Logs:Finding Romance

Finding Romance
Dramatis Personae Dawson, Steve
In Absentia	2020-10-12 "I'm happy for you, I truly am."
Location Shawangunk Mountains, NY
It's a popular time for climbing, and there have been plenty of people out in this section of the Gunks; moreso earlier in the day, though now that night has fallen many have started making the end-of-holiday-weekend trek home already. Not so Dawson, still dressed in green and black quick-dry tee, long lightweight hiking pants, though since the afternoon he's removed his specialized claw-tipped arm and tossed a grey jacket on over his tee. Camp has been pitched, a fire started; he even has a marshmallow, now, toasting lightly on the end of a stick in the fire. Where he sits right now on the log, eyes fixed on the dancing flames as they brown his marshmallow, he is -- perhaps for the first time since they arrived yesterday -- more or less quiet, almost approaching calm save for the faint shiver that lingers in his shoulders despite the proximity to the heat. Steve sits beside Dawson -- quiet, too, for some time. He's in a heather blue t-shirt and gray quick-dry hiking pants, a tan canvas jacket thrown on over top and brown hiking boots loosened and half-unlaced. He has a marshmallow of his own roasting on a stick, but he isn't watching it or the flames beyond at this moment. His eyes are turned up at the winking stars above, and then drop down to rest on the man beside him. He drapes an arm across Dawson's shoulders. "Do you need a blanket?" Dawson's eyes grow wider, his breath hitching at the touch. "Sorry -- no, this. This is good." A flush creeps into his cheeks, and he pulls his marshmallow out of the fire, blowing on it lightly. "Thank you. For --" His head shakes quickly, and he relaxes in against Steve's side. "I needed this." Steve smiles, pulls Dawson tighter against him. "Thank you. It was a lovely day, and I've..." He trails off, his head shaking quickly. "I know you've been under a lot of stress, and you've been ah..." He pulls his marshmallow back, too, turning the branch before him. Frowns down at it. "Just wish I could be more help than I've been." "No -- no it's been fine, things are fine, I've --" This protest doesn't actually make it too far before Dawson breaks off with a quick huff of breath. "Getting me out of Hive's hair for a bit is a big help. We've been having a little --" His shoulder hitches slightly, and he takes a small nibble of his marshmallow. "I don't know if you really have any idea. This whole past year, how much you've --" But this doesn't finish, either. His eyes fix on the fire again, cheek pressing against Steve's shoulder. "Thank you." "It's as much getting Hive out of your hair as the other way around, isn't it?" Steve's hand rubs Dawson's shoulder absently. "No matter how close you are, it's nice to have a break sometimes. Maybe all the more important, as close as you...particularly are." He takes a bite of his marshmallow, careful not to dislodge it, though it slides down the branch a little all the same. "I know it's been a tough year. I know 'tough' doesn't even begin to cover it." He breathes out, a long, slow breath. Shaky, at the end. "I -- I don't think it's any comparison, we've both been through awful things, in very different ways. But please know you've been wonderful for me, too." Dawson only laughs, at that first comment. He eats the rest of his marshmallow in two quick bites, reaching down for the bag to get out another and spear it. "I'm glad. Do you remember the first time we were here? It feels like a lifetime ago but it was only --" His eyes turn up toward the stars above, and for a moment he's quiet. "I think I might be seeing someone." "I remember." Steve's smile comes slowly. "It was almost an entire lifetime ago, for me." Then he adds, soft and a little melancholy, "This lifetime, anyway." He looks down at Dawson. "Seeing someone?" His eyes widen slightly. "Oh! Seeing someone?" He twists around so that he can see Dawson's face more easily, though he does not let him go, his expression difficult to read in the dancing firelight. "Who is she -- or...he?" Dawson's eyes shift, fixing on Steve's face intently. "Maybe seeing someone. We haven't really talked about..." His head shakes harder this time. "I don't know what we are, but I think it might be getting serious, so I thought we should --" His eyes lower. He's been gripping his stick between his knees for the marshmallowing but picks it back up, now, tipping it back down into the fire. "Just -- a friend. I met --" A beat of hesitation before he continues more quietly: "-- met her. In Maine." Steve slides the cooling marshmallow off of its branch and finishes it in one bite. "In Maine." He nods slowly. "So, you're thinking of going steady with her?" His brows crinkle in thought. "I don't know if that's still the right turn of phrase, but I mean that..." He shakes his head. "I don't mean to interrogate you. But if you intend to court this gal -- woman, we should ah...stop." He blushes, looking down. "I've been afraid I was keeping you from finding romance. I'm glad that I haven't." This time Dawson's eyes open wide, stick and marshmallow both falling into the fire as his hand claps to his mouth. His quick, "Sorry," is a little choked, teeth pressing into his knuckles. "Sorry, Hive's just -- been saying the same --" He squeezes his eyes shut. Shakes his head hard. "Sorry," comes a third time, softer. "You haven't been keeping me from anything. Even if I never found anyone else, that's not --" His hand drops back to his lap. "I love you. That's -- important all by itself, isn't it?" Steve starts, holding Dawson tighter still -- too tight, for a moment -- before loosing his grip, hastily and deliberately. His blush hasn't faded and grows deeper with each apology. "I know you're a grown man, and you can make your own decisions." His gaze dips. "I'm glad you're telling me this." When his eyes lift back to Dawson's, they're wide and glistening. "It is important. And I'm happy for you, I truly am." He swallows hard. Opens his mouth again, but no more words come out. Dawson's gaze is intense once more when he looks back at Steve. He turns, just slightly, to better face the other man. When he speaks it's only a very quiet prompting, "-- But?" Steve closes his mouth. Swallows again. Quietly, too, "Just -- I'll miss you." He brushes the backs of his fused knuckles across Dawson's jaw, not quite meeting the other man's eyes now. "But I want you to be happy, with someone who can be with you wholly and unreservedly." There's a brightness gathering in Dawson's eyes; it clings to his lashes and does not quite fall when he closes them, his face pressing for a moment into the touch. His head bows, hand pressing down hard against his leg. "I'm not going anywhere," he finally manages, though it isn't quite steady. "We'll still -- won't we still be -- do you not --" His brows pull together and in the next breath he isn't there anymore, fire stirring briefly as he disappears from the log and appears instead on his feet, a little closer to the flames. His arm wraps tight around his chest, fingers curling into the empty sleeve on the other side. "Right." This is abruptly more determined than his previous tone. "Sorry. Right. Yes. Do you --" For a moment he falters but picks up soon enough to plunge on ahead: "Do you want to -- go? The drive isn't so bad, I could get you home -- not too late." Steve sways when Dawson vanishes. Looks up at him, eyes brimming. When he rises to follow it's hesitantly. "Of course we'll -- I mean, I want remain your friend. I'm just afraid..." He stretches out a hand for Dawson again, but stops short this time, shoulders slumping. "...after what happened with Ryan." His next words are very quiet. "But, I don't want to go." There's another flutter as Steve rises; Dawson is no longer there as Steve's hand stretches out, reappearing again a few feet away. His nod is jerky, his eyes fixed on the fire. "Sorry. Right. Yes." It's kind of rote this time, tone a little flat. "Right. Okay. Right. We should. Probably sleep then. I'll -- be back. Soon." In the darkness it's all but impossible to follow the ghosting outline of his departure as it blurs past the flames and into the woods beyond.