Sören opted to walk from his flat over to the fusion restaurant where he'd be meeting his date, for once grateful for a walk and the chance to burn off his nervous energy so he wouldn't hem and haw over his outfit for the fiftieth time. When not in his medical scrubs, Sören was a T-shirt and jeans guy, but the restaurant was a little too upmarket to get away with dressing down completely - at the same time a suit and tie would have been too dressy, which Sören was grateful for. He certainly appreciated the way a suit looked on Anthony, but Sören loathed wearing suits himself. Sören's idea of dressing up was leather pants and some sort of flamboyant top, an outfit that was more Adam Ant or Jack Sparrow than GQ. After going back and forth between five different tops he'd chosen a black ruffly poet's shirt to go with his leather pants. He had his nape-length dark curls loose rather than in the man bun he kept them in at the hospital, and he took out the studs he wore in his ears when at work - not allowed more than stud earrings per NHS regulations - and replaced them with small silver hoops. It wasn't quite raining outside, but it was foggy and damp enough for Sören to forego the mascara and eyeliner. With the walk, Sören opted for his lighter leather jacket rather than the full-length leather duster, not wanting to be too warm.
He also wondered how the clean-cut lawyer would react to seeing him like this. But Sören figured that Anthony already got a look at him, bearded, seeing his hair was long enough to be worn up, pierced ears visible; he wore long-sleeved scrubs to cover the sleeve tattoos on his arms but he was sure the ink on his wrists had shown at least once when he'd moved around. So Anthony couldn't be too surprised if Sören walked in looking a bit more untamed. Sometimes posh liked a bit of rough, and Sören could go for a dapper gentleman when he wasn't going for longhaired rocker types like himself.
Sören couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous on a date. Some of the anxiety, of course, was the new normal that had crept up around the idea of dating in general since The Incident in early 2010, the one that gave him a strong shove out of Iceland. Sören felt wary around anyone and everyone - "Schrodinger's Rapist", he'd said to his cousin some months after the fact. But most of the anxiety wasn't apprehension of allowing himself to relax around a near-stranger. It was the funny little flutter he got in his stomach when he thought of Anthony, like his brain had decided to compensate for not having a crush on anyone in two years by really having a crush on someone. The way Anthony had met his challenge on Thursday had earned his respect, feeling the strength and solidity behind his words. He was articulate, intelligent. That, even moreso than Anthony's good looks, was compelling.
Sören's heart was pounding when he got to the restaurant, and not from the walk. He took a few deep breaths as he walked in. "You got this," he said under his breath.
Out of the glass foyer, the maître d' waited, giving Sören a glance as Sören stepped past the people seated on leather benches, waiting for a table to open. "Hi, I'm with Hewlett-Johnson, party of two," Sören said.
The maître d' nodded and gestured. "Right this way."
Sören walked through a maze of stained glass and gold and silver lighting, to a wood-and-leather booth where Anthony Hewlett-Johnson was looking at his cell phone. He immediately put it away and sat up straighter, his face lighting up at the sight of Sören. Heat flooded Sören's face, giving back a shy smile as he pulled up a chair.
"Sören, hi." Their eyes met. Anthony gave him the onceover before he sat. "You look... wow."
Sören took off his leather jacket and sat. "Wow good, or wow bad?"
"Wow good. Wow very, very good." Anthony poured him a glass of iced water and passed it over.
"You look nice too." Sören had noticed Anthony's outfit - grey blazer, white shirt, black jeans, pointy black boots.
"Thank you." Anthony passed him a menu. "I hope you're hungry."
"Starving." Sören realized there was innuendo in there somewhere, confirmed at the wicked look in Anthony's eye as he opened the menu and glanced inside, and then kept glancing at Sören across the table. Sören had wondered, before he left the house, if he was getting laid tonight or if this was a "test the waters" date before more. Now, judging from the way Anthony kept looking at him, Sören thought to himself, I am definitely getting laid tonight. Already, his cock stirred.
Sören went with bruschetta tandoori chicken, and Anthony had the pad thai quinoa bowl. They split a hummus appetizer, and after their menus were collected, Sören felt the anxiety settle in again. This time it was his shyness, intensified by the feeling of being under a microscope, that Anthony was going to be as meticulous in inspecting him as a potential partner as he was in his court cases.
Anthony also seemed to be waiting for Sören to make the first move with conversation - which Sören supposed was natural since Anthony was a defense attorney. Even here he was defending, reacting rather than acting. Sören got the sense that Anthony would take the initiative later... but only just so.
Sören adjusted himself in his chair. "So... how was your week?" Sören raised an eyebrow. "Can you talk about the Rafferty case?"
"I cannot," Anthony said, "but the sooner this bloody case is over and done with, the better. Rafferty is insufferable, and now that I know he's also a homophobe..." Anthony made a face before sipping his water. "We don't pick our clients. I wouldn't have picked this one."
"Does he know you're gay?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
Anthony shook his head. "I'm out on a need-to-know basis. I don't hide it, but I don't proclaim it to the world, either. If it's relevant to bring up, then it comes up. If not... then no."
"Makes sense." Sören sipped his water. "Do your folks know?"
"Yes. I didn't come out to them until my twenties were almost over, but my mum, bless her, already figured it out much earlier than that. My parents are more or less fine with it."
"More or less?" Sören's lips quirked.
"I think it makes my father slightly uneasy. He's never given me a hard time about it - I don't feel like I can't bring a serious partner around them. He's just. Typical straight male about that sort of thing."
"You have brothers or sisters?"
"No." Anthony frowned slightly. "Always wish I did, but... no. Only child." His eyebrows raised slightly. "You?"
"I have a fraternal twin brother who's an astrophysicist -"
"So brains run in your family, then."
"My brother would beg to differ where I'm concerned." Sören gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "I could say the same about him on occasion. Brothers, man."
"Anyone else?"
"Já. I was raised by my aunt and uncle and their son grew up with us like a brother, he's a personal trainer back in Iceland." Sören gave a small, reluctant sigh. This was part of why he was shy about socializing much. "And I have an older sister. Well, had. She was murdered."
"Oh no." Anthony's face fell. "I'm sorry. I can see now why you seemed rather irritated with my profession -"
Sören waved his hand. "I know. You're fine, though. Let's... ah. Change of subject. You mentioned coming out when your twenties were almost over - how old are you?"
"Thirty-one. I'll be thirty-two in February. You?"
"Twenty-six." Sören nodded. "I'll be twenty-seven on Friday."
"I hope you're getting some time off on your birthday!"
"Jæja, I requested that entire weekend off. I don't normally take off an entire block like that. Some people buy themselves birthday gifts, I gave myself the gift of time."
"Do you have plans?"
"Sleep?" Sören gave a guilty grin. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead, honestly."
Anthony seemed to chew on that, as if he was considering making plans with Sören, but wanted to see how the rest of the evening went. Sören could understand that.
Their appetizer came, and there was a few moments of silence as they nibbled and waited for the next move. This time Anthony made it. "I take it you're out to your family."
Sören nodded. "I came out when I was seventeen. My aunt and uncle... did not take it well."
"The alcoholics."
Sören sighed again. "You remembered that."
"I remember things," Anthony said mildly. "So much of my job is that - listening, observing. Paying attention."
Sören didn't know how to respond to that. He felt vaguely exposed, like a vulnerability of his was being probed. But not in an exploitative, take-advantage type way. Anthony's eyes were kind, and one of Anthony's hands was close to his now, fingertips touching.
"The rest of my family knows. My brother and cousin are both bi like I am, so it's no big deal."
"Ah," Anthony said. "So you're bisexual... not strictly gay."
"Is that a dealbreaker?" Sören's stomach froze. It had been with some.
"No."
"Good," Sören said, before he could stop himself.
Anthony smiled. "It does make me wonder what your dating history has been like, though."
"Mostly nonexistent." Sören gave another self-deprecating chuckle. "I've never had a serious relationship. Not that I'm opposed to one, with the right person, but." Sören shrugged. "I was more into hookups when I lived in Iceland - men much moreso than women, if that's what you're asking about - but that hasn't been a thing since I left. I'm busy and I'm picky."
"Well, if you're picky, I'm flattered that you agreed to go on a date with me. To be honest, I wasn't sure that you'd say yes."
Sören's eyebrow went up at that. He cocked his head to one side. "You sure didn't act like you lacked confidence."
"Of course not. Attorneys learn early on that you never show doubt, once you've shown that it's all over. But underneath that calm, polished exterior, I felt ready to scream. I think I hyperventilated for a good five minutes after I got in my car after our encounter on Thursday."
Sören grinned. "I'm curious why you even asked, if you thought I might say no."
"A risk of you saying no doesn't mean that you automatically would. It was worth the chance." Anthony's eyes raked him over again. "You're nice to look at, and you intrigued me."
"Intrigued." Sören leaned back in his chair and sipped his water. "Now there's an interesting reaction."
"Mmm."
"So, what was it about me that intrigued you, Mr. Hewlett-Johnson?"
"Honestly? The fact that you weren't instantly impressed by me being a barrister, unlike much of the populace. You looked at me like I was a piece of human shit when I told you I defend criminals for a living. I felt like I was on trial, for a change, having to justify my profession to you. There was a real audacity there which I'm not used to. I wanted to be offended, and act like your opinion didn't matter - I came very close to meeting your challenge with 'I don't owe you an explanation'. But I did anyway. Because you have heart, that shows itself in your choice of profession, your choice to continue working for the NHS rather than the private sector, that shows itself in you reporting Rafferty, that shows itself in you being willing to be out and proud in a world that isn't always so accepting. And that heart, combined with your being a neurosurgeon which requires a certain degree of intelligence and competency... and a dash of that charming accent of yours, and my fondness for Scandinavian men... well... I wanted to see more."
Sören smiled, genuinely touched - and a little turned on.
"Now I'm curious why you said yes," Anthony said. "Since you just admitted you're picky."
"Well, you're gorgeous and I haven't been laid in awhile." Those words came out before Sören could stop himself, and Anthony turned pink, not able to restrain a grin. Sören grinned too. "But it's not all physical for me. I've gone this long without and I'd just, you know, keep using my hand. Er, sorry."
"It's fine. We're both grown men..." Anthony's blush deepened. "Who do what grown men do."
Sören snickered. The thought of Anthony relieving himself sent a surge of heat through him, and his breath hitched. Then he went on. "The answer you gave to my challenge impressed me. It showed conviction. It showed purpose. Not too many people have that nowadays. And when you asked me a question in Swedish, even though I'm not, you guessed -"
"It was the name."
Sören nodded. "It's less common in Iceland than it is in Sweden. It used to be more common - I was named for my great-grandfather! Anyway... you guessed and you were trying to be respectful, and... I don't know." Sören shrugged. "It just felt right, to say yes and see where this goes."
"It felt right to ask and see where this goes."
Their eyes met, and held.
Their respective meals came and there was more silence - and more stolen glances - as they ate. Finally Anthony said, "I'm glad my response to your challenge was satisfactory."
"Mostly."
Anthony paused and gave Sören a quizzical look. "Mostly."
Sören nodded. "It actually raised more questions for me. Like how you even got into law in the first place. In that branch of law."
Anthony sat back in his chair. He looked at Sören again, had water, and Sören could see him collecting his thoughts, carefully formulating a response. Sören ate as he waited.
"My uncle was like a second father to me," Anthony said a few moments later. "Perhaps more of a father than my actual father, who's... emotionally distant. My father's family has tended towards at least one male in the service per generation, for some time now, and for that generation it was my uncle... and it was also why that tradition hasn't carried on with me. He was in the Gulf, in the 1990s. He came back... a bit damaged."
"When you say a bit damaged..."
"Post-traumatic stress disorder that had a tendency to get violent if he was actively having a flashback. In one of his episodes, he ended up seriously injuring someone without meaning to. And there was quite a bit less understanding of mental health disorders and the impact war has on veterans, back in the 1990s, than there is now. Even now, it's far from adequate."
Sören nodded solemnly.
Anthony went on, "The health system failed him... and the criminal justice system could have failed him, but he was fortunate enough to be represented by a compassionate barrister, which is why my uncle had some more years as a part of my life, until he eventually took his own life."
"I'm sorry."
Anthony nodded. Now it wasn't just their fingertips touching across the table again, but Anthony put his hand on top of Sören's. Just that alone sent a frisson down Sören's spine, and he wondered what it would be like to have that hand touch him elsewhere later. He felt somewhat guilty for his mind going right there after Anthony's own display of vulnerability, but...
"You get what it is to lose someone you love. I'm not glad it's a pain you've also endured but, it's something we both understand." Their eyes met and Anthony sipped water, frowning.
"I do."
"And that's the long and short of it, why I chose to specialize in criminal justice. For all of the rapists and thugs and murderers that I have to defend, there are, occasionally, people like my uncle. People like the clients I've had, plural, who've sold their bodies to feed their children. People like the clients who've fought back against abusive partners and they're the ones who end up in trouble rather than their abusers. I could go on and on, but you get the point. My job is thankless, apart from the veneer of prestige and the things it can buy me. Some days I question my sanity."
Sören let that sink in. Anthony had already earned his respect on Thursday, but this was a new level of respect. Sören raised his glass in salute. "That was really touching. It... restores my faith in humanity, a little."
"You know..." Anthony's eyes raked Sören again. "In the last few years I've been practicing law, you are the first person I've dated who's asked me why I got into criminal defense."
"Really." Sören could feel the confusion showing on his face. "Why wouldn't someone want to ask about that?"
"Because they'd rather talk about the money. I'm including fellow professionals in this. Doctors, lawyers. People in it for the money. I like the money, I wouldn't put up with this soul-sucking line of work this long if I didn't, but it gets... wearing."
"That's so weird." Sören blinked slowly.
"The fact that you think this is weird tells me rather a lot about you, Sören."
Sören felt disarmed again, but from the way Anthony was looking at him he could tell that statement was intended to be positive.
"And now I have to ask... how did you get into medicine? And neurosurgery in particular?" Anthony gave Sören a long look.
Sören took a deep breath. He hadn't wanted to get this personal on a first date, but since Anthony had lowered his guard a bit...
"When I was almost six, my mamma died from what I now know is a brain aneurysm. I was the one who found her body and had to call the paramedics."
"Jesus." Anthony winced like he was in pain.
"I'm sorry," Sören immediately blurted out. "I know that's dark. I already started this date down the path of darkness bringing up my sister -"
Anthony held up his hand for Sören to be silent. "Don't apologize. Please, continue."
Sören nodded. "So. You know. I felt so powerless. Blaming myself, wishing I was a grownup and was a doctor, could have done something to save her life. And it was one of the most defining moments of my life, if not the defining moment. Of course I realized many years later that it probably wouldn't have done me any good if I'd been a grownup and a doctor. She just lay down with a headache, took a nap, and died. Nothing could have been done, probably. But I decided then, at age six, that I was going to become a doctor. And of course when I got old enough and started med school I wanted to be a brain doctor. So..." Sören nodded some more. "Family tragedy put us both on our respective paths."
"Kindred spirits, in a sense." Anthony flagged the waiter. "Check, please."
"I'm sorry again for -"
Anthony gave him a look. "Sören, stop. You're fine," he said softly, and there was that hand on his again, this time rubbing, patting.
Sören swallowed hard.
Anthony finished his meal, and his water, and the check came. He looked at it and produced his wallet.
"Are you quite sure you don't want me to pay my half?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded. "I told you, I'm old-fashioned in that regard." After selecting a card and pushing the check with the card off to the side of the table, he leaned closer to Sören. "The night is still young."
"It is."
"Would you like to come back to my place and watch something, maybe?"
"Something." Sören fought back a giggle as his mind went in the gutter. Then he said, "OK."
"How did you get here?"
"I walked. It wasn't too far, I needed the air."
"All right. I'll drive you over, if you're OK with that."
Sören decided he could risk getting in a car with this guy. He nodded. "Let's do that, then."
Anthony Hewlett-Johnson drove a charcoal grey Audi A7. Sören knew he'd drive something flashy, though classic and elegant. Sören got in the passenger seat, feeling shy and a little giddy.
Before Anthony started the car, he took Sören's hand for a moment, giving him a pointed look. Anthony squeezed his hand, a simple, reassuring gesture that sent another flood of heat through Sören's body, a shiver down his spine, a little twinge from his cock. And then Anthony brought Sören's hand to his lips and kissed it.
It was raining now, and the rhythm of the windshield wipers cut through Sören's anxiety a little. Anthony had his car stereo on, jazz playing softly - Coltrane if Sören had to take a guess.
"Where do you live?" Sören asked, realizing he'd gotten in a car with a near-stranger without even asking that.
"Kingston upon Thames."
Sören didn't know what he was expecting for where the man lived. Sören just nodded, and watched the rain fall, every now and again glancing over his shoulder at the handsome man sitting next to him, driving, also watching the rain... also every now and again glancing over his shoulder.
Well, here we go.
chapter 3 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index