He lifted his head at last. Farley’s blue eyes were dazed. “Miles,” he croaked through kiss-swollen lips.
He fought back a groan. He could have thrown Farley down on the floor and taken him right here and now. But somehow he pulled himself together. Farley deserved better than to just be jumped on by a sex-crazed guy who’d only just apologized and promised to do better by him from now on. “I...” he began, getting his head on straight. “I enjoyed that, Farley.”
The blonde laid his head against Mile’s suit coat, nearly doing him in. “So did I, Miles,” he said softly. “What should we do now?” there was faint insinuation in his voice, and having his slim body pressed against him was doing nothing for Mile’s resolve whatsoever.
Somehow he found the strength to gently push Farley away. “Now, I take you on a date,” he told the weatherman as firmly as he could.
Farley looked disappointed, but Miles soldiered on manfully. “Its not that I don’t want you, Farley,” he explained seriously. “Because I really do. But…I like to know something about the people I have sex with. I’ve never been good with one-night stands and that kind of thing. And except for what I’ve seen on-camera, I don’t know anything about you. I want to know you. The real Farley Koninger, not just the act you put on for the camera. Is that all right?”
Farley’s eyes lit up, and he giggled softly. “Of course its all right, Miles,” he said. “In fact, its one of the most romantic things that a guy has ever said to me. You’re so sweet.”
His brows shot up. “Sweet?” he repeated incredulously, thinking of the horrible way that he’d treated Farley for all this time.
The weatherman nodded, smiling at his bemused expression. “Yes. You really are. I’ve always known that, even when you were always grumpy and mean. I figured that if I could ever get to the man under all of that, I’d really like him. And I do.”
Miles moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “If you say so,” he replied doubtfully. He hesitated. “Does that mean that we can go on a date?” he asked.
Farley laughed brightly. “Of course. We can go anywhere you want to, Miles. Although,” he added doubtfully, looking down at himself. “Will you be okay with the way I dress?”
Miles sighed. “You can dress any way that you want, Farley,” he said gravely. “I recognize the fact that you are who you are, and I’m fine with that. I have to be, don’t I? Otherwise, I wouldn’t want to go out with you.”
Farley’s face shone. “Okay. Where are we going?”
“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” Miles asked.
He nodded. “Sure! Can we go to a movie afterward, and hold hands in the dark?”
Miles stared at him, then his lips lifted slightly at the corners. “All right, if that’s what you want,” he said.
Farley hugged him. “It’s a date, then,” he exclaimed enthusiastically.
Miles pulled up in front of Farley’s apartment building, feeling unaccountably nervous. Rather like he had the first time he’d asked another guy out, during college. He wasn’t sure why he had butterflies in his stomach - maybe it was because this was so important. He didn’t want to screw it up. He took a deep, bracing breath and got out of his car, straightening his tie in an automatic gesture. He walked up the path to the building, his eyes searching for the address that Farley had given him. Ah, there it was. On the second floor. He walked up the metal stairs and along the balcony until he reached Farley’s door.
He knocked on the green door, and it swung open to reveal Farley standing there with a smile of greeting on his face. He was only dressed a little bit wildly, in a blue silk jacket that matched his eyes over a flowing white shirt. Skin-tight mid-grey pants hugged his legs faithfully, and Miles was glad that the jacket was long enough to cover his crotch since otherwise everyone would be able to tell what religion Farley was. His shoes were rather sparkly and had a slight heel on them, and he’d tied a flowing scarf around his neck and fastened it with a pin made of semi-precious stones.
“Miles,” he said. “Umm…is this okay?” he asked rather anxiously, looking down at himself.
He winced internally when he heard the anxiety in Farley’s voice. That was his doing; and he felt a lance of guilt that he’d made Farley feel bad about his wardrobe choices when he wasn’t harming anybody by choosing to dress so colorfully. “Farley,” he said sternly, meeting the light-blue eyes, “I told you earlier that I don’t care what you wear. I’m sorry that I made you worry about how I’d react to what you chose. You were right when you said that this is part of you,” he waved his hand at Farley’s clothes, “You shouldn’t have to give up that part for anybody. And it looks good on you,” he added, his eyes running over Farley’s body. “I wouldn’t dress this way, but you’re not me. Just be yourself, and don’t worry about what I think. Okay?”
Farley relaxed, nodding happily. “I will, Miles, thanks,” he chirped, stepping out of his door. “It’s just…I can remember when you used to look at me like I was some kind of freak.”
He winced again. “I know,” he replied grimly. “But that’s only because that I thought that I was a freak, and that you were merely showing to the whole world just what kind of a freak I actually was. It didn’t really have anything to do with you at all. It was all me.”
Farley set his hand on Miles’ arm and patted it. “You’re not a freak, Miles,” he said stoutly. “You’re a babe,” he went on with a faintly lascivious glance at the newscaster from under his long dark lashes.
Miles gulped, swallowing rather heavily as his body responded to that look and tone of voice. “If you say so,” he husked.
“I do,” Farley purred. “And since my opinion is the only one that counts, you’re a total babe.”
Miles shook his head, but merely escorted his date to his car. Farley was odd, but it was decidedly nice to be with someone who thought that he was a ‘total babe’, even if it wasn’t in the least bit true.
The restaurant that Miles had chosen was a fusion place. He’d been here before, and the food was quite good. Farley plunked down in his seat and looked around with interest. “Oh, look,” he whispered to Miles across the table, “Isn't that a famous actress?”
Miles looked over and saw that he was right. The actress in question wasn’t a huge star, but he knew who she was. Farley made a happy sound. “Maybe I’ll get her autograph later,” he told Miles.
“If you want. But she might get tired of having people ask for her autograph every time she goes out in public,” Miles pointed out mildly.
“That’s true. I wouldn’t want to bother her. Thank you," he added to the waiter who had brought them their menus. He started to open it, when the waiter hesitated and said: “Excuse me? Aren’t you Farley Koninger?”
Surprised, they both looked up at him. He was a youngish, good-looking man, and the look he was turning on Farley could only be called worshipful. “Yes, I am,” Farley conceded.
“Oh, man! I’m such a huge fan of yours!” the waiter gushed. “I watch your program every day to get my news and weather! And now my entertainment news, too, of course,” he went on. “Could I…get your autograph? Please?”
Farley blinked, then grinned. “Sure,” he replied. “Give me your pen and a napkin.”
The waiter eagerly did so, and Farley signed the napkin. He handed it back to the waiter, who looked blissful. “Would you also like Miles’ autograph?” the blonde asked him, pointing to his dinner companion. “He does the news, you know.”
“Oh my God, yes! You’re Miles Henning!” the waiter said, turning to look at him. “I can’t believe that both of you are in my restaurant!”
Farley giggled. “Miles brought me here, he says the food is great. I can’t wait to taste it. Why don’t you sign a napkin for him, Miles?”
Miles lifted his brows, but dutifully signed a napkin for the first fan to ever ask him for an autograph. The blissfully happy waiter departed clutching both napkins, and Farley giggled as he set his head on his hand and looked at Miles across the table. “We’re famous,” he said. “Kind of strange, isn’t it?”
Miles nodded. It definitely was. Here they’d been talking about getting the autograph of that actress, and not only had their waiter recognized them but he’d also asked for their autographs. He didn’t think of himself as any kind of celebrity, and the sensation was a little weird. “Still, its nice to know that we’re reaching so many people.” Farley continued thoughtfully. “I like to think that I’m not just doing the weather; that I’m helping other gay boys like me who like to flaunt who and what they are to do so without fear. They should always have examples to counter the pressure that society puts on them to conform.”
Miles blinked, taken aback by this shrewd statement. Seeing his face, Farley’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m not a dumb blonde, Miles, no matter what you may think,” he pointed out. “I’m just a person who likes to be happy. And sometimes that can mean being kind of silly, but that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing up here,” he tapped his forehead significantly with his finger.
He closed his mouth. “Sorry. I guess I was judging you by your outward appearance again,” Miles said apologetically.
Farley shrugged. “It’s not like you know enough about me to be able to make a good judgment anyway. As you yourself said, you need to get to know me better. And I want to get to know you better too. I want to see the Miles who lives under that stern façade,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m as curious as a cat to see what’s under there.”
His lips quirked slightly. “Not much,” he replied dryly.
Farley snorted inelegantly. “I hardly believe that,” he told Miles. “I’d bet that you’re a guy who thinks about everything too much, and that probably makes you worry sometimes when you shouldn’t. Am I right?”
Astonished, he just stared at Farley. The blonde grinned toothily. “I can see the wheels turning behind your eyes all of the time, and you get this wrinkle in your forehead when you’re worrying about something. Its kind of cute, but I just get the urge to do something to make you stop worrying so much when I see it.”
Miles didn’t know quite what to say. He’d never expected Farley to turn out to be this perceptive about anything, least of all him. But then, hadn’t he asked Farley out on this date to get to know him better? “Well, I think that worrying is just a part of my nature, like dressing flamboyantly is part of yours,” he pointed out after a moment.
Farley sniffed. “It’s hardly the same thing. You can be as serious as you want to, but I don’t think you should worry too much. It tends to stress you out and leave you too tense. It’s not good for your health. I’m hoping that I can do something to help you…relax…Miles,” he went on with another low-lidded look at his dinner companion.
He took a deep breath. “I hope you can too, Farley,” he replied, in a voice that had become rather hoarse.
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