When Clark sees the way I'm "improperly" packing my clothes, he sighs, up-ends my luggage, and grabs a single shirt. "No, no, no. You need to roll them, like this," he says, demonstrating his technique by folding in the arms and rolling one of my sweaters into a cylinder.
"How am I supposed to know? I don't get out much, remember?" I say, pushing him playfully.
He just chuckles, placing the shirt into the bottom corner of my bag. "That's why you have me," he says. "Can't have my boy crossing the country with ill-packed luggage."
"Well, sorry I'm in a rush," I tell him, grinning slightly and just letting him take over. I've already pulled out all the clothes and toiletries I want to pack. I just hadn't gone through the motions of actually stuffing them into a suitcase by the time Clark showed up - and now that he's here, I suppose it's just easier for me to hand him the reins.
"You wouldn't be in a rush if you didn't wait 'til last minute," he mutters, bumping me with his hip.
I just laugh, hugging his side as he adds another sweater to my luggage, thankful that he came here tonight to both keep me company and help me get prepared for my trip. "You know how I am, Dad," I tease.
"That I do, Cub," he says, chuckling softly as he organizes. "Is Adam packed yet?"
I bite my lip. "Not yet..."
Clark pauses, looking at me. "So where the hell is he? Your flight is in, what, ten hours?"
"He's playing music tonight," I inform him. "He should be back soon."
Clark just purses his lips slightly. "Mhm."
I know that look. Even though he met Adam for the first time ten or so months ago, Clark still has some skepticism about our relationship. It's not that he doesn't like Adam. In fact, he adores the guy. I just don't think he can see past the straight-escort-who-fell-in-love-with-a-male-client thing - and I don't blame him. Lord knows I drove myself nuts over that ordeal, and Clark is very protective of me. But what he *does* see is how evidently happy I am, so he keeps any real reservations to himself. I just hold onto the knowledge that one day, he'll completely dismantle them. We'll get there eventually.
Adam moved in with me and Mimi a few months ago. It made the most sense financially for him, and it felt like the right time to make that step forward in our relationship - and I'm so happy we did. Adam brings a special bit of life to my living space that I hadn't previously recognized was missing. His sheer presence is its own little light, a source of joy and humor that casts out the sense of loneliness that once plagued my apartment. Even Mimi quickly warmed up to him, which I take that as a sign from God himself.
I make a killing thanks to that promotion, more than enough to provide for both of us, but Adam refuses to mooch off of me too heavily. So, he works part-time at an organic grocery store, and the rest of his time is spent (by my encouragement) playing gigs with his jazz band. I'm happy with my job, and I want my partner to enjoy the things he loves too even if it doesn't exactly rake in the dough.
It's been tough finding time to take a serious vacation, though. That three grand has always been in the back of our heads, a fantasy that kept losing the potential of being a reality because of how busy we've both become. Adam's band is recording an album, and I've undertaken some big projects that require plenty of consistent attention. Finally, though, after the band had finished laying down all the necessary tracks and I had finagled some time off, we found ourselves able to dedicate an entire week to a trip - just in time for my birthday, too.
"I still can't believe you're going to Alaska, of all places," Clark murmurs.
I laugh. Adam loves the cold for some godforsaken reason, and Alaska was something he mentioned on a whim a few months ago. I'll admit that it's not my first choice (nor my second) considering I pictured something tropical and beachy as a romantic getaway. But his excitement about Alaska unintentionally convinced me to shelve my "lounging by the water" fantasy and go along with what he wanted. Even though I'm not a fan of the cold, I know it'll be fun. It's something I'd never do otherwise, and I'll be with someone I love and cherish - *and*, I'll get to cross something off my bucket list: see the northern lights.
"It'll be an adventure," I say, smiling. "And it's not like it's our honeymoon."
Clark pauses at that for a second, lightly fussing with a pair of pants. "Right," he says.
It's in such a strange tone that I look at him curiously. "What?"
"Nothing," he says with a shrug before clearing his throat. "Just wondering if... you think you'll ever get married again."
I feel something odd shift in my chest. It's not like it's something I haven't thought about. I mean, Adam and I have gotten pretty serious. We're committed, and dedicated, and we only have the future ahead of us. Sure, we haven't dropped the "l" word to each other yet, but I feel like it's there without having to speak it aloud. It's apparent. But marriage? Every time I think of the future of our relationship, I think of Miguel - how desperately he wanted to marry me, and how happy I was being his husband. If this is the path we're taking, is that where Adam and I will end up? Is that something I want?
"I don't know," I mutter, biting my lip a bit. "It's not something we've talked about."
"I mean in general," Clark says, eyeing me.
Question of the year. When Miguel died, part of me was focused on one phrase: "never again." I thought I'd never date, never find love, never marry, never settle... And here I am, happy again, with Adam, loving him as his own entity rather than comparing him to something I've had before. I suppose if we keep going the way we're going...
"Maybe," I say, glancing at Clark and trying not to smile. He can read me like a book, though, and can tell exactly what I'm feeling - and he grins.
Just then, Adam comes bursting into the apartment sounding out of breath. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" he says, instrument case in hand, jacket slung over his shoulder, and gold chain swinging as he runs towards the bedroom. "Got back as fast as I could."
I just laugh gently, accepting the kiss he plants on my lips before he starts putting his stuff down. "It's okay. I just started packing."
"I think you mean *I* just started packing," Clark murmurs to me, and I just grin.
"We're gonna get, like, two hours of sleep," Adam says, laughing softly as he looks around the bedroom. I know exactly what he's thinking, because I was asking myself that same question earlier: "Where the fuck do I start?"
"It'll be fine," I tell him. "We can sleep on the plane."
Clark snorts. "I wouldn't bank on that."
"Well here's to hoping," I say, slapping Clark in the chest and making him grin. "Optimism."
"Since when are you optimistic?" Clark teases.
I just flip him off. "Shut up and pack, old man."
It takes us a bit to get everything in order, but most of our time is spent debating what *not* to bring. In the end, our bags are pretty simple: several changes of clothes, multiple pairs of underwear and socks, phone chargers, boots, a couple books to read, and our passports. Toiletries can be purchased in Alaska, we've decided. Once we have what we need ready to go for the next morning (including our outfits and tickets), we can finally call it a night.
"I'll leave you two to it, then," Clark says, smiling towards me.
I sigh heavily before practically rushing over to him, hugging him tightly and resting my head on his shoulder. "I love you," I murmur.
Clark wraps his broad arms around me and kisses the side of my head. "I love you too, Cub," he says, allowing me to sink into his embrace. Then he chuckles a bit. "This'll be the longest I've gone without seeing you."
Shit, he's right. A whole week? Ever since he took me in, I've never gone more than a handful of days without seeing Clark. He's been my rock, my champion, and my father figure, and it's a little strange to think that I won't have him there. In a weird way, it feels like I'm leaving the nest for a bit. Growing up.
"I'm calling you every day," I mutter.
Clark laughs. "Nah. You have fun on your trip. Don't think about me."
"Impossible," I say, pulling back and smiling at him. "I'm at least calling you twice."
He chuckles, patting my shoulder. "Twice it is, then. And take lots of pictures, you hear me?"
"Yes sir," I say, grinning as we step back from each other. I watch Clark and Adam hug it out for a moment (during which Clark tells my boyfriend to take good care of me) before the big man takes his leave, locking up on his way out.
When I turn to Adam, he smiles at me. "You ready for a little adventure, Teddy Bear?"
I laugh, gesturing to the bed. "I'm ready to sleep. Ask me in the morning."
Adam chuckles softly, coming over to snag a quick kiss before he heads towards the bathroom to get ready for a few hours of shut-eye. I just smile tenderly to myself for a second, feeling fluttery - nervous, but excited.
~ ~ ~
For all the issues I have with its climate, Alaska turns out to be the romantic getaway we both needed. The cabin Adam rented for us is isolated and warm, the perfect antithesis to the hustle and bustle of NYC. Here, it's just me and Adam. There's no one else to answer to, no one else to be bothered by... no one else to interrupt us when we're making love in the cabin. Not that we get interrupted back home, but it's nice to just be loud and carefree and unrestricted. Even just the simple act of sleeping with him in such a quiet environment brings me joy. It was strange at first, because I find it difficult to fall asleep in total silence. But so often Adam would shift in the middle of the night to snuggle closer or reach for my hand or, if he woke up, give me a soft, lazy kiss before drifting off again. It's the little moments like that that make me fall for him even more.
We start off our trip in Juneau exploring the Mendenhall Ice Caves, waltzing through the upside-down forest of Glacier Gardens, and even taking the Mount Roberts Tramway - which was horrifying for Adam since he is deathly afraid of heights. I felt a little bad that he took it so horribly, but it was his idea to try to "conquer his fear." Plus, I got to play the "comforting partner" role for a change. He held onto me tightly the entire way, quaking like a little boy, clearly trying to laugh it off as best as he could even though he looked paler than usual. I'm proud of him for trying, though.
My favorite days, however, are the final two, because we travel out to Fairbanks to see the Northern Lights on a tour - and God, is it magical. The way the silvery iridescence dances across the eerily-illuminated sky is fucking spectacular. It's almost ghostly in its appearance, but I don't find it haunting. I find it beautiful, and comforting, and mystical. And, to top it off, Adam and I share a cheesy midnight kiss under the aurora borealis when it's officially my birthday. I'm not one for rom-coms and the like, but goddamn, sometimes it feels like I'm living one, and living it happily.
We're both far too tired to celebrate in any sexy way once we make it back to our cabin. We simply collapse in bed, undress, cuddle, and sleep in until, when we awake, we decide to get breakfast. In theory, we would have loved to try out another restaurant, but I practically fell in love with the crepes at this breakfast/brunch place right near our hotel. With thin cinnamon apple pancakes on the brain, we (as in I) decide to go there again.
When we sit down, the first thing Adam does is order a mimosa. I chuckle softly, poking fun. "Isn't it too early for that?" I ask.
Adam just stares at me. "That's exactly when mimosas are for." Then he grins. "You want one?"
"I'm good," I say, smiling at the waiter.
Adam ignores me, though. "Make that two mimosas."
The waiter seems to find that comical because he laughs before saying he'll have those out shortly. I just playfully glare at Adam. "I said I'm good."
"You want one," Adam says, grinning at me. I just roll my eyes, which makes him chuckle softly before he glances at the menu. "Huh. Guess we could have just ordered food since we know what we want, right?"
