Michaud Vineyards and Winery

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Ashton followed Lucian’s lead, stepping barefoot on the dewy dirt in the rows of grapes and trees and that ran in uniform rows along the acreage. She had never seen the grounds from more than a moving car window as Lucian pulled into the long, cobblestoned driveway that undulated and weaved down and around the road. But now, walking with him, their hands intertwined, she finally got a personal view. The grapes hung, little blue-black bulbs at the end of vines, just asking to be picked. When Lucian wasn’t looking, she snapped one off, the smallest one, surely not to be noticed or missed, and popped, tart and fresh into her mouth. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose—the grapes she bought from the local grocer were sweet and juicy, not hard and bitter like these. But she swallowed it down as to not spit it out while walking with Lucian.

Ashton took in every sight—the bright vibrant greens and the rich, dark grapes. She took in every smell—the perfumey wine across the plot, the earthy ground she wriggled her toes around in. She ran her free hand across the leaves, soft as the rising sun shone through their slightly translucent skin; her pulse beating against Lucian’s whilst they clasped hands. Ashton certainly couldn’t bring herself to be irritated at Lucian for waking her up, especially now that her yawning had slowed to a gradual stop.

Just as she began to wonder where Lucian was taking her, they slowed as they made their way up a hill.

Before them was possibly the most breathtaking sight Ashton had ever seen. With the rustic, picturesque houses of the town, the sun pulling itself up over them, fairytale church bells ding and donging over the sleeping village. It beat London, with its towering smoke stacks, smoggy air, and crowded streets. It even beat Paris with its noisy traffic and busy schedule. This town, sleepy and peaceful didn’t have a nine o’clock appointment, didn’t have check lists and hectic lives. It wasn’t afraid to do nothing; live life through feeling, not through rushing. She smiled peacefully at it, greeting it with a soft respect as Lucian helped to lower her down.

“Wow…” she managed to breath out.

“This is my hill,” Lucian said, and Ashton couldn’t help but wish she had her own special place like this. “I used to come here every morning in the summertime when I was a boy. It’s possibly my favourite place in the world. … I used to come here—to the vineyards, this hill—when I needed to get away from Parliament and… things. Just to think.”

Ashton smiled, hoping it looking understanding. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel a hint at what he felt in that place. Ashton had no special hill on which to perch and think. She had view she could look at to solve her problems or put her troubled mind at ease.

“I haven’t shown anyone this place. Not since I was very, very young. And heaven knows Pierre doesn’t count. He knows this place better than I do.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Do you know why I’m showing you now?”

“Because you have a knack for taking my breath away would be my guess.” Ashton said, pulling her knees, to the best of her ability, to her chest. “Unless you have a better reason, which I’m sure you do.”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Ashton smiled and Lucian was thankful. He’d never shown anyone this place for fear of being laughed at. It was, after all, childish to call this his hill. The whole property was his now. The hill, the house, the vineyards, the rundown barn out back… But there was something special about this place. It was his refuge. Secretly… Not secretly. Dimly. The whole of the thought hadn’t registered to him properly. Dimly, Lucian wanted to be buried here some four decades in the future. He looked at Ashton, watching her face as she thought why he brought her here. He knew why. And it wasn’t to do with burials.

“Because you have a knack for taking my breath away would be my guess,” Ashton said, huddling to her knees for warmth. “Unless you have a better reason, which I’m sure you do.”

Lucian draped an arm over her shoulders and played with her hair lightly.

“That’s a good guess, but, no. I am glad you like it, though. … I assume that’s why you’re breathless? No. That’s not why.” Lucian took a deep, bracing breath. “Like I said… I’ve never shown anyone this place. Not since the day Pierre and I stumbled on it when we were kids and since I was nine, I’ve been coming here alone. Do you understand? You’re my first guest.”

He grinned at the word “guest”, since the term wasn’t adequate enough. He shifted, quirking his lips as he tried to find a better word. He couldn’t, which was sad.

“I don’t want there to be secrets between us,” he said after the pause. “None whatsoever. Which, admittedly, is a relationship first for me, so I figured that if I could show you this anything else could follow. Please… Stop me if I’m not making sense.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Lucian blanketed her shoulders with his arm, fiddling playfully with her golden tresses.

“That’s a good guess, but, no. I am glad you like it, though. … I assume that’s why you’re breathless?

Ashton’s smile widened and she nodded her head excitedly.

No. That’s not why. Like I said… I’ve never shown anyone this place. Not since the day Pierre and I stumbled on it when we were kids and since I was nine, I’ve been coming here alone. Do you understand? You’re my first guest.””

Ashton’s eyes widened. He had never shared this anyone? Not Natalie? Not his parents? Not even Damien? It was like he was sharing a piece of his soul, hidden under lock and key somewhere deep inside him, and he was exposing it, just briefly for her eyes only. It was sharing a piece of his past that Ashton could never touch, but this was the closest representation of it for her full, but supervised access. He trusted her with his heart, with his baby, and now with his safe haven.

And had Ashton really, truly repaid the favour? Did she blindly trust him with her all? Yes, but she never made a show of it, never proved that to him. She felt guilty.

“I don’t want there to be secrets between us. None whatsoever. Which, admittedly, is a relationship first for me, so I figured that if I could show you this anything else could follow. Please… Stop me if I’m not making sense.”

Ashton swallowed hard. Now was the most opportune time to trust him, to surrender completely. “No, no. You’re making perfect sense. I feel the same way. Which is why,” Ashton drew a long breath of the fermented, grape flavor air. “Which is why you can ask me anything and I’ll tell you.”

She had never given him that permission before, never allowed him to ask the answers for even the things that she was most ashamed of. But that’s what being in love was—trusting that someone will hold on to your secrets and cherish you more, even with the knowledge he gains from them.

Which was why Ashton saw Lucian, the brave man who picked his life up after 23 years of work and effort crumbled around his ears; that was why she saw Lucian, the multi-layered man she would be proud to raise a child with; that was why she now saw Lucian, aged nine, curled up this hill, tucking away his aspirations so they could find a safe place. And that was why Lucian was now, thirty-seven years later, uncovering those hidden places of this hill, filled with stashed away thoughts, sharing them now with only Ashton.

And she had the audacity to not do the same.

That would be changing today. She was sure of it.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Lucian never intended to be a secret-keeper. It was the nature of the beast—of politics, he meant—to play close to the vest. And when he was young and idealistic, he swore to himself that it wouldn’t spill over into his personal life; his relationship with Damien, his marriage, his friendships. Twenty-something years later, when Lucian looked back at that shriveled, withered thing he used to call his life, he understood that, somehow he hadn't noticed his personal life getting more and more secretive. Sometimes, he wondered if Damien knew what he’d done for a living. Other times—bleak mornings, lying awake in bed—he wondered if Natalie wasn’t onto something when she blamed Lucian for the divorce. He wasn’t going to do the same thing to Ashton and to their son. He was determined to be a better man, a better father, and a better husband. But just because he said he was determined didn’t mean anything. He had to work on it. He knew that. This was working on it, wasn’t it? This was what being a proper lover was about. Not the love-making, not the gifts. Trust. He trusted Ashton in ways he hadn’t trusted Natalie. He ought to have been more guarded, broken from his divorce. Instead, he found himself laying open whatever Ashton wanted from him. He could—would—confess anything she asked of him. Old government secrets, feelings about her, his fears of the future, his hopes, whatever. Hers for the taking. This hill, hers to share. It was a new feeling; not new today, but slow burning, consuming him since day one when they met.

“No, no. You’re making perfect sense. I feel the same way. Which is why,” Ashton drew a long breath of the fermented, grape flavor air. “Which is why you can ask me anything and I’ll tell you.”

Lucian looked at her. Gratitude crinkled up his eyes and his smile; his sleepy laugh-lines evident in the sunrise-glow. He kissed Ashton’s temple, nuzzling his lips to her forehead.

“Tell me a secret then,” he murmured playfully. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Lucian nuzzled against Ashton’s temple and she felt a giddy wind swirl up within her. She leaned into him, feeling the earth wriggle its way into the space between her fingernails as she gripped at the grass. She felt vulnerable, but somehow empowered sitting here with him. She could tell him whatever she wished and he would still love her just the same, if not more for her admittance of her flaws and he would embrace the things that made her human.

”Tell me a secret then. Something you’ve never told anyone.”

But despite it all, she couldn’t think of what to tell him. There was most likely a list of things somewhere in the piles of papers and notes in her mind of things she could tell him in this very moment. But it was so far buried. It was so deeply repressed and hidden that digging it out now was more of an exercise and headache than it was an impulsive response.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said, staring out over the orangey blue horizon. “I’m drawing a blank.”

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

“You’ll have to be more specific,” said Ashton. She didn’t look at Lucian, but at the horizon. “I’m drawing a blank.”

Lucian thought about laughing. The moment seemed too tenuous, too tender, too easily broken to do so. He “hmm”-ed and tilted his head. He looked out at the village. Ashton sounded like twenty-three year old him. I don’t have secrets, he’d said then. It was a lie later, but not then. He had secrets—a lifetime’s worth. Some mundane, some juicy-sweet, others sour and dark and rotten. But they weren’t secrets from Ashton. If she wanted them, she could have them all. He wondered if twenty-three was just too young for secrets.

It wasn’t.

At twenty –three, Ashton was keeping plenty of secrets from her father and from her sister and from the press. Henry Greene didn’t know about Lucian and Ashton or about their baby. If he did, Lucian wouldn’t be sitting here on this hill right now. And it wasn’t as though Ashton had told Delilah until recently. That must have been some burden to bear. Lucian knew; he’d carried it with her until telling Damien. Surely, there were more things that had happened to Ashton in her lifetime. Of course there were. Things had shaped her, molded her, made her into the woman he loved. She had a life before him. Before them. Lucian realized with a sting just how little of that life he knew about. He knew who she was now: his crazy, vivacious fiancée. The girl with a sharp, wicked wit who cooed over babies and fish alike. The woman who smiled like a lady at guests, but grinned at Lucian across the table as if to say, “You know what we’ll be doing when they’re gone”. She loved music and dance and she did crosswords in the morning while Lucian read up on the situation in the Middle East. She was a constant blur of energy. But as a child? As a teenager? Two years ago? Three? Who was she? Why did she love music? Why was she a dancer? What made her latch onto him all these years later? Why not someone else, someone younger, better? Was she scared of being a mother behind all that excitement? Did her mother’s death rattle her still? When did she get that tattoo of hers? Why? Who had been her best friend before Madeleine? Lucian felt like he should know. More than he did, anyways. He knew her sister’s name, her parents’. He knew she’d gone to Falmouth and before that was homeschooled. But that didn’t say much. He felt useless. Not the worst lover in history, but close. His features twisted and he looked at her.

“Tell me something you’ve never told me at least,” he said, narrowing it down. “Something about you from before. Something about your childhood or college or… Something I should know that I don’t.”

The vagueness and silliness of his request smacked Lucian in the gut. He sounded like a cheesy line from a bad romantic comedy. He sighed and shook his head.

"Tell me this at least," he said finally. "Why Paris? You could have picked anywhere in the world. New York. Los Angeles. Syndney. Prague. Anywhere. But... you came here. Thank God you came here... But... what brought you here?"

He couldn't flatter himself and think she followed him. He couldn't always dismiss it as fate. There was something telling in Ashton's choice, but until now, Lucian had never asked. Now, sitting here with her, he might as well ask.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Ashton felt her stomach drop out as Lucian’s face contorted. What was he thinking behind those blue, aging eyes of his? Was he worried about what he would find out about her? Confused about her request? There were those eyes that went dark with a dull ache when he avoided arguments with Natalie, but sparked with and excitement and interest when Ashton spoke. Would that go away if she told him some truth he didn’t like? There were times like these Ashton wanted to tear away everything a world of diplomacy and politics taught him, strip it all down to real Lucian the man she knew was in there. Then, she’d be able to read him better The thought of that scared her, and the idea of not knowing what every muscle movement in his face meant did nothing to diminish that fear. And though they would spend the rest of their lifetimes together, there were those years they spent building and rebuilding themselves to mold and form and create the people they were today, proud of it or not.

And Ashton wasn’t proud of it. And that wasn’t fair to Lucian. He deserved to finally have someone he could be proud of, could show off and say “I would like to introduce you to my wife” and those blue, aging eyes would sparkle and shine from beneath a smile so glowing, so genuine, so happy to be with her.

“Tell me something you’ve never told me at least. Something about you from before. Something about your childhood or college or… Something I should know that I don’t.” Ashton wracked and wracked her brains for some answer for Lucian. But nothing sounded good in her head. She shrugged.

"Tell me this at least: Why Paris? You could have picked anywhere in the world. New York. Los Angeles. Sydney. Prague. Anywhere. But... you came here. Thank God you came here... But... what brought you here?"

Ashton smiled softly, thinking. “Mum always told me that you don’t find yourself; you define yourself, and she told me one time that she did that on a visit to Paris on a whim. I was certain I wanted to know who I was before I got married, so I took her advice. Granted, it was in a way she probably wouldn’t approve of, but I did it nonetheless and you see where we are now.” Ashton smiled and squeezed Lucian’s knee, engagement ring glistening in the early light. “So I guess she’s, you know, still watching out for me, making sure I get something out of each decision I make.” Ashton felt her lip quiver and tears stab at the backs of her eyeballs. Her mum managed to, when she died, lodge herself into everything. Thinking about her wasn’t painful. In fact, it sent a warm wave of comfort and nostalgia through her. But talking about her, putting those thoughts into a tangible, audible awareness sent daggers through her heart. She never talked about her. No one did. She was too loved, her death too painful, for her to really be a good conversation starter. Ashton wondered, as she forced herself not to cry what her mother would say now were she here. Surely, she’d ease Ashton’s fears of parenthood and offer advice. Would she proud of Ashton, supportive of her? Surely if she had been in life, she would be now, despite everything. Ashton had no way of knowing for sure, but she could feel it. Something just told her.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

“Mum always told me that you don’t find yourself; you define yourself,” said Ashton softly. “And she told me one time that she did that on a visit to Paris on a whim. I was certain I wanted to know who I was before I got married, so I took her advice.”

Ashton never spoke about her mum. In fact, Lucian had only learned of Jane Greene—strangely—through Natalie. It had been a few days before meeting Ashton and Lucian had gotten a lecture on taboo topics. He had been swiftly and strongly advised not to bring up Ashton’s deceased mother, like he was some badly behaved child. Strangely, that had stuck with him. Lucian didn’t ask Ashton about her mother, lest he open old wounds. It was silly now, being engaged to her and not daring to ask. From what Ashton said—what few things like this she said—Lucian felt he would have rather liked to meet Jane Greene, thank her for raising such an amazing and strong woman.

“Granted, it was in a way she probably wouldn’t approve of, but I did it nonetheless and you see where we are now.” Ashton smiled and squeezed Lucian’s knee, engagement ring glistening in the early light. “So I guess she’s, you know, still watching out for me, making sure I get something out of each decision I make.”

Lucian smiled. He wasn’t conventionally envious of Ashton’s relationship with her mother, but she got him thinking about his own. His talented, artistic mother who painted landscapes, who was much more accessible than his father. He fancied for a moment that he and Ashton had had similar upbringings: mothers who stayed home to care for them and godlike fathers who slowly fell from grace and were humanized by life and by loss. He rubbed Ashton’s shoulders unthinkingly. He wasn’t looking at her eyes yet, but rather, smiling at how different their child’s life would be. Their son’s mother would be working, but accessible. Flexible schedule and whatnot. And his father would have already tumbled from grace, would be the one staying home every day. It was an unorthodox formula; exciting in its way. Lucian looked at Ashton and suddenly took note of her teary eyes. Thoughts of their son went to the back of Lucian’s mind for a moment. Instead, he looked at her and realized truly what she had done just now. Ashton didn’t talk about her mum for a reason. It hurt; it was painful. It was personal so she didn’t feel the ache. Lucian reached up and wiped the tear away.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “To you for sharing. And—in a way—to your mother for leading you here. Paris wouldn’t be half the city it is without you.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Ashton thought she had been doinf such a good job holding in and fighting off her flood of tears. But when Lucian rreached up and brushed away shiny, fat tears from her hazel eyes. She blinked a few times before looking at him.

"Thank you. To you for sharing and -- in a way-- to your mother for leading you here. Paris wouldn't be half the city without you."

Ashton smiled. It may need a little bit of work, but Ashton would tell Lucian anything he wanted to know. When they got married, all Ashton possessed became Lucian's, too. That included secrets.

"She would have loved you, you know." Ashton said, kissing him.

[The Exodus]

Lucian Michaud

Ashton looked up at him and Lucian felt the edges of his heart curl like melting wax. He smiled at her reassuringly; what he hoped looked reassuring, anyways. He hadn’t meant to make her cry, but Ashton had every right. She was safe here with him. To cry. To laugh. To say whatever she wanted.

"She would have loved you, you know," said Ashton, pulling Lucian into a kiss, which he readily accepted.

Still, even as his mind ought to be going fuzzy, Lucian wondered if that was true. He knew next to nothing about Jane Greene, but he knew that Henry Greene had little love for him. He’d been a contact of Natalie’s, not a friend of hers, but if he had to take sides back then, it was clear where he thought himself safest. Never mind that their politics and business models would never mesh. Or the fact that Lucian was twice Ashton’s age, had ruined her carefully crafted engagement, impregnated her, and was now planning to marry her. That alone would be enough to get Lucian killed by Ashton’s father. Even if her mother wasn’t from the same mold, those last details weren’t exactly loveable. Lucian’s lips quivered under Ashton’s and he pulled away; not sure if he was about to laugh or cry with her. If Jane would have loved him, if she had been alive, maybe they’d have an ally.

“Is that right?” he asked with a weak smile. “That’s reassuring.”

In its limited way, it actually was. Lucian sighed. His own parents would have loved Ashton in their weird ways. His mother would have adored her unquestioningly. He could hear her in the back of his mind saying what an improvement Ashton was. Miriam “Marie” Michaud was not a shy, soft-spoken woman. Alphonse, on the other hand, would have been reserved with his opinion. Tight-lipped. He always was; he withheld judgment along with praise. Lucian was glad in a weird way that he didn’t have to introduce Ashton to her deceased in-laws. They were an intimidating bunch, even in retrospect, and Lucian was sure that they didn’t need the extra pressure. He sighed.

“I have a confession,” he said quietly. “Every now and then, I wonder what we’re going to tell your family about us and when. The longer we wait, the more it scares me.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Ashton Greene

Ashton felt Lucian’s lips waver beneath her own and he pulled away, drawing a breath.

“Is that right? That’s reassuring.” Lucian offered up a weak smile and Ashton gave back a bright, encouraging one. Her mum really would have liked Lucian. They would have fun poking light hearted and loving fun at Ashton. Her mum would have appreciated Lucian’s calm demeanor (insisting it was nice to have someone to reign Ashton in) and his quiet wit, partaking in a three way, well-meant battle of zingers and sarcasm.

But Ashton wondered if she would have ever met Lucian had her mother not died. If she were alive today, Ashton would still be that wild, but naïve and sheltered girl she was, would never of been engaged to Damien and ergo, would never of met Lucian. Her mother was right when she said that there’s always a good result, no matter what the situation.

“I have a confession. Every now and then, I wonder what we’re going to tell your family about us and when. The longer we wait, the more it scares me.”

Ashton nodded and curled in her lips. She was scared, too. Though Henry Greene was really the last person to find out, and everyone else had seemed essentially accepting and understanding, Henry had a temper nasty enough to overshadow the opinions of everyone else. He did things on a whim out of pure anger, and after looking through the list of things he had done, Ashton really did fear for them. When Henry found out his employee’s son had taken from Ashton the one thing that cannot be replaced, he fired all relatives and friends of the young man, father included and sent threatening letters to their houses before turning on Ashton, yelling things that were forever burned and branded onto Ashton’s mind. Getting pregnant by the father of her intended and hand-picked fiancé couldn’t possibly bode over well.

“Henry’s really the only one left to tell. Delilah and her family know. My grandmother knows, my aunts and uncles and cousins. And there’s a reason no one’s told him.” Ashton took a deep breath, the words he could never take back playing over and over in her head, echoing around in the cavernous empty space Henry claimed existed. “He got really nasty after Mum died, just completely off the handle. And I don’t know how to avoid conflict at this point.” Ashton slid her hand into the space between Lucian’s palms. “But you’re absolutely right. We have to tell him and we have to tell him soon. And we’ll do it together. Because I’m better and stronger with you than I am without.”

It was true. She and Lucian had overcome the odds, and at this point, there was nothing Ashton thought they couldn’t do. Alone, she was a strong woman, but with Lucian, they created an unbreakable, unstoppable force. Experience told her that explaining the situation and sending a wedding invite was a terrible idea. But faith told her that she and Lucian could do it, that they’re growing family would be better off in the long run with a confrontation, no matter how it turned out. They owed it to themselves. They were almost free—their fight for their relationship almost over, victorius. They had one more battle to fight and there was no winning or losing this time. Because no matter what happened, she had him, just like he had her.

[The Exodus]

OOC: Ignore the glasses. XD Toddamien Weekend! BIC:
Damien Blackwood-Michaud

The Aston-Martin rolled up the driveway. The tires crunched against ancient cobbled stone as Damien brought it to a halt in front of the even older chateau. Against the cerulean late-April sky, the building cut an impressive, dark shape. And yet, to Damien, the place looked pretty homey. He knew Toddy wasn’t always comfortable with Damien’s moneyed background, but Damien saw no point in being rich if he couldn’t do nice things for the people he loved.

Technically, Damien wasn’t rich. Technically, his parents were. But “technically” didn’t matter when you had the keys to your father’s vineyard home and the place to yourself all weekend.

Damien looked over at the passenger’s side and smiled at Toddy. He unbuckled his seatbelt and grinned at his boyfriend. The poor man was probably terrified out of his mind. But there weren’t any more relatives to impress. No one was going to even be here this weekend. Damien had ensured that. Mostly by begging and promising his free-of-charge babysitting services, which, really, wasn’t that high a price to pay to have the manor for a weekend. Damien reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out a key-ring and dangled them in front of Toddy’s face. His smile became an utterly wicked grin.

“We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Damien said. “For the entire weekend.”

The acres of wine fields (was that what they were called? Wine fields? Damien felt like he should know that) rolled on forever. All lush greens and rip purples. The property’s edge overlooked a hamlet, untouched by time; it was a short walk—or even shorter drive—into town, which was filled with little shops, two cafes, and a crumbling, white-walled church. Outside, it was the picture of pastoral perfection. Inside, though… There were dozens of rooms and Damien was proud to say he’d explored them all as a child. Each was decorated in a style more fitting of a time when aristocracy owned the place. Once, he’d been able to rattle off the eras with ease and discern between Regency and Baroque and Victorian. But now, that stuff seemed like particularly hard exam questions Oxford-Damien would answer easily, but that Paris-Damien couldn’t care less about.

He cared about his family. He cared about his friend. He cared about his art.

He most especially cared about Toddy.

Toddy, his wonderful boyfriend, who needed the time off to recuperate away from the bustling city. Toddy, his brilliant boyfriend, who deserved to celebrate wining and dining in the closest thing to castle Damien could find for him after his first week at a new job. Toddy, his handsome boyfriend who—

You got the idea. Damien wasn’t a poet. He was just excited to be able to do this for his boyfriend.

And not just the house. That was too simple. The easy way out. There were all sorts of goodies inside that Damien would (attempt to) turn into glorious three course meals and spa-like baths and nights under the stars—which were utterly impossible to see in Paris. This weekend was all about executing a perfectly designed wonderland that Damien hoped Toddy would never forget.

“Shall we?”

[Deleted]

Toddy St. James

Every little upcoming daddy issued little princess who was dreaming of the day they would find their prince from their storybook, was completely S.O.L. It was obvious that Damien Michaud had taken up all the prince style in the world for this princess- Toddy St. James. Be jealous, betches.

Toddy's eyes rounded with 'oh-my-GaGa' expression from underneath is Gucci sunglasses as the car did a stop at the place he would be staying for the weekend with Damien. The princess theme was correct, because it was a castle. Toddy St. James was skeptic, because he was not one for nature, but this wasn't nature. This was paradise. This was something that Oprah did to get away from the press. The fields, the color of the sky above them was something that Toddy had never seen before- it was beautiful. The most beautiful part of this weekend? The man sitting right next to him.

Toddy's awe stricken daze at the 'paradise' was broken when metal keys hung in front of his eyes.

"We’ve got the whole place to ourselves,” Damien said, grinning something that made Toddy's heart skip.“For the entire weekend.”

Sweet charity, his baby knew how to make Toddy St. James' blood turn hot. That grin only hinted to Toddy what this weekend would include, and he couldn't help but give a smirk of his own looking back at the property. He had a hot moment to think about how the hell his life had even gotten here. From being a gossiping, disaster, who only dreamed of Rolex models- to a fabulously employed, happily taken man, with a weekend vacation to a place he would have needed seventeen groupons to get to. As fabulous as Toddy St. James tried to be and confident of his lifestyle, this was all too surreal. Things like this just didn't happen. Toddy was the receptionist, the best friend, the bar date, the gossiper- he wasn't this person. Toddy St. James was shocking himself in the best of ways.

In a lot of ways, there was his blue-eyed babydoll to thank for that. Toddy St. James wanted to be the best possible man he could be for Damien. So, for himself too, but Toddy didn't care as much about him as Damien. Which, is that love or what? It was the most selfless thing Toddy St. James had ever felt in his entire life.

Which was why this weekend would be absolutely wonderful. No outsiders, no business, no gossip, no family- just Damien and Toddy.

Yes, this was perfect paradise.

"Shall we?"

"Baby, we always shall." Toddy murmured with a smirk, looking over at Damien, and then got of the passenger's seat.

Once his feet hit the ground, the air hit his nose, and he took off his glasses to gaze up at the sky- Toddy St. James put a hand to his chest, letting his back fall against the closed door, and sighing with a smile. It was breathtakingly beautiful. His eyes out looked the property and he shook his head, taking it all in before the unpacking started.

Toddy laughed, "So this is what fresh air feels like."

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien’s pulse thudded in his wrists. What if this wasn’t good enough? He had considered booking a hotel room in the city, but there was nothing very special about hotel rooms or Paris. They lived in Paris. So did half the people they knew. Which meant if Damien and Toddy stayed in Paris, they would be confined to a hotel room which sounded romantic and wonderful until the stir-crazy set in. And there was always the idea of a weekend abroad—England wasn’t too far, but England was England. Damien would tire of his home country quickly. Or an abroad trip on the continent. There was that. But Damien wasn’t sure if whisking Toddy to the Alps or to Tuscany would be overkill.

The vineyards seemed a compromise between not-enough and overkill. Still, Damien wondered if they’d ever be enough. One look into Toddy’s midnight eyes told him that, yes, this was right.

This could be perfect.

"Baby, we always shall," Toddy murmured before getting out of the car. Damien followed suit and locked the car up with a quick push of a button on the key ring. The alarm beeped once. Damien fumbled through the keyring for the big, old skeleton key that would unlock the front door. He took a few steps forward, but stopped when he didn’t feel his boyfriend beside him. Damien looked back at Toddy, who leaned against the door. A smile spread across his china-rose lips.

"So this is what fresh air feels like," Toddy said with a laugh.

“That’s right, city-boy,” Damien said, grinning and coming around to the side of the car where Toddy stood. He wrapped an arm around Toddy’s waist. With his free hand, he gestured out to the field. “And that green stuff is called ‘grass’.”

He laughed and nuzzled Toddy’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, planting a peck on Toddy’s cheek. “We have running water inside and everything.”

[Deleted]

Toddy St. James

He didn't like grass because who knew what in the hell was lurking- probably some demon creature from the depths of wildlife in bug land. Which, insects, Toddy St. James did not do. He didn't get the obsession with sunsets, sundowns, sun in the middles- whatever in the hell those romantic couples always 'gazed' at with one another. Like, it's the sky. It's above everyone everyday and no one was freaking out then. The outdoors in any shape, way, form was wildlife. It made Toddy St. James feel like he was in a bad episode of Survivor, and survive or not, they looked a hot mess when the show was over. How mortifying for them, right? They really should ponder getting make up and costume for that show, it really would bring the ratings up. This was different though. Sure, it wasn't Toddy St. James' 'scene', but he didn't hate it. When he breathed it felt like it was the air version of the water Fiji. Which, lets face it, only the fabulous drink. Toddy could get use to this for a weekend. It may get a little, iffy after a bit, but he was with Damien and it was gorgeous. As long as the bugs, the smells, the wildlife stayed far away from him- Toddy wouldn't have much a problem.

“That’s right, city-boy,” Toddy did a fake scoff as Damien came over, wrapping an arm around him. He squinted, still looking out into the fields.

“And that green stuff is called ‘grass’.”

Damien laughed, getting cozy to his cheek, and Toddy half laughed, his eyes glaring out still. It was funny, cute, but Damien didn't understand. Toddy St. James really didn't work well with this type of situation. Plus, it was their first time really being alone together for an entire weekend away from everything. This was a true test. At least, that's what someone said...

"Ah, the true test!"

Toddy St. James looked over at Myron Bolitar from his boxes that he had been packing up. Myron sat at the corner of his desk, plucking at Toddy's fuzzy picture frame of the couple.

"What, do I have to study up to have a weekend with my boyfriend?"

Myron shook his head, handing Toddy the picture. "Nah, it's just like one of those things you find out if what you have will work or not." He grinned, "Plus even if you had to study, as if you'd do it. I don't think I have ever seen you open a book in your life."

"Hey!" Toddy growled, grabbing the fuzzy purple picture frame that was too glamorous for Myron Bolitar anyway. "That's not true, mister."

"Tiger Beat doesn't count."

"Then you beat me." Toddy St. James said proudly with a wink, beginning to pack up again. Which, having Myron watch made him a little more comfortable that his friend would still stay his friend even though he was leaving. Myron was truly happy for him.

"C'mon, dollface," Myron said, leaning over Toddy's way. "I'm kidding. You'll be fine. You and Damien are crazy for each other."

"Ya, but I'm not too keen on vacation outhouses."

Myron laughed. Toddy laughed too.

"It's a-" Myron Bolitar did a pose on the desk, flipping his hand out, and speaking in a rich pur, "Michaud vacation home of royalty to be exact."

Toddy St. James laughed, hitting him with his magazine.

"Toddy. You'll be just fine. Just relax. Smell the air. And enjoy love."



That's what Toddy was doing. Relaxing... smelling the air... enjoying love...


“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Damien planted a kiss on Toddy's cheek. “We have running water inside and everything.”

"Be still my heart." Toddy St. James teased back, and then clasped his hands. "Alright! Show me the way!"

Toddy looked over his shoulder offering Damien his arm.