ArchivedLogs:Stupid but Good

Stupid but Good
Dramatis Personae Doug, Eric
In Absentia	2013-03-27 A meeting in a park between Eric and Dre-- Doug.
Location Tompkins Square Park, East Village, New York, NY
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. The weather has been gloomy all day, in New York. Overcast and with the occasional rain shower, not to mention the cold, have made it seem less like spring and more like a last gasp of winter. Now, as the sun is fading, and night starts to crawl in, the temperature is beginning to fall, thinning the very few people in the park to just the die-hard homeless and athletic. People like Doug, who is not homeless but does keep in shape, who is loping through the park in a pair of snug sweatpants and blue hoodie. He has a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, a tuft of blonde hair poking out over the adjustment band enough that it could be from a Ben Stiller movie. He's making a good time, slowing now and again to walk a quarter lap and drink from one of the water fountains. Eric is not homeless and, though athletic, he is not dressed for any kind of exercise. Instead, he is wearing a simple white dress shirt and black slacks, with a chunky black pair of eyeglasses on that do absolutely nothing to correct his vision. He glances around the little park as he cuts through it on his way towards the Village Lofts, but his eyes catch on Doug, just heading towards one of the water fountains. A smile spreads on his face and he lifts his hand in a little wave. Doug pauses at the familiar bulk of Eric, his hand resting on the button of the fountain without pressure as he simply looks at the other man for a long moment. Perhaps he's studying the man's body language. Then, he's returning the wave with his free hand, his mouth twitching into a small smile. "Hey," he says, tipping his head. "I didn't expect to run into you. How've you been?" He releases the button, then, and reaches up to shift his cap around as he takes in the older man's outfit. "You're looking very..." he lifts crinkled eyes to catch Eric's bespectacled gaze. "...smart." "Well, it's jus' to make up for the whole lot of stupid that I sound." Eric says, eyes sparkling in a friendly manner as he gestures to himself. He raises his hand, then, to remove the glasses and put them in a pocket. "You'd be amazed just how different people treat you when you've got a nice shirt and a pair of glasses on." he comments, in a conspiratorial half-whisper. "I was just heading this way. Have some papers to drop off." he says, patting his pants pocket. There is a brief pause, and he glances over Doug, appraisingly. "How've you been?" "People who think Southern accents are an indicator of low intelligence are themselves in need of some I.Q. points," Doug says, exhaling through his nose. "But I know what you mean. Some of my mother's friends won't even look at me in regular clothing, but they're all smiles and 'how /are/ you?' at the fancy parties, where I'm dressed up." His grin slips a bit wider, and he scrunches his nose. "They're so transparent, it drives me crazy." The question gets a shrug. "I've been getting along. It's been a bit crazy, around the building." His mouth tilts to one side. "As you probably know." "I can imagine. After the raid and all." Eric says, shrugging his shoulders. "I was there for it, you know? Hardly even meant to be, but, bam, there I was." He sounds almost amused about the whole turn of events, and he shrugs his shoulders, one at a time. "Still, tha' kind of thing calms down with time. I bet it's calmer already, yeah?" he asks, smile widening as Doug's does. "Oh, yeah. I saw you come in." Doug nods, reaching up to rub a finger along his nose. "But they were already hustling us out of there." He sounds less amused, but then, Eric wasn't the one being screamed at by SWAT. He mimicks Eric's shrug, although his is more of a roll. "Oh, it's gotten calmer," he says. "Sort of. Things are still up in the air about a lot of things, and it's kind of got everyone stressed out." He grimaces. "Well, Jax and Hive and Ryan, at least. Not so much me, I guess." His grin returns, and he glances skyward in a half-roll of his eyes. "My parents are full of questions every time I see them, now. 'Who is this?' and 'are you friends with that musician' and shit." He chuckles. "It makes for some /awesome/ family dinners, let me tell you." Eric chuckles, warmly, as he glances around the park. "Well, there are worse questions for your folks to be askin', let me tell you. First time I brought a boy home to my Ma, I thought she was going to lose her mind. It took her a good year and some for her to stop talkin' about it every single date I brought home after that." He shakes his head, wryly. "Ya'can imagine that did wonders for my datin' life. Besides, how bad can knowin' a famous singer be?" he winks at Doug, eyes flicking up and down him smoothly. Doug quirks a grin. "Luckily, I never had that issue," he says. "My folks were pretty understanding when I told them. I mean, I wasn't /dating/ anyone -- I've never done that. But I knew. And I'd already decided I wasn't going to dodge 'when are you going to find a nice girl' questions. So I just told them." He rolls his eyes. "My mother is super-supportive, but I think she considers me Will to her Grace. Or Jack to her Karen." He spreads his hands. "I am neither, thankfully. Which is her only disappointment in the whole gay thing." His eyebrows pop up playfully as he returns Eric's look. "Not that she doesn't try every chance she gets." He shakes his head. "I think her problem with Ryan was the drugs," he says. "She does a lot of fund-raising for politicians who run on tougher drug law platforms." The references cause a brief look of puzzlement to flit across Eric's face, but he gamely presses onward. "Ah, the drugs. Well, that's a part of bein' famous. And from what I've heard, half of the politicians doin' all the pitching about stronger drug laws are buyin' the product themselves." he says, bemusedly. He sticks one had in his rear pocket and tugs out a cell phone, unlocking it with a flick of a finger and glancing down at the text message on the screen. He doesn't reply - rather, he just sticks the phone back into his pocket. "Still," Doug says, flashing teeth in his grin this time. "She's terrified that one of those vultures lurking around our apartment building will I.D. me as connected to him and she'll lose all her big-money clients." His mouth presses into a line at that, and his brow lowers. "Which would never happen, and she knows it. She knows too many deep pockets." Speaking of which, he falls silent as Eric takes out the phone and checks it, and then he's offering a smaller smile. "I'm not keeping you from a date or anything, am I?" Eric's eyes flick up and down the other man and he grins. "Nah, I wish. Text was from my sarge. Wants to know if I can cover the graveyard shift back at my other precinct." He rolls his eyes. "If the overtime wasn't so sweet, I'd be gettin' real sick of workin' in two different precincts." he grouses, eyes twinkling. "I might say yes, I might say no. Depends on how I'm /feelin'/." Eyes go down, up, skimming over Doug. "And you? What are your plans for the night?" Doug wrinkles his nose, tilting his head and offering Eric a lop-sided grin. "Wow. Busy thing, aren't you?" He steps forward, and juts out his lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't have any real plans," he admits, letting his own gaze travel the cop's muscular form. "I was just going to have a quiet night on the couch." His gaze turns thoughtful a moment, and clearly there's some internal dialogue going on before he says. "Maybe play some /X-Box/." Eric's eyes twinkle and his eyes sweep over the other man, this time with a hint of hunger showing behind his eyes. "I don't suppose you'd have room on that couch for one more? I'd love to play some X-Box with you, Drew." he says, voice a purr, as he takes a step closer to the other man. "If you're... /up/ for it." His eyes sparkle, and he winks, once. Doug's eyes go flat at that wrong name, and he steps back, eyebrows furrowing. "Oh, I'm sure /Drew/ -is- up for it," he says. "But me -- /Doug/ -- suddenly has a big issue with his hard drive." Eric winces, glancing down at the ground. "Doug. Damn. I knew it didn't sound quite right soon as I said it." he says, pursing his lips to one side for a moment as the smile fades. He glances back up, apologetically. "Names, I'm not so good at. But I remember /you/ quite well. I believe... there was a promise about a counter?" he raises one eyebrow, eyes sweeping over the other man's face. "Well, with the lack of time between your..." Doug's gaze lightens, but his brow remains furrowed. "...appointments, maybe you should start keeping a list." He sighs, and his eyebrows relax as his mouth pulls into a tight, lopsided smile. "Yeah, there was," he says of promises. "Am I going to feel stupid about it, later?" Is an honest question, without any readable subtext. "A list. Some things are better just not written down." Eric says, with a shrug of his shoulders. He glances up and down Doug and gives him a look, smile slipping to an almost bemused look. "I can't say you won't. God knows enough people do, come next mornin'." He spreads his hands out in a shrug. "I can't promise anythin' about tomorrow. But I can promise you'll have a good ni'." Doug laughs. "Maybe you should make nicknames for everyone. Like screennames, but for fucking." He slides closer, and closes one eye as he studies the older man. "I don't want to hear about it from Shane," he says, moving into Eric's personal space. "I don't really care what you do with him; I just don't want him at me about what /we/ do." There's an intimate brush of hand that may or may not be accidental. It's certainly not visible, in the gathering gloom. "You know?" "I don't kiss and tell. Nothin' I can do about his sense of /smell/, though." Eric chuckles and shakes his head. "Discretion is important - I agree completely. I wouldn't want people talkin' about me, so I don't talk 'bout other people. Just common courtesy." he says, leaning into the other man's touch slightly, breath ghosting against Doug's cheek. "How'sat sound?" "Yeah," Doug says, leaning into Eric even as the older man leans forward. "I don't think anyone profits from wagging tongues." He shivers a bit as the warm breath wafts over his cheek, and the exhalation is as shaky as his smile. "It sounds good to me," he says in a small voice, and he suddenly twists his head to look for any erstwhile observers before he leans back into the solid bulk of Eric's chest. "Stupid, but good." Eric chuckles and wraps an arm solidly around Doug's back, holding him securely against his broad chest. The hand runs up and down his side, once, and then he leans forward to brush a kiss against Doug's cheek. "Funny. People say that about me a lot." he says, pulling back with a grin. "Come on. We've got a date with a countertop." he says, pulling the other man towards the building beyond the park.