[MGW] 116. Fitting Room (setting)
Sep. 25th, 2008 02:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
changehistoryIt's been there in my dreams -- the scene I see unfold
True at last, flesh and blood, to cherish and hold
Jealous fools will suffer, yes, I know and I confess:
Once I lost my way when something good had just begun
Lesson learned, it's history, when all is said and done
He wasn't him. In the end it was as simple as that. He didn't do those things. He didn't make those plans. He didn't toss aside the best thing that ever happened to him in search of vengeance. There had to be something, of course, somewhere, enough to make the boy come back, but. He wasn't him any longer, and his mistakes would never be Adam's.
How that resulted in him standing before the mirror in a shop that was far too feminine to even dare to offer tuxedos, having Angela order the shop girls around as they fixed his collar, his sleeves, his trouser legs and generally made him want to twitch, he had yet to figure out. He eyed the champagne she had in her hand with longing, but it had been forbidden him because it might spill on the fabric.
"Couldn't we have gone to a tailor?" he asked, fidgeting in a way that got him swatted by the overly familiar shop girl. She got an icy glare for her troubles, but she seemed no more impressed by it than Angela.
"What do you think this is, Adam?" Angela asked, glancing up with an arch of her eyebrow.
"It looks like a dress shop," he pointed out dryly.
"Louisa's husband is the best kept secret in the City," she said absently. "He does all Arthur's tailoring."
Adam snorted. "Then why isn't Arthur here?"
"Someone had to keep Peter busy."
"You know, I have a perfectly nice tuxedo," Adam pointed out.
"Off the rack," she said dismissively.
"A very expensive rack," he countered.
"That doesn't matter."
His retort was cut short by a slight yelp as a pin hit sensitive skin.
"Honestly, Adam, don't be such a baby."
His reply, in gutter Italian, got an arch of a perfectly shaped eyebrow, before she went back to flipping through her magazine and sipping champagne. With a sigh, Adam went back to studying himself in the mirror. After a few moments, and a dozen pinpricks he endured silently, he finally ventured. "Is Peter being put through this?"
"Of course."
"And the excuse?" he asked, slightly anxious. It was very difficult to keep things from Peter, what with the telepathy, after all. Surprise birthday parties were difficult enough. Something like this...
"My sixtieth birthday party," she said, glancing up with a smile. "Thank you, by the way. It's going to be at the Savoy."
Adam coughed. "The Savoy on the Strand, or the one by the Park."
"What do you think?" Angela asked, going back to her magazine, lips still curved. "Besides, legally, you're still a British citizen, yes?"
"Yes," he muttered.
"There you go, then. We can have the ceremony in London, as well."
"And I suppose I am flying everyone to London on the Company jet?"
"Arthur and I will help with ours as well, of course, and I'm sure Daniel will with his."
"Right." Adam twitched away from the pins, glaring down at the shop girl. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?"
"If you would stop twitching, she wouldn't keep poking you." Angela's voice had that super-rational tone to it that was setting his teeth on edge. "Have you picked out rings?"
"I'm going to Tiffany's whenever you release me," he said, closing his eyes.
"Good. Nothing gaudy, please."
"I do not buy gaudy things."
"I recall a certain suit..."
"It was the seventies, Angela. Leave it be."
That got him a look from the shop girl he could almost feel, and he shot her a smile that was more of a snarl, that made her look back to her work.
"Honestly, Adam, I don't know why you're so nervous. It isn't as if he'll say no."
Adam was less certain of that. "I am fairly sure nerves are appropriate in this situation, Angela. Despite my never having done it before." Which was the rub of it, of course. They'd never been able to, and it was only this year that New York had finally declared they had to recognize foreign same sex unions, so there had seemed little point in it, or they had been busy, or any number of things.
"You've been together...for a long time," Angela said, revisiting discretion. "Everything he's done, he did for you. You think he'll decline to make it official?"
Adam shrugged a bit, opening his eyes to frown at his reflection. "The things I did, Angela...before...the things he had to fix..."
She set the magazine down and studied him. "That wasn't you, Adam."
"But it was," he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "No matter what I tell myself, ultimately, it was me."
"Then you just make a promise to not do it again," she said quietly. "To never go down the path you did before. Don't you dare make everything he's done be for nothing. Don't you dare."
"I'm trying..."
"No trying," she snapped. "You learn from it, from what happened before, and you choose to keep making different choices. For him, if not for all of us."
A slight smile curved his lips and he nodded, closing his eyes again. "For him."
True at last, flesh and blood, to cherish and hold
Jealous fools will suffer, yes, I know and I confess:
Once I lost my way when something good had just begun
Lesson learned, it's history, when all is said and done
He wasn't him. In the end it was as simple as that. He didn't do those things. He didn't make those plans. He didn't toss aside the best thing that ever happened to him in search of vengeance. There had to be something, of course, somewhere, enough to make the boy come back, but. He wasn't him any longer, and his mistakes would never be Adam's.
How that resulted in him standing before the mirror in a shop that was far too feminine to even dare to offer tuxedos, having Angela order the shop girls around as they fixed his collar, his sleeves, his trouser legs and generally made him want to twitch, he had yet to figure out. He eyed the champagne she had in her hand with longing, but it had been forbidden him because it might spill on the fabric.
"Couldn't we have gone to a tailor?" he asked, fidgeting in a way that got him swatted by the overly familiar shop girl. She got an icy glare for her troubles, but she seemed no more impressed by it than Angela.
"What do you think this is, Adam?" Angela asked, glancing up with an arch of her eyebrow.
"It looks like a dress shop," he pointed out dryly.
"Louisa's husband is the best kept secret in the City," she said absently. "He does all Arthur's tailoring."
Adam snorted. "Then why isn't Arthur here?"
"Someone had to keep Peter busy."
"You know, I have a perfectly nice tuxedo," Adam pointed out.
"Off the rack," she said dismissively.
"A very expensive rack," he countered.
"That doesn't matter."
His retort was cut short by a slight yelp as a pin hit sensitive skin.
"Honestly, Adam, don't be such a baby."
His reply, in gutter Italian, got an arch of a perfectly shaped eyebrow, before she went back to flipping through her magazine and sipping champagne. With a sigh, Adam went back to studying himself in the mirror. After a few moments, and a dozen pinpricks he endured silently, he finally ventured. "Is Peter being put through this?"
"Of course."
"And the excuse?" he asked, slightly anxious. It was very difficult to keep things from Peter, what with the telepathy, after all. Surprise birthday parties were difficult enough. Something like this...
"My sixtieth birthday party," she said, glancing up with a smile. "Thank you, by the way. It's going to be at the Savoy."
Adam coughed. "The Savoy on the Strand, or the one by the Park."
"What do you think?" Angela asked, going back to her magazine, lips still curved. "Besides, legally, you're still a British citizen, yes?"
"Yes," he muttered.
"There you go, then. We can have the ceremony in London, as well."
"And I suppose I am flying everyone to London on the Company jet?"
"Arthur and I will help with ours as well, of course, and I'm sure Daniel will with his."
"Right." Adam twitched away from the pins, glaring down at the shop girl. "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that is?"
"If you would stop twitching, she wouldn't keep poking you." Angela's voice had that super-rational tone to it that was setting his teeth on edge. "Have you picked out rings?"
"I'm going to Tiffany's whenever you release me," he said, closing his eyes.
"Good. Nothing gaudy, please."
"I do not buy gaudy things."
"I recall a certain suit..."
"It was the seventies, Angela. Leave it be."
That got him a look from the shop girl he could almost feel, and he shot her a smile that was more of a snarl, that made her look back to her work.
"Honestly, Adam, I don't know why you're so nervous. It isn't as if he'll say no."
Adam was less certain of that. "I am fairly sure nerves are appropriate in this situation, Angela. Despite my never having done it before." Which was the rub of it, of course. They'd never been able to, and it was only this year that New York had finally declared they had to recognize foreign same sex unions, so there had seemed little point in it, or they had been busy, or any number of things.
"You've been together...for a long time," Angela said, revisiting discretion. "Everything he's done, he did for you. You think he'll decline to make it official?"
Adam shrugged a bit, opening his eyes to frown at his reflection. "The things I did, Angela...before...the things he had to fix..."
She set the magazine down and studied him. "That wasn't you, Adam."
"But it was," he said, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "No matter what I tell myself, ultimately, it was me."
"Then you just make a promise to not do it again," she said quietly. "To never go down the path you did before. Don't you dare make everything he's done be for nothing. Don't you dare."
"I'm trying..."
"No trying," she snapped. "You learn from it, from what happened before, and you choose to keep making different choices. For him, if not for all of us."
A slight smile curved his lips and he nodded, closing his eyes again. "For him."
