As Dooku's Jaguar pulled into the parking lot of the Indian restaurant, he had a sudden impulse to turn around and go back home, not really wanting to go through with it. But he felt it wouldn't be fair to the other gentleman, and he hadn't had Indian food in a good while anyway, and rather had a hankering for it.
Mace was already there, and easy enough to pick out - six foot two, dark skin, bald head, wearing a purple button-down shirt with a black vest and deep purple tie, black pants. Handsome enough, especially when he smiled, as he did when Dooku arrived.
"You must be Ion," Mace said, shaking his hand.
Dooku laughed softly. Nobody called him that. "Everyone calls me by my surname." Except Sören. Dooku still didn't understand how or why Sören got into using the shortened version of his middle name, Nicolae, but he found he missed Sören calling him Nico, and yet, he wasn't anywhere near ready to be on that kind of basis with Mace, and felt it would be wrong for anyone but Sören to call him Nico besides.
"All right then, so... Dooku?" Mace gave a nervous chuckle. "That Hungarian or something?"
"Romanian," Dooku said, as they walked in together. "My parents immigrated from Romania during the 1940s. Their surname was a bit mangled upon arrival at the immigration office, as there is no letter K in the Romanian alphabet."
"Oh, so they saw World War II?"
Dooku nodded solemnly. "It's why they left Romania. Their part of the country was fairly devastated, and after the war things got even more unstable."
"That's interesting," Mace said. They were shown to a table and sat down across from each other. "My family's not nearly as interesting."
"Oh? I imagine with a name like Windu they must come from somewhere?"
"It was actually Window and then my dad changed it." Mace shook his head, laughing. "I got called Moose Windex when I was a kid."
Dooku felt bad for laughing at that, but Mace laughed too.
When their naan came, Dooku asked, "How do you know Qui-Gon?"
"I have a dog," Mace said.
"Oh, what kind?"
"Beagle. Wanna see pictures?"
As they waited for their meals - Dooku went with his usual lamb vindaloo, and Mace ordered chicken tikka - Mace showed Dooku a collection of dog pics on his cell phone. Finally Mace said to Dooku, "What about you? Any pets?"
Dooku sighed deeply. "I had a cat. He... passed on back in March."
"Oh man, I'm sorry to hear that." Mace frowned. "That's rough." He tapped his phone. "I got Nevil here about nine months after Charley, my previous dog, died. Charley was a Lab. I got some pictures of him too."
Mace shared those, and in some of the pictures, there was a muscular younger man who looked to be mixed-race, with long dreadlocks.
"Is that your son?" Dooku asked.
The look on Mace's face answered the question before Mace found the words. "No," Mace said. "That... was my ex-partner."
Dooku facepalmed. "I'm sorry," he said, feeling awkward. He found himself blurting out, "I don't know what Qui told you about me, but my own ex-partner... was significantly younger than myself, and more than once was mistaken for my son."
Mace nodded. "I heard you had kind of a messy breakup."
"I don't know if I'd call it messy, but it was... and still is... a sore subject." Dooku cleared his throat, and gulped down ice water, squirming in his seat, continuing to feel awkward. "What about you?"
Mace sighed. "We didn't break up," Mace said. "He died."
Dooku's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me too." Mace frowned. "Kit was killed by a drunk driver. That was three years ago. Charley died about six months later. That was why I left the States, to be honest. I didn't just sell the house, I needed to leave the entire goddamn country."
"Shit." Dooku hardly ever swore, but it was that strong of a reaction.
"Yeah. Shit about sums it up." Mace leaned back in his seat and shoved a large piece of naan into his mouth. After he was done eating it he said, "What a way to start off a first date, huh?"
Dooku nodded. "I'll be honest with you - I really didn't want to go on this date. Qui means well but he can... well, if you're friends with him, I don't need to explain."
"No, you sure don't." Mace laughed. "But hey if nothing else, we both need a Friends of Qui-Gon Support Group, right?"
Dooku laughed as well. "We certainly do."
_
Despite Dooku's reluctance to go on the date, and the awkwardness of how they broke the ice, Dooku did enjoy spending time with Mace, each of them talking about their career backgrounds and similar hobbies and interests, similar likes and dislikes and values, right down to holding similar political views - Dooku liked that Mace was already keenly aware of and invested in British politics.
"Wherever I live, it's important to perform my civic duty," Mace said.
"I think too few people understand that nowadays," Dooku said. "The system is flawed but we still need it, and when those of us with strong ideals and convictions refuse to participate in the system, it means the corrupt can more easily grab power."
"Just look at the country I left." Mace snorted.
"American politics is a horror show," Dooku said.
The waiter brought them more ice water and another pot of tea, and Dooku looked at the time - the restaurant wouldn't be open for much longer. "We'll have to leave soon," Dooku said.
Mace nodded. "So, uh, is this date over or...?"
"I wouldn't mind talking to you some more," Dooku said. "Would you rather go to your place or mine?"
"I'm out in Greenwich," Mace said.
"All right, I'm closer," Dooku said. And I don't want to drive into Greenwich especially if it means going past a certain coffee shop.
Mace followed Dooku in his car, and they walked up to Dooku's flat together. Dooku made more tea, and also brought out the bottle of Auchentoshan. Mace had half of a shot glass, since he was driving home.
"Goddamn, I forgot how strong this stuff is," Mace said, wincing after he knocked it down. "Motherfucker."
Dooku laughed. "It's supposed to be strong."
"This is like drinking a goddamn peat bog."
"What do you drink, then?"
"I'm more of a wine connoisseur."
"Ah, so am I." Dooku nodded. "I haven't been to a good wine-tasting in awhile."
"Oh, there's one happening in Bermondsey next week, you want to hang out then?"
"All right." Dooku noticed Mace referred to it as "hanging out" rather than "another date", and he felt somewhat relieved at this. Handsome though Mace was, and enjoying the company he did, he didn't quite feel chemistry with Mace...
...in part because he kept comparing Mace to Sören. He realized that wasn't fair, but he also realized he still wasn't over Sören. He'd managed to climb out of the crippling depression that had wracked him for the first two months following the breakup, but he still missed Sören very much, and rather than helping him to continue moving on from Sören, this date just made him ache for what he lost that much more.
Mace picked up on Dooku's relief, and said, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way but you're not exactly my type..."
"You're not either," Dooku said. My type is apparently younger, bratty Icelandic artists named Sören. "I'd like to be friends, but I'm afraid that's all I can really offer." Dooku smiled and then frowned. "I'm still... in love with my ex."
"Oof, that's rough, man." Mace nodded. "Honestly though, I still love Kit, and not a day goes by that I don't miss him. I've been trying to move on, it's why I moved, and I've, ah, had a few hookups since then, but you never really get over someone you loved like that."
"A few hookups." Dooku smirked. "Grindr?"
"Guilty as charged." Mace laughed. "Why, you have an account?"
"I do not," Dooku said. "I know about it from my ex, and I don't know much about it other than it seems to be some sort of social networking site for gay men."
Mace spat his tea and started snorting and wheezing. "Social. Networking. Site."
"Well then, what is it?"
"It's dudes who want to fuck dudes, and arrange hookups. It's one big meat market, just on the Internet."
"Dear Force."
"I haven't had that many Grindr encounters," Mace confessed. "It's been difficult to get in the mood to do that with someone since, you know, Kit passed on. My last one was over a year ago." Mace grinned. "Hot younger Icelandic guy, named Sören, lives over in Greenwich. Prince Albert piercing, throws an amazing fuck. I only did him that one time but WOW."
Now it was Dooku's turn to spit his tea.
"Oh." Mace raised an eyebrow. "You, uh, know each other?"
"Sören is my ex-partner."
"Shit. I don't know whether to offer congratulations or condolences. That dude can ride cock like he's in a rodeo."
"Get out."
"What?"
"You heard me. Get out." Dooku's blood was boiling. He pointed to the door. "Now."
"Shit." Mace got up. "Look, man, if it helps that was over a year ago -"
Mace found himself slammed against the wall and lifted two feet off the floor, and began to choke. Dooku felt angrier than he'd ever felt in his life, and he looked at his clenched fist and then at Mace, choking, and realized he might kill the man and that would be bad for a number of reasons. He unclenched his fist and began to breathe deeply and slowly, and his grip in the Force released and Mace dropped down, gasping for breath.
"You're fucking crazy," Mace spat out, and stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind him.
A few minutes later, when the shock of what he'd done had worn off, Dooku buried his face in his hands, sobbing. And continued to cry once he was in his bed. Alone.
Wishing he had never let Sören go.
chapter 27 | return to Northern Lights | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index