If we shadows have offended

It's a good night, good cheer, and Neil's that sort of lovely exhausted that's too full of energy to be tired. And he meant what he said before they left the park, that he was so disgustingly sweaty that he barely knows what to do with himself.

But Caleb's been snuggled up on him all through disgusting, fatty, greasy food, so clearly he's not offensive.

It takes almost no convincing to get Caleb to take him back to his place--he doesn't know if Rosie is going to be home, or at Charlie's or Sabrina's, but he drops her a line that he's with Caleb and will be out all night--and as soon as he's through the door, he plasters himself up against his boyfriend to give him a much deeper, much more thorough kiss than any he'd planted on him out in public since Caleb picked him up.

When all was said and done, when he was settled back in his apartment after everything, he sent a slightly bewildered text to his boss--he'd just missed several weeks of work, but it was worth saying he was alive, at least, right?--and then he slept. He slept like he hadn't in the makeshift dungeons, in the cages, oppressed by cold and loneliness even when he was around people. He slept like he hadn't for the last weeks, since he'd been snatched off a street corner in broad daylight.

When he woke, he wasn't quite sure what time it was, or what day. He lazed in bed, knowing that he needed to do things. Check in with Gabriel and Rosie, who had both also been kidnapped. Nina, who would hopefully have her daughter returned to her now. A myriad collection of others who had been in Kagura or had not. He couldn't bring himself to.

It took a great effort to pull himself out of bed. It took a greater effort to change into clothes that weren't stale and rank, to at least wash his face and brush his teeth and comb his hair, all with the lights off and avoiding looking at himself. But it took less effort to leave the apartment and go seek out Harry's bar, once all that was done.

It was the early evening, he found. He didn't know if Harry would be there but he figured it was worth a shot, and if he wasn't, he'd at least have gone out.

In walking, he caught sight of himself in a shop window. He was still disheveled, and there were huge shadows under his eyes. One of them was a bit blacked, from being hit at some point during his captivity. His lips were awfully chapped, his knuckles bruised and fingernails ragged from chewing. A habit he'd dropped years ago at his father's insistence. But his clothes were neat and his hair reasonably combed, so everything else could wait.

He let himself into the bar, though it was obvious it was early for customers. He milled about at the door, feeling foolish for having come. Too late now.

The news took a while to settle and, honestly, Neil still isn't entirely sure what to do with the knowledge. He's a college student now--or, rather, will be in September. He doesn't sign up for classes for months yet, but he's already looked over the catalog at least three times, trying to think what he'd like to do, now that he knows what he wants to do. It's all a huge relief, in a way. Maybe he can do Shakespeare in the Park again this summer. Maybe things will start to shape up more brightly.

In any case, he's celebrating. He sent out texts to all his friends, promising music and drinks and food--and a dog--to be shared by all. He tidied up a little, even, not that his apartment is ever very out of order in the first place. He doesn't really know how to decorate for a party like this, so he doesn't bother. Just makes sure there's lots of food and that the drinks are neatly arranged and that Beau's crate is set up in the bedroom, covered but open, so he can disappear if he'd like to.

He's not sure who all will come, but that doesn't really matter. He's just excited that he got in. It's the next step in his life, and it's his own step. That deserves to be celebrated no matter what.

He waits until the next morning, and even into the afternoon he's still feeling vulnerable about how the night went. He doesn't think he ought to. It was just something stupid that happened and it didn't mean anything, but here he is, feeling stupid and fragile about a guy in a club getting mad at him for changing his mind at the last second.

He doesn't actually remembering texting Gabriel, but then he glances down at his phone and there it is. He almost wants to send a follow up--haha ignore me--or some shit, but there it is, hanging, sent and unretractable; i had a bad night out could we hang out for a little bit.

He's sure that Gabriel's busy, anyway. School and whatever may or may not be happening with Anthony. Neil sits down at breakfast bar to work on his college application and try to stop feeling so dismal for himself. He's really got to stop that already.

It was a passing comment at Valentines day, but Neil's been unable to put it out of mind, and so here he was, having worked hard on figuring out their schedules and his budget and a nice, but not too nice, place that they could go and get dinner together.

Dinner for a birthday seems like an important thing to do. And it's a Monday night, so when it comes right down to it, it's not hard to find them a table somewhere. But he really hopes that Gabriel's all on board with the idea. He's told him what to expect--dinner, dessert afterward at his place--but it's still sort of daunting to be arranging a whole date for Gabriel's nineteenth birthday.

And maybe he had other ideas for the end of the night, after dessert. But that was for much later. And it was a school night, so they'd see how it went.

"I only ever swam in the ocean," he admits with a small smile. "Well, that and the river." But when he thought of the river too much, he thought of Henry Lynch and something in him shivered. He hadn't gone swimming there very often after that.

"We'll have to try the ocean, when I'm a bit more well dressed for swimming," Neil says with an easy smile. "I've only ever been to the ocean a couple of times. Sometimes, I forget it's here, you know? With the weather so nice, we should come down more often."

They cross from the sunny beach to under the pier, and Neil finds them a little out cropping of rock to settle on.

Neil's cheeks flame with heat, an outrageous flush brought on by an equally outrageous gesture. He stands still for a moment, tilting his head a little to glance over his shoulder and check, again, if anyone's nearby or looking at them.

He can't help that his hips lurch forward. Barely a touch, and he can feel himself stirring inside his slacks.

"Gabe," he hisses quietly.