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There is something so greedy about the way he revels in their privacy, how Luc wouldn't even let Alfred's own twin overhear the sacred spell of his spoken love. He's crazy about that, actually. Wouldn't dream of hiding the fact either, not in the way he buries his face in against Luc's own, smiles against his sun-blushed cheek and meets those chestnut red lips with his own. Their little secret, even when the whole world was watching them.

"Whaaat? Nothing with the Cruise man? And after I called you telling you about how I was just hanging out with him..." He's joking around and his wide grin tells the whole story for him, massaging Luc's shoulder as he turned to the fore and picked up on that book name. John Williams, what a star in that field— still no wonder his sweetheart had picked him up with such interest, guy was a wordsmith. Glad he was finally getting his flowers this century.

"Okay, falling asleep while reading Stoner is an even worse crime." Alfred extends the joke with a grin as they cross into the shade of the hangar, revealing the true expanse of the space defined by its centerpiece: a massive aircraft-shaped silhouette draped in a hanging beige tarp, surrounded at right wing, tail and nose by three separate step ladders, each in turn flanked by closed wooden crates and crowned with toolboxes of varying size.

Beyond this set-up lay a long, sweeping arrangement of desks lined up flush against one another so as to create an extended countertop for work to be done across them. Several monitors flickered with incoming weather data, flight traffic information and avian wildlife sightings over the last 24 hours, while the breeze from the rotating desktop fan occasionally rustled the top pages of several stacks of printed paper along with a half-rolled set of blueprints for some kind of aircraft at a glance.

"It was a long time coming, I didn't wanna drag you out for no reason, but I finally got just the thing to make all those travel hours worth it." Alfred slipped his hand to Luc's waist and gave him an enthusiastic squeeze, planting another insatiable kiss to his curl-topped crown. Somewhere over to their far left, Matt disappears through a side door that seems to lead to a more conventional part of the building complex; low ceilings just about visible through a conjoined set of windows that lines the wall parting them from him.

"You thirsty? Hungry?"

#wherenevereagleflew #✙ thread.#✙ v. 25 // 2000s #// the real crime was how long didn't reply for!!! /catcry

"Uh, no. Maybe. I don't really know." He admits through a sheepish beam, having completely disregarded the in-flight movie list in favour of getting some rest. He hadn't told Al that Mr. Cruise's films weren't exactly his taste, but of course he could never tell Al that. That'd put him in the dog house for a week. Not that he seems to be doing great in right now either– "It's not the book's fault!" Luc whines, with a desperation akin to a child who can't tell you that they are tired and want to sleep. They simply cry about it.

"I am enjoying it. I swear."

Well, that was not what he had expected. His sneakers squeak on the concrete floor as he catches the first glimpse of an aircraft – completely covered so he couldn't actually see it. A plane, right? Wings... yeah. Okay, better than a chopper. Small-ish thing, probably one of those Mr. Cruise was flying in the 80s (not that he knew anything about these birds). His eyes sweep over the heaps of tools, plans, drawings and monitors flashing with all sorts of incomprehensible data to someone like him, which immediately begged the question: why was all of this necessary? Just what had his boyfriend been cooking in the desert?

Nevertheless, Luc perks up and swoons under his lover's affection. "Seeing you alone would be worth the hours." Al knew that. Had to know that. There wasn't a remote corner of the Earth Luc wouldn't follow him to, given the chance. His touch lingers on Al's forearm as they part so the Grecian can take a closer look at the blueprints, mindful so as not to move anything out of place. His digits lightly trace the sections and cross-sections of the flying beast's many parts, all indecipherable to him but spiking his interest just the same. He wonders if he'd be able to tell Matt from Al's handwriting on the margin notes...

At the mention of refreshments he looks up, blinking a couple of times as the thought registers before melting into a grateful smile. "A soda would be nice, if you have any."

It's a scene one would expect from a pair separated by the weight of years as opposed to months, felt with the force of every morning hour spent pining at the sight of the sun slowly cresting the eastbound horizon. Without the beat of his heart, his love, his Luc at his side. Placated only in the knowledge of what this was all for, what everything he'd built with Matt over the last handful of years had been leading to. All of it for this day, these next twelve hours ahead of them.

From that swell of culminating emotion Alfred gathers Luc up into his arms with vigorous ease, hefting him up onto his hip and wrapping his arms around him tightly from seat to crown— fingers clasping at those dark umber curls with the preciousness of wool in wintertime, as though he might grow cold and wither without him. He laughs for the joy of holding him. He laughs and he laughs, so much that his chest hurts and he thinks he might cry for the happiness of seeing him again.

With vehemence does he press his lips to those bronze cheeks, one and then the other: over and over as though compulsion has driven him to consume Luc whole once more, breathless between his own streams 'I love you' and 'god you're so gorgeous'. From where he is buried within the crook of his honey's sweat-dappled neck can hear the sound of the Ford's purring engine slowing to a cease, the clink of car keys and the slow drag of something heavy being drawn from the trunk. Had to be Luc's things.

An impulse in him compels him to raise his head in preparation to spare an arm to take them off Matt's hands however his other better half has already slung the bag over his own broad shoulder, moving past them with a sly smile and - as he heads towards the hangar beyond - a brief dipping joke.

"I'll take my tip in cash."

Another chuckle is prompted within Alfred's chest as he briefly casts his head in his direction, shooting back a "Yeah that trade deal's yours!" quip of his own to a thrown up peace sign from his continuing brother before returning his focus to his darling wholesale. With another smush of his lips against Luc's clay-carved cheekbone he takes a moment to draw back and just look at him, really look at him: blue eyes dancing from above the slipped frame of his aviators.

"Look at you. Desert explorer." He grins brightly as he lets Luc slide back down to earth once more, reticent though he is to keep his hands from wandering over the sculpt of his face, down the length of his spine. He takes the shove with an ugly bout of laughter, boyish and buoyant in equal measure: "All or nothing, you know how it is babe."

Slinging his arm around Luc's waist, he gives him another tight squeeze and begins guiding him likewise towards the hangar— it takes a matter of seconds for Alfred to notice the lack of shades on his lover, to then pluck the aviators from his own face and promptly, playfully and with overflowing affection, push them up to the bridge of Luc's nose. "How was the flight? Any good movies?"

There is nothing as pure as the sound of his sweetheart's laughter, spilling so carelessly with their reunion. Joy consumes them both, and out here in the desert there are no judging eyes but the Gods' and they dim for no one. Luc is free to be kissed within an inch of his life, all of which he soaks and revels in like the starved man he is. He glows bright pink too, flustered from all the affection but wholly forgetful of the insecurities that gripped him just seconds ago. This is where he belongs. Here, in the perch of Al's arms, love pouring out his ears.

For some reason he is still shy about returning Al's 'I love you's in front of Matt, like that particular exchange was too intimate to be witnessed. Really, as if they hadn't known each other all these long years. He waits, then, until the twin has disappeared into the hangar and Luc has wrestled out of his own shirt to knot it around his waist, and only so does he tug his darling closer to kiss him sweetly on the lips, "I love you."

His head's a blur. He has half a mind to notice Al taking him in, vision which he feeds in his sleeveless grey top, his own tan made richer by all the running he'd been doing in the morning sun. Later, he'll pin that for later. Still grinning from his boyfriend's gleeful chuckle, he allows himself to be roped in like some pretty thing, wrapping his own arm around Al's back so they remain glued at the hip. Confusion hits him for a split second when Al tries to give him the aviators, a look he's absolutely sure he can't pull but it amuses him anyway.

"I... don't know, sorry." He smiles sheepishly, squeezing Al's side. "I was reading Stoner and then slept for most of it." In hindsight, he shouldn't have packed a book he was almost finished with, but he doubted he'd miss reading for the next few days with Al around. There is a little skip to his step (a single one, uncontained) as they approach the entrance of the hangar, excitement getting the best of him even though he didn't know what exactly would be waiting on the other side. "Thank you for bringing me here."

---

"What does this all say to you? Like, from where you're sitting. Your opinion."

"I think it says... 'This is my world. And I want you to be a part of it.'"

"Forever and ever."

---

Somewhere along the steel tabletop just off to Alfred's left a device beeps with the latest wind speed readings from the anemometer he'd gotten upgraded some years ago, a squeaking slide of wheels heralding his quick roll over to go check on them as they came through. Numbers good, tracking with predictions he'd been following with meticulous precision over the last month or so.

Light breeze, skies clear. It was a balmy summer afternoon out here on the eastern edge of California— quiet but for the constant hum of a tabletop fan wafting warm air into his right cheek on a five second rotation, rustling on each turn both the folds of his white tee and the loose collection of blond threads comprising his crown-sweeping curtain. With an easing sigh sent through his nose Alfred tilted his specs up onto his head and lent back in his blue mesh office chair, crossing his arms behind his head and rolling a biro around between his teeth by its rounded stem.

Yeah. Everything's in place.

He got the message in from Matt that they were on their way from airport a little over two hours ago, which meant they were gonna be here soon. Real soon. Fridge was stacked, cooler prepped; evening was set to be an even 62°F, dinner beneath the stars scattered across that indigo canopy... Alfred can feel himself starting to overthink it again, which means it's time to stop himself before he goes around checking all his numbers, measurements and figures for the third time today.

Exhaling heavily under the compulsion of the nerves in his stomach, he massages at the lids of his eyes with his fingertips before removing his glasses entirely and setting them down upon the desk next to his computer. Instead he sweeps up his aviators and slides them onto his nose, hefting himself up from his chair and shoving his hands into his pockets before wandering out towards the open gates of the vast, airy and spacious hangar he's been sheltering within.

Stepping out into the sweltering sunlight, Alfred scuffs the dusted soles of his off-white sneakers against the packed gravel comprising the taxiway and surveys the horizon-stretching desert landscape around him— specifically directing his line of vision out towards the main (and only) road leading up to this old contracted facility-turned-private residence. Lo and behold, the distant shimmer of a car's silvery roof and an accompanying stream of dust kicked up by a four by four's wheels. He can barely contain the break of his pearl white grin.

Like a modern horse-drawn carriage. Though he's pretty sure Arthur would have something to say about that comparison.

He thinks Matt says something, presumably to wake him up, and immediately jerks his head up to the road, eyes wide. The hangar comes quickly into view and beside them a cloud of rolling dust lifts into the air as they slow on approach. "Huh?" He blearily asks, apologetic for falling asleep even though he'd been encouraged to rest. "Oh." Yeah, he doesn't need an answer. A figure cuts into the horizon – the unmistakable silhouette of his starbound sweetheart in a very unforgiving white top and looking like he'd walked straight out the Top Gun shooting set. Resplendent.

Right away his heart is racing.

Racing. Running for the hills. It's a combination of having just freshly woken up and the pure, twisted nerves that grip him whenever he catches Al looking particularly out of his league. "Gods." Shakily, Luc reaches for his water bottle and chugs a good third of it before the car can come to a halt. He wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist and anxiously glances at Matt, wondering if he was as transparent as he felt. Alright, breathe. He tells himself it's just excitement. No, no, really, he's honestly a little terrified.

Yet at the sound of the ignition being switched off the brunet is flying out of the truck into the desert heat and trotting over to his boyfriend, launching himself into his arms and catching him in the iron grip of his thighs. He makes a pained sound on the exhale, his face buried in the flank of Al's tanned neck, mumbling a jumble of 'I missed you' and 'so much' and 'you smell good'. He can't bring himself to smile so carelessly just yet. Instead, his face twists into something between a timid smile and a petulant frown, and his heart's still racing, and god he just can't get the words out.

Feet returned to the earth, Luc reels back to look up at the hangar, neck craned, squinting in the sun. He'd left his sunglasses in the cupholder. He briefly assesses the building then charges forward again to playfully shove Al using both of his hands. This time, he can't help but grin. A reckless, dimpled grin. "Whoever she is, she better be worth it." Worth all the weeks they'd spent apart, and all the pining, wondering when his man was coming back.

---

"... It's too much."

"No, it's not too much. You just want to hear me tell you it's an amazing idea again."

"It's too much. No-one out there actually does stuff like this."

"It's not too much— it's you."

---

"Oh yeah, he's big on the cosmic metaphors. You're always defying the laws of his physics in his mind somewhere." Matt had glanced back behind himself with a brow furrowed in humored recollection, as though his own had just been flooded with a dozen examples he could call on. Weaving them through an extended line of tourists waiting for cabs into the city, he gestures for Luc to follow him down through a shaded underpass; occasional suspended signs pointing them towards the airport's parking lot mark their path all the while.

To his friend's questioning as to what other ways his brother likes to sigh about him, Matt just chuckles sweet-naturedly. Listening to either of them talk about the other, anyone would think they were high school sweethearts still daydreaming in the library, instead of lived-in partners sharing the same house. This kind of love that was evergreen, ever young, suited them. He couldn't see that nature of it fading anytime soon, either. Call that maybe a kind of intuition.

"I call it his treehouse. I know he's called it his 'Fortress of Solitude' at least once." Matt answers only a little cheekily upon the more exact questioning of their destination. Luc's known about the place for a long time, just hasn't been out there yet— the place Al goes to 'clear his head' or 'get some stuff off his mind' whenever he happens to be in the Los Angeles-Vegas stretch. He's just out here trying to be careful over letting details slip about anything else.

He keeps talking even as he pulls his car keys from his denim pocket on the approach up to his rental: an aged but still very much able silver Ford Explorer that had already gathered dust up the base of its chassis from the drive up here.

"Just that desert retreat he goes to sometimes, where he sheltered AV-1 for a while too." That last fact told half the story about the place: a location secret and hidden to all but family and the closest of friends, off the grid, isolated from the public and prying eyes of the world around him. Matt pops the trunk open and slips Luc's bag down off his shoulder and into that vast space otherwise cluttered with packs of bottled water, dry groceries, tool kits and miscellaneous camping equipment.

"Way remote, but only a short drive to get to from here." He shuts the trunk again and begins to glide back around towards the driver's side, offering Luc an encouraging smile as he goes. "You can sleep on the way if you want, or we can trade catch-ups and fight California's radio. I'm game either way."

His face heats up from Matt's remark and he laughs to conceal it, hands shoved into his pockets, making sure to stay close behind as he followed his friend towards the parking lot. He wished the other would elaborate on those cosmic metaphors, a tiny bit desperate for reassurance that came from someone other than Al, someone who knew Al extremely well. Only because those weeks apart had been silently weighing him down, causing him to lose a little perspective and worry about things his boyfriend most certainly never had to worry about. Still, the fact that he'd been called all the way out here was positive, something to be excited about.

"Ah." Yes, he figured that's where they were heading. This mythical place that to him had existed only in Al's reality and where he would withdraw into from time to time. And Avi, yes, a picture slowly forming. He understands now why someone trustworthy had to come pick him up as opposed to letting him find his way over to this secret hideout that likely wouldn't even be listed on a map. Hell, maybe even jam coordinates and make your radio all weird.

Luc briefly examines the car and the contents of the trunk. That selection of supplies made sense given the remote location of said 'tree house', but the camping gear spiked his curiosity. He doesn't mention anything, only thanking Matt for carrying his bag and reaching to retrieve his own water bottle from the side pocket before climbing into the passenger seat and strapping in. "California?"

****

Headed for the state border, Luc spends most of their journey wide awake and engaged. He wanted to know all about Matt's latest ventures and share a few of his own too, mostly surrendering control of the radio in favour of watching the sun-baked hills rolling by. Such a harsh landscape, beaten by the heat and threaded only by highways and lesser roads, a world away from the blue-cast East shore. It is only towards the very end of their journey (unbeknownst to him), when the conversation has dwindled and the warm purr of the car begins to coax his bones into languor, that he dozes off against the door with his arm folded into a pillow. Not long now. Not long at all.

---

"You're laughing."

"What? No I'm not—"

"You're doing that tiny secret smile, I can hear it. You're laughing"

"Hahah. I'm smiling over how much of a commitment this is, coming from you..."

---

"Hey, yeah. Too long." Matt agrees wholeheartedly as he reciprocates Luc's hug with a warm, enveloping squeeze of his own, clapping his brother's partner twice on the shoulder as they part and at once dropping his gaze to the visitor's dominant hand; identifying an overnight bag he can take from him. Poor guy had to be tired from the journey over, even just coast to coast it wasn't exactly a short one. There we go.

Hoisting its bulk over his own shoulder through a characteristically irresistible campaign of insistence to help, the younger twin chuckles with a halfway shy, self-deprecating shake of his head before finding it in himself to give himself a compliment by way of gesturing gently to the loose, short ponytail he had dragged the majority of his fawn waves into.

"I'm just trying to keep it off my neck in this heat. What's your excuse for coming off a plane with 'gravity-defying curls' as Al likes to call them?" The smile he gives him twinkles with the comfort of years in extended familiarity, as well as the hint of knowing something Luc has yet to be let in on. Something Matt is clearly inclined to keep to himself as he jerks a thumb over to the nearest exit, set on whisking this beleaguered traveler away to his scheduled carriage.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here." It takes only a few pointed Excuses me's, one or two accusatory Sorry's, and at least one hockey-turned shoulder to shepherd Luc out into the blistering brightness of the Nevada's morning sun. While the temperature was already climbing out in these desert airs, it already felt easier to breathe now that they were relieved of the crowds still milling around inside the doors behind them.

"You manage to sleep on the plane? "

He puts up two solid seconds of resistance before Matt is taking his bag and he is left to fiddle the sleeves of his dusk blue cotton shirt. After a couple of apologetic 'you don't have to's, Luc defeatedly follows his friend out of the airport's bustle, ducking under a fan of purple plumes held by a lady advertising some show, stepping closely sideways and strictly in the other's shadow as he trusted him to be infinitely more at ease navigating such crowded environments. It's then that he notices the ponytail – and once he sees Francis he can't unsee him, which brings him quiet amusement.

But, hold that thought.

"He calls them that?" Luc timidly inquires from behind, almost bringing himself to his tippy toes as he tries to step within better earshot of this precious information. Absentmindedly, he brings one of his hands up to ruffle through said curls, which he had trimmed just a handful of days prior, likewise anticipating the arrival of warmer weather. While Al had never been secretive about how much he enjoyed that feature in him, it brought Luc a special kind of joy to hear others confirming this. "What else does he say...?" No one would have guessed how long they'd been together.

He's glad to be outside, though the dryness of the air surprises him. Warm gusts of arid wind foretell the heat they were to expect later when the afternoon peaked, against which (and the blinding brightness of the morning) Luc shields his eyes. He retrieves a pair of black-rimmed sunglasses from their perch on the collar of his cutout sleeveless t-shirt, sliding them carefully onto his nose. "Uh, a little. Any hint on where you're taking me?" He hadn't actually been informed on what the full plan was. He knew his love had been out here in the desert tinkering with birds of steel, but the details of this endeavour had been kept a secret. At this point, Luc was mostly excited to see Al again, and only a little terrified.

Continued from here.

Years ago.

"Woah Al, this is serious. I mean..."

"Yeah, yeah I know— drop the slack-jawed wonder and pick up that wrench would you? Not gonna fix herself up."

"Sure. It's just..."

"Don't worry, I've got a feeling. It's time."

---

With a squeaking tilt of beige sneakers Matt shifts his weight up from the spotless airport lounge floor until he's balancing upon the balls of his feet, as though he somehow needed the extra inch to see over the sea of heads bobbing around between him and the arrivals gate.

Gathered family members crane their necks with eager stares while punch drunk friends chuckle between exchanged jokes, a patchwork audience waiting for their loved ones to dazzle and delight them from behind the risen curtain. So to speak. It's just security, but here in Vegas somehow everything managed to turn into a show.

Even the airport, Matt thought to himself wearily as yet another tee-wearing tourist barged in front of him from somewhere behind his right elbow; could people around here afford to be at least a little careful? Someone a little less tall and sturdy than him could've been knocked right over.

As he sighs through his nose with renewed consternation, he reminds himself of his responsibilities here and fixes his bespectacled gaze back upon the open gates to the arrivals area. Through these glass doors a trickle of incoming visitors had swelled into a steady flow of wandering gazes and rolling suitcases, he imagined he'd find Luc stuck somewhere in the middle of the pack—or trailing somewhere just behind where there was more space.

Getting a feeling that his passenger for the day was probably gonna appear any minute now, Matt made the futile attempt to ask the cap-wearing guy who'd just shifted right into his line of vision to maybe move back to the side. Given not so much as a tilt of that sunburned neck, Matt nudged his denim-wrapped knee forward and managed to poke out from behind his bulk just in time to spot Luc's wandering deer-like face amid those currently spilling out from the gate.

A drooping sleeve of red plaid promptly shoots into the air, waving vigorously over in his direction. Screw it, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

"Luc! Luc, over here—!"

Long years of jetting back and forth across the Atlantic to either go visit his boyfriend or his family had knocked all the flight fright out of him, though it had yet to become an enjoyable activity. He tried to make the most of airborne time to catch up on reading or sleeping, even reluctantly letting Al get him business class seats so he could enjoy the extra leg room for a comfortable snooze. It wasn't uncommon for him to be interrupted by one of the attendants at some point with a complimentary drink or snack, 'Captain sends their regards'. Perks of dating someone who knew half a world.

Yet, however long his experience, he had yet to master the art of landing bright-eyed and full of beans, as flying was wholly unnatural for a creature that belonged so exclusively to the earth and the sea. He tries to wait out the crowd before making his way toward Arrivals, headphones firmly in place, observing the eclectic parade of tourists around him and the row of faces lined up behind the barrier. As he slows down in an attempt to read names on paper signs and spot a towering head of longish fawn hair, someone bumps into his duffel bag and accidentally shoves him forward. After a short, apologetic exchange where he excuses himself and finds the opposite wall to 'get out of the way', a frantic wave on his periphery picks up what his ears don't and his face cracks with visible relief.

Luc beelines his way out of the flock to meet his saviour halfway down a quieter spot, free from shoving passengers. "Hey, Matt. It's been a while." He throws himself into a friendly, welcoming embrace, clapping Matthew's plaid-clad back a couple of times. A warm smile creases the corners of russet brown eyes as he takes in the sight of his lover's twin, delighted to see him again.

"Still a walking GQ cover, I see."

#wherenevereagleflew #✙ thread.#// screaMING im so rusty #// my love for them overflowing

You have one new message.

< click >

Hey handsome. Didn't catch you this time, figure you're out on the job, picking up groceries or taking Ace around the block. Just calling to check in, see how things are going— I know I've been out here a while but, truth is I've been workin' on something. Something I wanna show you. Real soon. Real, real soon.

Would take you all the way over to this neighborhood, though. Got a couple flight recommendations, I'll forward them to you; let me know which set you like the most and I'll book 'em. Also I called Barry ahead of time— he's good to look after our furry kid whenever you head out. When you get to LAS, Matt'll be there to pick you up. I'd say around a two and a half hour drive from there?

Bring some tunes for the car, you can not let him DJ haha.

Love you, Luc. Miss you. See you soon.

// @wherenevereagleflew

Ace heads straight to the kitchen, panting, dragging tired limbs on a clumsy walk until he is sloshing and splashing water all over the tiles for a most ungraceful and desperate drink from his bowl. Luc follows soon after, kicking off his running shoes and immersing himself in the coolness of the house with a rolling sigh of relief. Early June but the heat was already rearing its head on the East Coast, the kind that blazes down from white skies and bakes the pollen-dusted streets. The trail they usually took had been mostly alright, lined with trees and vegetation, but the walk home through the neighbourhood had knocked it out of them.

He's pouring himself a glass of water straight from the tap when he catches the blinking red light of the answer machine telling him he'd missed a call. His heart sinks. The oven clock tells him they'd been gone for just over two hours.

[ You have one new message. ]

Tired limbs collapse on the couch as the voice of his beloved permeates the shroud of solitude he had cast over the house since Al had embarked on yet another project – the kind that consumed his sleep and monopolised every instance of their conversations, on and on and on until there was nothing left to do but to send him on his way. There was no telling when this would all blow over, or when he'd be back, just that he would be back before Luc had aged another year. Hopefully. In fact, with both their birthdays coming up, the Grecian had started to spiral a little, wondering what on Earth he would do all by himself if he had to spend summer alone in the suburbs. There was always work, but he missed Al more than he dared to convey, the kind of missing that requires active effort not to seep into every email or call, and by Gods, he would live without writing letters to lover, whom Death wouldn't take. No need to be so pathetic in his pining.

Still, he is. Melting into the sofa, glass of cold water pressed to his cheek, Luc plays the recorded message again and then again, confusing the poor dog whose ears would shoot upright every time he heard his other dad's voice, only to realise he wasn't home yet.

He'll call back. Give him a minute.

Ribbons that had hardened into ropes of yearning twist around in his chest, a gauzy sense of sadness and relief taking over. Sadness because this isn't a 'I'm coming back' call, relief because he gets to see Alfred soon anyway. Flying would be alright, but he'd drive the truck across the country if he had to. Man, he'd thought of everything, huh? Ace, travels, even got Matt involved. Would be nice to catch up with the other twin, ask him what he'd been doing on the sunny coast. Maybe just keep it a secret that he'd much rather trust Matt with the mixtapes than his boyfriend.

When he feels sufficiently recovered from the unexpected missive, Luc picks up the phone and punches in the last number on the record, hoping he'd still catch his darling before whatever venture he'd been working on swallowed him again for an indefinite amount of time. His heart restarts the second the call connects. Love you, Luc. Miss you. See you soon.

"How soon can you get me to you?"

Touchdown with that attempt at the local language, Alfred beams with sunny delight at how well his homework had gone down: still felt like a great call to have jumped up here after having spent a few days back in Athens first, just to get his feet wet so to speak. Alongside the business otherwise. Made all the difference seeing Luc's mom burst into a smile bright as sunshine over the horizon, doe eyes wide as the dinner plates she had propped up next to the sink over there. Was damn near infectious, just like her boy's own.

"είσαι πολύ ευγενική." It's not often that he's so humble, but put him in front of a sweet-natured older woman and he's just butter in a pan. Speaking of his propensity to melt on the spot, he swivels his head around in a whip of golden hair to take in the sight of their man of the hour lingering in the doorway again: was it that obvious he was trying to pull him in with the magnetic force of his very own baby blue air traffic lights? Well whether it was or wasn't, clearly it was working because Luc comes right in for a landing with a peck on his cheek— like clockwork he raises his hand to take his honey's in his own, rubbing his thumb across Luc's knuckles before bringing them up to his face for a kiss as the other young man settles in across from him.

Having settled their joined hands upon the table between them, he keeps idly rubbing his sweetheart's fingers with the pad of his thumb while returning his attention back to Dafni herself. "Oh uh." Alfred looks to Luc for a moment as though to share in what appears to be a mutually prompted curiosity. He should have been prepared for this question, but realizes with a sudden sink of his stomach that he hadn't really gotten this far even on the way over: he knows when his return flight is, but the question remained as to how much he should really be imposing on this family so soon, especially without giving any prior notice. At least her joke made it a lot easier, he gets it and offers a breezy chuckle.

"I don't think I have enough clothes in my case for that long." He chimes his admission sweetly, reckoning he's got a couple more nights at best before he'll need some kinda laundry machine. Though knowing the petite woman currently gracing a pair of glasses with what looked like freshly squeezed OJ (oh man), he was probably about to be offered Luc's clothes: if the darling didn't jump to offer him first, that is. Humored by the thought, Alfred thanks his host with a gracious smile as they're kindly served lunch and subsequently left to their own devices. Only at this point does the guest relinquish Luc's hand, that he might free them both to tuck in here while he considers that whole 'how long?' question.

"She is the sweetest woman Luc, I'm not even kidding." Alfred immediately tumbles the compliments forth, gushing over the hospitality shown him through not only words but the eagerness with which his large hand plucks the first half of his sandwich up— hardly waiting before a euphonious crunch of crusted bread greets him with a heady rush of colorful, vibrant flavors painting his tongue with the full succulent spectrum of the earth. A stretching snap of melted cheese between his teeth and he's already moaning like a stirred bison, closing his eyes and sinking back into the comfort of his chair with maxed out bliss: man, he had to be the luckiest guy in the world out here.

"Oh my God, so good." He enthuses with a swallow, thumbing a speck of olive oil from his own bottom lip before swinging his bright gaze back to Luc— lovingly locking onto his dazed smile. "Seriously, I think I'm in heaven. Was she serious about that 'forever' offer?"

A cute, fun way to get them onto that whole angle of conversation. Plus, maybe he just wanted to see that darling laugh of Luc's again.

#wherenevereagleflew #✙ three's a crowd.#✙ thread.

How can he be anything but the humble Earth to Al's blazing Sun, locked into his orbit with enough devotion to set him on the path of forever? When his sweetheart takes his hand, kisses him in front of his mother. Luc notices the glimmer on the woman's eye as she leaves, and wonders briefly if he'd ever get to know the feeling: seeing your own receive the love they deserve by someone other than yourself. If there was a word for such a sentiment, he didn't know it. Consumes him, though. When those baby blues focus on him again, they find him red-cheeked and flustered, his insides like hot honey, almost incorporeal with happiness.

"You can wear my clothes, if you want." He predictably offers, right before diving in to sink his teeth into a corner of his sandwich, getting a proper, crunchy mouthful with all the fillings. All that walking and errand running in the morning had worked up an appetite in him, though he maintained a slight, simmering nervousness, wide-eyed and watchful. Al still had to meet his sisters, and see the farm, and he'd have to explain the air mattress, somehow. At least the lock on his door worked. The potential for something to go wrong was still immense and as delighted as he was to have his boyfriend over, he had been unprepared.

"She is." He timidly agrees, smiling with his cheeks full. It turns into an easy chuckle as he watches Al melt in real time after that first bite, lips glistening with cheesy grease and olive oil. What a guy. It never failed to amuse him how much the other revelled in the joys of food, and he was excited at the prospect of getting to show him all that was good and ripe around here. Alfred recalls Dafni's joke just before she left and the brunet can feel his ears burning as he laughs, bunched up napkin pressed to his mouth. It takes him a good minute to calm down, having to set down his food and clear his throat before he speaks again.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm sure she was." And then he bites his tongue. Was it too early to confess he had been thinking the same, only not as a joke? Crushed by the intensity of his affection, the respect and adoration he held for Al. The 'I love you's had come easily to him, held in a chokehold by the brutality of distance, but what about talks of a future? He's gonna spook himself out of finishing his food, at this rate. "She loves having a full house." Luc lightheartedly explains, fingers delicately picking up his sandwich once more, studying where to steal another bite.

"What is your mom like?"

&. chewing gum

high school AU nonsense for @wherenevereagleflew muse muse muse ( x )

The incessant hum of cicadas announces the nearness of summer break. There is restlessness in the halls. Finals nearing, holiday planning, flyers for every party imaginable being shoved into lockers like the end of the world nears too.

Summers are spent at the farm. Winters too. Spring and Fall; nothing changes but the width of the river and the patchwork of colours around it. This is where he belongs, where he is expected to stay, and so when Michail tells him that the Jones’ brothers usually head North for school break, Luc feels the heaviness of his immobility begin to churn into something else. The desire to follow, maybe. Intrigue. What’s up North? Three months is too long.

#wherenevereagleflew #✙ oneshot.#// tbt #// no proofreading i am sleep deprived #// pls look up the lyrics i am obsessed with this song

Alfred's head turns to watch his babe slip from the room like an eel right out of his reaching grasp— did this have something to do with what all they'd been talking about? The fact that his buckwheat eyebrows have gone and disappeared into his swept fringe communicate all the mild bamboozling he doesn't care to hide, otherwise figuring he ought to redirect his focus on the poor woman he'd just sent bustling around the kitchen for him. It's a struggle for him now to rein his overwhelming impulse to offer help, but he knows his role here is to stick his hands in his pockets and sit at the table in spot indicated for him.

"Sounds good." He chimes graciously with a raised open palm, casting a curious eye over the contents of the fridge she pulls that gorgeously rustic bread from: brimming with volume and color, just like he'd expect for a full household like this one. And just like that the oil's simmering in the pan and that loaf is coming apart like soft cotton, oh man, he has got to stop staring; Alfred averts his gaze and decides to use this time to readjust his seated position, folding one leg over the other at the knee and resting his hands in a languid slide off his lap. Gonna go ahead and admire this kitchen instead, meanwhile.

"Oh uh, thanks. And no worries. Μιλάω λίγο ελληνικά, αλλά όχι πολύ καλά." Alfred shares in turn with a flashed smile of appreciation in the petite woman's direction, rescuing himself from any future slip ups by pretty much upfront admitting that he's only confident in his restaurant Greek. Some day he's gonna get past the train station stuff at the speaking level, brush it up closer to where his reading was thanks to all the Classics stuff. Meanwhile he's gotta somehow catch himself from feeling sheepish at being called pretty by Luc's mom— not ten minutes in and he was already in threat of squirming in his seat like a high school crush.

"Yeah, yeah. Came in through Athens, drove on up from there." He's once again lifted his closed hand up to mime the impression of heading northwards, boyish features pensive as he grasped for an interesting anecdote or observation he could share. Got one, something that had been on his mind the whole time he'd been cruising up here with nothing but radio hits and his own thoughts keeping him company. "Beautiful countryside. But I love the coast best, the water is so clear here." A pause for thought, before he gestures in the direction of where he knew the shoreline to be. "Υπέροχη θάλασσα."