Mac feels himself slipping into past tense already. Even standing next to Caroline at the altar, even kissing Caroline on the lawn after dragging her out of the sky, he's aware of himself as a story she'll tell later. He tries hard to live in the present, but it turns out that's difficult when there's no future. In bed, he can forget, but he can't spend all his time in bed. More's the pity.
He smiles. He copes. He loves his wife. He goes to work. And he buys a notebook.
"What are you doing?" Guy says, leaning too close over his shoulder.
"Writing my memoirs," Mac says, ignoring the way that Guy's breathing into his ear. "That way I can exist in perpetuity, and everyone will know what a wanker you were."
"Yeah, well," says Guy, sitting down almost in Mac's lap. "Maybe you should spend a little less time with the pen and a little more time perpetuating. Wouldn't want your wife to leave you before you've even kicked off."
"You are the consummate gentleman," Mac says, scribbling down he doesn't even know what anymore, but he feels like he should leave something for Caro and Guy, because no matter if he tells them he loves them a hundred times a day (and he can't quite imagine saying those words to Guy), it won't be enough. Strange how dying clarifies things.
"It's good to know you care," Mac says. He keeps writing in the future tense, as if there will be a future. He wants to remind them of the good times, but he can't bring himself to say "was" and "were" and "have done" when he can't say "will be" and "will do".
"Actually..." says Guy, still too close. "I do. Care. If you were wondering." And Mac turns his face to give Guy his best puzzled look, and Guy kisses him. It's awkward and sloppy and Guy tastes like that awful yogurt of Martin's, but then Guy puts his hand around the back of Mac's head and slides so that their mouths actually line up, and that's better. Astronomically better. Guy's mouth urges his open and there's that long tongue and the taste of blackberries. And it's not even weird to be kissing his best friend. Mac feels like he's actually in the moment for the first time in weeks.
"You ginger tosspot," says Guy, with his mouth against Mac's cheek and their noses mashed together. "Don't die. We still have things to do."
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timeasmymeasure
Perpetuity, Green Wing, Mac(/Caro/Guy), then, PG
Date: 2007-03-30 11:20 pm (UTC)He smiles. He copes. He loves his wife. He goes to work. And he buys a notebook.
"What are you doing?" Guy says, leaning too close over his shoulder.
"Writing my memoirs," Mac says, ignoring the way that Guy's breathing into his ear. "That way I can exist in perpetuity, and everyone will know what a wanker you were."
"Yeah, well," says Guy, sitting down almost in Mac's lap. "Maybe you should spend a little less time with the pen and a little more time perpetuating. Wouldn't want your wife to leave you before you've even kicked off."
"You are the consummate gentleman," Mac says, scribbling down he doesn't even know what anymore, but he feels like he should leave something for Caro and Guy, because no matter if he tells them he loves them a hundred times a day (and he can't quite imagine saying those words to Guy), it won't be enough. Strange how dying clarifies things.
"Actually," Guy says, and his thigh is pressed against Mac's, and his elbow is in Mac's ribs, "I'm not sure I want to know what a ginger/ex-and-future-fiancée child would look like. Both of you have got shit hair and no fashion sense."
"It's good to know you care," Mac says. He keeps writing in the future tense, as if there will be a future. He wants to remind them of the good times, but he can't bring himself to say "was" and "were" and "have done" when he can't say "will be" and "will do".
"Actually..." says Guy, still too close. "I do. Care. If you were wondering." And Mac turns his face to give Guy his best puzzled look, and Guy kisses him. It's awkward and sloppy and Guy tastes like that awful yogurt of Martin's, but then Guy puts his hand around the back of Mac's head and slides so that their mouths actually line up, and that's better. Astronomically better. Guy's mouth urges his open and there's that long tongue and the taste of blackberries. And it's not even weird to be kissing his best friend. Mac feels like he's actually in the moment for the first time in weeks.
"You ginger tosspot," says Guy, with his mouth against Mac's cheek and their noses mashed together. "Don't die. We still have things to do."
Mac laughs but it turns into a sob.