When Sören arrived at Dooku's house on Saturday night, he got to work immediately, the door to the meditation room closed, various genres of music playing. Since Sören was in fact there to work on the meditation room mural, Dooku didn't expect much in the way of his company, but found himself missing it nonetheless. At six PM, Dooku knocked on the door and asked Sören if he'd like to have dinner; Sören's response was "in a little while". A half-hour passed, Dooku knocked again, was told "in a little while" again, and at last, at seven PM, Dooku returned.
"It's seven now," Dooku said, "and I am getting hungry, so I will be eating with or without you."
"All right, give me one minute."
One minute became five, and finally Sören opened the door of the meditation room, came out with his clothes splattered in paint, and said, "Let me change my clothes first." Dooku nodded, and gestured to his bedroom, where Sören had stashed a duffel bag when he first arrived; Sören closed the bedroom door - Dooku got the sense it was more for Dooku's sake than his own, since Sören could pick up on the shyness and anxiety Dooku had about such matters still. Five minutes later, Sören opened the door and stepped out in black trousers and a black button-down shirt, looking sharp - neither under-dressed nor over-dressed.
Bermondsey had a reputation as a foodie's paradise, and it was difficult to make a decision where to go, but Dooku and Sören mutually agreed on an Indian restaurant not far from Dooku's home. Over their meal, Sören was quiet - Dooku could feel the artist's mind was kilometers away, perhaps even in other dimensions, and he felt as if he would be intruding by trying to initiate conversation. But at last, as their meal was over and they were waiting for the check, Dooku felt he had to say something.
"How's it coming along?" he asked.
Sören didn't answer that immediately, as he was drinking another glass of water - he'd already gone through a pitcher and a half of ice water, which Dooku attributed to Sören not taking breaks over the last several hours, working feverishly non-stop. But at last Sören nodded and said, "It's getting there."
"You've been working quite hard." Dooku sipped his ice water more slowly, while Sören gulped his down. "This has been your first break in hours."
Sören nodded. "I'm like this when I paint."
"Ah." Dooku didn't know what else to say.
"My muse is very all-or-nothing. I can go for weeks with a dry spell, even if I have a project in mind. When my muse decides to cooperate, I have to ride the wave until it's over, or risk it going away and leaving me hanging, project unfinished. And that makes me cranky."
"I suppose that makes sense," Dooku said.
Sören snorted. "It makes no fucking sense, actually. There's advice from professional creative people to write, paint, draw a little every day, like thirty minutes a day, in your spare time. My muse doesn't work like that. It doesn't run on an on-off switch where it cooperates with having a normal schedule. I try to set aside time for it, it doesn't want to come out and play then. It decides to drop by at inconvenient times. That's also why I'm thirty-two and work as a fucking barista instead of trying to have a 'real job' like 'normal people'."
"I see."
Sören nodded. "This mural I'm doing... consumes me. When I agreed to take the commission from you I thought it would take longer than this because, to be honest, I didn't know how my muse was going to act, and didn't want to give you unrealistic expectations of when it would be done and leave you hanging. I didn't expect to be inspired the way that this is inspiring me."
Dooku could feel it, and he reached across the table, then, to cover Sören's hand with his, his fingers lightly brushing across Sören's fingertips. Sören looked down, and then gave Dooku that shy, radiant smile that made his heart leap and stomach flutter.
"You're touching the Force," Dooku said, softly. "Thank you for sharing that with me."
Sören looked down again. "Thank you for bearing with me while it happens. I don't mean to ignore you..."
"No, I understand." Dooku took a deep breath. "It's enough that you said what you did, on Friday morning."
Sören raised an eyebrow.
"You called me your..." Dooku coughed, nervous. "Boyfriend." He gulped down water, face flushed.
"Oh. Ah." Sören laughed. "I did."
Dooku nodded, feeling sheepish and flustered all at once. "You did. I'm not a boy, but..."
"There are not really any better words in the English language for it," Sören said. He smiled, and said, "Elskan mín. Ástvinur."
Dooku didn't know much Icelandic, but he'd heard Leja refer to Hans as those things enough times to have a rough idea of what it meant, and it made his smile turn into a grin, and the flush in his face creep into his ears.
"I suppose then," Sören said, "this is technically our first date."
"I suppose it is."
"I'm sorry that I will have to get right back to work when we get back to your place," Sören said, frowning a little. Then his eyes twinkled and he grinned as he said, "I'll make it up to you at some point."
"Oh." Dooku gave another nervous laugh when he realized what Sören implied.
Once they were back at Dooku's house, Sören changed back into his paint-splattered ratty jeans and T-shirt, and before he could go back to the meditation room, his phone went off, vibrating. Sören took it out of his pocket, replied to a text message - "it's Frankie", he told Dooku, who nodded - and then Sören examined his smartphone, frowning.
"What's the matter?" Dooku asked.
"It's got paint on it," Sören said. "I don't know how the fuck that happened."
"Probably because you were painting."
Sören raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at Dooku, said, "Really? WOW," and then laughed, and Dooku laughed with him.
"As you know..." Dooku said.
Sören elbowed him in the ribs, playfully, and then he said, "OK, I need to not take this in there with me - I shouldn't have taken it in there with me to begin with, but I forget it's in my pocket sometimes."
"You could put it on my bedtable -"
"No, I don't want this going off if you're in the middle of sleeping and I'm in here painting, and I don't want to shut it off in case it's important..." Sören squinted and frowned again. "Plus it needs to be charged. Shit."
"I can take it into the study with me and charge it for you."
"Please do that, já." Sören retrieved his phone charger from the duffel bag, and Dooku took Sören's smartphone and charger down the hall to the study.
Dooku had a flip phone, but it wasn't impossible for him to figure out how to charge Sören's phone; he plugged the USB in to his laptop, and continued with the research on his latest case. Dragos climbed on his lap for pettings, and Dooku stroked the cat absent-mindedly as he surfed the web and made notes, sometimes stopping to type up a few paragraphs.
Sören's phone went off again, after a couple of hours, and Dooku glanced at it and saw it was a text from a number identified as Frankie's. He got up, walked down the hall, and knocked on the door to the meditation room. "Sören, you have a text message from Frankie."
"Oh, OK, do me a favor and look to see if it's important?"
Dooku had no idea how to use Sören's smartphone - it took him over a minute to figure out how to get past the desktop and access the list of options. The latest text message from Frankie simply said G'night, arseface, and Dooku saw the one she had sent just before Sören gave him the phone to charge: Can I eat your leftovers?
Dooku's curiosity got the better of him and he pressed the "Sent" button and saw Sören's response to that: Go ahead. His last several texts had all been to Frankie, so Dooku didn't scroll down.
Back on the main menu, Dooku's finger accidentally hit the Media button, and there were two folders, Photos and Video. Dooku felt a little self-conscious about it, like he was prying and should stop, but his curiosity got the better of him. He accessed the Photo album, and looked through a gallery - selfies, works-in-progress of canvases, candids of him and Frankie, various sights around the London metropolitan area. There were other albums but Dooku again felt that pang of doing something forbidden, so he went back to the Media page... and then, before he could stop himself, he hit Video.
There was a video file simply titled "ride". Since Sören had described his creativity as riding a wave, and there had also been a number of photographs of different locales as well as flora and fauna, Dooku expected the video to be Sören painting or taking a trip. What he found was something completely different.
At first, it looked like a shot of Sören's bed. Dooku didn't understand it, and kept watching. Then he saw something blocking the view - pale, like a closeup of flesh. He kept watching, and it moved out of the way, but now there was a phallic-shaped object, large and black, propped up on Sören's bed. He watched as Sören climbed on the bed, completely nude - he had no chest hair, but there was a line of dark hair from his navel leading to a thick, curly bush framing his cock, which was quite erect. Sören knelt over the phallus. Then, he watched as Sören sank down onto it, slowly, gasping, shuddering, crying out once it was all the way inside.
He watched as Sören worked his hips, the cock moving in and out of him slowly, then faster, until Sören was riding like he was on a bull. Stroking himself in rhythm with the cock inside of him, moaning. Free hand caressing his nipples, playing with them. It was then that Dooku realized Sören had his nipples pierced - a small steel captive bead ring in each - and the head of his cock was also pierced with a captive bead ring. In the dim light of Sören's room and shoddy video quality of the cell phone's camera, Dooku could still see that Sören's cock was dripping precum.
Dooku's own cock was hard now, and he found himself rubbing his erection through his trousers, not realizing until then that he had been doing so. He felt ashamed - he was definitely prying now - but he couldn't stop watching. He'd never watched pornography before, he found the concept cheap and degrading, and yet the sight of Sören riding the cock was the opposite of that. Sören looked like a sex god, and Dooku had never been so inflamed with lust in his life.
Sören continued to ride the cock and stroke himself, moaning, and soon Sören's hand was working himself furiously, and he was fucking himself on the cock so hard that the bed was audibly rocking against the wall. There was a moment where Sören tensed, a look of shock and wonder on his face, and he cried out as his hand was coated with his seed, and Dooku watched the seed spray all over the bed, all over Sören's chest.
That was enough. There were more videos, but Dooku's hands were shaking. Somehow, he navigated back to the desktop, and then found his way down the hall, head spinning. He thought about opening the door to the meditation room, wrestling Sören to the floor, and doing things to him, but he remembered he didn't know the first thing about having sex, and even if he did, Sören was lost in his muse - there was a moment when Dooku reached out to see if Sören had sensed anything via their Force bond, but Sören was far away, the Living Force surrounding him in clouds of color and light.
Dooku did knock on the door of the meditation room, and said, simply, "The message was nothing important, just Frankie saying good night to you. I... I'm going to bed." It was indeed getting late, and Dooku was as tired as he was aroused.
"All right. Sleep well."
Dooku's clothes couldn't come off fast enough, and once he was under the covers, in his pajamas, he finished himself off, thinking about what he'd watched, reaching his climax when he thought about his cock inside Sören the way Sören had taken the fake one... Sören riding him, coating him with his seed when he came. Dooku had to cry out into his pillow, shaking violently as his body gave into a toe-curling orgasm, completely soaking his hand and his pajama bottoms and blanket. Fuck, I need to wash that. In a sudden flash of anxiety, Dooku thought about going to the nearby twenty-four laundromat and starting a load right then, but he also felt weightless, boneless, like he was floating from the intensity of his release, and quickly lost motivation to go anywhere and do anything, just lay there, deeply relaxed and content until sleep washed over him.
_
Sören either had pulled an all-nighter or he'd slept only briefly, because Sören was still working when Dooku woke up the next morning.
Dooku offered to make Sören breakfast, but Sören declined, and that was just as well because Dooku started feeling self-conscious again about what he'd watched, and his reaction to it. After breakfast Dooku attempted to do some more work on his case, but his mind kept going to the delicious video footage of Sören riding that cock and stroking himself, and Dooku felt flustered and aroused again - not as urgently as last night, but enough that he had to masturbate in the bathroom.
Temporarily sated, Dooku decided getting out of the house awhile would do some good, and Sören would probably appreciate another home-cooked meal, so after informing Sören he was going out grocery shopping, Dooku took off.
When he came back, Dooku didn't hear music from the meditation room. After he put the groceries away, he heard something that sounded like snoring from the living room, and he paused in the doorway to the living room, to see Sören asleep on the couch. Dragos was laying on the ottoman next to the couch, keeping watch.
Dooku smiled fondly. He wished he'd explained better to Sören it would have been fine to take his bed, but he supposed Sören didn't want to inconvenience him in some way. Dooku went down the hall, got a clean blanket from his closet, came back to the living room, and covered Sören with it. Sören was in a deep enough sleep that it didn't wake him, but it was then that Dooku noticed Sören was clutching a stuffed doll - Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh, obviously brought from home.
The sight made Dooku feel protective and tender towards him; it was indescribably precious, and brought tears to his eyes. Dooku understood, then, why Sören hadn't judged him for sleeping with a teddy bear. Sleeping with a stuffed toy was Sören's own secret, one that he was letting Dooku see now, and something about that felt intimate.
Dooku tried to re-center his mind on his work, until late afternoon rolled around and Dooku felt it was time to start dinner. He was making steak, baked potatoes, and a salad - simple enough, but he wanted the steak to be seasoned well, which meant preparation.
As the steak and potatoes cooked, Dooku went back to the study, keeping an eye on the time, and at last, just before dinner was ready, Dooku walked back into the living room, and gently shook Sören's shoulder. "Sören."
"Huhhhh?" Sören whined.
"Sören. Dinner's almost ready."
Sören sat up with a start. "Oh shit, what time is it -"
"Six-thirty. You've slept a few hours."
"Fuck." Sören rubbed his eyes. "Shit..."
"It's all right. You can resume work on the room after you eat, but I insist you eat first."
Sören looked up at Dooku, then at the blanket, then at Eeyore, then at Dooku again. "I, uh... there wasn't a blanket here when I lay down."
"No." Dooku gave a small smile. "I tucked you in."
Sören smiled back. "I see. Thank you."
Dooku reached out his hand, and pulled Sören to his feet. They stood there for a moment, lost in one of those meaningful looks like there was an expectation of something more, and then Dooku said, "Right, dinner," and departed to the kitchen.
The meal was delicious, and Sören complimented Dooku's cooking, and insisted on doing the dishes.
"You're a guest -" Dooku protested.
"And you went to a lot of trouble for me. Please."
Dooku conceded, and once the dishes were rinsed and the dishwasher loaded, Sören walked out of the kitchen, where Dooku was having a spot of tea in the living room.
"Would you like to join me for tea?" Dooku asked.
"I need to get started on this while my muse is still cooperating with me." Sören frowned apologetically. "I'm sorry, Nico."
"I understand."
"Soon."
Dooku went to bed alone that night, and Sören apparently pulled another all-nighter, but nonetheless, was preparing to go to work as usual when Dooku woke up and knocked on the meditation room door to inquire.
They rode into Greenwich in silence - Dooku stopped at a drive-thru to get coffee for Sören on the way there, and Sören still looked ready to pass out.
Finally, in front of the coffee shop where Sören lived and worked, Sören paused before he got out of the car, to finish his coffee, and look at Dooku.
"I only work four hours today," Sören said, "so I'll be there finishing the room before you get out of work."
"You're almost done?"
"I told you I'd likely be done Monday if all went according to plan. I didn't exaggerate."
"That's impressive."
"Don't be too impressed yet, wait till you've seen it, and once you have you can tell me if any changes need to be made. But..." Sören ran a hand through his hair. "If for some reason you should leave work early and you're there before I'm there, don't... look... at it until I show you."
Dooku nodded. "All right. I wasn't planning on it... are you coming straight from work, then?"
"I have to take care of something and then I'll be over, likely before you get there." Sören didn't say what it was, and Dooku didn't pry.
Sören took a moment to squeeze him tight, and then kissed Dooku's cheek, making Dooku flush and stammer, and their eyes held as Sören exited the car.
Just that instant of physical contact had Dooku hard again, but he managed to pull himself together before work.
_
Sören was indeed back when Dooku got home; Dooku had a bit of a rough day and he decided to just spend awhile in the living room, curled up with Dragos, drinking tea, zoning out to the BBC. He had been close to falling asleep on the couch when he heard Sören clearing his throat.
"It's finished," Sören said.
Dooku got up, slowly, and followed Sören down the hall. Once they arrived at the meditation room door, Sören said to Dooku, "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Just... close them. I want to take you on a bit of a tour and it's better if we start at a specific spot."
Dooku sighed and closed his eyes, and Sören led him by the hand into the room. A few paces in, Sören turned Dooku to face the wall and said, "All right, open your eyes."
Dooku opened his eyes and saw a black background with a bright purple cartoon of a penis with buttocks, and what appeared to be a penis with testicles protruding from the buttocks.
Dooku's eyes narrowed, and his jaw set. "What. Is. That."
"That, Nico, is a dickbutt."
Dooku turned to glare at Sören, who looked deadly serious in return. "What, you don't appreciate fine art?' Sören asked. "I worked so hard on that..."
Dooku's glare intensified, and then Sören's laughter rang out, and Dooku watched as Sören reached out to pull off black tissue paper from the wall - which had the "dickbutt" painted on it - and then Dooku was looking at blue and purple swirls, with what looked like stars between.
Sören took Dooku's hand again, and led him backwards to the center of the room, where Dooku could take it all in from one side to the other, and then turn around to see the rest of it. The entire room looked like space, nebulas, novas, and stars. The nebulas and stars even seemed to glow. The effect was impressive, and immediately Dooku felt himself being transported, like he was in the womb of the universe itself, touching the Force.
"This is magnificent," Dooku said in a hushed voice, with awe.
Sören squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you approve."
"Approve is an understatement. I don't think I have words to do... this... justice."
Sören stepped in front of Dooku, and took both his hands. "So you forgive me for the dickbutt? I couldn't resist playing a bit of a joke -"
Dooku's response was to throw his arms around Sören and squeeze him tightly. Sören, in return, also put his arms around Dooku, and they just held each other for a moment, with Dooku's face in Sören's shoulder, shaking with silent tears, overcome with emotion he couldn't quantify or articulate, only that Sören had managed to express the deepest part of his soul that he had never shared with another, and that was humbling and terrifying and beautiful all at once.
When Dooku lifted his face, his forehead was pressed against Sören's, and their eyes met, and Sören could see he had been crying - he'd felt it, but now he could see it. Sören reached out to trace the trail of a teardrop, his fingers gentle, and Sören moved in, his nose nuzzling Dooku's. Then, at last, their lips brushed, and Sören's full, soft lips lingered, inviting. Dooku had never kissed anyone, and when Sören opened his mouth, Dooku opened his, and the feeling of Sören's tongue entering his mouth, their tongues meeting, swirling, playing together, made his knees weak, his hands tremble.
The kiss deepened, more insistent, and Dooku heard himself moan into the kiss, and Sören groaned in response. Sören's hands were stroking his back now, and Dooku found his own hands wandering up and down Sören's back, at last cupping the firm, taut ass and gently kneading.
They pulled apart, breathing hard, and then Sören kissed him again, and again, and their tongues playfully licked together between kisses, and Dooku was hard now, and he could feel Sören's own erection pressing against him. At the feel of Sören's hardness, Dooku pulled back, shaking, panting, not sure what to do, feeling shy and nervous again.
"I'm sorry," Dooku said. "I..."
"It's OK, Nico," Sören said. "I understand."
Dooku smiled shyly. "I do... desire you. It's just..."
"I know." Sören pressed his finger to Dooku's lips. "It's all right."
Dooku sighed, and groaned involuntarily when Sören took his finger away, already aching for his touch again. "I am an old man who has much to learn."
"We can take this one step at a time. And... here's the first step."
Dooku watched as Sören reached into his pocket, and Sören produced what looked like paper, folded up. Sören unfolded the paper - it was a couple of sheets - and he handed it to Dooku. "Here."
Dooku took it and saw the name of a medical office. "What's this?"
"When I was out with Frankie on Friday, one of the things I did was go to a clinic and... get tested. And that thing I told you I had to take care of was going back there to get the lab results."
Dooku glanced down and saw Sören's name and a battery of tests for HIV and various sexually transmitted infections...
"All negative," Sören said, and that was confirmed on the sheets of paper.
Dooku handed the test results back to Sören. Sören explained, "I take what you say about no prior sexual history at face value - I believe you, I don't sense deceit on your part. In my case, it's been six months since the last time I had sex with anyone, so these test results should be accurate."
"Six months? I would have thought less than that." Dooku went on, sheepishly, "You're an attractive young man -"
"I'm a man with an anxiety disorder and an unwillingness to put up with certain behaviors and... you've seen how I am about my art," Sören said. "There comes a point when sex for its own sake isn't as fulfilling, and I decided awhile back I wanted the next time to be with someone I actually cared about." Sören looked Dooku in the eye and said softly, "That person is you."
Dooku made more tea, and they sat on the couch together. "This is still all so new to me," Dooku said, after he'd finished his cup. "Including being cared about this way."
"I do." Sören sighed. "We may not know much about each other and yet, we still know each other. There's a connection."
"Indeed, there is." Dooku looked at Sören, and found himself reaching out to stroke Sören's curls, his face, his beard. "What you did in there..." He gestured vaguely down the hall, to the meditation room. "Nobody else has ever done. I knew you'd be able to do something miraculous with the meditation room, but I didn't expect it to be so... perfect."
"I tried my best."
"As Master Yodha would say, 'do or not do. There is no try.'"
Sören took the hand that had been petting him, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. "And that, is where we are at now. You don't have to try. Trying too hard... defeats the spontaneity, the natural flow of things. Just let things be, let them manifest, one step at a time... like the way the stars reveal themselves to us, one by one."
"I want to kiss you again."
"Please."
They kissed, and soon they were necking, hands roaming; Dooku groaned as Sören kissed his neck - just his neck alone was so sensitive, almost unbearably so, and Dooku heard his ragged breath, heard himself making noises he'd never made before as Sören's sweet lips and clever tongue played there. And then their mouths were together again, tongues exploring, dancing, fucking...
Dooku felt something vibrate, and then he heard "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin. Sören's eyes widened with shock, and he immediately pulled off Dooku, fumbling till he got his smartphone out of his pocket. "Shit, I have to take this," Sören said, and Dooku nodded.
Sören's face lit up as he took the call. "Dagnýr! Hvað segirðu?" And then there was a male voice on the other end, speaking very fast Icelandic, sounding panicked and upset, and Sören's face fell. After a couple of minutes, Sören said, "Hvað? Gætirðu sagt þetta aftur?" There was a sharp sound of breath on the other end, and then the same voice, attempting to speak more slowly - not really doing very well - and Dooku noticed that Sören was starting to look upset, on the verge of tears.
A few minutes later there was a pause, and Sören waited a moment before speaking again. "Ég skil. Það verður erfitt, en ég vil ekki að þú sért að gera þetta einan. Ég mun finna leið til að komast þangað. Eins fljótt og hægt er."
More Icelandic on the other end, and Sören looking more agitated and upset, visibly crying now, and when it was his turn to speak, he said, "Ég veit ekki... Ég mun athuga verð á flugmiðum. Ég verð að taka frí frá vinnu. Verður sársauki í rassinni... Ég mun reikna það út. Ég mun vera þar í þessari viku. Hugsanlega um leið og daginn eftir á morgun."
More frantic, upset Icelandic, and Sören shook his head and waved his hand as if the person on the other end was right there in front of him, and he cut in. "Ekki halda því fram við mig, litli bróðir. Ég verð að gera þetta. Og augljóslega þarf ég að gera þetta núna. Hún kann þegar að vera farinn af þeim tíma sem ég kem þar. En ef hún hefur að minnsta kosti nokkra daga, þá get ég verið þar þegar það er kominn tími. Allt í lagi?"
A resigned sigh, some "Jæja, já, já" from the man at the other end, more Icelandic, and then Sören at last said, "Ég verð að útskýra þetta fyrir manninn sem ég sé." A surprised chuckle, and Sören rolled his eyes and said, "Já, ég er núna að deita einhverjum núna. Ég verð að láta hann vita hvað er að gerast. Þá ætla ég að vinna út upplýsingar um flug. Ég mun hringja í þig um leið og ég hef keypt miðann og ég veit hvenær flugið mitt er að koma."
Another sigh from the man at the other end, and Dooku heard "Takk. Fyrirgefðu -"
Sören shook his head again and cut in, "Þú ert bróðir minn. Hætta að biðjast afsökunar."
"Ég elska þig," said the man on the other end, and Sören smiled through his tears and said, "Ég elska þig líka."
And then Sören ended the call, and hung his head, looking crushed.
Dooku used the Force to bring over a box of tissues. "Darling?" The word just came out, naturally. "Who was that? What happened?"
"That was my brother, Dagnýr." Sören took a few tissues and began to wipe at his tears, but he was still crying, and when his eyes met Dooku's he wept afresh.
"I'm going to assume everything is not all right."
"No."
Dooku went to the kitchen to get Sören some ice water, and sat patiently while Sören drank the water and attempted to pull himself together enough to talk. Both men were no longer erect - the upset phone call had killed the mood - and Sören was paler than usual, a haunted look on his face.
At last, Sören said, "There's been a family emergency and I need to go to Iceland immediately."
"You... are... coming back, right?" Dooku found himself worried.
Sören nodded. "Yes. But I don't know how long I'll be there, and that's part of the problem."
Dooku waited some more, and Sören drank more water, and then he said, "My aunt is in the final stages of cancer, and by final I mean she's expected to die within a few weeks, possibly a few days."
"Your... aunt. Were you close to her?"
Sören gave a small, bitter smile. "No, I wasn't."
"Then why... do you have to go back...?"
Sören took a deep breath. He leaned back on the couch. Dragos hopped onto the ottoman and then Sören's lap with an inquisitive chirp, and Sören began petting him. "My father died when I was too small to know or remember him, and then my mother died when I was six. My brother, sister and I were taken in by my aunt and uncle and raised by them. Or I should say, 'raised.'" Sören made air quotes with his fingers. "They were alcoholics and they were pretty fucking abusive to us and our cousin."
"I'm sorry," Dooku said.
"Já, so am I." Sören sighed. "So, I grew up in Akureyri, and I was a star student, hoping that maybe if I just tried hard enough, my aunt and uncle would approve of me somehow. But they never did. I went to med school because I was haunted by watching my mother die when I was a kid, and I wanted to save people. And I had that breakdown in med school I told you about, and when I recovered, sort of, I decided I was just going to try to make a living as an artist. Which of course they didn't approve of."
Dooku waited, not wanting to repeat the question of why Sören had to go back, after he'd been abused by an alcoholic aunt who was now dying.
"Several years ago, though, after my uncle died, my aunt found Jesus. Which, you know... is a load of bullshit, but she started apologizing to me and my brother and sister and cousin for what she'd done, and trying to make up to us. And after all she did, I can't bring myself to hate her. I haven't entirely forgiven her, either, but I... she knows she fucked up, and she's at least been trying to be a better person. I knew she had cancer, but I thought it had gone into remission, and of course she was all like 'praise God' when it happened, thinking God had cured her. But... here we are. She's not only out of remission, but she's not going to make it much longer. My brother came back home from Canada because our cousin is a wreck, and my brother's all stressed out now... and I told him I'd be there, this week. To say goodbye. But I'm not really doing it for her. I'm doing it for myself, and I'm doing it for my brother and my cousin, to be there for them, and to be there with them, as we have all these shitty mixed emotions to deal with. It's not gonna be a fun time, Nico."
"So... you have to leave soon."
"Very soon. As soon as we're done with this discussion, I have to call my boss to let her know I'm going to need anywhere from a week to a month off work, I have to tell Frankie what's going on - there is a chance I may lose my job over this. Then I have to buy a plane ticket. And since I'm going on very short notice, that's going to be expensive. I would like to be on a plane by no later than forty-eight hours, possibly as soon as tomorrow if I can get it." Sören shook his head. "Fuck having my rent paid the next few months - all of that's going to get eaten by this trip, and then of course I may not have a place to work or place to live when I get back -"
Dooku put up his hand. He cleared his throat. "I will buy your ticket." And then, on an impulse that was not like him, he said, "And I'm coming with you."
"Nico. Your job... your cat."
"I have vacation time that I haven't used at all this year, and I'm going to cash it in for the next month. I could possibly even get the rest of the year off. I have a case I'm working on, but I can hand it off to someone else rather easily. As for Dragos..." Dooku reached out to scratch the cat behind the ears, who purred. "I'll ask Qui-Gon if he can watch Dragos for me."
"You think he'll put up with those other cats?"
"He'll have to, but Qui has a way with animals and I'm sure Dragos will be putty in his hands in no time." Dooku pursed his lips and gave Sören a serious look. "I'll only stay behind if you don't want me to come with you - if you think it might make things awkward with your family - but I think you need the emotional support through this and I want to be there for you."
Sören picked up Dragos and put him down on the ottoman, and leaned in to throw his arms around Dooku and squeeze. "I appreciate that, Nico. I really, really, really do."
Dooku held Sören close and tight, rubbing his back, petting his hair. "I'll help you get through this, darling."
Sören broke down, sobbing, and Dooku rocked him gently until the tears subsided. It was already getting late. Dooku sighed as he looked at the clock, and Sören did too.
"I have to make some phone calls," Sören said, "and then look at ticket prices -"
Dooku nodded. "I had planned on taking you out to dinner to celebrate the room, but... takeaway instead?"
Sören nodded back. "Get a pizza, and I'm sorry -"
"It's all right." Dooku sighed. "It's... quite alright."
_
They would be on a flight from London to Reykjavik via IcelandAir in less than twenty-four hours, and it was only a three-hour trip. Qui was coming at one in the afternoon to pick up Dragos, but before and after that time, they had to prepare and pack.
Dooku made them go to bed at a "decent hour", even though Sören was agitated and not in the least bit tired, and Dooku himself was concerned and feeling protective and vigilant. They lay there together in Dooku's bed, in their pajamas. Despite their feverish necking session on the couch earlier, Sören was too upset to go further, and Dooku's mind was more occupied with getting Sören to sleep, somehow. So Dooku just held him, pet him, and attempted to use the Force to bring down Sören's anxiety one rung at a time, until at last Sören's guard was down enough for Dooku to use his Force Heal abilities to soothe Sören to sleep.
Dooku watched Sören sleep for awhile before his own rest claimed him. They were entangled when the alarm woke them up, but Dooku didn't get out of bed right away like he normally did - he just held Sören for close to an hour, being the strength that his partner needed.
My partner. He looked at Sören, beautiful in his vulnerability. My beloved.
There was an unspoken tension between them - that Dooku going with Sören to Iceland for such an emotionally intense trip, and would be meeting Sören's family, and touching Sören's deepest wounds, had stepped things up. It had already become official, and now it was looking serious. That scared Dooku a little, but he also found that he was OK with it... like he'd been ready for this, somehow, his entire life.
Sören managed to nap on the plane ride, and Dooku watched him sleep, fondly. As the plane touched down in Reykjavik, Dooku woke him with a gentle kiss. "Welcome home," he said, softly.
"This isn't home," Sören whispered back. "You are my home."
In the midst of their sorrow, there was a moment of quiet joy.
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