Reincarnation AU (For intheashes)

[deadlyhairpin]

Dr. Byeong-Lee Kim was good at his job. Which, considering the lack of support and funding he normally received, was a bit of a miracle, in of itself. Add into that the additional factor that, sometimes, he felt as though he were the one going crazy, and he was walking, breathing proof of a higher power. Not that anyone would know that last fact, of course. Billy didn't get to be a well-respected psychiatrist by airing his own dirty laundry around for people to look at.

Hypocritical? Maybe. But he'd felt for a good chunk of his life that he was meant to help people. And as long as he was still able to do that, he wasn't about to do something stupid and throw it all away.

Which was why, this morning, instead of doing what should have been the smart thing and cancel all of his appointments, he was instead sitting behind his desk and typing out notes on his computer. Sipping at the coffee his administrative assistant had brought him. Humming to himself. <i>Anything</i> other than thinking about that damned dream he'd had, last night. The same one he'd been having all week that he didn't understand and couldn't seem to get away from.

A man on a horse, beside him. A strong cigarette getting passed from hand to hand. Stolen kisses. Locked doors. Bullet wounds and the sound of breaking wood as something precious fell. Broke on the ground below. A man laughing beside him. '<i>Wherever I go, Billy goes</i>'.

"Dr. Kim," the assistant interrupted, knocking on the door. "Your first appointment has arrived."

Byeong-Lee looked over his notes and found the paperwork he needed, glad for a distraction. "Send him in," he said with a wave, making some preliminary notes on the record. Planning his questions.

'<i>I knew you'd come back</i>.'

He lets out a small groan, rubbing at his eyes hard with the palms of his hand. "Stop it," he grumbled to himself, trying to will the dream away. Why? Why was it so vivid? Why could he seem to feel it? Remember it as though he'd been on that horse, himself? He groaned again and scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to just push it all away. He had work to do. People to help.

"Retrouvez votre bonne nuit," he reminds himself quietly.

And then looks up, ready to start whatever the day had prepared for him.

Comments

[deadlyhairpin]

The rest of the day goes quickly for him. There's almost no one he has to cut from service and the ones he does aren't surprised by the judgement call. Part of him thinks they were angling for it, honestly. But his mind isn't completely in it, truthfully. It's a terrifying thing to admit, but it's true. His mind is already at 6pm with his meeting with John.

When his last appointment cancels, he breathes a sigh of relief and races to his housing, here, to shower and change. In the mirror, he looks at his tattoos, tracing his fingers over the few he'd gotten but could never explain to others. Was it all this show? Maybe it had to be.

On his forearm was the last one he'd gotten inked. The colors were still vibrant having so little wear against them. He traced the small river, there. The petals of the rose. He couldn't explain it, but this had seemed so important, at the time.

Rose...stream? Rose...water?

Maybe John would have figured it out.

He changes fast. Simple clothes (if a bit nicer than he'd normally wear). He puts his too-long hair up with a pin, knowing he's going to look like a cliché but preferring it to a simple bun. From there he's got his grey button-down on with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. It's a good look for him, he decides.

But hours later when he finally pulls up to the diner and sees John, he still feels like he underdressed.

Stunned for a moment, he pauses at the door and just takes him in. His heart feels...full at the sight. At peace, somehow.

He smiles, finally, and moves closer.

"Got to show the rest of us up, don't you?" He teases with absolutely no heat. Well. NO heat from anger.

[intheashes]

John has been standing there, nervous as a school boy. He knows he shouldn't be. Still, he feels like he's wired up and ready to blow. He keeps smoothing down his vest and looking to his watch. Hes just met this doctor today, but he is buzzing with eagerness to see him again. He just has to see the man again. He feels on edge, like things won't be right until he can see the man again.

When Doctor Kim arrives, his face split into a huge grin. He looks so handsome in such simple clothing. Black looks good on him. So good. He laughs a little and hurries up to meet the man halfway. He's not a much nervous anymore but giddy. "You look flashy as a shiny dime, Doc Kim. Guess you listened to my ma too. She always said than when you go out, you should always put your best foot forward. Is it...too much?" Like he's totally not aware that his nice clothing or his shined shoes were definitely out of place in a diner. "I can always take some of it off." His hands move down the slim lines of his vest, fastidiously.

[deadlyhairpin]

"Byeong-Lee," he corrects. And, suddenly, this feels a lot less innocent than he had intended for it to be. Because he can't stop looking at John from head to toe. He looks incredible. And, before he can think better of it, he's leaning in and saying in a soft voice, "And I must be doing something right if we're already talking about you taking your clothes off." He smiles as he says it. Because he knows this man and knows that he likes it when he's a little more forward. When Billy reminds him that he wants him bad enough that he can barely think of anything else.

Except, of course, he's not Billy.

Fuck.

Horrified, Byeong-Lee stands back up, ramrod straight as his eyes widen. "I...I am so sorry. That was...extremely...unprofessional of me. I don't know where it came from."

'It came from knowing how much he likes to be undressed when you do it properly. How you can make him beg for you if you just play your cards right.'

He can already see it. John crying out his name as he sinks inside him for the first time. His hands clawing at his back as he tries to say silent because no one can hear him, now. They can't take the risk. But, please, Billy. Faster. Just a little more. Oh, just like that.

His cheeks flush as he looks away for a moment. "I...um. I think we just seat ourselves," he changes the topic. "If you wanted to."

[intheashes]

He was going to apologize but his words cut off by the hot breath husking into his ear. An ear that went red along with the rest of his face as the flush spreads. He hasn't felt that flustered in forever. It's almost as if he can feel those clever fingers working off his layers, quietly praising him because he looked so good, all wrapped up like a present. He can nearly feel the small tickle of a thin mustache as each and every scar that got bared was kissed with slow and loving reverence until he was shaking and hard and begging for Billy to have mercy and just please please stop teasing.

He shivers at the thought and looks away. He must be very lonely and very hard up to be thinking about that with a man he just met. But when he peeks back, he feels it again, like he's known this man all his life. "I...uh...it's fine. I sort of opened the door on that one..." he shakes the memories away with a smile and then goes to hold the door for the doctor, ever the gentleman. "I still want to. Have dinner with you, I mean. I still want to talk to you more. So, don't leave me hanging. I haven't had a d...dinner with a friend in forever." He had nearly called it a date, but it wasn't. He knew it wasn't.

"Just pick a booth with a wall behind it?" He just feels safer with a wall at his back and full view of everything in the cafe.

[deadlyhairpin]

Byeong-Lee smiles a little wider at the almost-Freudian slip. Because, yeah. This feels a little like a date. And at least he's not the only one who's mind is going there. Walking through the door, he finds a table against the wall that abuts the kitchen. It allows them to see all the doors and, even better, has not even a window behind it. Just a solid, brick wall with some tacky black-and-white photos. The doctor slips into the booth that has the back toward the kitchen door, allowing John the more secure seat.

It shouldn't, but this feels familiar, too.

"I looked at the menu," he says mildly, picking it up and glancing over it once more. "They have a gumbo on the menu that you'll probably complain about." He smirks over the top but stops himself before he gets too far into the tease.

"Damn it. I need to stop doing that." The menu gets put down and his fingers grip the bridge of his nose.

"You are having it too, right? These...weird feelings of deja-vu? Saying things you shouldn't be saying?" He needs to just clear the air on this otherwise he's never going to stop apologizing. "Maybe you just...look like the character on the show or something like that. But I think I'm just going to keep saying random nonsense, like that." He laughs, humorlessly.

"If another doctor saw me acting like this...sitting here with you, like this? I'd probably be fired within a week. And that delay's only because of the paperwork involved."

[intheashes]

He slips into his seat, and for a moment, he spreads his knees a little wider than usual, so knock his against this man's. It feels like he's done that a million times before. A little secret touch under the table. His knee against the doctor's. His dusty shoe sometimes teasing up the man's leg a moment while he ordered enough food on his own for the both of them, mostly because a lot of taverns and saloons didn't willingly feed Chinamen. So he got too much food and "graciously" let his "servant" have the left overs (which were often as much if not more than what Goody himself had eaten).

"Really?" He picks up his menu. "You'd think that, but after eating what I've had to eat in the Army, I'm not really all that picky anymore." He can almost hear himself telling this man when they're on a second week of hardtack and jerky because they've not found a town to resupply yet that he was okay eating this because once upon a time, he had been so hungry he and a lot of other Confederates had eaten the leather from their belts and shoes instead of starving to death.

He laughs now, smiling a little and trying to forget how deeply desperate he must have been to do such a thing. Because John has never ever been that hungry before. Not once. Then he nods at the doctor. "Yeah...I just had one now. Something about shoe leather and you asked me how it tasted, and I said sort of like feet and we laughed for a long time because the alternative to laughing was more pity than I could handle." He admitted softly. "And maybe I do.. I've been told I have one of those faces, you know."

He leans over a little to give the man a little nudge. "Hey. Don't worry. If another doctor sees you, I'll just tell them that I was having a nice dinner with my old friend Byeong-Lee and we were catching up because I haven't seen you since we were kids or something. I can lie like a damn rug if I really try hard enough, so it's all good. You saved my job, so I'll save yours."

He looks at the menu for a moment. "Now...since I don't see any leather here, what do you recommend?"

[deadlyhairpin]

He smiles, leaning over to peer at John's menu as though it wasn't the exact same as his own. "Well. Let's see what you're going to miss when you're overseas again..." Not like this was his last meal, of course. He had a little bit of time, no matter how eager the command was. "I know that I've really liked their burgers. I had one, once." And then, a little sheepish, he shrugs a shoulder and leans back into his own seat. "I'll be honest. I had the gumbo, the burger, and then I more or less just stuck to the breakfast menu."

He laughs a little, feeling like John wouldn't be surprised by that fact. He'd always had a strange obsession with eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Although none of them ever seemed cooked quite right. PAM didn't leave the right taste on the eggs and the bacon was never quite charred enough. But try asking a restaurant to intentionally burn things. 'Reluctant' wasn't exactly a strong enough word for the response he often got.

His foot kicked out, the side of it pressed against John's as though desperate for some sort of contact. Putting his menu down, he scratched a bit at the bottom of his tattoo, looking the man over as carefully as he dared.

"You feel like an old friend," he admits softly. And, with that, the pretense of this being professional seems to dissolve along with it. "I know we haven't met, before. But I can't shake it. I don't know how a show I can't even remember the name of can cause a feeling this strong."

[intheashes]

He sort of peeks over the menu and manages not to tell the doctor that he's already seen something he's going to miss when he's over in the war zone. But that's too forward for a guy he just met. They're just having dinner together, for gods sake. This isn't the right time to be flirting. He hopes that the small smoldering look hadn't been caught before he darted his eyes back to the menu. He already knows what he's going to order, but he's now just pretending to read it so that he doesn't have to admit he had been looking at the man next to him like he was the best thing in the diner.

He smiles a little at the contact and finally dares to put the menu down. He thinks he has it under control. He even smiles at the doctor, relieved that he's not the only one that felt it. "Yeah. You do feel that way. Like I've known you forever. Maybe...we were friends or something when we were real young." He has no other explanation for it. "Maybe our babysitter just liked that old western and kept it on all the time." And maybe he was just coming up with excuses because he wants this closeness so badly but can't just justify it. "It's too bad hmmm? I looked on the internet when I got back to my quarters and couldn't find a damn thing. Maybe I was searching for the wrong stuff..."

[deadlyhairpin]

"Unless your babysitter decided to come in to foster care homes, I don't think that's it," he laughed. But then, realizing that he's revealed a bit too much, Byeong-Lee coughs a bit and straightens up in his seat. "I mean. I...don't think that's it. I lived most of my life in New York, when I came over to America. The once or twice I went below the Mason-Dixon line, it was..." he pauses, not wanting to burden John with to knowledge of just what he'd been doing, during that time of his life. It was behind him, sure. But that was no reason to go telling the world. "Well. It wasn't to watch television shows with nice, other boys my age."

He smiles over at John and leans back, comfortable in a way he hasn't been in a long time. "We'll figure it out, though. Every time we talk, I seem to remember just a little bit more. I'm sure the rest isn't far behind."

He scratches at the tattoo on his arm which itches, just a little. So does the one on his back, now that he thinks about it. But before he can focus too much on it, the waitress is coming over with a smile and a welcome, asking what they'd like to have. For a second, Byeong-Lee is surprised that she's starting with his order. But then he remembers that, no. She can't ignore him, here. Not without a media firestorm for discrimination on her tail.

"I'll have the breakfast platter and some hot tea," he says, handing over his menu. He grins and nudges John with his shoulder. "They don't have whiskey, so you're going to have to be a bit more imaginative with your drink choice."

[intheashes]

He doesn't say anything to that sudden reveal. Mostly because he doesn't feel like his place to talk about that sort of thing. He could talk about his dad, the Major General, that moved all over the place and how he'd had five schools in six months. Or how his mom divorced him, tired of always picking up and moving and how she remarried some good old boy down south. How he had joined the army because without his actual dad, his family was too poor for his school and how he had just needed to get out of that little no-name podunk town where everyone knew your business and the closet was extra deep.

Instead, he just sort of lazily throws an arm about the man's shoulders, like he's done it a million times, fingers playing with the softer hairs at the nape before he realizes what he's doing and pulls away just in time for the waitress, looking shy for a moment before turning on the charm to a million for her as if to try and distract her from how snugly he had been just a moment earlier.

"This gentleman here recommended your gumbo and your burger. Rare if you could. And since you don't have my go to, whatever's on draft is fine." He'll whip out his Military ID for the woman. Robison, John G. When he takes it back, he grins at the doctor and points to the terrible picture. "They always make these things look like wanted posters. I'm surprised anyone can tell who anyone is by these."

It feels so much like he had said that before, while tearing up a warrant with the doctor's face poorly drawn on it. Ripping it up and shrugging because it was totally the wrong guy and after that, anyone who came for the bounty was sent packing with a wrong guy. But I understand. They all look alike, don't they. though he had believed in none of that racist bullshit.

"Though... it does make for a great game." He leans a little against Byeong-Lee, shoulder to shoulder almost. "Guess my middle name."

[deadlyhairpin]

Billy snorts as the charmed waitress rushes off to get their orders (and probably her phone number to boot). For a moment, he's jealous. A distant, modest feeling born both of the knowledge that John could do better than him and that he was never going to do so.

Which was absurd because they weren't even dating. But it didn't stop him from feeling the burn inside of him. The need to tell that waitress that he was taken and, even if he weren't, he wouldn't be interested in her, anyways.

Instead he leans against John and looks at his ID a bit closer.

"G? There are hundreds of names that start with 'G'. Greg. Grayson. George..." He waves his hand, trying to encompass the literally millions of names he could guess at and maybe never actually even get close to the real one.

But right before he's ready to throw in the towel, one particular name comes to his mind. Something that he can't shake. Nevermind that it's not a name at all. No. It's...nothing. But he can't get rid of the thought that maybe, just maybe, it's closer to the truth than any of his random, generic names had been.

"Goody?" His voice is small as he says it. A word that hadn't touched his lips in decades, it feels. But even despite the time, it feels right. It feels true. Goody. His Goody. All his and no one else's.

He shakes the thought free, cheeks flushed. "I...I don't know. I'm just guessing at random. You might as well just tell me."

[intheashes]

It's a game he likes to play because he knows his middle name is a strange one. With quite the story behind it. But he enjoys watching people guess. So far, no one has ever got it right. No one. But here was Byeong-Lee getting closer than anyone has ever gotten it before. He even cracks a huge smile at how close, though the way he says it, it's like hearing something he's wanted to hear but hasn't for many years. The nostalgia is so strong, he just want to hear the doctor say it again and again and again for the rest of their lives. Not usually something anyone thinks on what's only supposed to be a dinner with a new friend.

"Close. Really close. It's actually Goodnight. It used to be Garth...But I hated it so much that when I could, I got it legally changed. I know it's pretty silly and even the judges and the lawyers looked at me funny when I did it, but I just felt like that's what it was supposed to be. They finally agreed to the change right after I signed my first contract with the army. Would you believe I had to resign everything with the new name? That's why just the G. Because must as I love it, writing that all out can be a pain in the ass." He gives a grin and under the table, he knocks their knees together playfully.

[deadlyhairpin]

"Goodnight."

It shakes something loose inside of him. Something that he can't even identify. But his back is itching something fierce and he wants to scratch it, but the itch doesn't feel like it's on his skin. Rather...under it. Right in the nerves themselves.

"Goodnight. Huh. That's...interesting." His back is almost burning. And it's that more than anything else that gets him to continue with, "I have a tattoo with 'Goodnight' on it. Well. In French." He can't take his shirt off, but he hooks a thumb to point at his back as he had, before.

"Long time ago, I got a letter from someone I didn't even know. Man named 'Sam'. He wrote me about how he hoped that I was happy, here. How he hoped I found my 'Goodnight'." Byeong-Lee laughs, shaking his head in memory of it. "I was...a bad kid, when I got that letter. Bad. Worse than I think you can picture in your head. And that letter. Well. It fucked with my head enough to start turning me around. Got it tattooed on my back: Retrouvez votre bonne nuit."

His accent is passable but barely fluent. He laughs, knowing it must sound awful. "I don't know why I picked French. I just...needed it to be in French." And he laughs again a bit more hollowly.

"I don't know why I just told you any of that..."

[intheashes]

He nods a little. He really can't explain why he had needed to change a part of his name like he had. He had just...wanted to. Like his name had felt wrong. As soon as he had gotten it changed, things had felt better. He had made it through basic, sniper school, everything, all because that G stood for something. Something special and uniquely his. When he could close his eyes at night and hear the echo of a voice he knew he loved whispering into his ear, calling him "Goody." just like Byeong-Lee had. Just the same way. He almost wanted to hear the man say it again, just to be certain but instead, he listened.

Sam had never contacted him. Or if he had tried, his parents must have tossed the letter as junk mail, or it was because they have moved around so much that he couldn't be found. Whatever it was, he hadn't gotten that. But he still listened all the same, a warm feeling sitting on his chest, and the thought that no matter what, Sam had always supported his happiness.

He murmurs the French back. It's flawless, like he had spoken the language all his life. "Sort of like my name. It just sounded right. But Doc," He sort of leans to the side, his arm pressing against the other man's almost completely. "I'm glad you got turned around. Cause it means I got to meet you. Plus you can't have done too badly for yourself. You got to be pretty smart to be a shrink, right? So don't worry about it. Instead...any non-doctor like questions, to make up for that stuff?" He just wants his dinner companion to be comfortable.

[deadlyhairpin]

Byeong-Lee smiles and pushes back against the pressure on his arm. It's enough, that one motion, to change the mood of this meeting into something a great deal more intimate. A switch from 'a doctor and patient talking a bit unconventionally'to 'possibly a date'. But, strangely enough, he doesn't seem to mind enough to adjust and stop it.

"Non-doctor questions? Are you asking to get to know me, better?" he teases. Because it's funny, in a way. He feels acutely that John already knows him a great deal better than he sometimes knew himself. And vice-versa. But that's just...a feeling. No logic behind it. So he shakes it loose and reaches over for the water glasses that had been filled at some point (not his glass) and takes a small sip of it.

"Why don't you tell me about your family? Most people would be at home during their breaks from action. You don't seem like you even took a weekend to visit." As an orphan, Byeong-Lee never really understands that drive to run home at the earliest convenience. But he recognizes and respects it in others. Notices when someone doesn't follow the convention. "Too far?"

[intheashes]

He sort of flushes at that. John isn't really predisposed to blushing, but there's just something about Doctor Kim that has the blood rushing to parts of him it shouldn't. The teasing only makes it more evident that he did flush. He gives a shy little nod and sort of messes with a napkin. "Maybe I am. I guess I want to know all about you." He does too. He wants to learn everything he can about the man that feels so familiar. Maybe if he did, he could figure out why Byeong-Lee seemed so nostalgic.

John goes just a little redder when his glass of water is taken, but he can't stop the doctor. Just watch as his drink ends up sipped and put back in front of him. Unconsciously, he reaches for the same glass to turn it, not away from where that mouth touched, but so that his lips would brush where the other man's had been.

He does it to compose himself and his thoughts. "Mom remarried after she and dad split. Couldn't handle moving around all the time. I broke her heart, following in dad's footsteps, joining the army and all. She got real mad at me when she found out I forged her signature to sign myself up a year younger than was allowable. She won't speak to me. The Major General....my dad... well..." He wishes he had a stiff drink right now because it's hard to admit out loud. "When I came out, he disowned me. It's okay that I'm a decorated sniper. It's great that I kill tons of terrorists. He's super proud of my military career, but god forbid I be gay. So, I'm not welcome there either." There's a nervous look then to the side, right at Billy because he knows that though the rules have been repealed, there's still a lot of pressure and predigest against homosexuals in service. He's worried that his admitting to it might scare his new friend off.

"So, that's how it is." He picks up the glass again to get a little drink before looking at the doctor directly. "I'm sure a great guy like you already has plans. Probably going home to the wife and kids after this, hmm?"

[deadlyhairpin]

If there wasn't already the strange, charged mood of a date around them, John coming out to Byeong-Lee definitely would have managed it. He shifts a little, surprised and horrified by what he's learning about the other man. But he'd also be lying if the thought of 'Oh, so there's a chance', didn't pass through his head. At the mention of a wife and kids, Byeong-Lee smiles and ducks his head just a little, not wanting to make eye-contact for this.

The line for what is professionally appropriate is so far behind him, he's not even sure they're both in the same state anymore.

"Ah. No. None of that. Not that I wouldn't love kids, of course. But I...um. Well. Your father wouldn't like me very much, either." John's glass is back on the table and he wastes no time picking it back up and taking another sip from the same spot. It feels natural to do so. He doesn't even notice he's doing it at all. "It's just me at home, right now."

His shoulder is still pressing against John's. His arm warm where the contact won't abate. "I'm sorry that you're alone. I mean. I understand the alone piece. But the abandonment. That's...well. It's easier to deal with when you never knew them at all. To have parents and then have them turn on you like that?" He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry that they don't see how amazing you are. I'm sorry that their love came with conditions."

[intheashes]

He sort of stares at the doctor now, trying to suss out what had just been admitted. A part of John was utterly elated by the fact that they had something else in common other than some old western tv series neither of them could remember. He has to bit his tongue not to ask about boyfriend now. Surely, a great, handsome guy like Dr. Kim would have no trouble getting any lover his heart desired. But he almost hopes the man is single and it sounds like he might be. With him being alone at home. He shouldn't be happy about that. He should never wish being alone on anyone, but knowing that there's no competition is emboldening. Not that he's considering asking the man out on an actual date. They're just a doctor and his patient, enjoying a meal together.

A doctor that keeps drinking from his glass. An act that John still hasn't bothered to fix. Instead, he'll just enjoy getting to press his mouth to where Byeong-Lee's had been moments earlier. He reaches out a little with his free hand to lightly run a thumb over one high cheekbone. "Hey now. You don't have to apologize to me for that. It hurts, but it's also made me stronger. It made me the man I am. I can walk with my back straight and my head held high because I never compromised my principles. I'd rather be alone than live a coward's life, always running and hiding who I am. So if anything, they did me a favor of letting me go and live the way I want. And I suppose one day, God willing, I'll find someone I want to come home to." He gives a playful lean against the doctor.

[deadlyhairpin]

The touch feels familiar. Even though it's never happened before, the feeling of a thumb along his cheekbone is oddly soothing. Familiar, as though it's happened any time he's even remotely upset. As though John already knew it would be the proper way to reach out and touch him, even though that was impossible. Still, Byeong-Lee leans into that touch, closing his eyes for the span of a second before he remembers himself and opens them back up, again. Not that he leans away. No. Apparently there are limits to his regained professionalism.

"Knowing what I do about you, now, you won't be alone for very long." The thought makes him feel a little queasy, but he presses on, all the same. "You're talented. Handsome. Career-driven." He smirks a little and leans into John a bit more. "A flirt. No, I don't think that you'll have trouble finding someone to come home to. Maybe...someone closer than you think?"

The waitress comes over and drops off the gumbo for John and an extra spoon for Billy. For a second, he doesn't understand why (nor does he understand the sad look she throws Goodnight's way as she leaves). But then, this must look a great deal like a date. And a rather intimate one at that with how close they are sitting and the fact that John has been all but cradling his face.

God help him. He was going to be fired.

He swallows hard and finally puts an inch of distance between them, mentally cursing himself for bungling this whole thing so massively.

"I mean," he starts, trying to put out the small fire with, what he could already tell, was a can of gasoline. "You might need to stick around for a bit longer than a month or two to find that person. Or...see them a bit more than a handful before shipping off, once more." Which, he knew, could still mean him. He grabbed Goody's water and drank almost a third of it before realizing for the first time what he was doing.

"Christ," he cursed, setting it back down. "Can you tell it's been awhile since I've been on a date?"

And there was the gasoline.

"Fuck. No. Not that...not that this is a date. I didn't intend for this to be a date. I didn't even know we were both gay and single," he continues, fanning the flames even higher.

"I'm just going to stop, now. Enjoy your gumbo and I'm going to just...switch our glasses and try to drown myself."

[intheashes]

He almost wants to ask the doctor if he really thinks he's handsome. They've already crossed so many lines, why not one more. After all, he thinks Byeong-Lee is incredibly attractive. Even more, he is tempted to ask what he meant about his person to come home to being closer. But his questions were stopped by the disappointed waitress. In a way, John feels a bit bad. He can't help that he's overly friendly, or as the Doctor so keenly put it, a flirt. He would make up for it. Though his companion might be footing the bill, John was going to make sure there was a healthy tip to sooth her disappointed heart.

Unconsciously, he scoots the gumbo between the two of them to share like it's an appetizer and not part of his ordered meal. He almost expects to share, like he's shared many meals with this man, ordering way more than he could eat so that the man beside him would never go hungry. He even sort of stares at the man, expectantly before his expression changes to one of shock. A date...Was this a date then? But then Billy suddenly seems so against the idea of it being so.

"Once it is a date, you'll have to let me know ahead of time. I certainly am not dressed for a proper date." Says the man in the fancy vest and tie. "I'd like to at least look good if I'm going to be going out with you." Napalm is added to this little blaze when he reaches for Byeung-Lee's glass and takes a huge drink of it, looking over the rim at the man pointedly. "There. We're even. Now you best eat this gumbo with me before it gets cold. Cold gumbo is one of the cardinal sins, right after wearing white after Labor Day."

[deadlyhairpin]

'Once it is a date.'

Billy has a deer-in-the-headlights look to his face as he stares at John, attempting to get his footing and failing miserably the more he tries. How can one man make him this flustered? How can it be that the more they talk together, the less he seems to be certain of? His mouth closes even as his eyes stay wide and stunned. But then the soup is being pushed toward him and. Well. Why not? There was no way to redeem the professionalism of this 'meeting', now. He might as well have gumbo.

"I have no idea how you can look better than you do, now. Except maybe in your formals." He meant it to be a tease, a joke. But the fact that he really is attracted to John combined with the fact that he has a rather shameful thing for uniforms makes his offhand comment sound a lot more flirtatious than he'd planned. Flushing, he shoves a spoon of gumbo into his mouth and winces as he burns himself in the process.

Worth it.

Once it's swallowed, be goes back for the water and sucks some down before attempting to talk again. His hand scratches at the tattoo on his arm again, suddenly antsy to just do something.

"All...all I meant was that...you look...great. Just as you are, here." There. He almost saved it. If only he'd stopped talking then.

"You dress up more, it might just be a tux. And I don't have any clothes that fancy. We'd be mismatched. And I don't know anyplace fancy enough to take you, for that sort of outfit."

Just put him out of his misery, he begged the universe. This was the biggest disaster in all his life. And it just kept compounding

[intheashes]

"My formals?" He raises both his eyebrows as the man helps himself to the gumbo before them. He unconsciously smooths down his vest. He seems to be actually considering it. "I haven't put on my formals since I was awarded my fourth Silver Star." John generally doesn't like talking about the multitude of awards he has earned. He is one of those soldiers that doesn't think he's earned them. He was just doing his job. However, speaking to Byeong-Lee , he sort of wants to put it all on. It's been a while since anyone's been so complementary to him. While he is aware he's good looking, it's nice to hear it from such a handsome man.

He laughs a little, reaching for his spoon. "You don't have to worry about that. I don't own a tux. In fact, this is one of the two civilian outfits I own. With how much I deploy I really don't need that much in the way of clothing." He takes his first bite of the soup and frowns a little. He looks at the doctor and considers for a long moment. He isn't sure if he should be so forward to invite himself out with the man again, but Byeong-Lee had already sort of suggested taking him out to more places. "But I might have to get more if I really am going to be going out more. Would that be your recommendation? Get myself out there and enjoy my time before I go back." The small playful hint that he might want to get out and enjoy himself while in the presence of the doctor. The press of his leg against Byoung-Lee's is also a testament to his hidden desire for another, this time real, date.

One more bite and John just puts his spoon down. "You're right. I am about to complain. This doesn't taste right at all. But I think I know why. Let me borrow this a moment?" He totally means the spoon the man next to him was using. He'll even try to snatch it to use and if he does, he'll be all smiles again because that's what it was missing. Like the glass, it felt as if they often used the same cutlery.

[deadlyhairpin]

He's in so much trouble. So much damned trouble.

But once the hole was dug halfway to China, there was no reason or way to turn around. The only way out was just to keep on digging. Which, it seemed, John was willing to help with. What with the thinly veiled request for another outing, the press of their legs together, and then the request for his spoon. It wasn't subtle in the slightest. And as much as Byeong-Lee was concerned about the breech of ethics this all was, he was too enamored to turn down an invitation, now.

He didn't hand over his spoon. No, instead he just took a heaping bit of soup onto it and cradled the utensil with his free hand as he passed it over to John, smiling the whole time.

"I supposed our next trip should be out to a store for some clothing, hm?" He is already planning their next one. And he can say all he likes about this being therapeutic, but there is no way to really fool either of them on that point, now. There hadn't been one single moment of therapy this whole meal. Nothing he could even stretch into even a loose definition.

But he could pretend. And pretend he would if it meant being around John even a little bit more.

"We'll go get you some clothes and then take you out someplace you can show them off. Someplace better than a diner. A movie, or something like that. Maybe a club. Sound like a plan?"

[intheashes]

He happily eats using Billy's spoon. As he does, he considers it. He looks over the utensil, eyes going half-closed and flirting a little more. His foot lightly teases up Billy's calf before he realizes he's doing it and he stops. He stops and plants his feet on the ground. He doesn't know why but he wanted to get this man's attention and keep it so badly. "You don't have to do that, Doc. I know how to pick out my own cloths. I just never had occasion for civilian attire before."

John hands the spoon back, full of the soup and smiles at the man. "Here. I bet you'll agree it tastes better." He laughs a little and takes a long drink of Billy's water. "But I wouldn't say no to a movie. Or a club." He puts the glass down and sort of fiddles with a napkin all of a sudden. "Say... Doctor Kim... have you...ever been to Spurs?" The question is nearly whispered, as if he's suddenly not sure, like it's shameful to admit that he's been to the local gay bar. "I go there sometimes. I really like their drinks. But I'm asking because they have theme nights and all...and with that tv show and all... I thought maybe the two of us...you and I we could..." He trails off and laughs a little. He feels so much like a teenage boy, asking his crush out on a date. He feels ridiculous and awkward and he can't even look at Byeong-Lee. He's never tripped over his own tongue this badly.

He runs a hand over his face and shakes his head. "Never mind. Just never mind." Their meal couldn't get there soon enough.

[deadlyhairpin]

And there. There it is. The final line that Byeong-Lee hasn't crossed, yet. It was one thing to hypothesize about future dates. Another thing to casual mention their possibilities. But now they had a location. A location that is clearly catering to gay men, like themselves, with alcohol and dancing and no chance of anything therapeutic happening. John is asking him out on a real, proper date. One that, if his experience with Spurs was anything to go on, likely would end with at least some sort of sexual contact.

He needed to say no. He had to say no. But instead, he just looked over at John beside him, eating from his spoon, and imagined him in cowboy boots. In a hat. In a fancy suit with fleur de lis on it. With a beard and a gaunt face, half-haunted but completely in love as it looked back at him.

And he's doomed.

"I think that might be nice. They have a special two-for-one drink night on Thursdays. I normally don't see clients until after noon on Friday, so there would be no harm going for some discount nights..." He's smiling as he takes the spoon back and sips the soup from it. It does taste better. Lord help him.

"Tell me you have a get up of some sort to wear. I don't want to go if you won't get into the spirit. I expect a hat and boots and the whole nine yards."