When Jeffrey drove them over to Wrenfield, Tamlin had thought they were just going to see the exhibition, with bags packed in case they decided to stay overnight at Jeffrey’s sister’s place. Instead, Jeffrey had pulled up at the Wrenfield Plaza Hotel, where they had checked into their premium suite, with craft beers waiting on ice, matching robes laid out by the whirlpool bath—which was big enough for two grown men—and a king-sized bed.
They’d had fun soaking—and sexing each other up—in that bath, then thoroughly testing out the bed. They’d dragged themselves away from bath-banging and mattress-measuring to actually go see the exhibition. Afterwards, they’d had dinner at an amazing tapas restaurant, then gone to a gay club for drinks and queer revelry, before returning to the suite and assessing the bed one more time; it passed with flying colours—and nary a squeaky spring—despiteveryrigorous testing.
Tamlin had surprised Jeffrey in turn, somehow sneaking off to buy him the very expensive exhibition book from the gift shop, as thanks for giving him a romantic getaway. Jeffrey hadn’t expected anything in return—Tamlin had also insisted on buying dinner and drinks, to go some way towards repaying Jeffrey for the opulent hotel room—but he appreciated thatTamlin had known how much it would mean to him.
Having that book on his shelf allowed him to relive his ardent enthusiasm for the novel, the exhilarating experience of watching the movie adaption for the first time, and the wonderful weekend he’d spent with the love of his life, all at once.
Jeffrey grinned down at the book without actually seeing the cover. The memories of what he and Tamlin had shared that weekend were far better than the book’s actual contents.
Though he supposed he could flip through the book anyway, since he needed something to pass the time until Tamlin got home, and he really had enjoyed the exhibition—seeing the original prop sword wielded by Ignatius Morello actor Marty Aitken had been the cherry on an already very scrumptious cake; even if it still didn’t quite compare to sampling Tamlin’scakein the privacy of their suite.
Trying to put aside salacious recollections long enough to focus for a few minutes, he lifted the front cover.
To his surprise, writing greeted his eyes, on what should have been a blank flyleaf.
He thought at first someone had written on the page itself. Quelling a surge of outrage, his closer inspection revealed it was a note written on a bookmark.
He recognised that particular bookmark as being from the exhibition gift shop, withThe Prince’s Pridequote—as you like—scrawled in an old-timey font across the foot of the otherwise blank white card stock.
Another glance told him it was inTamlin’shandwriting. Neat and legible from taking down drink requests and food orders at his job as a bartender, the cursive letters were slightly cramped to fit on the narrow space of the bookmark, but still just as elongated and elegant as Tamlin himself.
Carefully lifting the bookmark by one corner, Jeffrey heldit up to the lamplight so he could read it:
Had the most amazing weekend in Wrenfield! I knew Jeffrey would want to see this exhibition, but he surprised me with a stay in a private suite, with iced beers waiting, a hot tub big enough for two, and a huge bed—lots of options for places I could properly reward him for his thoughtfulness ;)
Once we peeled ourselves off the bedsheets—and each other—the exhibition was great, it was so cute watching Jeffrey get excited over the original Dark Corsair costume right there in front of him :3
Dinner after at a tapas bar was delicious! Then we went to Banned Books Speakeasy for mocktails (Parker put just the right ratio of grenadine to grapefruit juice in the Fuchsia Fable) though Gino serving drinks shirtless actually made Jeffrey nervous, I’ve rarely seen him so flustered! He didn’t know where to look when Gino leaned forward to place his drink on the table and put him at eye level with a nipple XD
I really enjoyed this weekend, but then I adore every single second I get to spend with my Grumpy Cat <3
Jeffrey finished reading and just sat for a moment, basking in the words.
He never got used to this. Just when he thought he was accustomed to living with Tamlin, being mutually in love with Tamlin, having Tamlin an irrevocable part of his life. Just when he started to get the tiniest bit complacent, something like this caught him unawares, and he fell in love with Tamlin all over again.
And hereallyshould put that love into words.
Setting the book down on the coffee table, Jeffrey cast around for a moment, selected a likely box on a nearby shelf, and began rifling through the assortment of bookmarks inside. He had to pull several out before he found what he sought, buriednear the bottom: an identicalPrince’s Pridebookmark, acquired when he had bought himself a pair of novelty socks—the right one had written on itGreetings I am Ignatius Morello, the left one continuedyou slew my sire, brace for your demise—from the gift shop, the cashier having slipped it into the bag as a freebie.
Perfect.
Next he needed a pen; there was an assortment in an old glass tumbler that had cracked but Tamlin liked too much to throw away, standing on an adjacent shelf—see, having all these shelves wasuseful.
Writing materials acquired, Jeffrey hunched over the coffee table, pausing a moment to consider what he should say. Then, with a fond smile as memories from that weekend replayed in his mind, he began to write.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, just as Jeffrey was straightening in his seat and putting the cap back on his pen with a contented sigh of achievement, he was startled by the sound of the apartment door opening and closing.
“Hello?” he called out, experimentally. If a burglar had just broken in, they were about to get a heavy book to the head; Jeffrey usually tried to avoid mistreating books, but if it came down to having to defend himself, he needed to be alive in order to buy more books, so a sacrifice must be made. Preferably he’d make it to his fencing bag in the corner and pull out a sabre instead; much more threatening, even if the blades were blunt.
“Hey, it’s me,” a familiar voice responded.
A moment later, the tall coltishly graceful figure of his boyfriend appeared round the corner of the hall table; which was actually a hallshelf, why have a meretablewhen ashelfcouldhold more books as well as the prerequisite bowl for keys and loose change.
Tamlin was back.
Jeffrey felt a goofy grin spread across his face—only Tamlin could make his characteristic scowl invert itself—and was powerless to stop it.
