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xp_logsMiles and Warren have a much-needed catch-up after Morningstar, and things get back to normal for them. And then Warren drops a huge bomb . . .
Miles had come to Warren's condo half a dozen times in the last couple of weeks, stood outside the front door, and then turned around and left. Cowardice got the better of him every time. There was no reason it should have, though. It wasn't like Miles had done anything wrong. He hadn't forgotten family dinners and embarrassed his family. He hadn't ignored repeated cries for help when university threatened to pull his enrollment over finances. He hadn't repeatedly cheated on his significant other, gotten fired from his job, or had misogynistic rantings broadcast for the whole world to see.
Why was risking his life battling Devilman Lady to save Warren's life so much easier by comparison?
He doubted the doorman would let him up the elevator, so he took the longer route. He leaned against the wall outside, his hood covering his face, and when he was sure no one was paying any attention, turned on his camo mode and vanished from sight. It was a long climb up the building to Warren's penthouse, and he shivered the whole way in the frigid winter wind. His fingers were numb by the time he reached the balcony and hopped over the railing. Among the many things Warren owed him now, a cup of hot cocoa was high on the list.
When he saw Warren inside, lounging on a couch that cost more than his tuition, he popped back into sight again and gently tapped on the door. If Warren ignored or dismissed him, he could always tear the door off its hinges and force his way in, but better at first to extend some non-destructive courtesy.
For the life of him, Warren could not figure out how The Shopping Channel stayed in business...at least, prior to his self-imposed (not really) banishment. It was getting to the point where he was fairly certain the call centre reps recognized him.
Everyone was getting either a KitchenAid mixer, Wolfgang Puck cookware, or a laptop this Christmas.
A tapping noise distracted him from the world's greatest curling iron (maybe for Sue?), and when he turned to look, his eyes widened. Miles. Damnit, why was that kid so much better at being a human being than Warren was?
Without thinking too much, Warren hopped up and headed to the door, opening it before realizing he didn't quite know what to say. 'Hi' seemed inadequate. 'You're here' implied he was expecting Miles to be a better man (which was true). Instead he opted for "I really need to add your name and face on my approved list for the doorman. Come in, before you get pneumonia and your mother hates me even more than she does now."
"Ma doesn't hate you," Miles assured him. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up as he stepped inside, then stuffed them in the pocket of his hoodie. He looked around, partly to get a lay of the land, and partly to give him an excuse not to actually return Warren's gaze, which he all of a sudden could not bear. "Though if she saw what you'd neglected to do to this place, she might scold you double."
Warren looked around and suddenly realized he agreed with Miles. "So that's what Bobbi was complaining about this morning...I pretended to be sleeping." After a moment, he gave a crooked smile. "I have no job, you know. How am I supposed to pay for a housekeeper?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, lame joke. Anyways, you know where the kitchen is. Help yourself to something to drink. I've been stress baking so there's loads to choose from, and then you can come help me pick out what colour mixer to get Scott."
Miles turned and went to the kitchen as offered, pulling the good cocoa mix from the cupboard and the carton of milk from the fridge. Which was thankfully fresh, he noticed upon smelling it. He was half-sure Warren only had expired perishables. At least e was on top of some things. "Isn't red his favorite color?" he asked as he poured the milk into a saucepan and set it on top of the stove.
"Isn't that too easy?" Warren flopped back on the couch, confident Miles could take care of himself, and muted the tv. Now the beautiful woman was making odd expressions at the appliances. Another day, he would have made a sexual comment but as is ...well, he was still thinking it but he wasn't going to say it. "Anyways, we don't actually have to discuss mixers. I'm pretty sure you have zero to no opinion on them, considering I don't know if I've ever seen you cook something that wasn't microwavable."
"I don't even know why you'd have a mixer if you have a spoon. Don't they both mix?" Miles gently swirled the saucepan, careful not to let the milk burn. Or worse, turn into ricotta, which he had done once before. (Three times before.) "So are we gonna just keep doing this or can we, like, talk?"
Warren made a face that he hoped Miles couldn't see. He'd stayed hidden away, hoping things would just blow over and he could go back to the status quo. Obviously he knew that wasn't ACTUALLY a good idea and/or plan but still. Part of him liked that idea. A lot. okay all of him did.
Instead, he gave a very drawn out sigh. "Okay, go. I'm going to be honest -- I have so much to apologize for that I can't actually keep track of it all, so can you tell me what I fucked up and I can fix it after? Cause I really am sorry for all of it but like I said, I have no clue of all the details..."
"How can you be sorry if you don't even know what you did?" Miles asked softly, looking down into the contents of his mug. "I almost got kicked out of college because of you. The college you convinced me to go to. You promised me you'd get all the money squared away if I kept up my grades. And I did, even with Spider-Man stuff, and X-Men stuff, and making friends and dating . . . you didn't even know I've got someone now, did you?" He looked up, his brown eyes shining with held-back tears. "I never even came out to you 'cuz you weren't there."
Wait what? Warren looked at Miles with a stunned expression, trying to process everything. "The college thing, okay yes, I remember that and that was supremely shitty of me. I'm glad it all worked out, and I meant to tell you that I've set up an account, just for you, with money automatically deposited in it so that no matter what happens to me, NO MATTER WHAT, your schooling is paid for. I should have done that in the first place, but ..." he sighed and dragged a hand over his hair. "I didn't. I fucked up big time. I'm trying to make up to it, but what's this about coming out? And having someone?" Sitting up, he put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. "Yeah. I fucked up. I never wanted to be this person, you know. I didn't. And I can't even blame my parents because they're so fucking absent, they taught me nothing in the first place." And did he really even want to put blame on other people? No, he really needed to own up, be a fucking grownup for once, and just admit his own faults. "I am ..trying to take responsibility for everything I did. Doesn't matter if I was possessed or something, my own fucking actions caused that." He gave a dry chuckle. "Literally. Miles, I am here for you. I will be here for you as long as you want me in your life. I'm doing my own growing up, and it's hurt lots of people. I'm trying. I am." A pause. "Really. I'm...supposed to go to treatment actually. Hope's got this weird plan for fixing my life and ...it's not half bad. It's going to cost me an arm and a leg and probably my first-born, but whatever. As long as it works."
Miles had steeled himself for a fight. He'd expected Warren to deny, fight back, throw strawmans and what abouts all over his condo. The last thing he predicted was Warren not only owning up to everything, but doing so with a genuine sincerity without any provocation beyond Miles expressing his hurt and a little waterworks. Kind of took the fight straight out of him.
"I . . . that's good to hear. I mean, not how much it's gonna cost, but that you're gonna see someone. Thank you."
Warren gave a sideways smile. "I gotta be a better me, before I can be a better me for you. If that makes sense." He patted a spot on the couch next to him, inviting Miles to sit down. "For what it's worth, I feel so bad you're my practice kid. And if you need therapy after this, let me know because I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. Now. Tell me everything so I can be up to date. Who are you dating?"
Therapy was probably advisable for everyone in the mansion, Miles silently agreed as he joined Warren on the other end of the couch, careful to hold his mug steady. "It's Bobby," he said, glancing at Warren only briefly before looking back at his drink. Even after all this time, including having succeeded the dread meeting the parents, Miles still felt a little jolt of something when spoke his boyfriend's name out loud. Not shame, he could never be ashamed of being with a guy like Bobby. Anxiety, maybe. That little fear that someone would hesitate with him, judge him differently, even just a little bit. He did not want to be more different than he already was.
And yet, there was also something simultaneously liberating about being truthful, and that unlocked more from the young man. "Before Limbo, we'd gone to a party in my dorm, and, well. Alcohol. And then Limbo, and I thought, what if I'm trapped there forever? And I never see him again? So once we got back, I told him the truth, and he said he felt the same way, too, so, you know. Now he's my boyfriend." There was that scary/exciting jolt again.
It took Warren a moment to place the other boy's face. Bobby. He had obviously met him a few times, living in the same space tended to do that, but for actual interactions? Probably once, when he gave Bobby money to buy Miles a birthday gift -- and oh wow, was it really that long ago? "I'm glad to hear that, Miles. I really am....and I find it hilarious that we are both dating someone named Bobby, even if mine is a lot better because obviously I'm going to say that." He paused before giving a grin. "That would easily be the most hilarious and awkward double date ever and now I think it needs to happen."
"Yeah, I don't think your idea of a good date and mine are that much alike. Bobby and I went to Red Lobster for our first date, and that was the most romantic thing we've ever done." Those cheddar biscuits, though. No way to regret that decision. "How, uh, is your Bobbi doing? After everything? She must've been especially messed up about it."
Red Lobster. Warren had to stop the shiver that went down his spine. Cookie-cutter food. "My Bobbi is fine. Thankfully." And boy was he ever thankful for that. "She seems to have accepted that things were bad and now they won't be. I mean, she moved all her things back in." Warren stretched his arms out. "I think I'm going to marry her."
That did it. For all his care and vigilance, Warren finally did something so outrageous and unexpected that Miles spilled his cocoa. He had at least leaned forward far enough that his spit take got all over the glass coffee table and not the couch, but it was a close call. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he openly gaped at Warren. "Wait what. Really?!"
Warren didn't know if he should be offended or not, so instead, he looked amused at Miles sputtering. "You should really use a napkin," Warren pointed out, but he didn't get up to move. "And yes, really. Why shouldn't I? It's been several years, she still tolerates me, and apparently loves me for who I am. I'm also fairly certain she isn't in it for the money since she's had blanket access for over a year, and barely uses it. So. For all those reasons and more, I've decided to marry her." He paused. "Oh, and I do love her. So there's that."
"Sorry." Miles put his mug down (over a coaster!) and grabbed a stack of paper towels from the kitchen. "I mean, if you love her and you're happy together, then yeah. But after everything that happened, is that something you want to do right now? You're not just, like, impulsively acting out after you almost died from demon sex."
That was a fair statement. Warren nodded thoughtfully. " I know what you're saying, Miles. I don't have the best track record for 'clearly thinking things through' but you know what was the whole...precipitating factor, let's say, to my quick whirlwind of descent?" He didn't wait for Miles response. "I actually told her I loved her. Two years. Two years she has put up with me, she's said it to me, and yet have I ever responded in kind? No. And then I did. And I realized I actually meant it. It was terrifying . So I fucked someone in our hot tub, and left Bobbi in Japan." Warren shrugged, belying his actual turmoil at his actions. "And she's still here. Did I say that already? Because holy shit, am I one lucky asshole. She still loves me, and she's here. I think I don't have a choice but to put a ring on it."
Miles had no such struggle displaying his bewilderment. "You left her in another country on the other side of the world. Wow. Please tell me that really was the demons talking and not actually you. Because that's just . . . I don't even know. I'd lose it if a date left me in Jersey City without a ferry ticket."
"She had my credit card?" It was a lame excuse, and Warren knew it. "I'm fairly certain it was the demon fully taking over..same as the whole thing with Lorna, work, just ..everything. I gave up, I stopped fighting it, and yeah. It's done now, I've hit my rock bottom and there's only up from now on. I'll marry Bobbi, I'll get back to work and take over the company, and things should be good." Warren gave a solid nod before widening his eyes. "Oh! And I forgot to ask. You'll be my best man, right?"
It was just one shock after another today. Good thing Miles was not holding his mug anymore, or he'd have thrown it aside in his rush to wrap Warren in a hug. "I, uh . . . wow, Warren, that's really an honor. Thank you. Yes, of course! You're not gonna expect a bachelor party like in Crazy Rich Asians, are you? I don't think I can rent a whole cruise ship full of strippers and coke."
Warren laughed. "Haven't you been listening? I can't do that anymore, Bobbi will leave me....I should probably get around to proposing to her, now that I think about it."
"Yeah, maybe step one first before you actually get into the wedding planning. Also maybe, like, couple's therapy?"
Miles had come to Warren's condo half a dozen times in the last couple of weeks, stood outside the front door, and then turned around and left. Cowardice got the better of him every time. There was no reason it should have, though. It wasn't like Miles had done anything wrong. He hadn't forgotten family dinners and embarrassed his family. He hadn't ignored repeated cries for help when university threatened to pull his enrollment over finances. He hadn't repeatedly cheated on his significant other, gotten fired from his job, or had misogynistic rantings broadcast for the whole world to see.
Why was risking his life battling Devilman Lady to save Warren's life so much easier by comparison?
He doubted the doorman would let him up the elevator, so he took the longer route. He leaned against the wall outside, his hood covering his face, and when he was sure no one was paying any attention, turned on his camo mode and vanished from sight. It was a long climb up the building to Warren's penthouse, and he shivered the whole way in the frigid winter wind. His fingers were numb by the time he reached the balcony and hopped over the railing. Among the many things Warren owed him now, a cup of hot cocoa was high on the list.
When he saw Warren inside, lounging on a couch that cost more than his tuition, he popped back into sight again and gently tapped on the door. If Warren ignored or dismissed him, he could always tear the door off its hinges and force his way in, but better at first to extend some non-destructive courtesy.
For the life of him, Warren could not figure out how The Shopping Channel stayed in business...at least, prior to his self-imposed (not really) banishment. It was getting to the point where he was fairly certain the call centre reps recognized him.
Everyone was getting either a KitchenAid mixer, Wolfgang Puck cookware, or a laptop this Christmas.
A tapping noise distracted him from the world's greatest curling iron (maybe for Sue?), and when he turned to look, his eyes widened. Miles. Damnit, why was that kid so much better at being a human being than Warren was?
Without thinking too much, Warren hopped up and headed to the door, opening it before realizing he didn't quite know what to say. 'Hi' seemed inadequate. 'You're here' implied he was expecting Miles to be a better man (which was true). Instead he opted for "I really need to add your name and face on my approved list for the doorman. Come in, before you get pneumonia and your mother hates me even more than she does now."
"Ma doesn't hate you," Miles assured him. He rubbed his hands together to warm them up as he stepped inside, then stuffed them in the pocket of his hoodie. He looked around, partly to get a lay of the land, and partly to give him an excuse not to actually return Warren's gaze, which he all of a sudden could not bear. "Though if she saw what you'd neglected to do to this place, she might scold you double."
Warren looked around and suddenly realized he agreed with Miles. "So that's what Bobbi was complaining about this morning...I pretended to be sleeping." After a moment, he gave a crooked smile. "I have no job, you know. How am I supposed to pay for a housekeeper?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, lame joke. Anyways, you know where the kitchen is. Help yourself to something to drink. I've been stress baking so there's loads to choose from, and then you can come help me pick out what colour mixer to get Scott."
Miles turned and went to the kitchen as offered, pulling the good cocoa mix from the cupboard and the carton of milk from the fridge. Which was thankfully fresh, he noticed upon smelling it. He was half-sure Warren only had expired perishables. At least e was on top of some things. "Isn't red his favorite color?" he asked as he poured the milk into a saucepan and set it on top of the stove.
"Isn't that too easy?" Warren flopped back on the couch, confident Miles could take care of himself, and muted the tv. Now the beautiful woman was making odd expressions at the appliances. Another day, he would have made a sexual comment but as is ...well, he was still thinking it but he wasn't going to say it. "Anyways, we don't actually have to discuss mixers. I'm pretty sure you have zero to no opinion on them, considering I don't know if I've ever seen you cook something that wasn't microwavable."
"I don't even know why you'd have a mixer if you have a spoon. Don't they both mix?" Miles gently swirled the saucepan, careful not to let the milk burn. Or worse, turn into ricotta, which he had done once before. (Three times before.) "So are we gonna just keep doing this or can we, like, talk?"
Warren made a face that he hoped Miles couldn't see. He'd stayed hidden away, hoping things would just blow over and he could go back to the status quo. Obviously he knew that wasn't ACTUALLY a good idea and/or plan but still. Part of him liked that idea. A lot. okay all of him did.
Instead, he gave a very drawn out sigh. "Okay, go. I'm going to be honest -- I have so much to apologize for that I can't actually keep track of it all, so can you tell me what I fucked up and I can fix it after? Cause I really am sorry for all of it but like I said, I have no clue of all the details..."
"How can you be sorry if you don't even know what you did?" Miles asked softly, looking down into the contents of his mug. "I almost got kicked out of college because of you. The college you convinced me to go to. You promised me you'd get all the money squared away if I kept up my grades. And I did, even with Spider-Man stuff, and X-Men stuff, and making friends and dating . . . you didn't even know I've got someone now, did you?" He looked up, his brown eyes shining with held-back tears. "I never even came out to you 'cuz you weren't there."
Wait what? Warren looked at Miles with a stunned expression, trying to process everything. "The college thing, okay yes, I remember that and that was supremely shitty of me. I'm glad it all worked out, and I meant to tell you that I've set up an account, just for you, with money automatically deposited in it so that no matter what happens to me, NO MATTER WHAT, your schooling is paid for. I should have done that in the first place, but ..." he sighed and dragged a hand over his hair. "I didn't. I fucked up big time. I'm trying to make up to it, but what's this about coming out? And having someone?" Sitting up, he put his head in his hands and sighed heavily. "Yeah. I fucked up. I never wanted to be this person, you know. I didn't. And I can't even blame my parents because they're so fucking absent, they taught me nothing in the first place." And did he really even want to put blame on other people? No, he really needed to own up, be a fucking grownup for once, and just admit his own faults. "I am ..trying to take responsibility for everything I did. Doesn't matter if I was possessed or something, my own fucking actions caused that." He gave a dry chuckle. "Literally. Miles, I am here for you. I will be here for you as long as you want me in your life. I'm doing my own growing up, and it's hurt lots of people. I'm trying. I am." A pause. "Really. I'm...supposed to go to treatment actually. Hope's got this weird plan for fixing my life and ...it's not half bad. It's going to cost me an arm and a leg and probably my first-born, but whatever. As long as it works."
Miles had steeled himself for a fight. He'd expected Warren to deny, fight back, throw strawmans and what abouts all over his condo. The last thing he predicted was Warren not only owning up to everything, but doing so with a genuine sincerity without any provocation beyond Miles expressing his hurt and a little waterworks. Kind of took the fight straight out of him.
"I . . . that's good to hear. I mean, not how much it's gonna cost, but that you're gonna see someone. Thank you."
Warren gave a sideways smile. "I gotta be a better me, before I can be a better me for you. If that makes sense." He patted a spot on the couch next to him, inviting Miles to sit down. "For what it's worth, I feel so bad you're my practice kid. And if you need therapy after this, let me know because I wouldn't blame you in the slightest. Now. Tell me everything so I can be up to date. Who are you dating?"
Therapy was probably advisable for everyone in the mansion, Miles silently agreed as he joined Warren on the other end of the couch, careful to hold his mug steady. "It's Bobby," he said, glancing at Warren only briefly before looking back at his drink. Even after all this time, including having succeeded the dread meeting the parents, Miles still felt a little jolt of something when spoke his boyfriend's name out loud. Not shame, he could never be ashamed of being with a guy like Bobby. Anxiety, maybe. That little fear that someone would hesitate with him, judge him differently, even just a little bit. He did not want to be more different than he already was.
And yet, there was also something simultaneously liberating about being truthful, and that unlocked more from the young man. "Before Limbo, we'd gone to a party in my dorm, and, well. Alcohol. And then Limbo, and I thought, what if I'm trapped there forever? And I never see him again? So once we got back, I told him the truth, and he said he felt the same way, too, so, you know. Now he's my boyfriend." There was that scary/exciting jolt again.
It took Warren a moment to place the other boy's face. Bobby. He had obviously met him a few times, living in the same space tended to do that, but for actual interactions? Probably once, when he gave Bobby money to buy Miles a birthday gift -- and oh wow, was it really that long ago? "I'm glad to hear that, Miles. I really am....and I find it hilarious that we are both dating someone named Bobby, even if mine is a lot better because obviously I'm going to say that." He paused before giving a grin. "That would easily be the most hilarious and awkward double date ever and now I think it needs to happen."
"Yeah, I don't think your idea of a good date and mine are that much alike. Bobby and I went to Red Lobster for our first date, and that was the most romantic thing we've ever done." Those cheddar biscuits, though. No way to regret that decision. "How, uh, is your Bobbi doing? After everything? She must've been especially messed up about it."
Red Lobster. Warren had to stop the shiver that went down his spine. Cookie-cutter food. "My Bobbi is fine. Thankfully." And boy was he ever thankful for that. "She seems to have accepted that things were bad and now they won't be. I mean, she moved all her things back in." Warren stretched his arms out. "I think I'm going to marry her."
That did it. For all his care and vigilance, Warren finally did something so outrageous and unexpected that Miles spilled his cocoa. He had at least leaned forward far enough that his spit take got all over the glass coffee table and not the couch, but it was a close call. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he openly gaped at Warren. "Wait what. Really?!"
Warren didn't know if he should be offended or not, so instead, he looked amused at Miles sputtering. "You should really use a napkin," Warren pointed out, but he didn't get up to move. "And yes, really. Why shouldn't I? It's been several years, she still tolerates me, and apparently loves me for who I am. I'm also fairly certain she isn't in it for the money since she's had blanket access for over a year, and barely uses it. So. For all those reasons and more, I've decided to marry her." He paused. "Oh, and I do love her. So there's that."
"Sorry." Miles put his mug down (over a coaster!) and grabbed a stack of paper towels from the kitchen. "I mean, if you love her and you're happy together, then yeah. But after everything that happened, is that something you want to do right now? You're not just, like, impulsively acting out after you almost died from demon sex."
That was a fair statement. Warren nodded thoughtfully. " I know what you're saying, Miles. I don't have the best track record for 'clearly thinking things through' but you know what was the whole...precipitating factor, let's say, to my quick whirlwind of descent?" He didn't wait for Miles response. "I actually told her I loved her. Two years. Two years she has put up with me, she's said it to me, and yet have I ever responded in kind? No. And then I did. And I realized I actually meant it. It was terrifying . So I fucked someone in our hot tub, and left Bobbi in Japan." Warren shrugged, belying his actual turmoil at his actions. "And she's still here. Did I say that already? Because holy shit, am I one lucky asshole. She still loves me, and she's here. I think I don't have a choice but to put a ring on it."
Miles had no such struggle displaying his bewilderment. "You left her in another country on the other side of the world. Wow. Please tell me that really was the demons talking and not actually you. Because that's just . . . I don't even know. I'd lose it if a date left me in Jersey City without a ferry ticket."
"She had my credit card?" It was a lame excuse, and Warren knew it. "I'm fairly certain it was the demon fully taking over..same as the whole thing with Lorna, work, just ..everything. I gave up, I stopped fighting it, and yeah. It's done now, I've hit my rock bottom and there's only up from now on. I'll marry Bobbi, I'll get back to work and take over the company, and things should be good." Warren gave a solid nod before widening his eyes. "Oh! And I forgot to ask. You'll be my best man, right?"
It was just one shock after another today. Good thing Miles was not holding his mug anymore, or he'd have thrown it aside in his rush to wrap Warren in a hug. "I, uh . . . wow, Warren, that's really an honor. Thank you. Yes, of course! You're not gonna expect a bachelor party like in Crazy Rich Asians, are you? I don't think I can rent a whole cruise ship full of strippers and coke."
Warren laughed. "Haven't you been listening? I can't do that anymore, Bobbi will leave me....I should probably get around to proposing to her, now that I think about it."
"Yeah, maybe step one first before you actually get into the wedding planning. Also maybe, like, couple's therapy?"
