My Arms get Cold in February Air

Ace could sense that Romy was waiting for him to gulp down the drink first before she would try it, so he brought the bottle to his lips and took a large swallow of it. It was one thing he’d been able to find here in the States that reminded him of his homeland, a fact for which he was thankful, because he never wanted to forget his homeland even if there was no particular spot in it he called home. He’d learned that most people had items or recipes or such that reminded them of home, of their parents and where they had dinner as a child, or friends they’d grown up with. He didn’t have those things, though, he just had photographs and beer to remind him of nights he’d snuck out to taverns or out to take photographs of some place only he would find beautiful.

A playful grin played on his lips as Romy finally took a sip of the beer and swallowed it down hard, like it was too thick and too strong a taste for her to really get down. “A bit of one, I suppose,” he stated as Romy said it was an acquired taste. He supposed, when he really thought about it, that he’d grown up with the taste, so it was more than normal for him to like it. “I have something lighter, if you would like something else- wine, cola, juice, water?” He left it at that as he turned back toward the stove, checking on the sandwiches before flipping them both onto the plates he’d gotten out. He turned the knob on the stove to ‘off’ before grabbing both plates and sliding one across to Romy and making his way around so he could sit beside her.

It was only as he sat down that he realized that within all her words there had been a question. “I have, mainly, been going through books of photographs I took back home- I have some from a few parades I watched back home; very colorful and fun, if I do say so myself.” Those were some of the only photographs he’d taken in color as he typically stuck to black and white. The festivities that went on here in the States just weren’t the same a back home, mainly people looking to get wasted on green beer, but he wasn’t going to mention that. “No,” he shook his head and turned his body so he was facing Romy more, “do not think such things, Miss Romy. You have, actually, made my plans much better for before they only included myself, this apartment, and some old photographs. Now they include good company and amazing beauty as well.”

Romy laughed - more at herself than at the way Ace was looking at her. The taste wasn’t horrible, per se. it was just… intense. She swallowed another gulp down and nodded at her friend. “I’ll be fine, I’ll just drink this slowly,” she said. “I won’t say no to that wine after this glass, though,” she said with a shrug. Watching Ace flip the sandwiches, her stomach rumbled a little. She was pretty hungry - her aunt ate early and she’d decided to wait when Ace invited her over. She wasn’t regretting that decision, though, not at all. They smelled amazing, and looked pretty awesome too. Well, as good as grilled cheese sandwiches could look, anyway. Sipping at her beer, she smiled at Ace as he settled down beside her. She couldn’t ignore the way her heart sped up whenever he was close to her. That was a new development - she’d noticed on the day they had spent taking pictures in the city. Every small, accidental brush of Ace’s hand or body against hers, every time he smiled… it sent her heart into overdrive. She bit at her lip and looked down at her food.

It didn’t help much. Ace’s words, the way he seemed so intent on convincing her that she was making his night better… she blushed, hoping it wasn’t too obvious. She didn’t need to scare her friend away, not when she was finally starting to feel like somebody in this city cared for her in some way or another. His final words, though, made her laugh. “Beauty?” she asked incredulously. “I don’t know what you’re looking at, Ace, but it definitely isn’t me.” She had to smile, though. “My night has definitely improved too,” she said softly, reaching down and starting to at when he did.

(via loveless--bedrooms)

Ace had heard the doorknob to his apartment turning, door pushing open, and quiet footsteps entering the place he called home. There was only one person it could be- Romy- though it seemed she was taking her time to make it over to where he was standing in the kitchen. He had no doubts she was looking at the photographs he had framed or made picture boxes for that littered the walls of his apartment, reminding him of the life he left behind him; his homeland, the few people he had chosen to call friends up until the day he left when, well, he still wasn’t quite ready to think back on that. It was childish, really, for him to still hang on to that memory and hold this sort of grudge, but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go, so he simply tried to suppress the memory.

A soft chuckle was pulled from him as he felt Romy’s arms sliding around him from behind, a bit of a backward arrangement as typically you saw women cooking over the stove and the man coming up behind them, but he didn’t mind it one bit, he actually liked it better this way. He could feel the way her cheek pressed against his back and everything clicked right into place; this, the two of them, could actually work together. Two artists striving to get their name out their in some way, to better themselves, and to think of and see the world differently than others did. They had all of that in common, yet they could still learn so much from each other so they wouldn’t get bored of the same conversations as some couples did.

He let that thought disappear, though, as she pulled away from him and took a seat at the breakfast bar across from the stove. “Thank you,” he said once he had successfully flipped both sandwiches over and placed the spatula down so he could turn to look at her. “Now, Miss Romy, are you ready for the finest of all beers?” He questioned, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he turned his back to her so he could grab two of the Guinness bottles from the fridge, popping the tops off quickly before placing one down in front of her. “‘Tis hard to find a proper Guinness here, I must say, but it seemed only fitting to have them on a day such as this,” he began, “So… Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona,” he ended by lifting up the cool glass bottle in a sort of toast to the two of them celebrating the holiday.

Romy loved the way Ace’s shirt-covered back felt against her cheek as she hugged him. He smelled like he always did - masculine and familiar, and it made her heart beat a little faster than it had been already. She got a sudden flash of an image -the two of them doing this every night, one of them coming home from a day at the studio or a set. It was strange how vivid it was, really. Romy shook her head and sat, smiling widely as she nodded. “More than ready,” she said, watching Ace turn to the fridge. He returned with two dark bottles with an ominous-looking brown liquid in then. Romy raised her eyebrows in apprehension. Beer had never really been her thing, and she’d caught a whiff already of the drink. For Ace, though, she would give this a try. “I’m glad you found it, I guess?” she half questioned as she lifted the bottle Ace slid towards her. She smiled, trying to copy the toast he made. “La Fheile padra… ” she managed before laughing and shaking her head. Oh well, it sounded a hell of a lot better in Ace’s gorgeous accent anyway. She waited for Ace to take a sip before she lifted the bottle to her own lips, slowly tipping it and swallowing slowly. It was… something. It wasn’t horrible, but there was something there that made her feel like she was drinking burnt toast mixed with bananas. She screwed her nose up, swallowing hard and laughing as she swirled the bottle. It was so thick - no wonder people said it could be counted as a meal! “I guess it’s an acquired taste,” she said with a giggle. 

Taking a smaller sip, she crossed her legs and smiled up at Ace. “So, have you done anything else to celebrate the day?” she asked, fingers picking at the label on her bottle subconsciously. Part of her felt bad that Ace was here at home with her instead of out enjoying what was sure to be a fun, if not slightly messy, night in the city. Just because she couldn’t drink out there didn’t mean he had to be back here… although she couldn’t deny she was more than glad he was. There was really nowhere else she could think of that she would rather be, if she was completely honest. “I’m sorry if I ruined your plans for the night,” she said with a small smile. “I’m sure the festivities would be amazing out there tonight. Everyone was so dressed up and happy!”

(via loveless--bedrooms)

Ace had fully been ready to go out and search the city for some kind of pub- hopefully an Irish one so they’d at least have thegood stuff there- that was decent, if not actually good. But, these plans had soon changed when he’d begun speaking to  Romy. There was really only one way to explain what he was feeling- he liked Romy. She was a beautiful young woman, an artist (an amazing one, at that), a singer, a guitar player, an and all-around wonderful person. She was pretty much what he’d been looking for when he was younger, just a lot less Irish, and much more mature.

Suddenly he found himself tossing on some green beads he’d been thrown at a previous Saint Patrick’s Day parade in Dublin along with loose-fitting jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of all-black shoes. It was a much more relaxed look for him, especially around Romy, but he felt like he could be more relaxed around her now after they’d been out a couple of times. Plus, if this was going to lead anywhere for the two of them, she needed to see all of his sides, which included the laid-back, Guinness-in-hand side. He hadn’t done this since just before his 17th birthday back in Ireland before he was “shipped off” to the states. Nonetheless, there he stood in front of the stove, cooking up some of his famous (well, that’s what he called them) grilled cheese sandwiches which were made up of thick slices of bread, tomatoes, basil, oregano, and, of course, smoked mozzarella cheese.

He was most of the way through making the sandwiches when he head the intercom buzzing at him and he pressed the button to hear who it was ringing him, though he already knew exactly who it was- Romy. “Come on up- the door is unlocked” he said, a grin spreading across his lips even though she couldn’t see it, before he made his way back to the stove to flip the sandwiches over, just in time, too, as they were turning a golden brown on one side.

She ran her hand through her hair one more time, making sure it looked okay, startling slightly when Ace’s voice filtered out through the intercom. She smiled, his accent sending a strange kind of joy through her. God, she really needed to pull herself together if she was going to maintain an air of sanity for the rest of the night. She pushed open the door, pressing the right button in the lift and waiting for it to stop at the floor Ace had directed her to. Looking around at the numbers on the apartment doors, she came to a stop in front of one. Taking a deep breath, she knocked, before remembering what Ace had said. Blushing slightly, she turned the knob, letting herself in. The first thing she noticed about his apartment was the overwhelmingly amazing smell of food wafting out from the kitchen. God, she wasn’t sure she’d ever smelled grilled cheese quite like that before. She looked around as she made her way into the kitchen, taking her time to notice the photos and art on the walls, trailing her fingers over the keys of the keyboard in the corner…

She dropped her bag and coat on the back of a chair, spotting Ace at the stove. “Smells good,” she said with a small smile. She leaned up to hug him slightly, something she hadn’t done before, but hey, they were friends, right? Sitting back down on the stool, she watched him cook. “Your apartment is really nice,” she said,   neck craning as she watched him flip the sandwiches. “And that is some damn good looking grilled cheese.” She laughed, looking at the array of ingredients on the bench. 

(via loveless--bedrooms)