Paul shakes his head at the remark, the barest hint of a smile on his face. They're running into old jokes. Good jokes. Jokes is a stretch for what they do, but it comes close.
"Always working on it," he confesses, and he wouldn't want it any other way. He likes that Loki's asking. He likes Loki.
Fuck, he missed this. He finally goes back to his eggs.
Everything's okay again once Paul goes back to his eggs. There was a deep fear in Loki that he'd fuck something up and make Paul leave again; the eggs were a signal he would stick around for a few more minutes at least.
God, Loki had missed him so much.
"I got my job. Keeps me busy." That and he had less than no interest. That wasn't to say he didn't find girls attractive, he just- wasn't normal. He knew he was weird, hyper obsessive, with some Ideas marked upon his body to show his dedication, his belief, his temper. But he was still fundamentally broken. Maybe he should have elaborated and fleshed out specifically what he did in his job, but it hit too close to home and heart.
"You?" He looks back up with the question and takes a bite of his toast.
Odd. Girls always tended to like Loki. Or maybe Paul was just a little more observant in that regard, watching the way good ol' god fearing girls would look at the Other ones, the Bad Kids from the boys home across the way. It's Loki's brow, probably. Or the curve of his distinct nose, or that strong chin. The hair that always--even now--threatens to escape from being slicked back at any moment. The complete and utter certitude when it comes to jumping into the fray, wild eyed and desperate and manic and alive, truly and utterly alive and in the moment.
For as observant as Loki is, Paul has to wonder--not for the first time--how much of that he was aware of. Paul caught it right away. Probably, he thinks, because he looked at Loki the same way those girls did.
The question is levied at him and he shakes his head. There was a girl--beautiful, with a pixie cut and a good kid and a husband that tried to do right. He wonders if she got the message he left, still sees her horrified face as the elevator doors shut. More proof of who he is, who he'll always be. Loki, though...
"Not interested," he finally confirms it verbally. It's not a lie.
Loki wishes he could be surprised, though he was surprised at how the answer made something swell in his chest - a hope, a happiness that Paul was still unattached. He didn't have to deal with the idea of Paul with someone. He wanted Paul to be happy, of course, but- Them miserable but together was better than Loki gut wrenched and alone.
Loki didn't consider himself attractive but he was painfully aware of Paul's - arresting eyes, soft and unobtrusive until he was pissed. Until he took up all the air in the room with his too quiet and somehow devastatingly weighty threats, the way every movement was suggestive. Loki wasn't the only one that those good ol' God fearing girls stared at. Paul was taller, more handsome - Loki didn't have a chance standing next to him.
He smiles a little despite himself and fishes a pen out of his breast pocket. "Surprised you didn't lift it off the paperwork." A napkin is pulled over and Loki scribbles down his numbers, fresh out of business cards. He didn't like business cards - anyone could find one and get a hold of him. He was paranoid about that.
Why wasn't Paul interested? It felt like something else that shouldn't be discussed in public, so Loki doesn't ask.
"I don't keep regular hours so you can call whenever. I'll pick up if I can." Once the pen is in his pocket, Loki picks up his fork again.
"You gonna hang around town for a few more months then?"
Paul could have. He was planning on doing it even if Loki declined to give it to him, which is probably shitty, but Paul doesn't mind too much. It's nice that Loki's giving it to him, Paul finding it a bit funny that he has a pen ready (of course he does, he's a cop now), but once it's slid over Paul accepts it, three fingers pulling it towards him before he takes the whole thing with both hands as he slides it off the table, smiling softly for a brief second again.
It's just nice to have something with Loki's handwriting. Something Loki's touched, just in case. It feels fragile in his hands, like he might crumble like their relationship had.
"That's the plan." Maybe six months before moving a city again, starting over once more. Nino's on his case, even if Irene's safe. Weird, how there's a pit in his stomach now. Loki's given the offer to call whenever he wants. Paul clutches the napkin a little tighter, half-lifts it up, voice so soft it's almost inaudible.
"I'm gonna call you." There's an alarming amount of resolve in that phrase.
Loki studies him. Smiles in a way that reaches all the way up his forehead. Good. He found himself already looking forward to it. And when Paul left again - Loki had no delusions about his childhood friend, and even if he did, you never stay in the first town you've skip outta town too - he could still call. They wouldn't be alone as they were 24 hours ago.
Loki's plate is empty now, shoveled in, and the last piece of toast he has smearing up the yolk from his eggs. He didn't realize how hungry he'd been.
"You're gonna have to. I still need that car." No, he knew Paul would slip out, slip the promise if he felt he wanted to, but it was nice to pretend for the sake of a conversation. He should probably go to work, but damn if he didn't want the hour to stretch longer. It didn't really matter why Paul was here. Paul was here.
Loki smiles and Paul can feel his heart melting, can feel him wanting to mirror it back. He's gripping the little piece of paper tightly, not wanting to let go of it with either hand, first: a child with his very first valentine, completely smitten by the way his crush smiles. He almost feels happy. Loki seems to have the same idea, offering small talk they should both theoretically hate but feels easy with each other. Neither of them like to beat around the bush, neither of them had ever shied away from that sort of confrontation--sans Paul's preternatural ability to end most of things by simply not responding--but they're skirting around things right now.
But there's an unsaid promise between the two of them. Paul would call. Loki would pick up. And for now, Paul has a car to fix and Loki has a job. Paul places the numbered napkin in his pants, grabbing his wallet and pay for the both of them with a generous tip and a fistfull of dollars. They both eat quickly when they remember to: runoff of the boys home. He shakes his head.
"I gotta go to work." There was something mournful in the saying of it, but reality was never far away with its drum of neverending grind.
They get up and head towards the door, but Loki stops there on the sidewalk, hands buried into the coat pockets that he had redonned before leaving the diner. He smiles at Paul, really takes a second to soak in his features.
"I'm gonna walk. The station isn't far." His eyes dart between Paul's devastatingly blue eyes. "You make sure you call me, alright?"
Don't break his heart again. It's just a phone call. Just a connection. Let him have that.
"It was good to see you Paul." He smiles and stays for a heartbeat longer before turning and walking away. The station really wasn't that far and frankly, he needed the walk. To breathe, to get himself under control, to stop and absorb - really absorb the fact that Paul was here.
He had been in love with Paul since he was 15. Since he was old enough to really know what love was. Since he was old enough to know that he didn't want to think about what life would be like without Paul next to him. Except he knew what that was like now and, like a starving man, he was hungry for whatever scraps of Paul he was allowed.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Always working on it," he confesses, and he wouldn't want it any other way. He likes that Loki's asking. He likes Loki.
Fuck, he missed this. He finally goes back to his eggs.
"Got a girl?"
no subject
God, Loki had missed him so much.
"I got my job. Keeps me busy." That and he had less than no interest. That wasn't to say he didn't find girls attractive, he just- wasn't normal. He knew he was weird, hyper obsessive, with some Ideas marked upon his body to show his dedication, his belief, his temper. But he was still fundamentally broken. Maybe he should have elaborated and fleshed out specifically what he did in his job, but it hit too close to home and heart.
"You?" He looks back up with the question and takes a bite of his toast.
no subject
For as observant as Loki is, Paul has to wonder--not for the first time--how much of that he was aware of. Paul caught it right away. Probably, he thinks, because he looked at Loki the same way those girls did.
The question is levied at him and he shakes his head. There was a girl--beautiful, with a pixie cut and a good kid and a husband that tried to do right. He wonders if she got the message he left, still sees her horrified face as the elevator doors shut. More proof of who he is, who he'll always be. Loki, though...
"Not interested," he finally confirms it verbally. It's not a lie.
"Give me your number."
no subject
Loki didn't consider himself attractive but he was painfully aware of Paul's - arresting eyes, soft and unobtrusive until he was pissed. Until he took up all the air in the room with his too quiet and somehow devastatingly weighty threats, the way every movement was suggestive. Loki wasn't the only one that those good ol' God fearing girls stared at. Paul was taller, more handsome - Loki didn't have a chance standing next to him.
He smiles a little despite himself and fishes a pen out of his breast pocket. "Surprised you didn't lift it off the paperwork." A napkin is pulled over and Loki scribbles down his numbers, fresh out of business cards. He didn't like business cards - anyone could find one and get a hold of him. He was paranoid about that.
Why wasn't Paul interested? It felt like something else that shouldn't be discussed in public, so Loki doesn't ask.
"I don't keep regular hours so you can call whenever. I'll pick up if I can." Once the pen is in his pocket, Loki picks up his fork again.
"You gonna hang around town for a few more months then?"
no subject
It's just nice to have something with Loki's handwriting. Something Loki's touched, just in case. It feels fragile in his hands, like he might crumble like their relationship had.
"That's the plan." Maybe six months before moving a city again, starting over once more. Nino's on his case, even if Irene's safe. Weird, how there's a pit in his stomach now. Loki's given the offer to call whenever he wants. Paul clutches the napkin a little tighter, half-lifts it up, voice so soft it's almost inaudible.
"I'm gonna call you." There's an alarming amount of resolve in that phrase.
no subject
Loki's plate is empty now, shoveled in, and the last piece of toast he has smearing up the yolk from his eggs. He didn't realize how hungry he'd been.
"You're gonna have to. I still need that car." No, he knew Paul would slip out, slip the promise if he felt he wanted to, but it was nice to pretend for the sake of a conversation. He should probably go to work, but damn if he didn't want the hour to stretch longer. It didn't really matter why Paul was here. Paul was here.
"I'll try to take better care of it this time."
no subject
But there's an unsaid promise between the two of them. Paul would call. Loki would pick up. And for now, Paul has a car to fix and Loki has a job. Paul places the numbered napkin in his pants, grabbing his wallet and pay for the both of them with a generous tip and a fistfull of dollars. They both eat quickly when they remember to: runoff of the boys home. He shakes his head.
"You gotta go to work."
no subject
They get up and head towards the door, but Loki stops there on the sidewalk, hands buried into the coat pockets that he had redonned before leaving the diner. He smiles at Paul, really takes a second to soak in his features.
"I'm gonna walk. The station isn't far." His eyes dart between Paul's devastatingly blue eyes. "You make sure you call me, alright?"
Don't break his heart again. It's just a phone call. Just a connection. Let him have that.
"It was good to see you Paul." He smiles and stays for a heartbeat longer before turning and walking away. The station really wasn't that far and frankly, he needed the walk. To breathe, to get himself under control, to stop and absorb - really absorb the fact that Paul was here.
He had been in love with Paul since he was 15. Since he was old enough to really know what love was. Since he was old enough to know that he didn't want to think about what life would be like without Paul next to him. Except he knew what that was like now and, like a starving man, he was hungry for whatever scraps of Paul he was allowed.