To Put The World Between Us

by StainedGlassCicada

Summary:

After Bella’s death, Arthur Lester is left with a newborn. However, he’s… very busy, he swears, so he hires a live-in nanny. John Doe is certainly capable and talks about his many years of experience in the field. That's an awfully strange name, perhaps, but nothing of concern. It's good that he certainly isn’t hiding anything.

John is on the run from his rich father and has never held a baby in his life. Not until Faroe at least who seems to take a benevolent pity on him and is rather calm at their first introduction. He just needs to keep his head and not get too attached to in the meantime. Easy.

Eventually Parker Yang finds himself wrapped up in this makeshift family. With an adorable kid and her two er- damn they're pretty good looking aren’t they? Fuck. Well he’ll figure out how he fits here… hopefully.

Notes:

Title from A.E. Houseman's "Because I Liked You Better"

Chapter 1: A Misunderstanding Occurs

John smoothed out his coat and squared his shoulders letting them sink slowly to a seemingly casual resting position. It grounded him, an old ritual he would put on like a coat before business meetings. This would be fine. It was a neighborhood of semi-well-off people, though not well-off enough to be sensible about these sorts of things. What he was doing was fairly harmless anyhow, he was sure. It would be ten dollars from any given house. Nothing greedy, just enough to let him get a place to sleep tonight.

Besides he had all the items to make it all seem very official. He had sprung for a less worn-out coat from the thrift store and had envelopes in which to place the money so that it seemed as though he was stocking it away for each individual "subscriber". There was no reason to think that he would be caught, and it was as honest of money as he'd be able to make until he was able to leave this town. The bus he’d been on had stopped in Arkham. And a ticket that went all the way out towards Harper's Hill or beyond was nearly double the cost. He needed to get as far away from New York as possible but the budget was tight.

So here he was. Working.

The houses along this street were narrow things, the brick all a dull red that spoke to the age of the home. The buildings all had two stories, and each house was pressed together wall to wall six or seven at a time. The tall triangular roofs rising on either side of him brought to mind teeth. As though these houses would close in together and keep him here.

The steps at the front of them led to doors where the paint was in varying levels of disarray, some freshly redone in the past few years, others chipped and peeling with time. The first one he knocked on had a mailbox at the front, engraved on it was the name "Lester".

He adjusted his grip on the briefcase and knocked.

After barely a moment the door swung open revealing a bedraggled-looking man with a newborn cradled in one arm awkwardly as he rested the bottle, which was nearing empty, against his neck to hold it steady and used his free hand to open the door. As his eyes landed on John he brightened with obvious relief.

"Oh good," he said, "good, you're here. Please, please, come in. Yes just through to here- here's the sitting room. I've nearly got her down for a nap, and she should be asleep for at least a little while. Here, just a moment, just give me a second please, wait here

In his surprise, John allowed himself to be conveyed to the living room and gestured onto a small orange sofa as the man bustled out of the room and up the narrow stairs. He didn't even get so much as a word out about the supposed magazine he was selling subscriptions to before the man and child were gone. Just as well, John mused, with these sorts of things the hardest part was getting your foot in the door. They would have a much harder time getting him to leave once he was in.

He sat quietly adjusting his case in his lap. It was scratched up, and the latch barely held it closed, but it was just good enough that he'd been able to fish it out of a dumpster and hatch this plan. After a few minutes, footsteps approached from the top of the stairs coming down and a call came from the bottom.

"Do you take tea or do you prefer coffee?"

John startled at the noise but began thinking quickly. If he took coffee he would be able to ask for cream which would be at least something in his stomach

"Coffee please."

"Cream? Sugar?" The voice called from what was rapidly becoming apparent was the kitchen, from the rush of a faucet and the clinking of dishes.

"Yes a little of both, please. I'm not picky about the amounts," John said back, trying to keep himself steady. Was this normal? He had never done sales work before, not that this was exactly sales.

"I'll just bring out the tray. I already had a pot on," The man approached from the doorway carrying a small platter with two cups and a dish of sugar, and a container of hazelnut creamer. He set it down and sat in the high-backed green chair across from John. John began to wonder if he even had a shot here. Sitting now with his eyes scanning John, appraising and unreadable, the man was… formidable.

Not physically, he was tall enough but narrow and clearly run ragged. But there was something about the way he carried himself that spoke of stubbornness. Despite his exhaustion, his eyes were focused, analytical, and a warm disarming brown.

John tore his eyes away, instead busying himself with the coffee. The moment’s silence had been filled with the clink of the man's own spoon stirring his seemingly black coffee.

"Right well," He was smiling at him, John realized, tired but friendly, "you must be from the agency. This is good you're even early! Thanks so much fo–" A knock sounded at the door cutting off the man's words he frowned a moment but waved it off, "Don’t worry about it, I'm not expecting anyone else. They'd call if it was important. Besides we have business to discuss!"

John felt wrongfooted and tried to course correct, "Yes, you must be Mr. Lester?" He confirmed reaching for his case hoping that he could redirect this conversation onto whatever path he originally meant it to be on.

"Yes but please it's Arthur. And the little one that you saw would be your charge, Faroe. I can't thank you enough for coming on such short notice. I will admit, I was surprised to see you at the door. I didn't know that the agency employed any men."

"I…" John began.

"God sorry that was rude and probably fairly misogynist. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend. Really, I'm sure you’re excellent at what you do. Please, remind me of your name?"

Shit shit fake name quick.

"John," he spat out unthinking, fuck- no, that was his name. Fake last name, Quicker.

"John Doe." Oh god fucking damn it What? John Doe?? John furiously bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.

“Oh, that makes sense I suppose. They wouldn’t use that name as a place holder if there weren’t people called that,” The man smiled, "Good. John, wonderful to meet you, so yes Faroe is about a month old. She's rather small for her age, and while I can care for her I find that my time may be better used paying the bills so I need a little more ability to focus on my music than would be allowed for a parent in my position. My… wife, she passed away in childbirth."

The man's face was strained at this, "and I am looking for some assistance around here. Now the position would be live-in. We would of course negotiate the specifics of your duties, but overall your main focus would be caring for Faroe with a day off a week for yourself and evenings off after she is asleep for the night or after seven if she isn't asleep by then. If you need extra days off of course we could discuss it and it would be about $500 a week food and board included. Chores and division of housework can be discussed."

John felt frozen. This man had completely misinterpreted John's reason for being here. John hadn’t even mentioned a magazine subscription. Arthur had moved so fast that he hadn't gotten to cut in.

But… a place to stay.

Something quiet. Where he could keep his head down. Make a little extra money. In a month or two he could easily afford to get out of Arkham. Be ready to set up a life somewhere else. More than that it was a roof and hot meal tonight.

In the end, it wasn't really much of a choice at all.

"All of that sounds perfect. Of course, I am admittedly not at a professional level when it comes to housework as I am not trained as a housekeeper," John said trying to put on an air as though he were an experienced caregiver for children was it a nursemaid? Was it a nanny? Were those only terms for women? "but I am able to keep up as much as you might expect for a household."

Arthur Lester smiled widely and said, "Wonderful. Now tell me about yourself, John. I obviously need to get to know you a little before I allow you to move in, and have free reign over my daughter."

"Of course, well growing up I was the eldest child of my siblings," he said smoothly, grasping for a believable story that would lead a man like him to become a caregiver, "my mother was unwell much of my childhood until she eventually passed when I was still fairly young. My siblings still need to be cared for so when we weren't in school I cared for them."

The story was nigh on laughable when John thought of his real relationship with Yellow.

"I see, so you really sort of fell into it."

"Yes," John said with an acknowledging tilt of the head, "but I found my calling. I believe there's a lot of fulfillment in taking care of such tiny creatures."

John winced at his own use of the word 'creature' to imply that Arthur's daughter was one of them but Arthur merely let out a bright clear laugh.

John continued while he was on a winning streak, "I have been looking for a position for some time because it's important to me that the family and I understand each other. I would never want to go against anything that the parents might want through my own lack of knowledge so I'll be asking many questions."

"Wonderful," Arthur smiled, "what do you do in your spare time? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh I uh write," John said

"You're a writer?" Arthur’s eyes were bright and curious.

"No, I journal. Make notes of my experiences, what I've seen during the day, my plans for the next day."

"Oh, that sounds very relaxing. I will admit, it may be hypocritical of me but I'm glad you don't a have passion for barroom pool or something."

Arthur laughed and John got the sense that he ought to laugh too, "Yes I can imagine that wouldn’t be ideal for someone applying for this position."

"Quite, well I will say, John, the agency spoke highly of you and you seem like the man for the job. However, I'm afraid it’s not really up to me in the end."

"No?"

"No. You see Faroe is… opinionated. She has especially sensitive ears, I think? She'll sleep soundly in nearly anyone's arms but when they speak… she fusses or starts crying. Other than myself, there was only one nurse in the hospital that she seemed pleased with. When I saw her react similarly to the sound of cars I realized she just can't stand some sounds. Many people's voices fall into that category. In the end, it will be her decision."

Fuck. His ability to land this would be dependent on how sonically pleasing a one-month-old found him.

He didn't let on the nerves that began brewing at that, "I completely understand."

"She usually isn't down for long during her afternoon nap. I could give you a tour of the place in the meantime. Assuming you have no other plans of course?"

"Feel free, I'm not busy this afternoon," John said, rising to join Arthur on his feet.

And so Lester led him through the house.

The bottom floor consisted of three rooms. A decently sized kitchen, tiled blue and white. There was a table in the corner that had a vase with dry dead flowers peering over the edge. The living room that he had already been in, had shelves crammed floor to ceiling with books, movies, and CDs. Towards the back of the house down a hallway was a small bedroom with a high Square window. It smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals as though it had just been scrubbed down. Inside was a bed with a bare mattress, an empty dresser, and a desk and chair, huddled directly beneath the window as though searching for light.

“Assuming this all works out, this room would be yours. The back door is just there. And if you follow me up this way,” They climbed the stairs and Arthur gestured to the small Landing.

“That is the bathroom,” he continued voice lower, “That’s Faroe’s room, and that is my room where I will be working from.”

“Oh, you work from home?” John clarified as Arthur took the first step back down the stairs.

Arthur stopped and turned to look at him, “Oh yes I apologize. I realize that I don't know how much the agency told you. I'm a musician, a composer, I suppose. I do much of my work from my bedroom until concert season at which point I am out most nights playing.”

“Right, that makes sense.” John said with a nod, then, hoping it wasn't now “What time of year is concert season for you?”

“Oh,” Arthur said, “typically summer will be when I see the bulk of my work. Even if it’s not my own pieces, there are more music festivals and things of that sort that happen during that time period. Many times I can pick up some work, even if it's just being a spare set of hands on the keys for some band that's debuting their most recent Cabaret album.”

“That must be exciting,” John commented, friendly enough.

“It can be. Most often, I don't get to choose what I play. So often summertime drags by, but it does supply me with the means to live for the majority of the year so I can't really complain. I’m lucky I can even do this professionally.”

A noise sounded from the bedroom door that Arthur had pointed to as being the child's.

“Damn, I'm afraid we've gone and woken her,” Arthur said with a weary sigh. The past few weeks clearly weighed on him though he seemed to be holding up shockingly well for someone who had just lost his wife.

“My apologies,” John offered in regard to the now-crying baby.

“No need,” Arthur reassured him, “I'll do my best to calm her down before we pass her over to you. No need to start you off on the wrong foot.”

“Much obliged,” John said somewhat deadpan and it earned him a small laugh from Arthur. It was a strange thing, being able to pull a laugh from someone so readily.

Arthur turned and opened the door, making his way across the room to a small crib. The room was dimly lit, with the late afternoon sun shining through the light pink curtains. Two of the walls were painted with rainbow butterflies, but the trail of them stopped abruptly partway across the second wall, as though the task had been abandoned unfinished.

Arthur made his way to the crib, voice going soft the way a blanket does after enough nights of sleeping and washing.

“Oh hello,” he said “There's my little girl. Yes hello. I'm sorry, did I leave you for even a moment? Yes, hello, Hi, how are you, hello.”

The borderline nonsensical cooing went on for a moment as Arthur pulled the child up into his arms and cradled her close to his chest. She seemed to quiet as he continued softly saying nonsense phrases to her, shifting her weight from side to side gently as though moved by some unseen tide.

“Yes hello. There you are. Hi! Look at you, going to be so strong very soon. You'll be too big for this onesie and we will need to go shopping for you all over again won't we?” Arthur turned John's direction and made a move toward him though he didn't look up from his daughter.

“Now Faroe,” he said, “this is John. If it's all right by you I'm thinking of bringing him in to take care of you. I'm going to pass you to him now all right? It's going to be okay, he's going to talk to you a bit.”

Now he met John's eyes and gently motioned him forward with a hand that wasn't being used to support Faroe, and moved her away from his body as though ready to hand her off. John felt his hands shaking a bit. Had he ever held a baby? How fragile were they?

He couldn't afford to hesitate though. He was playing the role of a well-experienced older brother who had carried many children in his life now was not the time to falter. The fact that this little girl would hold his future and her hands was not lost on him. If he did this poorly enough, Arthur might start looking into how exactly someone like him got a job at that agency, and it wouldn't take long to figure out that someone like him had not, and then the police would be sure to follow soon.

He brought his arms up mimicking the shape of Arthur's and reached out doing his best to start taking her weight as Arthur shifted her into his arms. John faintly remembered hearing people mention the importance of supporting the head, and so he made sure that her neck was cradled in his elbow with her head resting against the joint.

She was so small.

She was even quiet in his arms for a moment blinking around as though she wasn't really sure where she was then her eyes seemed to land on his face and looked up at him.

“All right go on, John,” Arthur encouraged, “She seems happy enough with you holding her, try saying something.”

Instinctively, John tried to mimic the register that Arthur had talked in. That soft slightly heightened tone that he had used to murmur over her and began saying, “Hello Faroe” In an awkward stilted tone that even he could hear.

“How are you?” he tried, “I like your outfit, it seems soft.”

She began to shift restlessly in his arms oh God making a noise that could easily give way to a wail. Her little brow was furrowed intensely.

The panic immediately set in and his voice dropped out of that register right back into his regular one as he began hushing her, “No no it's alright, I’m sorry, I hate small talk too. Let’s start again, I’m John.”

The noises quieted. He continued speaking normally, “Yeah it's all right you and me will be friends won't we, Miss Faroe? Do you have any thoughts on the lack of light rail system in this country?”

She did not reply but she was looking at John again, eyes wide.

“I believe it to be a failing of infrastructure,” He elaborated.

"Did… you just apologize to my baby for making small talk?"

John looked up at Arthur, face warming.

"Just because she's small doesn’t mean she doesn't appreciate deep conversation," John said defensively.

Arthur stared at him dumbfounded and let out a laugh, "Yes, alright well the job is yours I believe. If you are interested?"

"I can start right now."

Chapter 2: It's Easy, Easier

Notes:

Its so comforting that John is so extremely qualified for this job

CW Discussions of death and of a baby having previously had medical issues

This was strange, Arthur thought, as he sat at his piano, listening to someone else attempting to soothe Faroe’s wailing.

Stranger still was how easily this slotted into his life (their life, his and Faroe’s now). Arthur hadn’t been thrilled to do this. The idea of it felt… very old-fashioned, he supposed. Acknowledging that he on his own would not be able to manage his own child. The first few interviews with potential caregivers had only solidified that feeling.

And that was right, he supposed. It was meant to keep feeling bad until Arthur stepped up and became miraculously capable of simultaneously composing and feeding a baby and maybe washing some dishes all with two hands. But having John around felt natural as anything.

That was just it, wasn't it? It was easy.

Arthur, of course, hadn't lept back into his composing right away. He needed to keep an eye on matters with John and Faroe for a few days. Watching how the two work together, subtly, of course, so as to not appear to be openly observing. He didn't want to make the man uncomfortable here. Just to make sure things were working out so his music would have to wait.

The black keys on his keyboard were visibly accumulating dust. Arthur’s notebooks and watch were too. Particles swirled in the air catching the beams of sunlight.

He stood from his seat and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The crying had stopped at some point and the door to Faroe’s room was closed again. Arthur frowned at the plain white paint and the faint pencil outlines of unpainted butterflies. He needed to finish those.

Arthur made his way downstairs where he heard movement in the kitchen. John was crouched at the dryer folding items as he pulled them from the machine. He was wearing black jeans and a plain black shirt like one might buy in an eight-pack from Walmart. Clipped to one of his belt loops was the baby monitor.

“You read books on parenting,” Arthur noted with curiosity. Clearly, his presence had been a surprise to John who startled upward bashing his head on the inside of the dryer.

“Fuck! Ow, God damn it,” John continued swearing, drawing his head away and rubbing the back of it tenderly. Then turned, crouched as he was, toward Arthur with what seemed to be an instinctual glare. The expression was brief before John schooled himself back into his usual distant calm.

“What?” He said, raising an eyebrow and admirably keeping the majority of his annoyance out of his tone.

“Sorry, it's just- I noticed you had books on parenting and child development and such,” Arthur had spotted them over the past week hastily placed face down on various tables at moments when John had needed to go retrieve Faroe quickly.

An awkward look flashed across John's face.

“Yes,” he said, “I like to keep up with the latest information as best I can... It's important to know what professionals are saying on the topic at the time. Never hurts to refresh on the basics no matter how familiar you are.”

“That makes sense,” Arthur said, “I myself do that to some degree. I’ve actually been teaching myself to play guitar just so that I'm still learning.”

Playing the guitar was equally frustrating and thrilling. He had no idea what he was doing with it but also he had no idea what he was doing with it.

“I’m afraid my music might go stale if I didn't,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh

“I… can't say I understand that,” John said honestly, brow furrowed, “how could something new be stale?”

“Well, I suppose when it's not new anymore. If I don't keep new concepts floating around in my head, I find that the old ones just get repeated. I suppose it is a little different than you remaining informed in your field,” he said awkwardly.

“No, that makes sense. I can see how you drew the connection,” John said slowly but not unkindly.

Sparing Arthur's feelings.

“Well! I ah- won't keep you. I was just curious. Back to work for me,” he said awkwardly, backing out of the kitchen and turning quickly for the stairs, and making his way back up to his room to shut himself in once again.

*

Faroe was getting heavy, Arthur noted with glee. His arms were getting tired faster when carrying her. This was by no means to say she was actually heavy. Arthur knew she was still on the lighter end of where she was meant to be but she was so strong now. The week she’d had to remain in the hospital after her birth had been terrifying. The doctors had a hard time prying Arthur from his place beside her for anything. But she was so tough now and when she yelled she could damn near wake the neighbors.

He looked down at her as he held her and once again wondered if the urge to cry came from the fact that it was three am or just her. It felt like it might have been just her.

She could be anyone and Arthur wouldn’t love her any the less. She would be someone wonderful, he knew it. She had kind features, not his. Her nose, her cheeks, she got from Bella. But her hair was brown like his and her eyes were a deep grey that he suspected would resolve into his brown as well.

She is actually cute, he thought smugly, Not just cute because you have to say so because you can’t call a baby ugly, Faroe Lester was Gerber Baby Adorable goddamnit.

“I should take a picture and send it to your grandfather before you spit up on yourself again,” Arthur said with a smile.

*

John would occasionally pepper facts into a conversation when Arthur did happen to be in the room. Such as many hours during the nights in which John joined Arthur despite Arthur's insistence that he didn't need to.

Arthur would be feeding Faroe and pacing the length of the kitchen for something to keep him awake until he got her drifting back to sleep and John would after a minute make his way into the kitchen and settle at the kitchen table wearing similar shirts to the plain cotton tees that he did during the day, but now with a pair of worn Cookie Monster pattern sweatpants. His usually neat hair hung in front of his face, obscuring his eyes sometimes. It was dark with just a touch of blonde peeking out at the roots.

“You know that babies can only see a few inches?” John stretched in his seat.

“Oh?” Arthur said quietly. John dropped his head in his palm, blinking slowly.

“Yes, their field of vision is limited and it becomes more developed over time, but it begins with them being able to focus a few inches away and it's essentially the perfect distance to be able to see you when you feed them,” he was looking at Faroe with lazy interest, ”Of course by now she can probably see even three or four feet away, but it's interesting nonetheless. Being born with eyes tuned to just the right distance.”

“I see what you mean,” Arthur said, then paused and mused, “It's nice to think that even if she can't see much she can recognize me. That maybe she saw her mother briefly.”

That is one thing that weighed on Arthur. Faroe would never know her mother and would not even be raised by someone who really did.

“She could hear voices,” John said.

“Sorry?” Arthur broke out of his reverie looking up at John who was watching him with narrow interested eyes, drowsiness gone.

“Babies in utero… their ears still process sound from the outside. Not completely distinctly, I imagine, but they can grow familiar with certain noises. It's why some baby toys come equipped with the sound of a heartbeat to simulate the noises that they might experience before being born. But it also goes for voices or music or whatever else.”

John looked away, feigning disinterest, but his tone was serious, “Faroe heard her mother talking. She knows your voice too.”

“oh,” Arthur cleared his throat steadying the wobble in his voice, “Oh I… didn't know that.”

*

He also noticed how careful John was with Faroe. Of course, he was not arguing, but it seemed at times to be a tad excessive. He performed tasks slowly as though terrified of one wrong move doing deathly injury to Faroe.

At one such time, John clearly noticed Arthur's footsteps approaching because his shoulders visibly tensed.

“You're very gentle with her.”

“Well she is a baby,” John said with a snort.

“Sure, but she's fairly sturdy. I just mean you could probably move her arm into the onesie for her if you need to. After all, I don't think she has the motor skills to do it herself yet.”

John awkwardly, but more quickly adjusted the onesie across Faroe’s shoulders, and slid her arm into the sleeve pausing a moment when it got caught on her hand at the wrist. He readjusted to free her little fingers.

“I just like to be diligent,” John said slowly.

"I'm saying I appreciate it," Arthur clarified, "I was… uneasy about all this. Your competence is comforting."

"Oh, uh yes, well as long as… thank you, I suppose."

“Is it an adjustment going back to taking care of a baby after whatever your last situation was?”

“Oh - yes, with my last family, I left when the youngest was going to preschool, so it's a change,” John said diplomatically.

“Seems like some aspects of it might be a little bit of a relief,” Arthur said with a laugh, “Faroe can't run around yet. Though, I'm sure she'll be a menace when she can. I remember her mother used to-” He fell quiet.

He hated this. He hated that she was gone because out of the two of them Arthur was sure he was not the one who deserved this comfort.

And because it was easy to put Bella out of his mind.

Arthur knew it shouldn't be so simple an adjustment. After all, he and Bella had been married for 6 months. Bella had been his wife if nothing else and yet it was easy to forget she was gone. As though she had simply moved back to New York with her family.

And it wasn't just that it was easy that had Arthur so shaken in moments like these. It’s that it was easier. Easier than having to look his wife in the eye after the birth of their daughter and tell her he wanted to end it. It was easier to pack up Bella's things and give them to her father before the funeral. It was easier to clean out her sewing room so that someone else could come to stay there. Arthur barely felt the absence.

Because he and Bella didn’t fit. Or at least he didn’t.

“Used to?” John prompted, visibly curious, pulling Arthur back.

Arthur exhaled, “Yes, used to say that Faroe had very strong legs. Kicked a lot. Said she should do track and field or football or something like that.”

“You miss her,” John said, a question.

The shock of even being asked put Arthur on the defensive, “O-of course, she was my wife.”

John merely raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” John said, but his eyes stayed fixed on Arthur with an interest that didn’t feel apologetic. It made Arthur want to stare back until one of them broke.

When Arthur didn’t look away, something unreadable sparked in John’s eyes, he continued, “I didn’t mean to prod at a sore subject. I should probably put Faroe down for a nap.”

John looked away picking Faroe up from where she was beginning to doze off.

“I- Yes, of course,” Arthur said shaking off the strange tension of the moment before.

*

As awkward as the conversations between Arthur and John could be at times, Arthur found it difficult to dislike the man when he heard John monologing to Faroe. Arthur would often bits and pieces from his room when John and Faroe were in her room.

“Of course, the generation of energy is much more complicated than that. If you're planning on trying to make a cleanly run factory then you need to take into account all sorts of things. Recycling costs, emissions, many things that honestly wouldn't interest you. Point being-”

and

“I'm always struck by Clair de Lune. I know I played it for you many times and if you ever get tired of it let me know, but I find it… soothing. I wonder if your father knows how to play that. You seem very calm when it's played is all, so I wonder if he ever played piano for you. He does play piano doesn't he? I’ve seen his keyboard when he steps into the room, but I've not heard him play. I suppose he uses headphones to work.”

He opened his door at one of these moments when John was in the room with Faroe and stepped into Faroe’s bedroom. John’s words fell quiet as Arthur came closer. He was trying admirably to make Faroe’s hair lay flat on her head.

“Sorry, hope I didn't interrupt any riveting conversation?” Arthur said.

“Not at all,” John said, “Faroe and I were just attempting to see if we could make these hair clips stay on.”

“What do you two talk about?” Arthur finally asked.

“I was just explaining the Krebs cycle.”

“Krebs cycle, that's… one of those things that cells do?”

“Yes, it’s one of those things that cells do,” The tone was biting but John had a half smile..

Arthur was not sure what to make of this man, but just as John’s stare drew him in a few days ago, so did the joking tone, “Excuse me, I am a musician I don't need to know that.”

“I don't blame you for not knowing about it. It’s one of the harder things to get memorized in my opinion. I'm trying to give her a head start. The last thing you want is to encounter this for the first time a week before your exams. I speak from experience,” he said, and poked Faroe in the stomach. She wriggled in response to the gentle prod.

“You went to school?”

“Yes I went to school,” John scoffed.

“I'm sorry I just didn't realize that there was schooling for your position.”

“Yes well…There's training,” John corrected, “but this was before I properly entered the field.”

“Before? I thought you said that you were drawn to this since you were quite young,” Arthur said curiously.

“I was, I was,” John waved him off, “I just had a small break in between wherein I was in medical school.”

“Medical school? Are you a doctor? Or a nurse?”

“No, I didn't finish,” John said shortly. He started tidying up the changing table that faroe was laid on. Baby wipes being stored back in the cabinet, properly closing the drawer Faroe’s clothes were kept in.

“Oh…” Arthur said, feebly.

“I dropped out before I graduated,” John explained, not looking at Arthur.

“I see… so you were always drawn toward caring for others. Very selfless,” Arthur said, feeling a pang of inadequacy next to John.

He’d never been good at selflessness.

“I wouldn't say that, but thank you,” John’s words were somewhat halting.

“You’re hard on yourself. The fact that you even made it to medical school is impressive. Nothing wrong with deciding that something isn't for you.”

“I didn't decide it wasn't for me,” John said, tone very controlled.

Arthur stopped at that. He looked at John a moment.

“Were you made to drop out?” Arthur said carefully.

“Mr. Lester, I don't think this is pertinent,” John's voice had gone cold and he seemed to finally give up on laying Faroe's hair flat, because he removed the hair clip and simply slid a hat onto her small head.

“I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable… Thank you for taking her knowledge of science so seriously,” he said, trying to gently lighten the tone of things.

“She's a baby. I was just talking, because it seems to soothe her to remember that there are people here.”

Arthur sighed, “Of course. Well I should…” And with that, he backed out of the room.

*

A knock came at Arthur's bedroom door.

John's voice filtered through, “Your phone is ringing. You left it on the counter. …Well it's not ringing anymore I don't think. It took a moment to set Faroe somewhere and come up to tell you.”

Arthur opened the door, “Did it say who it was?”

“Yes. I believe the name was Daniel.”

Arthur resisted the urge to quietly swear. John was close enough that he would hear it anyway. And see him. Obviously see him.

“That's my- that's Faroe’s grandfather. He's trying to check-in.”

“If I had known it was your father I would have called for you. I just didn’t want to wake her.”

“No, it's fine. It's- He's not my father. He was Bella's father. My parents are no longer with us,” Arthur told him if only to avoid this later.

“I didn't realize.”

“No, it's fine. You probably understand how it is when you lose them when you're young,” Arthur said, trying to lighten the awkwardness with a bit of commiseration.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh only that– well you had mentioned you lost your mother fairly early on?”

"Right."

"Right. Well I just- you know I should go call Daniel back," Arthur said, hitting the eject button on this conversation, even though it meant talking to Daniel.

He made it to the kitchen and picked his phone up seeing two missed calls and a text.

He sighed and stepped out onto the front step and called Daniel back.

Chapter 3: John Finds a Routine

Arthur was onto him.

John knew it, Arthur knew it, but John simply couldn't guess at the nature of Arthur's game. The constant interrogations, the mention of John's parenting books, the constant prodding at John’s fictional past.

Arthur knew, he was certain. He just couldn't comprehend why Arthur hadn't thrown him from the house already. Why he hadn't called the police? For some reason, he was toying with John. It had been weeks surely by now he had collected enough evidence to get John on something.

Sneaking up on John, tricking him into saying things about his time in medical school, prying at the details to figure out what John's aim had been here. John wasn't a fool he wasn't about to reveal himself so easily if Arthur wanted him gone he would have to accuse John out loud. Until then John was making five hundred dollars a week for every week that Arthur continued toying with him. John would not come out the other end of this the loser and when Arthur finally spoke plainly John would be out the door before he could reach the end of his sentence.

John made his way down the stairs after Arthur and watched as Arthur picked up the phone from the kitchen and made his way out the front door closing it most of the way. John, happy enough to return to his own task, retrieved Faroe from the swing that she had been in and resumed their previous discussion about ballet.

“Sorry, it was your grandfather who called apparently. So like I was saying ballet is- I don't know that its effects on dancers’ bodies are justified. We don’t typically make permanent changes to people’s bodies at the age of four, but by the age of four, they're already dancing. Being taught to turn out their feet and rotate at the hip in such a way that it legitimately affects the development of their joints.”

“I certainly don't think your father, would allow you to participate in such a thing. I believe Arthur to be a sensible man and no sensible person just throws their child into a sport like that without at least some serious consideration of the long-term effects. Imagine if full-contact football was something you began at five. Actually, come to think of it I'm not certain that it's not…"

John frowned but shook it off, "But I hope you, my young friend, would have more discerning tastes. Your father says your mother thought you'd do well in track, as someone who has taken one of your feet to the solar plexus I couldn't agree more. You would do well at hurdles and-"

John cut off as he realized he could hear Arthur outside the front door.

“Yes, I apologize. I know I was meant to call yesterday, but things have been busy here... Yes, she's fine John has her so… John, yes…. well you had mentioned to me that you thought I should find a caregiver who might have a little more experience in this than I do…”

“Yes, John. John Doe interestingly enough… I know Daniel but the woman who you used to go to church with was very keen on telling me all about traditional family values. I’m not going to employ a homophobe, I don’t care if I’m straight. …. Yes, Daniel that’s what she meant by traditional family values… no, I know you didn’t know… Besides, Faroe likes him, and I do too, he’s good at his job… Daniel, it is the twenty-first century there’s nothing wrong with a man making a career in childcare. And John has been incredibly helpful so I would appreciate it if you'd afford him the respect he has earned over this past month.”

…did he know John was listening? Why was Arthur defending him to his father-in-law?

"He seems to be a good man and he clearly has taken to Faroe as well," Arthur's voice had a smile to it, "we've perhaps had some bumps in becoming better acquainted but sharing a space with him has been very amicable… Yes, she’s been gaining weight and tiring my arms out all the while…”

Whatever Arthur’s aim was, the lengths he was willing to go to were clearly farther than John expected.

*

John returned from the library around eight. He had just finished walking home and he was still cold from walking through the February air with nothing but his suit jacket, but he had managed to print out some reference sheets for the next couple of months with Faroe.

He passed by Arthur in the living room where he was sitting next to a sleeping Faroe watching a film.

“Oh good you're back, seems cold out there,” Arthur said giving him a too-friendly smile.

“Yes, I just had an errand to run before everything closed for the night. Sorry to disturb you, good night,” and John attempted to hurry away down the hall to his room but before he could make it even two steps Arthur stopped him.

“Feel free to head to your room, obviously, if you want to, but I hope I haven't made you feel uncomfortable spending your time in the communal areas in your off hours. You're always free to join me and just sit and watch something if you like. I have no particular need for silence so if you ever wanted to stick around and sit down you could.”

“Oh, there's no need-” John began.

“I mean it,” Arthur said, “listen, I know that circumstances are odd, but I want you to know that I am open to us being friendly. If not friends! We live together and I prefer to be on amicable terms with the person helping me raise my daughter. I want to know you, John, if that's all right with you.”

Did Arthur really think John was so easy?

John gave him a cool polite look, “Thank you, Mr. Lester, but I think I’ll go to bed for tonight.”

“All right, Mr. Doe,” Arthur fired back in the same tone, and John was struck with a strange feeling of rightness at the usage of his new last name.

*

“Ah, John, you just put Faroe down for a nap right?”

“Yes,” John answered

“Excellent, as she's been sleeping longer lately, I was wondering if I might be able to drag you into a game of checkers with me? I'm afraid it's been a long time since I've had anyone to play with and I fear I might be getting rusty.”

“Checkers,” John repeated

“Admittedly, chess is my preference, but I'm afraid over the years I lost all my pawns.”

“All of them?”

“All but three, and they're all for one side,” Arthur said walking towards the living room. John trailed after sitting down across from him at the already set up checkerboard.

“Do you prefer red or black?”

John paused. Had he actually agreed to play? No, no, Arthur had just begun walking backwards slowly out of the kitchen while still speaking until John was following. John looked at Arthur and caught mischief in his eyes as though he was barely holding back laughter.

As always, Arthur was skillful, sly, and difficult to see through, but John would not be found out as having been so easily duped, so he pretended that this had been all his intent as well.

“Oh, whatever it is you prefer,” John offered, hand open as though he were the one who had invited Arthur to play.

“Well I'm partial to black myself so,” Arthur turned the board so that the red side was facing John.

“So you play checkers?”

Arthur laughed, “I see that you’ve been admirably hesitant about rifling through my things if you had gotten into that cabinet down there I suspect you would have caught on to my interest in board games much before this.”

John raised an eyebrow, and at Arthur's motion turned to the bottom cabinet of the tall bookshelves. He opened one side of it. It was filled top to bottom with board games, some of which sat at diagonals if only so that they could fit more titles. John was familiar with some though not personally and others he’d never heard of in his life.

John frowned, “what is Scene It?”

“Oh, that one's about movie trivia, not my favorite. I believe that that particular edition is only Disney. It was Bella's, I probably should have sent that along to her father...”

Arthur cleared his throat, “I am actually partial to Clue myself, nothing wrong with a classic.”

“Right,” John said, closing the cabinet and turning back toward the board where Arthur had already made his first move. John frowned and carefully slid one of his pieces out matching Arthur in a mirror for now.

“Do you play board games?” Arthur asked, moving his piece.

“Not generally,” John answered, frowning and moving a piece out of his second row, “I played checkers with my brother when I was young, though we quickly moved on towards chess. Beyond that, I can't say I have much experience.”

“Well, all the more reason for me to buy a new chessboard. I suppose I've been looking for an excuse, but I haven't had anyone to play with. Sounds like you and I might be evenly matched I did chess club in high school and I'm afraid the habit never left me. Kept it up when I had nothing to do in the late hours at University.”

John hummed, “Yes, I also would find just about any excuse to not be writing a paper at three a.m.”

“Oh, I can only imagine what sort of papers they would make you write in a science field. It was easy for me. You just bullshit, restate the same things that have been said about a piece that have been said thousands of times by other better critics than yourself.”

“You'd be surprised it's pretty simple to write a science paper you just say what you did. Though, of course, things got more complicated when I began actually dealing with medicine.”

“Oh, of course… do you have a favorite disease?” Arthur said after a pause, moving another piece.

John snorted, “A favorite disease?”

“Or injury, maybe a bacteria you’re fond of?”

"You realize you've left me no option that doesn’t make me sound like a monster?"

"No judgment here, but if it helps… what sort of diseases were your classmates interested in?” Arthur said, pretending this was subtle.

John couldn't help laughing at that, “Pneumonia. That one generally tends to be a point of fascination for many of my classmates.”

“Pneumonia? Like fluid in the lungs? When I was a boy I had walking pneumonia. Didn't get caught by doctors for some time. So, how does that sort of thing happen?”

 

Games passed, several of them, and as the afternoon drew on the baby monitor at John's hip again produced the noises that always preceded Faroe’s waking and the fierce crying that often came with it.

“I should…” John began, standing, glancing at the time on his phone, and stopping in surprise at the hour.

“Of course,” Arthur said putting the pieces away, “I believe that was a tie we’ll have to play again sometime.”

With a gleam in his eye, Arthur shut the box and glanced up at John.

John frowned, “By my count, you outmatched me by two points.”

“In that case, you'll be needing a rematch to defend your honor.”

“My honor? Is that what's on the line?”

“Of course, I'm your boss I can't play you for money.”

John rolled his eyes, “Well, in that case, I suppose I will have to play you again just to even score. I would hate for Faroe to think I intentionally dishonored her father.”

“How kind,” Arthur said, and John made his way up the stairs.

*

“Would you care for a sandwich? I made too much.”

This was, of course, ridiculous. Nobody makes two sandwiches by accident, but John had long since learned that if he did not take into account Arthur in his cooking Arthur would attempt to discreetly figure out what John had made and John could do without the staring.

“Oh, thank you!” Arthur said, accepting the plate, “You're very kind.”

He took a bite and hummed appreciatively, “You are an excellent cook, John. Have I told you that?”

“Only every time I’ve made you something.”

“Well, it's true.”

“It is also true that I only follow recipes,” John hadn’t even cooked before he moved here.

"What like I don't? I don't know how you get these and I get charcoal.”

“I've told you, Arthur, you can’t cook everything on high,” John rolled his eyes.

“But it takes so long if I don't.”

“Well then I hope you enjoy your sandwiches extra crispy,” John glanced at the television where in there was a boy in a science classroom making an extremely strange expression under a blue filter.

“What the fuck are you watching?” John said and then immediately froze at having sworn at his boss.

Arthur laughed, “No, that is the correct reaction. I am on an extremely ill-advised tour of Robert Pattinson's filmography beginning of course with the classic Twilight series.”

“The vampire movies.”

“Yes, though I would call them tenuously vampiric at best considering how much of them takes place during daylight hours. I do not appreciate the lack of commitment to aesthetic, but in his later films we get some real commitment to aesthetics and those will be quite enjoyable.”

Arthur glanced up at him, “Care to join? It will be a true nightmare and I should think that having some support would be of greatest assistance to me.”

“You're watching a series of movies that you need support for?” John asked raising an eyebrow.

“Well, how else will I justify watching The Lighthouse again? One must endure some suffering to truly enjoy the good things in life.”

“I see, I think I have to stay just for the sake of your own mental health make sure you're not enduring this alone,” John said, amused.

“Please do. I have no one to play off my running commentary and I know for a fact you have a talent for it. Sit, we'll restart.”

By minute ten, John was regretting his decisions. Though he still didn’t regret how he was spending his night.

“How long is this?” John demanded allowed and Arthur just laughed.

“Five films, four and five are a two-parter.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Relax John, we’ve miles to go, better settle in.”

*

John watched the clock on his phone tick over to midnight.

Faroe's screaming woke him a few minutes ago and John listened as Arthur pulled himself from bed. John could hear the door open and the footstep padding into Faroe's room overhead.

The muffled tones of Arthur's voice as he soothed his daughter had become a familiar enough noise that John could nearly see himself off to sleep again if he wanted to. It had nothing to do with Arthur, of course, John just hadn’t had a quiet night's sleep since he left his father's house. And it had been a while before since he’d last had a restful night.

Routine was the closest thing John had to something relaxing at the moment.

But instead of turning over and pulling the blanket up around him, John hauled himself out of bed. He slide his phone into the pocket of the pajama pants he'd thrifted and pushed a hand through his hair.

Arthur was in the kitchen. He was different.

"Ah John, you don’t usually join us so early, good morning," Arthur smiled at him and John looked at him.

Arthur usually had taken the time to put on his slacks and a white button-up before John had made it out at night. John had yet to see him in any state except neatly pressed.

"You own other shirts?" John said intelligently, eyes repeatedly drifting to Arthur's bare forearms. He was strong, the muscles were visible as he held Faroe in her car seat, gently swaying her from left to right as he did any night she was restless. Of course, Arthur would have developed some strength from this, he did it for hours at a time, often humming softly as he did.

But now he was in an old t-shirt that hung loosely on his frame and he looked… relaxed. He didn't tense when John entered, didn’t even shoot him a measured glare. What scheme was this?

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Yes I own other shirts, what you think I sleep naked? Everyone has pajamas."

John just stared at him a moment longer, completely thrown. He’d come out here with a plan, hadn’t he?

“You seem troubled, is this… bothering you? Should I go put on my usual shirt?”

“No, no, I'm sorry. I'm just distractible tonight”

“You could always go back to bed. I've said many times this is not part of your position.”

“No, I couldn't sleep, it's fine. Anyway, could I ask you a question?” John said coming to the point, in his opinion very smoothly.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow and smiled, “Only if I can return the favor.”

“Alright,” John agreed easily enough, “you first.”

“Did… you leave your previous position on bad terms?” Arthur asked slowly, “Not that it will have any effect on your current position. You’ve clearly proven yourself to have this well in hand. It's just… you arrived with just the one duffle bag and you seem very quiet as to your previous family. I realized that I didn't even look at your references much less call them to check and at this point, it seems silly to ask, but I am curious.”

Were they about to finally be out with it? Arthur admitting he noticed John’s odd behavior.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “at my previous placement… Well, I was very young when I came to that household.” He said thinking back to his departure from home, trying to ground this lie in something.

“I realized I didn’t like the way the father conducted his business I expressed such and things became tense from that point.”

“Oh, I'm… very sorry” Arthur said, “may I ask what the circumstances were?”

“He was careless with people, fired a friend of mine. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve that.”

“Jesus Chris,” Arthur said, “well I'm sorry. Your turn I suppose.”

John had thought it through and he was certain that this was the way to do it, if he wanted to figure out what Arthur's game plan was in pretending to be friendly. He needed to push the limits on that friendliness. Ask for something personal enough that Arthur wouldn't be willing to share it.

“Could I hear you play something on the piano?”

“Sorry?” Arthur laughed.

“The piano. That's your instrument, right? I’d like to hear you play something. I'm curious, I've been here for some time now, and I've yet to hear your playing.”

Arthur was an artist and if John had learned anything about artists from the books he read then surely he would be uncomfortable sharing this with John and he might finally push back with something other than patience.

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense… yes, all right let's go upstairs. I'll show you something that I've been fiddling with you can tell me if you think it's ready for concert season.”

John only just strangled back a groan of exasperation. This too? Arthur would deal with this too? Surely this, at least, was personal, was private. Arthur even did it with headphones on, what could possibly be more private than this?

They made their way upstairs. Arthur still carried Faroe’s car seat and this time with one arm causing the muscles to stand out. John noticed at this new angle Arthur had a tattoo across the inside of his forearm.

“Is that sheet music?” John asked squinting at it as Arthur climbed ahead of him.

“What? Oh yes, it's- I got it in school when I was often not sleeping until terrible hours if at all. Running mostly on caffeine and determination. I got this to help me remember the notes. It saves an inordinate amount of time in my transcribing because I learned to play piano by ear rather than by music. This has helped in my day, though I rarely use it anymore.”

“I see,” John said looking at the lines and letters and music notes dashed across Arthur’s arm.

Arthur took Faroe into her bedroom and gently moved her from the car seat into her crib. She didn't stir and he shut the door quietly behind him.

He motioned John into his room. This was the only room in the house that John hadn't been in yet. He glanced around it reminded John absurdly of that scene at the end of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the 1971 version, where Charlie goes into Wonka's office and everything is halved except for the man inside.

Looking at Arthur's room it was perfectly evident that the room had been scrubbed clean of all traces of another perfect half of the space. One side of the bed lay completely undisturbed, half of the closet empty, some of the drawers standing open with Arthur’s clothes peeking out, while another set of drawers was neatly completely closed. One of the nightstands had gathered dust and nothing else, the other was strewn with multiple coffee mugs.

Arthur made his way onto the small bench in front of his keyboard and gestured John onto the bed.

“Now you'll have to forgive the lack of sound quality. I've been using this keyboard before as long as I've been a musician and I'm not keen on giving it up. Usually, if I need to practice on a full-scale piano I do so in the weeks proceeding a concert, so this will be all I have on hand for now. “

He paused hands on keys, “It's probably good that I actually play this allowed once or twice before I bring it anywhere else.”

Awkwardly, John settled himself on the edge of the bed carefully smoothing out the blankets, and looked at Arthur attentively as the man adjusted his posture. He stretched his wrists, looked down at the keyboard, and then he began to play.

The music was slow with two sets of notes, one lower and the other carrying the melody that bled into one another creating an effect that was equal parts soothing and haunting. John's eyes were focused on Arthur with an intensity that even he didn't expect as the man's hands drifted across the keys. Sometimes for a moment between notes, his fingers would hover in the air. Dancing on the ringing of the previous note as though he was using the air to count the beats and spaces between thoughts. And then, fluid as ever, his hand would fall back to the keys.

The notes didn’t end, but rather coming softer and softer until John was sure that Arthur's fingers were just brushing the keys not actually touching them at all. John could not breathe in the silence of that room for a moment, and unsteadily attempted to find his footing again, but not before Arthur turned to look at him expectantly.

“Thoughts?” Arthur asked as he turned, and then his eyes landed on John. John who realized with a start that his eyes stung, “oh I hope I wasn't that bad,” Arthur said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“My apologies,” John said refusing to give his watering eyes the acknowledgment of wiping them away.

“I suppose I haven't actually heard live music in a setting where it is intended to be the focus,” John said slowly, “music playing yes, but always in the back of a party.”

“Nothing wrong with just saying you're affected by my art,” Arthur’s grin was teasing.

“What do you want me to say, Arthur,” John ground out, not meeting Arthur’s eye, “it was affecting.”

The smug tone and smile drained away from Arthur in that moment and he smiled again but softer, “I wrote it for Faroe she was in the hospital for some days after we had her and…”

“That's the song you hum to her when she's upset,” John said realizing where he recognized the Melody from. From many nights when he had fallen asleep at his post at the kitchen table, and woken only slightly to hear Arthur humming quietly to Faroe as he paced with her back and forth, thinking John too was asleep.

Arthur flushed, “Yes it's a lullaby of sorts. I… heard you theorize to Faroe the other day that I use headphones when composing. I don’t. I have been… just holed up in this room not so much is touching a single key in some weeks.”

John found his curiosity peaked once again both by the open vulnerability Arthur was offering without John having to so much as ask and by the mystery that was Arthur Lester.

“Since Bella?” he said questioning and he saw Arthur's hands on his knees flex, gripping the fabric of his pajama pants briefly before releasing.

“Yes,” he said, “since Bella. It feels as though… I am not allowed. Or maybe it just feels as though I shouldn't be.”

He was quiet and staring down at the floor between their feet.

What was Arthur's game here? His feeling that he expressed here were clearly at least grounded in something real what purpose could he possibly have? And sharing it with John, who he so clearly distrusted. When he knew that John was not who he said he was, why would Arthur offer up any part of who he was?

And for the first time, a terrible thought occurred to John. That perhaps Arthur's aim in all this was in fact exactly what he said it was that night on the couch. Perhaps all he wanted from John was a friend. Perhaps the calculating, imposing, Arthur Lester who remained perfectly put together all these weeks that John had seen was in fact simply a pathetic lonely man. A man who wanted from the only adult in his life the one thing that John couldn't offer up in this charade. A human connection.

Sad really.

*

“I wonder what accent you’ll have,” John wondered aloud to Faroe as he burped her after a bottle.

“Your father is obviously English, and I know I took my father's accent despite having no memory of living in Canada, but you are growing up in a different environment. I never attended public school so I suppose you’ll have an accent that is affected by that.”

He paused in the thought and Faroe let out a small burp.

“I don't know how long your father has lived in America or if he ever had plans to potentially leave. Was your mother American?” John asked looking at Faroe curiously as he brought her back down into his arms properly.

She blinked at him sleepily.

“Put a pin that you can tell me later,” John told her seriously then froze.

There was no later.

Not even in joking, there was no later, not with Faroe. He wasn't- he wouldn't pretend to her.

So why did he say that? There was no later. There couldn't be a later.

“Nevermind. Besides it's not as though an accent is genetic,” John said closing the conversation between them and rushing upstairs to lay her down into her bed gently, shutting the door behind him. Hands shaking a little, he made his way downstairs.

What was he doing? It had been 2 months and he hadn't even begun to make his exit plan. He was too busy spending his nights watching television with Arthur or sitting up late into the hours of the morning drinking coffee, talking. He pulled out his wallet and counted the bills.

It was more than enough.

Alright, he silently promised himself, just one more week. Besides Faroe did have a doctor's appointment Tuesday. He winced, no, that wasn't why he was staying and he wasn't staying to finish out the movie marathon with Arthur, and he wasn't staying go visit his favorite corner of the library one more time. He was staying for 500 more dollars and then he was gone.

Notes:

John absolutely didn't get comfortable here, don't be ridiculous

Chapter 4: Arthur Lester's Big Day Out

Notes:

Alright, friends this is still a malevolent fic after all, something terrible had to happen to our little English rose

 

Content earnings for:
Offscreen car accident
Hospital scenes
Coma

Nothing graphic but important nonetheless

John zipped up the bag feeling an uneasy relief wash over him. Alright. The ticket was bought for the Greyhound out of here at one a.m. and come morning tomorrow he would have a completely different life. He'd finally be living. He let out a shaky sigh and slid the bag underneath the bed with his foot.

Smoothing out his jeans and shirt he took his phone off the charger and turned to make his way into the kitchen for the day.

“My God, is that a fully rested John Doe?” Arthur said with a gasp, “Faroe, I do think our friend John has actually slept for once. This is breaking news I must have alert the presses, I have to get the scoop, how was it to sleep?”

“Like nothing you could ever imagine,” John fired back, “coffee?”

“Well it should still be warm, made it about an hour ago.”

“Good, you want fried or scrambled today?”

“Whatever is easiest on you.”

“What would be easiest for me is for you to not frown when I guess wrong.”

“I don't do that,” Arthur said.

“You do,” John grumbled, “so tell me what we’re having today.”

“I can cook my own breakfast,” Arthur complained.

“You don't. Scrambled or fried?” John said impatiently.

Arthur glared at him a long moment, “Fried, please.”

“Right, you start the toast.”

“Wheat?” Arthur confirmed.

“No, I think I've decided that today I suddenly dislike flavor and texture.”

“You are terribly unkind to me,” Arthur said as he loaded his own white bread into the toaster alongside John’s wheat.

“Well tomorrow I'll just let you starve won't I?” John said, smiling at his own little joke.

“I suppose I'll just languish then, whatever will I do without somebody here to make sure I eat?” Arthur said with an eye roll, pulling plates from the cabinet.

Arthur let out a wide yawn as he settled the dishes delicately on the counter.

“I can keep Faroe downstairs if you need to catch some more sleep,” John told him cracking an egg into the pan.

“Oh no don't worry about it. I have errands to run. You two will be all right here without me won't you?”

“We've managed ourselves all right so far haven't we, Faroe?” John said turning toward the seat she’d been placed in. She was looking at her own hands with curiosity and wonder.

“Just double checking I'm sure you have this well in hand. Oh yeah, give me your phone.”

John slipped it out of his pocket and into Arthur's hand before stopping and gripping it tightly before Arthur could pull it away.

“Wait why?”

“Sorry, I don't have your number? I was going to enter mine into your phone in case you needed it.”

“Oh. Right… here let me unlock it,” John said. He opened his phone and quickly swiped away the tab that had his bus ticket, then, opening the contact menu, passed Arthur his phone so Arthur could enter his own information.

“Mind if I text myself from your phone?” Arthur checked, tapping away at John's screen.

“Go for it,” John waved him on, turning over the eggs in the pan with a crackling hiss of butter.

Arthur's phone on the counter made a chiming noise, the screen lit up showing a text from an unknown number and Arthur passed John's phone back to him, “There in case you should need to contact me, or I, you.”

It was a little late for all this, but John was playing his part for the rest of the day, “good, probably good I have that.”

They didn't sit long to eat. They didn't sit at all, in fact, more leaning against counters. There was something about both of them sitting down at the table for a meal that John hadn't quite mastered the art of and Arthur often followed his lead in these things.

Soon enough, Arthur's plate ended up in the sink along with his fork and he grabbed his keys off the table, “Nine thirty, I do believe you are officially on shift with Faroe so if you don't need anything else I'll be heading out. Do you need anything from the store?”

“Not that I can think of,” John said.

“Right well you two have an excellent day and call me if you need anything,” Arthur said, slipping his phone into his pocket, throwing his suit jacket around his shoulders, and walking out the front door shutting the lock with a snick.

John waited for the sound of a car pulling out and down the street and then turned to Faroe.

“Well, my young friend, seems that we have the house to ourselves for a while for our last day here.”

Faroe blinked up at him blankly and then smiled, kicking her feet.

“Don't give me that look,” John said, “this is how it has to be. It's only a matter of time until your father actually catches on. I know we’ve been fine so far but I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

She made small “wabababa” noise.

“Succinctly put,” John agreed, “and so tonight I will be sliding out the back. I do hope that you won't get your father's attention as I'm trying to leave. That would not be a good way for us to part-terms. Just… be cool.”

She waved her arm loosely and without aim as she did most movements.

“I'm glad we're in agreement,” John said and with that, the two of them fell into an easy routine of playing music, pacing the house with Faroe in his arms. Feeding her, changing her, placing her down for a nap, only for her to wake a very short time later just as soon as John was up to his elbows in dishwater.

She had a wonderful sense for these things, her timing impeccable as always.

“You might make a career as a drummer one day,” John mused, carrying her back down the stairs.

He situated her in her swing in the living room and flopped down onto the couch.

“Your father seems to have left his wallet here,” John said, noting the black square of leather sitting on the cushion next to him. The thing was thick with folded paper, the edges of which stuck out the top. Arthur was so tidy about his appearance, and yet it became abundantly clear the moment you looked in any of his belongings that he was not an organized man. John let out a small chuckle tossing the wallet off of the couch and onto the coffee table.

“Well, I suppose he'll have come back for it if he needed it.”

*

Arthur didn't come back.

Not just for the wallet but well past five that evening. At that point John was beginning to wonder what it was that possibly could have kept Arthur out for the past eight hours. He let out a sigh.

It was approaching Faroe's bedtime. The time when he and Arthur usually Switched Off but Arthur was still not here. That was strange right? After months of not leaving the house often except for brief grocery runs (upon which he always took Faroe) to suddenly take a multi-hour trip out of the house without a word about his return.

John brushed it off, obviously. He was being ridiculous the nerves about tonight were getting to him. He was honestly more pissed than anything, he was meant to be paid tonight when Arthur got back. He had better get back on time…

Then hours passed.

It was properly dark outside, had been for some time. Faroe was in bed and Arthur was not home.

John let out a growl and picked up his phone to call the only number in his contacts.

Long moments past where the ringing of John's phone and the deafening silence that fell in between were the only sounds in the house. Finally the sound of someone picking up on the other line. John felt himself sigh.

"Hello you've reached the phone of Arthur Lester. I'm afraid I wasn't able to catch your call just yet, but leave a message and I will maybe even listen to it!" and then a beep sounded.

"Jesus Fucking Christ I- Arthur, this is John where are you?" he hung up. What was he doing? This was ridiculous. Fucking hell, he had the Faroe situation well in hand but it was nine. A mere four hours out from when his bus was meant to leave. From when He was meant to leave. And he didn't even know where Arthur was. This was well past the time that Arthur would typically take Faroe off his hands.

He chewed the inside of his cheek briefly then hit call again muttering to himself, "Jesus Christ, of all nights…"

"Hello you've reached the phone of Arthur Lester I'm-"

John viciously hit the end call button, then swiping a few times to get into his text conversation with Arthur, typed furiously.

Arthur I don't know what's up but you're late. I don't tend to be particularly stringent about these things but you need to at least fucking tell me if I'm to be expected to take care Faroe overnight.

He hit send then typing again.

Is everything alright??

Both were marked as delivered. John paced for a long while.

Ten. It was ten p.m. Faroe was well and truly asleep for the few hour stint that she tended to sleep at night and John was now calling Arthur. Again and again and again, sending strings of text, feeling ridiculous.

On his final call he ground out into the voice message box, "Arthur, I understand sometimes things come up but if you have at all the capability of answering my call or even sending just a text you need to fucking say something now."

Fifteen minutes passed. Nothing, not even so much as a read receipt.

It occurred to John not for the first time over these past few hours that perhaps Arthur had gotten him before John could get Arthur.

What if Arthur had left? What if he had packed up whatever he needed into his car before John woke up that morning and had gone. If he was leaving it would fit with his general behavior, John mused. Who in this day and age even hired someone to take care of their kid when they work from home? And the way Arthur would hold himself up in his room for long hours… it could make sense. Plenty of people couldn't hack the single parenthood thing, Arthur could be one of them.

 

…But John had been there those nights when Arthur had stood in the middle of the kitchen rocking a car seat back and forth. Rocking Faroe who everyday became a little bit heavier and he would stand there looking perfectly at peace, humming to her. Happy enough to just help her sleep. Arthur Lester hadn't run away.

John grit his teeth and called the police.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"Yes, hi, my employer has not arrived home in some hours. I'm- I do childcare. He's not answering my calls I think something might have happened."

"Okay calm down sir," said the man on the other end of the line and John realized with a start that his tone might have come off as genuinely concerned, "May I ask who I'm speaking with?"

"John, John Doe," he told him.

A long silence followed, "...sir this is a emergency line. If this is some sort of prank, you are taking away valuable resources from people who are in genuine emergency situations."

"That's my name! My name is John Doe," he said.

"Right. And your employer's name?"

"Arthur Lester."

"Right like the pianist."

"Yes," John said, "the pianist. He employs me to take care of his daughter."

The line cut out and John swore openly and loudly. Only quieting himself as he realized Faroe was sleeping and that he couldn't deal with this And a screaming baby.

John paced for several more long minutes giving Arthur one more cursory phone call.

He sat down and started looking up numbers to nearby hospitals hoping his bad feeling was wrong.

*

It was the third hospital he called in which the emergency room nurse on the other end of the line recognized the description of a dark-haired man with a music tattoo on his right forearm.

 

He gathered Faroe and her things and Arthur's wallet, and called a car to give him a ride to the hospital.

Making his way through the double doors clutching Faroe's diaper bag on one shoulder and her car seat in the other hand was a little bit of a surreal experience. Everyone parted the way for him. Some people even stopping to coo or mention how cute Faroe was and telling him how sweet they thought his daughter was. John didn't have the time to correct them. Arthur was in the hospital and they were waiting for John to bring documentation to prove he knew who he was.

He brought the wallet to the nurses station showing them ID and explaining the situation. The fact that he was Faroe's caregiver and that Arthur hadn't been home for some time.

A nurse at the desk smiled with sympathy and said, "listen we're not meant to let anyone except family in, but you seem like good man and well- we're real accepting here. Why don't we get you through so you can see your man huh?"

John reared back and said, "oh no no really I just take care of- we just live together, I take care of his daughter."

"Okay," she said with a covert wink.

But she took John to Arthur. John stood by as nurses bustled around Arthur, getting his paperwork updated with his proper information and his insurance card.

"It was a car accident around ten this morning, pretty nasty business. He didn't get scraped up too bad, but he hasn't woken up. Had him down as a John Doe, but its great that someone was looking out for him."

John set Faroe on the floor next to Arthur's bed, out of the way to make sure that she was alright and then stood over Arthur's bed gripping the railing, teeth grit.

"Do you have a way to contact any family of his?" One of them asked him.

John nearly said no, when he noticed that Arthur's phone was among his belongings from when they brought him in. And it was just sitting on his bedside table.

"I… might. I'd need a few minutes to be sure."

"Of course. Take your time."

When they all cleared out John grabbed Arthur's phone, turning on the screen

Locked. Damn.

The screen turned off after a few seconds and the lights above hit the screen, revealing a smudge across the glass in what John suspected was Arthur's swipe pattern.

It took two tries but Arthur's phone unlocked revealing a home screen with Faroe's hospital photo as the background.

John saw his own calls and texts in the notification bar. Ignoring that, he navigated to Arthur's contacts which were filled with people John had never even heard Athur mention.

Eventually he found who he was looking for.

The phone rang and somehow John felt more tense this time than he had for any of the other calls tonight.

"Hello?" A voice on the other end answered.

"Hello, Daniel? My name is John Doe, I work for Arthur, I apologize for the hour but there's been an accident."

*

Quarter past midnight. If John asked the nurses to keep an eye on Faroe while he went to the bathroom he could slip away and still make it to the bus station.

Daniel was on his way. It was a hospital. She'd be fine.

Faroe's hand was holding onto his shirt as she breathed softly. Her brow furrowed as she wriggled and her eyes cracked open just a bit.

She was looking at him.

 

Morning found John Doe at Arthur's bedside with Faroe Lester in his arms.

Notes:

I'd apologize for not updating last week but honestly this was fully written and I was just real torn up about whether or not I was going to have fun with John's coma arc, as you can see I made my decision

Hope you're ready for some John and Faroe fulltime childcare coming up here soon

Chapter 5: John Repeatedly Almost Swears

Notes:

And here's Daniel! Lads I was incredibly Glad we got to properly meet him on pod before I was gonna have to write him lol

CW:
Continued mention of Arthur's car accident and coma
Hospitals

Daniel was large in a way that set John's nerves on edge.

The image of a tall man and a suit, the silhouette he cut, in the hospital doorway automatically set John's heart beating faster than it had any right to. This was admittedly the first time he had left Arthur's neighborhood since he arrived and the first figure he’d encountered being such a large man set John slightly off-kilter. As though his father would know where he was the second John stopped running for a moment. But this was Faroe’s grandfather and John needed to make nice with him for her sake no matter how his hackles raised.

That might be an easier feat if Daniel didn't seem set on being as unpleasant as possible, John thought gritting his teeth. Daniel continued a long and winding explanation on how this is precisely why Arthur and Faroe had no business being out here in Arkham. An explanation of why, in fact, they should be back in New York with him.

John wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or the proposed location but John didn’t like Daniel’s ideas of where Arthur and Faroe ought to move.

“In the middle of the night no less!” Daniel went on, “I, of course, would come out here for both their sakes, but the boy has no family! No real support system. What business has he, coming all the way out here with only some man he hired for support? You shouldn't have been put in this position,” Daniel said, trying to seemingly air on John's side of the matter.

John just bit his tongue trying not to take the moment to irrationally defend Arthur. Daniel was right, of course, John had been put out by this and this would have been much easier to manage if John had even had a system in place as to who he was meant to call. But it was too late for that now and he wasn't interested in tearing into a man who, as of this moment, wasn't even assured to wake up.

“So you've been with him how long?” Daniel said finally winding down and looking at John properly for the first time. Daniel was sat in a chair holding Faroe, feeding her, which John suspected was the only thing staving off her fussing. She didn't seem particularly pleased with Daniel’s voice.

“Just over two months.”

“Well you've done admirably given the circumstances,” Daniel said, “oh I shouldn't be surprised that such things would fall onto your shoulders, no matter how capable they may be. Arthur was always one for beginning planning after something had gone wrong.”

John just hummed in response.

“Well obviously I will stay in town for as long as I can,” Daniel said, “and in the meantime, I would like to keep employing your services. I’d like to disrupt Faroe’s routine as little as possible and quite frankly I do still have much work to be done.”

John had already made this decision.

“Of course, I signed on for a long-term position, I intend to keep my commitment,” John’s words earned him an approving nod from Daniel that he hadn’t been particularly looking for.

“Of course, if he doesn't wake up sooner rather than later I will have to be taking Faroe home with me. Arthur did have the sense to put me in his will as Faroe’s guardian in the event of his being unable, so should he not wake up, God forbid, I will take on Faroe’s care in New York.”

John's stomach twisted uncomfortably at that. Not just his own misgivings about New York, but the idea that after some arbitrary amount of time Arthur would wake to find nothing here for him. Not even his daughter. John was no friend of Arthur's but even he thought that a bit cruel.

Daniel seem to pick up on John's mood shift and softened a bit, “He's not a bad man or father. He's just young. He doesn't think about these things. If they had stayed nearby as I had suggested after the funeral up in New York, perhaps… Perhaps this wouldn't have happened. What was he even doing?”

“I don't know,” John sighed, “he mentioned having errands to run. Asked me if I needed anything from the store, but didn't say specifically where he was going. Just that he expected to be out for a little while. He made sure that I had his contact information just in case and he left just after breakfast. I started calling around hospitals in the late evening after it became clear that he wasn't going to be answering my calls.”

“I see. Well, I hope he wouldn't be terribly disturbed by the idea of my staying with you all. I believe they still have that guest bedroom, correct?”

John bit the inside of his cheek but thought about it. His things are already packed he could easily sleep on the couch for the time being.

“Yes that room is still there it's the same place I believe.”

“Right well, we ought to leave some note for him letting him know that we were here, should he wake up. Then I'll take the three of us back to their house. I assume you will be needing a ride?”

“Yes I tend to get around on foot on my own. The house is a long way off.”

“Will you gather her things? I'll go speak with the nurses once more.”

John began picking up the baby supplies that had become scattered around the room over the past twelve or so hours. The nurses had never come in to tell him to leave. They seem to still be under the impression that he and Arthur were involved and didn't have the heart to pry him away. He scooped up Faroe in her carseat and made for the door.

He paused in the doorway then turned back, “Don’t sleep too long, Arthur.”

*

Daniel was not an easy man to live with. He had many strange habits and seemed to view John's position as one of not just caregiver, but housekeeper, and butler as well.

He was, in fairness to him, doubling Arthur's rate as soon as he realized that he would be needing John to also take over night-shift with Faroe.

After Daniel's first night of an attempt John didn't really trust him to do it anyway. In fact, John hadn't really trusted him to do it after his first afternoon in Arthur's house. He had insisted when John had gone to pick up Faroe from her twenty-minute mid-afternoon nap that John to “Leave her for a while to cry it out! Self-sooth.”

John thought that sounded like bullshit.

Faroe had been through plenty, and he felt her coping skills were magnificent. He told her as much in the few quiet moments he could get where Daniel couldn't hear him.

Daniel seemed to frown upon talking to a baby as though she was a person and made that quite vocally clear to John.

In the evenings, Daniel had been asked to be told when Faroe was going to bed so he could come in and pray with her before she went to sleep. This of course always required a solid fifteen minutes of soothing from John afterward because Faroe couldn’t stand her grandfather. But for a thousand dollars a week John would be hard pressed to argue.

This wasn't to say that Daniel was a bad man. He seemed genuinely concerned with Arthur's health and would once a day take himself, John, and Faroe down to visit Arthur and he would talk to Arthur. Not quite the berating that Arthur got that first day, much more familiar updates on how things have been going around the house. Though it became rapidly clear to John that he had no idea on about how things were going at the house.

Faroe was a mess. She liked John plenty well, John was sure of that, but she missed Arthur. John tried to explain as much to Daniel when Daniel had woken up to Faroe’s cries for the fourth night in a row. He had begun talking about how it was because John and Arthur coddled her too much. Clearly the words of an old man who hadn't gotten enough sleep, but John had to bite the inside of his cheek against the string of swears that he wanted to let loose.

“She misses Arthur, Daniel. He used to take care of her at night, sing to her. She knows he's not here. She hasn't heard his voice in days, her routine has been entirely upset. If he doesn't wake up soon it's going to take time for her to readjust,” and John hated that string of words, but it had become a common phrase in the house. John didn't like the way things were panning out if Arthur didn't wake up soon

Days passed and after the first tenuous week, John felt as though he was potentially finally getting used to this, and thank God it was payday. He hadn't actually been paid for the week of work before Arthur’s accident so in the end the extra money from Daniel was only balancing things out. Not that John had many bills to pay.

When Daniel came out into the kitchen to join John and Faroe he was looking worse for wear. John suspected Daniel did not easily take to living with an infant.

“Good morning you two,” Daniel said he trudged to the coffee pot, poured himself a cup, and drank it black. John grimaced.

“Payday John, I'm sure you've been looking forward to it,” Daniel said and with a wave set the envelope on the counter.

John picked it up, “Thank you.” He slid it into his back pocket to be counted the moment Daniel was out of his sight

“And now Mr. Doe, I'm afraid we need to talk.”

He was sat at the breakfast table and gestured for John to sit. John had long since realized that Daniel didn't take well to the lean-against-the-counter-to-eat method of breakfast. John sat down across from him as Daniel folded his hands and let out a weary sigh.

“I'm afraid I can't remain in Arkham any longer my work recalls me back to New York and I am obligated to answer.”

John felt his whole body tense as his eyes flickered over to Faroe. He inhaled and said, “Mr. Saltzman-”

Daniel raised an eyebrow in clear challenge, daring John to offer protest. John didn't seem to have a good sense of when to back down these days.

“I don't think it's particularly kind to Arthur to allow him to wake up to having no one around after just a week. I understand you have responsibilities, but if there's any way to postpone you're leaving I think it would be best.”

“I didn't ask what you thought, Jonathan.”

“It's John.”

“John,” Daniel corrected, “I do appreciate your backbone. Few men would be willing to stand up for their employer thus and it shows true kindness on your part. This is what I wish to discuss with you if you are through telling me how I am unkind.”

John looked at him expectantly waiting for Daniel to continue. Daniel taking this as confirmation stood and began pacing the kitchen. John got the sense that he was expected to remain.

“I am afraid I am rather underprepared in my home to take in Faroe. I don’t have the systems in place that would be necessary to care for an infant, much less the furniture. Simply put my circumstances do not allow room for Faroe. Moreover, I am on in years and as much as it would be the greatest joy that the good Lord could offer me to be able to spend more time with my granddaughter, I am afraid I am not well equipped with the endurance that you and Arthur show in your care for her.”

John watched Daniel pace to the window and peer into the back garden.

“My proposal is this, should you feel equipped and should you agree, I would see it fit to allow Faroe to remain in your care here in Arkham for the time being under my close scrutiny while I returned to New York to get Affairs in order to better accommodate her. I do need to return on business, but it is as you say that to leave with Arthur's daughter would be too far for the time being. No matter how I may feel about the fact that he ran off with Faroe after Bella's funeral it is his right to, if possible, wake to see at least a friendly face. He has been through something terrible and I wouldn't wish harm upon him.”

John was frozen as Daniel continued to talk feeling sure that he must be misunderstanding the offer that was being made.

“No matter what I may think of you and your name, ‘Mr. Doe’,” Daniel gave him a suspicious look over at that, and John tensed, “it is as clear to me as it must have been to Arthur that you care deeply for this little girl. There is nothing that you have shown me in the time that we have spent together that would cause me to believe that you would do anything except administer the most diligent care and affection to my granddaughter."

John wanted to defend himself to tell Daniel he was wrong obviously, but the words wouldn't come.

"In the intervening weeks, I would compensate you and see that the bills can be paid for this apartment and groceries as you have stated that those are a part of your compensation. Obviously, if Faroe should need anything you need only call me. I would be calling daily on The Skype for check-ins. I would have you check through the house and I would like to see Faroe on camera. This is not an opportunity for you to play house with any girlfriend you might have, or allow things to fall into disarray in Arthur's absence. I would ask that you handle things such as bills in this circumstance with the money i send. I trust that would be within your power?”

John nodded slowly.

“And I would be calling at irregular intervals just to make sure you don't grow complacent. I hope you understand that I don’t approach you with this suspicion, without careful thought and consideration,” Daniel gave John a long even look, “I have never met a man named John Doe and you startle easily… like someone who has left something behind. Like someone who might be running.”

John was fumbling still for words and Daniel continued as though John hadn't begun.

“However, if there's anything that I believe over all else it is in a man's right to throw off the chains of who he previously had been and become a new man and prove himself to be changed. I do not know what sort of a life you may have led. Perhaps my suspicions are entirely unfounded and your family name was indeed Doe and your parents merely had a strange sense of humor. But if there is something in your past that you find you no longer wish to be, I can't begrudge a man for finding honest work in caring for others. So will you take the position, or shall I sort out circumstances with Faroe in New York on my own?”

“I'll do it,” John said, still feeling the fear of the past few minutes of having his past laid as bear as Daniel had the ability to do, “I'll do it, of course.” Because John didn't know much about Arthur Lester, but he knew that Arthur didn't deserve to wake up in the hospital without his daughter nearby and he knew that Faroe didn't deserve to be even in the same goddamn city as John's father.

“Good man.”

*

John and Faroe’s days became incredibly simple. John would sleep when she slept, awake when she woke up, clean when he couldn't sleep and occasionally when they had both risen they would find things to do with themselves, music, dancing. John would often read aloud to her simply to have something to talk about with her later. But more than that, they made their daily visits. It was the one part of the routine that didn't get run over slipshod by their strange sleep schedules. Every day at 2:00 in the afternoon John's alarm would go off and he would go get Faroe, put her into her car seat, gather her things, and make his way to Arthur's car. Arthur's car which had been delivered back to them by the city during Daniel's stay, and which was now in John's possession for the time being in order to get himself and Faroe where they needed to be. The thing was admittedly heavily dented but it seemed that much like Arthur it had only had a few things knocked out of place and Daniel had already paid for it to be properly repaired.

“I won't have you running around with my granddaughter and strangers' cars,” he had said when John mentioned that they would function plenty fine using Rideshare apps.

John would drive the familiar pathways to the hospital where he and Faroe would remain by Arthur’s beside for an hour or two. And then they would leave. If John had any necessary errands to run after, getting groceries or new books from the library they would do that. Then the two of them would return home.

It was a strange feeling. Having a place to return to that didn't feel like he was constantly putting on some sort of act in a play… John didn't know the word for it. He wasn’t a poet.

Faroe seemed to settle somewhat as John gave himself over to the nighttime rocking routine that Arthur had once taken part in. Slowly stepping her down from being constantly swayed for a matter of hours and being sung to, to merely being placed in her car seat and gently rocked back and forth on the floor to allow John the potential ability to doze off against the kitchen table as he used to when Arthur was here.

That was the other strange sensation of it. John through no intent of his own, had left these spaces in their lives where Arthur would have slotted back in. Arthur's side of the couch, his coffee mug, the arrangement of his things on the bathroom counter all remained untouched.

John felt as though it was a small respect he could offer someone who by circumstance or by intent had given him this small reprieve. Perhaps the first John had ever known. So the house had hollow spots where Arthur would sit and John let them be.

John didn’t really know what to do with that.

Notes:

John: ugh arthur
Daniel: ugh arthur
John: >:////

Chapter 6: A Wake Up Call

Notes:

Oh hey, so heres the thing I got carpal tunnel and then started school again so I wasnt able to type and then I wasnt able to write lol
I like this chapter though, its good

Warnings:
Child abuse (past, offscreen)
Dissociation

"I've been digging through your desk drawers,” John told him as he gently rocked Faroe on the ground between them.

“Daniel asked me to handle bills, and I've been trying to find everything that you pay month to month. Would it kill you to budget on paper? And while you're at it, I would have appreciated it if you had made your accounts slightly harder to hack. I had to figure out when your birthday was, which meant I had to dig through an old box of birthday cards to see if somebody wrote the date. It wasn't too hard after that to figure out your password. Really, Arthur, you should probably make your accounts a lot more secure.”

Faroe's pacifier almost fell out of her mouth so John readjusted it for her.

“You have a whole box of birthday cards and Christmas cards and pictures of you and other people. You kept it tucked under your bed like it was something you were ashamed of. I haven't seen any of those people. I know you don't talk on the phone that much. You certainly don't go out that much.”

“Are you ashamed of having let your friendships slip away or something? It happens to a lot of parents, happens to a lot of young married couples. Bella wasn't in any of the photos just the one from your wedding that's on the shelf. The one that looks like it hasn't been touched in months,” John told him as though he didnt know, then quickly explained, “I've been dusting I'm not just analyzing your picture choices.”

Arthur was quiet he often was.

“It's just that there isn't much that I can do with Faroe. She's young and there's not many places to go and it's not as though I have a job to keep me occupied otherwise, so I've been just trying to keep the house clean. I spent a lot of time dusting. It's been getting warmer out though and I'm wondering if there's maybe some yard work I'm going to need to be doing sometime soon. Raking or something. I know you have a lawn you probably have a lawn mower out in that shed in the back. Unless thats where you secretly keep all the hearts of your many victims. If that's who's in the photos then we've got a much bigger problem on our hands, Arthur.”

Arthur was quiet and the machines beeped.

*

The shed was Troublesome to get into. Arthur left many padlock keys scattered around the house. One seem to be to a bike lock for which John could find no bike, one seemed to be for the lock box that contained Arthur's important documents, one seemed to be for a filing cabinet which based on the labels had much of Arthur’s music filed in it. Finally he found the one that went to the shed and then only upon going to the lock and attempting to unlock it did he realize it had just been hanging open. He swore quietly so Faroe wouldn't hear him from her chair in the grass a couple feet away.

Two days he has been looking for this key. Two days and it had been unlocked the whole goddamn time. Well at least this gave it a slightly less unnerving air to it. There was nothing worse than a single man having a shed that he kept locked in his backyard. It would have been his right but never something you want to see done.

John was surprised to find that the shed was full. There were pots and bags of soil, there were seed packets laying on the shelf, disorganized and some half spilling out. There was a rake, a shovel, some hand tools. There were even 2x4s and plywood leaned up against the wall. On the floor of the shed there was a leaf blower, a ladder, a step ladder, and a lawn mower. They all looked fairly new except for the thin coating of mud or dirt that remained over the top of them. No signs of rust as of yet, as though they had only been bought last season.

“Ah Faroe it seems that one of your parents had a hobby. This is good news. I would hate to have the homeowners association getting after us for our weeds going over the property line because I couldn't afford a lawnmower.”

It was a bright March day and as they headed into the afternoon the air around them warmed to a decent temperature for what felt like the first time in months, though of course it had been a steady climb to this point already.

Faroe was kicking her legs in her seat such that the seat wobbled back and forth a bit.

“Ghhhhhhh,” she put in.

“You don’t say?”

There was a toolbox in the shed as well. A battered thing, large and red and metal, the paint chipping off of it in places revealing the silver beneath. On top of it was a clean piece of paper taped along the edges that said “Projects:” and placed underneath was a list of several tasks, “fix the chipping paint, finish the raised beds, repaint the siding, install the curtain rods”

And a dozen other projects listed down in what John was able to recognize as Arthur's handwriting from his many hours of pouring over Arthur's notebooks looking for the slightest hint of what his passwords might be.

“Faroe, my friend, I think you and I have a hobby now as well.”

*

“You even bought the exact shade of paint. Why did you never finish?” John complained, “you bought the shade of paint, you bought the brushes and the rollers and you never bothered to fix the chips in the wall where your furniture slammed into it when you were moving in. I've been wondering what the scrapes were from on the staircase and I realized that the same streaks of white were across the base of your bed and Faroe's crib. Next time hire movers or at least actually fix the paint marks that you buy the paint for! It would have taken you thirty minutes did you never have thirty fucking minutes Jesus Christ Arthur.”

John addressed his words to the photo of Arthur that hung on the wall of the stairwell above his head as he crouched on the stairs painfully painstakingly repairing the scrapes along the wall with spackle and paint. The photo was of Arthur and Faroe seemingly taken as a selfie. Faroe was still wrapped in a hospital blanket and Arthur was beaming like a madman. John couldn't help but chuckle whenever he saw it. Arthur had been so unable to wait for somebody else to take a photo that he simply had to take a selfie with his little girl. It seemed very him.

Faroe, sitting at the bottom of the steps in her swing which had been moved to be in view of the staircase, was napping away to the sound of Fur Elise being played through the tinny plastic speakers of her baby swing.

“I mean the least you could have done is bring it into the house as though you intended to ever use it. You didn't even have paint can openers. I had to use a screwdriver. I don't even know if that's what you're meant to do,” John huffed.

John put down the paintbrush into the disposable pie tin that he was keeping the paint in. He stretched his hands working out the cramp that had developed in them from the small meticulous movements as he slowly went down the stairs painting along the line that had been scraped up. He was unaccustomed to this sort of movement. It was different than writing, there was a wrist movement and a flexing of the thumb that sent an ache through his hand if he didn't take breaks.

He looked at his hands. There was scrapes on them, dirt under his fingernails, a burn that sat high on his wrist from where he knocked it against the inside of the oven when he was trying to pull out a lasagna. It was going to scar and there was a satisfaction to that. He hadn't exactly had perfectly manicured nails when he had lived with his father, not with his nail biting, but he also hadn't had a reason to do manual labor. He was developing calluses from his recent work.

Frequently Faroe would sleep a solid few hours at night now and the moment he got her down for the night John would fall into bed feeling a satisfying ache through most of the muscles in his body from the constant movement that he'd been up to during the day. He was becoming fond of the soreness.

 

Arthur still should have painted the wall before he got here though.

*

John had brought Arthur's laptop to the hospital for their time there today. He was still sorting through Arthur's things, trying to make sure that the necessary money was still in his account to make up for the automatically payments that pulled directly from his bank.

“I have found six streaming services so far Arthur. I looked one of them up. It's exclusively horror movies and documentaries about horror movies. I have not seen you watch a single horror movie since I lived with you. This is a ridiculous use of your money,” John kept scrolling, “really Arthur Spotify? You never listen to anything that isn't on CD and you're paying for Spotify every month?? Christ you're still on a Duo plan with- oh…. Sorry, that's fair it's not been long.”

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur, is that Disney Plus?”

*

John was late getting to his visit with Arthur that day. Faroe had spit up on the clean onesie that he had just gotten her into and then as he attempted to change her she managed to also wriggle around such that her hair ended up directly on the dirty onsie. John had to give her a quick bath in the sink after that.

So as he approached Arthur's room it was an entirely different shift of nurses than he was used to greeting on his way in.

But someone still knew his name.

“Mr King?” a voice breathed, a familiar voice. Soft, kind even, one clearly shaking with fear. John's head snapped upward no longer looking at the sign in sheet.

And there stood Lily behind the desk her hair was tied up in its usual bun and she was wearing purple scrubs that made her brown eyes seem warmer somehow.

She was looking right at him shock written all over her drawn expression.

“Sorry what you say?” John tried, thinking that perhaps he could still wriggle his way out of this one. He could pretend he didn't know who she was talking about. Pretend it was a coincidence how exactly similar he looked to himself, to his father. He kicked himself thinking about the unused box of hair dye that was sitting on the counter at home that he should have used to disguise the blonde that was beginning to peek out at his roots.

“John King,” she repeated now surprise subsiding into a pleased smile.

“I don't know who that is,” John told her, “my name is John Doe,” he admitted realizing with a wince that he absolutely should have chosen a different name to go by at least in this hospital even if he had already fucked up with Arthur.

“John,” she repeated firmly, stepping closer to the counter, “you got out didn't you?”

He crumbled at that

She remembered him, and not with fear, or anger as to how they parted ways, but she just looked at him with an obvious and beaming Pride at his having done the most basic of actions, at his having simply left his father's house

“I-” he began, hoarsely, “yes.”

“And this little one, she's yours?” she said sounding pleased, as she reached out a hand to tickle Faroe in the side causing Faroe to do one of her preferred flailing motions and let out a loud excited cry. Rare for Faroe to like a stranger. John considered it a mark in Lily's favor.

“She's gorgeous! Her eyebrows are a lot like yours,” She told John.

John frowned and then glanced down at Faroe who was contorting her face into one of the many delightful new Expressions that she had recently become capable of. This one being the cooly arched eyebrow that she frequently sported even when the situation did not call for it. John had tried to warn her against making such Expressions when the moment wasn't right. He explained that these things were meant to be a powerful sway against those that you were trying to deride. Faroe didn't take his advice on this point.

“Oh no she's not she's not mine we're here to visit her father, Arthur,” John said clarifying as though Lily had absolutely any reason to need to know Arthur's name.

Lily beamed again, “Arthur sounds like a lucky guy how long ago did you two meet?”

“Three months ago.”

She looked surprised, “And you're keeping an eye on his little one while he's in the hospital?”

“Yes I'm his nanny. Well I'm Faroe's nanny he hired me to be her- I'm not his anything and it's not like that- I didn't choose to watch her. He's in a coma. He's not lucky.”

Lily blinked at him, eyes wide, “oh… my. Well my apologies I guess. I totally misunderstood the situation. I suppose I was just hoping that somehow you would've settled into something nice, domestic.”

“It's nice,” John said defensively, “I'm… well.”

Her smile returned, “I'm glad.”

“I go by Doe now, not King,” he said feeling suddenly incredibly vulnerable. Every bone in his body wanted to lash out at the person who had the most power right now. If she chose, she could drag his entire life back to everything it had been before. With a word she could tear him away from the simple comforts of the garden and his routine and Faroe. He wanted to threaten, to make her back down. Make her swear on penalty of some great harm that she wouldn't tell a soul.

But this was Lily and he owed her at least the decency that she showed him, and that's all it was, decency, John reminded himself. This was no great friendship that had been lost it was the one person who had shown John real measurable kindness during the worst time in his life. And she had her life destroyed for it and she had every right to hate John for his hand in that. So John squared his shoulders and resolved to not lash out nor give this woman any reason to lash out.

“I'm so sorry that he was so hard on you when you clearly were in need of help,” she said Softly, “it's weighed on me sometimes in the past couple years. You were such a kind young man for somebody going through something so hard. I want you to know that I absolutely do not blame you for what your father did to me, and if the choice was offered to me again, I would do it again. So if you need any help you can come to me. I’ve had a hard time living with the guilt of not knowing how I could have helped you more. Having to abandon you to all that… I had hopes when the news got out in all the tabloids about the fact that Mr King's son had disappeared. They’re claiming that you're ill but even when you were ill they weren't admitting it publicly. I knew something had happened. I had hoped that that meant that you weren't around to makes news appearances anymore.”

She was so unerringly kind and John wished he had it in him to thank her for it.

“Why do you care?” he said unable to hold back the bite to his words, “why would you have ever thought of me much less thought of me kindly after everything that happened?”

Was she here for his father? John began to wonder. Did he know where John was? Why hadn't he sent someone to come get him if he knew where John was? Perhaps she would immediately feed the information back to his father even without being asked if only to get some sort of reward. From a man that powerful a reward could be quite a weighty thing.

“You were just a kid John, a kid who wanted to help people and when that was taken from you-” she paused, “most people who haven't been through hell don't have the immediate response to shut down when in crisis. Most people don't nearly starve to death because they're so locked inside their own head. I was a nurse in a mental health ward, I see people at their worst and your worst was pretty bad. I don't know what your life was like and I'm not sure that there was much I could have done for you even if I did. What I do know is that the young man I met as you started coming back to yourself was deserving of a whole lot better than being pushed back into a box that he didn't fit in. You deserve a lot better than being treated like an extension of your father John and I hope you've realized that.”

John looked at her for a long painful moment.

“I- I have to go visit Arthur. It's part of Faroe's routine. I have to go.” And with that he left the desk, feeling Panic seize in his chest. He hadn't intended to be forced to relive today the specifics of his time in the hospital today. He wasn't even sure if he had finished writing his name or the date on the sign-in sheet but he didn't care. He picked up Faroe, shouldered her bag properly, and marched away feeling a little mechanical about it all, as though he was just moving a body that wasn't his. He could feel it but he was sort of small inside the back of his own head.

He wasn't sure how long he sat silently by Arthur's bedside. Usually he talked to the man. Even Faroe seemed to find his silence unnerving. She began babbling and fussing to fill the silence around them. Eventually the sharp jingle of a bell from her kicking the toy that hung from the handle of her car seat brought John somewhat back to himself. He wasn't here exactly but he was no longer nowhere.

He cleared his throat, “Fuck, sorry, I think I'm poor company.”

Then the bedding shifted and John jerked his head upward because Arthur's hand was moving and then so was the rest of him

Caught in a moment of utter panic hardly able to breathe John watched as Arthur's eyes opened.

*

The books and films don't really prepare you. Some odd part of Arthur's brain had been convinced without ever really thinking about it that he would know what to do when he woke up in the hospital with no memory of how he got there. He found himself just pleased for a moment that he remembered everything else up to that point.

Then he paused. He supposed he wasn't necessarily the best judge of whether he remembered everything he should or not.

Arthur was sure he was in a hospital room because he heard the beeping of machines. That he remembered from being posted up at Faroe's bedside, but he had never been in a hospital room this dark. There was noise from next to his bed. A man speaking, the jingle of a bell ringing irregularly.

He tried to speak but found himself hoarse. It came out as little more than a whisper. Not the best sign.

“Oh my God, Arthur. He's moving, Arthur, I- Nurse! We need a nurse in here! Lily!”

John. That was John's voice.

Soon enough there was a bustle of motion around him as he attempted another, “what happened?” This time it came out at least semi-audible. His throat felt terrible his mouth tasted worse like stale coffee and ash and ass which served him right for having a smoke right before whatever happened to him.

And oh, that's right. He had been smoking. He had gone out, realized he didn't have his wallet, but he did have a few dollars on him, he bought a pack of cigarettes, turned to head home…..

It got rather fuzzy after that but he could guess at what it happened.

“You were in an accident,” John said, “it's alright. Don't try to sit up.”

“Hello, sir, do you remember anything about well what's happened to you?” A woman’s voice said from above him.

“I think I have it square, yes. I'm Arthur Lester. I got into a car accident. I am currently in the hospital being tended to by my child's caregiver it seems. Why is it so dark?”

“What?” John said.

“Why is it so dark?” Arthur repeated

“Oh gosh,” the woman's voice said, “I- alright, you hang tight for me Mr. Lester. We're going to get you squared away, right as rain, you just hold on alright. I'm going to go get a doctor. Hes heading home but I'm going to run out and make sure we catch him before he hits the door. You just stay here. John will take good care of you.”

The room was quiet other than the jingling of a bell and the Babbling of a voice that he recognized as Faroe. Faroe hated the dark.

“It's not dark is it John?”

“No,” He said, “it's not.”

Notes:

There we go, he's back ladies, gents, and esteemed faculty.

Chapter 7: The I'm Not Traumatized Dance

Summary:

In which our dear friend Artie assures all involved he is totally fine and definitely isn't desperate for any comfort

Trauma, the hospital psychologist told him, could take many forms. Just because he wasn't feeling it now didn't mean he wouldn't come round to feel it eventually. He really should set up an appointment with a therapist, work through these things, and Arthur did his best to nod solemnly to not laugh. Losing his vision was a drop in his bucket. The only real concern was Faroe as far as he considered.

She was the one who had been fatherless for a full month. That was the only thing he had trouble reckoning with, the fact that she had undergone a loss already. He hoped to God that him coming back fixed it. He hoped that it didn't stick. She was 4 months old, it wouldn't stick right? She had someone here, it wouldn't, it couldn't. He really needed her to forget this. Arthur intended to get his little girl into Elementary School before she could point to her first trauma.

With all of that who gave a fuck that he couldn't see? He'd figure it out. Plenty of people live perfectly fulfilled lives like this, he was sure. It changed things, doubtless, but that wasn't the point and it wasn't what he could focus on. This was about Faroe and everything that she had had taken from her in the past month, everything that he had to make sure to give back tenfold. He hadn't been there for a quarter of her life. And from the giggles that she would give when John tickled her, Arthur already knew that he had missed too much.

So he sent into motion a plan that borrowed steps from the old familiar dance of convincing people you weren't traumatized.

The first move was bursting into tears.

He sobbed hysterically all over a nurse the moment John left. He didn't want John to see him like that, there was a certain amount of dignity he'd like to retain. He made it clear that he was really feeling the loss now and that he was not in shock anymore that he could be trusted to leave because he understood the weight of what had happened.

The act came easily. It wasn't as though he didn't have anything to cry about, it just wasn't this.

That done, and Trust in his psyche restored, the following week contained learning to walk again, much less to walk with a cane. His muscles had atrophied in his absence so it was slow going, but some days later he was heading home with promises that he would return for more physical therapy in the coming days.

John drove his car and it smelled different, clean, less like stale french fries and old smoke than when Arthur had ever had it. Arthur almost missed it.

Arthur slung Faroe's diaper bag over his shoulder as John pulled her from the car, and the two of them made their way up the steps. Arthur tentatively prodded at the three steps in front of his door that he knew to be there with his new white cane.

The sound of the door unlocking was familiar in the way that only the acoustics of your own front door are. That subtle conditioning that told you you were coming home, that you could breathe now because it was all right.

“I'm just going to put Faroe to bed,” John said, “she's been up past her usual time for a nap and she sleeps better when she's not in the car seat.”

“She does?” Arthur asked.

John hesitated then replied, “Yes she’s been sleeping through more of the night recently so there's been less kitchen time. And she's gotten bigger so I suppose it's just not quite as comfortable as it used to be.”

“I see. Well she's growing up.”

“She is indeed.”

“Well please don't let me keep you. Take her upstairs. I'll see if I can navigate getting some coffee running for us if you like?”

“God yeah that hospital has the worst coffee.”

“On the contrary,” Arthur said with a laugh heading into the kitchen calling up the stairs as John began climbing, “I believe it's just the ward that we were in. I'm afraid that they don't keep the good stuff on hand for coma patients. If you go out to the NICU, however, they know that parents in that state need a good solid dose of caffeine that doesn't make you want to gag.”

There was a laugh and it was quiet for a few moments as John's footsteps sounded from upstairs. Arthur made his way into the kitchen and began touching things trying to remember their positions.

Footsteps coming back down came with John's voice, “Yes I suppose that makes sense. Faroe was in the neonatal ICU wasn't she? I never asked, what was wrong?”

“It was a lung issue. She was born with one collapsed. It was actually quite dire as far as things go,” Arthur paused for a moment remembering the horribly days of touch and go vitals from her monitors, he shook it off, “but she's the toughest little girl I know.’

John laughed with an air of obvious affection in his tone, “She really is.”

Arthur sighed, “Yes I suppose, so if she's still doing so well after my absence. I hear that such things can be somewhat troubling for a child. It seems she ran with it rather well though.”

John snorted, “Right, of course, ran with it well. Is that what we call it when a child doesn't sleep at night for three weeks?”

“What?” Arthur said with genuine surprise, “but you had said that she had been fine when I was in the hospital. You told me she had been fine.”

“She was fine, Arthur, but fine doesn't mean unaffected. Fine doesn't mean she wasn't worse off and she was worse off without you. She eventually readjusted but it took time. I just- You were still recovering and I didn't want you to worry until you were home again. She missed you Arthur. I hope you don't think she didn't. She's a baby but she's… very sweet and she remembers when her dad is missing.”

“I see,” Arthur's eyes stung a bit, he cleared his throat, “well thank you for saying so John.”

“Of course.”

“This, of course, makes me feel rather poorly about the conversation we're going to have to have now.”

“Oh?” John arched his eyebrow. Arthur could practically hear John arching his eyebrow and felt a bit of comfort at still knowing at least what someone's face was doing.

“Yes, I'm afraid that we are going to have to discuss the terms of your employment.”

“What do you mean?” John's tone was now guarded.

“I mean, John, that I'm going to need more help now. More than you agreed to. I brought you on as Faroe's nanny, but you've already taken on far more than your duty of care would demand. And, as grateful as I am, I cannot continue to ask for that as my needs expand to also include somebody who can help me around the house with my new condition. I need to take into account Faroe's well-being first and as much as a guide dog and a cane will get me some places, I need somebody who can be my eyes as it were around here. Somebody who can drive me and Faroe where we need to go, and guide me so I can still take her to the park as she gets older and other such things. I can't ask that of you. That’s far from what you signed on for.”

“You're firing me? But I've-” John cut himself off, “Mr Lester you're firing me because I did too much for you.”

“Not at all. I really do appreciate your help. In fact, as I let you go I will give you a bonus to ease you on your path to the next family that I'm sure will be incredibly lucky to have you. And I would be damned if you didn't have the most shining reference from me. You've been absolutely golden. I just cannot ask more of you than you've already given so freely. I need somebody to guide me, to tell me what I see when I can't see it, so I will be looking into another caregiver for both Faroe and myself. You'll have time. I'll keep you on for at least the next month. If I don't have somebody lined up by mid-month I’d ask if we could renegotiate, but if not I will manage. I would not keep you from any further opportunities by any means.”

This was painful. Arthur and John had come to a comfortable routine. Perhaps even the beginning of a friendship. Lord knew he wasn't likely to find someone who just fit so neatly into their lives without an uncomfortable adjustment period. Faroe would likely be affected most of all. But Arthur could feel the exhaustion of trying to maintain his old life just thinking about it. He needed to be the best father he could be for Faroe and that meant recognizing when he wasn't good enough for her.

So he needed someone willing to make up for what he couldn't manage.

“You just need somebody to tell you what's around you? Who are you going to turn to other than me?”

Arthur scoffed through the stab of offense at John's comment, “Oh come now John who are you?”

Arthur couldn't address John's question directly because he was right. Arthur had no one but himself. Early phone calls with Daniel yielded the same scolding and chill between them as ever. He was utterly alone.

So perhaps he was rude. John, after all, had certainly earned some due respect and here was Arthur acting as though John was nothing. Arthur was frightened. He could recognize that even after the words left his mouth. He was about to apologize, explain himself, when John cut through his thoughts.

“I'm your friend,” John said, taking on a low tone, serious and soothing, “The only friend you have right now, and quite frankly Arthur I'm not ready to leave. If you're firing me, I can't stop you but it's not as though I don't have two perfectly functioning eyes. I can drive fine. I know Faroe's schedule. I know your house inside and out. I even made repairs while you were gone!”

“What?” Arthur said.

“Not the point, if you need a guide, allow me to guide you. I've had your back all this time Arthur, now I'll have your eyes.”

“That is a deeply unsettling way to put that John and… well are you even qualified? I can't just choose someone based on… who my friends are,” because they Were friends Arthur noted. They had been friends and John had been more than dependable while Arthur had been out of commission. They were friends. What did that even mean?

“Well if you're looking for qualifications I can't say I have any but I've proven myself haven't I? Trust me.”

A chill traveled through Arthur at the way John poured out those words, “I- well I would have to compensate you more for the increased workload at least…”

“That we can talk about, but for now let's just let you get settled in. Calm down. Why don't you go play your piano? It's been some time hasn't it?”

It was nice, if only for a moment to be guided, cared for… Arthur was truly exhausted.

“Yes I suppose…thank you, John.”

“Of course Arthur, you go relax, I've already called for a pizza.”

“What? When?”

“On my phone, as we were speaking, sorry I guess you couldn't see that. You still have the same order don't you?”

“Oh right, yes. Actually no, do you mind adding some banana peppers to that?”

“Of course, go rest. I'll bring you up the coffee when it's done.”

“Thank you John, really, I mean it.

“Don't worry about it. Do you need help getting upstairs?”

“No, I- I think I ought to learn to navigate these on my own. Thank you though.”

“It's what I'm here for.”

*

Christ that had been close.

John had almost found himself fired and then what would he have done? He only stopped to hesitate halfway through pouring Arthur's cup of coffee to realize that, in fact, he would have done precisely what he had planned to do right before Arthur's coma. He would have left, this time on good terms, so perhaps he could call or even visit one day, remain friendly. That's ridiculous, of course, he couldn't visit. Faroe wasn't even going to remember him. He should have moved on but… Well it never hurt to have a little bit more of a savings. Besides things were still staying low profile for the time being. And he had coffee plans with Lily a week from now.

This was just for the time being and then he would even help Arthur find someone else as a repayment for giving him a place to stay. Fool that he was, Arthur had still done a good thing for John. John could keep up this act for a time longer. After all, Arthur felt they were friends, and John didn't particularly want to upset that.

Notes:

Good news I've got a couple chapters written that just need to be edited so yay!

Chapter 8: Learning Curve

Summary:

Arthur and john find a rhythm

Notes:

CW: alcoholism

“This aisle contains boxes of cereal on the left side. The end nearer to us has the more generic bagged type and the further end has oatmeal. In the middle is the name brands. On the right side are the canned goods. Mostly vegetables but towards the end it looks like there might be chile and tomatoes and things.”

“Right cereal, let's see,” Arthur's hands reached out toward the canned goods.

“Your other left.”

“Fine, yes I know. I've got it.”

“I know but you asked me to describe the store to you and-”

“No no you're right I'm sorry.”

“Okay what kind of cereal would you like this time?”

“Well how about those generic Fruity Pebbles?”

“Fruity- you're an adult.”

“I gave my answer, John. Just guide me to the cereal God damn it.”

“Alright, fine, it's the bottom shelf right in front of you. Yeah, just there, good job.”

 

This was week three. They had started in the house, trying to work through as many rooms as they possibly could to help Arthur get a clear map and practice their new dynamic. John guiding, Arthur following. Arthur picked it up well even though he couldn't tell his left from his right. They were also both acclimating to listening to movies with video descriptions on. John honestly didn't mind it so much. It gave context to certain visuals on documentaries that he didn't otherwise have and Arthur was…

Well he was probably adjusting. He didn't seem to like just listening to them, which was fair. Arthur seemed to have very aesthetic-based tastes in movies.

“It's not ‘aesthetic’ taste in movies, John! I just prefer to see what's happening.”

“Right, of course, sorry, I meant aesthetic tastes in actors.”

“Okay, that is an un-based accusation.”

“So Robert Pattinson, that's totally artistic admiration.”

“It is thank you,” then Arthur paused, “you're very rude now.”

“Am I?”

“You are. I'm glad you've become comfortable.”

John was struck quiet for a moment then he scoffed, “yes well it seems I'm here for a while longer so just have to make sure you're certain that you don't want to fire me.”

“I tried. You wouldn't let me,” Arthur complained.

“You didn't try hard enough, try harder next time and maybe I'll let you.”

“Right.”

 

Arthur also picked back up his music without issue.

“I might actually prefer it this way, is that odd to say?” Arthur had explained over dinner, “it's nice and I won’t be expected to write sheet music.”

“You could have just not written sheet music before.”

“Yes, but then I would have been considered lazy. Now if somebody complains they’re a bad person.”

“I feel like you might be misusing this power.”

“Power is it?”

“It is when you're using it like this.”

 

Things were good. Better than they had any right to be. If John was really honest, he thought that adding Arthur back into his Dynamic was going to be uncomfortable. It should have been uncomfortable by rights, but all it led to was more shared time with Arthur.

The lines of when he was on shift and off shift were incredibly indistinct. Quite honestly Arthur had a hard time navigating things like changing Faroe's diaper on his own which was understandable on account of- well you know. But they spent a lot of time together.

When Arthur wasn't busy in his room composing as though he had never left, he was sitting or holding Faroe, and the three of them would chat. Arthur began including Faroe in the discussion as well, asking her questions like what she thought of the impressionist movement and whether she thought modernism was truly a good name for an art movement at all. Of course every time Faroe would coo or babble Arthur would take it as complete agreement with his point rather than John's. John knew better of course, Faroe had good taste in such matters and wouldn't go agreeing with her father mindlessly, but there was no convincing the man.

However they did run into problems such as here at the grocery store. Arthur was fussy about the specific things that he bought, not that he needed the fanciest of Any Given product (he was honestly far more comfortable with generic brands than John still was but John wasn't really in a position to argue being that Arthur paid for the groceries). No matter his tastes however, Arthur did have a favorite of things that John, despite his attempts, couldn't seem to get right on his own.

So they were here at the grocery store shopping together, Faroe sleeping soundly as he and Arthur argued over whether they needed sliced potatoes or diced potatoes and whether it really mattered.

Arthur insisted that he wanted green olives with a red label, but he didn't remember which red label.

There were multiple jars of green olives with red labels, John had tried to explain, “Can we get both and you can try both?”

“Don't be ridiculous John, that would be far too many green olives. Do you eat green olives?” Arthur snapped, the store wearing on his thin patience.

“You know I don't.”

“Exactly. Okay, now, I know the brand also has a different kind where they're stuffed with garlic. We're looking for whichever brand has a different kind that's stuffed with garlic.”

“They both have a kind that's stuffed with garlic, Arthur! Please can we just get both and you can try them? You'll eat them both eventually.”

“What if I don't like the other kind?” Arthur shot back impatiently.

“Then you can throw it away!”

“That would be a waste John please!”

John growled in frustration, “Okay okay do you remember anything else about the bottle?”

“I think it started with the letter A?”

“Arthur neither of these start with the letter A.”

Arthur gripped the cart with a frustrated grunt.

 

There were moments like these when it wasn't smooth sailing entirely.

There was Arthur's Furious determination which led him to attempt tasks without yet relearning to do them. Which honestly set John's nerves on end. John understood wanting to shave for himself but was it really necessary to try to slice his own cheese with a mandolin? John really wouldn't complain if Arthur's hand hadn't slipped, cutting his pinky finger so badly that they had to go to the ER.

“Oh wow you really got yourself here didn't you,” The doctor said, “how'd this happen?”

“He insisted upon using a tool that isn't meant to cut cheese on cheese and then he cut his finger open!”

It had been an argument the whole way to convince Arthur this was hospital worthy.

“Firstly cheese is fine to do on a mandolin. Secondly you're leaving out the part where I'm blind so honestly your judgment is not appreciated,” Arthur frowned.

“Oh don't act like that. She's going to think I'm being an asshole to you because you're blind. I'm being an asshole to you because you're an asshole,” John shot back and the doctor held back a laugh.

Arthur gasped, “Honestly, to think I pay you to sit here in my hour of need and call me these horrible names!”

“Just be more careful next time. Call me if your hands get shaky,” John muttered.

Arthur rolled his eyes hard but held up his hands in surrender, “I will, I'm sorry.”

“Well I'm afraid this is a rather bad cut,” the doctor cut in, “it's going to need stitches certainly but just taking an early look at it, it looks pretty deep. You might have caught a nerve.”

“Oh…” Arthur said, “oh I didn't realize. I mean obviously it hurts like nothing else but-”

“It does?” The doctor said.

“Oh yes of course,” Arthur replied.

“On a scale of 1 to 10 how are you feeling? I don't think the nurse told me this part.”

“Oh probably a solid eight and a half,” Arthur frowned as though thinking

“Okay… you're acting remarkably calm, Mr. Lester.”

“I've been through worse,” Arthur told her, “and admittedly I am not entirely sober at the moment.”

The doctor had a tight concerned smile, “Alright, well, let's get you seen to and we’ll see if we can get the three of you home sooner rather than later.”

“Thank you very much Doctor,” Arthur had smiled.

 

It was going well. Yes Arthur did end up with nerve damage in his finger so he couldn't feel the end of that pinky now but he was already adapting well. Though he had been told to lay off the piano, he most certainly had not done so.

Really it was the little things that got to Arthur, John had noticed. The little things that Arthur couldn't do that he felt he really ought to be able to. Arthur wanted to choose his own olives. It wasn't often that Arthur showed any hint at what he was really dealing with in regards to all this. He kept it light, but John could tell there was something happening beneath that. Something that he didn't care to inquire into. They weren't really friends after all.

*

“Small step here.”

Arthur took a step that was too small as he stepped up onto the curb and nearly ate shit. Would have, if it weren't for John catching him.

“John I swear to God if you don't get better at identifying the height of steps I will simply learn echolocation.”

“Or you could learn to use the stick you're holding. It's got a point you know it's not just an armband,” John noted then after a long moment he said with a dry tone, “you should do better.”

Arthur shot him a glare that was clearly fighting back laughter, “You should do better.”

“How on Earth did you think I meant a small step as in two inches off the ground.”

“Well what is a small step to you?”

“Four to six inches, a small step as in not-a-big-step. Not larger than average.”

“Okay that's ridiculous. A small step should be a small step.”

“I'm sorry that you have small legs.”

“I do not!”

“Yes you do.”

“I have perfectly normal legs, you're freakishly tall. My current theory is you didn't smoke enough as a child,” Arthur huffed, standing up straight and extending his cane in front of him.

John allowed a small wry smile, “The next portion is the set of steps that leads up to her doctor's office. It'll take me a moment to count how many there are.”

“No need,” Arthur said, turning his head as though considering. He squinted at where the stairs were more or less, though a little to the side, “I don't suppose… well, tell me if this is alright.”

Arthur's hand reached out and touched John.

They didn't really touch usually. For all their passing of Faroe back and forth they didn't do more than brush hands now Arthur's hand slid up John's arm, the free one that wasn't carrying Faroe's car seat, and found the crook of his elbow.

“Guide me will you? We'll count the stairs together and remember for next time,” his hand was warm, dry, he could use lotion more.

“John?” Arthur prompted.

“Right, sorry, of course. Here we go.”

“I got seventeen,” Arthur said.

“Eighteen,” John frowned, then realized what happened, “did you count the bottom step?”

“The bottom step? Of course I counted it.”

“No, I mean the ground.”

“John, why would I have counted the ground as one of the stairs?” Arthur laughed incredulously.

“I don't know, okay?” John huffed

“So it's seventeen. Goodness man and to think I've hired you to look out for the two of us,” Arthur's hand didn't leave the crook of his elbow for a few more steps and then it fell away leaving John's arm colder for it. Which was ridiculous. It was June, there was nothing cold about this.

*

Arthur was correct in saying that summer was his busy season, even this year. He was out most nights of the week in the evenings playing different gigs be it accompanying a Ballet recital or just being the live music in some venue for the night. Sometimes John and Faroe would join him if it was an appropriate venue for a small child. When not, John would stay home reading Arthur's book collection or continuing on whatever repair he had set to recently.

He was still very much taking care of the house. It had been months and there was less obvious work to do but there was a moment after every time he successfully finished something that Arthur would come into the room, examine it thoughtfully with his fingers and look up at him.

Then Arthur would smile and say, “Thank you, John, this is truly kind of you.

“Of course, I mean I live here too,” John would reply in a carefully casual tone.

And Arthur somehow hearing his nervousness would reply, “Of course John it's your home too.”

“You know,” Arthur said one day, “you could paint your room. Decorate it however you should like. I could even help you toward better furniture. I feel like an ass for how barebones it is.”

Bare Bones? John had thought it cozy. It wasn't like home where everything had been cold black and minimalist with accent pops of yellow. His father had a favorite color just like his father had a favorite son.

John hadn't really thought of decorating the room he slept in.

“John?” Arthur prompted gently.

“Right…. thank you,” he said slowly.

Arthur smiled, “Of course this is your home too.”

“Thank you.”

Home, he rolled the word around his head like a pebble he needed to smooth out.

This was Faroe's home and so when he spoke with her about returning he often said ‘let's go home’. Never on his own but John had been here for six months.

He froze at the thought. He was still here. God why was he still here? The money he had was plenty, he knew that. He could leave and be fine.

His chest was tight.

Yes. Leaving soon. He was sure.

*

“Have you been practicing chess without me?” Arthur demanded as his finger flitted over the board. His pieces were wood, John's were glass.

“Arthur,” John said soothingly, “you can't see the board. You're practicing a whole new game, that's all.”

Arthur had lost the past four games.

“That didn't answer my question.”

“Because it is a ridiculous question,” John told him, “Why would I have practiced while you're already at a disadvantage?”

“You Have been practicing! John, I cannot believe this utter betrayal of the earliest bones of our friendship. I thought we were close,” Arthur said with a false choked up tone, “and now I find that you, despite my new found challenges, have nothing on your mind except tricking me and pulling one over my head.”

John froze. When John didn't reply Arthur's smile faded slowly.

“Joking, John. …Are you alright?”

“Of course,” John said too quickly.

Arthur looked at him skeptically.

“It's nothing. I feel bad, you're right. I didn't give you ample opportunity to practice. What if I tried with a blindfold?”

Arthur laughed brightly, “I don't think that will be necessary John, as I would like it if one of us could actually see the board. I will just have to trust that you aren't cheating.”

“Cheating?” John complained, “Why on Earth would I cheat at chess of all things?”

“Oh right you have to save cheating for Monopoly.”

“I would do no such thing.”

“John there is no way that I landed on your Park Place property with hotels on it six go rounds of the board in a row, alright? I refuse to believe it. I know you were doing something and one day I'll find a way to prove it.”

“I didn't. You just have bad luck right.”

“Right. And when we played Chutes and Ladders?”

“Remind me why we played that?”

“I wanted to try it before Faroe is of the age to play it!”

“I didn't cheat at Chutes and Ladders, Arthur. I don't even know how you would cheat at that.”

“Inaccurately reporting which numbers I got.”

“That would be wrong of me,” John said mildly.

“Right and you care so much about that.”

“Maybe I do. Maybe I'm actually a good sport unlike some people who can't handle losing.”

“Well I've never been good at losing,” Arthur told him with a laugh, he took a long drink from the glass of wine at his side.

*

It was really difficult to ignore the fact that it was summertime when everything about life demanded you know it. The air conditioner breaking so their house was hot as it was outside if not hotter.

Arthur was always fond of summer as a boy. He remembered laying out in a patch of sunlight and falling asleep in the grass. He'd gotten sunburned so badly that his foster parents (incredibly temporary) had taken him to the hospital to make sure that it hadn't become more serious in some way. He'd been shirtless at the time so everything that his shorts didn't cover and ended up blistered. He was feverish and in pain for quite some time. Once the sunburn faded though he'd been right back outside.

He'd not really been comfortable with that family. He was much happier outdoors.

He was always fond of the summer and it wasn't until a warm summer shower came rushing through that it all hit really.

He would never see the sky again.

He was looking out a window and- And he wasn't doing anything he supposed. He was standing next to a window listening to the rain against it. He was considering opening it so he could feel the thin mist come through the screen. His hand clenched on the window sill. This was fine. He'd be fine until he could get away tonight.

“Would you like me to describe it for you?” John offered. Arthur hesitated for a long moment. He tried not to need this sort of thing but he did and John often picked up on it.

“Yes please.”

“The raindrops hit the ground where there's already puddles forming. Oily rainbows ripple through the gutter. It rushes down the street flowing towards the storm drain at the end of the street. The clouds are sparse actually and the sun is still shining through. There's a rainbow along the horizon. People are rushing across the street, most of them heads bowed, hurried, and just trying to get to where they're going. There's one woman stood out on the curb, her purple umbrella down at her side, head tilted upward as she feels the raindrops on her face. She looks happy. There are children down the street splashing through puddles in their sneakers. I see one of their mothers coming out to scold them.”

The description made him feel quite alone.

He needed to get away.

He sighed. Arthur wasn't spending every night out performing. There were nights that he told John he was performing at a bar when really he was just at a bar. It made him feel like absolute scum, John picking him up and dropping him off. Him drinking furiously in the intervening hours. Furiously he said because he couldn't think of any other word for it.

He was angry at himself for drinking but more angry at himself for not being able to actually enjoy it. He kept thinking about Faroe and how he was leaving Faroe home with a fucking caregiver.

Then he would temper himself. This was hardly just a caregiver. You would be hard-pressed to find another man in the world other than Arthur who cared more about Faroe than John did. Even if he tried not to make it obvious. She was safe, and she was happy.

No thanks to him.

Arthur was drinking too much. He knew that. He knew that from the night that he snuck out in the middle of the night and navigated his way to the liquor store and bought three fifths of vodka to nurse over the next week and a half or so. Arthur knew he was drinking too much, but that made a cruel sort of sense, didn’t it? Arthur was a bad man who had been through bad things and his parents had drunk, so why wouldn't he?

It made sense and that was part of what Arthur liked about it. Now he'd be lying if he said that he didn’t like the way it made everything seem quieter. The music came easier and without the guilt. The music was the only thing that came easy these days.

John was nice too nice for his own good really. It wasn't his fault that Arthur couldn't get his shit together, so Arthur didn't make it his problem. There was this tone of absolute discomfort John would get in his voice anytime Arthur would show a hint of the anger that was boiling in his stomach. So no he hadn't been out performing every night. He’d been out performing enough nights, he was certain. He was good at this, it was a comfortable song and dance. He never missed a gig because he was drunk, so it wasn’t a real problem yet. It was a real problem when it started becoming a problem.

Arthur could hardly breathe when he was sober, honestly. It hurt, being one more thing in Faroe's life that couldn't be normal. He hated it. Why should she have one more thing in her life that couldn't just be good and normal? She didn't even have two parents. She had a parent and a man hired to take care of her. And she couldn't even have a parent who could handle it on his own. Arthur was a failure.

And it wasn't just the blindness. He was adjusting, it was hard but that wasn't it. He was gone for a month and Faroe wasn't just fine, his home wasn't just fine, it was better than he left it. The scratches on the wall were taken care of, the dishwasher ran again, Faroe slept through the night. What was he for? What was the point to him in all of this when John so clearly had a handle on it? What could he possibly offer his daughter that couldn't be more adeptly given by a man who had been fucking trained for it? She laughed now, babbled. They put rice cereal in her bottles recently. It had been a move John had made and had told Arthur of. Arthur had known maybe? No Arthur had known. He had been at the doctors appointments and John said it was the doctor's suggestion and Arthur trusted John.

John hadn’t made mention of how out of it he’d been. Arthur was good at maintaining and it made him sort of sick, made him remember the way his father could drive perfectly safely no matter how much he’d drank.

A throat cleared next to him.

He didn't notice the tears running down his own face right away until he sniffled and noticed warmth on his cheeks. He turned his head in the direction of the sound, trying to discreetly swipe at his cheeks.

“Hey,” A man’s voice said sympathetically but none too gentle, “You look like you've hit Bedrock friend… Say, have you ever had a Blood and Sand?”

Notes:

Alright distinguished associates, this is your last [and first] chance to tell me if you take issue with me giving Arthur several men inexplicably obsessed with him
Idk if I'll listen but if you strongly wish for this to be exclusively privateeyes I need to know soon lmao

Chapter 9: Oh so he's Rich

Summary:

The boys make some friends

Recently they began taking walks through the park. Faroe in her stroller was getting attention from everyone with eyes because she was an absolute sweetheart as anyone could tell. A woman with her own stroller pulled up next to them and paused so John stopped as well as the woman greeted them and Arthur turned to face her.

She beamed down at Faroe, “Oh what a darling, how old is she?”

Faroe merely blinked at her.

“Nearly six months,” Arthur told her.

John frowned, “Seven and a half.”

“What?” Arthur said.

“She's seven and a half months old. It's July.”

“Of course, sorry right, I knew that. You'll have to excuse me, it's been a crazy couple months,” Arthur said with a laugh.

The woman laughed it off and said, “Oh I totally understand, honestly I don't know how I would get along with my two boys if it weren't for my coffee.”

“Oh don’t I know it. They're adorable,” Arthur said glancing down at the twins down in the stroller.

“Oh thank you! How about you, are you from here?” she said, “You’ve got such an interesting accent.”

“I’m from England, thank you ma'am. I’m so sorry to hurry away but I do believe we had something planned like today. John, do we need to get going?” Arthur tilted his head toward John.

“Oh yes unfortunately we've got to get to that appointment.”

“Damn, well I'm so sorry then. You have a wonderful day though.”

“Oh you too. Do you come around here a lot?” The woman said quickly with a flutter of eyelashes.

“No, I'm as I said from out of town,” Arthur sighed, “have a nice day though!”

John managed to contain himself until they were sufficiently out of earshot before he dissolved into laughter.

“‘You have such an interesting accent’,” he mocked.

“Oh be nice,” Arthur, the hypocrite, was laughing too.

“Honestly I'm just glad that she didn't mistake us for a couple again.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur said.

“I mean that for the entire time you were in the hospital most of the hospital staff assumed you and I were together…. Romantically, ” John clarified.

“Oh! I hadn't realized.”

“No I mean of course not. You're not like that.”

“Like what? Gay?”

“Well yes.” Obviously.

“I'm not straight John. Do you think I'm straight?”

John blinked, “You had told your father-in-law-”

“My father-in-law is a conservative Christian John. I try to make my peace with him so that Faroe will continue to have more family members in her life, but I don't tell him everything about me. Are you listening to my conversations with Daniel?”

“I- I'm sorry I didn't-”

“No, it's fine,” Arthur laughed, “I suppose that makes sense, that the nurses would think all that. I hope you weren't uncomfortable. That seems like a bad position to be put in if you're not That Way.”

“Who said I'm not That Way?” John said raising an eyebrow

“Well, you haven't said anything, so I didn't want to make assumptions.”

“Right because straight is the preset.”

“Now that's not what I was saying. Are you not then?”

John snorted, “Not at all.”

“May I ask?” Arthur said.

“I don't have a word for it, it's usually not women and it's usually not romantic.”

“Oh like I've heard of this. Aromantic right?.”

“More or less. Not entirely, there are exceptions,” John told him, though he wasn't quite sure why it mattered that Arthur understand the nuance.

“I see. Well, I hope I haven't pried too much.”

“No, I don't mind talking about it, I wasn't able to before.” His father had-

“At your last posting?”

Ah. Right.

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry John, that's a terrible position to be put in but I want you to be comfortable in our home. With me.”

“Thank you Arthur.”

“Of course and thank you for not making us continue talking to that woman.”

“Yes, well my self control only extends so far without mocking,” John said with a smirk.

They were quiet for a few yards.

“I obviously knew how old Faroe was.”

“I know,” John said.

“It's just- I said the wrong number.”

“Of course.”

“Quick math has never been my strong suit.”

“I know, it's fine.”

John knew that Arthur had been smelling more and more like alcohol lately. John knew that sometimes Arthur would shove a receipt into his pocket and it would fall out on the floor displaying a full docket of what Arthur got up to at night. John didn't care, he told himself, not for the first time today. It was Arthur's right to do whatever he wanted to his own body.

Besides it wasn't as though he wasn't being present for Faroe, so what did John care? Arthur could crash and burn alone if he wanted to.

*

Arthur came stumbling through the front door and John met him in the doorway with confusion.

He was still crying his hands from the dishes, “You didn't call. I thought you were going to call when you were ready to be picked up.”

“Oh I didn't need it, you should have gone to bed,” Arthur said, “it's way later than I promised. A friend drove me home, don't worry about it.”

John sniffed the air a little bit and Arthur caught it.

“Yes all right I've had a drink or two.”

“A friend drove you home?” John repeated.

“Yes, a perfectly nice man. I don't know what that has to do with anything,” Arthur said more sharply than John felt the question warranted.

“I was just curious you hadn't mentioned a friend before.”

“I have friends, John. I just- I'm going to bed. I'm very tired.”

John hummed, “Must be after the gig tonight.”

Arthur's jaw flexed, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

A friend? Arthur had never mentioned a friend at all. It seemed as though everyone had just about dumped him in the days following Bella's death. John didn't have a clear picture why, but whatever friends Arthur had he didn't have them now. So who on Earth had drove him home? Or had Arthur truly just stumbled through the streets drunk out of his mind until he managed to find his way home?

*

The answer to his question came three nights later as a knock at the door. John got up hoping it was the pizza he had ordered but it wasn't.

“Hey there, is this the Lester residence?” a tough looking man, a good three inches taller than John with Arthur's arm draped over his shoulders, giving half a smile as Arthur was slumped at his side.

“Yes… Arthur, are you okay?”

“He's real out of it,” the man said apologetically, “I was trying to keep an eye on him, but I think he was already half pissed by the time I found him.”

“Sorry, who are you?” John said impatiently.

“Oh! Parker,” He thrust out his free hand that wasn't supporting Arthur, “nice to meet you.”

John shook it, “John.”

“Oh John! So you're the mister. Sorry the guy doesn't talk much honestly. I mostly try to get whatever words I can get out of him, but you're the name that pops up on his phone and he comes running home, so you must be Mister Lester, well the other Mister Lester I don't know which of you started with the name.”

“Neither of us! Or- well- Arthur did. I'm not his- I'm his nanny.”

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn't realize he was like- rich.”

“He's not. I guess maybe he is… I didn't have full access to his finances.”

“No, sorry. I just thought. I would bring your- boss, I guess, home. Here I was scared I was going to have to fend off some jealous partner thinking I was trying to move in on their man.”

John bit the inside of his cheek, “Are you? Interested in him, I mean?”

“Oh nah. Me moving in on Artie? I wouldn't with the state he's in. Like I said, we haven't talked much.”

“Were you the one who drove him home the other night?”

“Oh yeah that was me.”

“He called you a friend.”

“Oh really that's nice. I'll be honest I haven't gotten much out of him, barely know what he does.”

“He's a-”

Parker held up a hand to stop him, “No, don't tell me I'll figure it out. Do you want me to bring him in?”

“Just hand him here.”

“You sure? He's pretty much dead weight right now, and you look, if I may say so, dog tired. You got a couch I can put them on and then I'll get out of your hair.”

John grit his teeth, “Yeah it's just through here.”

The man, Parker, carried Arthur heavily into the living room at John's guidance and set him on the couch.

“Right! Well it's been nice to-”

John hushed him, “Faroe's sleeping.”

“Sorry what?”

“His daughter, the baby, she's asleep. You've got to be quiet.”

“Oh shit sorry man,” Parker continued on a much lower volume, “right you said you were the nanny. I didn't realize he had a kid damn.”

“Yeah well he does.”

“Hey I can try to bring him back earlier, cut him off as it were, talk to the guys to make sure he's home by a certain time.”

“I don't need help.”

“Who said I was helping you?” The words had no bite and yet John drew back defensively at them.

“Well, the point stands. Arthur's an adult. He can make his decisions.”

Parker softened, “I'm just fucking with you buddy. I do want to help you and I want to help Artie too. I'm going to see if I can get him out of these bars by ten. How's about that?”

John shifted from foot to foot, “Fine… thanks.”

“No worries, have a good night John.” And for some reason it seemed like Parker meant it.

“Thanks, you too.”

*

Weekly coffee with Lily was becoming routine. Better than that it was becoming really nice. It varied based on her schedule and on occasion it wasn't even coffee it was drinks. But it was nice talking to someone who knew who he was. Even though she also couldn't know that he was tricking Arthur, it was nice to just talk to someone who John didn't feel like he was walking on eggshells around.

John would make up everything that Arthur might need in the meantime to see to Faroe's care and then John would head out and meet with Lily wherever they had chosen to go. Today it was a pizza place that Lily swore by.

He arrived first because she was always late. He would frequently catch her trying to down the last of her coffee in the car before they met to have another coffee. He knew she had an intensive schedule. He hoped he wasn't adding to it. Though of course it was her choice so what did it really matter?

…It mattered though. Lily mattered, she was allowed to.

After about fifteen minutes Lily rushed in, “Sorry, am I late? How long have you been here?”

“Oh you're only a couple minutes late and I was a couple minutes early it's fine.”

“You're too kind, you should just tell me when I'm keeping you waiting. Anyway, have you ordered yet?”

“Not yet I wanted to see what you liked.”

“Oh sure. Well I like artichoke hearts so if that's not your thing then my pizza might not be your style.”

“No, I like artichoke hearts.”

“Right, that makes sense, you're all fancy.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you were raised upper class Johnny versus me. I was raised in a trailer by my auntie who had a part-time job at a salon. I was raised on God's kindness alone. What did you forget about poor people again?”

“I don't know. I just- Well I’ve lived with Arthur. I figured that was-”

“Your Arthur is Rich enough to afford a nanny, John. That’s not poor.”

“Yes I suppose so.” He wasn’t John’s Arthur. He wasn’t John’s anything.

“I swear sometimes it's like I have to check you for your privilege,” She teased.

“I'm sorry.”

“Hey I was just joking, it's all right hun. We all come from different places. It isn't as though your life was never hard. I don't even necessarily know what your kind of hard looks like. Mine wasn’t pretty but it had its moments.”

“After all that then you went on to help people. Why would you want to? Why didn't you go into some field where you can make a lot of money to not have it be like that again?”

“Nursing is my passion and it's not as though it doesn't pay decently. This hospital is smaller so it doesn’t pay as well as New York hospitals. And I’m just early out of college so nothing pays good enough to make up for loans if your daddy didn't pay for your degree.”

John winced.

“Sorry that wasn't at you I swear,” she said quickly, “it's more… the sort of folks who didn't have any hardships on their plate. I had to work my way through college.”

“That makes sense.”

“Besides from the way you tell it you were homeless before Lester took you in.”

John hesitated, “I don't know about homeless.”

“John, you had nothing but the clothes on your back and a briefcase that you dumpster dived for. You were homeless.”

“Fair.”

“It's alright nothing to be ashamed of I'm just saying we all got a range of experiences don't we?”

“Yeah I suppose so.”

“So yeah, like I was saying the one with the truffle oil in the artichokes it's really good. So how's your week been?”

“Arthur’s been drinking.”

“What? Oh my God, is it bad?”

“I don't know, I'm not really sure what bad is. My father never really drank. It was a bad image to put forth. Beyond a glass of champagne when the moment called for it there wasn't really alcohol in our house, so I don't know if the amount he's drinking is too much.”

“Well these things can be hard and he's had a hell of a trauma this year…”

“He's acting like he just brushed it off. Like he just crawled out of that coma and there was nothing wrong at all.”

“I remember. Saw him in the hospital, he put on a good show for a psychiatrist, but then the moment the psychiatrist left he zipped up all those feelings like it was a bag that he could carry home with him. I swear, men sometimes.”

“I don't know that it's just because he's a man…”

“Yes it is, when's the last time you let me see you cry?”

John raised an eyebrow at her, “I believe I was hospitalized under your care.”

“Exactly so.”

John tried to hold her gaze but laughed, “Alright point taken.”

“See me? The last time people saw me cry it was with my coworkers watching Finding Nemo. I cried in the first five minutes of the movie and cried again at the end.”

“You did?”

“I was high.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to read the list of drinks to you?”

Lily looked at him blankly.

He sighed, “Sorry you probably don't need me to read anything to you.”

“No I got it hun.”

“Sorry I'm talking a lot to Faroe and Arthur in my day to day.”

“Does Faroe need you to read things to her a lot?”

“No, but I think it's good too anyway.”

“Well you read all those books. I've never been a mom, I'll leave the parenting to you.”

“Do you have any family?”

“That I live with? No, my mom passed last year but other than that just sort of been me. Honestly, I get real busy and I'm not great at keeping connections. I didn't have any siblings growing up so I don't have any built-in friends. Basically you're my only friend outside of work… is that weird?”

“No, I definitely get that,” John said, pretending to stare at his menu, “My only friend outside of work is also you. I mean unless you count Arthur. I think my friendship with Faroe is literally my work so maybe my friendship with Arthur isn't. I'm not sure. Point being, outside of my household you are the only person I talk to.”

“Really? Have you still not reconnected with your brother?”

He looked up aghast.

“I am not going to reconnect with yellow no he was just like-” John flinched, like our father, He picked up a lot of my father's habits. I wouldn't even know how to talk to him at this point and I can't risk my father finding out where I am.”

“You're an adult, what could he do to you?”

“You don't understand Hastur King.”

“God I'm so sorry Johnny… hey you want me to kill that guy for you?”

John chuckled lowly, “Maybe I might get a team together of people who want to help me sever ties starting with you. Maybe I'll see if Arthur or Faroe's grandfather want to join.”

“Excellent, call me when the day comes,” she said with a bright smile.

Chapter 10: Excuses, Excuses

Summary:

Alright so I promise Faroe lives. Don't worry.

Arthur was wondering if he'd be able to slip off to a different bar tonight without Parker finding him too early.

For some reason the absolute madman had taken it upon himself to limit Arthur's drinking which Arthur didn't very well appreciate if he was honest. He was fine. It wasn't hurting Faroe, it wasn't hurting his career, he could drink as much as he liked. Arthur had learned that if he rotated bars at irregular intervals he could usually keep out of Parker's sites fairly well.

It wasn't that he disliked Parker exactly. It's just that Parker was nosy. A private investigator, he had told Arthur. Arthur didn't even know those still existed.

Arthur really didn't mind the company either. It gave him something to think on other than… well anything of import. Parker's voice was fairly easy on the ears and if Arthur was to be entirely honest he had nice hands too. He didn't mind Parker hanging around.

It was just annoying when Parker tried to cart him off home before he got even properly drunk for the night. Arthur had a hard time telling him no when Parker took that firm tone or started guiding him out with an arm around his waist. He had a hard time telling him anything except his street address. God that was pathetic wasn't it?

He knew Parker was coming to all sorts of conclusions about him but Arthur didn't really care. Whoever Parker thought he was probably better than who he actually was.

“Alright, so with that weight she's in… wow- Oh my goodness! The seventy first percentile!” The doctor’s voice was bright.

“That's great,” John said, grasping Arthur's forearm, a gentle, but insistent squeeze, “Arthur, isn't that excellent?”

Arthur smiled down in Faroe’s direction where she laid on the scale in front of the doctor, “It is indeed! Look at you little one getting big and strong already!”

“And did you hear what the doctor said about her height?” John coaxed, no judgment in his tone, just the same voice that he guided Arthur around with.

“I'm sorry. I must have zoned out for a moment.”

“Sixty fourth percentile.”

“Oh is that right? Well look at you my little one,” Arthur scooped her up off the scale, “Growing up quite strong.” He winced internally at the repetition of his words, but didn't correct it. He kept the carefully pasted-on smile on his face. It was excellent! He knew that! He just didn't really feel like himself right now. He had gotten himself out of bed for this appointment, he couldn't miss it, but he was admittedly not feeling great after last night. He had managed to slip away from Parker…

“And you're doing vaccines right, Mr. Lester?”

“Oh, yes, of course, all of them,” Arthur said, hoping ‘all of them’ was a reasonable answer. He just wanted her safe, and her lungs weren’t very good in the first place.

The doctor laughed gently, “Excellent, glad to hear it. I am always willing to educate parents on these things, but it's obviously a bit easier for all involved if everyone's decisions have been made beforehand. Ideally, you know, in the positive direction.”

Arthur chuckled, “Yes, of course, I mean these things are very important?”

John let out a pleased hum of affirmation.

“They really are. Alright, so I've got her down for another appointment soon, but if she keeps growing at this rate she's not going to need these regular checkups. Her lungs sound strong and-”

Arthur wondered if they could stop for food on the way home, something greasy, with a lot of carbs. He could absolutely kill for a nice burger right now.

“So does that day work for you guys?”

“I believe so. Right Arthur?” John directed the question at him, “Next Tuesday at noon?”

“Oh yes, of course, sorry I think I forgot my morning coffee today.”

The doctor made sympathetic noises, but John notably made none. This was likely because Arthur had drank a cup of coffee right in front of John. John knew he wasn't lacking caffeine.

“Right, well, would you like a little sticker marking her growth? Some parents like to have them for records or just, you know, for like a nice little scrapbook?”

Arthur was beginning to wonder if he might still be drunk under all the nausea.

“Yeah we'll take it,” John said, when Arthur didn't speak for too long.

“Excellent, well, you all have a great day!”

“Thanks doctor.”

“Course John. Bye-Bye Faroe!”

They made it to the car without a word. Arthur could tell John was waiting for him to explain himself and Arthur honestly didn't feel like it. John could stare all he likes but Arthur hadn't done anything wrong. So he zoned out during a doctor's appointment… worse things have happened…

God Arthur just needed some food.

“Are you feeling alright?” John said as he started the car.

“I'm fine John, thank you.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Arthur said sharply, then sighed, “and thank you for taking the lead on that appointment. I really am feeling a bit out of it today.”

“Do you want to stop for a coffee?” John said.

“Can we just grab lunch on our way through?”

“Of course, where are you thinking?”

“What's that place we had last week?”

*

Arthur was completely disengaged these days and John honestly didn't know what to do about it. It technically wasn't really his problem. It's not as though he really needed Arthur's help raising Faroe, but Arthur wanted to be present.

It occurred to him suddenly that maybe Arthur felt left out. Maybe it was because John was so self-sufficient with her Arthur felt like he wasn't needed or something. So perhaps… he just had to include him?

He went down to the kitchen where he could hear Arthur rinsing off his plate and stopped in the doorway, “Arthur, I was wondering, the doctor said that we ought to start Faroe on solid foods here soon. Did you want to do that?”

“Solid food?” Arthur smiled and turned, “Is she really that old?”

“Yeah I mean she's getting to that age. I can even go down to the farmers market if you like, get some vegetables and make them into purees for you. Or we can go the more traditional jar food route.”

Arthur gave him a smile that was a bit like sunshine diffused through curtains, “You really do everything don't you?”

John frowned, he had just been thinking about it. The jar foods could sometimes have a lot of sugar or weird meat slurries. Faroe didn't need all that, she deserved the highest quality meat slurries. If what they were moving towards was actual food then John didn't see why she should be eating anything that he himself would not put in his body. He was really hoping Arthur would go along with his plan because the idea of feeding Faroe a gray-green “Turkey and pea” goo made John honestly feel a little nauseous.

Arthur was looking at him with an undisguised softness, “Yes all right John, we can go along with your farmers market plan, but let's also keep a few jars on hand of the regular stuff.”

John averted his gaze from Arthur’s unable to meet that look, “Of course.”

*

Faroe's first time eating food, John was posted up right by her and Arthur's side, ready to describe every bit of this to Arthur. He needed to make him feel grounded in the moment.

“Faroe is in her high chair. Her hair is brushed and there's a bow in it. She's wearing a pink shirt and those dark blue pants that are meant to look like jeans that you bought her. She is sitting up and appears to be a real little person preparing for a pleasant meal. Her bib says ‘I fish I was sleeping’ and shows a sleepy looking goldfish. It's absolutely going to stain. The bowl of food contains a thin green puree of the green beans I told you about. She is looking at you utterly unimpressed. Are you ready?”

“Yes alright… just- just see to it that I don't stab her in the eye?” Arthur's tone was a thin veil of composure.

“I will,” John promised, dropping a hand to Arthur's shoulder to squeeze. Arthur pressed up into the contact like a plant stretching to reach the light, “You have this.”

Arthur let out a shaky breath and gave John a smile, “Right.” He scooped up a spoonful of green beans and started moving gingerly in Faroe's direction.

“Left, left, hand down,” John directed and Arthur lowered it a little, “Higher. Perfect, okay, slowly. Good, there's her mouth... Alright she's not really opening her mouth. She seems suspicious of the spoon. Just press it gently against her mouth and I think instinct will take over. There she goes, she's opening her mouth!”

And in went the spoon.

“Her face has twisted up in a grimace, eyebrows furrowing,” in a way that John knew was very much like his own expressions, “oh no…”

An earth shattering wail left her

“Oh, oh dear, did I hurt her?”

“No Arthur it- it doesn't look like she likes green beans. I've seen this precise face on you when I've made them,” John said, unable to keep the fondness from his voice.

“Oh my girl,” Arthur beamed with a vitamin deficient pride, “yes well I'm afraid green beans aren't my thing either, but we do have to get through this. I don't know that this is the most efficient manner in which to do it. I am perfectly willing to continue working this out, but could we perhaps give it a stab with you feeding her?”

“Of course,” John said, not wanting to press Arthur too hard.

“Excellent, alright. Well, here.”

Arthur scooted over into the next seat leaving room for John.

John gave her second bite of food. She was still not entirely impressed and spat it all down her front. John could understand that. He supposed if he had been exposed exclusively to milk up to this point and then suddenly found himself in the possession of a vegetable he would be quite distressed himself.

He tentatively took a bite himself and frowned. Hmm.

“Now, Faroe,” he explained, "This is not about whether or not any of us like this. I know it's bad, but it is better than jar food. I can assure you,” John had tried that too, “Now if you are very patient, we can try bananas for your next meal, but at this point I think we should begin with something green. I am not sure what the vitamins do for you. I didn't make it that far in school. I know you need them or your systems begin shutting down? So…”

He offered another bite. Faroe continued unhappily mouthing at the food, giving up on spitting it all out. Slowly, but surely they made their way through the bowl with a running commentary from Arthur and John as to how terrible and hellish this was.

Arthur was all sympathy and knowing hums, “I know, I know, little girl. He really is a monster. I know. Just keep giving it a try, and I'll make the mean old John give you some fruit later.”

“I already promised her a banana, Arthur. I promised you, Faroe. Do you think I wouldn't follow through on that promise?”

“I'll make him. I'm his employer, he'll have to.”

“I don't see why this needs to be the attitude we approach vegetables with. Is this going to be how it is when she's old enough to feed her broccoli to the dog?” John paused, what was he talking about?

Arthur laughed and he apologized for not being more sympathetic to John's plight, but John was checked out.

What was John talking about, feeding her broccoli to the dog? That's something you do when you're old enough to feed yourself. It's something you do when you sit up at a table and eat a family meal. That was the future, something John did not deal in.

The thought of Faroe as a mischievous four-year-old filled his chest with a bone deep ache…

*

“Arthur, do you have anything next Friday night?”

“I can move it,” Arthur said easily enough, letting John know that the only plan had been a bar, “Why?

“I was hoping I could get the night off. I was going to go see a play with Lily.”

“Oh!”

“If you're already busy we can maybe-”

“No, no, John, of course, you should go out with your friend. I’ll stay in with Faroe. If you don't mind helping me get her set up with everything she needs that night, I can get her handled beyond that.”

“That's bath night. Is that alright?”

“Yes John. I mean I've tried my hand at that a couple times. I feel I've got a decent handle on it. Do you agree?”

“Of course.”

Arthur really could handle giving Faroe a bath without pouring water into her eyes or anything. He had done so several times. Both under John's supervision and not. He could handle this. Besides, John placing responsibility back in Arthur's hands was exactly what Arthur needed right now. So John was going out Friday night.

When the time came around John knocked at Arthur's door and said, "I'm going to be leaving soon. Anything you need before I do?”

“Oh no I think we're all set up with nearly everything,” Arthur said offhand not looking up from his piano, “Would you mind just running the bath and you can just set her in a chair and I'll be in there in just half a moment?”

John hesitated and said, “Alright.”

He went to collect Faroe, holding her on his hip as he began collecting all the things that Arthur would need. He hoped she didn't spit up on his nice white button up. He just bought it and it was his first time wearing something like this since he left home.

He kept her on his hip as he tested the temperature of the water and began filling the tub. He set her bath seat in the water, undressed her-

And then he hesitated next to the tub. The water had been running for a moment and he could still hear the notes playing from Arthur's bedroom through the door. He listened as the notes continued music drifting gently and stutteringly out and down the hall towards him.

The bath was still filling.

John waited with mounting horror watching the water rise up around Faroe's bath seat.

This was an old house with an old tub. Clawfoot with no overflow drain.

The music just kept going and John was frozen. Unable to even think of what to do with himself, he continued standing there absolutely still.

Even as Faroe grabbed at his tie. Even as the bathtub filled past the rim and began soaking into the bath rug beneath it. Even as the water began lapping at his shoes.

And only then did John hear the music stop and the door fly open. His eyes fixed on the bath seat, empty below the water.

Arthur rushed out with a look of panic on his face shouting, “Faroe!” and rushing into the bathroom.

“She's here,” John said, his voice was toneless.

Arthur startled, “John!”

Absolute relief was in Arthur's exhale, “Oh, oh so you hadn't put her in yet.”

“No, I hadn't.” John was shaking with anger. But Faroe needed him right now.

He clutched Faroe close to him and pushed past Arthur to take her back to her bedroom. She was babbling and blowing bubbles, because she didn't realize what was wrong. He laid her down in her crib, covered her with a blanket and shut the door behind him.

Finally he turned to Arthur who was still standing in the bathroom even as the water began flowing out into the Hall.

Arthur was looking at him and John couldn't be bothered to understand the look on his face, he asked John, “Why is the water still running? Why didn't you stop it?”

John growled, “You told me to put her in.”

“Yes, well, I didn't mean unsupervised,” Arthur began.

“It's what you told me to do, Arthur. You said you would be One Moment so I could put her in her chair and let the bath fill.”

“I didn't mean-”

John shouldered past Arthur again to turn off the water, “You did. You meant. And you just kept fucking playing, Arthur. How long did you hear the water run? How long ago did I tell you I was leaving you, careless piece of shit?” He noticed distantly he was yelling.

“Excuse me?” Arthur demanded.

“No, not excuse you. You're absolutely fucking careless with her safety.”

“I will not be spoken to this way. I am not careless with my daughter. I knew you were still here. I assumed you would have had it handled, but clearly you wanted to throw some sort of flood-based tantrum.”

“Your bedroom door was still shut . You were still playing your goddamn piano. You don't even care what happens to her if it means putting down the bottle most of the time, but tonight you couldn't even be bothered to stop playing. You're a terrible father.”

Arthur stepped nearer jaw set with a danger in his eyes, “Who. The. Fuck. Are you to say whether or not I'm careful enough with my daughter?”

“Who the fuck am I? Oh that's a great point, Arthur. Do you even know who I am?”

“Oh I know who you are!” Arthur scoffed.

“John Doe?” John spat, “It was that easy?”

Arthur slowed, “What do you mean?”

“When I knocked on your door that day, did you ask for a single piece of paperwork?” John asked.

“I-” Arthur's uncertainty was gratifying.

“Did you ask me for anything to prove my credentials? Did you even call in and check with the agency when you saw I was a man when you thought they were sending a woman?”

“I- no-” Arthur tried haltingly, very still now.

“No, you didn't,” John told him mockingly, sinking his teeth in, “I know you didn't because I'm here.”

“Who are you?” Arthur said, voice trembling.

“I was a man who showed up at your door ready to scam you, Arthur. I showed up, intending to take your money and you handed me your daughter into waiting arms. And you have the gall to tell me that you're not careless with her. You've let a fucking stranger raise her. You left me with her when you were sick without a single plan in place for your father-in-law to take her on. And guess what? Even he recognized what I was. John Fucking Doe how goddamn stupid are you?” John spat.

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out of my house. Get out right now.”

“Fuck. You. I'll go and leave you with your daughter you almost fucking murdered. Good luck Arthur. Really, I think she'll need it.”

John grabbed his phone off the counter, marched downstairs, grabbed his duffle bag shoved his clothes into it, and marched out the front door slamming it closed behind him.

He just started walking. It wasn't until he was three blocks away that he started to hyperventilate.

Notes:

:)

Sorry about the wait, this chapter made me sad while editing so it. Took a while

Chapter 11: Washed Up

Summary:

Parker comes to the rescue

Arthur stood absolutely still in the upstairs bathroom as he heard the front door slam downstairs.

His socks were wet. His hands shook with adrenaline. Faroe was crying. His socks were wet.

He clenched his fists, bit down on the inside of his cheek, and then he was in motion.

He ripped the towel where it was hanging on the bar in the bathroom and tossed it on the floor to soak up even a portion of this fucking puddle. They'd be fine. He made his way into Faroe's room. The water had flowed across the woods floor far enough to reach the flower rug in front of her bed. Arthur reached out and found Faroe laying safely in the middle of her crib, swaddled in her blanket.

John must've-

He clenched his hand in the loose fabric. Exhaling he released the corner of the blanket and adjusted his footing to pick her up.

“Oh my baby, my baby,” Arthur gathered her in his arms. He made for the door, wanting to get her downstairs and into her chair. If he could set up one of the children's shows she'd recently gained an interest in maybe he could sooth her and he cou-

The world went sideways as Arthur crossed the threshold to Faroe's room. He was on his back, curled around Faroe protectively. She was wailing even harder.

He'd slipped, he realized feeling his lungs fight to expand and contract fast enough. He'd slipped and only instinct had helped him twist as he fell to protect her.

He had slipped before he even made it into the hallway.

He sat up, groaning, propping them up against the door frame. And that was all he managed before the pain in his head registered.

The next hour was quiet and cold. Faroe wouldn't stop crying and the water crawled up Arthur's pant legs. Arthur simply rocked back and forth clutching his daughter to his chest. Even as he heard the water in the hallway make its way towards the stairs.

At least the faucet wasn't running anymore.

Faroe was crying.

 

He pulled out his phone from the pocket of his pants and navigated to Parker's contact.

“Hey Artie! How can I help you?” Parker sounded like he was busy. There was a sound of running water on the other end of the line and Arthur flinched, “Man the kid is Upset today huh?”

“I- Parker I need help.”

“Oh- okay, hang on, hang on,” the water turned off on the other end, “Alright what's up? What do you need?”

Arthur must really sound fucking pathetic if Parker was jumping to help this way.

“I- Can you please come to my house? Do you remember the address?”

“Oh yeah of course,” he sounded worried, “Is everything alright? Everyone's safe?”

“...yes.”

“Okay, okay, yeah alright. Is- is John there to help you with anything until I'm there or do you need to stay on the phone?”

“John's gone,” Arthur hated the way his voice sounded, whatever that tone was, it wasn't rage.

“Oh oh okay- ah shit- Alright, I'll be right there, just hold on.”

Thirty minutes past and Parker knocked on the door but after a moment just let himself in, “Hey Artie! You in here?”

“I'm up here,” Arthur called, his voice sounding ever so slightly fragile to his own ears, “Careful on the stairs they might be wet!”

“Wet? Alright hang on, Be right up- Oh shit this is a lot of water, Arthur. Is everything- Oh man it's really flooded up here. Hey I see why you called me. You and Faroe probably got kind of Trapped up here if you can't safely navigate the stairs huh? Where's uh- Where's Johnny?”

“John was lying to me.”

“What?” Parker was at his side helping Arthur to his feet.

“He was my daughter's nanny and he- No he claimed to be. He was actually just some- some stranger who wandered in off the street. Who- who tricked me into thinking he was trustworthy.”

“Sweet Mother Mary,” Parker swore quietly, releasing his hand. Then more distinctly in Arthur's direction, “Okay hang on. What happened? What- Who was he?”

“I- He was supposed to give her a bath and he let the water keep running until-” That wasn't quite true though was it?

“Okay okay you know what? You both seem pretty shaken, man. I don't know much about taking care of babies but she's crying. Shouldn't you be doing something?” Parker reminded him gently.

“I don't know what to do,” Arthur shouldn't hold her.

Parker sighed, “Okay right. Let's get you two dry and we'll figure this out.”

*

“Jesus, Arthur, I understand why he left.”

“....”

“Whoa, hey, I didn't mean it like that. I just mean… well he couldn't stay after a lie like that. And hey if he was like- some wacko off the street, you can't very well blame yourself.”

“No, no, that's my fault. I let him in. I didn't ask enough questions. I just- God I just handed my baby to him. I was exhausted and selfish and so I just handed my baby to him!”

“That's enough. Arthur I'll tell you one thing Faroe’s a really healthy kid. I think he took good care of her.”

“But how do you know?”

“I… don't, I guess. But listen, I've met John, and I dunno, he didn't really seem like the neglectful type.”

“Of course he doesn't seem that way, Parker. Of course he didn't. I lived with the man for months and I had no idea and all that time Faroe was in danger.....Parker she almost died….”

“She didn't. She didn't almost die, alright? Hey, you can feel her right now. She's happy. She's healthy. Well, I don't know about happy but she's alright. I'm still not real clear on what happened with the bath earlier, but do you want me to look into this guy for you?”

“What?”

“This John character. Figure out who he really is.”

“I- I hadn't considered.”

“Yeah, no, I get it. It's been kinda fast. But I could probably dig some stuff up about him, find out some more details, so we know exactly what sort of a guy he is. If that would make you feel better.”

“No. No, I just want to close the book on this whole horrible chapter. I should have known better than to try and- I don't know. I just need to figure this out on my own.”

“No offense, but uh- aren't you still acclimating to being blind?”

“That Doesn't Mean I'm Useless.”

“Hey whoa I wasn't saying it does. I'm just saying you're still in recovery. And based on our entire friendship to this point taking place in bars it doesn't seem like you're feeling too hot about it. Are you feelin prepared to have Faroe’s well-being entirely dependent on you? I- Oh hey, dang Artie, I'm sorry okay? Don't cry, don't cry. It's okay.”

“I'm not cry-! ….I'm fine. I'm just- I'm Fine.”

“Alright, okay. We're going to get you set up with as much of a safety net as we can right? There's your- do you got any family?”

“Not really no. Not in the city. …Not at all. My parents are dead, and Faroe's mother passed in childbirth.”

“Oh shit man. I'm so sorry. Were you two?”

“She was my wife.”

“Oh fuck, Art. Hey Artie, I really get why you didn't like, double check John's credentials. That sounds like a really rough couple months.”

“Parker, please stop making excuses for me.”

“Okay, fine, fine, so Faroe doesn't have any grandparents?”

“Well Daniel… that is my- that’s Bella's father. Bella was my wife. But he's in New York.”

“Okay alright. Can we get him on the phone?”

“I suppose…”

“Yeah, yes, we'll get a phone call going with him and hey you know I got this connection down at the local church-!”

“I’m not-”

“Listen man I figure you aren't, but you don't need to be. These guys are cool. They're just there to offer support.”

“You… know them?”

“Not everyone, but it is the only church in the city that lets me take communion on Easter without renouncing my homosexual lifestyle.”

“I see.”

“There’s some child care services through the church. Plus some basic parenting and support group stuff, especially for people grieving or single parenting. Also some other types of support if you ever feel like the drinking isn’t your style anymore. I could probably connect you with the priest. I'm not really involved with the church myself except for confession sometimes, but this guy would be willing to help. He’s… not got the stick all the way up his ass just yet, y’know? Ah see! That was almost a laugh there. I was starting to think it was impossible.”

“...Parker, I'm so sorry to drag you into this…”

“Don’t be. I wanna be here. I'm going to help you handle this and until we can get you you know a support system that actually knows how to feed a baby, I'm here. You can give me verbal instructions.”

“I don't know how to thank you.”

“Well if you're offering I could smell that lasagna that's there on the stove the second I walked through the door. Could we…?”

“Oh! Absolutely, have as much as you like.”

*

Arthur was sleeping. Finally. It had been, by Parker's count, about thirty six-ish hours since he had shown up at Arthur's door and in the meantime Parker had had to sleep twice for some short stints. Arthur had stayed up the whole time and God only knows how long he had been awake before that, but he was finally asleep. Parker was doing his best to stay in the living room as far away from the staircase as possible and had secretly confiscated Arthur's baby monitor so the poor man wouldn't wake up. He was absolutely useless to Faroe the way he had been, dead on his feet.

So now it was just Parker and Faroe, who was intermittently fussing. Parker suspected it probably had something to do with the fact that her primary caregiver nearly two days ago had walked out the front door and not come back. Parker decided it was a fair time to test that theory, so he pitched his voice down as low and Canadian as he could make it.

He didn't really know what to say so he just began with, “I'm sore-ry Faroe. It will be okay. Everything will be alright.”

She did quiet a little, but Parker couldn't tell if that was just because she was tired or because he did a decent John impression. Regardless he's supposed it didn't matter if the real thing was gone for good.

Parker luckily wasn't on a Case right now and didn't need to be back on one until at least two days from now, so Arthur had his full attention. Things honestly should have been weirder than they were. Parker hadn't known Arthur real long but they had similar taste in TV and similar taste in take out. Honestly, what more could you ask for when you're being spontaneously called on to help watch over a blind man and his daughter until something got better?

The call with the grandfather hadn't gone well. Not because the man wasn't perfectly willing to help, as far as Parker could tell, but because Arthur wasn't willing to admit what happened.

He just explained that John had quit and the other man on the other end of the line had hummed. Parker didn't know him very well but the hum sounded almost suspicious, as though he didn't quite believe the version of events that Arthur was putting forth. Parker wasn't sure he did either.

Arthur had been vague on how the fight started, vague on why the hallway was full of water and why John was gone, other than the fact that John had been lying. And for some reason Arthur was full of guilt as though he had almost killed Faroe. Parker didn't think that John had tried to drown the baby. It didn't make sense. John had taken care of her for weeks completely unsupervised, why kill her now?

Parker was currently crashing in John's room which had been stripped bare. The walls were painted a pleasant light purple that Parker could still smell the fumes from. The purple had admittedly thrown Parker off a bit. He hadn't really taken John for the sort. He was a real big mean-looking motherfucker. Sure he carried himself like a private school kid, but he was bigger than a babysitter really had any right to be. It had instilled Parker with some confidence in John's ability to take care of Arthur.

But purple walls.

All these months later it wasn't like John was just planning on what dipping out after he had painted the goddamn bedroom. If he was just here to scam Arthur out of money like Arthur claimed… Then why was he still here till now? The way Arthur's father-in-law had said it John was being paid plenty enough to have left months ago, so what? He was just sitting here playing a house for the fun of it? That didn't paint a picture of a man who didn't give a fuck about the Lester's.

Parker didn't feel particularly good about it but he did sort of question Arthur's recounting of events. He wondered if they were entirely accurate or if maybe were they warped by Arthur's fear and anger at John.

*

Peter Yang was not one to give up easy and that was a very thing that drove him to even bother with Arthur Lester in the first place. Arthur was surly a drunk. A secretive and a pretty obviously Broken Man, but Parker was fascinated by him. He never could stand a mystery he couldn't solve.

Parker, standing here in the sanctuary of a church, was beginning to think that maybe it wasn't just his stubbornness but something about Arthur. Maybe Arthur just had the ability to make you want to solve him like a fuckin Rubik's Cube.

Parker didn't need to talk to Oscar long to see it on his face as well. The way his eyes softened with kindness as they explained Arthur's situation (leaving out for now the bits about letting a stranger take care of his daughter from months on end). Oscar, within seconds, had become absolutely enamored with him. So maybe that was the thing about Arthur cuz Parker couldn't quite get a handle on him either.

He was a real weird dude, fascinating. Parker couldn't even begin to parse the sort of shit this guy had been through. Mostly because Arthur wouldn't give him fuck all. He was slowly pasting together pieces. The fact that Arthur was way too quick to trust. The fact that Arthur never knew he oughta give up. The fact that when Parker remarked that Arthur could really put away some drinks Arthur laughed and said, “Thanks I got it from my parents.”

Parker didn't know what to make of him. Didn't know how a man as charming as Artie could also find himself utterly without friends once his employee left. Maybe Parker couldn't solve him but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be trying to fix him.

No. He- No.

He winced at his own line of thinking. He couldn't fix him. Arthur was a person not a broken toy, Parker told himself firmly. This may admittedly be rooted in the fact that Arthur wasn't a bad looking guy. Parker always had a soft spot for guys in pain. Didn't hurt that he had a kid.

Parker had had siblings growing up. He was admittedly playing up his own ineptitude a bit regarding taking care of small children but.. Well he knew that Arthur didn't do well when he wasn't needed. So he sort of intentionally fumbled around a bit with Faroe so that Arthur felt like he had to keep a close eye on him. Faroe was a sweet kid.

She was also absolutely fucking inconsolable. She would stop crying for periods but it seemed like she was operating by some secret invisible clock that made her cry for John at regular intervals through the day. Made sense, after all, John had been there for her even when Arthur was in the hospital for whatever it was. Whatever caused him to lose his vision, Parker figured. John had been there and she was an infant and she was clearly missing someone that she considered to be one of her fucking dads.

Her routine was all thrown off and quite frankly Parker wasn't sure that she was a huge fan of him. Arthur told him otherwise, said that Faroe would never stop crying in his arms if she really hated him and that he had a nice voice so that would win in points with Faroe. Parker got the feeling that she wasn't looking for just somebody to hold her in the middle of the night though.

She was definitely looking for John and so Parker was too, despite Arthur's request. Parker was spending basically every free moment trying to research this fucking guy. A task which was damn near impossible because he didn't use his real name, Arthur paid him entirely in cash, and Parker couldn't even ask Arthur anything. So even his description of John was based entirely on memory. Yay.

So here he was practically living with a guy that he met only 3 months ago, helping him raise his fuckin kid, as the guy who was actually supposed to raise his kid is on the run somewhere. And here’s Parker just trying to patch them both back up. Trying to not cause more trouble.

He’d never really been great at that part of things, just listening to people when they felt bad helping only in the ways they ask. He'd always been sort of a problem-solver. That had gotten him in trouble with his partners in the past. He'd heard a lot about the fact that he needed to just listen and do what they asked of him, but he always felt like he could find a better way to fix it. He knew that was bullshit, he couldn’t always have the right answer. Probably something he needed to work through, according to his last therapist. He'd stopped seeing them a year ago though.

The first actionable thing that Arthur had actually agreed to do was visiting Oscar. Arthur had agreed with something of a scoff and an eye roll as though to indicate that he didn't actually trust Parker's judgment in these regards.

Parker was discovering Arthur had this thing about religion. Parker got that. It wasn’t easy to dealm with the whole god thing when you were barely allowed in most churches. He wasn't exactly Catholic anymore himself, but you know he still showed up to church when he needed something, even just forgiveness (usually forgiveness, that therapist had opinions on that too). Point being Parker was nowhere near Arthur's level.

Arthur said “religion” the way most people say swears. Despite that he seemed willing to give it a shot Parker.

So he was talking to Oscar about whatever services the church could lend, but made it Very Clear he didn't intend to start going to church, so if that was a requirement Arthur would figure this out on his own. Parker rolled his eyes, Arthur said that often, threatened to go figure it out on his own. It was almost endearing

In the past few days Parker had found out that Arthur was actually, not always a complete asshole. Which was a comfort. Not that Arthur had ever been that mean to him really. He’d just been going around every bar in town acting like he wanted to get his teeth kicked in. Parker was starting to think that might actually be the case.

He couldn’t tell if it was because Arthur felt like he deserved it or if it was him just looking to hit something but Parker didn't press. He definitely didn’t press now.

It was fuckin hard to get past Arthur's spines. Parker didn't even know if he was managing it. He knew that before everything Arthur had been gentler when he talked about John. His voice had softened even when he was at his most Surly and drunk towards the end.

“I sometimes think he’s too good to be true. He’s very good with her. He’s so patient with me,” Arthur had once mumbled into his sleeve, which was covered in vomit from a pretty upsetting scene in an alley, “God, Sorry, I’m- Ignore me.”

Now he was all sharp angles except for the rare moments when he was so sleep deprived that he just looked up at Parker with the biggest saddest eyes you ever did see as they talked about nothing at all.

“And remember feel free to call me any time if you need an extra set of hands,” Oscar said, clasping Arthur on the shoulder.

“I- yes, thank you, Oscar. I- I’ll think about the group you suggested.”

“Take your time. Have a good day, Arthur.”

Ah that sounded like a wrap up. Parker switched the arm he was holding Faroe with and rolled his shoulders trying to shake off what the narrow bed in John’s room had done to his back. Arthur turned away from his conversation with Oscar.

“Hey Artie,” Parker said as he approached. Then Arthur gave a smile just for Parker, his shoulders looking a little lighter.

“Everything good?” Parker asked, half to guide Arthur back to him and Faroe.

“I- yes, Yes it's alright,” He hesitated a moment, “Thank you Parker.”

Parker knew his tone was disgustingly soft, “Glad I could help.”

Chapter 12: On The Case

Summary:

Parker picks up a lead
And an appearance by john!

Notes:

Sorry for the wait, I have no excuse really, I just got deeply into scifi exclusively for a while

Anyway enjoy

Case number 0086- “John Doe”
Description:
John Doe
Approx. late 20s to early 30s
6’2”
200 lb

John Doe infiltrated the home and confidences of Arthur Lester [pictured beside] by means of pretending to be a child care professional. He proceeded to spend the next 7 months caring for Arthur Lester's child Faroe Lester, the house, and Arthur himself before revealing to the family that he was in fact fraudulent in his claims. He left the home with the bulk of his belongings on August sixth.

Abandoned items include: a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of conditioner, a toothbrush, one pair of Cookie Monster pajama pants, three books from a nearby public library (all titles pertaining to child care), one book about house repair

Suspect flooded the upper floor of the house on August 6th and has not been seen since. He was reportedly a real dick about it.
Fuck- I mean-

[click]

*

Parker had never been good at this sort of a thing. The very clinical speech was tough, y’know? He was a good private investigator, really. Despite what assumptions might tell you about being a PI nowadays…

He was quick on his feet and had a good read on most people, but this part never came easy to him. The record keeping of it all.

Here's what he actually knew:

• John left and hadn't been seen since
• Because he used the name John Doe, it was impossible to find him
• He left his library books, all of them about parenting
• After a doctor's appointment Faroe seemed an absolutely perfect health
• His room was painted purple
• There were no photos of him
• No known friends
• Arthur was hiding something

That was the most Parker could track down without asking too many questions of Arthur. Arthur didn't want him looking into this, but Parker had to know what could drive a guy to do the kind of thing that John did.

The thing was Parker trusted his gut implicitly. It was the thing that had got him into this business. It was the thing that drove him to not go to college, and just start solving problems.

Parker's gut wasn't wrong when it said that Arthur was somebody who needed a friend. And when he met John for the first time he knew the guy cared about Arthur. That had been evident from the first sentence asking whether Arthur was okay. The actual fear laid completely bare in his tone made it obvious that John wasn't just an employee. And based on Arthur's behavior lately the feeling was mutual. They were friends, shit maybe something else too, but they were definitely friends.

And listen, usually Parker knew when to quit, but for some reason this thing teased at the back of his head. It felt like the place where a tooth used to be in your mouth the way he couldn't stop worrying at it and he knew that if he kept going he'd only make it worse. But sometimes teeth broke and left a shard. Parker just needed to get that Shard out, he was sure.

*

“Ah shit,” Arthur muttered suddenly one day, “Parker? I suppose I should offer you the same courtesy that I offered John. I'm sorry that I didn't before this.”

“Courtesy?” Parker said, trying not to sound too curious.

“John would regularly have drinks out with that friend of his, the nurse from the hospital, Lily, or so he said. I'm afraid I haven't been asking you if you have better places to be than taking care of the two of us. If you have a need at any point to be going, I'll more than understand.”

“Artie, I'm already halfway living in your house and I've been working out of your front room. It looks like a literal crime scene in there. It's okay. You're accommodating for me, we're handling this together until you find a better situation. And I really don't mind if that takes a while.”

“Yes I know, so you've said, but I'm not going to take advantage of your goodwill Parker. I mean, I was hardly playing an equal role in the beginning of our friendship and I am still sorry that I called you the night John left. I- Well, I had no one else.”

Parker scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Lester don't fuckin apologize to me, friends are there for each other and that girl of yours is a ray of sunshine.”

Parker kind of liked the arrangement. Parker helped him with Faroe, Arthur helped Parker with cases. Not that Parker necessarily needed the help, if he was honest, but sometimes he liked to explain everything about a case to Arthur as they talked. Arthur would occasionally toss out ideas Parker would never have thought of.

“I sorta like being here,” Parker admitted, “until you don’t want me at least?”

Arthur pressed together his lips in a strained expression that he managed to turn into a smile, “just… promise you'll let me know if that changes?”

“You got it, Artie,” Parker said, reaching out to give Arthur's forearm a gentle squeeze.

*

So John had a friend from the hospital huh? Oh and wouldn't you know it, looked like Parker was about to have a “friend in the hospital” weirdly enough. He’d been meaning to make a visit.

He knew which hospital in town Arthur had been at from a bill left on the coffee table. He knew that he had to go to the coma ward according to the same page, but past that he was flying blind. Once he got there he started with a quick scan of the place. The key here was to find a way that he could get the information about which nurse was friends with John Doe without any weirdness regarding the fact that everyone in this Ward was possibly called John Doe. Ideally without it seeming like he was, you know, some random guy who was stalking a random nurse to find out about her random ass friend.

“Hello, can I help you?” Said a woman at the desk.

“Hi, I feel just terrible, but I think I might have a friend here?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah I'm looking for a friend of mine. I got a letter from his nanny saying that he was in the hospital, but I had been out of town for some months for work. I didn't get the letter until just now. Do you mind if I check on him?”

“Oh well what is the name of your friend and we're also going to need some identification,” She said.

“Arthur Lester? Oh and I'm Peter Yang,” He started to reach for his wallet.

The nurses face lit with recognition, “Arthur? Oh no he's- he's been out for quite some time.”

“Oh really? Shoot I'm sorry. I'm not much for technology so it's hard to get a hold of me sometimes. So- so you do know Arthur though?”

“Yes of course and John. John was always here visiting with that lovely little child Faroe.”

“Oh God yeah, man I was in town last year for Faroe's birth. She's a cute little critter. I'm so sorry and I completely understand if this is like- outside of your purview, but do you have anyway I might be able to get a hold of John or Arthur?”

The nurse pressed her lips together, “I am not in a position where I can give out that sort of information.”

“Of course,” Parker agreed easily, better not to press. She seemed regretful so if he played this right he could still get something out of her.

She reassured him, “You seem nice, I just- well of course there are regulations.”

“Oh yeah of course.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, “I'm sorry… but I know that John is a friend of one of the nurses on shift right now? I can ask her if she feels comfortable if she could share John's number with you in a less professional capacity?”

“Oh man, thank you so much, miss. You're a real angel,” Parker said leaning on the counter giving her that half smile that he knew tended to make people feel real good about making him happy.

The woman turned a little bit red in the face, “Of course, let me just go check with her.”

She disappeared around a corner. Parker hissed between his teeth. Yikes. If he managed to get a hold of this friend of John's he was going to need to really let someone know to get these protocols back in check. There was no way that he should be able to do this.

“Hello?” someone behind him said.

Parker turned around and saw a woman there with box-dye-crayola-brand-red hair laced tightly into a bun with just two small curls falling next to her ears, “Hey are you Lily?”

“Hi yeah.”

“I think John's mentioned you he-”

“My coworker mentioned that you were asking about John and Arthur. I'm just here to tell you that John and I haven't been in regular contact in months. I think he moved out of town.”

Months, huh? Parker hesitated, “Left town did he?”

“I'm afraid so. I think he was heading to New York,” she said with a nod, “Who did you say you were again?”

“Peter Yang, nice to meet you ma’am,” He offered his hand to shake.

She ignored it, clenching her hands nervously at her sides, “Yes well if you've known Arthur long as you seem to be putting forth, he lives in the same place he always has. So you can go find him there.”

Parker offered a polite, bashful smile, “Did I do something to offend?”

“I'm in my workplace. I don't need people poking around asking after people I haven't spoken to in God knows how long.”

And that was just laying it on too thick. Who was she so scared of?

Parker nodded seriously, “‘Course I'm so sorry, ma'am. Yeah I hate to bother you about somebody that you haven't seen.”

She nodded firmly, “Right, so… have a nice day.”

“Yeah you too.”

So John was still in town. Parker didn't know what it was that made Lily so willing to lie for him but she was clearly lying and clearly distrustful of anyone who came asking after him.

What was John Doe running from? No connections, no real name, all he had was the literal most basic of aliases and the ability to drop everything to take up a babysitting gig. That was a man on the run if Parker'd ever seen it and he was all the more interested in getting some answers.

 

*

John impatiently tapped his feet against the threadbare carpet of his motel room waiting for the knock at the door. Lily was meant to be arriving soon. She had called sounding somewhat frantic.

When the knock finally came John flew off the bed flicked open the latches and opened the door for her. She stood there, still in her work clothes looking stressed. She pushed her way into the room.

“Lily, what's wrong?” John asked, closing the door behind her.

“I think your father's looking for you. Did Arthur know enough to have called him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean I know you said you and Arthur got into a fight and that's why you couldn't do coffee last week or the week before that I haven't seen you in like weeks.”

“Lily, slow down, what happened?” John kept his tone even, hoping she'd calm enough to talk.

“I was at work and my coworker came up to me and said that somebody was asking after you and Arthur. So that made me suspicious because why would they go to the hospital asking after you and Arthur when Arthur's been out of the hospital for months. Clearly this wasn't somebody who knew what was going on in your lives.”

“Right,” John said awkwardly and no technically Lily also didn't know what was going on in their lives. John had explained that he and Arthur had gotten into a fight but had yet to explain the reasoning for it. He just- He didn't want to lose Lily too.

“So I went to see him, to see what was up, and he was looking for me to give him your phone number. I told him I thought you left town, but I could tell he didn't believe me. So, I said it again, but then he really didn't believe me. So I looked into this guy on the internet and he said that his name was Peter Yang and he's a private investigator! I think your dad has figured out that you're going by John Doe but is having a hard time finding you because of that. It's a good thing you have this motel room but I really think you should just come to my house.”

“I- Lily I can't. If they found you then I can't stay.”

“God, of course, they would come looking for me. I mean like- I was like- you're only friend right? oh sorry,” She seemed to hear herself.

John smiled despite himself, “And also no. It's absolutely insane to go after a nurse who treated me once when I was hospitalized.”

“Yeah, but– I mean- I lost my job because I was nice to you so I figured they'd probably see it as fairly important,” A slight bitterness was in her voice.

“You're right I'm sorry.”

John paced back and forth across the worn gray-brown strip of the purple carpet that ran from the door to the bathroom in front of the TV, “God, I- I can't stay I don't even know why I'm here. I should just go. Keep moving towns before I run out of money.”

“Remind me why you don't just make up with Arthur? Nobody's going to go looking for you in some random guys employ.”

“I can't make up with Arthur, Lily. He's too angry he'll never take me back.”

“What happened between the two of you? You were friends weren't you? I mean, the way you talked about him…”

“There was an incident regarding Faroe's safety and I tore into him. I said a lot of things. I told him that he didn't take Faroe's safety seriously enough. Told him he- I accused him of nearly murdering her.”

Lily's eyebrows climbed, “Yeah? What happened?”

John felt the last tin can inside him crumple with a metallic creak. He had to tell her. She wasn't going to leave it without answers.

“Okay I have to admit something to you. I doubt you'll forgive me, but you should know before you keep helping me. I didn't plan this out, but it happened. I can't take it back,” John said hesitantly.

She looked at him slowly and a touch suspicious, “Okay?”

“I ran away from home with nothing on me like I told you. But when I said I showed up at Arthur's door looking to do some work, what I was actually planning to do was get him to pay for a fake magazine subscription.”

“Oh… well… that's understandable. Nice neighborhood. I see why you picked it.”

“Exactly!” John said quickly then winced, “but it gets worse than that. Arthur was at the time looking for a nanny, and he was expecting one to visit that day. So he sort of rushed me in through the front door before I had anything to say about it. I would have told him, explained that I was just there for the magazine subscription but…”

Her face started fading into something pained and distant that made John feel about an inch tall, “Oh John…”

“He… started telling me how much it would pay. I was cold and hungry and I needed somewhere to go. So, I pretended that I had been a nanny the whole time and that I was perfectly prepared to take a live-in position to care for Faroe.”

The look on her face resolved into a visceral horror that made John's skin itch.

“Listen I know. I know I'm not a good person and I never have been. I'm not making any illusions about being a good person alright? And you don't have to like me after this, but I did what I had to to stay alive, to stay safe. And I never hurt them! I didn't do anything to them! I just did my job and took care of Faroe even when Arthur was in a goddamn coma. So whatever you have to say to admonish me, fuck you. You don't understand anything. You're no one to tell me what to do,” John snapped

And for the first time a real anger flashed across Lily's face.

“Don't,” she said sharply, “don't talk to me like that. People don't talk to me like that alright?”

John drew up short, “I-”

“You can be angry. You can lash out at a fucking punching bag like an adult but I will not be that for you, okay? Now you're my friend. Do I think that you went about that the right way? Definitely not. But I understand the position you were in and I understand how scared you were. Now let's go back to the part where you were telling me the story what happened.”

John felt hollowed out with guilt, his voice was quiet, “I'm sorry.”

“It's not okay, but I forgive you,” She told him and she didn't seem ruffled, just serious.

“He employed me. I made the money I needed. His father-in-law seem to get the idea that I wasn't who I said I was but let it slide because he could tell that I cared about Faroe.”

“And did you?” Lily asked, none too gentle, still settling from John being an asshole, “Care about Faroe?”

“Of course,” John said automatically and then his eyes widened. He hadn't really thought about it. Thinking about Faroe after he'd gone just made him feel a little bit sick.

“I cared about Faroe,” he said quietly, “and then when Arthur came back, I just kept telling myself that I was going to leave. That it wouldn't be a problem, but then I just kept being there because I didn't-”

He felt very small, “I didn't want to leave.”

Lily sighed, “oh John.”

*

The case is stalled out real bad after the confrontation in the hospital.

This happened sometimes and after all Parker wasn't really being paid for the answers to this one. He still needed to make rent on the place that he was barely staying in. Besides that kind of leg work could take days.

So, of course, it was not as he was scouring the town or searching the hotel records that he picked up a lead. It was as he was sitting on his ass on Arthur Lester's couch gently bouncing Faroe on his knee watching the goddamn TV.

“In other news, multi-million dollar CEO Hastur King has come out with a statement regarding his son, John King.”

The image on screen changed from the news anchor to a video clip of a man in a sharply pressed suit with a yellow shirt beneath standing at a podium with a younger man who looked very similar right next to him.

And both of them looked exactly like John.

He snatched up the remote and clicked it up higher, squinting at the young man beside the CEO. He decided that that wasn't John. Beside the blond hair, the build was different, the face more sallow as though he hadn't been eating enough. He looked unhealthy, far more so than could have happened in the intervening time between John's disappearance. And now the man on screen began speaking.

“Thank you all for coming to this conference. I am turning to you today because I feel a father's concern. Thinking that it was perhaps a young man's brief stint of fearful passion I did not announce some months ago when my son John went missing. I had thought that if I stalled he would simply return to us. After some time and absolutely no communication with anyone in our family, I'm afraid we must accept the truth of the matter. We've begun speaking with police, because I believe my son has been kidnapped. I find myself in an incredibly lucky position where I can turn to you the American people-”

Parker snorted he knew Hastur King. Everyone knew Hastur King if not by face or name alone than by the King Industries name. You could buy Just About Anything King branded. From toothpaste to fucking cyber security.

“-to find my son. If you have any information, I would ask that you contact my people,” he spouted off a number and email and a website, “anyone who has information that leads to my son's return to us will have a reward.”

“As you all know, I was looking forward to my long-awaited retirement soon…”

Parker sat forward, cradling Faroe close to him.

“...and John being my first born son, he would be the one that I pass this great company on to. I have been raising his brother in his footsteps, but I miss my son,” he looked into the camera hard and with a set of tears that just creeped Parker out.

Parker knew what that kind of facial structure usually did when upset, the scowl and the gritted teeth that he had seen every time he had dropped Arthur off at the door. Of course, on John, Parker suspected even this teary eyed plea would be a little less pale and unnerving.

If there was more Parker didn't really hear it. Thinking about the implication for his and Faroe’s case. Baffled, he pulled out his notes, Faroe still sitting on his knee, and he sort of fumbled around with the pen jotting down “John King” at the top of his ledger.

Well… it looked like Parker knew what monsters the guy was running from now.

Chapter 13: Cinnamon, Lavender, and Saffron

Summary:

A parent's support group, two confessions, and a troubling book....

Also Faroe crawls you guys! she's mobile what crimes will she commit

Notes:

Yeah this is double the length of previous chapters
I didnt want to split it Cuz I thought that would fuck up the pacing
So enjoy I suppose!

Tw: parker is on a murder case, nothing graphic but its present in a few mentions

Arthur, with no small amount of shame, set Faroe in her high chair and made his way to his room for a moment. He shuffled through his sock drawer until he found one of the two ounce bottles of fireball. He drank it and one more like it with a speed that allowed him to keep it down. The cinnamon was cloying and the warmth in his stomach made him nauseous. Had he eaten today?

Not the point.

He considered a third, but thought it might just make him vomit anyway and held off. He missed drinking anything except Fireball but this was his compromise with the crushing guilt. If he couldn’t stop then he wasn’t very well going to enjoy it.

Arthur missed vodka in fruit juice.

Bella would be ashamed of him. Parker would pretend his sigh wasn’t pity. John would be angry, furious, that Arthur was still at it after bath night.

He nearly pocketed the third small bottle anyway, but shut the drawer and made his way down, navigating the house muscle memory by now.

’Jesus Fucking Christ Arthur, you’re literally bruising. It's three steps past the stairs before you turn into the kitchen. When you take two you check your shoulder on the corner.’

He took the third step before turning into the kitchen, biting the inside of his cheek furiously at John's voice in his head.

He touched the button on his watch that announced it was five fifty-three pm.

“Well, my love,” Arthur said, addressing Faroe, “Are you ready to go?”

She began kicking excitedly. He smiled and ran his hands over her face, checking she was clean, feeling her hair and gently adjusting it so it layed a little more flat. She giggled as his fingers trailed behind her ears.

“Oh someone’s ticklish!” Arthur announced, but before he could get her again he heard a car outside.

“Ah carseat time, Faroe.”

He hauled her onto his hip and made for the car seat and diaper bag that sat near the door. As he got her settled and carefully buckled the straps, a knock sounded at the door. He stood and answered it.

“Mr. Lester, Evening,” The man said, friendly enough.

“Father, you’re doing me a favor, you can certainly call me Arthur.”

“Then you can just call me Oscar. You're still feeling up for this meeting? I know you expressed some nerves at the idea?”

“Yes, well, I don’t really have much choice. Faroe needs a greater support network than me and I don’t- Well this is the only option I have right now.”

“I see, well.. I hope you find the help you're looking for. Shall we?”

*

The meeting hall of the church was all sticky folding tables, and a threadbare carpet but reportedly there was a blanket laid out with blocks on it for the very small children, and plenty of chairs for everyone to settle down in.

And there were other single parents. None of their stories were easy, in churches you don't find people who had easy lives before the faith. They tended to find people who needed it and preyed on that need. Not that he exactly thought Oscar was personally doing that but generally people who needed help saw a place that provided it and flocked. He was just glad that this one seemed to come with a couple less strings than the ones he grew up in.

They talked about losing their husbands, their wives running out, unexpected divorces, or loss of a sibling that gave way to the adoption of a nephew.

One man cited having gotten unexpectedly pregnant and his family kicking him out. Arthur was admittedly starting to see why this was Parker's preferred church because no one seem to bat an eye at the man's story.

When Arthur said his piece he tried to explain but as usually couldn't bring himself to really speak of the fight he'd had with John. He spoke of Bella, her death, finding a friend who unexpectedly left recently. They had all offered their sympathies.

Afterward, one of the women gently pulled him aside and told him that she understood how hard it was to lose a partner unexpectedly like that. He assumed she meant to death but she said that her boyfriend had left her and his son with her. She had just been the kid's stepmother and that was hard enough. She was very sympathetic about it having happened to Arthur so soon after Faroe's mothers death as well.

Arthur didn't have it in him to explain to her while she was pouring out her heart that John and him had been nothing to one another.

But it wasn't all sad stories. It was also an opportunity for the kids to get together and play, for the adults to commiserate about the unique challenges of being the only set of eyes that were on said kids, and trying to run a work schedule around that. They gave Arthur the contact list and then realizing he couldn't read it Oscar very kindly offered to start entering all the numbers into his phone for him with notes as to their availability. Apparently there was something of a babysitting network that they had worked out among themselves. He explained his place wasn't yet childproof but he would offer otherwise.

They also noted that if no one else was available there also was a few people from the church who were willing to keep an eye on kids of various ages. They encouraged him to speak with Marie. Marie was a woman who was apparently rather alone these days and would happily watch whatever children just in trade for a cup of tea or a dinner every once in a while. She enjoyed having people in her house and she had most of the supplies you really needed on hand for little ones like Faroe. Arthur thanked them and made a mental note that Marie was the person to contact if he really was going to try this.

By the time the meeting was over everyone was shuffling out, trading compliments about each other's children's Behavior and making plans for coffee or to see each other in church in a few days.

“She was an angel,” Oscar said passing Faroe to Arthur from where she had been sitting on the rug next to the both of their feet

“Usually she yells a lot around this time of night,” Arthur noted with a smile of surprise. He settled Faroe in her seat starting to get her buckled.

“Oh well she did get a little fussy there for a bit but she calmed right down when I started chatting with her,” Oscar said. Arthur felt Oscar's hand brush his arm as the man gently poked Faroe in the side, sending her squirming and giggling.

Arthur smiled as he rose up and made for where he heard everyone else exiting, “That- yes, I suppose that would work. Thank you Oscar you've been incredibly kind and thank you again for the ride home.”

He had Faroe's bag on the shoulder of the hand he used his cane with, and Faroe's seat in the other hand and he really would hate to make the walk home like this.

“Of course. Not a- oh, hang on. I'm perfectly willing to but I'm afraid- well-”

A familiar voice sounded from the cool night air of the parking lot ahead of him, “Hey Artie, I was passing by to see if you needed a ride. Stake out was a bust so I figured I should get something out of this drive. Did you want to lift? I can totally go if not.”

Arthur couldn't help the smile it put across the face, “I would love a ride Parker thank you.”

“That alright by you father?” Parker said, jokingly, “I promise I won't lead him astray or anything.”

“Of course, and it's good to see you Peter, any chance you'll be in sunday?”

“Oh uh- yeah- yeah, I'll do my best, if the case let's up and I have time…” The guilt was evident in Parker's voice.

“If the answer is ‘No I don't want to’ I won't tell the lord I promise. God knows I dont always enjoy getting up at those times,” Oscar said wryly, seeing through him, “I don't really think God cares to count the Sundays on a life lived in kindness. You three have a good night.”

“Yes you too,” Arthur told him.

“Uh Yeah lord be with you, father,” Parker said then under his breath, “C'mon Lester, car’s this way. We gotta get out of here, I don't even remember the last time I confessed.”

Arthur laughed and made for the car with Faroe.

*

“Brown?” Parker repeated hearing the words he had just read aloud, “her favorite color is fucking Brown?!”

“Nobody's making you read this, Parker,” Arthur pointed out, he continued to play softly at his keyboard as Parker lounged on his bed book in hand. Arthur often stopped after a few notes and frowned, trying again.

“Yeah, but you like these movies, and well- I don't know. I thought this might be nice, I guess,” Parker admitted, frowning at the paperback in front of him. There was some small part of him enjoying this so far but mostly in a stockholm syndrome way he suspected.

Maybe it was just because it was better than putting together The Complete Biography of John's Life or trying to narrow down options from the motels and hotels in town. At least he knew, due to a friend at the station, that John hadn't taken any buses or trains out of the city. Though there was still the plane issue.

God at least stupid vampire books didn't make him think.

“There's nothing nice about those movies,” Arthur corrected with a laugh, “they are a penance before I get to watch Other Better Movies.”

“Well consider this penance before you get to go read Other Better Books,” Parker told him, “start daydreaming about what you want me to read next. My votes for Hitchhiker's Guide.”

“We don't have to go through this. You certainly don't. Audiobooks exist, Parker. You don't need to read to me.”

“Yeah but I'm real shit at describing what's happening on screen to you when the show doesn’t have descriptors, and when we tried the whole video game thing I was worse. So I figured this way I don't need to come up with better words, it's just there written on the page.”

 

“I would highly appreciate better words, but I understand your meaning, yes,” Arthur smiled as he mindlessly plinked out the opening section of Somebody That I Used To Know.

“I mean fuck me, Arthur, Brown?? Bella Swan's favorite color, when asked by this angelically cute guy, is ‘Oh I don't know, maybe Brown today’??? I'm just saying if I flirted like this I’d be a monk.”

“I know I know.”

“And she's so mean too! She forgets everybody's names just constantly, she doesn't even seem to care about like Jessica's feelings. Is that her name? Jessica? I don't remember.”

“I am not sure,” Arthur agreed, “but nobody's making you read this, Parker.”

“Listen Lester, you opened this train wreck and now you're going to finish it.”

“I don't think that's right, and I'm fairly certain I could just walk out.”

“Come on, don't abandon me! If you do, I'll keep reading it aloud. You won't be able to come into the living room without hearing it. Besides you know you like listening to me talk,” Parker teased, “Who doesn't want my gorgeous voice constantly babbling at them day or night?”

To his surprise Arthur flushed a little and then after a few moments of Silence Arthur said, “Parker, are you- forgive me, are you ugly?”

“What?” Parker said, thrown by the topic shift.

“I'm sorry, I understand that's rude. I have no idea what you look like though, and I've been trying to puzzle it out. How somebody like you, good with kids, nice voice, very kind,” Arthur said hesitantly, he didn't face Parker's direction as he spoke, “I don't understand how you're single unless it's a choice or you’re- I don't know- horrifically scarred or something.”

“So you want to know what I look like?” Parker said trying to parse what Arthur was getting at, then jokingly added, “Been trying to picture my charming face?”

Arthur huffed and turned to face more Parker's direction, “Quite frankly yes. You don't give me much to go on other than the fact that apparently, according to you you charm everyone everywhere you go.”

“Not everywhere there are some more conservative towns.”

Arthur ignored the joke, “Please Parker, it doesn't have to be flowery, just hair color? Eye color?”

Damn yeah Parker supposed Arthur had a right to know was he was looking at more or less.

“Alright alright, tell you what, I'm not good at describing face structure but here,” he gently took Arthur's hand and placed it against his face, “There feel me up.”

Goddamnit Yang don’t make this weird.

Arthur blinked, his hand gentled and seemingly naturally came to cradle Parker's cheek, “Well alright but there are still things I very much can't perceive, Parker.”

Fuck right, colors, the only thing Arthur had actually asked him for

“I'm getting to those.”

Carefully Arthur's thumb brushed across the top of his cheek, the other hand coming to join it on the other side. His eyes were closed like he was trying to imagine.

Parker cleared his throat unsteadily, “So I'm Chinese if you didn't pick up on that. I got black hair and dark eyes.”

Arthur's face was open and curious as fingertips trailed across Parker's brow bone, down his nose. He wondered if the warmth he was feeling was obvious to Arthur too.

“I got my nose broken pretty bad in a fight when I was a teenager and it didn't heal right so it's a little crooked. I've been told I got a charming smile but I think that just means it's probably crooked too,” Parker joked, Arthur opened his eyes and nailed him with a Look. Utterly unimpressed.

It was a hell of a way to find out that eye contact with Arthur Lester was enough to damn near knock the wind out of him.

Parker shut his eyes for a moment to compose himself. Jesus he needed to get it together.

“Skin is I don't know… Brown? Light to medium.”

“I'm not detecting any deformities yet,” Arthur mused dryly. Parker's eyes flew open catching the tail end of a smile.

“Oh yeah well that's because I'm so devastatingly handsome everyone falls down into my bed when I so much as flutter an eyelash.”

“Well good for me being so immune to your charms,” Arthur said, the corner of his mouth ticking up again.

“Oh just you wait Sunshine one of these days I'll find a way to translate all that into vocals and then you're in trouble.”

Arthur drew back with a small hum, “Yes well despite what the movies might have told us, I'm afraid I got relatively little from just feeling your face. Beyond, of course, imagining how awkward it was for you to try and hold that still.”

“Man, really didn't get anything?”

“Except for the little line between your eyebrows when you try to be self-deprecating.”

“Oh dang, don't point out the wrinkles. I don't need to know that I'm getting old, thank you.”

Arthur frowned, unconvinced, “How old are you? You sound near my age but I suppose I assumed?”

“Twenty eight.”

“Exactly. I was guessing the late twenties ballpark. You have nothing to worry about, a line between your eyebrows at this age just adds character. So… what is it then?” Arthur asked.

“What's what?”

“What is it that has you single?” he asked nowhere near as shy as a man asking something like that should be, Parker liked that, “massive face tattoo of a penis that you got at a college party?”

Parker barked out an unexpected laugh.

“I didn't go to college and no I just- I don't know- I'm not exactly a casual dating type of guy. Don't get me wrong I'm not like- saving my chastity for marriage,” Parker said, putting on a scandalized tone, “but I don't get the appeal of it I guess and as of right now I don't have anyone I'm pursuing.”

Despite his pounding pulse’s best attempts.

Arthur nodded, “I see so it is a choice.”

“I guess so. I don't want to sit here and act like I'm hot shit really, but y’know, I'm tall enough, strong enough. I definitely get my fair share of looks.”

“And no one's caught your eye?” And Arthur didn’t lean closer as he said that, Parker was imagining things.

“I didn't say that. I've had Partners in the past. It's not that I'm never interested just well- I tend to go for people who don't really have space in their life for me anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah Artie sorry but I’m not gonna get into it.”

Not when all conversational roads from there had only exits on route “Hey Arthur, Check Out My Big Stupid Crush”. Parker didn’t like the look of that on ramp.

Arthur looked appropriately embarrassed, “I'm sorry Parker that was probably rude. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Hey, no problem. In trade can I ask you a pretty rude thing in return?”

“Fair is fair.”

“The eyes, can I ask what happened?”

“Oh yes I suppose I haven't mentioned that have I?”

“In fairness I didn't ask. Didn't want to pry.”

“Oh it's nothing particularly private. I was out one day trying to run some errands and someone swerved out in front of me. I jerked the wheel toward the side of the highway because they had a baby on board sticker. When I hit the barrier the car flipped. I came out all right, always do. But something sort of came loose,” he said tapping the side of his Temple, “I was in a coma for about a month and when I woke up I couldn't see. The very last image I have is the back of a rusty Toyota speeding away and not stopping as I flipped.”

Arthur gave an almost playful little shrug.

Parker blew out a breath with a slow whistle, “Fuck man, what an asshole…”

Arthur snorted, “You are not lying.”

*

John closed the news tab on his phone. How many times had he watched that press conference?

Temporal, Frontal, Parietal, Occipital.

He needed to get out of town quietly.

Cervical, Thoracic, Lumbar, Sacrum, Coccyx.

His father was looking for him. His father was looking and John had lost his head start. His father was looking for him and he knew John had holed up in Arkham for the past eight months. His father knew about Arthur, Lily, Faroe.

Scapula, Humerus, Radius, Ulna.

His father knew about Faroe and Arthur.

John sat down on the motel bed, and laid back, legs over the edge. He saw the sunlight disappear behind the blinds. He felt very distant from his hands, his legs.

The motel room was wrong, not quite real.

Carpals, Metacarpals, Proximal Phalanx, Middle Phalanx, Distal Phalanx…

 

*

“She's not happy,” Arthur commented evenly, in reply to Faroe’s anguished wails. She was clean, full, well rested, they’d tried holding her to see if she calmed, all to no avail. This crying was from too many big feelings inside one small person.

“I've noticed, but you are right the whole letting her cry on her stomach thing does seem to be getting her to push up.”

Arthur perked up, “Really? does it look like she might?”

“Oh yeah she's like hands-and-knees now.”

“Oh my God okay, she's about to- Fuck get a camera, please!” Arthur panicked, patting his pockets for his phone. Faroe's crying was slowing, like the discovery of her legs had distracted her.

“On it Artie, hang on,” There was rustling from Parker's direction, “Got it, she's moving holy shit! Oh lord alright, filming! Also moving the murder pictures off the coffee table in case she makes it over there, but the rest of her path is clear!”

“Oh my God.”

“She's honestly kind of hauling ass. I wonder if she's actually sort of been ready for this and hasn't gotten motivation.”

“She's just taking off?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah I already she's made it fuckin two full feet, oh my God.”

“That's my girl, yes!” Arthur said, pumping his fist, “Excellent work Faroe!”

“No kidding, look at you. Just gonna crawl around until you find what you're looking for huh?”

Arthur's smile wavered a bit, “She has been crying a lot hasn't she?”

“Yeah she has,” Parker said because Parker didn't tend to lie to him.

“Do you think it's…?” He trailed off.

“Yeah.”

He felt nauseous, “Do you think she'll get over it?”

“I mean eventually she'd have to, I assume,” Parker said, “It's just hard on her.”

They were quiet, save for the new noises of curiosity Faroe was making and the chirp of Parker ending the video.

“Why didn't he hurt her?” Arthur finally said.

“What?”

“All that time completely alone and she ate, she was clean, she regularly attended doctor's appointments. Daniel had eyes on her. We've taken her to get thoroughly checked over. Why didn't he half-ass it? Why did he read those books? Why did he-” Arthur choked.

The word ‘care’ hung in the air unspoken.

“Stay?” Arthur finished quietly, “Why did he stay? He had access to plenty of money. He could have left whenever he wanted, but he didn't leave until- until he was worried about her.”

“Til he was worried about her?” Parker repeated gently.

Prodding, carefully, secretly, but prodding for information.

Arthur dialed back in, “You don't believe me about what happened.”

“In fairness Artie, you don't believe you about what happened. You kept talking about how you almost killed her but insisting John didn't hurt her. Listen, the kids fine and you called for help right away. Whatever you did, I'm not going to judge you,” His tone was odd and it took Arthur just a second to parse it.

Arthur noted with a touch of surprise that this was the first time Parker had outright lied to him. He knew, with a startling trust, that if Parker decided Arthur was a danger to Faroe that he would see that she was taken away. Parker would turn on him without a thought if it was for Faroe.

A tension Arthur had been holding since that night left him. Thank God.

Arthur began talking, “John was heading out. I asked him to put Faroe in the bath and start it running and I would be there in half a moment.”

“Okay seems a little risky,” Parker admitted, “but hardly almost killing her.”

Arthur sighed, “That is not the end of it. John agreed, left the room, and I heard the water turn on. I didn't register it. This wasn't- I didn't register it and if John had done as I had asked him… If John had done exactly as I had asked him to and left as he said he intended, Faroe would have drowned waiting for me to come turn off the tap. She would have drowned while I played my music.”

Parker was very quiet for several long moments, but Arthur heard him take a tiny step to the right, interposing himself between Arthur and Faroe. He felt a hot sickness and shame in his lungs at that. He didn't speak.

Finally Parker did, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I was scared you wouldn't help and I knew I wasn't enough for Faroe. And,” Parker deserved honesty, “I didn't want you to think less of me than you already did. You would be well within your rights to, I don't know, call someone, have her taken from me. I need you to know…”

Arthur steadied himself, “That will Never Happen Again. I know that's not enough. I know it's not enough after the fact to make the promise, but I am well aware that I can't take care of her on my own. And I promise I will never put that kind of trust in myself and my judgment again.”

Parker was quiet still. Faroe was babbling happily.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Arthur repeated

“Good. Don't trust your gut, and you take care of this girl. I don't think you're a bad person or anything, Arthur. I think you let your own shit get in the way sometimes, but I don't think you're a bad person. Don't trust your gut again,” Parker said evenly.

“You would be well within your rights to hate me,” Arthur said.

“I don't hate you. She's fine. It was an accident and there's no point in hating you. And fuck man, I don't know, you called for help. Long before me you had help and that's exactly why she is still alive. Not saying you're a good dad, but you're clearly trying to be a better one. S’all any of us can do, right?”

Arthur was surprised enough that all he managed was a small echo of the word, “Right.”

“You and me?” Parker said, “We’re fine. I don’t feel any different about you, because you owning up to this means you're still the guy I thought you were. Sure if you let anything happen to this girl after this I’d- I’d probably come to regret what I’d do. But if you're comfortable with that being the condition of our friendship from here I think we’re good.”

Arthur felt something warm settle in his chest. He nodded quietly.

“If anything happened to her because of me, I’d encourage you to make sure they never found my body,” Arthur said in agreement.

“Alright,” Parker’s tone was settled, “Good man. Now, wanna find something to put on the TV for a while?”

*

Parker was leafing through pages, the sound of paper on paper filling the room as he skimmed what they’d already read, “Do you feel like it's weird? Like arguably no matter what happens in their relationship it's never going to be like two regular adults right? Because even if Bella lived until eighty Edward would still be older than her. And also, wouldn’t he still be in the brain of a seventeen-year-old? Like how fucked up is that?”

Things had been tense for a short while after their talk but once Parker had time to take in the new information a bit he had settled some. Arthur hadn’t exactly recovered quite as fast but once he saw Parker meant what he said he seemed to relax some. And Faroe really was fine.

Arthur shuffled around carrying his guilt like those chained up puppets from Muppet Christmas Carol as it was. He felt bad, he knew he fucked up, he knew that if anything ever actually happened there were consequences. No point hammering it into him when the whole thing had already lost them John.

Parker didn’t really know what to do beyond that, so? He read more of Twilight to Arthur. Maybe too much, he was pretty sure it was getting insufferable.

“I am not talking to you about this, Parker. I am trying to make a sandwich.”

Yeah it was getting insufferable. That was good, if Arthur was annoyed with him things really were getting back to normal.

“Right and you can't listen while you do that? Gotta really dial into those sweet sweet packet crinkle sounds?”

“Parker please.”

“Alright alright alright,” he was quiet for a few moments, “no but really okay? I know what happens later on with Jacob and the kid? And I just got to wonder what the fuck is Stephanie Meyer’s deal? Why does she need an age gap with a child in every book? It's like a requirement?? I thought she was Mormon.”

“Parker please,” Arthur groaned, laughing.

*

Arthur tugged at his cuffs, “I don't know, maybe we should just cancel with Marie.”

“Arthur you need to sometimes get out or you're going to burn out and you're going to do something dumb cuz you're tired. We're going to go out. We're going to have a nice night. Faroe will be fine with Marie. Marie raised like- I don't know- like half the kids in that congregation.”

“Yes but did she ever have children of her own?” Arthur pressed.

“I don't know. I think you'd have to ask her, but she's going to do her best and frankly I trust her. She's got a real trustworthy look.”

“That's not fair, you can't use that over me, the fact that you can see people's faces and I can't.”

“Oh no I definitely can use it over you, tell you how I have all these gut feelings.”

“Are you lying then?”

“Of course not Lester I wouldn't lie about Faroe. I think Marie really has a handle on it. Come on we're going to get her there and we're going to get you out. When was the last time you've been to a club?”

Arthur exhaled thoughtfully, “God must have been… eighteen months ago?”

“Eighteen months? Really? That's it? Not even that long honestly.”

“I met Bella in a club.”

“Oh shit, your girl?” Parker said with surprise.

“I- Yes. We met in a club, went home together and… well you see the result, her name is Faroe. That was one of the last times I went.”

“Well… see? Its time to pick up an old hobby, have little fun.”

*

“I look ridiculous,” Arthur told Parker.

“You look great.”

“I can’t confirm that, I feel far too old for this.”

“You're like a year and a half older than you were last time just-” Parker swatted his hands away from his collar, “Arthur stop fussing with the shirt and relax for a second.”

Arthur looked up at him, imagining again the image of Parker he’d composited in his mind.

“You look great. I promise,” He said with a little gentle smile in his voice on the last two words, “Now come dance with me.”

They walked towards the door where the music was pulsating from, paid their way through, and made their way in.

“Are the lights multicolored and flashing?”

“You know it, and the drinks are overpriced as well.”

“Whatever shall we do,” Arthur put in dryly. He could still taste the cinnamon.

“I know, you came here dead sober right?” Parker said. Arthur couldn’t tell if the judgment in his tone was intended or if the joke was meant to be teasing.

“Oh fuck off,” Arthur shot back with more heat than he’d planned on.

Parker backed off, “Hey hey sorry for the subject. I shouldn't joke, I know it's touchy. Come on let's see if we can't make our way on to the dance floor alright?”

Arthur let the tension drain from his shoulders, “Yes, sorry, you’re right.”

The crowd pulsed and moved in time with the music and very quickly Arthur lost his sense of where Parker was.

“Parker?!” Arthur said quickly, panic coloring his tone.

“Hey I'm right here,” A hand slipped into Arthur's, “Yeah we should probably keep a hold of each other, huh?”

“Yes perhaps. Keep an eye on me?” Arthur asked, squeezing his hand and glancing up in the general direction of Parker's head through his eye lashes.

If he wasn’t mistaken Parker sounded a little strained, “Always. I got your back.”

It felt good dancing with Parker. They usually kept up some point of contact as they moved. Arthur's hand on his hip. Parker's arm thrown around Arthur's neck. The music moved them perfectly in time in a way that required absolutely nothing to navigate. Dancing with a beautiful man was apparently, just as Arthur had always said, something he could do blind and drunk.

And then Arthur's phone rang.

He pulled it out listening to the name that was announced by the speaker.

“Marie? Fuck.”

He rushed off the dance floor, hauling Parker behind him as he sought some place more quiet. He in the end he rushed right out the back door. The alley smelled like piss, garbage, and weed.

“Marie? Yes? Hello?”

“Arthur? I’m afraid your night out is coming to an end. Faroe has gotten disastrously ill Arthur, and you did not give me enough clothes for how disastrously ill she has gotten.”

“What happened?”

“I prefer not to say, I don't think it polite, but let us say she will be needing you to bathe her and change her several times for the rest of the evening. Quite frankly, I'm too old for this.”

“Of course, Marie. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize that she was feeling badly.”

“Not a problem, not a problem at all, but I will tell you, I do not think that peas agree with her. We will await your arrival. Please hurry.”

Marie hung up.

“The kid’s sick?”

“Yes it seems that she has some sort of pea based intolerance.”

“Ah damn, that's all right, we'll pick her up and get her cleaned up. And hey," Parker said, catching his hand again, “I had fun Artie.”

“Yes Parker I quite had fun too.”

The rest of that evening was spent up and awake until the sunrise. They were busy nursing Faroe through the most miserable time of her life so far. She had a bath carefully administered by both of them. The night was quiet otherwise, Arthur and Parker taking turns feeding Faroe some rice cereal while Bluey played on the TV.

All the while they kept a point or two of contact between them like they might still drift away.

*

John didn't have a choice; he knew that now. What he had to do was go to New York. He had to go to New York and show himself so that his father wouldn't keep shuffling through Arthur and Faroe’s life. God only knew what he would do to them if John didn't show up, so John needed to show up. He needed to gather his things, go to New York, and face his father head on. John needed to- he needed to take back the company to appease his father. If he did, then he could set up a college fund for Faroe maybe, he told himself. He could give all this up. He-

He needed Arthur's opinion on this, he thought miserably.

“I don't know. I don't know what color to paint it. You said I could, but I don't know what color to paint it!” John growled.

“Relax John, this is meant to be fun,” Arthur reminded him from a position perched on John’s bed. John wondered if his blanket would smell like Arthur’s cologne or more like whatever Arthur had been drinking that day. He hoped it was the cologne.

“Alright walk me through the colors again,describe them all.”

“Right. I've narrowed it down to three. One of them is electric blue. The way blue raspberry tastes. It's like that but it's darker. Less- less green. Like the sky on a summer day when later on it's going to pick up a storm but not yet. Then we have an orange. It's like a pumpkin, I really can't describe it any other way. I suppose it's a little browner than a pumpkin but it evokes fall. It's very nice,” John mused, “it's classy. That's what the man at the hardware store said. He said it was good to paint accent walls in this, because it would make the whole room seem warmer.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I wouldn't have picked it up if I didn't like it,"John said, quickly, “I want my room to seem nice.”

“What's the final color?” Arthur prompted.

“It's a light purple. You know that lavender lotion you bought for Faroe?”

“Yes.”

“It's that color. It's nice. I like it, it's very gentle on the eyes and it feels like a blanket.”

Arthur didn’t speak immediately and John found himself still talking.

“I wanted to paint my room purple when I was growing up. Not this purple but a bright vibrant deeper purple. Like grapes. But I prefer this now.”

“Did your family not have the money to paint your room or was it a landlord issue?’

“No, it was fine and the money was there. My father just didn't like the color. He painted my room while I was at school one day, but it was a different color.”

“Oh?”

“A slate gray accent wall,” John said, mind drifting.

“Lord, how old were you?”

“Eight.”

“I see,” Arthur said. in some sort of tone, then decisively, “I like the purple, it's… pretty.”

“You can't see it.”

“I think the way it makes you feel and the way you described it is pretty,” Arthur clarified, “Isn't that enough?”

And Arthur said that like John feeling good mattered. John’s skin prickled with some ephemeral fear at that.

He shook it off with some difficulty and he knew he’d been quiet too long, “Yes. I like the purple too. Are you sure about this Arthur?”

“Yes I don't see what having one purple room would do to my house when I already have half finished rainbow butterflies on one wall. But can I ask you for something? After you're done? You’re allowed to say no.”

John agreed easily, “Of course.”

“Would you mind finishing the butterflies for me?”

But Arthur wasn’t with him.

John was alone, scared to go outside lest he be seen. Scared to talk to anyone except Lily when she visited. And besides Arthur would never speak to him again, so John needed to go back to New York.

He would go soon. He would leave Arkham. He would go soon.

*

“And the thing that's getting me- and don't you go telling the cops about this- is that there's no police involvement in this case. She didn't want the cops involved because she didn't trust the force. She thought a cop might have done it or helped cover it up,” Parker explained, “And James, our guy, was a cop, so of course I immediately looked at everyone in the homicide division, to be the potential killer. I mean, fuck who else is brave enough to kill a cop? Well I guess criminals, but y’know it's less likely if we’re talking statistics.”

“Fair. Didn't you say this happened within months of his partner also perishing in a strange suicide?”

“Yeah I thought that was weird. Same way James went too, but I can't find a motive or suspects. No one had a problem with these guys. They were family guys, real fulfilled, lots of friends, suddenly one day they fuck off through a bridge railing and a storefront window. Why do you ask?”

“Well it's just…You mentioned he only recently got reassigned to homicide. Where was he before?”

“Narcotics.”

“Did he have a partner he left there?”

“I mean- I think so,” He started shuffling papers, “Yeah Liam Denning. Got a file on him. Why?”

“Because that could cause some real jealousy… and because two happy well-liked men driving to their deaths doesn’t say suicide to me, it says break lines.”

“Oh fuck, you’re right! That's it! It was him it was- it was fucking- uh-” he rifled through his papers, having forgotten the name already, “Denning! He was even listed by the client as the victim’s friend. They worked on their cars together! Fuck Artie, good eye!”

He dropped the file and grasped Arthur’s bicep firmly.

“I wouldn't say eye necessarily but thank you,” Arthur inclined his head gratefully, then asked, “Do you really think we have him?”

“Fuck yeah I do, all we gotta do is check both cars for tampering and check him for the type of tools to do whatever went wrong. No offense, I’m just guessing it wasn’t literally brake lines. Even the ACPD would check for that, I think. But I do think that guy did something to their cars. It says here he was turned down for a transfer request six times since James made the move.”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, “Well this had already been ruled a suicide… I don’t suppose you could get to their cars anyway? I used to be decent with mine, I could walk you through what to check.”

“Arthur Lester, are you suggesting you and I break into the ACPD’s preferred salvage yard and you walk me through the delicate inner workings of two totalled cars to solve some murders?”

“Perhaps I am, come on now Parker, are you going to tell me you can’t? I could pick the lock if you don’t know how.”

Parker grinned, “You know how to pick locks, Artie?”

His smile was returned with just a hint of danger to it, “I don’t tell you all my hobbies.”

Parker looked at Arthur and without thinked he surged forward and kissed the man squarely on the mouth.

At first Arthur was still, nothing but a surprised intake of breath, but before Parker could start to doubt, the other man pressed back. He caught Parker by the front of his shirt to hold him while the other hand brushed his jaw. Arthur’s lips were so soft, pressing close and pulling the slightest bit away in that dizzying romantic way you day dream about every first kiss being. The kind of kiss you want to repeat as soon as it's over, but that would mean breaking away in the first place.

Then Parker’s goddamn sense returned and he pulled back, “Fuck, I’m so sorry. The adrenaline probably killed my judgment…”

“I’m not complaining,” Arthur said, leaning in again, but Parker caught the whiskey on his breath and put a hand on the other man's shoulder, stopping him.

Arthur stopped, uncertainty flickering in his expression, “Unless it was… all just adrenaline?”

“No, no, Artie I- Arthur I wanted to. But-”

Arthur was already closing off in his expression.

“Hey no really,” Parker said emphatically, “I've wanted to for a while but you've got enough going on without me trying to date you when- Goddamn it, I mean your wife died not nine months ago. And you were in a coma for a month of that. Fuck Artie, I mean you’re not well, you know?”

His eyebrows were drawn together, he frowned distantly, “I'm fine.”

The tone wasn't even angry or defensive. He said it like he had to even if he didnt believe the argument. Because Arthur Lester was always fine.

“I'm sorry. I know I started it. I wasn't thinking.”

Arthur looked like he was considering, “You would be better off not waiting for me, I know. But… if circumstances change? Would- Do you think we might be able to… be something?”

And Parker felt something break in him but he nodded quickly before remembering Arthur couldn't see that.

“Yeah, Lester,” He told him, capturing a hand, “I don't think you get it. I don't think I have a choice about whether or not I'm gonna be waiting for you. Because I'm a dipshit and I already was without your say so. If you're asking for time you have it. And if you get over it, over me, before our time rolls around, I get it.”

Arthur was biting the inside of his cheek, thoughtfully, “I don't want that.”

“Yeah… me neither.”

The quiet stretched on, finally Arthur spoke, “Do you want to turn on one of your true crime podcasts?”

Parker huffed a tired laugh, “Yeah, good idea, let’s kill the mood.”

*

A knock sounded from John’s door and he startled, picking up his phone to check for a text from Lily. It had died some unknown stretch of time ago. Fuck. She was probably worried.

It was fine, she didn’t need to know that he’d been just sitting here staring at a wall. He could just tell her he was napping. Last thing he needed was her getting suspicious that he was losing it again.

He stood and glanced down at himself. He was wearing the same clothes he had been the last time she visited but the louder more urgent knock at the door indicated he didn’t have time to change. He smoothed out the shirt and his hair and unlatched the door.

“Sorry, my phone died and I was asleep so I didn’t-” John began.

A man in a black suit and red leather shoes stood in his doorway with a smile sharper than moonlight, “Hey there Saffron, mind if I come in? We need to chat.”

Notes:

Couldnt even wait until a week had passed to drop this one, everyday I fail the marshmallow test

Chapter 14: Options, Finally

Summary:

Kayne, a cat, and a catch up

about time

“Hey there Saffron, mind if I come in? We need to chat.”

“Kayne,” John breathed. After a three second eternity John’s brain kicked back into gear and he quickly stepped back into the room trying to shut the door in the man's face. A hand flew out stopping it quite succinctly.

Kayne wrinkled his nose playfully, “Alright Daffodil, I did try to give you a chance there, but we can never do things the easy way, can we? So! I am coming inside and we're going to chat. Just an itty bitty chat, nothing to get all worked up over. I promise you’ll like the topic. Does the name Arthur Lester mean anything to you?”

The man pressed his way into the room and passed John.

Kayne took a glance around the motel room with a grimace, “Yikes… well more fool me expecting to be able to sit down anywhere. Let's just talk here.”

John felt unsteady in his knees, “You keep saying that you want to talk, so talk.”

“No, I said let's talk. We both need to say the right things. For example, I stand here, I say the name of your musician friend. Then you dip your head down, put your tail between your legs, beg me for mercy, and we'll see if I take pity on you.”

“Fuck you,” John said, despite his better judgment.

“Ah ah ah Johnny, we're going to keep this real polite for me alright? Point is, I know where you are, I know your dear ol’ dad, and I know all about this little life you've built here. It's Grand, really it is, but I'm afraid I'm not getting much out of it at the moment, and I'd love for that to change.”

“Is this a threat?”

“No, darling, this is blackmail. Either you give me what I want, or I go to your dad and see that he gets lots of fun information about your whole life here.”

John laughed in his face, “My father already knows everything about where I am. He hired a private investigator. I’ve already been found out, Kayne.”

Kayne looked genuinely baffled, then slowly began laughing, “Is that why you’ve been locked up in this box all week? No he didn't. If he knew where you were you wouldn't be where you are. So let's take another stab at that, what the fuck are you talking about?”

And it only sunk in then for John that in fact Kayne was right. His father wouldn't simply know where he was and not immediately make moves to bring him back home. Which means whoever was looking for him hadn't been doing so on his dad's behalf.

Fuck and he'd almost gone back to New York

“I see those wheels turning and no words are happening. Information John.”

“Someone approached a friend of mine looking for me. She looked him up. He was a private investigator. Evidently somebody else is on the hunt for me, more than one it would seem,” John said shooting a glare in Kayne's Direction.

“What? Can’t I check up on an old friend? You hadn't shown up to any of the parties lately. I was beginning to think you would run off and eloped with someone and finally left me. Weren't we supposed to run those companies side by side Johnny? Didn’t I swear we could have a summer wedding?”

“You killed your way through a dozen family members to make yourself the heir to your family's company. I don't know what part of that made you think we were old friends beyond the fact that my father made me talk to you.”

“Semantics, you really do wound me John. Anyway, don't you want to know why I'm here? I am offering you- well I would say it's a pretty compelling deal. Unless you want The King barking up your friend's tree.”

“Spit it out.”

“Why it's easy. I just want a little something from you. I want a promise as a trade for me not connecting you to anyone that you don't want to be connected to. Then when the day comes and I call on you, you connect me to someone of my choosing.”

“And what? This just hangs over my head until then?”

“Or until I lose you! Not that I wouldn't find you again and ooh Johnny-boy if you tried to hide from me? I'm afraid you'd find yourself in a lot more debt than you currently do.”

“Who do you have in mind?” John said in a low growl.

“No one quite yet, but I have this feeling that you're not going to make it kiddo. I think that your dad is going to find you with or without my assistance and once he does and he makes you The Reigning Monarch of King Enterprises,” Kayne announced the title with a dramatic bellow, the dropped into an easy smile, “Well I'd like to have a man in that position owe me a favor like that. So yeah I don't tell your dad where you are and you promised that just whenever I call on you, you make an introduction for me, say some real nice things.”

“And if I don't when that day comes?” John pressed.

“Oh if you don't when that day comes I'll just murder this sweet little family you're pulling together, capiche?”

The bottom of John's stomach seemed to drop out, his voice was a horrified rumble, “What?”

“No, no, you're right. I'm sorry, that was so forward for a first dance. Let me rephrase. What a nice little family you've got there. Sure would be a shame if something happened to them because you couldn't keep your word. Was that better? A little more subtle?”

John swallowed his rage, “Fine.”

“Wow wow wow,” Kayne said with a delighted sigh, “Who would have thought? That fella really does have you wrapped around his finger, the kid too. She's cute by the way. Why if you saw her crawling, she's fast as anything I swear.”

“She learned to crawl?” The excitement overtook any terror John should have felt for a moment before Kayne's knowledge settled in as the threat it was. He didn’t just know about Arthur, Kayne was watching them.

“Oh yes, strong too. Got that grumpy face you always make all the time though. Somebody ought to tell her it’ll stick like that. At least I suppose that's what happened to you? You know you could see a doctor-”

“Is there anything else you need Kayne?”

“Yeah, let's trade digits, Johnny. I'd hate for one of us to not be able to get in contact with the other about this.”

“How do I know that you're not just going to go tell my father?”

“How do you know, Hmm,” Kayne made a show of scratching his chin thoughtfully, “I don't know, John. I think you and I are just going to have to exercise a little bit of trust don't you?”

“If you tell my father I will tell every other CEO or member of the press I meet what a conniving, cheating, piece of-”

“Whoa whoa, John let's keep this PG-13. After all, I wouldn't want any of us to say things we couldn't take back. Your point is made and taken, I promise. Now you should probably get back to whatever is it you've been doing staring at a wall for sixty-eight hours at a time. And you should really check your hotel rooms for bugs more often. Housekeeping really is so untrustworthy sometimes. Good night!”

*

 

Arthur woke up on the floor of the shower to a cold breeze and the curtain opening. The shower was off.

Parker was above him speaking, “This could have killed you man, you know the shower doesn't drain fast enough for this shit.”

His voice was cold but Arthur could hear the fear that was trying to not make itself apparent. A bath towel hit him in the stomach, immediately relieving the cold of the water pooling on him.

“I wasn't-”

What had he been doing?

“Six shots and a shower aren't good bedfellows.”

“I- I was trying to clean myself up,” Arthur said, sitting up miserably.

“Yeah. Well I got your bedding in the wash after I turned off the water. You're clean, you should take the guest bed and I'll get the couch.”

“Parker I'm sorry I-”

Parker sighed, there was a gentleness returned but also a pain, “It's fine Arthur. I knew where you were at when I met you. I'm not mad at you for drinking. Even if I don't think I can touch cinnamon the same way again. I tried to knock by the way, just to let you know I was here, I didn't just barge in. But I think your ears were already under water. I came in to find the water starting to pool around you. It-” Parker stopped, “It doesn't matter. You're fine.”

“I'm sorry,” Arthur tried. He felt ridiculous, naked at the bottom of the tub like this. He'd just meant to sit for a moment…

“I don't wanna come back one night to find out you took another nap and overslept your alarm. I can't handle that, okay?” Parker exhaled slowly, “I got enough problems without that. Don't make me.”

Don't make me find your body.

“I'll be careful,” Arthur told him seriously.

“Right. I'm gonna let you get dressed.”

Parker shut the door behind him as he left. Arthur let out a slow exhale.

Fuck.

It was only a problem once it was a problem.

And it was clearly a problem wasn't it?

He didn't stand for a little while, just wrapped the towel around himself wondering what to do.

*

Two days passed since Kayne's arrival had both lessened and strengthened the fear that gripped John. Kayne had seemed convinced that John's father wouldn't let up in the search, but also had confirmed that John's father didn't know where he was. At least for now. Which left John once again with options. Finally.

Today he had gotten out of bed, showered and left the motel room. He started out at the drugstore collecting everything he would need to dye his roots again. He wasn’t about to be caught just because he was fucking blond.

Then he'd made his way to the nearest place that sold cheap clothing. He had eight of the exact same plain black cotton t-shirt and it was beginning to feel like as much a part of his skin as the suits ever had.

He stood in the store for ten long minutes staring at the rack of graphic tees, button ups, and polos. Finally he reached for something with a bright floral pattern against a black background that buttoned up but was short sleeved. When he put it on in the dressing room he looked absurd. There was nothing about orange and pink flowers that intimidated or made him unapproachable.

It was childish. Unprofessional. The flowers were pretty. It was ridiculous.

He put it on over his t-shirt as soon as he checked out.

The next stop was coffee, then Lily's. She had invited him for lunch and so he showed up with an iced coffee for her and something white chocolate and lavender for himself.

They ate and they talked as though nothing was wrong. John did update her on the fact that his father hadn't found him but he had done so over text the night before. He'd apologized for disappearing but if anyone understood it Lily did. They had promised that today they'd keep things calm and they did. They exchanged thoughts on the show they both started last night, Lily griped about how stupid the two leads were. Eventually Lily had to go start a shift at work.

John left her to get ready and continued his wandering through the day. He found himself at a pet shelter, not really remembering deciding to go. John didn't like dogs, but he found himself walking through the back portion of the building, asking one of the attending vets whether or not any of these dogs might be able to be trained into a service animal.

“It really depends,” he said, as John knelt with a labrador scratching behind its ears, “A lot of the whole service animal thing is dependent on professional training. I imagine some of the older dogs who have hard pasts would struggle with it but you’d probably have to talk to somebody who works with those kinds of animals. Why? Are you looking for a dog to do something specific?”

“No,” John said, quickly, “I was just curious.”

Then before the silence could make its home in the air between them, “Can I see your cats?”

“Of course!”

He led John to the sink where you wash up after having pet any of the animals, then let John through to see the cats. They were… cute. The were small and soft and made loud noises. He wanted to cradle one in his arms so bad his teeth ached. There was an orange one with a piece of its ear missing that looked at him like it was ready to take both him and the attendant on if necessary. Boney and mean, with scars to match.

John asked to be let in the room despite warnings that it was a new arrival. It retreated to the far wall as he joined it, and knelt down. It looked at him with caution before making its tentative approach. Seeming more curious than afraid in the end.

He extended a hand to smell. It, despite its caution and old scars, hardly took a moment before head butting his hand a few times. It pressed its face into his palm and pulled back to look at him before doing it again.

It was waiting for him to pet it. Its eyes were sad, lonely, pissed off.

 

John thanked the vet on the way out for reserving her for him and made his way out promising that he would get the supplies and return tomorrow.

By the time it was mid-afternoon John was in the nearest bar to the motel. He posted up at the corner and ordered himself a rum and coke. He spent his time scrolling through Amazon pages of cat collars on his phone and flitting between job listings for housekeepers and dishwashers in Arkham. It wasn't like he could skip town with a cat in tow.

The door of the bar opened. The first person to come in since John had an hour ago. He was staring at his phone still until he heard a soft, “Oh shit.” from the doorway.

John looked up and saw a familiar man.

Parker was pale and wide eyed. Then, without a word more, he turned on his heel and walked out.

John heaved a long sigh before finishing the last of his drink and leaving. He didn't really want to know what Arthur had said about him. And he didn't want to give Parker a chance to come back.

*

Arthur was attending a meeting for alcoholics and he would rather die than admit it to anyone. Meaning, the first time he went it had to be a night that Parker was out working his beat.

So after a long uber ride, and with Faroe in hand, Arthur quietly shuffled into the meeting space in the church it was held in. He managed to happen across a chair near the door and began to settle himself and Faroe down while a low murmur of chatter hummed in the room. Just as he got Faroe sat down and the bag set on the other side some footsteps approached him, stopping a foot or so away.

“It's good to see you?” A familiar voice spoke.

“Oh Oscar,” Arthur said startled, he’d intentionally gone to an entirely different church’s meeting, what on god’s green earth was Oscar doing here, “Yes I didn't realize you ran this program.”

A defeated sigh left the man, “I… don't. I attend.”

“Oh… I'm sorry,” Arthur said eventually.

“Don't be. I am admittedly more intermittent of an attendee then I ought to be, but no this isn't my church.”

“Yes,” Arthur said thoughtfully, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were… Well like me I suppose.”

“We all have things we run from. I’m not proud of it and I don’t want those who follow me to falter for my failings. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone here what my profession is. I- I have to keep these things separate.”

Arthur felt a warmth toward the other man, who was hiding just as much as him, “Of course. Perhaps this can just be our secret.”

“Deal,” Oscar’s tone brightened a half step then, “is this your first time, then?”

“Yes I'm- I don't know if I should really be here. I just- Is it all right that she's with me?”

“I'm sure it's alright but if you ever need someone to take care of her while you're at the meeting I know Marie would be willing, she’s helped out with such before. You don't have to handle this alone, Arthur. Even if you're not interested in the rest of the church, there're good people who are capable of offering Community without offering communion.”

Arthur didn’t need to be coddled through this, but Oscar was trying to be kind, “Noted. Thank you, Oscar.”

He would handle this and no one would have to know.

“Of course, would you like a guide up to the main circle, or are you more comfortable over here?”

“I suppose if I'm here actually joining wouldn't hurt.”

Oscar took the bag and offered his arm when Arthur reached, using his free hand for Faroe.

“I can hold her if you decide to share,” Oscar told him, “Or if your arms just need a break.”

“There's no need, we'll be fine,” Arthur told him.

“Please? These things are,” Oscar cleared his throat, “They're not easy. I could use a distraction, even if you just need coffee.”

Oscar sounded like he was about ready to make for the door at a moments notice.

“Alright. I- thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

Oscar was right. The meeting was far from easy. Beside him and Oscar were something like a dozen other people, each with a story about how fast their lives fell apart.

Oscar's turn came up to speak but he politely asked if he could pass.

Then the turn came to Arthur, Faroe in his arms felt like a grounding weight, he owed her this much didn't he?

He turned toward Oscar and felt the other man take Faroe easily. Arthur murmured his thanks as he stood.

“Hello, I'm Arthur,” He said tentatively, “I drink too much. Or at least I'm given to understand as much. Not entirely sure how to stop but I heard this helps. The other night I passed out in the bath and almost drown and… a month ago my daughter nearly did the same due to my negligence. I've been cutting back but I still feel like I want to scream all the time and I don't know if that's normal or if I'm just a terrible father.”

“The wanting to scream sounds familiar,” a woman to his other side said wryly, “Thanks for sharing. You're shaking like a leaf, you did good, you can have a seat.”

Arthur collapsed back. Hearing a deafening silence from Oscar's side.

The man's voice was carefully light and nonjudgemental as he said, “Did you want to hold her again?”

“Yes.”

And she came to Arthur with a happy mumble of nothing-syllables.

The meeting went on for a while and eventually Faroe started getting restless.

“Darling please,” Arthur whispered but she was squirming and extending her arms out to Oscar. Arthur was beginning to get the sense that there were some methods of communication that she understood quite intuitively. Such as if she extended her arms she expected to someone pick her up after all John always-

Arthur clearest throat softly, “Oscar I'm so sorry. I do believe she has become rather fond of you…”

“Likewise little miss,” he said like he was addressing a particularly fancy rich woman, then he plucked Faroe off of Arthur's lap. He must have seen the tension in Arthur's shoulders because he gave a gentle squeeze to his forearm, “Whenever you want her back let me know.”

Arthur exhaled slowly, Oscar was a foot away, he could take a break for a moment, “I will. Thank you Oscar.”

“Of course.”

*

She was crying again Arthur wasn't entirely sure how long it had been since John left. Three weeks, maybe four? It had been early August and now it was nearly September. But Faroe was crying. It wasn't all the time, just the times that she still expected John. It was like she was waiting for him to come walking through the door if she just she cried at the right time.

She was in Arthur's arms. She was clean and she was fed and she was miserable. Arthur couldn't fix this for her; this wasn't a thing that Arthur had the capability of fixing. His little girl was eight months old and she was grieving for the second time in her life. And that wasn’t even mentioning his time after the accident.

He set her in her crib and carefully made his way out of her room, hearing her cries fade as he gained some distance.

“Parker, are you home?”

He shouldn't call it home, he kicked himself. God knows Parker had a place of his own.

“Yeah Artie, I'm here, what's up?”

Arthur followed his voice to the John's old room. He stopped in the doorway.

If he asked this there was no going back. He'd have to swallow it all. His fear and betrayal. His pride. The things that had been said.

But Faroe was in her bedroom crying. And it was Arthur's fault.

“Could you find him?” he finally said, gripping the door frame so hard his fingers ached even beneath the constant low hum of numbness from the whiskey. It hadn't been an easy day.

“What?” Parker said, sounding lost.

Arthur steeled himself further, “John. If I paid you, could you find him?”

Parker hesitated, “I… Yeah Arthur I can get to him. I kinda know where he is already? I'm sorry. I know you told me not to look but I wasn't going to tell him anything about you guys or anything. I was just trying to figure out what his deal was, you know? He was so weird and… But I could get him, why?”

“That's fine Parker. It's fine just- Can you find a way to find out if he's still in the city? I'll handle it beyond that.”

“He's definitely still in the city. I caught sight of him in a bar. Wasn't even fucking looking. This guy has some sort of superpower. Circled back the next day, seems like he hangs out a lot in the bar across from the big bank downtown.”

“Is that where you've been when you’re on stakeout this week?” Arthur asked, not certain if he felt betrayed.

“Yeah honestly I was working up the courage to approach the guy… I got so many questions. I’m really sorry Artie, I just, I have a hard time putting this shit down sometimes. And Faroe was so upset…”

“That's… fine,” Arthur said finally, it wasnt betrayal he decided, he just hated that Parker had dealt with the problem before Arthur had gotten over himself enough to consider it, “Could you drive me there?”

“Yeah, of course, Artie,” Parker said, relief obvious in his voice, “always.”

*

When Arthur stepped into the bar there was low rock playing beneath the sounds of tv’s babbling different scores for sports that Arthur couldn’t catch in the cross talk. He could smell smoke in the air, the room was alive with the clink of glasses and the low murmur of people around him.

John was sitting at the bar, Parker had said. He approached the bar, knocking on it in two sharp instinctual raps, “Excuse me could I get-” Arthur caught himself and sighed, “a tonic water.”

He could hear the bartender approach him the was the sound of a glass on the counter and after a small moment of confused silence the bartender slide the glass so it pressed against Arthur’s hand, the glass was full and cold, “No tonic, just tap but that’s free.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said taking it, “And, I'm so sorry but I'm meeting a friend here? I'm afraid I'm blind so have your happened to see a man with a dark hair, potentially blonde at the roots, large frame, taller than I am?”

“I'm right here,” Tired impatience colored the low tone.

Arthur startled out of his skin, “Oh fuck!” He had sort of assumed that Parker would warn him if John was right next to the door.

“What are you doing here?” John said.

“I’m looking for you.”

“You could have called instead of having your friend stalk me.”

“I don’t have your number.”

“Why? Did you delete it from your phone?”

“I- no I assumed you would’ve changed it.”

“I didn't.”

“Why didn't you?” Arthur said, baffled.

“I didn't think of it. Besides you had my number you could have tried. You would have seen I didn’t change it.”

“I assumed that you'd be on the run,” Arthur said having trouble keeping the heat from his voice, “I find out now you just been posted up in a hotel drinking away all of your wages.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask you to be here.”

John smelled like whatever mixture of soaps or deodorant he used, hardly any of the smell of alcohol to him. He sounded steady. Arthur didn’t remember being steady.

“Yes you're right of course,”Arthur said with difficulty, “and I'm- I am hardly in a position to judge just- Fuck John I want to know why you stayed.”

“What? Is that why you came all the way down here?”

“In part, yes. It's the only question I've been able to ask since you left. Because what you did was completely unforgivable but I don't think I have a choice. So why did you stay? You had the best alias in the world to escape any time. Why take care of her when I was in the hospital? Why help me? Jesus Fucking Christ, why did you care, John?”

John scoffed, “Isn’t money enough?”

“No. Not for you. If money was all you wanted you’d do the bare minimum. If money was enough you would have left sooner for some poor new sap. If money was enough you wouldn't have painted that Goddamn room.”

A silence ticked away the moments.

Arthur pressed, softer, not able to find the heat he’d been looking for, “Why did you stay?”

“Because I liked it there alright,” John snarled, “Is that what you want to hear? I liked it there and I was happy and comfortable living off of your money and infiltrating your trust. I was happy betraying you.”

“No don't give me that shit,” Arthur gave an unkind scoff, “That's not it and you know it. If that was all then you would have kept at it for as long as I’d let you. You wouldn't have shouted me down the moment her safety came question.”

Another silence, broken only by ice on glass.

Clearly Arthur was going to have to be the one to say something if he wanted to be sure that the other man hadn’t simply snuck away, “I believe that you liked it, that it was comfortable, but I also remember every single time that I pried into your life before. I remember how uncomfortable you got. I don't think you were as happy in the lie as you claim John Doe.”

“How did you find me anyway?”

“Parker, he's a private investigator.”

“Oh I see,” John was quiet for a long time, an edge of sharpness returned though not full force, “together are you?”

Arthur bristled at that, “And what if we are? You weren't there,” Fuck why’d he say that? He amended, “She needed someone. She needed someone better than me.”

“So what? You hired him? Stranger from a bar instead of one off the street?”

Arthur couldn’t even manage anger for that particular barb. He just deflated.

“He doesn’t work for me. He just helps. And I didn't come here to fight with you John. I certainly didn't come here to explain my relationship to Parker. I came here to offer you a goddamn job.”

“What?”

“Do you want your job back? Just as it was before, but no more lies.”

It was john’s turn to be confused, “Why?”

“John I… almost killed her. And, god help me, she misses you. I can't fix this for her. The only thing that I can do to fix this is get over my Goddamn pride and ask for your help. Faroe needs you and I know you care about her. You might have felt nothing about me. I don't- I don't need you to be my friend,” Arthur spat the last word with a vitriol that at least made him feel slightly less like he was a frog offering a ride to a scorpion, “I don't need you to guide me. All I need you to do is come back to your position as it was at the very start, scheduled hours, take care of her. That's all I'm asking.”

“Why do you want me back? You hate me and-”

“Don't-” Arthur cut him off, “Don’t. Fuck John if it was a simple as that. If it was as simple as my feelings or simple as hating you…”

Arthur stopped himself, took a breath.

He continued, turning for the door, “Come back or don't. You know where we live and you have my number I'll see you if I-”

“Two feet to the left,” John interrupted

Arthur stopped, “What?”

“You were about to walk into the wall. Have you been practicing with your cane?”

“Of course,” Arthur huffed.

Arthur could feel John looking at him.

“I'll see you tomorrow.”

Arthur nodded.

“Bring your things if you intend to stay,” Arthur felt pretty good about that as an exit line he adjusted his course to the door.

“Shit hang on- I have a cat,” John said suddenly.

Arthur turned toward him again, “A what?”

John seemed to regain his composure, “I have a cat now. Package deal. Non-negotiable.”

“You’re a mad-man,” Arthur huffed in what he hoped didn’t sound like the laugh it was, “Fine. Bring your damned cat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Notes:

God I missed them talking

Chapter 15: Baby-Proof

Summary:

John moves in, parker moves out... er sorta, and faroe is on the move

Notes:

Whoops this was way shorter when i began editing but here we are!

“Alright that ought to be all of it,” Parker said, followed by a finite zipping sound.

“Parker, you don't need to go, really, if you weren't ready? I know this is all quite sudden and you could have my bed. I'll take the couch.”

“The fuck you will Artie,” Parker scoffed, “I'm not going to send you to go sleep on that death trap. It's fine, your whole arrangement can go back to what it was. That's the idea, right?”

“But Faroe has become quite accustomed to your presence…” Arthur stopped, acting like Faroe was the only one wasn't exactly accurate, “You know you're always welcome. Day or night. You can keep the key, I'd actually prefer it.”

“Thank you Arthur. I'll keep that in mind but I won't be in your hair too much. We'll wean the kid off if you want.”

“No, I- God damn it, Parker. I'm going to miss you. I got used to you being around. Don't be a stranger, promise me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

The silence was warm and pleased for several moments.

“Of course I'll be around,” Parker resumed as though they hadn't stopped, he was nearer now, “who else is going to read you stupid books or ramble to you about murder? I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Stay for breakfast,” He felt the familiar thrill, wishing Parker would step closer still.

Arthur heard a smile in Parker's voice, “Alright I'll stay for breakfast. Admit it you're also a little scared of handling John alone aren't you?”

Arthur took the out, “It's been weeks I don't even know what to say to him. Just for breakfast and then I'll let you go.”

“Do you want me to stay for tonight until everything's settled?”

Arthur hesitated, but gave in, “I'm so sorry. I'll help pay your rent for this past month.”

“You'll do no such thing but we're just going to have to split the bed because neither of us is going to sleep on that Goddamn couch of yours.”

“It's a deal.”

“All above the covers all right?” Parker told him sternly.

Arthur smiled, “I'm a man of Honor I don't know what you take me for.”

“Of course you don't. So when's he supposed to-” A knock sounded at the door, cutting Parker off, “Well I guess now is when he's supposed to. You want me to go stand upstairs with the kid while he gets acclimated or…?”

“No just here moral support if you will,” Arthur gave him a grateful squeeze on the arm.

“On it.”

Arthur made for the door and opened it, “Hello.”

“Arthur,” John said, confirming his identity, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, did you bring your cat?”

“Yes, she's in a carrier for now.”

Arthur let him through, stepping back from the door waving a hand from the entrance.

“The hallway rug is gone,” John noted, sounding perturbed.

“Yes well there was some water damage,” Arthur told him curtly.

“Oh.”

“Yes. John, you remember Parker?”

“Yeah, hey how you been man?” There was a sound that could have been a handshake.

“Fine… We don't have to pretend to be all friendly right now,” John said to the both of them, “I know why you found me and I don't need your pity. I'm here for a job, the job includes me staying here, we can just be professional.”

“Man, always a peach aren't you Lavender?” Parker laughed.

“What?”

There was a halt in Parker's demeanor, suddenly bashful, “Sorry I didn't mean nothing by it just- you painted the room a nice color I think you can understand why it's ironic based on your general demeanor…”

“It's fine,” John said slowly suspiciously, “why do you have a bag?”

“Oh I've been staying in your old room. Hope that's alright. Well- I mean, it's alright. You fucked up and I was invited by the owner of the home. So it's cool, I know that, but you know, I hope you're not too offended anyway. Why am I still talking?”

Arthur laughed.

The other two got unreadably quiet for a beat until John spoke, “Faroe's crying.”

Arthur nodded,“She cries this time of day, yes.”

“Are you going to do anything about that or should I?”

“That's the very thing you're here for. Drop off your things in the room but don't unpack yet this job is entirely contingent upon Faroe actually being affected by your presence again. If she's still just as miserable as before I don't see a reason that any of us have to do this.”

“Agreed,” John said.

Arthur heard John's heavy footsteps down the hall and a minute or two passed before his return.

“Well let's go,” John walked up the stairs first with Arthur behind and Parker trailing after. John paused on the landing.

“What is it?” Arthur said impatiently.

“I hope she's not mad at me,” John said in a low voice that spoke to a baffling honesty. With that there was the sound of the door unlocking and John walked forward, Arthur still following.

Faroe's wails were as insistent as ever. A demand to all who would listen to bring back something she'd lost or she would go get it herself, master of her fate. She didn't ease as they approached but her eyes were likely screwed shut as she channeled her focus into bursting eardrums.

She was certainly his daughter.

“Hello, Faroe,” John said hesitantly, “Are you feeling alright?” His voice made for the direction of the crib but Faroe was unmoved, maybe not even hearing him.

“Focus now, it's alright, friend. I'm back,” Blankets shuffled, as John picked her up into his arms.

“I appreciate your dedication to making a point, and you make a compelling argument. I shouldn't have left that night without saying goodbye. It was… wrong of me… I'm sorry.”

She started to quiet, just fussing and making those odd little sounds that babies do like when you first give them a bottle. Sounds they make when something they've been looking for is finally made available, but they're still trying to decide if it's the real thing.

“It's been a while,” John said, tentative in the way you are just after you and a friend have been in a fight, “you've gotten bigger, stronger, based on those lungs.”

Faroe was genuinely starting to calm.

“I've seen a lot of documentaries that I’ve been wanting to tell you about. There was one in particular I think you'd like about city planning in Rome. Apparently there's been a lot of work done to try and expand-”

“What the fuck is he doing?” Parker whispered, “Why is he talking about documentaries?”

“This is what they do. They talk about their interests together,” Arthur said, feeling a strange tension leave his jaw, “Of course for a while it was mostly John's interests but since Faroe started watching television they had done some early work in discussing the nuances of Baby Einstein.”

“Have you seen any particularly interesting subplots on Sofia the First?” John was asking, “I have been wondering about whether she ever meets any more of the princesses.”

Arthur sighed, it was relief, of course, but one last cruel part of him had hoped Faroe hadn't actually been crying for John. But she was his daughter.

She loved someone and was going to be very stubborn about that.

“Alright. Why don't we all go downstairs for breakfast?”

*

John and Parker struggled for a few minutes as the three of them tried to pull together breakfast.

They both were maneuvering around Arthur perfectly, putting them directly in each other's way.

John sighed as they nearly knocked into each other for the third time, “I'll handle Faroe, you get the eggs.”

“On it,” Parker said, giving him a good-natured wink.

John started feeding Faroe, watching her face as he offered her small bites of oatmeal. He tried to ignore the moment when Parker's hand trailed across Arthur's waist or when Arthur knocked shoulders with the other man playfully.

Breakfast was infuriatingly not bad though. Parker was friendly. Arthur seemed to lean into Parker's space as though drawn by gravity.

John exchanged a pointed look with Faroe.

’Have you seen these two?’ He implied.

If Faroe noticed anything but her oatmeal, she didn't let on.

“I need to get to work here soon,” Arthur said eventually, rising from the table.

“I'm gonna need to head out here anyway,” Parker said, catching Arthur's hand gently, “Could I steal you away for a second before you get started for the day?”

“Of course.”

They made their way into the hall.

John openly eavesdropped.

“Okay, this is probably nuts. But I've seen you trying to play since what happened and it looks like- well fuck Artie it looks like hell. Like you look actually pained. And it's never easy to be locked up in one room all day every day.”

Arthur's reply was heavy and tired, “It is my job Parker. Nothing to be done about it.”

“But what if there was.”

“It is my job,” the repetition was more curt.

“Yeah but all your gigs are in places that serve liquor.”

Arthur's voice was tightly wound, “I know that.”

“Damn I'm sorry, I'm doing this wrong. Lester, do you wanna be my partner?”

A silence stretched between them.

“Oh fuck like, like as a detective,” Parker clarified, quickly, “Do you wanna work together?”

“Oh…”

“You're just- You're great at it Artie. Eyes or no, you're picking up on shit I didn't and Fuck I Like Working With You. I like seeing you everyday and having your help on these cases. We could get an office, make something real official out of it? I make good money but if I was working at the speed we do together I'd be able to triple my caseload, easy. And it would be more than enough to live off if we played our cards right and- fuck I'm rambling, I'm sorry.”

“I'm in,” Arthur said, immediately.

“Fuck, really? God this pitch went completely off the rails. I was expecting you to tell me to fuck off. Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. I mean, god it'd be nice to do something that actually helped people. And if I need the money there's nothing saying I can't still pick up music where I must. But are you sure? I'm, well my success here is likely to be incredibly dependent on you. Will you get tired of that?”

“Arthur, I think you're grossly underestimating how much I've been leaning on you. My reports are actually typed up for the first time ever and you're able to talk to Rich People. I can flirt as much as I like but when poor kid charm doesn't cut it all I'm left with is threatening people until they tell me shit. You're good at the people thing. I know because I've never seen Marie smile at anyone except you and the Good Lord. If you'll put up with me, I want you to have half of this thing.”

“Alright,” There was a suspicion in his voice but it started to give way to a smile, “Come back tonight and we'll work out details?”

“I'll see you then, partner.”

And with that Parker left, Arthur came back in beaming.

Something viscous twisted in John's stomach. He’d honestly thought he was just being a dick about Parker back in the bar.

“He has feelings for you,” John said, scathingly, he thought.

“I know,” Arthur said easily. His smile was unshakable.

“You know? What do you mean you know?”

“I mean it's been made clear,” Arthur stirred his coffee, clarifying nothing. John had forgotten Arthur was an unpleasant man.

“They're reciprocated?”

“Oh yes.”

“So you're dating.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Then?” John didn't know how to phrase this.

“I'm not even a year out from becoming a widower. He's a good man,” Arthur said this last part with a sigh and an exasperated smile. John laughed a bit at that.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” His smile wasn't entirely gone.

Arthur's eyes were warm, he reclined easily against the back of his chair.

“Its… not terrible, being back,” John admitted, surprised at how easily the words came.

Arthur's eyebrows flicked up, “Yes, well… it's good to have you on board again.”

*

John took a moment when Faroe dozed off after breakfast to step into his room.

The cat had seemed hesitant when he'd opened the door to the carrier to even approach the exit. But as before she was far more trusting than she seemed, she peeked her head up from her place on John's pillow to look at him.

John had read it was best to let cats adapt slowly so he was careful on his approach.

She meowed at him like he was going to get bit and he inclined his head easily and backed away.

“I'm sorry for the change of scenery. I'll let you into the rest of the house soon but you should adapt to Arthur and Faroe's smells first.”

She hopped off the bed and went under it.

John took that as a hint and left.

*

John and Faroe were inseparable all day. She was happily babbling to him constantly and he made all the appropriate noises of interest and asked many questions.

Arthur overheard them again in the living room as he was coming down the stairs and there was a warmth to that the familiar patterns of speech now returned, and interspersed with Faroe's excited chatter.

“You know, in all likelihood within the next two to ten months you'll begin speaking. I suggest you consider your words very carefully. My first word was ‘sorry’ so don't follow my example for instance. You should choose a word that you'll actually want to use later in life. I'd suggest a swear, because frankly I think your father would be humiliated.”

“You know I can hear you two conspiring.”

“That's why I said it,” John replied absent-mindedly.

He was adjusting Faroe before he put her down on her play mat by the sound of the fabric. A cartoon played quietly on the tv.

“Who are you?” Arthur finally asked.

John stilled, “I'm John Doe.”

“Who were you before?” Arthur pressed.

John’s voice was low and too steady, “Who I am now is enough.”

“Not when it's a placeholder name. Not when you could be a serial killer, or have a bounty on your head for kicking puppies or- or anything.”

The silence that followed would be far more tolerable if Arthur was able to read John's expression.

“My name really is John.”

“And the last name?”

“My father is a powerful man. I can't have my identity getting out here. I can’t have anyone telling him where I am.”

“If your father is so powerful, how on Earth would I even get in contact with him?” Arthur's exasperation bleed freely into his voice.

“Well currently he's looking for me to try and take me back to New York.”

“He-” Well that admittedly took the wind out of Arthur's sails, “Sorry, he's going to kidnap you?”

“He runs a very powerful company, Arthur, I don't want to run it. I wanted a lot of things but the options were pretty cleanly removed from the table. I've done terrible things while working for my father and I don't intend to continue them.”

“Who is he?” Arthur asked, stepping closer to John's position on the couch.

“Does this matter?” John's tone was angry but did a poor job of hiding fear.

“Yes it matters, John. This is the biggest thing that matters, it’s the main reason I'm angry with you, and if you had a good reason for this, for what you did to us, for lying to me and betraying my friendship, then Yes. I would love to know it,” Arthur noted he sounded angry too.

“I-” John rose from the couch, “Hastur King. That's his name.”

“Oh… like the man on the television. I thought he sounded somewhat familiar.”

“Somewhat? Arthur we sound exactly the same,” John scoffed. Trying to distract Arthur.

“Well yes but- well I had no reason to note that as important. That’s hardly the point. You’re on the run.”

“Yes… Well I didn't want to be my Father's son,” John said, a defensive edge very present in his tone, “my options were limited and it was either run away and completely change my name or become like him.”

“But you lied to me to do it.”

“Yes. I didn't have to but I did and I'm not sorry. It gave me a safe place to be while he could actually follow my trail.”

“If he's so dangerous… so dangerous that he would kidnap you and cart you back to New York to run this company, do you think he'll find you?”

“I don't know.”

“That's not good enough John, is Faroe in danger?”

Faroe upon hearing her name let out a small shout of excitement.

John said quietly, “He wouldn't do anything to her if I came quietly.”

“And would you would?”

“Of course,” John Scoffed, “I wouldn't put you two at risk like that.”

John was certain, steady, and planned on protecting them at his expense as though it was easy as breathing. Like caring about them was a given that any solution would have to start from the point of.

“You're safe here,” Arthur’s mouth said, “I wouldn't out you. You had plenty of time to hurt either one of us and you didn't.”

John was silent for what was likely hardly a moment but Arthur charged on, trying to explain himself.

“That shows that you're no longer the man your father tried to raise you to be, John. I wish you had told me the truth but…” He let the thought trail off, not sure what he was trying to say. He was afraid what he wanted to say might be a bit too honest about the past month. Honest about how some part of him had truly missed John. Perhaps a rather large part.

Arthur steadied himself, “Well, I know that the anger between us wasn't solely on my part but for what it's worth I am sorry about what happened that night. It won’t happen again. There's a reason I had Parker around, and as close as we’ve become, it was because I couldn’t ensure Faroe’s safety alone. And- And the drinking I- Well I’m working on it. It’s taking time and-”

“Arthur,” John interrupted. “What I said before. I shouldn’t have. And… I wish I didn’t lie to you. I'm… trying. Twenty-seven years of habit doesn't go easy.”

“Then we're both trying,” Arthur gave him a small nod.

John was quiet for a moment and then said, “Oh- I nodded back.”

*

The evening was a lot of logistics that Arthur and Parker had to settle.

“No your name goes first on the business card, gotta keep it alphabetical Artie.”

And

“Well we can't afford an office yet and we have more space here so I don't see why this can't be our base of operations.”

Soon enough thought the length of the day caught up with them all. Faroe went to bed first but John was close on her heels and soon enough Parker was yawning.

“We should head to bed,” Arthur said, standing.

‘We' Arthur tamped down the idiotic part of him, thrilling at this new intimacy.

It was a practicality. So neither of them hurt their backs on Arthur's ancient couch.

It honestly wasn't until they were both in Arthur's room and he heard Parker make for Bella's side of the bed that he realized.

“Take this side,” He said quickly and perhaps abruptly.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sorry I didn't really ask which was your side.”

“Its- I-”

Parker paused, “Oh, fuck of course. Hey I can sleep downstairs, no problem. Fuck I mean, since John's already in bed, I could probably just go home really.”

“No, It's fine, just. Yes, you should take my side. And- yes.”

“Okay…”

Arthur got into bed first and Parker followed after bringing with him the smell of his deodorant and coffee and mint from brushing his teeth just a moment ago.

He was close enough that Arthur could feel the warmth of him nearby.

“It's okay if you're not ready for stuff like this, y’know. Even platonically. You loved her. It must be hard, her being gone. Living in the same house.”

“She was my friend,” Arthur agreed, “But love is… Well I got her pregnant and her father rather insisted. We got married but on every level we just didn't quite… fit. It wasn't her fault, I'm just… maybe I wasn't built for any of it. Marriage, a family. I mean, Faroe certainly would've been better off with Bella…”

“Arthur…”

“Its fine. Really. It's just. Yes I suppose having known her for less than a year I don't really know what to feel. She was here and for less than four months we shared a home, and then it was just me and Faroe. I've known you longer than my entire marriage.”

“Damn.”

Arthur sighed, “Sorry. Sorry. I suppose it all… well it must have hit me all at once just now.”

“No its- its really fine. I'm… sorry? Honestly it sounds like the past year has been… is it rude to say it's been a lot?”

Arthur laughed, “No, I think that would be accurate.”

Parker's hand slid across the covers until the back of his pressed again the side of Arthur's. Arthur returned the pressure.

“Goodnight Parker.”

“Night Artie. Sleep good.”

“You too.”

*

The following week was a process of settling. A rearrangement of furniture in the living room to give the detectives their work space. Faroe relaxed into having all three of her people around. Arthur tried to sneak off to his support groups like Parker and John didn’t know that was why Oscar showed up every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon and carted Arthur away. And Parker rarely left the Lester Residence before midnight most every night.

John was watching The Cat as she crept down the hall, out of his room for the first time and Parker entered the hall with two empty coffee cups.

“Oh mother Mary, is that her?” Parker asked, his voice dropping into an undignified ‘isn't she so cute?’ tone.

“Yes. Don't scare her.”

“Fair, sorry,” He took a step back to clear the hall.

“The cat?” Arthur appeared in the living room doorway too, “Oh I can hear her walking!”

“What's her name?” Parker asked.

“What?” John frowned.

“Well you need something to call her,” Arthur said, “Did you not name her?”

“No, it was just me and her, who else would I be addressing in the single bed motel room? The shelter called her Fang and that's obviously stupid.”

“Lavender, buddy you Gotta give the poor thing a name.”

John was still trying to decide how he felt about that nickname. He was beginning to worry that he didn't hate it.

“What color is she?” Arthur asked.

“Yellow.”

“Mmm,” Arthur nodded, “Could do something with that?”

John nodded, thinking, then said, “Jeanne D'Ys.”

“You're not naming that cat Jaundice,” Parker pleaded, “Say that was a joke.”

Okay so that was a no. John thought it was subtle.

“Obviously it was a joke,” John waved him off.

“Honeycomb?” Arthur offered, “Is she mean? You could go with Wasp.”

“She's not mean,” John said, defensive, he was trying to think quickly before she was given some Cat-Name like Socks or Patches or Honeycomb, “Hali.”

“Hali?” Arthur repeated curiously.

“Its a nice name, and it doesn't resemble any of ours. She'll be Hali.”

“Nice. Like that lake right?” Parker asked.

“Right,” John said, startled at Parker’s recognition. It was a small lake in a smaller town.

There was something thoughtful in Parker's expression, “Cool.”

*

Parker was no sooner through the door the following Sunday than he had swept Faroe into his arms. She kicked the air in excitement as he swept her in flying circles making very good ‘whoosh’ sounds if he did say so himself.

“Careful!” John barked, flying to his feet, “What are you doing?”

“Whoa whoa, Hey Lavender, easy,” Parker said, slowing to a stop with Faroe and putting her on his hip, “I’m being gentle and I got a good hold on her, promise.”

John’s jaw flexed, “Shaking babies is famously damaging.”

“Very true, which would be a good reason to punch my lights out if I were shakin’ her. But I’m not. I’m whooshing her in a slow and steady manner. I could scoop you up and do it to you so you can see it's not scary,” Parker offered, as he set Faroe on her play mat.

John’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, confused, “What?”

“I’m fucking with you man,” Parker clarified, and he watched as understanding and a serious blush bloomed across John’s face.

“Fine. Whatever,” John Muttered, going back to wiping down the tray on Faroe’s stroller.

John straightened up when he finished, he eyed Parker over with an air of suspicion, “Hali needs to be fed. Do you have Faroe for a couple minutes?”

Parker blinked but stood up straighter, squaring his shoulders, “Yeah, of course. Uh- Where’s Artie?”

“Upstairs, taking a break. Do I need to call him?” John arched an eyebrow and Parker knew a challenge when he heard it.

“Nope,” Parker popped the ‘p’ and gave John an easy smile, “‘Roe and I are good here.”

John gave him a full look up and down and… well honestly kinda stared for a moment until he suddenly glanced away entirely, “Faroe, call me if you need anything.”

John turned and left the living room.

Parker glanced down and saw Faroe making her way on hands and knees to the couch. It wasn't until her second hand came up to grip the edge that Parker realized what was happening.

“Hey dad and seeing eye dad you’re gonna wanna get the fuck in here!” Parker called, panicked. He pulled out his phone and started to record.

Within seconds there was the sound of stomping down the stairs while simultaneously footsteps came from the hall.

Arthur stepped into the room, “What? What is it?”

“It's been five seconds, what's happening?” John demanded as he burst in.

“The kid’s about to fuckin’ stand look at her! She's got a hold of the couch the like, little lip at the edge of the cushion and-”

“John, you explain,” Arthur ordered, frantic, and thank god because Parker wasn’t going to be accountable for describing another milestone on his own.

“She's crouched back on her heels with a hold of the couch in front of her. She's trying to make her way into a position that her- Oh she's falling over, but she's- she's making her way back to the position. She's grabbing the edge and pulling herself upward.”

“Is anyone filming?!”

“Fuck hang on,” John fumbled but was a pretty quick draw on the camera.

“Got another angle over here,” Parker put in.

“Alright she's got a grip, and there you go, yes! Excellent work, she's got it, she's- She did it! She's standing! It's a little unsteady but she's- oh she's fallen over again.”

Faroe’s scream tore through the room. Arthur lurched forward.

“She wasn't hurt,” John steadied Arthur's arm, “she just startled herself.”

She tilted back out of her sitting position that she had landed in directly onto her back, and let out another massive yell.

“Oh damn the lungs on this kid alright, c'mere,” Parker picked her up and deposited her in Arthur's arms, “there you go there's your dad. Let's see if he can sort ya out.”

He glanced at John who gave him an approving nod.

John made his way across the room to stand with Arthur and Faroe. He gently grabbed Faroe’s little hand in two fingers and said, “Excellent work.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Arthur said, “You did so good, My love.”

“All you have to do is work on a little stability,” John told her seriously, “but that's not a problem. We all struggled with that in the beginning and you'll get there one day.”

Arthur nodded, “There's nothing wrong with falling over so long as you haul yourself back up.”

“Exactly and your father would know all about that.”

“Oh fuck you, John,” Arthur said completely good-naturedly. Nothing could kill his mood when Faroe hit some new milestone.

“I'm so proud of you,” John said with an openly in-love chuckle.

Parker made his way over and John edged a little to the side to leave space for him.

Parker felt a little winded at that.

“Hey kid, you really got it. Pretty soon here you'll be clambering all over this house making John's life hell.”

John's look faded to a pinched horror, “Oh god. Oh Arthur, we- we need to baby-proof the house. We need to- oh my God she's- she moves now, Arthur. We've got to make things safe. Fuck. I have to go buy supplies. I have to go get cabinet locks. We have to get rid of the knives Arthur.”

As John spoke the same terror sparked in Arthur's eyes.

“Fuck, fuck you’re right this house is a death trap,” Arthur breathed, “Get the glass plates too, we can use plastic.”

“Whoa hey, you can't get rid of the dishes. You’ll need those,” Parker said gentle-like. He should probably temper this before some baby-based terror had them throwing away the coffee maker for being too hot.

John’s expression was resolute, “Then they need to go in a safe.”

“John, Artie…” Parker tried.

Arthur muttered under his breath, “She's so smart. She'll get into anything that doesn't have a lock, and then even then maybe she will-”

“Hey,” Parker cut in, grabbing both of their shoulders, “We'll get the whole place locked up tight, okay? Do you want to go to the store Arthur? Cuz John and I are going to have to go hit up the hardware places to get some cabinet locks and stuff.”

Arthur’s shoulder’s loosened a bit, “Right, there's tools for this express purpose. Yes, let's all go, make it a bit of a family trip.”

It was a joke but Parker was feeling that insane winded feeling again.

“Exactly, let's go see about getting this place fixed up if she's gonna be going around standing and things,” Parker said, poking her in the stomach so she did that squeal-squirm she always did.

“Yes, let’s get going before she takes after her father and gives herself nerve damage while making a snack,” John nodded and made to grab the carseat.

“You fuckin what?” Parker said.

“Oh no, I do not need two of you. Are we going to the hardware store or not?”

“Yeah everybody let's pile in the car. We've only got a few hours till Arthur and I need to make that trip down to the restaurant that our client thinks her husband's cheating on her in.”

*

Parker exhaled slowly, looking at the different kinds of baby gates.

What the fuck was he doing shopping for baby supplies? Since when did he want to be one of this kid’s… responsible adults? He didn’t know the word for what he was. He knew what it felt like but… when had that happened?

Suddenly the image of Faroe approaching that set of stairs on her own trembling legs set his heart beating out a dance rhythm.

He stopped the clerk in the aisle, his name tag said Jeremy, “Hey which one of these is the best and will stop a baby from falling to her death down some stairs.”

Damn he sounded panicked didn’t he? Parker ignored that. Maybe he was. Faroe was… small. She was just really small y'know?

“Oh,” the man glanced at Parker up and down, “New dad?”

“Something like that,” Parker said, unable to really parse what was happening to him internally right now, “Which one of these is the best? My partner, he's got a kid, and he's got a set of stairs too. I don't like that last thing, but from what I can tell the stairs are permanent.”

“Okay,” He seemed to try and fight back a smile, but failed miserably. “Alright so these are the ones that are rated best for stairs. They actually attach to the bars of your banister and the handrail as well as bracing in the way baby gates usually do. So that's good for the tops of stairs. At the base you can usually go with a fairly regular baby gate, like this one. Its our best seller. I will also note that we are actually running a sale on a door knob child proof cover. Have you seen these? You have to squeeze the knob in a particular way to get it to turn.”

“Yeah we're going to need one of those… Shit-fuck. How many rooms are there…?” Parker couldn’t recall the number of closets.

“Usually people are most concerned about the front door and the bathrooms.”

“Okay then I need four- no- five, just in case.”

“Okay,” The man was openly laughing at Parker now and Parker couldn’t even blame him.

“Found him,” John’s voice came from the end of the aisle.

Arthur was smiling as they approached, Faroe was asleep in the cart, “We found the right cabinet locks it seems.”

“Good, I got these door things and this gate thing and this other gate thing they're different.”

“Parker, are you alright? You sound a little… stressed…” Arthur said.

Parker hesitated a moment before the words just burst out of him, “We gotta get these knives locked up man.”

“Jesus, are we going to be alright when she actually starts walking?”Arthur joked.

“Arthur, this is serious. Parker I appreciate the attempt with the door knob covers but our house has the lever kind of nob.”

“Fuck.”

“Relax we'll find something else,” John said insistently, “maybe we can replace the door knobs?”

“We actually have a different kind of lock for those if you’re interested,” Jeremy the Clerk chimed in.

They all turned to look at the man who was holding out a different kind of safety lock.

Parker took it and reached for several more from the shelf, “I think I owe you my life, Jeremy.”

*

Parker and Arthur made their way out for the evening to work their case while John continued fixing the door knobs in the house. Faroe sat quietly next to him in her chair as she always did when he was making repairs.

“I don't mind Parker,” John said, hesitantly, “He's fine. If your father likes him and wants to keep him around I don't think that's too bad.”

Faroe blew a raspberry, ignoring him.

“I just mean that if he were your stepdad maybe that'd be fine. I think he will be. Not that it's any of my business. Your father's perfectly allowed to date anyone he likes whether or not I approve. But I don't like the way that priest looks at him,” John admitted.

“I think he's got something for Arthur and that's not right. And he's a priest, he shouldn't anyway,” John said, shaking it off, “What do you think of him? Parker I mean not the priest. I know you like the priest. Your father won't stop going on about it.”

Faroe didn't reply.

“I know, I know, you like him. I hear you were a big fan of his in the intervening time. Is it because he has a nice voice? I swear, you and your father base your entire sense of trust off of how someone sounds and gut feelings. It's ridiculous. I suppose he’s fine though. He brought your father home every night, made sure he was in bed and safe. And he was here when you needed him so he's fine. He has a nice smile, maybe. Which I don't trust at all. It seems suspicious. Why does he need a smile like that? Who is he trying to impress? ……..You're not listening to me at all are you?”

Faroe was busy clapping excitedly, the way she did when she occasionally remembered that she had hands.

“You know one of these days I'm going to need to stop talking to you about these things,” John noted, “because you'll actually be able to tell your father what I tell you. I am, in fairness, currently gambling on the idea that you won't remember this. I thought you should know. I feel honesty is important between us.”

She let out a wordless monosyllabic shout in John's direction as she noticed he was there and then kicked excitedly.

“Yes I- I'm fond of you too,” John said, mouth curling into a smile, “Now, I'm going through the work of fixing these door knobs, so you have to promise to not bash your forehead into them. It has to be a team effort.”

Notes:

parker being faroe's dad is delivering levels of brain chemicals for me that r unprecedented since the great TMA hyperfixation of 2020 so hope y'all r down w faroe collecting dads like they're pidgey

Chapter 16: Truce

Summary:

Contrary to all previous research scientists are finding that John may just be capable of friendship with people other than Faroe. Shocking.

Notes:

I guess this is just the chapter length now lmao

Music played softly over the stereo speakers. Some violin piece that Arthur didn't recognize but John insisted was Vivaldi and therefore was very good. Arthur found that despite his efforts to remain angry he had slightly more patience for things that John insisted were good these days. He tried not to kick himself too hard at that fact, tried to just let the moment be.

Sharing the couch with him was Hali curled on his lap and purring near-violently. From the other end came soft periodic clicking sounds indicating John's continued efforts. He was outlining the spaces of the Clue board with hot glue painstakingly line by line. He’d been at it for more than an hour already. He had already spent the previous night punching very careful Braille into the cards with the tip of a pen. Unrelatedly for the first time in the past few months Arthur was actually making an attempt to understand Braille.

John was dogged in this effort and Arthur wasn't entirely sure what had pushed him into it. The strangest part was that it wasn’t new. Ever since he got out of his coma John had made an effort to adapt things for Arthur's sake. The board games had been subtler at first, replacing half of the glass pieces for the chess board with wood so Arthur could feel the difference. Then John was double painting the squares on Arthur's board so the white spaces were raised. Adding stickers to the buttons of kitchen appliances so Arthur could navigate.

But this effort was something else entirely.

John was step by step problem solving each facet of the game so that Arthur didn't have to see it. It seemed perhaps like a real effort at kindness.

That scared Arthur a little sometimes.

But not right now. That shapeless fear could sit heavily in the center of Arthur's chest as he tried to fall asleep tonight (as it had for the past three). Right now it was quiet, a pause in its attempts to tunnel its way through his ribs to get at his lungs.

Opposite them, in the high back armchair that Arthur knew was green, Parker sat reading aloud and periodically turning pages, “‘I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people.’ Yeah no fuckin kidding. Jesus these fucking characters man.”

Arthur laughed, “Yes well I suppose Gatsby isn’t everyone’s favorite.”

“Oh no no. I’m having a great time. Daisy and Tom really are just the worst type of rich people,” Parker’s tone shifted to one of mischief, “Just because John and I didn’t get degrees doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy your books Artie. I even liked that poem about the dead girl.”

“Annabelle Lee,” John supplied.

“Exactly. Annabelle Lee,” Parker agreed, smug. Arthur liked when Parker got just a little combative like this.

“Well far be it to insinuate otherwise to the man who told me his favorite book was Percy Jackson,” Arthur teased.

John snorted, “Right.”

Arthur rounded on him, “What?”

“Oh no don’t let me interrupt.”

“No by all means, if you have something to say then say it.”

John sighed and there was the sound of him setting his glue gun down on the table, “You own the entire Twilight series on DVD. When you’re tired all you’ll eat is the marshmallows out of Lucky Charms. Your CD player in the car has a Spice Girls disk that you never change. I’m just saying you don’t have room to judge Parker for his taste in books.”

“Well what about you-” Arthur stopped, “Well what books do you like?”

John paused for a long moment, “I’m fond of the poetry book you keep on the coffee table.”

Arthur huffed, “Is that it? What about music?”

“I’m fond of Brahms?”

Parker laughed, “Right but what shitty thing did you like as a teenager?”

“I… used to like Tchaikovsky?”

“Oh Lavender buddy I’m so sorry. Your upbringing robbed you of the most vital formative experience,” Parker said with exaggerated pity.

“And what’s that?”

“Being absolutely fuckin cringe. Don’t worry, it's not too late to repair. Artie you start pulling up Homestuck and I’ll get the Hot Topic merch.”

“I feel like you just decided I would be a very specific kind of teenager but I don’t know enough to be offended.”

Parker laughed, “Yeah probably for the best.”

*

It was after another meeting and Oscar and Arthur were alone in the car. Faroe had stayed home with Parker or John.

“Thanks Oscar,” Arthur tipped his head with a quick grin and Oscar grinned back automatically.

“‘Course. Forces me to go too.”

“I suppose… Sleep well?” He said it like he was looking for confirmation.

“God willing,” Oscar huffed out a laugh, his tone was carefully not-as-gentle as it tried to be, “You too?”

Arthur huffed a laugh, “Case willing.”

The car was quiet as Arthur looked thoughtful and Oscar chewed the inside of his cheek. What was Arthur thinking about when he got this look? His eyes would fix on Oscar. The purple of Arthur's vest today set off warm tones in the brown of his irises. Oscar didn't usually notice things that subtle about people. He supposed the vest… suited Arthur. He looked nice in it. It seemed tailored? It wrapped closely around his narrow waist.

“Goodnight,” Arthur said, startling Oscar's eyes back up to Arthur's face.

His face heated at having gotten distracted by clothes so entirely, “Yes. Goodnight.”

With that Arthur left the car. Oscar waited until he was inside to pull away.

Getting to sleep that night was as strange as it was the past few meeting nights. Oscar's thoughts for once weren't entirely consumed with his typical greatest shames reel: Now That's What I Call My Past Sins vol. 67.

As he laid in bed on his stomach he thought of the way color seemed to be making its slow plodding way back into Arthur's cheeks. The way his eyes seemed bright, and his lips weren't chapped anymore.

When they first met Arthur had shot him a smile and his lip had immediately split at the motion. Blood sinking slowly into the cracked pink lines. Arthur's tongue darting out to swipe it away.

Arthur held himself steadier now, shoulders square, grin loose and comfortable, at least while they drove toward the meetings, at least while they were alone.

Oscar dozed off, feeling warm.

*

“John, have you seen my socks?”

“You mean those socks that have been slowly accumulating beneath the arm of the couch that I had to scoop up and put into their entire own load of laundry today?”

“Perhaps.”

“Never heard of them,” John said dryly, “Maybe they're in the dryer and should be done in the next couple minutes.”

Arthur said quietly, “...You didn't have to do that.”

“I'm aware but it didn't seem like you were going to.”

“You shouldn’t do that. It’s hardly fair to you, and it's unprofessional of me. We might as well be strangers.”

John scoffed, “We’ve lived together for months.”

“Well I certainly don't know anything about you,” Arthur said, angrier than he intended. God, how did one navigate something like this?

John was quiet for a long moment. The quiet seemed thoughtful though.

“I really wanted to be a doctor,” John told him finally.

Arthur blinked, surprised, “You did?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Arthur slowly moved to perch on the arm of the chair across from John.

“I wanted to be a doctor so badly that I secretly changed my major. My father was paying for my degree, I knew it wouldn't last forever but I was hoping I could get through all of pre-med before he noticed. I had barely made it a semester in when someone at the scheduling office called him. He personally had me retrieved from school,” John said quietly, “and I wasn't allowed to return. He settled on just teaching me on the job so I couldn’t try anything else.”

Arthur sat there in stunned silence.

John laughed, “And I was ridiculous and eighteen and acted like it was the end of the world. I wasn't allowed to leave the house, I had to sit in on every business dinner, every conference call. One day I just sat down and didn't get back up.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur frowned.

“I didn't do anything. I didn't read or pick up my phone. Just sat there staring into space. I think I could have moved but… It was all just so small and far away. Nothing felt real. My father had me hospitalized when the threats and insults didn’t work. Private ward. Only doctors and nurses he was specifically contracting for my case. No outsiders. The only thing that ended up drawing me out was a nurse who came in every day and was just kind.”

“God…”

“Every morning she would greet me with a ‘Hello, John’ and one morning I said hello back. After that they started making me talk. Talk about what happened, why I had shut down. They assumed it was medical but it became pretty clear pretty fast that it had been mental. A tantrum as my father put it.”

Arthur frowned, sitting forward, “That doesn't sound like a tantrum John that sounds like-”

“It doesn't matter,” John cut him off, “In the end the doctors taught me to use coping skills to ground me. Mindfulness and such because they had to get me out of there and back into my father's house as soon as possible. The nurse, Lily…

“Oh.”

“Yes she- She would come in and talk to me about how I had options. How if I needed an out there were people to be called. That she would call the people herself if need be. And one of the other nurses heard her… Like I said, they all knew who signed the paychecks and my father heard about it. She was fired. Not just from the team, he told every hospital in the city that she was untouchable.”

“I- I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry.”

John laughed, short and harsh, “Don't feel too bad. After all that I went back to working for him for nearly a decade. I'm just as guilty of ruining lives without an afterthought.”

“Your father is a monster, John. Completely unfathomable in his cruelty. And perhaps what you're describing is what he taught you to be but…” Arthur sighed, “I have seen you hold that little girl and I know you are not the monster he is, because I know that in his shoes you would let Faroe be whatever she wished and that if she shut down that way your only concern would be for her health. The way a parent should for their child.”

Arthur's heart was beating. John wasn't saying anything.

“I should get my socks.”

And with that Arthur walked out like he hadn't just said the stupidest thing in the world.

*

“Hey thanks for helping out. It was a lot of food to try and bring back with just two hands.”

“Of course,” John said hesitantly.

Parker knew that he had freaked the guy out by asking him specifically to come with, especially when he told Arthur to stay home and chill for a while. But they needed to talk so? You do what you gotta do.

“Alright listen, you know I dragged you out cuz I wanted to talk to you. I'm not gonna insult your intelligence or whatever.”

“So what did you want?” John's voice was even, low, and threatening.

“I wanted to say first I wasn't like- really stalking you when I found you in that bar. When I came back the second time I was maybe stalking you. The third time…? Alright I definitely was. And I am sorry about that.”

Parker glanced over and John was looking at him like he was stupid and yeah that's fair.

“See the thing is- well it's like you saw. Faroe was fuckin inconsolable man and I was trying to find you see if I couldn't patch you and Artie up.”

“I see,” John said slowly.

“And I wanted you to know that I happened across some information in my research that you don't seem to want public.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know who your dad is. I saw the press conference on TV. I wasn't even looking, I swear. I didn't think I was going to get any sort of lead on your name. You chose literally the most suspiciously anonymous pseudonym. I stumbled into it is all. I just wanted you to know what I know, I guess? And I didn't know if Artie knew so I just wasn't going to bring it up in front of ‘im.”

“You hid this from Arthur?”

Lord that sounded bad.

“I guess I just- You got a right to choose your name don't you? If you say your last name is Doe… Well fuck it's Doe I guess. And damn I'm not a big fan of dragging people back to families that they were clearly trying to hide from so… yeah if Artie asks me, I'll lie to him and say I don't know.”

John was quiet for several seconds, “He knows. I told him.”

“Oh shit man you had me fucking stressed. Alright, good, great, so no secrets in the house then!”

“There already weren't any secrets in the house,” John pointed out. His eyes flicked over Parker’s face, narrow, curious maybe?

“Right. Yeah. I don't like live there so I guess it's all been settled for a while…uh- Are we okay man?”

“Yes,” John said, giving Parker an odd look like he was trying to read him.

Parker glanced at him and turned back to the road.

“Something on my face?” He asked.

“No.” John didn't expand on it beyond that. They retrieved dinner and went back to Arthur and Faroe.

*

They climbed the narrow stairs above the market that led to Marie's apartment, John murmuring softly about how he didn't like the look of this place. Arthur put it down to nerves.

“I’m telling you this place is strange,” John said.

Arthur kept climbing.

“Arthur, it smells like mildew.”

“That is because this is an old building and she's elderly and can't take care of repairs on her own. You will be kind to her will you not, John?”

“Of course, I'm sorry. I'm- The building seems nice,” he admitted, sounding appropriately chastised, then as they reached the landing, “Are you sure this is alright if the invitation was for Parker?”

“It will be fine, John. I promise.”

“But what did you tell her about me while I was gone?”

“I only told her that I had been helped by a friend and that friend was no longer with me. That he had left by necessity, unexpectedly.”

“...Why did you say that?” John asked.

“I suppose some part of me was not willing to throw you under any buses in case you came back.”

“I see,” John said, “Well we should probably knock before she noticed us out here and thinks we're strange for waiting outside.”

“Fair enough, go ahead and hit the bell.”

After a moment's more hesitation he did so.

A thin voice called out from inside, “Come in!”

Arthur pushed his way through the door, “Good evening Marie, we’re here.”

“Parker! Lovely to see you.”

“She gets us confused sometimes,” Arthur said softly as he entered. He was careful to not knock into any of the tables that he knew held fragile glass decorations..

“Hello Marie, it's Arthur. Parker wasn't able to join me today but I did bring someone if that's alright?”

“Of course and is Faroe with you?”

“Naturally,” Arthur said with a smile, “Marie, I want you to meet John.”

“Oh, your friend who you said left town.”

“Yes, he was able to come back and actually resume his position. Hopefully for good this time.”

“...I've heard a lot about you…”

John was audibly tense, “It's lovely to meet you Miss Marie.”

“...Yes…” Marie said dryly, “I don't know what you did to get yourself kicked out but I'm glad the two of you have made up. Faroe seems far more peaceful with you here.”

“Marie, I told you John didn't do anything.”

“Of course he didn't,” she said flippantly, “what's that you're holding dear?”

“Oh, it's lasagna. I made it. I thought we could just put it in the oven if you feel like it or you can keep it for another day or we can bring it home,” John said quickly. This elderly woman really scared him.

“The kitchen's just through here. Let me show you how to work the oven. It can be a bit finicky.”

“Thank you ma'am,” he said too stiffly and too quickly.

“We also brought some board games Marie!” Arthur called, “How do you feel about Scrabble? Or clue?”

“I have so many puzzles here. You needn't have brought anything new,” she dropped her voice into a lower whisper but was still incredibly Audible, “Parker is bad at jigsaw puzzles and I'm afraid he's trying to get me away from them so that he can actually succeed at something.”

“In fairness ma’am he is blind.”

“Oh! Oh, of course, I'm sorry. I didn't really think of it. Sometimes these things get away from me.”

“I'm sure it's alright… He seems to admire you very much.”

“Oh don't be silly, that's just how he sounds all the time. He's sweet.”

John cleared his throat attempting to disguise a laugh, “Well I hear you watched Faroe a lot in my stead.”

“I did, she's excellent. You and Parker have raised a wonderful girl.”

“Yes I don't know how much I had to do with it, but Arthur is a very caring father.” John’s voice was soft, like he hadn’t intended for Arthur to hear.

Arthur cleared his throat and began feeling over the coffee table to be sure it was clean.

*

“No fuck off I'm telling you it's not the son because the son was halfway across the goddamn country. Occam’s razor. The dude just put the safe code somewhere and he lost it cuz he's old,” Parker’s voice was clipped, exhausted. They had spent the previous night checking every pawn shop in town for the necklace their client said had been stolen. The both of them had been up for at least thirty two hours.

“Okay Parker but ‘he's old’ is not going to get us money. Pursuing a lead is what will get us paid,” Arthur said in a tone that fought to sound like it was the most reasonable in the room.

“But if ‘he's old’ is the truth then that is what we have to tell this man!”

“Jesus Christ, I'm not disagreeing that it is the most possible outcome but the son could have-”

“No, he couldn't have,” Parker shot back, “because the only two people who ever ever had the code for that safe were him and his wife and since his wife has been dead for three months that pretty much assures that it wasn't her.”

John had been sitting here listening to them doing the verbal equivalent of throwing elbows for half an hour and was no longer enjoying the show, “Does it?”

“What?” Parker rounded on him, giving him a look of agitation.

“Does it assure that it wasn't her? Or does it just assure that the husband thinks she's dead? Or that he thinks she didn't go into the safe? Hell what’s to say she didn’t just tell someone the code? Have you even looked into the wife? Maybe there's more to her.”

Parker paused uncomprehendingly for a moment, too tired to process a new argument. As the words sunk in the anger bled from his face like ink, leaving only the faint smudges of exhaustion and misery, “Are you suggesting she faked her death to get at the family jewels?”

“I'm just saying that the family jewels could have been a part of something she was doing, that she was capable of a crime. And yes I'm saying that maybe she could have faked her death.”

“There’s hardly evidence for that. It seems like quite the conclusion to jump to. Besides, do people actually get away with that nowadays?” Arthur said with a scoff.

“How'd she die?” John asked, though he knew.

“A private plane crash but-” Arthur sighed, “Oh damn her body was unidentifiable wasn't it? You can't actually tell that it's her in these photos can you?”

“No, not really,” Parker admitted, looking sheepish.

“Damn. She… really might have faked her death,” Arthur wiped a hand down his face, coming to a stop to rub along the stubble forming on his jaw, “He did mention their relationship had been rocky towards the end there.”

“Right well,” Parker nodded and slapped his legs, standing, “We gotta get back to that house and see if we can't go through the old sewing room of hers see if anything else sentimental might be missing.”

“Right,” Arthur stood up and grabbed his cane.

“Oh absolutely not,” John scoffed, moving to the doorway to block the path, “You two weren’t able to safely make coffee four hours ago. I’m not letting you drive anywhere now. You’re going to bed.”

“Okay listen, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not on my A game. And thanks for catching this, really, but we gotta get a move on with this case. So ‘scuse me,” Parker tried to move past but John simply crossed his arms and didn’t move.

“Her death won’t get any more faked before morning. Besides, it's five in the evening. If he’s as old as you say, he’s probably asleep by now himself. Eat something, go to bed. Check the house when you're rested enough to actually find a single clue.”

Parker scoffed, “You really not gonna let us through?”

“No.”

Parker stood up taller, squaring his shoulders. They stood face to face glaring for several long seconds. Parker's eyes were intense, dark, and narrowed at John. John’s gaze flitted over Parker not for the first time.

He was bulky. Muscle sure, he was plenty strong enough to have carried Arthur inside all those nights, but all soft edges. He had a scar on his chin that made him look tough but John suspected it was from falling off a bike or something similar. Parker’s head tilted to the side examining John, his teeth tugging briefly at his lower lip. He looked thoughtful.

“Oh fucking hell, boys, put your dicks away, I’m in no fit state to pull out ruler at the moment to play judge,” Arthur sighed, pushing past both of them, “I’m going to bed. Parker, you're welcome to join or to sleep wherever. I’ll be up in time to have breakfast before we head back to the house.”

John’s face flooded with heat as Arthur made for the stairs.

Parker cleared his throat, looking away and stepping back.

“Uh- sorry,” He said, waving his hand vaguely, “Long day I guess. You’re probably right. I should sleep.”

John turned away himself, “Don’t worry about it. There’s still soup on the stove. You're welcome to it.” He said it because he didn’t know how else to communicate that he didn’t hate Parker suddenly for this stand-off. And food, freely offered, with no expectation attached, seemed like it said all the polite things that John couldn’t manage right now.

Parker’s face did something John didn’t know how to interpret, then resolved into a tired half smile, “Thanks John.”

*

A couple days passed before John and Parker interacted meaningfully beyond coffee mugs exchanging hands. The case had kept them busy, and Faroe and Hali kept John busy. Between the two of them and the detective work the house was looking a lot more… lived in. Parker found it nice. The mess here felt a lot better than the pile of ramen cups he had shamefully stacked by his couch at home.

John just seemed more stressed about it though. Hardly existing for ten minutes at a stretch without some small creature in his hands.

“Hey John,” Parker stopped him just before he slipped into his room for the night.

Arthur was putting Faroe to bed so it seemed like the only time he could do this without an audience that he suspected wouldn’t be appreciated.

“It's your birthday isn't it?”

John froze, “How did you…?”

“I make it my business to know things about my friends,” Parker was testing the word out but he liked how it sounded.

John tensed though, like he’d encountered some sort of plant that he couldn’t yet be sure was safe to touch.

“Here,” Parker reached down to the table and handed down the nondescript box that he had been waiting to give to the man, “didn't wanna say in front of Arthur in case you felt weird about other people knowing but… Well, I mean, nobody should get nothin’ for their birthday, you know?”

“...Thank you,” John said slowly, reaching out to accept the box.

“No problem…” Parker said with a shrug, then shooting John a grin, “And In case you were wondering, my birthday is in June on the 6th you can remember because I'm a solid six out of ten. Keep that in mind.”

John exhaled through his nose shaking his head, fighting down something that wanted to be a smile real bad and carried to John’s eyes like one anyway.

“A six,” he scoffed, “Thank you Parker. I will… keep your birthday in mind.” He said it like the words had never been in his mouth before, like John had never intentionally kept anyone in mind.

That was alright, people could learn.

*

“You know,” Arthur said, “This is your house.”

Parker had gotten up to grab the pizza from the door and this was coming absolutely out of nowhere for John, Arthur was sure, but it had been gnawing at him for a while now.

“...Yes?”

Arthur pressed on, “It is your house and you could have friends over you know. I mean Lily…”

“Lily?” John said, then his tone resolved into suspicion, “You want me to bring Lily over?”

“Yes, perhaps she could join us for dinner some evening or I could leave you two alone but… we’ve got space, we’ve got plates.”

Arthur knew he sounded like a fool. He paused and exhaled, “Listen John I would simply like you to not feel quite so much like you are walking on eggshells in our home. And if not for me, then I also don't want Faroe to go up in a house where one of the people raising her feels like a guest. So you can reupholster a chair or paint a wall again or install a climbing structure near the ceiling for Hali. I really don't care, just do something, act like you live here.”

John was quiet for a moment then hesitantly, “Alright I'll ask her if she wants to come over for dinner sometime.”

“Good, excellent,” Arthur said, “I understand she's a nurse, I'm sure she's busy, just whenever she's free.”

“Alright.”

*

“So this Lily… how’d you guys meet? She's real willing to cover your ass,” Parker noted as he stood at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand. The kitchen was warm and smelled of thyme and rosemary.

“We’d met some years ago when she was employed by my father,” John said as though it was off-hand. He wanted to make it sound uninteresting. Like the sort of thing Parker didn’t need to pry into.

“Damn I didn't realize he owned hospitals.”

“Not officially,” John didn’t look up from cutting the carrots into coins as Parker continued stirring the sauce.

“Hey you know thanks for letting me stay for dinner. I feel like I probably ought to apologize to her. I think I might have freaked her out pretty bad when we first met. I just thought that she was some sort of criminal accomplice.”

“Yes,” John said, “Well I'm sure she'll decide.”

“Decide?” Parker echoed.

“I don't know Parker. She seemed not pleased with the idea of you checking up on me but then she also didn't seem pleased with what I did to need to be checked up on so… we'll see,” John finished impatiently.

Parker’s voice held a smile when he next spoke that John didn’t have to turn to see, “Nervous?”

“No,” John snapped immediately.

“Easy easy,” Parker quieted him like a startled animal. It was so ridiculous that John actually did try to level out his tone, if only to stop being treated like a frightened horse. It wasn’t like he was angry at Parker anyway.

“Right…” John couldn't bring himself to apologize but he pushed onward, “Yes I… You're right. It's difficult, we're friends, we've texted, called even but I haven't made any effort to see her really since coming back and I don't know for sure what she thinks of it. And now Arthur wants her to come over here…”

“Do you want her to come over here?” Parker asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course or-” John paused in his motions, setting the knife aside, “she's not seen my life really and what if Faroe doesn't like her…”

“Or what if Arthur doesn't like her right?” Parker said with a gentle elbow jostle when he saw John had put down the knife.

“Right,” John admitted very quietly. His free hand flexed by his side

“Hey man, you'll pull through this. If they don't like each other, give me a signal and I'll make everyone like me the least.”

John snorted, “That would be something to see.”

“What, you don’t think I’d do it?”

“I’m yet to see you make anyone dislike you,” John only heard the compliment for what it was after it left him.

Parker grinned, visibly excited at the implication John liked him, “I could do it! Pull out all the murder files right there at the dinner table, all over your bolognese.”

John suppressed a smile, “Call it plan B then.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Oh! I’ll get it!” Arthur called from the living room, “oh Hali Please. Yes yes I like you too, I’ll be back.”

John immediately lurched for a towel wiping his hands and stuffing the towel into the pocket of his apron.

“Hang on,” Parker stopped him. John looked at him in confusion and Parker pointed down at John's apron, “You sure about that?”

John glanced down.

It was the apron Parker had given him for his birthday. The front of it said UNIDENTIFIED CORPSE in thick Times New Roman text across the front. John briefly remembered the note it had come with ’Hopefully! I'd hate to think you’ll get buried with the wrong name on the tombstone -P’. It was folded and slid into the pocket of his bag.

The apron was morbid and John was fond of wearing it despite Arthur’s many protests since it had been described to him. But if Arthur found it off-putting Lily would find it genuinely upsetting.

He quickly untied it and tossed it onto Faroe’s empty high chair before hurrying over to the door. He heard Arthur in the hallway as the conversation started.

“Hello?” He said as he opened the door.

“Hi I'm looking for the Lester residence? I'm Lily. Arthur, right?”

“Yes, hello! Of course please come in. I've heard a lot about you,” Arthur said.

“No you haven't,” Lily laughed.

“Okay I’ve heard next to nothing,” Arthur admitted.

“I haven't heard anything about you either. John is a miserable little pile of secrets.”

Arthur laughed a little too hard at that and John finally made it to the doorway.

“Lily, hi, please come in.”

“Oh yes, of course, come in,” Arthur said, stepping out of the way, “and don't let John scare you off. I think he's been nervous about having you over here.”

“Oh I know he's sent me about ten texts telling me how awful it might be and that I should just cancel.”

“I have not,” Jon snapped. He had.

“But anyway I'm here. I bought flowers!”

“Oh,” Arthur extended his hands and smiled, “Thank you. I’m sure they’re pretty.”

Lily's eyes widened with realized social faux pas and she looked at John in a panic mouthing the word ’Fuck’.

John snorted, “They’re yellow marigolds seven or eight, surrounded by a handful of orange daisies. The plastic they’re wrapped in is translucent red and the whole bundle gives a warm autumnal effect. Pass them here, I’ll get them into a vase.”

“Thank you. Here, I’ll go get Faroe and we can all relax in the kitchen to keep you and Parker company.”

It was only a moment before Arthur rejoined them with Faroe in his arms

“This is the lady herself,” Arthur announced. Faroe was wearing one of her best dresses with a bow in her hair that John knew would last all of ten minutes. She was giving Lily the wide-eyed stare that only a child can manage.

“Apbbbbbb,” She greeted, eloquently.

“Oh well she's just a darling!” Lily cooed, “Gosh she must be… what? Eleven months?”

“Only 10 actually,” Arthur said proudly, “she's just big. Oh look, look, she can stand, watch!”

John watched with a smile as they began talking easily. He returned to the stove, checking the sauce that Parker was supervising.

*

As it turned out Lily was nice.

…Yeah Parker felt like kind of an ass for having doubted it. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about their previous meeting during dinner though so when John and Arthur were getting Faroe settled for bed he turned to her.

They were sitting around the game that was on the table. It was a painstakingly constructed version of poker that Arthur had gotten real into since John had punched his braille into the cards and then redone the back of each one with a sheet of paper and some tape. It was not ideal. Parker was waiting for a set of tactile cards to come in the mail.

Lily set down her cup of tea and her cards and turned him, the picture of cool politeness. Parker hadn’t had a freeze out like this since he said fuck at the dinner table in front of his great aunt Hua.

“So, the hospital,” Parker said, bringing it up first.

“Why were you looking for John?” She shot back no hesitation

Parker blinked and then huffed out a short laugh, “I mean… Faroe needed him. Arthur needed him. And he disappeared. I was trying to figure out why.”

“From what I hear, that night was also partially Arthur's fault.”

Parker winced at the reminder of how bad Arthur had fucked up.

“Yeah, I know that now,” Parker said, “but at the time I had no context. Arthur didn’t explain the situation right away.”

She was stern, “So you went to my workplace and scared the hell out of me?”

“Yeah, and I’m real sorry,” He said, heaving a sigh, “I was looking for him and didn’t know enough of his history to realize quite how terrifying that would be, but we're like- cool now.”

“Yeah?” Unconvinced.

“Yeah!” He huffed out an exasperated laugh, “like I- God, I was the only person who got him a birthday gift. We’re all good.”

The skepticism fell away, leaving behind only surprise, “What? His birthday- when was his birthday?”

Parker blinked, “Fuck, it was like- last week?”

“Last week? I- he didn't say anything to me. He told you?”

“Nope,” Parker said with a shrug, “found it out while researching him, just google y'know? I was putting together my file on him. I just noticed it was in September so…”

“But I didn't get him anything…” she said sadly. They sat in silence for a moment, the awkwardness at least mostly dispelled.

“You could get him something soon, say that it came late in the mail. I think he could use another gesture like that. He really came to Arthur's door with like nothing but that cat and one bag and I just- I’m starting to think he needed a better birthday than I gave him. I was pretty focused on not giving up the sorta cool-guy unspoken thing he and I have going. So maybe if you got him something nice,” Parker rubbed the back of his neck.

She resolved into a vaguely pissed expression, “Oh that man is getting something fucking sacharine for trying to weasel out of getting a gift.”

Parker laughed in shock, “Right, damn. Good. So… we’re cool?”

She tilted her head eyeing him consideringly, “Fine. Truce.” She extended her hand and Parker shook it.

“Truce,” He agreed.

The rest of the night actually went pretty smooth.

*

“So what’s with all the board games?” Parker asked one night as he was working a case and John was hard at work brainstorming Monopoly modifications. Arthur was at that single parents meeting, Parker offered to pick him up, but he was getting another ride from Oscar.

“Hmm?” John replied not looking up.

“The board games man, why are you working so hard on this?”

John glanced up, seeming to actually hear Parker this time, “Oh, it’s peanut butter.”

“Wow, and you already lost me.”

John rolled his eyes hard, like humoring Parker was hard work, “To get a dog to take a pill, you hide it in peanut butter. Arthur needs to learn braille, but he keeps himself so busy that he can’t justify taking the time to learn. I’m appealing to his competitive streak.”

“Do you often use dog training tricks to manipulate him, Lavender?” Parker leveled him with a look that he hoped expressed how weird this was.

“Well if I keep calling him god boy he’ll catch on,” John’s tone was without remorse, “I had to get subtle.”

“Naturally, yeah, how silly of me to question,” Parker shook his head returning to his work. Resolutely putting no thought at all into John calling Arthur a good boy, no sir.

*

“You're very kind Marie,” Arthur said into the phone, “but I'd hate to lean on your good will if it's not necessary. I'm perfectly happy to come over and just visit, but between the three of us Faroe is more than accounted for the vast majority of the time.”

“Well you three should take an evening off together!” Parker could hear her demand too loudly from the other end.

Arthur was fighting a smile, “Marie I…”

“Tomorrow night. Go to a movie or- no. A concert, something you all could enjoy.”

“There's this case so we-”

“Even the lord took a day of rest. I hear there's a lovely dispensary down the street from you.”

“Marie!” Arthur laughed, scandalized.

“I don't judge,” She said curtly, “tomorrow. Five o'clock. I could keep her overnight sometime as well if you like.”

“Okay, okay. Tomorrow at five. But we'll be by to pick her back up before bed,” Arthur said sternly.

“Yes, see that you do, Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Arthur put down the phone.

“So did I hear that wrong or were John and I just signed up for a mandatory boys night?”

“You heard right, I fear Marie misses Faroe.”

“That's understandable,” John said with undisguised pride.

“It is,” Arthur agreed, “we're not actually obligated to do anything of course but I'm afraid we'll need to drop her off and pick her up.”

“I wouldn't mind doing something, you John?” Parker said.

“Like… what?”

“Well Arthur and I went dancing last time.”

“Dancing?”

“Yes, John, a series of rhythmic movements typically set to music?” Arthur was giving John a playful look that made even Parker's heart beat faster.

John flushed, eyes wide for a moment, then he cleared his throat, “Lily mentioned a pottery place downtown was doing an evening event. Something for newcomers.”

“Pottery?” Arthur lit up.

Parker glanced at John, “Alright, pottery it is.”

*

“Bababababababababababababa,” Faroe chattered, hands on the coffee table holding herself up as she watched the TV with rapt attention.

The three of them stood behind her in their evening clothes, looking on as she babbled away.

“Think she's aiming for anythin specific? As far as words go, I mean,” Parker asked.

“‘Ba’ is a very common early syllable. ‘Ma’ is also common for a first, which is why babies' first words are frequently cited as being ‘mama’,” John was quoting one of his books. He had started another burst of reading because he had hardly expected to make it past the newborn stages when he started out.

Faroe turned toward them at the noise, “Ba! BABABABABA.”

“Indeed, my love!” Arthur agreed, just as loud. Faroe slapped the table excitedly with one hand.

She turned back to sesame street.

“She's going to be very loud,” Arthur murmured.

“Wonder where she gets it,” Parker slid his gaze toward Arthur.

“Oh shut up. Well, we better get going,” Arthur said with a sigh.

“I'll get her if you’ll get her bag,” John said, approaching her, “Faroe, I'm going to pick you up now okay?”

She tilted her head way back to look at him and nearly fell over, “Ghhhhhh!”

He smiled, softly, “I know.” He scooped her up into his arms.

*

“Damn it's real quiet,” Parker whispered, shrugging off his leather jacket. The room had faint music playing from somewhere and a very low murmur from the two dozen or so people scattered about the work tables.

John scanned the room seeing primarily couples by the looks of it. People pressed as close as they could without limiting their own movement, glances exchanged over simple clay bowls.

Arthur's cane was extended before him but he reached for John's arm as well, “May I? This seems like a space where bumping into something might be rather high stakes.

“Of course,” John held out his elbow and Arthur slipped his hand into the crook. Their shoulders brushed.

Arthur's shirt was loose, sleeveless, and dark green. His hair was curling from the humidity of the rain that past week.

Parker caught John's eye as he finally tore his gaze away from Arthur. He was hardly bothering to hide the mirth in his eyes.

They made their way toward their table and settled down.

An employee came by and explained some of the tools, where the clay was, some of the basics. She talked very quickly.

When she completed her explanation that John caught very little of she huffed, seeming to catch her breath.

“So what brings you three out tonight?” She smiled.

“Boys night,” Arthur said brightly, “The baby's with a friend so we thought we should take the opportunity.”

John could see her calculating just how many of them the baby belonged to but she merely nodded, “Well it's always nice to get an evening out with just the grownups. Just shout if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do,” Parker raised his hand in thanks as she retreated, then he turned back to them, “well I hope you guys were listening because I got distracted watching that person over there spinning the wheel.”

With time, effort, and a fair bit of both of them quietly copying everything they saw Arthur do, they were making their ways toward a set of pots with lids.

John's may have been significantly smaller than the other two because he didn't pick up enough clay at the start. But the handles on his were also shaped like flowers so he was clearly winning.

“C’mon Artie,” Parker pleaded, “John's on my side, aren't you, John?”

“Of course.”

Arthur clicked his tongue, “Oh come on. Is this because I refused to watch Barbie with you? You're just trying to spite me.”

John was.

“No I just agree with Parker on… whatever he's saying.”

“Ha! Putting a lot of faith in me there, Lavender.”

“You don't even know what we're arguing about?” Arthur demanded.

“I was focused on the clay.”

“Parker wants to start reading us the first Twilight book from Edward's perspective.”

“Oh…. Absolutely not.”

Parker gasped, “The turn! The betrayal! A snake in my bosom!”

“Parker please stop shouting about your bosoms,” John said, dryly.

Parker's eyes widened as he registered his own volume relative to the rest of the now very quiet room, and he ducked his head, “Okay, I gotta die now. Arthur as my partner it's your job to take me out. Mercy kill.”

“It's not my fault you're ashamed of your bosoms,” Arthur said, still hard at work feeling out the edges of his pot, assuring its symmetry.

“Okay, not ashamed. If anything, I'm proud. I'm just not trying to draw that kind of attention to them. The crowds will get ravenous.”

Arthur turned to face him, utterly deadpan, “Yes I suppose John and I will have to fight them off of you.”

“Yeah you will! Oh hang on, you got some of that slip stuff on your cheek,” Parker reached out. Delicately he brushed the line of clay from Arthur's cheek with the damp towel they had on hand. It was slow and Arthur hardly moved, attention rapt on Parker.

It was… oddly intimate.

John averted his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you,” Arthur said, and John looked back in time to see Parker had lowered his hand and Arthur was reaching out to give it a gentle squeeze.

John swallowed. Parker finally dragged his eyes away from Arthur and immediately met John gaze looking almost dazed.

“Yeah, of course. So uh-” He coughed lightly, “when do we do that wire cutting thing?”

Notes:

shoutout to my mom who when I said "so what would parents do when they have a night off and they're actually a single parent and the nanny he has romantic tension with and also the single parent is an alcoholic and blind so not a movie and not a bar" immediately went "pottery class, very tactile, he'd do fine"

Chapter 17: Arthur Lester's Big Day Out 2: Night Drinking

Summary:

Stresses weigh on everyone as the summer gives way to fall. How will they manage? Is arthur okay?? Do men touch this much platonically???

Notes:

Hi! This chapter went through Several permutations

Content warning: alcohol relapse

“Arthur, I don’t care about the case.”

“Well I do, this is your job can’t you figure it out?” Arthur sighed. He'd been fighting a headache all night.

“She won’t stop, I've tried literally everything!”

“She’s eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Changed?”

“Yes!”

“You’ve tried holding her?”

“For god’s sake Arthur, yes!”

“Have you tried playing heavy metal and dancing with her?” Parker called into the phone from the driver's seat.

“I’ve tried everything! She won’t stop crying. I think she needs one of you. You've been out since eight, can't you come home yet?”

Parker sighed, “You know he’s probably right. I don’t think tonight’s our night. We can come back tomorrow night and try to be earlier.”

Rest would probably do Arthur some good as well.

“Fine, I suppose you're right, no use slamming our head into this wall as though it's going to give way.”

“Right.”

“Alright John, we'll be home soon.”

“Thank you.”

Arthur hung up and Parker started the car.

*

“She’s still going huh?” Parker said, tossing his jacket over the couch, opening his arms to John to receive the kid. Faroe was squirming and kicking. Parker turned toward Arthur with her.

Arthur moved close, “Oh Faroe darling, its alright its alright. We’re all here, we’ll figure out what's wrong.”

“It’s okay,” Parker agreed, “Your problems are real but like. Probably relatively transient? I mean you're going to be okay.”

Faroe didn't seem comforted.

Parker sighed, “She looks like she's in pain.”

“Pain? What do you mean?” Arthur said.

“I dunno writhing alot and I mean, listen to her. This isn’t a ‘I miss somebody’ cry, this is a ‘something is materially wrong’ kinda cry.”

“Hmm, oh! John, did you get her the teething ring out of the freezer?”

“The… what?”

“The teething ring? It helps sooth her mouth?” Arthur said leadingly, “You remember.”

“Yes! Yes of course I- I would have- I just,” John’s tone was ragged, his hair was askew.

Arthur reached out a hand and gently squeezed John’s arm, a peace offering after their bickering on the phone, “It's alright. We’ve all been busy. Go grab that and we’ll drive her around in the car to see if it puts her to sleep.”

“Right.”

*

Early October was cool and the days grew short. It had rained most of the week. The coffee maker in the kitchen was rarely emptied of the caramel apple coffee that Parker had brought last week. When they opened the window it came with the whisper-hiss of leaves running down the street.

It was nice.

Arthur wasn't thinking about his parents.

The sock drawer was long since emptied of whiskey because one benefit of having two other adults around is that it was a lot harder to slip away to go restock. He searched it anyway. He was trying to lay off. He was. That's why it had taken this long to run out anyway. And now he was out…

Parker was gone for the day. Parker was gone because he had to go do chores at his own home and John was asleep and Faroe was asleep.

And Arthur was awake. He was very awake and if he had any sense about him he would have saved at least three bottles for the twelfth. Because he was alone and his parents didn't matter and for entirely unrelated reasons Arthur needed to not be in his head right now.

And you know what? That should be okay. It wasn't fair that he was a grown adult and he couldn't just go get himself a drink when he needed one. Faroe was asleep, she didn't need him. Parker was away, he didn't need him, and John- John never needed Arthur, that would be the opposite of how it worked. He felt guilt clench in his stomach at how much John did for him and it made something vicious snarl inside him.

He didn't really process picking up his wallet sliding on his shoes or grabbing his cane as he made for the front door. But when he slipped out and shut the door quietly behind him, that was a choice he made.

John wouldn’t wake up and he would be back in no time. He just needed a drink.

*

Parker woke up on the futon that was play-acting at being his bed with a start around two in the morning, patting around the couch for wherever his phone had ended up. He hoped he had plugged it in earlier but honestly he wasn't sure. Clearly it had enough battery to have woke him.

Finally he found it and with a breath of blessed relief he unplugged it and squinted at the screen trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

“John?”

“Parker, did you pick up Arthur at some point tonight? I think his phone's dead.”

“What?” He rubbed at his face, was it still the middle of the night, “Nah, Lavender, I haven't left the house. I totally passed out on my couch last night. About midway through sorting through papers that need to be shredded by the looks of it.” He picked up a folder that had been half spread underneath his face.

Yep excellent work Yang, drooled on the electric bill.

“...He's not with you?”

Parker picked up on the tone then, he wasn't the fastest on the uptake right now, but it had been there from the start, “Is Arthur not there, John?”

“He's- Faroe was crying. I went to his door to try and wake him up. I thought he just slept through it. We’ve all been tired lately. But he's- fucking hell, Parker. He's not here and I thought he was with you. He had to be with you because he can’t leave in the middle of the night. He was supposed to be watching Faroe. She was crying, I didn’t get up right away, because he was supposed to. But he's not here and… he's not with you?”

John was babbling, it was pretty clear that he had also just woken up mere minutes before. Faroe was on the other end of the line not crying but wide awake and noisy.

“No, it's our day off and I had a lot to catch up on here,” Parker said, “You said his phone's dead. Is he not answering?”

“No I- it went through the first time and then every time after that it just went immediately to voicemail.”

“Fuck,” Parker swore, “alright, I'll be right over okay? I'll- I'll-”

“Parker, what do I do?” John asked, sounding… fragile almost, then he quickly masked it with anger, “The last time this happened he was in a fucking coma. It was just me and Faroe for a month. What if he's hurt?”

“I- I don't know but it's going to be okay. Get yourself a cup of coffee, sweetheart. Get Faroe ready and we’ll fuckin’ drive to all of his old haunts first, and you can- I don't know- call his friends.”

“I already called you, Arthur doesn’t have friends he’s-” He said, then hesitated, “I can call his father-in-law?”

“Yeah if we can't find him soon we'll get Daniel on the line,” Parker agreed, “But first I'll get you Oscar's number and there's always Marie.”

“Right, right.”

“He's got more people than he had last time, and we'll get everybody that we have to searching. It's going to be okay, I'll be right there.”

“Okay… Thank you, Parker,” And John hung up.

*

“No Oscar, that's why I am calling you,” John said. It was clear from his tone, he thought he was being patient, “He's not answering his phone. It went through the first time and every other time it just immediately went to voicemail without ringing. I texted him once but every other one is just being marked as unsent. Have you seen him?”

He paused, letting Oscar speak.

“No, this is urgent,” His teeth were grit, “The last time he went missing like this he was in a car accident that left him blind so why don't you just-”

“Easy, easy, pass it here,” Parker held out his hand, still watching the road. John passed the phone to Parker without complaint.

“Hey Oscar, it's Peter,” John shot him a look and Parker waved him off, “Yeah listen we're just we're really looking for Artie. I'm sorry, I know it's the middle of the night and you have early mornings but any chance you could just keep an ear out for him?”

“No, of course, it's like I was telling John you'll just have to give me time to get dressed,” Oscar said, with no small amount of exasperation, “and I'll get out looking for him as well.”

Parker relaxed just a little, “Hey thanks father.”

“Aye uh- we'll keep in touch. What sort of places are you covering?”

“Yeah, we were trying to basically check his typical route between the bars. I got real good at tracking this guy down from night night a couple months back, but if you could actually man the house?” Parker laughed awkwardly, “John and I sort of left in a panic and didn't really think about the fact that somebody should probably wait there to see if Arthur shows up. We’ll circle back of course.”

“The front window is unlocked,” John put in, sounding like this was a real burden, “He can go inside if he wants.”

Parker shot him a smile, “John says you can hop through the front window if you get chilly, should be unlocked.”

“Thank you, I'll see you there.”

“And hey, I'm real sorry to pull you away this time of night. I know you’re busy.”

“It's fine I've just got a funeral around ten and then confessions mid-afternoon, nothing I haven't handled on no sleep a hundred times before.”

Wow, being friendly with a priest was peeling away all sorts of layers of Parker’s understanding of the role.

“Okay we'll touch base later. Call if you get any word.”

“Will do. Good luck, Peter.”

Parker hung up and handed the phone back to John.

“Peter?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah man that's my fuckin priest what do you want? I don't go around using my nickname in front of my priest, it ain’t right.”

“Sorry,” John said, not sounding sorry. Then after a moment, “... Peter.”

“Oh shut up,” Parker rolled his eyes, “Anyway, you caught sight of him yet?”

“No not yet. I was looking, but I'm…” he trailed off. Parker glanced over and saw John was gazing out the windshield, jaw set, nervously picking at his cuticles.

Parker turned back to the road, “I'm worried too.”

*

When the sky started to lighten, Parker and John gave in and pulled back into the driveway of the house. They'd made periodic calls to Oscar in which Oscar tried to take Faroe. They declined because Parker picked up on John's complete unwillingness to part with her right now.

“Still no sight of him?” Oscar said coming out of the house. He looked nervous. He barely knew Arthur, he didn't have the right to be nervous right now. John turned away, glancing at the horizon. The sky had transitioned from blue to gold.

“Nothing, not even the hospitals. I'm starting to get really worried. I think it's too early to put in a report, but maybe I could call some of the guys down at the station. They know us at least. I wouldn't say that they’re our biggest fans, but I doubt they would let Arthur go completely missing. Let me go make a… call…” Parker trailed off as he spoke because a car pulled up to the curb. It had police lights on the top but they weren't flashing.

Arthur crawled out of the passenger side with a sheepish look on his face.

“Arthur!” Oscar said with obvious relief.

“Oh thank god, Arthur,” Parker sighed, “John called, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Hello,” he said, “Ah called the whole neighborhood, have you?” He scratched the back of his neck.

John stormed forward a growl already building his throat, “Where were you?”

He seized the front of Arthur's coat and the man driving the car hopped out the driver's side door, “Whoa whoa hey Arthur you okay? Who is this guy?”

Arthur didn't even look the slightest bit surprised, more fond than anything, “This is my- John. He's the one I told you about. I told you I would be in trouble.”

“Trouble doesn't begin to cover it where the fuck were you?” John was lightheaded with how glad he was to see Arthur okay and walking.

“I'm sorry John really I am.”

Arthur smelled like alcohol.

“You've been drinking, is that where you've been all night?” John demanded, unable to let go right now.

“In part-” Arthur began.

“And you just decided not to answer your phone?” Parker’s voice was uncharacteristically flat.

“No no I-” Arthur said quickly, “I was mugged Parker honestly.”

John hadn’t really registered the cuts and forming bruises on Arthur's face because frankly Arthur got himself into a lot of trouble. It wasn't really a night out on the town unless Arthur Lester nearly broke a bone in his face.

“They- they took my phone, they took my cane which felt unnecessarily rude I will admit. I just wandered the streets until I found somebody who was willing to direct me toward the police station, and then Detective Noel-”

“Hey there,” the guy who climbed out of the car raised a hand in a wave.

“I explained the situation to him and some of the men down at the station vouched for who I was. Noel helped me file the report and brought me back.”

The three of them stood in dumbfounded silence until Oscar spoke for all of them, “We thought you were dead, couldn't you have called from his phone?”

“I couldn’t remember John’s number… John, I'm sorry. I tried to come home as quickly as I could. I- Yes I went to have a drink, but then I couldn't get home. It was a bad choice but it wasn't supposed to turn out like this…”

Noel shifted uncomfortably behind Arthur. He was familiar somehow but John couldn’t place it.

“Listen you all seem great and Arthur we’ll meet up for that coffee sometime, but with the priest and the loving family distraught at a night out, this is all feeling a little too after-school special for me. I'm going to get back to the station you guys have good night,” Despite his words he approached, “John was it?”

Noel was giving him a long, interested look.

“Yes.”

“Here, Give me a call if he ever goes missing again, or if you run into any trouble, yeah?” He offered a card.

John released Arthur and took the card, “Thank you?”

“Sure, thing. See you around Arthur, everybody,” He waved and made for his car.

His car pulled away as the dawn broke properly.

Parker sighed, “Arthur, get inside. We should get you patched up.”

“I ah- should probably get going then,” Oscar said, as he went for his car.

“Oscar wait,” Arthur went to meet the priest, Oscar closed the rest of the distance when Arthur made for his direction. John set his jaw.

They bent their heads together. John glanced at Parker as Parker adjusted his grip on Faroe. She was napping on his shoulder. They exchanged a look. Parker’s seemed to be something to the effect of ‘this is… weird right?’ John nodded minutely.

After a moment they seperated, Oscar reaching out to give Arthur a squeeze on the upper arm.

“I’ll see you, Peter,” Oscar waved, “John.”

“Yeah… Thanks Father,” Parker said with an awkward wave.

John gave him a nod and an open glare.

Arthur turned and approached, “I fear I am a bit turned around? Am I facing the door at this point?”

John saw the purple across his jaw in the blooming morning light. Arthur looked tough and steady despite his injuries.

“Come here,” John said, approaching and taking Arthur’s hand, “Let's go inside.”

Parker smiled half heartedly as they made their way inside, the sun at their backs.

*

The hour or so after they came inside was filled with the business of recovering from a city-wide search and a mugging.

John took Faroe from Parker and got her ready for bed with a look to indicate that Parker should take over similar with Arthur.

“Alright Lester, shower time. You smell like an ashtray and I’m gonna be charitable and think it was that Noel-guy’s car. Besides you got pretty scraped up, probably wanna wash up before I dunk ya in neosporin.”

He started busying himself with washing up a mug or two for coffee.

“Right, I’ll be back.”

“And do me a favor?” Parker said, turning around.

“Of course,” Arthur said quickly.

“I know you’ve had a rough night. Please don’t lie down in there.”

“I- yes that's fair.”

Parker finished up with the mugs and picked up his phone to reread that article on how to talk to somebody about their relapse without making it worse. He wondered if they had the same for getting your ass kicked while drunk.

Eventually John came down.

“Where is he?” John asked.

“Shower. Hey you’re gonna be cool right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you give him the guilt trip about this it’s gonna get worse. Can’t go telling him he’s like destroying this family or something.”

“Family?” John’s eyebrows climbed.

Arthur had used the term, Parker was pretty sure. Joking probably.

John's face was like a bewildered deer. John was sorta adorable when you caught him off guard.

“What you got somewhere better to be this Thanksgiving?”

“No,” John said quickly.

“Right, so family. And anyway, the point is you shouldn’t be a dick about this. Relapse is a normal part of the not-drinking shit.”

“Right,” John said, in a tone like he had known this all along, “We’ll be… reasonable.”

“Right, now you wanna patch him up or hold his hand while I douse him in isopropyl?”

“He’d rather hold your hand,” John said, crossing to the coffee maker.

Parker tilted his head, looking at John, “I’m not the one who spent the night in a panic attack. I was mostly joking about the hand holding bit but I uh- suspect he wouldn’t mind if you did keep him company.”

The kitchen was quiet as John poured fresh coffee into the mugs Parker had washed.

“... I was scared he was dead,” John admitted out of nowhere, “He’s… family. My best friend.”

“Me too,” Parker said, but it felt inadequate in the face of what John said, “I don’t really got a ton in the way of contact with my family. It- Losing Arthur would fuck me up pretty bad I think.”

John nodded once, and passed Parker a mug. Their hands hesitated as they brushed. Sharing the comfort of a warm mug a half beat too long.

Then John pulled away.

The sound of heavy footsteps came down the stairs and Parker only then noticed that the shower had been off for some stretch of time.

“I brought the first aid kit with me,” Arthur announced.

“Good,” Parker said, “You wanna grab a seat at the table and I’ll patch you up?”

Arthur settled in a seat and Parker settled across from him, opening up the alcohol swabs, and reaching for Arthur's face.

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” Parker warned him.

Arthur pursed his lips for a moment, “Yes I get that sense. John, would you mind if I held onto you?”

John got that forest animal frozen shock look again, “Of course.”

He took Arthur's hand.

Parker shot him a smile and then turned to Arthur, gently he swiped across the first cut.

Arthur didn’t flinch at all, but still he and John held onto each other.

“You could have woken me if you had to go,” John said, quietly, “So I knew to keep an eye on Faroe.”

Arthur's free hand flexed and relaxed, “If- If it happens again I will. I’m sorry.”

“It's… fine. You just… scared Parker is all.”

Parker shot him a glare but when he met John’s eye all he saw was a look of pleading. Dammit.

He sighed, fine, “Yeah, I was real wigged.”

“I’m sorry, boys,” Arthur’s free hand reached for Parker's and Parker accepted as he continued to clean Arthur up.

*

And if the day hadn’t been trying enough, that night was his and Oscar’s meeting.

Oscar passed on the offer to speak next in the circle leaving Arthur up next.

“Do you want to talk today?” Oscar asked, which was his subtle signal that the rest of the group forgot to verbally signal that they were all staring at Arthur, waiting for him to speak.

Arthur sighed considering a moment before standing, “Hello, I ought to have been two weeks clean yesterday. But it was the anniversary of my parents suicide.”

He heard a small intake of breath from Oscar.

“I slipped out in the night after my roommate went to sleep and went to a bar. I drank… more than I’ve admitted to anyone and once I could barely stand straight, I got tossed around in an alley and had my phone stolen,” He felt so heavy today, “I'm trying. I didn't actually finish my last drink, I was leaving before I was accosted. I ended up stumbling through the streets until I found a police station whose carpet I could bleed on. So it's always a thrill to find new kinds of lows.”

The wind outside the bar was cold on his face and he tilted his head back to let it wash over him.

He hadn't been braced for the punch to his temple that sent him sprawling. Or the secondary impact against the pavement that had made his head ring.

He tried to remember if he had picked a fight. He was fairly certain he'd kept to himself for once.

He shook off the memory.

The group leader’s tone was sympathetic as she said, “It's not about never faltering, it's about recognizing why you falter, trauma anniversaries are always tough.”

Arthur tried not to scoff at the word trauma being used here. His parents died yes, and yes it affected him profoundly. But everyone lost their parents at some point. In the end Arthur had turned out fine.

“It was my day off work, my roommate had already gone to bed, and my daughter had too and I was tired. I wanted to… rest I suppose.”

An older man on the other end of the circle spoke up and said, “I used to drink when I was lonely too.”

Arthur felt a flare of frustration. At the assumption of what he was feeling… at someone identifying it so easily.

And then resignation, because it was all he had energy for right now.

“It's not easy,” He said.

“It gets easier,” The old man told him.

“That's what I keep hearing.”

He needed it to be true. He couldn't take the disappointment from Parker and John. He couldn't take scaring them like this.

Walking down the stairs earlier and hearing words that were certainly not his to hear.

“-Relapse is a normal part of the not-drinking shit.”

“Right. We’ll be… reasonable.”

“Right, now you wanna patch him up or hold his hand while I douse him in isopropyl?”

“He’d rather hold your hand.”

“I’m not the one who spent the night in a panic attack. I was mostly joking about the hand holding bit but I uh- suspect he wouldn’t mind if you did keep him company.”

Silence for a moment.

“... I was scared he was dead. He’s… family. My best friend.”

“Me too. I don’t really got a ton in the way of contact with my family. It- Losing Arthur would fuck me up pretty bad I think.”

Arthur had crept back up to better announce his approach, stomping all the way down.

The older man spoke again, “It was two weeks this time. How long has it been since you've gone that long without a drink before that?”

“I-” Arthur let out a single huff of laughter, his eyebrows lifting a bit, “I suppose it has been a number of years.”

He exhaled, feeling hollow as the air left him.

“Anyway,” he said, clapping his hands together, “that was my week, who's next?”

He settled down next to Oscar again. Their arms bumped against each other and Oscar allowed a brief brush of knuckles across the back of Arthur's hand. Arthur looked over and shot him a quick smile.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Oscar said later, as they went back to his car after the meeting, “Maybe we could… keep each other accountable?”

Arthur’s hand was in the crook of Oscar’s elbow, the cables of his sweater had Arthur running his finger back and forth across the texture, “What do you mean? I- I don’t need to be babysat.”

This morning had been humiliating. Oscar was a friend, but Arthur hadn’t expected John to call Parker muchless him.

“I’m sorry about this, I know you're far too busy for things like this,” Arthur had said when they were close enough not to be heard by the others in the quiet early morning air.

“I’d do it every night if you needed me to,” Oscar’s voice was low and steady. His words left Arthur a little breathless.

A weight descended on him though, “...I’m never going to attend church. I hope you know that.”

“Does that mean I can’t care about you?”

Christ, christ. And Arthur knew he was reading too much into that, knew that Oscar didn’t mean it like that. But sometimes he just said things like that so sincerely that it made Arthur feel like he was about to be physically swept off his feet. He pushed those thoughts down, not for the first time.

He laughed, “I just wonder when you’ll get wise and stop helping me is all.”

“Never,” Oscar said.

Arthur wondered how his eyes looked in the sunlight.

“I haven’t managed two days,” Oscar admitted, “I can’t. When I start getting the shakes it's always easier to just have a drink to… block it out I suppose. No one needs me to not drink. I- I don’t know. Forget it I suppose.”

Arthur was at the car and Oscar released his hand and moved around to his side and got in without waiting for a reply.

Arthur climbed inside, “No Oscar you’re right.”

“Hmm?”

“We should keep each other accountable. We could, I don’t know, call one another when we think we’re going to do something we regret and the other can show up to talk us out of it.”

“I don’t want to force you.”

“You’d never.”

“Then… call if you need me.”

Arthur nodded, “You do the same.”

Notes:

This and the next chapter were originally one but then it was like 9k words with two equally sized tonally disparate halves so I split them

I hope to get that one out fairly soon!

Chapter 18: A Dish, Maybe Sixteen Dishes

Summary:

John has several epiphanies and is so brave about it

Notes:

I listen to the call of cthulu games from invictus expressly so I can recontextualize the things I learn for fluff

The house was a wreck. John glanced around, unsure how to even begin. As he took a couple study steps back from the living room doorway his shoulders hit the wall behind him in the hallway at the base of the stairs. The same corner that Arthur used to always slam his arm against as he took the corner too fast and John just slid down to the floor.

Between Hali and now-mobile Faroe and Arthur and Parker the house was a fucking nightmare. There were blocks everywhere and then there were those catnip mice that Arthur had insisted upon buying that were scattered by the dozen across the floor because she found the package in the cabinet and climbed in to tear it to shreds. That wasn’t even mentioning the crime scene pictures scattered around the room, not pinned up neatly on the pin board that Arthur and Parker had invested in. Coffee mugs were placed like they’d been intentionally distributed for an egg hunt.

And there was Faroe crawling across the floor at an easy clip, now making her way towards-

“Oh no, oh no no no,” John scrambled forward on his hands and knees, unable to make his way towards her any faster than that.

It was too late. Her hand came up to grab the corner of a yellow folder that was hanging just over the edge of the table and she pulled it abruptly downward. All the papers inside launched into the air in a fluttering of case notes and evidence. She sat back and watched with wide eyes as the papers drifted down around her like snow.

She was surrounded by pictures of broken locks and photo copies of suicide notes. John just sat back on his heels, thanking whatever powers were out there that there weren't any grisly murders in this week’s caseload.

“AUGN!” she cried looking over at John.

John sighed, “Yes my friend I know Big Mess hmm?”

“Buhbuhbuhbuh!”

“Yes. Big mess.” he walked over to her and scooped her into his arms.

“Mmmnnn buh Augn?” She patted his chest rapidly.

“I think we'll just sit for a second,” he said with a heavy sigh, settling back onto the couch, “We will sit for just a second and then we will clean up the big mess.”

She blew a raspberry in his face causing a spattering of saliva to hit him.

He leaned back on the couch, her bundled into his arms, resting his head on the arm, “I know. We'll get it just a couple minutes.”

His eyes drifted closed as Faroe gently laid her head down on his chest.

*

“Oh Jesus,” Parker said, dropping his keys on the table next to the door as he and Arthur came in.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Uh it's just little messy in-” Parker was cut off.

“Oh fuck,” John's voice came from the other room, “Fuck hang on no-”

Faroe started crying and John began frantically shushing her, “Arthur, I’m sorry there was just an incident with the file. I’ll get it. It was me.”

Parker sounded like he was holding back laughter, “Bud, did the kid come by and sent the papers flying or something?”

“No she-” John broke off exhaustion hitting him audibly, “...Yes, the whole thing became briefly airborne. It settled around her like snow drifts.”

“Alright it's okay man. Hey, why don't we pass the kid to somebody else before we worry about the pages?” Parker tried.

“She didn't mean to,” John said.

“It’s alright, John. It happens it's not like we can't put things back in order,” Arthur said, gently, as he took Faroe from John's arms, “Perhaps you should go get some rest?”

“There’s a mess,” Jesus fucking Christ John just sounded lost. Had he been sleeping?

“No pressure. Parker, would you actually mind settling Faroe for a nap? I’ll go ahead and help John in here.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Artie,” Parker took Faroe gently, “Be back in a while. Don’t have too much fun without us.” He and Faroe headed upstairs.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, once he was gone.

“I'm fine.”

“Clearly you're not, John,” Arthur said, not unkindly.

“I don't owe you answers.”

“You don't but-” Arthur began only to be cut off.

“She moves now.”

Arthur sighed, settling onto his knees to feel for papers, “Yes, that was going to happen.”

“I know it was going to happen,” John huffed through gritted teeth and then took out a slow exhale, “I know, but that doesn't make it easier to keep up after everyone.”

“Everyone?” Arthur stopped, “if our mess is bothering you you should have said. I don’t expect you to keep up after us. I've not been the best about chores recently but I can do better if it troubles you.”

“You're working,” John said, “I can do this for you.”

Arthur hesitated, shuffling a pile of papers together into line, “John I can manage work and chores. I simply don’t need you to do everything for me.”

“Then what's the point of me being here?” John snapped, “Parker can take care of Faroe. Oscar can drive you around. I can't even manage a house and baby and a cat.”

Arthur blinked, processing John’s words. Feeling insecure regarding Parker wasn’t new, even if it had lessened most days but Oscar? Its not that Arthur hadn’t noticed the passing tension between the two in their brief exchanges, mostly from John’s side. He simply hadn’t imagined it was actually weighing on John to any degree.

“We need you,” Arthur said quietly, “Even if you can’t do it all, we do need you. And if I don’t express it clearly, that's just a failing of mine.”

John was quiet for a long time, “...Okay.”

“And you can tell me when you need me to wash a dish.”

“I need you to wash a dish, I need you to wash maybe sixteen,” John growled.

Arthur laughed, “Okay point taken. I’ll do that. I hardly need to see to load the dishwasher. Do you want any more help gathering the papers?"

“I'll gather the papers, but I can't put them in order.”

“Understood, we’ll leave that to Parker then.”

“Leave what to me?” Parker asked, coming back downstairs.

“Getting the pages back in order.”

“Yeah I can do that. Hey John, buddy you look like you were hit by a train. Maybe you need some chill time too? Grab a nap? Take a shower?”

“I don't need a shower, I need to get everything cleaned up.”

“Maybe clean yourself up first. No offense man, but you got peas smeared across your shoulder. It's alright to take a sec for yourself. We got Faroe for the day.”

“We could even take her on a drive if you need space,” Arthur offered.

“Yeah,” Parker agreed

“You would really watch Faroe so I could… relax.”

“Of course we would,” Arthur said, gently.

He heard Parker cross to John and there was a sound of shuffling paper, “So let me take these and go take a shower for me, alright?”

“Alright…alright…” John agreed.

“Good, attaboy,” Parker said, there was a sound that Arthur thought might be Parker clapping John on the shoulder.

John’s tone was awkward and… flustered? when he spoke again, “Right, thank you, goodbye.”

And he hurried away up the stairs.

“Everything okay with John?” Parker said, “he seemed jumpy.”

“Yes I’m afraid the housework’s been getting to him.”

Arthur didn’t mention the strange outburst regarding Parker and Oscar. He was still sorting through that himself.

“Ah gotcha,” Parker said, “Yeah I oughta start pulling my weight a little more round here. I’m around often enough.”

Arthur wasn’t going to argue with the help, “Want to help me tackle the kitchen before we go so Faroe has a moment to nap?”

“Ha, holding me to my word, yeah alright. Let's get those dishes.”

*

The clay pots sat up on the highest shelf in the living room side by side. Arthur’s was symmetrical, Parker's was wider at certain parts of the brim, John’s was… somehow even smaller than when he made it?

He heard footsteps enter the house. Parker presumably, Arthur being upstairs folding his laundry. John pulled Arthur’s off the shelf above his head and turned it back and forth in his hands. The craftsmanship was undoubtedly the best. Arthur’s hands were steadier, he was getting better at relying on touch, John could even tell he was sober most of the time lately.

John ran a thumb over the delicate line of the handle and smiled. It was beautiful. There had been a time that John would have assumed the entire outing had been some sort of manipulation tactic on Arthur's part to make John loosen up. Now they willingly spent time together, tried new things, took care of Faroe.

He remembered the look of pride that had made its home on Arthur’s face as he held the final product of their night out. His eyes were bright like they were back when he was tricking John into games of checkers to get to know him better.

Unbidden, the thought of running his thumb over Arthur’s cheek crossed his mind. Cradling the side of the man’s face. This version of Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed. His lips parted slightly, tilting upward toward John. John’s other hand rested on his chest, feeling his heart through his ribs.

He realized Parker was in the living room and approaching him.

John huffed, his face blazing. He shoved the pot back onto the shelf, turning quickly to face Parker.

“Whoa!” Parker exclaimed at the same time, pushing a hand into the middle of John’s chest, pressing him back. Parker's other hand shot over John’s head, quickly.

“What?” John demanded looking back and forth.

They were pressed close, John was pushed back against the wall beneath the high mounted shelf. One of Parker’s legs was between his legs, to stabilize his position.

His eyes landed on the pot barely steadied by Parker's hand above his head.

“Oh,” John felt a belated panic flood through him. He’d almost broken it.

“Easy, easy,” Parker’s hand slid up across his chest to his shoulder and gave a firm squeeze.

Parker was close. His eyes flicked back and forth over John’s face, short dark hair falling across his face.

“Are you okay?”

John opened his mouth and closed it again, giving a nod.

“Good,” Parker’s chest was rising and falling quickly, likely from the sudden burst of adrenaline, “That was almost-”

“Arthur’s pot,” John agreed.

“Your head, dumbass,” Parker corrected, breaking into a grin. He shifted his weight upward, leg shifting against John, to push the pot properly onto the shelf. He started to lower his hand and for an electric moment John thought he wasn’t going to step back. He thought of Parker planting that hand on the wall next to his head. His steady grip keeping John pressed against the wall until-

Parker pulled back, offering a hand to John to right himself.

John ignored it, feeling his face flood with heat. He pushed off the wall.

“Sorry for sorta throwing you around there,” Parker said, scratching at his jaw, stepping back a few feet, giving John breathing room.

“It’s fine,”John said, brusquely.

“You really okay? I like fully shoved you against that wall.”

“I can take it,” John scoffed, turning to adjust the pot’s position. There, no harm done, Arthur didn’t need to know.

“That so?” Parker’s voice was mischievous for a moment. His eyes glanced over John and John turned to face him again.

John frowned, “What?”

“Nothing Lavender,” Parker laughed, “Long as you're okay.”

*

John sat up in his room late into the night. The small cat shaped lamp Lily had sent him for his birthday (Parker was a terrible betrayer) was diffsuing warm light from the table beside his bed. Hali was purring in his open sock drawer, asleep.

He should be asleep, but he had something to think about and he couldn't talk to anyone about it.

How would that even go?

‘Oh Arthur, Parker pinned me to a wall and I think I was hoping he'd kiss me. Oh by the way this happened moments after I got distracted thinking about touching you.’

John winced laying it out that way made it sound pretty clear already what was happening didn't it?

And none of that was even taking into account John’s reaction to Parker calling him good.

He sat up with realization. Right. Lily. Lily wasn’t involved. Perhaps he could ask her. He fired off a text asking if she was free.

A call immediately came through. John hadn’t intended on a phone call but this worked he supposed.

“Thank goodness,” She said, “I was on night shift for the past two weeks and my sleep schedule is ruined. I can’t sleep and I’m bored out of my mind. Tell me you have Faroe there, I called for her not you.”

There was a grin in her voice and John couldn’t help his smile, “If she wakes up, I’ll get her.”

“Oh fine,” She sighed heavily, “So what's going on over there at the madhouse?”

“I think I’ve developed a crush on Arthur and Parker,” He said immediately, then reeled for a second because he hadn’t intended to just say that. A fucking ‘crush’? Was he twelve?

“Oh yay, so we’re finally talking about it?” She was eating something on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean?” John said.

“Yeah the three of you look at each other like if I left you alone in Vegas I’d find you all crying outside one of the quick marriage chapels because they wouldn’t take all three of you. Oh my gosh, I made mac and cheese with the breadcrumbs on top and you have to come over tomorrow and try this.”

“Okay,” John said helplessly.

“Good, come by at like…? Six. Yeah I should be out of the shower by then. We can watch Bridgerton.”

“But what do I do?”

“I don’t know. Oooh you could bring those caramel brownies you told me about. Those ones your friend Marie gave you the recipe for.”

“No, I mean, yes fine, I needed to try that recipe anyway, but what do I do about Parker and Arthur?”

“Oh, well… what do you want to do?”

The silence on the line was expectant.

He sighed, “Eat mac and cheese and watch Bridgerton.”

*

The front door opened and shut with a heavy slam.

“Artie, John,” Parker said, pushing his way into the living room and dropping his leather jacket on the arm of the couch right next to John sending up a small gust of the scent of his cologne. John had been having a difficult time looking Parker in the eye lately.

“What?” John said, pretending to stare down at his phone and only realizing about three seconds too late that the screen was entirely off and he was staring at pure black. He shamefully set it back down, giving up on the ruse.

“I was going through Instagram and I realized we have fucked up.”

“Okay if it started on Instagram I doubt it was that grievous,” Arthur said.

“No, you don't understand, this is the only year in Faroe's life that she will fit into a pumpkin in the Halloween season.”

“Oh Jesus,” Arthur said, “we have- What are we doing? It's late October, John, we haven't even chosen a costume for her!”

“I don't know? What are you guys talking about? Why are you putting her in a pumpkin?”

“Oh man. You're not even ready for these pictures, buddy,” and Parker flipped around his phone showing John a photo of a young child in an orange hat with a little green bulb on top nestled squarely in a large pumpkin with their arms and legs sticking out holes carved in the sides.

“Oh damn it,” he murmured, “Is this a common thing? Why is this so cute?”

“I think it might have been more common a few years back. It's like a whole trend to take pictures of your kid inside of a gourd, but sweet mother Mary it's adorable and I think we should do it. She'd look so cute in that! Imagine her little curls popping out the top.”

John nodded solemnly, “Where do we get a pumpkin?”

“There's a pumpkin patch just out of town,” Arthur said, “I heard a family at the grocery store talking about it. Look up the location and see if they're open and I’ll go get Faroe.” He looked actively giddy as he made for the stairs and rushed up them.

John pulled out his phone properly this time and started searching, trying to find the pumpkin patch Arthur had mentioned.

“Got it here,” Parker said. A text came through John's phone with the address, “you drive. I’m gonna be on the Spirit Halloween website researchin costumes for the kid.”

“Okay why do you get to do the fun part?”

“Because you get to live with her. I only get my joys when I'm here.”

 

The ride out of Arkham to Orchards Run was about an hour. They passed long stretches of neat rows of trees and a picturesque bed and breakfast up on a hill. The town itself was tiny, giving way quickly to the surrounding farms.

Finally, following a line of cars feeding their way through a gate, they came to a stretch of land where there were hay bales piled decoratively high. Large painted wooden signs depicting jack-o'-lanterns were scattered around a tall wood archway that the cars passed through.

The parking lot was heavily populated which John supposed was to be expected on a fall weekend.

The signs advertised games, a corn maze, and cotton candy around the main gate where everyone was congregating as they slowly trickled through. Parker was pushing Faroe's stroller across the gravel parking lot and Arthur without so much as a word used his hand that wasn't holding his new cane to hold onto John's elbow.

“It smells like horses here,” John whispered to him.

“Yes, it's a farm,” Arthur laughed, then tilted his head up toward John as they walked, “will you describe it to me?”

John hesitated only a moment, deciding how to start, “There is a large crowd, most of the place is blocked off with high walls of hay bales or large demonstrative signs of carved pumpkins, the likes of which I certainly hope we don't see.”

“Why is that?” Arthur looked baffled.

“They are larger than all of us combined. If there are indeed pumpkins this big in here they have made some sort of deal with a dark god to be sure.”

Arthur burst out laughing. John felt the thrill in his ribs. Arthur smiling, smiling from what he said.

“What else?” Arthur said.

“Families line up to pay for admittance, children of all ages are running back and forth between the lines, some in strollers are also trying to play but are too small to run off on their own. High trees are shading the pathway and some apples hang from higher up in their branches.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“It is.”

They paid for their admittance and passed through the gate. As they entered music became audible from speakers John couldn't currently place.

“A wide expanse here,” John said, “there's stands that sell food over to our right, most of them appear to be fair food like you see in movies.”

“Or like you see in any Fair,” Parker put in with a grin.

John shrugged, “I've never been.”

Arthur turned to him aghast, “Never?”

“Damn, make me look like an asshole,” Parker knocked his shoulder into John’s with a smile.

“Not before this but this is… nice,” he added hoping it would placate the man who looked just horrified.

“Have you ever had funnel cake?” Arthur demanded.

“No.”

“We're going,” and he started dragging John in the general direction of the food stand.

They passed a paintball shooting range on the way where young children fired off round after round of neon orange paint into the large wooden faces of more of those pumpkins.

“I really don't need a cake right now…”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Parker said, “sit back, enjoy the fair food. You're lucky if we don't make you eat two turkey legs and a gallon of cotton candy.”

John was certain gallons was not how that food should be measured but the sign with the prices listed seemed to agree with Parker.

The line was long and the food was too expensive but John had to admit it smelled good. They split it haphazardly into thirds with their plastic fork and Arthur broke off a small piece and gently held it so that Faroe could gnaw on it. Her eyes got wide and she started kicking excitedly.

“That seems to be going over well,” Parker laughed.

“Augn!” she looked at John.

“I know,” he said as he took another bite. It had no right to be as good as it was.

After they finished their food they wiped off their slightly sticky hands with dry napkins that did absolutely nothing for them and began wandering around the grounds. It wasn't huge but the back of it was a sheer wall of corn.

“Oh corn maze!” Parker said, “Artie, Artie, a corn maze. This is the perfect time to test.”

“Oh you're not still on about that,” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Test what?” John said.

“Arthur has been insisting that he's got a better sense of direction than I do because he's got to be so aware of his surroundings. So this is how we're doing it. We're gonna both run through the maze, eyes closed. Whoever gets to the other end first wins.”

“Parker, this is childish.”

“You're only saying that cuz you're scared you're going to lose.”

Arthur’s face resolved into steely determination, “Oh please. John, will you accompany him to make sure that he doesn't peek?”

John frowned, “I- sure?”

“And Faroe and I will go our own way. Whoever exits last buys dinner.”

“You're on. John, I will be needing one of the clean towels from the bag.”

John reached in and handed one to Parker. He folded it and tied it neatly around his head.

“There, no peeking, let's go John. You should probably still come with me so I don't get kicked out for wandering around blindfolded.”

John hummed.

The first time he had been attracted to people in years and it was these two?

“Alright,” He said.

“We’ll see you two in a little while,” Arthur said, confidently.

And they went to the two opposite entrances of the corn maze.

Parker immediately began navigating like this was the Labyrinth and if he didn't hurry the Minotaur was going to get him. John wandered after him vaguely amused as Parker got face full after face full of corn stalk. At one point they passed an opening and further down the way John caught sight of Arthur and Faroe. Faroe shouted and kicked excitedly and he gave her a little wave.

“Was that Faroe?” Parker's head perked up.

“I don't think so,” John said, not wanting to bias Parker's decision making.

In the end, by John's watch, it took them twenty-five minutes to get out of a corn maze that, according to the sign, had an estimated ten minute solve time.

“Haha!” Parker cried, as he felt an open doorway with no walls beyond. He ripped the blindfold off and glanced around and crumpled when he saw Arthur and Faroe standing happily next to the lemonade stand.

“Damn it.”

“I told you,” Arthur said, hearing him, “I have impeccable sense of direction.”

“Yeah yeah alright fine. You win this time Artie. But just you wait till we play Dark Foosball: foosball that happens in the dark. Then I'll have you beat one hundred percent.”

“Why?” John said.

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah, lights went out one time in my ex-boyfriend's shitty apartment for about two weeks cuz we didn't pay the electric bill. We needed something to do with our time, so now I can play an entirely sonar-based game of foosball.”

“I'd like to say that sounds ridiculous but I'm unfortunately impressed,” John said.

“That's the Parker Yang special,” Parker agreed with a wink.

Oh, huh. That was hot. John wanted to die.

They began exploring again. A long line of people waited to bob for apples and a longer line of children were waiting for face paint. Soon they passed by a pit of dry corn full of children playing in it like it was a sandbox.

“Corn pit,” John remarked.

“Hell yeah. Faroe's probably not old enough for that yet though, huh?”

“Absolutely not,” Arthur agreed.

John watched as the children poured buckets of corn over one another entombing each other entirely in the yellow quicksand. Then the buried one would burst out of it with a shout sending everyone in the group into giggles.

“Can we come back next year? I think she'll have fun with this,” John asked, turning kto look at Parker and Arthur.

Arthur looked at him with an unexpected softness, “Sure. Next year, all four of us.”

“Yeah,” Parker said, “make it a tradition.”

“Quite,” Arthur said, looking thoughtful, “well, we still have to find a pumpkin big enough for her before the day runs out. Come on boys.”

*

The carving of the pumpkin was left to Parker because he was the one who was able to see it and had carved a pumpkin before. He walked John through the steps as he did them with his pocket knife on the kitchen floor. He took special care in rounding off the edges of the arm and leg holes so that they weren't too sharp for Faroe.

They put her in an orange onesie and put a green bow on top of her head. Arthur held her above the pumpkin, gently lowering her as John guided her legs through and settled her arms into the nooks they had carved into the top.

“Okay how is it? Does she look comfortable?” Arthur said, standing back.

“Comfy and cute,” Parker said, with the air of an officer giving his captain a report, “We'll grab these pictures before the pumpkin juice soaks through too bad.”

“And she doesn't even look miserable like she usually does when she interacts with produce,” John said crouching in front of her, “You like your pumpkin seat, my friend?”

Faroe looked up at John, “Augn Augn Augn.”

“She says that a lot,” Arthur said brow furrowing, “particularly when you talk to her she makes different noises the rest of the time but- John is she trying to say your name?”

John blinked, “She can't talk.”

“Yes John, but there are first steps to everything,” Arthur crouched behind her and said, “Faroe, can you say John? John?”

“Augn!” She announced proudly.

John sat back on his heels, eyes wide.

“Well I'll be damned. She's talking to you, man,” Parker said, smile evident in his voice but John couldn't look away from Faroe.

“John,” John repeated to her.

Her little brow furrowed and she said, “Augn, Augn, Augn, Augn.” Over and over like she was trying to make a point.

A laugh left him. Gentle, gentler than he realized he could laugh. His throat felt tight and his eyes stung.

“You're talking to me,” He said.

John looked up at Arthur who was beaming.

“She's getting so big,” Arthur said and he cradled Faroe and the entire pumpkin closer to himself.

Parker settled next to them on the floor where there was space to Faroe's left and threw an arm around John's neck.

He raised his phone and snapped a picture.

John watched as he lowered the phone and checked the picture, his arm still around John, “There, that’s a keeper.”

The four of them were crowded into the frame on the kitchen floor. Faroe smiling in the middle.

Notes:

So you can see why I split this from yesterday's angst fest

Chapter 19: The Hard Questions

Summary:

A series of difficult conversations intrude on our protagonists peace

Notes:

Warnings:
-catholocism
-homophobia (mostly internalized)
-more of the addiction themes but this time spiced with the aforementioned Catholicism and homophobia
-sexual themes (nothing explicit, I'd let you guys know if the train was heading there)

“Faroe, darling, please stop trying to run away. If you crawl into the yard at random I won’t know if you’re eating a leaf until I hear the crunch. Let’s just limit the wiggles, okay, sunshine? John will return in a moment.” Parker leaned against the frame of the back door watching Arthur capture and recapture Faroe as she repeatedly crawled over the loop of his arms. He grinned, she was getting fast.

Arthur was… pretty in the late afternoon light. No other word for it. A breeze rustled his hair and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow in a rare show of skin. His eyes when he faced Parker’s direction sometimes caught the sun.

Faroe was in a caterpillar costume, because, as John had pointed out, this provided her opportunity later in life for a butterfly costume that would become “extremely funny the longer she waits to wear it”. Neither of them could disagree with that logic. She was living up to the wriggling reputation already.

John was rifling through Arthur's closet upstairs looking for an old Polaroid camera that Arthur swore he had so they could catch a few photos of her early before the actual holiday. She was ten months old. The odds that they ended up having to cancel actually going trick or treating night of Halloween were incredibly high. They had already gotten the phone pictures but Arthur had suggested the physical picture might be cute. So John was on a mission.

Arthur's phone started going off on the kitchen table.

Parker called out the back door, “Hey Artie, I think Daniel's on the line. Do you want me to bring it out?”

“Could you just answer it and tell him I'll be right with him in a few minutes?”

“A few minutes?”

“It's fine Parker you were going to have to meet him soon enough any way right? Thanksgiving? Good for the two of you to get acquainted.” Faroe broke away and Arthur lunged after her catching her by the middle and drawing giggles out of her.

“Arthur, I don't know about-”

“Please?” Arthur felt Faroe's hands and face to check she wasn't eating anything.

Parker sighed.

“Right.”

Parker answered

“Hello?” he said

The voice on the other end of the line hesitated, “Arthur?”

“No, I'm afraid this is his partner er- business partner. Friend. Parker, hi.”

“Oh Parker,” the other man said, “yes I've heard about you yes.”

“I heard a lot of good things about you, sir. Nice to meet you.”

“Right… and where is Arthur?”

“Ah see, you called just as we were trying to get some photos of Faroe in her Halloween costume.”

“It's not Halloween.”

“No, I know, sir. She's just little though so we didn't know if we were going to take her out Trick or Treating or not so we wanted to get the photos. You know, while weather permits.”

“I see, and he can't answer the phone because…?”

“Because they sort of have a whole photo shoot going on in the backyard,” Parker waved at John as he made his way through, “John and Arthur raked the leaves, found the right light. It's a whole setup but it'll just be a couple minutes and he said he'll be right back so if you wanted to call back or?”

“No, no, I actually would rather wait so that I'm not calling back only to potentially get you again anyway.”

John gave Parker a questioning glance and Parker mouthed, ‘Daniel’.

John got a look of understanding and nodded and made his way into the backyard announcing his return to Arthur and Faroe.

Parker heard Arthur say, “Good you’re here! Is she eating a leaf right now?”

“No, how would she be eating a leaf?”

“I don't know, she could. How on earth would I know?”

“It's alright she’s mostly making a game of trying to escape from you.”

“I've noticed,” Arthur said, holding her more firmly even as she gleefully tried to get away again.

“So how long have you been working with my son-in-law?”

Parker felt a drop in his stomach. Son-in-law.

“Yeah I guess it's been about two months now, but we've known each other since… eh? I'd say May-ish.”

“I see. He seems to act as though he knows you very well.”

“Yeah I can definitely understand how it would seem kinda odd after just a few months, but Arthur and I spend every day together basically. Most days I wake up and show up at the office and leave when it's time to sleep, so we've gotten real close.”

“I place no judgment on such things, after all, Arthur and my daughter hardly knew each other three or four months before their marriage.”

Parker winced, “Right, yeah you know, some relationships, they just progress fast that way.”

“Indeed,” Daniel said

A moment passed where Parker had no idea what to say.

“It's still strange,” Daniel said, sounding a little far away and thoughtful, “that I can't call Bella. That she isn't simply out of town as she was since her and Arthur's marriage.”

Parker felt a little nauseous

“You know Faroe has her smile,” Daniel said.

“Yeah… she’s a cute kid,” He said. It wasn’t enough.

“Of course I'm sure you've seen plenty of photos,” Daniel said, clearing his throat, “forgive me, I fear it has been a rather long week and I am sentimental as of late.”

“That's quite alright, sir.”

Had Parker seen photos? Had Parker seen even one?

Daniel gathered himself somewhat, “What about yourself?”

Fuckin’ hell.

“Me?”

“Do you have a family? Wife? Children?”

“Not yet sir,” he said awkwardly.

Daniel hummed, “I suggest it. There is little that brightens a life more than a family to share it with. It is easy to forget that until you are old and quite… quite passed the time for it.”

Fuck, fucking hell.

“I look forward to whatever the Lord has in store for me,” Parker said.

“Good answer. Diplomatic too,” Daniel said, “a very kind way to tell an old man to mind his business.”

“I didn't mean-”

“It's alright. You're quite correct, as I said my apologies, a very long week indeed.”

“That's really okay sir ah… yeah it looks like Arthur is just about wrapping up, let me head outside and see if I can take the little one off his hands and get him on the phone.”

“That would be appreciated though if Faroe were to stay for the phone call that would not be unpleasant.”

Parker bit the inside of his cheek viscously, but managed to choke back the waver in his voice, “Yeah you got it sir I'll- I'll make Arthur keep her on the phone with you too.”

Feeling somewhat shaky Parker passed the phone to Arthur and said, “Daniel's looking forward to talking to the two of you.”

“Oh good. Thank you again, Parker.”

He tasted blood.

“Yeah no problem,” Parker said, “but I am sorry. I'm going to have to actually head out for the day.”

“Oh I'm sorry I didn't realize we were keeping you.”

“No no, I just got some stuff I gotta take care of, don't worry about it.”

“Alright… you know the offer still stands if it's something in the realm of chores we could always come lend some assistance. It's not as though you don't do your fair share here, it would seem reasonable to split the duties across the board.”

“Nah really just stay home, hang out with your kid, talk to your father-in-law,” Parker kept a hold of his tone, “I uh- I'll see you around.”

“I'll see you tomorrow… right?” Arthur said, giving him a look, as he took the phone.

“Right, right,” Parker didn’t pause to parse the expression nor John’s even more confused one a few feet away. He just made for the front door, unable to get to his car fast enough.

*

“Mornin’,” Parker’s voice came out more ragged than he expected when he spoke, “I uh… bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been five months since my last confession. These are my sins.”

There was a sound of shifting on the other side of the screen. Oscar. God help him but he hadn’t know where else to go and he’d ended up here.

Parker began, “I… there's a lot to it but I think I'm disrespecting the memory of a dead woman who seems like she was really loved.”

He pushed his hand through his hair with a sigh, “Not that it should matter. She's not even alive to defend herself so even if she wasn't loved I should have cared, but I…” Didn’t.

If he was here he had to say it. All of it. Thats the only way this ever helped him he knew that.

“I fell in love with her husband. Her- widower, I guess.”

An intake of breath from the other side of the screen.

“And I know the homosexuality thing is wrong or- well I know I'm not meant to do it, but that's not what I'm here to confess. I'm not in the business of seeking absolution for shit that I know I’m gonna end up doing again,” The words came out fast and with a venom that made him only feel guiltier, “But this was bad and I feel like shit- excuse me father.”

“It's alright just… explain what happened,” Oscar said gently.

“I met a man when he was at a really low point after his wife's death and a pretty bad accident. We got close and I-” Parker sighed, the admission softer than he meant, “I fell in love with him. I haven't done anything about it really but he knows. Recently I had to talk to his father-in-law and he talked about his daughter who hasn't even been dead for a year.”

Parker felt nauseous but he hadn’t eaten anything to throw up, “I have her key to her house so I can come and go. He gave me her key.”

Parker hadn’t been back since yesterday morning, he said he was sick, probably should confess for the lying too.

“Hmm.”

“I think I'm a bad person,” Parker said, finally, voice shaking.

And he knew. He knew it was maybe a bad idea to talk to Oscar about this but fuck he just needed someone to tell him what to do. ‘Cause he wasn't stupid, he also knew that if he just fucked off entirely out of their lives it’d hurt Arthur and Faroe and even John. But he felt like such a piece of shit.

“It's not necessarily the most accepted point of view in my profession, but I've always been of the opinion that what matters far more than what you feel or what you think is how you act on those thoughts and feelings,” Oscar began slowly, “there's lots of reasons for the devil to creep into our minds but so long as we don't do what he asks of us, we are still Worthy of redemption. Examine your feelings with regards to this man. Ask yourself where they come from and if you have been behaving in a way that you think is good not just for you, but for him and his daughter.”

Parker winced yeah so Oscar definitely knew who Parker was talking about. Fucking hell.

A hesitant sigh came from the other side of the screen before Oscar spoke again, “I can't tell you that it's alright to act on your feelings for men, but I will tell you that I believe that God has a plan for what's best for us. He makes us all different…”

Oscar trailed off. Parker waited a few moments before realizing that was it. There weren't any more words on the way.

Parker laughed without mirth, “I don’t know what to do with that, honestly.”

“I don't know. I- I'm just a man.”

Those words settled on Parker's chest like a lead weight. He couldn't seek forgiveness here. Oscar was just another guy around his age. A homosexual and an alcoholic sitting on opposite sides of a booth. Trying to figure out what to do next. Neither of them had magic god imparted wisdom to bring to the table.

“Do something unselfish for the family as penance. Make a good act of contrition,” Oscar said quietly.

Parker’s mouth took over, even as he felt a tightness in his chest, "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart…”

*

Oscar wasn't in the habit of resenting he's congregation for their confessions.

It didn't do anything for anyone and frankly if he took the sort of things that he heard every day out into the world with him, he'd have a much harder time holding the hope of God in his heart. The bulk of confessions were people with small sins. He would assuage their guilt over little lies, small acts of lust committed in isolation. Then send them on their way.

Oscar wasn't in the business of holding those things against people.

It wouldn't do to hate the man in his congregation who confessed to having cheated on his wife when the both of them came to church the next sunday and he had to meet her eye. It helped no one to hang onto these things.

And yet here he was lying awake for the second night in a row thinking about Peter. Oscar didn't know why he felt so angry. Was it that Arthur was a friend? Was he so biased that he couldn't offer comfort to the man he known much longer? The man who had connected he and Arthur?

He shifted again in his bed, last night he'd hardly slept at all. His one stretch sleep had accosted him with dreams, and woken him with a start, sweat sticking his shirt to his chest. He had prayed till morning trying to ignore what has been there. The press of mouths, of hands and hips. Warm brown eyes and scratchy stubble. A voice Oscar knew well.

He knew what picture it painted him in. Him still hold this confession against Peter when these dreams had taken root in his mind. It wasn't as though last night had been the first time after all.

And it'd be easier wouldn't it? It’d be easier to go pull out the wine. Hell, walk down to the corner store and buy another bottle of rum. He’d thrown the last out, he’d promised Arthur that he would. That he’d wait and he would call.

And Arthur had been brave enough to do so more than once before. The two of them getting together long after Oscar should have been asleep. Whiling away hours even as Arthur apologized all the while. As though Oscar could possibly begrudge him this.

Oscar should call Arthur. It would show Arthur he wasn’t alone. That Oscar trusted him.

But he knew he didn't dream of Arthur when he drank, and he didn't dream of Alexander or his childhood. The sleep was restless, when he lulled himself into it with wine, and he woke tired and aching. But he woke without guilt. Or less at the very least. And relief was relief.
He turned his phone in his hand a moment debating. This wasn't his role in Arthur's life, it wasn't his place to ask for the very support Arthur most needed. Oscar's point on this Earth was give back in large enough measure to make up for… it all. To make up for what he'd done.

But tomorrow they had a meeting. One with the single parents and Oscar would have to face Arthur one way or another. Either with alcohol on his breath or with the memory of gasping dreams, a white shirt clutched between his hands.

Or he could call.

It wasn't feelings for Arthur, at least, he assured himself as he scrolled through his contacts consideringly. It wasn't like Peter, who loved Arthur and wanted him in equal measure. Oscar didn't want this, it was just dreams. Dreams that he could ignore. Even if his heart beat harder with his thumb hovering over the call button.

“Hello?” Arthur picked up after just two rings

“Arthur,” Oscar said

“Oscar!” Arthur immediately replied voice brightening or was that Oscar's imagination, then an audible frown, “Is everything alright? It's late, do you..?”

“I'm sorry,” Oscar said ready to hang up if Arthur implied he should

“No no,” Arthur said quickly, “please, I was honestly just trying to get Faroe settled in for sleep but what is it?”

“I'm… having a rough night.”

“Oh should I…?”

“I shouldn't pull you away from your family.”

“Hardly. I think John was just starting his movie downstairs. I’ll let him know I have to head out. He'll understand.”

Oscar tried to restrain the scoff that wanted to leave him. No John wouldn't understand, not if it was for him.

He softened a bit as he heard Faroe babbling on the other end of the line, and said, “You don't have to.”

“No no, it's fine. I'll call a ride. I'll be right there. Where are you?”

“I could come get you,” Oscar offered.

“Are you… sober?”

“Oh yes yes,” Oscar said quickly, “I called because I… haven't yet.”

“Good then yes? If you feel up to it. We could maybe drive for a while? Get you some fresh air.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Good, I'll see you in a few minutes.”

“Yes I'll- I'll meet you there.”

“And Oscar ?”

“Yes?”

“Don't get sidetracked? Straight to the car please.” There was a relief to Arthur just asking, knowing where impulse would lead and directly requesting he not give in. A clear direction Oscar could follow.

“Aye, I can do that,” he said.

“I'll see you soon.” And the call dropped.

The car ride over to Arthur's was long, but when Oscar arrived he knocked on the front door like he always did. John opened it .

He huffed and walked away from the door saying, “You can come inside, he needs just a moment. He was putting Faroe to bed and she spit up on his shirt.”

“Oh, of course, of course.”

Oscar stepped inside and peeked into the doorway to the living room and saw Peter sprawled on the couch as John made his way to a position at his feet. He lifted them to give John room to sit and settled them back across John’s lap. They balanced the bowl of popcorn on Peter's stomach. A horror movie played on the TV, screams and low droning cello played in turns from the speakers.

“Oscar!” Peter startled, seeing him, sitting up awkwardly, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh I'm just picking up Arthur, we were going to go for a drive.”

“Right yeah, I didn't expect- Sorry, just thought you guys didn't have a meeting tonight.”

“We don't. Just a drive,” Oscar explained.

“Right,” Peter gave him a weak smile and slid his legs off John’s lap, “hey John maybe I should head out.”

“But we just started,” John indicated the movie.

“No, I know, but yeah, you know, I should get out of your hair.”

“There's really no need to run, I’ll be gone soon. Enjoy your movie,” Oscar said as he turned and saw Arthur making his way down the stairs.

“Oh good. I'm so sorry for the wait. I simply thought I shouldn't bring baby vomit into your car.”

“No that's quite alright I appreciate the consideration,” Oscar laughed for a second and his eyes landed on Arthur's hands that were busily doing up the top three buttons of his shirt, underneath which was long stretches of pale skin. Oscar looked away, staring instead at the gore that graced the television screen. Peter stood in the middle of the living room looking torn between putting on the shoes next to him and the open seat next to John.

“You boys have a good movie night,” Arthur said, popping his head in the room and addressing the couch, “you promise you'll be alright if I head out?”

“We’ll be fine,” John gave Parker a look, “We were just staying in tonight anyway.”

“Yeah of course,” Peter said, finally seeming to decide and settling back on the couch next to John, “We’ll uh- trade off if we get too tired before you get back.”

“She'll be fine. Stay safe Arthur,” John said, cutting a look to Oscar.

Oscar deserved that.

“Thank you. Thank both of you,” Arthur said, drawing the attention back to himself.

Oscar could have choked for the way that the two men looked at Arthur. Like he was the most beautiful thing either of them could choose to look at. Like he was the sun.

Oscar settled on staring at his shoes.

“Shall we go?” Arthur said expectantly.

“Aye, let's- let's go,” Oscar agreed and they made for the car, shutting the front door behind them.

“I'm sorry for the audience,” Arthur immediately said, as they closed the front door, “I didn't think about what it would mean for Parker to see you at a time like this. I know he's a member of your church, that must be difficult, I'm sure.”

“No no it's fine really I knew he might be here. He speaks of you often.”

“Oh I didn't realize he was even making it to church. He hardly even takes his days off away from the house, this morning he showed up and spent the whole day adding nonslip flooring to the kitchen and stairs. He talks about us?”

“Whenever I see him. All good things I promise.”

Because what else was there to say about Arthur? It wasn't that he didn't make mistakes but the mistakes he made weren't like other people. He went drinking and stayed out all night because he got mugged. It had been the night of his parents' death. He had been alone. It was easy to forgive.

It wasn't like what Oscar did.

As they got into the car soft rock drifted quietly from the speakers as the two of them buckled up and Oscar pulled out

Arthur gently said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He debated for several long seconds.

“It's my job,” he said.

“Oh?”

“It's… difficult,” he finished tepidly. There was no clarification in such a statement he realized and so he continued, “I- I've been struggling with it. Aspects of the work make it more difficult to cope with quitting.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

“I can imagine it's rather high stress as far as jobs go. I mean I certainly can't imagine trying to be any sort of true guidance for a family in grief. I merely have to face people at their worst in my line of work. You have to face people there and promise them that there’s better to return. That's not easy. It's …Noble. When done right,” and that coming from Arthur was the most blanket kindness he could offer the church or offer Oscar regarding the church.

As much as their meeting was because of Oscar's profession, the relationship being built over time in the parish halls, the reality was the two of them, all their incompatible edges, still grated. Oscar was a man of cloth and Arthur held a profound disdain for the very idea.

And yet here he was calling Oscar's work noble.

Tonight of all nights it was far more than Oscar deserved. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

He wanted to make it clear to Arthur that he was no saint, that he didn't drink over the way that the pains of others weighed on him. In this moment, he didn't know why, but he needed to know with absolute certainty that Arthur saw he was a selfish man. That he was a coward.

“Communion actually,” he said. Not a lie but not a complete truth. Most nights it was communion but not tonight.

“Communion?” Arthur asks looking confused

“I have to be around quite a bit of wine every week. I buy the wine for the church. I pour it. I hold the cup for others. It's the blood of Christ of course but,” Oscar glanced at Arthur and saw an expression he didn't understand, “Well it's very similar to wine anyway.”

Arthur nodded, “Well… fuck.”

And Oscar laughed.

They came to a stop light and he cut his gaze across to Arthur, taking a longer look.

Anytime he could without other people giving him odd looks Oscar was looking at Arthur. It was magnetic. The face he’d pull when thinking, his mouth tugging to the side a bit. The way his eyes would shut when he was focusing on his surroundings, face screwing up to hear the room.

And as the light changed at the empty intersection out of Arthur’s neighborhood, something very small and very lonely in Oscar’s chest seized up.

He wondered, turning back to the road, if Peter wasn’t onto something.

*

“Oh, hey over here,” a voice came from further into the diner and Arthur followed it until Noel said, “yeah hi.”

Arthur hearing where he was grabbed the edge of the table to guide him along to the booth and he settled in.

He got a little startled “oh! well-” from Noel that had Arthur scrambling back to his feet.

“Sorry,” he settled on his own side of the booth.

“Nah that's alright hey I imagine that happens a lot.”

“Not typically. Admittedly I very rarely go out where I don't have- well someone who's willing to play guide for me.”

“Oh well I’d be happy enough to help out. Is there anything I can do?”

“Sure, do they have coffee here?”

“Yeah they do, that's the primary purpose of my being here,” Noel said, a little playful.

“Good. I know all I need to about the menu.”

Noel laughed, “Alright, alright, well- Hey there, you look a lot better.”

“Thank you, yes, I tend to pride myself on not constantly looking as though I have just recently been mugged.”

“Hey that's important, yeah.”

“Yes,” Arthur laughed, “I wanted to thank you again for helping me that night. I understand how it looks for a man to wander in bleeding and smelling of alcohol assuring people that he's a private investigator.”

“Yeah it came off pretty wild admittedly, but hey happens to the best of us, right?”

“I don't know about that, but thank you anyway.”

“Yeah, of course, I was just glad we were able to get you home more or less in one piece.”

“Yes, I am certainly grateful that I was not any later than that or John might have assumed that I was in another coma.”

“Coma?”

“Oh yes, earlier this year I was in a car accident. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the hospital, blind. John on the other hand had been raising my daughter for weeks on his own.”

“Damn.”

“Indeed much longer the other night and I'm quite certain John would have been personally searching every hospital ward he could.”

“Yeah it did seem like you were about to get a real earful when I left.”

“They handled it with more grace than I deserved,” Arthur said, softening a bit.

“Yeah, you uh- you all seemed pretty close. They your friends?

“Oh yes Parker, the man who was holding my daughter Faroe, is my business partner and best friend. Oscar is a slightly newer friend of mine, but he was kind enough to connect me to some resources that really helped me out with Faroe. John I've known the longest and he's actually my roommate and helps me raise her.”

“Oh, kind of a platonic life partner deal? Sorta Full House?”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, “A little Full House I suppose. John and Parker have been a real help with Faroe since my wife's passing.”

“Ah man, I'm sorry to hear that, so you've known John for a while then?”

“Oh yes, why?”

“Oh nothing you two just seemed close was all. Curious I guess. Not often you see a guy running home to be told off after a night out and the guy telling him off is just his roommate. Figured you two must have known each other for a while. When’d you guys meet?”

Arthur stilled slightly there was a double edge to Noel’s words that he was parsing.

“Oh must have been a few years ago,” Arthur said with a firm nod, something in his gut told him to lie and he followed it, “seems like I've known him forever really.”

“Damn yeah. Long time friend that you just hired on? That must have been awkward huh?” He laughed

“What?”

“Oh just that its not easy to be your friend’s boss.”

“No, yes, it's just you said I hired him. I didn't think I had mentioned that.”

“I think you must have the other night. Said you had a you had a nanny ,aybe?”

“Perhaps!” Arthur chuckled, lightly, “I was quite out of it.”

He hadn’t mentioned their situation. He knew he hadn’t.

“Yeah yeah, you know he just seemed like an interesting guy. You don't often see guys like him in that kind of work.”

“What do you mean guys like him?” Arthur asked innocently. Yes he knew John still held himself like some kind of royalty in public. Back straight and expression unreadable. He was going to make Noel articulate it.

“Oh just-” Noel's voice had an edge of surprise at being pressed, and backed off the point easily, “all guys I guess? Maybe that's some of that macho shit I should be letting go. Sorry.”

Hmm.

Arthur smiled easily, “Right.”

The waitress came by, took their orders and moments later brought them coffee.

“It's just,” Noel said, “the damndest thing. There's something real familiar about him. Did he grow up in the area? I feel like maybe I might have known him from my school days or something.”

Arthur officially distrusted this quite heavily. Something was wrong here, Noel was not having the friendly coffee they had agreed upon. Arthur knew what playing for information looked like that was his job. He knew that Noel was fishing for answers, and that the questions has to do with John.

“Oh yes, I believe he's lived in the area all his life. I know he and I became quite close during college. We attended the same one.”

“Oh okay.”

“Yes.”

“Nice.”

“Yes.”

“Long time friends then.”

“Indeed.”

“Great.”

Moments passed.

“So how about you Detective?”

“What about me?”

“How long have you been in town?”

“Oh you know what, I just moved here,” There was a little bit of a smile in Noel’s voice but the tone came with a weight that Arthur couldn't quite parse.

Arthur spent the rest of the time that they spent small talking itching to get out of there.

*

Arthur hardly made it out of the diner before he was dialing John on his phone

John picked up, “Hello?”

“John, I need a ride,” he said not sure if Noel was still within earshot, “Could you come pick me up?”

“Well I was actually just going to-”

“John, please, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. I cannot catch a bus right now.”

John spoke slowly, “Okay I'll be right there. Are you are you safe right now?”

“Yes, fine… Arthur said awkwardly. He hated moments like these when he couldn’t be sure how close someone was or whether they were listening, “Just hurry please?”

“Alright I'll be right there.”

Arthur a few minutes later heard the sound of a car coming to a stop in front of him and a window rolling down , “Arthur.”

“Oh good,” Arthur climbed into the car and shut the door, “drive, drive quickly.”

“Okay.” The car started moving.

“What's happening, what's wrong?”

“Do you know Noel?”

“What?” John was baffled by the question.

“He seems to know you.”

“What?” He repeated, voice lower, more serious.

“I don't know. I don't know, but he was digging at me for information about you. He kept pressing. I think he knew I was lying.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Well of course I told him we've been friends for years, ever since University. You've lived here in Arkham all your life.”

“You lied to a detective for me?”

“I'm not letting them come and take you away, John. Not if we can help it.”

The silence that they sat in was warm. John finally spoke and said, “Alright give me the full rundown of what he said and I'll see if I can pinpoint who he is.”

Arthur did and John replied, “I… I thought he seemed familiar when I saw him. There was a lot of cops on my father's payroll but I don't think Noel was one of them. I don’t recall the name…”

John inhaled sharply, “He does look like…”

“Like?” Arthur prodded after a moment.

“He looks a lot like somebody who was investigating my father a few years back for…. a number of things…” John said hesitantly

“We don't have to get into it.”

“Thank you.”

“So you think Noel… what? Came here for revenge? Or to try and get you to rat on your father? Is that something you could do?”

“Not without seriously implicating myself in a lot of things. And maybe on the revenge front? I doubt he came here to find me specifically. When people went up against us they didn't keep their lives as they were with a lot of money for independent investigation. If he caught someone working against him openly he’d have them…”

John was being open, but the hesitance to share all he’d been a part of was obvious. Arthur would handle whatever he said next. He wouldn’t let John see his reaction or he might close up again.

“Killed,” Arthur said hesitantly.

“Not usually,” John said and Arthur tried to fight the clench of fear and his stomach at that, “but plenty of times he ruined a life. Threatened people until they left? I think they left at least.”

“Right well,” Arthur took a steadying breath, “We'll keep an eye on him.”

“Right.”

“And if anything goes wrong,” He frowned, “It would be alright if you had to run, you know.”

“Run?”

“Leave town for a while. You could send a letter when you’re somewhere more safe. We'll find a way to get you back when it's alright again.”

“I-” John stopped, “nevermind. Thank you, Arthur.”

“Of course I… can't lose you John,” he said quietly.

And John, just as quiet, “I can't let any of you get hurt.”

*

“Damn, that's concerning…” Parker said, when they relayed the events of the day to him that evening.

“Indeed,” Arthur huffed out a laugh

“It's going to be okay, John,” Parker said, and his voice changed in quality as he turned to face John who was sitting next to him on the couch.

Arthur let out a long sigh and planted his hands on his hips. “Well… Halloween…” he said.

“Right,” Parker agreed.

“Yeah,” John added helpfully.

Arthur stood there by the arm of the couch a moment longer before finally saying, “So what's the consensus parenting wise if I don't take my ten-month-old out trick-or-treating? How many therapy sessions do you think that that's going to take to fix?”

“Oh definitely no more than two,” Parker said.

“I can afford two sessions,” Arthur said, breaking into a smile

“I'll pitch in,” Parker agreed.

John said, “Better yet we could just show her the picture of her in the costume with the bucket of candy and lie to her when she's older.”

He said it so dryly that it tore an unexpected laugh out of arthur throat.

“I like that,” Arthur agreed, turning around and sitting on the arm of the couch only to flop backward across the laps of his friends drawing a small ‘oh geez’ from Parker and an ‘oof’ from John.

Parker laughed and adjusted so that his hand was resting on Arthur's knee and his other one across Arthur's stomach, Arthur's head was in John's lap.

“So,” Arthur said, “anyone have any ideas for what the equivalent might be of watching a horror movie at this stage?”

John's hands hesitantly brushed away the hair that was falling across Arthur's face and his fingertips trailed just slightly over Arthur's head. Arthur pressed up into the contact.

John at that confirmation started dragging his fingers through Arthur's hair, playing with it as Arthur laid there. A sigh of enjoyment left Arthur as nails dragged slightly across his scalp.

“I've been listening to a horror podcast,” John offered.

Arthur wrinkled his nose, “Never saw the appeal. We could always tell each other stories I suppose…”

“Not much of a storyteller,” Parker said awkwardly, “but hey you know what? You've been meaning to have me read more of that Poe stuff right? He's spooky isn't he?”

Arthur smiled, “He is.”

“Good, then how about I just pull up some of his shit and that's our evening?”

“Happy Halloween,” Arthur said with the slightest nod

“Happy Halloween,” John echoed.

Notes:

Wow so this was so supposed to come out earlier this month but I got super sidetracked

Unrelated note I swear Yall should read thus kevin/cecil/carlos Nightvale fic
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208878

Quick thing I wanna touch on is that the manners in which religion and sexuality interact will likely be a continued theme as the BlindFaith dynamic builds

And I know there is conventions in the genre of gay priest romance so I feel I should say
Its not necessarily going to be a story about how inherently bad religion is, more the ways in which Oscar uses religion as a means to punish himself, which is a him issue, but yes is also encouraged in his religious spaces

Anyway happy Halloween :D

Chapter 20: Almost Didn't

Summary:

an ill-advised kiss, and admittedly a number of other decisions, further complicate their lives

Notes:

I've been wait SO long for this chapter damn

warnings:
-drunk sex, both parties intoxicated, consensual, and off screen
-a brief question to assure that sex was consensual

It was as Oscar was driving Arthur home from the single parents group that he spoke up, “You mentioned you might be willing to help me with the struggles I've been having. I had a thought, you can tell me no if you think it would make things too difficult on you but if you wouldn't mind I think I sorted out a way that you could help me?”

He sounded nervous.

Arthur nodded, “Of course anything, name it.”

“I… can't just not drink. I can't just not be around it. I need to be able to be around wine, I need to be able to drink it and not have it affect me. I've been doing well these past weeks…”

Arthur nodded, “Right. I can tell.”

Oscar hesitated, seeming to chew on the words before they left him, “I think I need to just jump in and see if I can't control myself with a little help.”

His tone was hesitant, looking for confirmation, or perhaps permission to continue.

“Okay,” Arthur offered and even that drew a sigh of relief from the other man.

“If I had a drink would you- would you be willing to sit there with me and make sure I don't have another?”

Arthur thought for a moment. It had been weeks for him. He hadn’t touched the stuff since his mugging. He was… fine. He’d hardly thought about drinking yesterday.

“A- and I mean it,” Oscar said, “if you think it would hurt your recovery, forget it.”

“No, I can do that,” Arthur said quickly, “I want to help, let me.”

“Okay so how do you want to do this? It might be best if it was in a bar that way I don't have to buy a whole bottle and once I leave there's nothing left.”

“Okay,” Arthur said with a breath to steel himself, “then let's go.”

“Now?”

 

“Yeah well when else? John is already watching Faroe. At least I won't have to give him an excuse for why I have to go to a bar. Let's go. Unless you’re not ready?” He offered.

“No, no you’re right. Let’s do this, I just,” Oscar huffed out something like a laugh, or just an exhale, “I expected you to say no.”

“I can be here for you too, Oscar. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

The bar was buzzing with activity. Friday night, these things tended to be busy. Oscar placed a hand in between Arthur's shoulder blades and guided him to the bar.

“Scotch, neat,” Oscar said, “and…?”

“A soda water for me,” Arthur put in, with an awkward smile. Soon enough their drinks were slid across the bar to them. They retreated from the bar and Oscar led them to a table that was pressed against the wall on one side, leaving only one bench of a booth seat. Arthur slid in after him.

They sat, and then the silence in their small patch of sticky tabletop became immediately unbearable.

“Are you going to try?”Arthur tried to be gentle. Was gentleness something he really knew how to do?

“You won't tell anyone about this right?” Oscar’s voice trembled.

“No. This stays between us.”

“Okay.” Arthur heard him pick up the glass, take a drink, and set it back down.

“Heyyy Arthur!” Arthur froze at the familiar voice, “Long time no see!”

Arthur turned and smiled awkwardly in her direction, “Nils! Hi, sorry, I didn’t hear you at the bar.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I was in the bathroom. My manager told me that someone with a cane came in and to keep an eye out that no one gave you trouble. I figured it must be you.”

“That’s very kind of her, thank you,” Arthur’s smile softened a bit. This had been his favorite place.

“Of course, we definitely got a group of assholes tonight. Speaking of, do you boys want these beers? Somebody paid and just walked out without them. It's been like ten minutes and I already opened them. Didn’t want to give them to the guys at the bar, trying not to reinforce bad behavior.”

“Oh well thank you, I- I suppose one wouldn't hurt,” Arthur said, folding. It was free.

“I… aye I'll take the other,” Oscar said, hesitant.

“Cool cool,” Nils set them down on the table, “you guys have good night!”

“You too Nils,” Arthur raised his hand in a wave as she left.

The table was quiet as Arthur’s face burned with shame, “I- I’m sorry. That’s embarrassing. She’s very kind, I don’t think I realized where we were. This is where I met Parker. I’m afraid I came here often enough to become something of a regular.”

“You don’t have to apologize, clearly you didn’t make too much of a fool of yourself here. She seems to remember you fondly.”

“Yes, well, I tried to save my worst behavior for other bars. They were too nice here, I never wanted to ruin their nights,” He grimaced, his hand finding the base of the bottle, condensation pooled against his fingers.

Then guilt grabbed him, had him accepting the beer forced Oscar’s hand?

“Do you want that?” Arthur checked, “You don’t have to drink that if- Did you want it?”

“Kind of…?” Oscar admitted.

Arthur pursed his lips a second and then said reasonably, “It can't be as bad if we're drinking together I suppose? “

“Not quite as sad,” Oscar agreed.

Arthur huffed out a short laugh, “Yes I suppose so.”

They took their drinks in a strange sync, the sound of glass dragging over the tabletop.

The booth was warm and close, Oscar's leg pressed against Arthur's as they sat and talked for a while. Oscar talked about his week, dancing away from specifics or names. Arthur relayed the events of Halloween, how the three of them had just ended up staying in reading poetry.

“I'm sure you don't need to lie to her,” Oscar said taking a drink and setting his bottle back down with a quiet thunk, “I'm sure she would understand that you didn't want to take her when she was less than a year old into the freezing October in Arkham of all places.”

“That is a fair point,” Arthur laughed, finishing off the last of his beer.

He hesitated a moment and said, “Would you judge me terribly if I got one more to drink while you finish your scotch?”

“No thats- that's fair.”

“Right, right,” Arthur stood and then hesitated a moment more at the table and still touching the table top, “Did… you need anything while I was up?”

“I could maybe use another one of these?” Oscar said with a dose of resignation, “The- the scotch I mean?”

Arthur sighed, “I think we fucked up.”

Oscar laughed, “Aye, we did, but I’d still argue it's better so we don't have bottles in our homes.”

“Great point,” Arthur huffed, he tapped a knuckle against the table, “alright I'll get you another one of those and myself something.”

*

They didn’t exactly stop there. After the third it was significantly harder to even pretend like they cared to make excuses. Oscar looked at Arthur, the dim lights weren’t hurting him at all. Arthur looked good in every light. Their legs were tangled under the table and as time went on Arthur was leaning into Oscar's space. His arm pressed into Oscar’s. Or was that Oscar leaning?

“I do wish we had done this before the two of us were trying to get sober. Might have been a little more fun,” Arthur laughed, dropping his head fully into Oscar's shoulder.

“Yeah,” Oscar breathed, feeling Arthur’s breath on his cheek.

Arthur turned his face and pressed it into the crook of his neck. His mouth pressed against the skin of Oscar's neck. He’d worn a button up and slacks to the meeting and unbuttoned the top few buttons as the room grew warmer. Now Arthur's nose slid slightly over skin, drawing a sharp gasp out of Oscar.

How long had Oscar's hand been on Arthur's leg? He tightened his grip unthinkingly and Arthur let out a noise, pressing closer.

After a moment Arthur withdrew just enough that they were face to face again, “Oscar?”

“Arthur,” He answered.

Arthur chewed his lip for a moment, and Oscar couldn’t tear his eyes away. Then Arthur’s expression resolved to certainty.

“Stop me,” He breathed and then, then his lips were on Oscar’s. They were soft, hesitant but they didn’t retreat. Oscar sighed, at the contact, at Arthur waiting for his reply, at Arthur not making him close the gap first.

Oscar returned the pressure. Arthur sighed, relief, or more than that. The hesitance entirely gone. Their lips slid against each other’s, vodka and scotch and Arthur’s hand sliding over his chest. Arthur pulled away slightly, hand brushing Oscar’s cheek. Carefully searching for a sign that he should pull away.

“Please,” Oscar gasped without thinking, not sure what he was asking for, “Arthur… don’t- don’t go.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened at his words despite their fumbling nonsense. His hand cupped Oscar’s jaw and drew him closer until they were a breath apart. They stayed that way for a moment.

He was beautiful, his hands, his lips were pure heat at every meager point of contact. Arthur was haloed by the lights above the bar counter.

“Please.”

Arthur grinned loosely, and Oscar barely held in a noise that tried to leave him as his breath skipped.

“I have you,” Arthur murmured against his lips and recaptured Oscar’s mouth. He wasn’t gentle as he kissed him this time and Oscar found he didn’t want him to be. When he gasped against Arthur’s mouth, Arthur’s tongue found his, his hands tangled into Oscar’s hair.

And when they broke away for another brief moment of breath Oscar hated every centimeter between them.

“Arthur,” Oscar heard the worship in his own voice.

“We should step out of here,” Arthur told him, a hand still curled around the collar of Oscar’s shirt.

“Yes.”

“We could-” Arthur seemed breathless too, “My house is closer.”

And dimly Oscar realized what would happen if he agreed. But the idea of letting go of Arthur and the swell of- of everything in his chest, it hurt.

He knew what he was agreeing to, that he shouldn’t. There was never a world where Oscar told him no.

“Okay,” Oscar fumbled for his phone and called a ride from his phone, “There’s- a ride’s on the way.”

Arthur smiled and leaned close to his ear, lips brushing skin, “I need to get you out of here now. Can we wait outside?”

A broken noise left his mouth.

Oscar nodded quickly, “Yes, we- let's go.”

*

“Artie!” Parker knocked on the door, “come on man it's already noon. I got coffee, but we still got shit to do today.”

He’d waited as long as he could, but damn man there were upper limits on the sleeping-in thing.

Parker heard some noises from the other side of the door, quiet shuffling, “Hey man are you okay?”

There's a sound of a small crash and swearing followed, “Arthur, are you fuckin alri-”

Parker opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks halfway through, hand still on the knob.

Because there was Oscar shirtless, hopping on one foot as he pulled on a pair of slacks. Arthur was on the other side of the bed, frozen in place, shirt half-buttoned. The bed was a wreck. Oscar's shirt was on the floor.

Parker shut the door abruptly and called, “Hey you know I think I’m gonna to go grab breakfast or- or lunch!”

He began turning for the stairs. John stepped out of the bathroom drying his hair, dressed but just out of the shower.

“What?” he said

“We should go, John,” Parker said, grabbing him by the back of his neck and trying to quickly guide him to the stairs.

“What's-?”

“Parker, I-” Arthur's door opened and Arthur stood there in the doorway trying to stop him.

“I have to go,” Parker insisted just- just needing a fucking second. John stopped in his tracks looking over Arthur's shoulder, eyes wide. Oscar was still pulling on his shirt.

“We have to go,” John agreed. He set down the bundled up wet towel in his hands just on the banister and popped the baby gate at the top and started making his way down. Parker followed.

“Wait, Parker I-” His tone was already some flavor of apologetic or pitying.

“Just don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow,” and with that Parker made for the door and out.

He and John didn't stop until they were in Parker's car and a block down the road.

“Are you okay?” John asked.

“Yeah! Me? I'm- yeah. How about you?”

“Never liked him,” John said with a curt nod, “lunch?”

“Lunch,” Parker agreed.

*

They settled down at a booth in the nearest diner both ordering a slice of pie and a cup of coffee. Parker was quiet.

“Really are you okay? I-” John was trying hard not to say something to the effect of ‘I know you liked him’.

“I don't know man,” Parker let out a sigh, “this is really weird on a number of levels and I don't even mean the Arthur thing necessarily. I- yeah I thought we had an agreement of sorts but you know he's allowed to change his mind. I knew he might but…”

“This is different,” John agreed.

Parker nodded, “This is my fucking priest and God the other day this bastard-”

John's eyes widened. He hadn't heard Parker talk about Oscar like that, ever, “What happened?”

“I went to this guy, having a hard time with the guilt,” Parker waved his hand vaguely, “and cuz Arthur made me talk to Daniel right? And then Daniel started telling me about how much he missed his fuckin kid…” Parker carded his fingers through his hair roughly.

“Oh,” John said weakly, he couldn’t imagine Daniel admitting to feeling… much of anything.

“Yeah so next thing I know I'm feeling guilty as fuck because- well I don’t know maybe its fair- and so I go to confession about feeling like I'm disrespecting this poor lady's memory right? And I go there and I tell Oscar I’m in love with Arthur.”

John stilled, feeling something cold curl up in his chest, “Y- you did?

“Yeah I mean not by name but I didn't mention that the guy I was talking about had a daughter and Oscar knew that the guy I was talking about had a daughter, so clearly he had puzzled it out.”

“Right,” John said. ‘In love’.

It was bad that Arthur had slept with Oscar, it… hurt. But there had been some degree of comfort in the fact that he and Parker had taken off together afterward. That Parker had tried to protect John from having to see Oscar half naked. And John had known Arthur liked Parker and vice versa, but there had maybe been a small part of him as Parker dragged him out of the house that had felt some relief.

He’d supposed that at least things had finally uncomplicated themselves. That Arthur had moved on and Parker had chosen John's side. That maybe Parker would give up on the Arthur thing and maybe John could figure out how to as well, but Parker just kept talking.

“I don't even know what to do, man,” he said with a huff of laughter breaking apart his pie into its components, crust, whip cream, apples, all set into separate piles, “because it's not like I don't care about Arthur.”

John nodded.

“I'm- God John- I'm still in love with him and Oscar’s like- a priest. Needless to say he's not supposed to do this with anybody, much less a guy, much less a guy that I fucking care about. I didn't even fucking judge him when I found out that he was going to the same group as Arthur,” Parker huffed stabbing a slice of apple and popping it into his mouth.

“Right,” John agreed. Of course things hadn't played out in John's favor or become any simpler. Of course all this meant was that one more man liked Arthur and had gotten his attention. Arthur hadn’t blinked in John's Direction and Parker hadn't even considered John for a rebound.

*

If it was possible to be a professional at such a thing, Arthur was a professional at the one night stand. It didn't happen for him as it did in movies, complete black out and waking beside another. It took quite a bit for him to be drunk enough to not remember having gone to bed with someone, even if he couldn't fully attach to the emotions that led to it. In this case the emotions were the most vivid part.

When he woke up next to an Oscar who had already climbed out of bed and was furtively pulling on his clothes again, but not quietly enough, Arthur remembered everything immediately. The sensations, the sounds. This had been the first time that he had been with someone and not been able to see their face. Oscar hadn't made that feel like a downside, he had made it feel like it was just a part of it.

And he was frantically putting on his pants as Parker pounded on the door.

Arthur had flown out of bed, but it was all too late now wasn't it? The front door shut behind Parker and John. Arthur sat to catch his breath, the motion next to the bed stilled and he sat in silence with Oscar.

“I have to go,” Oscar finally said and Arthur couldn't stop the pain that he was sure ran all the way across his face at those words.

“It's not- It's not like that. We can talk about this,” Oscar captured his hand and heatedly pressed his mouth against the back of Arthur's fingers, “I want to talk about this if you let me, but there's a baptism today…”

“Right, right, then you should go. I have to- I'm going to think.”

“I'm sorry, I can't…”

“No, go, it's time.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“Yes we'll talk later, go.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, go,” Arthur said firmly.

Within the minute Oscar had fumbled his way back into his clothes fully and out the front door shutting it behind him.

As the door shut Faroe started crying. He took three short breaths and put on clothes from the night previous. He went to go address his crying daughter. Everything else, including the shower unfortunately, would have to wait. Everything else, including the pain that seemed to come from his lungs, would wait.

Parker wasn't coming back today. Arthur would be lucky if John did. After all, the two of them had gotten close.

He shook off the thought physically. Take care of Faroe. One thing at a time.

*

“This sucks,” Parker said, as he pulled up to the house.

“I know.”

“But I left my wallet there.”

“You did,” John nodded, also gazing at the house.

“And you live here.”

“I do.”

“Which means I had to come here either way.”

“Right.”

“Because I couldn't keep you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Fuck my wallet,” Parker said, feeling the thrill of trying to do something he knew was wrong, “stay at my place.”

“He needs me,” John reminded him gently.

Parker sighed, “I know.”

“But if you need me, call. Worst comes to worst I'll call Marie. She'd be happy to take Faroe for a while if you need me.”

Parker huffed and waved him off, frustrated at his own drama, “Nah, nah you're fine. I'm a grown man, I got it. I didn't go through some traumatic experience. The guy I like’s with somebody else. ‘S not the end of the world.”

“It's more serious than that,” John frowned at him, “but I understand. I'll get your wallet and bring it out.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” John said, like him sticking by Parker was a given.
Parker waited in the idling car for a few minutes as John tried to find wherever Parker had dropped his stuff when he arrived. Eventually, John came out the front. He was holding his travel mug and Parker's wallet.

“Here,” John said, handing both through the window. Parker frowned at the purple travel mug that was being pressed into his hand. It was warm and heavy with coffee.

“John. This is yours, buddy. I can't take this one.”

“Take it. It means you have to bring it back.”

Parker softened his smile and looked at John.

“Lavender, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I just need a second. It’s not even Arthur it's more the my-priest-just-fucked-my-best-friend.”

“Okay then you won't have any problem taking the mug, because you'll be back tomorrow.”

The concern on John’s face was real, like when Parker drove away he just wouldn’t come home.

Come back, Parker corrected himself, but it felt weak right now.

“Okay. I'll take the cup. I'll bring it back clean even.”

John snorted, the vulnerability sliding away, “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

“Yeah okay that's fair,” Parker said and laughed.

“Call me if you need anything,” John reiterated. He pulled back out of the window, tapped the frame of it once, and turned back towards the door, making his way inside. Parker pulled away.

*

“Do you need me to take her?” John offered when he found Arthur pacing Faroe’s room with her in his arms.

Faroe was fine. Arthur was clearly less so.

“John!” He startled, “I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. You must have been very quiet. Is Parker…?”

“He's fine. He'll be back tomorrow like he said.”

“And is he…?”

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” John repeated. He wasn’t a factor in this equation? He certainly wasn’t having this conversation for them.

Arthur pressed his lips together, “Right.”

“But I can take Faroe. You probably need a shower.”

“Right,” Arthur handed him Faroe and turned for the door.

He stopped in the doorway, turning on the ball of his foot, and said, “John, I'm trying to be honest about this sort of thing so… I drank last night. I thought you should know.”

John hesitated, “...He got you drunk?”

“No! God no.”

“Because if you weren't in your right mind. I'll-”

“No John, listen to me, we were both intoxicated alright? It was nothing like that. It was all incredibly mutual, I assure you. I just wanted you to know, because you are someone I feel has a right to know the details of my life. Or I want you to know them. Whether I have to tell you or not.”

“Oh,” John said.

“Yes,” Arthur said, nodding for a few moments then his face registered him recalling something, “Oh, and I wanted to warn you, and perhaps you could pass it along to Parker if you feel he should know, that Oscar will be back later tonight so we can… discuss. I don't want to blind side him with Oscar if he returns, but there is much to discuss.”

“I don't think he was planning on coming back today anyway.”

Arthur looked hurt for a moment but masked it with a smile, “Of course.”

*

Oscar stood on Arthur's doorstep. Wavering, reaching for the door, and hesitating again, drawing his hand back.

A terror gripped him and turned his stomach, but he remembered the look on Arthur's face when he had made to leave this morning. He couldn't stand it and so he was here.

Holding that expression, that hurt and that fear, in his mind he knocked, and hoped that for once God would have mercy on him. Hoping it wouldn't be answered by-

John opened the door. Fuck.

“He's in the living room,” he said stepping away from the door, “Faroe and I are going to go visit a friend, we'll be back in a couple of hours.”

With that John made his way back up the stairs, presumably to collect Faroe. Oscar falteringly stepped into the living room. Arthur was picking at his cuticles, his fingertips looked red and raw as though he'd been at this for a while.

“Arthur,” he said by way of greeting and Arthur's head turned. There was a brief look of relief that melded into a much longer lasting concern.

“Oscar, I'm glad you came.”

Arthur knew he almost hadn’t.

“Of course I came,” he said, “I said I would.”

“We can wait till,” He gestured vaguely behind him and up, to indicate John and Faroe leaving.

“Yes, of course.”

They waited a few minutes in the most painful silence Oscar had ever taken part in.

Finally, John made for the door and said, “Call me if you need me. We’ll be at Lily's.”

“Thank you, John.”

“Yes,” John shot Oscar a glare, and then left.

“So,” Arthur said in the seconds after the door shut. He sighed then, shut his eyes for a moment, and composed his face to an expression of complete determination.

He fixed his eyes in Oscar's Direction, “We had sex. I don’t regret it, however you’re a priest.”

Arthur’s tone said he had practiced these words in his head too many times to count.

Oscar blinked, “I, well-”

“And I thought of it. We could sit here and we could play games for the next hour. Trying to dance around and find out what the other one’s thinking. I don't want to do that. I don't regret last night, but I think you do. I like you, but that's hardly enough.”

Oscar reeled. He had thought that they would ease into this gently. Be able to discuss the complexities of both of their positions instead- Well, instead there was Arthur, determined and cold as steel, not willing to middle in this. Oscar’s chest filled with something warm and alive that didn't fade at the press of his fear. He liked that Arthur was like this.

“I'll admit I tried to pretend that I didn't feel for you what I do,” Oscar began, trying to explain himself, “because I don't know what it means for me. I do feel these things, but I don't know how to reconcile this yet.”

He was terrified. But the warmth of Arthur’s arms had been a safe place to rest. When had Oscar last rested feeling safe?

Arthur looked pained. Oscar wanted to backpedal but Arthur spoke before he could.

“I'm sorry, I- It didn't occur to me that you might just be finding out now that you like men. I am so sorry,” Arthur’s voice faltered like he was apologizing for more than he’d said.

Oscar tried again, “I'm trying to say that I do feel… something for you. But…

But I made promises. But I'm a priest. But I don't deserve even the gentleness with which you treated me last night.

I want this, but I shouldn't have it. Because it's wrong. Because you deserve better. Because my actions already hurt a man we both care for.

“But it can't happen again?” Arthur said, because he knew.

“It can't,” Oscar confirmed.

“Right, good, perfect,” Arthur said, standing up from the couch abruptly and brushing his hands off on his pants, “Then let me walk you to the door.”

Oscar wanted to stop him, to ask him to wait. But for what? What was Oscar going to say that would fix this?

Oscar rose and followed him to the door. Arthur reached past him to grab the knob and for a breathless moment they were face to face breathing the same air.

Oscar could feel the warmth radiate off of Arthur. He could smell his shampoo.

By some feat of self-control on one of their parts, they pulled away, breaking the tether of electricity that stretched between the two of them for a moment. Arthur opened the door and Oscar stepped out hesitating on the doorstep once more.

“I can still give you a ride to the meetings.”

“I'd appreciate that, but I'm not feeling well tonight, perhaps next week.”

“Right, next week then.”

“I'll see you, Oscar.”

*

“Idiot,” Parker whispered, staring into the mirror as he tightened his belt, “I’m an idiot.” He brushed his hair back.

“I knew that this was a bad idea. But hey, when have I ever loved a guy who had space for me in his life? Why break a twenty-eight year streak?”

His voice cracked on that last word and he let out a growl to cut it off. He set down the hairbrush and gripped the edge of the counter, catching his breath.

This wasn't a pity party. He was going to work with his best friend. He was going to go see his family, people he cared about. It didn't matter what had happened. It changed nothing. ‘But it hurts…’ some small stupid voice in Parker's abdomen said quietly.

It did hurt, he could give it that, hurt like hell. But that was fine. Things were allowed to hurt you. That was the primary thing that things did.

Arthur was allowed to like other guys. More than allowed. Parker just mostly wished that he had picked up on the fact that he wasn’t welcome sooner. He wished that he hadn't made such a fool of himself. Arthur didn't owe Parker anything. Parker just wished he had noticed sooner.

It also would have helped if it hadn't been his priest.

He pulled on his jacket and looked in the mirror.

He looked miserable. He looked like he hadn't slept. He had, but it hadn't been great.

He was pissed at Oscar though, he admitted to himself quietly. If he had just had any inkling before he saw his naked-ass priest in the bedroom.

He looked like shit, he couldn't show-

He stopped halfway through the thought.

Well in all technicality he supposed he could show up looking like shit. It's not like it would tip off Arthur and damn it wasn't like John didn't know. Hell of a pair they made, the two of them, at that restaurant yesterday when the server came by. She had dropped off an extra plate of pancakes ten minutes later, telling them that the cook had made extra, but the look on her face was one of pity. Parker didn't know what she thought was going on, but it was probably pretty embarrassing.

He picked up John's mug from the counter. He actually had washed it. He looked at it thoughtfully then smiled a little despite himself.

John was kinda a sweetheart.

He settled on making a little detour, god knew he could afford to be late.

*

He unlocked the door and shouldered his way in.

“Hey There,” He called. Everyone was in the living room, Hali curled up in Arthur's lap, “Lady, Gentlemen, pumpkin.” He poked Faroe in the side and she beamed up at him.

Damn, and to think he almost didn't come today.

“Lavender, your cup as promised. Unfortunately you were right. It isn't clean.”

John rolled his eyes as he took it, “Yes, well- Wait. Parker this isn't just dirty it's full. Did you not even drink it?”

He sounded offended.

Parker grinned, “Relax, I drank it, but I stopped by that coffee place on Pine and got you some of that basically-just-milk-and-sugar that you like. Mom always said not to return an empty dish.”

John opened the top, allowing steam to curl upward out of the opening, his face softened, “Thank you.”

Arthur was sitting there looking a little like a deer in the headlights.

“Mornin’ Artie,” Parker said, “Feeling up to sorting through our email? Saw something come through last night about embezzlement from a family antique store.”

Arthur looked, impossibly, more startled at being addressed.

Arthur’s brow furrowed, “I- well… yes, I suppose. Let's.”

That day was painfully slow, the typical patter of their investigations thrown off entirely. It was made all the worse by the impending stake out that night for the last of their open cases.

It was still quiet until they arrived outside the house they were watching.

Stake outs were weird for the two of them. Most of the actual watching, for obvious reasons, fell to Parker. Arthur coming along was important though because firstly, it was safer than going alone and secondly, it was a hell of a lot easier for Parker to focus and stay awake when Arthur was there to talk to him.

“Parker I-” Arthur began then frowned.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry.”

Parker swallowed thickly, but kept his tone neutrally curious, “What for?”

“You know what for. We don’t have to ignore it. I- Oscar and I…”

Parker sighed and set the binoculars down, “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, Artie. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It's hardly my business who you sleep with.”

“But I-” He sighed and titled his head back against the headrest, “Nevermind.”

And Parker could scream, what had he been about to say?

“So… You and my priest,” He noted blandly, lifting the binoculars again.

“Jesus. Yes, please tell me I can at least apologize for that?”

“You better,” Parker said, a smile coming to his face despite himself, “Dunno how ‘m gonna go to church now, hell.”

He said it with humor, but it was a little more true than he was comfortable with. It was hard enough to find a church where people were fairly accepting, now maybe he had to find a whole new one. Good for the guy finding out who he is and all, but this had been a hell of a way to find out the friendship code didn’t apply to priests.

“I am so sorry,” Arthur groaned, “It won’t happen again, you can be sure of that.”

“Oh?”

“He has his job,” Arthur said, tone unreadable but tense, “Not that- I didn’t necessarily want-”

He pushed his hair back with his fingers. The street light lit him from behind, silhouetting him with yellow light. It made it harder to read his expression. He looked… miserable? A little thoughtful?

Parker let him put together his words at his own speed.

“I didn’t set out looking for that from Oscar,” He began carefully, “He’s… kind. And we understand each other, and yes I’m attracted to him. But if I’d been thinking straight, I- Those things wouldn’t have been enough for me to choose him over…”

Over you, Parker filled in.

“Yeah, well, “ Parker huffed out a laugh, not unkindly. He’d just be damned if he knew what to say.

“Parker…?”

He sighed, dropping his head to the steering wheel for a moment.

“Arthur, you don’t gotta stick to anything you said before alright? Let's just- We’re friends. That's great for me.”

“I- Yes of course. I’m sorry.”

“No worries.”

*

Arthur sat on the lid of the toilet as John bathed Faroe. He felt like turning into a stain on the tile, but he kept forcing himself through regular activities, knowing it would fade.

Parker just wanted to be friends. Oscar had his job to consider. And if Arthur had just done what Oscar asked him to and stopped him from drinking maybe he wouldn’t have missed the window with both of them. He had heard Parker’s voice when he’d opened the door that morning. He knew that Parker wanting only friendship was a new development.

Arthur forced the train of thought to derail, “John, what does Faroe look like?”

“Oh uh-” John paused for a moment. Faroe kept chattering away, hand hitting the surface of the water with a slap-splash, “She’s got dark hair that curls when it's dry. Her eyes are brown and intelligent. She looks very much like you and also something else. The features aren’t dissimilar but she wears them entirely differently. Her eyebrows are very expressive. I want to say that she’s funny, but I think I mean she has a nice laugh, and you know that already. She’s beautiful and so full of joy.”

Arthur smiled, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” John said, and in a gentle, friendly gesture he knocked his shoulder against Arthur's knee from where he was crouched on the floor next to the bathtub.

Notes:

I have been waiting so long to ruin things this specific way :)))

so again, for clarity, the intent here is polyamory in the end but nobody is considering that as a solution yet, due to the factors

Chapter 21: Table the Issues

Summary:

a family dinner

everybody's here

like literally every character I've written in this fic shows up in this chapter

“I sincerely appreciate the ride,” Marie said as Parker, fumblingly, tried to shift the heavy metal on the radio to one of the classical music stations. She smiled gently and said, “I won't tell Oscar.”

He laughed, “Yeah thanks, and of course! I’m glad that you were free today.”

“Believe it or not I am not the most popular woman in the world. With my sister off galavanting with that bingo friend of hers, Lilith, I'm afraid I was quite without plans this year.” Parker sent her a smile that was sympathetic, but not pitying. He himself didn't have much in the way of family, she knew.

She liked this boy, that was doubtless. She folded her hands carefully in her lap and sat up as straight as she could and stared out the front window.

She said, “I do hope you and Arthur haven't left all the cooking to John. He's talented no doubt, but it simply wouldn't be fair. The number of people you've said will be attending…”

“We haven't, don't worry. Everybody's bringing something, so the work's lighter. Then the stuff that we decided to take care of at the house we've all been working on. Arthur's got a lot of the prep work. John's in charge of seasonings, supervision, and food temperatures. And I! …am not the boss of anything and I do what he tells me because I have never cooked more than a Ramen cup without instruction. But I'm a good listener.”

She smiled a little, “I see. Well, I certainly hope that my pies are up to snuff.”

“They smell amazing,” Parker said, casting a mournful look down at the pies that she was carefully balancing in her lap, “I am really looking forward to those.”

“Thank you, my boy,” and she paused for a few moments and allowed Parker to fall back into the groove of driving without conversation. When she thought she might catch him entirely by surprise, she said, “So have you asked that John Boy or Arthur out yet?”

He startled visibly, “What? I mean- I mean uh- Well- What do you mean? I…”

“My boy, I am not blind. I see very well how you look at the both of them, but if you don't hurry they will certainly pair off without you. Now I am rooting for you quite entirely, so you best get to move on.”

“You mean you don't mind, uh-”

“That you're gay? My boy, if I may be so bold, if I had an issue with it I think I would have protested sooner. Perhaps when Arthur came to my doorstep trying to drop off his daughter because his male life partner had run out on him.”

“I…”

“Of course, I understand now that it was nothing of the sort between the two of them, but well, none of you have been subtle about your leanings.”

“That's fair,” Parker said weakly.

“So, when will you be asking one of them out?”

“It's not really like that ma'am,” he said miserably, “Firstly, Arthur just lost his wife last year.”

She hummed, unimpressed, “In my day, he would have been already remarried by now with that child of his. She needs two parents, Parker. She needs you.”

“She has me ma'am,” Parker said a little bit more forcefully and she sat back, feeling a bit of Pride that he was finally pushing at all in her Direction. He continued, “I catch your meaning, but the point stands. This isn't your day. He just lost his wife less than a year ago and he's got issues. Alright? I'm not- it's not like that. He'll decide when he’s ready.”

“Fine,” She agreed, Arthur Did have issues, “then John.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about with John.”

“Quite,” she said dryly, looking at him. Parker flexed his hands on the steering wheel, “so you feel absolutely nothing for the tall strong father figure to the child that you say you're entirely committed to?”

“I- ma'am, John is, of course, handsome. I am not going to disagree with you on that. He's just not expressed any interest that way.” Marie could see Parker's face shifting through a series of emotions as he himself questioned that as a defense.

“So, to be clear, it's not that you don't want to date either of them. It's that you're scared they'll turn you down.”

“They are my friends. Arthur is my coworker. A lot could go wrong if things got weird in that department. I appreciate your input for sure ma'am, but considering I am about to meet Arthur's dead wife's father, I think that we can table the issue.

“Very well Parker, just for tonight.”

“Thank you ma'am,” he said with no small amount of sass.

Marie smiled, “Now are you going to turn anything interesting on the radio or are we just going to be listening to the faintest hints of Bach that you can conceive of?” Parker had turned the radio low enough to be barely audible.

Parker sighed through a laugh.

“Be my guest,” and he gestured at the dial vaguely

“Thank you.”

*

Lily, a pan of sweet potatoes (unbaked, but otherwise prepared) resting on her hip and a cranberry juice resting on the other, used her foot to knock delicately on the base of the Lester's front door. Already the street was crowded with cars, but she squeezed in, found a spot, and had made her way to the door with only some fumbling. To then realize that she had absolutely no hands with which to open it or enter. So she kicked. Very little in this world couldn't be solved by kicking.

Soon enough the door opened, pouring warm humidity into the cold air. The steam carried the scent cooking sage and clove.

John stood in the doorway hair pulled back into the earliest fragments of a ponytail, blonde roots showing. The apron tied around his waist said, in plain newspaper-like text, “Unidentified Corpse.” She frowned but she had little time to question as John broke out into a genuine smile.

“Lily! Oh,” and he carefully took the pan of sweet potatoes from her and balanced it on one arm, “Please come in. I'm glad you're here.” He gave her a look that easily read as relief.

“Right and remind me who all is coming?” She said, lowering her voice as John led her into the warm house. The air inside was damp in the way that it only ever was in a home when cooking had been going on all day. Faintly, she heard the familiar sounds of Charlie Brown on the TV.

“Well the four of us obviously,” John said, taking the bottle of juice off her as well so that she could take off her coat and hang it on the coat rack. At which point she took back the juice.

“Then there's you,” John continued, “and Arthur's father-in… Faroe's grandfather.”

“Right.”

“And our friend, Marie.”

“Oh yeah, she's the one who watched Faroe when you were gone, yeah?”

John nodded, “And she still does sometimes just to give us all the night off.”

John smiled a little, “She's already here you're going to get along with her… I hope.” Under his apron he was wearing a light purple t-shirt and black jeans.

He paused, “You look nice. I like the dress.”

She beamed, “Thank you. Watch this!” She twirled and the pleats flared a little showing off the separate color of fabric in each of them. John Lit Up, Lily suspected he was something of an artist under the gruff detachment.

“It's beautiful,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” She smiled. John composed himself after a moment.

“You should know, by the way,” he took the potatoes once more wordlessly and he lowered his voice, “given that Faroe’s grandfather is a Christian and Marie and Parker are both Catholic, there is a good chance we will be asked to pray. Arthur already intends to politely abstain so if you want to as well I think the window will be open for it, but you should know.”

“Thank you, but I was raised in the south I can handle a little prayer on Thanksgiving. I’ll manage.” He rolled his eyes, but the smile still didn’t fully leave him.

The two of them entered the kitchen where Arthur and Faroe already sat at the table. He was bouncing her gently on his knee. She was discovering his mustache as he gently kept trying to redirect her hands to less painful locations. Next to him sat an older woman who was gently brushing Faroe’s hair and readjusting the little dress that she wore.

Parker stood at the counter frowning over a bowl of what Lily guessed was likely boiled potato holding a hand mixer in his hands and a cup of melted butter in the other.

“John, my mouth is entirely numb to it. I can't tell anymore, do these need salt?” Parker set down the hand mixer. He gathered a small bit of mashed potato onto a fork and held it out to John who, without hesitation, took the potato directly from the fork.

John chewed thoughtfully for half a moment and said, “They don't need salt yet. They do need more of that butter. I told you all of it.”

Parker winced, “That seems like so much butter, man.”

“You told me you's defer to me when it came to flavor. You can’t just decide I’m wrong and ignore me halfway through,” John crossed his arms over his chest.

“Okay alright, I'm sorry you're right,” Parker said holding up his occupied hands in surrender, “just Christ.”

“I'm sure you'll survive,” John replied dryly.

“Hello Lily, I assume you’re here?” Arthur said from the table, “because I'm sure if Daniel was here, I would have already had Faroe plucked off my lap.”

“Hey Arthur,” she said, approaching him, “How's it going? Have these two been bickering all day?”

“Oh, not all day, only the times that they were in the same room,” Arthur replied with a smile.

Lily laughed and turned, “And hello ma'am.”

“Oh yes,” Arthur said, “Lily this is Marie. She’s a friend of ours. I met her through Parker's Church.”

“It's practically your church,” Marie complained.

“I met her through Parker's Church,” he insisted, “and she's helped us quite a bit with Faroe through these past few months.”

“You can say since he ran off,” Marie said with a snort. Lily looked over at John who flushed.

“Marie,” Arthur said insistently like he had scolded her for saying this before, “This is Lily. She's a friend of John's. They’ve known each other for some years.”

“It's good to meet you, my dear. I hear your nurse?”

“Oh, so John’s been talking about me?”

“Without End,” Marie said cheerfully, “but he says that you also help him test new recipes, so I am very glad to meet your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you too and him testing his recipes on me mostly amounts to him making me eat more than grilled cheese.”

“That's not a meal on its own,” John replied as though by reflex.

“Oh by the way,” Arthur said, snapping his fingers, “I meant to tell you all. I did get a text from Oscar, and well, he sort of mentioned that he didn't really have anywhere to be. So I invited him.”

“Oh! Uh- Good,” Parker said tone carefully cheerful despite his face clearly betraying a more complicated emotion, “that's great! I'm glad he's going to have somewhere to be.”

Marie lit up, “Oh good I haven't seen Oscar in a while outside of church. It will be nice to catch up. Do you know, I have been at that church longer than he has? And I saw his very first sermon! Oh the way he stuttered.”

“Sermon, so he…?” Lily said slowly.

“Oh Oscar is a friend of mine,” Arthur clarified, making nothing clearer.

“He's a priest,” John said answering what Lily was clearly asking.

“He is in fact is priest,” Arthur said with a nod, his expression tense, “He's far more relaxed then what you might guess from the job description. I hope this doesn’t trouble you?”

“Oh no, yeah. I mean the more the merrier right?” Lily flapped her hand in the air brushing away the concern. It did trouble her a little, but what was she supposed to say? No? Make him eat alone??

“There's plenty of food,” John agreed though he looked like it pained him to say.

He caught her eye and then he turned and he caught Parker’s and he shot a look at the kitchen door as though to indicate that they should follow. Lily gave Marie an awkward apologetic look.

Marie just waved her off gently and said, “Oh weren't the three of you going to need to go get ice?”

John flicked his eyebrows up, “Yes, we need ice.”

“Why don't you go do that? I'll keep an eye on everything. Anything that needs done while I'm here?”

John shook his head, “When the timer goes off the turkey needs basting, but beyond that nothing.”

“I'm on it, you three go do that and collect whatever else we need. Take your time,” Marie said with a succinct nod.

“Yes ma'am,” Parker nodded.

With that, the three of them hustled out the door, Parker looking weary, John looking… something. A hardly contained emotion that Lily had not yet placed. Lily felt nothing but confused.

Out the front door and down the walk they beelined for Arthur's car, John climbing into the front seat.

“Hey man,” Parker said, “You might want to take off the apron before we go into whatever store.”

John looked down, surprised, “Oh I forgot I was wearing it.”

“Yeah, what is with that apron by the way?” Lily said

“Oh,” Parker laughed, “that was gift from me in honor of the name change.”

“Oh… sorry but that seems… grotesque?” She said. Not that sorry. Parker was odd. Was this the birthday gift he'd gotten John?

“Yeah, it was supposed to be a sort of private joke honestly,” Parker scratched the back of his head up. After several seconds of uncomfortable silence he gestured to the car, “Here, why don't you take the passenger side? I'll get in the back.”

All three climbed into the car and the moment the door was closed.

Lily said, “So what's happening?”

“Oscar,” John said.

Parker said, “Oh my God right? Like this isn't going to be the world's weirdest dinner already. For starters, does Daniel even know Arthur's queer?”

“Does Marie?” John asked.

“Oh she's guessed I get the feeling,” Parker said, looking awkward in the rear view mirror.

Lily frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Oh we just talked in the car and she made it clear she knows, it was a whole thing, but yeah she seems pretty cool with it actually. But Daniel…”

“Is that Arthur's…?” Lily asked. John had flinched from calling him Arthur's father-in-law, so she did too. The wife's passing probably complicated that connection.

“Father-in-law,” John confirmed, “Last I heard he didn't know Arthur was queer at all.”

She frowned, “Okay that's troubling but how does that play into Oscar being a problem?”

John and Parker shared a look in the mirror as John turned out of the neighborhood.

“You go ahead,” Parker said, “‘m not gonna recount this story. I’ll get too petty. I’m letting it go.”

He did not sound like he was letting it go.

John shot her a look, “Obviously don't tell anyone I told you.”

“Okay.”

“So you know how Arthur's an alcoholic?”

“Yeah.”

“Well Oscar is too and the two of them drive to their meetings together.”

“Right.”

“And some other meeting, I think. They have a support group for single parents that Oscar runs so they've got this whole big secret shared alcoholism thing that Oscar's hiding from his entire congregation except for Parker who only knows because it just slowly became apparent. I think Marie doesn't know.”

“Okay maybe inviting him seems like a bad idea,” She agreed, contemplating the sheer number of secrets at that table.

John shook his head, his hand flicked on the blinker as they turned onto the main road, “It doesn't end there. The other night they went out for one of their meetings and the following morning when Parker arrived and tried to wake Arthur up, he walked in on Oscar naked trying to sneak out.”

“Oh my God,” She breathed, “how could you not have told me this immediately?”

“There was a lot going on,” John complained.

“Too much going on for you to maintain the requirements for the most basic friendship? Sharing gossip?”

“Lily please,” John sighed.

“Okay, okay,” she agreed, “Not important.”

“And the part that John is being delicate enough to not tell you about is that I have feelings for Arthur, Arthur knows, and just a couple days before the two of them did this I confessed to Oscar, my priest, that I had fallen in love with him.”

“Oh boy,” Lily said. She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled, “wow.”

She looked at John trying to gauge how he was feeling about the reveal. He didn't meet her eye.

John pulled into the gas station parking lot and turned off the car. The three of them exited.

“And so Oscar is about to be in the same room as Marie who does not know that he's an alcoholic. The same room as Arthur's father-in-law who does not know he's queer or an alcoholic and Parker who understandably has not been necessarily on speaking terms with Oscar since… everything,” John finished.

“Oh my God,” She said, “So basically Arthur just invited the most absolutely balls to the wall insane person he could have invited.”

“Yeah,” Parker said. The door to the gas station opened with a two note chime and three of them made their way to the case and pulled out two bags of ice and Lily grabbed a case of Mountain Dew.

When John quirked an eyebrow at her she said, “I'm sorry, do you expect me to get through all of that without caffeine?”

“John you monster leave the woman alone she's the only one with sense,” Parker said, “Grab a Code Red too.”

Okay fine, Parker wasn't awful. She shot him a grateful look.

John huffed in amusement, “Fine. Understood.”

“Thank you.”

Lily frowned, thinking, as they went up to the counter and paid.

Once they turned away and went back out to the car she said, “And no offense Parker, but I imagine this is made all the more weird for you because of the whole Faroe’s grandfather thing? Arthur's wife was his daughter right? Faroe’s not very big, it couldn't have been long. Probably weird to interact with the guy you like’s father-in-law.”

“Thank you! Okay, John was acting like I was crazy.”

Parker climbed in and John and Lily followed, buckling in, ice bags settling on the back seat with Parker. Lily put one box of soda on her lap and the other between her feet.

John rolled his eyes, backing out of the parking space, eyes fixed on the back up camera display. He mumbled, “It's fine, he's not going to know.”

“It's not about him knowing, John. It's about me knowing.”

John shrugged as he pulled out of the lot and back onto the road, “I just think Daniel is more understanding than you're giving him credit for. He knew before anyone that I was lying to Arthur and he didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay that shit you just said was nuts,” Parker said, “And we will unpack that but I don't think I have the bandwidth just yet.”

Lily didn’t either.

“Okay,” Lily sighed, feeling her shoulders tight with tension, “so this is going to be weird.”

“Oh yeah,” Parker slumped against the shoulder of John's chair and said, “Lavender, just drive far away from here. The three of us will start a new life of crime.”

“Right because that's what I need, to change my name and skip town, again.”

Parker let out a bark of laughter, “That’s fair yeah.”

“At least we'd have a guide in our life on the lam,” Lily argued, “Who better suited than a man with experience?”

“What am I going to do? Find another father to trick into letting me raise his daughter? And we couldn't leave without Faroe anyway.”

Lily nodded, sagely.

Parker hummed, “Yeah, I guess we're going to have to head back and get her. Might as well stay for dinner.”

“Right. We’ll head out right after,” John agreed, corner of his mouth ticking upward.

“Hey, let's all just agree that if we survive this, the next time the three of us meet we'll- I don't know- have an edible as a little treat,” Parker said, sitting back in his seat.

Lily snorted, “I tell you what, we survive this night, the three of us will go back to mine and we'll do it tonight .”

Parker laughed, “Alright you're on.”

When they pulled back up to the house the driveway was full.

“I think that's Daniel's rental,” John said pointing at the sleek blue vehicle sitting outside. He had to drive past once and find a new place to park further down the street because even the spot on the curb was full.

“Oscar took the last spot,” Parker said.

“What a great guy,” John mumbled, climbing from the parked car.

“In absolute fairness, Lavender, where else was he meant to park?” Parker's tone was gentle and Lily watched as something about it drained the tension from John immediately.

John huffed, complaints sounding far more half-hearted, “He could have parked down here.” He took one case of soda from Lily.

“Yeah yeah, I know. He's out to get us for sure,” Parker hauled both bags of ice up onto his shoulders and began walking. He walked up ahead and Lily saw the way his arms flexed. She widened her eyes and gave John a pointed look and he, with a long suffering sigh, nodded and mouthed ‘I know.’

Parker's pace pulled him ahead and out of earshot, Lily leaned over and said, “Nice butt too.”

“Lily please,” John said, pained

“You know, adding to all of this the incredibly weird scenario that you're in, with your feelings…”

“Yes, it's going to be hell.”

“No kidding.”

Parker transferred the second bag of ice to one arm and pushed his way through the door, calling, “Hey hey, we're back.”

Lily carried the case of soda inside, “I come bearing more drinks, since we're going to have more people.”

The kitchen held two more men now, one around their age and an older man who she suspected was Daniel.

“Oh good! Alright introductions,” Arthur said, climbing to his feet.

*

In the end they were unable to sit in the kitchen. It wasn't a particularly large table. It had been intended for Arthur alone when he had bought the house, but was perfectly serviceable for six or so people if everyone was very comfortable with one another. It was not meant for eight relative strangers.

They moved into the living room, dragging some of the kitchen chairs with them, and pushing the coffee table aside to make space. Arthur, John, and Parker crowded in together on the couch. Daniel had gestured for Mrs. Pilon to take the armchair and he himself had settled in one of the kitchen chairs between Miss Lily and Oscar.

They all awkwardly balanced their plates on their laps. Faroe seemed happy enough to be placed in between Oscar on one side and John on the couch. Both of them periodically giving her attention whenever she simply shouted for them to do so.

“It's good to meet you,” Oscar said, not for the first time that evening, but this time in a tone that indicated he intended to make a conversation out of it.

Daniel found that quite a relief as he was curious about Oscar himself, “Yes, it's good to meet you as well.”

“I've heard a lot about you,” Oscar said, “being Faroe’s grandfather and all. She's a wonderful girl.”

“She is, isn’t she? Arthur mentioned you’re a priest. I've never known Arthur to have much patience for religion, seems rather surprising that you two are such good friends,” Daniel admitted.

Oscar laughed scratching at the back of his head.

“Aye, it's sort of a point of tension,” he admitted, “I don't necessarily bring it up around him beyond reminding him that the church is there to help him if he needs.”

“I see,” Daniel said, he leaned closer and lowered his voice a bit, “I'm glad that he has you around. I always thought that Arthur seemed the sort who could use guidance. It's always good for a man to have someone he can turn to in times of difficulty for wisdom. Especially if those words of wisdom may be grounded in a book I am rather fond of.”

“Ha…” Oscar said with a ton of slightly strained amusement, “Yes, well, I do my best.”

“I'm sure that your best is plenty enough to bring the light of God into these men's lives,” Daniel clapped him on the shoulder and cast a look over the couch.

“I'm sure Parker would attest to the value you add to your community?” Daniel said, realizing that Parker was looking at them and listening to the conversation.

“Oh, I don't know,” Oscar said awkwardly.

Daniel waved away his doubts, “No, no, him being a member of your congregation, him bringing Arthur to you in a time of need, clearly Parker finds some value in your support. I am aware of John's absence earlier this year…”

John's head lifted, eyes wide. He looked away from Faroe and glanced around trying to catch up on the conversation in which his name had just been mentioned.

“And I'm sure you were a great help at that time. Speaking of which, Parker, I should thank you for lending your assistance. I truly would have come down if needed.”

“Oh yeah, of course, I mean these two ,” Parker gestured to Faroe and knocked his shoulder gently into Arthur's. Arthur was also paying attention now, the whole room having settled into this conversation. “They're very important to me, sir. I wouldn't have liked to be anywhere else and I feel pretty good about being able to be there for them whenever they need.”

Daniel gave him a nod of approval and turned back to Oscar, “I have had many of these conversations this year. First with John and Parker and now yourself. I am grateful for the help you have given my family. I hope we might have the opportunity to meet again at some point.”

“You know,” Arthur said, shooting up from the couch, “I think I have a box of the printed pictures of Faroe somewhere upstairs. Parker, would you mind helping me find them?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Parker said, climbing to his feet as well.

“Great, we will be right back,” Arthur said, casting a smile around the room.

Miss Lily and Mrs. Pilon picked up their conversation about bone disorders again and filled the room with a low level chatter as Faroe took another bite of her mashed potatoes at John's urging.

As the silence began to draw on Daniel said, “And John about your absence-”

“We're back!” Arthur announced rushing into the room, “I found the pictures. Why don't we all take a look at these. We all like Faroe.”

Oh Daniel had put his foot into something, he hadn't realized. He let the moment pass and happily accepted as Oscar passed him photos. They went around the group one by one, Parker explaining what each picture was of to Arthur as they passed them along to John. There were a few of her as a newborn, mostly her and Arthur. As time went on more included John or Parker. Daniel got to see the Polaroid of Faroe and Arthur out in the Autumn afternoon, Faroe in her caterpillar costume.

She was smiling in one of them.

Daniel looked up at her and was surprised to see her meeting his gaze. Faroe turned and looked at him with wide eyes, curious and unblinking, in an expression that held nothing of Arthur and everything of Bella. Daniel had a picture of her at the same age making the same face. Something in his throat seized and he turned away for a moment taking a slow sip of water from his glass.

When he was re-centered he looked around and saw John and Arthur leaning together over Parker. John’s hand draped over the back of the couch behind them both as he described in low tones Faroe’s smile in a picture Parker held. Arthur was smiling.

Oscar leaned near Faroe and held up the photo and said, “That's you! See how big you've gotten? Whoa so big.” She just stared at Oscar too, eyes wide, and he smiled.

“Whoa,” She said clear as day drawing everyone’s attention with an excited murmur.

Perhaps Daniel needed to visit more.

 

As the plates began to be cleared away Parker quietly excused himself citing a need for some fresh air and promising to be back to help with cleanup in just a couple minutes. Daniel saw his opportunity and a minute after Parker did so, he slipped out behind him to the backyard. As he did, he heard a startled noise from Parker where he leaned on the wall directly next to the door. He exhaled quickly leaving a cloud of smoke hanging in the air. Parker turned to hide his hand behind his back and used his free hand to bat haphazardly at the smoke. Daniel pulled the door shut behind him.

Parker sighed as he saw it was him, pulling a cigarette back out. and taking another drag off of it, “Don't tell John, he'll kill me.”

“You'll find no judgment here,” Daniel said, “I'm sorry. I hope I'm not interrupting. I only came out to- well- to apologize.”

“Huh?” Parker said weakly.

“For the other day when we met on the phone. I'm afraid I was calling expecting somebody else entirely and well- the holidays are difficult, of course, so without repeating my mistake and over explaining again, I wanted to apologize for overstepping my bounds.”

“Oh no, sir, please,” Parker said trying to politely exhale away from Daniel, even though the breeze immediately blew the smoke back in his direction, “If I cut you off or made it weird, it's just cuz I've been dealing with a lot with the holidays too. You weren't out of line, honestly, it was nice to hear about Faroe's mom a little more. I'm willing to listen if you ever need to talk to somebody about it again.”

“Thank you, I'll leave you to it. I just wanted to say my piece and offer my apologies.”

“No apologies needed at all, sir.”

Daniel dipped his head in recognition and said, “I'm going to step back inside now, so if you want to allow the smoke to dissipate for a moment so you won't be found out?”

“It's not an everyday thing,” Parker explained, quickly, “Holidays are a hell of a time.”

“No judgment, if I had sense about me I would have brought my pipe. I will see you in a few minutes.”

And Daniel slipped back inside.

*

He hated nights like this. He hated them. He hated the intricate dinners and the big groups of people. He hated the way everything happened all at once and there was no room to breathe. He tugged impatiently at the collar of his shirt and did another glance around the room at all the sunny faces that surrounded him. It just had to be a big gathering didn't it? It couldn't just have been quiet, something ignorable enough to pretend it didn't happen.

Dinner had been over for hours and they all sat and lounged around making amiable conversation, drinks in hand, cigar smoke hanging heavy in the air. Small talk. It was considered polite. Business would wait until tomorrow when everyone would capitalize on the firm bonds of friendship they had ensured between one another for yet another year, but tonight the game was small talk.

Yellow stayed glued to his father's side so he couldn't be accused of avoiding any of their guests.

“Hastur!” said a cheerful voice that approached at a stroll. Kayne's hands were instead buried in his pockets, “Well how have you two been? How's the search for Johnny?”

Hastur smiled, it didn’t even attempt the trek to his eyes, “Well. I’m sure we’ll find him any day now. How’s the search for a wife?”

A barb to point out Kayne's own social failings, but his posture didn't change.

Kayne blinked, smile widening, “Oh it's just great. I tell ya, I’ve met the most fantastic guy. You’d like him. Hey you should come to the dinner party I’m having in February, you two should meet.”

A subtler shot back, the rumor was John ran away because he was gay and Hastur was homophobic. Their father was homophobic, but Yellow knew John just ran away because he was pathetic.

Yellow saw his father’s eyes flicker with surprise, anger, and then he was back to an impassive smile, the mirrored surface of a lake, “Oh? Well, we’ll be there. I look forward to meeting your… friend.”

“Boyfriend,” Kayne corrected, tipping one of his shoulders forward as he said the word and leaning back again. He was fucking with Hastur, it was unlikely he had a boyfriend, that would require someone being willing to tolerate Kayne.

“Indeed,” Hastur’s mouth was thin.

“That’ll be great! See you two there,” Kayne said, raising his voice as he started to stroll away, “And Hey Johnny-boy is totally welcome if you find him! I’ll keep an eye out.”

Yellow saw his father’s grip on his champagne glass shift tensely. Then he turned and walked in the complete opposite direction of Kayne. Yellow trailed after at a safe distance to not be caught in the wake of rage Kayne had left.

*

Noel shifted in his car, taking another bite of the ice cold burger in his hand, and readjusted his binoculars.

They were playing board games in the living room now. The cat was changing laps every time they stopped paying attention to her.

Noel had been watching for weeks. Not constantly, sure, he had to work, but as often as he could spare the time.

He hadn’t expected to ever bump into one of the King’s boys ever again. He figured he'd never get a break in that case. Rolland had given his life to expose the corruption of guys like that and it was dead in the water.

These rich fucks would slide their greasy mitts all over everything from OSHA inspectors to the police force to goddamn hospitals. The King wasn’t the worst of them, but he was damn near it if you asked Noel.

He’d gotten close, years back. Worked with the few cops who refused to play ball with the guy. Played the role of PI with no moral compass, willing and happy to be on Hastur’s payroll. He was trusted, he better be after all the shit he had to overlook to get into that position. When Noel got caught, finally trying to steal evidence-

He was lucky he’d gotten out and he hadn’t wasted time skipping town. Arriving in Arkham should have been a relief, but all it felt like was failing Rolland.

So when he was dropping off some guy and that face, that voice, came rushing across the lawn toward them. When chances fall in your lap like that, you can’t ignore them.

So Noel was watching.

The big problem was, John wasn't doing a damn thing wrong. He cleaned house, visited friends, played with the kid.

It was starting to seem like he'd escaped to Arkham just the same as Noel had. And if that was the case, he didn't trust it yet, but if it was the case he might just have to approach the guy and see if they could ally.

He needed to beat Hastur King and if anyone could do it, it was one of the King's own.

Notes:

It was fun to do a quick dip into all these non-typical pov characters

took a break from writing robot smut long enough to finally edit this, I Hope to be able to post the next few chapters without crazy waits because they're written just super rough drafts for now

up next: The promised post-dinner hangout at Lily's

Chapter 22: Letting Loose

Summary:

after dinner

The three of them were collapsed in Lily's living room. John and Lily both with their legs stretched out on the couch in opposite directions, hers pressed up against the back, and his hanging half off. Parker sat at Lily's side on a bean bag.

He never realized how much tension he held himself with until it was gone. Sprawled, barefoot and exhausted in a new friend's living room, he felt a little like a marionette with its strings cut. All the stress and need to keep it together for Arthur had ebbed away as the gummy had kicked in.

Parker was not, typically, a guy who got drunk or high. He'd drink for sure especially to blend into crowds, but usually not enough to meaningfully throw him off kilter. Now he felt loose, and honestly? Mostly sleepy.

“Well, it could have been worse. At least nobody got unexpectedly outed,” Lily said finally with a slight chuckle the three of them had sat here for hours debriefing after dinner.

It hadn't been bad necessarily, but the tension had been real and palpable in the room. Oscar's eyes flitting to Arthur, locking there for a moment, then to Parker, then quickly away to John, and finally flinching. This process repeated several times as John openly glared at Oscar all through the dinner.

Then there was Daniel looking at Faroe as though he was about to literally burst into tears for half an hour. Parker needed a cigarette after that so he didn’t tear up himself.

Marie, all the while, had to be gently steered away from topics that would make Daniel start questioning just what kind of Catholics he was sitting in a room with. Multiple times they had to redirect her from trying to play matchmaker with the various men in the room. At one point she seemed to get confused and tried to set up John and Oscar before being gently reminded that Oscar was a priest and Daniel will be back in a moment, so please ma'am.

But it Hadn’t been the worst. They ended up all playing Uno, in the dark to even the odds for Arthur. Then Faroe and Marie both started getting a bit too tired and they called it a night.

And it was nice sitting here in Lily's place, despite being admittedly a little more high than Parker had expected to be. Lily was nice and it made Parker feel like even more of a dick for having scared her so bad at first. Her arms sparkled as she gestured, was she wearing glitter? John was smiling, amused.

When Parker realized he’d been a little zoned out he shook himself a bit and sat up. She was talking about this girl from work that she was flirting-but-not-flirting with.

“When I wore my bracelet with the pan flag colors that I made, she said she loved it and asked if I could make her one, but that could mean anything.”

Parker nodded sagely and said, “Have you compared hands sizes?”

“Well sure, She said she wanted to compare hands and kinda poked fun that mine were so small,” Lily explained, staring at the floor seeming to think about it, “Then- well I guess she did like- lace our finger together? And covered my hand with her other one?”

Parker grinned, “Yeah girl go after her! Like what are you doing? You could have gotten the U-Haul rented by now!”

Lily rolled her eyes, “You know I honestly don't think I'm the one on trial for not expressing my feelings here.” The tone she said it in was so pointed that Parker flushed.

“Alright, alright, touchy. No pressure, take your time,” he said, easing back into the bean bag chair and then he glanced over at John who looked almost frightened.

Wait, had that not been a jab at Parker? Had that been a job at John?

“Lavender?” Parker said with incredulity.

“What?” John snapped, looking at him quickly.

“I just was wondering if there was something you needed to share with the class? There some special somebody I don't know about? You'll have to bring them by the house. I need to have a conversation with them about what their intentions are with our John.”

John seemed to turn a bit pink at that and Parker grinned.

“It's nothing, there's no one,” he said, pointing the latter half of the statement at Lily with a pointed look and gritted teeth.

Lily threw her hands up and said, “Okay alright.”

“Oh come on John, I have so little in my life,” Parker complained, “Give me this, let me in on your love life, so I can live vicariously, and ignore my own problems for a while!”

John sat back on the couch and averted his eyes, staring at the wall stubbornly.

Parker leaned forward, and gave him his best big wide eyes, and said, “Pleeeeeease?”

John's days flicked back down to Parker and Parker saw his resolve crumble in real time.

Looking like a man utterly defeated he said, “Don't- You insisted, so you can't be angry at me.”

Parker's eyebrows shot up, “Okay…”

“So, you won't be angry?”

“Cross my heart,” Parker said, doing the motion.

“I am-” he shot a tentative look at Lily who nodded him on. John said, “I have feelings…”

He stilled himself for a moment with eyes closed. Then shoulders dropping, he opened his eyes and said, “I like Arthur.”

Parker looked at him with wide shocked eyes. He had suspected this once, but neither of them had made a move even when they became close again.

“Oh,” he said. He sat forward, “huh yeah.” He sat back.

“Yeah??” John repeated voice coiling with a tension that spoke to impatience, but Parker knew it was just fear. Parker turned the idea over in his head feeling out the edges of it.

Then he snapped his fingers and John startled at the sudden sound, “That's why you hate Oscar!”

John frowned, then looked like he was thinking, and then got a look of realization, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Parker repeated, laughter bubbled up from him.

“I- Shut up. I didn't think of it.”

Parker grinned, “You didn't realize that you hated this guy's guts because you were jealous?”

John’s face was bright red, “Well… yes.”

Lily leaned toward Parker with a stage whisper of, “John has never identified a feeling in his life because then he might risk expressing one.”

*

Marie was lovely. Oscar had just walked her to her door for the night and she’d sent him away with the leftover pie.

Now he drove the slowly emptying streets, watching the lights flash by as he drove just a bit too fast to be legal. He didn't know where he was going. When he set out it had been a means of clearing his head after a long night sitting so close to Arthur and so very far away.

But he found himself on the doorstep of a man who, by the looks of the darkened windows, had already gone to bed. Oscar pounded on his door once, once again, and a third time until finally the man who’d been Oscar’s mentor and supervisor these past years, stood in his pajamas in the doorway. He, reasonably, looked was being called out to an emergency situation. Eyes squinting and bleary in the porchlight.

Oscar knew the disrespect this showed. Oscar knew that this was something to be left for morning time at the least. He knew he should apologize and leave and forget this altogether. Even now, he could not yet allow himself to voice his intent in his own mind.

“Father Ethan.”

“Oscar?” He frowned with exhaustion, “Are you alright?”

“No. Yes,” Oscar shook his head, then the words left him in an anticlimactic sigh, “I'm leaving the priesthood.”

*

Arthur and Daniel went about the work of putting Faroe to bed. Parker and John had gone a while ago and cited some agreement between the two of them and Lily to spend a little more time in one another's company.

Arthur was glad Parker and Lily were getting along better. Mostly Arthur was glad John had people to rely on now. Arthur turned as he and Daniel finished with putting Faroe to bed and he shut the door gently behind them.

“Well, John said that his room is open to you and I agree. Stay. Faroe should spend some more time with you before you leave. I would be very glad to have you tonight.”

“I don't want to take John's bed,” Daniel made the polite denial.

“Truly it will be alright. He’s more than welcome to come rouse me from my bed and force me to sleep on the couch if he is uncomfortable, or truth be told, we're adults. He and I can share.”

“I may take you up on that, I am quite tired,” Daniel agreed, then said, “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to come back into town for Faroe's birthday. It's very near Christmas, I thought perhaps we could spend some more time together? I’d like Faroe to know me better.”

Arthur softened, “Yes, Daniel, that would be lovely. If you need a place to stay, I'm sure we can arrange something here.”

“Good good, I’m sure it wouldn’t be necessary. But thank you for being willing to have me,” Daniel said. Arthur heard him make his way down the stairs.

“Oh and Arthur?” He said, sounding like he had stopped halfway down, “I like your friends. They seem to be a good influence on you.”

Arthur gave him a weak smile, because now was not the time to get into the very clear implication that Daniel approved of his friends only because they were all Catholic.

“Good night, Daniel. We will try not to wake you too early tomorrow, but Parker and I do have work to be done.”

“Of course.”

*

Lily had cited her day at work tomorrow as a reason to head to bed eventually, but had forbade the both of them from going back home.

“Don't be ridiculous, I have a hide-a-bed. Here,” she said, shooing John off the couch, and pulling out the bed inside by its frame, “You two can stay here. It's late, you were high. I'm not having that on my conscience.”

Parker smiled, “Thank you, Lily.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty great,” she nodded and gave him a smug half smile. John caught her eye and gave her a grateful look.

She sent him a softer smile, “I have to get to bed. John, you know where I keep the blankets right?”

John nodded. He had stayed here only once before and it was the night before he returned to Arthur and Faroe. He’d come over to update her and ended up sleeping over.

“Good,” she said, with a succinct nod, “Then you two get cozy. I'm probably going to have to go before you guys wake up, but don't worry about it. Have anything in the fridge or my coffee.”

“Thanks,” Parker said, looking embarrassed by the idea of being here after she was gone.

She held up a finger and went over to a dish by the door and said, “Here, John, keep this. You can lock up when you two leave.” She dropped a key into his palm.

John's eyes grew wide, “Are you sure?”

“Well, unless you're planning on coming here, to my one bedroom apartment, and stealing all of my many many valuables... Yeah John you can have a key to my place. I want you to. What if I lose mine?”

John almost wanted to turn it back into her hand and force Parker to walk with him now so they didn’t need it. But Lily wasn’t even worried. She trusted him.

“Okay,” John felt his neck burning alongside his cheeks in a furious flush as he realized Parker was here to witness this moment of hesitation on his part.

“Good,” Lily smiled.

Lily went to bed.

John felt his heart beating very quickly in his chest at the prospect of sharing a space with Parker. He pushed aside the thoughts, texted Arthur to let him know they wouldn’t be back, and made for the linen closet where Lily kept all the spare bedding. He pulled out what they would need. He got a sheet, a blanket, and then grabbed a second, unsure of what the etiquette was for two friends sharing a bed.

When John returned Parker was in just his undershirt and was setting his knives on the side table, a series of three soft thuds as he placed each.

He untucked the shirt from his pants and for a moment there was a flash of midriff. John averted his eyes as Parker turned to look at him and began to make the bed.

Parker wordlessly grabbed the other corner from John and fitted the sheet over the thin mattress.

John gave him a nod of thanks.

Parker took one of the blankets and helped him lay out a space for them.

“Lily's real nice for letting us stay. Tell her thank you again for me? I don't know that I'll see her in the morning. It sounds like she's leaving pretty early.”

“I will, of course,” John said, trying to make his voice work normally. Was that a normal reply?

He was wearing the same thing that Parker was, a plain t-shirt, his patterned button up having been lost over the course of a warm evening in, and their jeans were very similar. John didn't know why when Parker wore it it felt like so much less. John never quite got used to Parker without his jacket on or one of his work shirts. The thin cotton was tight against his skin.

He fumbled for the charging cable that Lily kept around for guests and plugged his phone into the wall behind the couch.

“Three knives?” John asked not looking at Parker, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, one for utility, one for self defense, the third for self defense after they take the first two.”

“Isn’t that overkill?” John asked, turning to look at him. Parker was standing up, laying the other blanket out next to John.

He laughed, sitting down on the other side, “What? You think I didn't get into any trouble before Arthur was around? Having a partner is much safer, but yeah, I’ve had plenty of people try to kick my ass in my line of work. Or worse. Most people lay off when they find out I’m armed at all, but I’ve had to use one once. I’ll admit, it's been good having someone to guard my six.”

John scoffed, “Your six?”

“Shut up, I thought I'd try it, didn't come off, whatever. Lay down John,” Parker's eyes were warm Brown and crinkled at the edges with his amusement. John laid down easily, still looking at him. With Parker sitting up, leaning on his hand to look down at him, John felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach.

Parker’s gaze softened, his mouth opening just slightly. He sunk down to lay next to John, still propped up on his elbow, pursing his lips, thoughtful. John felt pinned in place and breathless.

After a long moment, Parker cleared his throat, and turned to flick off the table lamp, sending them into darkness, only broken by the street lamp outside. Parker laid down properly, an orange line of light cutting across his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

“You know, Marie was talking to me when I was giving her the ride to the house?”

“Oh?” John assumed this was going somewhere.

“Yeah, she was uh- She was asking me how long I was going to wait till I asked either you or Arthur out.”

“Oh,” John said voice coming out thin and strained.

“Yeah I know,” Parker huffed an almost-laugh, “I- I told her that everything with Arthur obviously was too complicated and she really pressed me about you and…” Parker got quiet for a second.

“And?” John prompted, carefully steady.

Parker smiled, rolled his eyes, “Don’t worry, I told her you weren't interested.”

John said, “...Right.”

John was quiet, lying in the dark. This was the moment. He knew this was the moment where he said something. What Parker had said, he could correct it, he just needed to say something. He just needed to-

“Hey, so you know how you're jealous of Oscar?” Parker had turned his head and was looking at John.

“What?” John said, trying to catch up, “Oh… yes.”

“You never felt that way toward me?”

“I-” John hesitated, “I don't know. A little at first. I just- It didn't seem like an issue if it was you.”

“How so?”

“I don't know…”

And he didn't. There was something safe to the way that they folded into a dynamic that included John. It didn't feel like anything was going to come of it so long as the three of them held in this pattern. Stasis, raising Faroe, being perhaps closer than they should be. Parker wasn't going to take Arthur from him, because the three of them would have to move for that to happen. John hadn't considered Oscar.

Parker gently knocked his elbow into John's arm and didn't move away from the pressure between them. Bare skin against bare skin, laying over top their blankets, “I wouldn't mind it if he’d choose you either. I’d get it, you’re… sweet, not bad looking.”

John laughed, “Not bad?”

Parker gave him a crooked smile, “Maybe a little better than average even, but you’re definitely not bad.”

John couldn't suppress his smile, “You're not bad either.”

*

In the morning Oscar found himself in a worn out jacket and a t-shirt clutching at a bag.

He shifted from foot to foot at the top of the stairs above the shop. He didn't know how to ask this, if he even could, how he would keep her from feeling badly if she needed to say no. But he didn't know where else to go, and he had known her the longest.

So he knocked.

Marie wasn't the one to open the door. It was her sister, she looked him over with bright eyes and grinned.

“Marie!” She called, “your priest is here!” He winced.

“Oscar?” Marie's voice called from the back. Marie pushed her way forwards to the door and stopped when she saw him.

She looked him over, took in the suitcase, and the casual clothes. She glanced at her watch. Friday morning, he was usually busy, she knew that. She looked up at him, thoughtful. Oscar saw the pieces sliding into place for her.

Her face softened, “We have an attic room, it's yours as long as you need, on a few conditions.”

Oscar blinked, surprised.

“After the first month you'll pay rent and buy your own groceries. You won't cause any problems for me or my sister. I head to my bedroom promptly at six PM. And I’m asleep past eight PM. You are not to disturb me under any circumstances. The front door, which I’ll find you a key for, is not to be opened past eleven. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“If you’re out past that time, you’re out for the night!”

“Understood.”

“And Oscar there will be no alcohol in my home. I will consider now an exception, but you will not enter my house intoxicated again.”

He flushed, knowing she must’ve smelled the scotch on him.

He nodded, “Yes ma'am.”

“Good. However, you can take whatever time you need in the attic to… dry out. I can bring you food if you need it. There will be meals, but if you are not here for them I cannot assure that we will plan for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Good. Come in, set your bags down. Do you have anything else you need to get?”

“No, I'm afraid there wasn't much that I owned. It all belonged to the church.”

“I see,” She frowned, “Well this is a shame.”

He looked at the floor, shame hitting him in waves, “I'm sorry ma’am.”

“Oh don't go apologizing, you can explain your reasons to me once you’ve had time to settle in. I just mean we're going to have to listen to Father Ethan talk this Sunday. Dreadfully boring man.”

With that, she went back into the kitchen where the smell of cooking meat was emanating from.

He stepped inside delicately, shutting the door behind him.

“I will get out as soon as I can!” He promised.

“As I said, as long as there's rent after a month, I don't care how long you stay.”

Oscar sighed, “Thank you again ma'am.”

Notes:

lily,
you're welcome that i didn't make them make out on your couch,
Signed, cicada

up next:
a kiss
but more importantly Faroe's birthday!!

Chapter 23: An Understanding

Summary:

A birthday party and a broken heater

Notes:

Had to take frequent breaks to breathe deeply while writing and editing this, this chapter is exactly my shit, the rare benefit to writing

edit 1/26/25: @r-r-raf on tumblr drew a wonderful picture that i have (attempted to) attach at the end. thank you raf if you see this bit its so pretty :]

The first to arrive, unsurprisingly, was Daniel. He had come into town the night before, too late to pay them a visit, and had promised to join them for breakfast.

He brought a dress for Faroe that they changed her into before they left and took them out to a diner. John and Parker crowded in on one side of the bench, leaving Arthur to sit pressed shoulder to shoulder against Daniel. Faroe sat at the end of the table in the high chair the restaurant provided.

“She seems very interested in everything that's happening,” John explained. Faroe’s silence spoke to her focus. Since she’d started being understood she’d hardly stopped talking, constantly narrating her life to them the way John did to her. It made Arthur melt whenever he’d hear the two of them chatting at the kitchen table.

Now though she was all attentive silence. It had been a rare occasion that they had brought her into a restaurant at all, and this was very much the first time that they had sat down with the intention to eat. Arthur was ready at a moment's notice to sweep her out of the chair and go wait outside with her as the others collected their food and paid their bill.

She didn’t always like noisy places, so they tended to avoid them. Usually it was okay once she had time to adapt, lord knew she had enough fun playing with the other small children at the support group. The diner with its low conversations and sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen seemed to be dull enough that she was happy.

“My friend, I appreciate your attempts with the crayon, and you have correctly identified it goes with the paper,” John explained quietly, “But if you’ll let me adjust your grip a little. See? As we move the point over the paper that is how we create the colors you’re aiming for.”

“Da da da,” She turned Arthur’s direction and he heard her slap the paper twice.

“Wow! I know,” He breathed, appropriately surprised.

Arthur's attempts at getting Faroe to call him something were recent. He felt a little like a fool for not having attempted it until he had noticed Faroe already saying John's name. He’d admittedly been surprised that no meaningful jealousy had to come about in that moment. He was just pleased for both of them. Ever since then he had been making more of an effort to tell her what to call him and she picked up on it so fast. She was very clever.

“Whoa,” she said. Arthur laughed.

Daniel asked them about Faroe, and their work. Parker engaged him in a conversation about his own field. Arthur and John tried to carefully guide Faroe through the meal, gently quieting her when she got a little too excited, or picking up the pieces of buttered pancakes that she dropped.

When they got back to the house they all helped decorate as John made the cake. He had been testing recipes all week, explaining to them that this was Faroe’s first celebration and he needed to make sure it was right.

“It needs to be perfect,” He’d explained to Arthur one night as he had Arthur trying the third cake in as many days, “She only gets a first birthday once. I don’t want to mess it up.”

Arthur had tried to reassure him that every cake had been lovely, but in the end he left John to his fretting.

Lily was the first through the door and she greeted Faroe happily, “Auntie Lily has a gift for you! Just you wait, you're going to love it.” She dropped an audible kiss onto the top of Faroe’s head.

“Auntie is it?” Arthur said, amused.

“Oh absolutely. She's my favorite niece, and I have a brother with children.”

“Lily…” John’s half-hearted disapproval appeared in the way he let the statement trail off.

“It's not my fault that she's objectively cuter and better behaved than those little monsters. The last time I visited them for the holidays one of them hit me with their iPad. She was thirteen.”

Lily helped Parker hang the banner. Daniel and Arthur moved all of the files out of the living room and into John's room for the time being.

Marie arrived next with Oscar trailing behind. Arthur wasn't particularly surprised that she had gotten a ride from Oscar but he was a bit surprised to see Oscar at all.

They'd hardly spoken since Thanksgiving and Arthur had been increasingly feeling like he might have made a real mistake inviting everyone that night. When he had messaged Oscar about whether they were still on for the meetings Oscar had said he was busy every time. Beyond that Arthur hadn't had the guts to strike up a more casual conversation.

“Marie, lovely to see you,” Arthur smiled.

“It's good to see you as well, Parker. Where's the birthday girl?”

Arthur didn’t bother to correct the mistake.

“She's in the kitchen with John, watching him make the cake so he has someone to talk to as he frosts. I'm sure he would not be opposed to having somebody else who is more versed in baking than Faroe is.”

“She knows more than you do,” John called out from the kitchen, offended.

“I'll go join them,” Marie said and gave Arthur an unexpected pat on the cheek as she passed

“Good to see you,” Oscar said, voice rough, and he cleared his throat.

“It's good to see you as well. I haven't spoken to you in a little while. How are things?” It felt like walking on ice. Both fragile and slick.

“They've… been interesting.” Helpful, very descriptive.

“How are things at the church?” Arthur offered politely.

“Ah well, I don't know.”

Arthur blinked, “What?”

“I quit,” Oscar said.

Arthur's eyes widened. He gently took Oscar's arm and let him further down the hall, away from the two doorways that led to rooms full of people. They stood just outside the laundry room and a few feet away from John's door.

“What do you mean?”

“I went on Thanksgiving and I just… quit,” Even Oscar sounded a little shocked by his actions.

“Jesus Christ, that's… Well, what happened?

“It's…”

A knock sounded at the door

Arthur winced, “I'm so sorry Oscar. Just a moment if you will?

“Of course, not really the time for it anyway. Just worry about the party.”

 

“Can we talk about this after?” Arthur asked, moving toward the door slowly.

“Can’t, I'm busy, I have to go home with Marie. I promised I would make dinner tonight.”

“You're living with Marie?” Arthur stopped briefly.

“Aye, she was very kind and took me in. I'll be staying with her until I can get back on my feet.”

“Oh! Well that's good. If you needed you could-” Another knock at the door.

“Should I get that?” Parker called.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’ll be right there. We’ll talk soon, right?” Arthur started making for the door properly.

“...Sure. Of course.”

“Coffee? Tuesday after next?”

“Aye, I should be free then on account of being unemployed.”

Arthur let out a sharp laugh, “Incredibly Fair.”

He opened the door, “Hello! Please Please come in.”

After that the few other parents and toddlers he’d invited slowly trickled in. Arthur rushed around, greeting people. He made his way into the kitchen checking on the snack trays that Parker was helping John put together. They were finished by the time Arthur found a moment to stop in. They worked fast together.

John and Parker had grown closer than Arthur could have predicted. Sometimes it felt as though the two of them were having whole coded conversations that he couldn't understand.

“Dadadadada,” Faroe said seriously. She was sitting in her high chair in the kitchen still.

Arthur beamed, "Yes, my love, what is it? What can I do for you?”

She blew a raspberry.

“Very true,” He agreed, Lifting her out, “We should let you speak with your guests shouldn’t we?”

“‘Scuse us,” Parker and John slid by, presumably with the snacks in hand.

The living room was full of parents, and tiny babbling people, and his family.

The soundscape was deeply comforting in an unexpected way.

Arthur had not thought of himself as a family man. Had Bella not gotten pregnant Arthur didn't think he would have ever had a child. But as he settled Faroe in the middle of the floor with all of her friends, something tight wound its way around his lungs and made him feel choked with joy.

Faroe cheerfully babbled to the other kids, explaining things that he could not understand, but seeming very pleased to be among friends.

And Arthur let himself wonder if he could have this forever. His daughter happy, surrounded by people who loved her. If he could have Faroe's birthday in their home, her getting bigger every year. Her surrounded by her friends, talking to them about things Arthur didn't understand.

The feeling that swept over him subsumed him in its tidal wave entirely and everything, everything in the past year cracked him open, all at once.

His unexpected marriage, his unexpected widowing. His daughter, his wonderful daughter, and the men who were helping him raise her. Arthur began to cry. Not quietly or respectably, but in great, heaving, choking sobs, as it all washed over him and demanded his attention.

It wasn't just joy, but it wasn't just grief. It was the knowledge that Faroe, a year later, was now larger and stronger and her lungs had matured and she was safe. It was that he could not see her. He would never see her again.

Arthur was insensible to the world for a time, trying desperately to compose himself despite the waves of emotion that threatened to drown him entirely. As he slowly managed to rein in the odd hiccuping gasps that left him, he found himself clasped by hands. There was a hand on his shoulder and one gently carding through his hair. An arm was slid around his waist as voices murmured softly from both sides.

“Easy, easy there, Artie.”

“Arthur, You’ll be fine, you just have to breath,” John’s voice came from the side that Arthur’s shoulder was being held from. His fingers fell away from Arthur’s hair as Arthur steadied.

In Parker's other arm he had picked up Faroe.

“Dada dada? Dadada dadada.”

“I'm sorry. I'm okay,” He told her, and sniffled, “I'm alright. Thank you for checking on me, my love.” She was kind. She was not the sort of person he could have made on his own.

“I'm sorry!” Arthur said again, clearing his throat, to the room at large who had gone humiliatingly quiet, “Well you all know this kind of year that Faroe and I have had. I'm afraid it all got to be a lot for a moment. I am just so happy everyone is here.”

There was a gentle murmur of agreement and thanks, and graciously the group moved on. Leaving Arthur to the care of his more immediate family.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated again to John and Parker.

“Nah, it's good to finally see you fucking crack, Lester,” Parker said gently squeezing Arthur against his side with the arm around Arthur's waist.

“Nothing to apologize for,” John said, his voice also unsteady with unshed tears, “It's been quite a year.”

Arthur sniffled again, “Ha, you’re not lying.”

The party was, beyond his sobbing fit, a success. The children needed very little to be entertained and each other's company was plenty enough. The adults seemed happy enough to just have other adults to speak to which Arthur could relate to from the days when John and Parker weren't both around.

Eventually Faroe was put into her seat again. Lily offered to man the camera this time and the three of them gathered at Faroe's two sides and Arthur behind her. As everybody sang, Daniel brought over a piece of cake. Arthur could tell simply by the acoustics of it being set down on the tray, it was far too large for a person her size. Before the song could even conclude Arthur heard everyone break off into laughter and whooping cheers.

A shutter sound came from the camera.

“She was impatient!” John explained to him, seeming shocked, even as Arthur began to grin realizing what happened, “She’s grabbing the cake in large fistfuls of blue frosting and chocolate! It's mostly making its way onto her hands, face, and shirt.”

“Don't forget the floor,” Parker said with a snort.

“And the floor,” John agreed, he sounded just a little horrified at the mess,“She’s wasting no time.”

Arthur laughed and ruffled her curls. They were already becoming sticky toward the front of her head.

“You are my daughter,” He sighed, affectionately.

*

Arthur felt Parker's hair brush his cheek as Parker leaned over to drop a kiss on top of Faroe's head.

“Okay pumpkin you have a good night okay? You be good.”

“Pa!” she said.

There was a grin in Parker's voice as he said, “Hey! That's right good job! I'm Parker, good job man. You're killing it with those words lately, kid.” There was a sound of rustling and Arthur suspected that he had ruffled Faroe's hair.

“Whoo! Frosting all in those curls huh?” Parker said with a evident grimace, “You sure did it up with the cake today.”

Arthur mentally added getting the frosting out of her hair before bed to the list.

“Thank you for helping clean up, Parker,” Arthur said, “I can't imagine it was anything less than a complete wreck.”

“Oh no it was pretty bad. Six zero-to-four-year-olds and cake does not bode well for your carpet but hey I'm glad to help,” Parker let out a long yawn, “Shit, sorry I really should probably head home.”

“Yes yes, don't let us keep you,” Arthur gave him a smile.

Parker laughed, “Yeah I'll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Bye Parker,” John said.

John's voice had come from Arthur's other side standing next to Faroe. Arthur managed to only startle a little.

“Yeah bye!” The door shut behind Parker as he left.

“Dadada! Ahg bhhhh,” She chirped excitedly.

“I know big day huh?”

“Whoa,” she said.

Arthur giggled, “Yes whoa.”

“There is no way we are getting her down for bed. She's still very lively.”

“I don't know. What do you think, Faroe? Are you sleepy?”

“Gah!” She explained seriously.

Arthur sighed, “Alright how about the two of us go and just lay down on my bed for a bit and we'll see if we can settle down from the excitement.” Arthur readjusted her on his hip and made for the stairs, undoing the safety gate, climbing a few steps, and closing it behind him.

“Augn! Augn,” She exclaimed squirming in his arms.

“Okay okay,” John said, “I'm coming, my friend.” John's footsteps picked up on the stairs behind him, easily hopping the gate.

“Augn!” Faroe repeated

“Yes darling, he's coming. Good work, you made sure he was where he's supposed to be. Good job,” Arthur told her as he made his way past the gate at the top of the stairs.

He made his way into the room and flopped backwards onto his bed, near the head, holding Faroe up as he did, getting a squeal and giggle out of her.

His heart swelled with it. She was such a little person.

Arthur chuckled indulgently and set her on the bed next to him making sure to leave space. John sat down, his weight shifting the mattress slightly as he laid down right next to them. Arthur turned on his side to face them.

“Thank you for earlier.”

“The party? It was my idea.”

“No- I mean- Yes, the party as well, but I meant for dealing with my breakdown. You were incredibly kind.”

John sighed, “I was just doing what you would have done.” He sounded a little like he was looking for confirmation.

Arthur smiled, “Right.” It was easy to forget on occasion how kind John could be.

“And besides, I understand. It's a lot, she's a year old. She's already not even a proper baby anymore,” John's voice sounded a little sad for just a moment saying words.

Between them Faroe rolled over onto her hands and knees and tried to scamper away toward the opposite edge of the bed. When Arthur's arm shot out to catch her, John's did at the same time, grasping not just Faroe, but Arthur's arm that laid across her back. They gently pulled her back to the center of the bed. She didn't make another attempt and just laid down where she was, between them, starting already to make sleepy sounds. Like she was just barely fighting off her first major sugar crash.

Neither of them moved away though. John's hand lifted for a moment to allow an escape. Arthur didn't flinch, and slowly John let the weight of it settle across the back of Arthur's hand. It was nice.

Arthur wondered for a moment if they had ever just hugged. He supposed this afternoon John had put a hand on his back to sooth him. It felt strange how little they touched, each moment of contact a stuttering ‘Are you sure?’ as hands brushed gossamer light and removable at a moment's notice, before a confirmation was given. Arthur had laid in his and Parker's laps once and the gentle fingers through his hair had been shockingly welcome. More than.

“I do want to thank you for the party,” Arthur said, shaking off his distraction, “Even though it was your idea. I'm not sure having a party would have occurred to me, it's been a rather long time since I had one myself… My point is you’re really good with her, John. You're perhaps a better father than I am.”

John scoffed, “That's not true.”

“We both know it is, but thank you. I mean it though, you're a good parent,” Arthur had never described it so plainly, not to John, not seriously, but that Was John's role in her life.

“I don't…” John said slowly, stumbling over the words.

“I don't honestly believe this is merely a job to you,” Arthur said, “I’ve had my doubts since my accident frankly.”

He felt John's arm tighten around both of them for a moment, “It's not just a job…”

“I- if you don't feel that way…?” Arthur started, realizing that perhaps he'd crossed an unspoken line.

“No, I-” John interrupted him, “I do feel that way toward her.”

Faroe between them continued to move, but with the weight of their arms gently across her she seemed to be calming. The noises she was making grew slower, less distinct. Arthur soaked in the gentle almost-silence for what could have been minutes.

Arthur felt something fizzy and warm in his chest and he said, “You could call her that. You… could call her your daughter. I think it would be true. God knows you've been around her as long as I have.” Arthur thought back to the month that he was gone and to the month that John was.

Faroe's breathing was even. Asleep so quickly when held by the both of them.

“I-” John stopped, and then his voice simply softened into a, “Thank you Arthur.”

Arthur slid his hand backwards and caught John’s and carefully brought them both below Faroe’s sleeping feet onto the bed between them, his heart was beating so fast in a way he couldn't explain.

“Do you ever think about how it could be?” Arthur said, surprising himself with his words.

John frowned, Arthur could almost hear him raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

The embarrassment of explaining halted him for a moment, considering his words.

“I suppose I just mean… Do you ever think about what it would be like if it was this way forever? Or- not forever just- If it was you and me and Faroe and Parker. If it was the four of us until- well, as long as you two would stay. I'm sure you both have lives you'd like to live, it's just, until then. If we stayed like this.”

John's hand tightened on his, serious and steady, “I'm not going anywhere.”

“No?”

“No. The specifics might change, I mean, frankly, if we can talk Parker into sharing a place with us at some point that might be best. He's paying rent on a place that he is in maybe six hours a day. And the backyard is nice, but it's small and if Faroe ends up being more of an athletic child, which I think she could be, then we’ll definitely need more space for her and-”

Arthur smiled.

“What?” John said with an embarrassed huff.

“So you do think about it,” Arthur said softly.

“Yes.”

“I'm glad.”

“Yes well, don't be stupid Arthur I'm not going anywhere,” John said, his tone missed casually flippant by a mile.

“No?” Arthur questioned again, half hoping John would launch into another speech about his plans for them.

“I wouldn't just leave you like that,” John said.

The pad of his thumb gently ran up the side of Arthur's.

“And I-” He stopped a moment, and exhaled softly, “I wouldn't leave our daughter.”

“Oh,” Arthur said weakly. He felt an overwhelming something when he listened to the other father of his child talk about their future.

“Well… good, “Arthur clear his throat a little, “You can't go running out on us again.”

“And you can't go falling into any more comas. Or ideally any other long-term hospitalization. Don't think that Parker doesn't tell me what you two get up to when you're out chasing down your leads. I know about the bear.”

“It was hardly a bear, it was a baby,” Arthur complained.

“A baby bear is more dangerous because the mother is nearby-! You know what, nevermind,” John said, lowering his voice quickly as Faroe shifted, “We don't need to discuss this right now, you look exhausted anyway.”

Arthur felt exhausted. It had been a draining day though not, strictly, in a bad way.

“You should go to sleep,” John said, and his hand didn't leave Arthur's.

“Are you just going to slip off the moment we've both dozed off?” Arthur said, already yawning through his words.

“No,” John said, “I'll be here.”

 

*

December was pleasant enough. A lot of the tension of the late fall had faded in a rush of visitors and meals and family gatherings. Daniel was around but seemed to like Parker. Business was good. Parker didn't have any complaints really. It felt like maybe everything was returning to normal after that party, even if Parker had still avoided Oscar like the plague.

Until Arthur and John's heater broke a week before Christmas.

“Okay I'm so sorry. I know you just went home, but well I went to turn on the heater and it won't turn on at all. The house has been steadily losing heat these past few hours and without a way to heat it up again… Well I hate to ask this, but Faroe needs somewhere warm to sleep. Would you mind if she came and stayed with you and perhaps one of us to make sure that she isn't your responsibility all night?”

Parker blinked, and exhaled the drag off his cigarette out the open window beside him, “Artie buddy you cannot be suggesting that I'm going to let you or John or God forbid you and John freeze in that house of yours. I felt it when I was leaving, that shit was frigid. Yeah come over. Definitely bring the kid. Christ, how is this a question?”

“I…”

“No no you don't get to brush this off what kind of an asshole do you take me for Lester? Get the fuck over here what are you talking about?” Parker laughed. He put out the cigarette, and shut the window.

Arthur sighed through a chuckle, “Well I didn't want to presume.”

“Presume more into my life. There's always room.”

“Thank you Parker,” Arthur said softly.

It wasn't until they hung up that Parker realized with a start that his apartment was in absolutely no fit state for hosting company, much less for hosting a small child whose health he very much cared for. After sending John a text that included his address, Parker flew into a burst of frantic energy.

He flicked on the heater, allowing it to blast and warm his apartment as fully as the sputtering thing could. He grabbed a trash bag and began sweeping whole surfaces into it. Tables covered in all the shit that he'd not yet bothered to throw out, wrappers, papers, receipts and ramen cups falling into its depths. He was pretty ashamed when he had to stack multiple full bags by the door. He wondered for a moment if he should see about getting back on meds if it had gotten this bad? Or was it just because he was hardly here?

He went to his room, shook out the comforter, and laid it back across his bed neatly. Kicked his clothes into a pile and scooped them up into the hamper. His shoes got tossed under the bed. He only had a couple pairs, but somehow they always ended up everywhere.

Bathroom got a quick once over. Shower curtain closed. Trash taken out. Products dumped unceremoniously into the cabinet below the sink. He quickly brushed his teeth.

He went back into the living room and frowned, still smelling smoke. He lit a couple cinnamon scented candles cuz they were all he had on hand. He didn’t love it, but it was an improvement. He went to the fridge and started dumping everything that was not fit for human view or consumption into a bag as well. Realizing he was quickly running out of time, he ran all of the trash that he had found to the dumpster in his apartment complex.

It was amazing what company on short notice could do to make your home look nicer. When he got back inside, he blew out the candles, unable to stand the smell of cinnamon getting any more pronounced. And he allowed the distinctly candle-just-blown-out smoke to start dissipating before Arthur and John got here.

He turned on Great British Bake Off and fast-forwarded to halfway through an episode so it seemed like he was watching TV casually and hadn't been running around trying to frantically get his depression nest under control. That was the problem with living alone. It was easy to allow everything to get out of hand.

Parker had relatively few dishes, but he dropped everything on the counter into a sink of hot water to soak, so it’d seem like he was part way through dishes. He was fixing the couch blanket when the knock came. He steadied his breathing as he glanced around for anything else that was actively offensive. He swiped his ashtray off of the windowsill that let out to the fire escape and tucked it into the closet by the front door, and he quickly opened it to let them in.

“Hey good, you’re here! Come in. Sorry for the mess,” He said as he waved them through. As though he was a normal man who kept his apartment in this state always and this wasn't the cleanest it had been in four months.

“Oh it's no trouble. I'm sorry for the short notice,” Arthur said, his cheeks were flushed red. Parker suspected the house must have been getting really cold by now the temperature drop tonight had been something awful. John came in with Faroe in hand and looked around the small space.

Parker was living in something that was only barely capable of being called a one-bedroom apartment in that the bedroom did have a door despite its smallness, and the living room was extant more or less. The space was cramped for four, it’d be cramped for two if he was honest, but it would work for tonight.

“I brought the travel crib for Faroe. Is there somewhere I might be able to set this up for her?” Arthur asked, raising the bag in his hand.

“Oh yeah, probably just in the kitchen. I'm sorry the place is small,” Parker gently took the foldable crib and said, “okay brief tour, here you could take my arm?”

Arthur obliged and Parker started to walk, “Alright this area is going to be the kitchen you can tell because this little patch has a linoleum. Over here- careful slight lip on the carpet- yeah, this is the living room area there's and down this way,” Parker set down the crib and led Arthur to the hall, “Is the door the bathroom and the other door is my bedroom. The couch is a futon so somebody can probably crash there no problem, big enough for two if we actually laid it out properly.”

“Good, thank you again, Parker.”

“No, of course. Do you know what was up with the heater?” Parker ast a look at John as well. The other man was still looking around at the room with Faroe asleep on his shoulder.

“I called the repairman and got their voicemail and it's beyond me,” John said, looking frustrated. Parker knew John took pride in taking care of the house.

“Shit,” Parker commiserated, starting to get the crib set up, “well you guys can stay here as long as you need. It's obviously a little cramped, but I want you guys warm.”

Though, of course, Parker privately to himself could admit that this was the cleanest his apartment had been in a while and it was nice that it wasn't empty for once.

He sat back on his heels once the crib was set up, “If uh- you guys want something I could order food if you're hungry?”

“Thank you Parker, but we're just fine. I think I'll probably just try to get Faroe settled and you can go to bed when you need,” Arthur said, walking to John with an extended hand and taking Faroe from John's arms. John laid Faroe’s blanket down in the bottom of it and Arthur settled her in easily.

Arthur stood up with a small smile, “You can turn off the heater. We're not made of water, we won’t freeze.”

Arthur started going about the business of getting Faroe properly put down for the night. John and Parker leaned against the kitchen counter and the fridge respectively, talking about the strange sounds that the heater had made the night before that John had discounted.

Soon enough Faroe was out cold in her seat and Arthur was on the couch, head tilted back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling, listening to the TV. John and Parker watched quietly as Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he slowly slid down to sprawl across the couch.

John snorted. “He was miserable when he realized he was going to have to leave the house tonight. I think that you really ran him ragged going to all those pawn shops today to check for that book.”

Parker huffed out a laugh, “Yeah I guess so-” His sentence was cut off by a loud groan from his stomach. Parker covered his face with a hand, embarrassed.

When he looked up John was merely raising an eyebrow at him, “You should eat something.”

“Yeah.”

John raised an eyebrow, “So?”

“I'm fine.”

“You can eat,” John was baffled by his hesitance.

“No its really fine I-”

“Fine, I'll make you something.”

“No!” Parker tried to stop him.

John opened his cabinet to find a can of tuna, half a bag of rice, and the empty cardboard and plastic of a finished box of instant ramen.

John frowned and opened the only other cabinet really large enough to store food in Parker's kitchen and saw bare shelves other than a small stack of paper plates. John closed to them and turned on his heel looking concerned but he said nothing about it.

He held out his phone to Parker and said, “Order us sandwiches from that place. I'm hungry, I'll get the same thing I always do.”

“Ah hey don’t worry about it.”

“I mean it. Order food. I'll get dinner tonight,” John said stubbornly.

“John, I can cover it. I'm not lacking in funds.”

“Jesus fucking christ, just let me buy you a sandwich!” It came out intense and John's face turned bright red at his own words. He turned and thrust his hands into the sink.

Parker said, “Hey don't do my dishes.”

“I need something to do. You've done my dishes before. Order food,” His voice was pained.

“That sink of water was really hot, man. You don’t gotta be brave, that probably hurts like hell.”

“It's painfully hot,” John nodded, immediately pulling back. He lifted his hands out of the water with a small splash and they were red, “Do you wash your dishes at this temperature?” He looked worried.

“Nah, my water heater just runs a little hot. Honestly I cleaned a lot right before you got here. I was trying to make it look more in order, and I figured if I at least had a sink full of hot water it would look better than a sink full of dirty dishes.”

“It does,” John said looking around as though assessing the space. He turned back to the dishes approaching the water more carefully now, “You did good, hardly seems out of sorts at all.”

“Oh, but it does seem out of sorts huh?” Parker played up some offense.

“There is an empty Hot Pocket box behind the couch that is tucked against the wall.” Parker turned and saw the offending piece of debris.

“Oh okay so I have to leave the country now, because that sucks.”

“It's fine. Earlier this year I dumpster dove for a briefcase. Sometimes things just don't go your way, sometimes you have a Hot Pocket box wedged behind your couch,” John frowned, scrubbing at the plate, seeming to lose himself in the repetitive motion.

“Hey I'll pay you back with some cash in a second for the sandwiches, but I think I'll probably get Arthur something as well? In case he wakes up.”

“That's a good idea and you won't pay me back.”

Parker sighed, “Alright fine, you got me Lavender. You get dinner tonight and I promise tomorrow I'll actually go grocery shopping.”

“We could go together,” John offered, seeming surprised himself.

“You don't gotta do that, man. I'll eat, I promise,” Parker said, trying to wave him off. He didn’t need John feeling like Parker needed to be taken care of. Even if it was nice.

“Let's go to the grocery store. It will give us all something to do while the primary office for your case is under construction.”

Parker bit the inside of his cheek to contain a smile. There was something broken in his brain that was just not able to tell John no when he was being gentle with him.

“Alright.”

The next little while was quiet, the TV chattering, Faroe about two feet from John and Parker sleeping in her crib, and Arthur a few feet from her softly snoring on the couch. He was slumped over in such a way that there would be no sharing with him, not easily anyway.

John, without any trouble at all, completed the sink of dishes that had been looming over Parker's life the past two weeks. He had rinsed them before he dropped them in the sink every time and still it was too much. Sometimes things got away from him like that.

He rinsed the dishes and put them away as John finished with them.

When it looked like the driver with the sandwiches was getting close Parker stepped outside so he could stop them before they knocked on the door and woke up Arthur. He passed them an extra ten in cash. He took the sandwiches with a nod, headed back inside, shut the lock, and put the chain in place.

He and John stood in the kitchen eating sandwiches. Parker hadn't expected to eat tonight when he'd finished cleaning out the fridge. He realized about halfway through inhaling it how badly he’d needed to eat something.

“This was a great idea,” Parker said with a hum, “John, marry me and remind me to do everything you say forever.”

“Fuck you,” John mumbled, playful and flushed again. John was easy to make blush, Parker couldn't help himself.

Their sandwiches eaten and Arthur's tucked away in the fridge, Parker washed his hand and glanced around.

“Well since it seems like there's no sharing the futon, do you maybe wanna share with me again? If I wasn't too terrible? It's a full so we might have to get uh- a little friendly?”

John's eyebrows shot up, “Oh… yes. Let's share your bed.”

Parker gave him a half smile, “Cool. Well Arthur's got the couch blanket. I don't know about you, but I am about ready to crash for the night. If you come with me I can probably find you something more comfortable to wear?”

Parker led John to the room and started digging through his closet.

“I'm detecting a theme,” John said looking at Parker's collection of band T-shirts, “Who are Pierce The Veil? And… Avenged Sevenfold? How have I never seen these?”

Parker had a decent collection and wasn't ready to show John every band he ever cared enough about to get a shirt for.

Parker skipped to the last question, “I've had most of these since I first moved out so they’re pretty ratty, and well, been kind of trying to impress a guy most of this time.”

“Parker, he can't fucking see you.”

“...Fuck. Yeah well apparently it was pointless. Dressing up for nothing at all.”

“Not entirely pointless,” John kept flipping through the shirts and if Parker didn't know better he'd think John was flirting with him again.

“Well, my secret's out now. I guess I'll wear the band T-shirts from when I was sixteen.”

John frowned, “Sixteen?”

“Or seventeen, somewhere in there.”

“I thought you said you got these when you moved out?”

“I did,” Parker grabbed a shirt and held it up, as though deciding if it'd fit John.

The playful expression faded from John's face, “Were you… emancipated?”

Parker realized this was John being tactful. Being nosy was in his nature and he couldn't help himself, but this was the delicate way of asking ‘Were you abused?’

Parker waved him off, tugging his shirt off his shoulders and tossing it in the hamper, “Eh you know how it is, queer teen. Your religious family disapproves of your boyfriend.” Parker shrugged, grabbing one of the shirts of the hanger. Fall Out Boy. Oh boy John was learning a lot about him tonight. He draped it over his arm, watching John for a moment.

John was examining each shirt in turn.

“It was fine they didn't like him, so I left home and went to go live with my boyfriend,” Parker usually slept pantless, would that bother John?

“His family let you move in?”

“Yea, they were nice. He turned out to be a dick,” Parker walked over to “Cheated on me with like three other people.”

“I'm… sorry,” John said, having stopped flipping through the t-shirts to look at Parker. John frowned, not pity but maybe a bit of tempered anger.

“Yeah, that's highschool for ya,” he said, surprised to find that he was… okay. It wasn't a pleasant topic by any means, but he was pretty alright talking about it these days.

Parker huffed out a laugh, “If I'm honest, I know my parents were probably right, even if the homophobia played a part.”

He turned away from John, flipping through the shirts for him, “Here Evanescence should fit you.”

John opened his mouth as though about to say something further, but closed it and stripped off his shirt easily.

Parker's mouth went dry. Hell, he didn't really think about this. He hadn’t seen John shirtless before. Quickly black fabric slid back over the bare skin. Parker wrangled the small part of him that was tempted to pout.

John was a tall man as well, but he was smaller around than Parker and so the shirt hung off of him when he put it on. Parker watched, stock still as John unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off onto the floor kicking them away. Then he bent to collect his clothes in the t-shirt and his boxers and started folding them. His raised arms caused the shirt to rise and Parker caught a glimpse of John's ass. He quickly looked away until John had concluded, and the shirt lowered with his shoulders, obscuring all but the bottom edge of his shorts.

Parker went about the same motions pulling on his shirt, kicking off his slacks and tossing them over into the hamper as well. Then he turned to look back at John who was staring at him flushed. Oh, huh.

“Right,” Parker said, “So… we should get to bed huh?”

John nodded quickly, approached the bed, and paused, “Did you want to be closer to the wall or closer to the edge?”

Parker flicked off the lightswitch by the door. The room was cast in the red light of the alarm clock on the side table.

“I'll take the wall. You should be able to get up and head to the bathroom if you need.”

“Alright.”

Parker crowded in against the wall on one side of the bed, crawling under the comforter. He didn't have extra blankets at his place, he didn't have extra anything really. Entertaining company was not a thought that had particularly crossed his mind.

John sat down on the bed and perched himself, as he laid down, along the edge as though trying to offer Parker as much space as possible. Parker turned to face the wall so John could get more comfortable.

After a few moments of silence in which neither of them really breathed, Parker turned over. He was surprised to find that John, despite being balanced as though ready to make a break for it, was faced inward to look at him.

John's eyes widened in the light of the alarm clock, startled to be seen.

“You know you could come closer. I'm not gonna bite.”

“I-” John shut his mouth and his jaw flexed, seeming to think better of whatever he was going to say. He wriggled, haphazardly, closer to Parker. There wasn't a foot between them now. Especially with both of them facing inward, legs bent, arms resting on the mattress between them.

John's hair was getting long. Strands of it fell across his face.

Parker, without using one singular brain cell, reached out, brushed it away from his face, and tucked it behind his ear. He lingered there a moment, drawing away slowly. John looked at Parker, eyes wide, both of them breathing shallowly.

Parker could see gears turning in John's head and he smiled a bit, “What's on your mind?”

John's eyes flicked between his for several moments and then he spoke, “He wouldn't hate you.”

“What?” Parker blinked, hand dropping fully, but not falling far enough. It landed on the back of John's.

“Arthur. He wouldn't hate you if he knew you,” John said, and Parker realized what he meant, “You don't wear your t-shirts. You don't tell us when you need help with chores here. I didn't even know your address until tonight. He doesn't know about you moving out when you were a kid.”

“It's not like I was hiding things…” Parker said, a little weakly.

“You were,” Johns tone didn't convey that hiding things was wrong, just stupid, “Because you're scared. But he wouldn't hurt you if he had the information. He'd want to know.”

Parker was quiet for a moment, John's words sinking in slowly.

“Everything about you. The Hot Pocket boxes, the band shirts, the boyfriends. I would.” And John's admission of his own desire to know Parker better carried with it the weight of something else in his words.

John adjusted the blanket across him and the dip of fabric between them disappeared. Tucking John away inside the same pocket of air as Parker, sharing the heat of their bodies.

John's hand that wasn't covered by Parker's extended and pressed lightly against the fabric on Parker's chest, connecting them in a circuit. Parker didn't move and John started to draw back his hand, saying, “I should-”

“Can I kiss you?” Parker heard his own voice say.

John froze in place, hand not yet withdrawn, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and he nodded silently.

Parker moved forward his hand sliding up along John's arm over his shoulder and into his hair. John's breath sped up, his now free hand coming to land on Parker's neck.

Then Parker closed the distance between them. John's soft little inhale as soon as their lips brushed drew a smile from Parker.

John's eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled, “Shut up.” And pulled Parker into the kiss again.

It was quiet and gentle. The two of them drawing close, legs tangling at the ankle, soft t-shirts, and John's fingers in his hair. John letting out soft hums.

It felt right and safe and Parker reeled for the next little while as they kissed, because he had never felt safe in someone's arms quite like this. Two runaways huddled under blankets, away from the cold.

It never progressed beyond kissing. Neither of them wanted it to really. Their hands slid around each other's backs and across each other's torso in an unhurried way. Just touching and eventually the kissing gentled, slowed, and stopped.

They clutched each other chest to chest, forehead to forehead.

Parker ran a knuckle across John's cheek and John shut his eyes and leaned into the contact with a pleased hum.

“Sweetheart.” John's eyes open at Parker's word. Not startled, but full of a comfortable curiosity. Curiosity about just how seriously Parker meant it. How long this new thing could last. It didn't have to be satisfied now but it would stay until it was.

John smiled and rolled his eyes, breaking the gossamer softness of the moment and said, “It's late.”

His hand came to cup Parker's chin and he leaned forward. He pressed a brief kiss to Parker's mouth again and backed away, “We should sleep.”

And they did.

Notes:

That concludes 7.7k words of people being gay for John particularly when hes Being a good dad

Up Next: Well Johnny, you did make a deal...

Chapter 24: Protective Instincts

Summary:

John unbeknownst to him, apparently has parts of his life he cares about defending now. His methods? Ill-conceived.

Also I'm sorry. I feel like I should really say that at the top this time.

Notes:

Okay sorry for the wait, this thing was written and then had to be Entirely redrafted, it didn't even have the right pov character at first
Not a single plot point changed but not a single Piece of narration stayed the same lmao

Warning: there's some like not-great self talk here

John woke up on just the pleasant side of too warm. He and Parker were still touching. Parker had at some point turned over in his sleep and John unconsciously had wrapped his arm around Parker's waist, hand landing on the soft curve of Parker's stomach where his shirt rode up as he slept.

Had this ever happened to him before? No, definitely not. He had kissed people, dated a few women back when his father was really pressing him to do so, but they had never gotten very far. He had had sex plenty enough times, but it wasn't the kind of sex where you shared a bed after and it definitely wasn't the kind where you woke up with the person still in your arms. Parker's shoulders were broad and pressed against John's chest. John’s head naturally rested against Parker's neck, his legs curling beneath Parker where his legs curled too.

It had happened. All of the uncertainty and the things that John thought might be flirting were now certain. Solid. Parker liked him too. They had kissed. Parker had called him sweetheart. This was something, there just wasn't a word for it yet. It wasn’t just a passing impulse of two people who existed in close enough proximity while lonely. There had been nothing of that kind of desperation the night before. It had been intentional.

Helplessly he felt himself grin against Parker's shoulder. Him and Parker.

They would tell Arthur obviously and Arthur would understand. Arthur was understanding like that. John and Parker would still secretly pine for Arthur, but it would be okay. And they would let it go.

The excitement made it near impossible to lie still even with all the comfort that came of the smell of Parker pressed so close.

Gently, silently, John extricated himself, trying not to disturb the bed. Parker apparently was a heavy sleeper. John could hardly catch his breath knowing that that piece of information and a hundred others might be his soon. What Parker looked like when he had just woken up before he had had a chance to pull himself together in the upstairs bathroom or how Parker spent his few nights alone. He knew so much more than he had yesterday and he would get to know all of it probably. That was how these things worked, he was fairly certain.

He glanced down at the shirt he was wearing. It was Parker's. He pulled on his jeans and kept the shirt as he quietly slipped out of the room. It was nice keeping some sign of what had happened last night on him even as he stepped out into the living room. Looking at Arthur sprawled with the blanket now tugged haphazardly over himself and Faroe still snoring in her crib, he knew he would not be able to be silent enough to let these two sleep.

So… breakfast. He could go get breakfast. It wasn't as though Parker had anything on hand so he could go out and come back with food. They’d explain to Arthur what happened over coffee and bagels. Then they could all go to the store together and maybe in the store Parker would hold his hand.

John couldn't fight it as another smile broke across his face. It was a good morning.

Climbing into the shared car, he made sure his phone was turned up so that if the others texted him he would be able to quickly communicate where he had gone to. He set off toward the bagel shop that he knew would be open at this time of morning. He was surprised to find that it was five when he looked at the car clock. He supposed on a different morning he might have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but today was not a different morning.

He parked in the empty parking lot and stepped out into the freezing December morning air. The sun wouldn't be up for quite a while still.

In the shop the smell of bread and coffee filled the air in a mixture that made his stomach growl. He hadn't really noticed he was hungry, but he suppose that explained the breakfast instinct. He ordered a dozen figuring whatever they didn't eat today would be good to have on hand in the next day or two for breakfast. The woman behind the counter passed him his coffee as the front door opened with a jingling bell.

“Well well well, Sunshine, aren't you up a little early today?” The voice cut through the quiet burble of the coffee maker and the low music. It was loud and intrusive and painfully familiar.

John turned, feeling the cold hand of panic crawl its way through the warmth that had filled him all morning.

“Kayne,” He said.

“You got me. Always been so good with names and what was yours ooo ahhh…” Kayne grimaced falsely, “Ah! King.”

John growled, “Doe.”

Kayne nodded his head in easy concession, “Doe then.”

“What are you doing here?”

“An excellent question, could ask the same of you. Slipping out early for a little breakfast run? A coffee,” Kayne directed the last two words at the woman behind the counter, flipped his hand absently, and dropped a twenty on the counter.

“What do you want?” John demanded.

“Boy you are just full of such good questions!” Kayne chirped and took a sip of the coffee he was handed, “Mm! This coffee is terrible.”

The glare he received from the other side of the counter was vicious and more than earned. John felt a sinking guilt in his stomach, knowing how many times he had done just the same.

“I'm sorry,” John said and he pushed a 20 into the tip jar and accepted the bagels.

“Can we step outside?” John said, sharply to indicate to all involved at the moment that they were outside Kayne would be getting an earful from him. Even if John had slightly more pressing concerns to actually deal with.

“Perfect I was about to ask you the same thing.”

The two of them made their way to the exit and Kayne with a flip of the hand and a low bow held the door for John. They stepped out into the icy morning air. John immediately felt what little heat he had gathered from the bagel shop sap away through the thin fabric of Parker's shirt. He could have brought the suit jacket, but it would have done little to keep him warm. John honestly hadn't found a moment to go shopping for a better one.

“Your heater's fixed by the way,” Kayne said as John set down the box of bagels, “The company said they'll email Arthur that they came and got the repair done early so it all seems, you know, above board. I hate trying to keep eyes on you when you're running around and staying with friends.”

“How can I help you, Kayne?” He layered the polite query with all the vitriol due to the other man.

“Well come on, Johnny. We had a deal.”

John went still, his voice coming out low and protective, “Yes… but I don't know anyone.”

“That's not quite true though is it? You know people,” Kayne gave his an encouraging tap of his knuckles to John’s chin, “Pick your jaw off the ground, its not that shocking. Someone you know has caught my attention so you're going to introduce me to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to meet Arthur. I think he's just the greatest thing since sliced bread, I tell ya. I want you to talk me up to him, then I want you to introduce us. I think we’d get along with a little one-on-one time.”

“Why?” John spat.

“Why? Why, you know, I think it's all this talking him up you and Parker have done! You just- whoooo all you guys really make him sound so… Hmm. Appetizing’s not the right word,” Kayne folded his hands behind his back and paced up and down the sidewalk in the pool of silvery light coming from the street lamp above them.

“You want to date him? Why?”

“How rude John!” Kayne gasped, “and what can I say the heart wants what it wants. Besides, you don't mind obviously.”

“What are you-?”

Kayne's eyes landed pointedly on Parker's shirt, “Doesn't look quite like your size, John, so if I'm not mistaken that might be…”

“I can borrow a shirt from a friend,” John said, embarrassingly defensive.

“Yeah. But you're bright red. So see, not a problem! Just introduce me to Arthur and we'll all be one big happy family. Picture it! Me, Arthur, Faroe, maybe you're there.”

“No,” The word ripped itself out of John's mouth with force enough to cause the slightest uptick in Kayne's eyebrows. He had been surprised. John continued, “Pick someone else.”

“That's not how the deal works, Honeybee, you know that,” He stepped closer to John.

“No. I don't know what your aim is, but you can't have him. You can't have them,” John's heart was beating out of his chest, “So pick someone else, or hold your favor until I know somebody worth your time.” He bit down on the words in his anger, the idea of Kayne coming in taking Arthur, taking Faroe, taking them to New York… He wouldn't allow it.

Kayne's face curled with a lazy smile “You sure, Golden Boy? I won't ask again.”

“No,” John repeated.

“Excellent! Then I will see you… probably at the New Year’s dinner huh? Your dad always throws such great shindigs.”

Ice water poured down John's spine, “Wait I-”

“No, no, you insisted. You were the big strong protector, John. Aren't you proud, why if Arthur could just see you now!” Kayne started to walk away.

“But no you can't- Kayne, stop!” John called as the other man walked away and, whistling, turned the corner. When John ran after him and turned, the street was deserted.

Unable to properly breathe, John returned to the table that sat outside the bagel shop where he had unthinkingly set the box of food.

Numb and robotic, he made his way to the car, climbed in, set the bagels on the passenger seat, turned the key, and started driving.

His face felt wrong, not quite numb, but something next door to it. He stared up at the red glow of the stoplight hanging over the intersection.

A scream tore its way out of his throat. Loud and wordless. He slammed his hand over and over and over, into the leather of the steering wheel until his voice broke and his hand ached up through the shoulder.

He hadn't thought before answering. Not even for a second. It had been instinct, and just wanting to tear into Kayne, and put him in his place, and now?

And now he got very quiet as the reality of the situation sunk in. Quite apart from his tantrums or his attachments, this was what was going to happen now. He was going to go home. His father was going to bring him home.

And John, who not even a half hour before had been fizzing with a feeling now foreign to him, John was cold.

All he had left was to make his going as easy on all of them as he could.

Meaning, he supposed. Meaning that some things really should just be walked back while they still could be. Some things shouldn't be left to bloom if he knew somebody was coming through with a weed wacker in the next couple days.

He felt sick and his heart was beating too fast and his hand hurt and he pressed it fiercely against the steering wheel to keep his focus as he pulled into the parking lot.

He entered the house just as quietly as he left, and put the bagels on the coffee table. Faroe was already waking up for the morning and she clambered to her feet gripping the edge of the crib and peeking at him over it.

He felt too unsteady in his hands and in his knees to pick her up. So he merely set a gentle hand on the top of her head for a moment and did his best to slip back into Parker's room quietly. He picked up his own shirt, went to the bathroom, and swapped them out. Parker’s shirt he folded and set on the counter next to the sink.

As he left the bathroom and took up a post back in the kitchen, leaning against the fridge, the house was properly starting to wake up. It was early still, but John's supposed his movements, however quiet, still registered for all of them. Arthur and Faroe likely because they were in an unfamiliar environment, and Parker because his house was usually quiet.

John shot Lily a text inquiring after Hali's health and glanced up entirely by accident when Parker came out of the bedroom. Their eyes locked from across the room as Arthur sat up.

Parker lit up, warmed from the inside, eyes soft, eyebrows lifted just slightly, hair askew. His shirt sat uneven across his shoulders, the stretched out collar exposing an inch or two of shoulder.

“Good morning, Arthur,” John said, tearing his eyes away to look at Arthur. Arthur smiled, still half asleep and stretching. His shirt was unbuttoned showing the undershirt beneath.

John chanced a quick flick of his eyes back in the direction of Parker who bashfully had turned to look at Arthur, seeming to register for the first time the other people in the room.

John felt sick. He felt sick, but he felt suddenly steady. Seeing the look of open gentleness on Parker's face steeled him. He knew what he had to do, he knew why he had to do it. It wasn't about him or his feelings. The damage was done. Now he only had space to limit it. To shield them from the fallout.

“Good morning, John,” Arthur said, smiling through the yawn that overtook him, “And Parker, did I hear you come out of the room?”

Parker's voice was the same degree of helplessly fond that John felt, “Yeah, morning guys.”

“I apologize for taking up the whole couch, John. I certainly hope you haven't been standing in the kitchen all night?”

“No, I've only been here a moment. I went and got breakfast,” John said, “There's bagels on the table in front of you.”

“We shared,” Parker clarified, “He just came and stayed in my room.”

“Well I'm sorry, boys. Certainly if we end up having to stay here again tonight I will make sure not to take up the whole of the couch,” Arthur reached for the table and slid a hand across the surface until he found the box and opened it.

“Hey, I didn't mind it at all. Like I said, just glad that everybody got some rest and that you guys were warm. Coffee? I've only got one of the single cup machines, so it's going to pretty much be one at a time.”

“God, yes,” Arthur said, then added, “Please.”

John felt a smile tug at him at that.

“John?” Parker looked at him and tried to catch John's eye.

“No thanks,” John said, not meeting his gaze. Had he left his coffee outside the bagel shop? In the car?

“Right…” Parker said, catching the rough edge of John's voice, “...Cool. Oh, by the way John, once I get this coffee running, do you mind if I steal you away for just a sec?”

“Of course,” John said, because it would have been strange to say no.

“What are you two up to?”

“Hey we got our secrets, Lester. You've got plenty of your own,” Parker playfully batted aside the question.

Arthur raised his hands up, “Alright far be it for me to pry.” It was not out of line for Arthur to pry, it was completely expected and they all knew that, and laughed. John's felt canned. When was the last time he had made himself laugh? He was fairly certain it was in the early hours of Daniel's stay during Arthur's coma and before that…? Well he must have been back at home.

No, he corrected, he must have been back in New York.

John moved quickly out of Parker's way as Parker approached to get to the coffee maker. It earned him a strange look from Parker. His face flashed with a brief moment of hurt as John near-stumbled away as though Parker coming within a foot of him would burn.

Once the coffee maker was set to go, Parker, face now steady and concerned, nodded John toward the bedroom. The two of them went. John first and Parker shutting the door behind them.

“Okay so,” Parker said, sliding his hands into the pockets of the jeans that he had pulled on before he had come out in the living room, “last night.”

“Right,” John said.

“Right?” Parker said prompting.

John knew that this would be a difficult needle to thread. Instinct said to push him away as fast and as hard as he could. It told him to snap at Parker with his teeth until he was scared away. Until Parker was thinking better of his decision to ever expose the delicate parts of himself to John's teeth.

But that course ended only two ways. In one of them Parker pushed back and didn't let John mask with anger. Parker pressed until John broke and actually told him what was happening. The other way, the worse way, John would put on too good of a show and that would hurt Parker more than he needed to be hurt. In the worse ending Parker believed him.

That wasn't to say that Parker didn't need to be hurt. He did. That was the other side of this balance John was striking.

If he wanted Parker to back off what he needed was to seem natural. Give Parker an easy reason to think that it meant nothing to John. Offer Parker an out so he didn't feel humiliated.

John was surprised how easily the tools came to hand for getting someone to react the way you needed them to, as though they had never left him, as though the year had hardly changed anything.

John shrugged, leaned back against the wall, and said, “It's alright I know. You like Arthur, I like Arthur. Occasionally people just do things. No hard feelings. I don't expect you to marry me. It wasn't like I was expecting last night to go that way either.”

John watched a slideshow of emotions flicker across Parker's face, a series of dissolved transitions starting with evident hurt, confusion, a spark of anger that lingered for moments, and then a cool mask. Parker, after all, knew how to hide things too. John pretended to not have seen any of the steps before that

“Right just-” He shrugged too, “sometimes you do things.”

“Right.”

“Yeah no hard feelings,” Parker shot him a finger gun and clicked his tongue to punctuate the motion.

“I hope I didn't overstep,” John offered. He tasted copper in his mouth and realized he'd bitten his tongue.

“Nah man, I initiated. Anyway if you don't got a problem with it,” He let the statement trail off.

“Good,” John agreed, “Then we’ll leave it be, we won't mention it to Arthur.”

“Yeah, probably for the best, right.”

“Right, let's just forget about it,” and John, on these words more than any others, kept a careful control over his voice.

“Hey, already forgotten,” Parker's back was to him as he said the phrase. He'd turned to dig through his closet. His hand landed on a button up sharing a hanger with a pair of slacks.

“Do you mind stepping out?” Parker said, lightly.

“Of course,” John exited. He shut the door behind him and thanked God Arthur couldn't see him in the time it took for him to compose his face again.

“Oh! Good, you're back,” Arthur said, “I got a message saying the heater should be running now.”

John nodded, exhaling slowly, “Good.”

*

Parker grabbed a quick shower after the others left before he drove over to the house. As soon as the water touched his skin, dampening his hair, and sluicing down his shoulders, he realized that it wasn't going to be a quick shower at all. A long stretch passed.

A tiny vicious part of him at the very back of his mind said this was why he didn't invite people over. That was stupid, this didn't happen because he invited John over. Parker was sure they were even friends still. Parker hoped they were friends still.

And it made sense, was the thing.

It wasn't like what happened with Arthur and Oscar. Where Oscar slept with the man he was in love with moments after half-heartedly admonishing Parker for that love. Any sting from the rejection then had been dulled by the knowledge that at least it was Oscar's bad. The anger and shock had helped. Knowing it wasn't his fault had helped.

This wasn't that. This was John lonely and unable to access the one he wanted and Parker pressing. Parker offering more than John had actually cared to look for in him.

John's heart held only Arthur and Parker's would, if it had any sense, hold neither of them.

Like Christ, this was why Parker didn't date. Shouldn't want to. He got involved with people who were alcoholic widowers or too old for him or had bad histories or were in love with other fucking guys. And goddamnit was he stupid? Hadn't he learned anything?

Parker had woken up that morning and stretched languidly in the bed hearing noises from the living room and knowing that John would be out there, hoping that John would be wearing his shirt still. Daydreaming while he pulled on his favorite jeans about how they'd handle it. If John would want to tell Arthur right away or if it'd be their secret for a while.

He'd thought about how it felt to have John pressed against his back.

…was he stupid?

He dragged a wet hand down his face, “Fuck, I need to focus.”

It was all about the cases. His friends yes, but the work first. He needed to get his head in the game, do the stakeout today, and then figure out how to treat them like friends, how to feel about them the way friends should. He needed to get out of the shower and go over there.

The water ran cold before Parker even reached for his shampoo.

Notes:

The plot just had to come back and ruin things huh?

Next time: Peter "Parker" "Tough-Guy" Yang finally has a long overdue breakdown...

Chapter 25: Nothing To Him

Summary:

Ah the consequences of John's actions, who could have predicted this?

Notes:

Hiii!

this chapter contains:
-some more not great parker self-talk
-john's continuing adventures with dissociation
-kidnapping
-murder threats

Arthur wasn't stupid. The two of them had shared a bed and he knew something had happened between them. Had they fought perhaps? The tension had been thick in the air for the whole rest of the day. Arthur waited with anticipation to leave their now warm house with Parker on their own so he could ask questions.

When the time finally came, Arthur almost too quickly gathered his things and made for the car.

As soon as they were seated and driving Arthur said, “What happened between you two?”

A choked almost-laugh tore out of Parker, “That obvious, Art?”

“It’s not subtle,” Arthur admitted, “So? I… did he do something wrong? Did you?”

“Oh uh-” Parker said with a weary sigh, “We kissed.”

Arthur blinked, “What?”

“Yeah, it was nothing, y’know,” He exhaled again, an audible tremble to the air leaving him this time, “Just one of those things you do just to do it.”

Arthur frowned, opened his mouth, shut it, then finally said, “I thought you didn't do things like that casually.” He remembered the conversation. He’d asked Parker if he was terribly disfigured because he couldn’t imagine someone as wonderful as him remaining single. He remembered the breathless distance between them as Arthur had cradled Parker’s face in his hands. He remembered Parker talking about how serious romance was for him.

“Yeah,” Parker said with a huff of laughter, “me too!” His voice was…off. Not the voice of a man who did something reckless and fun for the hell of it.

The laugh kept going just a second too long and Arthur heard him pull in a long gulp of air after.

“...Parker, did you like John?” Arthur asked. He felt the hurt of it, but he’d known for some weeks now that he’d already ruined the fragile spun sugar thing that he and Parker had had. But he was also hurt all the more by the slight edge of pain in Parker’s laugh.

“Ha! Nah that’s the wrong question, because that doesn’t fucking matter. I should- It's like I feel clumsily. Like I just- just- Spill all over everything and everyone and I just Ruin Shit. And I don't fuckin know man because God knows I thought I liked you. And I do and I like him and neither of them is going away. Nobody wants me to be pining over them like this but! I’m here and I’m-” Parker's voice started to thicken with tears, “fuck fuck. I shouldn't be talking to you about this. I just-”

Arthur felt the car pull over.

“I can't drive. I need to- I need air,” He rolled down the window quickly, letting the cold December air in.

“What happened?” Arthur unbuckled and folded his left leg so he could turn Parker’s direction.

Parker let out a fragile sort of laugh and said, “He likes somebody else. I was just there. Tale as old as time right? I uh- like somebody, and they like how present I am. The fact that I’m a person who is extant in the world and shares a time and location with them.”

Arthur didn't know where to even begin with any of it and once words finally left him it was, “You can talk to me about these things.” It felt the most important to begin with, correcting Parker's misconception.

“You can talk to me about anything. I-” Here his words faltered, but he pressed on, “I know I ruined any chance I had with you but-”

“Huh?” Parker said.

“I know I messed up. I apparently did so far worse than I ever realized if you thought my only interest in you was your availability. I… can’t apologize enough if that’s how I made you feel.”

“Nah it’s fine- you- You didn't mess anything up. So you like another guy? That's really not on you. And… I know you’re not like that. I didn’t mean it about you really. I… I don’t even know if I really even mean it about John,” His voice broke on John’s name, and he sniffled, and cleared his throat, “Fuck, sorry. It's just… Its been a long day and… yeah I guess the sheer fucking humiliation this morning kicked a real hornets nest. I’m not trying to guilt you for having feelings for someone else Arthur. Let's be clear on that.”

“I… I’m sorry. It… You’ve not spoken much about your past,” Arthur said, “Or perhaps I haven’t asked enough. But the little you’ve mentioned certainly hasn’t left any positive impressions about the string of bad luck you seem to have hit in dating…”

“Don’t think it can be considered bad luck anymore past a certain point. It's a thing. It's like I say, my type doesn’t have room for me in their life. It's not even a proper character flaw really. Just a fact of… me I guess,” He breathed and made a sound between a sob and a laugh, “I do know you meant it when you said you liked me Arthur. I don’t actually tend to keep assholes around to be my best friend. It really is okay that the feeling passed or whatever before our moment came.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, I don't like Oscar instead of you,” Arthur said suddenly, and with unexpected force.

Parker stilled in the other side of the car.

“I liked Oscar and I like you. I understand that is maybe not what you’re looking for and that now is not the time, you are having a fucking hell of a day it seems, but its starting to seem like a good time isn’t going to come. One of us is always going to be having a hard time. So I need you to know now that I didn't have sex with Oscar, because I preferred him to you. I've just… never been good at pinning all of my affections in one place that doesn't mean that my heart isn't yours,” Arthur felt scared and dizzy, admitting that his heart was Parker’s. Admitting how deep the feeling went, “It just means…”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if what he could offer was enough. If Parker would understand or if he would only be more hurt.

Arthur felt a hand on his wrist. The half a beat before Parker spoke stretched into an agonized eternity where Arthur wished he could see Parker’s expression.

“I don't mind the ‘and’ I think,” He said softly.

“What?” Arthur breathed.

“I don't- fuck- I don't mind if you're into more than just me. Fucking hell, I just want to be on the list at all,” Parker's voice wavered. Arthur captured his hand and brought it to his own chest pressed squarely in the middle of it.

“Parker, you have always been on the list, since we met. But I wouldn't want to offer you something that isn't enough for you. If you want somebody who will love only you, you deserve all of that and more.”

“I don't even know that I know how to keep- how’d you say it?- my affections pinned in one place?”

And in that Arthur heard an opening, perhaps permission. Parker, his best friend, needed in this moment to be pursued back. Arthur could feel the fragile thing that Parker was laying between them.

He started with the information he deserved, “I haven't drank in seven weeks.”

“What?”

“It's been seven weeks, I haven't touched a drop. Before that it was nearly a month. I can't go to bars, and I can't be around when the champagne gets pulled out at parties, but I'm stopping. I've stopped. Can't promise that I am not a broken man, and God fucking knows you deserve better but Parker if you want me and if you'll have me… I am begging you to let me-” Arthur hesitated on the word and landed on, “care for you. You take care of everyone. I want to cherish your heart as you've cherished mine. You deserve every gentleness and if I have to work everyday to be the kind of man that can deliver that gentleness to you I will do that work.”

“You don't have to do this just because I'm having guy trouble,” Parker said, giving one of his laughs that was less for humor and more to lighten the impact of his words.

“I am not doing this because John denied you,” Arthur said with heat, “That is none of my business. That is between the two of you and if you still want him you may have him too. But I am asking to be on your list, for you to stop trying to protect me from you. I want you Parker Yang and you seem to think that that is only the case when I am guilted or when I am not in my right mind. I am stone cold sober and I don't care what goes on between you and other men beyond the ways it affects you. I can handle this. You don't need to shelter me from you.”

“Arthur…” Parker exhaled, voice cracking a little in the word. He steadied himself a little before continuing.

“I don't know that I'm any good,” he admitted.

“I know I'm not,” Arthur said, feeling his eyes sting as well, “but you seem good to me. You have been nothing but good to me. I want to be that for you if you will let me.” Even if it was as a friend.

“Okay,” Parker said, fragile.

“Yes?” Arthur sighed of feeling a balloon of elation swell in his chest.

“Yeah alright.”

“Oh thank God,” Arthur drew Parker's hand that he still had captured up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Parker leaned across and their foreheads touched. Arthur closed the distance between their mouths and pressed nearer to Parker.

Arthur's hands on Parker's cheeks found the tracks of tears there as he kissed him and he wiped them away. The two of them breathed wet laughter into the air they shared between each gentle press of lips.

“Okay,” Parker said sniffling, “Okay we really gotta get to that club or we’re gonna totally miss the entire silverware heist and have nothing to show our clients. I like you, but I also like being about to pay John.”

“Yes,” Arthur laughed, turning forward again and buckling. He felt the ache in his hip from the odd angle he’d held his leg at, “Great point.”

 

*

“You know,” Parker said as they pulled away from the block with a successful set of photos of the bartender sneaking away with large jingling boxes, “It occurs to me I should probably ask what the situation is with you and Oscar? It might be sort of relevant to me now.”

Arthur sighed, “Ah, yes well, we’ve hardly spoken since it happened outside of Thanksgiving and Faroe’s birthday. He’s… he’s got his own things to deal with.”

“Right.”

Arthur hesitated then said, “He left the priesthood.”

“Huh!” Parker said, “...Good.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“Oh no, I am, I guess, but it's good.”

“Why?”

Parker paused, “He didn’t tell you huh? Well I guess I can be grateful he took the privacy aspect seriously.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I went to confession for… some stuff. Before Halloween I think, and you came up. He knew I was talking about you and,” Parker huffed, “well I told him I was in love with you. Which I’m not telling you yet, because I’m trying not to scare you off. So keep that quiet yeah? But he sorta responded… weird. Then within the week he took you drinking and ya had sex. So… eh? I’ve had better confession experiences, but God knows I’ve had worse.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, really?” Arthur said, “That- I mean I did initiate that night and I wish I’d handled it better but Oscar…”

Parker was grateful that Arthur wasn’t freaked out by what he said so he was glad to let the moment pass.

“Yeah,” Parker barked out a laugh, “Literally what the fuck right? Honestly even if he hadn’t sorta shamed me for having feelings for you I’d feel better about the whole thing. But, honestly, I’m glad he’s quitting. I was starting to worry if he was cut out for the work these days.”

“Right,” Arthur said and a silence fell between them. After a moment he smiled, “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Parker said.

“I do believe I’m in love with you too. But I’m also trying not to scare you off.”

Parker grinned, feeling his heart beat faster, “Well in that case my lips are sealed.”

“They better be, I need to play my cards carefully,” Arthur said, then the smile melted, “...And I am sorry about everything with Oscar. I wish we’d been clearer on where we stood, I also wish I hadn’t accepted the free drinks in the first place admittedly.”

“Hey, I appreciate it, but we’re really alright. I would’ve preferred it go another way, but mostly I just wish we’d had this conversation first. ….And that my priest didn’t immediately fuck the guy I wanted to date,” Parker laughed.

“In fairness, he didn’t exactly fuck me…”

“Oh my god, fuck off, I do not need to know a damn thing about Oscar’s sex life,” Parker groaned through laughter.

“And I’m sorry about how things went with John. Him practically running off after you kissed is,” Arthur just sighed.

Parker shook his head, “No you don't know the whole story.”

Arthur waited patiently.

“We both knew that we liked other people. I don't think I fully knew I liked him until Thanksgiving and even then I knew that he had feelings for somebody else. I asked if I could kiss him anyway. That is really on me. He's- don't be mad at him, Artie. He's a good guy.”

“I know he's a good guy. He's the father of my child. I'm just allowed to also think he’s a little bit of a piece of shit when he fucks up regarding my boyfriend,” Arthur said, “and if it helps, I am just as angry at myself for mishandling the Oscar situation .”

“It doesn't actually help me, on either account. I’m okay. You can take care of your stuff, I can take care of mine, I promise,” he reached over and squeezed Arthur's hand, “And uh, boyfriend huh?”

“Yes,” Arthur said firmly then, “Right?”

“Yeah,” Parker laced their fingers together, “I just liked hearing you say it for the first time.”

When they got back to the house they held hands to the door. It was nice to not need an excuse for the contact.

And what he had said had been true. He honestly didn't hate the idea of Arthur and Oscar if Oscar just wasn't a priest and bound to hurt Arthur. Parker could even imagine a world where both he and John were dating Arthur. That distance between them would be fine, he decided. It would be. Parker would get over John. Arthur would understand his feelings.

They were finally figuring it out.

This buoyed him into the house, holding hands with Arthur. They couldn’t do so on the job, but at home they could be as gross and gooey as they wanted.

“Hey, wait,” Parker stopped him as they stood in the entryway.

“What?” Arthur turned his direction.

Parker raised his free hand and cradled Arthur's cheek, “Can I…?”

Arthur broke into a smile that glowed, “Anytime you like.”

And Parker pressed a slow chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips. He pulled away and watched Arthur’s eye flutter lazily open.

“Anytime,” Arthur repeated emphatically, “Whenever.”

And they went into the living room, hand in hand.

“Oh you're back,” John said from his place on the couch and his eyes immediately flicked down to their joined hands and Parker glanced toward Arthur, not able to meet John's eye.

Arthur tilted his chin up in something of a challenge, “Parker and I are dating.”

“I see that.”

“I figured I should say so right out,” Arthur said.

“That's great,” John said, looking down at his phone when Parker finally braced himself to check. His eyes didn't venture even vaguely in their directions.

“Good, I wanted to tell you because I'm pleased,” Arthur said, prodding.

This helped John sometimes, expressing what you were feeling to help him guess how he was supposed to react. He was not the most emotionally intelligent guy in the world, particularly because he was raised in a world where you didn’t need to be nice. Arthur had called it house training. Parker didn’t mention to either of them that they were both talking about each other like untrained dogs when they were apart.

“No, of course, that's great Arthur. My mind was just elsewhere. I’m really glad.”

Finally John's eyes met Parker's and Parker had to steady himself from the instinctive step back he almost took. There was an anger in his eyes. Not the fleeting anger, born from stress that Parker could press on slightly and see John fold for him. This lingered and burned.

Parker frowned back at him like, ‘Fuck do you want man? We both knew we liked him.’

John turned away straightening his shirt and stood, heading towards the kitchen, “I'm making dinner. Do you want anything?”

“Ah- yes? If you don’t mind,” Arthur said haltingly, looking terribly confused.

“Good, I'll bring you some in a little while.”

“He put his headphones on,” Parker said softly.

“Something wrong, he’s-” Arthur's face cleared into a look of understanding, “Oh Parker I- I hate to do this but perhaps John and I should have a moment? I think there's a discussion to be had.”

Parker blinked a few times, “Oh yeah sure, I can go.” Parker tried to remember if there had ever been a time that Arthur had sent him home.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” Parker didn’t know why it was a question, fucking hell he was a wreck today. How was it only six PM?

“Yes, we do still work together,” Arthur’s tone was amused as he reached out with a hand and cupped Parker's cheek. He used the anchor to guide him towards Parker's face where he pressed a brief kiss to his lips. Parker heard himself sigh softly into it.

“Come early tomorrow? We'll get breakfast. I want to spend time with you,” Arthur said.

Parker felt a flutter through him at that and he smiled softly, “Yeah okay, Artie. Breakfast. I'll see you tomorrow.”

*

After Parker left Arthur made his way into the kitchen. He heard John take off his headphones.

“Did Parker go?” He asked.

Arthur nodded, “John, do you have feelings for Parker?”

“What?” John said, quickly, sharply, “don't be ridiculous.”

“I don’t think I am. You are being extremely weird, and I know you kissed last night, and now you sound like you're about ready to… I don't know fight me in an alley for him.”

“He said he wouldn’t tell you,” John’s voice was all accusation.

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“It's not like that,” John huffed, his back obviously turned now, “just an awkward situation. It's fine. I just thought you and Oscar were a thing. I thought Parker didn't think you were ready for a relationship.”

Arthur drew himself up, “It's not Parker’s job to decide whether I am ready for a relationship nor yours, John. I want to understand. If it's not about Parker then tell me what it is about?”

John was silent.

“I know how close you two have gotten,” Arthur offered, “He’s a wonderful man. Handsome too. I assume based on how people react to him. If you told him how you felt-”

John snarled, “Sorry, are you inventing a world in which I not only have a crush on your boyfriend, but I also should confess to him?”

Arthur let a growl of frustration leave him, “You are being impossible. I'm just saying you can talk to me, you can talk to him. I just want to know where you're at with all this!”

“Where I'm at? Arthur, what makes you think I give one singular fuck what's going on in either of your love lives?! It doesn't matter to me. It's great that you're happy this week.”

“This week?” Arthur repeated, the words colored with his rage. He scoffed, “Don't worry about dinner, I think I'm fine.” Arthur turned on his heel and marched out of the kitchen.

*

The next day John had the sense to come to Arthur with his tail tucked between his legs.

He made breakfast sandwiches with the hashbrowns Arthur liked. Faroe was tearing into her scrambled eggs with vigor.

“Woah,” She announced proudly, when she picked up her baby spoon with a bit of egg on it.

“A very good job, my young friend,” John smiled.

Then the footsteps started from the top of the stairs.

“Arthur?” He said quietly when Arthur passed by the kitchen.

Arthur turned on his heel and looked at him expectantly.

John fumbled under the unimpressed gaze, “I- I made the sandwiches you like.”

He softened just slightly, looking thoughtful, he chewed his lip a moment, “Parker and I had planned to go get breakfast.”

“Oh.”

After a moment waiting for more, Arthur sighed and turned away.

“I’m sorry!” John burst out, face blazing. This caught Arthur’s attention.

“I… I got some bad news yesterday. A lot of it.” After the morning he’d had, seeing Parker and Arthur holding hands. Seeing again that he was never even in the running as far as Arthur was concerned. Seeing that the kiss really had meant absolutely nothing to Parker. Seeing that Parker had really asked to kiss him just because he couldn’t have Arthur.

“It wasn’t your problem. I… I shouldn’t’ve made it your problem,” John said.

And fuck everything. Fuck his pride. Because when he said it Arthur melted. His forgiveness came too easy, but it soothed every jagged edge in John’s chest for just a moment.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Next time say your mood is about something else and I’ll leave it be.”

“I will,” John lied, because there wouldn’t be a next time in all likelihood. Every second was at Kayne’s discretion. Each moment spent tethered over this yawning void.

Tomorrow was Christmas. He wanted to see Faroe’s first Christmas.

“Good,” Arthur nodded, “And… well if you need to talk later, I’m here.”

“Okay.”

*

John heard Arthur cheerfully greet Daniel at the door.

“Good morning Merry Christmas,” Daniel announced to the living room as he entered. John and Parker were seated across the room from one another. They used to share a couch. Faroe sat on the floor on top of a soft blanket in a set of Christmas pajamas. They'd already eaten breakfast and now it was time for presents.

It was nice. John knew that. Breakfast had been nice, he and Parker had acted normal even if they both knew it wasn’t. John had gotten to cook a full proper meal for all of them, Parker had taken his post by his side at the stove. John couldn’t look at him. He kept remembering how he’d felt when Parker had called him sweetheart. He hated that Parker had made him feel that way.

He had bought the presents for today weeks ago and he could even see a couple packages tucked under the tree with his name on them. He knew this was nice and it was definitely infinitely better than Christmas back in New York.

(His heart picked up with a frenetic beating as he thought of New York, and of how soon all of this would come apart at the seams. He wished with a desperation that scared him that he could ignore all of the difficulty sitting just past the Horizon. He wished he could fit in this moment properly with them, with Arthur and Faroe and even Parker, but the fear made itself very much known.)

Worse than that was Arthur and Parker sharing the couch. It was normal, of course they shared the couch, and if John had asked for a place on it before perhaps he'd even have one. But the way they leaned into one another. The way Parker's eyes kept cutting to his when Arthur knocked their shoulders together.

He was rubbing it in John's face. The looks were pointed and meaningful. They said ‘I got here first.’

How had it happened so fast?

John had thought he was the one letting Parker down for his own good and instead here he was realizing his place in Parker’s arms was only because Arthur hadn't yet taken it. He was nothing to Parker so much so that it didn't even take a day for Parker to latch on to Arthur. The man he knew John also loved, without so much as a word to him that it was going to happen.

John huffed, pushed the feelings aside, and took up his job distributing presents. A set of watches that they had dug up for cheap at various antique stores because Daniel liked to repair them.

A blow up ball pit for Faroe from Daniel because he didn’t have to live here. A knife for Arthur from Parker with an explanation that Arthur really needed to have something to properly defend himself with. Then John’s gift for Parker was in Parker's hands and John watched, breathless, as the other man unwrapped it.

“Oh,” Parker said, turning it over in his hands, “Is this the whole show?" He asked looking over the X-Files box set in his hands. Parker had mentioned that he'd never seen it, but wanted to. John had intended it as something they could do together.

“Yes.”

“Hey this is really great John, thanks. I've been wanting to see this.” It had been a small conversation. One that maybe Parker didn't even remember.

“Of course,” John said, voice raw. He passed Arthur his gift to him as well. (Handing Daniel the package that contained the nice bottle of wine that John had got him without really bothering to look over).

John watched Arthur unwrap his gift. This one was not so obvious as the pocket knife as to what it was from touch alone. And so John stepped forward.

“It's probably ridiculous,” he found himself saying before any real explanation came out.

“It feels like a book,” Arthur said, turning it over.

“Open it.” Arthur did and his hand landed on the page. For just a second he drew back, then started running his fingers across the page slowly.

“Oh,” He said softly, “oh John, I'm…”

“I wanted you to be able to read your favorite poems,” John told him.

Arthur delicately ran a hand across the Braille printed page. It had been something of a time investment to find somebody with a braille printer who was willing to help him and to find somebody who could bind small books.

Arthur turned the book in his hands. It was simple and black, but John made sure that the cover was pleasant to touch. Arthur's finger ran along the ridges of the spine.

“This is stunning. I- Well now I feel somewhat foolish for what I got you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's that one,” Parker said, rising up slightly off the couch to gesture and then settling back with his arm across the back of the couch. Arthur easily leaned back into it. John looked away.

He picked up the gift Parker had indicated and opened it.

It was a small book too. When he flipped it open there were pictures. It was small enough to slide into his pocket easily. Slid into plastic covers on each page were photos. Of Faroe, of him, of them. Their family. Even pictures of moments that he hadn't been there for. A still frame of Faroe crawling for the first time across the carpet. Arthur just barely in frame looking positively ruined with that mixture of joy and melancholy he had whenever he couldn't see her do something new.

“Admittedly, very little of it was my work personally. The bulk of the photos are obviously from after my accident,” he gestured vaguely to his eyes, “but it was my idea. And Lily and Parker have been helping since October. Taking pictures whenever they can.”

“Thank you,” John said, running a fingertip over the picture of them huddled close around Faroe in the pumpkin.

“Here, open mine as well,” Parker said, picking up his and passing it to John.

John tore open the wrapping and found a thick knit sweater with honeycomb cables in a light purple. He ran his thumb over the texture of it, feeling too much for words.

“Admittedly I also didn't do the work on that. Never could get the hang of knitting, but I commissioned Marie and she was kind enough to take it. It's measured to my size, but honestly, man, I think you could use something that's a little bit big and cozy.”

“Thank you,” John managed through the lump that was rising in his throat.

“Of course… you deserve nice things, John,” Parker couldn't meet his eye as he said that. John didn't quite know what to make of it. He slid the sweater over his head and felt the weight of it heavy and warm across his shoulders. It smelled like Parker.

John cleared his throat, looking away, “How about something for you my friend?”

He gave Faroe another gift and helped her where she needed to open it.

Her eyes were wide and excited as she looked at the nearly spherical stuffed toy in front of her. A duck with a green head. Looking at it now, it was larger than she was.

She reached out and patted its head the same way she did when they let her gently pet Hali.

Slowly she retracted her hand and said, “Luh Gurrrr. Augn! Luh Grrrr.”

He nodded seriously, “I know. She’s for you.” He wanted to say more. To tell Faroe this absurd little toy would be there for her when John couldn’t be. He wanted to explain where he had to go. Explain that she wouldn’t be alone. That he’d miss her.

But the others were watching. And even more than that John was scared she’d understand. He didn’t want her to know right now that he was leaving her. Because right now she was talking animatedly to the duck. And she was happy.

 

The day continued on in reasonably cheerful order. When it was finally time to settle in for the night, Daniel left. Parker wished them all good night and dragged Arthur into the hallway. John was still in line of sight to see the gentle kiss between the two at the door as Parker pulled away and Arthur's hand trailed fondly over his jaw.

He felt something hard and angry rise up in him knowing exactly what it felt like to let his hand trail the same way over Parker's jaw. When he got into his room he pulled off the sweater hung it in the closet and pushed it all the way to the back where he wouldn't have to see it ever again.

Parker was… something. John should have seen from the beginning. Manipulative perhaps? Trying to Edge his way into his and Arthur's easy life.

One thing was certain. John was not going to leave and let him take over his life.

*
Time was running short, it always seemed to run shorter. Day after Christmas. Didn't know how long he had left here. Didn't know what to do with himself.

He spent all evening with Faroe until Lily was off her shift. He sat in the rocking chair in her room, holding her asleep in his arms.

When Lily texted him and let him know that she was home, he gently put Faroe in her crib next to the giant duck, tucked the blanket around her, and drove to Lily's.

When he arrived he said, “I wanted to see you, because I may not be able to again.”

She blinked, “What?”

“Hastur knows where I am. It's only a matter of time.” His voice was oddly flat, he noted distantly.

“He does??” She shook her head, like she didn’t want to believe him.

“I have it on fairly good authority,” John told her, “Oh and Parker and Arthur are dating. And I kissed Parker a couple nights ago. Before they started dating.”

Huh, almost none of that was relevant.

Lily shook her head again, “Okay I hang on that's a lot to take in. What happened? How did he find out?”

John gave her a limp shrug, “I have to head back to the house. I'm not going to be able to know when they come looking for me, but I need to spend…”

He broke off. He had spent the day committing the texture of Hali's fur to memory, the weight of Faroe in his arms, the way she said his name, the way she stood at the table hands planted on it and danced when her favorite cartoons came on.

He knew he was too distant right now. He could see it scared Lily. He also knew that the thin layer of ice holding him together was the only thing keeping him upright.

John would miss Lily, but actually talking to someone who knew that they were never going to see him again was too much already. So he opened his arms and when she stepped into them he hugged her tight and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. Then he counted the five and released her.

“You have my phone number memorized right?”

John nodded.

“Okay, the moment you get a chance to do so unobserved, I don't care when that is John Doe, you are going to call me or send me a letter or whatever you have to do. You're going to let me know that you are safe more or less when you are safe more or less…” She wrapped her arms around herself, steady not crying, she was a nurse, she was good at handling people's lives falling apart, “Go spend time with your little girl.”

John felt a spike of pain at that. He turned on his heel, went back to the car, and drove back home mechanically. When he arrived Arthur was shut in his room. Parker was gone for the night and Faroe was asleep in her bed. John sat at the top of the stairs leaning against the bannister and looking into the open door of Faroe’s room, looking at the painted butterflies he had finished just last week.

*

The next morning John came out of his room when he heard the knock at the door.

“Hello?” Arthur said, having gotten to the door first and opened it.

“Hi, you must be, Arthur. How do you do?” Kayne’s voice was smooth and too friendly.

“I'm sorry,” Arthur drew his hand back, “Who are you?”

“A friend of John's. He must have told you I was on my way?”

John stopped behind Arthur, “Kayne.”

“Johnny! You promised you would introduce me to your friends, but you didn't tell me that the man you worked for was this handsome!”

“John, who is this?” Fear and distrust coiled in Arthur’s voice.

“This is Kayne,” John said, not quite sure how else to explain their connection. He could hardly tell Arthur he’d made a deal with a man like this to bargain for his own safety.

Kayne broke into a slightly manic laugh, “See? I knew I could get an introduction out of you. I swear with this guy. It's like pulling teeth for basic manners isn't it?” Kayne addressed the words to an increasingly uncomfortable Arthur.

“I'm sorry, John hasn't mentioned you.” Arthur shot John a look of accusation.

“I suppose he wouldn't. You know how he can be, nothing but secrets with this one. I swear, if he could have helped it I doubt he would have even told me about running away from home.”

Arthur blinked, “You know about that?”

“Oh yeah John and I are real close. Anyway I just thought I'd come and drop in. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi! John, why don't you take me to the room and show me that cat lamp you were telling me about?”

John grit his teeth, “Of course, come in.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, but stepped back, gesturing Kayne inside.

“It'll just be a moment, Arthur,” John promised, “Kayne’s very busy.”

He walked down the hall and shut the door behind them.

“There. Your introduction. Since you forced the issue,” John spat.

“No I'm sorry, I'm afraid it only works when you choose it,” Kayne practically chirped.

“What?”

“Yeah I actually just came here to let you know that you've got less than an hour probably. He definitely has somebody on the way now. Sorry about your life here Johnny. The walls are cute.”

“Get out.”

“Aw now is that any way to treat a-”

“Out.” John repeated, too loudly.

“Ugh fine.”

Kayne walked casually as anything back down the hall, stopping next to Arthur where he stood on the bottom step of the stairs, “I bet the two of us can be friends, Arthur. I certainly hope this unexpected visit hasn't put a bad taste in your mouth.”

“I think you should leave,” Arthur said evenly, “before I call the police.”

“Oh you incorrigible flirt. Okay I'll see you around. You should take my card,” Kayne pulled one from his pocket and pressed it into Arthur's hand, “You might need it.” With one more grin back at John, Kayne breezed out the front door, slamming it shut behind him

“John?” Arthur prompted, looking for explanation, thoughtlessly sliding the card into his coat pocket.

“My father's on his way,” John said, flatly, “I should wait outside.”

“What? No,” It took no time for him to slide from shock into anger, “We have to get you in the car! You should run so you can come back.”

“It's too late. I’ve known he was coming for days,” And running would have only risked harm to them. Hastur wouldn’t put up with anyone trying to hide him, “I should go.”

A look of hurt made its home on Arthur’s face.

“No. You’ll stay here. I don't give a damn if they try to take you. I won’t let them,” Arthur pulled out and flicked open the knife Parker had given him, “I’ll just- just-”

“Nothing. You won't anything,” John said sternly, “I mean it Arthur. Don't cause trouble. The kind of people they’ll send for me will be dangerous.”

Arthur’s jaw was still set stubbornly.

“Don’t risk Faroe like that,” John said, laying a gentle hand on his knife-free forearm.

Arthur softened just like John knew he would, “Then just stay. Stay until they take you.”

John felt his own will give way too, “Okay.”

Arthur rushed to grab his phone and called Parker asking him to come over as soon as possible. John let him.

Parker was there within thirteen minutes despite it being an easily seventeen minute drive from his house.

“I'm here. It's just me,” Parker said, announcing himself as he walked through the door. Which was good, because Arthur was shakily pointing a knife in that direction when he heard the door unlatch.

John sighed, “Arthur, please put the knife down.”

Arthur growled, “I cannot believe you want me to take this lying down.”

Parker nodded, “We can fight them off! We could call the cops. I don't know.”

“The cops would have already been warned off. We don't have enough time for any of that anyway. Just sit d-” John was cut off.

The front door jostled as somebody knocked on it. On the other side someone was whistling.

John approached the door.

“John,” Arthur said, “John don’t.”

He opened it, “Butcher.”

“Ah! You remember me and here I thought that you might forget, being gone so long,” He was wearing the same well worn black jacket that he had been for the last decade. His hand was in his pocket and John knew he was running his thumb along the length of piano wire that must be there.

“You know this man?” Arthur asked, hand still tight on the knife.

“Quite a blade you got there, lad. Yes, John and I- Well, we go way back,” He turned back to John and smiled, “Now are you going to give me much trouble or do you think I could skip the dance on this one? I'll take you home, and I can get back to jobs that are more to my liking.” Capture and delivery was not what The Butcher was accustomed to.

“No,” Parker said, approaching, a tension in his posture as though ready to strike, “You can't.”

“Back off,” John snapped, causing him to draw up short.

Hurt confusion flickered over his face, but he stopped.

“Thank you,” Butcher said with slightly exaggerated gratitude, he withdrew a zip tie and started binding John’s wrists.

“Who did this, John?” Arthur asked, “Who told him?”

John spoke through a grunt of pain as the ties pulled tight, “If I said it was Parker. If I said he wanted me gone. Would you believe me?” He watched the words register on both their faces and felt a sharp satisfaction at the uncomprehending shock on Parker’s face. This was how he’d do it. Make sure Parker couldn’t take his place.

Arthur took a step back, “I- what?”

Parker shook his head, horrified, “That- that's not true why would you say-?”

“As much as this touching parting is beautiful, I have things to be getting to,” Butcher said, cutting them off. He started patting John down.

“John,” Parker demanded, “What are you saying?”

“You won't be needing this,” He took John’s phone and threw it hard to the ground outside.

“Did you need to do that?” John demanded.

“Procedure boyo.”

“John?” Arthur said, a question, a plea in his voice. And John looked up at him.

His eyes were wide, eyebrows furrow.

John opened his mouth to reply, but felt the tug on his wrists dragging him toward the door.

They didn’t close the door behind them as The Butcher dragged John to the car.

“Artie, I- I didn’t I swear,” He heard faintly.

A sigh, “I know.”

Notes:

There! one couple is together, for real this time I prommy
We're finally here! the fallout of running away from an incredibly rich abusive asshole

Next time: A warm welcome

Chapter 26: Head Down

Summary:

John gets polished back into shape

Notes:

Hi hi okay

Warnings:
Kidnapping
Death threats
Dissociation
Emotional Abuse
-->including diet restrictions
Lmk if a summary in the end notes would help tho, lord know this chapters bleaker than yall probably signed on for

John liked long drives. He liked the way Parker would put up only enough of a fight to make Arthur feel like he won when he got control of the radio. He liked sitting in the back with Faroe, glancing over every few minutes to make sure she was alright even though she was always asleep. He liked when they rolled down the windows and turned the music up loud enough that Arthur would belt out whatever was playing into the wind. He’d liked their drive out to Orchard’s Run to the pumpkin patch. Or the night they'd gone up to Boston because Parker wanted a milkshake from a specific restaurant.

So he knew he liked long drives. But try as he might, he couldn't take his mind to that place now, trapped in a car with the Butcher humming away and staring out the windshield.

“Could you just knock it off?” John growled two hours in.

He shot John an unimpressed look, “I am already stuck with your sorry ass crying out the window the whole way. Forgive me boyo, but I'm afraid this whole production is below my pay grade. So no, I think I will keep humming.”

John always hated the Butcher, “Then why are you here?”

“Your father didn't trust anyone else to get the job done.”

“He could have gotten me himself.”

He huffed out a laugh, “I forget you’re funny.”

He was right, it had been stupid to say.

He glanced over at John and let out half a sigh, “Well, lets talk if your so interested in keeping me from my music.”

“What is there to talk about?”

“Oh well we haven't seen each other in some months, a year actually by my account.”

“I'm not going to catch up with you for old times sake,” John spat.

“Now why not?” The man smiled, eyes glinting, “You and I used to work closely, lad. I don't see why it has to be so tense now. It's going to be a long drive.”

“You're a murderer. We're not friends.”

“Oh because we're so above that now are we?”

John grit his teeth, “Yes, I am now.”

“Oh good for you. Cleaned up real nice once it was made easy for you. Let's see how long that sticks once you get home huh?”

“Fuck you!”

“Manners, I'll put you in the trunk if I have to, but I'd hate to do it.”

“Why are you doing this?” John demanded, “You don’t do clean jobs. Are you low on cash? I could-”

“You could what?” The Butcher cut him off, and John felt suddenly cold, “You see? It comes real easy to you doesn't it? After all those years of being able to buy away any problem. But no Boyo. I'm afraid you'll find I've got plenty reason enough to be doing this. Ain’t a price to be put on following your convictions.”

“Convictions? You think that bringing me back is the right thing to do?” John shook his head.

“It’s the right thing for me. Not everyone I've been made to work with in your stead has been quite as tolerable as yourself.”

“What? Yellow?”

“Oh no much worse than that. If it was just Yellow I could deal with his sorry ass. It's much worse than that,” He repeated shaking his head, “Do you need us to stop at the rest stop? It’ll be the most uninhabited one for quite a while. If you're going to need to go, this is the only one I'll be able to let you out at.”

John sighed, “Yes, I need to go.”

“There, see? Didn't have to be hard.”

They pulled off the road and he let John out of the car.

As he undid his handcuffs he said, nearly perfunctory, “There. Now if you run off, I'll go back and kill your whole fucking family. The baby first. Okay?”

“Okay.”

*

John's arrival was well prepared for. Butcher had put out a call when they were twenty minutes out of town. When they pulled up at the curb The Butcher let him out again and nudged him in the direction of the door to his father's building.

John felt a wave of nausea pass over him as he passed through the glass double doors and into the art deco lobby.

And there was his father and his brother.

Hastur broke into a concerned smile, his voice hushed and fatherly, maybe even a little choked up, “John.”

John felt terror flood him at the unexpected reaction. Then his eyes slid to the figure behind the desk. A slender surly man with nearly as much a penchant for music as The Butcher. Kellin sat behind the desk, newspaper open wide and feet kicked up. John was fairly sure he’d never seen Kellin’s face.

John couldn’t breath and his father’s arms opened.

But, mercy in at least this, Hastur didn't wait to embrace him and simply turned to pushed the button on the elevator. The doors slid open and he stepped in, Yellow followed. They turned to face the door in an eerie sync.

It hadn't been enough of a greeting to be believed. But it made all the shapes and gestures of one. As though made by something that understood that families greet each other warmly after a long parting, but didn't understand why.

For a flicker of a second in his mind he saw an image of himself in Hastur's place, worn and lined in all the subtle ways Hastur was. Opening his arms to a young woman with Faroe's brown curls.

The Butcher's hand urged John toward the elevator, and John stumbled a step.

Yellow's eyes met John's and Yellow's hand extended to push the hold door button. His lip curled as he looked downward. Unable to look at John.

John and the Butcher stepped in, backs to Hastur and Yellow. There was a moment of expectant silence as they waited for John to push the button. His hand wavered in the air as he punched in the code that hadn't changed in his time away and they began to move.

The opening of the doors was foretold by a pleasant ding. They slid open to reveal a stark living room. Filled with furniture not meant to be lounged on. There was a television, at least when John was last here, but it was currently, and nearly always, tucked away in the cabinet. The sunset pouring through the floor to ceiling windows turned the painting of his mother on the opposite wall jaundiced.

John wondered not for the first time if she had really looked like that before she died. His own memories of her smudged and indistinct. She’d been an actress. Then she got sick. It was all John knew and he didn’t expect he’d feel moved to ask his father to tell stories any time soon.

John stepped into the living room first. Even the sound of his shoes on the tile brought a sick twisting feeling to his stomach.

Hastur moved past him impatient, heading for the coat rack where he removed his jacket and began to take off the leather gloves he wore.

“You'll take up your role again as heir,” He said, back to John, he hadn’t bothered to look at him after the initial greeting, “We’ll hold a press conference in a week’s time regarding your return to the family. In the meantime you will prove yourself to be trustworthy again. Your having lost your way doesn’t mean we can’t reintegrate you into the plan.”

“And if I don't?” The words left John before he could stop them, and his father's eyes finally met his. Something went cold in his chest and he felt a familiar dread claw its way up his spine.

“Butcher, back to… wherever you found him. You'll await my orders.”

John clamored to take back what he said, “No wait!”

His father's eyes flashed with a warning, John had told him no. That was not, the look reminded him curtly, how one spoke to their father.

“I mean, I understand,” John amended, sounding… pathetic to his own ears, desperate, “it won't be necessary.”

“Sorry lad, under orders,” Butcher tipped his hat to John, and hopped back in the elevator, “and no offense but I do hope you step out of line. I'm starting to itch for something to do.”

The elevator closed behind him. Hastur looked at John, ice cold.

“Butcher will keep an eye on things until I think you can be trusted again. I don’t recall what Kayne mentioned you were doing out there, but if need be I’ll pay for him to get rid of every single person who was kind to you, down to a polite barista. You won’t try and get in contact with anyone either or there will be consequences,” He looked at John with a disgust that made John feel oddly small, the sigh he let out was more disappointed than anything, “I cannot believe the pitiful attempts you have made to garner sympathy. Was your whining and limping around here not enough?”

“Limping?” John found himself repeating, and maybe there was anger there in his tone, but he was worried it was closer to hurt.

Hastur scoffed and breezed out of the room, into his study. Leaving John and Yellow alone.

John looked at his brother and there was nothing there for him but anger. Anger at Yellow who was always perfect at all of this. Yellow who knew how to wield the power they held and mirror their father’s impassive gaze so much better than John could.

“What?” John muttered through grit teeth.

“What was it like?”

John stopped, “What?”

“Not living with him,” Yellow's voice was low and serious.

John glanced around, for his father’s shadow listening around a corner. For the trick. But Yellow’s eyes remained fixed on him.

John hesitated for a moment and then said, “I felt like a person.”

Yellow stared at him for several more moments, his jaw flexed, and he stalked away back down the hall.

Leaving John, hollow and alone in his own too large skin, in a too large house.

*

John, needless to say, didn't sleep. It was all he could do to keep clawing himself back to the reality he was sitting in. He didn’t want to be here, but he was scared of what he might come back to if he let instinct take over. What if he froze up entirely again?

That wouldn't be cooperating, and they would pay the price, not John.

When the sun finally rose, causing the light through his curtains to change quality, John stood from the bed with its dark blue nearly black sheets, and made for the door.

Right outside his door, sitting in the path was a box. On top of it, scrolled in a sharp hand, was the phrase, “put on something decent”

John looked down at his clothes. Dark jeans, black t-shirt, his suit jacket that he’d shown up to Arthur's house in, it was fraying at the cuffs.

He knew that if he left these out in the open they would be gone before he got back. So he pulled the new box into the room with him. He changed out of his clothes.

When he pulled off his coat there was a soft thud when he dropped it. He frowned, picking it back up and rifling through the pockets until he found, tucked into the inside breast pocket, the book.

He’d been carrying it everywhere since Arthur gave it to him. His hands shook a little as he held it. He stared at the cover, too scared to open it and see their faces.

He lifted the mattress to hide the clothes that still smelled faintly of their detergent underneath.

When he lifted it, his breath caught as he saw every other thing that he had ever tucked underneath there. It wasn't much, a candy bar, and some packs of single serve protein shake, a bottle of nail polish but lying there in the center was a photo of him, his mother, and Yellow at Lake Hali.

The sun sat on the horizon, seeming to float on the lake, briefly doubled in its reflection. A frozen moment where it hadn’t yet sunk behind the lake. She clutched him close against the cold air, smiling, an infant Yellow in her other arm. The clouds were rolling overhead, threatening a storm. Surely they left soon after this. The date on the back indicated John must have been just over four.

It was the same dimensions as the photos in his little book.

He flipped through to the last page that was filled, there were plenty of empty pages after it, because there was supposed to be other memories that they would add.

He slid his mom into the book right across from a picture of John, Faroe, Arthur, and Parker as she smeared cake across her face at her birthday.

 

When he dressed in the far less comfortable clothes, he placed the book in the inner pocket of the coat.

When he exited his room into the house proper he could smell food cooking and knew that the chef must have prepared something.

John slid into the kitchen, wondering if he might be able to just have the normalcy of brewing a cup of coffee for himself, and saw Hastur and Yellow at the table. Hastur was reading the newspaper, but he flipped his eyes upward as John entered, and took a long sip of his grapefruit juice.

His eyes flicked across John and landed on his head.

He scoffed, “You look ridiculous. First thing we're doing is getting you a haircut.”

John took a step back, hand going up to the back of his head as though he could protect it. His father lifted an eyebrow and John lowered his hand.

“Fine.”

Hastur and Yellow had eggs. The breakfast John was offered consisted of half an orange and a handful of nuts. It tasted like sawdust. It was more than he was expecting to get.

The car ride to the salon was silent and the wait was non-existent.

John felt wooden somehow as they washed his hair, and a surge of gratitude flooded his chest when they turned him away from the mirror before they started cutting.

He smelled the bleach being applied to the ends of his hair once it was cut.

Hastur was the one to give the nod of approval, but John could tell just from the weight of it that it was correct. This stylist had been giving him, Yellow, and Hastur this haircut for two decades.

The next stop they made was a tailor. John's build had changed in his time away and the extra weight he put on around the middle was just enough for his shirt to sit in an ever-so-slightly unflattering manner. He caught Hastur's eyes flitting over him with distaste more than once this morning.

Once they were through at the tailor it was back to the apartment where John was prepped by not just the family manager, but one of his own to help him keep track of the story.

A year, it had been decided, was far too long to justify being a minor kidnapping at that point. Everyone would have expected him dead or returned months ago. So it was obvious, even from the outside, that if John returned now it was because the initial running away had been his choice.

John was vague and quiet as he stared down at the wood grain of the table, listening to Hastur and the managers bat ideas back and forth about what the best reason for his long absence would be. They considered a health crisis, but this was Swept Away the moment the words left the newer manager's mouth. It had to be something shameful enough that John wouldn't have told his family where he was, but not so shameful as to bring down trouble on the brand. Plausible, but flattering.

Then it was decided. They explained the details of the situation. How much John was to express in the first press release, how much John was to express in later interviews. The whole thing intricately woven manipulations and turns in the story that made John sound like the tragic heartbroken hero. It wasn't lost on John that they very likely needed this angle, because every time he caught the impressions of his own reflection in the water glass in front of him, he looked visibly inconsolable.

Eventually the managers left with encouraging claps on the shoulder that John just barely managed to not flinch away from. Scapula, femur, ulna, patella. The grounding exercise appeared out of order and jumbled in his head. Ribs. His exhausted mind supplied weakly.

“Well with that done, and your image under repair… You may enter!” Hastur called.

Moments later, pushing through the door to the office, came a sharp man, gaunt in the face. His footsteps nearly as familiar to John as his own.

“Yorick?” John asked, baffled.

His sunken eyes were bright, as though truly pleased to see him, “Hello, Mr. King.”

John flinched at the name.

“You…” He turned back to Hastur, “You kept him on?”

Hastur flapped an impatient hand and said, “Certainly easier than firing him, and rehiring someone else when we had you returned.”

“I have been responsible for your duties in your absence, Mr. King.”

John almost felt sorry for the poor bastard. He knew how much he had been carrying before he left. For someone else to catch all of those spinning plates, no matter how well versed was not an easy task. He realized this must be who the Butcher had been communicating with since John left.

“Yorick will return to his previous role and he will be attentive,” Hastur said.

‘He will be a spy,’ John heard.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. King. It has been sometime. You are looking well.”

John never knew what was empty flattery with this man, but some edge to it sounded quite genuine.

“Thank you, Yorick,” He managed.

“I'll leave you two to do a debrief. John, you will be taking up your projects again come Monday,” Hastur rose from his chair and gestured for Yellow to follow.

John felt it for the power play that it was for Hastur to take Yellow away from his duties all day to simply watch John get polished back into shape. Hastur was making a point to indicate that John's behavior was unacceptable and any further insubordination would reflect on everyone. As though that had ever worked on John and Yellow. As though they didn't both relish getting the other into trouble as payback for the previous time they had done the same.

The two of them left and the heavy wooden door shut behind them.

Yorick opened his briefcase, pulling out stacks of files, “So as you can see we have many of the same accounts that we were working with the previous year. However, we have taken on one for fruit juice that was acquired in the meantime. We will circle back to that. First I will give you an update on I will recent stock prices-”

And John fell into the constant stream of speech from Yorick until it was finally late enough at night that he was able to delicately disengage himself and promise they would begin again in the morning. For all John's efforts to remain aware and alert, by the time evening came the day was a haze of vague impressions.

Finally back in his room, he stopped in the mirror and saw himself. Hair cut short, entirely blonde, in a suit. The backdrop of the window displaying the New York skyline behind him. And he threw up.

*

When he woke up, one of the suits had already arrived, altered. John got dressed, put the book in his clean coat, and strolled out. He was buttoning his cuff as he entered the kitchen. He glanced around and saw his father wasn't there and the chef hadn't arrived today. He was not, however, alone.

“Yorick. Good I'm glad you're here.”

“Good morning, Mr. King.”

The fridge was empty save for condiments and coffee additions. Well as long as he understood the shape of the diet he was being put on.

“Call me John,” He said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He added a heavy dose of cream, it would be at least something in his stomach.

“Of course, sorry, Mr. King,” Yorick replied, not seeming to hear the irony in the statement.

“I said call me John. It's ridiculous to call me Mr. King anyway. There's three of us in this house. John will clarify things, will it not, Yorick?” John put a little extra emphasis on the other man's first name.

“Of course… John,” Yorick accepted hesitantly.

“Good,” John nodded, “Now.. I went into the study with you last night? I imagine you gave me a briefing. I do not remember any of that, so we're going to have to try it again.” It would hardly be the first time he’d had to ask that of Yorick.

“Understood Sir.”

John gave him a look.

“John,” Yorick amended, looking embarrassed.

John gave him a nod stirring his mug quickly with fork, tossing the fork into the sink, and taking a long drink from it.

Yorick gave him a skeptical look, “And ah! Do you suspect that today is the sort of day where a rerun of the information would stick?”

John frowned, swallowing half the mug in one go.

“No, but I don't know when a day like that's going to come again. So we'll just have to keep trying and hope that enough sticks that I can head into a meeting with only my notes.”

“Understood, John!”

“What’s on our docket for today?”

“Your father and brother have returned to their typical duties. You yourself are scheduled today for primarily getting settled back in at the office with all that entails.”

“I see, so I'm being allowed to leave the house unescorted?”

“You are allowed to leave the house in my company, sir- John!” Yorick corrected quicker this time.

Figured.

John nodded, “Right well we should get going.”

 

John paid particular attention to the dashboard of his old car as Yorick drove. He was insistent upon keeping his head down, not overwhelming his system with New York. Refusing to deal with the exact everything that was going on.

He was able to start his day without seeing his father. That was a win in his book. The oldest definition he had for a good day.

John watched the clock tick over to 10:45 and something kicked in his chest. An instinctual panic because it was time for Faroe to eat and he hadn't started her meal.

He began to mess with the radio station, tuning through a couple Christmas songs still clinging on in the last days of the year. He landed briefly on a song he recognized. He paused just long enough to realize it was something Parker had played in the car.

He turned off the stereo entirely and went back to picking at his cuticles. Watching the blood well up where he tore the skin back too far.

 

“I think it would be best if I did get you up to speed on our less Savory dealings,” Yorick said fanning his folders across the desk because they were in the office now. John was aware he had seen these folders the day before.

“...Right.”

“Your father has made more frequent use of Services of Dennis Collins.”

John's stomach somersaulted unpleasantly. He had suspected, but direct confirmation made him ill.

“Right.”

“We can get into the details of that later,” Yorick said, seeming to see that John was far from prepared for that conversation, “Broad Strokes on the toothpaste account again? If we have the same problem tomorrow send me an email. I will draw the outline of what you need to memorize on the car ride to the meeting come Monday.”

John swallowed uneasily, “Thank you.”

*

Weeks passed. John assumed the press conference and interviews went well, mostly because he had little evidence to the contrary.

The days seemed to tick on for years and the sun set at four every afternoon. It was a January like every one John had ever lived. The last January that had started heading this direction had cracked something in him so bad that the next thing he knew he was pulling a briefcase out of a dumpster and moving into a stranger’s house.

The cold seemed to eat at him more every day.

He didn’t open the book of photos. He kept the book of photos pressed against his chest each day in his coat.

He was scared it would remind him of fall. He was scared it would remind him of cooking. Of sitting at a table, feeding people. He was scared if he saw any of their faces he would crumple in on himself like a house of cards. The masks and stage directions and scripts falling away, leaving only the emptiness beneath.

*

The door burst open, startling John awake. He scrambled backward in the bed pulling the blanket quickly over himself and the old clothes he put on to fall asleep the night before. He had locked the door. Who had the key? Anyone perhaps, he supposed. He realized that it was a simple indoor lock. He himself had replaced all door knobs back home with the levers that he could press open more easily while carrying Faroe. He knew that the locks weren't hard to open.

“Sir!” Yorick said, “Your brother has gone missing in the night. Your father is enraged and will be back here within minutes. If you have anything that you do not wish to be discovered and destroyed you must give it to me now.”

And suddenly John was twelve years old, pulling back the blanket, scrambling for the book that he had tucked away, and pressing it into York's hands so he could hide it until Hastur had calmed down. He didn't really think about what he was doing until he watched his last bit of home disappear into the breast pocket of Yorick's coat.

“This will be difficult, Mr. King. You will get through it. You must lay down and pretend to be asleep or he will know I have warned you. I have to go, do not tell him I was here. I will be in the office. You can join me there when he is done.”

Yorick had only been 18 when he had become John's personal assistant or more realistically John's keeper. It was never paternal, the age difference between them a mere eight years. But in moments like these it felt so much larger. Yorick, with his hollow features and shaved head looking oddly ageless as he shut the door quietly to slink away.

John was lucky he hadn't eaten the night before, because if he had the nausea would have overtaken him.

When the front door opened with a ding John could hear every footstep. The walls were thick enough, but John was in tune with every creek of every board.

His bedroom door opened roughly and banged against the wall, and John allowed himself to startle upward, staring at Hastur.

“You know where he went.”

“What?” John said.

“You know where your brother went, you helped him.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Your life won’t be any easier for having helped him perform the same childish stunt,” Hastur said evenly, “Get ready, your meeting with a stylist today. We have a dinner party next week and I won’t have you embarrassing me along with your brother’s absence.”

Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

John’s trembling only got worse with the knowledge that this was far from over. Hastur leaving without setting the consequence immediately only meant he’d have more time to think of something.

*

Hastur didn't mention that the dinner party that they were to go to would be Kayne’s. John might have known it if he had been paying attention to the calendar that Yorick listed all of his engagements on. He might have known it if he had realized it to be mid-February now, but regardless of his lack of awareness. John found himself quite suddenly in the large dining room at Kayne's house just outside of the city.

He was able to, at least appreciate the fact that in settings like this his father could not control the amount of food that was available. He tried to focus on that, even if he did not like the fact that himself and his father had been placed so near the head of the table, leaving only space for Kayne and his date.

Naturally everyone else was there before Kayne was. Naturally it was arranged so that he would be late enough to make an entrance. John made a point to not look, instead tracing his pinky along the subtle leaf pattern of the tablecloth.

When the doors swung open there was a sound of heels and the subtler taps of Kayne’s own shoes against the tile. There was a moment of hush in the conversations. John hated the crowd for playing into the scene Kayne had set. A low murmur came up from the crowd as the footsteps approached the table.

Gasps went up for a moment as the pair paused in their movements. John would not look up to see what the fuss was. Then the footsteps continued their approach.

John waited to look up until it was absolutely necessary, dragging his eyes up from the tablecloth lazily. Playacting at boredom.

He landed first on the rich red fabric of a dress pulled tight to someone's form. Dragging his eyes upward, he inhaled sharply. Hands, forearms, one with a tattoo just visible with the way the hand rested in the crook of Kayne’s elbow. John's eyes skipped upward to the face.

Arm and arm with Kayne, dressed in a slick floor length red thing with a slit up his leg, taller than he should be in a way that hinted at high heels, was Arthur Lester.

“Let me get your chair, Songbird,” Kayne said, pulling it out for Arthur in a gentlemanly fashion.

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur flashed him a smile.

Kayne grinned, “But, of course.”

“Evening Hastur, good to see you. This,” He gestured with a special smile for John, “is my fiance.”

Notes:

Ah so Yeah John's having what we in the business call A Real Mental Health Moment

Up Next: the Aftermath of John's departure back home

Chapter 27: Unsteady

Summary:

Its not that this is impossible to do between two people. Its just that if a table has three legs, sawing one off won't leave you a good place to set a vase.

“Artie, I- I didn’t I swear,” Parker stammered.
“I know,” Arthur said, listening to the car door shut and the car pulling away.
The front door was standing open. It let the wind in. It was cold outside.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Parker sounded… lost. Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Parker directionless.

“I’ll call Lily,” Arthur said after a moment, “the police are probably pointless.” He pulled out his phone.

The phone rang three times before she picked up.

“It happened?” Her voice on the other end sounded on the verge of breaking.

“You knew?” Arthur’s voice was angry and accusatory, before he could stop himself.

“I- He didn’t Tell you?” Her utter horror shuttered the vent on Arthur’s rising anger.

She had, reasonably, assumed that John would tell them. Of course John would warn them about what was coming before they were down to twenty minutes. Of course he wouldn’t blind side them with this.

“Do you know who told?” Arthur said, careful this time to not allow accusation to color his tone. He knew Lily had nothing to do with that. She had reason enough to hate Hastur King even if you leave aside her very obvious friendship with John.

“He didn’t say,” Lily said.

“He said Parker sold him out,” Arthur told her, “But it-”

“It wasn’t Parker,” Lily was saying before Arthur could speak, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.”

“Why would he say that?”

“I truly do not-”

A set of footsteps ran through the door and Arthur's grip tightened on his knife.

“Fuck,” Noel’s voice came from the doorway, “Fuck.”

“Arthur?” Lily’s voice came from the other side, but the phone was falling away.

“You,” Arthur said, finally feeling like this rage had found purchase somewhere.

“Whoa, hey-”

He began to step forward, stalking across the entryway toward Noel, “It was you wasn’t it? You-”

A hand landed in the center of his chest, firm and implacable. Parker’s. Arthur could feel the other man lean closer. Hand slipping down to gently pull the knife from his own.

“Art, that's a goddamn cop,” Parker hissed.

Arthur stilled, realizing that moving the way he had been while armed was maybe not the most cool headed move.

“I- I didn’t-”

“I fucking get it, but, Arthur, baby, I need you to keep your head,” Parker whispered, Arthur heard him flick the knife shut.

Arthur swallowed and nodded. Parker drew back. He did not hand Arthur his knife back.

“It was you,” Arthur repeated, voice still spilling over with anger, but his body was still.

“No, no hey, I- I came down the block as fast as I could, but it took me a second to realize what was happening.”

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked.

“I was keeping eyes on him…”

“What?”

Arthur heard Parker behind him, “Its okay, everyone’s fine, Lil, just- uh busy. Yes you can come over tomorrow. Bye.”

“Your co-parent is a criminal,” Noel said like he was trying to be reasonable.

“Alleged,” Parker said, as though instinctively, silently passing Arthur his phone.

“Sure,” Noel said, easily, enough, “Look, I’ve been working the King case for years. I was looking out for signs that John was still in the business, but it was pretty clear he wasn’t anymore. I was coming up to try and stop them, but I- fuck kid, I just wasn’t fast enough.”

Arthur felt suddenly wrung out.

They had nothing. No leads, no John, no explanation.

He heard and felt the heater kick on.

“Get out,” Arthur said.

“Is there anything I can-?”

“Go. I have your number, if I think of anything you can do you’ll be the first to hear about it. But unless you have evidence enough to put away Hastur King right now, there’s nothing to do.”

“Right… right. I’m sorry, kid. I’ll see ya,” The door shut behind him as he left.

Arthur didn't know what to do with himself. Should he call other people? Should he tell Marie? Should he get Faroe?

In the end he stood just off the bottom step of the stairs, one hand on the bannister, unmoving.

“What do we do?” He just needed a direction, so he went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, and another for Parker. He stopped his hand before reaching for the third mug.

“This isn't the first time we've been here right?” Parker offered, hesitant. He accepted the mug that Arthur handed him.

This already fresh territory they were attempting to tread together. The last time they did this they weren't dating. Made all the more odd and difficult by the nature of John's removal.

It had been steady with the three of them. Always two of them able to take care of a task while the last took care of Faroe or one able to rest, one able to watch her, and the last able to catch up on chores. It had worked, and now they were back just the two of them with a fledgling business and a one-year-old and a cat.

“Perhaps,” Arthur said, shifting his own cup to the other hand, “We should rethink how we did it last time. It's not just us.”

The tension in Parker's voice loosened with relief, “Yeah! Hey there’s Marie, Lily, Oscar… you've got friends and… well you know you got me.”

Arthur nodded and let out a shaky breath. Thank god.

He shouldn't let Parker help. It would be too much to ask of him again. Arthur should let him off the hook, tell him he didn't want help so Parker didn't feel badly about bowing out.

But Arthur still remembered laying on his back, bath water soaking into his shirt.

“We've done this before?” Arthur asked.

Arthur heard Parker set down his mug. Arthur did the same. They were both wide awake. They didn't need coffee.

“It just feels unsteady,” Parker said, comforting against Arthur's unvoiced fear.

Because John was gone. John who had promised Arthur he would never go again. John who didn't have a choice and left them with none.

Now there was only the practicalities. How would they care for Faroe when they had the same job? How would they keep their plates spinning in the air? Because if Arthur slowed to process what had just happened to his… what happened to John, he wouldn't speed up again.

“... Do you want to move in?” Arthur asked helplessly.

“Thank fuck,” Parker said pulling Arthur into arms, and Arthur collapsed a bit. He gripped the back of Parker's shirt, “Not gonna lie, I was about fifty percent convinced you were gonna push me away.”

Arthur didn’t tell him how close he’d been.

Parker let Arthur bury his face in his shoulder and Arthur let himself be held for the count of five before pulling back enough to speak.

“I can't deal with it yet,” Arthur heard himself admitting.

Parker's joyless laugh rattled in his chest like dead leaves,“I don't know where to fuckin start with it.”

“Can we just start packing your apartment?”

“Yeah.”

*

“I'll probably be better off just finishing out the rent for this last month on the lease,” Parker explained, folding another shirt to put in the box, “but I can make the move as soon as we figure out a time that works? It's not like I got a lot of shit anyway.”

“You’ve been putting a lot of your things into the donate pile,” Arthur frowned, “Its not necessary. We can make space for you. Besides your staying in his room, there wasn’t much in there from what I could tell.”

Arthur had agreed to the separate bedrooms at Parker’s incredibly awkward request.

It wasn’t, Parker had explained, because he didn’t like the idea of sharing a bed with Arthur still. He just wanted it to be a choice when they wanted to do that, not a convenience.

John had tried to ruin this as he left, a fact Parker still hadn’t wrapped his head around hours later. Parker wasn’t going to help him ruin it.

“I’m fine, Artie. And if he comes back you can feel free to kick me out.”

“Parker, I wouldn't kick you out,” Arthur looked a little surprised at the suggestion, “When- if John returns we’ll figure it out. Despite current circumstance, I do like living with you.”

Parker’s mouth ticked up, “Oh you say th-”

“Augn?” Faroe looked around.

The two of them went quiet for a few moments. She wriggled on Arthur's lap and Parker watched her look around searchingly. He felt a little nauseous.

*

Oscar rose from his bed in the attic of Marie's house with a groan. He was incredibly grateful for the place to sleep, but by God this bed was painful. It seemed like he was always in pain lately. He stood stretching and felt three separate pops in his back.

Through the small attic window he could see the sun rising over Arkham. It was stunning, lit up in rose and orange. A years-long instinct reared its head again today as he felt himself instinctually reach in his mind for the words of his morning prayers. He set it aside. He didn't have time this morning.

He pulled on his uniform and stopped in the bathroom long enough for deodorant and to style his hair reasonably. Then made his way down the stairs of Marie's house and waved goodbye to Hattie where she was playing online slots at the living room computer.

He escaped out into the cool morning air and made for the bus stop. He didn't mind the commute so much. Riding the bus everyday to and from the restaurant was comforting, the regular schedule adding a routine and structure to his morning. He rarely even paused for breakfast before departing most mornings.

He turned away from the windows as the bus pulled through the part of town that Oscar had lived in before. The bus passed directly in front of the church. It had been one of the best parts of being positioned as they were, people of all stripes could make their way there even if they didn't have a car. But now everyday it drove him past those doors that he knew so well.

He hadn't been back since he left.

He realized with a start that it was Sunday and without being able to stop himself he turned around to gaze at the approaching sight of the church. People were arriving, filing in clusters through the open doors. Families he’d known for a decade. Children he’d baptized.

He caught the briefest glimpse through the open doors before he was too far away to really see inside. The church was dim in the early morning light. The buildings around it not yet having allowed it to catch any beam of sunlight in the undergrowth of the city. An crouched old building nestled in between dozens of newer ones that had made themselves at home there. This time of year the sunlight would start to pour through the windows just before communion.

He gripped the cold rail on the bus tightly. He swayed where he was standing as the bus hit a pothole.

The tinny speakers on the bus announced them approaching the cross streets that Oscar worked at. He pulled the cord. When the bus slowed and stopped he hopped off. He didn't glance back to watch the doors close behind him and instead set off in the direction of the small diner he worked in.

It had been the best choice for him, he had picked carefully among the potential options.

He needed something busy and he didn't have the right job experience for anything too formal. Frankly anything higher end than this would have served alcohol anyway and… he didn't trust himself. He wasn't sure he ever would again.

He had been doing well. Not perfect and not as well as he would like to, but well. Marie kept saying that she was proud of him. But every time she came back from church and he was sitting there in the living room the look she gave him was unendurable.

He no more knew what to do with it than he knew what to do with the small silver cross that he had tucked away at the very bottom of his sock drawer. He couldn't see either without wishing, at least for a moment, that he could have just… stopped before he fell so far. Wished the credits had just rolled on his life before he started drinking. He wished that often, late at night, when he was sweating and shaking and plotting how to sneak out for a drink without Marie impossibly smelling it in the air the next morning.

He’d done it once and she'd let him off with a warning which was more than he deserved.

Kelly was already waiting tables this morning and gave him a friendly wave. He raised his hand in greeting, grabbing his apron off the hook and tying it around his waist. Reed was the manager today and came up to him looking frazzled.

“Thank God you're here. Hey I'm so sorry to ask, but do you think I could get you on dishes today? I'll give you take-out tips to make up for the difference.”

He smiled, knotting his apron in front of him, “Aye, that's fine.”

He smiled at Oscar, “Have I mentioned you're my favorite? Because you're my favorite.”

“Thanks,” Oscar huffed out a laugh.

“Jack just didn't make it in today and it's been a holy fucking mess and you know how the after-church crowd gets if they can't get their pancakes in time because there's just not enough dishes.”

“I know,” Oscar said.

He liked his work here. It was physically demanding, more so than he really expected. Carrying large trays of some of the heaviest food imaginable. Especially on days he got put on dishes, lifting large caddies of plates and glasses onto and off of the conveyor belt to go through the sanitizer.

He felt the ache in his forearms constantly lately, but when he went to bed at night after a shift he fell asleep deeply and immediately.

And they needed him here. And he liked the people here. And he liked to think that he was making people's day a little bit better.

In that way it felt more simple than being a priest. Nowadays if he didn't know something he told them, “Just a moment, I'll go ask.”

He could just ask.

Oscar tried not to think about anything as he worked. The numbing bustle of physical movement and smiling at people let it all bleed away for a little while.

When he left he hung up his apron and he took the bus home. He watched the sun sink behind the church and felt a homesickness clawing at his stomach.

He made it back through the door at home, and Marie greeted him warmly with that horrible unbearable look, and he helped her make dinner.

*

Parker's move was easy enough. He already spent most of his time at the house anyway.

For now he was set up in John's room, though he didn't pack away all of John's things. He couldn’t. It had only been a week. John might still come back.

Parker layed there in the dark staring at the ceiling. Hali was bathing herself loudly beneath the bed.

Arthur, Lily, and him were constantly batting around ideas for how to help, but all of them felt maddeningly futile.

Calling the cops was pointless. Go to the news? And tell them what? They had no evidence. Storm in there themselves? Guns blazing? They’d be lucky if any of them walked out of that alive. Also Marie said she wouldn’t watch the baby while they did it so, y’know, a number of reasons. It all seemed… hopeless. They’d been backed into the corner as all their pieces were taken off the board one by one.

Especially with the way Parker was sure he’d spotted the car that had taken John drive down the block a few times.

The phone with its cracked screen sat on the bedside table, and every time Parker glanced at it he grit his teeth and turned away, unsure of why he was keeping it.

It wasn't until all of his things were in the house that it really set in. The odds were that they were never going to see John again.

Parker was pissed. So angry that he was gone. Angry that John wasn't here for him to be angry at.

Eyes stinging he turned over, punching down John's pillow and trying to get some rest. The patterns of the house were at least familiar. He knew that the following morning he would get up, make the coffee, wake Arthur, the two of them would get to work juggling Faroe around their schedule. They’d manage.

The same couldn't be said for the two littlest members of the household. By night one Hali was wandering up and down the hall, hopping the gates on the stairs, meowing loudly. They double checked. Her bowl was full as was her water, the litter box was clean. They even tried to play with her, but she couldn't be placated. It took three days of her kicking her metal water bowl against the wall noisily before she seemed to give up. She hid in their room a lot more.

This meant that she and Parker spent a lot of time together, her glaring at him constantly. Or maybe he was reading into a cat’s facial expressions too much.

Faroe was having it even worse. She had done this before. And it seemed she remembered somewhere in her little baby body, that with enough dedication and yelling John would come home.

There was more than once that Parker and Arthur tried to put her down for a nap (dry, fed, sleepy) and still she just wouldn't stop yelling. They just sat there outside her closed bedroom door listening to her.

And Parker was so angry at John. Because he had enough warning to tell Lily. To come home. He had enough warning that they could have all gotten in a car and ran. They could have tried to leave until it was safe to come home. They should have tried to leave until it was safe to come home. Risks of being caught be damned. Instead he decided to- what? Sacrifice himself oh so fuckin heroically?

The worst part might have been the ways he hadn't even realized he was relying on John. It was unpleasant enough when Parker realized that the stakeout he and Arthur were planning would have to wait until they could find a babysitter, but it was also expected. What was worse was the little things Parker hadn't noticed.

The way John took responsibility for dinner every night. He had thanked John every time he cooked and when John didn't they went and got food. But he still expected John to come in and mention that it was dinner time. Parker hadn't noticed the rhythms of it, but he’d adapted all the same. Obviously Arthur was not keeping a close eye on the time, and in the first couple days Parker, more than once, glanced up at the clock seeing it was ten or eleven at night and neither of them had had anything except coffee in hours.

Before this past spring Parker had a routine that worked. He wasn't happy exactly, but it worked. Then he met Arthur. So for a while he had been trying to carefully balance the life he already had with the life that seemed to form between him and Arthur unasked. John’s arrival was the thing that stabilized that, had made it coalesce into a life that they could all live together.

Now without somebody to get after them when it'd been too long since they slept, or remind them that they hadn't had an hour off in four days, it was so easy to let the case take up all of their time. The way Parker used to when it was just him.

Fucking John, who made life better and made Parker care about him and then pushed everyone so far away they couldn’t help him. John who hadn't let Parker have a goodbye. Who wasn't going to call Parker that day if Arthur hadn't done it first. Who was too busy trying to hurt Parker to look him in the eye as he left. Too busy trying to take away this family that they had shared.

Parker hoped he was fuckin happy back in New York.

Parker hoped he was safe.

*

“Are you sure?” Arthur pressed.

Parker shook his head, slightly exasperated, “Yes, Artie, go out, get coffee with your friend.”

“But is it strange for you?”

It was super fucking weird.

“It's not strange. I'd like to know if there's anything romantic going on between the two of you later on. But frankly he just left the priesthood, you don't gotta parse that out right now. And you should go take a break okay? You and I have been pretty much running non-stop since what? Faroe's birthday?”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, “Yes, I suppose.”

“Good, then go. Wait shit, do you want a ride?”

“No, it's just the one right down the street, I think I could use the walk.”

“Alright.”

“And you'll do something too won't you? Take a little time outside the house? Maybe with Lily.”

Right. John's best friend Lily. That wouldn't be awkward at all…

“Ha! Yeah maybe, if she's free.”

Arthur leveled him with an unimpressed look. Fuck, that's why Parker liked him, he didn't believe his bullshit.

“Please Parker. It doesn't have to be with Lily. But one of your friends.”

Aw yeah totally, his abundance of friends. Perhaps from his church that he went to- oh wait.

The reminder of how long it had been since he'd gone to church layered on another serving of guilt he could've done without today.

“When I get a chance,” Parker put all his effort into making that sound believable.

Arthur sighed, apparently relieved, “Okay, thank you.” Parker felt worse now.

“Yeah.”

“I'll be back. Call me if you need anything. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

“Do not come back as soon as you can,” Parker ordered, “We will be fine. Take your time.”

“Yes, you're right, okay,” Arthur collected his cane from where it was leaning against the wall, and went up on his tiptoes to kiss Parker.

Parker bent to meet him in the middle. What should have been a quick peck shifted into a slow heated kiss. Parker's arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer so they were chest to chest. Arthur grinned and his fingers curled in the collar of Parker's jacket to pull him down toward him. As though Parker was going anywhere.

“Bye,” Arthur said without really pulling back, low and a little breathless.

“Yeah,” Parker exhaled, trying to remember what thinking and talking was, “I'll just hold that thought huh?”

“Please do,” Arthur laughed and stepped out of Parker's arms.

The door shut behind him as he went.

*

Oscar nervously pushed the cup of coffee back and forth between his hands.

Was he going to show up?

Things had been busy for Arthur recently, they hadn't spoken much other than repeatedly rescheduling their coffee.

News had traveled quickly about John. His kidnapping had rocked everyone in their small circle. Oscar wanted to help, but knew that with things as tense as they were, maybe it was better to stay well out of Parker's way.

But he had missed Arthur.

Oscar had the sense to not misunderstand this as a date. He still found himself trying to be presentable today. It wasn't like that, Arthur was going through hell and Oscar wasn't going to make that more complicated for him.

But the thought never seemed to fully leave his mind this morning. That this was their first time one on one together since it became possible. His inner monologue buzzing, as he showered and got dressed, with unnecessary reminders that this was just coffee. Guilt hitting him in wave after wave that the thought even occurred to him. Terror, hitting him in the valleys between the guilt, at the thought he was meeting alone with Arthur. A man he cared for. A man he had sex with.

Did Arthur regret what hap-?

The bell above the door jingled and Oscar stood up immediately, seeing Arthur.

“Arthur!” He called a little too loud and went red, casting an apologetic look around the room, particularly at the barista.

A smile broke over Arthur's face.

“Hey, I'll be right there,” He said, holding up a finger and navigating easily to the counter.

Oscar heard Arthur say something to the effect of, “Now tell me, am I facing a human being and is this the cash register?”

He watched Arthur’s back as he waited for his coffee. He shifted his weight from foot to foot to the music that played faintly from overhead speakers. His hair was a little longer than Oscar had ever seen it. Beginning to curl a little near the top of his neck and beneath the ears. He received a black coffee and leaned on the counter, asking for a lid. The barista blushed at the way Arthur smiled and gave him his lid, watching him go just the same as Oscar did.

“Afternoon,” Oscar said when he approached the table.

Arthur looked- huh he looked tired. There was still that same heart beating too fast feeling when Arthur cast a smile in his direction, but it was tempered by the obvious wear on the other man's face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh yes,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “Well you know.”

“Yes, I can’t imagine it's easy,” Oscar agreed as Arthur found his chair with his hand.

He settled on the other side of the table and let out a big breath, “So, Oscar we were going to talk about your career change.”

“Originally,” Oscar agreed, “but with everything how has your past couple weeks been?”

“Well,” Arthur let out a slightly sardonic laugh and said, “I've had better but please I'd love to talk about something other than that. I'll tell you soon, but how's things with you?”

“Ah…” Oscar said with a sigh, “It's been interesting to be sure. Marie's lovely and she's been shockingly non-judgmental about all of it, the drinking, the… homosexuality.”

He said the word quickly so as to get it over with and watched Arthur's reaction.

Arthur lit up. Like he was happy for Oscar. Like his admitting to that was good. And Oscar maybe believed it.

If Arthur came to him and said the same Oscar hoped he would have lit up the same way.

“But it's also been a transition, I've largely lived by myself since taking on my profession. Never in any community large enough to have multiple priests who might want to share the clergy house.”

Arthur hissed sympathetically, “That must be hard.”

“Just…new. Been a month since I've had a drink! Okay that's not quite true. I did buy a drink and I took a sip, but I spit it back out and left the bar. I'm talking a lot, sorry. Anything good happening with you?” Oscar asked.

Arthur breathed, “Oh Oscar that's wonderful!”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“And well I suppose in the same vein I’ve been sober since,” he hesitated, “November.”

Ah. Since the night that they had gone drinking together.

When Oscar had derailed Arthur’s sobriety.

Oscar should apologize, should never stop apologizing. And yet Arthur seemed to be moving on anyway.

He looked down at the table, smiling, “And Parker and I, we… we're dating. We're also living together currently due to- well- everything. And that's definitely a kind of pressure and not what you asked- You asked for the good things. Me and Parker. We’re good.”

Oscar blinked a few times.

“That's wonderful,” he said, easily sliding into a well-practiced happiness. This he knew how to do. Congratulating someone no matter the way his lungs felt like they were being rolled out with a rolling pin.

“Thank you,” Arthur’s smile then could have reinflated his lungs all on its own. The thought of Parker enough to make him glow like that.

“Of course I- I'm glad you two are happy,” Oscar said.

“We are.”

*

This time it didn't happen by chance.

Parker was sorting through news feeds, Googling, trying to find any updates, when he saw the interview. He clicked on the clip that was posted to YouTube.

“Well it's so great to have you back on!” The host said with a grin that edged toward manic.

The man sitting across the desk lounging loosely in the chair was not John. He was blonde, short hair, a slight sickly pallor even despite the makeup. Parker may not have noticed if he didn't have a point of comparison. The man’s mouth ticked up into a half of a grin.

If Parker couldn't see the scars on his hands from various cooking accidents he wouldn't have believed it was John. But he knew those hands, had held them, had watched them chopping vegetables and pulling Faroe's curls out of her face.

“It's good to be back,” He said, then his smile turned just a little wistful, “I honestly didn't expect to ever come back…”

These weren't movements John made, or a tone he used. His voice coming through the speakers of Parker's phone was smooth and low. How most people would address a frightened child or small animal. Not how John addresses either of those.

“Yes! You mentioned in the press conference announcing your return to the business that the leave of absence you took was rather unexpected and ended rather unexpectedly as well. Can I ask?” The host asked conspiratorially, like they were buddies.

“Of course,” John said, as though to an old friend.

“Well then,” The host said, hands opening invitingly, “What happened?”

He couldn't be telling the actual story. What story was he on the show to tell?

“Well it was last winter, and…early on I met a woman.”

Parker leaned away from the screen as though struck.

“Oh!” The Host gasped.

“Yes,” John agreed, “and things were great. It seemed. I really thought that we had something special and she begged me to run away with her and I… did. I'm afraid I wasn't using my better judgment…”

John lifted a self conscious hand to the back of his neck.

“Oh?”

“We traveled together all over. But when the money ran out… she was gone…”

“Aw wow, I'm so sorry.”

“It started to sink in how foolish I'd been. I spent a while trying to earn enough money to get back to New York. Luckily for me my father was generous enough to give me another chance.”

“What did he say when you came back?”

“He sat there patiently while I told my story, it was significantly more rambling than the one I told to you I'm afraid. And when I was finished he looked at me and said, ‘You followed your heart and lost your way. But you'll always be a King.’”

“Wow. That’s touching.”

The clip ended with an end card that blared the show’s theme and Parker turned the screen off and dropped the phone on the couch beside him.

*

“Can you get a therapist for a one-year-old?” Arthur asked, they were both sitting silently on the couch as Faroe went on another one of her afternoon tears.

It was almost February and it had been every day. It had been every day.

“We can look…” Parker sounded distant, “I don't know what else to do, he's not…”

‘Coming back,’ He failed to say before his voice gave out under him.

Arthur opened his mouth hoping that if he committed to speaking then the words to comfort Parker would come to him.

“Arthur, I'm real sorry man, I just think I need a little bit,” Parker climbed to his feet.

Arthur felt a shock of guilt travel through him.

“Jesus, yes, of course, I'm so sorry.”

“No it's just-” Parker stopped, not even managing to complete a platitude, “I'll see you around.”

His footsteps retreated and the front door closed.

Parker would be back. Arthur trusted that. He knew the sound of Parker hitting a limit when he heard it. He'd take the space he needed for as long as he needed it, and then he'd return to at least tell Arthur he needed to move out. Arthur was trying to trust that.

And Arthur sat there. Listening to his daughter scream because she didn't yet know it wasn't allowed.

And that was the right way to react. If either of them was having a reaction disproportionate to the circumstance it was not Faroe.

Faroe’s father was gone. And sitting alone in the living room Arthur felt the weight of that for him for the first time. Distant from the logistics, distant from Faroe's pain, and Parker's, was Arthur's.

The edges of it sliced into him as he maneuvered the house that John had taught him the shape of.

He couldn't fix this for any of the people he loved. And the lack of anything else to do left him unable to evade the way John haunted this house any longer.

He missed him. Missed him worse than being able to see. It shouldn't be possible to feel this about a Person.

It wasn't helped by the arms length that Arthur had kept him at since his first departure. The distance he had tried to keep between them had slowed the regrowth of trust, not stopped it.

And now Arthur felt all of it. The betrayal of John revealing who he was all those months ago. The way he felt when John claimed him and Faroe as his own. The way John cared for everyone and everything that showed him kindness in return. The way Arthur felt like less of himself with him gone.

Arthur was shaking and he couldn't draw in a breath long enough to feel like he was taking in air. Each exhale came out in a shuddering gasp.

And after all that, John had hurt Parker for no reason. No reason that Arthur could understand anyway, and he was gone, and Arthur couldn't even he couldn't even ask.

And he didn't know why it was allowed to hurt so badly despite that last act of cruelty. Despite having only known John for a collective ten months. Despite the betrayals.

But in between the cracks of all that, Arthur had come to love John.

The word seemed to burrow into his chest like a bullet. Clearing space for itself where it went and damaging the surrounding tissue.

And he knew that he meant it. It wasn't just that John was Faroe’s nanny or even Faroe’s other parent. It wasn't their friendship alone. It was John's laugh, low and often at Arthur's expense. It was the way he ran his fingers through Arthur's hair.

It was that he and John were better men together than apart. It was that Arthur would give up his vision again, give up his left arm, if he could have John back for good.

He loved him. In every way it was possible for him to.

And Arthur wasn't prepared to lose John. The two of them were a team and he needed him back.

Arthur would not Let Them lose John. Not now and never again.

*

A knock came at the front door. It had been hours since Arthur had pulled himself together. He had managed to comfort Faroe despite everything, taken a shower, and gotten the dishwasher running. He’d had time to plan. So when he answered the door he was prepared for it to be Parker.

“I…” Parker trailed off but it confirmed it was him.

“You didn’t need to knock,” Arthur said, “...hello.”

“Hey,” Parker said weakly, “…I'm sorry…”

“I understand,” Arthur said, voice coming out a little rough despite how ready he'd been.

“I didn't mean to just walk out on you. I just- fuck, I should have taken a break sooner. When you told me too. And it just hit me all at once and-” He sighed, “I-I'm sorry.”

“This is hardly yours to bear, Parker. I understand that we've already made the move, and you are more than welcome to stay, no matter what the circumstances are, but if being responsible for- If these things are too much to ask of you, then this doesn't have to be on your shoulders.”

“No no, Arthur, please,” Parker reached up and cupped his cheek. A hand landed on Arthur's waist, “I want this. I just got overwhelmed, and it's a lot and I'm sorry. I don't- I've got a bad habit of trying to keep you locked out when I'm having a hard time. And then I rush out, outta nowhere. Right? I’ve gotta knock that off.”

Arthur felt sharp relief spill through him like warm water, “If you're having trouble with all of this, that makes sense. I am as well.”

“You are?” Parker sounded a little desperate for a moment, pleading for the confirmation that he wasn't the only one stumbling through this.

“Absolutely. I was not prepared for… any of this shit. And frankly I had sort of hoped I would get to date you for some span of time before asking you to move in and fucking co-parent with me. I mean Jesus Fucking Christ.”

“Right!” Parker said, “Like- This is weird.”

Arthur smiled, “Parker this is definitely weird. We haven't had sex and we’re raising a child.”

“Yeah…” Parker sounded almost bashful at that.

“Not that there is any rush,” Arthur quickly amended, “Its not a requirement ever if you don't-”

“No no,” Parker interrupted, fast, “I do.”

Arthur nodded, feeling like they were reentering a space they knew how to move through together. Not the discussion of sex necessarily, but both of them knowing that if they were fumbling in the dark, then the other was fumbling with them.

“Good then at some point,” Arthur said.

Parker’s smile was evident, “Yeah.”

“But let's not rush things. In at least some departments perhaps we may be allowed to Pace ourselves.”

“That would be nice,” Parker agreed, he drew back from cradling Arthur’s cheek, and finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“But this isn't just us,” Arthur said, with a sigh.

“Yeah…”

“And I can't do this,” Arthur gestured vaguely to the house, “And I am so sorry, because I know that the way he treated you was wrong. But Parker …I need to find a way to bring him back, no matter what. And I think I have a plan.”

“No you're right. I don't have to like the guy,” Arthur frowned a little but Parker continued, “He’s important to Faroe. And to you. We gotta get him back. Besides, nobody deserves to be- y’know- kidnapped, obviously. I don't know why I have to say that. You know what I mean.”

Parker, usually so together, floundering through a discussion that got just a little too emotional loosened something tight that had been sitting in Arthur's chest.

“He will have much to answer for, not least of which is having enough time to provide warning to Lily the night before and not providing the same warning to us, and then trying to make me distrust you.”

“Yeah exactly, and like what the fuck was up with that! Why did he know? What happened that let him know that he was about to get taken?”

“Exactly,” Arthur said emphatically, “So? For the sake of answers at the very least we’re agreed?”

They both knew they had much more complicated reasons to want him back than needing answers. They both knew he deserved to get away from Hastur King. But they could pretend it was about the mystery for a moment.

“Agreed,” Parker said.

“Good, because I need you on board if I'm going to take a gamble like this.”

“…Yeah, you said you had a plan, what's this about?”

Arthur pulled the card out of his back pocket, “The man who came just before John was taken away, he gave me this. Do you recognize the name?”

“Kayne? Uh Sure, like the big business CEO guy, yeah?”

“Yes, I think he might have had something to do with it. And if he knew beforehand that John would be taken and he's somebody who runs in the same circles as Hastur King then he might be able to get him back if anyone can. I'm going to contact him and offer him whatever I have to.”

“Alright, but you know I have your back. If it's too much we'll find another way.”

Arthur pulled out his phone.

“Oh you're like calling him now now.”

“Yes?” Arthur said, unsure of this himself, “I have no other options. I'm calling him.”

“No. You’re right. Let’s do this.”

The phone rang twice before being picked up

“Well Arthur, I won't lie, I expected to get this call sooner.”

“How did you know?”

Kayne laughed, “Well let's just say I know a lot of things, Songbird. Let's meet up. We'll talk.”

“We can speak on the ph-”

“I'll be there in fifteen,” The phone disconnected.

Arthur pulled the phone away from his ear, “I… I can't tell if that was a mistake or not.”

*

“So….” Kayne said, after Arthur had climbed into the limousine beside him, “What's troubling you?”

“John.”

“I was under the impression that he wasn’t around to give you much grief anymore. Did I misunderstand?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, “You have pull with these people.”

“That I do, but that's a bit like saying gravity has a pull on cars. Yeah it does do that. But no one with even a fraction of the picture would list that as one of its main things.”

“I want him released.”

“Sure.”

“Sure? Just like that?”

“Well no, there's obviously a cost, but… sure let's make a deal, Arthur.”

Notes:

Yay! I'm sure this will go well!

Up Next: a deal and an arrival

Chapter 28: By A Thread

Summary:

Arthur makes the deal and an out is accepted.

Notes:

finally got this chapter to work, as it turned out all i have to do was rewrite most of it (again, damn these recent chapters require some drafting)

Arthur didn’t allow the fear to touch his face, “Okay Kayne, what do you want? What cost?”

Kayne’s smile even sounded sharp, “The deal is if you want the little prince back, you gotta go on a couple dates with me, Arthur.”

“I'm sorry?” Arthur sat back.

“I know, I know, why me? A mere mortal? But c’maaahn we have loads in common! We both think Parker is… sweet? I have money, you would also like to have some. That's two things!”

“No, I'm sorry, you've entirely lost me. What on Earth could possess you to think that-?”

“That you would do what you needed to to get John back? Yeah I suppose I don't really know,” Kayne sounded deadly, “Listen, listen, let's- let’s just bring the price down huh? One date. That's all, one date where you go along with a little bit of a ruse for me. How’s that sound?”

“I'm listening.”

“Do I want you to give me a real chance? Of course I do, Arthur, but I'll have other opportunities for that. All I'm asking for this one is that you come to a big dinner I'm having. You’ll be very nice to my associates, and you’ll act as though we’re engaged.”

“Engaged?”

“Engaged to be joined in the holiest of matrimonies! See,” Kayne clicked his tongue, “I desperately need an heir and frankly I already told some people that there was a man in the picture. It'll look even better if it's a man who's already got a kid. And I mean have you seen you! You're like a puppy in an ASPCA commercial! I just- ugh! I look at you and Sarah McLachlan starts playing, y’know?”

“I… fine. When is this dinner where I will be playing the part of your fiance?”

“Oh I am glad to hear it, dearest. It will be February 14th.”

“But that's a week and a half from now, what about-”

Kayne huffed impatiently, “You will get John in the morning if you can be relied upon to keep your end. Remember he can always go away again.”

“No,” Arthur said quickly, “I'll do it. I'm not going to back out of my end.” Not if it risks him.

“Well great!” Kayne clapped his hand together, “That will just be- Hooo! It'll be so good. Alright tomorrow morning. Early. Sunrise. Or eh- noon. Call it noon. Your man will be back on your doorstep ready to take on the world again just the three of you and your fighting spirit and your highly complex romantic dynamic. But! Don't forget, don't do anything too public. I need you ready for our dinner, hubby. Also if you could be so kind as to wear this for the next couple weeks?”

Kayne captured Arthur’s wrist and pressed a velvet box into his hand.

“What?” Arthur broke away with the box in hand, running his thumb across the texture of the fabric.

“Well I'm going to start mentioning you so there will definitely be eyes on you, but that's nothing new, I mean all this time you've had at least four people observing you at any given moment. You’ll be fine!”

“What?”

“Oh my God, you got your head real deep in that sand there, my little ostrich,” Kayne’s tone was absurdly affectionate, “Anyway, get out of my car. I'll see you.”

*

“It has to be soon,” Arthur said, shifting Faroe’s weight in his arms, “It has to be soon. He said it would be around noon, it's almost two o’clock”

“It's gonna be alright. I'm sure he'll be here anytime now, okay?”

Arthur turned to Parker where he stood by his side in the entryway, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Parker said gently, “Don't worry about me, worry about yourself and Faroe.”

“Papapapa? Pea? Pa!” Faroe asked, tapping Arthur’s chest frantically. Arthur couldn’t find it in him to hand her off to Parker just now though.

“I am worried about you though,” Arthur said, “After he-”

“Hey, you don't gotta tell me, I know,” Parker cut him off easily enough with a laugh.

It was a gentle side swipe that Arthur recognized as a signal to back off the issue for now.

“Is the house clean enough? I don't want him to show up to a mess. It makes him stressed.”

Faroe began squirming in his arms, “Da! Dadadadadadada!”

Arthur gently bounced her in his arms, soothing her.

There was a real smile in Parker’s voice as he said, “Yes. I promise, Artie, okay? You and I have scrubbed this place top to bottom in the past twenty hours alright? I will remind you that we did not sleep last night so we could make sure this place was scrubbed top to bottom.”

“But what if he doesn't feel needed? What if he gets home, and because it's so clean it's-”

“Listen if you want, I'll go scatter a couple of Faroe’s toys around the living room and if you need me to, in twenty more minutes, I will clean them back up.”

“No, I'm sorry, you don't have to keep doing that, it's alright. I just- I don't know what to say t-” A knock came at the door cutting him off.

“Well it won't be a problem now,” Parker’s voice was strained, “You'll have to say something or you'll say nothing.”

“Are you two okay? I'm going to get the door,” Parker said. Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder and could feel Parker's other hand splayed across Faroe’s.

“We're fine. The door?”

“On it,” Parker's hands disappeared and after a couple of steps the front door opened.

“John,” Parker sighed as though with relief, as though he had been unsure who was really going to be at the door.

“Hello… Parker,” John said, hesitantly.

Arthur inhaled sharply rushing forward, Faroe in his arms, “John, you're here, you're safe. Is Kayne with you?”

“No… I was dropped off… You knew Kayne helped me?”

“Of course! I was the one who arranged it.”

“Oh…”

“Yes, I mean, I couldn't leave you there,” Arthur reached out a hand and grasped John's arm, feeling him, warm and real, beneath his fingertips, “You’re our family. And- well, Faroe…”

“Aghn!” She said, “Gohn ag ag ahn!”

“You can hold her,” Arthur said, pressing her forward and into John's arms. The instinct came to him easily, as though this had been exactly why he’d needed to be holding her when he arrived. John haphazardly took her. Rusty from the months of not having to so readily accept her weight and she was bigger now.

“She’s so small,” John said hesitantly.

“Augn,” Faroe said, then once more, hesitantly, “...Aauagn?”

“She missed you,” Arthur told him.

“Yes I missed her too,” He said.

Then Faroe started fussing.

Arthur felt something, some fragile hope in him, crack at her noises of displeasure.

“No, no-no little one, he's- he’s here.”

Then she began to wail openly. Arthur’s knees felt like they were going to give out beneath him.

“She was- she's squirming, I- here,” Quickly Faroe was pushed back into Arthur's arms. Arthur blinked, cradling her close.

“Faroe, Faroe, darling, it's okay. It's alright. He's here.”

Arthur turned to where he could still hear Parker breathing, desperate for help, an explanation.

“Don't take it personally, man,” Parker intervened, “She's been having a rough one lately.”

There was an uncomfortable clearing of a throat, “I… We…”

“Nah, hey you just got back,” Parker said, reading something on the other man’s face, “Let's deal with some other time huh?

“...Right.”

“You- yeah you screwed me over, but its- We don’t have to talk about it right now. I've moved my stuff out of your room, going to be camping in the living room for a little while until we figure things out,” Parker’s nerves were pouring out of his mouth.

“I but-”

“No really its-” Parker drew up short, then, hesitantly, “John are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” John said, quickly, “Is she going to keep crying?”

Arthur took a half step back at the sharpness, “She's… had a very challenging few weeks. We all have. I can't imagine what you've been through. It's- Are you alright?”

“I'm fine! M-my father… I'm fine. I'm here now. I'm out.”

“Yes but…” Arthur began but trailed off. ‘Yes but…’ John’s tone was… wrong. Off.

“I said I am fine” He repeated sharply.

“Hey,” Parker snapped, then softened his tone carefully, “I get it. You've been through some shit that we don’t have the context for. But ease up. ‘S not our fault. We’re doing our best. If you need some space-”

“Yes, I- I need some space,” His footsteps started to retreat toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Arthur said.

“Out,” The man replied.

Arthur shook his head, “Are you sure? Are you going to be safe out there? When will you be back?”

“I'll be back when I am back,” he said with a stuttered breath and the door slammed shut behind him.

Faroe’s screaming, impossibly, increased in volume.

“Arthur…” Parker said after a few moments, sounding dazed.

“Yes?”

“That wasn't John.”

*

In the next few minutes they tried to find a breath to speak with around Faroe’s cries and the two of them trying to just wrestle her into a seat for a moment, because as far as they knew, absolutely nothing they could do to console her now.

“How- what do you mean?”

“He's got a brother. Looks almost exactly like him. Except he doesn't-” Parker inhaled sharply, still feeling like it was a little hard to get air, having felt like that all day and all night since learning that John would return just this morning.

“Except he doesn't dye his hair. And he doesn't wear it as long as John does. But in the clips I saw they had bleached John's hair, then cut it short. It was-” A strange sound left his throat, something that tried to be a hiccup or a sob but simply came out as a strangled gasp.

“It was awful. Looked like he wasn't eating enough. He’s thinner, he's- his hair is blonde. Just like his brother,” Parker managed to get out, “This- this guy showed up, looked just the same at first.”

“At first? He sounded like John, Parker…” Arthur said, not quite sounding convinced himself.

“I know, but did you touch his hands?”

“His? No,” Arthur said, shaking his head, finally managing to get Faroe settled in her high chair. He picked up a squeeze pouch of baby food off the table and pressed it between his hands, seemingly unthinkingly.

“Arthur he was- his hands didn't have any scars. The ones from fixing things around here and burning himself cooking.”

Parker saw Arthur shift the baby food to one hand and flex his free hand where he still lacked feeling in his pinky finger.

“You're saying…”

“Yes.”

Arthur inhaled, then exhaled only once before resolve formed on his face.

“Alright, we need to confirm though in case you're wrong.”

“Right, just-”

“I'm not saying you are wrong but he wasn't here very long and maybe…”

“Maybe we just don't want to believe it's John because he's so abrupt,” Parker sighed.

“It would make sense to be abrupt.”

“Yeah,” Parker nodded, “Yeah.”

 

Hours passed in strange tension. They took Faroe to bed when it was time but they didn’t talk too much.

Finally, they heard the front door open, and a figure appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“John,” Arthur said, “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” he said hesitantly, “Sorry about earlier. Let's just try and get reacquainted.”

Arthur’s expression melted as the man settled in the chair next to them.

Parker however was not so easily wrong-footed, “Hey, John, good to see you still breathing.”

The man gave Parker an awkward, unpracticed smile.

“Daisy's been missing you,” Parker offered after a long quiet moment.

“Daisy?” He frowned.

“Your cat,” Parker said, with a note of teasing.

“Oh, of course,” The man said, “Is- it's okay?”

Parker was on his feet hooking an ankle around the leg of the chair, slamming his hand against the back. The man tilted back with a cry, clattering against the floor just in time for Parker to kneel beside him and grasp the front of his crisp white button up. He jerked the man upward, holding him off the floor so they were face to face.

“Fuck.” His hand went to the back of his head as he winced in pain.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Parker demanded.

“What?” The man groaned, face twisted in pain and surprise.

“Are you Yellow?” Parker said.

Understanding registered on the man’s face and he tried to get his arms under him, but the odd angle laying on the chair half suspended as he was didn’t let him get his elbows beneath him, “I- Let- Let me go.”

Parker’s lip curled, eyes narrow on the man who looked less and less like John now that he’d been startled into himself.

“No. Cuz see, You came in here pretending to be someone else. And Arthur here, he's got a lot of patience for that, but I think you'll find that I do not,” Parker heard his own accent was more prominent than usual, “You came in here. You tried to set up shop in our house with my man and my daughter. Welcome to the consequences of your actions.”

“Let me up! I'm John! I live here and I don't know what you're talking about,” The man growled, finally pushing himself onto his hands.

“Swear to God if you don't start telling the truth right now motherfucker you will be lucky if Arthur manages to call the police before I'm done kicking your teeth in,” Parker said, “Or tell me what the name of that cat actually is.”

“Parker,” Arthur said, voice level, the warning in it all for show, as Parker knew. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this maneuver.

“Arthur, we're never going to get him back if you've got this clown instead, who might I add, couldn't even manage ten minutes acting like the brother that he's known all his life, so…”

“At least let the man to his feet,” Arthur said, reasonably.

“Fine,” Parker spat and clambered to his feet. He watched the man painfully make his way to standing.

“I still want answers,” Parker said once they were eye to eye again, “Give me your name or the name of that cat.”

“You just said it was Daisy,” He huffed, smoothing back his hair.

“Great job ten points for memory, zero points for keeping up the facade. Name?” Parker stared him down. Angry eyes met his.

“Fine. My name is Yellow King,” He bent over, picking up the chair and setting it right.

“Great, why are you here?”

“I needed an out, Kayne offered me one. I took him up on it,” The rage in his eyes as he met Parker’s gaze again was unfathomable.

“You took his out,” Arthur said rising to his feet, his own tone coming out sharp and dangerous, “You fucking monster. Your own brother was kidnapped and dragged back there, and you took his way out, rather than finding your own damn way.”

Yellow bared his teeth, the look of a man who’d learned to smile when he was angry, “What do you know about it?”

Arthur inhaled and took a step forward. Yellow stepped back, but hit the fridge before he could even make up the distance Arthur had covered. A terror sparked in his eyes that Parker recognized on a face like that . Parker knew unless he wanted things to get ugly It was his turn to pull back.

“Enough to know that if we want John back we’re fucked now. Back at square one,” Parker snarled, “If you plan on staying here then take your ass to the room down the hall. Get out of my sight.”

Yellow looked at him with sudden shock, he hadn’t expected to be allowed to stay, but didn’t wait to be told again. He pushed off of the fridge he’d put his back to. After a few moments the bedroom door down the hall slammed shut.

Arthur’s gaze was in his direction and he looked a little stunned.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t how we do things,” Arthur said softly, looking down at the floor, seeming to process, then he lifted his head, “Is his staying here a safe idea?”

“We’ll set Faroe up in our room tonight,” Parker said then hesitated, “Sorry, its uh- Your house. You want him out and I’ll give him money for a motel for the next little bit.”

Arthur shook his head quickly, “No, no you’re- he is the only lead we have on John now, I suppose.”

Parker could only think of the fear he’d seen in Yellow’s eyes.

*

Parker finally took some time away from the house. Arthur seemed pleased

Right now he was tailing someone and that he could do that without thinking much at all. Following discreetly onto the bus and then off of the bus at the right stop. Parker had done far worse for far more perceptive people before.

Maybe not the kind of relaxation Arthur had hoped he’d do, but Parker’s time was his own.

When they arrived Parker’s first instinct was that the guy had figured out he was being tailed and was trying to lose him by going somewhere innocuous, dark, and noisy. But then Parker saw him approach the counter.

“Hey, back again today, huh?” The woman at the register said with a smile.

“I've got a bit of a vacation from work,” Parker heard Yellow’s voice, steady and low, from his placed tucked behind the pinball machines.

“Right well, not like there’s anybody else using that machine now. You want tokens?”

“Please.”

Cash exchanged hands swapping bills for shiny gold tokens.

“You planning on being here long today?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don't you just give me the second twenty now so you don't have to break your flow for more tokens.”

“Thank you,” Yellow sounded genuinely touched once the transaction was complete he made his way into the arcade proper.

He didn't look around. He simply walked with intent towards one of the back corners of the vast maze of claw machines and cabinet games. Trailing after him at a safe distance Parker passed a group of children giggling in Mario Kart seats. The air was full of a hundred video game soundtracks and the clattering sound of skee balls finding their marks.

Parker went and stood behind a tall machine that dropped a ball from the top into cups marked with points. Here he could keep a good angle on the corner that Yellow was heading to. He pretended to fuck with the buttons as he watched the other man walk up to a rhythm game. One of those ones with the light up dance pads where you had to make the right moves with your arms and your legs for the sensors to pick up.

Yellow pulled off his coat, a light hoodie that Parker had left in that room for when John came back. Yellow draped it over the bar behind him and started dropping in quarters.

*

Coming home that night Arthur greeted him cheerfully.

“Oh good you're back! I was beginning to think I might need to start making some calls,” he joked, but his face showed real concern. The fear that one of these days Parker would go and simply not come back.

Parker paused for a moment to place a hand on Arthur's cheek and kissed on his forehead.

“Couldn’t keep me away that easy. Hey, so I need to talk to you. Can we go to your room?”

Arthur’s brow furrowed nervously, “Of course.”

Once the door was closed and their privacy assured Parker spoke, “I followed Yellow.”

“What? I thought you were-?”

“Well it's sort of me taking a personal day if I'm following a lead just for curiosity,” Parker defended quickly.

Arthur looked unimpressed, “Why did you follow him?”

“He’s been leaving every day! I wanted to know what he's been getting up to, if he's meeting with Kayne, if there's any other information we can gather on him and- and I followed him. And he went to an arcade.”

Arthur hummed, unconvinced, “Are you sure he wasn’t leading you there on purpose?”

“Dead certain.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He walked up to the counter and the gal there recognized him. Then he proceeded to spend the next six hours pouring quarters into one of those dance games.”

“Sorry?” Arthur said, “A dance game?”

“Yeah and hey if we weren't fuckin’ sure before, now I know that it's not John.”

“Oh?”

“Would the John you would know and love know who the fuck Hatsune Miku is?”

Arthur scoffed, “Of course not.”

“Didn’t think so. I also didn't think that John would be capable of playing it at the highest difficulty for, not joking Artie, six hours. At least. He only took a break eat half of a pizza and then he went right back to the machine. He was still going when I was leaving.”

“What do you think this is?”

“I-” Parker faltered, he’d been thinking on this for a while, “I think it's cooking.”

“What?”

“I mean- John threw himself into all these hobbies once he was free, but he was particularly into cooking.”

“I suppose so,” Arthur said, his look was a little pained at the recollection and Parker could feel the same emptiness echo in his chest. He hated that.

“One night when you were putting Faroe to bed and we were making up dinner. He started telling me about his favorite restaurant in New York. He said it was open all night and it served the best miso soup he's ever had. And as he was talking about it, it was clear this place was like A Thing for him. Like this was the only thing about New York he missed.”

“What are you getting at here?”

“I wasn't watching a guy who had three days worth of practice at rhythm games. I was watching a guy who, when left alone, only knows how to play rhythm games.”

A look of understanding finally broke across Arthur’s face, but it carried less sympathy than Parker expected.

“I think,” Parker said, “This was his thing. Whatever small amount of freedom he had with his father, this is what he did with it. It was kind of… single-minded. He didn't look away from the machine. Even on the rare occasion he had to give someone else a turn. A couple of times I saw him break his combo halfway through the song and I heard him start cursing. This was a fixation.”

“I see... Why did you watch him for so long?” Arthur asked.

“I guess I just wanted to see if he’d let up and go do something bad,” Parker said, knowing that that wasn't quite the truth. Knowing that had been what he was doing for the first half hour. And that he had spent the rest of this day looking at Yellow and seeing a guy clinging to the only thread he knew how to hold.

He was seeing John without Arthur or Faroe or Lily. He was seeing a man spend six consecutive hours rotating between pop songs and getting perfect combo after perfect combo on the hardest levels.

“Are you alright Parker?” Arthur asked gently.

Parker inhaled sharply, shaking off the image.

“Yeah, fine… probably just kind of exhausted,” He admitted, “You're getting the clothes from Kayne tomorrow, right?”

“Yes I messaged him and he confirmed that they should be here. Are you okay to go through with the plan?”

“We don't have a choice,” Parker said. A little too sharply, maybe.

“Of course,” Arthur said, “I'm sorry, if there was more time to give you, I'd give it.”

“It's not about me.”

“John hurt you.”

Parker grit his teeth and very carefully controlled his breathing.

“Even assholes don’t deserve to be kidnapped.”

“I know,” Arthur said, a look of resignation already on his face, “I just wish I knew where you were at with this.”

Notes:

yellow babygirl I'm so fucking sorry

Chapter 29: Choreography

Summary:

Arthur's new plan is put into motion

Arthur had to be the one to call Lily because Parker had been avoiding it, but once the plan was agreed upon they all moved in sync together.

The party was set to be on Valentine's Day. Arthur tried to offer his apologies to Parker for not being there and Parker had waved him off easily enough. The plan for the evening, so far as Kayne had told it to him, was for Arthur to be picked up around three by a limo. From there he was to be taken to Kayne's private plane and fly to New York directly.

Three days before the party, Arthur received the outfit Kayne said he was to wear. Within moments he was on the phone.

“I was under the impression you would be sending a suit,” He said, running a thumb over the cloth that Parker had described to him.

“Oh well, Arthur, you know what they say happens when you assume,” Kayne sighed, “and No, see, you wear most people's Men's Formal Wear every day. I want to see you pop! More importantly I want to see Hastur’s eyes pop out of his head. You'll wear the dress.”

Arthur grit his teeth, “I won't wear the heels.”

“What, would you prefer to wear converse, Demi Lovato? You’ll wear the shoes I sent you. They're nice shoes,” Kayne was crunching loudly on something on the other end of the phone.

“Fine. I wear the heels, but I take the slit closed for an extra four inches,” Arthur bargained.

Kayne let out a Big put-out sigh, “Fine, I'm feeling benevolent today. And you're right, above the hip might have been a little scandalous anyway. But I expect tasteful makeup!”

“Deal.”

*

The trip to Sephora was easy enough on Arthur's end, because he was admittedly leaving it all to Parker.

“So you know how to do makeup then?” Arthur asked as they looked over the foundation aisle, trying to find one that would suit Arthur, “I suppose I haven’t asked, Do you use it a lot day to day?”

Parker laughed, “Artie, I was a very different guy in my teen years. Of course, uh- I’m rusty, so we're probably going to have to play dress-up a couple times.”

They spent that whole evening listening to documentaries that Parker turned on the TV as Parker tried different looks on Arthur and fired off photos to Lily for approval.

Yellow sat in John's room sulking as he had been for sometime now and Arthur chose not to bother him.

*

Parker panicked and dropped the cigarette and tried to stomp it out as the back door opened, fucking hell he needed somewhere else to go to do this.

He stood up straight and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring up at the night sky. There weren’t any stars up there, the city lights too bright to see them.

He turned, as though casually, to see who was coming out here this time of night.

Frozen in the doorway was Yellow, staring with wide eyes.

Parker sighed in relief, “Oh its just you.”

Yellow, tentatively stepped out the back door, pulling it shut behind him.

His gaze on Parker was suspicious, “You were worried it was Arthur?”

“Mm,” Parker gave something that was almost a nod, feeling embarrassed by the admission, he turned his face back up to the sky.

Yellow followed his gaze, “I thought it was supposed to be prettier outside the city…”

Parker snorted, “We’re in a city, not an hour out of Boston.”

“It's hardly a real city,” Yellow shrugged, he shifted uncomfortably.

“Nah, you got me there I suppose, New York definitely has us beat, but the light pollution round here is the finest in the state.”

Yellow bobbed his head, staring at the dark sky. His posture was tense.

“Here,” Parker reached inside and turned off the back porch light, dropping them into shadow, “Look, you can get a little more now. Still faint but there’s Orion and… I think that's Taurus?”

“Our mother called those the Hyades,” Yellow said quietly.

Parker tore his gaze from the sky and stared at the other man, “Your mother?”

“I didn’t know her. She used to sit with John and show him constellations. When we were still young he showed me them when our father took us out of town on business.”

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” Parker’s voice came out soft.

Yellow’s jaw flexed and he didn’t reply.

They stood in the frigid winter air in silence.

“Why are you out here?” Yellow finally said.

“Could ask you that.”

Neither of them had been hoping to find someone out here. Neither of them was looking to explain themselves. Parker felt sure.

But then Yellow spoke, “I’m going out. I don't have a key for the front so I was going to go out the back so I could get back in.”

Parker let out a breath the nodded, “I was smoking.”

“Oh. Thats why you hoped it wasn’t Arthur.”

Parker nodded.

The air was too cold to keep standing here. Parker had hauled himself out of bed, unable to sleep as the reality of their plan buzzed around his head.

Parker shoved himself off the wall he was leaning against, “Need a lift?”

*

“You don’t have to stay,” Yellow said, as Parker followed him out the car.

“Can I?”

He stared at Parker for a long moment, “...You have to pay.”

Parker felt an unexpected laugh tear out of him, “Y'know what, fair deal.”

They crossed the parking lot to the automatic doors, they slid open allowing the warm air to hit them in a wave.

“Didn’t know arcades were open this late,” Parker remarked as they wandered up to the counter.

“Not many are,” Yellow said.

The fella behind the counter looked up from his phone as they approached, “Hey there, how are you folks doing?”

“Not bad, you?” Parker said.

“Good, good, thanks. You two need tokens?”

“Sure do boss,” Parker said pulling out his wallet, then cast a look to Yellow, “Well man? How much am I putting in?”

“... Sixty,” Yellow watched him carefully, clearly testing whether Parker would protest the amount.

Parker’s mouth ticked up, pulling out three twenties. He and Arthur were doing fine for themselves, especially splitting costs between themselves. He wanted to see how this went with Yellow.

“Alright and there’s your tokens,” The man slid two cups of coins across the counter to them.

“Thanks,” Parker nodded to him, passing Yellow one of the cups, “Alright, where to?”

Yellow hesitantly took the cup and began moving to the corner that Parker knew they were headed for.

“Why are you doing this?” Yellow asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Parker agreed, “I mean, I really couldn’t sleep. But… I’m curious. My best quality and my worst.”

“I think your worst quality is letting people walk on you,” Yellow said as they approached the machine. His tone was cutting. He threw the hoodie over the bar again.

Parker snorted, “Fuck got me there.”

“This is what I mean. You shouldn’t just let me say that.”

“Your worst quality is thinking you gotta always get the upper hand socially.”

 

Parker stepped onto the machine next to him, stepping on the platform. The plastic floor of it lit up pink under his feet. He pulled off the leather jacket, leaving him in jeans and a button up that he’d thrown on before going out to smoke.

“I do have the upper hand socially,” Yellow dropped a coin into the machine.

“Maybe,” Parker conceded, following suit, “You were given some kind of briefing on our life. I know only what your father released publicly about you which is, I’m sure, less than nothing.”

Parker watched Yellow flick through songs and settle on one and made his way to the same, choosing the lowest difficulty.

“Less than that even,” Yellow’s face curled with disgust in the blue light.

Yellow ticked the difficulty up to the highest it would go. Not even a warm up.

“On three?” Parker asked, hand hovering over the start button.

The corner of Yellow’s mouth ticked up in a smile, “On three.”

*

The following day Arthur showed up, with permission, at Marie's house and knocked on the door.

“Hello.”

“Oh! Arthur,” Oscar's voice replied.

“Oscar! Hello,” Arthur said. The bag containing the dress was folded over his arm.

“I didn't realize you were coming over?”

“I was actually going to ask Marie for some sewing tips,” Arthur said, with an awkward laugh.

“Oh! I didn't realize you sew.”

“I don't, unfortunately. John was sort of the handy one in all of those household ways. He fixed the faucets, he put the buttons back on my shirt,” Arthur heard himself then, “I swear I'm not entirely helpless without him, but in this regard I needed some help ah- mending a friend's dress. Marie said she’d help me.”

“Ah… Well unfortunately I think she might have forgotten that she invited you over.”

“Oh yes?” Arthur said. Fuck. They didn’t know how to do this themselves and they didn’t have much time. He suppose he didn’t need to alter it but-

“I'm afraid she went out with Hattie, but well- I know how to sew?” Oscar said, tentatively.

“Oh… would you mind? There’s a slit up the side that needs to be closed about four inches.”

“Not at all, I could help you with… your friend's dress was it?” He sounded suspicious as though he didn’t believe Arthur's story.

Arthur sighed, “It- it’s mine.”

“I got that sense. I- is there anything I should know?” He asked carefully.

“Oh, no. Well- yes, but not like that. This is just clothes, not a- ah- new phase of my life.”

“Okay great. Then you can explain the style shift to me and also what you need done to the Dress,” Oscar said kindly, “Follow me up to my room? We’ll get this seen to.”

“Thank you,” Arthur followed him inside and up the stairs to the upper landing.

“Now. Let's take a look,” Oscar let out a whistle when Arthur opened the bag, “That's quite High.”

“Yes, I thought so as well, but it was very much not my choice.”

“Aye?”

He explained to Oscar the series of circumstances that led to Arthur being in possession of this very nice dress and then explained their plan.

“Okay. Yes, then we have work to do. I can do that, but I'm going to need you to put it on.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not-!” Oscar protested, flustered, “Alright, I will not lie. I am curious, but I mostly need to be able to measure out what's actually four inches when it's on you. It's a stretchy material.”

Arthur fought down a smile, “Fine, but Lily hasn't taught me to shave my legs yet, so be warned.”

“Arthur, I've seen y- Yes, of course, it's fine,” He cut himself off.

Arthur excused himself to the bathroom and slid into the dress.

He tried with the zipper, and let out a sigh, dropping his head against the back of the bathroom door. Naturally, of course. He couldn't get it on his own. Whatever.

He exited the bathroom, and went back in the direction of Oscar's room.

“Oh,” Oscar said, softly

Arthur cleared his throat and glanced down, “Yes, well, I'll take that as a good sign.”

“Sorry,” Oscar said seeming to catch himself, “I didn't mean-”

“You're alright,” Arthur wished he could see the look Oscar got when he was embarrassed.

“Aye, um- is it unzipped though?”

“Oh yes, I couldn't quite get it.”

“We're going to need them zip it up if we want this measurement,” Oscar sounded like he shuffled in place for a moment, “I could- I could get it if you like?”

“Yes, that would be very helpful. Thank you, Oscar.”

Arthur turned his back on Oscar. He felt the electric barely existent space between Oscar's hand and his back as the dress zipped up, pulling fitted around his torso.

“There,” Oscar said, sounding slightly breathless, “Now let's go ahead and find that tape measure ah- Where did I set it down?”

*

On the day of, Lily showed up early in the day to give Arthur a lesson in shaving his legs.

“Okay so we have options here,” She said.

The two of them were sitting on the edge of the bathtub together. Arthur in just his boxers for lack of a better pair of shorts for the activity.

“You can do it. I know you know how to shave your face blind, but legs are tricky. Lots of people accidentally nick themselves, even when they can see what's going on, and it isn't their first time.”

“Right,” Arthur agreed.

“So- this is- There's no way this is going to be an easy question to ask,” She admitted sounding completely fucking awkward, “And I wouldn't bring this up if this was more of a recreational occasion and you had a little more time to learn. But John's life may y’know hang in the balance so…l- Can I just do it?”

Arthur burst out laughing, “Alright how about I try higher up on the leg that doesn't have the slit. You know, an area that is unlikely to be seen, and we'll go from there and decide how much help I need.”

“Perfect,” She sighed with relief, “I'm sorry.

He laughed, “No, I'm sure you're good at it. You've probably prepped people for procedures hundreds of times.”

“I have,” She agreed, with a laugh, “And that's fine. It's just maybe a little odd in like- a more personal setting.”

“That’s fair,” He agreed.

With water, and shaving cream, and a stash of razors that would be enough even if he managed to dull them every three inches, they maneuvered into position.

“Just a fair warning,” She said as she guided his hand to the angle that felt not entirely dissimilar to the one he might use to shave his face, “This is likely to itch tomorrow. Are you going to do your armpits as well?”

He froze, “Must I?”

“Probably hun, it's a strapless dress,” She said amused, “I mean, ultimately, it is your choice, but…”

“No, no, you're right. I should commit. It's for the plan,” He reminded himself, “It will itch though won't it?”

“Like a motherfucker. Also you're probably going to want to try a different deodorant tonight, I heard somewhere that mens formulas aren’t great for bare pits?”

Arthur sighed, set the razor aside, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“The things I do for this man.”

“I know honey,” She patted his arm sympathetically.

*

Oscar arrived with the dress finished, explaining that he had done the work, but Marie had looked it over and confirmed his work would hold. Arthur slid into it, and then it was Parker's turn.

They all gathered around the kitchen table as Parker started doing the makeup look that he had tried twice on Arthur already in the test runs.

“Alright,” Parker said softly, as though to himself, “It's going to be okay.”

“Thank you for the help.”

“Artie Baby, don’t move your face, I'm shaking like a fucking Chihuahua, do not move.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Arthur smiled.

“I just said don't move,” Parker repeated, emphatically.

Arthur raised his hand in apology.

Parker said, “Sorry, I'm nervous.”

“No I'm sure we all are,” Lily said, “Including Arthur.”

“Indeed,” Oscar agreed.

Arthur felt Parker’s hand twitch a bit at Oscar’s reply.

Arthur let out a little hum of agreement.

Footsteps came into the kitchen and stopped.

“What are you doing?” It still sounded like John in pitch if not tone.

“I'm getting ready for a date,” Arthur said lightly, as Parker pulled away for a moment.

“And that takes four of you?”

“In this case, yes.”

“Who are you going on a date with? And in a dress? With makeup?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

“I'm going with Kayne as repayment for giving us you,” Arthur frowned, “And the dress was not my choice, but if it had been that would be Fine.”

“Kayne??” Yellow demanded

“Yes Kayne. Problem? I thought he was your buddy.”

Parker cut him off, “We're moving on to the lip. Going to need you to stop with the arguing for a second.”

“Okay,” Arthur said, then stilled.

Yellow huffed, “Whatever. You’re all insane.” He left the kitchen.

Arthur felt the heat of Parker's hand cradle his jaw to steady him as he worked. The drag of lipstick over his lips. Finally he pulled back.

“Okay. That’s… it I think,” Parker said with a sigh.

“How do I look?” Arthur said, turning in the direction that he knew Lily and Oscar were still seated.

Haltingly, Oscar spoke, “You look great.”

“You hesitated, and neither of you two said anything,” Arthur frowned.

“Not because you don't look great,” Parker reassured him, “It's just- well the circumstances being what they are… It’d be weird telling you how pretty you are.”

“You are pretty though,” Lily said, “Which is the point, right?”

Arthur snorted a laugh, “Indeed, I suppose so.”

Soon it was time.

Arthur rushed out to the limo when it pulled up, feeling slightly unsteady in the heels, but finding a pace that punctuated each step with a decisive click. He folded his cane and slid into the back seat.

“Well look at you!”

Arthur startled, “Oh, Kayne… I didn't realize you’d be here.”

“Well I had to make sure you got everywhere alright. Besides, how would it look if I didn't pick up my fiance for a Valentine's date?”

Arthur sighed.

“Final Touch!” Kayne took his hand and put something on his wrist, it felt weighty.

“Corsage,” Kayne explained.

“Thank you. Now is there a reason that we are going with such a-” Arthur cleared his throat, “Extreme look?” He crossed his legs in the dress and felt the split fall open, revealing the heel and the stretch of, hopefully, shaved leg. He had Lily look over him twice to double check him but he still felt strange and nervous.

“I just thought you'd look good, and hey I was right,” There was only interest Kayne’s voice, not even a hint of heat.

*

Kayne could talk without any input from anyone else. As though he was monologuing for an audience. He said everything he said with strange flares and punctuation and seem to find himself to be the funniest man in the world.

Arthur could not stand him.

Kayne had Arthur leave behind his cane on the plane to be retrieved after which meant that Arthur would be relying on Kayne to navigate from here.

When they finally arrived they were apparently late, because when they approached the doors Arthur could already hear the babbling of voices inside.

“There, now put your hand on my arm. We're going to make an entrance, my love.”

Arthur did as instructed and said, “Am I to be silent and polite at this dinner?”

“Oh hardly,” Kayne scoffed, “As though I could get you to shut up! No, I don't mind if you shock and shake a few of my fellows so long as you stay for the whole dinner and you are polite to me.”

“Right.”

They pushed their way through the doors and while the music continued all voices seem to fall from a roar to a murmur. A couple of honest to god gasps issued from the group of indeterminate size. Arthur supposed it really wasn't average for someone to bring a man as their date in these circles. And even more so it was not average for that date to show up in a dress.

He walked with his shoulders squared and his head held high feeling a bit exposed without trousers or sleeves as they entered.

Arthur stopped them for a moment, bowed his head in Kayne's direction, and murmured in his ear.

“We know that that is not John that you gave us. We know you gave us Yellow. If you want me to behave at this dinner now that all of your guests have seen me, if you don’t want me to say all sorts of unseemly things about you to the press, then you are going to see that this night concludes with John back in my home. Am I clear?” Arthur gave him a pleasant smile, flirtatious even, as though he was murmuring something private and heated to him.

“Incorrigible flirt,” Kayne said with a grin, “Alright. You have yourself a deal. You know Arthur, I might be really starting to like you.”

“I cannot stand you my love,” Arthur leaned over, not even needing to go on tiptoes due to the heels, and pressed a kiss to Kayne's cheek, more gasps from around them, “If you ensure John's return, all of this can just be concluded as a lovely evening where you got to show off a potential spouse. How you decide to resolve my absence here after can fall to you.”

Kayne started them walking again, “And I suppose there's no chance I'll get you to come to another of these?”

“Not now that I have the public’s attention.”

“Hmm! You're fun. Alright, you have yourself a deal. You know though, if you did try to ruin my reputation I could always murder your whole family.”

“Yes I'm aware, but I am afraid the damage would be done to your reputation already. And if any of us went missing after that, well that just couldn't be recovered from, could it?”

They quieted as they approached the table.

“Let me get your chair, Songbird,” Kayne said, leaving Arthur to the chair and pulling it up for him.

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur smiled.

There was a sharp glee in Kayne's voice as he said, “But of course! Now Hastur, this is my fiance-”

Arthur froze for just a moment before forcing his shoulders to relax. Hastur. Here. Was John at this table? He knew he might have to meet Hastur tonight, but so immediately? And right across from his and Kayne’s seats.

“-Arthur. He's a musician and he's just such a wonderful man. Oh and he's got a daughter, have I told you about her? She's an angel, here's a picture of her and Arthur at the park!”

Arthur was no longer having quite as much fun.

“Oh and John, you haven't gotten the chance to meet Arthur either, have you? Arthur, John. John, Arthur,” Kayne said, making a show of the introductions.

Arthur could hardly breathe.

“It's nice to meet you,” A familiar voice said. And how could Arthur have thought he and Yellow sounded the same for even a moment. This was John. His John.

“You as well, Mr. King,” Arthur said, dragging his face in the direction of Hastur to better address the both of them, “Kayne has said a lot about you. It's good that we could finally meet.”

“Yes, excellent,” Kayne said, “Now Hastur, I'm going to have to insist that you and John join me and Arthur for cigars after the meal! Let's just have a nice little boys night. After all it's great to have everyone here, but us Friends? Well we need a little extra time to catch up don't we?”

It wasn't a question. He had announced it so loudly that it could not be discreetly denied by Hastur.

“Of course that would be lovely,” His voice matched his sons’ very well, but it was all cold steel where even Yellow’s wavered sometimes.

Kayne said, “Great! Now, Arthur, why don't you tell them about Faroe?”

“Oh, I'm sure they don't want to hear about-”

“No we do!” John cut in quickly, too quickly.

Arthur bowed his head in acknowledgement, “You're very kind. My daughter is a little over a year old. Fourteen months actually. She's a chatty child, very stubborn. I tell you when she sets her heart on something? She wouldn't give it up for anything in the world.”

“How interesting,” Hastur sounded bored out of his skull.

“Indeed,” John breathed.

Arthur smiled, “But how about you, Mr. King? You're in several Industries aren’t you? I hope business has been well.”

“Ah yes, well-” Hastur launched into a conversation that he could likely hold without thinking, and that Arthur could hum along to without the slightest bit of attention.

Arthur was losing his mind sitting here at the end of the table, directly across from John. There must be dozens of other people here enjoying meals, having a lovely Valentine's Day. Here Arthur was, feet away from John and unable to speak with him to find out what he was thinking.

Suddenly under the table, Arthur felt an extended leg against his ankle. The heat of John pressing against him, reassurance that he was still there. Then as though sensing it Kayne’s foot slid out and delicately interceded between theirs as he continued chatting away to Hastur.

Finally the dinner seemed to be drawing to a close.

Just as Arthur's hopes started really rising, Kayne climbed to his feet and said, “Who's up for some dancing?”

Arthur barely managed to contain a sigh. When would they get to Cigars? It was difficult to read the moves and rhythms of a crowd without the visuals.

“That sounds lovely,” Arthur said, with a careful smile.

Kanye drew him up by hand out of his seat and pulled Arthur out onto the dance floor that clicked hard beneath his heels.

“I don't know if I can-” Arthur began.

“Trust, Artie. I've got you.”

Arthur knew Kanye was calling him that because that was what Parker called him, but he grit his teeth and didn't say anything.

“Very well, but if I step on anyone then-”

“It's entirely on me,” Kayne cut him off again, “That would be funny though. Just think! We could dance close to Hastur and see if you can just get one of his toes.”

Arthur found himself fighting a smile despite himself, “That is out of the question, we have business with him, Kayne.”

“Oh but I almost got you there. Couldn't you loosen up just a little?” Kayne said, sweeping Arthur into the first steps of the dance as the song began.

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I'm even getting you John back! I'm getting him back tonight. Why can’t you give me a fair chance?”

As the music swept into a slower, closer, tune Kayne hauled Arthur in by his waist and pressed them chest to chest. Arthur had a hard time keeping his stability, in the heels, pulled so close.

“You aren’t interested in me in the slightest,” Arthur told him.

“Untrue! You wound me.”

“Not that way,” Arthur insisted.

“I am interested though,” Kayne said, suddenly he turned and dipped Arthur. They stayed there a moment, suspended, his face close enough Arthur could feel his breath when he spoke, “you should see John's face.”

Arthur felt something cold curl through him, “What do you mean?

“He is just So Hurt watching us like this. Seeing that you and I are an item.”

“But we Aren’t,” Arthur hissed.

“We are for tonight,” Kayne smiled, pulling Arthur back onto his feet, “Whatever you tell him after I drop the two of you off at home is your own business, but you did agree to tonight. And you did get yourself dolled up special just for me.”

“Because you insisted,” Arthur argued.

“He doesn’t know that,” Kayne gave a chuckle that sounded almost contented, “Between him and Hastur this evening was more than worth it. Don't worry I'll give the Press some big story about how you just were so overwhelmed with the intensity of my affections that you and I simply couldn't make it work. That you weren't willing to move your daughter states away to live with me. It'll be real nice and paint us both in a good light. Me more than you. Mostly me, not really you. It's going to paint you as having commitment issues.”

“Great,” Arthur said dryly, “Thank you.”

“No problem, my sweet,” Kayne said, “Now give me ten minutes to kick everybody out, I'm done.”

Arthur scoffed, “Alright, Kayne.”

“Here just wait for me.”

Kayne spun Arthur away from himself and let go abruptly while Arthur was still teetering from the movement. Arthur bumped into the table and nearly fell, but a hand landed on his hip, steadying him. He recognized that hand.

“I apologize,” he said, somewhat breathless.

“It's fine,” John said, sounding tense and hurt.

“I believe Kayne is seeing that everyone else gets escorted out so that the four of us may go smoke.”

“Good,” John's hand slipped away and Arthur knew that it had been there a little too long already, but he wished it hadn't left.

Through some magical mixture of the music stopping and various servers being sent out to offer people their coats, everybody was gone within the next few minutes without anyone acting slighted.

As the room fell to quiet, Arthur forced himself to put more distance between himself and John. He knew Hastur was not particularly fond of Arthur if only for the perceived crime of being queer. No need to risk anything that might implicate John in the same. They would be out soon anyway, he tried to believe it.

“Alright," Kayne said, returning from seemingly nowhere, “Let's head to the study! Here Songbird.” He offered Arthur his arm and Arthur took it for lack of another way to navigate currently.

The study was muted, less echoey. He felt carpet beneath his feet. The air was heavy with the scent of old books and something coppery. A strange mixture that made Arthur feel a little nauseous.

“There Arthur, a piano,” Kayne said, guiding him to a bench, “Why don't you play us something?

“What?” Arthur scoffed even as Kayne maneuvered him into the seat, “But-”

“Manners,” Kayne reminded him.

Fuck.

“Right,” Arthur let out a slow sigh, “Yes. Yes, fine.” He ran his hand along the cover and lifted it to reach the keys.

He paused, hands on the cool keys. How long had it been?

“How about that one you wrote for Faroe?” Kayne said.

Arthur nodded, jaw clenched, and started to play, somewhat haltingly. Months he decided. It’d been months since he had played at all, though a lifetime of practice hardly left you.

He wished he was home clacking away on his laptop taking down everything he and Parker said about a case.

“So! Cards on table boys. Hastur, you may not recognize my fiance, but I guarantee you've heard of him.”

“What?”

“And I don't just mean his big fancy music career!” Kayne said, “No, you've heard about him far more recently. John, why don't you tell daddy where you last saw our dear friend Arthur?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

Arthur felt his heart skip. John was trying to protect him.

“John, there's no need,” Arthur said.

“Ahdadada!” Kayne interrupted, “I want you to say it, Johnny.”

John sighed, “Arthur is the man I was staying with while I was gone.”

“I see,” Hastur said, “and Kayne? What's your angle here?”

“My angle is frankly none of your business but I'll admit I'm fond of the little guy,” Kayne reached out and ruffled Arthur's hair and Arthur winced, “We met the day that you got John back so there's been a bit of a whirlwind romance between us, but bottom line is my darling fiance wants his nanny back.”

“Nanny?” Hastur said with disgust, then to John, “You were a nanny.”

“Yes,” John said, and it was the first time Arthur had heard any heat in his voice all evening, “And it's nothing that I'm ashamed of.”

“Right,” Hastur said, “Well you always had an underdeveloped sense of shame. Much like yourself Mr. Kayne.”

“Oh you mean Arthur here? I thought he looked rather fetching in the dress. It seems Rather Uncouth, Hastur, giving him those dirty looks when he can't even see you.”

“What?”

That seemed to stop Kayne short, “He's- he’s blind Hastur. Did you miss that? Jesus Christ I’d expect a little more attention to detail from a guy who loses sons like they’re extra socks.”

“Ah, I- no I obviously Noticed. I merely-”

“Oh whatever, boys go play outside and don't go running off just yet. I know where you live,” Kayne said dismissively, “John, keep an eye on our baby deer here. I don't want him tripping into a Ming vase.”

“Arthur?” John’s voice came from his side.

Arthur reached out and found John's arm, warm and steady and familiar. He rose, taking it, feeling a little bit like he was gulping down water after hours in the sun.

John pulled him out to the hall and the door shut behind them.

“You? You and Kayne?” John said as soon as they were out.

“He's letting me take you back,” Arthur said, feeling sure that if he denied the engagement here in Kayne's home, word would get back to him easily.

“But- You and Kayne? What about Parker?”

“I know, John, but he's letting me take you back! He's getting you away from your father,” Arthur said in a hushed tone, leaning close so they wouldn’t be heard.

“You can't trust him. You don't know that he's going to do that.”

“I have it John. I’m getting you back. I will do it.”

“There's no way my father's going to let me go,” John said, sounding desolate.

“Kayne will make him.”

His hand hadn't left John's arm even though John had turned to face him. John's other hand grazed up Arthur's free arm.

“It's a nice dress,” He seemed to be checking that Arthur was real somehow.

“Thank you, but I didn’t choose it. Everyone helped me get ready for tonight. I- I didn't know if I would see you,” He said Softly.

“They helped you get ready?”

“Well I’ve never dressed up quite this way,” Arthur said with a sigh and he leaned his head closer, a little conspiratorially and said, “Lily had to shave my legs.”

He raised his foot slightly so that the dress slipped away, and John made a choking sound, half laugh, half strange strangled noise.

“She did well.”

Arthur put his foot down, “And Parker did the makeup.”

“So Parker's okay,” John confirmed quickly.

“Oh, he's fine,” Arthur said quickly, realizing what John must have thought.

“He is?”

“Parker is fine,” and he paused, “he's pissed at you.”

“Yes…”

“What was wrong with you?” Arthur said, softly, searchingly.

“I-”

And the door opened. They sprung apart.

Kayne clicked his tongue, “Now, now, boys, people might think you were up to something. Alright John, I hope you have all your shit because we're heading to the plane directly. Say bye-bye to Daddy, John.”

“Goodbye,” John spat.

“Goodbye,” Hastur’s tone was odd and hollow.

Kayne looped an arm through Arthur’s just as John made an aborted half-gesture to do the same before letting go of his elbow.

“Well let's go! It's not a long flight certainly, but, you know, doesn't it just make you feel important?”

*

The plane ride and proceeding limousine ride were some of the most painful minutes of Arthur's life.

When they arrived at their house John let out a quiet, “We're here…” He sounded like he didn't quite believe it.

They climbed from the car and Arthur heard Kayne climb out too and felt nervous.

“We can send you the dress,” He said quickly.

“Oh no, keep it. I'm actually here to collect something else.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur said.

“Come on!” Kayne said and he marched up to the door and knocked firmly. The door opened.

“Oh good you didn’t skitter off into hiding with the others. With me, Yellow!”

“What?” Yellow said. His tone was… unreadable.

“With me, come on.”

“John?” Arthur said

John said, “He's got Yellow by the collar and is dragging him toward the car.”

Arthur said, “Kayne, what are you doing?”

“Just taking Yellow back where he belongs! Can't get something for nothing you know,” Kayne let out a laugh, “Don't you worry. We'll just get him properly installed back in New York. And I'm sure Hastur will kick the bucket any day now anyway. You crazy kids have a good night, and Arthur if you ever change your mind, You have my number.”

“No thank you,” Arthur glared at him.

“Anytime!”

Arthur heard the door slam on the limo once, then again, and then heard it pull away.

Notes:

Next time: a proper reunion

Chapter 30: Nearly Shaking Apart

Summary:

John's Home. He's home.

They stood in the entryway of the house, quiet, for a few moments.

“Where are…?” John finally asked.

“Oh! Faroe, Parker, and Lily went somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” John questioned the vagueness.

“We agreed they shouldn't tell me. Just in case things went poorly, we wanted the actual location to be a secret.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, they should be posted up in some hotel, or maybe on the road still, waiting for a call to assure them that things went to plan.”

“Oh. So… you and Parker are…?”

“He's been a big help,” Arthur sighed.

Which didn't answer what John wanted to know, so he tried again from a different angle, “And you and Kayne?”

Arthur's eyebrows flipped up, his hand reached for the engagement ring, “Ah! No we're not…”

“Engaged?” John completed.

“No. It was to get you back. He wanted a date in trade for some reason.”

John felt an anger burning in his chest, “Oh?” He was getting tired of saying that but most other words seemed to be eluding him.

“Yes,” Arthur huffed out a laugh, “it was not ideal and at first he didn't even hold up his end of the bargain. He gave me Yellow.”

John frowned, so that’s where he’d gone.

“And we noticed right away of course! Faroe particularly. But we had to wait out the week to put our plan into action.”

“So the dress was…?”

Arthur broke into an embarrassed smile, “Oh I forgot I was wearing it honestly.” His hands slid down the front of it self-consciously as though smoothing away any wrinkles.

“It's fairly comfortable so long as I don't move too much. I think there probably was more mobility in it before, but Oscar helped me alter it and we closed the slit somewhat,” Arthur explained.

John blinked, “Huh.” That was closed? Just standing here, Arthur resting his weight into one hip, it was falling open slightly and revealing all of his leg.

Arthur laughed. His hair was falling into his face just a bit as the product started failing.

“I know. It used to be,” Arthur's hand lifted to a point near the top of his hip.

“Right,” John’s voice was unsteady.

“It was a bit much for me personally. A lovely dress, I'm sure, but I preferred something that I could at least wear underwear with.”

“Yeah,” John managed, “Good plan.” He kept his eyes fixedly on Arthur's face from that point.

“You look nice though,” John said, and only thought afterward that perhaps he should be banned from speaking until he had gotten sleep or food. He hadn't even eaten at dinner earlier, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Kayne leaned into Arthur's side and constantly kept an arm across the back of his chair playing with the slight curl of Arthur's hair next to his ear.

“You think so?” Arthur laughed, “I am afraid I don’t feel quite so confident, but thank you. What color is it?”

John raised his eyebrow, “No one told you?”

“No, people don't describe things to me much. I think they expect you to do it still,” Arthur laughed.

John's chest clenched at the acknowledgment that something had been worse for Arthur without John there. That there had been a hole where he had been, even if it was so small as Arthur not knowing the color of the dress.

“It's red,” John told him, “Vibrant red, like a rose or blood. Like a warning.”

“Hm. Well at least there’s that. I’ve always looked good in red.”

“It suits you,” John agreed.

Arthur smiled for a moment and then it faded away.

“...John. I've been thinking,” His voice sounded serious.

John waited, breathless.

“About the time before you left… I,” He laughed a bit at himself, “I have so many questions. …On the day Parker and I got together. You were angry. You didn't like that we were dating, and I feel sure the reason for it is the same reason that you lied the way you did when you were taken.”

John felt his stomach twist unpleasantly, “I- Arthur, I was just-”

“You weren’t just anything,” Something sharpened in Arthur, a keen awareness, John wondered if this was how he looked when he questioned someone on the job, “You knew very well that you had made a deal with Kayne and that it had fallen through. You knew Parker hadn't sold you down the river at all. So clearly that you had some reason for trying to tell me he did. You had a reason that you were trying to separate us.”

They were standing close. Arthur's heels made it so that Arthur didn't have to tilt his head up quite as far to face John as they spoke, his eyes were fixed slightly above John's face as though still expecting John to be taller.

“What are you implying?” John asked, for some reason taking a step forward and closing some of the distance between them. There was less than half a foot between them now.

“I'm not insinuating anything. I'm asking my Friend why he was angry that two of his friends got together. You knew we were attracted to each other. It couldn't have been shock,” Arthur's voice had lowered as he became aware of how close John was.

“I…” John watched the way Arthur's mouth had formed the words. He was wearing lipstick that matched the dress. It was a ridiculous thing to note.

“I can theorize all day,” Arthur said, drawing himself up, seeming to steel himself, but not moving away, “I can theorize why you might not want to tell me, but I can't know. Did you think we were a bad fit?”

John managed, “No.” It came out lower and rougher than he expected.

“Did you think it would be bad for Faroe?” Arthur tilted his head just slightly.

“No.”

“Then why?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

And John closed the distance between them.

Arthur inhaled sharply when their lips connected, but pressed into the touch just as immediately. John could smell his cologne and could remember a dozen dizzying moments of awareness of Arthur, of closeness to him.

Sitting on his bed listening to him play piano for the first time. Digging through boxes in his closet when he was in the coma, Arthur’s cologne hanging in the air. Crowding in close together for photos. Laying with him after Faroe's birthday.

A soft noise left Arthur, and John pressed forward, closer. The lines of their bodies matched, finding warmth beneath the chill left by the February air. John bent his head the little bit he needed to to keep contact with Arthur's lips. Arthur walked back, pulling John along, to lean against the door. His hands slid beneath John's jacket and up his back holding him close.

When Arthur let out a little sigh John took the opportunity, deepening the kiss. He heard himself make a noise. One of Arthur's hands retracted from the jacket. Trailing along John's ribs. Sliding, flat-palmed, up his chest and along his neck. Reaching up to touch his hair and drawing back just a moment, like he was surprised.

He broke away, hand returning to feel over the base of John’s skull, “Your hair…”

John tried to catch his breath, “My what?”

“You cut it,” His face dawned with understanding, then anger, “They cut it.”

John didn't want to talk about that right now and so he kissed Arthur again. He was keeping Arthur steady against the door, despite the fact that John himself felt so unsteady on his feet. How long has it been since he had eaten a proper meal? Since he had slept a full night's sleep? Since he had a day off without seeing his new personal trainer?

Arthur arched up into him and John felt dizzy with it. Arthur, so close, letting John touch him, touching John in return. John cradled one of Arthur's cheeks, and his other hand slid across Arthur's waist, down to the bare leg that had made its way up to John's hip.

He hooked his fingers beneath it, holding him there. Arthur let out a high noise at the skin on skin contact. A sound of want and for a moment he pressed against John all the more closely.

And then he broke away again, “Christ. Christ. Fuck. Let go of me.”

John quickly pulled back, letting go, dropping Arthur's leg. Arthur steadied himself against the door, pushing himself back up onto his feet properly.

“I- I was-” John started. Had he misread? Had Arthur not been kissing back?

“No, I just- Parker,” Arthur was still catching his breath.

Something in John's stomach went ice cold, “Right.”

“That's not what I meant, but don’t-” Arthur ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, “Don't say it like that. You know I'm with him. I- I mean I need to call him. I need to tell them that you're safe. They're waiting to hear from us.”

John felt guilt coil through him where the ice had been moments before, “Oh, of course.”

“Help me find my phone? It should be somewhere on the hall table.”

John started rifling through the basket, “It's- it's not here.”

“I don't- Jesus fucking Christ, okay help me look.”

The two of them split up, Arthur making for the living room and John heading for the kitchen where the phone was sitting on the table.

“Got it! Got it.”

“Thank fuck. Good.”

They came back together in the hallway and John passed him the phone. Arthur quickly navigated and called Parker.

“Parker? No I’m-” Arthur said, seeming to suddenly try to steady his breathing, “I'm fine. Sorry, I was just hurrying to call you.”

John watched guilt flicker over Arthur’s face.

“Or- No- That's not all I was doing,” He amended quickly, “but we're safe. I don't want to lie to you. There was something else happening, but we're fine. …Yes I got John back and we're at the house and things with Kayne have been settled. Can you make it back tonight?... Good I'm sure John will be pleased to see all of you. Yes. All of You.”

A moment passed.

 

“Oh. That, I-”

Arthur chewed his lip indecisively, “I kissed John. …Yes. I'm sorry, I know you both have a lot to deal with, and believe me he will be receiving an earful from me right after I get off this call. It just- It happened. …You're allowed to be upset. …Yes, that's fair. I- I'm sorry. Hurry back?”

Arthur nodded, eyebrows drawn, “Okay. Stay safe. …I love you too.”

Arthur’s shoulders loosened at the words.

“...Bye,” Arthur pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up.

“What?” John said as soon as he hung up the phone.

“What what?”

“You told him??”

“Of course I told him, John. He's my boyfriend.”

“You told him you kissed me. I kissed you.”

“I feel I was a fairly active participant,” Arthur said, indignantly, “If this is about me being the one with my back to a wall then that is hardly my fault. You would be the one pinned if you were in these heels.”

“What about the ‘I love you’ How did that come out? You just revealed to Parker that you cheated on him.”

“Well, clearly don't understand everything about Parker and I, which is fascinating because you seemed very sure that you knew how we would react to anything you could tell us.”

John drew back, “I wasn't-”

“You were angry that we started dating, and you decided to try and manipulate us apart because you're attracted to me and frankly I suspect Parker too,” Arthur huffed.

“You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do, because despite your best efforts, John Doe, I know you. Now I'm going upstairs and I'm going to shower off all the Kayne I have on me. You are not going anywhere. You will wait for me to come back and for the others to arrive. Don't run off on me. Please,” he poured a genuine plea into the last word, as though he was begging.

“...Okay.”

“Thank you. Now. Yellow has been staying in your room, so I have no idea any damage he might have done in there, and I am sorry. We had nowhere else to keep him, and since Parker had moved in we were already somewhat constrained on space.”

“Parker what?”

Arthur set his jaw, patience seeming very thin, “I was left very suddenly without a co-parent! I'm blind, John, and I've still not figured out how to change her diaper like this! So yes, Parker moved back in and once Yellow was here we had nowhere else to put him because there was no more rooms. I'm sorry. I will help you replace anything that he destroyed. Also don't panic when you see that Hali isn’t there, they took her in the car with them just in case.”

John softened a bit. They made sure his cat got out safe too when they all ran.

“Okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… try to be fast.”

*

Parker drove the winding road back from Orchard’s Run

“They kissed,” Lily repeated.

“I know,” Parker agreed, then sighed, “I swear neither of them has any sense of timing, any sense of…”

“Emotional intelligence?” Lily offered.

“Yeah,” Parker nodded, “I mean, my God, the man was just kidnapped for a month and a half and the first thing they do before even calling us is?”

“Make out,” Lily finished the sentence. She sounding just as frustrated as Parker felt.

He exhaled slowly, “And it's fine, because it has to be, because John was just kidnapped and its not the time. And we can't even bring up the fact that he knew he was about to be kidnapped for as long as he did and he hid it from us.”

“And I suppose we can't bring up the fact that he tried to frame you,” Lily said with a groan, “because he's probably fragile and I get that and this moment needs to not be about that, but wow this just takes the cake.”

“It really fucking does.”

“And Arthur,” Lily said.

“God, I know,” Parker said, running a hand through his hair, “I love that man, and I don't want to sit here and pretend I'm like the master of choosing my moments to kiss people, but I thought this surely was like? A clearly telegraphed moment not to? It would be different if John kissed him.”

That would have felt pretty bad too though, for different reasons.

“It would,” Lily said, sounding unconvinced.

“But yeah, no that’s fine, this is a fine time to complicate everything, and it's good because this is the agreement right?”

“I don't know that this is the agreement. I think there's an agreement where he's allowed to date the people who wants to date, but I think it's reasonable if you guys are going to be like committed, Living-Together partners that occasionally you can weigh in and have an opinion. Like that seems fair. And right now seems like a bad time to kiss a guy, when he's, y’know-”

“-Just been kidnapped,” They said in unison.

Silence filled the car for nearly a mile.

“I'm so glad he's home,” Lily said.

“Yeah,” Parker said, voice cracking, “Fuck, I shouldn't be glad he's back, should I? I should just be pissed at him. Clearly he doesn't want me around anymore, but I'm just glad he's back for Faroe and you and Arthur even if he wants nothing to do with me.”

“Parker, do you really think he wants nothing to do with you?” Lily said, sounding a little baffled.

“I mean pretty clearly,” Parker said, driving, “I ain't the guy’s favorite person in the world.”

“You're one of his favorite people in the world,” Lily pushed back, “You know how he is, it doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“I know he lashes out. This is Different.”

“I'm not saying you should put up with it,” Lily said quickly, “You've been more patient with him than I am.”

“Oh great,” Parker said, with a wry smile, “So now I'm a pushover and it's all my fault.”

“That's not what I'm saying,” The eye roll in her voice was audible, “I'm just saying, if you want a relationship with him then set the boundaries he has to operate in, show him how he can make it up to you, and if he doesn't then, hey maybe I was wrong. And, well, if you don't want anything to do with him after this…”

Parker scoffed, “I couldn't have nothing to do with him without deciding to have nothing to do with you, or Arthur, or that kid in the backseat.”

Lily thought for a moment and nodded, “I get that, but we would all find a way to work around you two not being able to be in the same room if we had to. Granted I don't think that three of you living together would go too well, but you know. Maybe if we just put dividers between you two whenever you're in the same room so you can't see each other. Like betta fish.”

Parker snorted an unexpected laugh. And they both giggled for a moment.

Then he sighed, “You're right. I should try and patch things up with him.”

“I'm not saying you should do anything,” She corrected, “Frankly the onus is on him to try and earn back your trust. I'm just saying maybe have some stuff on the back burner that you'd like him to do to properly grovel.”

Parker laughed, “Oh yeah? Got any suggestions?”

“Take him to the mall wearing a sign that says, ‘I accused the guy I have a crush on of getting me kidnapped.’ Really embarrassing.”

Parker's laugh died in his throat, “Come on, Lil, not nice.”

She sighed, “I know.”

“You know I got feelings for him. Can we not make the jokes at my expense right now?” He glanced at her and she looked shocked.

“What? Parker, you kissed him.”

“Yeah, I remember, thanks for the reminder though,” He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“No, I mean you two kissed each other.”

“Again, I was there.”

“No, fucking hell, I'm saying… You really think that was fully one sided?”

Parker exhaled slowly, “Lily he literally Said it was. I’m not gonna keep kicking my feet and doodling his name in my notebooks. I’m an adult, I get when I’m not wanted.”

“Girl, I don't know what to tell you this, it was literally the most obvious thing in the world,” Lily said in a tone that communicated how stupid she thought he was right now.

He glanced at her, once, twice. Seeing a look of exhausted frustration on her face. He fixed his eyes back on the dark stretch of road ahead of him.

“Did-? No, cuz he likes Arthur,” Parker stuttered out.

“Wow! It's almost as though someone can have feelings for more than one person at a time. You're literally dating the guy he also has feelings for while having feelings for him. I mean fuck! The guy you're dating has feelings for him! This is so insane to watch! It is so insane that none of you pick up on the most-” She let out a growl of complete frustration, “Marie knows! Fucking Faroe knows! Oscar could tell and he’s a priest! I think the only person who doesn't know is Daniel and that's because he's not ready to process what that would mean! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but you should know by now. You’ve seen the way John looks at you. You have to know.”

“Aren't you like totally betraying his confidence by telling me this??” Parker said, baffled.

“Oh you mean the way John totally betrayed all of our trust by not telling us he was being kidnapped until it was too late to save him? Yeah so fucking weird. Listen, was there ever scenario in which he told you without being absolutely forced?”

“You're vicious tonight,” Parker laughed, giving her a brief, frightened, side-eye.

“I've been up for twenty-nine hours and my best friend has just come back from being kidnapped and is making out with your boyfriend! You'll have to forgive me if I'm at the end of my rope! Literally an hour ago you and I were ready to pack up for a life on the road raising this kid together. Which, by the way, we do not know each other well enough for!!”

He let out a laugh, “God no we really don't.”

*

Once Arthur was in his own clothes again and felt a little bit more steady on his feet. He exited the bathroom and went back downstairs. He knew it would still be at least a short while more before the others would come back. Apparently they had made it all the way out to Harper's Hill and would be trying to check out of the bed and breakfast that they were staying in before the owner went to bed for the night.

Arthur followed the sounds of John to the laundry room.

“I'm back,” he said.

John audibly startled and smacked his head on the dryer door, “Fuck! Ow… Jesus fucking Christ, walk a little harder? Please?? Just a solid stomp would be nice.”

Arthur smiled, “I'll do my best.”

John sighed, shut the door, and pushed the buttons that made the machine start up.

“Doing laundry already?”

“All of my clothes were dirty.”

“Oh… yes, I'm sorry. We didn't have anything else for Yellow to wear and frankly money’s been slightly tighter than usual with the one less set of hands around.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You keeping Faroe so we could work freely was obviously massively helpful.”

“Right. We… had a rhythm.”

“We did.”

“Right…”

And everything that had gone wrong hung in their air between them.

“What now?” John asked.

“We… wait. Wait for them to get back. Wait for everything to heal.”

“And what happened earlier…”

 

“We…” Arthur inhaled, “Parker and I have an agreement. We are dating and I never intended for that to change based on anything tonight, but we do have an agreement that we may do what we like.”

“You mean that…”

“We're both still allowed to date, yes.”

“So this was…?”

“Fine,” Arthur confirmed, “Which is, at least, one less apology you owe Parker.”

John was quiet for several moments.

“John. Either you did what you did just because you liked me, and for that reason alone traded the closest friend we both have, which I wouldn’t-” Arthur cut himself off not wanting to color John's thoughts before he answered, “Or you did what you did because you felt something for him too and you were hurt by both of us.”

“He hates me now.”

“That's not an answer to what I'm asking.”

“It is. What's the point of answering, if he hates me now?” John managed through gritted teeth. Both of them knew it was an answer in itself, but saying it this way let John keep his shell on, which Arthur would allow for tonight because much had happened.

“We don't have to deal with this now,” Arthur said, “but you kissed me and I figured you'd like to know where we stood.”

“I- Yes,” John stuttered, “Okay.”

“Then…” Arthur said, “I care for you John, and if I am reading the situation correctly I think you care for me. Even if you have a damn shit way of showing it. Even apart from Parker we would have much to discuss before anything further happened between us, but. If you're looking for an answer. Yes, I care about you too.”

“Oh,” John said. The word was quiet and hopeful..

Arthur couldn't help the smile that made its way onto his face, “Yes, well, it was bound to come out eventually. I wasn’t going to mention it tonight, but, well, you rather forced my hand.”

“I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“No, I’m sorry, only teasing,” Arthur stopped him, “It's been a very long night, John, truth be told I don't blame you for acting on an impulse that might have felt nice.”

“Did it not?” John said quickly, “Was it-? I- I thought it was.”

Arthur gently held up a hand to stop him, “It was nice John. I… We can't do this tonight. You’re not well, if you were there's no way you would have let me corner you into this conversation without at least trying to storm out of here.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“You're right,” John agreed.

“Yes. So… soon.”

“Okay,” John's voice sounded a little helpless, like he was almost fragile.

Arthur smiled again, “Right well-” He heard a car outside pulling up into the driveway.

Arthur hummed, “Ah- that would be…”

“Right,” John sounded solemn and serious.

“Relax,” Arthur told him, “We'll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

“One step at a time,” John agreed.

And they made for the door side by side.

*

They pulled into the driveway.

Lily said, “You should probably carry Faroe in because it would be best if it was impossible for John to avoid you.”

“That's a fair point,” Parker said, climbing out of the car and pulling Faroe out of her car seat. She immediately fell back asleep on his shoulder. He couldn't help but feel warm at that.

Lily collected Hali’s carrier out of the back seat. The two of them made for the door. He unlocked it and they made their way in. Before anything else Lily released Hali into the house. She zoomed off down the hall.

Standing there in the entryway was Arthur, very clearly freshly showered, and a half step behind him was John.

All of his soft edges were cut away. Short hair. Too thin. He was wearing his own shirt, and a pair of sweatpants that Parker knew he'd left in the dryer that morning. His eyes were wide, and scared, but present. And Parker couldn’t breathe.

All of the exhaustion and venom was gone from Lily in an instant.

“John,” she said. She ran to him and pulled him into a hug that seemed protective despite her being significantly shorter than him. He collapsed into her, face buried in her shoulder, eyes screwed tight.

She pulled back, “God your hair.”

He smiled shakily at her and Parker couldn’t breathe, Parker couldn’t breathe.

“Have they been feeding you?” She said, “You'll never hear the end of it from Marie. She'll be very displeased to see you like this.”

John was standing there, eyes tearing up.

“Lily,” He said roughly.

“I'm so glad you're home,” She said, almost too soft to hear.

“Thanks for coming to see me.”

Parker approached Arthur and hugged him, “How’d it go?”

“More or less as planned. Kayne was a lot more interested in having fun at John's expense than marrying me and was quite insistent that I had to play out the whole evening as his fiance, but aside from that it went alright.”

“Good,” Parker sighed, pressing his face into Arthur's hair, “I was really scared there Lester.”

Arthur embraced him and Faroe, “I'm glad we just all came out of it alright.”

They pulled back and Parker turned, holding Faroe on his shoulder, to look at John. He and Lily had disengaged as well. And suddenly he and John were just standing there staring at each other.

John looked terrified and Parker could see the guilt on his face. John picked at his thumb, anxiously.

Finally Parker sighed, and approached, wrapping his free arm around John and tugging him down into a hug roughly. Faroe was pressed between them.

“I'm glad you're home, Lavender.”

“You are?” John sounded completely baffled, like he never believed Parker would miss him, and that was devastating.

He breathed in, feeling the heat of John, and feeling painfully at home with John in his arms, and he managed a shaky, “Mmhmm.”

Minutes might have passed but Parker focused all he had on not breaking down. John was Home. He was Safe. For real this time.

Sniffling sharply and averting his eyes, Parker pulled back a bit and said, “Take your kid .

“Okay,” John said weakly.

He gently took Faroe from Parker and Faroe woke up a little at the motion. Her eyes blinked slowly open.

Then, suddenly alert, she shouted, “AAAAAA BABBABABA AUGN!”

John smiled, but already a tear was slipping down his cheek.

“Hi, baby,” He breathed shakily. He took a step back, and his back hit the wall behind him. He slid down gently as though his legs could no longer hold him. He curled around Faroe gently and his shoulders began to shake.

“She missed you,” Arthur said, “Unspeakably so. It was awful to hear.”

John clutched Faroe close to him, rocking as he shook apart.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Parker heard John whispering, then a very quiet, “I love you, Faroe. I didn't want to leave.”

Parker bit the inside of his cheek furiously to wrest back the sob that nearly broke from him.

And they all stood there a long while as John sobbed over what very well might be the world's happiest baby.

Parker didn't know how long it had been when John finally sniffled and pulled his shit together, but none of them mentioned that he had cried at all. He clambered to his feet, still clutching Faroe to his chest as he did, as though handing her off to any of them was completely out of the question right now.

He turned to Lily first.

“Thank you.”

She nodded gently, “Of course. I'll see you soon okay? We've got a plan to get you set up with a new phone, so text me when you feel up to it and we'll hang out.”

“Okay,” John agreed, nodding back.

“You all take care of each other alright?” She said, giving them both a gentle smile and a nod, “Bye.”

“Bye,” Parker echoed.

The door shut behind her.

And there they stood.

“Okay,” John said, after a moment, “Faroe should go to bed huh?”

“Most likely,” Arthur said, “but if you need to hold her for a while longer…”

“No, I just- Can I put her to bed?”

“Of course,” Arthur said, “You don't need to ask.”

The three of them climbed upstairs in succession, Faroe in John’s arms.

Parker stood by the top of the stairs, and Arthur in the doorway, as John gently laid her to bed. John didn't talk this time, but Faroe did enough talking for both of them. Filling John’s silence. As though recognizing that he was not well enough to do so right now. She didn’t seem tired, but Parker was sure that once John was out of sight she would crash harder than she had in weeks.

John pulled the door shut behind him and the three of them made their way back down to the kitchen.

Parker inhaled, exhaled, and leaned against the counter. He looked around, to take the stock of the situation, seeing John and Arthur sitting at the table side by side. Home Home Home.

Then something caught at the back of his brain and he paused.

“Wait,” he said, “Where's Yellow?”

Notes:

yay!! he's back :] and there are no problems ever now I'm sure

also! there's another fic in this series now so check that out if your interested :D

Up next: They Talk About Exactly Where Yellow Is

Chapter 31: Finding the Limit

Summary:

parker's capacity for grace is put to the test

“Yellow! Thank fuck, you're back. Okay, so, I already threw a bag together cuz it didn't seem like you were ready to go, but I put it in the trunk. We have to get moving. Arthur's already gone, we should have been on the road already.”

Yellow brought with him a slight jingle of arcade tokens in his pockets, he’d left not long after he’d seen Parker doing Arthur make-up.

 

“What? No.”

“Yeah, it's like we were telling you? We’re gonna hit the road, so if things go badly we’ll be, y’know, out of harm's way.”

“You don’t get it. This is useless,” Yellow's face was difficult to read. It was tense but Parker couldn’t see with what, “I thought you'd already be gone.”

“I thought you’d wanna come with?”

“No, of course not, this is-” For a moment he was angry and the it smoothed away, with some effort, “Parker, you have to understand how fucking pointless this is. I told you what he's like. You’re not getting John back, none of us are making it out of this unless Kayne decides he wants us to. There's no point in running.”

“Are you telling me you fucking gave up man? After everything you did to get here you're giving up?”

“I'm not giving up. I'm just recognizing when an effort isn't worth the trouble. I'm not shoving myself into a car with a baby and a stranger and some nosy Detective just for the fun of it. If you want to go, go. What do I care?”

“It's your fucking life, you should care.”

“I don’t.”

“Yellow please,” Parker was taken aback by the impassive gaze that met his.

“Parker, we have to go. Is he coming or not?” Lily called from the car.

“Please,” Parker tried once more.

“You should go. You went through the trouble of packing the baby into the car.”

*

“What?” Arthur said.

“Yellow,” Parker pressed, “The guy we've been living with for a week.”

“Oh- well-” Arthur stuttered.

Parker pushed himself up off the counter back to standing.

“Oh well what?” he demanded.

Arthur’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Kayne took him,” John intervened.

“He-” Parker felt a little dizzy.

“Fuck. What are we going to do?” Parker breathed beginning to Pace, “He took him. Why-”

He stopped to look at them, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“We…” Arthur trailed off.

“No,” Parker said, “Why didn't you say anything? You watched somebody get kidnapped and the first thing you tell me is that everyone's safe?”

“I meant-”

Parker cut him off, “You meant that John was safe.”

“I- That was what we were doing! That was what we were trying to do!” Arthur defended.

“We traded another person for him, Arthur!” Parker shouted

Arthur shook his head, rising to his feet, “Kayne said-”

“Fuck what Kayne said!” Parker was yelling, he was Yelling at them and the neighbors might hear, “I cannot believe this! John, that's your fucking brother!”

“I,” John hesitated, “Didn't-”

“Didn't what??” Parker breathed, then horror washed over him, “Think he deserved freedom and safety from your dad too.”

“He's just like my father,” John spat, suddenly, “He was fine there.”

Parker’s voice was quiet as he found himself unable to look away from John, “If he was fine, why did he leave in the first place?”

 

He watched John crumble with a look of Shame, all fight gone in an instant.

 

Parker shook his head, turning away, needing to turn away, “He was no different from John.”

“He lied to us,” Arthur said, heat in his voice, “He tried to pretend to be-”

Parker rounded on him again.

“What? He tried to pretend to be someone who could care for your kid? Weird.” Parker said, flatly.

He flicked his eyes toward John for a long harsh moment.

“That’s not fair,” Arthur said, tightly.

Parker barked a laugh that sounded a little manic in his own ears, he felt like he was gonna throw up, “Fair? He deserved better than this from us. I- We bartered with a Human Being. We gave someone back to their Captor, and you made me complicit in it. Did you even try to fight it?”

Arthur exhaled like he was trying very hard to be the reasonable one, “Parker you have to understand-”

“I don’t.” Parker heard the echo of Yellow earlier that night in his words.

John tried, looking hollowed out, “Parker…” He didn’t finish the thought.

“No y’know I just- Fuck this. I have to go. I’ll be back.”

“When?” Arthur asked.

“I-!” Parker exhaled shakily, hardly keeping a handle on the tremble in his voice, “Later. Arthur.”

The front door slammed when he closed it.

“Lily,” Parker said, once the phone stopped ringing, “I- Fuck, I'm sorry, I know you just left and I'm sorry to ask this. But I don’t know where else to go.”

*

Parker's absence was different this time. This time he knew its reason.

The moment the door slammed shut the pit opened in his stomach.

He tried to fight the tide of it. Because Yellow wasn’t John. Yellow’d taken John’s path out. Yellow was unpleasant and combative and manipulative and…
No different.

He was no different than John.

And Arthur failed him.

The realization came with hooks that sunk into him on the way down. Arthur had failed to help somebody who needed help very badly. Had failed to help somebody who was from the exact same circumstance as one of the men he loved. Meaning, of course, that if John hadn't behaved so politely in the very early days, then perhaps…

Not only that, but John hadn’t really been in any fit state to fight anything on anyone’s behalf. What was Arthur’s excuse?

“Fuck,” he finally said.

“Fuck,” John agreed, voice rough and fragile.

Then silence reigned in the room.

*

They came in the next morning arm and arm. Lily and Parker moving with a purpose as they came into the kitchen.

“Alright, we brought breakfast,” Parker said, setting a box on the table between them, “We're keeping it reasonable and not going to get too swear-y or Lily takes the donuts.”

“And I'll do it,” she said.

“Very well, let's all talk,” Arthur agreed, pulling out a chair and settling down at the table. He and John had not slept the night before, but as the sun rose they had each broken off to get dressed and begin taking care of Faroe. The routine of it had been overwhelming and grounding in ways that John could not quite name.

Faroe was sat in her highchair eating oatmeal with diced strawberries, “Papapapa, oahhh mee.”

“Hi pumpkin,” Parker smiled, “Yeah That looks like pretty good oatmeal huh? Did John make that for you?”

“Ehssh ghhhhhhohn, oahmeeee, dada.”

“Yea, I thought so,” He said, ruffling her hair.

He turned to look at them, sobering significantly, “So. I have a demand.”

Arthur sat up straighter at that, tense suddenly. John watched the two of them. Demands were not something Arthur played well with. Not something John played well with usually, he noted faintly, but he was hung up on looking at Parker. He had time last night, during dinner, to look at Arthur, but this morning he was finally taking in Parker.

Parker had stubble along his jaw, he had been somewhere else, unable to shave. Arthur had explained that they live together now. That Parker would be staying here. That thought on its own was enough to have John reeling a bit. But Parker also looked different. He was tired, worn, almost older. It hadn't been long since John had left and John wondered if he had slept last night, or if this had just been a fact of the past month and a half.

Then Parker's eyes swept away from Arthur and landed on John, his eyebrow twitched up in surprise at being observed. Then the expression seemed to soften automatically. When the harshness came back it looked like it hurt.

“Demands?” Arthur repeated.

“Yes,” Parker said, tearing his eyes away from John's, “Alright cards on the table here, that sucked. What you did sucked. And we’re gonna get him out.”

“What? How can we?” Arthur asked.

Parker's hands were shaking as he squared the donut box to be parallel with the edge of the table, “I don't know yet, but I've given this thought and I can’t do this if we don't. There's a lot here that all of us are going to need to sort through. I can't do that if we aren’t trying to get him out again. I need something. I need this. I need you guys to give me this.”

“Parker… he's back in New York,” John said Softly.

“And we got you out,” Parker's eyes snapped to him, then turned pleading, “Come on, La- John, you know this ain't right.”

“I Know, but… we can’t. There's no way.”

“Noel. He wants to bring down your father. I looked into him. That's what he was snooping around for. We could get him in on it, we can all pool what we know. We- John please,” Parker said.

There was a desperation there. And John couldn’t deny him.

John found himself mutely nodding his assent and something in Parker's posture loosened, a tension he had been holding there fell away.

And John felt curiosity prick at him, “Are you two friends?”

Parker’s eyes skittered away, “No time. But I don't gotta be somebody's friend to recognize that what you went through would make anybody crack, would make anybody desperate. I'm not- I can't let that stand.”

“John?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, I nodded,” John told him.

“Alright,” Arthur said, “Good. We'll do it.”

“Now,” Lily said, “Arthur, you and I are going to go down the block and see if we can't find your police friend and drag him up here for brunch and a meeting. In the meantime we have to give Parker and John a second I think.”

“But they’re-” Arthur began looking worried.

“I know, but they won't hurt each other. They need to have a second.”

“Right, of course,” Arthur said, “Then…”

“Then let's go get Noel,” Lily gave Parker a nod, then John, and proceeded to gather her coat despite the fact that she had never even sat. She made her way out the front door, with Arthur trailing after looking concerned. The door shut.

Faroe was still in her high chair and now with the room quiet, she began to talk.

“Papa!” She said tapping her table to gather Parker’s attention, then she pointed at John, “ghhhhahn!”

Parker smiled, “I know we got him back! Exciting huh, pumpkin?”

“She calls you papa?” John said softly.

The tension came back to Parker’s shoulders, “Yeah well Parker is sort of a mouthful. You got a problem?”

“No,” John said too quickly, startled by the shift.

“Really? Because I live here now so, y’know, if ya got a problem with me that you want to get arbitrarily pissed about, now would be a great time to just get it off your chest. Arthur's not even here to get mad at you.”

John growled, “It's not like that.”

“Oh, is it not?” His face was perfectly neutral. John didn’t think he’d be able to match it if he tried.

John felt his heart rate picking up, “Do you have something you want to say?”

“Actually yeah, just a question,” Parker’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Fine,” John said, “Ask.”

“What do you want?”

“What?”

“What do you want? Because I can't seem to puzzle this one out. You have to have Some Reason that you do the shit that you do and I'm just wondering what it is.”

“I just want to be here.”

“That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I mean. You're not stupid, John. What do you think is my most pressing concern to talk to you about?”

“If you have a problem, why don't you say it?”

“I'm trying to give you an opportunity to say something that any decent fucking person would want to right now.”

And John knew what the problem was, but god only fucking knew how he could Begin to walk back what he had done. To fix what he had said.

John must have stared at him silently a moment too long, because hurt and anger flashed across Parker’s face.

“Sweet mother mary I- I fucking can't with you, man,” He stormed out of the room.

John rose to his feet too and turned to Faroe, “Just a moment. We’ll be back.”

John followed Parker into the living room and when he came in Parker looked furious.

“You don't feel bad. Not in the slightest, you don't feel bad about a damn thing you've done! You don't feel bad about leaving the way you did. You don't feel bad about hiding that your dad was sending someone for you. Which, by the way, it's really obvious that you fucking knew John. There was the fact that you were able to warn Lily, there was the feeding schedule for the goddamn cat you taped to the fridge for us. You knew what was coming and you didn't tell us. I've done the math, you had to know the day we woke up at my place, because that is when you put away all of the supplies for the DIY projects you wanted to do. That's when you started acting weird, like there was nothing here for you. You knew for more than A Week. I just don't get you man.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to have told your fuckin family that you were about to leave. I wanted you to tell us so we could try and save you or at least we could- fuck I don’t know- prepare ourselves? I wanted you to-” He cut himself off.

Parker took a couple of studying breaths, and then met John's eye, stepping closer, “What did you want to get out of telling Arthur I was the one who tipped off your dad?”

“Huh?”

“What did you want? What was your fucking ideal outcome of that from your perspective?”

John looked away, “Isn't it obvious?”

“Yeah it fucking is, but I'm hoping that I got you wrong here John. Because you screwed me over- no- no, You Hurt Me. On purpose.”

“Is that so hard to believe?” John asked, finally forcing himself to meet Parker’s gaze, “Maybe I just wanted you gone.”

Hurt flickered across Parker's face, then it turned stony.

“Nah,” he said, “That's not all that hard to believe. That's the easiest part.”

John felt a shock of hurt travel through him at that.

“I’m not shocked you would try and edge me out. Fuck, I mean, I thought we had an understanding. I thought we had come to some sort of peace about letting Arthur pick who and what he wanted, but no, I’m not surprised.”

John felt a lump in his throat, but he choked it back.

“But did you think for a second about what comes after that? Did you think about what happens to Arthur when I'm Gone and you're Gone, and its just him and Faroe? Who does he have left, John? Fucking Lily who can hardly get a full night's sleep around her job? Marie who’s got her hands full with her sister? Or what? Oscar who can barely keep his head above fucking water?”

 

John’s chest felt tight, his hands were balled at his sides.

“Did you think about what would happen to that girl in there?” Parker pointed toward the kitchen, “After all the shit that we worked together to carry them through John. Did you think for a Second?”

“That wasn't point. That wasn't what I was doing,” John defended, “It was…”

“It was the natural conclusion to what you Were doing John,” And now Parker just looked disappointed. Like he’d genuinely expected better.

“What do you want from me? I'm- I'm sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen.”

“That would be a start. That would be something at least. Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you sorry, John? For any of it? I'm not asking you to be sorry to me. God knows you aren't. Tell me you're sorry for the position that you nearly put them in. I can deal with the rest of it as long as you're sorry for that.”

“I am,” John said, voice coming out thick and shaky, “I’m sorry that wasn't the point of it.”

“Right,” Parker said, softly, looking a little sad, “because the point was to just get me gone…”

“Right,” John was quiet.

“I didn't realize that the jealousy was going to be that bad, I'll be honest,” He laughed a little, “I kind of thought we were- I don't know- friends at least. Guess I'm the idiot.”

“We were.”

Parker met his eye, “Yeah? Were we?”

“Yes.”

Parker looked miserable, more so than John had ever seen him, “I… don't know if I want to be friends with a guy who hurt me on purpose.”

“It wasn’t about hurting you.”

“Then why?”

“Because,” John huffed, “I couldn't stand the idea of you and Arthur happy together while I was…”

The idea of them, in love and slowly setting him aside. Them raising Faroe until she was old enough that she didn’t remember him at all.

 

“Just because you were fucking jealous that I was with Arthur? You decided-” Parker broke off, “That sucks. How could you do that to me?”

“I was angry then. I didn't have a plan,” John admitted. His hands were shaking, “You and Arthur have something that I couldn't be a part of. You were going to be happy while I died there.”

Parker's eyes widened. The room was painfully quiet for seconds or minutes.

“We were always going to be miserable after they took you. You’re so fucking loved and you don’t even see it,” Parker shook his head. He started to turn for the door.

John said, “No- I- Stop. Please.”

Parker slowly turned to look at him.

“It's- Parker I’m sorry,” He said, “Not just for how I affected Arthur and Faroe. I'm sorry for what I said about you. I shouldn't have.”

Parker shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing at his feet and back to John, “Yeah?”

“Yes. Of course you weren't the one who sold me out to my father. For one thing I did that.”

“what.”

“And for another you never would.”

“Oh…” Parker’s tone was warm for a moment but then he shook his head, “Wait, no, circle back. What?”

“I made a deal with Kayne. He found me back in August. He threatened me, told me I had to introduce him to somebody that he requested, and if I didn't agree he would tell my father where I was. The morning I woke up at your house I went to go get us breakfast. He caught me there and demanded I introduce him to Arthur. I told him I wouldn't.”

Parker’s brow furrowed with concern, “You could have just introduced them.”

John shook his head, “There's no ‘just introducing’ someone to Kayne.”

“So you just denied him?”

John nodded, “You were right. It was that morning.”

“So that's why you got taken.”

“And it's how I know that you definitely weren't responsible,” John said, fear and shame mingling in his stomach.

Parker was quiet for a long moment.

“You should have told me that if I dated Arthur you wouldn't be friends with me anymore. You should have told me what was on the line.”

“What because you would have backed off?” John scoffed.

“If it meant not losing you.”

John searched Parker's face. Parker looked at him steadily, like he meant it, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say.

John shook his head, “That wouldn't have been Fair. He gets to choose.”

“Yeah I thought we agreed on that. I didn't realize we only meant it until we started throwing elbows,” Parker laughed turning away from him to wander over to the Shelf that held their pottery. All three of them lined up side by side.

“It was wrong. I shouldn’t have,” John said.

Parker heaved a sigh, his shoulders lifted and fell with it, a whole body motion.

He turned back to John, then with a slow nod, “It happens. So how do we avoid this in the future?”

“Avoid what?”

“The part where you try to burn down my life cuz I make you feel a little too jealous. Arthur and I are already together. I hear he kissed you last night and you'll forgive me if I withhold congratulations for the moment,” Parker smiled crookedly.

He looked so tired.

“I thought it was fine?” John said, feeling panic seize him, “I thought you two were…”

“We are,” Parker said holding up a hand to halt him, “I just- Look man if Arthur wants something with you that's his prerogative. I just need to know that you're not going to see me and him kiss and lose your fucking marbles. If Arthur changes his mind and decides he doesn't want one of us, that's different, but you can't try to fuck me over like that again.”

“I wouldn't,” John said, “Parker I- I wouldn’t.”

Parker searched John’s face for a long uncertain moment, but he nodded, “Okay.”

Notes:

parker is So fine and okay

next time: the team gets to work

Chapter 32: A Helping Hand or Two

Summary:

Noel agrees to help and the team spends a long night gathering accounts of how much Hastur sucks

Arthur knew very well that he was leaving his finally recovered friend and his boyfriend alone so that they may tear each other's throats out in peace. The only hope he could have in the matter was that Faroe’s presence would stop them from doing anything too atrocious to one another.

Lily guided him firmly down the street not allowing him to hesitate or back up.

“Yep, he's down here alright,” She said, “Come on. Let's get this ball rolling there is someone depending on us.”

Then she said, “Oh he's climbing out of the car!”

Arthur heard the door of a car shutting.

“Hey yeah, were you coming down to see me?”

“Yes. We got John back.”

“I saw yeah. I was trying to stay out of your hair cuz it didn't seem like my presence was appreciated. I figured you'd call if you needed anything.”

“Well we do,” Lily said, “So for the past few days you’ve probably seen a King brother walking in and out. That wasn't John, that was Yellow.”

He sounded surprised, “Oh shit.”

“He came here in an attempt to pose as John and-” Arthur began.

“Yes,” Lily confirmed rather impatiently, “He’s since been kidnapped and it is outside of our capabilities to have him returned in the same way we got John. I've heard tell that you’re interested in bringing down the Hastur King, now you're going to do it. We're going to get him out of there.”

“Yes ma'am?” Noel said somewhat stutteringly, “Just one question though, who are you?”

Lily's tone went carefully blank, “Charlie Dowd, do you not remember me?”

“Wha-

“Charlie?” Arthur echoed confused.

“You were directly involved in Hastur firing me. You were there when I was run out of town.”

“I…”

“No, you know, it's fine.”

“I'm sorry,” Noel said, “That was a weird time for me. What if I went and I picked up lunch for all you. You could text me the orders. I'll go pick something up while you guys get set up and then we'll meet to start taking care of this.”

“Yes, that should work,” Arthur nodded.

“That sounds acceptable. Thank you,” Lily said, “Arthur will text you our order soon.”

*

The painful silence that sat in the room between them was broken by the opening of the front door. Parker tore his eyes away from John's and made for the entry way.

“Hey did you catch him?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, “He actually intends to come over with some real food, ah– no offense, I appreciate the donuts– and we'll start making a plan.”

“Good.”

Arthur’s eyebrows drew together in concern, “And everything here is…?”

“Just fine,” Parker confirmed.

Arthur nodded, looking doubtful, “Alright then we probably need to make a good work space and start pulling together everything that each of us knows. John, I've got a laptop I can set you up with to work.”

“Actually Artie, if you want to just type up everything that he tells you with dates as near as you can reckon would be good. Keep his head focused on the story and not the right words. Lily, you have a statement to give?”

“Yes,” She nodded, resolute.

“You worked directly on a team you got anybody else you could contact?”

“No, I'm afraid pretty much everyone else who was on the medical team was far more willing to put up with Hastur’s shit and thought I was ruining it for everyone.”

“That's alright. You and I will get the ball rolling on taking your statement and Arthur we should probably call around, see if we could get maybe an extra set of hands to help with Roe tonight. I know we got a lot of people, but y’know ideally everyone who has directly interacted with Hastur should have their focus on this.”

“Absolutely, I'll call around, see if anybody’s free.”

“We can pull together money if it helps, not an issue I just…”

“No, I totally agree,” Arthur said.

John spoke quickly, “But I can't…”

Parker softened slightly at the look of panic on his face.

“Oh, of course,” Arthur said, “I'll see if there's somebody who can come here.”

“It's ridiculous,” John said.

“No, it's not,” Arthur laid a hand on John's shoulder. There was a tenderness there. An intimacy. Parker’s instincts told him to do the same. Those instincts were wrong.

“Okay,” John said, a bit helpless.

“Great,” Parker clapped his hands, “Then you guys get moving on that. Lily, would you mind helping me take down all the stuff that's on the pin board. We've got a whole new theory we're going to need to put together.”

“Absolutely, do you have a specific system for filing this?”

“Filing?”

She nodded, “Yes, Parker, you have a giant filing cabinet. You are a detective. I assume you have a system.”

“Yeah! The new ones go at the front.”

“So it's by date, great.”

“No, it's by whenever I get around to filing them.

She looked horrified, but slowly nodded, “Okay alright well remind me when I get a moment this to fix this cabinet. In the meantime I'll help you just put the new ones in the front.”

“Thank you kindly, Lil.”

“Lil?” John repeated curiously.

Parker didn't acknowledge the question. He couldn’t talk to John right now with a steady voice.

They all set into motion, moving the coffee table so they could wedge Faroe’s portable crib into the living room so that John wouldn't have to be far from her, and setting up small tables to work from. It was cramped, but it would work.

“Parker, I need you,” Arthur said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the kitchen while John and Lily finished getting Faroe set up with a movie.

“Yeah what's up, Arthur?

Arthur said, “First I wanted to check that you were really alright. Obviously, I was made to leave you and John so you could talk. I was wondering how that went.”

“It went, we talked.”

“And?”

“And…? Do we got time for that right now?” Parker asked, realizing even as he said it that it was far less eloquent of a deflection than even his usual method of simply insisting that things were fine until they were.

Arthur frowned, eyebrows drawn, “Right, well I'm sorry to add more to your plate right now, but the only person available to take care of Faroe here is…”

Parker heard it coming in Arthur's hesitation, so he finished the sentence, “Oscar.”

Naturally.

Parker nodded easily, “Great get him over here. You might want to let Noel know whatever he wants for lunch as well before you fire off the text with all of our orders.”

“That’s alright with you then?” Arthur said with disbelief.

“What’s there to be alright with, Arthur? You said that that's the only guy you could find I believe you.”

Arthur’s jaw set but he kept his tone level and light, “Would you prefer it if there was somebody else though?”

“Faroe likes him. If you think he's cool to have around while we're working on this case then cool.”

“I’ve just noticed things between you are a bit awkward is all and so-”

“Arthur,” Parker cut him off, his pulse was thrumming like something bad was happening, “I was kind of in the middle of a thing.”

“Right,” Arthur deflated, “And when will you not be in the middle of a thing? I feel as though your… off? Distant?”

“I mean not tonight,” Parker laughed, he felt strained to the point of cracking, he couldn’t quite breath, “If something’s bothering you we can talk it out soon. Maybe tomorrow. But no tonight”

Arthur shook his head, a little bit more intent, “If we just took ten minutes to deal with this then-”

“Please,” Parker said, hoarse, almost desperate, “I can’t right now Arthur. There is too much. On every goddamn level. Get your friend over here to watch the kid if that is what will work, or get no one if that's what you prefer. I don't care. I just- I need a minute to just work and I don't have anywhere else I can be.”

Something cracked on Arthur's face, “.......alright.”

“Alright,” Parker’s breath was coming shakily, he turned to leave.

“But Parker,” he said as soon as Parker's back was turned.

“Yeah? Parker said his voice coming out more tired than he really knew how to process.

“I am sorry for Yellow.”

Parker didn’t have forgiveness in him just yet, that feeling was acid crawling up his esophagus, his voice said what he needed it to, “It’s fine, Artie. You’re just doing the best you know how to.”

*

When Oscar arrived the work had already begun.

Two different interviews happening in separate rooms, Faroe’s movie playing on the TV in the living room next to where John and Arthur seem to be hard at work. One of John's hands rested on the side of her crib. In the kitchen there was Peter and Lily sat around the table. Peter with a notebook and a microphone running next to them directly into some sound program on his laptop. Perched on the bottom step of the stairs was a man in a large brown jacket curving inward on himself typing slowly into a laptop that seemed too small for him fundamentally. The man lifted his head and nodded at Oscar as he came through the door.

He said, “You must be the other guy. Food’s on the counter, help yourself. Couldn't quite get a straight answer as far as what everybody wanted so it's going family style on a bunch of the big dishes.”

“Thank you,” Oscar shut the door behind him and made his way into the living room where Arthur and John were working. The two of them looked up.

“Oscar,” Arthur said, he smiled warmly.

“How did you know it was me?”

Arthur seemed amused, “I heard you talk to Noel. It's good that you’re here. Thank you so much. I'm sorry, I know it was short notice and probably terribly inconvenient.”

“No, no, I'm glad you called, glad I can help you all. And John,” Oscar gave him a nod, “It's good to see you’re back. I’m sorry to hear about Yellow. We didn’t speak much but he seemed very much like you.”

“Thank you,” John looked at him as though he couldn't quite decide what to think of Oscar or his statement.

“Faroe is here obviously,” Arthur explained, “Her room’s upstairs, but circumstances being what they are you take her where you need to in the house. She gets a touch anxious occasionally if John isn’t in the room, so if she starts fussing you can always bring her here.”

“Of course.”

Arthur rose to his feet, approaching, “Thank you.” He captured Oscar’s hand between his.

Oscar was breathless. Arthur’s mouth ticked up in half a smile.

“It has been a hell of a weekend. I don't even know if I got the opportunity to properly thank you for the help with my dress.”

“It was effective it seems?” Oscar said, slightly weakly.

“Effective is the word,” John mumbled, turning over pages of notes in his hands.

“Hey.”

Arthur startled and so did Oscar. Peter was standing right there in the doorway studiously not looking at anyone except Arthur. Oscar was suddenly very aware of the fact that he and Arthur were still holding hands.

“Sorry no rush, but I was just wondering if John had a date on his hospital stay? Lily can’t remember. She remembers it was fall but…”

“Oh yeah, it was October,” John put in.

Peter did look at him then, “Great, got a date?”

“I must have been admitted…” John hesitated, “I don't know.”

“She was guessing it was early in the month because she remembered she never paid rent at the end of the month and got kicked out of her place,” Peter said.

John winced, “That sounds right. I'd say maybe 4th to 7th. Somewhere in there and I couldn't have been there more than a couple weeks.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, glancing over his notes, “She said three before she was thrown off your case.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, alright, good stuff,” Peter dipped out of the room as quietly as he’d come, but not before casting one glance at Arthur and Oscar’s joined hands, then at Oscar, and then away.

Oscar awkwardly pulled away.

*

The night was long and busy and it took until the early hours of the morning for anyone to even think to ask Oscar if he needed to leave. Even after Faroe went to bed he busied himself doing what was more or less secretarial work for the rest of the group as they did they're Detective work.

Lily was hard at work digging up every single press release that she could find about King Industries or John, Oscar slipped more paper into the printer. Noel drained his coffee mug and Oscar refilled it unnoticed. Faroe would occasionally need a bit of tending, sometimes the only thing that soothed was her being paced back and forth in Oscar's arms next to John and Arthur.

Around three in the morning Peter looked up from his notes after another cup of coffee had spontaneously spawned in front of him and said, “Oscar? Why are you here??”

“I was-? I was asked?” He said.

“No I know and thanks,” Peter said as he continued to shuffle through his papers in a manner that didn't look like it was actually achieving a damn thing. He seemed run down, “I just mean it’s the middle of the night shouldn't you be, I don't know?? Sleeping somewhere?”

Noel and John were sat in the corner quietly comparing their accounts of dates and murders for the years that they overlapped on, but they glanced up at this.

Arthur appeared around the corner, coming back from the bathroom, “Oh jesus christ, yes Oscar go home. How did you manage to stay so long?”

“I'm just here to help.”

“You don't have to.”

“I know, but this is important. Not just for you all, or for this Yellow that you're trying to save, but for everyone. Isn't it?” He was increasingly concerned by the numbers of pages of notes John and Noel were accruing.

“Yes,” Arther admitted.

“Right then send me on a trip to the store or I’ll make more coffee or breakfast plans for a couple hours from now. I’m here. If need be I’ll lay out a couple cots somewhere so that everybody can go to sleep as they need.”

“That's a fair point. I- I'm sort of a late riser,” Noel said, “How long have the rest of you been awake?” The room was silent for several guilty seconds.

“I think I slept about four hours… sometime,” Arthur said, “Actually that might have been night before last.”

“Right,” Oscar said, “Nobody has to go to sleep, but I think some should.”

“Right,” John said, “I haven't had opportunity to sleep in my bed so the sheets are clean for whoever needs it.”

“Right, good, then who's up first?” Oscar prompted.

“John,” Arthur said immediately, “You sound exhausted. How about you get some rest. And Parker, you should go catch a few hours upstairs.”

Peter frowned like he hadn't really considered the idea of trying to get some sleep, “Yeah that'd maybe be good.”

“Good then go rest,” Arthur said gently.

“Okay,” Peter said, seeming too exhausted to really protest. He rose to his feet, moved to Arthur and pressed his forehead against Arthur's, eyes slipping shut for a moment, “I love you.”

Arthur’s eyes flutter shut too, “I love you too.”

Oscar looked away.

They pulled away and Peter grinned a bit sleepily.

“Fuck yea. That's so crazy. I'm going to bed,” Peter shuffled out and up the stairs.

Arthur said, “Alright I'm going to go over his notes, because I am beginning to think that he was maybe not the most coherent by the end. And I mean it John, to bed.”

“Okay…” John seemed to have trouble tearing his eyes away from where Arthur and Peter had parted ways, “I won't be long.”

“You better be long,” Lily said with a threatening glare.

“Take as long as you need, man. You need it more than the rest of us,” Noel said, giving him a friendly nod.

“Alright, goodnight,” John said.

Arthur nodded, “Really if need be Lily or Noel one of you could have the couch. We can move into another room.”

“Nah,” Lily said, “That's fine I'm hitting a groove with it. And, well frankly, I don't really sleep for long stretches in my day to day anyway. I'm used to it, baby. Baby?” She frowned to herself at the use of the word, as though also caught off guard. She looked more exhausted than she was putting forth, but Oscar knew there was no chance of getting her to give in as easy as Peter and John did.

Noel shook his head, “I’m all good.”

“As you say,” Arthur said, “Oscar?”

“No, I'm wide awake.”

“Good then that's sleeping arrangements solved,” Arthur nodded.

“Or. Maybe you ought to go join your guy while he's on speaking terms with you,” Lily gently disengaged the clipboard from Arthur’s hands.

“I- He's…”

“He's angry at you. For a few things at this stage I think. But I still think he would prefer to have you there. If I'm wrong he'll send you away,” She said, “Go sleep. We have it.”

“I can't leave you three. You're guests.”

“It's not a party,” Oscar said, “You don’t need to entertain us.”

“We got it, we all been through worse than helping ourselves to your cabinets,” Noel said.

“Aye,” Oscar agreed, “If you hurry you can text me a list of anything you and Peter might need from the store. I’ll collect whatever's necessary for breakfast while these two keep the work going.”

Arthur sighed, “Thank you all. Sincerely I never imagined we would actually have the capability of doing this, but I suspect with so many of us gathered we will pull it off.”

And with that he slipped out of the room and made his way quietly up the stairs. Oscar made his way down the hall to where John was just coming out of the bathroom in his pajamas and heading toward his bedroom.

He said, “A question? Sorry.”

John looked at him that unreadable way he always did, “No, it's fine. What do you need?”

“I was just wondering if you needed anything from the store?”

John seemed to think for a moment, “Can you get just a nice loaf of bread? I'll pay you back once I've…”

“No need. Good bread? Sweet or savory?” Oscar offered. Anyone could see that John was leaner than he ought to be. A bit pale and wane.

“Maybe…” John looked torn.

“You want both,” Oscar added both to the list, “No problem.”

John said, “Thank you. For helping with Faroe. For being willing to come here.”

“Of course, I can't imagine what it must be like to be separated from your daughter for so long.”

John nodded, he looked down at the ground, running a hand over his short hair thoughtfully.

“I’ll be leaving Faroe with Lily and Noel,” Oscar told him, “They’ll keep an ear out for her.”

“Okay,” John said, shoulders loosening, “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night,” Oscar nodded to him and they parted ways in the hall.

Notes:

parker is So okay and fine, and John is also Okay and everyone's fine

Up next: An uncomfortable return to normal life

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Any Decent Realtor Chirps On About Good Bones