Orbital Anomaly

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Mild Angst, Qui/Obi, Romance
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Mastersons meet the Prentices.
Series: Academic Arcadia -- 1) Wedding Gifts 2) A Symposium on Love 3) Dinner and a Movie 4) Please Call First 5) Masquerade 6) A Change of Clime 7) Christmas in Williamsburg 8) A Paduan New Year's Eve 9) Flux 10) Ki of Tranquility 11) A Rescindable Honor 12) An Honor Conferred 13) Outmaneuvered 14) Valentines by Design 15) Mastery 16) A Walk in the Park 17) The Man of the Moment 18) St. Patrick's Play 19) Avocation 20) Sustenance 21) A Cruise for Two 22) Mother's Day 23) A Long-expected Anniversary 24) Futurity 25) Father's Day 26) A Taste of Summer 27) Independence Day: Let Freedom Ring 28) An Arcadian Backyard 29) First Review 30) Wedding Gifts (revised) 31) Working up to the Semester 32) What to Do? 33) Dream Passage 34) Uneasy Rider 35) Autumn Rhapsody 36) Hallowe'en Kata 37) Orbital Anomaly
Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
To Alex, my friend and beta

Quinn's parents, Ginny and John Masterson, were finally drawn into the Prentice orbit, thanks to a couple of theater tickets. Luke University ran a subscription program with a faculty discount, and the Masterson family had attended their productions every autumn for the last four years. Three plays were presented in November and December, the first of them on Saturday night at 8 pm.

Ian, a constant witness to the fragmentation of his lover's life, tried his hand at convincing Quinn to invite the Prentices along. He brewed Quinn's favorite butterscotch latte, and hoped for the best.

"It's a risk for them to meet." Quinn stirred his drink a bit more vigorously than necessary.

"I know." Ian sighed. "My folks might give us away."

"They're not used to minding their tongues," Quinn said. 'The way we are' remained unspoken.

"There are only three shows in the series; most of the time we'll just be sitting in the audience." Ian's earnest, hopeful expression swayed Quinn more than his words.

"All right, then," Quinn said heavily. "We'll invite Jo and Keith."

All but ready to go out the door, Ian took a look at Quinn's face, and gathered him into his arms. "Don't worry, love. We'll get through this." He adjusted Quinn's mint-green tie, turning it into a caress.

Ian ached to banish the lines from Quinn's forehead, the tension from his arms. He scattered light kisses over Quinn's jaw, and pressed his cheek to the freshly-shaven skin there.

Ian was rewarded with Quinn's first smile of the evening, and together they left for the office, where they'd meet their parents. Quinn began to pace as soon as he and Ian walked through the door. After a few passes, Ian intersected Quinn's path to grip his upper arms bracingly. They exchanged a fierce look, as if they were about to go to war.

A knock sounded, and Quinn opened the door to the Prentices. Jo and Keith were well aware of Quinn's courage in taking this step, and an onlooker would not have been able to determine which of the men was their son from the way each was hugged and fussed over.

Another knock announced the arrival of the Mastersons, who embraced Quinn and greeted Ian warmly. Quinn introduced them to the Prentices, and soon they were all on a first name basis.

The Mastersons were chemistry professors at Temple in Corsica, New York. Married thirty-four years, they were a pleasant, friendly couple. Both were tall and slim, with Ginny's chestnut bob complementing John's salt-and-pepper hair.

Jo smiled. "The kids have said lovely things about you."

Quinn inwardly winced. Jo sounded just like she did with Kathy's folks; she'd unconsciously referred to Ian and Quinn as a unit. Would his parents make anything of it?

Quinn longed to look at Ian to see if he'd registered his mother's faux pas, but didn't dare make eye contact with him. Of course he'd noticed, Quinn thought. If anyone was expert in the nuances of language, it was his lad.

Ginny merely smiled, however, and said, "We've heard the same from Quinn."

The women looked lovely in black dresses, Jo's accented with lace and Ginny's beaded, while the men wore grey and black suits.

After a bit of small talk, they headed to the theater, five minutes away in the student center. It was a clear night, with temperatures in the 50s, ideal for a walk. The couples strolled one after another on the brick path. The automatic pairing off seemed a natural division, but Quinn wondered if his folks noted it. Ian allowed himself to imagine that he and Quinn were on a very public date, complete with parental camouflage, both complicit and inadvertent.

That night's play was The Importance of Being Earnest, a favorite of Quinn's, one he'd taught in his Wilde seminar last autumn. Quinn was slightly apprehensive, however; the conversation afterward could well turn to the playwright, giving his parents an opportunity to express potentially unwelcome opinions.

They settled in their orchestra seats, with Ian and Quinn flanked by their respective families. The theater was packed, and the sound level steadily rose while they made themselves comfortable.

The play was expertly performed by the student cast, with Lady Bracknell and Gwendolyn the standouts. The froth of mistaken identities escalated in hilarity until the romantic conclusion. Both Wilde's wit and the young actors were coruscating.

The standing ovation carried the group on their way to the sidewalk outside the student center. They decided to have dessert and coffee at one of Ian and Quinn's favorite restaurants in the area, The Gardens. As the name implied, the room was lined with flowers, plants, and even miniature trees.

Their party was given a round table, with the couples sitting next to one another. They ordered their drinks and sat back, ready for conversation.

"That was a delightful performance," Ginny said.

Jo nodded. "I was laughing all the way through it."

"I noticed," said Keith, patting Jo's hand on the table.

"Wilde is one of Ireland's natural treasures," said Quinn, still exhilarated from the play.

"A tarnished one, perhaps," Ginny said slyly, as she shared a smile with her husband.

Quinn allowed nothing to show, second nature after years of practice, and slowly sipped his water.

Ian had prepared himself for some acerbic comments, Quinn having familiarized him with his parents' offhand remarks, which had all the casual cruelty of a wasp sting, piercing quickly, then moving on to the next barb. It nonetheless took all his control not to react to Ginny's jibe.

An impassioned defense of Wilde waited behind two sets of lips, but went unspoken.

Jo stepped in easily, with a comment about Bunbury that had everybody laughing.

"Algernon was a bit over the top," John said with a wink.

'At least he phrased it delicately,' Quinn snorted to himself.

Ginny chuckled. "I think that's a requirement for the role."

Jo and Keith took these comments in stride, long since prepared for the Mastersons' insensitivity by Quinn's skittishness when the subject of his family came up.

In bed that night, Ian and Quinn dissected the first meeting of the clans.

"That went fairly well," said Quinn, relieved that his parents remained none the wiser about Ian and himself. He was tucked under Ian's arm, head on his chest.

Ian looked at him in disbelief, but stilled his tongue after realizing that Quinn wasn't being sarcastic. He entwined Quinn's fingers with his own, and smiled at him encouragingly, hoping Quinn would elucidate.

"Only one derogatory comment from Mom, and Jo deflected it right away." Quinn rubbed Ian's stomach possessively.

"What about that 'over the top' bit by your dad?" Ian snorted. "You know what he meant."

Quinn nodded, Ian's skin warm on his cheek. "That kind of subtle dig is their bread and butter. I grew up with remarks like that; nothing too extreme, but I always knew just what they thought." Quinn stroked Ian's hip absently, falling into silence.

It was always like this when they tried to talk about the Mastersons. 'Least said, soonest mended' was the proverb that summed it up, to Ian's mind.

Quinn knew that his parents looked upon what Ian and he were doing with dismay, if not disgust, in the abstract. He'd known this all along, but it was harder to deny when two separate parts of his life had been brought together: a puzzle with a piece missing, never to be found; the edges rubbed uncomfortably, unable to interlock.

Quinn tried to ignore his family's views; they had no place in his and Ian's bedroom. Sighing heavily, he burrowed into the solace of Ian's arms. Ian responded to his unspoken need, comforting Quinn with whispered touches and soft endearments.

His lad made it all worthwhile.