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“I think I’ll take that hand now.”
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Whirling through the wild blur of emotion that is dying again, living again, and deciding together to fall back to sleep, Jed feels Octavius’ hand slip into his at one brief point - perhaps even subconsciously - before pulling away again. He wrinkles his nose at the contact. But something about it is comforting all the same.
---
As dawn approaches, they just stand and hold each other, arms wrapped tight and faces buried into neck and shoulder without the words to say. When they pull away, to walk back to their unnaturally silent dioramas for the final time, Jed’s arm lingers in the space between them. He’s not ready for this. Octavius reaches down and presses his hand. They don’t need words.
---
Nothing could have prepared him for waking again. He sucks in as violent a breath as to make him dizzy. Then he lets out a whoop and claps bewildered friends on the shoulder as he passes them, but it’s to the Roman diorama that he legs it over, scrambling up over the lip to see Octavius joyfully greeting a crowd of his own people. He catches his eye as it drifts to the edge of the display. In seconds, Octavius is there with him, reaches out to clasp both hands in a moment of pause before flinging his arms back around his friend. It feels only minutes since they last did so, but the joy and surprise at being able to do it again makes it all brand new.
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Three years. That’s how long it’s been. They find out from Sacagawea, who’s making her way through the exhibits of the museum and checking in. The dioramas go still at the news, now understanding the strange thrill of their leaders, not having had the opportunity to discover any of the context for their long sleep. Jedediah and Octavius stand together for a sober moment, side by side and close enough to touch. Without looking, the back of Oct’s hand brushes against Jed’s. He lets it stay there for a few seconds, hair on the back of his hand prickling like the air before a storm even through his gloves, before they turn away to bring their people up to speed.
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Teddy’s the one who drops by with the car. “Look what was still in storage!” he beams, placing it on the floor outside the dioramas. “There’s a party in the atrium tonight. I look forward to seeing you boys there!” He and Texas trot away to rendezvous with Sacagawea, who’s carrying a bundle of decorations. There’s a faint rumble of music starting up elsewhere in the museum. Jed grins ear to ear and makes it to the floor faster than a pepped up jackrabbit, flinging his arms haphazardly over the car’s surface. He slides around to the passenger side and opens the door, offering a hand out to Octavius, who’s made his way down in a little more dignified manner. Octavius places his hand in Jed’s outstretched palm, allowing him to play the gentleman. They exchange grins, and soon the car is screaming off in the direction of the main hall, to elated whooping and shouting.
---
Octavius waves up to Ahkmenrah on the turntables, who waves back with the energy of the eternally youthful and enthusiastic. Jedediah salutes up at him through the windscreen. He’s a weird magical being who’s lived for thousands of years, and he’s a good kid. That’s magic for you. Ahk beckons towards the car and Jed scoots around and parks it up next to the desk. Mindful of their dignity, Ahkmenrah lifts the car itself up and lets them climb out on top themselves. Octavius looks approvingly over Ahk’s new DJ controller setup; Jed makes for the turntables. He climbs up and offers a hand down to Oct to help him up - not that he needs help of course, it’s just polite. Their hands stay clasped as they jump onto the turning surface, and slip apart once they find their balance (even if it takes them longer than it ought to find it). They’ve got a lot of dancing to do.
---
However good their moves are after countless YouTube-powered dance parties - and they are damn good, far as Jedediah’s concerned - there’s still three years of tunes to catch up on. They stomp along to Justin Timberlake, fling themselves around to Taylor Swift and absolutely lose their minds to Uptown Funk. Jed flops onto his back in the centre of the turntable after that, watching Ahkmenrah rotate overhead, limbs going every which way.
“Oct, that boy’s got more energy than we do,” he gripes as Octavius budges him to one side and sits down next to him. “Looks like there ain’t no stopping that feeling.”
“Likely we’re still shaking off three years of inertia.”
“Don’t believe me, just- ooh, hell.” Jed sits up while talking and immediately clutches his head from the dizziness. Watching the room rotate from the centre of the disk makes him feel queasy so he turns to look at Octavius instead. The man’s pink in the face and sweat is beading on his forehead, but the corners of his eyes are creased up in elation. He takes Jed’s hand again, unobtrusive, hidden between their thighs. Jed startles, but Oct squeezes before he can slip it away again.
“You’re alive. We’re alive.” He whispers the words joyously, and Jed feels a tug on his heart like a roped bronco, so strong that it hurts and his breath hitches and he can’t answer.
Octavius just squeezes his hand again, and this time he squeezes back.
---
Ultimately, the moment’s just a little too intense for Jed to handle, and when the track changes over - something unfamiliar but upbeat - he leaps to his feet and tugs Octavius off the turntable into a vaguely empty space on the desk where they attempt a swing dance. Neither of them really know what they’re doing, and they’re both unsteady as newborn foals from dizziness. The headwear quickly comes off, and they stagger into each other more than a few times, laughing all the while. Their hands don’t part for a second. Neither of them wants to let go.
---
Resting against the far side of the DJ control, facing the stairs and tucked away from most of the party, there’s privacy enough that Octavius leans against Jedediah’s shoulder. Jed stills, letting him get comfortable. He wants to rest his cheek on his hair, curl into the contact, but he’s frozen, and he can’t quite articulate why. Octavius reaches over and takes his hand, pulls it towards him and removes the glove. Jedediah makes a small noise of protest but doesn’t pull his hand away. Octavius holds it in both of his, running his thumbs in small circles over the palm, stroking up the fingers, brushing softly over the wrist. It’s deeply intimate. The gentleness of his touch sends shivers all over.
How does he look so happy? Octavius’ face is calm and blissful, occupied as he is with Jed’s digits. But for Jedediah, there’s still a weight on his heart that’s not letting him join in. He wants to - he wants to touch, to hold. He wants to kiss him, he realises, to press close and share breath and body. But that want’s curled up in his chest like a tiny bird, and it needs space to spread its wings, space to breathe. And there is no space to breathe. Fear clenches around his ribs like a fist. He pulls his hand away, holds it in his lap. The joy in Octavius’ face is replaced by confused caution, and Jed’s too ashamed to meet his eyes. He’s afraid because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know when all of this will disappear again.
---
Ahkmenrah has an announcement to make. They stand and look up at him as he kills the music briefly, clears his throat, swallows down some strong emotion. Like a dam, the pressure inside Jed’s chest builds as the ancient young pharaoh explains to all present that the British Museum exhibition is visiting for a month. Only a month. Jed’s heart folds into itself, crushed. And then Ahkmenrah smiles. His own exhibit is to be returned home. He’s here to stay, for the foreseeable future.
No sooner does he say it than something inside Jedediah breaks, and he throws his arms around Octavius with abandon, laughing from sheer relief. “Thank God,” he gasps into Octavius’ shoulder. “Sorry, hoss, I was just so… I didn’t know if… oh, thank God.” Octavius clutches him back fiercely, before pulling away to look at him, a wordless query on his wonderstruck face. In answer, Jed reaches down and slowly and deliberately knits their fingers and palms together. Their foreheads meet, and their faces stretch into smiles.
---
Dawn finds two plastic miniatures frozen in place, having not quite made it back to the dioramas, a Roman and a cowboy joined improbably at the hands. Upon closer inspection, their little painted-on faces are beaming. Tilly grins to herself, and hides them inside a tent.