WWW: The Boy in the Bubble (Josh)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

((OOC: This occurs during the snow storm.))


Sean had tuned into the weather channel the night before to track the storm. As a responsible adult, he had insisted on keeping supplies in case there was a power outage, and in case they found themselves homebound after the blizzard.

As usual, preparation proved worth the effort, since the snow had reached their windows and was still coming down hard. The telepath, upon realizing that they would be trapped at least for the day (and thankful, as always, for both the boiler and the backup generator he’d installed after Sandy), Sean had changed out of his pajamas from the night before into a fresh pair, and he’d tied his robe over that.

A snow day. It had been a long time since either he or Josh had been able to enjoy a snow day. And, for once, this snow day wasn’t coupled with a crippling loss of electricity or fear that the wind might rip their roof from the rest of their house. Which meant that, despite the snow outside, and the loss of electricity in other parts of town, they could actually relax and remain comfortable.

Which, in turn, led to the telepath brewing hot cocoa and suggesting that he and Josh bake cookies.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"What kind of cookies do you want to bake?" Josh asked as he began pulling out ingredients. "Do you want to bake sugar cookies and decorate them with frosting and sprinkles?"

There were still tubs of blue and white sprinkles from the last two year's Hanukkah baking; no matter how much baking he did, he never seemed to use sprinkles very quickly. However, they might have to make their own frosting; he thought he remembered using up the last tube of frosting over Halloween.

He too was in pajamas and a robe, kindly gifted to him by his partner. He had at one point in time not slept in pajamas, but he supposed that he was getting old, because the winter weather was starting to actually get to him. Blankets (electric and otherwise) were no longer enough to keep him warm in the winter time.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean met that suggestion with an uncharacteristically quick denial and shake of his head. The telepath didn’t dislike sugar cookies; they were fun to decorate, after all, and his sweet tooth made it such that he had never turned down any dessert in recent memory. But they were bland, and they were too easy to make, even if they had the ability to use cookie cutters for the activity. He wanted something more flavorful and exciting, particularly since he did the grocery shopping and knew what ingredients they had in stock.

“Let’s make rum balls.” His counter suggestion would allow them to use the sprinkles as a finishing touch, while also giving them the opportunity for chocolate, rum, and pure, unadulterated sugar. More than that, rum balls were relatively simple – requiring only the most basic ingredients apart from the alcohol - while still allowing them to have fun with the dough, and they had a high yield afterward.

His stomach growled at the thought.

Before Josh could confirm or deny the suggestion, the telepath disappeared from the kitchen to fetch the alcohol. Either they used it in the cookies, or he’d spice up the hot cocoa. He’d leave that decision up to Josh.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Rum balls!" Josh agreed, opening the drawer that contained the wax paper. He cut a sheet on the edge of the container, pleased with how relatively straight his sheet of wax paper ended up; when he had first begun baking he had always made the edges too jagged. Of course, wax paper had been easier to get the hang of than plastic wrap, which even now seemed to get stuck together more often than not.

"I should just put you in charge of the ideas around here," He laughed, laying the wax paper on the counter. "You always have the best ones."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean returned with the bottle of rum, which he set down on the counter. He then disappeared into the pantry to dig out the rest of the ingredients that they required, particularly the baking chocolate (which Josh wouldn’t have grabbed for sugar cookies), and the sugar. On his way back from the pantry, he grabbed the butter from the refrigerator, and then laid them all out on the counter.

The telepath smiled at the remark. “And if we put me in charge, I suppose that means I’ll get a raise.”

Not that Sean was concerned about finances, either in the abstract or as money pertained to the two of them. If he had his way, they would have combined everything into a joint account years ago. As it was, they only had the joint household account because of the telepath’s insistence. And despite his reassurances, the attorney still put on more show of dividing up their money than Sean found necessary.

It was their money. They didn’t need to check in with each other for minor purchases, but he certainly didn’t think he needed to be compensated for anything.

However, that was the purpose of banter. To make light of life’s foibles.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh began spraying the cookie trays with non-stick coating as he considered Sean's suggestion. "A raise? I suppose that's fair. How does a ten percent raise sound? And, of course, an end of year bonus."

He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at that. He had plans for Sean's end of year bonus, plans that involved the two of them and the hot tub. He thought the other man would be amenable to this suggestion once the rum balls were in the freezer.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean rubbed his chin thoughtfully, feeling along the stubble that had grown in the day and night before, (and reminding himself that he ought to shave later; he slacked off when he had nowhere to go, such as when he was sick or on bad weather days that left him housebound, but he had no desire to regrow his beard). “I suppose ten percent is nothing to sneeze at, although, we have to keep in mind, that making all of the decisions is a big burden and responsibility. It adds a lot of stress.”

Which was, in fact, true, and the reason why he had seen so many people in high stress jobs and who served as caregivers back when he’d had his own practice. It took a psychological toll. “Let’s say fifteen?”

The telepath assumed that was how salary and raise negotiations worked. Having never been in a position for a performance-based raise - everything at Hammel was scheduled according to cost of living increases and specific compensation for specific extracurricular activities – he had to guess.

While Josh prepared the cookie sheets, Sean began to break the chocolate into small pieces, and he filled another bowl with the blue and white Chanukah sprinkles.

“And, of course, the bonus. I’m curious about what that will look like this year.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"That's an excellent point about the stress," Josh conceded, turning his attention to helping with the cookie mixture. "I'll make it twenty percent."

At the question about the bonus Josh thought we hard as he could about his hot tub plans, hoping that Sean would (literally) get the picture.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean put the butter in a microwave-safe bowl and handed it to his partner. Josh would need to soften it, so that they could add it to the sugar, and then to the chocolate and rum before they mixed and rolled the mixture into delicious chocolate balls fit for dipping in sprinkles and then freezing until they became edible.

His stomach growled at the thought.

Perhaps he would need to eat something with his hot cocoa while they waited, once they finished with their baking endeavor.

At the concession, he nodded approvingly, and then reached out with his hand – now covered in chocolate – to shake Josh’s for this agreement. “Twenty percent would be fine; you have a deal.”

Then he smiled. “I assume I’ll have to start immediately?”

As though this were serious.

His smile widened as an image of them in the hot tub upstairs popped into his mind. He didn’t shield at home, he and Josh’s minds were in sync when they were together, and this physical closeness (separated by only a couple of feet, touching at times) made thoughts all the easier to detect. “I think that would be an adequate bonus,” he said, his composed tone a stark contrast to his smile.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Immediately," Josh agreed as he placed the butter in the microwave and tapped in his instructions.

At the comment regarding the bonus he lifted his nose into the air. "adequate! And what would tip the scales from adequate to generous?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I can do immediately,” Sean said, and pulled back his hand. He grabbed the rum, opening the bottle in anticipation of when they would add the sugar and the butter together to make this delicious concoction.

The telepath had to work at keeping the amusement out of his voice and off his face as he continued with this banter. In truth, he was excited by the prospect of this so-called bonus, for whenever they finished their baking. He enjoyed using the hot tub, and he enjoyed time with his partner, but doing so together increased his enjoyment exponentially. However, they were pretending to bargain, and that called for seriousness.

“Generous? With how inflation has been on the rise for the past thirty years? Maybe you could have called that a generous bonus when I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed youngster, but not now, when gas costs three dollars a gallon and wages have stagnated.”

All of that was utterly true and had been the subject of conversation over supper in this household more times than Sean could count. Despite the fact that both men came from comfortably upper-middle class families and had white-collar professional jobs, with experience running their own practices, they always sided with labor over management. It also had no bearing on the hot tubs.

"To reach generous, you’d have to double it.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Double it?" Josh furrowed his brow in consternation. "I don't know if I have much more to offer. You're really tying my hands here."

Which Sean could do literally if he wanted an actual increase on that bonus.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The microwave beeped, letting Josh know that the warming cycle had finished, and now they had softened butter. Sean added the sugar and rum to a bowl in anticipation of Josh bringing over the butter, and, when the other man did, Sean began to stir them together, until they had a dough of sorts. After that, he added in the chocolate and handed the bowl over to his partner to mix.

“That could be arranged,” Sean replied, dropping the banter negotiations for a moment, opting instead to raise his eyebrow meaningfully at his partner. Although he knew that Josh would never advertise this to other people (and he had no reason to do so, as it affected nobody else), and he knew sometimes the other man was ashamed of it, his partner enjoyed being tied up, and, in return, Sean was always happy to accommodate him.

Not in the hot tub, because that could be dangerous, but easily before or after.

But, the moment passed, and he returned to a sterner demeanor, consistent with labor and salary negotiations, as though that were something real for them or their relationship. “It isn’t my fault that you’re unwilling to make my compensation competitive with the current market value.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I thought it was a very competitive offer!" Josh sighed as he mixed the ingredients together. "But very well. The hot tub later and the kitchen, with whatever mixture doesn't go into the rum balls once we've put them in the freezer. And when the rum balls are done I'll feed some to you, oh Maker of the Decisions."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

While Josh stirred the mixture, Sean took down the bag of flour and poured some into his hands. He wanted as much of the mixture to turn into rum balls as humanly possible, even with his partner’s offer on the table. And, with his hands now covered in flour, he couldn’t shake hands. Instead, he opted to lean over and kiss the other man on the cheek. “That’s a deal.”

And, despite the fact that this wasn’t a binding contract, he full expected his partner to deliver on both of those promises.

Setting down the bag of flour on the counter, he then grabbed both cookie sheets, bringing them to the table and putting one down at either end. Picking up the sprinkle bowl, he set it down between the two sheets. That would let them sit while they rolled balls, which, while fun, could be time-consuming, and there was no need for them to be on their feet for all of that time.

The fact that they would be off their feet later, as per their new agreement, notwithstanding. Making rum balls was no substitute for regular exercise, and, because of that, there was no need to pretend that it was by making it more labor-intensive than necessary.