Lady Croft (zebraljb) wrote in youmarvelousboy,
Lady Croft

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Duty 3/? Travis from "Gossip"/Greg from "The Dead Zone"

author: zebraljb
rating: nc17 eventually
disclaimer: I am using someone else's characters w/o permission.
note: for the Flandus challenge, though BOY am I late getting more of it out. My apologies.

Travis climbed out of the cab, making sure he had everything off the seat before paying the driver. This project could mean a lot to him, and he wasn’t going to lose it because of something stupid like plain forgetfulness.

He walked up to the stylish townhouse and rang the bell. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t Greg Stillson himself, answering his own door. “Um, hey, Senator. I mean, Greg,” Travis stammered.

“Travis. Glad you could make it.” Greg swung the door open and stepped aside. He wore a pair of soft cotton lounging pants and a grey thermal shirt. He looked as at home in them as he did in a three-piece suit. “Welcome to my home. Found it okay?”

“Yes. The driver knew right where it was, of course.” Travis shuffled his things around a bit.

“God. Sorry.” Greg took the cardboard box that Travis carried. “C’mon into the study. We can drop these things there and have dinner, or else just look it over first?”

“Could we? Do this first, I mean? I’m pretty nervous, and probably wouldn’t eat anyway,” Travis confided.
Greg smiled at the boy’s anxiousness. “Of course.” Greg led the way into a large room, covered in books and awards. “Just set up wherever you want.” Greg went to a bar along the side of the room. “Wine?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Travis replied shyly. Greg handed him a glass and he politely sipped at it before putting it on the table. “I, uh, didn’t bother with the computer tonight. I printed out a few things, and made a model.” Travis opened the box and pulled out a small cow, about two feet long and a foot tall. Greg’s eyes widened.

“When did you find the time…”

“I don’t sleep much,” Travis said. “And when inspiration hits me…”

“This is great, Travis.” Greg’s smile was genuine as he turned the animal around in his hands. “Talk to me about it.”

Travis talked, growing more animated as he got into his explanation. His hands waved a bit, and he paced a few steps here and there, especially when going into his creative process. His eyes grew bright, and it was very obvious that he loved his work. Greg sat on the sofa, his eyes never leaving Travis’ face. The boy was beautiful, a work of art in and of himself. It would be an honor to peel back the layers and show what lay beneath the rough exterior, and Greg’s hands were itching to begin.

“And, well, yeah. That’s, uh, about it.” Travis blushed as he felt the full intensity of Greg’s blue eyes on him. He had gotten lost in the moment, AGAIN, and now felt like a total idiot. This man got laws passed. He changed people’s lives with the mere signature of his name. And right now? He was totally focused on him. Travis.

“Mr. Jensen, you are a young man of rare and extraordinary talent. I’d be proud to fund this project, to work with you on this.” Greg stood and held out his hand.

Travis stared at the hand, then up at Greg’s face. “Are you fucking serious?” He squeaked, his attempt at professionalism totally blown.

Greg laughed out loud. “Yes, I am. Totally fucking serious.”

“Wow, Senator, this is just, wow. Thank you. So much. I’ll work really hard, and I won’t disappoint you,” Travis said, shaking the hand eagerly.

“I know you won’t, Travis.” Greg withdrew his hand and checked his watch. “Now, how about we head into the kitchen and have some dinner. Think your nerves will let you eat now?”

“Yes, I think so,” Travis said. He followed Greg through the downstairs to the kitchen.

“I have a few kitchen people on staff here, but I gave them the night off,” Greg explained, pulling a few things from the oven. “Sometimes it gets a little overbearing, and if I have a friend over, I just want to take care of myself, you know?” Travis nodded, not quite knowing what to say. “So, if you love this, I made it. If it tastes awful, just pretend my housekeeper prepared it,” Greg continued with a grin. “Grab some glasses from the cabinet there, would you? I have a different wine to go with dinner.”

Travis wasn’t really fond of wine, but who was he to complain? He plucked two glasses from the rack and put them on the table, which was already set with plates and silver. Greg dished out huge plates of food for each of them, and poured glasses of a pink wine. “This smells great,” Travis said politely, suddenly ravenous.

“Good. I want your trip out here to be worthwhile,” Greg said, flipping his napkin across his lap.

“It already is,” Travis said innocently, and Greg swallowed hard.

Travis dug into his food, pleased to find that it tasted as good as it smelled. And the wine was like nothing he had tasted before. It was light and fruity, and didn’t taste like wine. He blushed as he let Greg refill his glass a third time. “You’re gonna think I’m some sort of barbarian…drinking all your wine and eating like a pig.”

“Not at all,” Greg told him. “I like to see a boy who enjoys what’s put before him.”

“Boy?” Travis raised an eyebrow, the alcohol making his tongue loosen a bit.

Greg laughed, pushing aside his empty plate. “Travis, how old are you?”

“I’ll be twenty-six next month.”

“And how old do you think I am?”

Travis thought back to the website, but for the life of him could not remember the Senator’s age. “Uh, thirty?”

“I just turned forty,” Greg told him. “To me, you are a boy. Fifteen years between us.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a BOY,” Travis muttered under his breath.

“Have I insulted you? I didn’t mean to,” Greg said. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. It’s nothing.” Travis took a deep breath. “Where I lived before…the friends I had kinda treated me as a third-class citizen. I guess I don’t like feeling condescended to.”

“I would never do that on purpose,” Greg said, his voice softer, and thicker with Southern drawl. The sound shocked down through Travis’ entire body. “You don’t deserve to be treated like anything less than first-class, Travis. You’re something special.”

Travis blushed a deep red and cursed himself for it. “Look, Greg, thanks for dinner, but I should go.” He stood, almost knocking over his wine glass. “I’m looking forward to working on this project for you.”

“Travis, wait!” Greg walked around the table, catching hold of Travis’ arm in the hall. “I’ve embarrassed you. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s me. I don’t want to end up acting like an idiot, saying something I’ll regret,” Travis said.
Greg tilted his head, his blue eyes stormy. “Like what?”

The alcohol took over again. “Like that it means a lot to me, hearing from someone like you that I’M special.”

“Oh, but you are, Travis.” Greg brought a hand up, his thumb lightly trailing over Travis’ blushing cheek. “Very…very…special.”

“God.” Travis’ eyes fluttered closed and he took a stuttering breath.

“No,” Greg said, leaning in close. “Just me, Travis. Just me.” His lips met those of the younger man before Travis could open his eyes.

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