horseboykarl

After getting some interesting vintages out of the wine cellar, including one of the bottles of Camigliano, I bring my finds to the kitchen. Sean's got his hands in something for dinner, the sleeves of his jumper pushed up to his elbows. I whinged enough that he agreed to come up with something for Paris.

Seeing him at work in the kitchen does things to me, probably because that's where our first, never-to-be-forgotten kiss took place, but it lights a warm fire low in my belly, a mixture of lust and love. And I fit myself behind him, nosing the scent at the back of his neck, smiling when he turns around for a quick kiss.

I leave him alone and get out the stuff for the marinade for the lamb chops. I whisk that together and get the chops soaking before I wander outside to get the outdoor hearth lit and pull the cushions for the chairs out of their storage. It's cold tonight, but we've got
plenty of wine, good food, and friends coming around in a little while so it should be fun to sit out here at least for a bit.

( Have trouble finding the place? )

Just the thought of al the work involved in moving makes me want to climb back in bed and forget about it. But Sean pointed out that any potential buyers aren’t going to want to see my shit lying around everywhere, so if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got to organise the stuff that’s accumulated. I’ve lived here . . . I think back . . . almost five years. Not heaps long, but with all the Rings stuff in the barn and the stuff in my workshop, there’s lots that needs doing.

So I’m up in the barn loft, sorting through the boxes of Tolkien crap that I put up here when I though Éomer was a symptom of my delusions. I’ve come a long way since then, had a lot of help with it too, I think with a smile. I miss Bernard all of a sudden, he’s so easy to talk to, I’d tell him how happy I am, finally.

Sean’s off at his own place, seeing to things, especially cleaning up after his plumbing problem. My house is definitely more of a issue than his, because I’ve been in it longer, but his isn’t in showing condition yet either. He said he’d be back this evening, but I hear a car in the yard, and yell for him.

“Sean! I’m in the barn.” ( I lean over the railing, waiting for him. )

We finally get sick of eating frozen steaks, and there's nothing else in the house, so Sean goes back home and I go to the store. After being gone over a month, I've got heaps to restock.

Hi, mate. Your shift is done pretending he's in films?

Dave shows up and admires my new truck, so I decide it's time to show it off.

"I'm kidnapping you for the day."

After a day getting my garden ready for the winter,
I'm too tired to cook and too dirty to go out, so I call for the Golden Wok for a delivery.

This morning has been four days. Four days since my bargain with Théodred, and I have not sensed my shift. I even got slightly pissed last night, not enough to be sick today, but enough that my mind wasn’t capable of stopping him. And he did nothing. Freedom. He promised me a week of freedom and that’s how I feel. Free. I roll over, tangled in my sheets, being lazy, enjoying the feeling of relaxing mentally as well as physically.

The day is gorgeous, slanting sunlight pouring in through my windows. The trees are shifting lightly in the small breeze. I have some scripts to read over, but I can’t be bothered. Too nice a day to stay inside.

One small thing marring my contentment. I have to fix things with a certain redhead. Not the hot one, I smirk, feeling a lazy stirring of interest. The annoying one. Okay, well, he’s hot too, but mostly annoying. I’ve been an arse, but dammit, my head has been totally and beyond messed up. I hope he forgives me for everything and I shake my head at the long list of things I’ve screwed up in that direction.

Time to plan, Urban. He did say I could use his beach anytime I wanted, course that was before life went all to shit. But he seemed awfully proud of that pretty filly of his. Maybe if I showed up with Smokey Joe, and flattered him a bit about his riding skills, we could have a bit of a gallop and talk.

I pull on my usual uniform, jeans, boots and a T-shirt, hitch the trailer to the truck and get Smokey. I’ve been neglecting him, too, can’t remember the last time I had him out. He’s excited, prancing a bit, but we get into the trailer easy.

I drive over to Dave’s and then my plans hit a snag, he’s not home. I sit on the steps for a moment, completely lost. Now what? It’s still a beautiful day, so I decide to take Smokey out anyway. Maybe he’ll be home later and we can still ride. I let down the ramp and Smokey dances out.

“Okay, big fella,” I laugh. “I know, I’m ready for the wind, too.” I pull the bridle over his ears and then decide against the saddle, living dangerously, but, bugger it, just feels like that kind of day. I decide to go bareback too and strip off the shirt and boots. The sun feels glorious on my back as I heave myself aboard, and guide the gelding down the path to the beach. We race down the strand a ways, working the kinks out and come back slowly. I know I’m delaying what I really came here for, but it’s too fucking nice out here. I finally give Smokey his head and lean over his withers, petting him and talking to him as he ambles along. I will wait a little while longer and then go back up and see if Dave has come home yet.

( It’s just too great a day to leave just yet. )