Page 32 of Love Language

When it started, Greg was surprised and impressed that they hadn’t just hired an interpreter but were actually using a few different interpreting styles. The female lead signed and voiced simultaneously, which was probably the reason that the theater had an ASL night. Her grammar was English-y, as it always was when someone was using both languages simultaneously, but he liked her style overall.

The male lead and his brother were played by hearing actors on the stage, while their interpreter stood off to the side. And the daughter, who only had a few lines, was played by a woman who only signed while another woman on the side voiced for her.

So… the best part of the play was the ASL.

The actual content was tedious. Long monologues. Pointless misunderstandings. A complete lack of narrative arc.

Marco looked over to see what Greg thought of it, only to find Greg watching him. Marco twitched his lip and rolled his eyes slightly toward the stage and Greg gave an answering nod. The play was total crap.

But there wasn’t an intermission, so they’d be stuck for a while. Marco stretched his shoulders subtly. He wasn’t the only one in the audience getting restless. And the chairs seemed unusually narrow.

If they were on a date, he could swing one arm over Greg’s chair. Or hook his forearm around Greg’s where it rested on the armrest.

Ugh. Now that he was trying to keep still, he was going a bit batty.

Greg noticed and smirked at him. Then, he gave a little tilt of his head toward the back of his chair.

Well, if that was alright…

Marco put his arm around Greg, reveling in the heat of his skin through his collared shirt. God, he was pathetic, acting like the edge of Greg’s shoulder was some sort of illicit prize that he’d finally won.

But then, Greg leaned his head back a bit and rested it on Marco’s arm.

Was this like… a date?

In some ways, of course it was a date. Because they hung out together every week and did date-y things.

And he was pretty sure that Greg was feeling it, too. When they hung out, Marco felt like he was Greg’s whole world.

But as soon as he flirted a little too hard or let a little bit too much of his unconscious dominance seep out, he would see the look on Greg’s face.

It was like Richard was always there in the room with them. A silent third party looking over his shoulder. Gone, but just close enough to bring that little flash of pain and loss to Greg’s eyes.

Greg couldn’t seem to think about doing anything romantic, sexual, or kinky with Marco (and Marco would happily take any of the three) without thinking of Richard first.

Cockblocked by a ghost.

Marco looked over at Greg’s relaxed face. He’d mostly closed his eyes and was probably tuning out most of the play. Which meant that Marco could watch him for as long as he wanted to, soaking him in.

Greg really was perfect. Exactly his type. Mature and confident in most of his life, but still eager to rest his burdens and let someone else take control. Masculine and strong, but not afraid to be dominated by someone smaller and a bit femme.

Or at least he hadn’t been, that one night.

And he continued not to be, when Marco made little moves like deciding what they would do together or buying little things that he thought Greg would like. Greg didn’t even look at menus anymore. When they wandered around a new neighborhood, Marco naturally chose where they would walk.

And Greg reveled in it.

But it was frustrating because that’s all it was. The tiniest little glimmer of submission that just teased at being everything that Marco wanted.

Marco felt stupid, sometimes, with his unrequited crush.

It didn’t help that Greg signed fluently, he mused. That he’d gotten excited about this crappy little play that they weren’t even watching. That he wore a faded PAH! sweatshirt when he’d gotten sick one week. Marco had stupidly fond memories of bringing him soup instead of taking him out and rubbing his back through that sweatshirt.

It wasn’t just that the Deaf community was so small that his pool of potential kinky dates was miniscule. It was more that Greg grew up in the Deaf world, and intrinsically got all those cultural references and experiences that made him feel comfortable.

Marco took another little risk and started rubbing Greg’s neck. Everybody likes a massage, right? Totally platonic.

Greg gave him a gentle smile and leaned forward to make space.