The reverence with which Tom takes and holds his notebook, turning the pages and scanning his thoughts with such care. It feels like an intimate moment, which he hadn't expected. Hadn't known to expect.
There's a blush creeping over his cheeks and the edges of his ears, but he looks genuinely pleased at the comment. "Thank you, then. For, um. For thinking my soul is beautiful. That's not a compliment I ever thought I'd receive."
Zane's not sure what he likes more: the genuine compliment, the surprise in Darling's voice as he's caught off guard, or the absolutely charming way the other's whole face is a beautiful shade of pink. It matches well with his olive undertones. Zane smiles, gently closes the book.
"I may not understand it, but I know creativity when I see it, darling. Keep it, this piece of you. Keep it close to your heart and away from jackals and wolves. Well--maybe continue to show it to one wolf."
He slides the book back, grins slightly as he takes his cigarette, picks up his negroni, and swishes his hips in an affected gesture, winking.
"I'll see you for our matinee, Doctor. Ahti and I have an ongoing Afrikan tähti match that I simply must attend. And please. Try to get some sleep."
As Zane leaves to the office to navigate the hallways if the House, he throws his head back and howls as loudly as possible. There's an audible thunk as one of Darling's assistants jumps, startled, and drops what they'd been carrying. Zane's laughter seems to float on the air.
When Zane says his name again, he genuinely can't tell if he is using his name, or simply calling him darling. What has he gotten himself into?
But when he hears Zane howl and sees Hubert rush into his office looking frightened afterwards, he can't help but laugh as well. Maybe this could be good for him, after all. It will certainly be an adventure, no matter how it turns out.
The meeting with Trench goes slightly better than he'd expected it to; after explaining that it wasn't an escape attempt, that Zane was crawling the walls and he didn't want to be responsible for losing another powerful parautilitarian, Trench was willing to come around to the idea.
So on Sunday morning, Darling knocks on the door of the office that Tom Zane has claimed as his. Self consciously adjusting his bow tie a little while he waits.
Darling looks great. More than great--he looks fantastic. That's evident in the way his entire face lights up the moment he opens the door.
Thanks to Darling, he's allowed a little leeway in his little office-turned-den: it's practically his hotel room. The fluorescent lighting has been cut and instead lamps with scarves and bits of fabric hang for better mood lighting. There's a few chairs, a macrame owl in the corner, a comfortable bed that looks like it's been stolen straight from Langston's sector in the corner, and of course, almost all of the bureau's film equipment. Zane himself is in nothing but standard FBC boxers, hair mussed and messy. A sticky sweet odour from a stick of incense mingles with an earthy, skunky smell.
"Doctor," he gasps. "A cardigan? Very sharp. What's the occasion?"
"Oh! Goodness, that's -- " Darling pushes Tom further into the room with a hand to the chest, following him in and shutting the door behind them. Which, in hindsight, was not the smoothest way to handle the situation, but here they are.
"Mister Zane. I know you're not the shiest person when it comes to -- " He gestures at the general lack of clothing. "All this. But this is still an office, and we do have a dress code."
"Oh," Zane says, because it sounds to him like Darling might perhaps be having an aneurism. His brows knit, looking at the closed door and then at Darling's flustered appearance. Darling looks great in this light. Or maybe it's the soft haze of the weed he bought off of an intern. Either way.
"Yes, yes, and I see you've very much made yourself at home. Which is great! It is, however. Please just -- "
He's staring at Zane's collarbones, he realizes, a beat too late, and busies himself with taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his sweater while he talks. "Be aware that your office also opens into a very public hallway. And perhaps you might not want to answer the door in just underwear, in the future."
A slow, pleased smile is slowly creeping up Tom's face as he realizes what's happening. Darling is flustered. Darling is staring. The scientist is fairly easy to read, but this truly takes the cake.
Tom could be nice and throw a robe on--he's stolen a silk kimono from somewhere around the building and it's tossed messily onto the floor--but this is too good. Instead, Zane takes a step forward, reaching out to touch the other's cardigan.
One of the worst things about Tom Zane is how physical he is. Even just at their first meeting, Zane had insisted on touching his chest, his arms. And god, the memory of those long, elegant fingers sliding around his wrist lingers still.
And now here he is, practically naked in the dim light of his office, rubbing his fingers over the material of Darling's sweater.
"It's just a little unprofessional," he manages to say, finally, after too long a pause. "And I can't take you out like this, certainly."
Tom's eyes are very close to starting to roll--yes, yes, Darling, he's unprofessional, what else is new--when the last half of the sentence comes through those very pretty, very pert lips.
"Hmmm?" His voice is casual, but that too intense gaze is back, index finger looping through a button hole of that cardigan and tugging him playfully closer.
"Tests, again? I don't need pants to get blood drawn, but I won't pass a drug test right now. Just being honest."
"No, but -- " He hates the way his voice catches when Tom tugs at him. Darling is trying so, so hard to remain as professional and aloof as possible, knowing all too well how dangerous it is to form anything approaching a romantic idea about someone you work with.
"I did get permission to take you out for a while today. The Director agreed that it was a good idea, not keeping you cooped up in here all the time."
Thomas Zane stills completely, his whole body tense and taut and tightly wound as he desperately, emphatically, begins to search Darling's eyes for some form of lie, or catch, or something. There's a very faint glimmer of something similar to hope daring to escape.
"Of course I asked." He almost sounds a little offended that he wouldn't. But then he sees the tension in Zane's posture, and there's an urge to soothe him in some way. He reaches up with the intension of touching his arm, perhaps, but abandons the thought at the last minute and adjusts his glasses, instead.
"There are rules, places I can't take you, that sort of thing, but we can at least go out and get something to eat."
Zane feels his breath leave almost immediately, a dizzy sensation overcoming him. Joy.
Oh, he hasn't felt this in a while. Sheer, unadulterated happiness, the thrill, the excitement--a date. A date outside, and with Darling, no less. He thinks he might cry. He almost does.
Overwhelmed, Tom grabs the good doctor's face and pulls him closer, kissing his cheek.
And Darling lets it happen. Doesn't pull away, but instead lets his hand come to rest at Tom's elbow. He laughs, a shy, nervous sound, and tries to pretend the gesture doesn't leave him as warm as it does.
"It's Italian, it's not that exciting," is all he can come up with to say, cheeks tinged red and his fingers curling around Tom's arm.
"You've been in here too long. You deserve to be able to go out for a while."
He wants more, of course. Of everything: of this moment, of Darling's time, of the taste of freedom--and who's to say he won't just leave for the principal of the matter. He wants more of Darling with his guard down, he wants more nature. His second outing, then. Darling and Zane's second date. The woods.
His mind is far too excited to focus on anything. He grips Darling's incredibly hard shoulders, half hopping up and down from sheer excitement, still entirely too close.
"Yes. Yes! You and I, and dinner and a movie. Oh, yes. Yes, yes."
He needs to get dressed, of course. He needs to get ready. Zane does in a flurry of editing: he splices reality. Trims the fat for pacing issues. There isn't a need for a montage, just a three or four rough cuts and he's clothed, grabbing Darling's hand. He's in a fantastic mood.
It's a little dizzying, the way Tom moves. Or doesn't move -- appears not to move. He's in one place, and then another, and suddenly he's in front of Darling, dressed and in makeup, and Darling feels a bit of breath watching it all happen.
"I did promise," he says, a bit dumbly, because Tom is a whirlwind that he seems to be caught in the centre of, and it's throwing him off balance.
"This might need to be fixed, though," he points out, gesturing to Tom's half undone shirt. "You don't need a tie or anything like that, just. Slightly less skin might not be amiss."
Tom looks down, and then at Darling, and for a split second it looks like he's going to refuse on principle. Just a casual 'no.'
But Darling is going out of his way to do this for him, he realizes, and buttons up the shirt most of the way. It's the least he can do--and maybe he'll be less of a hellion towards the other from now on.
That is if he doesn't decide to leave, which he'll absolutely be able to. He's smarter than a lot of people realize down here. But for now, he brings his middle finger to gently bump Darling's glasses back onto his face properly by tapping the bridge.
The gesture is sweet, and Darling can't quite help but smile at the almost tender adjusting of his glasses. Tom's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself something near giddy, as well.
"Well, I know what a hardship it is for you to wear a shirt on a regular basis," is the wry response. "I wouldn't want you to feel put upon."
"Always looking out for me," Zane sighs happily, a flutter in his chest at the sight of Darling just as excited as him. This is going to loosen him up, hell he's already riding the wave.
After all. It is a date. Zane tugs on the other's cardigan a second time.
"Let's get going! Wouldn't want to miss it." And Zane wants out of this damn building.
A date. He gets to have a date. Tom gently grabs the other's wrist to tug him along to where he assumes the exit is.
"Italian and a movie... so few things are as tried and true!"
"Yes yes, all right -- sorry, to the left, actually." He's trying very hard not to laugh as Tom drags him along, but it's difficult to keep a straight face when Tom's being so very enthusiastic.
"I've gone here a few times," he explains as they walk (or as he's led, really). "Since it's close by, it works well when I absolutely have to get out of the office. Good pizza, decent pasta."
"So you do leave the offices!" Zane's pleased words sound more like crowing as he follows instructions without missing a step--there's no point in hiding how happy he is. This is a date. This is a date with Darling.
"On occasion, I do go outside. I'm still human, I do occasionally require sunlight." Although he's not quite aware how important or romantic Tom considers this outing, it's still fun to be able to go out and spend time with someone outside of the office.
When is the last time he had fun? Genuine, non-work-related fun. Far too long, really.
Once they're out of the building, Darling takes Tom by the elbow to guide him in the right direction. "Just a block and a half this way, and then to the right. At least it's a nice enough day for a walk. It would be terrible, to have it rain on your day out."
Everything is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air to Zane. And as Darling points out, there's clear skies. It's not nature--and Zane misses that, the woods, the lake, the source of inspiration as much as his muse is--but it's something. It's not the Bureau.
He'll never understand why someone like Darling can willingly shackle himself to a place like that. His dedication is fascinating, but how much of that is him, and how much of that is Trench?
Zane finds himself slowing down considerably, taking everything in. Breathing low. When he stops walking together, his hand moves from Darling's wrist and slides down to his hand, holding it.
"Darling." A polite request to wait for a moment. Zane doesn't let go of the other's hand as he closes his eyes and just listens.
It's the work, really. He genuinely does love his work, and his research, and tends to lose himself in his projects more often than not. Part if it is to try and impress Trench, because of course he wants to impress him, but it's not just Trench.
Working with parautilitarians as a regular, boring human being is trying, at times. Trying to replicate through science what others do as easy as breathing. It's disheartening.
He's pulled from his thoughts when Tom takes his hand, so gently. But he pauses, watching Tom curiously as he goes still. Trying not to think about how lovely he looks, quiet like this.
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The reverence with which Tom takes and holds his notebook, turning the pages and scanning his thoughts with such care. It feels like an intimate moment, which he hadn't expected. Hadn't known to expect.
There's a blush creeping over his cheeks and the edges of his ears, but he looks genuinely pleased at the comment. "Thank you, then. For, um. For thinking my soul is beautiful. That's not a compliment I ever thought I'd receive."
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"I may not understand it, but I know creativity when I see it, darling. Keep it, this piece of you. Keep it close to your heart and away from jackals and wolves. Well--maybe continue to show it to one wolf."
He slides the book back, grins slightly as he takes his cigarette, picks up his negroni, and swishes his hips in an affected gesture, winking.
"I'll see you for our matinee, Doctor. Ahti and I have an ongoing Afrikan tähti match that I simply must attend. And please. Try to get some sleep."
As Zane leaves to the office to navigate the hallways if the House, he throws his head back and howls as loudly as possible. There's an audible thunk as one of Darling's assistants jumps, startled, and drops what they'd been carrying. Zane's laughter seems to float on the air.
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But when he hears Zane howl and sees Hubert rush into his office looking frightened afterwards, he can't help but laugh as well. Maybe this could be good for him, after all. It will certainly be an adventure, no matter how it turns out.
The meeting with Trench goes slightly better than he'd expected it to; after explaining that it wasn't an escape attempt, that Zane was crawling the walls and he didn't want to be responsible for losing another powerful parautilitarian, Trench was willing to come around to the idea.
So on Sunday morning, Darling knocks on the door of the office that Tom Zane has claimed as his. Self consciously adjusting his bow tie a little while he waits.
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Thanks to Darling, he's allowed a little leeway in his little office-turned-den: it's practically his hotel room. The fluorescent lighting has been cut and instead lamps with scarves and bits of fabric hang for better mood lighting. There's a few chairs, a macrame owl in the corner, a comfortable bed that looks like it's been stolen straight from Langston's sector in the corner, and of course, almost all of the bureau's film equipment. Zane himself is in nothing but standard FBC boxers, hair mussed and messy. A sticky sweet odour from a stick of incense mingles with an earthy, skunky smell.
"Doctor," he gasps. "A cardigan? Very sharp. What's the occasion?"
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"Mister Zane. I know you're not the shiest person when it comes to -- " He gestures at the general lack of clothing. "All this. But this is still an office, and we do have a dress code."
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"But this is my office. What does that matter?"
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He's staring at Zane's collarbones, he realizes, a beat too late, and busies himself with taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his sweater while he talks. "Be aware that your office also opens into a very public hallway. And perhaps you might not want to answer the door in just underwear, in the future."
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Tom could be nice and throw a robe on--he's stolen a silk kimono from somewhere around the building and it's tossed messily onto the floor--but this is too good. Instead, Zane takes a step forward, reaching out to touch the other's cardigan.
"Does that bother you? Your face is awful pink."
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And now here he is, practically naked in the dim light of his office, rubbing his fingers over the material of Darling's sweater.
"It's just a little unprofessional," he manages to say, finally, after too long a pause. "And I can't take you out like this, certainly."
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"Hmmm?" His voice is casual, but that too intense gaze is back, index finger looping through a button hole of that cardigan and tugging him playfully closer.
"Tests, again? I don't need pants to get blood drawn, but I won't pass a drug test right now. Just being honest."
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"I did get permission to take you out for a while today. The Director agreed that it was a good idea, not keeping you cooped up in here all the time."
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"You did it? You asked? He said yes?"
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"There are rules, places I can't take you, that sort of thing, but we can at least go out and get something to eat."
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Oh, he hasn't felt this in a while. Sheer, unadulterated happiness, the thrill, the excitement--a date. A date outside, and with Darling, no less. He thinks he might cry. He almost does.
Overwhelmed, Tom grabs the good doctor's face and pulls him closer, kissing his cheek.
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"It's Italian, it's not that exciting," is all he can come up with to say, cheeks tinged red and his fingers curling around Tom's arm.
"You've been in here too long. You deserve to be able to go out for a while."
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His mind is far too excited to focus on anything. He grips Darling's incredibly hard shoulders, half hopping up and down from sheer excitement, still entirely too close.
"Yes. Yes! You and I, and dinner and a movie. Oh, yes. Yes, yes."
He needs to get dressed, of course. He needs to get ready. Zane does in a flurry of editing: he splices reality. Trims the fat for pacing issues. There isn't a need for a montage, just a three or four rough cuts and he's clothed, grabbing Darling's hand. He's in a fantastic mood.
"I knew you could pull it off, handsome."
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"I did promise," he says, a bit dumbly, because Tom is a whirlwind that he seems to be caught in the centre of, and it's throwing him off balance.
"This might need to be fixed, though," he points out, gesturing to Tom's half undone shirt. "You don't need a tie or anything like that, just. Slightly less skin might not be amiss."
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But Darling is going out of his way to do this for him, he realizes, and buttons up the shirt most of the way. It's the least he can do--and maybe he'll be less of a hellion towards the other from now on.
That is if he doesn't decide to leave, which he'll absolutely be able to. He's smarter than a lot of people realize down here. But for now, he brings his middle finger to gently bump Darling's glasses back onto his face properly by tapping the bridge.
"I never see you complaining."
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"Well, I know what a hardship it is for you to wear a shirt on a regular basis," is the wry response. "I wouldn't want you to feel put upon."
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After all. It is a date. Zane tugs on the other's cardigan a second time.
"Let's get going! Wouldn't want to miss it." And Zane wants out of this damn building.
A date. He gets to have a date. Tom gently grabs the other's wrist to tug him along to where he assumes the exit is.
"Italian and a movie... so few things are as tried and true!"
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"I've gone here a few times," he explains as they walk (or as he's led, really). "Since it's close by, it works well when I absolutely have to get out of the office. Good pizza, decent pasta."
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It's been so, so long.
"I was beginning to wonder."
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When is the last time he had fun? Genuine, non-work-related fun. Far too long, really.
Once they're out of the building, Darling takes Tom by the elbow to guide him in the right direction. "Just a block and a half this way, and then to the right. At least it's a nice enough day for a walk. It would be terrible, to have it rain on your day out."
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He'll never understand why someone like Darling can willingly shackle himself to a place like that. His dedication is fascinating, but how much of that is him, and how much of that is Trench?
Zane finds himself slowing down considerably, taking everything in. Breathing low. When he stops walking together, his hand moves from Darling's wrist and slides down to his hand, holding it.
"Darling." A polite request to wait for a moment. Zane doesn't let go of the other's hand as he closes his eyes and just listens.
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Working with parautilitarians as a regular, boring human being is trying, at times. Trying to replicate through science what others do as easy as breathing. It's disheartening.
He's pulled from his thoughts when Tom takes his hand, so gently. But he pauses, watching Tom curiously as he goes still. Trying not to think about how lovely he looks, quiet like this.
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