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The past week was rough on Arthur. Waiting for the next gathering of the Order was like watching snow melt at night. Except he didn’t even have the luxury to watch it.
And, of course, having John wait himself was nearly unbearable.
Everything done was noted with a hint of impatience, even if it was mundane. Sometimes outright.
Hurry up
“And risk breaking Noel’s kitchenware? No, don’t think so.”
Washing dishes is so below what we could be doing right now
“And yet I am finding comfort in it,” he would sigh, trying not to sound exasperated.
If it were up to John, they would be pouring over the bestiary. Or Noel’s own work. Or, had Arthur allowed it, going through the man’s things while he was not home.
“Noel welcomed us into his home with trust. We will not break it to satisfy your paranoia.”
Paranoia?!
So, later that week, as Arthur laid his head across Noel’s lap, he was a rubber band close to snapping. Noel must have seen it, being the one to beckon them over to the couch. Though John, ever curious of the man that knew his name, felt more than confused as Arthur guided himself to Noel’s side, facing the back of the couch.
What are you doing?
“Laying down for a moment-”
“What was that?” Noel asked. Hands guided his head to his lap. John seemed too confused to help. He felt Noel’s thighs against the right of his face. If he shifted forward, his face would be pressed into the man’s belly.
“Nothing I-” he stopped himself. Noel knew John, there was no use hiding.
“John.. Doesn’t..” He fought for words, “John isn’t sure what you’re doing.”
I understand what he is doing-
“I suppose you and he likely haven’t been able to find any human comfort in some time then, eh?”
-The question is why are you letting him?
They spoke at the same time. Arthur’s head felt blurred. But the fingers running along his hair, soft enough to feel gentle, nails just running along the scalp, grounded him.
This isn't human comfort! He’s petting us! Like a dog! Arthur! A dog!!
“He’s calling me a dog.”
Noel laughed. And Arthur could feel Noel’s stomach move with it. He felt light, even at John’s frustrated seething.
“John,” Noel began. Arthur could all but feel John’s attention move to Noel. “Physical touch is incredibly important to humans. It provides comfort, plenty of mental benefits, and can soothe many ongoing issues. Even if temporarily. I’m not sure about you, but I could see Arthur. He looked incredibly on edge this afternoon. I can only assume you feel the same to some degree.”
John is silent, listening. Arthur feels a foreign urge to sob as Noel’s fingers gently curl around his ear, tucking short ends of hair behind it. Only to run his fingers through again and start the process over.
“I can’t explain the intricacies of it, really. Not exactly my forte. But most humans, if not all to a certain degree, find comfort and solace in these moments.
Arthur nodded along. He added, “like when we hold hands at times,” and John’s response is a quiet ‘oh’
I didn’t realize- he started, but trailed off. Coming to his own conclusions.
Arthur flinched for a moment as one of Noel’s fingers ran along the shell of his ear, no doubt noting what’s missing.
“Sorry,” Noel said.
“It’s quite alright.” he said, hearing John add something along the same lines.
“You’ve certainly been through some things.” Noel said slowly. He debated his words.. “Both of you. I can only imagine how… well.. Helpless John must feel when these moments happen.”
John remained quiet.
“I.. suppose so,” Arthur noted.
Of course, they had been through a great number of things. Together. But- there have been times that.. John was left alone. Temporarily of course, surely. But terrifying nonetheless. John had no telling how long ago Arthur’s coma would be at the beginning of their.. Partnership.
He's staring at you. Intensely. His eyes are this.. Odd color. Not like the gold of my own but.. It is a softer yellow. Almost brown. He’s smiling. Not much but- just so that his cheeks dimple. His hair is short, but as he looks down, it falls along his face. It's black, but there are many strands that are gray along his temple. Its-
“You do realize you are staring as well-”
There's an offended grunt in response, but Noel shakes with soft laughter.
“Apologies,” he says, and Arthur can hear the smile. He almost wishes he could see how the dimples grew. “You’re just. Your eyes. Or- John’s, I suppose? They’re. Otherworldly, really.”
Is that so?
Arthur repeats John.
“Well, yes. They’re almost intimidating. I hope to never see you furious with me.”
“Ah, well. I’m sure my appearance is most certainly not welcoming. Given the-”
Shut up Arthur-
“Ah, just a moment, Doll. There’s nothing wrong with looking a little rough around the edges.”
“A generous understatement, I’m sure.”
There’s a firm tug at his hair. Right where it curled around his temple, just enough to have him wince, before tucking it around his ear again.
“Trust that your appearance means little to me,” Noel stated, “But, if you need the indulgence, you are pleasing to the eye.”
Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond at that moment. John, likewise, said little. It was a relief. John seemed content to the feeling, or was so intrigued by the experience to no longer comment on it. Arthur’s own thoughts were disbanded with each finger that passed through his hair. Occasionally, the hand would stray from his scalp. A thumb would brush along his ear once again. Delicate. Fingertips passed over his brow so gentle it was nearly a phantom touch. His skin crawled, but in pleasure.
His eyes grew heavy, blinking slower and slower as time passed. John’s protests were weak, and ignored. When Noel’s hand slowed, or came close to stopping, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing deeper into his lap. Arms encircling the man’s waist like driftwood in the ocean. Face pressed into the warmth and soft fabric of Noel’s shirt. Hands, no longer able to run along his face, moved to the crown of his hair. Fingers running against the scalp in languid circles.
It was nice. Not having to pay the slightest of mind of what was going on. No waiting for John to tell him what was going on. Not needing it for more than a few minutes at a time.
No intense listening. Holding his breath in case something shifts just below it. Nothing to expect. The Order was far away from them. The only thing that existed was right here. Within his mind, within his reach.
He felt Noel’s stomach expand slowly, then release a sigh as he spoke. He hardly registered it.
Arthur.
He responded, though muffled. He hardly understood himself.
Arthur.
The gentle hand moved to the back of his neck. Squeezing gently, rubbing the life back into Arthur. It made him groan in relief.
“Up and at ‘em, Doll. It’s getting late.”
“Is it?” His mind slurred.
The natural lighting from the windows has faded. It’s dusk outside.
Arthur shot up. It was just late afternoon when Noel offered his lap.
“Shit. How long was I out for? You should’ve woken me-”
Noel's hand pats at his shoulder. Squeezing there tightly, grounding Arthur.
“-You’re fine. I had a book within reach. I’ve been meaning to finish it for some time. You gave me the perfect excuse to. I mean to start up some dinner for us.”
The couch shifted.
Noel is getting up, moving over to the kitchen. He is-
“Not now, John,” he said, his heart rushing at the sudden awakening. He willed it to slow. Rising with such a start, even if it was his own startling, put him on edge. “But thank you.”
Of course.
“What book was it you were reading, Noel?”
“This Side of Paradise. Have you heard of it?”