Wilde Night

by Merry Amelie

Title: Wilde Night
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Angst, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: PG
Summary: Play date

I'm posting Arcadia and Q/O drabbles to TPM 100: http://community.livejournal.com/tpm100/

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 88
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.

For
My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex and Ula

Sue's tender manip

The atmosphere in the theater was electric. The tragedy of Oscar Wilde played out in wry epigrams and mordant wit, as Ian and Quinn sat in the fifth row of their orchestra seats, mesmerized by magnificent performances.

William Gleason channeled Wilde before their avid eyes, and Evan Gregory epitomized the mercurial Lord Alfred Douglas, for whom Wilde had risked everything, and lost. The big man strode the stage as if he owned it, as of course he did. Each line from his cynical lips had the professors more in thrall.

Quinn lost himself in the love story between brilliant, successful Oscar, and handsome, aristocratic Alfred, Bosie to his friends. The period costumes, instead of distancing him from the action, brought him closer to it. He'd had the same feeling in Williamsburg when he'd put on the periwig -- an unaccountable sense of deja vu.

While he watched Gleason and Gregory, he imagined Ian and himself in a different time, a harsher world. One in which honesty would cost them their freedom, with all their energy focused on bare survival. It was hard to remember a time when they had gone it alone, without the support of the Prentices, their friends, or their colleagues. He couldn't imagine how they had come through it.

As Oscar dominated the stage, all 6'4" of him, an enraptured Ian saw Quinn in front of his class, speaking to a similarly rapt crowd. With a simple turn of fate, he could easily have become an actor. He certainly had all the skills for it: a gravitas that shone off him in waves, a deceptively mild voice that could command a theater or classroom, an effortless rapport with his audience.

Ian was startled from his reverie when Oscar leaned down to kiss Bosie. The kiss was both comfortable and passionate. Lifemates stood before him. He marveled at his complete suspension of disbelief. The actors had disappeared into their roles, leaving only two men in love.

Spellbound, Quinn and Ian watched the doomed romance play out in front of them, helpless to stop the inexorable slide towards Reading Gaol. Their hands met on the armrest, seeking each other's warmth and comfort in this coldest of times.

When the play ended, there was a moment of silence in the theater before they surged up from their seats with the rest of the crowd to give a thunderous standing ovation.

A curious mixture of elation and melancholy coursed through them as they walked to one of their favorite after-theater restaurants in the November nip. Settled into their booth, brandied pear slices on their plates, they looked at each other with anticipation.

"Gleason was the perfect choice for Wilde -- Irish himself, larger than life, with a nimble tongue. What more could you want?" Ian dragged a bit of pear through the sauce.

"And Gregory!" Quinn waved his fork enthusiastically. "Temptation itself. I could see why Wilde would risk everything for him. Only one person I know has a more mischievous smile." Quinn reached over to brush Ian's lips with his thumb.

Ian smiled against his finger. "Yeah, Case has got it down."

Not missing a beat, Quinn said, "How'd you know I was talking about him?" Blue eyes twinkled with mischief of his own.

"Who else?" Ian started to laugh and Quinn joined in.

"Y'know, the play runs through March. I might be able to take my seminar class." When teaching the course in 2003, he'd not stinted on the details of Wilde's life, neither had he emphasized them.

Ian nodded. "Makes it more real."

"We were born at the right time, lad." Quinn looked down at his wedding band, glinting in the light of the table lamp.

"As long as I was born into a world with you in it," Ian said softly, reaching out to touch Quinn's ring.

Quinn squeezed Ian's hand, conscious of how very lucky they were. Their joint lives were a victory, a celebration. The best way to celebrate Wilde's own.