[ He groans a little, having once again forgotten about it entirely until it's mentioned. With a little huff, he wheels inside. ]
I wouldn't normally let it go, it's just-- [ It starts off tired and slightly snappy, and finally he gives up trying to defend it. ] It's been a long week. Though from the look of it, I don't need to tell you as much.
[ Charles glances back at him for a moment and scoffs. ]
I wear it like I'm too old for the acid dropping that used to come with it, but thank you. I think.
[ Though he does finally break the tension with a laugh at that: it does still sound ridiculous. The chair wheels around and he regards Arthur in full now. And he'd thought he felt tired? ]
And I think I'm more worried for the day that actually starts to sound right.
I'm more worried that you just openly admitted to having a drug beard.
[ But he says it flippantly, not actually all that bothered by it. Not when he's had to go through withdrawal from the sedative compounds used with the PASIV. ]
But speaking of 'wild delights', I found something you might like.
[ And he's walking over to the counter on the outer part of the island dividing the kitchen and living room. ]
[ SIGH. That hadn't been the point, had it? With a grimace, he lets it drop. The exhaustion, it seems, is getting to him in more obvious ways than he'd thought or planned on, and he bites the rest of the explanation back.
The lead-in is more interesting than whatever defense he could muster anyway. The grimace gives way to an interested brow raise. ]
I'm not sure I'd consider it a delight, but alright, consider my interest piqued.
[ He gives a short, quiet inhale that borders on a full gasp as he takes the book and opens it. Despite all of the exhaustion, the misplaced agitation, and his guilt through all of it, he can feel, keenly, the ache in his heart at the gesture. He can't recall the last time he's ever received anything like this. Hell, if he's even ever felt something quite like this before.
The breath he lets out in the next moment shakes, and there's an accompanying tremble in his hands as he carefully closes the text again. His state of mind may have rubbed all of his nerves and emotions raw, but that has no bearing on the sincerity of how he feels, even if it seems entirely overwhelming in waves. ]
I don't-- [ know what to say, except that the very sentiment is obvious. ] Arthur, you didn't-- [ have to, except that's the whole point, isn't it? So instead, quietly:] Thank you.
[ A grin slowly spreads on Arthur's face. One he rarely allows himself. He wasn't expecting such a strong reaction but he'll gladly take it if it means Charles likes it. He also knows the exhaustion he's seeing is probably playing a part, too. But this is...part of whatever they have between them. A shared love of literature. Seemed like the right kind of gift to give. And one not given too soon, either.
He breathes out a soft laugh at the thanks and the road Charles traveled to give it to him. ]
Did I finally manage to make you speechless?
[ A gentle tease that he hopes is softened more by: ]
I would kiss you but I'm pretty gross right now so, if you can wait for me to take a shower...
[ Called back down the hall, though he does have a perfectly good distraction sitting in his lap that doesn't warrant the petulant, too-young sigh that follows in a huff. But he still possesses enough maturity at least to not push it beyond that; he had, after all, shown up without warning. ]
[ Arthur finds himself laughing as he closes the bathroom door, surprisingly pleased despite how tired he feels. The shower isn't long but he makes sure to get clean and rinse any remains of dirt from the tub after he's finished.
He dries off and exits the bathroom to go to his bedroom, first. He goes back to Charles in a pair of sweat pants and hair still damp. He walks right over and leans down to give Charles the kiss he had wanted earlier but it's a brief thing. Sweet but brief. He's then pulling away and putting his hands on his hips. ]
[ The contact is much too brief, and it leaves Charles winded for a moment afterward in the buildup of that anticipation and wanting he's left in its wake. So much so that he has to clear his throat in the midst of his surprise at the question that follows. ]
[ He doesn't. His presence here attests to that. His appearance attests to that. His general mood even attests to it. The argument sounds petulant, however, even to his ears, but it's out now, and he can't take that back. ]
It was not my intention to put you out.
[ Which sounds like a solid enough excuse amidst that exhaustion. His own habits here are complicated, and it's not typically something he subjects anyone else to if he can help it. (He's frankly unprepared for and unsure what to do with this offer as it's given). ]
[ Arthur gently takes the book from Charles and sets it down on the nearest bit of furniture -- the recliner chair he had been in last time they drank together. Look back to Charles, he holds back a sigh. ]
I'm going to say this as lovingly as possible: you look like shit.
You look exhausted and worn out and I think it would do you good to just... relax. Do something for yourself.
[ Adding pointedly: ]
For once.
You're so busy taking care of everyone else; do you ever take time for yourself? That isn't coming over here to drink.
[ It cuts to the root of the problem so succinctly that Charles is left speechless for a moment. Truly speechless, rather than confused and slightly dumbfounded. He doesn't have words because he knows--knows--everything Arthur has just said is true.
He feels like shit. It shouldn't surprise him that he looks just as bad, and honestly, the presence of the beard is an immediate testament to it all on its own. And he had, if he were to be perfectly honest, come here as something of an escape. He's falling quickly, it seems, back into old patterns he'd been so sure he'd shaken years ago. But with every loss and hardship and scare: every fight with Erik, every trip to the medbay, every paranoid conversation he'd had about this place since arrival, he'd slipped a little farther and ended up right back here, scarcely noticing it.
When he is able to lift his gaze, it's pained. Sad and tired, and he looks like he's either not slept for days or cried for just as long, and his eyes burn the same. It's only then that he gives a defeated sigh and shakes his head. ]
No. What I need has never much mattered.
[ Or so he tells himself. He has a knowledge of basic psychology, he knows that self care is just as vital as anything external, or all of that validation he's aimlessly, fruitlessly searching for otherwise, but usually it's neglect is rarely this apparent, and the fact that someone else is taking the time to stop and notice it is a shock he's not really prepared to deal with.
All he can think is that this had been a bad idea. That this isn't a burden he needs to be laying on anyone else, but he can't take it back when it's been laid so bare before them both, and he's stuck at a crossroads as a result. Finally: ]
I'm sorry. [ He shouldn't have to do any of this. See any of this. ] I should-- [ And he thinks to say go, but what's done is done, isn't it? ] Fine.
[ Arthur's own expression gets softer, concern more visible and he lets Charles work through what he has to before finally agreeing. But he moves forward again, a hand going into the other man's hair, fingers gently rubbing the scalp as he leans down. He presses his forehead to Charles', looking in his eyes. ]
[ He can only meet Arthur's gaze for a moment before the guilt and trepidation win out, and his eyes avert. Any longer, and he'll no longer be simply on the verge of tears.
Here, now, he's faced with that acceptance he's always wanted. An acceptance given without caveat, without the weight of expectation of his caretaking or heightened responsibility. It's a role he hasn't attempted to play in a very long time. One he hadn't, frankly, felt worthy of, and still isn't quite sure he is now either. ]
Alright.
[ It's quiet, and slightly defeated, and more than a little awestruck. He reaches up to meet that hand and simply nods. ]
[ He leans forward to brush his nose with Charles' and then pulls away, giving the other's scalp another rub before doing so. He's backing up back in the direction of the bathroom, motioning for Charles to follow. ]
Don't worry. I'm not drunk this time so there's less a chance of dropping you.
If it makes you feel any better, I honestly don't remember how that felt.
[ He remembers details of that night, of course, but they're intermittent, fleeting things. Emotions, really, rather than a play-by-play, at least up until they'd both gained some relative lucidity. The hangover had been worth it.
Still, he smiles just so. Present, but still tired. He follows with little prompting, despite his earlier protestations. ]
And I'm still willing to write that off as a fluke. Maybe.
[ The laugh is interrupted by a soft sigh at the sudden jolt at the reality of Arthur's apartment being just too small, and doesn't really see that they have much of a choice, if the man is so determined to see this through. And thus, Charles nods and follows direction, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
specifications) wrote2017-06-22 08:26 am
<3
I wouldn't normally let it go, it's just-- [ It starts off tired and slightly snappy, and finally he gives up trying to defend it. ] It's been a long week. Though from the look of it, I don't need to tell you as much.
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It was mostly meant as a compliment. You wear it well.
[ He finally slides the bag off his shoulder and lets the weight of it hit the floor with an audible thump. ]
I was off working a job on another planet.
[ A pause, ]
That still doesn't sound right when I say it out loud.
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I wear it like I'm too old for the acid dropping that used to come with it, but thank you. I think.
[ Though he does finally break the tension with a laugh at that: it does still sound ridiculous. The chair wheels around and he regards Arthur in full now. And he'd thought he felt tired? ]
And I think I'm more worried for the day that actually starts to sound right.
no subject
[ But he says it flippantly, not actually all that bothered by it. Not when he's had to go through withdrawal from the sedative compounds used with the PASIV. ]
But speaking of 'wild delights', I found something you might like.
[ And he's walking over to the counter on the outer part of the island dividing the kitchen and living room. ]
no subject
[ SIGH. That hadn't been the point, had it? With a grimace, he lets it drop. The exhaustion, it seems, is getting to him in more obvious ways than he'd thought or planned on, and he bites the rest of the explanation back.
The lead-in is more interesting than whatever defense he could muster anyway. The grimace gives way to an interested brow raise. ]
I'm not sure I'd consider it a delight, but alright, consider my interest piqued.
no subject
I saw it in one of the shops at the market and thought you'd like it.
[ When Charles opens it, he'll see the illustrations and pages to be in very good condition. Not new but well kept by whoever had it before. ]
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The breath he lets out in the next moment shakes, and there's an accompanying tremble in his hands as he carefully closes the text again. His state of mind may have rubbed all of his nerves and emotions raw, but that has no bearing on the sincerity of how he feels, even if it seems entirely overwhelming in waves. ]
I don't-- [ know what to say, except that the very sentiment is obvious. ] Arthur, you didn't-- [ have to, except that's the whole point, isn't it? So instead, quietly:] Thank you.
no subject
He breathes out a soft laugh at the thanks and the road Charles traveled to give it to him. ]
Did I finally manage to make you speechless?
[ A gentle tease that he hopes is softened more by: ]
I would kiss you but I'm pretty gross right now so, if you can wait for me to take a shower...
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Normally, yes, but is that still a valid excuse when you're not the only one?
[ He does at least have enough awareness for that. ]
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But if I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine...
[ He gestures to Charles' whole person as he says it. ]
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[ And with that, he motions Arthur over anyway. ]
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[ He wags a finger at Charles, smirking still and turning to head to the bathroom. From down the hall, he calls, ]
I shall let lips do what hands do upon my return.
[ And yes, in his best English accent. ]
no subject
[ Called back down the hall, though he does have a perfectly good distraction sitting in his lap that doesn't warrant the petulant, too-young sigh that follows in a huff. But he still possesses enough maturity at least to not push it beyond that; he had, after all, shown up without warning. ]
no subject
He dries off and exits the bathroom to go to his bedroom, first. He goes back to Charles in a pair of sweat pants and hair still damp. He walks right over and leans down to give Charles the kiss he had wanted earlier but it's a brief thing. Sweet but brief. He's then pulling away and putting his hands on his hips. ]
Are you ready for your turn?
no subject
I'm sorry, what?
no subject
[ Yeah, he's smirking at that little pull back, Charles. ]
Not in the shower but, you know... A bath. It'll make you feel better.
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[ He doesn't. His presence here attests to that. His appearance attests to that. His general mood even attests to it. The argument sounds petulant, however, even to his ears, but it's out now, and he can't take that back. ]
It was not my intention to put you out.
[ Which sounds like a solid enough excuse amidst that exhaustion. His own habits here are complicated, and it's not typically something he subjects anyone else to if he can help it. (He's frankly unprepared for and unsure what to do with this offer as it's given). ]
no subject
I'm going to say this as lovingly as possible: you look like shit.
You look exhausted and worn out and I think it would do you good to just... relax. Do something for yourself.
[ Adding pointedly: ]
For once.
You're so busy taking care of everyone else; do you ever take time for yourself? That isn't coming over here to drink.
no subject
He feels like shit. It shouldn't surprise him that he looks just as bad, and honestly, the presence of the beard is an immediate testament to it all on its own. And he had, if he were to be perfectly honest, come here as something of an escape. He's falling quickly, it seems, back into old patterns he'd been so sure he'd shaken years ago. But with every loss and hardship and scare: every fight with Erik, every trip to the medbay, every paranoid conversation he'd had about this place since arrival, he'd slipped a little farther and ended up right back here, scarcely noticing it.
When he is able to lift his gaze, it's pained. Sad and tired, and he looks like he's either not slept for days or cried for just as long, and his eyes burn the same. It's only then that he gives a defeated sigh and shakes his head. ]
No. What I need has never much mattered.
[ Or so he tells himself. He has a knowledge of basic psychology, he knows that self care is just as vital as anything external, or all of that validation he's aimlessly, fruitlessly searching for otherwise, but usually it's neglect is rarely this apparent, and the fact that someone else is taking the time to stop and notice it is a shock he's not really prepared to deal with.
All he can think is that this had been a bad idea. That this isn't a burden he needs to be laying on anyone else, but he can't take it back when it's been laid so bare before them both, and he's stuck at a crossroads as a result. Finally: ]
I'm sorry. [ He shouldn't have to do any of this. See any of this. ] I should-- [ And he thinks to say go, but what's done is done, isn't it? ] Fine.
no subject
It matters to me.
no subject
Here, now, he's faced with that acceptance he's always wanted. An acceptance given without caveat, without the weight of expectation of his caretaking or heightened responsibility. It's a role he hasn't attempted to play in a very long time. One he hadn't, frankly, felt worthy of, and still isn't quite sure he is now either. ]
Alright.
[ It's quiet, and slightly defeated, and more than a little awestruck. He reaches up to meet that hand and simply nods. ]
You're right, I know you're right.
no subject
Don't worry. I'm not drunk this time so there's less a chance of dropping you.
no subject
[ He remembers details of that night, of course, but they're intermittent, fleeting things. Emotions, really, rather than a play-by-play, at least up until they'd both gained some relative lucidity. The hangover had been worth it.
Still, he smiles just so. Present, but still tired. He follows with little prompting, despite his earlier protestations. ]
And I'm still willing to write that off as a fluke. Maybe.
no subject
Oh, so that's how it is, okay. I see.
[ But Charles' chair won't fit through the door so he has to walk forward and gives the other man his back before kneeling down in front of him. ]
Wrap your arms around my neck.
[ Let's try it this way and see how it goes. ]
no subject
[ The laugh is interrupted by a soft sigh at the sudden jolt at the reality of Arthur's apartment being just too small, and doesn't really see that they have much of a choice, if the man is so determined to see this through. And thus, Charles nods and follows direction, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. ]
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