Crazy Love, Vol II (Josh)

[Joshua Bernstein]

"It's like you know what I'm thinking," Josh teased when Sean brought up the cheesecake. It didn't bother him when Sean knew that what he really wanted was a cheesecake for dessert or that work had been stressful or that his head hurt, not the way he had been bothered as a young man. And even then he'd usually been able to accept Sean's telepathy; there had simply been those few secrets he'd not wanted to admit even to himself, and he'd never been able to properly articulate how much he felt his privacy was violated when Sean blithely brought them up.

He thought he was better about that now, or maybe it was just that Sean had learned which facts to leave unacknowledged.

After the telepath placed his coffee order Josh chimed in with his, hoping for something dark and bitter to go with the cheesecake, though he accepted the dessert menu, flipping through it just in case something else caught his eye.

"A weekend trip sounds delightful." He glanced across the table at the other man as he explained their possible itinerary. "And I would ordinarily find a proxy, but I don't think the bartender would appreciate being taken away from his paying job to dance with an old fart."

He rolled his eyes at the remark about twenty-somethings calling Sean granddaddy. "You aren't old enough to have grandchildren of clubbing age." He pointed out. "And neither am I. Children, certainly, but not grandchildren. Besides, if they're going to call you names then I'm at least as susceptible."

At the list of clubs they could find he piped up with, "A bear strip club. Does Boston have one of those? I think that would be the best of all possible worlds."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath had gotten better at distinguishing between what was to be kept to himself and what was to be acknowledged. While he’d had that skill years before regarding the general public, had required it for graduating, relationships had been a different matter when he was younger. Boundaries for telepaths were complicated. Still, he did better with practice and years of experience.

Sean picked up his dessert menu and began to read. He ignored the selections for coffee (he needed nothing more complicated than what he had already ordered) and for dessert liquor (desired but off limits for the night), instead concentrating solely on the desserts as listed. The difficulty with having a sweet tooth was that all of the selections were appealing in their own right, save the crème brulee.

Making his selection, he set down the menu. “You could always pay the bartender to level the field a bit; besides, the bartenders are supposed to be nicer to you than other patrons are. At least bartenders smile.” Not that any bar patron was under any obligation to make contact with anyone else; that was a matter of autonomy.

He made eye contact, not reacting to the eye roll. “I don’t deny that, but the younger set has a warped perspective about age.” This was true. None of the students had the slightest clue as to how old he actually was and the guesses ranged from the flattering to the baffling and slightly offensive. “You look forty; I don’t. You’re nowhere near as susceptible as I am.”

Not that he particularly minded, not really. It wasn’t as though he was cruising for young men.

“We could look for one.” It was a preposterous notion, but then so had been his suggestions. “And if we can’t find one, we could go to a strip club and then a bear club. Or find one of those fancy fetish ones where everyone has to be in leather to be allowed in.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Oh, absolutely, I definitely want a partner who's only with me for the money. Is it still ten cents a dance, or have the rates gone up, do you know?"

Bartenders were generally friendly enough (and they had to be, if they wanted tips. It was part of the expectation that they would be friends with the bar patrons) but he had no desire to pay one to dance with him. In any event, that wasn't their job and could possibly get them in trouble with their employers. If he wanted to dance with anyone other than Sean (which he didn't, not really) then he would find another patron to dance with. While his long-term relationship history wasn't spectacular, and was filled with feelings-related failure, he had no insecurities about his ability to pick someone up for a dance or two.

"I suppose that's true." He conceded Sean's point about age, because he'd always looked younger than he was, and thus he could empathize with the telepath's annoyance to a point: he'd hated being asked what high school he went to when he was a Law student. Now he had less of a problem, because he looked to be at an age that was respectable but not too old yet.

He corrected people if they outright stated his age incorrectly, but he didn't mind as much now that he was past fifty.

"Let's look for one." He wouldn't be broken up if they couldn't find one, but now that the notion had come up he wasn't letting it go. "And if we can't then I'll hold you to the leather club. You look good in leather."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“The rates may have gone up. Admittedly, I haven’t looked.” Since the telepath didn’t particularly care for dancing – he could waltz, which was a novelty not appreciated by the younger set – he was never in a position of being at a club, unable to find a willing dance partner. “Inflation, you understand.”

And because he didn’t care for dancing, he wouldn’t be offended in the slightest if Josh did choose to seek out a dance partner who wasn’t the bartender. He certainly wouldn’t be jealous. Instead, Sean was happy to sit with his whiskey and watch.

Josh’s youthful appearance had been a source of irritation for his friend throughout their college years. Sean remembered once going to a club and someone asking whether he was familiar with statutory rape laws. He had been informed enough to know that a twenty-one-year-old had full capacity to consent, but Josh had been so baby-faced.

Now, however, that was more of an asset. And his friend was no longer carded going to restaurants, which was also an improvement. “So in addition to being called ‘grandpa’, I can be accused of robbing the cradle. This gets better and better.”

He chuckled at Josh’s exuberance. “We’ll look. And if we don’t find one, we duck into the next best thing.” The next best thing was, as proposed, a leather club. “I’ll be sure to pack the jacket and the boots, if you think I’d look good. I might have chaps somewhere.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I'm not that much younger than you, you're not robbing the cradle." This reassurance ignored the fact that Sean was only being accused of such, an accusation he'd faced in the past and which remained unfair and untrue. And one that had always vexed Josh, who had, as a college student, wanted to be taken seriously, which was remarkably difficult when the other students all looked ten years older than he did.

It wasn't fair.

But he supposed that Sean wasn't any more fond of people thinking he was a pervy old man, either, which was far from the truth.

"I can wear a sign that says my age on it if you think that will help." He offered, though that wasn't a serious suggestion. Even if he did look forty, Sean was only in his mid-fifties, and a ten year or so age gap wasn't too unusual for relationships. It was a bigger gap than he'd had in any of his, because too much older or younger made him feel skeavy, but.....

Well, perhaps he could understand why it was noticeable.

"I do think you'd look good. You should wear them more often." He slid his dessert menu toward the edge of the table meaningfully, watching out of the corner of his eye for the waiter to return with their coffee. Looked like he'd been flagged down by another table before he'd managed to get back to the coffee brewer. It might be a few more minutes. Ah, well, that was a few more minutes for his stomach to free up room for dessert. "Not necessarily at clubs."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I know. I still remember when your birthday is.” Evidenced by the fact that Sean had taken him out clubbing this year on his birthday, evidenced by the fact that there had been a party the year before because that was Josh’s fiftieth and it hadn’t been as humiliating or depressing as Sean’s had been three years before.

Because it was a ludicrous suggestion, Sean chuckled. “I can imagine it now: ‘Hello, my name is I swear that I’m actually fifty-one. I just have very good genes.’” That would do nothing to allow them privacy at a club, although it might stop any queries into Josh’s age. It would also magnify the peculiar looks they received, albeit for wholly different reasons.

A ten year age gap pushed Sean’s boundaries for dating; a fifteen year age gap, which is what they appeared to have since Sean did look roughly his age, was completely unacceptable, even if it was hardly outside the realm of possibilities for some other couples.

At the compliment and the suggestion, Sean leaned forward slightly, sliding his hand forward again. “If that’s a request, I think I have no choice but to accommodate it.” He smiled, now making a mental note to find the chaps. He assumed they were in the attic, since all of his unused clothing found its way there in boxes. “I can start wearing the jacket more once it gets a little colder.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"That was exactly what I had in mind, don't you think that would work? Everyone would know and leave us alone." Or rather, leave Sean alone, since he was the one who would bear the brunt of the comments about the supposed (and non-existent) age gap.

He noted the hand sliding forward and reached out with his own hand to grasp Sean's. "It's a request, but I assure you that you have a choice about it." If Sean declined then it wasn't as if he'd throw a fit or be too heart-broken, he simply thought the telepath and leather were an attractive combination. "Although if you do...." He began, then realized he wasn't really sure what to offer in exchange. Leaving it open-ended seemed inadequate somehow.

He furrowed his brow, wracking his brain for some compelling equivalent to offer, but his thoughts were interrupted by the return of their waiter, coffee and creamers (unasked for, but apparently complimentary) in hand.

Josh thought that they'd had enough time to order, and thus forgot to defer to Sean and ask if he'd made up his mind; it didn't occur to him that they'd been conversing the entire time the waiter had been away rather than scouring the menu, perhaps because his mind had already been made up.

"I'll have the cheesecake. Plain." No sauces or whip-cream necessary; he wanted a pure, unsullied slice of cake with his coffee.

"You just can't have naked coffee." He addressed this comment toward Sean, a sentiment he'd expressed many times before. Coffee was a wonderful drink, but it required something sweet to go with it.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I suppose they would leave us alone over the age issue. Although I would then be asked why I would possibly let you out of the house dressed like that,” the telepath remarked dryly.

Sean stroked the outside of Josh’s hand with his thumb, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes, however, were alight with reassurance, far more passionate than the rest of his expression. “If I do, I’m sure we can think of something in exchange. If necessary.” Not that he would ever turn down a favor, but he didn’t function in a realm where he was owed. He wanted to make Josh happy; he liked pleasing his partners. He’d always been that way.

The telepath thanked the server for the coffee, and went about reaching for the sugar packets while Josh ordered his cheesecake. Only when the other man had finished did he place his order. “The strawberry shortcake, please.” That had caught his eye and he thought it would be light enough to top off this meal.

Opening two packets, then pouring them in before he added a creamer and stirred. “I have heard that before.” Sean drank a fair amount of coffee throughout the day, often coupled with nothing – although always with milk and sugar to sweeten it; then again, coffee in the faculty lounge was one of the small pleasures that Hammel staff had on bad days.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Why you let me?" Josh raised an eyebrow challengingly at that statement. He rarely wore tees, but if he wanted to wear a t-shirt with a crappy slogan announcing his age then he felt that he could do so, and while he would listen to Sean's input the telepath couldn't force him to be classy. Or rather, he probably could, if he really wanted to, but he was too ethical to use the requisite skills. "Unless you mean because this club requires leather, in which case I can understand their concern. But if we go to a leather club then leather is what I'll wear."

It wasn't as if he didn't have proper attire for that sort of club, after all.

"It's necessary." He insisted, because he always felt a bit like he was taking advantage of Sean's generous nature by making a request if he didn't give something in return. He knew that Sean enjoyed filling requests, but that didn't mean he wanted to make too many demands without returning the favor.

"I don't understand how you of all people don't abide by that rule." Josh remarked. The other man had a notorious sweet tooth, so it was always surprising to the attorney when he passed up an opportunity for dessert.

He sniffed at his coffee; it smelled strong, which was an encouraging sign. The stronger the coffee the more he enjoyed it.

"I can't believe you're not getting chocolate," He added as the waiter left them alone in their cozy, private corner once more. "Or is this one of those places that gives complimentary chocolates when you leave so we'll have some anyway?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean mimicked the other man’s expression, also raising his eyebrow, although this wasn’t done in challenge; rather, it was in jest. “You know stereotypes; we’re supposed to be dressed well and if you wore that, not only are you deficient in your selection but I’m deficient in convincing you otherwise.”

The telepath was hardly a fashion plate himself and he didn’t care what other people wore, but this conversation had already turned both ludicrous and esoteric. And while he had been forced, by circumstances, to use his abilities in ways he didn’t particularly like, he would never over something as trivial as wardrobe. “If we go to a leather club, I expect we’ll both wear leather. That isn’t a concern.”

Sean simply smiled. “If you say so.” He had done his part, laid his cards out on the table and told Josh that he was happy to dress up for him without making a similar request. If that wasn’t sufficient, he was certain he could think of something to ask in return.

“Because I like coffee and there isn’t always time to eat something with it.” He liked coffee because caffeine mitigated headaches and because caffeine was caffeine. It wasn’t as though he would turn down a slice of coffee cake if someone placed it under his nose, but when he needed coffee, then taking the drink was priority.

He brought his cup to his lips, sipping it as though for illustration. Then placing it down, he explained, “This is one of those places that makes strawberry shortcake with fresh puff pastry and I’m loathe to pass that up.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Of course, I apologize for failing to stick to type. Unfortunately, I'm out of mousse and my V-necks are all at the cleaners. I believe I have a pair of skin tight leather pants and a gold jacket, however, if that would be acceptable?"

He tried not to go out anywhere in that jacket, but own it he did, due to a shameful love of roleplaying in the bedroom. He was sure that if any of his friends ever found out about that jacket they would never let him live it down.

Still, single fabulous jacket aside, he didn't think he adhered all that well to the stylish, flamboyant stereotype made so popular by the media. He could be a bit dramatic, at times, and he wasn't particularly macho, but he didn't think he was a very good stereotype, either. At least, he hoped that he wasn't, because he hated all stereotypes on the principle that they dehumanized and Othered people.

He wasn't surprised that Sean would deny the necessity to return the favor. In fact, that was precisely what he expected of the other man. He wanted to do something in return, but now wasn't the time to argue that point. Once Sean was in leather was a better time to bring up favors.

"I shall concede that point." He didn't touch his own coffee, instead waiting for the dessert to be brought out, though he watched Sean with a smile. "And I admit that sounds delicious."

Not delicious enough to be superior to cheesecake, of course.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep up with all the plans we've made this evening." The attorney admitted woefully. If only he'd brought his planner, he could have written it all down as they talked; that was how he remembered most plans, because while he was happy to spontaneously participate in social outings, and he had some that were routine, he wasn't very good at keeping up with any deviations from his normal course.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“While I’m sure those would suffice, we also have time to buy more mousse and pick up your V-necks from the cleaners before we go to Boston.” Sean’s expression was serious now, as though this was an actual plan they were creating; that was the best way to tease at times, to behave as though he didn’t know this was a joke. However, that was as far as he would progress with the teasing, since he, too, didn’t care for stereotypes. A remark here or there as a joke with friends aside.

The telepath owned more than a jacket, due to his relationship history and the interests of past partners’, as well as the fact that he was familiar with Josh’s love of bedroom roleplay. Unlike Josh, he found absolutely nothing shameful there; he thought it was healthy. Certainly it wasn’t the most adventurous act Sean had participated in.

Not even close.

And now that he and Josh were back together, he assumed that there would be a fair amount of it. He looked forward to it, in the back of his mind.

Because Josh conceded his point, for the moment as he knew how the other man’s mind worked, Sean was content to let the matter drop.

The telepath took another sip before setting down his cup. “You can have some if you want.” There would be enough to share.

He smiled at the other man’s remark, because that was typical for his friend. He reached up to tap the side of his head lightly. “I have everything up here. This weekend we move. We’re going sailing one weekend followed by a private barbecue complete with a surprise for you. We’re also going to have a barbecue another weekend, after that one, and inviting Anya and Clarisse. You’re in charge of planning a vacation, a getaway vacation, for the two of us, which you’ve defined as having to last at least a week and promised to give me fair warning as well as allowing me to give input. We’re taking a trip to Boston one weekend, and we’re going to museums, and then having a pub tour before looking for a bear strip club, and barring that, a leather club. Additionally, I’ve promised to wear leather for you more often.”

That summed it up nicely.

And, as if on cue, the waiter returned with their desserts. He set Josh’s cheesecake down, plain as ordered, before him, and dropped the strawberry shortcake: puff pastry, fresh strawberries and fresh whipped cream, in front of Sean before disappearing again.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh listened with obvious admiration as Sean rattled off the varied plans they'd made, no hesitation apparent as far as the attorney could tell.

"I can't believe you remembered all of that." He commented, fingers crumpling the cloth napkin in his lap. "I'm impressed."

He wished he had a head for that sort of thing, particularly as he was supposed to be in charge of planning this vacation, as Sean had reminded him. He would definitely be writing their itinerary down, perhaps even emailing their plans to Sean just in case he needed an extra head.

That thought reminded him that the last time he had emailed Sean had been with Danny, and he found himself turning red. He was grateful that the telepath hadn't brought this up, though it was perhaps too much to ask that he might have forgotten, or maybe his email had eaten the message and he'd never seen it at all.

The return of the waiter meant that his attention was once more diverted from Sean, all his focus on the cake before him, and of course the coffee, which he could drink now that he had a dessert.

"Maybe I'll have a taste." He didn't require much, just one bite would suffice, and Sean could have a corner off his cheesecake in return. Because no matter what, he wanted there to be balance and equality, even if their roleplay sessions sometimes eschewed that notion because balance and equality weren't exactly the stuff of erotic daydreams.

"This is a pretty good cheesecake." Not quite Cheesecake Factory, but close enough.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I don’t always get to take notes during my sessions,” Sean reminded him. Ideally, he should be able to, or to tape record but having tape recorders was difficult with petulant technopaths and magnetics and electrokinetics running around. As such, he had a thousand memory tricks to help him recall what he needed for the future.

Besides, those same memory tricks had kept him sane before Hammel found him, when he’d thought that the world was shifting around him for reasons wholly beyond his understanding.

Before he could reflect too much on those uncomfortable experiences, Josh’s surface thoughts provided another. He had received those photographs, which had been completely unexpected. He had filed them away under What, exactly, has my reputation become? and had resolved to never mention it to Danny, who had suffered enough discomfort already. While mentioning it to Josh had been a possibility, it had also been the only attempt at communication the other man had made during these past two months, and that made it bizarre.

Now, since communication was resumed and privileges were restored, it was something to consider, but not for tonight.

At Josh’s comment, Sean pushed the plate toward him. “Taste. Have more than that if you want.”

Josh could have as much as he wanted; Sean wasn’t in the habit of keeping exact count of what happened between two people in a relationship. The point, to him, was sharing, sharing so that everyone had his needs met and was happy; whether that ended up with a 50/50 give or not wasn’t the point, as long as there was available give and take and no elements of abuse. But he had a unique perspective.

Then he heard Josh’s other surface thought, and he smiled into his coffee cup. The stuff of erotic daydreams indeed. There would be time for that later tonight, and this weekend, and every day after that. Oh, but he was happy about that.

Something Josh hadn’t been in a position to notice sober or outside of times of duress, but Sean had almost thirty years of improved technique and ideas under his belt. He thought Josh might come to appreciate that.

“Good, I’m glad. Dessert tops off the meal.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Ah, I forgot." Because he could take notes it was difficult to remember that Sean was working under very different circumstances, to say the least. He was very good at remembering certain things: when he talked to people about themselves and their families and circumstances he was usually good at remembering that, because he was interested. And he remembered things he read in books and newspapers, or that happened to him (when he wasn't drunk) or that had to do with the cases he was working on. But he didn't do well with plans or to-do lists, because they simply weren't that important to him.

He stabbed a bite of the strawberry shortcake as it was shoved in his direction, tasting it curiously. "S good." He agreed, considering Sean's dessert with a thoughtful expression. He needed to know if Riley could replicate this wondrous creation, which meant possibly convincing the landscaper to come up to Boston.

Add yet another plan to his list: Trip to Boston with all his friends. Of course, there might be difficulties convincing Cobalt to go, considering that the other attorney wasn't fond of Sean. A pity, that; he didn't understand how anyone could not like the psychiatrist, the circumstances leading up to their falling out still unknown to him. He would have felt guilty had he known when and why they had first begun hostilities.

And undoubtedly later he would indeed come to appreciate Sean's experience, albeit in a vague, I am not thinking too deeply about where this came from way. If he thought about it too hard then he would succumb to that odd mixture of jealousy toward the telepath's past partners and insecurity at his own relatively small list of exes. And he couldn't say he'd spent most of his time with any of them any more sober than he'd been with Sean the last three decades, which meant he was used to sloppy, giggly, and completely mortified the next morning.

"Want some?" He gestured toward his own plate with his dessert fork, looking at Sean inquiringly.