A Date? - Alex & Art
Sorry to bop on this account again! I don't even know who's still following this one. I know Shyma is and this one's specifically for her. Plus, I need somewhere to post these, haha. Don't really think the followers on my main want to read my crappy writing. Anyhow, this has been sitting in the drafts for far too long. It's shitty and dull but I wanted to have a go at writing Art a bit into the story. I liked it, don't know how I did though. It's just unfinished and I kind of wanted to write the actual lunch but I started to feel as if it was going nowhere. I also like finally writing Calla. I want to write more Reed as well. That would be fun.
It took Alex longer than usual to get ready. He was thinking too much about Art meeting his mother for the first time. Nobody's really been to meet his mother since...since Reed. He rubbed his palms together furiously. He had to force himself to stop; pry his hands apart so he could button his shirt up. Art would be downstairs waiting at the door, like a puppy, probably. He couldn't say that he would be surprised by his recently official boyfriend. Is that what you call it when you're almost 40?
“Boyfriend?” It felt juvenile on his tongue as he said it out loud.
Alex gave himself one last mental kick in the butt and tried his hardest not to fall on the way down the stairs. Art was unexpectedly calm at the door. The younger man had Alex's scarf slung over his arm; he smiled as he gave it to him, noticing the fear that replaced the serenity in Alex's eyes.
“So what is it then?” Alex didn't answer; he was back to rubbing his palms together. Art smiled and grabbed the older man's hands. He pulled Alex in and looked at him with a hint of sympathy. “Lex. It's your mum. And anyhow, we're not asking her to get married; it's only lunch, love.” Art pecked him on the lips and locked their arms together. Alex cringed at the word “married”. “Shall we?” Alex could do nothing but nod as Art spun them into an apparition.
Alex wanted to blame the feeling in his stomach on Art's poor apparition skills, but he knew better because Art was near flawless. Sadly, he felt as if he would puke because there they were, right at the doors of the Ministry of Magic.
“You know we don't have to do this yet, yeah? I mean, it might be a bit early on, isn't it? We haven't even moved in together.” His eyes perked up. “That's an idea, boyo! Let's go look at flats. What a way to spend the afternoon.”
“Ha! Not a chance, boyo.” Art mocked him. “No way, we've had this planned for a week. You wouldn't let your dear mother down would you? No. We're going, come on then.”
Hesitantly, Alex moved and held the door open for Art in an attempt to delay the meeting. Inside, he could see nothing but his mother who was standing outside of her office, fixing the annoyingly green feather poking out the back end of her hat. It wasn't even a real feather. It was a hawk's wing feather and they do not come in blue. Alex concentrated on nothing but the feather. He might have been calmer if he'd been paying attention to her comforting smile, or her pressed pleated skirt that made her look five years younger, or the way that she hugged Art. Did he introduce them yet?
“Mum, this is Arthur Davenport.” He began his rehearsed speech quickly. “We met at school where he teaches care of magical creatures. He's got a way with the kids and I thought it were time you met him, yeah?”
His mother couldn't help but giggle at his nervousness. She looked down a moment to compose herself and the attention to detail that she gave the tight bun in her graying rust colored hair was obvious, not a strand out of place. She placed a green gloved hand at her mouth to cover her smile.
“Oh, Alexander, he does have you wound up doesn't he.” She gave an approving smile to Art who was red in the face and unprepared for Alex's debilitating reaction. “Arthur and I are getting just fine. I'm Calla Donovan, how's the day?”
“Uh, fine, Mrs. Donovan. Does he always do this with his boyfriends?” Alex was frozen solid leaving only his eyes to shift between the two of them. “He's stiff as a rock.”
“Oh please, it's Calla. Alexander hasn't introduced me to any of his friends since Reed. Poor nervous thing; I have to apologize for him, just give me a minute.” Calla handed Art her clutch without taking her eyes from Alex as she stepped directly in front of him. With a brief look of ferocity, she smacked Alex on the shoulder. “Alexander Tomlin. It's time to go to lunch. Loosen your back and for the love of everything get some blood in your cheeks.”
Words...Yes...He was being spoken to. Hit. Oh no. How long had he been standing there like an idiot. Alexander Tomlin, you complete wanker. Slowly, he let the muscles in his body relax, and he could almost feel each vertebrae breath as he let the tension in his body go. His mum was good that way.
“Right, sorry. I, uhh. Right, off we go? Lunch. Yeah. Where too, mum?”
“Well of course, that's not up to me, child. I'm the one trying to be impressed. So, Alexander, impress me, would you. My lunch is only an hour, remember.” She winked at Art.
“Know anywhere with a good shepard's pie?” It was only a hunch, but Art knew that Alex could eat an entire pan of the stuff and he had to get that from someone.
“I like this one.” Calla said, fully satisfied that Art might make a suitable successor to Reed. The familiar pop echoed throughout the Ministry as Calla disapparated them all to some old pub somewhere just outside of Galway.
She seemed totally out of place standing inside the pub frequented by wizards and witches from all over Ireland. She removed her hat and a few hairpins to let her thick hair fall to her shoulders. The dark green made much more sense with the shock of rust red against it.
“Sorry about that, dear. They make me look completely too put together at the Ministry. Been thinking of working from home for a while now.” She tossed her hat into her clutch, which had no bottom, Art noticed, as she also stuffed her jacket and bobby pins inside. “Dally, three pints and keep the pies hot and comin, will you, lass?” She called to someone unseen in the kitchen, but responded with a loud “Yes, Mum!” Calla returned to the two men next to her. “Let's have a seat, yeah?” She said, leading them to an open booth with her hand patting Art on the back.
