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“Seriously? Another watch?” Paul commented off-handedly as he slipped on his shoes.
His eyes squinted at the glimmer of light that caught on it. He wasn’t one to judge in choices in the slightest, but there was something so off-putting about the sheer amount of them that John owned.
“Of course, Is there an issue?” John responded with his hands busied within his hair, tying it up into a neatened ponytail.
“No–No, just-Isn’t that the fourth one this year?” Paul stiffened up a bit at the bluntness.
A few ticks of the watch filled the room. John seemingly in his own world of thoughts. A puzzled look as he debated it. “I suppose it is, wouldn’t you know it? Huh,” John disregarded the idea as quickly as he had thought about it.
He found himself far more indulged into the task of finding his keys. Neither of them were going much further without it; though, in truth they could use Paul’s car, but John just hated how Paul’s seats felt. Something Paul found weird coming from John of all people. It was the equivalent to him being a tad too tall for his brother’s Miata. He still hadn’t figured out how Gary was comfortable in that thing. Speaking of which, Paul got down onto the floor, searching beneath the shoe rack. The most common perpetrator to any lost keys in the house. His hand swiped quickly against the floor. Coming across the cold metal of the keys and tossing them up onto the shoe rack’s table.
“Am I driving, or are you?” Paul asked as he got up with a pop of joints.
“Paul, I love you, But when have I ever let you drive my car?” John stopped talking, “Do not answer that Paul.”
“Okay.” Paul locked the door behind them as the car’s light lit up the garage bringing some life to the emptiness of it.
“You ready to get this shit show on the road? Either way, get in. We’re going,” John firmly spoke rhetorically, as he started to pull out of the garage.
“So, you’re avoiding Beanies because you fucked up meeting, well, whatever Emma is to you's family? I feel like a new low Paul, even for you,” John was in disbelief, still reeling from Paul's request to go to the Starbucks instead.
“Can you blame me! I literally said we had intimacy-which may I say was very sexual in nature! In front of her nephew! Her nephew for crying out loud!” Paul answered with shame deep rooted into his voice.
Paul was groaning at even having to remember it at all, sinking deeply into the seat.
“Paul, I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re a good man, just with a few quirks,” John trailed off as he pulled into a parking stall. “Up and at ‘em, you can wallow in shame inside the Starbucks. Instead of inside my car. My upholstery doesn’t take too kindly to liquid. So, I'm nice enough to spare it from your anxious sweating,” John said as he pulled Paul up from his seat; not allowing him to sink deeper into it.
Paul grumbled incoherently as he wriggled free from the grasp of John. Reaching out for his seatbelt to free himself from any further embarrassment. It was bad enough for him getting called out on his anxious sweating. Especially with the thought that he might’ve messed everything up with Emma. Plus, most of his family had something wrong in that sense! Not his fault, no it’s his genetics.
“Wouldn’t dream of ruining your seats,” Paul finally got himself out of the car.
Taking a step outside of the car as the bitter wind hit him in the face. Causing him to cringe a little as his hand lingered on the cold feeling of the car. Shutting the door carefully, an old habit he picked up on when getting out of every car except his own. After all, he never got over the mindset of not being able to afford a mishap. Though as the cold started to settle into his bones he found himself taking long strides towards the Starbucks. Not wanting to wait outside much longer, even if he left John behind in this action.
“Jesus, give an old man a warning before you book it damnit,” John complained with no real bark, huffing as he caught up to Paul's long strides.
“Oh. Sorry–Old man?” Paul paused at the thought, repeating it before snickering at it a little.
As he brought his feet down to a smaller step with an awkward foot shuffle. Clear amusement on his face at hearing John call himself an old man. As it wasn’t like the man was exactly all that old. They had what, maybe a decade difference in age? Maybe a little less probably. But it still certainly was not on his bingo card to hear that. Then again, it added up watching John struggle to even figure out the simplest of features on a phone; something he wasn’t exactly at the liberty of saying he was an expert at either, considering how much Richie dogged on him at getting mildly confused at something. The fact that John seemed to be far worse than him was a miracle, or perhaps a curse sometimes. It was humorous at least.
“Eh, Don’t wear the name out,” John waved Paul off as he heard him repeat the old man.
As Paul held the door out for John. “ After you.”
“Why thank you good sir,” John mocked playfully, though quickly straightened himself up as they walked side by side.
Finding their place in line John spoke up, “It’ll be on me by the way Paul. I’ve owed you one for far too long, so consider this me paying up my debts.”
John allowed his mind to wander, only truly realizing how long they had put this back. Then again they both were a tad too busy, or just refused to do anything when they had an off chance. Then there was the whole thing of Paul taking care of his nephew, Richie. Definitely time consuming. It was a good reminder for him to check in on his own son, maybe send a post card. Yeah, that’d be good.
“Oh! Good. I think—I think I may have left my wallet at home anyways when I went to grab your keys,” Paul answered cheerfully, anxiety looed over Paul not having it at the same time.
As he reached to touch his emptied pockets. Only feeling loose fabric, he clicked his tongue at his forgetfulness. He hated it, but he would live.
“Ouch, I'm hurt. Here I was thinking you had no bad bones in your body, but now you're asking me to pay for it? Are you trying to make me bust the bank?” John jested, finding it more humorous than anything else.
It appeared as if the joke went over Paul’s head a little, as he just looked at John with confusion and worry, and even worse, some concern. John clocked it within seconds of it, realizing how he messed up.
“Relax, I'm joking. Chin up now, Paul, I already said I was paying for it. And, for all that is holy, do not pay me back,” John stated, as he watched the concern melt away into the ambiance of the place.
That was good enough to be a win in John’s books. The line moved up ever so slightly every few seconds, taking a long time. Though, what was to be expected going to a Starbucks?
By the time they finally got up to the front they were greeted by a rather unenthusiastic employee behind the table. “Welcome to Starbucks, what do you want?”
“Could we get a tall black coffee and java float. The names for the order are John and Paul, please and thank you,” John rattled off the order like it was second nature.
While John was rummaging into his pocket for his wallet, grabbing the exact amount plus, as a bonus, a tip. He knew Paul would nag him for not leaving a tip when he had cash on him. To be honest, John always had cash on him, as he refused to get with the times only using stone cold cash. Paul was lucky he even managed to convince John to get a phone. He hated those damned devices! He cringed at even the thought as he handed over the money, placing the money in the tip jar before he slid down to the order counter with Paul. Watching as Paul got on his phone checking messages. A defeated sigh escaped him; he truly never felt more like an old man than when he stared at those devices with such hate.
“You know, I could’ve ordered for myself, John. You didn’t have to go ahead and do that. I mean, what if I wanted something else,” Paul commented as he turned his phone off, sliding it into his pocket.
“Yes, it’s just easier to do it in one fell swoop. Also, Paul, this is you we are talking about. You are a creature of habit if I’ve ever seen one. So, I highly doubt you’d break your streak of ordering the same thing,” John put a bit brazenly.
“I–Not the point there. Just–Ask first,” Paul complained despite knowing John was correct in his statement, still wanting the choice to speak for himself.
“Alright, alright. I’ll keep that in mind from now on Paul, my mistake. I apologize,” John spoke with remorse.
Through the slight disagreement their names had been called at some point. Making their way towards where their coffees sat. Something that had confused Paul was the coffee cup with his name on it. Well, it certainly wasn’t a black coffee, and it also wasn’t what he had expected John to order. As he picked up the cup with an odd horrified look at it. As Paul wasn’t sure he could handle a change now even if it was just this one time. He also definitely was sure he did not have enough energy to deal with asking for a new coffee. He also just felt a bit guilty if he had to. Though, thankfully it didn’t come to that, as John hastily took it from his hands and replaced it with his familiar black coffee. Paul’s hands tightening around it like it was the last cup of black coffee on earth.
“That’s–That's a java float?” Paul asked, curious over the fact it looked like a root beer float, but smelt awfully of coffee and the added whipped cream.
“Course it is, ain’t nothing better than one. It gets you a good caffeine fix and then a treat, who could ask for more?” John shrugged as he pointed a straw through the whipped cream and into the drink.
“I hadn’t taken you for a sweet tooth, that’s a surprise.” Paul’s tone was a bit blunt, more focused on the fact that's what he wanted out of Starbucks.
He didn’t exactly find himself wanting to stay here longer than necessary. It's probably why Paul had stayed so long at Beanies. Getting distracted with Emma, in his mind, was a necessity to him at this point. A regular occurrence, even if he broke his pattern today out of the shame of not being able to face Emma today after flubbing up so badly with her family.
“Can we go? I don’t fancy being here any longer,” Paul asked very impatiently, as he wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle listening to the blenders blaring.
“I swear you’re just as bad as Barry Swift, or whatever his name was, but come on, let's get going, make sure we don’t mess with your beauty rest. Would hate to see what would come of that,” John teased a bit as he made his way to the door, holding it open, “ After you.”
“Stealing words now too? I thought it’d stop at my house,” Paul laughed a little at his bad attempt at a joke.
The cold air hitting Paul yet again, earning a hiss from the man. The difference in the temperatures from the scolding hot coffee and the outside leaving a painful feeling within his hands. Making him book it yet again to get inside of the car and away from all this. Somewhere warm before he returns to his cold house because he refuses to turn on his heater unless he had to, trying to keep the bills down as much as he could. Though, to be fair, he always folded whenever Richie complained about it. Whenever they both made their way back into the car, Paul found his hand reaching to crank the heater. Not wanting to admit just how terrible the cold was.
“Paul, you are worse than a lizard. I’m going to make you get me another drink if this melts,” John looked at him with disbelief at how anyone could tolerate this much heat.
“Okay, sounds fine to me,” Paul answered with a shrug, his hands in his lap with his coffee sitting between them.
“You can't take a joke can you?” John stated, a sigh leaving him as he started to pull out yet again.
There was no rhyme or reason to how it devolved into a movie night. Though there was a sneaking suspicion that there was nothing better to do than just watch a movie. Or well, it started with John putting on a movie, then Paul passed by and stopped to watch it, taking a seat on the couch crisscrossed. So, it was more an accident than intentional. Which may have been for the worst, as it had distracted Paul from making dinner. So there was truly one executive decision he had, order a pizza, enjoy watching movies, and face his problems tomorrow. It sounded like a wonderful plan.
“You care if I get pizza? and, are you picky about any toppings or?” Paul asked at a slow bit of the movie, his hands already on his phone to dial the local pizza place.
“Just a cheese pizza, toppings get too risky,” John mumbled a bit entranced by the movie.
That had Paul look over a bit, okay. Cheese, pizza was fine; he could just ignore how it was just cheese. He’s done it enough for Richie, but he’d be damned if hadn’t missed getting pepperoni to ignore how the cheese crisped.
“Alrighty, sounds good to me,” Paul answered as he reached over for the remote as he dialed the pizza place.
It wasn’t all that long before they were greeted by a ring at the doorbell. Causing Paul to shoot up like a bat out of hell and leaving John to chuckle at the sight. It was amusing to see the man freak out over a doorbell of all things. Though in Paul’s defense it was barely ever used. At least, it meant the pizza had made it, Well, hopefully had made it. Paul opened the door after checking through the peep hole, only seeing a car driving away and a pizza on the porch’s chair. Slipping out from behind the door he picked the pizza and brought it inside, laying it down on the dining room table. Grabbing a paper towel and setting a slice onto it, Paul finds his way back to the couch, waiting for when John grabbed a slice and joined him yet again. A peace between the two of them as they got settled in.
It had been one, maybe two movies when John’s phone lit up like a Christmas tree. Something John had just wanted to ignore and get back into the movie. Yet, he didn’t get that joy. No, instead, he was made fun of by Paul,
“John, you went as far as turning off your time on your phone? I did not know that your hatred ran that deep, old man,” Paul mused, albeit a bit tired at this point.
“Oh shut it,” John replied as he begrudgingly opened up the phone to the messages.
John read through the text which was far longer than it ever really needed to be in the first place. Then again, that's something he's come to learn about both Richie and Paul. Unnecessary long text, pair with only one big block of them. As John squinted his eyes. Trying to decipher half of it, the screen being a bit harsh on his eyes how close it was. But the good news was he got the general gist of it. What more could you truly ask of him anyway?
“Hey Paul, Richie is asking if he could get a ride home. He forgot something and also wanted me to say to charge your phone. He’s been trying to get you for the past hour,” John summarized the text as he paused the movie, “Go on and get him, I’m sure he won’t mind joining an impromptu movie night. I'll keep the movie paused, maybe finish a book I’ve been meaning to.”
“Shit–Okay, uh. I’ll be back,” Paul got up pretty quickly, as he shoved his phone onto a charger.
Paul tossed his sweater on, a scarf wrapping around himself. His hands were busy digging in the key basket, which contained more junk than actual keys. Grabbing his car keys, he booked his way out of the door, Nearly forgetting his phone. He grabbed it off the charger hoping it was enough. If not he could just plug it into the car, which is what ended up happening. He called Richie like a panicked parent. All the way up until he actually had Richie in the car with him, Making their way both back home.
“There's some cheese pizza in the dining room, your favorite. Might be a bit cold now though sorry about that,” Paul apologized as he locked up the front door.
“It’s fine, no worries. I think I might just head to bed, save me some for the morning though yeah?” Richie requested, with an exasperated tiredness.
It's something that surprised Paul considering all the all-nighters he’s seen that kid pull and come out on top. Paul’s knitted into confusion, taking a wild guess that something must’ve happened to bring Richie back. All he knew is he wouldn't pry all that hard about it until the kid was ready to say anything himself.
“If you need anything let me know,” Paul’s words were soft, a voice he hadn’t found himself using all that often with anyone else.
As Paul found himself doing as Richie requested, putting the pizza into the fridge. His hands mindlessly stimming against one another. A rather comforting motion to himself, as he reminded himself to check on Richie one last time just to be safe. Then maybe possibly continue a movie night. Something that seemed a bit daunting now. But he could handle it. As he cracked the door open only to find Richie passed out on the bed. He was a bit taken-a-back by the sight. It was a mystery to Paul how the kid even managed. He sighed, as he crept into the room, turning off the lamp on the bedside table before he pressed a gentle kiss down onto Richie's head, a tiny ruffle of the hair.
“Sweet dreams kid,” Paul murmured as he left the room with a silent step.
A bit of hurt in his chest as he remembered just how little time he had for moments such as this one. After all, Richie was a senior, he’d be leaving soon. Something Paul didn’t know if he was going to be able to handle as well as he’d like to say he would. Though at least he wouldn’t be fully alone after that. He’d have Emma likely, and, well, John if he doesn’t move out once he finds a reasonable place. Then, of course, it wasn’t like Richie wouldn’t visit. Probably. He at least could hope. Walking his way back into the, living room, he found a half asleep John, something that brought a smile to him. As he went over pressed a light, silly peck on the man's cheek.
“Thanks for the coffee, John,” Paul whispered, wanting to avoid waking the man further.
Paul was in the final trek now. He just had to make it to his room where he could sleep at a reasonable time. He found his bedroom door, before slipping into the room and falling onto his bed. His thoughts are slowing down, but it was clear he was content, and he could face tomorrow's issues. Maybe even having another day like this would be perfect.