Chapter Text
Will this not be suspicious?" Henry whispered into Gordon's ear as they walked into their hotel room. "Sharing a room like this? Don't you think at least the landlady will talk?"
"Not with two beds, no," Gordon said firmly. "Men share rooms for many reasons, and regardless, I think they give little care here. There is a reason that they call it the 'Vegas of the North.'"
"I think that has more to do with the lights." Henry walked over to the window with a frown and drew the curtain before removing his coat and shirt and falling heavily on the edge of the bed. "And less to do with the clientele it caters to. I have never heard 'America' and 'homosexuality' referred to in the same sentence with positivity."
"Same as the two don't go together in Britain?" Gordon replied with a raised eyebrow.
"I suppose." Henry lay back on the bed, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his shoulders. "I am still surprised that you insisted on going away like this."
"Do you not wish for time away from the house sometimes?" Gordon questioned, dropping their cases into the corner of the room.
"I have my animals," Henry said, "what more could I want?"
"Annie and Clarabel can manage for three days. Anyway," Gordon continued, ignoring him, "one can only listen to my son wax poetical about his new girlfriend for so many hours."
"Ah, Ashima." Henry chuckled. "She's quite nice, really. You're just still scared of her after she got offended when you wouldn't try her cooking."
Gordon scowled, crossing his arms. "I hardly see why she got so offended."
"It is her culture," Henry answered, shaking his head. "It would not have killed you to try it."
"I had to. You lot won't let me forget. I could hardly wash the spice out of my mouth." He furrowed his nose, recalling the unpleasant taste.
"I don't think that reaction helped her opinion of you."
"And, as I recall, everyone else found it hilarious." Gordon scowled deeper. "I like what I like."
"And that is precious little." Henry frowned up at Gordon. "I, on the other hand, both liked and appreciated her cooking. I'll happily eat your share."
Gordon grinned slyly and ran his hand over the exposed skin of Henry's stomach where his shirt had ridden up. "I think you already do."
Henry batted Gordon away, pulling his shirt down. "Stop it, will you. I'm hardly that massive." Henry sat up, crossing his arms petulantly. "Any man would look massive next to you."
"Should I take that as a compliment rather than the insult it was intended as?" Gordon said, sitting next to Henry and letting him snuggle into his arm.
"Depends if you're going to call me fat again," Henry said with a scowl.
"Technically-" Gordon began.
"I do not want to hear of any 'technically's." Henry scowled. "And before you start, I know what the doctors have said about my prosthetic, but please let me not think of dieting for the sake of my missing leg until we return."
"Where it can once again be ignored until further notice?"
"Shush." Henry placed his finger over Gordon's lips. "Is it a crime for a man to appreciate a good meal?"
"I do not think so," Gordon said, looking down at Henry, "but then again, the average man does not have to be concerned with the fit of prosthetics."
"I get your point." Henry closed his eyes, sliding against Gordon further. "I do not wish to become diabetic and risk losing more of my limb, either, but I do not need you to insult me."
"It was not intended as an insult," Gordon said.
"No. Because if tact threatened you with a gun, you wouldn't be able to use it." Henry scowled. "So what if I like a good meal?"
"It doesn't bother me," Gordon said, pulling Henry closer to himself. "I think you're perfect."
"Sure." Henry lifted his head up. "Which is why you're making jokes at my expense."
"You're being over-sensitive about this."
Henry scowled and turned away from him, only to receive a chuckle from Gordon in response.
"You are being over-sensitive," Gordon repeated, kissing the back of Henry's head.
"If only food didn't taste so good," Henry muttered, "then I'd be as skinny as you."
"It's not all its cracked up to be," Gordon said. "At least you've never passed out in your workplace from liking food too much."
Henry drifted into silence for a while, leaning into the patterns that Gordon was rubbing into his arms. "So," Henry said, opening his eyes and looking up at Gordon, "what plans do you have for me, Mr Gresley? Seeing as you were so insistent on coming here."
"Good food. Good entertainment. The lights." Gordon listed off on his fingers. "And James has recommended a club for us to visit from the last time he visited. He claims it caters to clientele like ours, so it may be worth checking out if you fancy a drink at any point."
"So organised." Henry smiled fondly. "But a club? I cannot imagine that you'll enjoy that."
Gordon shrugged. "All of the town is busy and loud. What is the difference inside a room to out of one?"
"Who are you and where is Gordon? " Henry asked, chuckling. "You won't say in the Sodor Lion after a certain time of the night."
"Yes, well, I can suffer for a night. Back home, if you do things once, people start getting ideas, and as much as I appreciate a good drink as much as the next man, the rowdiness that comes after dark is something I would much rather go without."
"Most people tone the rowdiness out."
"Why should I have to when I have better quality spirit at home?" Gordon huffed. "And if I wish for company, when I have already brought the drinks, at better quality than the others can afford, there is no reason for them to not follow me."
Henry hummed, "I am sure that Annie and Clarabel love you waving your wealth around, turning the house into a bar."
"I have standards," Gordon said, "and regardless, James is the lowest company I invite to my household, and they love him when he's drunk."
Henry chuckled softly, knowing all too well what a drunk James was like. "And here was I thinking that you wanted to play train spotting all weekend with a view like that," Henry said, gesturing to the window he had closed. "It looked like a lovely view of the station and the tower."
"Word has it that there might not be a station here much longer," Gordon replied. "Rooms by the sidings are cheap, anyway. Not many people want to listen to an active railway line."
"They can be a bit noisy," Henry agreed. "But surely, if they close it, tourism would suffer."
"Not with the car. Whole station will be a car park, or so I heard. It's a new world out there."
"You sound so excited about that," Henry said sarcastically.
"Why shouldn't I? We are but the stage hand passing the rope on to our children and hoping the curtains do not drop on us too soon."
"Morbid talk."
"The curtain falls on us all eventually," Gordon said simply.
"Stop being so morbid," Henry complained. "The curtains aren't going to fall on us yet."
"But on our industry, perhaps."
"What will you do with your life when you can't obsess over engines?" Henry asked, looking up at Gordon. He smiled playfully. "There are so few choices."
"Be made redundant like you will be."
"Just because you don't think I should have returned to work," Henry said, "doesn't mean that you get to dictate when I end it."
"I said no such thing," Gordon said firmly. "Why are you taking such offence today?"
"I'm not," Henry said, pulling himself away from Gordon.
Gordon rose to stand by the window. "I know you're in pain."
"I'm not. I-"
"You can't say that it doesn't hurt, Henry." Gordon moved to turn to him. "We don't need to go out again today if you don't want to."
"If you don't want me to leave this bed, there is an easy way to stop me." Henry frowned down at his prosthetic.
"Nobody is making you stay there," Gordon huffed. "I am happy to go out whenever you are ready."
Harshly, Henry rapped against the prosthetic plastic of his leg. "Without this, I'd be useless."
"You're not," Gordon said with a shake of his head. "I've seen you traverse well without it."
"Stop taking me so literally," Henry huffed. "For the record, I do not wish to exit either."
"Well, that's not my intention," Gordon said. "My brain is not wired the same way as yours. If you wished to stay here for a while, you should have said instead of being dramatic."
"Can you take off my prosthetic?" Henry whined pitifully.
"Can you not do it yourself?"
"I can." Henry frowned, languishing back against the bed. "But I really am quite comfortable," Henry said, yawning. "One cannot summon the effort to just move to take the thing off."
"Fine," Gordon sighed, turning from the window, "if I must."
Carefully, Gordon rolled up Henry's trouser leg which hid the fake leg from the world, and he slowly, one by one, removed the straps holding the fake leg in place.
Gordon pulled off the prosthetic, carefully placing it on the other bed before turning back to Henry's leg.
"That still looks sore," Gordon said, ghosting his fingers over the irritated skin of Henry's leg.
"The doctors have said that it will get better with time." Henry sighed. "At least I can walk. It could have been worse, I suppose."
"Do you want me to… ? Gordon gestured to the suitcase.
"If you would."
Carefully, Gordon opened the case, removing the moisturising cream and opening the lid. He dipped his fingers into the tub and gently applied the cream to Henry's leg.
"Has anyone told you that you have magic fingers?" Henry sighed as the cooling effect took hold of the injury.
"You can praise the moisturiser rather than my fingers," Gordon said with a roll of his eyes.
"But still, magic." Henry smiled. "Come to bed."
"You just shoved me out of it," Gordon huffed. He moved to sit on the bed opposite, removing his shoes. He lay back and closed his eyes, smirking at the glare he could feel Henry sending his way.
"You're not staying over there all night," Henry huffed.
"Who said it was all night?" Gordon responded coyly. "I assume you wish to eat tonight."
"But Gordon," Henry moaned, "there's time for food later. I want you."
"I'm better than food?" Gordon rose an eyebrow. "Did I swap you in for a new model?"
"Gordon," Henry whined, turning over to face the other bed, "you're taking advantage of a cripple."
"If you stay here, we will not eat well tonight," Gordon said, opening his eyes and looking at Henry. "We have not brought food with us and this establishment only serves breakfast."
"No," Henry said, "but I have been dreaming of a good takeout fish and chips since you announced the trip, and I am quite sure that they will be open later." Henry reached out his arm and interlocked his hand with Gordon's. "I just want to rest for a while, but if you want to go out, I won't hold it against you."
"Are you sure that you don't just want me gone?" Gordon said, rubbing his thumb over Henry's knuckles. "After all, you'll be short on your own company this weekend."
"Don't be ridiculous," Henry muttered, closing his eyes. "I wish I hadn't lost my leg, but it is what it is." He tugged on Gordon's hand. "Make it feel better."
"Being idle won't-"
"The thought of food when I am hungry may give me enough energy to face the prosthetic again," Henry said, cutting Gordon off.
"You have to face it every day," Gordon said, letting Henry pull him across to the other bed.
"A shame." Henry yawned, not letting go of Gordon's hand. "I think I should be carried everywhere. Royal service."
"There's nothing royal about you." Gordon chuckled softly, lying down and letting Henry lay his head against his chest. "Pampered, perhaps."
"Says the boy raised on parents' fortunes."
"Yes. Says him," Gordon said. "I wouldn't say I was pampered as a child, perhaps just given more luxuries."
"Don't pull the wool over my eyes, Gordon. You even sound like you were raised on a silver spoon."
"There is nothing wrong with my voice," Gordon muttered to himself.
"No. That's quite the point. There is nothing wrong with your voice." Henry turned his head to the side when Gordon did not answer. "I mean, you are very well-spoken. It speaks of a good education and childhood wealth."
"You are not badly spoken yourself," Gordon complimented him back.
"You bring out the best in me." Henry smiled, relaxing into Gordon's breathing. Gordon did not respond and Henry felt as Gordon's fingers drifted loose in his hair as Gordon fell asleep.
Henry lay for a while, hesitant to move into a more comfortable position lest he disturb Gordon from his sleep. As much as Henry loved him, he could not help but admit that Gordon's chest was uncomfortable to lay against for long periods, his ribs far too prominent for a comfortable experience. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep and did not awake until the early hours of the morning.
It was no surprise that the sound of snoring woke him up. Gordon had a dreadful habit of snoring if he laid on his back to sleep. He had the unfortunate habit of sleeping like the dead, and Henry knew that there would be no point trying to wake him up even if he did fancy facing his ire.
Waking up Gordon, Henry knew, was a very fast way to get on his bad side, even if he was quite sure that Gordon would later be irritated at himself for sleeping their first night away. Knowing him as long as he had, Henry was half-convinced that Gordon preferred the idea of being asleep to being awake, which he would consider odd for a man who he didn't consider to be lazy.
Henry yawned and moved closer to Gordon, moving Gordon's arms so that they wrapped around him, encouraging him to lay on his side and quieten slightly. If he wasn't brave enough to wake him up, he at least intended to silence him so that he could sleep himself.