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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 20, 2011 22:56:51 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
Bill turned the key in his ignition, hearing and feeling the roar of his motorcycle slow to a stop. He took a deep breath before dismounting. He'd need patience. He'd need bravery. He'd need humility. Essentially, he needed to be Jesus with a six string. He needed to apologise to Lucian Michaud.
He stepped up the porch stairs carefully, guitar slung over his shoulder.
He pounded on the door, praying that he answered, that Ashton wasn't home, that Lucian would listen.
He took in a deep, shaking breath and waited, his heart leaping around like a restless bird in against his ribcage. So this was what feeling nervous felt like. It was a sickening feeling, really, knowing that his honesty, his taking the high road could all back fire. That would make family get-togethers awkward, that was certain. Bill shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, and cautiously tapped on the wooded door once more.
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 23, 2011 22:05:04 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
There were few textures sweeter than that of a guitar in your hands. Lucian had forgotten what it felt like to grip the neck of his J-45 Gibson, pressing down on the sharp strings, and tuning the knobs with practiced hands. It had been just shy of a year since Lucian last played his guitar; since his almost-first-kiss with Ashton last November. The guitar had been, since then, a symbol of both boundary and the forbidden. Lucian, who was seldom suspicious, had seen it as a bad totem. Touching it meant the gossamer strands of an affair that he and Ashton had would snap. But now that there was a little gold tether around her finger, linking her to him, now that they were free to love without shame, and now that Lucian rid himself of that foolish notion, the guitar was out and in sore need of a tune-up.
After all, it would soon be employed to play lullabies every night. There was no way Lucian and Ashton’s son was going to grow up with a tin ear.
Lucian strummed out a repetitive melody, until he actually liked the sound. A fond smile stretched his lips taut. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed this. Watching Ashton play piano had rekindled his desire to make music. He did his best not think of other memories hidden in the instrument. Not of failing to serenade Natalie in college. Not of six year old Damien appliqueing felt cutouts to the back so that Lucian had to have them professionally removed. Not of teaching teenaged Bill to play. Not of Ashton singing “Baby It’s Cold Outside” to him in Wiltshire—
Actually, that one could stay.
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 24, 2011 9:14:10 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
Bill couldn't say he disappointed when Ashton opened the door. Though she still left a raw part of him sore, they were incredibly civil towards each other (no doubt for Damien's sake) and she was incredibly adorable. He found it unfair that Lucian, a man reaching the last five years of him prime could make her fall in love with him and Bill still struggled with the heartbreak from Victorine and the growing, but forbidden and confusing attraction with Madeleine.
"Bill! Hi! You're not at all what I was expecting!" Ashton said in that trill sort of voice that would put birds to shame and reminded him not to envy Lucian for waking up to that every morning.
"What were you expecting?" Bill asked a bit dryly. He wouldn't of minded striking up conversation with her, she could actual be quite a good conversationalist, but right now, he just wanted in to apologise. And being pleasant with Ashton was his way in.
"My sister's sending me a parcel of some kind. So I was expecting a man in white with a stylus."
"Huh." Bill said. "That's kind of her."
"Yeah. Anyway, what is you need? Is Damien okay?"
"Uh, yeah. Damien's great," Bill said, rubbing absently at a spot on his ear lobe. "He's visiting someone at the hospital. But, actually, I need to speak with your..." Bill didn't know exactly what to call him. Lover? Boyfriend? Baby or Sugar Daddy? "Lucian. I need to speak with Lucian."
"Oh, sure! Definitely, he's right up stairs."
Bill entered the Michaud home, which, like the last one, screamed of affluence and excreted some permeating scent that belonged in a Fabreeze bottle.
He followed the sound of the gentle strumming with Ashton and found Lucian.
"Bill's here. He wants to talk to you, sweetheart." Ashton said, placing a hand on his shoulders and a gentle kiss on his head before disappearing around the corner.
"Mr. Michaud?" Bill said cautiously. He no longer felt like the man who hated him in response to protecting his best friend. He was no longer Bill the young man who met Lucian up for coffee. Bill suddenly felt like his teenage self, plucking thorns from his hands and arms, apologising for crashing his bike into Lucian's front rose bushes. But this apology was far greater than that. Bill felt his eyes sting as he became reaware of the six strong on his leather clad back. "I.." he cleared his throat. "How are you, sir?"
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 24, 2011 10:54:44 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
The twang gave way to music slowly and the strings bit into Lucian’s fingers, which had gone soft in recent months. If he played for too long, they’d bleed. It was like the guitar was exacting its revenge for Lucian’s neglect. He half-smiled at the thought. If anything, Lucian deserved to work for those calluses again. After a few moments—Lucian wasn’t sure how long—Ashton’s hand pressed gently against Lucian’s shoulder. He stopped playing and looked up at his fiancée with a lopsided smile. She moved so quietly, Lucian hadn’t heard her.
"Bill's here,” said Ashton before Lucian could say anything. “He wants to talk to you, sweetheart."
Even as Ashton pressed a kiss to Lucian’s forehead, he couldn’t help but frown a little bit. He wished she would stay with him, but Ashton seemed keen on leaving, which was just as well. William MaCarthy had some nerve, coming here today. Their last conversation had been hallmarked by unusual hostility from the younger man. He’d accused Lucian of being a bad father and lover, of ruining both Damien and Ashton’s lives. In fairness, under a different set of circumstances, Bill would have been right. But now, Lucian wondered how the younger man regarded the situation, knowing that Damien was gay and that Ashton and Lucian had plans to start a family.
"Mr. Michaud?" said Bill tentatively. Lucian studied him silently. He seemed more nervous than Lucian had seen him in years. "I.." he cleared his throat. "How are you, sir?"
Lucian smiled thinly.
“I’m well, thank you,” he said, a little too formally. “I assume Damien’s told you everything, and if not, then surely Ashton did when she answered the door. How are you?”
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 24, 2011 11:13:05 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
“I’m well, thank you. I assume Damien’s told you everything, and if not, then surely Ashton did when she answered the door. How are you?”
Bill knew. Damien was a talkative man and Bill was his best friend. It only made sense that Damien would spill everything to him. In fact, on the days Damien kicked Lucian and Ashton out so he could work on the nursery, he recruited Bill to help. There was no way one man could finish this entire lavish project, especially when started so late in the pregnancy, by himself. So Bill put his hands to work to help transform the guest room into an comfortable and stimulating place for Lucian and Ashton's infant son.
"I'm fine." That was a lie. "And congratulations both on your engagement and your son. The new one, I mean. Not Damien. I mean, Damien's great. He's my best mate. But he's not new." Bill didn't know why he was stumbling so much. He was usually far more eloquent, far more succinct than this. "What I mean is that's really great. I'm happy for you." Bill smiled. "You must be excited."
Bill shuffled his feet awkwardly, his fingers rubbing to and fro on the back of his neck.
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 24, 2011 18:27:44 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
The guitar still hung from its strap around Lucian’s neck and shoulders. It felt like a noose, pulling him down, tightening as he tried to sit comfortably. Perhaps it was his guilty conscious reminding him that he wasn’t as innocent as he pretended to be in the fall out with Bill. Lucian felt this nagging feeling of apology in his chest, telling him that this was the boy he’d taught to play guitar and the man who had taken Damien in when he moved to Paris. Bill was a good man. He meant well, even at his nastiest.
"I'm fine," said Bill. "And congratulations both on your engagement and your son. The new one, I mean. Not Damien. I mean, Damien's great. He's my best mate. But he's not new." Bill didn't know why he was stumbling so much. He was usually far more eloquent, far more succinct than this. "What I mean is that's really great. I'm happy for you." Bill smiled. "You must be excited."
“Yes, we are…” Lucian said, distractedly. He was now looking just beyond Bill, to the six-string strapped to the younger man’s back. That must have weighed down on him a bit. “Do you want to sit? I’ll draw you up a chair.”
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 24, 2011 19:14:29 GMT -6
William MaCarthy
“Yes, we are… Do you want to sit? I’ll draw you up a chair.”
Bill tried to smile and shook his curly head. "Thank you, but no. I'm fine. I need to stand for this."
That was possibly the most moronic thing Bill had said in forever. It wasn't a prerequisite for apologising to remain standing. But it made Bill feel grounded, in more control of his reactions and words (and if he sounded this way now, sitting down would be detrimental to his composure-- it would fall apart entirely).
"Mr. Michaud," he started, his voice shallow from lack of breath. "I... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I let my defence of Damien ruin our relationship. I'm sorry I accused you of being a bad father and person in general. I'm sorry I sometimes dreamed of punching you in the face. I just..." Bill sighed. "I'm sorry. For everything."
Bill looked away from the gaze he held with Lucian and blinked down at his shoes. He cleared his throat. "So, um, I've said my piece. I'll just go now. I'm sure you don't want to see me any more, or rather, in the first place and I don't blame you."
Head hung low, Bill turned around to leave. He felt naked, stripped of his pride and dignity. He began a slow walk to the descending steps, guitar pushing against his back as if it was ushering him out.
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 24, 2011 22:44:23 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
Bill declined a seat. Lucian stared at him, a little dumbfounded. He “needed” to stand? Lucian couldn’t imagine what for, but didn’t say as much. Instead, he tilted his head and half-smiled as if Bill’s statement was the most normal thing he’d ever heard a person say.
"Mr. Michaud," Bill rasped. "I... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I let my defence of Damien ruin our relationship. I'm sorry I accused you of being a bad father and person in general. I'm sorry I sometimes dreamed of punching you in the face. I just..." Bill sighed. "I'm sorry. For everything."
Lucian’s face softened. He didn’t bother trying to hide his shock or his gratitude in that moment. In many ways, Bill might as well have been Lucian’s own son. He’d grown up right alongside Damien, was at the house just as much, and made Lucian feel a not-quite-comparable-to-Damien-but-still-strong surge of pride. He’d also been one of the few people who had the power to cut him with accusations. His apology left Lucian at a loss for words.
"So, um, I've said my piece. I'll just go now. I'm sure you don't want to see me any more, or rather, in the first place and I don't blame you." Bill began walking for the door.
“William!” Lucian called out, voice a little more pleading than commanding. It surprised him, made him clear his throat. There was a pregnant pause as Bill stopped walking and waited for Lucian to speak. Then, smiling almost apologetically, Lucian said, “I’ve been having a hell of a time tuning this old thing. Why don’t you stay? We can play a few chords or something. I see you’ve brought your own…”
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 24, 2011 23:03:37 GMT -6
William Macarthy
“William!” Lucian cried out and Bill froze like a puppy being scolded for making a mess, shuddering to a stand still. He was in for it now. He knew it. Bill turned around slowly, but was surprised to be confronted by a soft smile. And Bill, confused, returned it.
“I’ve been having a hell of a time tuning this old thing. Why don’t you stay? We can play a few chords or something. I see you’ve brought your own...?"
Bill's half-hearted smile broke into a full grin. He suddenly felt like the teenage boy who went to Damien's house after school and sat for an hour learning guitar after all his homework was finished. "Yeah, Mr. Michaud! I'd love to!"
OoC: Fin. BiC:
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 25, 2011 0:00:56 GMT -6
OoC: New scene!! BiC:
Ashton Greene
For the past five months, at least one book had always on Ashton's person at any given time. They all told her one thing or another about what to expect when she was expecting, how to make planning a wedding easy, or when the "right time" was to switch from breast to bottle feeding. Ashton hadn't been a particularly avid reader, especially not in recent years. She had a few favourites from childhood, mainly fantastical and imaginative, but as each year passed, reading seemed less and less important than it had in the year before it. But now, in a need to be prepared, in a craving for knowledge (along with "cow burgers" as she called them), she always had a book on hand.
Today, the books were piled high on the dining room table and Ashton scribbled frantic notes, jotted down need to know facts about delivery, and pencilled in ideas she needed to run by Lucian for their wedding.
Today, Gregory had his foot wedged somewhere in Ashton's rib and she was certain there was a chapter about that in one the books (as she recalled, the cover was red). He wriggled around in way that seemed to harshly contrast against the pattern of her writing the way magnets repelled each other or the way a half-step intonation would feel if it was a tangible movement. She blew her lips out and rested her head on the table. If her son didn't settle down and remove his foot from her gut, this was gong to be a long day.
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 25, 2011 0:21:22 GMT -6
Lucian MichaudIt was a bitterly cold September day. Clouds threatened the skies and the wind blew away summer’s warmth. Lucian would know. He had spent much of his day outside, tending to the minimal garden he and Ashton had out back. Essentially, the chore was a mind-numbing combination of watering the plants and kicking at weed-infested clumps of dirt, shaking the offensive plants from their roots and telling himself he’d pick them up later or hire someone to do it for him. Yard-work may have been a “manly” task, but there were some things Lucian didn’t mind foisting onto someone with a better back and a fondness for horticulture. Besides, when the rain started to come down, there was no way Lucian could justify staying outside to do half-arsed gardening. He rushed back inside after a thunderclap shook the mid-afternoon sky, reaching the door just as torrents of grey finished his watering job for him. Lucian peered out the back window and shook his head. He always picked the worst days to tackle outdoors chores. He kicked off his muddy shoes and slid out of his socks, stuffing them in the shoes to be taken care of later. The house was cozy; comforting compared to the courtyard. Almost a year ago, it was just an empty space, devoid of life. Now, it was home. Lucian wandered to the living room in search of Ashton. He found her at the dining table, head down and crumpled in defeat of sorts. She paid him no mind, which was just as well. She looked like she could use a surprise of sorts. Besides, it was a rainy day. Days like today were made for innovation to overcome the gloom. Lucian sauntered up behind her, rubbing her shoulders and bending to kiss the back of Ashton’s neck. Tendrils of blonde hair clung to its nape and tickled Lucian’s lips. He smiled against her skin and murmured softly. “You look like you could use a break, my darling,” he told her. “What can I do?”
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 25, 2011 0:43:30 GMT -6
Ashton Greene
Outside, it began to rain and thunder roared violently. But Ashton hardly heard it above her brain-dead murmurs of defeat. Today was a day where sleeping, even when you weren't tired, seemed to be the only stimulation available. Which was why she and Lucian were both busy at work.
But something pleasant and wet made contact with the back of her neck and Ashton looked around. There was Lucian, hair and jacket wet and looking handsomely dishevelled.
“You look like you could use a break, my darling. What can I do?”
"My hero!" Ashton said, kissing Lucian before pushing aside books and papers to clear a spot for him. "I'm looking at venues for the wedding and the reception and writing down the numbers of possible contenders so that we can ring them tomorrow. And I'm looking at caterers, doing the same for them. This is so exciting. And-" Ashton felt her heart skip a beat and she gave gasp. Gregory was at it again, banging away as if Ashton's innards were his own personal drum set, her bladder his trampoline. She rested a hand on her rotund stomach and sighed, half exasperated, half contented. She reached for Lucian's hand and squeezed gently as another feisty kick came. It wasn't usually painful, just surprising, but today, Gregory whittled his way into crevices Ashton typically forgot existed inside of her.
She waited for their son to reposition himself, to finally be settled before speaking again. "Like I was saying... If you can tackle the venues, I'll tackle catering."
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 25, 2011 11:54:49 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
"My hero!" Ashton exclaimed, whirling around to kiss him.
Lucian smiled, even as Ashton pulled away. She shoved all of her books and papers to the side, indicating for him to sit in the chair opposite her. And then the smile started to wane.
"I'm looking at venues for the wedding and the reception and writing down the numbers of possible contenders so that we can ring them tomorrow. And I'm looking at caterers, doing the same for them. This is so exciting. And-"
Ashton paused, gasping a little. Lucian twitched forward instinctively to check on her. But she regained her composure. The way Gregory moved around made the pregnancy difficult, or at the very least, mildly inconvenient. Lucian could scarcely recall a night where Ashton got a full eight hours.
"Like I was saying... If you can tackle the venues, I'll tackle catering."
It wasn’t that planning the wedding was unimportant to Lucian, but the idea of being married to Ashton was vastly more appealing than the ceremony part. He also found the idea of a romantic afternoon entwined with Ashton more appealing than calling the venues. Still, however glum he felt, Lucian smiled.
“Certainly,” he said. “Let me get my computer.”
A few minutes later, Lucian sat next to Ashton, squinting at his computer screen and pretending to focus on various five star hotels and reception halls in the city. He clicked through images, copying and pasting the names into a word document, and could slowly feel his brain cells die of boredom. Every so often, he stole a glance at Ashton, until finally, he decided just to stare at his beautiful bride to be.
In the grey light, there were weary looking shadows cast on her young face. They accentuated the sleeplessness beneath her hazel eyes and even if she’d bothered with layers of makeup, cosmetics couldn’t hid the stiffness in her neck from sitting here, trying to get comfortable against the flurry of Gregory’s movements. Lucian felt a little sorry for her, tackling wedding preparation and pregnancy at the same time.
Also, awed.
Ashton didn’t gripe or complain, but instead took on each new day with enthusiasm. Perhaps it was because she was young, but Lucian couldn’t help but think it was just a character trait of hers—one that would last in years to come. He didn’t know how she did it or why, but he loved her for it. His eyes trailed to her lips, scrunched up in concentration and looking delectable. He stared at them unabashedly, wanting them and her. His hands rested on the keyboard, unmoving and aching to hold Ashton. A little, secret part of Lucian had worried that, over time, they would lose their luster. The appeal of their love affair would evaporate when combined with marriage and children and age. After all, everyone else seemed to go a bit duller after a time. People got lazy, complacent, in their marriages. But looking at Ashton, watching her and wanting her now, Lucian got a gut-deep feeling telling him that all those other things that wore people down would only make life with Ashton that much more wonderful.
And as long as that was true, the passion would still be there.
“I’ve found four,” he said, his voice quiet and breathing surprisingly shallow. “That should be enough. Are you ready for a break now?”
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Post by Lets_Eat_Paste on Sept 25, 2011 12:50:58 GMT -6
Ashton Greene
Lucian was so great, always willing to do whatever Ashton asked or needed him to. Although being that spoiled by him was nice, that wasn't what was so appealing to her-- it was knowing that he loved her enough to do anything for her. And she looked forward to the rest of a lifetime having that reassurance.
Lucian had his laptop, and as he hid behind the screen, Ashton glanced his way. Though starting a family and getting married was exciting, the planning process was anything but a cake walk. It was, however, necessary if they were ever going to get to the final, glorious result.
She could see the top of his head poking over the top of the laptop and Ashton wanted to kiss it. His fingers would clack against the keyboard rapidly for a moment or so and then cease for another Internet search before clicketing away again. Ashton wanted to reach over and stop his fingers and hold his hand, calluses restored. She wondered what they would feel like against he tongue now that he had picked his guitar back up. The ice and the bandages and other home medications were off now and Ashton wondered if maybe her own remedies would help as well.
Gregory's violent restlessness had quieted down into a small, subtle ticking that was easy enough to deal with and Ashton attempted to refocus her concentration, pulling it away from Lucian and scribbling down phone numbers and addresses of caterers and food services that were both elegant and seemingly credible.
She could feel Lucian looking at her, and she forced her attention down at her papers. This had to be done.
But the tingling inside the pit of her stomach grew stronger and unavoidable. It wasn't caused by Gregory who's Morse code had slowed to a stop now that he knew mummy was aware he was still there. It was caused by Lucian who was sitting two feet away and was merely looking at her. She felt her pulse quicken and could hearing it ticking in her ears. She swallowed hard, her breath shallow and shuttering.
It was amazing, that by merely looking at her a certain way, he could send Ashton's body into a fuzzy, heightened state. They weren't even touching. Her make up was gone, she looked haggard and Lucian looked wet and worked. But still, even out of the corner of her eyes, she could see him looking at her with a desire and simultaneously make her feel that towards him, too.
“I’ve found four. That should be enough. Are you ready for a break now?”
"Yeah," she responded, far too quickly, rising to cross to him. In truth, they'd been working for no more than fifteen minutes, but as another pair of thunder and lightening claps stretched across the sky, Ashton jumped for more than one reason.
She kissed him fervidly as rain pounded imposingly on the windows. And there it was again: that thrill she felt when they made love the first time, when every moment together was a risk, when they stole kisses that in theory belonged to other people, when they snuggled beneath a pillow fort and mapped out their dream life. It ran through her, coursing through her veins the way the lightening ran across the grey sky. It was reassuring knowing that this would never get old.
She slid his hand up over her leg, grazing her thighs and around her abdomen, feeling every inch he touched ignite, and up to her chest.
She pushed the books and papers off the table, hearing them rustle and slam to the floor. "That can wait till later."
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Post by The Exodus on Sept 25, 2011 13:40:00 GMT -6
Lucian Michaud
Lucian was shocked by the impatient voice in his head. Say yes, say yes, sayyessayyes…! it urged Ashton silently. Lucian hadn’t been a teenager in more years than he cared to count, but the impetuous and hungry voice was much more fitting of a man half his age, maybe even a third.
"Yeah," Ashton agreed with the same rush. She jumped up on the table. Outside, the storm grumbled its protestation that pregnant women ought not to climb on top of furniture during the second trimester. Usually, it would be Lucian doing the reprimanding, but now, his mouth was too occupied with Ashton’s to care. Ashton took Lucian’s hand in hers and guided it. His fingertips were ablaze, skimming over her jeans and sliding under her t-shirt. Ashton’s body was swollen and tender; it was a wonder she didn’t wince under Lucian’s touch. When she moved, it wasn’t in pain or discomfort. Instead, she pushed all her papers to the floor, leaving the table mostly clear for them.
"That can wait till later,” she said, breaking from the kiss. Lucian chucked and withdrew his hands from her to put his laptop out of the way. He didn’t want to explain a smashed screen to a repair shop. Then, turning back to Ashton, he swallowed her mouth up in his for another kiss.
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