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Arthur groans as he straightens his spine and rolls his shoulders back, keeping his eyes trained on the page in front of him the entire time. His back aches from hours spent hunched over the desk, but he’s too focused to look away, unaware of the world around him as he picks through a journal given to them by their client. He scrawls notes onto the legal pad beside it, his handwriting less legible the longer he sits there, his tired eyes straining to focus on the blue ink.
He doesn’t notice Parker until he drops the package on the desk, the loud thunk snapping him out of his thoughts and drawing a quiet curse out of him as he jumps at the sound.
“What’s this?” Arthur asks, trying to pretend he hadn’t nearly jumped out of his skin seconds before.
“A package,” Parker says, raising his eyebrows and smirking in a wordless acknowledgement of Arthur’s alarm.
Parker reaches into his coat for a small, metal tin, and pulls out a cigarette. He holds it between his teeth as he pats down his pockets, searching for a lighter that he’s fairly certain he lost this morning. He resigns, holding his hand out expectedly toward Arthur.
“I can see that,” Arthur says, fishing his lighter out of his pocket and holding it out. He flicks it open when Parker doesn’t move to grab it, knowing he's waiting for Arthur to light it for him, "what's in the package?"
Arthur ignites the wick with a click, holding his breath to avoid inhaling Parker's smoke when he leans forward to put the end of the cigarette into the flame. Parker takes a long drag, turning his head when he stands up straight so he doesn't blow smoke toward Arthur, missing the look of relief that quickly crosses Arthur's face when he looks away.
“Beats me,” Parker says, with a shrug.
Arthur hums, sticking his finger beneath the folded brown paper and beginning to peel it off. Parker smacks his hand away, earning a yelp and an exaggerated wounded look in return. Parker looks down at him, his stern look not faltering even under the pressure of Arthur's puppy eyes.
“Do not open that,” Parker says, “nothin’ good is going to come from opening this package.”
“It’s just a package,” Arthur says, “don’t be so dramatic.”
“It’s not addressed to us,” he says, speaking toward the wall as he takes another drag, "I don't trust it."
“It has our address on it,” Arthur says, standing up. He walks around the desk, his palms flat on the wooden surface as he leans against the edge, crossing his legs at his ankles.
“Which is exactly why I don’t trust it,” Parker says, reaching around Arthur to stub his smoke out in the amber ashtray behind him. He feels Arthur’s breath on his cheek as he leans forward, and wills them not to turn pink as Arthur’s indignant huff tickles his skin.
He meets Arthur’s grey eyes as he moves away, the inquisitive look as he studies Parker’s face is as infuriating as it is charming, and the silent, underlying conversation that passes between them in glances is enough to drive him mad. He clears his throat and takes a step back, shifting the conversation to the problem at hand.
“It has our address, but I didn’t order shit,” Parker says, “and I know you didn’t either. So why the hell is it being sent to us?”
“Well,” Arthur says, picking it up off of its side and flipping it over. It falls back to the desk with a heavy thud that rattles the pens in their container, “we might have a better idea of why it was sent to us if we know what it is.”
“It’s your funeral,” Parker says, feigning nonchalance that doesn’t fool Arthur for a second.
“You’re being paranoid.”
“In our line of work it’s not paranoia,” he says, “it’s self preservation.”
“Aren’t you curious?” Arthur asks, tapping his fingers on the paper wrapped item, “ I think it’s a book.”
“Could be,” Parker says, “shame you won’t get the chance to find out before I toss it in the dumpster.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, believe me,” Parker says, “I’m going to.”
“It’s a mystery, Parker,” Arthur says, “isn’t that what we do? Solve mysteries?”
“We find missing kids and cheating wives,” Parker says, “I don’t want nothing to do with mysterious books showing up at our door out of the blue. This is real life, Arthur, not some dime novel.”
“No, I suppose it’s not,” Arthur says, his smirk threatening to turn into a grin as he pushes himself off of the desk and takes a half step toward Parker, a daring look in his eyes, “if it was, I’d be much more handsome.”
Parker pauses, trying not to show his hand as he processes Arthur’s words. He quickly wets his bottom lip as Arthur tilts his chin up, their eyes meeting as he wracks his brain for a response that doesn't let Arthur know just how handsome he thinks he is. Parker bites his lip, flicking his eyes away as he collects himself.
"You'd do alright," Parker says, looking back as he reaches out to grab Arthur's jaw, "I mean, you got the face of a leading man, but..."
He turns Arthur's face in his hand, pretending to inspect it as he gently shifts it from side to side. Arthur laughs, his smile pushing against Parker's fingers, the sound calling a wide grin to Parker's face that he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.
"But, I'm sorry to say you'd die in chapter one," Parker says, "in fact, the way you're so eager to get at that package, I'd put money on you dying on page one."
"Says you," Arthur says with a sound of mock offence. He twists out of Parker's grip as he continues, "I've got a fighting spirit, and an investigative mind. I could hold me own, thank you very much."
Parker snorts.
“You’ve got a small child’s impulse control,” he says, “and a teenage boy’s patience. You’re not making it to chapter two, face the facts.”
“Agree to disagree,” Arthur says, crossing his arms and leaning back on the desk, “and how long do you suppose you’d make it, then?”
“End of the book, obviously.”
“You’re so sure?”
“Yes,” he says, “I’ve been doing this a long time, kid. I got my wits about me. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be sure to avenge your death after you face the consequences of sticking your head in places it doesn’t belong.”
“Such a gentleman,” Arthur says.
Parker nods, watching as Arthur’s attention is drawn back to the package on the desk, his one track mind shifting gears. He picks it up, turning it in his hands as if the contents might make itself known through sheer will and curiosity.
“Surely just opening it wouldn’t do any harm?” Arthur says, his fingers pushing at the edges of the tape.
“We’ll see,” Parker says, speaking over his shoulder as he turns to leave the room, “Go ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Arthur doesn’t respond, all his attention locked onto peeling off the paper and revealing what’s beneath. He lets the brown sheet drop to the floor, his eyes captivated by the black book in his hand.
His head starts to ache the second the cover is revealed, a high hum suddenly crowding his mind as his eyes trace the winding yellow lines at the centre. The book seems to hum in his hands, an indistinguishable whisper calling him in from every corner of the room. His finger’s move toward the edge, his body moving without him commanding it, opening the book without making the conscious choice to do so. The droning in his ears compelling him to move.
Parker turns back to look at the book, his curiosity winning out over his nerves. His smile falls as soon as he sees the cover, his heart dropping instantly as he realizes what Arthur is holding.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “Wait, Arthur! Don’t–”
He lunges toward Arthur, knowing it's already too late even as he knocks it out of Arthur’s shaking hands. The book tumbles to the floor, falling shut as it hits the hardwood. Parker watches in horror as Arthur’s eyes darken, his iris an animalistic yellow as he glances at him in the dim lamplight. His face twists into a venomous grin, the soft edges of Arthur hardened in an instant, any trace of his friend buried beneath the whatever has taken over.
“Arthur,” Parker calls out, reaching toward him.
Arthur grabs ahold of Parker's wrist, pain shooting through him as he tightens his grip.
Parker struggles to find his voice, terrified as he calls out again, “Arth—”