In the Beginning
A/N: Go read Five Minutes to Midnight; it's important. Go on, I'll wait. We good? Ok, everything I've established in those one-shots holds true for this story (as this is the prequel). Also this will be the start of the reoccurring theme (a plot point) that Owen and Fox speak French and David does not. I won't be providing translations because 1) David doesn't understand a word they're saying which is the whole point and 2) If it's that important to you (nothing that they say affects the chapters as a whole) you can run it through Google translate. If you do run it through a translator or speak French yourself you'll notice that what they say is very stiff and unnatural (Owen) and grammatically incorrect (Fox). I totally did it on purpose.
Spoilers: Vows if any
Warnings: possible language
Disclaimer: Gargoyles… Disney… Buena Vista… Greg Weisman… not me.
Chapter 9: Of Drunken Nights and Blank Walls
"Someone's looking to get laid~" John sang softly in the middle of a discussion on the newest car designs that David had been enjoying. Fitness, nutrition and cars; Sam was an expert in a lot of things that weren't science it seemed. The dark man redirected his gaze to the little huddle of people standing in the middle of the room. Owen was apparently trying to explain something to Katie that had initially gone over her head. There was nothing particularly suggestive about their position and David started to dismiss the comment as drunken ramblings when he spotted Cody.
The brunette had positioned himself behind Owen with barely any breathing room between them and was reaching around Owen's waist to hand the blond another beer. Owen froze and looked over his shoulder at the other man for a moment before accepting the drink and shifting away.
For a moment David worried that the brunette was going to do something as personal - and frankly, inappropriate - as wrapping an arm around Owen's waist but he'd apparently realized that the approach was unwanted and moved away. Janine put her lips next to David's ear.
"That's the forth beer they've given him," she whispered softly. "I don't know what he's doing with them, but he can't be drinking it all," David gave her a weird look. Owen had left the room only once to use the restroom and even now, under David's scrutiny the blond was swaying slightly on his feet. Either Janine was talking about something else or she was losing her touch.
Tiffany loudly apologized for needing to turn in early and, with a very friendly hug, muttered something in Owen's ear and handed him a piece of paper. Janine stood and accompanied her friend out, apparently to ensure that the other woman found a cab safely. Without a second glance, Owen slipped the paper into his pocket. David smirked slightly and counted it as a personal point for himself.
Over the course of the evening Owen drank another beer, got another two slips of paper and had gently declined the separate offers from Samantha and John to "visit my place" and "get to know each other a little better". David chose to assume the refusals had more to do with Owen's high moral fiber than any real disinterest.
"Well Owen," David said when the crowd had dwindled down to the married couple, the host and themselves. "Ready to pack it in?"
Owen looked at him, or at least in his general direction, and nodded vaguely. It appeared that Owen, when given enough alcohol, was a quiet drunk. David tried not to be a little disappointed by that. Janine pouted at him from her seat a few spaces away.
"Oh David, don't tell me you're leaving already?" It was actually quite late but David suspected that Janine had been hoping he would stay until the others - possibly even Owen with one of the other guests - had left. The dark haired man shrugged and clapped a hand on the blond's shoulder. Owen somehow managed to shift away from the touch under his own power and without toppling over.
"Well, my fox, I really should be getting Mr. Burnett here home safely."
"'Fox'?" Janine raised her eyebrows at him, smiling playfully. "Been working on your French, David?"
"I thought it suit you."
"Hmmm. Fox," she pretended to try the word on her tongue and grinned. "I like it," she turned to her other guests who were chuckling politely. "Daddy'll hate it, of course."
"Of course," David said brightly, laying a hand on Owen's arm. "His unending ire is what I strive for."
Janine rose gracefully from her seat and caught up with them just as David was opening the door.
"Thank you for coming," David bowed his head, expecting a touch of lips to cheek. There was a pause and then he felt the press of lightly glossed lips against the corner of his mouth. The dark haired man waited for the young woman to pull back before raising his eyebrows at her in askance. Janine only smiled and turned to Owen who had been studiously not looking in their direction. "I know you weren't exactly thrilled to come but I hope-"
"Cela m'a fait plaisir, petite sœur," Owen interrupted smoothly. Janine blinked in surprise. David, who really didn't speak French, could only assume that the blond had spoken correctly which seemed strangely eloquent for a drunk man. Whatever he'd said made Janine unnaturally pleased after another moment of quiet shock.
"Je suis honoré d'être appelé comme. You're always welcome here," she said earnestly and Owen gave her a chivalrous bow; somehow managing not to tip right over onto the floor. David had to squash another bubble of jealousy before it could show its ugly head. He was saved from having to come up with the awkward change of topic that would get him back to his car when Janine returned her attention to him. "And while Daddy would as soon shoot you as welcome you in, I'll always welcome you too."
"Careful," David teased, temper momentarily abated. "I might take you up on that."
"Oh? I kind of wish you would," Janine laughed. "Good night David, good night Owen."
(Line break)
The ride back to Owen's apartment was made in a horrible, stony silence that was mostly (alright, entirely) David's fault. Owen was slumped in the passenger seat and looked completely relaxed. It was far from what David had come to expect of the young man and he decided didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.
What little he understood of French grammar and linguistic rules suggested that Owen had used a sort of endearment on Janine. Small something-or-other he had called her. Never mind that the preceding sentence that had sounded, to his untrained ears, very personal. Inappropriately personal considering that Owen knew damn well that- David took a slow calming breath.
It wasn't what Owen had done that had upset him, David reminded himself calmly. It had been Janine's reactions -reactions that should not have surprised him. She could be nice, she was often playful and she'd probably been baiting him. And he'd let her.
Damn it.
He parked on the street outside the building and got out in time to catch Owen as the blond stumbled up the curb.
"Here let me-"
"No sir, just a…" Owen spent a quiet moment detracting his arm from David's grip before continuing. "Just a trip. I'm quite alright."
"I happen to disagree," David said brightly. Owen blinked at him. "At least let me make sure you get to your door alright."
It would have turned into an argument, David could tell, if he hadn't immediately taken Owen's arm again and started firmly leading him to the building's front door. Owen fumbled his keys but they got inside without major incident.
And then they got to his floor.
"I insist sir, I am quite alright," Owen was attempting to hold his keys as far from David's reaching hand as possible. It wasn't going well for him, what with David being taller.
"Owen," David grunted and tried to grab again. Owen somehow twisted away and the keys were out of reach once more. Eyes narrowed the dark haired man put an arm around Owen's back to hold the blond still. It was like trying to hold onto an eel, he decided as the young man somehow managed to turn his back to David anyways. "I only want-"
The two men stopped grappling long enough to watch a teenage girl dart past into the apartment at the end of the hall.
"I assure you sir, I might not be able to drive but I can certainly open a door," unnaturally steady and graceful for someone who was supposed to be completely smashed, Owen ducked out of David's grip and, without dropping the keys or mixing them up, got the door open. David recovered in time to take hold of the door before Owen could close it again.
"Owen I-"
"Let go of the door," the blond said in an annoyed tone, tugging fruitlessly on the knob in an attempt to get it shut. David might not have cared had it been anyone else, but this was getting very strange very quickly and the darker man found himself suddenly very curious about what was inside that apartment. He held strong and stuck his foot through the threshold. Glaring Owen started to pull harder.
"Just let me help-"
"Let go of the door!" the young man snapped. Surprised, David stepped back and let go. The door slammed shut and he heard the loud thud of a body hitting the floor.
"Owen?" David swung the door open and found the blond sitting dazed on the floor where he'd apparently fallen. He took the opportunity to let himself in, the door shutting softly behind him. "Owen are you alright?" The blond blinked and slowly got back to his feet, once again loose limbed and intoxicated. David might have paid more attention if he hadn't been staring at Owen's living room.
There was no couch, or television, or chairs. There was no table, no pictures, no bookcase; no boxes that suggested a recent move. The room was completely empty. David glanced in Owen's direction to find the blond leaning his back heavily against a wall, hands shoved into his pockets and chin to his chest.
David stepped around the other man and peeked down the hall.
"Not one for interior decorating, are you?" David tried for a light tone but it sounded flat to his own ears. He heard the rustling of fabric as Owen shrugged.
"I never quite got around to furnishing."
David might have believed that if there had been television somewhere in the room, or if he'd believed that Owen spent most of his free time out socializing - which he knew that the blond did not. He might have believed it if there had been some small trace of mess on the floor. Foot prints, an umbrella thoughtlessly discarded by the door or a jacket hanging carelessly from a kitchen chair.
There was no umbrella, there was no mess, there were no kitchen chairs. There was no kitchen table either. David still might have believed it if there had been sign of life in the kitchen. Dishes in the sink, a soda bottle on the counter, a used knife left out, or a pile of take-out menus. There were no dishes, there was no bottle, there were no knives and there were no menus.
David would have been surprised to find food in the fridge or a bed in the bedroom but he didn't look. He was a little worried that he wouldn't like what he saw. There was another rustling noise and David turned to see Owen push away from the wall, swaying slightly.
"I'd invite you t'stay, sir," Owen slurred slightly and David put a hand out to steady the young man. "But there's only one bed."
David was still searching that statement for a hidden meaning when the bedroom door snapped shut and David was letting himself out.
Owen had no furniture. Why? The streets were calm and nearly empty so David was able to devote a considerable amount of his attention to thought.
Owen worked overtime and on his days off, yes, but when the building closed - it was not open 24 hours a day, David knew - Owen had to go somewhere. Local bars? Owen did not seem the drinking type; that evening's activities excluded. Visiting family and friends until the wee hours of the morning? Owen's family was, supposedly, still in Boston and the blond was hardly sociable; that was what had started David's scheming. Spending his free time at the gym perhaps?
David found himself unsure if this were either the most or least likely possibility. Owen was thin to look at but during the struggle had turned out to be far more fit than he first appeared. David recalled grabbing on to what had seemed to be a twig like arm only to find that he was grasping a fairly toned, if not particularly muscular, bicep. If Owen was spending his time at the gym it wasn't strength training or muscle building he was doing.
And even then, why no couch? Television? He was paid enough to afford it, David was sure. No pictures hanging from the walls and no books lying around. It was possible Owen lived in the bedroom but...
Maybe he just didn't care? David was struck with the fairly awful thought that perhaps Owen returned to that empty apartment each night, looked around and just couldn't bring himself to care enough to change anything. That smacked of major depression and while David wouldn't call Owen happy he also didn't think that the blond was depressed. Maybe he just didn't want to think of the blond as depressed.
David was still mulling over the new discovery when he entered his own apartment. He spent a long moment looking around his tastefully furnished living room; at the framed painting, the glass coffee table and cream sofa. Furnishing that room had been one of the first things he'd done upon finding the apartment. He rarely used it and some might call it sterile, but it looked as though someone owned it at least. Sighing he picked up the phone.
"Do you have a moment?" He asked as soon as the ringing stopped. Janine chuckled.
"The last of my guests just left. What can I do for you David?" The way she said it was very solicitous but David managed not to say anything incriminating.
"Seems some of your friends couldn't make it."
"Shame isn't it? Jeremy had a hot date and Beth decided she wanted to spend her evening doing something else. Can you believe it? What could possibly be more interesting than my parties?"
"I agree. It was completely unforgiveable of the both of them," David soothed.
"And you were wrong about Owen, though it certainly surprised me. Oh well, a good excuse for a party even if-"
"I'm sorry, I seem to have missed the conversational segue. What about Owen?" David couldn't stop the frown from showing through his voice.
"He doesn't like me. Not the way you thought he does. Like I was saying, it's too ba-"
"What, he didn't spend the night flirting so he's not interested?"
"David," Janine chuckled on the other end. "Believe me, a girl knows. He isn't interested. If you're having trouble with him then that just means that he doesn't like you."
"Doesn't like me?" David had regained control of his voice and was able to put a playful tone in his words. "Why wouldn't someone like me?"
"Beats me, but like I said, he isn't jealous," she sounded convinced and David really wasn't in the mood to argue his point. If things worked out it wouldn't matter. "Certainly not after all the attention he received tonight," Janine continued as though she'd read David's mind. "I hope something works out. He'd be so cute with any of them."
"I hope you didn't pick your guests simply for how nice they'd look as a couple with Owen," David said teasingly. The redhead hummed.
"The world may never know. I'm turning in. Sleep well David."
"And you, my fox."
"Oooh. I really do like that. We'll have to keep it secret from Daddy of course."
"Just one of many things the old man doesn't know for his own good."
A/N: For those of you who are wondering, "Renard" is French for "Fox". I like to think that David and Fox are of the "you do what you do and I'll do what I do and as long as what you do doesn't get in the way of what I do it'll all be peachy keen" sort and that sexuality and social status wouldn't much matter to either of them regardless of societal norms.