*It was raining again. Not all that surprising, since it had rained, off and on, all week, but still a slightly noteworthy event to someone unused to living in places where the climate allowed for rain, rain, and more rain. He thought that he'd probably miss the sound of it on the roof, spattering on the rocks at the corners of the eaves just outside the front (and only) door, slithering and dripping through the leaves and branches of the trees outside... He wouldn't necessarily miss the humidity that crept in at every opportunity and dampened every single thing they'd brought to a slightly repulsive clamminess. Oh, well... There were plenty of ways to combat the chill that seeped in when the small fire died, and enough to explore during the day that kept circulation and heart rates up. He did draw the line at testing the theory that the lake really was warm, even though the woman they'd run into insisted it was. After contemplating the drippy world beyond the somewhat steamed-over window near the door and wondering once more why he hadn't thought to invest in the series of Field Guides to the Stuff Around You whatsisname had been trying to sell him last month, his mind wanders towards next week and the return to more urban wilds...*

~~He was grinning quite thoroughly, pleased with himself. Two fish, scaled and gutted and ready to fry up hang from his line, and the rain seems to have cheered him all day. He'd been invited fishing with the woman, and accepted somewhat hesitantly, only to be thrilled with the results. He'd have to get Beej out there before they left... Contemplating how to do so, he pushes open the screen door and slinks into the cabin.~~ M'ome...

Hello... *He turns and blinks at the younger man, giving the fish a strange look before recalling what they were. Being distracted by deep, secret thoughts had its drawbacks. The aforementioned thoughts fade into the background, a slow, warm happiness welling up from somewhere. Dog-earing the current page of his forgotten book, he puts it aside and stands.* What kind are they?

Mmmm...d'nno? S'som' kin'a...tro't'r'summth'n. ~~Not seeming at all phayzed by the lack of knowledge, the slight young man heads for the kitchen and leaves the fish in the sink. Rinsing his hands quickly, he comes back, wiping them on his jeans.~~ Y'be'n try'n t'r'm'b'r th'ngs 'gain, aincha?

Trout? Hum. *Not knowing doesn't seem to bother Beej much, either. They could always look it up later... Shaking his head at the accusation, he lets a smile find its way onto his face.* Actually, no... I was just thinking about... *Trailing off, he looks around, peering over Neets' shoulder into the kitchen before bringing his gaze back to those yellow eyes.* Moving.

~~The younger man slips closer, thin arms sliding around Beej's waist carefully.~~ Mov'n w'ere? ~~He's been trying to come to terms with their near-transposition of roles lately, and having a bit of luck. he felt better being able to give something back...but he'd have felt better still if he knew the trader was fine.~~

I don't know... Just... Somewhere else. *Arms settle into familiar positions, his face resting against damp green hair... He wasn't certain if this sudden desire to find a new place to hang his hat was part of not remembering things, or if it was something else entirely. He did know one thing, though...* A house, some place without neighbors pressed up against the wall. *And then maybe this feeling of impending doom would go away.... Maybe then things would be back to what approximated normal, even though they were almost comfortable in their current state...*

Mmmm...mebbe s'a g'od 'dea... ~~Neets doesn't seem to be taking it badly, this sudden desire to uproot them and traipse somewhere new... Maybe it's because he knows the trader hasn't been content lately, or perhaps it's because Beej -is- home to him.~~ A 'ouse'd be c'ol...an'w'ere y'wan' Beej... ~~His fingers smooth over the slightly sticky fabric of his lover's shirt, tracing along vertebrae and just being there.~~

Think so? Good... *And Beej wouldn't expect him to, since they'd been been wandering all over for the better part of a year. The why of it didn't matter so much to the trader, just that Neets didn't mind, and/or wanted to go along.* On a hill, somewhere... I don't even know where we should start looking. *Shrugging a bit, he brings a hand up to rest at the back of Neets' neck, fingers barely brushing the edges of his pale scars...*

~~He nods silently, shivering at the fingertips on his skin.~~ W'll fin' som'place... T'ri't'n...

I know... *He holds the younger man even closer (if that's possible) at the shiver, pressing a kiss to his brow. Stepping back, though not -quite- ready to break the embrace, he looks down at Neets again.* So, what shall we do with the fish?

Sh'tol'me 'ow't cook't. Need'a fry'n pan'n s'me butt'r. N...s'lt. ~~He nods, remembering the instructions exactly as they'd been given and willing not to dwell upon anything overly traumatic for now.~~ Th' 'ouse need's'a 'ave a b'g bathr'm... ~~Grinning, he slips a little bit further away, looking towards the kitchen.~~

She did? Ah... *At this, a grin makes itself known.* Well, if we don't have everything, I'm sure we can make do with what we -do- have... *He begins running over the list of what they had, before becoming thoroughly distracted by that last remark.* Oh? Planning on holding many parties in it? *Shaking his head, he allows him to slip from his arms, reaching up and finding a mostly dry towel.* Here, you're soaking... *He's unaware, or perhaps uncaring, that he sounds a bit like a mother hen, draping the cloth over those emerald locks and doing his best to ignore the creeping horror lurking at the back of his mind.*

Nah...jus' don' wanna 'afta w'rry 'bout not 'av'n 'nuff room in't show'r. ~~He rubs the towel over his hair, feeling just the bare inklings of dread from he lover. He frowns, hidden by the towel, and does his best to soothe it.~~ Com' t'lk t'me w'il'm cook'n?

*A laugh, a touch too loud (maybe... Maybe it's just the odd acoustics of the small shelter), springs from him at that.* And that would be a tragedy. *Growing much more somber, Beej nods.* Some place with plenty of room, everywhere. *Contemplating the motions of hands and fabric, he gives a little shrug.* Sure... You had a pretty good time fishing? *It's honest curiosity, his voice unweighted by any suspicion... The unease retreats to the farthest edge of his thoughts.*

~~His smile is faint, reaching out to draw his hand down the trader's arm and clasp fingers with him.~~ Yup...s'fun. Y'g'tta try't wit' me... ~~He wants his lover to be fine...wants them to be just settled for awhile...and he relaxes visibly as he feels Beej calm.~~

*He ducks his head and tightens his fingers as Neets' tangles them together, happy enough to be led into the kitchen.* Oh? Maybe tomorrow, or the day after... *The brushing of concern and relief puzzle him for a few seconds, summarily dismissing them in favor of coming up with more requirements for the quarry of their upcoming house-hunt.*

Y'll lik't...~~He nods, damp hair flopping into yellow eyes as he heads for the sink.~~ S't'll me w'tcha wan' inna 'ouse...

Probably. *His free hand comes up to flip green hair out of citrine eyes* What do I want, 'sides you, in a house? Hm. *His words slow, his expression growing far-away* Plenty of storage, so a garage or a good-sized shed or something. The house itself doesn't have to be all that big... Kitchen, bedroom or two, bath... living room, and/or a den... Neighbors at least fifty feet away. *A firm nod for this last requirement, followed by a swift frown. Beej is uncertain as to why he should suddenly dislike having neighbors, but he does. Mulling this, he raises his eyebrows.* You?

~~Neets putters around the tiny kitchen, wondering idly just where he acquired the knack of puttering, collecting things for the fish. The butter goes into the pan first, sizzling a little as the stove heats up under it.~~ Lo'sa w'ndows...mebbe a g'rd'n r'summat. ~~He grins at the bit about the neighbours, nodding along.~~

A lot of windows... Finding one on a hill is a definite requirement, then, with an interesting view. *The trader watches the puttering, thinking that he must have perfected the skill while arranging and rearranging table after table full of stuff. The image of a Neets lost in a garden of green things gets a chuckle.* A garden, too, then... *Eyeing the melting butter, he makes a moue of thought.* Do you want a hand, or shall I just stay out of the way?

You know how it ends, just click the button. *Grin*