Work Text:
Arthur was used to having people sneak into his bed in the night. The children were all prone to nightmares, not just Lucy, or sometimes they'd wake up feeling ill or lonely. It had been alarming in the beginning, and sometimes a reminder of years he'd rather forget, but now, it was old hat.
This time, though, the mattress dipped deeper than usual, and the soft groan of the person sinking down and the cracks of their bending joints were most definitely adult. Arthur blinked his eyes open just as someone else joined them, a meowing thing of evil he instantly recognized, and he looked to find Linus sitting on the edge of the bed, lit by moonlight, hunched over with his arms around his middle.
Much as Arthur wished they were already sharing a bed permanently, Linus wasn't quite ready yet. This was new.
Even Calliope sounded concerned as she mrred softly. She butted up against Arthur's hand, and he scratched her head absently, while Linus whispered, "Hey, don't wake him up, okay?" Even speaking quietly, he sounded exhausted, unwell. A low gurgle in his gut, followed by a small, pained, "Mm," and him sitting back and rubbing his belly with an even quieter, breathier, "Oh," told Arthur everything.
Linus had a stomach ache.
Hoping not to spook him, Arthur said to Calliope, "Don't worry, dear girl, I've got him," his voice soft, and he rolled onto his side. Slightly louder, he said, "I was already awake." When Linus didn't jump, Arthur reached out and laid a hand on his back. "What's wrong?"
"Sorry." Linus gave him a weak smile that didn't reach his sad eyes. "I didn't mean to bother you." He heaved a sigh, and Arthur stroked his back. His poor love. He knew how Linus felt about his belly—his darling, darling belly. If it was troubling him, Linus might not want to talk about it. He hadn't when he'd had food poisoning. "Go back to sleep. I just came to lie down."
Arthur was practiced at dealing with the anxious, and he was getting better at reading Linus. Linus craved acceptance and comfort, especially the former. He longed to be seen and embraced as he was. But he hadn't quite learned that Arthur always wanted to see and embrace him.
"There's no need to apologize. You're my love, Linus, not a bother." He wondered how many people had treated him like he was, especially when he was unwell.
Arthur had practice dealing with that, too. Unwanted souls had been seeking simple but vital comfort from him ever since he was the "brave" housemate in his youth. He first earned a reputation among his peers as a caretaker and a protector when he was so very young. How many ailments had he soothed in others? Even he didn't know—nor did he mind. He had plenty of love to give, and, oh, did Linus deserve it.
Ignoring Calliope's warning growls, Arthur sat up and moved to gather Linus into his arms. "Come here, you sweet man. Come on."
Linus curled into him without hesitation, swinging his legs onto the bed as Arthur held him to his chest and pulled him down. Linus's hand stayed on his stomach the whole way, and he let out a whimper that stabbed Arthur in the heart and twisted as they sank onto the mattress.
Arthur had known this would happen to somebody in the house, but he hadn't been sure who. That morning, Lucy had declared his intention to try "all the cheeses in the world!" and Talia had decided that was a grand idea for an adventure for them all, since it was her turn to choose. Between Zoe and Linus, they'd been able to pull together a decent assortment of cheeses to sample for lunch. That was followed by one of Linus's coveted pasta dishes with dinner, macaroni and cheese using the leftover cheeses, which nearly started a war between the children over who got the last portion. Sal won, in the end, and had been adorably smug about it.
But Arthur knew and warned them all about the likely consequences. Someone would wind up with a stomach ache from all that cheese. It was inevitable.
He wasn't even surprised that it was Linus. It had been delightful to see him indulge—every time Linus ate food he truly loved was worthy of joy in Arthur's eyes. Plus, it had been quite fun to feed him little tidbits every now and again throughout lunch. But Linus's poor body just wasn't used to it.
"Oh, sweetheart," Arthur murmured, as Calliope hopped over his hips and settled in between them. Though he already knew the answer, he again asked, "What's wrong?" as he stroked Linus's arm. "Tell me, please."
Linus sighed again.
"I know." Arthur kissed the top of his head, burying his lips in the mussed, thin hair. "Is it your stomach?"
With clear resignation, Linus admitted, "Yeah," and rubbed his belly. "It's been bugging me all night. Nothing serious! Just..."
"Just a garden variety tummy ache?" Arthur said, and kissed him again, then tightened his hold, letting a hand slide down close to Linus's belly but keeping it on his arm. Usually, Linus allowed him to touch his stomach freely. His "spare tire," which Arthur thought was a rather essential tire, thank you, and positively adored, was Arthur's favorite place to lay his head whenever they found time to laze about together. He loved the feeling of it in his hands, too, the way it curved, the way it yielded to his touch. It was beautiful. He wished Linus understood how beautiful he was.
But with it hurting, Arthur wasn't sure Linus would welcome any sort of touch to his belly. "Oh, how I hate those. I'm so sorry. Are you nauseated, too, or...no? Just hurting?"
Linus shook his head. "Just hurting. I was a little queasy for a while, but I had a cup of tea—I mixed some of the mint and the chamomile?—before I came up here. Heartburn, too. Took something for that, thought that might help the aching a little, might settle things down, but..." He let out an awkward laugh. "Sorry. It's not...I'm really not used to talking about this. It's nothing, really. I'll be fine."
"That's alright," Arthur said, gently. "You don't have to be used to it, or be fine. Unless one of the kids wakes up and needs us, we have all night. Take your time. I know your relationship with your belly is complicated."
He could only imagine it was worse when the cause of the pain was food. How Arthur hated that for him. Linus was so lovely. He deserved to be happy in his beautiful, abundant body, and to eat well with peace. Being here helped immensely, it was obvious, but there was still healing left to be done.
Linus scoffed. "I'm 40 years old, and I can't even talk about my own stomach." He sounded bitter. "It's ridiculous."
"I don't think it's ridiculous at all," Arthur said. Oh, his heart ached. "We all have our insecurities, and I've heard how you talk about your body, especially your belly. It's a sore spot for you. We can always practice talking about it together sometime, if you'd like."
He dared to move his hand onto Linus's side, closer to his abdomen. Linus didn't flinch. Maybe he would let Arthur try to soothe the pain if he offered after all.
"Right now, all I need to know is that my love is feeling ill and wants my company," Arthur continued, "and I'll hold you as long as you need. I don't need to know anything you aren't comfortable with telling me, or to discuss anything you don't wish to talk about.
"But, I will remind you that my hands can get very warm," he added. "I've used them as a heating pad of sorts on myself a few times when I've had tummy issues. I'd be glad to use them on you if you like. It might help ease some of your pain."
Linus considered that for a moment. Arthur could practically hear the gears turning in that brilliant brain of his. But it was a real noise, a rumbling in Linus's gut that made him grunt in pain, that convinced him. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay. If you could just, I guess...hold my stomach? For a while? If it's not too much trouble." He sounded so unsure, and his voice was small when he added, "It really hurts."
"Of course." Too much trouble? Oh, sweet Linus. Sweet, sweet Linus. He felt so tender toward him. "Under or over your shirt?"
Linus hesitated. Arthur would wait, but he reminded him, "There's no wrong answer. Whatever you're most comfortable with right now is what I'll do."
It took a little longer for Linus to answer. "Over," he said, "right now, anyway. If that's okay."
"Of course it is." Arthur slid his hand onto Linus's belly, and found it harder and bigger than usual beneath the soft cotton of his darling monogrammed sleep shirt. Oh, no wonder he was feeling so insecure: he was bloated, his insides tight beneath his soft fat, pushing his beautiful roundness out further. He had to be so uncomfortable with that much pressure in his gut. Poor darling.
Arthur didn't mention it, though his heart clenched quite painfully. Instead, he sent a flare of warmth into his hand, keeping the temperature comforting and low. Linus made a small, pleased sound, and Arthur felt some of the tension in his abdomen ease, his softness filling Arthur's palm just a little more. "Do let me know if I need to adjust the temperature, please."
"A little warmer would be good," Linus said, and Arthur gave him just that. "And could you...here. There's a lot going on right in here, and it's a little sore." He moved Arthur's hand, adjusting its placement. "Oh, that feels really good." He breathed a sigh and settled. "That's perfect. Thank you."
He just wanted to be held, it seemed. Such a sweet man. Arthur was grateful to be able to oblige—to be a source of comfort for him while he was in pain, to provide relief for the man he loved with his magic instead of causing fear. To be trusted so. Linus made the spiders in his brain go quiet, much like Lucy with his dead people music. He was glad to be able to give something back.
As he held him, Arthur found himself thinking of other men he'd been with who'd gotten ill or hurt. Most of them became tetchy, especially if they felt this vulnerable. It was funny, in a depressing way, that his worst partner of all had been sweet as could be, too, when he was struck down with a cold. Charles somehow became softer when ill, all wide and pleading eyes with big pouts and sadness. Now, Arthur could see the manipulative air to everything Charles did, the ego inherent in all of his actions and words, the many cracks in the façade. Then, however, Charles had preyed on his loneliness, sweet-talking him until he was wrapped around his ugly little finger.
But Linus was sincere. There was no trace of ego or manipulation in any of his words or deeds. That wasn't Linus. Linus had no desire for power. He was kind and loving, and all he wanted was kindness and love in return—especially now. No requests for anything special, no demanding being pampered. Just asking to be held, if it wasn't any trouble.
Arthur's heart ached. His poor love. The idea of someone as dear as Linus being in pain was nigh unbearable. It hurt to see him feeling so dreadful, with his belly bloated and aching, his movements slow with fatigue. Every now and again, Arthur felt and heard the awful cramps rolling through Linus's soft middle. Through most, Linus stayed silent, but for some, his face would scrunch up against Arthur's chest—with pain or shame or both, Arthur couldn't tell—or he'd moan a quiet little "oh," or grunt, or whimper.
How Arthur longed to fix this, to unleash his wings and wrap them around Linus, shielding him from the world and all its hurts with a wall of fire.
He couldn't protect Linus from something like this, though, nor did he even need to. Linus would probably say he was being silly just thinking of it—and Zoe certainly would. It was only indigestion, after all, one of the mundane discomforts of everyday life. Sometimes bodies malfunctioned, especially at their age. Imagine unleashing the full fury of a phoenix because your middle-aged boyfriend had a tummy ache. The mere idea was absurd!
So instead, Arthur kept offering kisses and reassuring words, and warmth. He hoped he was providing the comfort Linus craved—that it came somewhere close to the comfort Linus brought him.
He thought he was. Linus seemed peaceful, content to lie quietly in his arms and doze. Except when he was hit with a pang, Linus was relaxed, his breath slow and even, his muscles loose. His poor belly was in turmoil, but he was not.
Linus was exactly where he wanted to be: with Arthur. How wonderful.
"Mmm, you're the best hot water bottle I've ever had," Linus said after a while, sounding drowsy but happy. What a dear man.
"Truly?"
"It's the socks, I think."
"Oh, you are too adorable for words." Arthur chuckled. "My socks, you say? They make me a good hot water bottle?"
"They sure do."
Amused, Arthur kicked the covers off his feet, revealing the fair isle socks he'd worn to bed. Though he didn't actually need them for warmth, he enjoyed them immensely. They were soft and pretty, a gift from a Scottish selkie he'd known briefly years ago, knit up just for Arthur while he helped her get back home. "These?" He wiggled his toes.
"The very ones," Linus agreed. "And the clouds. I really like the clouds."
"Well, I'm glad my socks make me a better hot water bottle." He kissed Linus's head. "Your tummy deserves the best."
They lapsed into silence for a moment, before Linus asked, "Adorable? Right now?"
"Always," Arthur said, firmly. "Even when you're rumbly in the tumbly, you are cute as can be, my dear."
He was certain Linus would blush at that, and he couldn't resist another kiss. Precious darling man.
But Arthur longed to do more. Surely there was something...
Yes. Yes, there was. If he could get Linus to agree.
After a while, Arthur said, "You do know this hot water bottle of yours has a massage function too, don't you? Do you think it would help if I rubbed your belly?" Linus inhaled sharply. "I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, but I can tell it's very upset. I'm wondering if rubbing it might help."
It took Linus a moment to reply. "That would be great, I think," he said, and sat up to stretch his back, groaning along the way. As he raised his arms, his shirt rolled up, revealing his pale, distended middle, but he was quick to cover himself again.
Much as Arthur usually enjoyed seeing Linus's bare skin, he kept his gaze on Linus's sad, sad eyes instead. Linus clearly didn't want his body on display right now.
"No one...no one's ever rubbed my stomach before." Linus smoothed down his shirt, pressing into his belly in a subtle, discreet rub—out of habit, Arthur guessed. He wondered if Linus used to do that at DICOMY whenever he had pain in his stomach. "Besides me, obviously. Of course I've, um." He scratched the back of his neck. "When it hurts."
"Well, I've never had the chance to rub such a handsome man's belly before," Arthur said, and Linus blushed a dear shade of pink, all the way to his ears. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity."
"Handsome," Linus scoffed.
"Very handsome," Arthur said. "I don't know what this gentleman sees in me, but I hope he keeps seeing it."
"Pretty good chance he will," Linus said. Arthur thought he might squeal if Linus continued to be so cute. "I think he really likes you."
"I really like him, too." Arthur rolled over and kissed Linus's belly, cradling it in both hands. Calliope made her annoyance clear, while Arthur gave Linus's tum another kiss, and another, and more. "Poor tummy," he said, between kisses. "Your poor, poor tummy. I'm so sorry it hurts, sweetheart."
Linus ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, a small smile on his face. "I'll be okay. It's nothing I haven't dealt with by myself before."
"I know," Arthur said, leaning into Linus's touch. Having his hair stroked and his scalp scratched—oh, that was one of his biggest weaknesses. But Linus. Linus was the one who needed the attention. "I still don't approve. I want to rub your belly." He kissed it again. "I want to fix this."
It sounded like Linus's insides were on board with this plan, and Linus knew it. "Let me lie back down first." He did just that and wound up sharing Arthur's pillow. Calliope hissed. Linus let go of his belly to stroke her head and scritch behind her ears apologetically, dodging her half-hearted claws with practiced ease. "I did kind of want to ask you to, you know, rub my stomach." He ran a hand over his face. "But, I, uh..."
"You weren't ready." Arthur began to move his hand across Linus's middle, pressing in gently. "That's okay, Linus. We're still learning about each other, and ourselves. I'm glad you felt comfortable with coming to me." He gave him a smile.
Linus breathed a sigh of relief. "Ohhh," he groaned, "that feels so amazing. God, I love your hands." He let out another contented sigh and sank deeper into the mattress. "This is perfect. Thank you."
After a moment, he spoke again. "It is okay, though, right—coming in here in the middle of the night, I mean?" Linus winced. "And me bringing Calliope?"
"Woe betide anyone who leaves the feline queen behind," Arthur said. "Who knows what sort of havoc she would wreak if she weren't allowed to follow if she wanted?"
Linus chuckled. "She would not be happy, that's for sure."
"Too right." Arthur glanced down between them and saw Calliope glaring back in the dim moonlight. He winked at her, and he swore her green eyes glowed for just a second. Most likely a trick of the light, not magic—although, was there such a thing as a mundane cat? He'd always suspected cats were magic, but no one had ever been able to prove it. Cats refused to allow it.
"Yes, I'm taking care of your human," he told her. "His poor belly hurts, and I'm trying to make him feel better."
"Not trying," Linus corrected. "It's helping, a lot."
"Oh, is it?" Arthur's heartache eased a tad. "Wonderful!" To Calliope, he added, "See? We're only daring to move in your presence until his belly settles enough for him to get some sleep. He's hurting. If you don't approve, I'm sure Sal would welcome your company."
Calliope made one last mrr of discontent, then curled up in a ball and got quiet again.
"Believe it or not, this is friendly for her," Linus said, smiling down at her fondly. "She really likes it here." How he loved his crotchety old cat. Arthur thought of Zoe telling him how Linus defended Calliope before coming to the island, how adamantly he'd refused any sort of cruelty toward the grumpy creature he loved so. How the kids all had similar things to say after Linus's arrival, about how important the cranky feline was to him. Arthur's heart softened all over again. How did everyone else in Linus's life miss how sweet he was?
Arthur's heart was probably a puddle of mush for Linus, at this point. He didn't mind in the slightest.
Calliope was growing on him, too, slowly. "She's like a fungus," Linus said to him once. But Arthur still didn't care nearly as much for her as he did her person.
"I can tell," Arthur said. "She's not the only one who's happy here, is she?"
He knew the answer already, but it still warmed him to his soul when Linus said, "I am, too," with a gentle, brilliant smile. It quickly fell away as he winced. Voice strained, he added, "I'd be a lot happier if my stomach would stop cramping, though. Mm."
"How bad is it, really?" Arthur asked, adding his other hand to the effort to ease Linus's pain. "And don't try to tell me it's not. Your poor belly is as hard as a rock."
Linus flinched, his abs clenching, and Arthur gentled his touch to a caress. "I'm not commenting on your size, dear, or insulting you," Arthur reminded him, and Linus relaxed slightly. "You know I love your belly more than any other belly in the world, no matter its size. It just feels like it hurts."
It took a bit for Linus to answer. His voice was quiet when he said, "It does. I ate too much cheese this afternoon, I think. Haven't done that in a while." He shifted nervously. "It's not digesting very well, especially since dinner. I should've gone easy on the food tonight—my stomach was already pretty upset, but..."
Oh, his poor Linus. "You didn't want anyone to know that what you ate didn't agree with you."
"I thought I just ate too much? And you know how the kids are—they always say something when I don't eat a meal, or eat less. But I was embarrassed, I guess? It seemed so obvious why my stomach hurt."
They were working on teaching the children not to comment on others' eating habits, but that was very much a work-in-progress. The kids worried about Linus, and they couldn't fathom why he fretted about his shape when he gave such great hugs with his soft body, or why he would ever deprive himself of delicious food. Talia loved being round. Chauncey delighted in being squishy and amorphous. Nearly all of them had faced food insecurity before in their lives, Arthur included. But it would take time for the lesson to stick, and in the meantime, this happened.
"How long have you been hurting?" Arthur asked. "Since after lunch?"
"Yeah," Linus said.
Mentally, Arthur winced. He wished he'd noticed. Linus was so expressive—how did he not see that Linus had an upset stomach? That he was unwell in some way? How did he not know?
Linus went on, saying, "Really I was just uncomfortable, a bit bloated, but once it really kicked in..."
"Then it became painful." Arthur kissed Linus's cheek.
"Dairy doesn't usually bother me," Linus continued. "But that much...oh, dear." He groaned. "I'm never eating cheese again."
"None of that," Arthur said, and kissed him again. "That's probably why everything is sitting so poorly in here." He gave Linus's belly a light pat, then went back to rubbing it. "You weren't letting yourself indulge for so long, so just barely overdoing it with such heavy food was too much for your sweet tummy to handle."
Arthur thought he understood Linus's struggle, to some degree. Unlike the children, he knew the standards adults were held to. He'd heard the things said about fat people, or anyone who stood out in some way that fools in society deemed unacceptable, like people with magic. So much needless cruelty. One of his old flames, a bear shifter, had also been fat—fatter than Linus, even. He'd protected himself with flamboyance, with wild clothes and a brash, crass—and, frankly, exhausting—personality. Linus chose invisibility and propriety.
No wonder he hadn't noticed Linus was ill, Arthur realized: Linus had practice with this. This was far from the first time he'd hidden indigestion, stomach pain, anything that might call judgmental attention to his abdomen or weight, was it? It was one thing to joke about being harder to take down because of his size. This was something else entirely, something far more sensitive and frightening to Linus, something that people had used to hurt him before. He'd been quiet when he'd had food poisoning, too, retreating into himself for the entire ordeal. Part of that was no doubt because he'd been so ill, and because he was trying to remain professional, but how much of it wasn't?
How many times had Arthur hidden pains and vulnerabilities himself out of fear of being hurt again? Too many to count, he suspected. Yes, that was something he understood well.
But knowing that this sweet, gentle man was not only grappling with this, but feared being a bother, too? That someone had convinced Linus that he shouldn't ask for help, for whatever reason? That he'd been made to feel like an inconvenience to be endured—again, the phoenix burned to wrap its wings around Linus and protect him.
Arthur settled for continuing to massage his poor belly instead, and listening as Linus spoke.
"I can say 'never again' to raw fish, though, right?" Linus said. "Because that was so much worse than this."
"That's fair," Arthur said. "Though I do want you to consider—consider—trying sashimi made by a professional one day, instead of our child."
Linus hesitated. "I might consider it? Perhaps if you bring it up again in the very, very distant future? Preferably when I don't have a stomach ache?"
"I can accept those terms," Arthur said. Truth was, he didn't think Linus would enjoy most sushi, but just in case he was wrong, he wanted Linus to be open to the experience.
Another sound from Linus's insides interrupted them. Linus groaned softly. "My whole gut is just...angry. Not full, mad." He blew out a loud breath, and rubbed his belly firmly. "Oh, I feel awful."
And still, Linus had been the one who put the children to bed that night, voluntarily. Even with his belly hurting so, he'd read to the younger ones and then tucked them all in one by one, without rushing through any of it or complaining.
He'd let Chauncey get a little more bellhop practice, listened as Theodore fawned over a shiny rock he'd found, made plans with Phee for their next trek into the woods with Zoe. He'd read a new poem Sal was unsure about. He'd chatted with Talia about her many ideas for her garden come springtime. He'd even danced a little with Lucy. All while he was in pain and embarrassed. He could have asked Arthur to handle it because he didn't feel well—Arthur had done that several times over the years with Zoe, even; it was an important lesson in self-care for the children, he thought—but Linus didn't. Only a father for a few weeks, and already Linus excelled at it.
Arthur adored him.
"We've all been there," Arthur said. "When Zoe was learning to cook, I was the one who tasted everything. Once she got the hang of pie, I was quite unwell for a long time." Arthur chuckled. "You know I can't resist a good pie."
Linus seemed to relax a little more at that. "I don't know where you put it all." He nudged Arthur's stomach playfully.
"I love where you put yours." Arthur gave Linus's stomach an equally loving nudge before explaining, "Phoenixes burn a lot of energy—all that fire is always smoldering. But I can absolutely get a stomach ache when my weakness for sweets gets the better of me, especially with fruit." He chuckled. "When Zoe was mastering apple pie, oh, I was in agony for days. I swore I never wanted to see another apple again, my belly hurt so much for so long."
Linus let out a small laugh.
After a beat, Arthur added, "Then I did the same thing with her berry pies."
"You and your sweet tooth." Linus sounded utterly charmed.
"Indeed. And I'd do it again, gladly." Arthur grinned. "The cheese was very good, wasn't it, my dear Linus?" He kissed Linus's cheek again. "And you had fun, too?"
"Yeah, I did," Linus said. "It was worth it. I just...well, you know how I feel about my body, and this is so...I felt childish when I first came up here? Like a little kid with a tummy ache—you know what I mean? I could've taken care of it on my own, but..." It seemed to still be a struggle for him to add, "I wanted you."
"I don't think it's childish at all," Arthur said. "I think it was quite brave of you. You felt ill and vulnerable, and you came to me instead of suffering alone for no reason."
"I've never really had anyone who might let me come to them before," Linus said, quietly. "The last guy I dated, he...well, we barely even dated, really, but he—"
"You do now."
Linus went silent, and stared at him, astonished, his mouth hanging open. Oh, Linus. How did no one realize what a treasure they had in him? Every day, Arthur asked that question, and every day, he failed to find an answer. Linus deserved so much sweetness and patience, gentleness, love, and had so much of it to give in return. How was he the first person in Linus's whole life to want to share that with him? He didn't understand.
But Linus was his treasure now, and he would guard him fiercely and love him utterly. "I'm glad you came, my dear love," he said. "Thank you. I'm so proud of you."
"Proud?" Linus said, shyly.
"Proud," Arthur insisted. "Every day, I see you become braver. I watch you grow. You are becoming the man you were always meant to be, and I am honored to be able to witness and support you blossoming.
"And no matter the cause, I want you to come to me when you don't feel well. Even if it's something as small as a paper cut. Come to me."
"Hey, those things hurt!"
"Oh, yes, much more than they should," Arthur agreed. "And I want to kiss yours better. I want to rub your beautiful belly when it hurts, even if you merely ate too much. I want to be your hot water bottle with interesting socks when you ache. I want to hold you when you need me, bring you medicine or tea, anything." He took one of Linus's hands for a brief kiss before going back to massaging his belly. "Linus, come to me, always, please. I love you. Let me take care of you."
"Same to you," Linus said, looking back at him with a small smile. "I mean, I can't be your hot water bottle, but I want to be there for you, too. Because I love you, too."
"I know." Arthur leaned in for a quick kiss to his lips. "But we aren't talking about me right now. What do you need from me, my love? What do you want most right now?"
"Just you," Linus said. "Right now, just you." He moved closer, which made Calliope finally flee in an irritated huff, and they both took advantage, gravitating to each other until Arthur was stretched out along Linus's side, holding him so close. Linus breathed a small sigh of contentment, and Arthur couldn't resist kissing his soft cheek again.
"You have me most certainly, you delightful darling," Arthur said, slipping his legs over and under Linus's. Linus settled even further, and Arthur marveled over it as he watched.
Linus felt safe with him. Wasn't that wonderful? He hoped he knew how loved he was, too.
Down the hall, Arthur heard insistent meowing, near Sal's room. Shortly after, Sal started cooing at Calliope in a low voice. Arthur chuckled.
"Sounds like she's found her next victim," Linus said. "Usually I wouldn't say this, but right now he can have her." He rubbed his side firmly. "I really don't feel well at all."
"I know," Arthur said, and he couldn't resist kissing his cheek again. "I'm so sorry. I'll rub your belly all night if I have to. Whatever it takes to make you feel better. In fact, I would rub your belly nonstop for the rest of our days if you needed it."
Very quietly, Linus said, "Really?"
"Really." He kissed Linus's shoulder, just as Linus yawned. Oh, his poor sweetheart. It was late, and Linus had to be exhausted after the long day they'd all had, even without the stomach pains. "Rest, dearest. Close your eyes and rest."
"I don't think I can." Linus grimaced.
"I didn't say sleep," Arthur pointed out. "Just relax. Close those pretty eyes of yours, and I'll take care of you. Everything will be just fine."
Linus closed his eyes, but pained tension pulled hard on his face. So Arthur began to hum, absentmindedly at first, until he was calling Linus unforgettable, in every way, without words. Once Linus recognized the notes, he smiled and settled.
"I do think you're unforgettable, too," Linus said. He gave in to the distant call of sleep a little more, rolling onto his side, facing away from Arthur—the position for heartburn prevention, Linus had told him once. "Thank you for taking care of me."
"You are most welcome, my dear." Arthur guided Linus back into his arms, spooning him, relishing the cushion of his body. He felt so good, so soft and warm, substantial, a lush reality instead of a fleeting dream.
Arthur slid his hands down to Linus's wonderful belly once more. If only it wasn't hurting. He loved it so.
As he rubbed the aching swell, Arthur kissed the nape of Linus's neck, then picked up humming again, meandering through love song after love song, meaning them all wholeheartedly.
It took time. Eventually, Linus's breaths became quiet, peaceful snores. "I'll keep going," Arthur whispered, though he did pause to pull the covers over them both. "Sweet dreams, dear Linus. May you feel so much better in the morning."
But sleep was chasing him, too. He stayed up for as long as he could, quietly soothing Linus's stomach. His days of voluntary all-nighters, however, were behind him. His children were nestled all snug in their beds, though he doubted there were sugar plums dancing in their heads just yet. Zoe was entertaining Helen for the night. And Linus, his beloved Linus, was with him, ill but safe and surrounded by his love. Come morning, he thought he might bring up Linus moving into the house. They were spending more and more time together, after all. Why not?
With his hands still cradling Linus's belly, Arthur drifted off, hoping Linus would be well when they awoke.