[current]

( Aren't you supposed to be all glowing and sweet? I don't think pregnant girls are allowed to swear. There's a law. )

Date:	2008-03-05 16:37
Subject:	Fab Filippo and chris_thile (with cit_wolf): After Jay Leno
Security:	Public

[backdated to 29 February.]

The hotel room door swings open and Chris walks in, looking around. "Wow," he whispers. It's one of those two room suites with a big flower arrangement on the table and a box of candies. "Nice, huh?" He asks, shucking his brown jacket from over his brown check shirt and his brown tie. He's wearing brown narrow-legged pants and old tennis shoes. With all the browns, you'd think he'd match. Oh, no. All of the browns are just that much off. But of course, Chris hasn't noticed anything. Between playing with the leopard cubs and then performing on national TV (the Tonight Show!), he's a bit... out of it.

( Why don't you like Patrick? )

[Current, players only]

Fab knocks at Chris's door, shifting from foot to foot as he waits. He'd bundled Chris out the door of his apartment sometime in the early afternoon (after waffles and a lazy happy-birthday fuck) and now he just prays that Chris is ready; he feels a little ridiculous standing here in his suit, to be honest, but knowing that Chris will love his birthday present is enough for him to bite down on the discomfort.

Chiris, bless his odd little heart, is deciding between bowtie and regular tie when the knock comes and he walks to the door, holding one of each in his hands. He's all dressed, even his hair tamed. "Bowtie? Regular tie?" This is a big deal. Philharmonic! Yay!

( Uh... regular, I think. )

[Players only. Current.]

Feeling better (Thank God), Chris had time to make up. New album out on February 26th and he didn't have a day to lose. Of course, he's lost five with the cold, but, well, some things can't be controlled. So, he was up early from Fab's bed, hating to leave the warm and wonderful body there, but going, with a note that he'd be back as soon as he could. He also left dummies of the album cover and the filler material out. It had been proofed and was ready to go.

The cover is a simple design, the album title taken from Mark Twain. Inside, the dedication is just as simple. For my muse. I'm always yours, if you want me. Fab is listed by name under the 'Thanks' section.

An hour or so later, Fab is sitting there staring at the damn thing with wide eyes. He should go make breakfast, have some coffee - but no, he just keeps staring at his boyfriend's album. Right. Digging out his cell phone, he taps out a message and sends it off: ( why arent you home yet? miss you. finish quickly, day. )

"I can't believe we're doing this," Fab laughs, his arms tight around Chris's thin waist. They've nearly frozen to death, had to listen an interesting assortment of music, and now it's nearly midnight and Fab's so fucking glad they're here. His nose is cold, though, so he sticks it against Chris's neck, still laughing.

"Yeeouch!" Chris tries to get away, but of course he can't. They're in the middle of what must be a million people in Times Square. He can't even remember whose idea this had been. But they're here and he turns to grin--red-cheeked--at his lover. "This is amazing!" He shouts, because it's so loud. They are just two people. They could be anyone with caps pulled down tight on their heads. "Kiss me!"

"Aren't we supposed to wait until midnight? It's... what, fifteen minutes? You can wait fifteen minutes." Grinning, Fab nuzzles closer against Chris's neck, his cold hands sliding into Chris's pockets. ( 'I don't know if I can, but I'm sure you can.' )

[Current. Players only. Warning for brief discussion of watersports.]

Fab has known from the beginning that this is a profoundly stupid idea, and after Chris finds out what tonight's plans are, he'll probably never want to go on a date with him again. It's one of those things that can easily fall flat on its face, after all - what if it's just not Chris's thing? Knowing Fab's luck, Chris will be allergic to horses or something, which would be doubly ironic considering that most of the songs on his band's first album (which Fab will be making fun of him for, eventually) were about being a cowboy. Still, he wants to do something romantic for Chris, damn it; he wants to show that he can be a good boyfriend, not just the kind of boyfriend who disappears to Toronto and breaks his heart.

( Fab is going to leave himself plenty of chance to chicken out, but there's nothing wrong with telling Chris the location. )

[current. players only.]

"So, my parents are really great," Fab explains, staring out the window of the cab and rubbing his fingertips together. He really wants a smoke. "Except that you don't swear around them, and you have to tell my mom that her cooking's delicious. If you do that, she'll love you forever - and it's not hard to say, because it really is delicious." He knows he's told her all this before, but she needs to remember it. What with all the other shit going down, this has to be perfect. It has to be worth it.

"Got it," Eliza sighs, rolling her shoulders because she's wearing a bra and it's fucking cold here and Fab is key'd up and it's obvious that not all is cool. ( She left getting laid for this? )

[Current. Players only.]

Wandering around his apartment, Chris looks it over. It looks the same. But it feels... different. It could be the new tile in the bathroom, or the smell of carpet cleaning chemicals. Or it could be that he's not been here for nearly three weeks and pretty much his whole life has been turned upside down since he'd been flooded out. It's then that he sets down the two cases he's carried in and his laptop case, and turns to smile shyly at Fab who is carrying two cases as well. "It feels different."

Setting the mandolin cases next to the ones already on the floor, Fab glances around with a sideways smile. "Well, for one thing, it's actually clean..."

( Shut up )

[backdated to 29 October, the day after Eliza had visited and things after she'd gone had gotten a little out of hand. Warnings for violent, risky sex.]

Sleep had only barely come as Chris had laid next to Fab, and when it did, it was uneasy and turbulent. He'd felt terrible about what he'd done and even though Fab had said they were okay, when the sun has been up for a couple of hours, Chris slips from bed as quietly as he can and into his clothes.

He'd been meaning to get to the studio to download some of the stuff he'd been recording and now is as good a time as any. With one last look at Fab's sleeping form, Chris scribbles a note and leaves it on the counter. Music stuff. Back later. Then he packs up his laptop, tape recorder and one mandolin and makes his escape into the street and toward the subway. ( On the street, he breathes easier, but not much. )

[Players only. Current.]

Chris has two drinks sitting on the table when Fab finally gets there. "Man, what took you so long? It isn't like you spent a lot of time making yourself pretty."

"No, that just comes naturally." Grinning and already reaching for his drink, Fab slides into his chair. "And I'm late because one of my cats was missing. Turns out that I had left one of the windows just slightly open, and he was on the fire escape enjoying the sun. But I'm here now, anyway."

( No muse and muse-ee commingling. That could be a problem... )

[Current. Players only.]

It's been a long day. As much as Fabrizio loves writing - and he does - he's found that on any given day, he has to spend so much time in teleconferences with big shots that he barely even has a chance to even get any actual writing done. Normally Adam Till's able to step in on his behalf and do the damn conferences himself (as the producer half of their little writing team, he claims it's his job, and Fab doesn't argue) but sometimes they can't be dodged.

( You're a student, I assume? )

[Crossposted. Current. Players only.]

Chris had spent some time in the morning writing and when he was finished, it always felt like there was a gap in his chest where the music had been. That's the only way to explain it. A crevasse if he's feeling poetic.

So he's walking, his mandolin case strapped to his back. Central Park, for all of its problems with safety, has always drawn Chris. For one, it's green and that's hard to come by in a city made of concrete and steel. For two, it cuts out the noise of the city, somehow. It's quiet, serene. He loves it.

So he walks, long legs stretching out over the path, face up to the sun, eyes closed even. It's remarkable and peaceful.

Well, until he runs smack into someone.

[Players only. Tues August 28th. Comments screened, feedback loved on]

The first night Eliza's in New York, she knows she should get to bed early, be bright-eyed for the auditions.

Nah. In the cab, she dials Fab's number on her cell, the number having been programmed in for many years. It isn't like they saw each other a lot, but when they could. She grins as she hears his voice. "Bitch! I'm in town. I'm coming over. Be there in..." She ducks to look out the window and catch a street sign. "Like 15 minutes? If you're fucking somebody, wrap it up."

( Can't you ever fucking call me before you arrive in the city? )

( Pup/Mun information for Fabrizio (Fab) Filippo )