Work Text:
Antonio was fluent in three languages: Spanish, English and Door.
The first was an obligation, the default, the mother tongue. English was the learn this, just in case which proved useful after all, and Door was his recent endeavour. Door spoke in the fumble of keys, the slow turn or the hasty click. It was the knock of delivery drivers, nagging neighbours and unwanted company, but tonight it was a subtle creak. The sign that Arthur had returned.
Arthur slipped off his shoes in the hallway, hung up his jacket and set down the keys, placing a hand to the wall for balance. The day had worn him down, stretched out longer than he had planned, but as Antonio appeared from the living room, none of it seemed to matter. They shared an embrace -the welcome home tradition- and with Antonio in his arms, and gentle hands in the back of his hair, all the pent up stress went away.
“Evening love, sorry I’m late.”
“Don’t be. You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Arthur pulled back to meet his stare, taking in those beautiful greens. Even in the hallway, dark as it was, Antonio’s eyes found a way to shine, and a way to make him smile. He was wonderful, infectious like that, always had been since the day they met. Five years on and they’d only gotten closer, found a nice little flat of their own, and neither man would change a thing.
Well, alright, maybe some things could change. Arthur’s bosses could do with sacking, or a lesson in human kindness, and the evening trains ought to be less crowded. That way Arthur might get a seat some nights, rather than prop himself against the door, rocking in a drowsy state. There were times when he came home exhausted, retiring to bed shortly after, and Antonio would gladly join him, snuggling in their thick, winter duvet.
“I made dinner,” said Antonio, hopeful. “Just a soup, but there’s bread to go with it. If you need more then I can find something else-”
“Are you an angel?”
“Depends who you ask.”
“You must be,” Arthur decided, taking Antonio’s hand in his own. “Lead the way, my love.”
And so they ate -somewhat later than usual- relieved that the work day was done. Arthur practically inhaled his first serving, laughed nervously -can I have some more?- and Antonio could never refuse. Together they washed the dishes, and forwent the TV for a long, hot bath. Arthur closed his eyes and let nimble fingers work, easing the tension from his shoulders. After that they went to his hair, carefully lathering and rinsing shampoo. They took turns and sat there content, only leaving when the water turned cold, and the bubbles were almost gone.
Later on, in the quiet of their bedroom, the couple found their peace. The neighbours had gone to bed, and the world beyond their window had slowed. Antonio and Arthur huddled deep in the duvet, laying on their sides -face to face- like mischievous children inside a makeshift fort. A little world they had made their own. It was there that secrets were shared, silly jokes and tender words. Arthur found Antonio’s hand, and raised it to kiss the knuckles.
“Thank you love.”
“For what?” asked Antonio. “It’s me who should be thanking you. You’re the one who goes out all week, slaving away in an office, whilst I-... I just stay here. I do the chores but-”
“You make the bad days worthwhile,” Arthur smiled. “If I lived here by myself... I daren’t imagine what this place might look like. Or perhaps I wouldn’t even be here. I’d probably have picked the smallest flat going, and started to rot amongst my mess. Then there’s the cooking-” he stopped and grinned. Antonio begun to laugh. “You know I’d be living on takeaways.”
“That you would,” Antonio agreed, welcoming the arm which came to embrace him. Sometimes they fell asleep whilst hugging, and depending on whether they’d rolled, or Arthur chose an awkward position, he usually woke up laughing and numb, shaking the feeling back into his arms.
Judging by the way Arthur’s breaths turned deep, he wasn’t far off sleep. Antonio brought a hand up to cup his cheek, gave him a kiss and nuzzled their noses. “Go on, you should rest.”
“What ‘bout you...?”
“I’ll be here,” promised Antonio, stroking a thumb across his skin, as if it might coax Arthur into his slumber. “I’m tired too, it won’t take long.”
Arthur managed a smile, and peered with half lidded eyes. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you.”
“Really?” Arthur joked, exhaustion slurring his words. “I must be the luckiest guy on earth.”
Antonio sighed and moved his hand to Arthur’s hair. He brushed his fingers through short blond tufts, over and over in a steady rhythm, until Arthur surrendered to his weariness at last, and left Antonio alone to his thoughts.
Arthur truly went above and beyond, remained loyal and stuck to his gut. They had fights like anyone else, but they were few and far between, and often over the silliest things. Disagreements were likewise rare, although one had happened mere seconds ago. Antonio shook his head with a smile, watching Arthur snore softly beside him, and thought: no, the luckiest is me.