(no subject)
In the past, there's always been a look to the men Sean would date. Slim-built pretty-boys for the most part. He's dated artists and actors, musicians and writers--never anybody too butch or too "queer."
He'd worried sometimes, about how the media would react if he was outed, what his fans would think of him. He'd always thought it'd go easier on is reputation and career to be perceived as the "man" of the relationship.
When he's more honest with himself, he'll admit he's been so selective because he's been afraid of feeling small and weak and floofy.
Waking with Dave's arm draped over him, he feels none of those things. Safe, yes. Loved, yes. Resting in the pre-dawn hours, he doesn’t feel the need to prove his strength or independence. He relaxes into the now of it, watching the numbers on the alarm clock turn and listening to Dave breathe.
He dozes for a bit and when he opens his eyes again it's time to turn the thing off before the beeping starts. Dave mumbles a protest as Sean slips out of bed, pulls the blankets against his chest before he settles down again.
Sean dresses in the near-darkness then resets the alarm for a more reasonable time.
Dave's hair is too short to be soft, but it is sleek under Sean's hand.
"Hey," Sean says, his voice soft as Dave makes the difficult climb to consciousness. Dark eyes blink at Sean in the dim light.
"I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye." They both know Sean's schedule: the wrap-party for the film he's working on tonight, then a red-eye flight to New York for a week's filming of a guest-spot on a crime show.
"I'll walk you out," Dave rubs his face and shakes his head, finally attaining a semblance of wakefulness. Sleepy, he follows Sean down to the living room. Sean stands on the doorstep, Dave just inside the apartment.
"Can I call you from New York?" Sean asks.
"I'd like that." Dave leans against the doorframe, his elbow above his head, the side of his face cushioned against his bicep.
Sean thinks he's beautiful like this, all soft and relaxed. There's a youth and vulnerability showing that's all the more special because it is so rare.
"Can I kiss you?" Sean asks, knowing the answer, just because he likes the way Dave says yes.
"I'd like that too," and he just stands there waiting, letting Sean step in and lean down and brush their lips together.
It's the first kiss that Sean can remember savoring for the kiss itself. It's not foreplay; it is a prelude to nothing but their parting. Sean worries that he may have morning breath, so he keeps it shallow, and somehow that makes it more intimate. There's nothing rushed about it--nothing of the frantic "is this the last one before he goes back to the mother of his son?" feel that his encounters with Reedus tended to have.
"I'll call you," Sean whispers as he pulls back. He knows he's stalling but he can't resist brushing his thumb over Dave's lips one last time. He's rewarded with a drowsy smile.
"Go back to sleep," Sean says.
"I will. Have a nice trip."
Sean waits until he hears the dead-bolt click before he heads to his car and the beginning of his day.