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Arthur hesitated. He stood but a foot away from that strange Entrati-sealed door and sifted through the words he was going to say. He had it all prepared in his mind, a whole speech, a bullet list so bullet-proof.
But now he couldn't think of anything, and the door would dissipate open and he would make a fool of himself by… blabbering.
It wasn't like him at all.
Then again, with the Drifter's arrival, nothing was the same anymore.
The golden plates shifted, the walls lit up with the arcane, and the door opened.
“Arthur?” Ciaran smiled at him, that easygoing smile of theirs.
“Drifter. Erm…”
He could just about feel the way his neck plating heated with embarrassment.
“Come on in!”
Inside the backroom, Arthur skimmed the space. It seemed that every time he paid a visit, something changed. Wall colour or a new warframe on display. Whenever Drifter would disappear, sometimes for days on end, they would return with unimaginable trophies of the future. There seemed to also be an uptick in potted plants that hung from the ceiling or grew from small baskets. At least that flora seemed harmless.
“What can I do you for?” Ciaran spread their arms in welcome and did a funny little bow.
Too endearing. Arthur cleared his throat and reminded himself to keep it together. After all, he came to…
“Just wanted to say thanks. For helping us with the reactor. I really don't think we could do it without you.”
No, not that, you fool. Not just that.
Ciaran smiled broadly, then rubbed their neck.
“It's what I do. Waltz in and save the day. If I had a credit for every time it happened, I would have two credits. Which really isn't much, but strange that it happened twice.”
Arthur, at a loss for words, cleared his throat again and hid a small laugh.
What now, he thought. How was he supposed to go deeper than that? To say thank you that they got him out of that damned factor. He was dead set on dying there, a noble enough cause. But he didn't. The Drifter got him out. What were all the things he prepared to say before coming here? The seconds were stretching, and he was making a fool of himself, and no doubt the Drifter could see the battle on his face.
Because his heart was fluttering. A whole swarm of happy butterflies just at the sight of them. He wanted to do foolish things, but even at the very back of his guarded mind, a thought lived - they did the main purpose of their duty. He could let loose. He could let them in. In the year spent together as friends, they managed to chip away at every brick he put up, peel away every plate of his, every reinforcement, every guard.
And, fuck, he really, really liked them. All of them, with that ridiculous glittery lipstick included.
“Thank you,” he said again and winced. Ciaran stepped closer.
“Is… everything okay, Arthur?”
They noticed. They must have.
“Yes. Actually, about the reactor, no, the transference thing-”
“Don't worry, I won't use it unless you agree to.”
“It's not-”
“Weird that I can do it, yeah? I'm more used to driving the dead version of it. Well, only halfway dead. Oh, no, that sounded weird. Long story.”
Arthur laughed out loud.
He found himself standing right across Ciaran and his hands were gently gripping their shoulders. It was too late to step back or let go, so he gripped them harder.
And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he could feel the mad stammering of their heart.
Just like his own.
“I don't mind. The transference thing, I mean, if we ever have the need to repeat the experience of saving the world again. You saved me.”
“It's okay, Arthur. You already said thanks. Like three times.”
They smiled.
Arthur couldn't help it.
He drew them closer by the shoulders first, then cupped their face and… kissed them.
Soft mellow mouth. A surprised gasp, followed by giving in. He wanted to make it more, but held back with all his resolve, even if its supply was dwindling.
And Ciaran kissed him back. Like they waited for him to do it. Could he have done it before? Was he a fool, waiting?
Arthur pulled away slowly, gently cradling the Drifter's face. His seeing eye focused entirely on them. Their eyes, the colour of the Void, stared at him.
“You have glitter on your lips.”
“What-”
Ciaran's thumb pressed against his lower lip and gently swiped.
“It's my lipstick.”
“Of course it is,” Arthur said.
He carefully held their face. Ciaran was looking back at him again, as if waiting to see what he decides, what he does. From here on, this could go a thousand ways, but Arthur knew it was in Ciaran's power to turn the time itself and make every possibility happen.
They were a paradox walking and he stumbled right into it and lost himself to its chaos.
Arthur pressed his forehead to theirs.
“You make me do foolish things,” he muttered.
“Am I a foolish thing?” Ciaran asked, and Arthur groaned.
His arms slipped around them, hard metal of his hands roaming the ragged soft fabric of their clothes.
He felt them freeze for a moment. Stiff and unyielding. Then, Ciaran melted against his chest.
“I'm sorry, I-”
“Don't let go,” they said firmly. “If you let go, I'll take you back to the reactor and leave you there. That's right.”
Arthur laughed again, holding Ciaran as they embraced him back. There was such hunger and need in their hug, that he could not imagine parting from them until he could fill that void.
“You are a strange one.”
“It's part of my charm.”
They weren't wrong.
Arthur liked it.
He even…
“Arthur?”
“Yes?”
“Can we do this again? And on other days? Or is this a Friday only exclusive.”
“Every day, if you want.”
He kissed Ciaran's forehead.
“I think we've earned that much.”