It's a Misunderstanding! ...Or Is It? (Sean)

Sean hadn’t made a production of his birthday in years, and he was invariably happier for it. He far preferred to focus on other people’s birthdays, such as Josh who actually enjoyed the production and the theatrical flair, as with their restaurant experience the previous year.

However, the telepath wasn’t averse to acknowledging his birthday, particularly with loved ones. He enjoyed cake. He appreciated the cake that Josh had baked for him, and he enjoyed the low-key supper and dessert with his partner and their foster daughter.

Yet, Josh had wanted to celebrate properly, albeit privately, and announced that he wanted them to take a trip to Boston to enjoy the weekend as tourists. They hadn’t been to Boston since Valentine’s Day, and as there wasn’t a Paul Simon concert in Pilot Ridge, and work was winding down for the summer recess, the telepath had consented. He had let Josh plan as he wished, participating by packing his own bag and by arranging for Ryan and Shiya to babysit.

Fortunately, they liked babysitting. “We’re going to bake cookies and watch all of the Harry Potter movies,” his nephew had replied, when asked what they had planned to pass the time.

The drive wasn’t that long, because they had left earlier in the day, thus allowing them to avoid Friday evening rush-hour traffic.

The telepath dragged one suitcase into the waiting room of the hotel. Josh had asked for input on hotels, and Sean had suggested a few. This one was on the marina, and the building was gorgeous, almost like a resort. There were boats to rent out on the marina proper, and Sean was sure that they would have a good time.

The man at the desk set aside his magazine and glanced up, taking in the sight of the two men before him. “What’s the name?”

Sean was an inherently pragmatic person. When confronted with a problem, he sought potential solutions. When presented with a potential solution, he carefully weighed the costs and benefits of that solution, before deciding if it was worthwhile.

In this situation, he had little to consider. It was a Friday afternoon in Boston. Hotels were expensive and Boston was a tourist and business town (and the baseball season had begun), which meant that hotel rooms were difficult to come by on short notice. Particularly hotel rooms with amenities. They had driven for four hours, and trying to circle throughout Boston proper and the surrounding suburbs for an acceptable vacancy would be unpleasant at best and fruitless at worst.

The receptionist had offered them a solution: a honeymoon suite without additional charges. As such, they wouldn’t have to spend more to solve this problem, since it had been the hotel’s oversight.

In Sean’s mind, this barely constituted a problem. If the suite was available, then they were essentially where they had begun had there been no booking issues. After all, they would be at the same hotel, with the same distance to sites and establishments and with the same marina privileges. In fact, they had more amenities for the same price.

As such, without hesitation, the telepath stepped forward and extended his hand, nodding slightly. “That would be fine, thank you.”

And twenty years ago, we wouldn’t have been given the option. We would have been asked to leave because there were no vacancies, Sean projected back to his partner. He was willing to have this discussion once they were upstairs, where they weren’t in front of another person who was doing his best to correct an error for them.

Giving no indication of the telepathic conversation, Sean took his keycard and offered the receptionist a grateful smile. “Thank you. Is there an Internet password that we should know?”

“The wireless is free and the password is on the envelope,” the man behind the desk answered. “The username is your room number.”

“Thank you,” the telepath answered again. He glanced down at the room number listed on the envelope, so that he would know where they going. With that knowledge, he grabbed his suitcase and turned in the direction of the elevator.

Sean always knew where the elevators were in buildings, as long as someone familiar with the building was nearby.

It was only when they were in the elevator, with the doors closed and the proper button pushed, that he turned back to his partner to continue their discussion. “This isn’t dishonest.”

“No, because the notion of a honeymoon is archaic,” Sean replied without missing a beat. While they rode, he clasped his hands in front of him and kept his attention focused on his partner.

The name of a hotel room wasn’t sworn testimony to the nature of the occupants or their relationship to one another. He had stayed in Executive Suites while not a business executive. There were themed hotels, one in New Hampshire of which he knew, where different rooms had themes such as “under the sea” and “medieval fantasy.” Renting those rooms didn’t make the occupants merpeople or knights.

Moreover, they hadn’t proactively sought this arrangement; this had been the result of a booking error. They weren’t exploiting this for special privileges. They were, quite literally, trying to enjoy the weekend in one another’s company.

“We happen to be two people renting a room. What we do with that room is nobody else’s business, as long as we comply with the law. Within reason, considering that sodomy wasn’t always legal when we were engaged in that,” he added, giving his partner a knowing look.

This should matter to nobody.

“That we are a romantic couple means that we don’t have a flip a coin over who gets the bed and who has the sofa. That we live in the present means that we don’t have to pretend we aren’t sleeping together. That’s the full extent of anyone else’s involvement in this.”

When they arrived at the proper floor, Sean moved back from the wall, reached for the handle of his suitcase, and gave it a tug. He had invested in wheeled luggage several years ago, and his knees and his back thanked him for doing so. The suitcases weren’t always appropriate for every excursion, but for a weekend vacation at a hotel, they were perfect.

His long stride brought him into step with his partner easily, despite the fact that Josh had had a head start out of the elevator. Sensing the maid, and later confirming her presence through sight, the telepath was fine to pause the conversation. The younger man had far more invested in this than Sean considered necessary or warranted, given that this was an unexpected room upgrade.

Only after the maid had left did Josh continue to speak his mind. The explanation gave Sean pause.

Instead of an immediate reply, as he had given mere moments before, he was silent. Sean studied his partner for a long moment, mentally replaying what Josh had just said to him, while his eyes remained trained on the attorney’s face. Finally, he asked, “Do you consider our relationship serious?”

His tone was free of judgment, as he didn’t intend to spark an argument. The question was sincere.

The attorney’s verbal reply provided Sean with the confirmation and context he required to continue this conversation. Josh’s unvoiced thoughts led to a sigh that the telepath didn’t quite suppress.

He loved Josh so much. He simply wished that the younger man would listen from time to time. That he would find a way to put his anxieties in the context of the telepath’s personality and integrity, if not their prior experiences together.

Upon reaching the door that matched their keycard, Sean came to a halt. He slid the key into the slot, waited for the green light, and then pushed open the door to step inside.

The suit was gorgeous.

Pale blues and whites for the color scheme, well-fitting the marina on which the hotel was built. A large bed – a California King from a glance – occupied the largest part of the bedroom, visible through the side door once Sean stepped into the room proper. The bay window offered a magnificent view, to which the telepath was drawn.

However, he cut short the appreciation, because Josh required his attention.

Setting down the suitcase and turning back towards his partner, Sean remarked, “We share a house, a bedroom, and a bed. We have a foster child. You have my medical power of attorney in case of an emergency.” Although Josh had had that long before they had reconciled. “We’re monogamous. We love each other. So we have as much of a claim to this room as anyone else.”

“Think about it?” Sean queried, tilting his head to the side slightly. He understood what Josh was asking, at least in part, but he was curious as to what had brought this forward. Unless the assignment of the suite was enough to prompt a major life discussion.

Considering that this was Josh, perhaps it was, the telepath thought in retrospect.

Sean moved to the bed, sitting beside his partner. He reached out to rub Josh’s shoulder, taking over the task of soothing the younger man’s aching muscles.

“I haven’t given much thought to marriage in a couple of decades,” he admitted. Two large hands rubbed over Josh’s shoulders, touching gently, with the intimate knowledge and confident skill that came from knowing another’s body quite well.

“I care more about family than formalities,” he reminded the younger man. Sean had articulated before that marriage was neither necessary nor sufficient for a healthy, stable relationship. He and Josh had managed that without a marriage license, after all, and the presence of a marriage license could not provide stability or satisfaction on its own. “I’ve managed to build a family with you, and so I’ve considered myself very lucky for the past two years.”

He dug the heel of his hand into Josh’s shoulder blades. “Do you ever think about it?”