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It's been a while since Linton's gotten to dance with anyone. The last time he and Cathy danced together was at their wedding. He misses her gentle warmth, he misses getting to hold her hand and being close to her.
She's at Wuthering Heights again, and he is home alone with only his Butlers to keep himself company.
He hasn't been feeling well, and the thought of that mansion makes him feel sick to his stomach. He feels upset, he feels angry, he feels jealous, every unwanted feeling hangs around him like a heavy fog. Ever since Cathy took back Wuthering Heights, the distance between them has grown. Her emotions are constantly jumping from one state to the next, and he finds himself feeling wary whenever she's in a foul mood. But he loves her too much to say anything about it.
There's a knock at the door, and he knows who it is. He still looks up though, even though those heavy footfalls couldn't belong to anyone else.
“Quit moping around and get off your ass,” Hindley growls, leaning against the doorframe.
Hindley’s been doing… Something all day. Linton’s been working all day, so he isn’t exactly sure what the other man has been up to, but he can’t be bothered enough to ask. “Alright, I’m coming.” Deciding to go along with whatever the other man may have planned, Linton gets up with a sigh, pushing his chair into his desk before walking over to stand with him. “I take it you have something you want to show me?”
Hindley crosses his arms, even when things are fine between them he always looks like he’s about to start arguing, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Come on.”
The two are in an… Odd agreement.
Both are mourning the loss of a loved one, despite the fact that Catherine is definitely still alive. Both are using the other as a stand-in for their lost love. It makes Thrushcross Grange less lonely, even if it's occupied in a different manner now.
When Catherine is gone, Hindley is allowed inside. The Butlers that stay are contracted to secrecy, and what happens between the two men stays between them. They seem to fight and argue all day, and then share a bed at night.
Hindley always refuses any amount of help from the Butlers. But that's fine with him. There's something refreshing about the man's presence when he returns and acts like he's been living there the entire time.
He follows Hindley through the halls of the mansion, the man’s rough appearance sticks out like a sore thumb here. Shades of brown looking worse for wear contrasts the sleek grays of Thrushcross Grange, but Linton likes that he doesn’t try to match and fit in. They’re so different, Hindley wants to be at the front of everything, while Linton doesn’t mind hanging back and observing.
He coughs idly into his handkerchief. He’s a bit curious now since the usually loud man is keeping quiet, and he follows him into the main hall. It’s far more grand than that of Wuthering Heights, of course, it was made with holding events such as receptions and banquets in mind. A few strangers are waiting on the hall’s slightly elevated platform, instruments in hand.
“Care to explain?” He glances over to Hindley with a raised eyebrow.
“Can’t you take a fucking hint?” Hindley scowls, “If we’re going to act like a couple, we might as well dance together like one. What, feeling too sick to play wedding, huh? I thought you’d be into this bullshit.” He talks like he’s challenging him, but Linton knows that this is just Hindley’s attempt at actually trying to do something for him.
Wait.
Play wedding? Like… They’re getting married? He gets way too enthusiastic and flustered at the idea, quickly getting his handkerchief and coughing harshly into it for probably a minute or two. Breathes in, and then another round of coughing.
“Hell… Don’t go coughing up a damn lung over it.” Hindley roughly pats his back, and he lets out a wheeze, composing himself.
“...Excuse me,” he exhales, putting his handkerchief back into his pocket, “Of course. I would love to.”
He doesn’t miss how Hindley looks a little embarrassed about it, like he’s flustered over the fact that he’s actively doing this for him. He almost starts coughing over it again, but manages to get by with just clearing his throat.
The band starts to play, and the two draw close. It’s nice being so close, he can feel the warmth of Hindley’s alcohol scented breath and he doesn’t mind one bit. They slowly move together, Hindley’s steps a little more clumsy than his own, and he finds himself leaning into the touch. He could almost pretend that this is how things have always been, pretend that he isn’t worried about his wife who chases after the specter of the violet brute of Wuthering Heights.
He clears his throat again, and Hindley speaks up softly, “Just go ahead and cough into my jacket, might as well get me sick too…”
Before he can protest, Hindley gently holds his head to rest it against his shoulder. But he doesn’t miss the look on Hindley’s face. His late wife was sickly and had a horrible cough, Linton can clearly tell that Hindley is at least seeing a little bit of her in him. It doesn’t bother him though because he knows that he is doing the same, he knows this is something they both need. He coughs into Hindley’s coat and his chest aches, he feels like a walking, bleeding wound. The guilt from doing such a thing while being wed to Cathy stings him, and the tenderness being shown pains him.
He raises his head to look at him, and Hindley looks back at him, before looking away with a stubborn and embarrassed expression. He chuckles at the sight, the man always acts so tough and that only makes these moments of genuine vulnerability even sweeter.
He raises his hand to cup Hindley’s cheek, gently making him look back to him. And Hindley looks at him, he actually looks at him instead of looking through him, and the two share a gentle kiss.
Thrushcross Grange is a better place when he has someone to share it with. They can fight and argue all they like, but they will always return to one another.
They will always return home.