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There were days Arthur had a hard time getting out of bed.
Parker couldn't blame him. If the rain was pouring particularly hard, if the ankle he'd broken as a kid was aching, if they'd had a late case and didn't get back until near morning he also struggled to motivate himself into moving. Of course it didn't help that the two of them were stuck sharing one mattress. Money only went so far with the two of them paying rent with jobs few and far between.
Well, at first Arthur hadn't seemed bothered at the idea of sleeping on the couch until he'd given it a try for the week and realized that it was an offense to spines everywhere. Parker had offered half of the bed, Arthur had begrudgingly accepted, and they kept a respectable distance between the two of them until winter when it was just more practical to share body heat with the shitty heater their apartment had.
It was well into warmer weather now, creeping towards spring and beckoning storms and humidity that Arkham just loved to torture them with. Parker had gotten up to wash his face as soon as he realized the sun was warming their small bedroom, expecting his partner to do the same. Except…
Today was clearly a day Arthur didn't want to get up.
Thankfully they weren't swimming in cases, Parker was fine with getting started for the day and waiting Arthur out. It wouldn't be the first nor the last time he's sure. He makes enough coffee for two, sets out a piece of toast for Arthur, and gets to work.
Their clock chimes noon by the time he realizes Arthur still hasn't stirred. If they weren't living in such close proximity he would worry that Arthur was drunk, but he knows it's been year or so since Arthur last drank and they were both better off for it. Arthur wouldn't start that up again, surely.
Well, either way it wasn't good for him to stay down all day.
Parker pushes away from his desk, wandering back into their living space and making a point to step on the creaky floorboards to warn Arthur he was coming.
"Arthur? You awake yet?"
Not a movement, not a murmur, hell from where he was standing Parker couldn't even tell if the man was breathing.
"Alright Lester, time to get out of bed," Parker says, walking up beside the bed. At some point Arthur had dragged the blankets around himself, his face barely visible from where it was pressed against the pillow. "You feelin' alright?"
What little of his face creases in displeasure at being interrupted, "Tired."
The mumble was barely loud enough to carry, but Parker was just grateful to get an answer at all. They were well past the stage where Arthur would unintentionally play the quiet game with him and Parker was not keen to revisit those days.
"I get it," Parker says, reaching down to pat at Arthur's shoulder, the blanket warm beneath his palm. It was tempting to curl up next to him again, ignoring the rest of the day but, "you should at least try to eat something, that'll help."
Food didn't seem to be the right thing to offer if Arthur's grimace was anything to go by.
"Or a bath?" Parker tries, knowing it may help soothe whatever aches that plagued Arthur on occasion. The weather was shifting with the arrival of spring, it was just as likely as anything else.
Again, the wrong offer as Arthur turns his head away, buried into his pillow.
Parker stands there for a moment, considering his options. It was never pleasant attempting to convince Arthur to do something he didn't want to do. Trial and error had led Parker to the occasional correct move, but they were few and far between still. They'd been living and working together for a little less than a year and there were plenty of moments he felt he'd never know all the things that made Arthur tick.
Food would be the easier battle of the two. Once Arthur was out of bed, surely he could convince him to relax for a bit. He remembered the first night he'd brought Arthur here to the office, letting him crash on the couch before they'd decided to officially move in together. Arthur had been so surprised that he'd made them both food but refused to waste it when Parker said he didn't have to eat it. He still banks on that sometimes, although when Arthur was still drinking he lost his lunch more often than not.
He falls into a familiar routine, preparing an easy soup for the two of them and putting out a set of crackers. One thing done, now he has to talk Arthur into getting up.
Arthur hadn't moved in the near half hour it'd taken him to make lunch for the two of them. It again wasn't too out of the ordinary, but it makes concern curl in Parker's chest all the same.
"Come on Arthur, lunch is getting cold," He urges, gently shaking Arthur's shoulder.
"I'm alright," Arthur says quietly.
"Nah, I don't think so," Parker disagrees immediately. He knows how little Arthur seemed to eat on a good day, not just because of their tight budget. "Don't want to waste it, plus it won't keep as well if we store it for later."
Not a complete truth, but Parker's trying everything he can to get him up. Arthur's gaze is clouded with exhaustion when he turns to look at him, a deep crease between his brows.
"Parker-"
"You know I have an endless amount of patience Arthur," Parker says with humor, forcing himself to stay light and unbothered despite the urge to press until he found out what was wrong, "I'll wait you out, but the soup is gonna get cold sooner rather than later."
The statement seems to take a moment to register, Arthur's eyes slipping shut and Parker worrying that Arthur is going to continue to ignore him until he sighs and pushes himself up.
It's a small victory, Arthur following a few steps behind him as they move to the kitchen. Parker is grateful to see steam still rising from the bowls, knowing that the convincing hadn't exactly been a short amount of time.
His few attempts to start a conversation fall flat, Arthur utilizing slowly consuming the meal in front of him to ignore Parker's questions. It's subtle enough that Parker doesn't realize when he goes quiet and stops moving.
"Hey, Lester, you alright there?"
Arthur doesn't answer, again, and Parker wonders if maybe there was something more wrong. He feels like his sister when she would dote on him when he didn't feel as he reached across the table, pressing the back of his hand to Arthur's forehead. The motion seems to draw Arthur's attention, but only causes him to draw back away from the touch.
"You're not warm," Parker mutters more to himself than anything else. Arthur had only eaten about half of the soup but almost all of the crackers were gone so at least he was eating .
"I'm tired," Arthur replies, and there's something there that Parker doesn't quite know how to identify.
"Well I think a bath might do you some good, maybe help wake you up a bit," Parker offers, deciding to do something actionable. Arthur doesn't say anything to protest so he goes to get the water running. After a few minutes Arthur appears in the doorway, quiet and pale as a wraith.
"I don't…" He hesitates, lips pressing to a thin white line as he can't quite seem to get the rest of his protest out.
"Listen, there's always two things that make me feel better, eating something decent and being clean. We can do both of those, easy," Parker gestures at the half full tub. "We even got one of those covered already, trust me Arthur. You'll feel better."
It would help if he knew exactly what was making Arthur feel bad. In all his drunken ramblings when they first met, Parker had still never managed to get a full story out of him. There was someone close to him, many people close to him, that he's lost but the details blur between something bloody and something sad.
Arthur doesn't protest, but more so because he seems to be staring blankly at the water.
"You get undressed, I'll try to get some work done while you relax."
That of all things seems to wake him up, a frown reappearing, "Parker you can't expect me to sit by while you work-"
"Not gonna hear it!" Parker says quickly, dumping what soap they could spare into the water to make it froth and bubble. "I can bring it in here if you want me to but you aren't in any condition to work. It's nearly April anyway, our caseload won't get busier for another few weeks, we can both afford to slack off a bit."
In fact, the longer he looks at Arthur, the more that concern grows. He wasn't warm, but he was pale and he truly looked like he would keel over any second.
Arthur sighs heavily, "Alright."
If him agreeing so easily wasn't a sign, Parker didn't know what was.
"Okay, you get comfortable and I'll go grab something to work on," Parker gives Arthur one last glance before heading into the office.
He doesn't want to work on anything. By now, all his thoughts were focused on how to make Arthur feel better and that would be near impossible without knowing why . He was a private investigator and he still couldn't unravel the mystery that was Arthur Lester.
It's been long enough that he grabs a stack of documents at random, not entirely planning to work on them anyway. He grabs one of their small kitchen stools and puts on a brave face as he returns, knowing on the door before he enters.
"Hope you're decent in there," He calls, giving it a beat before opening the door.
Arthur was crying.
Arthur was sitting in the tub, head buried in his hands, the water shifting around shuddering shoulders as he tried to cry as silently as possible into his palms.
Parker had dealt with a crying Arthur before, but it often included copious amounts of alcohol and a lack of a filter that meant he could at least figure out what he was crying about. Didn't mean he could fix it, but he at least had a clue.
Was it the act of getting into the bath? Was it because he mentioned how close they were to April? Was it the rain now pattering against their window? Only god knows because Parker sure doesn't.
"Hey hey hey," He says, quickly abandoning the stool and papers by the door, "what's wrong?"
It's probably one of the worst questions he could ask, there's surely a wide range of answers but he's scrambling to think of a way to help when Arthur's clearly not listening. Something is being mumbled, spilling over his lips in a mantra that Parker has to lean close to hear through the thick layer of tears.
"God I need a drink, why the fuck am I here I should be dead this isn't right-"
"What the hell are you on about," Parker says sharply, gently reaching to grab one of Arthur's wrist. He can feel how badly the man is shaking as he draws a hand away from his face and reveals red rimmed eyes. "You're ok Arthur."
"I'm not, this is wrong Parker, I don't deserve any of this," Arthur gasps out, struggling weakly against his hold, "for all I've done."
This is a familiar line of thought borne of many drunken nights, but it's been so long since he's heard it that it takes Parker a moment to find a response. "Don't say that Arthur, you know you don't."
"You know nothing about me," Arthur mutters, attempting to tug away once more and failing.
"And whose fault is that?" Parker can't help but say, then winces when he sees Arthur's expression lock down. It was a fascinating thing to watch honestly, the frustration and sadness fade away to an impassive mask and cold eyes. "I didn't mean it like that-"
"No, you're right," Arthur says dully, letting one hand fall to the water and letting the other dangle limply from Parker's hold. "You don't need to know."
"If it would help you I want to know," Parker offers, lowering Arthur's hand down to the water. "But I understand if you don't want to tell me."
Arthur's mouth twitches, then opens before closing again. There's a clear internal debate happening that Parker doesn't want to interrupt. After a long moment, Arthur looks at him, and something freezes in his chest.
"March is when my wife died and my daughter was born. My birthday is today."
Alright, fine, a gutpunch would've hurt less but Parker knows now and understanding is half the battle.
"You have plans?" Parker manages to ask past the lump in his throat. Arthur laughs, a single barked vocalization.
"No, usually I'm…" He trails off, gaze going back to look at the ceiling. "Usually I find a way to distract myself."
Drinking himself into oblivion he means.
"Let me distract you then," Parker offers, bringing a damp hand up to brush back a lock of hair that was bothering him, "I'm sorry for dragging it out of you, thank you for telling me."
Arthur's expression is still tight but he leans into the touch. "You deserve to know."
He's still holding something back, but Parker knows not to push. It was bad enough he'd pressed for this much already. He can make some assumptions from here, based on how solitary Arthur was. "Only what you want to tell me."
Arthur hums, but Parker knows he's not really listening.
When he was younger it was always a treat to take a warm bath, to have a tub to himself that he didn't have to worry about fighting his family for hot water, or more than fifteen minutes to himself. He thinks of this as he carefully cups the water and brings it up to Arthur's hair.
He couldn't do much, without talking about it there wasn't anything he could offer to Arthur. But he could wash his hair, and hope that the memories he was dwelling on weren't too cruel.
"I've done this for you before," Parker says to fill the silence. Arthur is leaning into him as he slowly dampens the strands. "You probably don't remember since you were fairly pissed, but you had fallen into a puddle and ended up head to toe in mud. Almost didn't want to bring you back with how you'd muck the place up, but I'd already had your arm around my shoulder and I figured there was no point in only tracking in the mess myself."
Arthur doesn't answer, and despite having him right in front of him Parker feels like he's miles away.
"I was worried you'd fall face first in here, so I did what I'm doing now, although probably not as nicely." Parker smiles at the thought of how much he'd cursed at Arthur under his breath that night. The man was barely conscious with all the whiskey and almost certainly didn't remember the number of times he'd dipped beneath the water before Parker dragged him back up.
Parker did though. Parker remembers rubbing away layers of dirt to reveal freckles and the glint of deep brown eyes meeting his own as they peeked open. He hadn't realized it at the time, but that was when he'd fallen for Arthur. Head over heels for an absolute bastard.
"It took me days to clean up all the muck, but you were better at avoiding puddles from then on out."
Better at avoiding a lot of things actually. That was the first night Arthur had crashed on their couch as strangers and he'd been gone long before Parker woke up.
Arthur's head is tipped back against the edge of the tub, easily cradled in one of Parker's palms while the other comes up to brush the bangs from his face. He watches as Arthur's nose twitches at the contact, eyes tracking beneath closed lids. Despite knowing if Arthur opened his eyes he'd be caught staring, Parker can't bring himself to look away.
Even exhausted, even with dark circles beneath his eyes, and even with the crease between his brows, Arthur was beautiful. Freckles catch the light from what little sun exposure the beginnings of spring can bring Arkham, a series of unknowable constellations that Parker would map if he had the time. Tawny brown locks, damp but beginning to dry shape his face in a way that draws out defined cheekbones and a jawline that catches too many punches. His gaze pause on slightly parted lips as Arthur's eyes slip open, and he knows he's been caught.
For a moment Parker's frozen, now staring into darkened pools of bronze before Arthur seems to wake up a bit, recognizing him for what feels like the first time in hours.
"Parker?" Arthur asks in a murmur, brows creasing further and realizing he's in a tub as he shifts and water splashes against the side. Confusion blooms in his expression now, moving away from Parker's hands.
"Glad to see you still with me, Arthur," Parker replies with clear relief. He clears his throat and leans back on his heels, letting Arthur sit up while maintaining a bit of decency. He tries not to miss the warmth of Arthur's head in his hands, "You weren't quite there earlier."
Arthur frowns, a hand going to his hair, then mouth tightening as he seems to remember. "Yes, I'm not exactly at my best today."
"You don't have to be," Parker says, "We can afford to take a day."
"I don't want to take a day, I need to do something to distract myself," Arthur says tightly, hand gripping his hair tightly enough Parker knows it has to hurt.
"Like I said, I can find a way to distract you," The offer seems to have more meaning now, Parker's throat going dry as Arthur looks at him.
They stare at each other, and Parker wonders who's going to break the tension first. If he moves, he's going to kiss Arthur. He's not sure what Arthur's plan is but his eyes linger on his lips long enough that he has a bit of an idea before they snap back up to his eyes. Arthur breaks first.
"That sounds like a loaded offer."
"I wouldn't make it otherwise," Parker inhales slowly as Arthur brushes his hair off of his forehead. "You can choose, it is your birthday after all."
The mention of his birthday makes his expression sour, clearly not the right thing to say but he doesn't draw back as he had before.
"We can decide that when I'm dressed," Arthur decides after a moment, the tension between dissolving as it always did after a moment like that.
Parker realizes he's waiting for him to leave and he stands quickly, drying his hands on his pants in his hurry, "Sure, I'll be in the office."
It wasn't the distraction he was originally considering, but working on something worthwhile would be better than nothing at all. As long as Arthur wasn't going out to find the nearest bar to drown his thoughts, he would do whatever he asks.
Parker didn't even know it was Arthur's birthday, which goes to show how little he knows about the man. He'd have to plan something for next year. If he had a negative association with the day, Parker would have to find something to make it more positive.
Even if it means pushing him a little, he would be careful. Parker would figure out what would help Arthur if it killed him.