Dooku was early to pick up Sören. He preferred to be early for appointments than late, but in this case he was a good twenty minutes ahead of time, and felt a little sheepish of it as he pulled over in front of the coffee shop, his heart racing, stomach fluttering. He didn't mind waiting twenty minutes - he wouldn't have expected Sören to be early just because he was - and the flutters intensified when he saw Sören coming down the staircase from his flat.
Carrying a long-stemmed, single white rose.
Sören got in the passenger seat, grinning. Dooku noticed his outfit - neither formal nor as casual as his usual attire; black trousers and a button-down long-sleeved black shirt. His nails were still painted their usual black. Sören had some of his curls pulled back, with the rest hanging loose, and Dooku rather liked the way that looked.
Sören was wearing cologne. It wasn't overpowering, and it wasn't the typical sort of cologne men wore - it smelled like a floral spice, cherry blossom and anise if Dooku had to place the notes.
Dooku's face burned, and it took him a moment to gather his words. Then the wrong ones came out. "You're early."
"I'm Sören."
Dooku scowled at the joke, and then his face softened, charmed by that smile and Sören's laughter. "You're early," Sören said.
"Yes. But I didn't expect you to also be this early, I didn't want you to rush yourself. I was fine waiting."
"I can go back upstairs if you'd rather -"
"No." The word came out forcefully, and Dooku felt even more self-conscious. He cleared his throat, looked down, and then met Sören's eyes, as the heat in his cheeks spread to his ears, which were hammering. "Let's start over again. It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too, Nico." Sören himself looked down, then up, and their gaze held. Sören reached out and patted Dooku's free hand.
"I hope you've got an appetite. I've had the slow cooker on since this morning and it will be ready when we arrive."
"I do," Sören said. He brandished the rose at Dooku. "Shall I hold onto this until we get there?"
"Please do, so I can keep both hands free for driving." Dooku gave a small smile as he turned on the ignition. "Nobody has ever given me flowers."
"Really."
Dooku nodded, and watched as he began to maneuver the car into the street.
"Well, you'd brought me flowers over the weekend so I felt I should, ah, return the favor." Sören's smile became a brief frown. "They're a bit pricey, and I wanted to be careful with my money so I only got one -"
"One is enough." Dooku admired the large white rose. "It's the thought that counts. As I said before, this is the first time..." His voice trailed off as he moved into the street.
"I guess there's a first time for everything." Sören's smile returned. "I expect I'll be giving you a lot of first times."
Dooku's foot slammed the brake at the light changing color. The car lurched before it came to a stop, and Dooku sat back in his seat, feeling even more flustered, as well as embarrassed that he'd been less cautious at the light. "I don't usually drive like that -"
"-I know." Sören patted his knee, this time. The feel of Sören's hand on his knee was like being shocked with a live wire; mercifully, Sören took it off and went back to his own personal space.
They drove in awkward yet companionable silence until they got to Dooku's house in Bermondsey. It was a small house, one story, ringed by shrubbery, with a small, fenced-in yard in back. Sören paused for a moment, studying it, taking it all in, before Dooku led the way inside.
Sören's eyes widened as they stepped inside the small foyer. "Nice place," he said.
"We're not even in yet."
The foyer led to a hall. On the left side was the kitchen, which led to a small dining area. On the right side was a living room and a room Dooku used as a library-cum-office. Further down the hall, there was the window seat on one side, a bathroom not directly across, and then, finally, at the back of the house, Dooku's bedroom and a spare room. Near the spare room was the back door, leading out to the yard.
Dooku took the rose from Sören and marched to a cabinet where he kept glassware, grabbed a vase, added water, and set the rose down on the table. Sören followed Dooku into the kitchen. "Whatever you're cooking, it smells delicious," Sören said.
There was lamb going in the slow cooker, with potatoes and onions, bathed in red wine, creole seasoning, garlic, and rosemary. The smell permeated the entire kitchen, enough that it had gotten the attention of...
"Mrowr."
Sören squeaked - a reaction Dooku found strangely delightful - and Dooku couldn't help but smile as Sören stooped down to pet Dragos, who was rubbing against his legs, giving a loud, deep purr.
"Kitty!" Sören began to talk in a singsong voice. "Oh yes, who's a pretty kitty, yes you are, you're a pretty baby boy, such a fluffy baby, pretty boy..." Sören looked up at Dooku and said, "It is a he, yes?"
"Yes, though he's been neutered." Dooku walked to the slow cooker and took dishes down from the cabinet, getting ready to serve the meal.
"Does he have a name?"
"Of course he has a name. What kind of person doesn't name his cat?"
Sören laughed at this, though Dooku felt self-conscious again, like he'd put his foot in it with the response. "His name is Dragos," Dooku said.
"Dragos."
Dooku loved the way that sounded in Sören's Icelandic accent. "Yes. It's a Romanian name."
"Ah, you're Romanian?"
Dooku nodded. "Descended from a count, actually."
Sören was standing at the counter now, watching Dooku transfer food from the slow cooker onto plates. "Which one? Dracula?"
Dooku turned his face to Sören and glared, and then stopped glaring once Sören's face lit up with that smile and Sören laughed, his eyes twinkling.
"I'm sorry," Sören said.
"No you're not, you brat."
Sören stuck his tongue out at Dooku. "I had to, as someone who's gotten all of the 'Do you know Björk? Have you seen a polar bear? Are you descended from famous Vikings?' questions. As you know."
"Yes." Dooku chuckled. Then he said, "You can sit down and I'll wait on you."
"You're not a maid," Sören said.
"No, but you are a guest, and you spend all day waiting on others. Please sit down."
"Yes, sir."
For some reason hearing Sören say "yes, sir" had an effect on him - Dooku felt another giddy rush, and a little tingle in his loins. Dooku's face burned, and he steadied his now-trembling hands, telling himself to get a grip. You are almost seventy and he is young enough to be your son.
Dooku set Sören's plate before him and poured him a glass of red wine. A moment later, Dooku joined him, and as he sat down he used the Force to light candles at the table.
Sören smiled. "A nice touch."
Dooku looked down. "I don't have guests often. I wanted this to be special."
"It already is. I can't remember the last time someone cooked a real meal for me. I mean, Frankie and I have cooked for each other but it's like, mac and cheese."
Dooku couldn't remember the last time he'd had that, or even if. He began to cut his lamb, which was nice and tender from a day in the slow cooker. "I hope you enjoy."
Sören ate with gusto, and complimented the food every few bites. By the end of it, Dooku felt like he'd received praise that should be reserved for a world-class chef. "It was really no effort," Dooku said. "I threw everything in the slow cooker before I left for work."
"You seasoned it yourself, yes?"
"Yes, but I followed a recipe."
"I know people who could follow a recipe and it would still taste wrong, or be burned, or something else." Sören patted his belly. He'd cleaned his plate.
Dooku got up to take the plate and Sören put his hand on Dooku's arm, stopping him. "You cooked, I'd like to take care of the dishes," Sören said.
"As I told you, you are a guest. Your job is waiting on people -"
"I'd like to repay you for giving me the best meal I've had in a long time. Please."
Dooku wasn't going to argue. He polished off a glass of wine as he watched Sören take the dishes to the sink. Sören worked on the slow cooker first, and then the dishes and silverware, and loaded everything in the dishwasher when it was ready. Then he looked at Dooku, and there was a pause before Dooku gestured for Sören to follow him.
The paintings Dooku had bought from Sören were leaned up against the coffee table in the living room. "It's weird seeing those again," Sören said.
"If you go on a walkthrough of my home, perhaps walking it over a few times, I imagine you'd be able to get an eye for perspective and what painting would look best in which room, and where it would look best."
This time Dooku was the one to walk behind Sören, who walked slowly, looking around, considering. Sören admired the office-library, and the window seat in the hall. He even admired the bathroom. Sören stopped outside Dooku's bedroom, a bit hesitant.
"Yes, my home means that room, also," Dooku said.
Dooku had a king size bed, even though he was just one person sleeping in it. His bedroom was done in dark blues, browns, and black. The furniture was all dark wood, including a shelf above the bed that kept a collection of seashells from beaches Dooku had visited.
"I like the shells," Sören said.
"Most of them are from Britain," Dooku said. "Some are from the Black Sea, when I've visited Romania."
"Ah, your ancestral homeland."
Dooku nodded. "My last visit there was quite some time ago."
A moment of silence, and then Sören said, "I think the painting of the seashell holding the universe would go best by your shelf - a little above it, in the center."
Dooku walked out of the bedroom, and came back a few minutes later, carrying the painting.
"If you want me to hang it while I'm here," Sören said, "you can either move the bed and bring me a ladder, or it would be easier for me to stand on the bed -"
Dooku cringed, but then nodded. "That would be easier."
"I'll take my shoes off, at least." Sören removed his Doc Martens, revealing a pair of purple socks with rainbow-colored owls on them. Dooku did a double-take - he'd never seen socks like those, especially not on the feet of a grown man - and then he decided that those were the kind of socks Sören would wear.
Dooku fetched a tape measure, hammer and nails. Sören climbed on the bed, took a few measurements, and Dooku winced at the sound of the hammer. All pain was forgotten when the painting was hung, and Sören climbed off the bed and stood beside Dooku at the foot of the bed, then they walked backward a couple of meters, closer to the door, to get a better look.
"That looks like it belongs there," Dooku said. "Like I'd had it custom made for that shelf."
"Good." Sören reached out to squeeze Dooku's hand, and then let go.
Sören and Dooku walked out of the bedroom, and Sören walked to the door of the room across the hall, where the door was shut. "What about this one?"
Dooku shook his head, and gestured for Sören to follow back up the hall.
"Is it a closet?" Sören couldn't resist teasing. "D'you have a body in there?"
Dooku glared, and Sören stuck out his tongue, and then Dooku rolled his eyes, not able to help chuckling a little.
"Brat," Dooku said.
The painting of the sea turtle was hung in the library-study, across from Dooku's desk. The painting of the figure on the mountain watching the other figure fly in sunset clouds was hung in the living room. The painting of the forest waterfall with flittering forest spirits was hung in the dining area - it went well with the rich wood of the furniture, and the muted greens of the tablecloth and the earth-toned tea service Dooku used. The fifth painting, the one of the sea on fire beneath a phoenix-shaped aurora, was hung in the foyer near the door.
After the paintings were hung, Dooku retrieved another bottle of wine, feeling celebratory. Sören followed Dooku back down the hall, and Dooku led him out the back door, to a patio table he had in his small yard. There were a couple of fruit-bearing trees and rose hedges in the yard, that were barren with the end of fall. The night was crisp but not too cold; one of Dooku's neighbors had a wood stove, and the smell of woodsmoke was in the air.
"This is nice," Sören said.
"It is. You should see it in spring and summer, when the roses are blooming."
Sören smiled. "I bet it looks magical here in the wintertime, too."
"Most people would not want to sit in a yard drinking wine at night in the dead of winter."
"I'm not most people, and winter here is fairly mild compared to what I'm used to, besides."
Dooku nodded.
Sören sat back in his chair, and after a moment he said, "So, you said you wanted to commission me. I'm not going to say no, but you have a small house and you already have five paintings by me hanging up -"
"I do want to commission you," Dooku said, "and I did want you to come by because I couldn't explain what I want without you seeing it first."
Sören raised an eyebrow.
When they finished their wine, Dooku brought them back inside, and this time, he opened the door of the room across his. He walked in, and a couple of minutes later Sören followed, hesitant.
The room was bare - bare walls, wooden floor - except for blinds on the one window, looking out at the yard, and an exercise mat in the center of the floor.
"This is my meditation chamber," Dooku said.
Sören nodded. Dooku could tell Sören was starting to sense the Force energy that had been accumulating in the room over the years. "It's why I keep the door closed," Dooku said.
"So you want me to make a painting to hang in here." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Were you thinking a mandala, or -?"
Dooku shook his head. "I'm not commissioning you for a painting."
Sören sighed. "You changed your mind?"
"Oh, no. I'm still commissioning you, but it's not to paint a single picture on a canvas." Dooku took a deep breath. "I want you to paint the room."
Dooku walked to the light switch and turned it on. The walls were off-white, bare of any wallpaper, and the paint needed touching up.
Sören gave Dooku a look like he had lost his mind. "I'm not... a house painter..."
"That's not what I'm asking," Dooku said. "Yes, a can of fresh paint on the walls would be the first step. But what I'm asking is for you to... paint something... on the walls."
"Like a mural?"
"Rather like that, yes," Dooku said.
"Ahhhh, I see." Sören stroked his chin. "I've never done anything that large before, and it would probably take awhile."
"Certainly. I'm not expecting it to be done overnight, or even within a few days. I imagine it would take at least a few weeks to a month to finish, if not longer."
"Especially because I have a job," Sören said. "It's not the most glamorous in the world, but it's a steady source of income. I'd have concerns, if I had to quit there to work here, that once this job was finished, it would be awhile before I could find work elsewhere."
"I'm sure we can make an arrangement that allows you to work around your current job schedule."
"All right. We'll also need to discuss payment."
"Of course."
There was a chirp outside the meditation chamber door, and Dooku and Sören turned to see Dragos sitting outside the door. Dooku quickly made his way back to the hall, scooping Dragos up off the floor.
"Please turn off the light and close the door behind you," Dooku told Sören.
"I take it you don't want him going in there."
"Dragos is an old cat and rather sedentary, but on the occasions he's been exposed to the Force energies in that room he gets a bit rambunctious, and I prefer he stay out of mischief."
Sören chuckled, and laughed harder as Dooku began scolding the cat in baby talk. Sören followed Dooku down the hall to the living room, where Dooku put Dragos on his lap and pet him; Dragos kneaded and purred loudly.
"I love cats," Sören said. "I wish I had a cat, but I have trouble feeding myself, never mind another living thing."
"Feel free to spoil Dragos when you're here," Dooku said. "I can tell he likes you."
As if on cue, Dragos hopped off Dooku's lap and climbed onto Sören's. Sören began stroking the cat, paying special attention to behind the ears and under the chin. Soon, Dragos flopped onto his side, and the purring got even louder as Sören rubbed the cat's belly.
"A lot of cats don't like belly rubs," Sören said. "He's very trusting." With his free hand, Sören placed a finger on Dragos's outstretched paw, and smiled as Dragos curled his paw around it, squeezing as his other paws curled, making little kicks like he was swimming. Sören continued to rub Dragos's belly, and the smile on his face made Dooku feel that fluttery rush again.
Dooku cleared his throat. He looked at the time. "Are you in any rush to get home?"
"Not particularly. I work tomorrow but not till lunch hour."
"I usually keep late hours myself."
A few minutes of silence passed - like Dooku had issued an invitation of sorts, though Dooku wasn't sure what he himself was offering, and finally, feeling flustered and a bit self-conscious, Dooku stammered, "Would you like tea?"
"Tea sounds lovely," Sören said.
Just before Dooku could get up, the doorbell rang.
"What the -" Dooku raised his eyebrows. He rarely entertained guests, and even then only on a schedule - having someone just randomly drop by outside of an emergency was more or less unheard of. It startled him, and Dooku thought about ignoring it, but then the doorbell rang again, followed by a knock.
Dooku got up, made his way to the foyer, and opened the door. A familiar sight greeted him - a man ten years his junior and the same imposing height, with long silvering brown hair, some of it tied back, bright blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a warm smile. Next to him was a younger man, around Sören's age or possibly a little older, nape-length auburn hair, bearded.
"Qui. Obi. This is... unexpected."
Joaquin Gonzalez - or "Qui-Gon" as he had been nicknamed as a schoolboy, and the name stuck - bowed his head and then lifted it, meeting Dooku's eyes. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I would normally call first, but Obi and I happened to be in the neighborhood on our way back from a concert, and I haven't seen you in so long... I had to say hello."
"I was just about to put on tea," Dooku said. "Do come in."
Qui's eyes widened with surprise as he stepped into the living room and saw Sören sitting in a chair with Dragos on his lap. Sören's expression remained neutral, but Dooku could sense in the Force there was a bit of tension there - Sören was picking up on closeness between Dooku and Qui and didn't like it... he's jealous?
Dooku's own reaction surprised him even more - he felt like preening.
But he also didn't want Sören to get the wrong idea - the truth was there was not and never had been any sort of intimacy with Qui; Dooku felt the same way about Qui-Gon that he did about Leja, even though Qui was a bit older than Leja. And in any case...
"Sören, this is Doctor Joaquin Gonzalez."
Qui gave a small wave, and then Obi stepped into the room and took Qui's hand.
"And his husband, Oberon Canobie."
Dooku could sense the relief, though there was still a lingering touch of suspicion. Nonetheless, Sören smiled that shy yet radiant smile that took his breath away.
"Qui, Obi, this is Sören Sigurdsson."
"It's a pleasure." The two men walked towards Sören, shook his hand, and then sat down together on a couch.
Dooku looked at Sören and said, "When Qui was in law school, I was his mentor."
"I decided not to become a barrister," Qui explained, "and became a veterinarian."
"You would have been a fine barrister," Dooku said.
Qui rolled his eyes. "I've never heard the end of it."
"It is a compliment," Dooku said. "Nonetheless, you have done well for yourself in your chosen field."
"I'd say." Qui put his arm around Obi, who smiled at him adoringly, and Qui smiled back. Then he turned to Sören and explained, "It's how I met my husband. He started off as one of my clients."
"I love my cats," Obi said.
"I'm envious," Sören said. "I wish I had a cat of my own. How many cats do you have?"
"Well," Obi said, "when I started bringing them to the clinic, I just had two. Now we have... five."
"You got another one since the last time I've seen you," Dooku remarked.
"Yes, and you should come by one of these days and meet her," Qui said. He looked at Sören, and then back at Dooku. "You can bring your..."
"Tea," Dooku said, and clipped off to the kitchen.
As Dooku began making tea, he heard Qui's voice in his head, through their Force bond.
If I'd known I was going to be interrupting, I would have called to arrange a visit.
It's fine, Dooku replied, a bit curt.
A pause. I hadn't expected you would have... company.
Dooku said nothing, and then realized his silence said as much as any words he might have replied with, if not more.
Qui wisely dropped it, and when the tea was ready, Dooku came back in the living room with the tea service. Dooku used the Force to pass the cup to Sören, whose eyebrows raised with alarm.
"They..."
"They know," Dooku said.
Qui demonstrated his own command of the Force by using the Force to take the lid off the sugar bowl and drop two cubes in his tea. Then Obi waved his hand and the lid went back on the bowl.
"Force sensitives have a way of finding each other," Qui said, looking at Sören, then at Dooku.
Dooku could feel the weight behind the word finding and his face burned. Qui raised his cup as if to toast, before sipping.
Dooku sat down across from Sören, staring into his teacup, feeling awkward.
"Sören tells me you met at an art exhibit?" Qui said. "Leja's gallery, I take it?"
"Yes. You... know about the gallery, then."
"I know about a lot of things. I see Leja fairly frequently."
Dooku almost choked on his tea, realizing through his Force bond with Qui, what those words implied. Leja had not brought it up herself, perhaps because the distance with Qui had been a difficult subject - a distance that might start to be remedied, now. They were consenting adults, and if they were happy, that was what mattered. But it was still a bit of a shock.
Dooku recovered, and said, "Sören was one of the artists featured at the opening. I bought five of his paintings." Dooku pointed at the one hanging in the living room.
"That is beautiful." Qui got up and walked to the painting, to take a closer look. "It's almost as if it's... alive." Qui reached out, his hand stopping just short of touching the painting. "I can feel the Living Force radiating from the picture." Qui looked over his shoulder and gave Dooku a little smile. "He's very talented."
Qui walked back to his seat next to Obi. "I just paint as a hobby, but it's nothing as good as that."
"Oh, you shouldn't dismiss yourself," Sören said. "Art is very subjective. What one person thinks is not so good, another may think is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen. And raw talent is always something that can be trained, if one has the patience for it."
"I keep telling Qui he should take an art class," Obi said. "If nothing else, it would be fun -"
Sören's eyes lit up, and Dooku could feel the gears grinding in the Icelander's head. "I always wanted to teach art classes," Sören said. "Just like it had been a dream of Leja's to open a gallery and give exposure to artists, it's my dream to eventually own an art studio. Have classes... help people get in touch with their creative side. It's a lie that only artists make art, only writers write, only poets make poetry. Everyone can be creative, it doesn't need to be a full-time calling. It only is for some, and it's not a life I recommend." Sören gave a rueful smile before he drank his tea. Meanwhile, Sören's dream delighted Dooku, making him admire the young man even more.
"I like him," Qui said.
"He's very likable." Dooku instantly felt ridiculous saying that, and his cheeks flushed.
Qui and Obi looked at each other, finished their tea, and then Qui made an exaggerated yawn. "Well," Qui said, "I believe it shall be past my bedtime when we arrive home -"
Obi stood up, and offered his hand to help Qui up, even though Qui didn't need it.
Dooku walked them to the door. "You have my cell number still, yes?"
Qui nodded. "I do."
Dooku gave him a stern look. "Next time, please utilize it before you decide to make another surprise visit."
Qui chuckled, and so did Obi, and then Qui slapped Dooku on the shoulder. "I'm happy for you."
"I didn't -"
Qui rolled his eyes. "Have a good evening. I will call you over the weekend, perhaps you can bring Sören for dinner sometime next week?"
"I'd like that." Dooku smiled. "It was nice seeing you again, even unexpectedly."
Qui hesitated, and then he grabbed Dooku and gave him a tight hug. Dooku hugged him back, a lump in his throat, unshed tears stinging his eyes.
When they pulled apart, Qui said, "Don't be such a stranger."
Qui walked out then, and Obi waved before he followed.
Dooku closed the door behind them, and came back in the living room to find Sören fiddling around on his cell phone.
"Frankie texted," Sören said, "and wants to know if I'm coming home tonight. Because the shower faucet broke and I know how to fix it and she doesn't know how."
Dooku said nothing.
"I told her I'll be there in awhile."
Dooku nodded. He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. "I kept my wine intake moderate so I'd be able to drive you home when you were ready."
Sören nodded. "I'll hit the bathroom and then you can bring me back."
Sören stopped to say goodbye to Dragos, petting and fussing over him, and then they walked out to Dooku's Jaguar. The first few minutes of the ride back were spent in an awkward yet companionable silence, and finally Sören said, "I enjoyed this evening."
"I did as well," Dooku said. "I enjoy your company."
"I enjoy your company too." Sören smiled.
Dooku took a deep breath. "I'm sorry we were interrupted."
Sören looked down. "It's all right."
"Sören... not to be rude, but I sensed you were a bit uncomfortable, and you should know... Qui has only ever been a friend. Though he and I are not that far apart in age, he has been like a younger brother or a son to me."
Sören looked out the window, and then he nodded. "Uh... thank you, for that."
Dooku nodded back. "I don't have a history with him in that way... or with anyone. I've been a bachelor all my life."
"So it's not just that you've been chaste your whole life, you've never even had a relationship."
"No." Dooku sighed. "When you get used to being alone, and doing things a certain way, alone, it makes it more difficult to try and get out there. I'm... shy. And socially awkward."
"Hi Shy And Socially Awkward. I'm Sören."
Dooku glared, and Sören attempted to wink - Sören couldn't wink, and it was more of a clumsy blink. Sören laughed at his failed attempt, and Dooku felt in the Force that Sören was demonstrating his own awkwardness to make Dooku feel more at ease, and allowed himself to laugh as well.
"I understand social anxiety," Sören said. "I don't exactly have a lot of friends out here, or back home."
"You at least have Frankie."
"Já. There's that. But as you know, she and I aren't exactly each other's type."
Dooku didn't know what to say to that, and they were almost there anyway. When they pulled into the parking stall, they lingered for a moment, eyes locked, before Sören looked away and quietly opened his car door.
They stood on the curb, not far from the stairwell leading up to Sören's flat. "So, thank you, again," Sören said.
"It was my pleasure." Dooku smiled. Then he said, "Qui... invited us to dinner at his place next week. He lives in Southwark."
"Oh." Sören nodded. "I could come with you, já."
"We haven't set the day yet. He says he'll call me this weekend and we can make arrangements then." Dooku cocked his head to one side. "If you'd like, I can pick you up on Sunday so you can begin working on the room."
Sören nodded. "We'll need to take a trip to the hardware store so we can pick out a can of paint and I can paint the walls. Once there's a base coat, then I can work on the art itself."
"Sounds fair."
"Do you own or rent?"
"Own... why?"
"If you were renting I would have more limited possibilities with what I can do. I was thinking black base coat, though it certainly won't be all black in the finished product."
"Black... paint?"
Sören could tell Dooku found that outlandish. "Yes, there are cans of black paint available, usually, some people like to paint their rooms black. I had a black bedroom in a place I lived before I came to the UK."
"That somehow does not surprise me."
Sören snorted.
A moment passed, and Dooku said, "What time on Sunday?"
"One o'clock?"
Dooku nodded. "One it is."
"And we can also discuss the logistics of time and money for this work, on Sunday."
"And I'll cook for you again."
"Good. I'm looking forward to it."
Dooku smiled, and Sören smiled back, and Dooku stepped forward. Sören also took a step forward and reached, looking like he was about to take Dooku's hands in his. Just before he could, they heard the sound of a window opening and Frankie's voice bellowing down to the curb. "OI, SÖREN! YOU GONNA GET YOUR ARSE UP HERE AND FIX THIS BLOODY FAUCET SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHOWER TONIGHT, OR ARE YOU GONNA SNOG YOUR OLD MAN ALL NIGHT?"
Dooku heard himself take a sharp intake of breath as Sören facepalmed. Sören looked up at Frankie in the window and yelled, "THANKS, FRANKIE!"
Frankie blew Sören a kiss, and Sören gave her the finger. Frankie's response was to turn around and moon them. Dooku made a noise as he looked away. Sören's laughter rang out into the night.
"Well," Sören said, "I better get upstairs before she yells some more and one of our neighbors decides to call the police for noise."
Dooku nodded.
"I'll see you Sunday, Nico."
Sören took another step forward, and then Dooku felt in the Force that shyness got the better of him and Sören quickly turned around and went up the stairs. Dooku stood there for a moment even after the door to Sören's flat had been closed, and then got in his car, feeling pensive.
He arrived back home, cleaned his tea service, then showered, alone, and went to bed, alone. He lay awake for awhile, petting Dragos next to him, feeling like for all of his accomplishments and success, he had nothing to show for his life. Sören helped him feel alive again... and some of that return of feeling life was being able to feel pain, again. Feeling how alone he'd been, all these years, because he'd been hurt when he was young, and was afraid to let others in. He was afraid, even now, of wherever this was going with Sören. Afraid of the way the younger man made him feel.
Afraid that he'd say or do something to drive Sören away. Everything was a bit of a dance... and it was clear neither of them really knew how to do this dance. One false step could throw everything off. There was already so much work in finding the rhythm, learning the push and pull of the moves. Was it worth it?
Dooku thought of that smile, the laugh that seemed to light up the whole world. The idea of that being missing from his life hurt.
Dragos started to meow. Dooku sat up groggily and saw Dragos sitting on the small cat tree near the bedroom window, looking outside.
"What is it?" Dooku asked.
Dragos looked at Dooku, and then out the window again, giving another sad meow.
"Oh, you're wondering where your new friend went off to."
Dragos hopped off the cat tree and slurked off, sadly and slowly. Dooku sighed. I miss him already, too.
That was all the answer he needed.
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