(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

[extendedmetaphor]

"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."

[thesubjunctive]

"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.

[extendedmetaphor]

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."

[thesubjunctive]

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?"

[extendedmetaphor]

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."

[thesubjunctive]

"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.

[extendedmetaphor]

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."

[thesubjunctive]

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

[extendedmetaphor]

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

[thesubjunctive]

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?"

[extendedmetaphor]

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."

[thesubjunctive]

"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."

[extendedmetaphor]

"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."

[thesubjunctive]

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

[extendedmetaphor]

"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.

[thesubjunctive]

"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.

[extendedmetaphor]

"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."

[thesubjunctive]

"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.

[extendedmetaphor]

"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."

[thesubjunctive]

"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."

[extendedmetaphor]

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."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin really couldn't help being smug at that confession. Not that the knowledge was new or surprising, he'd known for ages that the older man wanted him, but at the fact that he had finally gotten him to say it. "Why? Are you worried someone will care you were my teacher?" He smirked. "Or are you that bad in bed?"

[extendedmetaphor]

He registered the smug and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His drink was almost finished and he knocked the rest of it back, setting the glass down.

"No," he said, shaking his head, managing a smile. "Never that."

[thesubjunctive]

"Glad to hear it," Dakin said, finishing his own drink in quick succession and rising from his seat. That had seemed like as much of an invitation to move on to the main event as anything he'd heard. "Care to give me a demonstration?"

[extendedmetaphor]

Well. There it was. No more prevarication, no more posturing. In or out. Do or die, so to speak. There must be poetry for this.

He nodded. He stood.

"Alright," he said.