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"Bye, Mom. Love you."
Ian put his cell phone down on the side table, next to the tray with Prudence's chocolate-chip-macadamia cookies and mugs of hot chocolate with spiced rum, and snuggled back into Quinn's arms. They were sitting in front of the fireplace on a frosty Friday night in late January, savoring the warmth they generated together. Jo's call had interrupted their cuddling, but Ian was a devoted son, almost always answering his mother's calls, except when Quinn and he were making love.
They were wearing their uniforms for winter nights by the fireside -- flannel pajamas and thick socks. Their heavy robes gave them a 'Jedi at rest' vibe. The green and blue checked quilt -- which they had gotten long ago on their first visit to The Wayfarers Inn -- covered them only to the waist. This allowed Quinn to massage his herven's shoulder under the layers of clothing, because the joint was strained from a challenging new routine on the parallel bars.
"Mom told me that since Dad retired just before Christmas, he's been having trouble keeping himself busy." Ian kissed a soft bit of skin on the side of Quinn's neck.
Quinn rumbled happily at the kiss, the good vibrations teasing Ian's lips. "It's a common problem. You and Monty even tried to warn him beforehand that he needed some hobbies."
Ian nodded into Quinn's shoulder. "Guess it's the kind of thing that you can't really imagine until you retire."
"So now Jo wants your help in figuring out what to do about it?" asked Quinn.
"Got it in one, ma gradh," Ian said wryly. "He's been driving her crazy; she's still working part-time at the Boonton Library, but he wants her to be with him the whole day."
Quinn sighed. "Good thing my parents retired at the same time." Ginny and John had taught at Cornell, and they always had plenty to do because of their status as Professors Emeritus.
"Do you think that he and Mom would like coming to our Skyhawks home games?" asked Ian.
Quinn beamed. "They would love it, lad, just like they enjoy the theater subscription we get them every year." He teased, "I know that I love to see you stalking up the sidelines with your intense focus on the action."
Ian said, "Great! So that takes care of the lion's share of Saturday afternoons all season, and then we could take them out to dinner. Let's see if your folks are interested, as well."
"Make a proper day of it for all of us. Sounds grand!" Quinn rumbled his approval.
The phone rang again, and they both groaned.
"We're under siege by telemarketers!" Ian raised a dramatic hand to his forehead.
"Too true," said Quinn in a soft growl, which inevitably ended with a snorfle at his lad's theatrics.
Despite his complaint, the ever-conscientious Ian checked to make sure that it was an unknown number and let it go to voicemail. After that, their peace remained undisturbed for the rest of the night, probably because it was after hours for telemarketing.
Ian looked at the ever-changing flames for a couple of moments, snuggling deeper into his husband's arms. "I was also thinking..." he trailed off.
Quinn could see that Ian was still as deep in thought as his laddie was in his embrace, so he remained quiet, only allowing himself to run a loving hand through Ian's soft copper strands.
"Remember when we were all looking through Dad's college yearbook when we were in Padua on Christmas Eve?" Ian asked.
Quinn nodded into his herven's hair; the historian in him had loved seeing the amazing clothes of the 1970s, with the wide ties and wider collars, along with brightly hued and patterned everything. The free-spirited vibe of the '60s was still there and even the super-abundance of long hair, as well as moustaches and beards.
Keith had kept his ginger hair in a ponytail and looked like a 'Swinging Seventies' dude, much to Quinn's surprise, since he was very familiar with the sober, clean-shaven man he'd known for so many years. He'd been wearing a t-shirt with a peace sign on it over blue jeans with bell-bottoms and was the epitome of cool. And you should have seen his sideburns!
Ian started to laugh. "Remember that French horn in Dad's hand? He tried to get me to play it all through high school, but I always preferred the piano."
"And I'm glad of it, my lad. You've given me such enjoyment with your playing over the years." Quinn hummed 'Teenage Wasteland' into his lad's ear, the memorable refrain from 'Baba O'Riley' by The Who.
Somehow, Ian liked Quinn's version even better than his own rendition on the piano sitting behind them. "There's also a photo of Dad with the Chess Club. I wonder if he'd like to take it up again."
"Ah, that's a grand idea, laddie mine." Quinn followed his humming with a rumbling as he spoke. "Chess is an absorbin' game."
"And we know first-hand how childhood daydreams of hobbits can lead to adult passions," Ian answered mischievously.
Quinn gave out a rich chuckle. "That we do, my lad." He nuzzled into soft copper strands.
Ian's' sideburns, though not as majestic as Keith's in the '70s, loved being tickled by Quinn's rumbles. He grinned as he said, "Since Mom isn't really into chess, how about getting him one of those computerized sets, where he can choose the level of difficulty?"
"'Twould make a great gift for your dad." Quinn kissed his husband's soft, spiky hair. "One your mom would appreciate, too," he continued slyly.
Ian sighed with pleasure at Quinn's kiss. "Yep, it will keep him thoroughly entertained, not to mention out of her hair." He started singing, 'I'm gonna to wash that man right out of my hair', from 'South Pacific'.
Quinn joined in for an impromptu duet, leaving them both laughing. "I can just see your dad playing chess for hours on end."
"And you know what will happen then?" Ian snorted. "I expect Mom will call and complain that *she's* bored."
"Hard to solve one problem without causing another," Quinn said dryly.
"Spoken like a seasoned diplomat, Master Masterson." Ian barked out another laugh; he had given Quinn his Jedi honorific without realizing how humorous the juxtaposition of title and name would be, until he said it aloud.
"Master Masterson," Quinn repeated incredulously. On one level, he could not believe Ian had never said this before, what with all his laddie's teasing about Quinn's mastery. On another level, the words clicked in his head, just like the time in Colonial Williamsburg that he had put on a periwig and realized that he looked just like Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He gave an involuntary shiver, even as he snorted.
Ian felt the shiver, and he nuzzled into Quinn's chest, rubbing his hand up and down his husband's arm. "I know; I know. It's funny, but it suits you."
"Too true, my 'Ladawan'," thought Quinn without saying, since it was too close to Coruscant to speak aloud.
Deliberately changing the subject back to their former discussion -- and not letting a trace of his unsettled emotions show anymore -- Quinn said, "I thought of something else Keith might like. He enjoyed his chess-club days in high school; why not suggest that he join a chess club now? Our local civic center always has flyers up about their club meetings. I bet there's one in Padua, too."
Ian's eyes flashed green. "Good idea! That's probably even more fun than playing by himself. He might meet some new friends this way, and he's always been so gregarious."
"And there's another thing we can do," Quinn said. "Remember our holiday dinner-dance at The Sunset Tower? We raised hundreds of dollars for our local animal shelter." At Ian's nod, he continued, "I got an email at school this mornin', saying that 11 kittens and 38 puppies have been adopted, just since Christmas Day."
"Wow! That's fantastic!" Ian's grin was almost as big as his husband as he thought of all the little Artoos and Sandys who now had homes to play in.
"So I realized that your family has never had pets, right?" Quinn rubbed Ian's shoulder soothingly.
Ian purred under his herven's ministrations. "Yes, my grannie had a lot of allergies, and my folks didn't want to aggravate them."
"Of course." Quinn nodded. "Do you think that they might be interested in having a puppy now?"
Ian's eyes sparkled. "Oh, that would be wonderful! A wee pup for them to love."
"And a new friend for Sandy and Artoo." Quinn nipped playfully at Ian's nose, just as Artoo had been known to do.
Ian chuckled. "We'll have to ask when we see them next weekend. If they're keen on it, we'll all drive to the shelter together."
Right on cue, they heard the clatter of tiny paws on the kitchen's terra-cotta tiles. Then the pups padded down the carpeted hall into the living room, where Quinn saw them coming around the couch. They jumped up to be with their dads -- Ian with a squirming armful of Artoo and Quinn with a happy lapful of Sandy. The men petted and scritched them; the puppies licked and nuzzled into their dads. Pure bliss for everyone!
"So you can tell that you just may get a new friend soon," Quinn crooned to Sandy, and he wagged his tail. "I always knew our pups were smart, m'lad, but now I think they share our Jedi telepathy."
Ian grinned. "I think you're right, ma gradh." Then he gazed into Artoo's bright brown eyes. "You and Sandy are the galaxy's first Jedi pups, ma cutie-pie."
Artoo let out a knowing yip, and the men dissolved into laughter. All four of them were clearly on the same wavelength.
"Since you're up past your bedtime, how about a special treat for you tonight?" Quinn carefully put Sandy down on the carpet, while Ian did the same for Artoo.
Then Quinn led the way to the kitchen, lit only by the pups' C-3PO night-light. He snapped on the overhead light, as Ian headed for a cabinet near the refrigerator. The pups started wagging their tails enthusiastically. This was *their* cabinet, the source of all the little tidbits their dads gave them.
Just when they were about to burst from excitement, Ian opened the door and pulled out a packet of Snausages they had gotten from Violet for Christmas. Ahh, pure puppy heaven. They even got two treats apiece. Meanwhile, Quinn replenished their food and water, even though he'd done so just a couple of hours ago. Puppy telepathy was thirsty work!
They finished their treats in record time, washed them down with water, then were scooped up by their dads for goodnight kisses and were put gently into their baskets for the night. Ian turned the light off, making sure that C-3PO shone his golden light on them.
The men were glad they wore their socks without their moccasins so their tread wouldn't disturb the pups, since they were already asleep after an exciting night for them. Ian and Quinn smiled at each other as they left the kitchen.
They barely had the oomph for their night-time ablutions, but they dragged themselves to the bathrooms nonetheless, since they had to use the facilities anyway. In an act of sheer Jedi will power, they even made themselves brush their teeth. Then they started their bedtime routine.
Quinn made sure the fire was out and tidied the fireplace, while Ian checked the temperature on the thermostat and that the doors were all locked. Ian turned a lamp on in the master bedroom, and Quinn turned out the rest of the lights. Then they met in the dim entranceway, with just the distant glow down the hall to guide them. Arm in arm, they made for their bedroom, which seemed to be light years away by now.
It was time for them to retire, as well -- to their warm and cozy bed for the night.