"Yes, I do," he says, with what's meant to be a vaguely mysterious tone of voice, but he's unable to keep it up for long. Mysterious has never really been his strong suit, especially not around Ned, who already knows so much about him. Breaking into a smile, which he's glad to see Ned is returning in kind, he shrugs and comes into Ned's apartment, hands shoved in his pockets as usual.
"I want to go on a real date. I mean, I've said that before, and that's kind of bad phrasing, because it's not like our dates aren't real, but I mean, I want to go somewhere where I don't have to be afraid of being seen on a date with you. And I heard about some places we could maybe go, if you were interested in that. If you're not afraid of being seen in public with me, that is."
The self-deprecating tone is half-joking, but it's also half-serious. That's a real concern of his.
Ned knows, of course, what Ginsberg means when he says a 'real' date. The distinction isn't lost on him. He's glad that he's not in the same room as Ginsberg right then, so it's easier for him to hide his knee-jerk response of trepidation. Is there something wrong with the way they've been doing things until now? Wouldn't it be safer for them to stay in for the night, or go somewhere they know, even if it means pretending to be nothing more than friends for a little while? But Ned knows that's just his fear talking, swallows back his objections before he even speaks them.
It's not as if he's never been to such places ever before. After all, he was exactly a monk before he met Ginsberg. But he'd always done it with an acrid fear in the back of his mouth, and he's not so sure he'd be able to hide it well enough for Ginsberg not to notice. But if it's the two of them...
He can't find it in himself to protest, so he says, "Sure," and picks a nicer pair of shoes than he'd been intending before. Should he change? Probably, he thinks. There's a smudge of flour on his sleeve, and it occurs to him that maybe the reason Ginsberg wants to go out is that he doesn't put in enough effort. That he's gotten too comfortable too fast and has become boring. Unexciting. "Just give me a few minutes..."
Ned pulls the shirt over his head and looks for something better from the closet, something a bit more flattering.
Ned doesn't sound exactly... thrilled by the idea, but Ginsberg kind of understands it. Maybe. He can see why it might make Ned nervous, at the very least. It kind of makes him nervous, too, truth be told. He feels some bizarre need to reassure him, so he keeps talking, raising his voice just a little so that Ned can hear him as he's getting ready to leave.
"I mean, it's not anywhere really exciting. I don't really go anywhere exciting. It's just that I've heard about some places where nobody really cares if, you know, we're together. Peggy told me about a place..."
But maybe he shouldn't let on to the fact that he's been discussing this, however obliquely, with Peggy. It's not like he sits around discussing his relationship (can he call it that? Is it that? They haven't really talked about it, and he's not sure) with her, but, well, now that she knows, she can't help bringing things up occasionally. Things that aren't incredibly specific, that don't necessarily have to do with him, but that might prove useful. He appreciates it more than he could possibly explain, but he's not sure Ned would feel the same way.
"Anyway, she went to a place, I guess it's kind of half coffee shop, half bar, but pretty low key, and she saw some band perform there, or something, and she said there were guys there holding hands, and stuff, so..."
He realizes he's talking too much, and forcibly lets himself trail off into silence. Ned gets the point. He's not stupid.
The talk is, actually, quite reassuring. He can hear the slightly hesitation in Ginsberg's own voice and is glad for it. It makes him think that, if they show up and Ned hates it there, he'll be able to ask if they can leave without feeling like a complete coward. Without being afraid that Ginsberg will get angry or look down on him. But then, when has Ginsberg ever looked down on him.
He finishes getting dressed quickly while Digby looks on with patient good humor, his head resting on his paws. Ned picks a tie with a bit of color: not much, but a faint, dark-green stripe running along the black. It's about as ornamental as he ever gets. "What do you think?" he asks, in a whisper that's only loud enough for Digby to hear. The dog gives Ned a look of fond long-suffering. Ned sighs, shoulder slumping a little. It will have to be good enough.
"Did she just recommend it out of the blue?" Ned asks, coming out of his bedroom, which is his oblique way of asking whether or not Ginsberg's been talking to Peggy a lot about the two of them. He knows it is impolite to be nosy, knows Ginsberg is as discreet as he could hope for. But all the same, he wants to know. Ned wonders if, somewhere underneath that, there isn't the tiniest bit of jealousy. Ginsberg might not think of himself as very close with his coworkers, but they're more like friends to him than anyone Ned has...
"Yeah, sometimes she just brings stuff up. She doesn't say anything about me or about you, specifically, it's just... something she mentions sometimes. Things she's seen. Little comments."
That's enough to say that he doesn't necessarily tell Peggy anything, isn't it? He doesn't sit around gossiping about Ned with her, to be sure, but now that she knows, she's obviously doing her best to be accepting of it, offering suggestions without making them obvious. He hadn't necessarily thought she'd be so understanding, but then, he shouldn't be surprised. She possesses a similar power of observation, and she's well aware of how uncomfortable and isolated he often feels at work -- and in general.
He smiles a little at Ned, noting that he's dressed up a bit, that there's a slight splash of color in his tie. They're both nervous, and he can tell, and maybe it's selfish or unfair, but he's a little glad for it, too. He likes it, when they're of a similar mindset about something. It makes it easier to talk about.
"You ready?" He's decided that if they don't go now, he's going to find a way to back out entirely, to suggest staying home instead, and he's absolutely determined to follow through on this. He wants it to be like any other date. He wants to feel comfortable and happy, being with someone who makes him comfortable and happy, being allowed to be in public with him.
"Ready," Ned confirms, even though his head is still bent down, and he's fussing with his tie, trying to get it to lay flat. He's not sure exactly what prompts it - first he's wondering what kinds of things Peggy 'brings up', what she assumes about the two of them. Which leads him to wonder yet again what Ginsberg thinks about the two of them. They talk all the time, and Ned feels more comfortable with Ginsberg than he has with anyone in a long, long time. All the same there are subjects they don't touch. He knows that on his end, it's out of a desire not to ruin things. Change almost always makes things worse. What they have now is great, but feels, at its foundation, fragile. He's not sure that feeling will ever go away.
Before he can stop himself, and without quite meaning to, Ned blurts, "Say, are we boyfriends?" Ned keeps looking at his tie, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Before Ginsberg has a chance to answer that question he rambles on, "I realize that it's probably a stupid thing to ask, because what we have is really great and I don't want it to change, and maybe you're not the kind of guy who likes to put labels on things which is okay, but I was just thinking that I wasn't sure what to call us in our head or where we stand so... so I wanted to know."
He's reaching for the doorknob as Ned begins to speak, but he draws back
his hand almost immediately when Ned finishes the question and begins to
get into the explanation of it -- an explanation that sounds very much like
one he himself would give, if he were feeling nervous about something --
and turns around to look at Ned, who decidedly isn't making eye contact.
"Um..."
He realizes that his own face is probably equally as red now, and he also
realizes that his hesitation probably doesn't do much to reassure Ned. He
hopes Ned recognizes that the hesitation isn't due to any lack of desire,
on his part, to provide an answer or to acknowledge that he, too, likes
what they have. It's just that he's not sure what the right answer is, what
the answer that Ned's looking for is. What if he says what he thinks and
Ned doesn't like it? What if he ruins everything just by answering a
question like that? But then, he's never been good at giving people the
answers they want. What he's always done is provide honest answers,
and he'll do that here, too.
"Well, I mean, when I think about you, I guess I think of you as my
boyfriend. If I were gonna introduce you to someone -- if we didn't have to
keep things such a big secret -- I'd probably wanna introduce you as my
boyfriend. So yes. We are. If you want to be. I mean, I don't know if
that's what you want to hear, but that's how I see it."
"Good." Ned still hasn't looked up, but he's beaming now. All of sudden he feels lighter, as if he could walk on air, or float away entirely. "I do. Want to be. So that's good." Now that he is reassured he can laugh, very softly, at the two of them. So hopeful, so needlessly cautious. The absurdity is not lost on Ned, even as he is unable to pull himself free of his usual defenses and mechanisms.
"Then let's go," he says, leaning in to kiss Ginsberg quickly before opening the door for him. That short conversation has bolstered his spirits, and he feels ready to go anywhere, do anything.
Now he's beaming, too, unaware of just how nervous he'd been before he
hears Ned saying that he wants that, too, and feeling the sudden sense of
relief and joy that comes with hearing that is enough to make him grin one
of those very rare, dazzlingly bright smiles. For someone so enthusiastic,
he rarely lets himself smile quite so widely, but this is a special
circumstance.
"Okay," he says, and he's really saying okay to all of it, okay to going on
their date and okay to being boyfriends and he really can't think of
anything that's not okay, at the moment. "We can walk, it's not that
far," he says, as they head out into the hall. "And I made sure, it's not
raining or anything."
As they begin to walk, he can't help but keep chattering, wishing he could
hold Ned's hand as he does so. "I was going to tell you later, but I'm
really bad at saving things for later, so I'll just say it right now."
He pauses, as though for effect, but he can't keep up the dramatic pause
long. "I'm moving! Moving away from my dad, I mean. I'll still be in
Brooklyn, of course, because I'm not actually sure I'm capable of being
anywhere else, but I'll have a place all to myself. And you can come and
visit. If you want."
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"I want to go on a real date. I mean, I've said that before, and that's kind of bad phrasing, because it's not like our dates aren't real, but I mean, I want to go somewhere where I don't have to be afraid of being seen on a date with you. And I heard about some places we could maybe go, if you were interested in that. If you're not afraid of being seen in public with me, that is."
The self-deprecating tone is half-joking, but it's also half-serious. That's a real concern of his.
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It's not as if he's never been to such places ever before. After all, he was exactly a monk before he met Ginsberg. But he'd always done it with an acrid fear in the back of his mouth, and he's not so sure he'd be able to hide it well enough for Ginsberg not to notice. But if it's the two of them...
He can't find it in himself to protest, so he says, "Sure," and picks a nicer pair of shoes than he'd been intending before. Should he change? Probably, he thinks. There's a smudge of flour on his sleeve, and it occurs to him that maybe the reason Ginsberg wants to go out is that he doesn't put in enough effort. That he's gotten too comfortable too fast and has become boring. Unexciting. "Just give me a few minutes..."
Ned pulls the shirt over his head and looks for something better from the closet, something a bit more flattering.
no subject
"I mean, it's not anywhere really exciting. I don't really go anywhere exciting. It's just that I've heard about some places where nobody really cares if, you know, we're together. Peggy told me about a place..."
But maybe he shouldn't let on to the fact that he's been discussing this, however obliquely, with Peggy. It's not like he sits around discussing his relationship (can he call it that? Is it that? They haven't really talked about it, and he's not sure) with her, but, well, now that she knows, she can't help bringing things up occasionally. Things that aren't incredibly specific, that don't necessarily have to do with him, but that might prove useful. He appreciates it more than he could possibly explain, but he's not sure Ned would feel the same way.
"Anyway, she went to a place, I guess it's kind of half coffee shop, half bar, but pretty low key, and she saw some band perform there, or something, and she said there were guys there holding hands, and stuff, so..."
He realizes he's talking too much, and forcibly lets himself trail off into silence. Ned gets the point. He's not stupid.
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He finishes getting dressed quickly while Digby looks on with patient good humor, his head resting on his paws. Ned picks a tie with a bit of color: not much, but a faint, dark-green stripe running along the black. It's about as ornamental as he ever gets. "What do you think?" he asks, in a whisper that's only loud enough for Digby to hear. The dog gives Ned a look of fond long-suffering. Ned sighs, shoulder slumping a little. It will have to be good enough.
"Did she just recommend it out of the blue?" Ned asks, coming out of his bedroom, which is his oblique way of asking whether or not Ginsberg's been talking to Peggy a lot about the two of them. He knows it is impolite to be nosy, knows Ginsberg is as discreet as he could hope for. But all the same, he wants to know. Ned wonders if, somewhere underneath that, there isn't the tiniest bit of jealousy. Ginsberg might not think of himself as very close with his coworkers, but they're more like friends to him than anyone Ned has...
no subject
That's enough to say that he doesn't necessarily tell Peggy anything, isn't it? He doesn't sit around gossiping about Ned with her, to be sure, but now that she knows, she's obviously doing her best to be accepting of it, offering suggestions without making them obvious. He hadn't necessarily thought she'd be so understanding, but then, he shouldn't be surprised. She possesses a similar power of observation, and she's well aware of how uncomfortable and isolated he often feels at work -- and in general.
He smiles a little at Ned, noting that he's dressed up a bit, that there's a slight splash of color in his tie. They're both nervous, and he can tell, and maybe it's selfish or unfair, but he's a little glad for it, too. He likes it, when they're of a similar mindset about something. It makes it easier to talk about.
"You ready?" He's decided that if they don't go now, he's going to find a way to back out entirely, to suggest staying home instead, and he's absolutely determined to follow through on this. He wants it to be like any other date. He wants to feel comfortable and happy, being with someone who makes him comfortable and happy, being allowed to be in public with him.
no subject
Before he can stop himself, and without quite meaning to, Ned blurts, "Say, are we boyfriends?" Ned keeps looking at his tie, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Before Ginsberg has a chance to answer that question he rambles on, "I realize that it's probably a stupid thing to ask, because what we have is really great and I don't want it to change, and maybe you're not the kind of guy who likes to put labels on things which is okay, but I was just thinking that I wasn't sure what to call us in our head or where we stand so... so I wanted to know."
no subject
He's reaching for the doorknob as Ned begins to speak, but he draws back his hand almost immediately when Ned finishes the question and begins to get into the explanation of it -- an explanation that sounds very much like one he himself would give, if he were feeling nervous about something -- and turns around to look at Ned, who decidedly isn't making eye contact.
"Um..."
He realizes that his own face is probably equally as red now, and he also realizes that his hesitation probably doesn't do much to reassure Ned. He hopes Ned recognizes that the hesitation isn't due to any lack of desire, on his part, to provide an answer or to acknowledge that he, too, likes what they have. It's just that he's not sure what the right answer is, what the answer that Ned's looking for is. What if he says what he thinks and Ned doesn't like it? What if he ruins everything just by answering a question like that? But then, he's never been good at giving people the answers they want. What he's always done is provide honest answers, and he'll do that here, too.
"Well, I mean, when I think about you, I guess I think of you as my boyfriend. If I were gonna introduce you to someone -- if we didn't have to keep things such a big secret -- I'd probably wanna introduce you as my boyfriend. So yes. We are. If you want to be. I mean, I don't know if that's what you want to hear, but that's how I see it."
no subject
"Then let's go," he says, leaning in to kiss Ginsberg quickly before opening the door for him. That short conversation has bolstered his spirits, and he feels ready to go anywhere, do anything.
no subject
Now he's beaming, too, unaware of just how nervous he'd been before he hears Ned saying that he wants that, too, and feeling the sudden sense of relief and joy that comes with hearing that is enough to make him grin one of those very rare, dazzlingly bright smiles. For someone so enthusiastic, he rarely lets himself smile quite so widely, but this is a special circumstance.
"Okay," he says, and he's really saying okay to all of it, okay to going on their date and okay to being boyfriends and he really can't think of anything that's not okay, at the moment. "We can walk, it's not that far," he says, as they head out into the hall. "And I made sure, it's not raining or anything."
As they begin to walk, he can't help but keep chattering, wishing he could hold Ned's hand as he does so. "I was going to tell you later, but I'm really bad at saving things for later, so I'll just say it right now."
He pauses, as though for effect, but he can't keep up the dramatic pause long. "I'm moving! Moving away from my dad, I mean. I'll still be in Brooklyn, of course, because I'm not actually sure I'm capable of being anywhere else, but I'll have a place all to myself. And you can come and visit. If you want."