Neat Little Domestic Life (Sean)

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh shifted uncomfortably, every so often glancing up at the grey skies above as if waiting for the promised rain. Lord knew Pilot Ridge didn't need any more rain, not after last weekend, when Hurricane Irene had swept up the East Coast, devastating coastal towns and submerging large parts of his adopted state.

His first concern, when he'd heard the storm was coming, was for his parents, but his mother wouldn't relocate to Pilot Ridge, her unspoken fears that his father would be unmanageable without the nurses on duty. His second concern, during the storm itself, had been for his own safety (his and Sean's) because he could hear trees being violently tossed in the wind, and he was half afraid that one would fall on the house.

The power had gone out, ruining most everything in the refrigerator, which had resulted in more of a party than was probably warranted, and Josh had taken the opportunity of darkness to turn the storm into a game.

But now that the hurricane had passed they had to clean up its aftermath, and that was much less fun. Granted, they were lucky compared to so many communities, as meta powers had shielded their little town from much of the flooding that otherwise would have happened, but they still had trees down, still had food spoiled.

Which was why they were outside in eighty degree weather, the skies promising more rain, while Josh lugged a giant trash bag around in his attempt to help Sean clean up the yard.

He'd never had a yard in the City, he wasn't used to this kind of labor, and he wasn't really enjoying himself. Not that he would have tried to get out of helping; he wanted to do his part. That didn't make it fun.

"So is yard work always this entertaining?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

In anticipation of the storm, Sean had followed proper hurricane procedure and insisted that Josh do so, which included filling the bathtubs with water and making sure that all of the flashlights had batteries. He had also contacted Kathleen to check on her, since the Island had been predicted as being in the central storm path, and he had called Ryan.

He repeated that when the storm had passed. Fortunately, everyone was all right.

Fortunately, power had returned to the house, and their friends and neighbors were also fine. The neighbor at the end of the cul-de-sac had finally gotten his dog to stop howling; she had been frightened the entire storm.

Enough time had passed that the telepath couldn’t put off cleaning up after the storm, and so he had changed into shorts because it was too hot and humid for trousers, particularly when they would get dirty. Because he wasn’t in his twenties, he kept his shirt on while he went around trying to clear off the branches.

Some of the larger branches were going nowhere, not without more than two men working to clear them.

With another armful of branches and leaves, he walked over to Josh and dropped them into the industrial-size reinforced trash bag. “More or less. It’s more entertaining with music.”

He turned, surveying the extent of the damage. “I think we need to give Riley a call, to see if he has the time for another job.”

Sean could clear away most of the damage, but his yard was ruined.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"Music, you say?" Josh gave his bag a few shakes, trying to open it further so that the branches could fit inside. This was getting to be heavy, and he could feel sweat rolling down his back; he could only imagine what Sean, hauling the branches toward him, was feeling. He must be miserable.

"I suppose I could sing for you," He offered, scratching his back with one hand as he wracked his brain for an appropriate song to sing. Nothing was coming to mind. At least, nothing he knew all the lyrics to. He could sing that song about finding Jesus in a pickup truck, he thought he knew all the words to that, but he wasn't sure how well a former Catholic would appreciate that one.

He joined Sean in surveying the damage, though unlike the telepath the most he could tell was that it looked kind of wet and flattened and he wasn't sure how much hope their was for it, but with his history of killing indoor plants he didn't necessarily trust his judgment. It was completely possible that the yard was salvageable.

Or not, judging by Sean's comment about contacting Riley.

"I believe he has time." The last time he'd asked his friend about work he hadn't any major projects scheduled. That could change, though, especially if everyone else's yards were like this. "He's offered to help me with my yard before, but i don't think this is what he had in mind."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean dumped the load of braches into the bag and then stepped back to return to his gathering duties. “I wouldn’t make you sing. If it becomes necessary, I’ll get the portable radio and bring it out here. We could find something to listen to.”

The radio alone wouldn’t make this task any more pleasant. This wasn’t the mere pruning of bushes that was part and parcel of having a garden. This wasn’t mowing the lawn, or in recent years, paying the Henderson boy to mow the lawn. This was back-breaking yard work, spawned on by nature at its most furious.

The telepath sighed and leaned against one of the still-standing trees, resting because it was hot and this was exhausting. This was the one aspect of renting an apartment that he missed; there were no landscaping responsibilities. Living in Manhattan in the 1980s, the only obligations he had were to not allow the apartment to become infested with rats or cockroaches. “I can have everything cleared off before he gets here, and I’ll pay him double his rate for the inconvenience. But the bushes,” Sean gestured at the row of bushes that were split in half, toppled over, or simply missing. “Need to be replaced. We need new flowers. The lawn has dead spots now.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I can sing you happy birthday." Josh suggested, remembering the threat he'd issued when they'd first made up. "Unless you feel my singing is so offensive." he didn't think his singing was terrible, but he wasn't a singer by any means.

He frowned at the destruction, tightening his grip on his garbage bag. "Did you want me to call him now? Or after we're done?"

He assumed this would take them the better part of the evening, if not most of the weekend, in which case there would be no use in calling Riley now except as a means to secure his time later. Otherwise he would see the landscaper during the week for lunch and could inquire about time and rates then.

"I don't know if he would accept double payment." Riley was very likely to reject the very notion, feel that he was obligated to work for exactly the rates he'd originally set no matter the circumstances.

"But I see what you mean," The yard did look fairly demolished, and it would probably look really nice after Riley or one of his employees was finished with it, but he couldn't really gauge anything beyond it used to look nice and now it doesn't.

He cast a worried glance Sean's way as the telepath leaned against a tree, obviously weary already.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to get you a beer?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I’m in no position to deem anyone’s singing offensive.” The telepath held no false impressions regarding his singing voice, and he was the last person to declare another’s offensive. However, that didn’t mean that he expected Josh to sing for him. “And I told you, you don’t owe me for my birthday.” Cake aside.

Sean then shook his head. “There’s no sense calling him now. Anyone who calls him first likely needs his services more than we do.” He could imagine some of the premises near the border between Pilot Ridge and their neighboring town and the destruction they experienced. And while their yard had been destroyed, it didn’t impede their ability to drive or to leave; as such, it wasn’t an emergency.

Besides, they had to finish clearing off the leaves and branches and bushes and the bird bath would have to be replaced because there were ceramic shards everywhere.

“He might not, but we can offer it.” Sean knew that Riley was a fair man; he thought quite highly of him. However, since Riley operated in a relatively low-key area, the fact that so much would be required of him, on short notice, would fairly warrant a surcharge. However, rates were the other man’s to determine.

Still leaning against the tree, he shook his head. “I think it’s best if we do this sober. I just need to rest for a minute.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh pressed his mouth into a thin line of determination at Sean's insistence that he didn't owe anything. "Of course I do." He argued, "I missed your birthday. I owe you double birthday for that."

He sighed and nodded then. "You make a valid point. Very well, then. How long do you think we'll be?"

Their yard looked like a third world country (well, pictures he'd seen of third world countries, anyway, only without starving, oppressed people) and he was sure that cleaning it up would require a lot of work. However, as Sean pointed out, it wasn't as bad as it could have been; it was just an inconvenience. A time-sinking, expensive inconvenience.

"Mmm. I'll talk to him Monday at lunch then?" He and Riley and Cobalt had standing lunch dates during the week, after all, and this hadn't changed despite his newly forged relationship with Sean or Cobalt's with Ben.

"A lemonade then." He wasn't trying to get Sean intoxicated (this time), he simply thought he might need a refreshment after hauling around branches in the heat and humidity. "Or a bottle of water. I don't want you getting dehydration on me."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“When was the last time I cared about my birthday?” Sean asked, because he knew that Josh knew the answer to this. He hadn’t cared since turning fifty. Even before that, he was more inclined to make a production of everyone else’s birthdays than he was of his own. Josh’s, for example.

He reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead, feeling sticky. “Until the end of the afternoon, at least. This would be easier if I was twenty years younger.”

The telepath nodded in agreement when Josh made his proposal. “I think that would work fine. And thank him for me when you do.” It could wait until Monday. It wasn’t as though they were on the historical house parade route. And surely their neighbors, suffering similar damage, would appreciate that restoring the yard to its previous state would take time. And if they didn’t, Sean didn’t care.

Sean considered that offer briefly, and then said, “Water, please. And I promise I won’t let myself become dehydrated.”

As much as he wanted to finish this by the end of the afternoon, he wouldn’t do so at the expense of his health. Sean certainly had no desire to faint.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I care about your birthday." Josh objected, shuffling along until he was closer to Sean, dropping the bag at his feet with a sigh. Ignoring the telepath's birthday was undoubtedly not the best way to show it was important to him; he decided not to bring that up.

"I'm glad you're not twenty years younger." He commented with a grin. True, there were some less than pleasant aspects to aging, and this job was more taxing than it would have been when he was an energetic youth, but he was happy with his life as it was. And moreover, "If you were twenty years younger I wouldn't be dating you."

Riley might have no qualms about dating a thirty-three year old, but that would have been an insurmountable problem for Josh.

"Of course," He would definitely thank Riley for Sean. Then, "Of course." again at the request for water.

He left the bag and the humidity for the glorious, welcome airconditioning, stepping inside with a relieved sigh and just standing there in the doorway for a moment before seeking out a bottle of water from the fridge, loosening the cap as he traced his steps back across the kitchen and to the back door.

His trek back outside into the lawn was tinged with reluctance, but he handed the water to his partner with a smile. "

"The end of the afternoon, huh?" He looked up again, still suspicious of the clouds. "I guess that's assuming it doesn't start raining."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I know.” Sean was aware of that, since Josh did take it upon himself to call on his birthday, when they weren’t within close proximity, or to at least try to make a day of it when they were. This year notwithstanding, because Josh had been too caught up in paranoia and mistaken assumptions to call or notice. “But I still don’t. And it was months ago. Why not give me a credit for Lupercalia and we’ll call it even?”

He didn’t require the credit, but perhaps then Josh would stop feeling guilty about it. Sean had long forgiven him.

“I’m sure you could find some benefit in my being twenty years younger,” the telepath began, also smiling. He would have more energy, his insomnia wouldn’t be as pervasive and bothersome, his knees and back wouldn’t hurt after such exertion...the list went on. And while he caught the meaning in Josh’s point – he, too, wouldn’t date someone two full decades younger than him – he focused on a different matter. “You aren’t dating me. We’re living together.”

There was a difference. They hadn’t dated since before they’d moved into the apartment in Manhattan. Then they’d lived together until it had fallen apart.

“Thank you.” Sean returned the smile as he took the bottle of water from the other man. After a couple of sips, he held it out to Josh, offering should he want some.

The telepath didn’t want to contemplate this task if it began to rain. Then the grass would be wet and slippery, the leaves would stick to everything, and the task would take longer. “If it does start raining, your job will be to start supper while I finish out here.”

He wouldn’t make Josh stay out in the rain with him; trying to hold open the trash bag would be a nightmare. Besides, there was no sense in both of them being drenched.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh quirked at Sean's mention of Lupercalia, chuckling, "I think you're getting me confused with Greg, now. I've never run naked through the streets and I'm certainly not going scar our neighbors by starting now. Besides, that's six months away. You're better off with Hanukkah credit, or Thanksgiving or even Halloween."

He did get the hint, however. Scratch arguing that he still owed Sean for his birthday of his to-do list, then, but not the actual owing. He would simply have to give a birthday offering without specifying that was what it was.


"Ah. Living together. Forgive me." He couldn't deny the truth there; living together was a whole different experience from mere dating, which was why he'd refrained from taking any of his previous relationships to that level. It was a higher commitment, was more difficult to get out of. It meant there was an ever present danger of spending too much time together.

Thus far, he hadn't reached his saturation point, but he'd made a point of spending half an hour by himself, reading for the most part, because that seemed safer than clinging to Sean constantly and then suddenly requesting time apart.

"I suppose you have a point there. Very well, I wouldn't be living with someone twenty years my junior, either."

He shook his head as Sean offered him the water. "If I wanted one I'd have gotten another one." It was unbearably hot, but he wasn't doing even half the work Sean was, so he would survive.

He was relieved that Sean had only said start supper and not cook it all yourself. Starting he could do because that involved getting out meat to thaw and finding all the proper ingredients and utensils and maybe turning on the oven (which he sometimes had difficulty with, because he got the time set confused with the oven set) and none of that was hard like stirring and mixing and chopping and not burning down the house.

"You're sure you'll be okay out here alone? I could bring you an umbrella. Or we could try again later, when the weather is better." He suggested, unwilling to leave his partner to take the entire burden alone.

"That's assuming that it..." He began as a fat droplet of water smacked him in the middle of his head, causing him to look up at the clouds. "Rains." He finished.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Although the telepath’s expression didn’t change, his tone became a shade more serious. “I have never confused you with Greg.” The moment passed and his tone resumed the lilt more appropriate for banter. “The neighborhood children expect me to hand out Milky Way bars on Halloween; I can’t take a credit. Chanukah is your holiday, and don’t get me started on Thanksgiving. If you don’t want to acknowledge the Lupercalia request, that’s fine. I don’t need anything anyway.”

He was happy to drop the matter there.

He nodded at Josh’s correction, acknowledging that Josh recognized the difference. Then he moved one. “We could both be twenty years younger. That would solve the problem.”

With Josh’s refusal, the telepath brought the bottle back to his lips and took several more sips. He felt better having taken in the liquid. He thought he would be up for several more loads as a result.

He had full confidence in Josh’s ability to start supper, and it was a long-term goal to teach the other man how to cook simple dishes. He didn’t expect Josh to cook Thanksgiving supper for everyone this year, but making something that was neither grilled cheese nor Poptarts was well within his capabilities. The telepath was certain of this; if only Josh would listen.

“I’ll be fine,” he promised, because he would be. If Josh weren’t living with him, he would still have done this, would have done it himself from the beginning. The other man had already helped him and that made it easier.

He felt a cool drop of water hit his hair, causing him to sigh softly. Glancing skyward briefly, he said, “If this cloud bursts, you’re going inside.”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh resumed his duties as bag-holder, ignoring the intermittent droplets splashing into his hair and onto his shoulders. "If this cloud bursts we should both go inside." He argued, stretching the garbage bag open once again. "I don't want you to get sick staying out here in the rain."

This was, of course, a ridiculous argument coming from the man who rode his bicycle in the snow, but he wasn't dwelling on that fact. He was dwelling on the fact that he cared about Sean's health, and he didn't believe that hauling around dead tree branches would be conducive to that.

"We can clear away branches later." That made sense to him. It didn't have to happen immediately if the weather failed to cooperate. "If the clouds burst," And at that moment they did, releasing torrential rain down upon the two men, water droplets streaking across his glasses. He held out one hand toward Sean. "Come inside with me."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The telepath had managed to finish the water and set down the bottle, before gathering another armful of branches and leaves. He dropped them into the bag that Josh held open again, also ignoring the few droplets as they fell. It could be a mere drizzle; it needn’t necessarily become a downpour. “Even with the rain, it’s warm out,” he reminded the other man.

Josh was aware of that; he was outside with him, experiencing the warm temperatures and the higher heat index due to the humidity. He wouldn’t get sick from doing some work in the rain, and it would be done at least. He wouldn’t have to worry about it later, during the week when he had a thousand other tasks and diminishing daylight because the summer was nearing an end. “I won’t get sick.

But as he bent down for several other branches, the cloud did burst, quickly drenching them. Because he was dressed for the weather – wearing only shorts and a tee shirt – he could feel the water seep through the relatively thin material, soaking him. And he sighed, because he didn’t need this, not after last weekend. “I need to finish this,” he said to the other man.

Picking up another branch and finding it already slippery, he then righted himself and took a step. “And I'm going to get soaked through to my underwear. When you go inside can you set out some dry clothing for me, please?”

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh sighed as Sean refused to return inside with him, out of the rain. It was warm, but that didn't mean that he approved of the other man working in the rain. He didn't particularly like the telepath working in eighty degree weather, either, but he couldn't argue with the fact that the work was necessary.

"As you wish," He agreed, dropping his bag once more before turning on his heel and marching straight back into the house, allowing Sean to out-stubborn him on this issue. He didn't approve, but he couldn't very well force the other man to cease working.

The knowledge that Sean was soaked already, and only getting more soaked, lent him swiftness he might have otherwise lacked. He hurried through the kitchen and up the stairs, rummaging through Sean's dressers for t-shirts (was it entirely inappropriate to grab the Bear shirt he'd given the other man for his birthday nearly fifteen years ago? He didn't think so) and shorts and underwear and socks, draping them across their bed before dashing back down the stairs again, only pausing to grab an umbrella and plastic rain jacket out of the coat closet.

He had a brief fight with the umbrella in the doorway, distress welling up inside him as he struggled to open it one handed, because he was letting rain into the house.

But at least his battle was won, and he stomped across the yard to his partner, umbrella held high above him. "The least I can do is not let you get any more soaked." He explained, holding out the arm with the rain jacket draped over it.