ax_main | Dorian & Gilmore (backdated to April)

Adorable boys with extra-large personalities become friends over brunch.

Scheduling brunch with Dorian Pavus had taken Gilmore an embarrassingly long time -- long enough that he had actually seen and greeted Dorian in person around the school before managing to find a weekend morning that he was free enough to spend some quality time with someone he was sure to become a new friend very quickly.

Their destination was a pleasant little cafe in Salem Center on a Saturday that was finally warm enough to sit outside on the narrow patio at a faux-marble-topped table and take in the day. Gilmore had gone casual, for him, in an abstract pink and purple floral shirt, skinny jeans, and his beloved purple unicorn sneakers. He sported a pair of pink sunglasses against the mid-morning sunlight, but they didn't obscure his eyes so he could still have a real conversation with Dorian. Which was what brunch was all about.

"Thank you again for being patient with my schedule," Gilmore sighed over a cup of coffee after they had ordered. "Somehow the spring rush always surprises me after the post-Valentines slow period. I don't know how; I've been doing this long enough. How are you settling in these last weeks?”

“I’ve no complaints.” Dorian had dressed for the more-casual occasion as well in a deep green t-shirt and dark blue jeans with vintage military boots. Gold rings, one of which was inset with a stone in that same rich shade of deep green, adorned his fingers, and his own black sunglasses were pushed up on his forehead. “The room needs a few more finishing touches, but it’s coming along. My roommate is a delight. And the library is, to borrow a phrase, glorious.”

"You may use that phrase to your heart's content," Gilmore offered. "I've thought of attempting to copyright some form of it, but I just couldn't steal such a magnificent word from the rest of the world. I'll make do with my professional trademark." He paused, lowered his cup, and added another dollop of cream thoughtfully.

"I confess, I spend more time down in the workshops than in the library, but I have friends who can hardly stop singing its praises. I'm sure you'll meet them there -- Percy, or Loki? Bookish types usually find me trying, but I'm very lucky the two of them put up with me," he added with a flash of bright-white grin.

Gesturing elegantly at himself, Dorian said, “Three now. Though, I’d say luck has very little to do with it. Anyone who finds you trying, has very little taste.” He said it like taste was everything, and that he didn’t put much stock in the opinions of those who lacked it.

“I haven’t met Percy,” God, that was terrible, and very old man-sounding name. He had to be English. “But, I have met Loki. We had an in-depth conversation about books.” Dorian took a sip of coffee like that one, innocent sentence wasn’t, in reality, dripping with innuendo.

Knowing what he knew about Loki, and picking up the inflection in Dorian's words, Gilmore was fairly sure they'd had more than a conversation. That he himself and Loki had had some similar 'conversations' was something he decided not to mention. Instead, Gilmore gave him a charming, somewhat toothy smile across the table that indicated he understood perfectly. "Oh, wonderful. Well, next time you meet, you can talk about me, and he and I can talk about you, and we'll both rest better knowing we're that much more notorious."

Had he been that obvious? Dorian hadn’t meant to be. For all his talk, he tended toward being a private person and he wasn’t at all the type to kiss, or, well, fuck, and tell for a number of reasons, but apparently his subtlety needed work. Ah, well.

“I do love being talked about,” Dorian replied with a grin as he picked up his menu and sat back comfortably in his seat. Idly perusing the brunch options, he said, “So, you’re collecting book nerds, are you?”

Gilmore laughed warmly. "Well, not so much collecting since I don't mean to keep any of them. I just like to surround myself with brilliant friends. They make me smarter, better, more creative. In return, I let them tell me all about their books, since I barely have any time to read anything than Doctor McCoy doesn't assign, anyway."

“That’s a crime.” There should always be time for pleasure reading. “Honestly, Gilmore, it sounds like we’re making out on this arrangement. Ask any book nerd. We do love any excuse to rant and rave about what we’re reading. A free sounding board is priceless. Especially, when it comes in such a pretty package.”

Gilmore lifted a hand to fluff at his hair, fluttering his lashes down almost coyly. Obviously, he liked to be admired. "How sweet of you to notice. I've always said that presentation is half of the sale. My value proposition is second to none." Though he spoke in the same rich tones, his delivery was quick and light and entirely factual. No false modesty here; Gilmore knew his own attractiveness, and he owned it. "I'd rather be working with my hands than holding a book, but having people telling me stories while I create is inspiring. Media tie-in merchandise sells so much better, too.”

Dorian chuckled. “Well, we all love a way to let our freak flag fly and what better way than wearing it on our person?” He gave a gesture with his ringed hand as if to gesture to himself. He was not the sort to wear media tie-in merchandise, but he had his own plumage he loved putting on display. Most of the clothes and jewelry he owned held no special meaning, but some were nods to his love of science, others to his sexuality, and a rare few were a combination of the two.

“The crepes here are worth committing murder for, by the way,” Dorian said as he set his menu down. “I’m torn between strawberries, or honey banana and almond myself.”

"When in doubt, always choose the excess of flavors," Gilmore advised, giving the menu one last glance. "I'm just not sure I can resist the blueberry pancakes. I love blueberry pancakes." He was not the type to resist delicious temptations, either, judging by the general cuddly-ness around his middle.

“Well, I’m convinced.” It took very little to encourage Dorian to indulge. Self-control had never been his strong suit, and he did love to enjoy himself. He’d been accused of being a hedonist, a assessment he would never argue with. “Honey banana and almond it is. What do you say to mimosas while we’re at it? My treat.”

Gilmore arched one dark brow, a grin slowly blooming. "You enjoy a hint of elegant danger, don't you, my friend? I won't say no, but, will they serve it to you?" His own fake ID was practically flawless, since Percival had made it, but he mainly used it for getting in to dimly-lit bars in the city. Not ordering cocktails at brunch in a respectable bistro.

“They haven’t refused yet, and I doubt they’re about to start,” Dorian replied with his own Cheshire Cat grin. “We’ll leave an obscene tip.”

With a faint shake of his head, Gilmore laughed softly, and swirled one hand in Dorian's direction to concede to him. "You and my boyfriend would make an incredible team. No one would be safe against you," he said rather fondly. "He also assumes the world will bend to his whim, and if not his whim, his platinum card."

“There’s very little in the world that money and the right name can’t get you,” Dorian said as he caught their waiter’s eye. “We’re not accustomed to being told ‘no’. It’s part of our insufferable charm. Heavy on the insufferable in most cases. Eric! Just the man we need.”

Their waiter laughed. “Well, that’s good, ‘cause I’m the man you’re gonna get. What can I get you both?”

Dorian glanced at his menu. “I’ll have the honey banana and almond crepe. And a mimosa, please.”

Did Dorian know everyone? Gilmore glanced between the newly-introduced Eric and Dorian, noting the familiarity, noting Dorian's easy manners. Gilmore had spent enough time in Nolan's society to know that not everyone who had money and status was pleasant with people working in service jobs. It was an indicator of character, he'd come to realize -- just simply treating people like people. That spoke volumes in Dorian's favor.

"I can't resist the blueberry pancakes," Gilmore confessed to Eric, closing his own menu. "Mimosa for me as well." If he said it with the simplicity and confidence that Dorian had, probably it wouldn't even be an issue.

“Got it,” Eric said, scribbling their order down in his pad. “I’ll go put your order in, and bring your drinks over.”

Dorian smiled at him. “Perfect. Thank you.”

As Eric left, Dorian turned that smile onto Gilmore and it warmed further, friendly and good-naturedly playful. “So, tell me about this boyfriend. How did one man get so lucky?”

Gilmore's own smile lit up the way it always did when he got to talk about Nolan. "I have no idea," he purred, leaning forward on the table with his coffee cradled in his hands -- not realizing that he'd misunderstood Dorian's questions completely. Wasn't he the lucky one, after all?

"Nolan is..." He broke into a soft laugh. "Everyone knows who Nolan is. He's a genius, he's brilliant, he's got gobs of money, and for some reason, he agreed to a date with a loud-ass stranger who built him a popsicle-stick model of Minas Tirith. He could have anyone, but... he chose me. It's the most incredible thing I've ever felt in my life, looking at that man and knowing he'd ignored seven and a half billion other people just to go ice-skating with me.”

Well, if that wasn’t both the cutest and most sickeningly sweet thing Dorian had ever heard. “Stop. You’re going to give me a cavity,” he drawled. His smile was soft, though, and tender, and if he had felt an ache of longing at the love Gilmore had described it was his soft, sappy nature to blame and nothing more. “At the risk of more saccharine poetry, I actually meant he was the lucky one. You, after all, ignore seven and a half billion other people just to go ice-skating with him.”

After a confused moment, Gilmore suddenly understood, and laughed again, this time easily and at himself. "Yes, well, I'm not one of the world's top ten billionaires under twenty," he chuckled. "At the time I was just a guy with an unusually successful Etsy shop. Let's call us both lucky."

He sat back with a comfortable sigh, and turned the question around. "What about you, Dorian? Got your eye on anyone?"

Dorian gave a soft laugh at the question. “No, no,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’m more of a free agent.” He’d learned long ago to be careful with his heart. He’d been reckless before, and it had always ended in bruises and breaks. Love wasn’t for him, no matter how much he might long for it. But, enough about that…

“The shop is lovely, by the way.” Dorian picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “I’ve been thinking of commissioning some work. I’m always looking for new, unique jewelry.”

Gilmore touched fingertips to his heart and inclined his head in gratitude for Dorian's kind words about his pride and joy. "I would be delighted to craft a Dorian Pavus original, especially if you can manage to be photographed wearing it," he purred with a wink. "I'm up to my ears in projects at the moment, but friends from school always get preferential treatment at Gilmore's Glorious Goods. What did you have in mind?"

“I was thinking a ring. Whatever strikes your imagination—A Gilmore original. Something that says,” Dorian gestured expansively at himself, “Dorian Pavus. Maybe with an Indian flair.” He’d been trying to get more in touch with his cultural roots lately, in part, admittedly, because it would piss his parents off.

"Now, that I can provide," Gilmore assured him. "Something enormous and ornate, with swirls and rubies?" He leaned back in his seat, expression growing thoughtful. Despite his protestations that he was busy, already he was designing something in his mind's eye. "I'm thinking... something that looks like henna in gold filigree."

Dorian smiled at the faraway gleam of planning in Gilmore’s eye. “I put my fate in your hands completely. Ah, Eric!” He turned that smile onto their waiter as he set set a mimosa down in front of each of them. “Thank you. You’re a hero.”

Eric smiled back. “I’ve put in your orders. Anything else I can do for you guys?”

"Help me toast this charming gentleman and the start of a beautiful friendship?" Gilmore suggested, grinning across at Dorian. He lifted his glass in salute to his new friend. "Couple of brown princes here, about to take the world by storm, and you get exclusive rights to our origin story, Eric," he added with a sly wink.

With a laugh, Eric said, “I’ll hold you to that when you both become famous.”

“Deal. Cross my heart.” Dorian did just that as he lifted his glass to Gilmore with his other hand, smiling across the table at his new friend. “You get the exclusive rights to our origin story and this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”