Vacation Day 3 - Contemplation and Strawberries: [Chase and Wilson at the Banks]
Wilson was up and puttering around with the morning sunbeams. He owed a certain BRAT breakfast in bed and he also had a few thoughts niggling at his brain so he’d gone ahead and pried himself out of the super sized bed, smirking with amusement as the still mostly asleep Chase managed to try to take over the whole thing.
Tugging a t-shirt on over top of his boxers and flipping on some soft music, the oncologist started a pot of coffee for himself and then wandered over to the round table where he and Robert had set up their laptops and spread out medical texts the night before. Sitting down at the table, he booted up his computer and then picked up the notepad he’d been working on, carrying it back to the kitchen area of the house.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Wilson flipped through his notes, refreshing his memory on what he’d been working on and retriggering the idea which had jumped on him in his sleepy state this morning. Walking back over to the table, he settled down and worked for a little while on Rowan’s file. Putting together some more scenarios and possible responses, every time he thought he had it nailed down another possibility presented. It was a constant case of ‘if this…then that…then that…but if that…then this.’
It was all making Wilson’s head spin.
Letting Chase sleep for another hour or so until he reached a good stopping point Wilson indulged in a bone cracking stretch and yawn before he set the computer to hibernate and stood up. Peering forlornly into his coffee mug as if coffee might have magically appeared in the ceramic container, the older man made his way back to the kitchen. Setting his mug down by the coffee pot, he poured the last of his original pot into the mug and then flushed the rest down the drain, setting up a fresh pot for Robert.
He then began to rummage around in the fridge and the cabinets, looking for all the goodies he would need for Chase’s breakfast in bed.
“Smart ass brat is going to be the death of me.”
The oncologist groused good naturedly to the sea breezes coasting in through the open screen doors as he began to set out items. Eggs, waffle mix, fresh strawberries among some other fresh fruits they’d picked up at the farmers’ market the day before, multi-grain toast, extra lean Canadian bacon, grapefruit, granola and yogurt.
Humming softly along with the quiet music playing across the large open room, Wilson began to prepare the food, letting his mind drift across the past few days. They had been good days, not just for the obvious reasons but also because they had given Wilson some much needed quiet time to get a hold of the frayed threads of his life and tug them into some sort of order.
And order he knew was only fleeting unless he stopped only treating the symptoms and instead went after the primary cancer eating at his soul.
It hadn’t been an easy decision to come to and Wilson knew that he could stand here, in the kitchen of this rented house in the place he loved the most and feel up to the challenge of trying to face and undo almost forty years of damage but that when it came time to actually do it…that was when he was going to need help.
Wilson’s lips twitched in a hint of a sneer. His opinion of shrinks had not changed over the past three days. He still hated them…but some intense soul searching, done out on the beach when he and Robert had dozed together on the sands identified that a lot of the anger he’d channeled towards the psychiatric profession was misplaced rage at his parents.
He couldn’t hate his mother and father…they were his parents and he loved them but he could hate the shrinks and so thirty years of suppressed pain and anger had been aimed in that direction. But now, if he really wanted to help himself…if he really wanted to get this tiger by the tail so that it never threatened Robert, he was going to have to accept the truth of whom he really needed to be angry at, suck it up and walk into Atherton’s office with a genuine desire to make it work.
Atherton…well, really any shrink… could only go so far, Wilson needed to come the rest of the way and that was going to be a fight as he tried to overcome all those years of self conditioning otherwise.
You promised Robert you’d fight for him, even if it was yourself you had to do battle with. It’s not going to be easy but you keep saying he’s worth the risks…time to suit action to pretty words, Jimmymeboy.
Chasing the Canadian bacon out of the skillet and onto a paper towel to blot it, Wilson firmly set aside his musings for later and concentrated his efforts on getting Chase’s breakfast onto a tray. Waffles with fresh strawberries, butter and syrup off to the side, two eggs, Canadian bacon, toast, a side of grapefruit and the special treat…. A yogurt, granola and fresh fruit parfait topped off with coffee and juice. The oncologist smirked impishly and nodded to himself.
“Sometimes I amaze even myself.”
Grinning fiendishly he picked up the laden tray and maneuvered his way towards the master bedroom, nudging open the door with his toe he quietly set the tray down on the low dresser at the end of the bed. Crawling up from the foot of the bed to his lover’s side, Wilson fought to stifle his laughter as he leaned down to place a tender kiss, right against the curve of Chase’s neck, whispering sweetly in his ear.
“Wake up, Smartass.”
Tugging a t-shirt on over top of his boxers and flipping on some soft music, the oncologist started a pot of coffee for himself and then wandered over to the round table where he and Robert had set up their laptops and spread out medical texts the night before. Sitting down at the table, he booted up his computer and then picked up the notepad he’d been working on, carrying it back to the kitchen area of the house.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Wilson flipped through his notes, refreshing his memory on what he’d been working on and retriggering the idea which had jumped on him in his sleepy state this morning. Walking back over to the table, he settled down and worked for a little while on Rowan’s file. Putting together some more scenarios and possible responses, every time he thought he had it nailed down another possibility presented. It was a constant case of ‘if this…then that…then that…but if that…then this.’
It was all making Wilson’s head spin.
Letting Chase sleep for another hour or so until he reached a good stopping point Wilson indulged in a bone cracking stretch and yawn before he set the computer to hibernate and stood up. Peering forlornly into his coffee mug as if coffee might have magically appeared in the ceramic container, the older man made his way back to the kitchen. Setting his mug down by the coffee pot, he poured the last of his original pot into the mug and then flushed the rest down the drain, setting up a fresh pot for Robert.
He then began to rummage around in the fridge and the cabinets, looking for all the goodies he would need for Chase’s breakfast in bed.
“Smart ass brat is going to be the death of me.”
The oncologist groused good naturedly to the sea breezes coasting in through the open screen doors as he began to set out items. Eggs, waffle mix, fresh strawberries among some other fresh fruits they’d picked up at the farmers’ market the day before, multi-grain toast, extra lean Canadian bacon, grapefruit, granola and yogurt.
Humming softly along with the quiet music playing across the large open room, Wilson began to prepare the food, letting his mind drift across the past few days. They had been good days, not just for the obvious reasons but also because they had given Wilson some much needed quiet time to get a hold of the frayed threads of his life and tug them into some sort of order.
And order he knew was only fleeting unless he stopped only treating the symptoms and instead went after the primary cancer eating at his soul.
It hadn’t been an easy decision to come to and Wilson knew that he could stand here, in the kitchen of this rented house in the place he loved the most and feel up to the challenge of trying to face and undo almost forty years of damage but that when it came time to actually do it…that was when he was going to need help.
Wilson’s lips twitched in a hint of a sneer. His opinion of shrinks had not changed over the past three days. He still hated them…but some intense soul searching, done out on the beach when he and Robert had dozed together on the sands identified that a lot of the anger he’d channeled towards the psychiatric profession was misplaced rage at his parents.
He couldn’t hate his mother and father…they were his parents and he loved them but he could hate the shrinks and so thirty years of suppressed pain and anger had been aimed in that direction. But now, if he really wanted to help himself…if he really wanted to get this tiger by the tail so that it never threatened Robert, he was going to have to accept the truth of whom he really needed to be angry at, suck it up and walk into Atherton’s office with a genuine desire to make it work.
Atherton…well, really any shrink… could only go so far, Wilson needed to come the rest of the way and that was going to be a fight as he tried to overcome all those years of self conditioning otherwise.
You promised Robert you’d fight for him, even if it was yourself you had to do battle with. It’s not going to be easy but you keep saying he’s worth the risks…time to suit action to pretty words, Jimmymeboy.
Chasing the Canadian bacon out of the skillet and onto a paper towel to blot it, Wilson firmly set aside his musings for later and concentrated his efforts on getting Chase’s breakfast onto a tray. Waffles with fresh strawberries, butter and syrup off to the side, two eggs, Canadian bacon, toast, a side of grapefruit and the special treat…. A yogurt, granola and fresh fruit parfait topped off with coffee and juice. The oncologist smirked impishly and nodded to himself.
“Sometimes I amaze even myself.”
Grinning fiendishly he picked up the laden tray and maneuvered his way towards the master bedroom, nudging open the door with his toe he quietly set the tray down on the low dresser at the end of the bed. Crawling up from the foot of the bed to his lover’s side, Wilson fought to stifle his laughter as he leaned down to place a tender kiss, right against the curve of Chase’s neck, whispering sweetly in his ear.
“Wake up, Smartass.”