Chapter Text
Al blew a smooth cloud of gray-white cigarette smoke into the cold night air.
The cement stairs leading up to the museum’s entrance that they sat on were growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute, and both were unanimously yet privately thinking that it would be less of a pain to stand rather than sit. Still, they remained where they were, shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Well, think of it like this: even though ya majorly screwed up everythin’, I still love ya.”
“That only makes me feel worse.”
“At least I ain’t mad at ya.”
“Yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We have only been out here for…” He grabbed Al’s arm, pulled the sleeve up, and checked his watch. “Ten minutes.”
“So?”
“After an hour passes, you will get annoyed. Then two hours, three, four, and then morning will come, and we…” Napoleon trailed off.
“We’re not gonna turn to dust. And, hey, it’s not like ya locked us out o’ the museum on purpose.”
Napoleon‘s forlorn expression was unwavering; if anything, he looked even more forlorn than before.
“Larry usually checks the entrance before sunrise, right?” He dipped Napoleon’s hat down over his face. “I think we’ll be fine, little man.”
Napoleon corrected his hat’s placement on his head. He did not respond.
“Stars look nice tonight, don’t they?”
“Yeah.”
Al looked over at Napoleon, this sort of playful twinkle in his eyes. “Y’know what else looks nice tonight?”
Napoleon rolled his eyes; the faintest ghost of a smile blessed his lips. He considered not dignifying such a question with a response, but ultimately gave in. Al could be an irresistible bastard when the time was right.
“What else looks nice tonight, Al?”
A monochromatic finger booped his nose.
“The moon.”
“Hey!”
“What? Was I supposed to say somethin’ else?”
“You are — how do you say? — a dork.”
“No, yer the dork.”
“No, you are.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Okay, okay! So, ya seriously think I’m the dork?”
“That is what I said.”
“Uh — have ya met yourself?”
Napoleon knitted his eyebrows together and tilted his head to the side. “I do not understand this expression.”
The movement reminded Al of those little cellphone videos that the miniature exhibits would sometimes show him, the ones with the tiny pug dogs cocking their heads in unison when their owner spoke in a baby voice.
“Nevermind. But it still stands that yer the dork.”
“And so are you.”
“How?”
“It is not in a bad way. I like it when you are dorky.”
“Okay, but how am I a dork?”
“Oh, I do not know…” he began, trying to come up with acceptable examples. “The way you flirt, I suppose. You say funny stupid things that make me laugh. And you like to think that you are this big strong intimidating man, but you are really a sweetheart when there is nobody around but us.”
“Give me one example.”
“When we are alone and when I ask you to, you twitch your nose like a bunny to make me laugh.”
Al’s lips thinned. “That’s fair, I guess. Ya won this round.”
They sat in silence for a little while, watching the night progress. Al was completely comfortable with silence — he liked to let his mind wander sometimes, not just about the typical sexy things but about people and the museum and his boys and such. Napoleon, on the other hand, couldn’t help but grow restless.
“I like the phrase — sweetheart.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty common.”
“It is cute to call someone a heart that is sweet, no?”
Al grinned. “D’ya think I am a heart that is sweet, Napoleon?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not nice.”
“Well, it is true. Sometimes you are a heart that is sweet, other times you are a heart that is sour, and —”
“And sometimes I am a heart that is spicy, yeah?”
Napoleon was quiet for a moment. God, this man could allude any conversation to sex — if Napoleon shared such a lowbrow sense of humor, he might find it impressive. He only shook his head in reaction, grinning, delighted despite how stupid Al could be.
“You are such a dork, Al.”