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“Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to the Hideaway. Is this your first visit?”
Clive tries to give Otto a glare but he is just so tired that it probably looks more like he is squinting against the lights. “Ha ha. Is there a booth free that I can just… camp out in?”
Otto, ever the master of multi-tasking, scans down the list of appointments while continuing to sass Clive, “You do know that Cid isn’t here tonight?”
“Oh yes,” Clive says. “Cid is camped out in my apartment covering my coffee table with so many wedding magazines that I nearly got blinded by all the white and gold.” Clive pats his heavy satchel, “Meanwhile I need to study and that’s why I’m here.”
“Uh huh.” Those two simple words carry a whole depth of meaning or perhaps that’s just Clive reading too much into things. “Does Cid know you are here?”
Clive shrugs with a bitterness he’s not sure that he feels. He’s just tired and surly and tired of being surly. “I’m sure he’ll notice eventually.” He sees Otto’s mouth open and he knows what’s coming. “It’s fine, Otto. We’re not fighting. I just need somewhere quiet to finish a couple of essays without being asked for my opinion on flowers.”
There’s a soft hrmph of disagreement but then finally Clive is directed towards one of the quieter booths towards the back. He’ll probably have to do his own waiter’ing but he can easily cope with that.
It’s about a thousand words in that his concentration is momentarily broken by the sound of denim sliding against leather, a soft sigh of breath and then the scrape of ceramic against the tabletop. A scent tickles his nose, rich coffee with an underlying sweetness of chocolate. His usual study drink. He takes a sip, the warmth permeating through him and risks a peek over his laptop lid to where Cid is now sitting opposite, a gentle smile on his face.
The quiet continues for another three thousand words, until the cacophony of notes and arguments and ideas and proper grammar has coalesced itself into something resembling a submittable essay. If there’s been the occasional brush of a foot against his under the table or if he’s peeked over the laptop a few more times then blushed and hidden his face again, well, who is to tell?
He finally sighs, decides that it’s as soon as it’s going to get without a break and closing the laptop lid, glancing finally properly at his fiance. “Hi.”
“Hi.” The foot under the table returns in a more solid brush against his, a reconnection. “You can tell me if you need space, you know.” The words are chiding but softened by the way his hand reaches out to capture Clive’s, thumb rubbing along where some of the ink from his notes has smeared.
“It wasn’t you,” Clive says, his voice sounding almost croaky to his ears as he takes a long sip from the now rather cold mocha. “I just… It was…” He sighs, scratching a hand back through his hair. “Sorry?”
Cid’s thumb remains patiently brushing against his, even while his words are stern. “I don’t like it when you just leave. It scared me. I didn’t know if you were mad at me or what I’d done or where you were if something happened.”
It’s something he’s been working on with Cid. Years of being alone has left Clive with a talent for just hunkering down alone to fix things but he’s part of a Two now. A Two that needs him as much as he needs them. “I’m sorry,” he says, more solidly this time. “I should have said something. I just… I’m not even sure what I was thinking.”
Cid hums to himself, releasing Clive’s hand just long enough for him to swing around the table and slide in next to Clive, their bodies pressing against each others. “If the wedding stuff is too much right now, you can tell me.”
There was a time that he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the hurt in Cid’s voice, wouldn’t have glanced to the side and seen the way his eyes crinkle a bit more in the corner as he holds his emotions back. Clive does see it and he knocks his shoulder against Cid’s, leaning in to him. “I want a wedding. As much as you do, I promise. I just… I want our wedding.”
There’s a long pause. “Yes, love. That’s what we’re doing.”
Clive sighs, the jumbled mass of thoughts refusing to resolve into sensible sentences. “No, I mean I want our wedding. I don’t want to just get to our wedding day and you’ve had to do all the work and it’s just a big event with friends and family. I want it to be ours, something we’ve crafted together and something neither of us even could forget.”
“I got the feeling you didn’t want to do the planning.”
There’s that little voice of hurt again and Clive turns to the side, wrapping his arms around his partner and planting what was intended to be a soft, quick kiss but turns into more of a mini make out session. When he finally draws back for breath, he rests his forehead against Cid’s. “I’ve been a grumpy sod recently. Just school work and charity work and everything. But I’ll do better at proving to you that you are one of the most important things in my life and our wedding matters to me.”
Cid leans forward at that and Clive can feel the smile against his lips. “And I’ll do better at not charging ahead too much. I want our wedding too.” His lips quirk upwards and he shifts around to whisper against Clive’s ear, “So, are you all done with study for the evening?” The words are laden with promise.
“Ack, no!” Clive almost squawks as he hears another voice, looking up to see Gav stood by the table, a hand over his eyes. “Jeez, I thought you guys were fighting. Here comes nice Gav to give you a make up banana split and instead almost gets an eyeful… again.”
“He wishes,” Cid whispers against his ear and Clive pushes him back playfully.
“Thanks Gav. And we’re not fighting, I promise.” Clive tangles his foot with Cid’s under the table.
Gav rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I picked up that.” He slides the dish out onto the table and Clive feels his stomach rumble a little. “Enjoy! Try not to make the entire restaurant jealous.” With that, he steps back and dramatically pulls the curtains closed.
Clive turns back to see Cid eyeing him up far more than the dessert. “Well, love. How about some practice for the wedding night?”
“Now that I can definitely agree on.”
The icecream had sadly melted before they got around to it.