He grinned, head shaking. "I can't give you any of that, but there is ice cream." Setting the bottle down again Will got up and grabbed his plate, walking around Beau's stool to head towards the sink.
"Wine and ice cream is fine, I guess." He looked down at the steak and then gave up on self-restraint to just work his way through it.
"We can be all civilized and use bowls," he said as he rinsed his plate off and put it in the dishwasher, turning to grab the salad bowl so he could pitch what was left -- it wouldn't keep. "Or, we can say fuck it and just eat out of the carton."
"But we only got one carton." It was quick and immediate, head tipped to the side, speaking around another bite of steak. "Are you implying we share?"
"Mmhmm." It was easy, the easy smile from earlier creeping back in as he leaned back against the counter to wait for Beau to finish his steak so he could take care of his dishes.
He hesitated as he looked down at the steak -- and then, sighing, ate the last of it.
Plate and silverware were removed as Beau finished up, both rinsed and loaded up in the dishwasher to be run later. He added the pan from before as well, and anything else he'd gotten dirty along the way. "If you just want a bowl, that's fine..."
"Might be wiser." It was absent, shaking his head. "Otherwise, I can go through the whole pint."
The smile slipped, just a little, but he got a couple of bowls down and some spoons. The ice cream was cookies and cream, and Will scooped some into both bowls before putting it away again.
He put his own plate in the sink -- really, just put it in the sink, that was how this was going to go -- and swiped his hands on the sides of his pants. "...not a bad choice, though, at least."
Will made a sound at the plate in the sink but just shook his head and slid a bowl and a spoon to Beau. "The shake you got was cookies and cream, so it seemed safe." He shrugged, leaning in against the counter and taking a bite.
He made just a faintly amused sound, stirring at his ice cream with the spoon, slowly. "...I ate too fast."
Brows twitched up as he took another bite, licking the curve of the spoon clean. "Stomach ache?"
He pulled a face up at Will, folding his arms over the counter and biting down on his immediate response.
He looked genuinely puzzled, frowning back with brows drawn down. "What?"
Instead of answering, he nudged his wine glass toward Will for a little more, and took a bite of ice cream. Full or no.
Will huffed out impatiently but filled his glass back up, then went back to his I've cream.
Beau watched him, alternating between wine and ice cream -- whether they complimented each other or not -- and thinking it over. "I just miss it. I could fix things."
Will picked at his ice cream for a bit before turning his attention back to his wine, taking a long drink as he considered how to respond to that, or if he even should. Honestly, not saying anything was probably his best option, so as he lowered his glass he looked up, listening.
It was all Beau had, though, apparently. He sipped at the wine, hair sloppy around his face, frowning just a bit at the ice cream.
Will finished his bowl off first, because if there was food in front of him it really just didn't last long. He nudged it away to work on his wine, refilling it once it got low. Relaxing into a comfortable buzz. "We might as well finish this off."
"The bottle or the pint?" He'd drank most of his wine; the ice cream, though, was melting in the bowl.
He chuckled, head shaking, then had to comb fingers back through his hair. "The bottle."
"Fill it up, then." He tapped the glass just lightly, agreeable.
There was enough left in the bottle to top both glasses off with a generous amount. "Nice choice on the wine, this was good."
"It is." Enough to get Beau a bit blurry, if not actually drunk -- which, unfortunately, also seemed to make him just a bit morose.
Which was, of course, the opposite of what Will had been aiming for. Big hands wrapped around his glass, he looked up at him thoughtfully, chewing something over.
He tapped nails against the side of his glass, ate a couple mouthfuls of ice cream, and blinked up at Will after a moment. The look on his face made Beau frown.
He dropped his gaze automatically but brought it back up again after a second or two, lips twitching in a flicker of a smile.
"What?" It held that exasperation, again, tinged with a bit of something self-conscious.
"I was hoping the wine would make you...happy, I guess. Feel a bit better." He looked down as he spoke. "I don't think it worked." At least it didn't seem like it had.
"Try ecstacy next time." His tone was sharply mocking, looking back down into his glass.
"I could just stop trying altogether." It was quiet and cool as Will straightened up and walked around him, glass in hand, to pick his shirt up from where it'd been left on the couch.
"I'm not actually sure you could," Beau replied, watching Will out of the corner of his eye.
Probably true. Will shrugged, features gone thoughtful behind the frames of his glasses.
"You keep throwing me toys to see if they distract but..." It was another of those honest moments, fragile and careful. "Honestly, the only thing I really enjoyed was trying to figure out your magic."
Shirt along over his shoulder, he crossed his arms loosely, glass coming up for a thoughtful sip. "So keep doing that." Pale eyes rested in Beau's face. "If anyone's going to figure out how to get this shit under control, it'd be you."
"That's probably true, though, again, less true than it used to be." He leaned back slowly, twisting his glass against the counter.
"You're smart enough to work around that." There was a hint of that familiar impatience leaking into his voice, but he was also going for encouraging.
He shrugged a tiny bit, taking another slow sip from the cup. "Certain things can't be compensated for. With magic, I could actually build a potion to light you up and see the power, probably."
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.
"Kelly probably could, too." It came out slow and pained, like he hated to admit it; hated giving up that power, perhaps.
He just looked at him, patience battling with impatience. Glass lifted but not touching his lips.
"If you wanted it dealt with." It was almost like physical pain saying it -- giving up any leverage he might have.
"I'd rather not." He'd been living with it for years, knew how to work around it comfortably. "I'm not desperate to deal with it, I didn't even know it was an option until you mentioned it."
He shrugged just a tiny bit, though, not really approving. "It's not....I mean, why should you live a half life like this?"
"This is life for me, I can barely remember it being any different than this." He tapped his finger against his glass.
"You're limiting yourself." He shook his head, polished off the glass of wine and finally straightening. "Why?"
"Until last night I hadn't even considered there might be a way, aside from dampening magic, to not have to rely on the gloves." He leaned to the side, hip against the back of the couch. "It's your theory, we can do it your way." He shrugged, taking a drink. "Besides, you enjoy trying to figure it out now, but how much fun would it actually be if I were getting memories and thoughts and visions of your life with every little touch." He shook his head, a little bitterness creeping into his voice before he let out a heavy breath. "No one wants that."
Beau scratched up the back of his neck, thinking about that really for the first time. Musing. "...I guess not."
"How Kelly reacted to you early? That's how people usually react to me when they know what I can do." He looked down at the couch. "I don't care if it takes longer, I'd rather have someone not flinching away trying to help."
Just thinking about it made Beau rub lightly at his wrists again. "I don't know. I'd want to be in control of it."
"I doubt anyone else skilled enough will want to help." He took a drink, lifting his gaze back up to Beau, lingering on fingers scratching at his wrist. "But it's a moot point, I wouldn't ask anyone else."
Not scratching, at the moment, just -- rubbing, fidgety. "How are you even still alive."
His brows creased, head tipping subtly to one side. "Why wouldn't I be alive?"
"It's fundamentally isolating." The words blurred, but the vocab was still there. Beau blew out a sigh. "It separates you from other people."
"Yeah...it does." He tipped back the rest of his wine, then straightened up to move towards the counter to set down the empty glass. "I make the best of things, I guess. Therapy helps, too." He reached out to draw Beau's hand away from his own wrist again.
He resisted for about a breath -- then gave in, jaw relaxing and shoulders slumping. "I don't trust therapists."
"It's not easy, but when it's a good fit it definitely helps..." He turned Beau's hand in his, eyes down, running his thumb along the tattoo to see if the skin was still irritated.
He couldn't leave it alone -- the touch made him twitch a little, head tipped to look down at Will's hands. "They always report in."
He let him go, but only for a moment. Long enough to walk over to the cupboard above the sink so he could find a little tube of ointment. He unscrewed the cap, dabbing a little on his thumb before reaching for Beau's wrist. "They wouldn't if they were properly motivated not to."
He shrugged again, and looked -- completely unconvinced, in fact, his eyes turned down as he let Will take his wrist again. "I can't imagine what would motivate people that much."
He shrugged, smoothing ointment across the irritated skin, slow and thorough. "Fear."
"They've already got that. Carrot and stick, to make sure both work." He settled in against the counter, halfway wishing he were sitting.
Hard to argue against that, especially considering Me. Eastoft's reach. He could ask Zhi to help, but... He tried not to.
He turned Beau's hand so he could continue spreading ointment, thumb working in small circles.
He blew out another little sigh, slow, head tipping. "I don't know how much that's actually going to help."
"It can't make it worse." He flicked eyes up to Beau's face. "I can stop...if you want me to."
That got another shrug, and he didn't try to pull away, just fidgeted a little, uncertainly.
He waited for some word or sign of protest, but when none came, he turned his attention back to Beau's wrist. Smoothing the ointment along the whole of the tattoo before letting that hand go to reach for the other.
Beau shifted a little, half-tilted his head -- if there was a stool somewhere, he'd perch on that, instead.
There was one close enough to hook with an ankle, if he wanted to drag it over. Will had his side against the counter as he rubbed ointment along the side of this wrist.
He dragged it in to perch, if not fully sit, swallowing carefully. Maybe this wouldn't help the wrists, but it had definitely relaxed him.
He glanced up as Beau pulled the stool over, but only for a second or two, thumb working in slow circles around the whole of his wrist. When he'd covered all of it the slow circling slowed further, almost stopped, and then moved down towards his palm instead.
Beau made a very soft sound, without pulling his hand back. "I don't think you're going to get my chakras to open up."
Fingers slowed again at the comment, but didn't stop. "I don't think I'm trying to open them."
"Or close them." He added, elbow settling onto the counter for balance. He swallowed again.
"Not trying to do that, either." He worked his thumbs in widening circles along Beau's palm before running his fingertips along the lengths of long, thin fingers.
His fingertips twitched in response, absently. "Just glad you can touch someone."
Will mulled that over, head tipping as considered his answer. "That's part of it." He took his time, rubbing down each long finger from tip to palm.
Beau closed his eyes for a moment, shoulders dropping again. "With your overprotected baby hands..."
It got a soft hum of amusement, blue eyes flicking up to Beau's face as he turned the younger man's hand in his, curled fingers around his wrist from beneath. Holding as he worked along Beau's knuckles, the back of his hand and over his wrist.
Maybe he could have fallen asleep -- but he didn't. Just leaned into the counter and relaxed slowly, by inches, not even arguing or teasing now.
He smoothed his palm up along Beau's forearm, under the sleeve of his shirt, working the fabric up around his elbow. Watching his face as he did so.
His fingers twitched again and, finally, he cracked his eyes -- awake even if his breathing was smooth and his arm had gone limp in Will's grasp.
"Do you want to go to bed..?" Fingers curled loosely around his arm and smoothed down the length of it, nails grazing over the back of his hand and over his fingers.
He licked his lips, trying to focus. "I definitely don't want to sit on this stool in your kitchen."
He drew him to his feet by the hand still curled around his wrist. Not in against him, but he hadn't stepped back either. "Couch?"
"Sure." He blinked up at Will's face, his own features gone softer as he relaxed.
He looked back down at him and there was a mix of caution and calmness in tan features, like he kept waiting for Beau to pull away from him, but was also pleased he hadn't. Half turning, he drew him around the side of the couch towards the corner Beau had been sitting in earlier. As he sat he pulled gently, towards him, but light enough not to drag him that close if he didn't want to be there. Hints and invitations.
Beau swallowed again, maybe finally picked up on it - blinking at Will and his mouth parting like he was going to say something - but couldn't decide what. His heartbeat twitched under Will's fingers.
There was no demand -- the couch was open to either side of him -- Will settled into the corner, pulling the shirt off his shoulder to toss it away as he tipped his head against the back to look up at the younger man, gauging. His hand still curled around his wrist.
Still, though, he hesitated. Uncertain; he licked his lips and eased in one step closer, slowly.