calling_logs | I don't want somebody to love me... [open]

Entry tags:

I don't want somebody to love me... [open]

Who: Thomas and YOU!
What: a simple meal as Thomas and Margaery get used to one another
When: Post-exploration trip
Where:Carmichael's Deli, City of Tomorrow
Notes & Warnings: None so far! It's just song lyrics.

What's Thomas doing in the City of Tomorrow?

Looking over possible storefronts to purchase for what he's hoping will become Coiffure Cup's second location. That's why he's his laptop and a few printed out listings that he's checking off, circling, or X'ing out as he does his research on the various locations using some of the demographic information he was able to find.

Because the thing of it is, he really likes this place. Like... really likes it. Especially since he can come here without being unavailable to his brother much. But he doesn't have to deal with his sister's bullshit, or the small amount of bullshit that he actually minds from Harry, and hey, he might even be able to find an utterly out of this world Christmas present for the cranky beansprout.

But the thing of it is, if he's going to spend a decent amount of time here, he needs a local cashflow source and a local location to get his fix. Which means... a salon. And given how well his salon fusion has worked back in Chicago, he sees no problem with making a franchise of it.

Of course, all of the things around him make sense for someone working on this goal except, perhaps, for the black and white california king who's coiled up around his shoulders. Her name happens to be Margaery, you see, and she's something of a souvenir from his time on 'Demon' Island. For the moment, she's resting and soaking in his warmth happily enough, but there may be a few whispers in his ear as she notices a tiny detail or otherwise passes judgement on the various locations that he's looking through.

All in all, a rather relaxing afternoon, all things considered. But do feel free to interrupt...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He eyed Margaery for a moment or two, then looked back to Thomas. "How about you explain and then I'll decide if I'm going to sit down and share food?"

He's not trying to be an asshole but wolf and snake weren't a great mix, even if he recognized that the snake wasn't harmful to him. Some deep seated caution, and then layer in the fact that it talked to him, and, actually, where he grew up.

You're getting an eyeroll, tall blond and handsome. And the snake is now ignoring you and nuzzling up against the back of Thomas's ear, hiding in his hair.

"A daemon isn't actually an animal. According to the folks where she came from, she's a 'physical manifestation of my inner self'. My soul, for lack of a better word." He glances over at Steve. "I took a trip to one of the islands around this place to help out a bunch of mapmakers and when the option of keeping her with me came up, it seemed more prudent for me to keep her around."

He leans in to push the chair out.

"Now siddown and I'll treat dinner."

"The physical manifestation of your inner-self is a snake." Okay, Thomas. Sure. That - actually makes sense come to think of it. Also he's a wolf.

He pulls the chair out further, drops into it and: "I can buy my own dinner, though."

"Got something against snakes, Fuzzy?"

He tilts his head, curious for the answer, before starting to clear off some of the paperwork.

"And seriously, let me. Since I'm planning on asking your opinion on some of these."

"Maybe it's just a convenient distraction from you." And confusing, awkward, sex appeal. "What are you working on?"

"Picking a location to start up a copy of my business here." He looks up with a smile.

"If I'm going to spend any time here," and he very much intends to, "I need cashflow. And somewhere to get my fix. This solves both problems." Grin. "And provides fabulous hairstyles and excellent coffee to the City at a completely reasonable fee."

"I don't know if I know enough about the City to help." He'd give it a try, in spite of himself, but: "You're going to use a business here to feed and get money?" A pause and he cocked his head. "Will that work?"

"It works back home," he explains honestly. "I get my fingers in their hair, do a quick wash, a brush, some styling. It's intimate but without the deep connection of something... deeper."

"Don't they notice?" He's curious, interested, and also trying not to be too overly interested because Thomas... Thomas is what Thomas is. He can't help it anymore than Steve can, and he knows it, but he's holding himself to some standards here.

He looks up from his screen with a sly smile and shakes his head slowly.

"It just feels good. Which is why it's so dangerous. Which is why I stick to doing hair."

"So you've...." He pauses. "Got a bunch of clients who think you're attractive getting turned on by having their hair done?" That's a hell of a way to make money.

He tilts his head back and forth.

"I make a point of exaggerating the fact that I like men, pretend I'm not also interested in women, put on a bit of an accent," he explains with a wobble of his hand, "and that way it's nice and safe for everyone involved. Easy peasy."

"What do you do when you get a male client?" He's...

He shouldn't be all that fascinated by this, and the way Thomas is finding to make it work, but he really is.

A quick smile.

"Let someone else handle it. Which has led to it's fair share of disappointed men, but-" he spreads his hand and of all things, Margaery is the one who finishes for him.

"Better disappointed than addicted."

That hadn't been where he was going, but he's pretty diverted - and he's also now accepting the talking snake as part of Thomas, so there's that.

"Addicted?" That's a thing. "To what, exactly? And it doesn't happen with women because they think you can't be attracted back?"

Thomas considers something for a moment before holding out a hand towards Steve.

"I won't take any. And I'll keep my touch light. But it's not that easy to explain."

Steve's still curious, and he isn't afraid so he tilts his head slightly, and sort of automatically reaches back to take Thomas' hand.

His only real concern and reasons for nerves here is tangled up in the weird confusion of being sexually attracted to Thomas - and much of anyone really. He's not a complicated guy.

Thomas touches carefully, gently, and even that soft contact is enough to set his senses tingling, his Hunger aching against the bars of the cage. He is well aware of Steve's attraction, of most people's attraction. It's his power and, for Thomas specifically, his curse. And that makes it easy enough for him to delicately dip his fingers into the warm energy of his aura. It's beyond an effort not to let any of it slip in, to keep his word, but his real focus is on pulling Steve into peaceful bliss with a single stroke of his fingers. There are darker things there, deeper things; he can feel them, that less-rabid hunger for Thomas to do more, for all the things Steve would love to do to him. With him. Against him, bodies entwined, Thomas pressed against a wall as Steve scented at his throat, perfect heat and friction driving them both higher and higher in a spiral. Thomas could give him that. Thomas could drink deep from him and rip a mark into that soul that would have Steve coming back to him for more, more, always more, every time, satisfy them both on the seemingly endless font of serum-enhanced life.

But he won't. And he doesn't.

And a moment later, he lets his hand drop away from Steve's.

"Addicted."

And his voice might be a little tight but only because he's using the effort to strangle his demon into submission. Margaery, for her part, drops into his lap, startling him a little. He's thankful for it, though. It redirects his attention.

Steve nods his understanding at Thomas, but otherwise stays quiet.

In fact he stays absolutely, totally, silent. The look on his face is a little hard to pin down as an emotion, because it isn't one. It's nausea, and the desire to claw his own skin off - literally. Not that he didn't find that wonderful and arousing, but because he did.

He breathes through his mouth, swallows hard a couple of times in a row and then finds his voice.

"Point taken."

"Fries," he says pointedly, one hand raising to gesture to the waitress. Because food and water help steady someone after he's gotten his fingers into them (in a thankfully less than literal sense). It's one of the reasons he'd actually added the coffee section to his salon.

Steve's physical reaction is mostly an emotional reaction. Conflict between all the arousal and want that came even with that and hating himself for feeling it - because he likes Thomas but barely knows him, because Thomas can't help it.

Steve expects better of himself than that.

There's some physical there, too, probably but most of it's just churned up emotion that's turning his stomach.

He shakes his head. "I'm all right." He doesn't send the waitress away, though, but does ask for a glass of water. "...Are you?"

"No offense," he says with a small spread of his hands, "but I'd rather eat the fries than you."

Translation: no, but let's pretend I'm fine.

"I'll try not to let it break my heart." There's a very, very faint and sweet smile to go with the remark. "Where were you thinking for locations? Can I see what you've got?" He's... trying.

Margaery takes advantage as Thomas leans over to hold out the paper stack to climb back up onto his shoulders. And Thomas is very careful not to let their skin touch as he hands them over.

"Tomorrow. Sure, Nightmare's like home and Romance would probably rake in more money than I would know what to do with, but I like Tomorrow. So far, I've narrowed it down to 'mostly pointward'..."

Steve settles in and eventually actually relaxes enough to relax into the conversation and recover. The desire to either throw up or fade as he looks over the papers and contemplates the locations Thomas is thinking about.

"You know, if you start in Tomorrow you could always branch out to some of the other locations, or locations in this city. You'd have to hire people, but it'd give you something to do with the money you rake in."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject