1964-11-27 - On Family
Summary: A fine evening with some inappropriate words over dinner.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
lamont lindon 

Lindon has lived a blessed life lately. No sign of evil wizards, no harassment of the mystical variety. Just a man living with another man and three kittens. At the moment, he's dressed in a rare casual display of jeans and a t-shirt. It shows his thinness, but he doesn't look bad at all. Especially if one likes them slender. He's in the kitchen, taking a pan of bread from the oven to cool. There's a stew that's been stewing all day. It's the kind of food that warms one up on a cold day, and it can be served at any time.

Dark avenger or no, certain annoying things have to be tended to. So Lamont's been out talking to his lawyer, banker, doctor. The ones you can't avoid. So he has a slightly pinched look when he comes into the kitchen, having left overcoat and ordinary white scarf in the hall. "That smells wonderful," he says, softly. "Quiet day?"

"Yeah," Lindon says. "Work was slow so they let me go early. I figured we had that roast in the fridge that needed to be used, so…" So stew, and kittens with full bellies asleep on chairs nearby. Though as Lamont comes in, Pye wakes up, stretches, and pads toward him with a 'mrip?' Puck is already bigger than the other two despite being a month younger. If his paws are any indication, he's going to be a monster. Lindon comes over to give Lamont a kiss, and he murmurs, "You look stressed out. Let me get you a drink."

He smiles, that funny, lambent smile that lightens his face so starkly. "Times like this," he says, gently, "I wish you were a woman so I could just marry you and have done with it." He stoops to pick up Pye, and settles her on his shoulder, where she balances, carefully.

Lindon grins and ducks his head. "I suppose I'd be Linda." A tall woman, no doubt. He goes to fetch Lamont a glass of fine scotch, just the thing to relax with, and he sets it beside him. Pye purrs and snurfles his ear. She's happy her human is home. Lindon kisses Lamont's cheek. "Maybe someday they'll let us get married. I would say yes, of course. There are cultures that have let it happen before, there'll be cultures that let it happen again."

The idea pleases him, that's clear. He contemplates it, mainly via gazing dreamily into the depths of the glass. "Indeed," he says, as he glances up o give Lindon a little smile. "I actually altered my will in your favor, today. The house….it has to stay in the family, but if I should die before you, you can live here as long as you please before it reverts."

Lindon's brows lift. "Did you? Goodness. Of course, since you'll live forever and I'll never have to be without you, it's an interesting bit of trivia." He tries to pass it off, but those dark eyes are so serious. He kisses Lamont atop his head, pets Pye, and murmurs, "You take such good care of me, I'm humbled. What can I say but thank you?"

"I'm tough and I'll live a very long time, but I can be killed," Lamont says. Keeping his tone light, but the gray eyes are earnest. "There's also a trust, in case. YOu'll never lack on that front."

"I live such a charmed life," Lindon says. "You'll make me start to feel messy emotions if you're not careful." He smiles, though, and he adds, "Thank you." Then he slips back into the kitchen to serve up stew and fresh baked bread. All he's missing is the frilly apron to complete the tableau. "It's a relief to know I'll always be able to take care of Josie." He pauses, then says awkwardly, "Who knows we're a couple."

Lamont lifts a brow, promptingly. He doesn't seem terribly alarmed by this revelaton. "Oh?" he says, as he sips from the glass, and sets Pye down so she can go crunch kibble, tail laid out behind her.

"She said 'it's about time,'" Lindon says flatly. He sits with his own portion of stew and bread, with a glass of red wine to drink. "I guess to her it was pretty obvious we were giving each other, and I quote, 'goo-goo eyes.'" He sighs a big brother sigh. Then he grins despite himself. "At least we have her approval."

For a moment, Cranston is a picture of bemusement: brows arched, lips pursed, and the faintest streaky blush over his cheeks. Then he barks laughter. "WE are not subtle when we're at home, I suppose, and your sister is far from oblivious. Doesn't mind, eh?"

Lindon's cheeks color, and he pokes at his stew. "I suppose we're not," he says. "And no, she doesn't mind. You make me happy. I think she knows that." He glances up from his food and smiles. "It's kind of nice. We can be a family with no secrets from one another. Well, none along those lines. I wonder sometimes what our parents would think, but…" He trails off, then shrugs a shoulder. "They left us, so we muddle through the best we can."

Lamont gazes at Lindon over the table. "That is all I can hope for. My father was an old terror, and he'd've hated that in me. Did hate it, when he suspected, when I was a young man. I was fairly inseparable from my first lover, though we could excuse most of it as being old school chums." He nods, approving in term. "My mother…..she didn't care. I think she knew - call it intuition."

"I don't think they would have ever stopped loving us," Lindon says, "but I think they would have prayed for us to shed our sin. I know my mother did with Josie. Josie wasn't subtle, and Mom freaked out a lot. They just had that kind of relationship. Mom and I, we were close. I don't know what she would've done. Dad was so gentle. I never saw him get worked up about anything but stories on the news about the homeless and needy. Those bugged him. But anything else?" He shrugs and shakes his head. "It's weird never getting to know what they would've thought of the real me."

What a question. Monty gets that distant look, brows drawing together. "The real me. I wonder if one's family ever really gets to see that in any case. I'm sad I didn't meet your parents. They sound like good people."

"They were good people," Lindon agrees. "Good, loving people. I hope Josie sees that someday, that Mom only freaked out because she was afraid of losing her baby girl. It might not have been the best reaction, but it was out of love, you know?" Of course he'll defend his mother. He has Mama's Boy written all over him. "I think they would have liked you. You know, after the initial 'what are your intentions' phase passed."

Lamont smiles that wicked smile. "To utterly deprave and debauch your cloistered, innocent son. Because he has a sweet mouth and a cock like a railroad spike." Of course he can't resist making it dirty.

Lindon's cheeks flush. "Kent Allard!" Lindon scolds. "At the dinner table?" Man, does he look scandalized. Those big brown eyes are wide, and his features stunned. He stabs at a bit of meat in his stew and takes a bite defiantly. The dinner table. If Lamont had ever met Lindon's mother, this would've been even funnier.

Of course he can't help but laugh, softly - that sinister chuckle. "At the very dinner table," he confirms, pleased that the bolt has struck home. Then he starts on his stew, content to cease his wickedness for the moment.

Lindon eats with table manners that are just a little exaggerated. He must bring this dinner situation back to rights. After a moment, he says, "Your elusive friend tended the rest of the herb beds in the back yard today. I thought that was very nice of her. Unless you did it?" Putting plants to bed for the winter is an important job. The layers of straw and leaves doesn't look great, but it protects those tender shoots from ice and snow.

That makes him pause. "My what?" he asks, setting his spoon down, with a kind of care. "For no, I didn't work on it today. I meant to. But….all that legal nonsense to deal with."

"The woman you let stay here? What's her name… Clara? Chloe? She's gone most of the time, but I saw someone did the beds, and she likes gardening, so I put two and two together. Unless we've got a garden fairy I don't know about." He smiles at the thought. Despite what he knows about fairies.

"Oh, yes," Lamont says, a little vaguely. He's polite as he can be, kind in a distant way, but …..uncertain around her. More discretion at home, these days, with a guest. "I still need to speak to Maximus about her…."

"Oh, she and Maximus know one another?" Lindon's voice perks up a little in tone. Goodness knows why he collects the strange ones, then finds them so endearing. "Tell him hello when you see him." He smiles, and he sops up some of the stew with his bread, so prim and proper. "She did a good job. Better than I did on mine."

"She came here apparently at his reference," Lamont says, solemnly. "Involved in whatever secret society or world Maximus is. Afraid of aliens that can pass as human. Sounds mad, I know, but….I've been far enough to know how likely it truly is."

"Aliens," Lindon says. "It's too bad the only knowledge I have of them is through the lense of human history. Can you imagine being able to get into the mind of, say, an Asgardian?" He takes a drink of his wine, then adds, "You'll let me know if we face imminent invasion? I've been having such a good week, too."

Lamont leans across the table to kiss him, a quick peck on the cheek. "Of course, my love. I have, too."

Lindon leans into the kiss and grins. All impropriety has been forgiven. "We have to cherish these times," he says. "You know it can't last. The ebb and flow of the universe doesn't allow for it. Waves crest, they recede." He exhales slowly, then says, "Sorry. I was having a moment there."

"That is the truth, beloved," he admits. No denying, no denial there. Not a bit. "But we may well get a longer run than most."

"I know you will," Lindon says. He sets down his wine and takes Lamont's hand. "I don't know how I'd trick time into letting me linger, and the way things are bound to go…" He doesn't talk too much about what the visions will eventually do to him, not these days, but the reality hangs there, heavy in his mind. "Every moment will count, however many there might be."

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