Work Text:
Neil ran his thumb gently along the skin of Todd’s hand. The two of them were laying together, early morning birds chirping, heralding the slowly rising sun.
“If you could do anything,” Neil said softly, his voice low and raspy from sleep. “Anything in the world, what would you do?”
“What sort of thing?” Todd asked.
Neil shifted, adjusting so that they could fit better on the small Welton beds.
“Anything. You have the whole world, it’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“Yours.”
“How did I get the world?” Todd mused, mind still waking up.
He could feel the slow release of heat against his neck as Neil breathed in and out.
“I would give it to you, if I could.” Neil smiled, Todd could feel it more than see it. “If I knew what you’d do with it.”
“Got to make sure it stays in safe hands?”
“Of course.” Neil nuzzled gently against the back of his neck, right at his hairline. “Yours are the safest. But it’s contractual, I can’t give it to you without knowing how you’d use it.”
“Well what would you do?”
He shrugged, Todd couldn’t help but smile at the movement.
“I’d make sure everything was perfect for my boyfriend, can’t give him a bad gift, after all.”
“You’re a sap.” Todd said, heat rising into his cheeks, despite the crisp morning air.
“You should know that by now.”
Todd let out a quiet laugh, keeping his volume low.
“If I had the world, and I could do anything I wanted, I’d give us a bigger bed.”
“That seems reasonable. What else?”
“I’d build a house.”
“For us?”
“For… yeah.” Todd shrugged halfheartedly, tensing up slightly against Neil. “If you wanted to, that is.”
“What kind of house?”
Todd could feel himself relax once more. “A nice one. But not too big. Something quaint, like a cottage.”
“Picturesque?”
Todd hummed in agreement. “With a garden, and one of those lattice arc things as the entrance.”
“Flowers?”
“Something purple. Lavender maybe.”
Todd let his eyes slip shut, letting the imagery come to mind.
“Inside there’s a little nook, near the window, you can look out at the garden.”
Neil huffed a laugh.
“What?” Todd asked.
“You sound like a regency era poet.”
“I can be romantically dying of tuberculosis if I want to be.”
“Go on.”
Todd thought for a moment.
“A cat.”
“You like cats?”
“Decently. What was it you said? Picturesque? Cats are picturesque.”
“Okay.”
“We could have one of those fainting couches.”
“Are you John Keats?”
“I’m living my dream life, hold on. Oh! One of those cobblestone chimneys, they’re beautiful, and we could put pictures up and candles.”
“Candles?”
“Mood lighting.”
“For?”
“Writing, or reading, or just being dramatic.”
“Of course.”
“And the bedroom would have painfully bright wallpaper, like the flowery stuff.”
Neil laughed again, muffling it in the collar of Todd’s pajamas.
“As I said,” Todd started. “Nice bed.”
“Is the comforter as flowery?”
“Even more, it’s quilted.”
“Classy.”
Todd couldn’t help the smile that split across his face.
“What else?” Neil asked.
“You’re there.” Todd admitted again, almost shyly.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
“We could have big bookshelves, we could keep your plays and novels on one side, and my poetry books on the other.”
“Where is the cottage?”
“I’m not sure. I think at first it was… here. But I’m thinking… Wales.”
“Wales?” Neil asked.
“Wales. It’s… nice. Rainy, kinda cold. But have you ever seen the coasts there? It’s like the land is all pale and green, and then the moment you look over, it’s just the ocean, forever. Deep and blue.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. And it’s far away. Nothing can get us there.”
“Except for the rain.”
“The rain we can manage, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a Macintosh.”
“That’s true.”
“Plus that’s the kind of things poets write about, isn’t it? Coasts and rain and lovers.”
“Won’t your flowers get wet?”
“I have the world, don’t I? Why do they have to get wet?”
Neil giggled. “True. Go on.”
“You’d be closer to Shakespeare than you are here. We could go to England, see the Globe Theatre.”
“Have you thought about this before?”
“Not much.” Todd said honestly.
“Then you just know me well.”
“Do I?”
“I mean, I’d go anywhere as long as it’s with you.”
“France?”
“Of course.”
“In movies, France is always cobblestone streets and oil lights. I wonder what it’s really like, if the pavement glistens like it does there.”
“We could find out.”
“We could. We’d go to the eiffel tower, and eat fancy food. And…” Todd trailed off, picking his next words very carefully. “It’s my world, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I can do whatever I want?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’d kiss you at the top of the eiffel tower, and tell the whole city about how I’d rather be nowhere but there.”
“That sounds nice.”
“In Italy we could go to the colosseum, we could explore the Roman ruins and explore the deserts.”
“What about desserts?”
“Those too.” Todd’s face was warm and his expression surely one of lovesick hopelessness. “We could dance, and not care who watched. We’d go see opera shows and eat pasta.”
“Opera and pasta, ideal date.”
“We’d be in Spain next.”
“How’s your Spanish?”
“I could order us food, it’s basically latin. I think.”
“And where would we go?”
“Everywhere. I’m not sure what’s in Spain, but we’d see it, and we’d be there together. We could take pictures, and make a scrapbook, we could just travel the whole world and never get tired of it.”
“We could get married.” Neil said softly.
“We could.”
They stopped there, letting the words wash over them. Their world, where they could live and love and throw caution to the wind and not have to worry about Welton or parents or any of it.
“We could do all of that, you know.” Neil said. “We don’t need the world to be ours to explore it.”
“As long as it’s you who’s with me.”