The Grey Scale ((Grey Weston and Kaspar, Closed))

[Grey Weston]

<Kaspar>

He let the man embrace him, leaning back easily into it, welcoming the contact. It had become an easy thing, the pair of them pottering around the kitchen growing to be more and more a common thing. “Ok, fine, so i’m not entirely wholesome but I keep my less appropriate habits to myself. I’ll make sure to cover Stoker’s eyes when you insist on watching scary films, how about that? I should be more worried about YOU, you might just teach my son it’s acceptable to sass me.” He grumbled impatiently, but it was good natured, Kaspar peeling a banana and slicing it in half to place at the bottom of a large bowl, far too large for a reasonable portion for one person. He grabbed out the choc mint first, putting in one large scoop as Grey went about the business of feeding the dog.

There was sounds of messy appreciation and yet Kaspar knew not a single morsel would be missed by the content canine. “You are correct, love, i’m sorry. It was lovely, I just…” Shoulders hitched in a shrug, deciding not to state it was because he had lost his appetite, or something about not needing to eat. It would no doubt grow melancholy and he was passed that. “Look how happy Stoker is, I was clearly doing him a kindness, it was my dastardly plan all along.” He snatched out the hokey pokey next, another large scoop extracted before the final ice cream was taken from the freezer and given the same treatment.

It could be said he was pedantic the way he would ensure things went immediately back in the correct place, tidying up as he went so that by the time he was ready to put the fudge in the microwave the counter had all rubbish removed just the remaining items they need. He popped it in, pressing the buttons and watching it go ‘round. “If I can work out how to make it back… You want to come? To Germany? Klaus says you’re cute, and that you should meet the other twin first before you settle on me. He’s an ***.” Kas chuckled, he’d received the text in the car on the way back and had promptly ignored Grey’s questioning stare to bring it up at a more appropriate time.

<Grey Weston>

He grunted in reply, choosing not to comment immediately. It was gratifying, the way the other man settled against him, prompting him to lean forward in reply, nuzzling into the space between his shoulders, inhaling quietly. Wordlessly breathing him in. The pair had become adept at sharing the communal space; moving in a way that complimented each other. They seemed hyper aware of where the other ways; conscious of how to shift so that they never quite got in each other’s way, no matter how many times their paths intersected. “Stoker likes it!” He replied defensively. A low scoff escaped him as he eased back at last. “You’re safe,” he commented. “For a few years, at least.” Stoker seemed to agree with Kaspar’s assessment; briefly surfacing from his bowl to run his tongue across his chops, the curl of his tongue a brilliant flash of color in stark contrast to his dark coat.

His head dropped a moment later, attention returning to the bowl, lavishing it eager licks that left the ceramic close to spotless, once he determined that Kaspar hadn’t actually required his attention. Grey continued to study him for a moment or two in silence. “We may have to fix that,” he said smoothly. The sundaes would be satisfying. But they wouldn’t sustain him. “Though Stoker clearly appreciates your sacrifice.” His next question was unexpected; prompting a blink. “I would like to,” he said, surprising himself with the answer. A startled laugh - bright and affectionate - slipped from his throat. “He’s going to be disappointed,” he remarked. “In the meantime, he’s welcome to reattempt the pitch.” The wink he shot him was quick - non-serious. He studied him with a critical eye; reluctant to interrupt his work.

“You’re eating before bed,” he grumbled, in a tone that brooked no argument.

<Kaspar>

“We, liebchen, we are eating before bed. This is for US, not just me.” He gestured to the massive bowl ignoring meaning at the heart of his words, grabbing out the hot fudge bottle and pouring it over the ice cream liberally. He wasn’t thinking about blood, he’d fed before they went out. “Good, I think you’d like it, you can even where the lovely new coat you’ve yet to hang up” It was teasing, considering his own jacket was draped in much the same way. “You know, i’m not actually sure what captures Klaus’ eye these days. He’s not dated much the last few years, he’s been busy. He had a girlfriend for like, two years, but I wouldn’t say she was the epitome of his type. We have that much in common when it comes to relationships, anything that’s pretty or interesting can capture our attention but to stick around? Got to be special.”

The whipped cream came next, Kas shaking the can and giving a little chuckle at the hiss of protest it made before the fluffy stuff squirted out perfect swirly shapes. “Want?” He waggled the can, he was rarely one to drink from cartons, or squirt cream from a can ever, let alone into his mouth.The fudge, however, was another story and he eyed it briefly before deciding against it and merely drizzling a little extra on. A sprinkle of nuts and a few cherries were added to the top, the man continuing to chatter away. “He’s far better at monogamy than me, once he commits to someone he is able to really commit, so if you’re into that sort of thing he’s a better bet. Actually, I don’t know that he seriously dated a man before, like he had some fun and flings in the day, the ******** actually kissed my ex-boyfriend once!” His laughter was light, no resentment there. “Right… Couch? Some awful movie and this beast? I mean the sundae, not the dog… But he can come. Bring chips, if you know what’s good for you, Grey!”

He grabbed two spoons, carrying the monstrosity of a sundae into the living area and placing it on the table so he could go about removing his waistcoat and shirt with quick flicks of his fingers, freeing buttons at impressive speed. Shoes followed with little ceremony and so it went until Kaspar was able to slump onto the couch in nothing but his underwear and socks, happily reaching to capture the late night snack.



<Grey Weston>

He leveled a flat look at Kaspar in response to the dig regarding his haphazard placement of his jacket. It faltered a second later; Grey cracking a goodnatured grin. “Aren’t you adorable? I always wanted a housewife.” He stated mildly, before offering a placating gesture. “I’ll put them up before bed.” Grey was surprisingly tidy; he couldn’t abide clutter. It left him distracted; prone to compulsively bending to straighten an object that had nudged two degrees further to the left than it should have, or pick up an article of wrinkled clothing discarded on the floor. He argued aesthetics, but the reality was that his head was so often swimming it demanded a clear living space. He went quiet after that; content to listen to Kaspar’s cheerful chatter. It was how they spent most evenings; a gradual process of winding down, with Kaspar leading the conversation whether it was invited or not.

He didn’t mind. It was charmingly domestic; lulling. He glanced up sharply a moment later, expression thinning. He was torn between finding the explanation endearing and exasperating. “In a hurry to get rid of me, are we?” he asked dryly. “Do,” he said, abruptly making his way towards Kaspar and wresting the whipped cream from his hands. Rather than tilt the canister upright and compressing the nozzle until his cheeks bulged with the airy substance, however, he briskly pressed it against Kaspar’s cheek, squeezing out a thick line.

He leaned in a second later, cleaning it from his skin in a series of sucking kisses and the firm drag of his tongue. He settled back a second later, wearing a smug grin. He didn’t interrupt as Kaspar resumed his train of thought. The truth of the matter was that he couldn’t entirely blame him. Grey was solidly ‘into that sort of thing.’ Once his loyalty - his affection - had been earned, it belonged to them unwaveringly. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice other people; he just didn’t experience attraction to anyone else. “You probably deserved it.” His response was soft; teasing. He trailed after him a second later, pausing just long enough to snag the chips and a spare bowl to dump them in with a low sigh.

He dumped both chips and the bowl onto the coffee table a second later, before settling onto the couch. “Scoot over, frosty nips,” he commented, even as he reached for the remote, aiming it at the sleek soundbar that rested just underneath the television. There was the barest flicker of green as the receptors clicked on, the device humming to life, discreet speakers immediately filling the room with the thrumming bass of their start up sound. The television clicked on a second later, screen gradually growing lighter in conjunction. “You can pick the film,” he said graciously. He waited until the other man had settled before abruptly leaning in, fingers twining themselves in his hair. “Tonight was fun,” he said quietly, head tilting so that his forehead rested briefly against Kaspar’s. For a moment, his gaze was searching. “I just want you to know…” He trailed off, allowing the moment to stretch, as if searching for words. “You’re kind of my favorite,” he settled on at last, before tugging him into a soft, borderline chaste kiss. It had been a good night.