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!David Hewlett (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} geekshop) wrote,@ 2009-06-15 00:01:00 |
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David Hewlett and (NPC) Peter Krause, with Joe Flanigan. Dinner with the Ex.
[Takes place not so very long after David decides to have dinner with his ex, Peter Krause, which happened about the same time that Peter and his assistant, Christina Hendricks, were discussing business and pleasure.]
They'd come here on their very last date. David wonders if its strange that they're meeting in this same exact restaurant. He takes a deep breath before he walks inside, and sees Peter waiting for him near the host's station.
Peter's always had the kind of smile that can light up a room, and right now is no exception. He walks over to David and goes to hug him, then stops. "Is this all right?" he checks, wondering where David's boyfriend is. "A handshake just feels so formal... and it's been forever."
David smiles back and gives him a quick hug. "It's been forever," he agrees, then pulls back. "Look at you. You haven't changed at all."
"Neither have you," Peter says, shaking his head and grinning. "Okay, we've both gotten older, but you're still the same David. Where's your boyfriend--I'm looking forward to meeting him."
"There was an emergency," David explains. "Someone's cat got out of the yard..." He sort of leaves it at that. "So he's in surgery right now. He said he'll call, and join us once he can."
Peter winces. "That's life with a vet, huh? I hope the little one'll be okay. Should we wait for him to order?"
David sighs. "He told me not to wait. He could still be a while, and he doesn't want us to get hungry."
"Probably leads to a lot of meals alone," Peter says, very sympathetic. "They've got our table all ready... if he makes it late, he can order his entree while we're on dessert, and he can take some home."
"That's a good idea," David says, and they're seated in moments, across from each other, and David just kind of looks at him. His suit must be kind of stupid-expensive.
"So how've you been, David? God, it's been forever. I was starting to think that I'd found the wrong David Hewlett... or wondering if the restraining order was going to come in the mail," he says, looking almost sheepish about it.
David laughs. "No, no, you found me. I really haven't gone very far. I moved into a house maybe ten miles away? And then now Joe and I live in a house about six miles away from that. Shop's in the same place. Bookstore's still there, too--and it's even under the same ownership. Nothing's really changed at all."
"All right here where I left you," Peter smiles, then winces. "Wow. I know how to pick words, don't I?" he sighs, looking down at his water glass.
David shrugs a shoulder. "You were always better at getting thoughts out on paper first," he says.
"Always better when I didn't let my mouth get in the way," he agrees. "Can I make it up with a bottle of wine?"
That makes David smile. "You always knew how to pick a bottle of wine."
"And some things really don't change," Peter smiles, raising his hand when the server passes by, and ordering a bottle of red, trying not to be too pretentious about it. So long as David doesn't look at the price anyway.
Sounds like expensive stuff, David thinks, then a moment later, figures it doesn't matter. Peter's a lawyer, and he'd been an ass right before David had dumped him; he can buy David all the expensive wine in the world.
"Red's always safe... goes with just about everything," Peter shrugs, fiddling with the cuff on his shirt, then focusing on David again. "So... Joe the vet. What's he like?"
David smiles. He always smiles when he talks about Joe. "Tall, handsome, smart, successful... no idea why he loves me, but he does, so there you go. We've been together since... oh-one. Wow."
"All these years, and you still do that," Peter says, shaking his head and sighing at David.
David tilts his head to the side at the sigh. "Do what?"
"Wonder why anyone could possibly want to be with you. I sympathise with Joe... I bet he's told you a couple thousand times how crazy he is about you. You bring that out in people, David."
David waves a hand at him. "All right, all right."
"See? The world works so much more efficiently when people just admit how right I am," Peter says, turning to smile at the waitress who's just arrived before David can say anything. Steak and lobster, a salad and shrimp to start, and he's looking very content, having to stop himself from ordering for David too. Old habits.
Caesar to start, balsamic chicken penne, please, with extra spinach, and please substitute white onions for the red. David's kind of surprised Peter didn't order for him.
He does smile as David orders. He could have guessed that. All of that. David really hasn't changed. "Extra spinach... very healthy."
"Spinach is good for me," David says with a little smile. "I'm getting older, and unfortunately my job still doesn't really call for me to do anything but sit on my butt all day."
"Even back when we were together, you were always a lot happier sitting in front of a computer than outside going for a run," Peter says. "I'm guessing that hasn't changed either."
"Why would I go for a run if I wasn't being chased?" David asks with a crooked grin.
"Oh, David," Peter sighs, playfully dramatic. "I assumed you had dogs who needed exercise at the very least. You'd talked about getting a dog, didn't you? I'm sure I remember that right."
"I got a Sheltie," David says. "He's almost nine. He gets his exercise just running around the backyard, and he eats better than I do."
"A Sheltie... I can't picture that," he admits. "I can't remember what they look like. I figured you'd live in a complete animal madhouse."
"Shetland Sheepdogs. They look like miniature Collies--y'know, like Lassie?" David grins. "And my partner's a vet... I do kind of live in a complete animal madhouse."
"Wait... okay, right, I do know what you're talking about," Peter realises. "They're very pretty, the little mini-collies, yes. How much of a madhouse are we talking about?" Peter laughs. "Have they spilled over to take over your shop yet?"
David laughs and takes a sip of his wine. "Well, we've got my Sheltie--Max--and a very small grey cat named Pixel. There's a morally bankrupt black lab named Strider. And we have a Rottie mix named Mars. He's... special. He was abused. He comes to the shop with me every day because otherwise Strider picks on him something fierce. Um. We have gay bunnies named Spock and Kirk. Then there's a few more cats--Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And we're currently looking after a Daschund." David pauses. "His name is Tank."
Peter's laughing by the time David gets to the end of the list. "That's quite the household," he says, shaking his head again. "You must be working overtime every week just to afford the food."
"We manage," David says. "So anything new and exciting with you?"
"Same old story," Peter shrugs. Parties, events, fancy suits, gossip flowing like champagne. Everything he ever wanted... or very close to it. "The firm's doing extremely well. I work too late, and too often, but I'm sure that'll stop a few years after I retire... when I'm seventy."
"You always worked too hard."
"That's very true, but are you going to tell me that you don't?" Peter raises an eyebrow. "How many jobs were you working to save money for the down payment on your shop?"
"Three," David admits. "I suppose you've got me there."
"I thought you were crazy," Peter admits. "I guess that's not that much of a secret, is it?"
"I guess," David says, speaking to his wine glass. "But I got what I wanted."
"You did. And I was wrong." Words that have perhaps never been put together in the same sentence and uttered by Peter.
David looks up at him. "What?"
He sighs. "I was wrong, David. You wouldn't have been happy if you'd done what I wanted you to do. You like being able to putter around with computers, and just do your own thing. And I was an idiot for not seeing that before it was too late."
David blinks a few times. "I... well. Um. Thank you, Peter. That's... that's very... I'm sorry, I'm just so surprised you're saying that. I don't want to be a jerk."
"You mean like I was, when I threw a tantrum and threw everything we'd had away?" Peter sighs again. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"What brought this on?" David asks, feeling a bit of a cold knot forming in his stomach. Is Peter sick?
Peter toys with his wine glass. "One of the women who works for me, she was talking to one of the other secretaries one day about how her computer had completely melted down, she took it to two places and they told her it couldn't be fixed... all her daughter's baby pictures were on there, and she couldn't get any of them back, and she was devastated... and then she went to this little shop, and this miracle worker took her computer out of her hands, smiled at her and sent her off for coffee, and when she came back, he'd fixed everything. Pictures saved, computer fixed... and that she was so happy and flustered that it took her a few days to realise that she'd never even paid to have it done, even though she was told she had. I knew it had to be you. That it could only be you."
David turns very slightly pink at that. "Well, I--I dunno, there could be other guys out there..."
"Nope. Just you. A computer that broken? Two other stores could do nothing? I only know one person who could fix that, and make it seem like no big deal at all, and send the lady off with the receipt for a bill she never paid. And I just... let you go. And that's on me. I just wanted to tell you I was wrong, and say that you were right. And that I'm happy for you and your vet, and your houseful of gay bunnies and morally ... something dogs."
"Bankrupt," David says, very softly. "Morally bankrupt. And, well... y'know. I perform miracles, and they tend to come back. It's not entirely altruistic of me."
"Look me in the eyes and tell me that if you didn't have bills to pay and a boyfriend and pets to feed, you wouldn't do what you do for free," Peter says.
"You know I can't do that," David says, a little embarrassed.
"Uh huh... don't even try and pretend you're a capitalist like the rest of us," Peter says, looking amused.
"A little bit," David says. "Really!"
"You're an idealist. And it suits you," Peter says, leaning back as their plates are brought to the table. He'd barely even noticed the appetizers, but considering the plates were emptied, they must have eaten them.
Dinner smells delicious. And David can't quite look at Peter's lobster, which is staring at him. "I like helping people," David says, a moment later.
Peter catches the look David's giving his lobster, carefully turning his plate so it's looking away from him. "I forgot about you and shellfish-still-in-the-shell," he says. "Am I forgiven?"
David grins at him. "Forgiven."
"Sounds like I missed the interesting parts of the conversation." A voice comes from a few feet away from the table.
David gets to his feet when Joe approaches. "Hey, honey," he says. "Peter's lobster was just giving me the stink-eye. Joe, this is Peter Krause. Peter, this is Joe Flanigan."
"Sorry I'm late," Joe says, giving David an apologetic kiss, then holding his hand out to Peter, who's stood as well. "Peter--it's really good to meet you," he says, smiling and shaking his hand.
"You too, Joe," Peter says, smiling back at him. "We only just got our food--sit down, I'm sure they can make something up for you."
"Just a sandwich'll be fine... I'm pretty done in," Joe admits. "Which doesn't mean I'm rushing you--I'll just sit here and try not to fall asleep in a bowl of soup. Take your time."
"Is the cat going to be okay?" David asks, deeply concerned, covering Joe's hand with his own.
"God, I hope so," Joe sighs, rubbing at his hair. "I did everything I could, and if we're very lucky, and there's no infection, she'll be all right. The family's worrying about how they're going to pay the bill, and I promised them we'd work something out."
David squeezes Joe's hand. "Good. My hero."
"I do what I can," Joe smiles, squeezing his hand back, then ordering a clubhouse from the server when she comes by to check on them. She looks a little unsure, but she thinks she can whip up something involving a pita and some chicken. Works for Joe.
"Peter was just telling me," David says, scooping up some of the sauce from his dinner with his garlic bread, "that one of the girls who works for him came into the shop and I saved her computer."
"Ah... so basically one of your days-that-ends-with-y days, yes?" Joe says, grinning at him.
David grins back. "Exactly."
"Mr. Miracle... that's you, David," Peter smiles. "He was trying to convince me he was just as capitalist as the next business owner a few minutes ago."
"Oh... really?" Joe manages not to laugh. "How'd that go, David?"
"Not so well," David admits with a bashful little grin. "Nobody ever believes me about that."
"I can't even scold you, considering the animals I bring home, and the number of times I prorate people's vet bills," Joe sighs.
"We're just trying to save the world a little," David says, smiling.
"Then it looks like you ended up with the right man for it," Peter says, pouring wine into Joe's empty water goblet, and lifting his glass to them. "I'm happy for you both. Cheers."
David lifts his glass, as well, then takes a drink, smiling over the rim at Joe.
He doesn't know what Justin and Karl were so worried about. There's nothing evil at all going on here.,
Joe drinks as well, free hand reaching for David's under the table and squeezing, nice and gentle. Sometimes an ex is just an ex... nothing to be afraid of.
[Takes place not so very long after David decides to have dinner with his ex, Peter Krause, which happened about the same time that Peter and his assistant, Christina Hendricks, were discussing business and pleasure.]
They'd come here on their very last date. David wonders if its strange that they're meeting in this same exact restaurant. He takes a deep breath before he walks inside, and sees Peter waiting for him near the host's station.
Peter's always had the kind of smile that can light up a room, and right now is no exception. He walks over to David and goes to hug him, then stops. "Is this all right?" he checks, wondering where David's boyfriend is. "A handshake just feels so formal... and it's been forever."
David smiles back and gives him a quick hug. "It's been forever," he agrees, then pulls back. "Look at you. You haven't changed at all."
"Neither have you," Peter says, shaking his head and grinning. "Okay, we've both gotten older, but you're still the same David. Where's your boyfriend--I'm looking forward to meeting him."
"There was an emergency," David explains. "Someone's cat got out of the yard..." He sort of leaves it at that. "So he's in surgery right now. He said he'll call, and join us once he can."
Peter winces. "That's life with a vet, huh? I hope the little one'll be okay. Should we wait for him to order?"
David sighs. "He told me not to wait. He could still be a while, and he doesn't want us to get hungry."
"Probably leads to a lot of meals alone," Peter says, very sympathetic. "They've got our table all ready... if he makes it late, he can order his entree while we're on dessert, and he can take some home."
"That's a good idea," David says, and they're seated in moments, across from each other, and David just kind of looks at him. His suit must be kind of stupid-expensive.
"So how've you been, David? God, it's been forever. I was starting to think that I'd found the wrong David Hewlett... or wondering if the restraining order was going to come in the mail," he says, looking almost sheepish about it.
David laughs. "No, no, you found me. I really haven't gone very far. I moved into a house maybe ten miles away? And then now Joe and I live in a house about six miles away from that. Shop's in the same place. Bookstore's still there, too--and it's even under the same ownership. Nothing's really changed at all."
"All right here where I left you," Peter smiles, then winces. "Wow. I know how to pick words, don't I?" he sighs, looking down at his water glass.
David shrugs a shoulder. "You were always better at getting thoughts out on paper first," he says.
"Always better when I didn't let my mouth get in the way," he agrees. "Can I make it up with a bottle of wine?"
That makes David smile. "You always knew how to pick a bottle of wine."
"And some things really don't change," Peter smiles, raising his hand when the server passes by, and ordering a bottle of red, trying not to be too pretentious about it. So long as David doesn't look at the price anyway.
Sounds like expensive stuff, David thinks, then a moment later, figures it doesn't matter. Peter's a lawyer, and he'd been an ass right before David had dumped him; he can buy David all the expensive wine in the world.
"Red's always safe... goes with just about everything," Peter shrugs, fiddling with the cuff on his shirt, then focusing on David again. "So... Joe the vet. What's he like?"
David smiles. He always smiles when he talks about Joe. "Tall, handsome, smart, successful... no idea why he loves me, but he does, so there you go. We've been together since... oh-one. Wow."
"All these years, and you still do that," Peter says, shaking his head and sighing at David.
David tilts his head to the side at the sigh. "Do what?"
"Wonder why anyone could possibly want to be with you. I sympathise with Joe... I bet he's told you a couple thousand times how crazy he is about you. You bring that out in people, David."
David waves a hand at him. "All right, all right."
"See? The world works so much more efficiently when people just admit how right I am," Peter says, turning to smile at the waitress who's just arrived before David can say anything. Steak and lobster, a salad and shrimp to start, and he's looking very content, having to stop himself from ordering for David too. Old habits.
Caesar to start, balsamic chicken penne, please, with extra spinach, and please substitute white onions for the red. David's kind of surprised Peter didn't order for him.
He does smile as David orders. He could have guessed that. All of that. David really hasn't changed. "Extra spinach... very healthy."
"Spinach is good for me," David says with a little smile. "I'm getting older, and unfortunately my job still doesn't really call for me to do anything but sit on my butt all day."
"Even back when we were together, you were always a lot happier sitting in front of a computer than outside going for a run," Peter says. "I'm guessing that hasn't changed either."
"Why would I go for a run if I wasn't being chased?" David asks with a crooked grin.
"Oh, David," Peter sighs, playfully dramatic. "I assumed you had dogs who needed exercise at the very least. You'd talked about getting a dog, didn't you? I'm sure I remember that right."
"I got a Sheltie," David says. "He's almost nine. He gets his exercise just running around the backyard, and he eats better than I do."
"A Sheltie... I can't picture that," he admits. "I can't remember what they look like. I figured you'd live in a complete animal madhouse."
"Shetland Sheepdogs. They look like miniature Collies--y'know, like Lassie?" David grins. "And my partner's a vet... I do kind of live in a complete animal madhouse."
"Wait... okay, right, I do know what you're talking about," Peter realises. "They're very pretty, the little mini-collies, yes. How much of a madhouse are we talking about?" Peter laughs. "Have they spilled over to take over your shop yet?"
David laughs and takes a sip of his wine. "Well, we've got my Sheltie--Max--and a very small grey cat named Pixel. There's a morally bankrupt black lab named Strider. And we have a Rottie mix named Mars. He's... special. He was abused. He comes to the shop with me every day because otherwise Strider picks on him something fierce. Um. We have gay bunnies named Spock and Kirk. Then there's a few more cats--Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And we're currently looking after a Daschund." David pauses. "His name is Tank."
Peter's laughing by the time David gets to the end of the list. "That's quite the household," he says, shaking his head again. "You must be working overtime every week just to afford the food."
"We manage," David says. "So anything new and exciting with you?"
"Same old story," Peter shrugs. Parties, events, fancy suits, gossip flowing like champagne. Everything he ever wanted... or very close to it. "The firm's doing extremely well. I work too late, and too often, but I'm sure that'll stop a few years after I retire... when I'm seventy."
"You always worked too hard."
"That's very true, but are you going to tell me that you don't?" Peter raises an eyebrow. "How many jobs were you working to save money for the down payment on your shop?"
"Three," David admits. "I suppose you've got me there."
"I thought you were crazy," Peter admits. "I guess that's not that much of a secret, is it?"
"I guess," David says, speaking to his wine glass. "But I got what I wanted."
"You did. And I was wrong." Words that have perhaps never been put together in the same sentence and uttered by Peter.
David looks up at him. "What?"
He sighs. "I was wrong, David. You wouldn't have been happy if you'd done what I wanted you to do. You like being able to putter around with computers, and just do your own thing. And I was an idiot for not seeing that before it was too late."
David blinks a few times. "I... well. Um. Thank you, Peter. That's... that's very... I'm sorry, I'm just so surprised you're saying that. I don't want to be a jerk."
"You mean like I was, when I threw a tantrum and threw everything we'd had away?" Peter sighs again. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
"What brought this on?" David asks, feeling a bit of a cold knot forming in his stomach. Is Peter sick?
Peter toys with his wine glass. "One of the women who works for me, she was talking to one of the other secretaries one day about how her computer had completely melted down, she took it to two places and they told her it couldn't be fixed... all her daughter's baby pictures were on there, and she couldn't get any of them back, and she was devastated... and then she went to this little shop, and this miracle worker took her computer out of her hands, smiled at her and sent her off for coffee, and when she came back, he'd fixed everything. Pictures saved, computer fixed... and that she was so happy and flustered that it took her a few days to realise that she'd never even paid to have it done, even though she was told she had. I knew it had to be you. That it could only be you."
David turns very slightly pink at that. "Well, I--I dunno, there could be other guys out there..."
"Nope. Just you. A computer that broken? Two other stores could do nothing? I only know one person who could fix that, and make it seem like no big deal at all, and send the lady off with the receipt for a bill she never paid. And I just... let you go. And that's on me. I just wanted to tell you I was wrong, and say that you were right. And that I'm happy for you and your vet, and your houseful of gay bunnies and morally ... something dogs."
"Bankrupt," David says, very softly. "Morally bankrupt. And, well... y'know. I perform miracles, and they tend to come back. It's not entirely altruistic of me."
"Look me in the eyes and tell me that if you didn't have bills to pay and a boyfriend and pets to feed, you wouldn't do what you do for free," Peter says.
"You know I can't do that," David says, a little embarrassed.
"Uh huh... don't even try and pretend you're a capitalist like the rest of us," Peter says, looking amused.
"A little bit," David says. "Really!"
"You're an idealist. And it suits you," Peter says, leaning back as their plates are brought to the table. He'd barely even noticed the appetizers, but considering the plates were emptied, they must have eaten them.
Dinner smells delicious. And David can't quite look at Peter's lobster, which is staring at him. "I like helping people," David says, a moment later.
Peter catches the look David's giving his lobster, carefully turning his plate so it's looking away from him. "I forgot about you and shellfish-still-in-the-shell," he says. "Am I forgiven?"
David grins at him. "Forgiven."
"Sounds like I missed the interesting parts of the conversation." A voice comes from a few feet away from the table.
David gets to his feet when Joe approaches. "Hey, honey," he says. "Peter's lobster was just giving me the stink-eye. Joe, this is Peter Krause. Peter, this is Joe Flanigan."
"Sorry I'm late," Joe says, giving David an apologetic kiss, then holding his hand out to Peter, who's stood as well. "Peter--it's really good to meet you," he says, smiling and shaking his hand.
"You too, Joe," Peter says, smiling back at him. "We only just got our food--sit down, I'm sure they can make something up for you."
"Just a sandwich'll be fine... I'm pretty done in," Joe admits. "Which doesn't mean I'm rushing you--I'll just sit here and try not to fall asleep in a bowl of soup. Take your time."
"Is the cat going to be okay?" David asks, deeply concerned, covering Joe's hand with his own.
"God, I hope so," Joe sighs, rubbing at his hair. "I did everything I could, and if we're very lucky, and there's no infection, she'll be all right. The family's worrying about how they're going to pay the bill, and I promised them we'd work something out."
David squeezes Joe's hand. "Good. My hero."
"I do what I can," Joe smiles, squeezing his hand back, then ordering a clubhouse from the server when she comes by to check on them. She looks a little unsure, but she thinks she can whip up something involving a pita and some chicken. Works for Joe.
"Peter was just telling me," David says, scooping up some of the sauce from his dinner with his garlic bread, "that one of the girls who works for him came into the shop and I saved her computer."
"Ah... so basically one of your days-that-ends-with-y days, yes?" Joe says, grinning at him.
David grins back. "Exactly."
"Mr. Miracle... that's you, David," Peter smiles. "He was trying to convince me he was just as capitalist as the next business owner a few minutes ago."
"Oh... really?" Joe manages not to laugh. "How'd that go, David?"
"Not so well," David admits with a bashful little grin. "Nobody ever believes me about that."
"I can't even scold you, considering the animals I bring home, and the number of times I prorate people's vet bills," Joe sighs.
"We're just trying to save the world a little," David says, smiling.
"Then it looks like you ended up with the right man for it," Peter says, pouring wine into Joe's empty water goblet, and lifting his glass to them. "I'm happy for you both. Cheers."
David lifts his glass, as well, then takes a drink, smiling over the rim at Joe.
He doesn't know what Justin and Karl were so worried about. There's nothing evil at all going on here.,
Joe drinks as well, free hand reaching for David's under the table and squeezing, nice and gentle. Sometimes an ex is just an ex... nothing to be afraid of.
