Sitting on the couch of the living room, I lounge around and enjoy the last day of break before Azrael and I fly out tomorrow. We had the Thanksgiving meal two days ago and today is Saturday. Tomorrow is Sunday which is when we have to get on the plane and go back to D.C.
Besides the incident on the day we flew in which was Tuesday there hasn't been any other issue. In fact, I'd say that Azrael has been extremely comfortable in his stay here. The several days he's' resided in this house I hope have been well to him and I'd say that he'd agree to that.
Right now he went out to ride horses with Mom and Mallord. He went riding a few days ago and he said he wanted to go again before he left. That's one of the reasons that I think that he's enjoying his stay. I went with him last time and he laughed as we rode around the ranch. There's a pond on the edge of the ranch that I showed him to and when we went over to it he seemed to enjoy the scenery.
All in all, it's been a lot of me hoping that Azrael enjoys the stay here. That I've been able to impress him. Well, not impress him. Just, leave an impression. That way I can start to gain a more lasting relation with Azrael. If I take enough of Azrael's mind, then my mind thinks that he's bound to ask me out. And even if he doesn't, then I can ask him out. If it's enough of an impression that I've left, then he's bound to accept.
"Hey," says Dia and Dad as they walk into the living room and sit down, "aren't you supposed to be packing?"
"I did," I reply, "I packed up most of my stuff. The only things left to put in my bags are just the toiletries after I use them tonight and also some other clothes."
"How's D.C.?" asks Dad as he settles into the couch, leaning back.
"It's aright," I say, "it's getting cooler nowadays and the other day the rain was pretty chilly."
"Has it snowed there yet?" asks Dia.
"Not yet," I reply, "but its November, so I wouldn't be surprising if it did soon."
"I wonder if it'll be before that it happens," says Dia to Dad, and they both grin.
"What happens? Christmas?" I ask.
"No," says Dia with a smile matching on Dad's face, "you ask Azrael out."
I open my mouth, as I didn't think anybody was on to me.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I deflect.
"Sure you don't," says Dia, and Dad also nods along.
"What do you think is happening?" I ask aloud to either of them.
"Well," says Dia, "you like Azrael. And you're going to ask him out."
"You think I like Azrael?" I ask.
"Well," says Dad as he talks for the first time, "we did think it strange that you brought your boss back to Texas. I thought you had a girlfriend but Mallord said you broke up. So obviously somebody else was more interesting."
"And," says Dia, "if I were to have a reason to bring somebody back to my house for a holiday, I'd do it to get them to know me better, and vise versa."
"Besides that observation," I say, "what evidence do you have that I like Azrael?"
"Kid," says Dad with a grin, "I've been a parent of you and your siblings for twenty-six years. I think I know when one of my sons has a crush."
I sigh, as I know that I've been somewhat cornered and that they're also right. I might as well just admit it as there's nothing more to say.
"Yeah," I say as my face heats up and I turn my head while scratching it, "I like him. Happy you got me?"
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," says Dad, and Dia nods, "he's a good kiddo."
"You approve of him?" I ask.
"Of course. At least he doesn't have any bad habits."
"Well, he's trying to not have any," I say as I remember his smoking habits, "he used to smoke. But he quit."
"How long has he been able to hold off?" asks Dad.
"About four months," I reply, "and he's starting to take care of his health. The Azrael you see now is that of a recovering one. Recovering from a terrible lifestyle, that is."
"That's good, see?" says Dad as he points at me with an I-said-so look, "He's a good kiddo."
"Is that why you were being so nice to him?" I ask as I smile myself, "Calling him kiddo?"
"He's my kiddo now," says Dad, "he walked into the house and my son wants him, then he's as good as ours. I have no plan of letting him out of our sight."
"I don't either," I say, and Dad smiles.
"When are you going to ask him out?" asks Dia, "You might as well be dating if you're bringing him home here."
"I want to ask him out before Christmas. That way I can bring him here again," I reply.
"That would be great if you could bring him here," says Dia, "that way I could hang out with him. I think I'm getting fond of the little guy."
"He's older than you," points out Dad.
"Whatever," says Dia as Beth walks in with a drink.
"What's the conversation about?" asks Beth as she takes a seat on the couch next to me.
"We were just talking about the amore of Hogarth's," says Dia with a grin.
"Did he admit?" asks Beth as if I'm not here.
"I did," I say as I wave my hand in her face playfully, to which she just pushes it away.
"If you weren't going to admit to having a crush on him," says Beth as she sits back on the couch, "I was going to grab at him."
"Not before I did," says Dia.
"So the three of us would be fighting over him?" I say a little astounded.
"Well, I'd totally win over you two," says Dia, "I have more charm."
"I don't agree with that," I say, "I think I charm Azrael more with my looks."
Dia has the same color hair as mine while Beth has lighter hair like Dad. But Dia has lighter skin than both Beth and I, so we don't really look like each other that much. So when it comes to what kind of appearance we have to snag Azrael, we're all armed with different edges.
"No," says Beth from next to me, "I think that he's more interested in my type."
"What type are you?"
"The best type."
"Right."
"I think I'm still the best candidate for making him happy," I say.
"Well," says Dia with a smirk, "I guess maybe you are. He trusts you more than us."
"What makes you think that?" I say as I recall that Azrael seems to be on close terms with everyone in my family.
"He keeps a distance from us," says Dad, "especially me. Calling me a sir. I'm retired."
"I think maybe there's an issue with his own father," says Dia, "utilizing my background in psychology, I can start to guess that if he has a deep issue that maybe he avoids even the word of 'dad'."
"That's what I thought as well," I say as I turn around to make sure he's not around, "don't tell anybody this, but Azrael said that he's not on the best terms with his family. That's one of the reasons that compelled him to come here."
"That bad, huh? His family?" asks Beth.
"I haven't gotten exactly the details, but I'm pretty sure that it's dire if he won't even try to go back to his family during a holiday."
"Well," says Dad as the front door opens and I hear shuffle inside, "whatever the case, I'm happy that you brought him here. I like him, and I think you've chosen a nice little kiddo."
"Thanks," I say with a smile, and from the door I hear Mom call out, saying they're home.
"We're in here!" calls back Beth.
The three who went out come into the living room and sit down at the couch. I observe how Azrael seems to walk slowly and also sit down in equal manner.
"Are you sore?" I ask.
"Yes," says Azrael as he tries to lean back on the couch without trying to wince, "I think I am."
"Horse riding does that to you," says Beth sagely, "I think it took my four months before I managed to not have too much pain."
"That long?" asks Azrael with sigh, and after a nod from Beth says, "Ooh, that's tough work."
"You can always come here to ride horses," offers Mom, "we have quite a few, and I think the one you rode liked you."
"Yeah," says Azrael as he smiles, "I think I liked that one too."
"What makes you think that?" asks Dad curiously.
"He kept trying to munch my hair," answers Azrael, "and also when I was trying to leave he tried to follow me."
"Sounds like he's rather attached to you," says Dad with a laugh.
Azrael laughs as well, and we spend some more time chatting into the evening. We have leftovers from Thanksgiving and the turkey we heat up in the microwave. The potatoes and stuffing also we heat up, and with gravy poured over everything it makes it delicious and amazing to have. I think missed the home-cooking of both my Mom and Dad in the time I was away, and I'm remembered again that it's crucial to renew oneself by returning to your rots; physical or metaphysical.
After eating we go to the living room where we watch some sports channels. Azrael laughs with us when some of the athletes mess something up, and it's not an uncomfortable situation. Rather, it's obvious that Azrael fits in nicely here. Even among giants and boisterous people, his quiet and demure stature can sit safely around us.
It's wonderful to know that, and I can't help but smile to myself.
Later, when it's close to time for bed, Azrael goes up ahead of us as we let him use the shower that the kids share while my parents share their own bathroom in their bedroom.
Azrael calls down after he finishes and I answer as I feel like showering next. I also might be interested in the idea of seeing a topless Azrael.
Walking up the stairs, I have to walk past his door just to reach the bathroom and the my own bedroom. Azrael's room actually is closest to the staircase than everyone else's bedroom, so if anybody were to try and get to their room they'd have to pass by his room.
And fortunately, the door of his room is open. Walking by, I try to subtly glance in there, and I almost forget to continue walking.
Azrael is sitting on the edge of his bed and holding his phone in his hands while resting his elbows on my knees. His black hair tumbles over his brow and the wet droplets sparkle. Only a towel wrapped around his waist covers his body.
What does catch my eye though is that Azrael is not lean. He's in a sense ripped. It's true that under the suit and jacket he has on, it's barely visible. It's obvious though now that I can see he has lines running across his stomach and chest to prove that. He's not stacked, but if he pulled his shirt off eyes would be drawn to him, however short or narrow his chest is. His leaner body does have it's own good fitness.
Before I can linger longer I walk quickly out of the view of Azrael and to my bedroom. Grabbing my own pajamas I run into the bathroom and shower. I'm pretty sure Azrael noticed that somebody stopped at his doorway, as I did, and walked out to see what's going on. If I stared any longer at his ripped chest that's tiny I would probably explode in my face, red and stuttering.
But then, I think as I step into the shower and flip water on, maybe I can start to make a move on him.
I think that he's comfortable around me, and it's fine if I talk to him about things in my life. He certainly shares aspects of his private life with me.
Actually, he's not. He hasn't shared with me exactly why he's not on close terms with his family. And why he isn't utilizing the word 'dad' either. It's obvious that we're not close to one another. Not as close as we could be.
So maybe, I'll have to wait a little longer before there's a moment or chance for me to ask him, and have him say 'yes'. Recalling though that he's become comfortable to my family, it's obvious that Azrael can open up to people. And he has to me as well.
Smiling, I turn the water off as I've finished showering while thinking. Stepping out, my reflection in the mirror catches my eye. I'm not as buff as models on magazine covers, but I can offer things to him. And beyond physical appearance, I think he enjoys me character. He's never had a fight with me and we also get along well. I can offer so much more if he were to open up to me.
But I'm pretty sure he will though.