Declaration of Independence

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only

Category: Alternate Reality, Mild Angst, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Into the fire

Note: July 4, 2004 was the first time Ian and Quinn wore the wedding bands they got in Williamsburg. Here's the story: # 27 Independence Day: Let Freedom Ring - http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/i/indep.html

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 48

A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/

My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

To Alex and Ula, my friends and betas extraordinaire

July 4th, 2005.

Quinn and Ian's personal Declaration of Independence had occurred at a Prentice family barbecue one year ago today.

That evening, they had worn their wedding bands for the first time, to the surprised delight of Ian's immediate family. This year, the rings had been on much more often, especially after Rory's comment at Jo and Keith's anniversary party. Now Rory was hosting the traditional cookout. They hadn't seen him since the hotel incident.

The men arrived at five o'clock. Rory answered the door, eyes widening when he saw the flash of gold as Ian handed him a six-pack of Guinness. He reflexively checked Quinn's finger for its inevitable twin. Rory forced himself to smile, and ushered them in.

He could tell they'd been to the beach; their hair was sun-bleached, skin dark against it. They had a loose-limbed ease which bespoke days in the sun better than a stamped passport.

Jo and Keith were already there, but Kathy and Monty had stayed with her family this year. Jo shot Ian a gratified look; she hadn't actually expected them to come into the lion's den with this unmistakable evidence of commitment.

Dirk, Rory's sixteen-year-old son, drew his father into the kitchen to ask about Ian and Quinn when he saw the rings.

"You said they were best friends, Dad."

"They are, Dirk. But there's a bit more to it."

"You mean they're together."

"Yes."

"Like you and Mom."

It took a moment for Rory to process this, but he refused to dodge the issue. "Yes," he said again, heavily.

Dirk said with an unpleasant grin, "The boys in my class..."

Interrupting hastily, Rory said, "Kids can be cruel. But Ian's your cousin. You've always liked him. Don't let it get in the way."

"Isn't what they're doing a bad thing?"

Though it took an effort, Rory mustered the right words. "Love is never wrong." Although Rory shared his son's discomfort, he was determined not to teach his child bigotry.

This conversation was precisely what Rory had tried to avoid at Core Tower. While he didn't want his son to be prejudiced, he'd prefer to discourage later experimentation. One gay couple in the family was plenty. Rory thought of the Mastersons with envy -- they didn't have to deal with these complex issues.

Already, Dirk had been influenced by Ian. English was his favorite subject, in part due to his cousin's gifts of books, which he'd discussed with him over many a meal.

"If you say it's okay, then those kids are wrong."

The knowledge of his own power slammed into Rory with the force of an oncoming train. If parents had this much influence on their children, it was a crime not to use it positively.

Upon their return to the living room, Rory was pleased to see the genuine smile on Dirk's face when they joined the professors. Rory put his hand on his son's shoulder. "Good to see you, guys."

Ian grinned tentatively, clearly not expecting such civility, and Rory felt remorse for his actions on the dance floor. Of course Quinn and Ian would be wary of him after that.

His son's comment reverberated through his mind. "Like you and Mom." Those simple words, Rory reflected, shouldn't have affected him so profoundly, but they had nonetheless.

Love. That's what he and Aurelia shared with Ian and Quinn.

He'd seen them together, had discreetly watched their every move, as a matter of fact. Never demonstrative, they could well be just best friends, if not for the spark between them that even he could feel. Walking to the dining room, with no parts of their bodies touching, they were still connected.

Fascinated by the unknown, Rory recognized love from a source he'd never considered for himself. His own best friend was a nice enough fellow, but he couldn't picture greater intimacy than a pat on the shoulder between them.

Rory had never dealt with these matters within the family before. A few of his business associates and acquaintances were gay, but it had never literally hit so close to home for him.

This was the first time Rory had talked with Quinn and Ian since his sister's anniversary, and it brought back memories Rory had been trying to forget. He still saw Ian's face at the party in his mind's eye, gone from a genial grin to a frozen mask of politeness in the space of a sentence.

And before it had iced over, Rory had seen the raw suffering there, pain that he'd inflicted with his own self-righteous cruelty. Now he saw that his attempt to shelter the children had been pointless and misguided. With the advent of those rings, the men had taken that option from him anyway.

Rory knew he hadn't faced the reality of two gay men in the clan, what it meant to the rest of them, how it affected relationships with his sister and nephew. He'd noticed Jo's slight frostiness recently, and realized that she was aware of his problems with Quinn and Ian. She had wanted his unequivocal support when she'd told him about Ian. All he'd been able to muster was a lukewarm smile. He was all for equal rights in principle, but this was no abstraction. He worried about the influence on his son. He worried about Ian's safety. He worried.

He'd behaved almost the same with Ian as before, but that 'almost' was insultingly obvious to his nephew. The hugs were more perfunctory, the conversation a bit stilted. There were certain things not up for discussion any longer.

This was the first time Ian had visited Rory's home since they'd all found out about Quinn a year and a half ago, which surprised Rory when he considered it. Before that, Ian had come over every few weeks for his talks with Dirk, and to sample Aurelia's famous spanakopita.

Rory was eight years younger than his sister, and hadn't married yet when Monty and Ian were born. He'd played with the boys as if they were his own, building models and Meccano with them. Rory had a hand in the construction of the R2-D2 droid still patrolling Ian's desk in Padua. No one had been prouder at Ian's Georgeton graduation than Uncle Rory. He'd cheered to rival Jo and Keith when Ian was presented with his diploma.

Had Ian changed that much in his eyes just because of his choice of lover? Looking at him now as he talked with Aunt Moira and Quinn, Rory could still see his beloved nephew. Even Quinn's light touch on Ian's elbow for an instant didn't change that. He remembered their closeness before Quinn and wanted it back. He knew it was in his hands. Ian was forgiving, and would be happy to have their friendship restored.

A subdued Quinn and Ian walked into the backyard together, the scent of barbecued ribs spicing the air. At previous family parties, they'd taken care not to display their relationship, but now blended in with the other couples there.

Jo and Keith came up to them, eyes subtly drawn to their rings. Jo felt a deep pride; it looked like they were on to stay, at least with the Prentice side of the family. She hadn't truly believed that this would ever happen, especially considering Quinn's reticence. But Ian's devastated face at her anniversary party had apparently worked wonders on him.

Keith, while unaware of that incident, had felt the tension between Rory and the boys for the past year and a half. His father's eye saw Ian's brow crease and Quinn's sober mien in the midst of celebration.

He knew Rory considered himself open-minded, but clues to his conflicted feelings surfaced all too often. Keith put his hands on Ian and Quinn's shoulders, lending them his quiet strength and support. Smiles returned to their faces before the first word was spoken. "Good to see you, guys. You look like you could do with a couple beers." He reached over to the picnic table to snag two of the bottles Ian had brought, and popped their caps before handing them to his sons. The three took a few pulls, and grinned at each other.

The real fireworks this year had happened in The Sunset Room of Core Tower, along with another step toward freedom, but the current display was inspiring as well.

The Macens waited for full dark at 9:15, then started the light show. It seemed like a thousand fountains and comets lit the heavens before the grand finale, in which blue and green clusters burst into one another, surrounded by red, white, and blue.

Quinn and Ian watched avidly, attention on the sky, feeling the pull of space. Their relatives sat silent around them, more people than Quinn had ever imagined knowing about their secret.

And it was all right.

Ian rolled his shoulders when he locked the door after them at home. Quinn dropped his hands on those shoulders and started to rub. "Takes a lot out of you, I know," he said, more sigh than sentence. He didn't mention that on their infrequent brushes with his parents, he'd felt exactly the same.

"Feels like a test every time we see him," Ian said, relaxing into Quinn's arms. "I'm always a little played out afterwards."

Quinn's strong fingers continued to massage Ian. "We're home, love. No worries now."

Ian tried to heed him, but it had to come out. "Dirk is watching us too."

"They were both friendly enough today." Quinn kissed the tip of Ian's nose. "That's about all we can hope for. Don't borrow trouble, lad." He walked Ian over to the couch, and turned on the TV, trying to get his mind off Prentice family politics.

It was already set to the SciFi channel, one of their favorites. Kolchak was on, a werewolf chasing him across the screen. Just the thing to help them unwind. When Vincenzo appeared, Quinn was reminded of their skill as a comedy team, expertly leavening the gritty supernatural drama with their acerbic wit.

Quinn lazily petted the back of Ian's neck, tickling the short hairs there. He'd found that Ian quickly melted under his fingers with this particular caress. Ian kissed his cheek in gratitude. "So good to be home."

Ian fell asleep, just what he needed, and Quinn covered him with their Wayfarers' quilt. Quinn logged on his laptop to do research for his paper in progress. He stayed on the sofa, knowing that Ian could feel his warmth next to him, even while sleeping. Quinn was rewarded when Ian stirred beside him an hour later, drowsy fingers curling around Quinn's wrist.

"Sleep well, lad?" Quinn asked, crinkles deepening as he bent down for a kiss.

"Mmm-hmm," Ian mumbled, already reaching for another. "I'm ready for bed now."

Something in Ian's eyes and voice told Quinn that Ian wasn't talking about sleeping any more. Luckily, the laptop was used to being manhandled, as were the two of them. It hit the carpet so fast, the off light still flickered over their sneakers.

Quinn grabbed Ian's arms and pulled him into his own. "C'mere," he said, too turned on to bother with niceties. He dragged an eager Ian down the hall to their bedroom.

They shed clothes haphazardly, the easy chair ending up wearing their jeans yet again. Quinn pushed Ian onto the bed, needing to feel the heat of his skin on his own. Ian winced; though Quinn had applied lotion to his sunburnt chest and back before they'd left, rubbing against the sheets irritated him anew.

Quinn never wanted to see that look on his lover's face in bed, and quickly reached for the gel. He liberally coated Ian's chest, fingers teasing as they danced over him, mouth swallowing Ian's imploring whispers. Quinn eased him over on his stomach, and continued his massage. Soon Ian was jelly beneath him, and didn't remember what pain was. Quinn's enterprising hand dipped lower, the lotion almost at body temperature.

Gel from stem to stern eased the way, delicious friction now comfortable for as long as they could make it last, leaving a sated Ian dissolved into the mattress, a goofy grin taking over his face. "Gotta see my uncle more often," he said, lazy sensuality rippling off him.

Quinn smiled. His lad was truly remarkable; his resiliency inspired Quinn, helping him in his own struggle. Ever since he had met him, Ian had been his light. His to bask in.

His to love.