Archive of Our Own

"I guess we'll be sharing."

Philip levels his brother with a haughty glare, but the effect is somewhat dampened by the leaves in his hair and the dirt on his cheek. "Don't be a fool," he says. "Obviously, you'll be taking the floor."

When Caleb laughs, he nearly joins in, but settles himself to smile instead. He averts his eyes when Caleb turns to grin at the witch, taking her hand in both of his.

"Thank you," Caleb says. "We are deeply appreciative."

Philip remains silent, moving forward into the room. It's bigger than the room they shared back home. There's even space for a rug, which silences the sounds of his footsteps as he moves to put his shoulder bag on the foot of the bed.

"It's no trouble at all," says the witch. "I'm only sorry there's but one bed! I hadn't even thought about it. You're so close, I had assumed you were—"

"We are." Philip turns towards her fully now. Caleb's face is pale with sudden horror, but the witch's expression smooths out into a relieved smile. "Sharing a bed won't be a problem. We're quite used to it."

Caleb laughs nervously. "Yes, we—uhm."

"Oh!" The witch straightens up tall. "I didn't mean to pry. I forgot, Caleb, that you told me about that… The human realm is not kind to same-gender couples."

"No," Caleb forces out. "It isn't."

Philip crosses his arms with a smirk. "The demon realm is much kinder, I've heard."

"Oh, yes! We've no issues of that nature here. Though, with you being human and powerless…"

Philip sniffs. "Yes. We've seen enough of that." Caleb's friend has so far been the only one willing to house them, even for a night. It seems witches hate humans as much as Philip hates them in return. Unsurprising, really, but still frustrating; Philip pulls a leaf out of his hair, annoyed.

Caleb is looking very awkward now. "Well, Evelyn, I am very grateful, but—Pip can be a wretched handful when he doesn't get enough sleep—"

Philip squawks.

"—so we should be getting washed up and to bed. I really am so thankful—"

"Caleb, it's nothing! You helped me, now I help you." She pats his chest, right over his heart, making Philip bite down the impulse to bark like a dog. "Get good rest, my friend."

"And you too, Eve. We'll see you in the morning."

As soon as she leaves, Philip is fitting his brother with a sharp, accusatory stare. 

Caleb gulps.

"You…made friends with a witch."

"I—did. Yes."

"Before you met the witch that brought us here? You were cavorting with witches well before you dragged me to this wretched place?"

"...Yes."

"And despite considering her your closest friend—" He spits the words bitterly. "—you didn't tell her anything about me?"

At that, Caleb blinks. "Well, she was a witch! You don't go telling a thief your most valuable possession, do you?"

"O-Oh." That makes Philip melt a little and he looks away to hide his smile. "Alright. I suppose it came in handy tonight, at least, that you knew her.."

"Better than sleeping in the woods again," Caleb agrees. The conversation is not forgotten, but ever the avoidant type, his brother is happy to leave it behind them. "And I'll bet in the morning, they'll even feed us again!"

Philip snorts. The thought of what they'd been served makes his stomach turn. "I'm not sure we could survive another meal," he admits. "The things these people eat…"

"I'm starting to wear you down, Pip." And then Caleb is there, right beside him, a hand settling on his thigh to squeeze him through his trousers. "Did you notice? You've just called them people."

"Insufferable, smug…" Philip shoves his hand away with a huff. He doesn't step away, though, instead leading his shoulder against Caleb's. "I'm filthy."

Caleb nods. "You are. We're both covered in dirt and…other things."

It's been hard to find water to wash in, given the sea in this realm is boiling. Philip feels like when he was a child and he'd go rolling in mud—only this time, it didn't fulfill any boyish whimsy or bring out any interesting bugs to look at. The only bugs they've seen here have been enormous and carnivorous and—

"Come here," Caleb says.

So used to obeying his brother now is he that he stands immediately when Caleb does and follows him. When Caleb leads him to the linen closet door, Philip is a bit confused, only for Caleb to open it and—

"What? Is that—a full bath? An actual tub?" Philip stares at him in open bewilderment. "What are we, infants?"

Caleb laughs as he steps into the room. It's much smaller than the bedroom they've been lent, but it's still ridiculous for a room to exist that's only a tub and a sink. 

"The baths are largely public here," he says, bewildering Philip further. "But Eve used to have some health problems, so there are bathing rooms in the home."

"A room just for bathing…" Philip shakes his head. "The decadence."

"I know you, Philip. You'll love it," Caleb sing-songs. "Shall we share?"

"If I bathe with you, you'll distract me and make us poor guests."

Caleb laughs again. "True. I'll get the bed ready then." He stretches his arms above his head, his back cracking. "Wash yourself quickly, will you? I'm very tired."

"Of course." Then he pauses. "What do we do about our clothes?"

"Ah! That's what I was forgetting. You start washing yourself, I'll go catch Eve for some sleepwear."

Before Philip can argue, Caleb has closed the bathing room door and made his way through the house. Philip sighs, suddenly very tired, and turns to the strange tub. He stares at it for a while before dropping his chin to his chest with a groan.

"I have no idea how to use this."

When Caleb returns, it's with a skip in his step, a tune on his lips, and a small stack of folded clothes in his hands. Philip lazily opens one eye from his place in the water, then closes it again.

At the sight of him, Caleb laughs. "I told you," he sings. "Don't stay in for too long, alright? I want to get the dust off too."

With a mighty sigh, Philip stands, brown-tinged water pooling off of him and landing loudly in the tub. "I'm finished already," he says. Getting the foliage out of his hair had been a bit of an issue, but he'd managed. "Though, I must admit… I do like the warm water. There were—smells, too. Little perfumes. I wasn't sure what to do with those, but I picked them up, thinking perhaps they were little poisons..."

Caleb has already put down the sleeping clothes to grab a towel and has begun roughly drying Philip off. "Perfume sounds fun. Maybe tomorrow we can test those out," he suggests, making Philip scoff. "Or not. Either way."

"...If you really want to. But we shouldn't bathe so soon after we've just done. It's wasteful."

Caleb nods. "Of course, Pip. Whatever you say."

"Annoying…" But Philip still puts his hands on Caleb's shoulders for help stepping out of the bath. "Which gown is mine?"

Caleb helps to slide it over his head, pulling it down while Philip fits his arms through the sleeves. It's comfortable. The fabric is soft instead of itchy. Decadence, Philip thinks again, though this time far more kindly.

"Your turn," says Philip.

Caleb kisses him then, warm and dry. "You're so pretty."

"Hush." But he's smiling. "Go wash yourself. I'll get the bed ready."

"You need not wait for me if you're tired. I'll join you soon as I'm dressed."

Philip kisses him again. "I'll wait. I want you to hold me."

"And so I will."

Philip leaves Caleb to undress, though he does peer back to watch for a short moment, admiring his brother's fine form. His brother has always been a private man, however, and so he turns away before long and allows him his dignity. As much as he'd like to stare, he'd rather not upset his dear Caleb.

When he returns to the bedroom, he finds the bed already made. He's uncertain if Caleb fixed it or if Evelyn did, but it looks warm and cozy and the blankets are much less Spartan than their own upbringing ever afforded. Guilt gnaws at Philip at the sight, but so does temptation.

It's only one night, he tells himself. And Caleb deserves good comfort.

It doesn't take Caleb long at all to bathe. Philip hasn't finished his nightly diary entry before Caleb returns, dressed in trousers and shirt.

"What's this?" Philip asks.

"Sleeping clothes." Caleb spreads his arms for Philip to see. It's a plain shirt and trousers, the same linen white as Philip's gown. "Strange, aren't they? I like them better than the gown, though…"

"If you're comfortable," Philip says, then returns to his diary. He's slowly begun to run out of ink, so he makes each stroke of the quill count, spreading the dark ink as far as he can.

"Pip," Caleb says. "Can't you finish tomorrow? I'm tired…"

"Don't be a brat."

"I'm not," but he whines the words, just to make Philip laugh. "I'm not, I'm not!"

Philip snorts, then chuckles. "Is that your impression of me?"

Caleb laughs too. "Yes. Isn't it good?"

"Brilliant performance. Truly." 

He finishes the entry off quickly, as desperate as Caleb is to finally sleep. The nights have been restless since they entered this realm, what with all the dangerous beasts and terrifying demons and such. Philip's eyes have barely remained closed longer than a few moments, let alone an entire night.

When he's done, he puts the diary on the floor to let the ink dry, then places his bag right beside it. That out of the way, he wiggles backwards until his back is flush with Caleb's chest.

Caleb wraps his arm around him, holding him tightly. "It meant a lot when you told Eve we were…"

"Lovers?" Philip guesses, amused.

"Yes. I know my entire argument to get you here was that we could live happily together, but I haven't yet made good on my promise. I will do all I can, Philip. I swear to you—"

"I know." He closes his eyes with a smile. "Now get some rest, you old sap."

"Old." Now it's Caleb's turn to scoff. "Barely three years older…"

That makes Philip laugh. "Good night, lambkin. Dream of me or I'll be very angry."

Caleb laughs, the sound rumbling against his back. "I always dream of you."

"Good." He kisses Caleb's hand, snuggling under the blanket and further into Caleb's arms. "I love you."

"I love you, Pip. Good night."