|
Texts were made, a time scheduled--just shortly after sunset. Long enough for Cian to get washed and dressed, but not too late. Simon texts again, saying: I'm waiting outside.
And true to his word, Simon's fancy sleek black sports car is parked outside--with the driver in the driver's seat and Simon waiting in the backseat. When Cian slips inside, he finds the mortal lounged back, sipping a drink, wearing one of his usual fancy tailored suits.
Cian's chosen a suit this evening, too - not tailored like Simon's, really, and the cut is decidedly vintage. But it fits him well, and he's got his familiar pop of blue - the thin tie, tonight.
He is Blushed, but he barely gives Simon a smile as he sinks into the seat, his expression clearly nervous.
Once Cian is settled the driver pulls away from the curb, heading towards a fancy part of the city.
Simon sips his drink, glancing Cian over a moment. "You look nervous."
"I won't lie and say I'm entirely at ease, no..." Cian meets Simon's eyes for a moment. "I suppose I'm less nervous than I might be, given..." He gestures to his shoulders and then the rest of him.
"Ah." He nods. "It's the tailor you're nervous about, then?"
"For the most part. I...trust we'll be close enough to alone that my inability to actually eat will be disruptive." Cian huffs in mild amusement.
"Ah. And here I thought you might've been nervous at the thought of having dinner with me," he says with a dry smirk, before looking out the window. "I've assured we will have privacy. Nothing to concern yourself with."
"I've had you for dinner, why would I be concerned about that?" Cian keeps his voice low, and glances at the driver before giving Simon a quick, teasing grin.
He scoffs softly in reply, finishing off his drink before setting it aside in a cup holder. "Fair. But there is no need for you to be nervous. We are going to have plenty of privacy, and the tailor is very professional and discreet."
"I...have not worn anything approaching 'modern' clothing in nearly two decades, Simon. It's quite a shift." He shrugs. "I trust your tailor, given the things I've seen you in, I just...don't trust that the style will suit me."
Simon lets out a heavy but resigned sigh. "One modern suit. Then you may request the rest to look however you like."
Cian's eyebrow arches upward. "The rest? I really don't need an entirely new wardrobe..." And really, the few jackets he owns mostly fit. Mostly. They pull a little at the shoulder, maybe. Slightly too short at the sleeves, maybe. But nothing egregious, at least to someone who's used to living in untailored clothes.
He scoffs again, flitting a hand dismissively, as if there were no argument to give. "Nonsense. Your proportions are all wrong for the clothes you have now."
Which clearly means he needs a NEW wardrobe, right? Not simply have his old ones fitted???
"Ah -" Cian pauses, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find a good response to that. "I haven't changed that drasically, I'm fairly certain..." is what he finally decides on. "I'd have brought some things with me to get them tailored, if I'd known we were going for more than just a single suit..."
Simon eyes him. "Do you not want more than one?"
"I - I mean." Cian clears his throat quietly, his cheeks turning pink. "I already feel as if I'll be in your debt, with just the one."
"If you truly feel you owe me, then fuck me after we finish shopping," he replies easily, picking up a bottle from the mini-bar to refill his glass. Then pauses a beat. "Not that I am expecting to be repaid in such a way, of course. It's just a gift, Cian. If you really don't want them, then we will settle with the one."
Cian's face colors still more. "Of course I want them. I'm not used to such expensive gifts - especially from someone which which I have a business arrangement." His tone changes slightly as he finishes the sentence, to something slightly teasing.
"If you want them, then take them." He looks over at him. "You should be celebrating your new body."
"...Fine." He gives Simon a defeated sort of smile, and reaches over to trail his hand down Simon's arm. "Thank you. I'll see how I feel about...more modern cuts. But at least one."
Simon nods, then takes a sip of his drink before digging into a refrigerated compartment, feeding the mouth while they drive.
But it's not much longer before they pull up in front of a ritsy as fuck tailor's shop. Simon slips out and leads the way into the shop, where they're met with a clean cut man in a crisp shirt and slacks and welcomed promptly into a private room that has a comfy old fashioned sofa and mirrors on the walls. They're even offered a fancy glass of champagne before the tailor politely asks to take Cian's measurements.
Simon settles himself on the sofa, legs crossing as he watches.
Cian declines the champagne and agrees to the measurements, leaving the jacket of his suit with Simon. He's tense, trying not to grit his teeth as he slowly removes his pants as well, because they're far too wide legged to get proper measurements with.
Of course, measurements don't really take too long, if the tailor is good at his job, and if he's really good at his job he'll know how to casually help put Cian at ease. And Cian keeps catching views of himself in the mirror anyway, which makes him start to smile despite his nervousness.
The tailor, thankfully, is good at his job--and very professional. He gets things done efficiently while putting off that professional but calming demeanor.
Simon sips his champagne as he watches, lips twitching a bit when he catches Cian smiling at his reflection.
Once tailor has finished his work, Cian dresses again - quickly, though he doesn't bother with his jacket. When the conversation turn to style, he looks to Simon, half his attention captured by the book of fabric swatches the tailor has presented him. He's eyeing the warmer browns and tans in both wool and linen.
But ultimately, he decides on blue, for the modern suit. Something between a royal blue and a navy, with a subtle check.
Simon lets Cian pick the fabric and color for the modern suit, at least! But he's rather specific in what he wants otherwise. He seems to be.... trying to compromise with him, as far as styling goes. An older fashioned jacket--something with a double breasted waistcoat, but it's slim fitting enough to be distinctively more modern.
But the rest? He flits a hand when the tailor glances at him to check that Cian really had free reign. It seems that the tailor at least has a basic understanding of historical garb, and doesn't blink twice when Cian orders out dated styles.
Cian lets Simon have his opinions - the modern suit is mostly for him, anyway. He does look pleasantly surprised when Simon allows a more old-fashioned cut for the jacket, reaching out again to touch his arm.
And the outdated styles are vintage, as Cian has probably explained to Simon at least once. The fabrics he chooses reflect early 20th century cuts, but he doesn't shy away from color and pattern.
He even asks Simon's opinion about some of them.
Simon sips away at his champagne as he listens to Cian and the tailor talk, his arm draped over the back of the sofa behind the kindred.
He does give his input here and there. Despite teasing Cian about his fashion choices, he does actually seem to know at least the basics of historical dress. He continues trying to push Cian into more fitted cuts, but he's not too over bearing. He seems to like Cian in blues as well.
It leads to Cian getting slightly slimmer pants. But only slightly. Still plenty wide enough to pass for vintage. He leans toward warmer colors - he does know what colors look good on him - but there's more than one that has blue in the check or a subtle blue stripe.
Cian is quite knowledgeable about the subject of historical men's fashion, surprise surprise, and he finishes the conversation with the tailor with a smile on his face, and a plan for a collection of suits. And his hand casually on Simon's knee.
Simon is pleased with the sliiiightly slimmer cut, making a comment about how nice Cian's legs are, he might as well show them off...
He looks over at Cian as the consultation wraps up, and a time is scheduled for the first fitting. He pulls out his phone to note down the time on his calendar, apparently just assuming he'll be there...
He pushes to his feet as things are finished, moving to the door to hold it for Cian.
Of course he'll be there - Cian doesn't question it, just takes the tailor's card and scrawls the date and time on it, and thanks the man quietly before leaving.
"Not as bad as I'd hoped..." He says quietly once the door is closed and the two of them are on the way to the car. "He's lovely, I can see why you go to him - he dresses you quite well." At that, Simon gets a once-over and a small grin. "Are you satisfied?"
"I told you so," Simon replies with a small smirk as they head to where the car is parked, just a bit down the street. "Yes. I am. Are you?" He steps up to the car, and this time opens it for Cian instead of waiting for the driver to get out.
Cian leans in for a quick kiss as he gets into the car, and he nods and smiles. "I think I am. The first fitting will be just as nerve-wracking, I'm sure. Though I suspect you're looking forward to it?"
Simon follows him into the car, sliding in and closing the door. "I am very much looking forward to it. It will be interesting to see the clothes develop." He reaches over to rest a hand on Cian's knee briefly, as the car sets off down the street.
"I have reservations with a chef who has been experimenting with modern twists on ancient Incan recipes. He's in town from Peru. I thought it would be an interesting experience."
"That sounds...horrendously pretentious." Cian can't keep back a teasing sort of grin. "And more adventurous than anything I'd seek out. It does sound interesting, I can't say I know much about ancient Inca or the cuisine thereof..."
Simon gives him a look at being called pretentious, but doesn't comment. He looks a little mollified as he continues. "That's alright. It will be something new for us both."
Cian arches an eyebrow in response to the look, a sort of 'am i wrong?' in his expression. "It's been quite the evening of new experiences. Do you have a favorite cuisine, or is it more about seeking out new experiences, for you?"
"I do like new experiences," he replies, leaning back in his seat a bit. "But if I had to choose... I love Indian cuisine the most."
"There was an incredible Indian restaurant in Cambridge, it opened just before I graduated...I cannot remember the name. I think it was...Punjabi food, specifically..." Cian frowns slightly as he thinks.
He tilts his head, regarding him. "Hm. Punjabi Dhaba?"
Cian blinks in surprise. "That...sounds correct, yes. Their lamb curry was to die for...somehow I imagined you having a personal chef, even then...?"
He smiles at that, looking at the ceiling. "Mm. There were several years when I couldn't afford a personal chef." He looks wistful. "I do recall the lamb curry being rather nice."
"'Several years,'" Cian repeats with a smile and a shake of his head. "It was certainly a treat for me, though I don't think it was all that expensive, overall. Somehow it's surprising to me that you and I frequented any of the same places, then."
"My wife craved spicy food like crazy when she was pregnant. It was easy and fast to get, so we ate there quite often." His smile dims briefly, before he looks back to Cian.
"Do you want to go to Punjabi Dhaba instead?"
Cian scoffs out a surprise laugh. "You can't be serious, it's hours away."
His smile lingers. "Not so far by plane."
"It's...Cambridge." Cian's smile falters. "It - people know me, there. But..."
Simon considers him quietly for a moment, smile dimming. "Ah. That's alright, then. I suppose it is a silly thought."
"It's...certainly an idea. I don't know that it would be enjoyable for you, watching me try not to come apart." Cian offers what is meant to be an apologetic smile, though it comes out looking more like a grimace.
He searches Cian's face for a moment, then reaches across to pat him on the thigh. "Don't worry about it. We're still going to have an amazing dinner."
"Maybe we can find somewhere here, that compares to Punjabi Dhaba. After tonight's dinner, I mean." Cian rests a hand on top of Simon's.
"Maybe. I'll do some searching." He glances down at Cian's hand, then... lets his hand linger there, under his, for a while.
Cian doesn't offer more conversation, after that, though his silence is companionable, rather than awkward. He glances at Simon every once in a while, a soft smile on his face.
The rest of the drive is passed in silence. Simon does feed the mouth, yet again, before they get out and head inside to a very upscale restaurant, which looks like it might normally serve fancy pretentious style Mexican-fusion. Simon opens the door for him again on the way in.
The restaurant... is empty. He's booked the whole place?? But there's a hostess there, that leads them to a table towards the back. Simon settles himself down into a chair across from Cian. There's not given any menus, and drinks are brought out promptly--some sort of alcoholic beverage that is dark red, which tastes mildly sweet, with a... nutty after taste?
There's a bit of gawking, when Cian realizes the place is empty, though he doesn't quite stop in his tracks.
"I suppose it shouldn't surprise me, that you've reserved the entire restaurant..." Cian smiles at Simon once they're both sitting, and he eyes the drink before taking a tiny sip. He spits it back into the glass politely, at least, after taking a moment to taste it. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to subject you to this for the entire evening..."
"You wanted privacy. I gave you privacy," he says, smiling across from him. He doesn't bat an eye when Cian spits it back out, taking a sip of his own glass. "It's alright. I don't really have any right to critique you about... disgusting things."
Cian arches an eyebrow, a smile playing around his mouth. "Don't you? Or rather...has that stopped you in the past?"
"I critique your fashion sense." His lips quirk. "Not things you have no choice about."
Their first course is brought promptly. It's a sort of porridge made from quinoa, corn, and beans--a dish that would be rather rustic on its own, but it's all about the plating in this case. It's basically art on a plate. Still, it's delicious, with a balance of savory with a fresh earthy taste and a hint of sweet that is brought out with the drink.
Simon smiles as he eats, trying careful bites, making sure to get the right balance of ingredients with each forkful before tasting it. He seems to really savor it, making comments here and there about tastes and textures that--yeah, are super pretentious, but he seems to be genuinely enjoying himself.
"I suppose you have a point."
As Simon eats, Cian...watches. It might be creepy, but...Cian's clearly fascinated in what Simon thinks about the food. He seems to have forgotten his own plate in front of him, as engrossed as he is in the other man's experience.
Simon doesn't seem to mind being watched. There's a point in the beginning that he pauses, hesitating, but... then seems to push aside whatever thoughts he's having, and just... rolls with it. He's a little more vocal about things he likes (and doesn't like), walking Cian through the taste experience. But he does insist that Cian try things here and there that he insists are worth the taste.
The next course ends up being a soup made from squash and guards, with with garnish made from herbs and ground nuts. (Well, soup probably should've been first, but WHATEVER.) After that is the main course--a steak of llama meat, seasoned with a crust of cocoa and chilies with makes it taste spicy, smoky, and bitter, the meat cooked perfectly, with sides of thinly sliced potatoes. After that? The dessert course is a sort of... almost bread pudding, very rich with nuts and dried fruits and cheese, and a scoop of lúcuma ice cream on the side to cut through the richness.
Cian takes small bites of the things that Simon insists on, spitting them out rather than swallowing, and gives his much slightly less informed opinion about the taste.
He sits back to enjoy the view of Simon finishing his dessert, a contented smile on his face, his arms crossed. His foot just brushes Simon's under the table. "Was the meal everything you'd hoped for? This chef seems to know what he's doing..."
He picks up a napkin to wipe his mouth, smiling across at him. "Mm, it was delightful. I've never had llama before. I'd enjoy eating it again, sometime." He sets the napkin aside, then picks up his glass to swallow down the last of the drink. He's a little rosy cheeked by now from drinking so much, obviously tipsy. Maybe more than a little tipsy.
"Where would you like to go after this?"
"I...hadn't made any plans. We could return to my flat, or...?" Cian arches an eyebrow, letting Simon finish the sentence however he might wish.
"Would you rather go there, or to the suite?" he asks, watching him.
"I have no preference." Cian shrugs, sounding perfectly sincere.
He arches a brow. "No? Hm." He leans back, drawing out a wallet and drawing out several one hundred dollar bills, folding and tucking them under the plate. No bill is brought to them though--he's already paid, maybe? Is that a tip for the server??? He pushes to his feet, tucking the wallet away.
Cian arches a brow at the money, and stands as well, starting to hold a hand out in case Simon is unsteady. "Do you have something in mind...?"
Simon seems to... misunderstand the offer of the hand, squinting at it a second before gripping it. Then just holding it as he heads for the door. He must be very drunk. "Your place is fine. Though I did have the windows blacked out in the bedroom of the suite."
"...Did you?" Cian opens his mouth to keep talking, glancing at the hand holding with some confusion before deciding to go with it. "I don't mind returning to my flat - I received a collection of books I ordered recently, they might interest you..." The statement is accompanied by a small smile.
"I did. You complained about having to get home before the sun came up. Now it won't be a concern." The car pulls up after they step outside, Simon only wobbling a little...
"Oh? What sort of collection?"
"Art books, historical reference. A reprint of a novel that I've been trying to track down for years, you can find it online but it's worth a physical copy for the illustrations." A beat. "Thank you, for doing that. I'm sorry you'll lose the view, isn't it one of the things that makes this suite special?"
"You can see the view from the patio and living room just fine." He shrugs, opening the door to let Cian slip inside first, then scoots in beside him. Off the driver goes, yet again. "Yours tonight, then. Next time, we'll go to the suite," he says, leaning back. "I'll treat us to pedicures."
"That works for me." Once they're off, Cian puts his arm on the back of the seat, brushing his fingers against the back of Simon's neck. "I don't know that I've ever had something so indulgent as a pedicure. I don't know that I've ever even considered it."
Simon, meanwhile, rubs a hand over Cian's thigh as they drive along. Someone is drunk and getting handsy. "No?" He perks a brow. "Pedicures are a wonderful experience. Very relaxing. There's not a feeling quite like it." He glances down towards Cian's shoes.
"That sort of thing has never been high on my priorities list. But I'd not say no, if the opportunity arose." Cian glances down at Simon's hand, and then at the man himself.
"Do you plan on spending the night, or just a few hours...?"
“We will do that next time, then.”
Simon falls quiet after the question, the silence stretching for several seconds. “I’ll stay the night,” he finally says.
Cian's hand slides down to drape around Simon's shoulders. "I'm glad. Even if you tend to be gone by the time I wake up again."
He perks a brow. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to stay...”
He does lean into Cian’s side, a little.
"I was under the impression I wasn't to express that particular want...It seems awfully indulgent of me, for what our relationship is." Cian runs his hand up and down Simon's arm.
“Mm. I suppose so. I don’t think it would be possible, at any rate. I’m usually far too busy to just... lay in bed from sun up to sun set.” A beat. His mouth opens, then closes without saying anything else. Instead he tips his head and draws Cian in for a kiss.
|