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Since they were separated John couldn't look at Arthur.
There was something about seeing his face as often as he did now that made John feel a strange sensation in his jaw and the back of his throat. And all at once he wanted nothing more than just grab Arthur and slam his head against the nearest hard surface until he stopped.
John didn't know where this was coming from just- he looked at Arthur and he needed to squeeze him or bite him or something it was maddening. Worse yet was, as time went on and John became familiar with Arthur's facial expression he could tell how Arthur would look when he said something just by his voice, and then his stupid face would appear in John's mind and cause the same I-want-to-squeeze-you, I-want-to-bite-you feeling.
He was pretty sure he didn't want to murder Arthur, but it was hard to say. He didn't really know what he would do once he got his hands on Arthur. It was just a certainty when he looked at Arthur's face that he needed to grab him and put him somewhere maybe or do something to him. John didn't know so he just didn't look at Arthur.
Though, of course, this plan didn't work too well as Arthur increasingly seemed to be seeking out John's eye contact as John continued increasingly avoiding it. Until finally when John was, as was his habit, attempting to have an entire conversation with Arthur with his back fully turned, pretending to be busy with some task, Arthur finally stepped around him, put his hands on his hips and said, "Alright well, that's enough."
"What's enough?" John snarled trying to pivot again. It occurred to him this might be construed as an overreaction.
Arthur scoffed, "You won't look at me! What's wrong with my face? Do you take issue with it?"
Arthur's tone indicated he was being facetious but John's ensuing silence killed the joke. Arthur's smile fell.
"Oh. There's something wrong with my face," Arthur said, unbothered but curious, "Is it the scars? Am I ugly?"
"You're not ugly, and the scars do nothing to detract," John rolled his eyes, continuing on with trying to look away from Arthur.
"But- but you have a problem with my face," Arthur said, still confused.
"That's not your fault," John said before he could stop himself.
"What do you mean? If I'm not ugly, then what is it?"
"It… just makes me feel strange," John finished lamely, then sighed, "I can't explain it Arthur there's just something about your face that makes me want to- to grab you."
"Grab me? Grab me for what?"
"Unclear," John was hating every moment of this, "but- maybe squeeze you. Make you stop."
"Make me stop doing what, John?" Arthur took a step back, "are you- Do you want to kill me because of my face?"
"Fucking-" He wasnt explaining himself right, "No! Of course not, I just- it's doing the thing with the eyes that makes the feeling worse."
"What thing am I doing with my eyes?" Arthur asked helplessly.
"With the big eyes Arthur, you know," He had to know didn't he? "When you smile? Not now but sometimes- just- I don't know!"
"Well then we are going to find out. I want this solved," Arthur told him firmly, "I don't want you wandering around harboring a latent impulse to murder me. I'll grab my gun and if it seems you are actually going to kill me, I'll shoot you in the shoulder. God only knows what kind of curse or side effect of our deal with Kayne this could be and I really rather we just found out about it now."
That seemed as sensible as anything to John, "Fine alright."
He turned to look at Arthur and there was Arthur's face doing this thing, and it caused a clenching feeling in John's chest, and his heart beat faster. Rather than suppressing the feeling he just reached out and grabbed Arthur's shoulders. Arthur, gun in hand, allowed it.
Grasping Arthur's shoulders firmly he pulled Arthur closer to him until there was just a few inches between them and then all at once it resolved itself into a clear action cleared idea of where this was headed. He locked his arms around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him in tightly squeezing as hard as he could. John buried his face in Arthur's shoulder and bit down hard through his shirt. And then John just held him there. Coiled contentedly around him like a snake and John felt everything in his body settle as though this was what it had been built for, as though he'd finally found its purpose.
"Oh," Arthur said and he sounded a bit strained. Hard to say whether it was surprise, John's grip on him, or the teeth that caused the tone.
"John," he said gently, setting his gun on the table beside them, his arms coming up to wrap around John in return.
John buried his face in the crook of Arthur's shoulder and neck, drawing a small huff of laughter as he nuzzled his nose against a slightly more sensitive spot.
"I see. Well beyond the biting bit, that's not so bad."
John squeezed him tighter. Arthur was the perfect size in his arms. John just felt as though they clicked together neatly, like the latch to a cupboard. All at once he let go with one arm and snatched up Arthur's hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.
He breathed deeply.
Arthur squeezed back just as tightly dropping his head to John's shoulder in return and then after a moment he began chuckling and it built into full-body laughter as he shook in John's arms.
"You thought you were going to kill me," Arthur kept laughing.
"Fuck you," John muttered into his neck.
Arthur didn't stop though.
"You thought you were going to kill me, and I promised to shoot you just in case you tried and you just wanted to hold me because my face makes me look extremely holdable to you," Arthur teased, mocked really. He was horrible, John wished he had killed him.
John growled out his displeasure, "If you aren't fucking careful I will take you to the nearest flat surface and get my legs locked around you as well. Don't test me, you won't go anywhere by the time I'm done with you."
"I somehow think," Arthur said slowly, "that I would be able to cope just fine with that."
At the implicit permission, John dragged Arthur bodily towards the couch, not letting go of any point of contact that he didn't absolutely have to. He pulled Arthur down on top of him as he fell backwards onto the couch, laying them across the plush surface. He locked his legs around Arthur's legs. The weight of him over John was a reassuring one.
"Can hardly look at me for months and now clinging to me like an octopus. What has become of you? Are you not the same man who I traveled with? Time was that you strangled me with my own hand you."
"If this were one-sided we wouldn't be here right now," John told him in a warning tone.
"I didn't say it was one-sided. I just said it was quite a change. I wouldn't even say it's for the worse, I might be able to get used to this."