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Jack’s Pub is quiet this time of day, but it won’t stay that way much longer. It’s nearly five--but Arthur Lester has been here since four-thirty, nursing a pint and going over his notes for a case. Shouldn’t be too long before--
“Hey.”
Arthur lifts his gaze from his notes, the familiar voice puts a smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. Immediately he notices something is off, and his smile wanes. “What’s wrong?”
Parker’s stormy brow breaks and he laughs it off, shaking his head. “That obvious, huh?” He sighs and flags down the bartender. “Can I get a corpse reviver?”
“A what?” The bartender asks.
Parker frowns, irritated. It’s not their usual bartender, and not all of them at Jack’s know how to satisfy Parker’s cosmopolitan cocktail requests. “Nevermind,” he grumbles, and Arthur catches the tension in his voice. “Just a pint of the stout.”
“Going straight for the hard stuff,” Arthur says. Parker rarely orders a cocktail this early--unless it’s been a particularly rough day. “It’s barely five.”
Parker shoots him a flat look that seems to say you’re one to talk.
Arthur shoots him a look back, grips his half finished pint. Neither of them pick at each other. “Well?” He asks again. “What’s got you all worked up? I thought you were working the M case today.” Just a routine stake out--a cheating spouse. “Did you get so bored you--”
“Let’s get a table,” Parker cuts him off.
Arthur blinks. “Alright,” he says, understanding the short hand--a private matter of a more sensitive nature. He tucks his small book into his breast pocket and picks up his pint, leaving his stool.
Parker puts down a few coins for the pint and gives the bartender a sardonic ‘cheers’ with his second choice drink. They head to a table across the small bar, without any other patrons seated in the adjacent tables and booths.
“Did you make some headway with the case?” Arthur asks. “Is it-- is it worse than just cheating?”
“I made some headway with the case alright,” Parker mutters, his usually playful or mischievous features twisted, conflicted.
“And?” Arthur starts to grow impatient.
Parker sucks on his cheek for a moment, then lifts his beer and takes a deep pull. “It’s a man,” he says, quietly. Evenly. But his dark eyes are sharp and hard as they meet Arthur’s.
“A man..?”
“I confirmed Mrs. M’s suspicions,” Parker says. “But it’s not another woman. ”
“Oh.” Arthur feels his heartbeat heavy in his chest, gradually ticking faster. “ Oh. ”
“Mhm.” Parker looks down at his pint, the muscle in his jaw stretched in that tense, thoughtful way of his when he ran his tongue along the back of his teeth at something complicated.
Arthur swallows down the thought of how handsome the hollow of his cheek looks like that. The very present and topical danger of a thought like that sends a shameful lance of excitement right to the pit of his stomach.
“So… the police…” He starts tentatively.
“Fuck that,” Parker snaps. “I’m not turnin’ a guy in for that.”
The tension in Arthur’s chest untangles by a few degrees. “You’re not.”
“No.” Parker’s eyes snap back up to his. “Would you?”
“N-no,” Arthur answers quickly, but he’s a little surprised that Parker is so vehement--and twisted up about this. “No, that’s-- lives are ruined over… bullshit like that,” he says quietly, though treading carefully. As one has to about these things.
“Exactly,” Parker mutters. “Bullshit is what it is. I don’t give a fuck what two men do behind closed doors, so long as it doesn’t involve kids.”
Arthur’s brow twitches. “You don’t think all homosexuals are pedophiles, do you?” He snaps a little sharper, more defensive, than he means to.
“No!” Parker snaps back. “That’s what I’m saying,” he says gruffly. “It’s not-- degenerate or deviant or whatever the fuck. It’s not criminal.”
“Right…” Arthur agrees, processing how Parker handles the topic that hits… a little close to home. In the twilight of his relationship with Bella--which was supposed to be the fucking dawn of their life together--Arthur had to grapple with what made it feel wrong. What made him feel wrong.
“What?” Parker demands, hard and defensive.
“What?” Arthur forces innocence. “I’m just surprised that you’re so-- progressive.”
Parker snorts and actually cracks into a bit of a laugh in the face of so-called propriety . “Yeah, okay--progressive.” He nods along. “Guess you could say that.”
His laugh, sardonic as it is, breaks the tension and returns a smile to Arthur’s face. “So… You’re conflicted about how to handle this,” he supposes.
“Yeah.” Parker downs another gulp of his beer. “Even if we keep the cops out of it, we tell Mrs. M, she’s liable to turn him in herself.”
“Not that it’s any of our business at that point,” Arthur murmurs.
Parker frowns. “I don’t wanna be responsible for an innocent man going to prison because society is fucked.”
Arthur’s bait worked. He puts on his poker face, keeps his smile to himself. “Is he? Innocent?” He asks, continuing to string him along.
“Yeah!” Parker insists. “He’s a cheating scoundrel or whatever, but otherwise he’s just some schmuck. And even that--what’s a guy s’pposed to do? Getting married is what you’re expected to do.” His eyes don’t meet Arthur’s. He doesn’t go there, maybe realized he spoke without thinking. But, ever Parker Yang, he doesn’t back down--he doubles down. “Good a cover as any to dodge suspicion of deviant behavior.”
Arthur’s throat tightens, his cheeks threaten to flush, but more than his own shame, he’s fascinated that Parker is so passionate about this. Then again, Parker had a real soft spot for helping people in need. Helping the victims, the little guy, the under dog. That’s why Arthur is here. Parker just couldn’t leave well enough alone.
And that’s why Arthur’s been falling for him.
“Okay,” he says. “Then it’s simple.”
“Is it?” Parker asks with a dubious twist of his brow.
“We tell Mr. M that his wife hired us,” he says succinctly. “And that he should be a bit more discreet in future.”
Parker pauses and considers it. “... You think so?”
“Yes.” Arthur smiles, though it turns a bit wry as he adds, “... And we could blackmail him to sweeten the deal for us.”
Parker cracks up, knowing Arthur’s not serious even with that deadpan delivery. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Dirty Cop,” he snorts.
Arthur chuckles into his pint, taking a sip. This is new territory and not something Arthur ever expected to come up. Well, not again. There had been one night… but that had been a drink too many. Nothing happened. Parker just got… close.
Arthur’s seen Parker with women. He’s a natural. Nothing like Arthur who relied on circumstance and interest from another party for anything to happen. And his own lack of dating or interest in women was easily explained away. Parker knew. Not the whole tragic tale, but enough of the details not to keep pushing. That had been the night, in fact…
Learning now that Parker is… progressive, Arthur wonders if… had he pushed him away? Had he stopped him? He can’t remember.
“What’s up?”
He’s been quiet too long. “Hm? Nothing. Just thinking,” Arthur says.
“Mm.” Parker jerks his chin to invite him to elaborate.
“About the- case. Tying up loose ends,” Arthur breathes, sweeping his true thoughts under the rug. “Did you-- get any evidence?”
“A couple pictures,” Parker says. “Before things got hot and heavy.” He smirks into his beer.
Arthur’s cheeks warm a little at the thought of Parker staying and watching . “O-oh?” He swallows, trying not to give away anything other than investigative interest.
“Thought it might be some bootleg deal. Drugs, or the unregulated shit,” Parker explains.
Not the bit Arthur was curious about.
“Mrs. M said Mr. M used to always take his lunch at this one diner, right? And, well, he isn’t anymore. So I staked out his office, see what he’s been doin’ on his lunch breaks.” Parker snorts with a grin. “Imagine havin’ sausage with a side of salad during the work day.”
“ Parker, ” Arthur snorts and really does blush. “So you-- watched?” He just comes out and says it.
“What’s it to you?” Parker challenges him--playfully, Arthur notes.
“I’m not asking if you enjoyed it, ” Arthur bandies back, matching Parker note for note.
“Yeah.” Parker sips his beer casually. “Nothin’ special.” He leans on his forearms on the table. “Insert tab A into slot B, rinse, and repeat.”
Arthur chuckles under his breath. Nothing special. Parker really didn’t care. Not that it meant anything. Except… Arthur’s brow narrows a degree. “You were so… concerned, when you came in,” he says curiously.
Now, Parker withdraws a little, puts up some light defenses, hackles come up a bit. “Wasn’t sure what you’d have to say about it.”
Arthur shoots him a look, head tipped to one side. “Parker.”
“What? You surprise me sometimes,” Parker says, holding up his hands defensively but still not quite catching his gaze.
“Just because I can play the part of prim and proper British gentleman, ” he lays the Queen’s English on thick in the way he knows makes Parker laugh, “doesn’t mean I’m some prude. Come on. You know me, Parker.”
“Yeah,” Parker says lightly, but Arthur can hear there’s something he’s not telling him. “I don’t know.”
“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows. What is he getting at?
“Nothin’,” Parker says and shakes his head. He lifts his glass and holds it up to Arthur. “Guess that’s case closed, then. Another notch in our belts.” He rolls his eyes a little. “Much as another case of lyin’, cheatin’ husbands count.”
After a beat, still curious what Parker isn’t telling him, Arthur lifts his glass. “I’ll take it.” He clinks his glass against Parker’s. “Means we’ll have more than crackers for dinner this week.”
“Cheers to that!” Parker agrees wholeheartedly.
After a couple more beers, discussing cases past and present, determining who would do the grocery shopping, Parker decides it’s time they get themselves home and put some food in their bellies. Arthur is pleasantly tipsy, just enough to take the edge off, maybe a little bit more. Keeping up with Parker, he always ended up the more drunk of the two of them, even if Parker’s face showed it more than his.
“So, you’ll talk to Mr. M tomorrow,” Arthur supposes, still thinking about the case. Maybe thinking about it more with his inhibitions lowered, his guard down.
“Hm?” Parker blinks over at Arthur. “Oh, yeah.”
“Remind him to be a little more discreet,” Arthur says again, but this time with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” Parker chuckles, too.
“ Did you enjoy it?” Arthur blurts out.
“What?” Parker asks quietly, but there’s a grin curling on his lips.
“Did you enjoy it?” Arthur repeats shamelessly. “Watching Mr. M and his… beau. ”
Parker laughs. “C’mon, Arthur, quit yankin’ my chain.”
“Oh, is that what you’re calling it.”
“English!” Parker howls. “You’re on a tear.”
“Simple question,” Arthur says innocently.
Parker sighs and shoots him a wry smirk. “Simple answer: yes.”
Arthur’s brows raise, but he keeps looking ahead. “Interesting.” All of the sudden his heart is pounding. Doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself. He’s your partner. You live together. Terrible idea. Out of the question.
“Interesting,” Parker mimics Arthur. “Why’s that interesting, English?”
Now it’s Arthur’s turn to be on the spot. “W-well-- it’s just- interesting,” he stammers.
“Uh-huh.” Parker sounds smug. “What would you have done? Would you have watched for, uh-- investigative integrity?” He asks slyly. “Or would you have shielded your delicate eyes and preserved your modest sensibilities?” He croons, hands to his chest like an innocent dame.
“Fuck off,” Arthur laughs, shoving Parker’s arm.
“Well? Which is it?” Parker insists.
Arthur’s breath catches in his throat, but the booze and easy company keep him grinning. Fuck, why did I ask? Why didn’t I just leave well enough alone? He shakes his head. “I would have watched. Of course.”
“Of course?” Parker laughs.
Arthur blushes. “For the case! For the- the investigative- integrity.” He can’t stop giggling, nervous and giddy.
“Riiight,” Parker draws it out. “For integrity.”
They’ve reached their building and Arthur is grateful. They can drop this silly nonsense and focus on dinner and winding down for the night. Maybe he’ll go take a shower and coerce Parker into scrounging up dinner to make sure the subject is well and truly dropped.
Parker unlocks the door to their apartment and opens the door. Once inside and the door shut, Arthur sighs as he shrugs off his coat.
“Would you enjoy it?”
Arthur freezes with his coat on the hook. He slowly turns and finds Parker standing close, almost cornering him, if only by merit of his tall frame.
“Just wondering how deep the self-loathing goes,” he says frankly, evenly. But he’s pushing.
“What?” Arthur breathes like the rug’s been pulled out from under him, like a lead weight dropped on him from ten stories, genuinely bewildered. And immediately on guard. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Parker’s gaze drifts as that muscle in his jaw tightens, his tongue moves unseen over his teeth. “Reason I was bent outta shape when I came to Jack’s earlier… Last time this came up--you said…” He meets Arthur’s eyes again. “You were wrong.”
“Wh--”
“Wasn’t sure if you’d think other people who felt that way were wrong.”
“What’re you-- last time?” Arthur asks. That night. Oh, god, what doesn’t he remember about that night--
Parker sighs and grimaces as he seems to realize Arthur really doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “You were real fucked up that night,” he murmurs, without judgement. With sympathy. “About-- yeah,” he doesn’t dredge it all up. Arthur watches Parker’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I felt-- bad. You said a lot of… really sad shit, and I--” He wears an expression Arthur’s never seen before on his face: shame. “You’re my friend. And a good man, no matter what you tell yourself. And I shouldn’t’ve-- fuck, you don’t even remember.” Parker takes a step away and rubs at his temples.
As Parker moves away, Arthur steps toward him. “Remember… remember what..?” Arthur whispers.
“I kissed you,” Parker says, ripping the band-aid off quick. “You were upset, and crying in my arms, and talkin’ about what a horrible, unlovable, sorry piece of shit you were, and I-- I didn’t want you to feel that way.” Parker looks at him, his hackles raised not in aggression, but defensive.
“You-- you did?” Arthur whispers, utterly in shock. He remembered Parker holding him, but not-- He kissed him? “What did I--?”
“You pushed me away,” Parker says. “Rightfully so. It was a fucked up thing to do all’a the sudden, and with you bein’ drunk-- and I’m sorry.”
“And I-- I said I was wrong?”
“Yeah,” Parker says, a little sadly. “You said you were wrong, and you should go, and put yourself to bed.”
“Oh.” Arthur’s face is hot with embarrassment, his throat tight in shock, and he suddenly feels very, very sober. Fuck. He’d had his chance and he’d-- fucked it up. Of course he had. “ Fuck, ” he whispers aloud, face twisting in humiliation.
“I dropped it, ‘cause-- whatever,” Parker muttered. “Figured it’d be better to just let it go. Pretend it never happened.”
Arthur covers his face, rakes his hands through his hair and resists the urge to tear at it. He wants to hit something, throw something, drown himself until he doesn’t feel like crawling out of his fucking skin.
“But tonight, with all the teasing…” He watches Arthur, sees him spiraling. “Hey. Arthur,” he says. “It’s no big deal. Just wanted to--”
“No big deal!” Arthur shouts, laughs incredulously. “God, Parker, I-- fuck!” He can’t even string a coherent sentence together. He feels like he can’t even get a proper breath in.
“Arthur,” Parker says more firmly. “Calm down.” But Arthur’s losing it. He goes to him quickly, grabs him by the shoulders. “ Arthur, ” he shakes him a little to snap him out of it, makes him focus on his eyes. “Breathe.”
Parker knows how to ground him, and that steady, familiar gaze helps. He nods slowly, takes a few shaky breaths in and out.
“You’re good,” Parker tells him. “We’re good.”
Arthur believes him, but his heart fucking aches. His eyes prickle and he blinks rapidly to banish any stupid, angry tears.
Parker rubs at his shoulders with his thumbs, only his shirt between him and those hands. “Tell me what’s going through your head,” he guides him gently.
“I want to kiss you,” Arthur blurts out, his heart all but tumbling out with it.
Parker blinks, jerks back a fraction. “Huh?”
Arthur lets out a huge sigh, the weight of his feelings nearly crushing him. “I’ve wanted to for a long time,” he confesses. “I’ve had-- feelings for you for-- m-months, but I-- I knew it was wrong. A bad idea. We’re p-partners, and friends, and I couldn’t spoil that-- break your trust-- and I- I- I- knew you wouldn’t want--”
“Shut up, English,” Parker says and rushes him, kissing him into the wall.
It knocks the wind out of him--both the kiss and the wall--but Arthur would rather suffocate than break this kiss. His hands scramble over Parker’s chest, pull at his shirt like an animal desperately seeking shelter, find his sharp jaw and grip it tight as if to make sure it’s real. His heart soars in his chest with sweet relief--but as he grows dizzy and breathless from those fierce kisses, it plummets like a stone.
“N-no,” Arthur gasps as he breaks away. “This is-- this is a terrible idea. This is wrong, I- I’m wrong--”
“If you’re wrong,” Parker says sharply, pinning Arthur in with his arms. “Then you’re calling me wrong.” He gets that mean, hard threat in his eyes that only makes Arthur’s heart race. “And I won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of you, English, for calling me wrong .”
Arthur’s breath catches with the sick thrill of being the object of Parker Yang’s violent ire. “That’s-- that’s not what I mean,” he says and finds himself panting, shorter of breath than he realized.
“Then tell me what you do mean,” Parker demands.
“I mean-- I don’t-- deserve…”
“Oh, jesus, Arthur,” Parker sighs, exasperated. “You’re a real fuckin’ piece of work.” The threat drains out of his frame and he fearlessly rakes his fingers through Arthur’s hair to come around his ear and hold his jaw, so smooth it’s like he’s done it a hundred times before. Arthur nearly melts.
“How about you let someone else make that call for once?” Parker’s voice grows quieter, softer.
“This can only end badly,” Arthur says with dread certainty.
Parker’s brow twists, sad and frustrated--but understanding. “What if it doesn’t?”
Arthur’s throat closes up. He barely dares to dream. With all the tragedy that followed him constantly with every step in life, he doesn’t hope anymore.
“What if it doesn’t?” Parker insists, practically pleads with him. “Arthur…” He sighs. “If you don’t want this…” He starts to pull away.
And Arthur digs his fingers into his shirt. Don’t. “I do,” he says in a small voice.
Parker levels him with a tired look. “Always with the indecision,” he mutters. “Can’t you make a decision for yourself? What you want?”
It stings, but Parker always knew how to needle at his flaws to push him. “But-- what if--”
“Psht,” Parker cuts him off. “Life is full of what if’s, Arthur. What if our business fails? What if we hate living together? What if you fuckin’ drop dead tomorrow? There’s no promises in life. Only choices. Choices to make our lives on this miserable rock a little less shit.”
Arthur’s heard this speech before. When Parker proposed they go into business together, when he suggested they save on rent rooming together. Indecision had paralyzed Arthur for so long, listless and without direction after he gave up composing, after… everything.
“I’m not gonna twist your arm, Arthur. But if you think you don’t deserve this…” Parker trails off with an incredulous shake of his head. “Man, it’s not about deserving. ”
It’s a choice. He doesn’t have to earn it. And… maybe he could become the kind of man who did deserve Parker. He looks up into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Parker…” He murmurs, and his stomach drops with dread as he sees a flicker of anger, disappointment flash through his eyes and his body stiffen and start to pull away. “I-I’m sorry I’m s-so difficult!” He blurts out quickly and Parker pauses. “I want- I want this,” he says, blood pounding in his ears to make the choice. “I want you.”
Parker lets out a sigh of relief. “Glad to see you’re not fully stupid,” he mutters with a wry grin. “ Now we’re gettin’ somewhere…”