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Hooray, Thanksgiving.

I started off at ten, very nervously. I arrived around eleven. There was a bit of doing, finding a place for Lord Mark (the old Compaq who needs a brain transplant) in Darkside's garage. Darkside dragged me off into his room and we re-assembled Tigereye (the "I DON'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT" sticker came off straightaway); there was fun finding all the key caps and putting them in something approaching the right places.

For anyone who wants a fun "spending time close together with the geek of one's dreams" exercise, I recommend putting key caps back on a laptop. There was much giggling and joking around and the inevitable excuse to be close together, not that either of us really needs an excuse -- Darkside knows I like to be close, even though he doesn't have that same drive for physical closeness. We've come to an understanding or two on that one -- he puts up with a huggy Lunatic, and I roll a lot of will saves against wrapping myself around him.

After we'd finished getting the computer set up (I deleted the entire D: drive, the place where I'd kept most of my stuff, and left some of the random things on the desktop) Darkside brought out the new re-special edition Star Wars "extra features" DVD. "I love you," I said with my lips but not with my voice. (I didn't really have an adequate answer for why I'd said this, but in retrospect I think it was mostly that he knows me, and knows exactly what will delight me.) He shared the Darth Vader feature with me; I was squeeing appropriately. Darkside likes making me happy. It's a bit of a hobby of his. His mother bopped in at a few moments to mention the Abbott and Costello marathon on some random cable channel; both of us managed to insist that Star Wars trumped Abbott and Costello, at least temporarily. He hadn't Lunatic-proofed his room before my arrival, much to my amusement, so he had to studiously avoid opening one DVD drive.

Darkside brought out some stuff he'd written up for the game he and a work friend of his are running. I didn't get a chance to read all of it, but he had me take it with me. I'm unspeakably delighted to see that he's writing things, and had earlier expressed my willingness to read anything he writes -- at least, I think I'd done so. In any case, I've got that to read. He's got CIS Disease (an illness of spelling and/or punctuation), but that was a Known Factor, and the errors do not make me scream.

The meal was good, and the company was fun. I think it was some combination of Naomi/Dagger out, which would have made sense based on my jewelry choice for the day -- the silver and garnet cranberry necklace, and Naomi's little silver ring with the blue topaz chip. I was charming, pleasant, sweet, and assertive. I explained my reasoning behind bringing Lord Mark, which was judged sound; if playing with Lord Mark in his spare time can net Darkside a better job with more opportunity for advancement, it's certainly a very sane idea for me to hand him over.

Darkside's father, in jest, claimed the entire pecan pie. There was a lot of fun involving that. I feel slightly evil knowing that Darkside likes pecan pie. His mother pointed out to me that he also likes cheesecake. That made me feel more evil. I helped with the cleanup; very few things make me feel more accepted and cared about than being included in the preparations/deconstruction of a happy family event where there is a lot of happy joking and teasing and laughing.

There was a rather lot of Abbott and Costello after the cleanup was finished. Darkside's father crashed out on one of the couches, Darkside claimed another couch, and Darkside's mother and I sat on the other one with our crocheting. I pulled out Thalia to design the afghan for the Little Fayoumis; it's a bit of a departure from the usual style. I let Darkside's mom know that Darkside was on my list to get an afghan from me eventually; Darkside's mom let me know that the guy already has three afghans.

Too much TV gives me a headache. That was the downside. My brain goes numb, too. But the company was good. Darkside's mom started teasing Darkside's father after he woke up. (Darkside was a little surprised at this, but after I explained what his mom had said on the phone last night, he understood.) By the time the Abbott and Costello marathon went off, I was Officially Headachey -- not enough to have to sit out and be in pain, but enough to notice. Sinus -- I could have done more to fight it beforehand, but I shouldn't have spent all that time in front of the TV. I spent another movie there -- Peter Sellers, cunning plans, incompetence, and electric shocks. That was after they couldn't find the Abbott & Costello movie they were looking for.

It had hit around 8 by then, and I gathered up the afghan and yarn and wandered off in the general direction of leaving. Since I'd put everything in Darkside's room, that was the general direction of leaving. All told, it took me until 9 to get out the door. There was a lot more giggling and hugging and playing with weapons and lots of those moments when everything just catches up to you and your mind just loses its words but you're present together. He lost his words too. In fact, he was the first one to mention it. It was no little scary and wonderful, just because it was so very delightfully warm and happy and even though we weren't making much sense half the time, the other half, some crucial things were being expressed. I mentioned, somewhere in there, that this was like those times when we're trying to get off the phone with each other, but then we just can't -- "Oh, you've noticed that too?" I spent a lot of the time blushing, holding my arms up in front of me, and looking with downcast eyes. This wasn't actually a bad thing, because even though those things are generally signs of discomfort, in this case, it was a certain level of uncertainty and the stretchy uneasiness that one feels with a new and unaccustomed level of intimacy with someone I trust. I'm huggy. He's not huggy. Somehow, it's not destroying the friendship. I managed to communicate the necessity of him hugging me back for a proper hug, not him just standing there in passive acceptance of my gesture of affection. Hooray, hug-backs.

I know that it had to have looked a bit odd for me to be coming out of his room with brightly flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and disarranged hair. That's what you get, though, when you've been closed in a warm room with your best friend and bondmate, talking and not-talking about things close to your hearts, and also checking and seeing how high you can kick. ("Can I kick as high as my head?" "I don't know -- I wasn't watching. You're wearing a skirt, and it slides up when you kick. I was looking away on purpose." "I am wearing underwear." He wound up averting his eyes -- and it took quite a bit of averting before he actually got in a position where he actually wasn't looking at me -- and holding up his hand for me to kick; I connected nicely.)

He walked outside with me to the car. We had some quiet moments out there, interrupted by a passing car, and two fireworks explosions. I really enjoy those quiet moments. Neither of us has any idea when the next time we'll see each other is, but I think we've definitely established that seeing each other in person is a Good Thing.

We're best friends, and we've been best friends for a long time, but things are getting electric in the air between us (as if it wasn't before) and that certain sort of Teenage Awkwardness abounds in those moments between the quiet moments and the silly moments. It's actually kind of fun.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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