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Alfred really was a gentleman. As he showed him around his new home, giving a grand tour of the whole museum, Toris was finding it hard not to like him. Despite being dead for over two hundred years, Alfred was nothing short of cheerful, happy to have company, and Toris was happy to be there. After spending centuries alone, unable to touch or communicate with any other being, just the few weeks he had spent in his new home with the other spirit left him feeling happier than he could remember.
They only wandered the halls at night, the pair of them spending hours at a time on a single exhibit. There was no rush after all, and if there was one upside to eternally wandering the mortal realm, it was the chance to fully scrutinize and examine every single facet of each object on display. Alfred also had plenty of stories about each exhibit, when it was installed, what had been there before, all the different types of people who had visited it.
During the day, they either stuck to the shadows to avoid being seen or, on particularly busy days when it felt like someone was walking through them every five minutes, they sunk through the floor and into the basement archives. They weren’t a particularly pretty sight, Alfred with the cannonball-sized hole in his stomach and Toris with a gaping head wound, and neither of them were fond of the idea of ruining someone’s visit to the museum with the sight of a pair of long-dead soldiers wandering around. Toris was glad to see Alfred was also considerate of such things. Terrifying the daylights out of the living just to alleviate their own boredom seemed unnecessarily cruel, especially now that they had each other.
There was an extensive library of old books and records in the archives, which Toris would have loved to flip through, if only for something to do, but as always, he found that his hands passed right through the books and shelves, and all he managed to really do was rustle the pages.
One evening as he was trying this, Alfred came up behind him and peered over his shoulder.
“You can’t touch them either, huh?” he asked.
Toris turned to him with a sad smile. “No, unfortunately not. I was hoping you might have figured out how to do it, to be honest.”
Alfred shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark blue coat. “You’ve been doing this way longer than I have. I figured if there was a way to touch things, you’d know it by now.”
Toris shook his head. “I don’t know any more than you do, I’m afraid.”
Alfred sighed. He didn’t need to, he didn’t need air in his lungs anymore, but the gestural habit still remained. He put a smile on his face though, looking back up at Toris. “Well. Maybe that’s something we can figure out together, huh?”
Toris wasn’t so sure, but he did like Alfred’s optimism, so he smiled back. “Maybe.”
The light coming through the thin windows at the top of the archive room was turning orange, and they heard the muffled sound of a loudspeaker through the concrete above them, announcing the museum was closing.
“Do you want to head up?” Alfred asked, tilting his head in the direction of the door to the main museum.
Toris nodded, following him out of the archives and up the stairs. They could pass through the ceiling, sure, but floating took a lot of effort, and somehow taking the stairs just seemed politer. Up on the first floor, they hung back in the shadows as the last few stragglers left the building. The lights turned off not long after, and then the only other people in the place were the night guards. Alfred knew their patterns well enough by now to steer himself and Toris out of their paths. They weren’t sure if they’d be visible in the dark, but they would rather not risk it.
At the very least, they did seem to be inaudible to the night guards, Alfred saying he had tried speaking to some of them out of curiosity, and it apparently took him yelling at the top of his lungs for them to even hear a whisper. On the downside, it was one more way they were isolated from other people, but on the plus side, now that they were together, it meant that they could chat normally without worrying about getting attention.
“So,” Alfred asked, stretching out his arms. “What do you want to see tonight?”
Toris shrugged. “You decide, your guidance hasn’t failed us yet.”
Alfred smiled, looking flattered and slightly abashed, before his eyes suddenly lit up.
“Oh, I can’t believe I haven’t shown you the aviation wing yet!” he exclaimed, grabbing Toris’s wrist and excitedly pulling him down an adjacent hallway. “You’re never going to believe it, people figured out how to make flying machines, and now they can go around the world in just a few hours and-”
Toris suddenly stopped short, and Alfred jerked to a halt, stumbling. He turned back, puzzled, and saw Toris staring down at his hand, still clamped around his wrist.
“Are you alright?”
Toris stared, looking stunned, and was silent for a moment.
“Toris?”
“You’re… touching me."
Alfred blinked. "I’m…”
He looked down, at his gloved fingers looped around Toris’s gauntlet. Not passing through. Actually touching him.
“Oh my god…”
They were both stunned into silence for a moment.
Alfred laughed, sounding slightly breathless. “I can’t believe we didn’t try this sooner.”
Toris laughed too, shaking his head. “Seems so obvious, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…”
Subconsciously, Alfred’s thumb traced along a seam in Toris’s gauntlet, feeling the steel through his cotton glove, solid and real and there.
“Alfred?”
He glanced back up, and Toris was looking at him, eyebrow raised.
He felt suddenly rather abashed.
“Ah-sorry, this, uhm, it’s just been a long time, so-”
He moved to pull his hand away, but Toris reached out and grabbed his own wrist, holding him there.
“Don’t, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “I mean, it’s been so long for me too, and…”
He made a small noise, stepping closer. “I’ve missed this…”
He looked up, and saw Alfred’s grey eyes searching his face. He still seemed absolutely amazed that this was even happening.
Alfred’s hand was a solid, definite weight on his wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure to keep holding on. Through his leather glove, Toris could feel the bumps of Alfred’s knuckles against his palm, underneath the cotton. He moved his hand upward, running it across the thick wool of Alfred’s uniform, his fingers gently snagging his brass buttons.
Wool, brass, cotton, leather, and steel, but, Toris realized, that wasn’t what he really wanted to touch.
Apparently, Alfred felt the same, and voiced it before he could.
“I… I want to feel your skin.”
An odd phrase to say, certainly, even creepy in a different context, but Toris smiled, because he knew exactly what he meant. It seemed that they were both forever stuck as they were when they died, and that included their clothing, leaving only the skin on their heads and faces exposed.
So Toris smiled, tipped his head forward so his forehead touched Alfred’s, and sighed, “I do, too.”
Another very long few seconds of silence, the footsteps of a night guard echoing against the walls several rooms away, but neither of them paid any mind to it.
Alfred laughed again, softly. “Is this weird?”
“No, no it’s fine,” Toris said, reaching up to cup Alfred’s cheek in his hand. “Unless, that is, you think it’s weird.”
“No, this is good,” Alfred chuckled. He took Toris’s hand into his, running his thumb across his knuckles. “I like this. I like touching you.”
It sounded strange, but Toris smiled. “I know what you mean,” he said softly. His other hand lifted to rest over Alfred’s chest. There was no heartbeat there, but it felt strong, solid. “And, I’d like to do more.”
Maybe it was the fact that Alfred had been so kind and welcoming, or maybe it was because Toris had been so lonely for centuries beforehand, or maybe it was because Alfred’s grey eyes were shining with affection.
Maybe it was all three that made Toris lean up and press his lips to the corner of Alfred’s mouth.
He felt Alfred smile, the corner of his cheek pulling up.
“I’d like to do more, too.”
Alfred dipped his head down and met Toris’s mouth, gently pressing in closer. His hands slid up Toris’s arms to hold his shoulders.
Eyes shut, Toris pressed back happily. This wasn’t quite like how touching used to be. Alfred’s lips were as cold as his own, and he felt no pulse against his skin, but he didn’t care.
Alfred could touch him. Alfred could hold him. Alfred could kiss him.
Alfred could shyly, hesitantly, open his mouth and run the tip of his tongue across Toris’s lower lip.
He could make Toris’s knees feel a little wobbly and push a small, quavering moan from the back of his throat.
A touch embarrassed, Toris pulled back and laughed awkwardly. “O-oh goodness, I’m sorry about that, I, uhm, it’s been a long time-”
“Don’t be, it’s fine,” Alfred chuckled gently. Not mockingly, but understandingly. His hands slid around to Toris’s back and pulled him a little closer. “I get it… it’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”
Toris nodded, taking a little step forward and pressing himself softly into Alfred’s chest. “It’s kind of scary, too, if I’m honest.”
Alfred snorted, sounding amused. “Am I scary?”
“I’m sure to some people,” Toris smiled wryly.
“Okay, a fair point.”
“But, you don’t scare me,” Toris added, leaning in to rest his head against Alfred’s shoulder. “It’s just been so long… I’m not used to feeling things, so, it’s kind of intimidating.”
He felt Alfred’s cold hand on his cheek, and his fingers curl under his chin, guiding his face up to look at him. His eyes, grey and hollow as they were, were sparkling with affection, a smile tugging on his lips.
“I know,” he said gently, and Toris noticed for the first time that he had freckles, dusted like ash across his cheeks. “I really, really do. So, let’s face it together?”
Toris smiled, would have sighed happily if he had air in his lungs. “Yes, let’s.”
Alfred kissed him again, and Toris could feel his smile against his own. A touch shyly, he tilted his head and parted his lips, didn’t feel his dead heart flutter but was happy nonetheless when Alfred pulled him closer and swiped his tongue against his mouth. Alfred brushed a hand through Toris’s hair, enamored by the texture, the feeling of those long strands curling around his fingers, even intrigued by the matted, dried blood that cracked and snagged under his touch.
It was not sensual. There was no blood flowing in either of them, no arousal, no increase of speed or urgency, but there was joy. There was joy in being able to touch again, wonder in remembering how skin felt against skin, laughter in their clumsiness, fingers sometimes catching or limbs bumping as they relearned it all, kisses missing and hitting cheeks or noses instead of lips, smiles as their mouths found each other again.
A night guard rounded the corner nearby and brushed past them, noticeably shivering.
“Come on,” Alfred chuckled. “Let’s get out of the way before we give some poor soul a heart attack.”
“Good idea,” Toris said, letting Alfred lead him by the hand into a darker corner of the building, looking for a spot that was out of the direct path of the night guards.
There was a small nook between two display cases of century-old clothing, just big enough for the pair to squeeze in side by side, sitting against the wall with their hands clasped between them.
Alfred tipped his head and rested it against Toris’s shoulder, beaming.
Toris chuckled. “I doubt my spaulder is very comfortable to lean against.”
“I’m just happy I can lean against anything, to be honest,” Alfred replied, nuzzling Toris’s armored shoulder as if it were cloaked in fleece.
Toris laughed, lifting an arm and tucking Alfred’s head under it, hugging him against his chest.
“I still can’t believe it took us this long to figure this out,” he murmured, kissing Alfred’s scalp. “To think, we could have been touching like this weeks ago.”
Alfred slung an arm around Toris’s waist, squeezing him affectionately. “Well, it’s not like we’re lacking on time to make for it.”
Toris chuckled. “True.”