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Arthur traced the ridges and textures of the wood beneath him. The porch he currently sat on was covered in dirt from years of neglect but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He’d dealt with far worse than a bit of dirt on his trousers.
He followed the raised edge of an oval with his finger, listening to grass rustle in the soft breeze. Distantly, crickets were beginning their repetitive, chirping calls, notes blending into a natural symphony. A song that he could never know the words to. A song that reminded him of a distant past, before the city became the only thing he knew. Before entirely alternate worlds were stamped on his passport.
The smell of freshly fallen leaves floated on the breeze, bringing memories of oranges and reds and yellows painting sidewalks and paths. He could practically hear the crunch of leaves breaking under the traffic of a day’s work as he breathed it in.
Arthur’s fingers reached the edge of the porch where his feet dangled off, at peace between the blades of grass bending in the soft wind. The sun was warm on his face and he turned to face it more fully, letting it seep in. It was a warmth he was still getting used to feeling after so much time with the Dreamlands’ weird color and temperature changing suns and Addison’s frigid, gloomy skies.
However, the sun was nothing compared to the warmth just out of reach at his side.
Oscar sat watching the same calm evening, not even a foot from Arthur. He could hear each soft breath he took and wondered if he was envisioning the same thing Oscar was seeing.
The sun is setting just above the treeline. John spoke through nature’s song. Beams of light streak through yellow leaves, turning them to gold. The sky fades from blue to yellow to a deep orange as it gets closer to the horizon.
Arthur wondered what Oscar looked like, painted in that golden light. It must be breathtaking, the sun on his cheeks, his hair casting shadows just above his eyes. Arthur would brush it away, letting his hand linger there against Oscar’s jaw. Oscar would smile, something soft and brilliant, and lean into his hand. He wondered if Oscar would place his own hand over his or maybe lean closer, gaze tracing down towards his mouth. He wondered…
Well. Probably better not to wonder about such things.
Arthur blinked a few times, snapping himself out of wherever he’d just gone. What was he thinking? He was a blind man with an eldritch god living in his head. He had much more substantial things to think about other than whether or not Oscar was… interested.
For God’s sake, the man was a priest. He wasn’t fucking interested. Arthur was being an idiot.
He heard the wood creak as Oscar shifted towards him. For a moment, he worried the man could hear his thoughts.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Oscar asked, his soft tone complimenting the ever growing cricket song.
“Yes. I… I haven’t seen a sunset like this in…” Months. Since he’d woken up blind. “A long time.”
“You don’t get them like this in New York City.” Oscar noted. “Or Arkham, I suppose.”
Arthur nodded. He could feel John’s annoyance in the back of his head. It was always there whenever Oscar spoke.
“Seeing beauty like this always reminds me… no matter how damn messed up things get, there’s always something good. A sunset somewhere in the world. A kid sharing his toys with his little sister. Somewhere in the world someone is holding the door open for a stranger. God gave us this small beauty to see every evening that all is not lost.” Arthur heard his voice muffle slightly as he turned to look down at the grass. “Not even for us.” Oscar laughed softly, a sound that made Arthur’s stomach pleasantly twist. “I’m not sure if that makes sense.”
“No, I understand what you mean.” Arthur said and could feel Oscar’s attention turn up towards him. “If we can have this one, good thing then maybe… there’s more waiting for us.”
The leaves rustled against each other as the two sat in silence for another moment, taking in the wonderful scene around them. Arthur rested his chin in his hand. He wished John would explain it some more but he couldn’t exactly ask, could he?
Besides, he was more interested in…
“What does Oscar look like, right now?” He murmured as subtly as he could. It didn’t seem like Oscar had heard him, too caught up in the scene around them, but he’d been wrong far too many times to be sure of himself, now.
You want to know what he looks like? John’s tone was incredulous with a hint of what Arthur would call jealousy, if he didn’t know any better.
Arthur responded with a quick nod, hoping it didn’t draw Oscar’s attention back to him. John let out a long, annoyed sigh.
The sun has almost disappeared behind the trees, but slivers of light frame Oscar’s head, like a painting of a saint. His brown eyes look almost gold when the light catches them just right. The edges of his eyes are crinkled with a soft smile, like he hasn’t felt this peace in a long, long time. He’s smiling into the sun, the light casting over his cheeks and making him seem-
“You’re staring, you know.” Oscar said lightly, a smile rounding out the words. Arthur’s stomach twisted again and he felt heat rise to his face.
“Was I? Sorry. I was just… lost in thought. I guess.” John gave an annoyed huff at that statement.
“What’s on your mind?”
You .
“Just… everything that’s been going on lately. Scratch. Gods. Horrors beyond our imagination.” He sighed. “The usual.”
Oscar chuckled and Arthur could imagine the expression on his face. The way his eyes crinkled and lips curved into a smile around the pleasant sound. He wanted to hear it a thousand times.
“Well, don’t worry about that right now.” Oscar said. “We’re safe for the moment. Let’s just try to enjoy it, for once.”
Arthur heard him take a deep breath and he followed. He could smell damp soil and old wood.
They sat there as the sun disappeared behind the trees, breathing slowly and softly, trying to make this one, calm moment last a lifetime. Arthur was having a hard time being calm . His mind kept wandering to Oscar. His laugh, his determination, his wit, the way he wanted nothing more than to help people. To see and aid the good in the world even after every terrible thing that he’d gone through.
It made Arthur’s stomach twist in knots and he forced himself to swallow, telling himself to fucking get over it. There was nothing for him here. Nothing was going to come from his silly infatuation with a goddamn priest, of all the-
He didn’t feel anything. But he heard his left hand yank back towards him. He heard Oscar recoil back to himself.
Arthur! John said, Oscar was trying to do something! He touched my hand! I think he was trying to hurt you while you’re distracted!
Hurt him? That was highly unlikely. John was probably making shit up again to try to get Arthur to dislike Oscar. But why… touched his hand? Wait. Touched his hand?!
“Sorry.” Oscar muttered. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking. You just seemed so… I thought…” He was fumbling for words as Arthur felt heat creep into his face. Had Oscar been trying to…? No. Unless?
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You don’t have to-”
Arthur turned and reached blindly towards Oscar with his right hand and miraculously found Oscar’s hand where he’d pulled it back. “No! No, it’s fine! It was…” He’d turned a bit too frantically and moved himself quite a bit closer now. He could feel Oscar’s breath on his face, his warmth much stronger in the close proximity. His chest tightened and his mouth went dry. Fucking hell.
“Good.” He finished, but it came out breathy. “It was good.”
Arthur wished he could see Oscar’s expression. He wished he could see if Oscar wanted it as much as he did or if he was horribly uncomfortable with the whole thing. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t dare move. Oscar’s breath was on his mouth, his warm hand clutched in his. Neither of them dared move.
After a moment, Oscar slowly pulled his hand from Arthur’s grip. Arthur’s heart sank, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. He knew he was pushing it. At least, now he knew.
He felt a hand brush over his neck, coming to rest at the base of his jaw, cradling his cheek. His breath hitched in his throat.
“Good?” Oscar asked, just as breathy as Arthur had been. He felt dizzy. His heart pounded like it was trying to kill him. He swallowed.
“Brilliant.” He said, not sure if he could manage anything else.
The hand on his neck pulled forward and oh. Oh .
He tasted like mint and alcohol. Arthur had never had anything sweeter.
He leaned forward, kissing Oscar back with full force. He felt him gasp against his mouth. The fingers in his hair gripped tighter as Arthur placed his hand on Oscar’s hip, pulling him closer.
John was yelling at him, but honestly he couldn’t care less. Could hardly hear it over the soft, bordering on pleading moan that escaped Oscar’s mouth into his own, causing him to shudder with pleasure. Oscar kissed him and practically crawled into Arthur’s lap, brushing his hand down Arthur’s neck and pushing his fingers under his collar.
Arthur had kissed people before. Hell, he’d had a wife . But none of it compared to this. None of it came close to the feeling of having Oscar’s chest pressed to his own, back against one of the posts at the front of the porch. This was something he’d never felt before. Unlike his time with Bella, nothing about this felt wrong .
They broke apart, gasping for breath. Arthur’s heart was pounding, his face was on fire, his chest tied in knots and yet, Oscar’s fingers were on his throat and he could still taste him on his lips.
He was more than content.
“You’re…” Oscar was breathing hard. “You’re quite good. At that.”
Arthur laughed lightly. He’d never heard that before.
“Why don’t we head inside?” Arthur suggested, pushing Oscar’s shirt up just enough that he could trace his fingers over the top of his hip. He could feel him shudder. “You can see how good I am.”
Oscar leaned close again. “I think I’d like that.”