Sorry I took so long, I sort of...forgot. Sorry! :)


"Hello?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"This is Russell," said the voice on the other end of the phone. "Russell Feanaro, from the party?"

Finn nearly dropped the pack of instant noodles he was holding. "Er, yes, I remember you."

How could he not? His mind was drawn to that night, not only because of the good time he'd had, but also due to to all the dumb things he'd said and done. He couldn't believe Russell was actually calling him!

"Oh," said Russell, his voice unusually quiet considering he was such a large man. "That's good. You said to, um, call you if I wanted to see you again. I thought about it, and I-I do. What do you say?"

Finn couldn't help himself; he grinned. "Sound great. Do you want to go out for dinner? When?"

"Yeah," said Russell. "Dinner sounds good. And maybe, if you wanted...I wouldn't mind seeing some of your art."

Russell appealed to the not-so-humble artist in Finn; he just kept smiling. "Really? Awesome. I've got some art showing in a gallery downtown, I'll take you after dinner."

They agreed on a time and place, and when Finn hung up, he started whistling.

When the door chime announced a new patron, Finn looked up eagerly, hoping it was Russell. He'd gotten to the restaurant early out of nervousness, and now his heart hammered in his chest every time someone new came in.

It was Russell, and right on time. He ducked his head as he entered the room, his eyes searching for Finn, who waved. Russell smiled, sending a flurry of butterflies down Finn's stomach. A date. Russell notwithstanding, when was the last time he'd actually gone on a date?

Russell maneuvered his way to Finn's table gracefully for such a large man, making it to his destination without incidence. Finn pulled out a chair for his date and ordered another drink.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," said Russell.

"No," said Finn hastily. "I just got here a little early, that's all."

"Oh," said Russell, looking at his silverware. "That's good."

Russell, Finn noticed, was wearing a dark green turtleneck with fairly tight jeans that did a decent job of hugging his legs. Something different, Finn noticed, was that he wasn't wearing a glove; he could see pink scars running ridges up and down the back of his hand.

"I like your turtleneck," said Finn cheerily, trying to break up the tension. "Its matches your eyes."

"Does it?" asked Russell, biting his lip. "My brother said it did, but I wasn't sure..."

"Your brother?" asked Finn. "Did he pick it out?"

Russell blushed. "Yeah, he was excited that I was going out...he's just about the most flamboyant straight man I've ever met. He picks out practically everything I wear, and I let him, since he alters most everything so it's big enough for me."

"Which brother is this?" said Finn. "Everything I know about your family is about your dad. What's he like?"

"Didn't I just say he was flamboyant?" replied Russell, beginning to smile. "He's a musician. A really great musician, actually. He played in the marching band for the army and now he's starting to do big concert performances. His name is Malcolm, but my little brothers nicknamed him Maggie and it stuck."

"Maggie?" asked Finn, his eyebrows raising.

"I didn't think of it," said Russell. "He lives with me right now. He says he doesn't like the idea of living alone."

"With six brothers, I can see that," said Finn. "I have a sister and two brothers. Artemis is whiling her days away pretending to be a socialite while secretly earning her master's degree and my brother Ted is an architect."

"What about your other brother?" asked Russell.

"He's an extremely successful gambler," said Finn promptly. "He's got a mansion in Las Vegas, but, shhhh, father doesn't like people to know."

"Guess you're not the only black sheep in your family, huh?" said Russell as they ordered.

"No," said Finn, deciding on a delicious looking soup dish. "Sounds like you aren't either, what with Maggie and all."

"Who ever said I was a black sheep?" said Russell with a wry twist of the lips. "Don't tell your father, but-you won't tell your father, will you?"

Finn shook his head. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"There are worse things than death," said Russell seriously. "If you wanted to prove that you meant it, you would swear on them."

"I don't know what they are," said Finn. "Even if I am an artist."

"Consider yourself lucky," said Russell, fiddling with the collar on his turtleneck as their food arrived.

"So," said Finn around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "What's the story?"

"I asked my father to disown me," said Russell as he began to cut up his meat in a very precise, practiced manner. "He would never say it to my face, but I know he doesn't want me as an heir. When I...got back from my tour, I was pretty...um, well, that's a story for another time. I was indisposed to perform any heir-like duties, and my father has always wanted his heir to be much more personally involved with his favorite businesses."

"Which are?"

"Crafting and jewelry, although he also has a huge interest in linguistic studies and aeronautics. My father is a man of many talents."

"Jack of all trades type of thing?" suggested Finn.

"Ah, that implies that he's a master of none," said Russell. "But that's not true; he's a master of everything he does. But enough about that. I was about to tell you that, when I got back, my father refused to disown me without a reason, so I came out of the closet. He's got too many high up political friends who wouldn't stand for that, so he had to."

"Wow," said Finn. "Makes my life seem like a piece of cake."

"Don't ever compare your life to mine," said Russell. "It'll just make both us of feel bad."

"Speaking of which," said Finn. "Why do you think you're not relationship material?"

"Hmm?" said Russell, suddenly engrossed in his steak.

"Oh, you heard me," said Finn, smiling. "You don't have to answer the question, I'm just curious."

"First of all," said Russell. "I'm unemployed. I also have an incredibly annoying brother living with me, so the idea of privacy is shot right there."

"Is that all?" asked Finn. "In my circle of friends, being unemployed doesn't mean much."

"I haven't dated in years."

"You're not the only one, believe it or not."

"I'm...really messed up."

"Messed up how?"

"See," said Russell, smiling sadly. "If I told you, I'd scare you off. And even though I hate admitting it, I don't want to do that."

"I knew I'd grow on you," said Finn triumphantly.

"We sort of ended up in a broom closet. No time for anyone growing on anyone," reminded Russell.

Finn placed his head on his hands to better meet Russell's eyes. "But you like me."

"Why else would I be here?"

"So why are you so insistent on stopping me from liking you?"

Russell hesitated.

"I have fake teeth," he said at last.

Finn had not been expecting that.

"What?"

"Dentures," said Russell, looking embarrassed.

"You do?"

With a pop, Russell detached his entire bottom row of teeth and took it out.

"I have a few teeth in the back," said Russell, sounding slightly muffled as he curled his bottom lip over his gums. "So they didn't make them permanent. I have none of my real top teeth left."

Finn was more than a little surprised, but he was determined to not let it show.

"Why? What happened?"

Russell popped his teeth back in and gave them a second to settle before saying, "I was a prisoner of war in a country that likes to pretend that the Geneva Conventions don't exist. If you date me, you have to understand...I'm not whole. I'm not always happy, or fun to be around. This is only the tip of the iceberg."

"Good," said Finn.

Russell stared at him.

"I don't want someone who's perfect. I don't want someone who's whole. I want someone that's human. I like you."

"Oh," said Russell, and Finn fancied that he was looking extremely flattered. "Well...thank you. I like you too."

Finn, to his utter embarrassment, was so happy he knocked over his glass of wine.


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