aimless

John tilted his head, a crooked smile gracing his lips. “It’s not like I would have any point of reference but I know my own taste and from what my foster parents told me, I’ve always had a very particular sense for aesthetic,” he joked, though his words did hold some truth. He’d always been a particular person as it was. He knew what he liked and what he didn’t like just as much as he knew what looked good and what didn’t. As much as he enjoyed teasing Soren though, he truly didn’t care much when it came to other people – he wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover anyways. John laughed and shook his head at the other man’s display. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he warned.

Following Soren’s line of vision with his eyes, John looked back at the now empty bench nearby and for a moment he wondered how he’d not noticed him. He really must’ve been somewhere else entirely in his head. “Fair enough,” John replied and his brows furrowed as an apologetic expression washed over his features. “I guess I’m not exactly helping you out with that, hm?” He chuckled at the nudge Soren gave him. “To be fair though, some days just are like that and we should embrace them anyways. Unless you have a deadline?” His brows raised as he looked back at his friend. “If that’s the case, feel free to tell me to get out of your hair. I promise I’ll try not to take it personally,” he joked. “What are you writing about?”

“A particular sense for aesthetic,” Soren echoed, playfully mimicking the other man’s cadence as he he did. “I know that you know how pretentious that sounds. Just know that pretentiousness is in my top five favorite things about you. Unlike you, I am the most humble guy you’ll ever meet. Nothing goes to my head.” Which was a complete lie. Soren’s ego was always starving for approval to a point that might be considered pathological. But he could at least play it cool and leave that matter for his therapist (which was really just his dog and a bottle of cheap wine at 2am when he was feeling chatty). 

Soren laced his fingers behind his head and rested his hands there. “Deadline’s not for a while. Talking with an agent about publishing a bunch of the essays I wrote a while back as a collection. Adding some new ones and editing the old ones.” He let himself sigh, feeling his chest tense at all the work he’d opted to undertake. “I welcome the distraction, though. Feel free to stay in my hair. What are you working on? I know you weren’t doodling me in your sketchbook, were you?”

“Well, you know I have plenty of wine.” Somewhere in that Hank knew there was joke but it didn’t come out right. He didn’t bother to fix it either. Instead he thought about him and Soren sitting on the deck, drinking wine, and watching their dogs play in the grass. It was quite the mental imagine. But also surprising how normal it seemed. How Soren had always been a part of his life but now he was here and everything was so comfortable. 

“I feel like you could talk me into anything, it’s very dangerous.” Trying to laugh, Hank hung his head a little. Soren was right though, Hank knew all that and was just panicking. He panicked over everything but he’d been so afraid of having something depend on him that half of him wanted to run down the block. 

But Soren was there so it’d be okay. 

“It’s not. It’s not too late to back out and you know this. We could go get milkshakes or see a film, there’s plenty we could do. It’s not like we’re inside yet,” Hank rambled, showing the anxiety he was feeling, but he did what Soren said. Put one foot in front of the other and walked in. Managing to both be excited and look like he was being marched to his death. “And I already know which one I want.” 

“Being persuasive is roughly sixty-five percent of my charm,” Soren shrugged, trotting just far enough ahead of Hank to rest his hand on the shelter’s door. "The other half is my uncanny ability to consume a dozen bacon wrapped donut holes and live to tell the tale.”

Once Soren pulled the door open, it would all be over for his friend. They’d stroll inside and walk out with an extra set of four legs between them. “You know all of that is stuff we can do with a dog with us, right? Though, if we’re going to run errands we’re going to have to swing by and get Pesto. She’ll never forgive me if I come home smelling like another dog and a milkshake.” Finally, Soren held the door open for Henry. Rolling his eyes at the other man’s hesitation. When he’d found Pesto, not taking her with him hadn’t been an option. Not just because of the circumstances in which they came together, but also because he’d fallen instantly in love with the scruffy little dog. 

He imagined Henry felt much the same. “All this hesitation and you’ve already got a dog picked out? We haven’t even walked inside yet.” Soren propped the door open with is foot, stepping aside to make way for Hank. Though, it took some effort not to reach forward and yank him inside.

NEW POST by @sorenbisckett

Hank preened a moment before pretending to be hurt by Soren’s words. “I don’t whine,” he pouted, the smile getting in the way of making that convincing. Soren could say whatever he wanted right now. This was like his birthday come early and inside, the gift he’d been nagging his parents for all year. Hank was just a little excited. 

“They call that something, bringing dogs to play together.” Waving his hand, Hank dismissed the answer he didn’t have. “I don’t know but I’m going to have to do so much to my house for this and not just you and your dog coming round. I did not prepare for this at all,” Hank’s eyes closed tight. The dog food, the bed, a collar, a leash. Then there was the doggie door and the list just got longer the more Hank thought about it. Panic and practically started to sink in and they hadn’t even made it inside. “Maybe we just hang out with the dogs today and some other time I can bring one home. It’s…I’m not ready.” 

“Yeah I believe that’s just a playdate,” he filled in the gap. “And if we were suburban mom’s we’d drink wine on the back porch and watch the kids play and hope they didn’t get themselves killed while we were too tipsy to stop them.” He’d managed to keep Pesto alive, despite her best efforts at times. And if he could keep something alive, that spoke wonders for what someone like Henry was capable of.

Soren positioned himself behind Henry, putting both hands on his shoulders and giving them a reassuring squeeze as he looked into the doorway of the Pet Rescue. “Good thing pet stores usually allow pets inside. So we can find your dream dog and swing by and get everything you need. I’ll even help you set up.” Soren leaned in over the back of Henry’s shoulder, so he could speak directly into his ear. “One foot in front of the other, Henry. Move it. Too late to back out now.” With a gentle pat on the other man’s shoulders, Soren moved past him to lead the way into the shelter.

John couldn’t quite keep up his act but with the way Soren sounded so utterly appalled, he couldn’t help himself. “Soren, my dear friend, I wouldn’t even know where to start,” he said firmly, unable to keep the amusement off of his features which was probably enough to give him away. The man was aware that he could come across as kind of a snob but Soren’s style genuinely suited him. It was very him after all and fit his overall aesthetic. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I can’t help that I was born with a remarkable sense of taste,” he continued but his lips twitched into a broad grin and he finally let out the laugh that had been bubbling up the entire time. “I’m just messing with you. You look fine.”

Considering that almost two years had passed since their first and only almost encounter, John figured it was getting easier to joke about it occasionally. The last thing he wanted was for Soren to feel uncomfortable though, so he watched him for a moment, trying to read his expression. It wasn’t a very pleasant memory for either of them, he was aware of that, but it brought him some sense of peace to know that they’d eventually recovered and had even managed to become friends now after running into each other again – the curse of living in a small town like Redwood Bay.

When Soren sat down, John crossed his legs again and turned his upper body so he was facing him, a brow shooting up immediately at his words. “Right,” he deadpanned. “So my way was the creepy stalker way then? Even though I didn’t mean for it to be? Seriously though, you should’ve just snapped me out of it. That way I could’ve avoided staring into the void like that and making an ass out of myself,” he joked. “What were you up to anyways? Other than respectfully checking me out from a distance of course. I didn’t know you liked coming here.”

“Oh yeah,” Soren smirks, “well, if good taste is hereditary, I am thoroughly fucked. Lucky you, I guess.” It certainly didn’t run in his family. Between his cartoon character of a father, whose closet was packed with fourteen identical ill-fitting suits, and his mother’s stick-up-her-ass no-nonsense-political-lady pencil skirts, Soren had clearly lost out on any attempt to have taste. “But I’ll take the compliment where I can get it.” He sat up a little straighter, making a dramatic show of straightening an invisible tie. He still remembered enough from his upbringing to mimic propriety.

Soren nodded his head back towards where he’d been sitting. “Needed a change of scenery,” he said. “I’m working on this essay and everywhere I go I get distracted.” He nudged the other man with his elbow, a grin widening across his face, “Kinda like now, huh? Guess it wasn’t meant to be today.”

closed starter for @sorenbeckett​ location: paws up

Paws Up was starting to feel like  Hank’s home. The occasional visit to pretend he was going to adopt a puppy was turning into full blown volunteering, bring friends, and now being dragged down here by a friend because Soren didn’t want to listen to the cries of not owing a dog anymore. Not that he said anything to Soren but Hank knew exactly which one he was leaving with today. They’d already bonded. Though once they walked in and Hank was greeted by his four-legged best friend, it’d become obvious to everyone who he was taking home. 

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, absorbing the sun like a lizard and bundled up tight against the cold wind that refused to catch up with the approaching spring, Hank waited for Soren to show up. When he caught sight of the other that excitement that had been sitting low and keeping quiet for the day’s adventure started to bubble over. Were Hank a child or had fewer worries about things, he’d have run up to Soren but instead he stood there with a grin, being patient. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” He teased. “You think you’ve seen me be obnoxious, well get ready for this responsibility because I’m dragging you down with me here.” 

“Am I sure I’m ready for you to stop whining about wanting to adopt?” Soren smirked as he jogged the last few steps towards his patiently waiting friend. Henry had his heart clearly set on something and Soren was nothing if not an enabler. His philosophy towards life had, over the years, evolved into don’t think, just do. And so far, in most respects, it had worked out for him just fine. He nudged his elbow into the other man’s arms. “No, I’m definitely ready for this.”

Demitri had been on his daily run. Usually it was something he did first thing in the morning when the sun was just beginning to rise, but he had worked at the station over night and a call had him tied up until about breakfast. So now he was running, well jogging more so. As soon as he saw a dog up ahead, his speed slowed slightly. His love of dogs was no secret and if he had no self control, he’d have adopted twenty, but alas he personally had none. He just didn’t think he had the proper time and schedule.

He grinned as the dog came up and jumped on him. “Hey girl,” Demitri let her sniff his hands first. “Hey, no problem at all. She’s a cutie,” he called out.

"Pesto, come here,” he called again with no luck. She really was harmless, but no one really loved random dog prints on their clothes if they had to be somewhere. Thankfully, her target seemed to take it all in stride.

“Sorry about that,” Soren said, bringing her to heel at his side. “This is her revenge for being shut in the house all day. Now that she’s loose, she’s here to terrorize all the innocent pedestrians.” He watched the other man introduce himself to his dog, thankful he wasn’t mad. “Anyway, this is Pesto. I’m Soren.” He offered his hand out as he introduced them.