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Feb. 6th, 2012 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witticasterIt's a quiet afternoon, exactly the sort Archie has been waiting for these last three weeks. First, there was the play, and then William had several furniture orders to complete, and then, yesterday, there was a football game on. But today comes without any particular plans, and Archie even wakes up in a pretty good mood.
There's no better day for it, and Archie is scared out of his mind.
He waits until after lunch, when William's stretched out on the sofa with a beer and an auto magazine. For a moment or two, Archie hangs back in the doorway of the lounge, looking down at his dark curly hair and the angles of his body, reminding himself of every bit of William that he dearly loves. He must remember those things, the way William carries himself and the gentleness in his large hands, and he must trust that William would never hurt him.
Perhaps he stands there a moment too long, for William glances up, his pale eyes searching Archie's face. "Did I forget to do something?"
"No, I got the lunch dishes," Archie answers lightly, going to sit down on the sofa next to him. Cordelia jumps up onto the last remaining bit of sofa space (Mary has opted to curl up on the carpet) and rests her paws on Archie's lap. "I think everything's in order."
"Oh, all right." And William goes back to his magazine.
It's now or never, Archie knows; he has it in him at this very moment, but he's not sure he will in a minute or two. The idea is terrifying, but already he's reaching silently for one of William's hands and drawing it away from an article on convertibles. William glances over at him, mouth opening, but Archie shakes his head. His own fingers trembling, he spreads William's hand wide, palm down, and guides it to the fur between Cordelia's ears.
William takes a sharp breath.
When Archie lets go of his hand, he doesn't move. Then, slowly, he draws it down Cordelia's head, through the smooth fur. She doesn't move, and neither does Archie; he feels William's hand as surely as if he'd managed to reach into Archie's own skin, tentatively brushing over a part Archie cannot name but knows intimately is his own.
He thinks of Jack, of the way his hands made Archie feel as though he were suffocating beneath an unwanted weight, one that could never truly be pushed away. It's nothing like that, more akin to the way William sometimes strokes his hair at night, when he believes Archie's asleep. Warm and strangely comforting
And then it's gone, and William's hand is wavering in midair. He stares at Archie with widened blue eyes; perhaps, Archie supposes, the idea that they'd ever come to this point had struck William as an unlikely dream.
"Archie, I--" he begins, and whatever it is he wants to say, Archie doesn't want to hear it. He leans over to kiss William and is rewarded for his efforts with the fondest kiss he can ever remember receiving. When he pulls away, his cheek is wet, and he's not sure whether it's William's tears or his own that he feels.
They're silent, staring at each other as though for the first time.
"I did always like you, William," Cordelia cuts in, inclining her head to rub it against William's hand, and William laughs despite himself. So does Archie, reaching down to ruffle Cordelia's fur.
"Christ, you wonderful man," William mutters, leaning in to kiss Archie again, a hard, affectionate thing. "Mary, come here, let Archie pet you."
There's no better day for it, and Archie is scared out of his mind.
He waits until after lunch, when William's stretched out on the sofa with a beer and an auto magazine. For a moment or two, Archie hangs back in the doorway of the lounge, looking down at his dark curly hair and the angles of his body, reminding himself of every bit of William that he dearly loves. He must remember those things, the way William carries himself and the gentleness in his large hands, and he must trust that William would never hurt him.
Perhaps he stands there a moment too long, for William glances up, his pale eyes searching Archie's face. "Did I forget to do something?"
"No, I got the lunch dishes," Archie answers lightly, going to sit down on the sofa next to him. Cordelia jumps up onto the last remaining bit of sofa space (Mary has opted to curl up on the carpet) and rests her paws on Archie's lap. "I think everything's in order."
"Oh, all right." And William goes back to his magazine.
It's now or never, Archie knows; he has it in him at this very moment, but he's not sure he will in a minute or two. The idea is terrifying, but already he's reaching silently for one of William's hands and drawing it away from an article on convertibles. William glances over at him, mouth opening, but Archie shakes his head. His own fingers trembling, he spreads William's hand wide, palm down, and guides it to the fur between Cordelia's ears.
William takes a sharp breath.
When Archie lets go of his hand, he doesn't move. Then, slowly, he draws it down Cordelia's head, through the smooth fur. She doesn't move, and neither does Archie; he feels William's hand as surely as if he'd managed to reach into Archie's own skin, tentatively brushing over a part Archie cannot name but knows intimately is his own.
He thinks of Jack, of the way his hands made Archie feel as though he were suffocating beneath an unwanted weight, one that could never truly be pushed away. It's nothing like that, more akin to the way William sometimes strokes his hair at night, when he believes Archie's asleep. Warm and strangely comforting
And then it's gone, and William's hand is wavering in midair. He stares at Archie with widened blue eyes; perhaps, Archie supposes, the idea that they'd ever come to this point had struck William as an unlikely dream.
"Archie, I--" he begins, and whatever it is he wants to say, Archie doesn't want to hear it. He leans over to kiss William and is rewarded for his efforts with the fondest kiss he can ever remember receiving. When he pulls away, his cheek is wet, and he's not sure whether it's William's tears or his own that he feels.
They're silent, staring at each other as though for the first time.
"I did always like you, William," Cordelia cuts in, inclining her head to rub it against William's hand, and William laughs despite himself. So does Archie, reaching down to ruffle Cordelia's fur.
"Christ, you wonderful man," William mutters, leaning in to kiss Archie again, a hard, affectionate thing. "Mary, come here, let Archie pet you."