[ Amos interrupts Prax halfway through his rambling, already able to tell where it is going. No, I'm sorry, nevermind, I didn't mean to bother you, something like that.
But that's not taking into account how much Amos likes the two of them - Mei is sweet, curious and well-behaved and sweet, and Prax, is, well. Nice and polite and quiet and as hot as a thousand suns. So it's not exactly a hardship for Amos to agree to help them. ]
( mei is sweet and curious and well-behaved and prax wants to give her the world every day. he hates that she's sick and that there's little he can do to make it better, but she barely complains. it makes him all the more grateful for how easily and quickly amos says he doesn't mind. )
Thank you.
( the words come out in a rush of relief. )
Eggs and milk, mostly. And chocolate sprinkles, if they have any. ( and on a whim, he adds: ) And whatever you like on pancakes, if you want. Sick days mean pancake days.
[ There's a part of Amos's brain that does a little somersault, trying to find excuses not to impose himself on Prax and his kid. And then, there's another part of him, yearning for the company.
He nods. ]
Okay. Let me put on a jacket and I'll go down. I'll come to yours.
( for being so willing to do this. for not making him feel even more indebted than he already does by not taking him up on the offer of pancakes. for — giving him someone adult to talk to, too.
none of those are the main reason his stomach clenches with excitement, but he can pretend they are. )
[ Amos retreats back into his apartment, getting his jacket and keys, and when he comes back to the door, Prax is gone. It's a quick jog down to the store, getting the essentials Prax asked for, as well as a pack of extra-soft tissues and some of the strawberry flavored cough lozenges, just in case. He doesn't really think as he grabs them off the shelf, paying for everything without looking at the cashier.
He's back to their building in under fifteen minutes. Military efficiency, you might call it. It starts raining just as he fishes for his keys, hard enough from the get go that by the time he's back indoors, he's soaked to the bone, his khaki jacket looking almost dark brown, heavy with water.
He could go home to dry off. He doesn't, knocking on Prax's door instead. ]
( prax has been watching the weather with some concern, hoping that amos is still in the store or that amos brought an umbrella, at least. that amos isn't going to end up regretting giving in to prax's request. he doesn't expect amos to be in front of his door so quickly, or so wet. )
Amos!
( he doesn't know whether to wince or smile. )
Thank you. I'm so sorry. Do you — a towel? Or a shower?
[ Amos smirks, shaking his head a little, letting a few droplets hit Prax. ]
Towel'd be nice. I'll shower back home.
[ Because as much as he'd like to be naked in Prax's vicinity, and has thought about it before, he isn't sure now is the time. He's not fooling himself anyway, he knows it's wishful thinking. ]
( but despite the words, it still takes prax a moment to actually move. to go get that towel for amos. for a moment, he's rooted to the spot, torn still between feeling bad and imagining amos under the shower and —
right. towel. )
Please. Come in.
( he takes the groceries from amos and flees to the kitchen to set them on the counter before finally, finally getting that towel. ) Here you are.
[ Amos steps in, looking around at the apartment. Looks like his own, only more lived in, with a kid's belongings everywhere, not spartan like Amos's own is, no memories to keep safe.
Amos takes the towel that Prax hands him when he comes back, nodding his thanks as he runs it over his head, the back of his neck, his face and beard. He takes off his sodden jacket and hang it up on the back of the front door, drying up his damp arms.
He follows Prax with careful steps, like - well, a soldier casing a new joint. ]
She's still asleep. Being sick always takes it out of her.
( of course it does. a cold on top of her autoimmune disease just makes everything worse and prax is so glad for the fact that mei is resilient, that she's cheerful and leads a happy life despite her illness. that pancakes during sick days still make her smile even when she's feverish. )
( it's a simple statement. three years ago, maybe two years ago, it wouldn't have come out so easily, so matter of factly. prax has made his peace with it, though he knows he'll never be able to forgive her for leaving mei. )
If you could mix? ( he glances at amos' arms as he says it. can't help himself. )
[ It's the best he can do - he's not exactly the comforting type. And he's been alone for most of his life (one night stands, surely, cannot count to someone like Prax), so it's not like he can relate, exactly.
He looks down at his hands, feeling like the whole of him is too big, too bulky, taking too much space in Prax's kitchen. He jumps at the chance to occupy them, and nods. ]
Yeah, sure, I can do that. Just point me to things.
( it wasn't, for a long time. it is now. ) I just wish Mei didn't have to grow up without a mother. ( that's why he minds it. not for his own sake, but for mei's. she's already sick and he can't help her with that beyond making pancakes on the days she gets a cold on top of everything else, besides being there for her. he can't fix her.
he's better with plants, always has been. )
I'll measure out the ingredients. Just - there's a bowl in that cabinet. The blue one. ( it should feel more awkward than this to have someone amos' size in his kitchen, to have amos in his kitchen who's virtually a stranger, for all that he's featured in some of prax's dreams. )
Or — if you want, you can have a beer? And just. Sit? I'm sorry. I don't think I should be putting my guest to work.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Amos interrupts Prax halfway through his rambling, already able to tell where it is going. No, I'm sorry, nevermind, I didn't mean to bother you, something like that.
But that's not taking into account how much Amos likes the two of them - Mei is sweet, curious and well-behaved and sweet, and Prax, is, well. Nice and polite and quiet and as hot as a thousand suns. So it's not exactly a hardship for Amos to agree to help them. ]
What do you need?
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Thank you.
( the words come out in a rush of relief. )
Eggs and milk, mostly. And chocolate sprinkles, if they have any. ( and on a whim, he adds: ) And whatever you like on pancakes, if you want. Sick days mean pancake days.
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His fingers hold on to the door a little tighter when Prax sort of invites him along. ]
Oh, thanks, but - you don't have to. You don't need a guest on top of a sick kid.
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( amos is going out of his way to help him make pancakes for mei, after all, by getting the groceries. )
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He nods. ]
Okay. Let me put on a jacket and I'll go down. I'll come to yours.
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( for being so willing to do this. for not making him feel even more indebted than he already does by not taking him up on the offer of pancakes. for — giving him someone adult to talk to, too.
none of those are the main reason his stomach clenches with excitement, but he can pretend they are. )
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He's back to their building in under fifteen minutes. Military efficiency, you might call it. It starts raining just as he fishes for his keys, hard enough from the get go that by the time he's back indoors, he's soaked to the bone, his khaki jacket looking almost dark brown, heavy with water.
He could go home to dry off. He doesn't, knocking on Prax's door instead. ]
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Amos!
( he doesn't know whether to wince or smile. )
Thank you. I'm so sorry. Do you — a towel? Or a shower?
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Towel'd be nice. I'll shower back home.
[ Because as much as he'd like to be naked in Prax's vicinity, and has thought about it before, he isn't sure now is the time. He's not fooling himself anyway, he knows it's wishful thinking. ]
Here's what you need.
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( but despite the words, it still takes prax a moment to actually move. to go get that towel for amos. for a moment, he's rooted to the spot, torn still between feeling bad and imagining amos under the shower and —
right. towel. )
Please. Come in.
( he takes the groceries from amos and flees to the kitchen to set them on the counter before finally, finally getting that towel. ) Here you are.
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Amos takes the towel that Prax hands him when he comes back, nodding his thanks as he runs it over his head, the back of his neck, his face and beard. He takes off his sodden jacket and hang it up on the back of the front door, drying up his damp arms.
He follows Prax with careful steps, like - well, a soldier casing a new joint. ]
Where's the kid?
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( of course it does. a cold on top of her autoimmune disease just makes everything worse and prax is so glad for the fact that mei is resilient, that she's cheerful and leads a happy life despite her illness. that pancakes during sick days still make her smile even when she's feverish. )
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What about her mom?
[ He's never seen a woman around, but that doesn't mean anything, right? Hopefully he didn't step his foot in it. ]
D'you want any help? I'm no chef, but I can do pancakes.
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( it's a simple statement. three years ago, maybe two years ago, it wouldn't have come out so easily, so matter of factly. prax has made his peace with it, though he knows he'll never be able to forgive her for leaving mei. )
If you could mix? ( he glances at amos' arms as he says it. can't help himself. )
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[ It's the best he can do - he's not exactly the comforting type. And he's been alone for most of his life (one night stands, surely, cannot count to someone like Prax), so it's not like he can relate, exactly.
He looks down at his hands, feeling like the whole of him is too big, too bulky, taking too much space in Prax's kitchen. He jumps at the chance to occupy them, and nods. ]
Yeah, sure, I can do that. Just point me to things.
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( it wasn't, for a long time. it is now. ) I just wish Mei didn't have to grow up without a mother. ( that's why he minds it. not for his own sake, but for mei's. she's already sick and he can't help her with that beyond making pancakes on the days she gets a cold on top of everything else, besides being there for her. he can't fix her.
he's better with plants, always has been. )
I'll measure out the ingredients. Just - there's a bowl in that cabinet. The blue one. ( it should feel more awkward than this to have someone amos' size in his kitchen, to have amos in his kitchen who's virtually a stranger, for all that he's featured in some of prax's dreams. )
Or — if you want, you can have a beer? And just. Sit? I'm sorry. I don't think I should be putting my guest to work.