what?”
“Uh, basically, I could be a welder or a ship-builder or something.”
“Oh. So that tied in with your blacksmith stuff. That's a lot more useful than an arts degree...” Chase grabbed another plate from the belt. “Aha. I knew there was another one of these going around.
Jackson laughed, then shrugged. “Even your year taught you some stuff for tattooing, though, I bet?”
“Yeah,” Chase admitted. He smiled, setting down his chopsticks to drink a few sips of water. “I like that you take my art seriously.”
Jackson stacked up his empty plates and folded his arms, leaning back to watch Chase. “Of course I do. I'm in the same boat. Most people think I just make swords...” Chase blushed. “Not you,” he hurried to reassure Chase. “But most people.”
Chase nodded. “Before I talked to you, I kinda thought so, too. I had this image of, I don't know, a manly burly dude with a foot-long beard and a Viking longship in his backyard...”
Jackson started to laugh. He might have been pretty strong, but he wasn't into the reenactment scene like his weaponry customers. “Yeah, no, that's common.”
“Kinda like most people think tattoo artists are ultra-masculine bikers. I'm girly in that scene,” Chase sighed.
Jackson frowned sympathetically. “Yeah. A little like Noah, then...?”
Chase winced. “I guess.”
There it is. Jackson leaned forward. “Sorry. Is there something bad between you two...?”
“No, no,” Chase hastened to answer, almost spilling his water glass. “Crap. Oh, I didn't spill it.” He pushed aside his empty plates, then stacked them up to make room, his eyes down on the plates.
Jackson gave him a few moments to decide how to answer since something was clearly bothering him. He'd noticed something weird between them at the barbecue.
“I just... I have trouble with really... fem guys,” Chase admitted. “Christ, that sounds bad, but it's just...”
“Internalized shit? We've all been there.”
Chase winced again and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I like Noah, it's just... you know, he'd never fly in my hometown.”
I thought he was from Toronto.
Jackson sipped from his water glass. When Noah didn't seem inspired to continue, he answered, “Fair enough. As long as you treat him fine and vice versa, we're cool. It takes time to work out all that BS from your system.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course! I'd never take out my own... issues... on him,” Chase promised. He met Jackson's eyes now with a frown of concern. “Sorry I'm being weird. It was just a rough weekend.”
I'm not guilting him, am I? Jackson reached across the table to touch Chase's hand. “I know you wouldn't.” Chase hesitantly smiled, and Jackson met it with a smile of his own. “Sorry you had a bad weekend, man.”
“S'okay,” Chase assured him. “It's a lot better Monday night, though.” Chase didn't pull back from the touch, his gaze flickering between Jackson's eyes. He turned his palm over to rub his hand along Jackson's as they shared a few moments of silence. “Shall we continue eating? Or are you full off three rolls?”
“Hell, no, I'm not done,” Jackson laughed. They turned their attention to grabbing plates from the belt again. Jackson started smiling again when he realized his hand still tingled from the brushes against Chase's palm.
***
The rest of their supper was far more relaxed. By the time he walked Chase home, they were bumping each other's sides playfully. Chase even reached out to take his hand for a few minutes while they walked and bantered.
Chase's weird moment earlier was truly gone, his wicked sense of humor back. Sometimes Jackson was left speechless, but he always ended up laughing. It was self-deprecating sometimes; Chase didn't take himself too seriously, and Jackson liked a grounded guy.
“You could come in,” Chase offered, gesturing towards his apartment building. “I'd like that.”
Jackson's eyes flickered between Chase's. Even the prospect of
“Uh, basically, I could be a welder or a ship-builder or something.”
“Oh. So that tied in with your blacksmith stuff. That's a lot more useful than an arts degree...” Chase grabbed another plate from the belt. “Aha. I knew there was another one of these going around.
Jackson laughed, then shrugged. “Even your year taught you some stuff for tattooing, though, I bet?”
“Yeah,” Chase admitted. He smiled, setting down his chopsticks to drink a few sips of water. “I like that you take my art seriously.”
Jackson stacked up his empty plates and folded his arms, leaning back to watch Chase. “Of course I do. I'm in the same boat. Most people think I just make swords...” Chase blushed. “Not you,” he hurried to reassure Chase. “But most people.”
Chase nodded. “Before I talked to you, I kinda thought so, too. I had this image of, I don't know, a manly burly dude with a foot-long beard and a Viking longship in his backyard...”
Jackson started to laugh. He might have been pretty strong, but he wasn't into the reenactment scene like his weaponry customers. “Yeah, no, that's common.”
“Kinda like most people think tattoo artists are ultra-masculine bikers. I'm girly in that scene,” Chase sighed.
Jackson frowned sympathetically. “Yeah. A little like Noah, then...?”
Chase winced. “I guess.”
There it is. Jackson leaned forward. “Sorry. Is there something bad between you two...?”
“No, no,” Chase hastened to answer, almost spilling his water glass. “Crap. Oh, I didn't spill it.” He pushed aside his empty plates, then stacked them up to make room, his eyes down on the plates.
Jackson gave him a few moments to decide how to answer since something was clearly bothering him. He'd noticed something weird between them at the barbecue.
“I just... I have trouble with really... fem guys,” Chase admitted. “Christ, that sounds bad, but it's just...”
“Internalized shit? We've all been there.”
Chase winced again and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I like Noah, it's just... you know, he'd never fly in my hometown.”
I thought he was from Toronto.
Jackson sipped from his water glass. When Noah didn't seem inspired to continue, he answered, “Fair enough. As long as you treat him fine and vice versa, we're cool. It takes time to work out all that BS from your system.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course! I'd never take out my own... issues... on him,” Chase promised. He met Jackson's eyes now with a frown of concern. “Sorry I'm being weird. It was just a rough weekend.”
I'm not guilting him, am I? Jackson reached across the table to touch Chase's hand. “I know you wouldn't.” Chase hesitantly smiled, and Jackson met it with a smile of his own. “Sorry you had a bad weekend, man.”
“S'okay,” Chase assured him. “It's a lot better Monday night, though.” Chase didn't pull back from the touch, his gaze flickering between Jackson's eyes. He turned his palm over to rub his hand along Jackson's as they shared a few moments of silence. “Shall we continue eating? Or are you full off three rolls?”
“Hell, no, I'm not done,” Jackson laughed. They turned their attention to grabbing plates from the belt again. Jackson started smiling again when he realized his hand still tingled from the brushes against Chase's palm.
***
The rest of their supper was far more relaxed. By the time he walked Chase home, they were bumping each other's sides playfully. Chase even reached out to take his hand for a few minutes while they walked and bantered.
Chase's weird moment earlier was truly gone, his wicked sense of humor back. Sometimes Jackson was left speechless, but he always ended up laughing. It was self-deprecating sometimes; Chase didn't take himself too seriously, and Jackson liked a grounded guy.
“You could come in,” Chase offered, gesturing towards his apartment building. “I'd like that.”
Jackson's eyes flickered between Chase's. Even the prospect of
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