shook his head. "Not here."

Dakin nodded again, still smiling that same damned smile. "Here. No one will care. No one's even listening."

"I'll care," he protested, hating the way that Dakin made him feel fourteen again. He could sympathise with poor Posner. "I'm listening."

Dakin snickered at that, honestly amused by Irwin's answer, before leaning in a little closer again. "Are you serious? Are you really that embarrassed of yourself?"

If he was honest - if he was really, really honest - he liked it when Dakin leaned in like that. He liked the closeness of it and the danger and the possibility. Proximity.

"That embararassed by you, maybe. I've never known anyone so...forward."

"Yeah? That's a bit sad."

Or it meant that he had managed to blow away all of Irwin's acquaintances in terms of forwardness. It wasn't a bad thought. At least Irwin couldn't say that he was doing that wrong. "I'm still waiting for an answer."

"You're really going to make me do this, aren't you? This is a game to you."

He was amused though. Incredulous but amused. He lifted his drink, taking a sip to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.

"I'd be happy with gerund you were talking about," he said, finally. "Howsoever the details shook out."

"Good." Dakin leaned back abruptly, smiling as he took a long drink. "Was that really so hard to say?"

"Yes it bloody well was," said Irwin, amused despite himself. "You're a horror. You're getting a kick out of this, aren't you?"

Bastard. Horrible, gorgeous little bastard.

"Possibly," Dakin said, though the grin on his face readily revealed just how much he was enjoying himself. It had been ages since he had been able to have this sort of fun.

"Don't y have anything better to do?" He asked, willingly playing along now, for better or for worse. "Someone your own age perhaps? A girl, even."

"Does it matter?" The answer was no. Even back in Sheffield where he had Fiona (and probably could have had any other he wanted with very little effort) he'd still been more than a little obsessed with Irwin, with the idea of getting him to this point and beyond.

"Apparently not," said Irwin, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "But I'm sure you hated Hector for that part, so why mr? You never did say."

"Hector?" Dakin's grin lost a bit of its edge for a moment and he shook his head. Irwin would be the sort of person to bring that up in the middle of this. Couldn't he see the difference for himself? "This is nothing like that. It's different. You're different."

He hoped so. Dakin wasn't exactly passive here after all.

"On, God, " he said, without any real frustration. "I want you and there's something about that that makes me feel in real danger of being horrible."