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Artie had sometimes imagined- fancifully, perhaps- that when he left Colonel Richmond’s office after handing in his resignation, he’d do so with a spring in his step. As it was, he’d left shyly, so shocked to have actually finally done it that he could hardly think- and now he was slinking back to his own hotel room like a criminal.
He walked up to the front desk and was given his key, but he didn’t go upstairs at first. Other than the man at the desk- who promptly went back to sleep- Artie was alone in the lobby and there was more room to pace down there than up in his room.
For what felt like an age, Artie had debated resigning. It wasn’t the quitting part that had given him pause- he felt pretty firmly on that score. He wasn’t as young as he used to be; he was tired of the politics and the posturing; he wanted to get out while he was still more or less whole.
No, what had kept Artie up many a night wasn’t the quitting part half so much as what came after he quit: the rest of his life part. There had been enough close calls over the years that Artie hadn’t always been sure there would be a rest of his life. But it seemed there would be, and as for plans- well, he hadn’t made them.
He could go back to the theater, to be sure, but it held little allure for him anymore. Neither did any other lifestyle that he could imagine, come to that- though he would happily live in a tiny shack in Canada and never talk to another living soul if he had James West at his side.
Artie paused in his pacing to lean against a wall, feeling, briefly, very weak. That was the sticking point: Jim. Telling Jim that he planned on quitting as if that meant Jim had to do the same wasn’t fair- but neither was leaving without consulting him. After all, there were promises between them.
No- that was the sticking point. A single half-unspoken and awkwardly made vow that might still bind him to Jim and vice versa- or not.
Artie resumed pacing.
Their last mission had been a good one. Artie had never wanted to retire after a bad one- one of the kind where he or Jim nearly died, or had been made to believe the other was dead. An easy mission, wrapped up with no fuss; that was the note Artie wanted to go out on. And so he had; he’d written his letter of resignation and given it to the colonel, deciding that Jim would do what was best for Jim- and if that included Artie, so be it.
For once, this laissez-faire attitude wasn’t serving Artie as well as it usually did- and Artie knew that was because of Jim.
There was a time when Artie had thought things between James and himself were fairly simple.
They both wanted each other and were in some respects safer and easier options than any other lover would have been. After all, no one understood the value of discretion better than an agent of the secret service. They knew each other too well to bother with the complexities of courting and they valued their partnership too highly to threaten it with intrigues.
But both of them had shied away from making that first move, and Artie hadn’t worked out why until after Jim had essentially told him that he only wanted them to be together if they would be together for good.
That was when Artie finally realized that nothing about Jim was safe or easy. Whenever Jim was in danger, Artie found it difficult to imagine that things could be much harder- but he was sure that if they were lovers it would be worse. Just caring about Jim hurt enough, sometimes. And if they were found out, or if they had to end things between them for some reason… risking his heart- even his life- would be one thing.
Risking their friendship would be something else entirely.
He hadn’t been ready to face that- or, if he was entirely honest, the concept monogamy- but he hadn’t wanted to think that he’d never have what Jim was offering either. So he promised ‘someday’ and Jim had let it lie, though he’d made Artie wish he hadn’t put it off at least a dozen times every day since then simply by being the beautiful, foolhardy, irritating creature that he was.
But would Jim still want what he said he wanted- forever- now that the job no longer tied them together?
Artie had enough trouble imagining what it was Jim had seen in him in the first place.
A man and his wife entered the lobby to rent a room and the man at the front desk woke up and gave Artie a scathing look. It seemed he was drawing attention; Artie climbed the stairs wearily. Even when he wasn’t around, Jim never failed to make Artie feel old.
Which brought Artie to his other problem- one slightly more pressing than that of his general future: where on Earth was Jim, anyway? He’d lit off to God only knew where after they finished up the case. It had given Artie much needed time alone to decide what he should do and the courage to do it- but Artie was beginning to be worried. When he’d mentioned it to the colonel it had been obvious that he knew something, but not what. Artie didn’t think Richmond would’ve let him quit if Jim was in danger- but there was something.
Artie unlocked his door and the moment he did he knew that there was someone in his room. He kept on his guard, but he was fairly sure that someone was Jim. He smelled of horse, leather, and gun oil, which wasn’t exactly unusual even in the ‘civilization’ of Washington- but there was a prickly feeling at the back of Artie’s neck that was usually peculiar to Jim.
“All done?” he heard Jim ask, quietly.
He stepped inside. Jim was leaning against one wall and gazing ruminatively at the patterns on the floor.
Artie was slightly dazed. One look at Jim’s face and all his doubts had evaporated so quickly it gave him vertigo. He needed a moment to adjust to himself without them. When he felt adjusted, he closed the door, put down the carpet bag containing all his worldly possessions, lifted his friend’s chin with a fingertip, and kissed him. “All done.”
Jim’s smile was slow and broad. When Artie kissed him again, Jim melted under his lips.
Kissing Jim wasn’t like Artie had imagined it would be when he let himself. Jim was every temptation made flesh, he could never keep a shirt on for an hour at a time, and he’d been driving Artie crazy. Jim was also a man of leashed but considerable passions and Artie had been denying him for quite a while.
So Artie had expected it to be more urgent than it was, for both of them. Instead, it was easy. Slow and sweet, even lazy, as though they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did. He felt like he had been kissing Jim his whole life, and if all went as he hoped it might he could be kissing Jim for the rest of it.
When they finally parted he pressed their foreheads together. “About resigning, Jim-” he began.
“I already did.”
“When?”
“A week ago.” Artie almost smacked his partner over the indecision he could’ve spared him, but there was something sweet in his face, something awed and happy that made it difficult to be angry with him. The flushed, just-kissed look of his lips made it more difficult still.
So, in lieu of hitting him, Artie kissed Jim again softly. One kiss became several- Jim’s lips may not have been forceful, but they were addictive. Then, “Where are we going to go now?”
“Anywhere.”
“What will we do for money?”
“I’ve got plenty. My family was rich.”
Artie blinked, processed this, then laughed out loud. His own had barely scraped by. He had fallen into a life on the wrong side of the law almost as a matter of course and learned to like the pleasures it afforded him. But the train- the rich ‘uncle’ paying for everything- had been a revelation. The joy of having a place to call home, of having anything at all that he didn’t have to leave behind when he went on the run again, was one Artie had never let himself get used to. Jim, though, had always seemed to treat such things as his due. Artie supposed that was why.
“What’s funny?” Jim asked, softly.
“How little we really know about each other after so long. Personally, I mean.”
“Do you love me?”
Jim had asked it so quickly and straightforwardly that, “Yes,” was out of Artie’s mouth before he had fully processed it. Jim splayed a hand over Artie’s neck and jaw and kissed him open-mouthed and deep, a little of the possessiveness and ferocity that Artie had at first expected finally making itself felt. Artie barely noticed them moving until his back hit the wall and he clung to Jim’s shirtfront, giving back as good as he got.
When they finally separated they were both panting and Jim’s voice was a stripped growl. “And do you still want to be with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I know everything I need to know.”
Artie threaded his fingers through Jim’s hair and it occurred to him that he finally had one thing he wouldn’t have to leave behind again. It occurred to him that, for once, it wasn’t a frightening notion. “Me too,” he said.
Jim smiled, and kissed him again.