the seaside air is actually a little chilly. he'd forgotten that lilycove's fall season began just a bit earlier than most with the water so near, so he's thankful he'd donned a hoodie (even if it had been to look nondescript and to cover his face). the hood is down now and he's toying with the tassels when sam nears him. 

he didn't think he'd lie about the sleeveless shirt, but seeing it on him is another thing. knox has certainly sized the boy up in their time together, but it's really now that he notices sam's muscles. 

unabashedly and shamelessly, he reaches out to touch them. (he's careful to avoid his burns, of course.) "we look like a couple of movie stars," he says. with his three-day-old eyeliner, smoked and faded around his eyes, and a touch of glittery mascara, next to the boy with his casual pants and grunge shirt, they look more like members of a washed-up rock band. 

still hot, but nonetheless. 

"okay. it's not breakfast, but i think you're gonna like it," he says.

samuel carter

☉

"i'm flattered," knox says with a laugh. he's not dumb. he knows how these walks go, what the language between them means. the tension is there and he knows that glance, and it's so goddamn cute that knox just starts chuckling. 

"relax," he says and brushes their hands together. "we're on a date, sam." he wiggles his fingers and then curls them around sam's bicep, pulling him close. "you can hold my hands if you want to. you probably should, honestly, 'cause they tend to wander otherwise." 

he winks as they walk down the street, arm in arm, thinking nothing more than the fact that he's just happy to be there. and also if sam would really eat paper for him. 

he leads him to a lovely seaside restaurant right on the water. there's a table waiting for them, of course. he hadn't been able to do anything ridiculous like get flowers set up, although he would have had he had time, just to see sam's face. 

but it's still a lovely set-up and they look completely out of place, but knox wouldn't have it any other way. 

"so aside from breakfast," knox asks as he pulls out sam's chair and then seats himself, "what do you eat?"

samuel carter

☉

well, he's glad he didn't go with the seafood place. granted, he's starting to think that sam would've eaten anything he'd ordered with a grin on his face. which is crazy. that's a crazy thing for someone to do. because knox certainly wouldn't. 

"well, at least we can agree on that. anyone who doesn't like bread is an idiot." he's had his share of exotic foods, gourmet dishes, but there's just something so homey about fresh baked bread. he often thinks, when getting his hands on some, that maybe he'd like to be a baker. 

and then the bread gets eaten, the thought is gone, and he's back to the same old routine. 

the server comes over; she's a small little thing, who obviously has some reservations about the out-of-place boys, one of which is grinning at her like he's won the lottery. "how are you gentlemen tonight?"

knox waves a hand with a laugh. "he's the only gentleman here, my dear. what's your name?"

"marcy?"

"marcy, we're gonna make this easy for you. we'll take the risotta alla almia, the truffle bistecca, oh, sorry, yep, take your time. mhm, the bistecca, and how about the ribollita to start? and a bread basket, if you have them."

"anything else?" she asks, straining as she writes it all down.

"a couple bottles of wine of whatever you think pairs best, and your favorite bottle on the menu. and after that, don't worry about anything but dropping the dessert menu. we'll be staying quite a while because i'm a selfish man and would like to keep this man as long as i can." 

she flushes. "o-okay," she says. he can see she wants to smile, maybe even laugh, but she scurries off to get their order started. 

knox lays his napkin across his lap. old habits die hard. and then he puts his elbows on the table, props his chin in his hands, and grins at the boy across from him. 

"i dare not trust another with my road," knox says, quoting some of sam's first words to him, some of the only words he remembers from that night. the rest of the memories are electricity, flashing images filled with feeling and belonging and a place in the stars.

"you still think there's not enough room for someone else?"

samuel carter

☉

"won't that get tiring?" he says. in the short midst of their discussion, marcy has gathered their wine glasses and brought the wine to the table. she presents a bottle of both white and red, and a third - a new world bordeaux blend (not that knox understands any of what it means) - and when she goes to open it, knox holds up a hand. 

"ah, just add it to the bill and take it home with yourself. please." he winks and she attempts to argue; after some back and forth, she finally relents, looking sheepish, but less like this table is going to ruin my fucking night, isn't it? 

and when she's gone, promising that their first course is on the way, knox is reabsorbed back into his conversation with sam. 

"granted, you really are so fit. i noticed on the mountain, obviously, but it was dark and i was tripping, and you weren't wearing this beautiful sleeveless creation. what do you do? crossfit? a thousand push-ups a day? sell your soul to a demon?" 

he narrows his eyes. "you're not, like, one of those avatars, right?"

samuel carter

☉

"who knew working with the dead for a living gets you absolutely shredded?" knox says. he almost wants to pitch the idea that sam could open a crossfit studio or something; just tell a bunch of people to dig graves and they'd do it for him. but he decides not to because that's his and sam's mountain, and the more people, the more he has to share. and also sam probably wouldn't like the idea. 

but still, a good idea. 

"i always liked swimming more than anything else. though i maybe would've liked it more if i didn't grow up in a city." he blinks. "where are you from, by the way? you don't sound hoennian, but you're also kinda a shut-in so."

samuel carter

☉

the top floors of the pokemon towers. he remembers him saying so, because he'd thought about what the top floor was, if he'd ever get there, if he'd ever been there. or was there ever a glass ceiling, and had he shattered it before he'd known what it was? surrounded by such abstraction, the memory is a distant one, but it's there nonetheless, and he's annoyed with himself for not making the connection sooner.

"d'you ever miss it? kanto?" he'd never been. summer had been privy to all sorts of business trips with their father, but knox had always drawn the shortest straw. 

not that he minded.

samuel carter

☉