Is this a date? [Avalon]

     Once fully dressed and ready, hair and teeth still unbrushed and backpack slung over his shoulders, Zak led Sheridan and Ash to Port Albion, hand softly pressed against Sheri's arm as they walked. Soft, untouched curls pressed against his cheeks as he described the things around him to the blind male, a soft wind and sprinkle of rain making him colder by the minute. When they were finally at the coffee shop, he stretched and yawned, feeling his sleeplessness once again when he had stopped moving. He led them to a seat, grabbing his hand this time, seeing that there was no one from Foresta there presently.

     "So they have coffee, tea, pastries, some sandwiches... just tell me what you'd like and I'll go get it. I'm going to get some tea and a creme brulee, I think." He slid into the booth momentarily, setting down his backpack and pulling his journal out from it alongside a pen. He clicked it twice, then set it down. "I'll pay, so no worries," he smiled, running his finger's over Sheridan's hand. The shop hummed around them, soft murmurs from distant tables and the clinking of glasses and silverware filling the space. 

Sheridan could feel Zak's small hand against his arm, a silent reassurance of his presence. He reflected on the irony of how for once, a person was guiding him rather than Ash. The wolfdog was unbothered by it, following Zak as well as he padded along contently. Sheridan heard his partner describing whatever it was that was around him, and he smiled faintly, enjoying the sound of Zak's voice rather than the actual things he was talking about. The wind tugged at his hair, threatening to pull it free from his ponytail. Sheri could hear Zak's tired yawn as they came to a stop, presumably reaching their destination. He frowned momentarily, still concerned about the other boy's recent lack of sleep. His troubled expression faded as he felt Zak's hand move from his arm to grasp his own hand. This surprised him; usually his partner was wary about showing affection in public. Then he realized that there must have been no one from their school here.

Sheridan's other hand found the edge of the seat as they reached the booth, and he sat down across from Zak. Ash settled at his feet, watching the other patrons going about their business. Sheri was about to protest that he could get his own drink, but decided to swallow his pride just this once. "Tea, please." He heard the click of a pen, and Zak insisting that he would pay, a smile evident in his voice. "You sure?"

     Zak watched Sheridan closely, his hair loose around his face. He stood up from his seat, leaned over the table, and pushed some of Sheri's hair behind his ear, a thumb hovering over his cheek. He moved to stand beside the table, a soft click of the wooden soles of his shoes echoing as he did a short hop. "I'm very sure. My mother actually um, just mailed me some money. We send letters all the time. I uh, told her a little about you and um..." He paused, blushing, scratching the back of his scalp and biting gently at his lip. He looked down at his shoes for a moment, taking a deep breath of air. "Well, Ma is embarrassing. So we'll leave it with that."

     Feeling warm, Zak pushed the sleeves up to his elbows and looked back at Sheridan once again. "I'll go get your tea, then. I think you'll like their green tea. I'm partial to passion fruit-raspberry green myself. I make something similar at home but theirs is quite lovely," he trailed, pausing for a moment before grabbing his wallet. His cheeks were a faint pink once more. "I'll be right back."

     It only took about a minute and a half for him to return, gently setting down the kettle, two cups, and creme brulee before them. "I uh, come here fairly regularly," he noted, sure that Sheridan was aware of his presence once again because of the sounds. Zak had become so much more aware of sound since he had gotten to spend time with the blind man. He sat back down in the booth, taking a moment to put a single sugar packet in his cup before pouring both himself and Sheridan their drinks. Steam stuck to his hands. "I just got us a single pot to share, if you don't like it I can get you a single cup. I just enjoy the experience of pouring from the kettle, you know?"

Sheridan smiled at Zak's brief touch as he fixed his undoubtedly messy hair. He lifted his hands to undo the band holding his hair back, letting it fall to his shoulders. The ponytail was a lost cause, thanks to the wind's rude treatment of it earlier. He arched a dark eyebrow. "Embarrassing, huh?" He knew he would make Zak recount whatever it was that his mother had said--now that the boy had mentioned it, Sheridan was burning with curiosity. He entertained the idea of telling Zak about how he wrote to Nadie and told her about him as well, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. He didn't need to add 'writes letters to dead aunt' to his list of weird characteristics.

He nodded as Zak went off to get their drinks, the distinctive sound of his footsteps fading into the background noise of the shop. He ran a hand through his hair, all too aware of the stares that some sent his way. They thought that because he was blind, he wouldn't be able to tell. But he could tell, alright. He didn't see their gazes--he felt them. The hushed whisper of a mother to her curious child, telling him 'Don't stare, it's rude. He can't see you anyway.' People also tended to forget that he could hear them.

He raised his head at the sound of Zak's return, and extended a hand to find his cup. His hand no sooner touched it than it jerked back--the cup was hot. He found the handle, pulling it toward himself and deciding to let it cool down a bit. "Yeah, I know what you mean. This place is . . ." He searched for the right word. "Not what I'm used to. Different environment, a comfortable little place."

     Zak nodded at Sheridan's words, pulling his food and spoon closer to him. He blew gently at his tea, stirring it slowly, before taking a sip. His tongue burned, he made a small coughing noise and stuck it out. It was very hot.

     "Yeah," he choked after a moment of fanning, "It's definitely a strange adjustment coming into the Port. Especially since you get so used to being surrounded by gifteds and cryptids and whatnot." He set down his stirring stick, situating his wrists on the edge of the table, eyeing the creme brulee. "But then again, people here are used to odd things, too. One would have to be, being located so close to our school. Plus, a lot of people move here after they graduate. For obvious reasons." He looked up at Sheridan for a moment, watching his face, then picked up his spoon.

     The soft crack of caramelized sugar was like thin glass beneath his metal spoon. Zak loved the noise and the sensation of cutting into the french dessert, although the gentle sweetness of the custard fantastic, too. He cut into it carefully, leaving a perfectly round impression, before sticking a shard of sugar and yellow custard in his mouth. He made a satisfied noise. "Would you like a bite?" he offered, setting the spoon on the rim of the foil ramekin. "It's a little hard to explain, but it's basically broiled sugar on a creamy... pudding, almost? It's really good."

"Move here . . ." murmured Sheridan thoughtfully. He toyed with the idea. He had nowhere else to go, except Nadie's cabin. His mouth set in a grim line. He wouldn't abandon his aunt's home, this he knew. After graduation, he would--he wouldn't think about it. Graduation was a long ways off, anyways. Ash, seeming to almost read his master's thoughts in that strange perceptive way he had, moved his head, peering up at Sheridan. The boy took no notice, merely lowering a hand to pet his guide's head.

Zak was enjoying some sort of dessert, by the sound of his description. His question brought the blind boy out of his thought-induced reverie. He blinked, tilting his head. "I, er . . . sure."

(ooc: It is so short; I am so sorry )

     Zak nodded at Sheridan's quiet words, too busy watching his own fumbling hands rolling the spoon around to notice he was off in his own world. "Yeah, I hope to go to Cornell and study Ornithology so I'm not sure where I'll move after school once I've graduated. But I do like Port Albion so... perhaps. This place does have some strange birds." 

     After a few moments, he looked back at Sheridan. Zak smiled as he accepted the offer for dessert. He cracked off some sugar and made a spoonful for him, then leaned over the table to hold the bite in front of him. "Here, try it," he offered, smiling at the subtle intimacy of trying to feed his romantic partner, even if it was just one spoon. "If you like it, I can get you one, too."

Sheridan smiled at Zak's ponderings of his future. He predicted his partner would end up being a world-famous ornithologist. But he knew that he himself didn't have much to look forward to. Find Nadie's killer, enact his revenge, and that was it. He'd then return home, if he didn't choose Port Albion instead. But as far as academics went, he knew that there was no future for him. It was either getting a free ride from the government to college just because of his heritage, or being forced to attend some sort of college for the blind. He despised both ideas. It was a seeing world in which he lived, so it would be a seeing college in which he'd learn. He refused to be sheltered. But it didn't matter. The world rarely changed for anyone, and it was not going to start with him.

The creak of the table alerted Sheridan to the fact that Zak was currently leaning over it. 'Here, try it,' were his words. He must have been holding a spoonful of the desert.

Not sure what else to do, Sheri simply opened his mouth. His sense of pride protested, but he ignored it. He found himself laughing and turning red at the same time. "I feel like a moron."

     Zak moved the spoon to Sheridan's mouth, withdrawing it as it closed. He giggled quietly, setting the spoon down on the napkin to the side of his creme brulee. He finally took a sip of his tea, heat cascading down his throat with a slight burn. "Don't feel like that, it's... cute," he smiled, looking down at his cup with a light blush. Sometimes he was glad that Sheri couldn't see him. "So, uh, do you like it?" he asked with a low voice as a few more people shuffled into the shop. He watched as their eyes shifted to their booth for a moment before they looked off to the counter. Why did he feel so nervous?

Sheridan swallowed the desert, eyes widening at its sweetness. It was rather good. Zak told him not to feel like a moron, that he was cute. That was worse. "Cute?" he echoed, faking indignation. "I ain't cute!" He chuckled before continuing. "But yeah, I like it. It's good."

Sheridan couldn't see the people entering the shop, of course, though he could certainly hear them. But this time, he sorely wished his hearing wasn't so sharp. A voice stood out from the others, one that sounded like it belonged to an older man. A scoff of disapproval, one that was no doubt accompanied by a hateful glare cast their way. "Damn gays," were the scathing words. They were muttered in an undertone, but still easily reached Sheridan and Zak's table. "They're everywhere. Can't escape 'em, not even on this island. You'd think they'd have the decency to not go out in public."

Sheridan's hand that was currently under the table clenched painfully, forming a tight fist. Shit. He gritted his teeth, wanting sorely to punch the voice's owner in the jaw. He had forgotten that acceptance wasn't universal. He prayed with all his might that Zak hadn't heard the homophobic comments.