For The Love Of Talent

John said, turning to Harold as they stepped out of the Lyric Diner. A few weeks had passed since the new arrangement had changed the dynamic between them. It hadn’t happened suddenly, but gradually as they discovered more about each other.

John now knew trivial details about Harold, such as his favorite color, rarest edition, oldest bottle of wine, and favorite dessert. In return, Harold knew that John often lost at xiangqi to Mr. Han, that he listened to jazz, and that nothing calmed him more than emptying and reorganizing his drawers. These were ordinary things, but they made sense amid the chaos of their lives.

They had truly created their own space at the Lyric Diner. They would often sit opposite each other in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to say anything. Tonight, however, the conversation had felt forced, as if John were trying to fill the silence despite having nothing to say. 

Harold had noticed this, which was why he turned fully towards John, his scrutinizing eyes studying John’s face. 

"I thought I noticed you weren't in the best mood today," Harold said softly.

John looked down and shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he tried to compose himself. "Sorry," he murmured.

"Don’t be. Let’s go for a walk. I think you could use it," Harold replied.

They walked for a while with no particular destination in mind. The city around them was nothing more than a blurry backdrop filled with the distant hum of sirens and taxis. They walked so close together that their arms often brushed against each other, but neither moved to avoid it.

When they reached the promenade alongside the East River, John noticed that Harold’s pace had slowed slightly. He guided his friend toward a bench facing the river. The bench was wide, but they sat side by side, leaving just enough space for a hand to slip between their hips.

John stared at the sun glinting off the water, lost in thought.

"I dreamed about Kohl last night," he said after a long pause. "Ever since I woke up, I've been thinking about a lot of things he told me. You know, he... he was just like me. A former spy who had been betrayed by his government. He lived under a false identity and sought revenge for the death of a loved one. He didn’t like killing, but he clearly excelled at it. That made me think back to my early days at the CIA's Special Activities Division. And...

John clenched his hand around the cold edge of the wooden bench, his knuckles turning white from the tension triggered by his memories. 

Suddenly, a warm hand gently rested on his. It was a simple gesture, almost imperceptible, but the touch sent a jolt through him. Under Harold’s touch, John’s hand relaxed, and his breathing steadied.

"I knew, Harold, I..." he continued in a hoarser voice. "I knew it wasn’t right. But I was constantly told, ‘It’s necessary.’ My own partner kept repeating, ‘Your country needs you.’ And that was all I was good for."

"That's what they wanted you to believe," Harold said firmly. His voice didn’t waver as he gently took John’s hand in his.

"But that's who I am. It's the only thing I'm good at," John insisted, a veil of pain in his eyes.

Harold gently countered, "I disagree, John."

"That's why you hired me in the first place."

Harold shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Do you remember Daniel Casey?"

John was startled and let out a short gasp before nodding.

"I was there, John," Harold continued. "Casey was a number that the machine had given. I arrived on the scene in the middle of your meeting with him. From a distance, I saw you lying to your partner to protect him. I heard you tell Casey that he wasn’t a traitor and didn’t deserve to die. You made such an impression on me. I’d never seen anyone do that before like you did. That was the day I started thinking of you as a potential partner." 

Harold felt John’s hand tremble beneath his and tightened his grip around it. 

John swallowed several times before replying, "The day Kara killed those two men right in front of me without batting an eye or asking a question and told me we didn't have to question it and to clean it up, I thought I’d lost my soul."

Harold slid his thumb beneath John’s hand and caressed his palm in a circular motion. In a soothing tone, he said, "You haven’t lost it. What I saw that day should tell you that. I know better than anyone that government agencies are capable of anything in the name of the so-called ‘good of the nation’ or ‘the greater good.’ They don’t hesitate to sacrifice men like you, who are willing to do anything to save the world. But the fact that you’re working with me to save real people, not abstract ideals, shows me that they haven’t succeeded. You’re not a monster, a weapon, or an empty shell, John. Otherwise, you wouldn't have deliberately missed your target with Casey that day. " John turned his hand beneath Harold’s, palm to palm, their fingers intertwining naturally, and in that moment, it was as if that were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"You know, Darren called me a ronin—a samurai without a master," John said in a low voice after a few moments. "Technically, I should have taken my own life. If only he knew how true that was back then..."

"Jo-" Harold began.

"It was true back then, before you came and recruited me," John cut in. "Thanks to you, I feel like I’m helping people more than I did in all those years working for the CIA. I don’t think you realize what you’ve done for me." 

"I hope, though, that you know you could have said no. You can still say no at any time."

"That's exactly it. You gave me a choice. You’re giving me a choice."

John turned toward Harold so he could see him better. Harold turned toward him, their hands still intertwined.

"By choosing this job, I finally had both a boss and a partner I could trust, who I knew would really have my back." He paused, searching for the right words, before adding almost hesitantly, "And now, a friend."

Then, he saw a shadow pass over Harold’s face. His lips tightened and his expression darkened for a moment before he regained his composure. 

"Did I say something wrong?" John asked, suddenly worried.

Harold shook his head, a faint, uncertain smile playing on his lips. John replayed the scene in his mind, searching for where he’d gone wrong. He lowered his eyes to their clasped hands. 

"Friends," he murmured, his throat tightening. "That's already far more than I could ever have hoped for, given who I am."

"John, look at me."

John lifted his head, and the moment his gaze met Harold’s, he had to swallow. The cautious distance of the calculating man was gone, replaced by a raw emotion he had never seen there before.

"You can hope for much more than that, John," Harold said in a clear, almost pleading voice. "I want you to hope for more. Much more."

Harold shifted his gaze from John’s eyes to their intertwined hands resting on the wooden bench, then back to John. There was an invitation in that gesture, a door left ajar to something far vaster than mere friendship.

John felt the hope he had buried deep within himself finally begin to sprout again. He had thought he was no longer entitled to it. With a lump in his throat, he nodded slowly, drinking in the infinite gentleness he saw in Harold’s gaze. 

Then, he turned his gaze toward the horizon. Closing his eyes, he turned his face toward the sunlight and finally allowed himself to feel its warmth.

Suddenly, he felt Harold shift slightly on the bench, closing the distance between them further as Harold placed their intertwined hands on his lap. 

"Let's extend the neutral ground of the Lyric Diner a little bit to here," Harold said softly. "Let's not think about Kohl, the past, or the CIA anymore. Let’s enjoy this afternoon a little longer before we get back to work."

John nodded, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips. 

I want you to hope for more. Much more. 

More. That was the possibility, at last, of allowing himself to grow close to someone who understood the darkness he carried and chose to stay with him despite it all.

A silence settled in, the comfort of a mutual understanding that went beyond their professional partnership. They were two men broken by systems that pushed them into the shadows, who found in each other a place where they could finally exist. 

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Asa asked him for the third time, "Why didn't you let me call an ambulance?"

Anthony snapped, "I don't need an ambulance. You can get me to the ER faster in Gabriel's car."

Asa scanned the rows of cars. There were only BMWs, Audis, and Mercedes. He had no idea which one belonged to Gabriel.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Anthony growled impatiently.

Asa used the key fob to unlock the car, and the lights of a car just a few steps away from where they were standing began to flash. Asa silently thanked his lucky stars. Finally, something easy. 

He opened the passenger door to help Anthony get settled. He felt a little guilty again because it was his fault. Once Anthony was settled and buckled in, Asa got behind the wheel and glanced around briefly. Everything in the vehicle exuded comfort and luxury.

"Let's go! What are you waiting for?"

Asa turned the ignition and said, "It won't start."

Anthony sighed in exasperation. "What are you talking about? The engine’s running!"

"Wow, I hadn't even noticed," Asa replied, impressed.

He slowly pulled out of his parking spot and headed toward the garage exit. Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Asa cautiously pulled out onto the avenue. Cars zoomed past at full speed. It had been so long since he’d driven a car, and on top of that, it wasn’t even his.

Anthony lifted one of the compresses and said mockingly, "If you drive any slower, we're going to get a ticket for illegal parking."

"It's not my car," Asa replied.

Anthony shrugged. "All the more reason. Gabriel can afford to pay a small fine."

He put the compresses back over his eyes.

"What were you doing in his apartment anyway?"

Asa swallowed. "I have a key. I almost forgot to feed Mr. Cat." 

Anthony continued his questioning. "How long have you known Gabriel?"

"Not long. Three months. It all happened very fast."

As they stopped at a red light, Anthony looked at him skeptically and asked in a commanding tone, "Let me feel your hand."

Asa frowned.

"Why?"

Anthony replied sarcastically, "I’m a palm reader."

Asa sighed and reluctantly held out his hand, sensing that his passenger wasn't going to let the matter drop. Anthony gently traced the lines on Asa’s palm with his fingers, and Asa fought to keep from shivering. He let go of his hand and said, "Now the other hand." Asa held out his left hand and Anthony ran his fingers over it. Asa couldn’t help but blush slightly.

"Where’s your ring?" Anthony asked him.

"What ring?"

"You’re engaged to my brother, aren’t you? You should have a ring." 

Asa pulled his hand away and replied, "I work on the Underground."

"So what?"

"It’s against the rules to wear jewellery at my job."

Anthony challenged him, "Show me a picture, then."

"Of what?" Asa asked.

"Of you and my brother."

"I’m not photogenic," Asa replied in a neutral tone.

Exasperated, Anthony exclaimed, "Listen, I just want proof that you’re engaged to my brother."

"And how do I know you’re his brother?" Asa retorted.

"What?"

"Admit it, you don’t look anything like him." 

In fact, Asa had to admit that Anthony was much prettier than Mr Handsome. "You could very well have been a thief," he continued.

Furious, Anthony rummaged through his wallet, pulled out his driving licence and shoved it under Asa’s nose.

Asa chuckled. "That’s not the same name."

"Of course not! I was adopted!"

Asa looked at him, raising an eyebrow sardonically. "So, how does it feel to be interrogated?"

Anthony snatched the licence out of his hands. Asa parked the car at the far end of the hospital car park.

"Why are you parking here?"

"I don’t want to risk anyone scratching the car."

They both got out of the car and, with Asa guiding him, Anthony made his way towards the emergency ward, still holding the compresses over his eyes.

Once they reached the reception area, Asa tried to pull away from Anthony, who held him back by grabbing his arm. "Listen to me carefully. I don’t know what kind of scam you’re pulling, but…" 

Asa abruptly pulled his arm away and snapped, "A scam? You idiot! I saved your brother’s life!"

He turned on his heel and headed towards the first nurse he saw.

"Wait a minute..." Anthony called out.

Asa kept walking, not looking back.

********

After making sure that Anthony was being taken care of, Asa decided to wait for him by Gabriel’s bedside.

Suddenly, fifteen minutes later, he heard a commotion behind him and turned around to see Gabriel’s family arriving. They greeted Asa cheerfully and gathered around the bed, their eyes fixed on Gabriel.

Maud stroked her son’s face and said softly, "I think he looks better than he did yesterday."

Everyone nodded.

Lesley glanced at the television hanging on the wall and remarked sarcastically, "Why on earth does he have a TV? He’s in a coma."

Maud protested, "Lesley, he can hear you. 

Lesley retorted in a whisper, "Well, they should give him a radio then."

Muriel murmured, "Maybe he’d like us to sing him a song."

Josh rolled his eyes and whispered, "Muriel, we’re in a hospital, not a karaoke bar."

"Maybe Asa knows his favorite song."

Everyone turned to Anthony, who had just spoken those words. Gabriel’s brother, who was wearing an eye patch, sat down on the other side of the bed and waited, raising a questioning eyebrow towards Asa.

Asa cleared his throat. 

"I’m not sure. Anthony smiled slightly and the family seemed a little uncomfortable.

Maud exclaimed, "Anthony, what happened to your eyes?"

He didn’t answer, though, but kept staring at Asa and asked, "Who’s his favourite Beatle?"

Asa glared at him and replied, "John."

"John!" Anthony exclaimed. Ha!"

Everyone looked at Anthony as if he were crazy.

"He’s everyone’s favourite."

"I prefer Paul," Derek replied.

"Anthony, what’s got into you?!" Maud asked reproachfully.

Anthony shrugged nonchalantly. "I’m just asking Asa a few questions."

"Don’t tell me you have a list?" Derek exclaimed. 

Anthony pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and looked triumphant. "Actually, I have one."

"Anthony…" Maud growled.

"Favourite ice cream?"

Maud spoke up again. "Asa doesn’t have to answer the questions."

Derek muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear. " You’re just jealous."

"Of what?" Anthony turned abruptly towards the older man.

"Of Asa and Gabriel."

Muriel chimed in. "That’s probably why you killed his goldfish."

"I didn’t kill it!"

"It didn't just jump out of its bowl by itself."

Anthony looked at them all and asked, "Why are you all picking on me?" 

He looked at Asa before continuing. "He’s the one with a secret life and a boyfriend." 

He pointed at Asa.

Looking genuinely incredulous, Asa exclaimed, "I have a boyfriend?"

"Brown Jr.!"

"Brown Jr!"

Anthony nodded: "He said he was dating you.

Asa shook his head. "He also claims to look like Clark Gable. He's completely delusional."

Maud interjected: "Gabriel is the only man in Asa’s life."

Lesley put his hand to his heart. Seeing this, Derek asked him anxiously, "Are you OK?" 

Lesley nodded and sat down. Maud turned to Anthony and said reproachfully, "See what you’ve done?"

"What have I done?" Anthony feigned innocence.

"I’m sure that if Asa could prove he’s Gabriel’s fiancé, he would," Maud continued. Everyone looked at Asa, waiting. Derek held his breath. Asa clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and then, hating himself for what he was about to say, blurted out, "He’s only got one testicle left."

There was silence; everyone stared at Asa, then at Gabriel.

"That’s not possible," Anthony muttered.

They looked back at Asa, who continued: "He had an accident earlier this year. He was playing pool with Beatrix and some colleagues, got too close to the guy about to take a shot, and got hit by the pool cue..."

All the men present winced.

Anthony replied stubbornly, "I don’t believe it."

Everyone looked at Gabriel again, then Derek said firmly, "I take Asa’s word for it."

Asa gave him a grateful look.

However, everyone else still looked doubtful and remained where they were until Maud finally stepped forward.

"If anyone has to check, it’ll be me. I’m his mother."

Embarrassed, Asa looked away, cursing the man lying there and everything he was putting him through.

Maud stepped forward, gently lifted the sheet covering Gabriel and bent down to lift his hospital gown.

After a few moments, she looked up and said contritely, "Asa is right."

******** 

Shortly afterwards, everyone got into the lift except Asa, who was talking to Justine, the nurse.

The silence was heavy with unspoken words. Derek spoke up to lighten the mood. "Let's look on the bright side. He’s more comfortable in his trousers." Asa had heard everything and let out a little chuckle as the lift doors closed. Then, regaining a serious expression, he turned to Justine.

"I can’t take it anymore, Justine. I’m going to have to tell them." 

He had grown closer to the nurse during his visits with Gabriel.

The nurse nodded, "I know."

Asa looked at Gabriel in his bed through the glass and sighed: "He’ll probably never want to talk to me again."

"Asa…"

He turned to Justine, who said gently, "He’s never spoken to you first." 

"I’m not talking about Gabriel,'"Asa murmured.

Ignoring his new friend's puzzled look, Asa thought about his fiancée's brother, wondering how things might have turned out under different circumstances.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

"Hello, Harold."

"Hello, Mr. Reese."

They had closed the Kohl case the day before and parted ways at the former agent’s grave. The case had left a bitter taste in John’s mouth, reminding him of his early days with the CIA’s SAD and the moment he lost his soul. John had seen far too many similarities between himself and Kohl.

The fact that Harold was contacting him so quickly put John on high alert and, above all, made him eager at the idea of a new case to focus on.

However, this eagerness wasn’t just about the next case, but also about the person calling him. It was a matter he’d gotten into the habit of immediately dismissing because he knew it was futile and hopeless. After all, Harold was only contacting him for work, and he had made it clear that he didn't want the boundaries crossed.

John was Harold's employee. Harold was his employer, and that was all John needed to remember. The rest was just a distraction. At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.

He asked softly, "Do you need me?"

"Can you meet me at the Lyric Diner at my usual table?" Harold replied.

John frowned. "Did the machine give out a new number?"

He was surprised not just by the answer, but by how quickly it came. 

"No."

The strangeness of the situation made John wary.

"Then why do you want me to come?"

He heard Harold take a deep breath. Then, after a pause, Harold replied, "To have lunch with me...please, John."

John’s world seemed to tilt on its axis. 

This was new. 

Everything about that sentence was new. 

The invitation, which wasn't urgent or related to their work. 

The "please." 

And, above all, his first name. Harold only called him "John" in moments of extreme tension, but the tone here was different.

He swallowed. 

A light, almost electric buzz of excitement spread beneath his skin. The good kind. It was the kind of excitement you feel before taking a leap into the void when, for once, you trust that the ground below is solid. 

"I'd love to, Harold. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. See you soon."

"See you soon, Mister...John."

The insistence on using his first name, the quick correction, and the shift from "Mr. Reese" to something more intimate were all very disconcerting. When John hung up, he couldn’t ignore the irregular rhythm at which his heart had begun to beat. 

Twenty minutes later, he pushed open the door to the Lyric Diner, hoping they would leave together this time.

He looked around for Harold and found him engrossed in a book at the same table where they’d sat together twice before. John couldn’t help but smile. There was Harold, in his impeccable suit, existing in the world while trying to remove himself from it.

A waiter approached Harold, whispered something to him, and his employer suddenly looked up and scanned the room. His eyes immediately locked with John’s. John’s smile widened, and he stepped forward with a little more confidence in his stride, never taking his gaze off Harold until he sat down across from him.

The waiter returned to take his order. Without even glancing at the menu, John pointed to Harold’s dish. "The same as the gentleman. I hear the eggs Benedict are good." He added a discreet wink, a little provocation that Harold met by rolling his eyes, though the corners of his lips betrayed the beginnings of a smile.

Once they were alone, after the waiter had set down John’s order, John leaned forward and asked softly, "So, what's the reason for this summons?"

"Invitation, Mr. Reese. Invitation. Not a summons."

Harold paused, cutting his egg with clinical precision, then continued, "The reason is because I would like some company."

John laughed softly, a playful sparkle in his eyes. "Does that mean any company will do?"

Harold stared at him, a glint of amused defiance in his eyes. "Are you looking for compliments, John?"

"Sometimes it's nice to know you're appreciated for who you are and not just for what you bring to the table or what you can fix," John replied.

He said it in a joking tone, but Harold immediately sensed that John truly meant it beneath the playful facade. It hit Harold with painful clarity that this was probably the first time John had ever voiced that need. All his life, John had been viewed merely as a sophisticated weapon. Why would it be any different with Harold Finch, the genius IT specialist working behind the scenes?

Harold set down his cutlery, his hands coming together on the tablecloth, motionless. He replied seriously, his gaze fixed directly on John’s, determined to leave no doubt in his companion’s mind.

"John, even though I hired you for your skills and how you do things, I appreciate you for who you are. I want to get to know you, John. Really. I want to know more than what I know about you from reports or the Machine. Not the facts, not the missions. I want to get to know the man behind the suit. I want you to get to know me beyond my secrets and paranoia."

John could hardly believe what he was hearing. Thrown off by Harold’s openness, he murmured, "It’s Christmas come early."

Harold blinked, puzzled, and tilted his head slightly. John apologized and regained his seriousness. He reached across the table and placed his hand over Harold’s without hesitation.

"I know this isn't easy for you, Harold. I know the burden you carry. So I promise you one thing: I will never betray that trust. Above all, I’m not asking for more than you feel you can give."

Harold didn’t pull his hand away. On the contrary, he turned his hand slightly to squeeze John’s in a silent gesture of agreement. "Thank you, John."

They stood there, holding hands, for longer than was considered appropriate. It wasn’t until a somewhat brusque customer bumped into John as he stood up that they broke their touch. 

John withdrew his hand and took a bite of egg.

After swallowing, he said with another wink, "Mmm, you’re right. They’re really good."

As Harold shook his head at his friend's antics, John added, "So, what do you want to know that isn’t in my files, Harold?"

Harold took a deep breath as if he were about to ask the most complex question of his life. "What do you do between two numbers?"

John laughed, a deep, rich sound. "I bake."

Harold snorted and raised his eyebrows, looking more than a little skeptical. "Really? Aren’t we supposed to be honest with each other?"

"Absolutely," John assured him. "And I am. When I find somewhere else to live besides my old apartment, Harold, I’ll prove it to you."

Without thinking, Harold replied, "Just come over to my place and prove it to me."

John stopped, a fork halfway to his mouth. "You have a kitchen in the library?"

"I have an apartment," Harold corrected, feeling a little embarrassed, as if he had given away the machine's passcode.

John blinked, a look of pure surprise flashing across his face. He was completely and genuinely astonished. "I didn't know. Honestly."

"Really...?" Harold asked with a mocking smile. "You didn't find that out when you sent Lionel to investigate me?"

"Not my best move, I know. But the day I realized you were actually keeping your personal life private, I stopped looking. I understood that what you weren’t telling me was the price I had to pay to keep working with you. So I decided I didn’t want to cross that line."

Silence fell, heavy with mutual understanding. Then Harold repeated his invitation. John shook his head, an indulgent smile on his lips.

"We have time, Harold. I know the step you took today. That’s already a huge deal."

He leaned in again, locking gazes with his friend. 

"Why don't we start by making these lunches a habit? Three times a week, depending on what the numbers tell us, of course. The Lyric Diner becomes our neutral zone. Here, there’s no Mr. Reese or Finch. Just Harold and John. No work, no Machine. What do you say?"

Harold gave John’s proposal serious thought. 

With his eyes locked on the other man’s, he felt an unusual sensation: the feeling of being connected to someone in a way he hadn’t felt in years, if not decades.

He said softly, "That sounds like a perfectly acceptable protocol."

John smiled warmly and raised his glass of orange juice toward Harold.

They sealed their pact by clinking their glasses, both knowing that something was changing, that nothing would ever be the same again. 

Something new, something deeply human, had just awakened, and for once, John didn’t feel like a pawn on a chessboard, but like the designer of his own happiness, sitting across from the man who, without knowing it, had become his foundation.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

He’d only been gone for three days, but they had felt like ten.

His absence should have lasted longer, yet he managed to finalize the agreements fourteen hours ahead of schedule and, thanks to Anthea’s diligence, had been able to catch the first available flight. 

When he entered the apartment, the hallway was quiet, but he immediately saw light coming from the kitchen. He had told Greg he’d be back early and, knowing Greg, he was probably preparing dinner to welcome him home. The thought alone made Mycroft feel warm inside.

He set down his umbrella, overcoat, and briefcase, then kicked off his shoes in a haphazard manner that spoke volumes about his state of mind. When he reached the living room in silence, as if shedding his armor, he took off his jacket and blazer, draping them over the back of a chair. His tie soon met the same fate. 

Guided by the enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

As a master of discretion, a trait that made him a formidable predator in his line of work, he silently reached the kitchen doorway and paused to take in the sight before him.

He sighed with relief upon seeing the familiar figure bustling about at the counter with his back turned to him.

His Greg. 

His lover was humming an unrecognizable pop tune and singing off-key with an enthusiasm that brought an immediate smile to Mycroft’s face. 

Seeing Greg like this, in the safe privacy of their home and far from police reports and crime scenes, instantly soothed the turmoil in Mycroft's mind and the tension of the past few days. Watching this deeply authentic human being was ultimately what made Mycroft feel at home.  

He realized with Greg that being at home is ultimately defined not by the place, but by the person you're with.

That was when he realized that merely looking at his beloved was no longer enough. The physical distance forced upon them by the three days they had been apart was no longer bearable now that Greg was within reach.

Mycroft took another step forward, slipped his arms around Greg’s waist without a sound, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Greg jumped so violently that he nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was holding. He let out a loud curse and set the spoon down on the countertop with a trembling hand.

“Damn it, Mycroft!” he growled, turning his head, still out of breath from the surprise. "You know, for such a brilliant guy, you could learn that startling a detective is the best way to get a reflexive punch in the ribs." 

Mycroft gave a soft smile, the rare kind he reserved only for his lover, and whispered in Greg's ear, "I can defend myself, Detective. However, please accept my sincerest apologies for this undiplomatic assault.”

He buried his face in Greg’s neck and took a deep breath, the unique scent of his lover mingled with his cedar-scented aftershave, acting as a soothing balm. Mycroft closed his eyes and felt the throb of Greg’s pulse against his lips. He whispered against his lover's skin, his voice slightly choked with emotion: “No one knows how much I miss you.” 

Greg froze, his reproaches instantly dying on his lips. He turned fully into Mycroft’s arms, resting his hands naturally on the back of Mycroft’s neck and tangling his fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

He whispered in turn, "And no one knows how much I miss you when you’re away from me."

He drew Mycroft’s face toward his own and captured his lips in a long, slow kiss, filled with all the frustration of the days they’d spent apart. There was no urgency, only the need to reconnect and erase the loneliness caused by Mycroft's absence. 

When they pulled apart, out of breath, Greg gently traced Mycroft’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes intently studied the other’s face.

"It's hard," Greg admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "It's hard when we're apart. But if we miss each other this much, it must mean that what we have is real and strong, right?”

Mycroft immediately sensed the underlying uncertainty in the question. The need for reassurance that they were both equally committed to this relationship.

Mycroft’s heart tightened at the vulnerability his lover was showing. He took Greg’s hand, which was resting on his cheek, turned it over, and pressed a long kiss into the palm. Then he placed Greg’s hand on his own chest, right where his heart was.

"It is, Greg. It’s real, my love. Never, ever doubt it,” Mycroft whispered, his gaze fixed directly into his lover’s eyes. "You've made a home there in my heart. You’ve put down roots. When I’m away from you, the void you leave there is almost unbearable.”

Greg chuckled softly, his eyes shining with emotion he didn’t hide. Mycroft cupped Greg’s face with reverence and pressed his lips against his lover’s.

It was no longer just a kiss of reunion. It was a vow, a silent confession that spoke to the depth of their love more than any eloquent words ever could. 

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

Mystrade one shots here

Asa leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying the mild summer evening.

"Quoting your classics, my angel?"

He turned to Anthony, who had just joined him.

"Not really one of my classics, but fitting since I'm standing on a balcony."

Anthony leaned against the railing next to Asa and replied, "I enjoy Shakespeare, but I only like his comedies."

Asa chuckled softly. "That doesn't surprise me."

With a teasing smile, Anthony replied, “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

Much Ado About Nothing, I see. I liked the movie, too—I mean, Kenneth Branagh... hmm.”

Anthony grumbled, "I should have known."

Asa chuckled, kissed him on the cheek, and said in a coaxing tone, "Don't be jealous. Othello met a bad end because of that."

Anthony harrumphed.

Asa placed his hand on top of Anthony’s on the railing, intertwining their fingers. He added gently, "Besides, you have no reason to be jealous, my love. You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you."

"Another one of your classics?"

Asa nodded. "Much closer to me than Shakespeare. Much closer to how I feel.”

Anthony turned toward Asa, wrapped his arms around his waist, and pulled him closer. Their faces were so close that Asa could feel Anthony's breath on his face.

With a playful smile, Anthony whispered, "I could die right now. I'm just happy." "I've never felt this way before. I'm exactly where I want to be." 

He kissed Asa on the forehead and continued, "To me, you are perfect."

He gave Asa another kiss, this time on the nose. "I wish I had done everything on earth with you."

Brushing his lips against his lover’s cheek, he added, "You want the moon? Just say the word, and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

Anthony kissed Asa on the other cheek and said, "I could quote you plenty more sappy lines from romantic movies, but it all boils down to three words."

He brought his lips closer to Asa’s and whispered, "I love you."

Asa laughed softly, his breath brushing Anthony’s lips. Then he murmured, "Then let me quote one last movie: Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.”

Anthony closed the tiny gap between their mouths and captured his lover’s lips in a long, tender kiss.

Sometimes there was nothing better than the classics.

“I love you.”

“Kiss me.”

It’s jus a few words, but they speak volumes.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

Harold looked up at the waiter and nodded, then went back to reading his book.

A few moments later, the waiter placed a plate of Eggs Benedict and a glass of orange juice in front of Harold.

"Is your friend joining you today?"

"My friend? What—"

"Yes, the one you stood up. Twice."

Realizing that the waiter was talking about John, Harold thought that, from the outside, it might have looked that way, especially the first time.

"What’s good here?" John asked Harold after sitting down across from him at the Lyric Diner.

Harold replied sternly, "That won't work, Mr. Reese."

John asked in a genuine-sounding tone, "What won’t?"

"Your interrogation technique."

Harold knew his interlocutor was well-versed in those techniques, so it was only natural for him to be suspicious, even setting aside his paranoia.

John almost pouted as he retorted, "What’s good here? It’s an innocent question."

Harold found that hard to believe, though, and countered, "No question is ever innocent coming from you. You’re trying to figure out whether I come here often."

Harold thought he saw a hint of hurt in John's eyes as he continued, "Armed with that knowledge, you'll try to figure out where I live."

"You’re paranoid, Finch."

The hurt in his voice was real this time, but Harold didn’t deny it. He replied, "With good reason."

He then took some bills out of his pocket as John insisted, still wearing his half-smile. "Maybe I just don’t know what’s good here, so I’m asking the regular."

Harold didn’t let himself be swayed. He replied coldly and tapped the menu twice before pushing it toward John. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Reese," then got up and left.

Harold realised he had actually been a real prick.

Of course, John wanted to know more.

But not for any ulterior motive; he just wanted to learn more about the man who employed him, who probably knew more about him than anyone else did.

Now that he knew the man better, Harold understood that. It was all the more admirable that John had stayed and continued to work with him.

"Anyway..." The voice of the waiter, who hadn't left yet, snapped Harold out of his thoughts. The waiter continued in a confidential tone: "I don't know what you told him the second time before you left, but in any case, he looked absolutely delighted after opening the menu. He had a smile to die for."

Fortunately, the waiter was called away by other customers, sparing Harold from having to reply. He frowned, recalling the conversation he’d had with John.

John joined him after speaking with the judge, and the two exchanged theories about whether he would be an ally in the future. Just as Harold was about to stand up and leave, John said to him in a low voice, "Thank you."

He was looking to the side, which was extremely rare for him.

Harold paused and looked at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

John blinked and looked at him, saying, "For giving me a job."

After a moment of silence, showing that he knew what John had said was meaningful and that he wasn’t taking it lightly, Harold did something he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He pushed the menu toward John and said, "Try the eggs Benedict, Mr. Reese." 

This time, it was Harold who looked away before adding, "I've had them many times."

He knew John would understand what he meant without him having to say it.

Clearly, that was the case if he believed what the waiter had just described.

Yet, John hadn’t jumped at the chance.

He hadn’t come to disrupt Harold's meal at the diner or try to coax an invitation out of him. That was precisely what had encouraged Harold to trust him. Or, at least, to take the first step in that direction. 

Harold had never doubted John's trustworthiness, but entrusting him with his personal matters was a different story. Even Harold's secrets had secrets. 

Everything changed, however, when John took care of Harold after he’d been drugged. Although they never talked about it, Harold remembered everything, especially how honorable John had been.

Back at the library, John stayed behind to look after Harold while he was still coming down. As John followed Harold into the library, he said softly, "It'll be out of your system in a few hours." 

He walked past Harold and handed him a pack of water bottles. In a gentle voice, he added, "You should really drink this so you don't get dehydrated."

Still under the influence of the drug, Harold asked disappointedly, "You're leaving?"

John replied, "No, I'll stick around and keep an eye on you." Then, draping a blanket over Harold’s arms, John added, "You should really get some sleep."

Harold couldn’t help but ask, "You don't want to talk?"

John grimaced.

"You might regret it in the morning. You’re a very private person, remember?" Even under the influence of the drug, Harold could see that his secretiveness was hurting John, though he didn’t understand why.

He pressed on.

"Come on. Ask me anything."

But John didn’t budge. He rubbed the back of his neck, turned away, and said with a soft smile, "Good night, Harold."

John had him at his mercy when he was at his most vulnerable, and even though Harold probably could have put on a good show, there was no doubt that the other man could have pried whatever he wanted out of him.

Not only had John not tried, but he also hadn’t seized the opportunity when Harold was practically begging him. 

Now, with time and perspective, Harold finally understood. All those times John had asked him questions that seemed innocuous but were really meant to get to know him better, not to use the information against him, gain the upper hand, or even take control. John simply wanted to get to know Harold better.

Harold told himself that maybe it was time for him to turn the tables.

To risk changing the dynamic of their relationship.

He took out his phone, hovered his thumb over John’s number for a moment, and then pressed "Call."

John answered on the first ring.

"Hello, Harold."

"Hello, Mr. Reese."

Mr. Reese. 

What an idiot.

"Do you need me?"

"Can you meet me at the Lyric Diner at my usual table?" Harold replied.

"Did the machine give out a new number?"

John thought Harold was calling him just for that, of course.

But Harold was about to change that.

"No."

"Then why do you want me to come?"

Harold took a deep breath.

"To have lunch with me...please, John."

The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes about John’s surprise. Harold, aware of this, gave John time to respond.

"I'd love to, Harold. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. See you soon."

"See you soon, Mr. ... John."

*********

Fortunately, Harold had his book; otherwise, the fifteen-minute wait would have seemed endless. He immersed himself in his reading and, although he had trouble concentrating at first, it was the waiter’s voice that made him look up from his book twenty minutes later.

"Hey, mister, check out that smile. It's the same one he had last time. I told you, a smile to die for."

"I see..." Harold murmured.

Yes, he could see the smile on John’s lips as he caught Harold's eye and walked over to his table.

Mesmerized, Harold barely heard the waiter murmur, "Lucky guy..." as he walked away.

Yes, he was lucky, but sometimes luck was something you made happen, and as John sat down across from him, Harold thought to himself that he’d love to be able to bring that smile to his face again and again.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

He didn’t even turn his head when Asa arrived, maintaining the same demeanor he’d held for the past two hours. He had been ignoring Asa for two hours with a discipline that commanded admiration. 

Asa let out a soft chuckle before asking in an innocent tone, "So, are you really going to ignore me all afternoon?" 

No answer. 

Not a twitch of his eyebrows, not a change in his breathing rhythm. 

They hadn’t argued, far from it. 

In the end, it was all Derek’s fault.

Well, if Asa was being honest, it was their fault.

Earlier that morning, while Asa and Anthony were waiting for Derek to arrive and relieve Asa, the two lovers—who, as always, couldn’t resist touching each other when they were together—had momentarily forgotten where they were. Derek caught them, not for the first time, locked in an embrace in the back of the bookshop. They were lost in such a deep kiss that it took them several seconds to realize they were no longer alone.

"It's impossible to leave the two of you in the same room for five minutes without you making out!" Derek said with amused irony, adding, "Honestly, I know teenagers who can control themselves better than you two."

Asa, unable to think of anything better to do, shifted the blame onto his partner. "It's Anthony! He won't stop touching me!" 

Anthony, his pride stung, retorted, "What?! You’re the one who can’t stop touching me!"

Derek watched their bickering with undisguised pleasure. After all, he was the one who had set them up, so he could only blame himself. 

Then the older bookseller challenged them, "How about you make a bet? No kissing until tonight. The first one to kiss the other loses, and the loser gets to choose the forfeit.”

Emboldened by Derek’s mischievous smile and challenging gaze, Asa and Anthony accepted.

Now, in his lover’s apartment, Asa realized that while Anthony was willing to sacrifice his inner peace to win, he himself had no intention of ending the game with such a grim victory.

He approached the couch slowly, a teasing smile on his lips, and called softly, “Anthony…”

Still nothing. 

But Asa knew his lover inside and out. He knew that every muscle in Anthony’s body was tense and that every word he whispered echoed within him.

He leaned forward and physically placed himself between Anthony and his book. 

"Professor Crowley..." he whispered, his breath brushing Anthony's skin as he leaned in close. "Please answer me."

Anthony took a deep breath, clearly struggling with himself. He tried to back away, but he had limited room to maneuver, and Asa could see his lover’s resolve beginning to waver. Seizing the opportunity, Asa snatched the book from Anthony’s hands and straddled his lap.

Their faces were now separated by only a few millimeters, and Asa whispered, “No escape.”

Anthony closed his eyes, his face tense with effort. 

It was a tactical mistake. Without sight to rely on, his other senses went into overdrive. He felt the heat radiating from Asa’s body, smelled his familiar scent, and felt his breath brush against his lips.

"Professor Crowley...please..." Asa whispered, a playful smile tinging his voice. "Are you really going to ignore me? It's so lonely.”

Asa’s hands moved slowly and deliberately behind Anthony’s neck, playing with his short strands of hair and heightening their closeness. Finally, at the end of his rope, Anthony blurted out, “You’re cheating!”

Asa gently shook his head, his lips almost brushing against Anthony’s without touching. "The challenge said no kissing until tonight, but it never said we couldn't touch."

He punctuated the sentence with a slight, slow, calculated movement of his hips that made Anthony lose what little self-control he had left. He squirmed, a stifled moan caught in the back of his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Asa asked in a low, provocative voice. "Are you afraid you won't be able to resist? Then don’t resist. I promise you, the forfeit will be enjoyable.”

"We made a bet," Anthony repeated, his resolve growing increasingly fragile.

Asa ran his fingers through his partner’s hair, feeling the shiver that ran down his spine with each touch. "So, would you rather win a bet than give in to temptation? Because me, Anthony, I really want to kiss you…”

It was too much. The whisper of his name, the yearning in his lover's voice, his warm body against his... Anthony gave in. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Asa’s shoulders and pushed him backward onto the sofa cushions, towering over him.

"I admit defeat," he breathed against Asa's lips, his voice hoarse. "But you’d better make sure the wager lives up to my defeat."

Finally, he pressed his lips to Asa’s in a kiss that unleashed the feelings they’d held back for two long hours. It was raw need, a blend of passion and tenderness.

When they finally parted, breathless, Asa wore a victorious smile. Though out of breath, he spoke clearly: "Admit it, love, it's a sweet defeat." 

Anthony grunted and, instead of answering, leaned in again and pressed his lips against Asa’s. Deep down, he knew that no matter the challenge, he hadn’t lost; the real prize was already in his arms.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

The Davies family was attending Sunday Mass, and Anthony had been forced to tag along. It was impossible to say no to Maud when she had her mind set on something. That didn't mean, however, that he was going to pay attention to the priest's sermon.

Lesley replied, "He's your brother's fiancé."

Anthony snickered silently. "You'd think that if Gabe were getting married, he would've announced it in the Times."

"We read the Daily Telegraph."

Anthony whispered.

"So why did he sneak out this morning?"

Muriel replied, "Asa has a job. He works on the Underground, so he has to work on Sundays, too."

Lesley nudged Anthony lightly and asked, "Did you get The London Flower Shop?"

Apparently, Anthony's father had no intention of listening to the sermon either. 

"Yes, we’re their exclusive delivery service."

"The Flower Station?"

"Yes, same thing."

Before handing over his delivery business, his father wanted the business to have exclusive rights to most of the flower shops in Central London.

"What about Bloom & Wild?"

"No, I couldn't get in touch with them."

His father grumbled, "Ah, for Christ's sake, Anthony."

Maud pinched her husband’s thigh in admonishment. "Stop swearing. Let Anthony handle the deliveries. Your son knows what he’s doing."

Anthony took the opportunity to slip his father a few words, "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Maud shook her head. "Talk about that later, okay?"

Muriel whispered in Anthony’s ear, "Talk about it now. He can’t kill you in church."

Anthony chuckled; Muriel certainly wasn’t wrong.

"Will you please pipe down?"

One of the people standing behind them seemed to have had enough, so the Davises fell silent. Anthony couldn’t wait any longer for the service to en

After a long shift at work, Asa finally returned home to a starving Harry who nearly knocked him over. Harry kept clinging to his feet, so it was difficult for Asa to put a few lettuce leaves in his bowl and fill his water dispenser, which was almost empty. To make it up to Harry, Asa also gave him a treat that the little animal loved.

As Asa straightened up, he saw the yellow envelope the nurse had given him. It was buried under a pile of bills and newspapers. He had completely forgotten about it.

He picked up the envelope, sat down on the couch, and emptied its contents onto the coffee table. A wallet and some keys fell out. 

Asa stared at the wallet for a moment, then slowly opened it and turned it over. After hesitating for a moment, he finally looked inside and pulled out some laminated photos. There was a photo of Gabriel in a hood and graduation gown, Gabriel behind the wheel of a jeep on what appeared to be a safari, Gabriel skiing.. All of the photos were of Gabriel.

Asa snickered and said mockingly, "Looks like Mr. Handsome has a real Narcissus complex."

He spread out the cards. Among them were a bank card, a gym membership card, and another credit card. Beneath those was another photo, unlaminated and slightly worn. In the photo, Gabriel was holding a man around the neck. The man was thinner and more slender than Gabriel. Asa immediately recognized the man as Anthony, Gabriel’s brother, whom he had met that morning.

He turned the photo over and read: Gabriel and Anthony, 19XX. Intrigued, Asa turned the photo over again and examined it more closely. He swallowed hard. He had only seen Anthony for a few moments that morning in dim light. However, in the photo, he could see him more clearly. While Gabriel had an artificial beauty that was almost too perfect, Anthony, in Asa’s opinion, was breathtaking.

He shook his head. There was no way he was going to let his thoughts go down that path. His life was complicated enough as it was.

He put the photo down and continued to examine the contents of the wallet. He found one last photo: Gabriel, this time holding a cat.

A cat?

This meant that the poor animal hadn’t eaten in several days. Asa hoped that Gabriel, being the big spender that he was, would have one of those fancy kibble dispensers.

He stroked Harry, who had jumped up onto the couch next to him. "Sorry, buddy. I’m going to have to go take care of another furball." 

Harry wrinkled his snout disdainfully, jumped off the couch, and hopped toward the kitchen.

Sighing, Asa grabbed Gabriel’s keys and wallet, put on his jacket, and left the apartment. Fortunately, thanks to Gabriel’s papers, Asa knew where his 'fiancé' lived. Since the hospital was on the way, he decided to stop by for his daily visit.

A little later, just as the doors of the elevator leading to Gabriel’s ward were about to close, he was surprised to see Gabriel’s colleague Beatrix step inside. They greeted each other politely, and silence fell until they entered Gabriel’s room.

They sat in silence for a moment, each on one side of the bed, not knowing what to say.

Beatrix looked at Gabriel and said, "He's a great guy, the king of legal loopholes."

Hearing the admiration and fondness in the lawyer's voice, Asa had the feeling that Beatrix saw Gabriel as more than a colleague. He felt bad for them. If that were the case, then Asa was standing in their way.

What a mess.

Unaware of Asa's inner turmoil, Beatrix continued, "He's had a tough year."

Asa looked puzzled.

"I mean, with the accident at the beginning of the year," Beatrix continued, seeing his confusion.

"What accident?"

They looked at Asa in surprise. "He didn't tell you? Well, I guess he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You didn’t know each other. It happened while we were playing pool with some coworkers. . ." 

Meanwhile, Anthony had parked his car in front of the building where Asa’s apartment was located. When he reached Asa’s floor, he walked up to the door and knocked loudly. No one answered.

Frustrated, he went back downstairs. When he reached the ground floor, a man stepped in front of him and stopped him abruptly.

"Hey, you there!"

"What?"

"I just saw you at Asa's place. What do you want with him?"

Anthony furrowed his brow and asked, "Do you know Asa Fell, who lives at 207?"

The redheaded man smoothed his mustache and replied in a showy tone, "Asa? I’m Brown Junior, the owner of this building. Of course I know him. Besides, he’s my boyfriend."

"Huh?"

"We’re dating. So what do you want with him?"

Furious, Anthony didn’t bother to answer and walked past the man before striding quickly toward his pickup truck. He sped off, ignoring Brown Junior’s calls and gestures.

After spending an hour in Gabriel’s room and having a rather strange conversation with Beatrix, an exhausted Asa arrived at the building where Gabriel lived. 

The doorman—because, of course, "Mr. Handsome" lived in a building with a doorman—looked at him suspiciously, and it wasn’t until Asa explained the situation and showed him Gabriel’s personal belongings that the doorman agreed to let him in.

Standing in front of the elevator doors, Asa checked the floor where Gabriel lived, pressed the up button, and muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I know I’m not Gabriel’s type at all. But let me tell you, he’s not my type either."

Clearly, Asa’s Prince Charming had turned out to be more of a toad the more he discovered about his fake fiancé’s life.

The elevator ding snapped Asa out of his thoughts. Once he reached Gabriel's floor, he spent a few more moments looking for Gabriel’s apartment door. 

He sighed again because he had to try several keys before finding the right one. After solving that problem, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He turned on the light, and his first thought was that Gabriel’s apartment was just as perfect as he looked. However, as he stepped inside, Asa began to feel uncomfortable. Everything felt cold and sterile. It was almost like a hotel room. There were no signs that anyone lived there. 

His own apartment might have been cluttered and small, but at least it was cozy. 

Asa finally stepped into the spacious living room and had to stifle a gasp. There was a floor-to-ceiling window with a breathtaking view of London. 

Suddenly, he felt something brush against his ankles and jumped.

He looked down and saw a cat.

"Ah, there you are."

Asa bent down and scratched the cat’s head. The cat let him do it and began to purr. Encouraged, Asa picked the cat up.

"You're really beautiful."

The cat was a stunning long-haired calico with golden eyes. Now, he looked at Asa curiously.

Asa noticed it had a collar with a small tag attached, and he lifted it slightly to read the cat’s name.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Mr. Cat? He named you that? All right, Mr. Cat. Let’s see if you have enough to eat."

He took the cat into the kitchen and immediately spotted its feeding spot. Asa was relieved to see that the cat had a dry food dispenser, and there was still food in it. That explained why the cat didn’t seem particularly hungry. Asa looked for the dry food supply and, after opening a few cupboards, finally found a bag. He filled the dispenser’s reservoir and the cat’s water bowl.

Mr. Cat wasn't hungry, but he was thirsty, so he rushed over to lap up some water. Asa decided to take a quick look around the apartment.

As he walked through the living room, he spotted a small stereo system. He pressed play, and soft jazz filled the room. At least Gabriel had good taste in music.

Asa walked past the mahogany desk, where yet another framed photo of Gabriel sat prominently. Asa couldn’t help but mock Gabriel out loud: "You really do love to admire yourself."

Asa then stepped forward and looked out the window. It was a magnificent winter sunset, and the city sparkled beneath the freshly fallen snow. Asa gazed at the scene for several long minutes. He was exhausted, and the music couldn’t rouse him from his daze. He continued his tour of the apartment and arrived in Gabriel’s bedroom, which was just as sterile as the rest of the apartment, well, almost, because his gaze was drawn to a bookshelf near the door.

Asa sat down on the bed in front of the bookshelf to examine its contents. 

But his exhaustion was too much and, despite his interest, his eyes began to flutter with sleepiness, and he couldn’t resist collapsing onto the bed, murmuring, "Just a few seconds."

He was so exhausted, however, that he didn’t realize the seconds had turned into minutes. He fell into such a deep sleep that he didn’t notice Mr. Cat had jumped onto the bed and curled up next to him to sleep as well.

Still furious about what he’d learned about Asa and Brown Junior, Anthony walked into Gabriel’s apartment a little while later. His mother had sent him there to pick up toiletries for his brother. When he walked through the door, he froze, first because the lights were on and then because he could hear music. 

He moved forward cautiously and called out softly, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

No answer. Anthony continued moving forward carefully toward the bedroom. When he reached the bedroom door, he felt around in the dark for the light switch. He nearly tripped when his brother’s cat slipped between his legs.

"Hey, Mr. Cat! You stupid cat, watch it!"

Asa woke up with a start. He rolled onto his side and grabbed the first thing he could find on the nightstand, a bottle of perfume, and sprayed it at the shadow above him.

"Aaah!"

Anthony stumbled backward, the perfume stinging his eyes. He landed against the bookshelf, which collapsed on top of him. 

Asa flipped on the bedside lamp and discovered Anthony lying beneath a pile of scattered books.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

He was supposed to meet Asa at the Bookshop, and then they were going to head home together. But, as luck would have it, today was the day his students had the most questions about the class, and it had dragged on. On top of that, he was in a hurry because he’d been feeling uneasy all day about the way he and Asa had parted ways that morning. 

They hadn’t argued, but Asa had asked a question. Caught off guard, Anthony hadn’t answered and, pressed for time, he’d had to leave for university without responding. 

The fact that they hadn’t exchanged any messages all day made him feel even more uneasy. 

He was just a few steps away. He just had to cross the street. But, once again, luck was not on his side. Even though there was never much traffic on Berwick Street, today the cars just kept coming, one after another. 

Anthony’s patience was wearing thin, especially since he could see Asa through the bookshop window. With his eyes fixed on his lover, Anthony started to cross the street. In his haste, he didn’t see the bus coming at full speed from his right.

It wasn’t until he saw the stunned faces of the people on the other side of the street and the frantic gestures of the passersby that he turned his head.

As the bus drew nearer, Anthony froze. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, and images suddenly flashed before him at breakneck speed yet seemed frozen in time. Fragments of the past few months unfolded before his eyes like a kaleidoscope of happiness.

Time stood still for Anthony. 

Forgetting everything around him, he relived the months filled with small joys since meeting Asa.

Months of never having to wake up alone again.

The room was softly lit by the morning light. It was the perfect opportunity for Anthony to take in every detail of Asa’s face. He couldn’t help but be captivated by his lover’s features, his eyelashes casting a light shadow on his pale skin; his slightly flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, from which faint breaths of air escaped intermittently. Everything about Asa was utterly adorable.

That morning, as always, Anthony was fascinated.

"It's not fair to be this gorgeous," he murmured, gently caressing Asa’s cheek with his fingertips. "Sometimes I tell myself I don't deserve you, you know? Really, I don’t deserve you."

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to revel in the sense of wonder that washed over him, as it did every time.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Asa’s gray gaze.

Startled, Anthony pulled his hand away, but Asa grabbed it and brought it back to his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Anthony whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Asa put a finger to her lips. "Don't apologize, Anthony. It's a pleasant way to wake up. But I don’t like it when people speak ill of someone I love."

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, puzzled.

Asa replied in a serious tone, "Even though I appreciate you showering me with compliments and praising me..."

He leaned forward and kissed Anthony on the nose, then added with a smile, "I don't want you to do that if it means putting yourself down. » 

Anthony sighed. "I know, but sometimes, when I see you like this, I can’t help but have those thoughts and wonder how I could have been so lucky." It was Asa’s turn to touch Anthony’s cheek. He said softly, "So, I'm going to keep scolding you until it really sinks in that we're both just as lucky, no matter how long it takes."

He kissed Anthony on the forehead and said, "So, let's start the day over." Anthony looked at him, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

Asa smiled with a glimmer of joy in his eyes and said, "Good morning, Anthony," brushing a light kiss against his lips. 

Anthony replied in a soft, slightly hoarse voice, "Good morning, my angel," and kissed him back.

Asa continued to scatter kisses along Anthony’s jawline, slowly moving down toward the crook of his shoulder, as if relishing every inch of skin and rediscovering every part of his body. Then, he gently rolled Anthony onto his back and settled comfortably on top of him.

He cupped his lover’s face in his hands, locked eyes with him, and kissed him deeply. When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Asa framed Anthony’s head with his arms while Anthony reverently traced the outline of Asa’s lips with his fingers. He gently parted his lover’s lower lip and moved back up to capture his mouth in a slow, tender kiss. They preferred to let their desire subside so they could focus on the sweetness of the moment. They both knew the desire was there, but they didn’t need to act on it to be certain of their feelings' depth. 

Besides, it was almost time to get up. They would have to leave their cocoon of happiness and face the day.

Months of touching, kissing, and tender gestures given and received without restraint.

It was one of those evenings when Anthony arrived home late and exhausted after a long day at work.

Asa was sitting on the living room couch, reading by the light of a small lamp. Seeing his profile illuminated by the light always warmed Anthony’s heart. Even though it was Asa’s apartment, it always felt the same, it felt like home.

Anthony took off his shoes and walked over to Asa. He gently touched his shoulder so as not to startle him and said softly, "I’m home."

He would never tire of hearing those words, or of Asa’s soothing voice replying, "Welcome home." 

Asa looked up to meet Anthony’s gaze. Anthony leaned down to kiss his forehead, then walked around the couch and sat down in the spot he’d left open for him. 

He settled in close to Asa, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder while Asa wrapped his arm around him, and sighed with contentment.

Anthony reveled in this moment of peace, lulled by Asa’s gentle, hypnotic touches on his shoulder as he let the last remnants of tension from his day melt away.

He never would have imagined that this would become one of the most soothing things in the world for him, but it had quickly become one of his favorite moments.

"You have no idea how much I love this," he couldn’t help but whisper to Asa.

Asa smiled gently and leaned in to kiss Anthony’s cheek. He didn’t stop there, though. He continued to plant light kisses all over Anthony’s face, kisses that barely lingered, On his eyelids, his forehead, his nose, his chin, and finally, his mouth. 

This time, he lingered there.

The feeling of being home that Anthony had felt earlier blossomed within him once more as Asa rested his chin on Anthony’s chest. Anthony wrapped his arms around Asa and pulled him close. He brought a hand to his cheek, gently brushing the spot where Asa had placed the first kiss of the evening.

Their love was simple, just like that kiss, given freely, warmly, tenderly, and differently each time, yet familiar.

"Hey, Anthony! Watch out! Do you have a death wish or something?"

Anthony felt himself being pulled backward. As he collapsed against the person behind him, he felt the rush of air caused by the speeding bus amid a chorus of deafening honks. Still reeling from the shock of being alive, he got back to his feet and turned around. He saw that the person who had saved him—and onto whom he’d fallen—was none other than Nina.

He helped her up, then ran a hand over his face and sighed, "Man, that's what you call a near-death experience. » 

Nina shook her head and said with a wry smile, "I think you're about to have another one, judging by the look on the guy's face who's coming toward us. » 

Anthony spun around and saw Asa coming out of the bookshop, looking furious.

He felt Nina pat him on the back and whisper, "Well, see you around, Anthony. Good luck!"

This time, Anthony looked carefully both ways before crossing the street to catch up with Asa on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have been more careful. But you see, I..."

His apology was cut short by two strong arms wrapping around him. A voice whispered in the crook of his neck, "Thank goodness you're not hurt. » 

Anthony could do nothing but hug Asa back, feeling the tension of the past few minutes gradually ease away in the warmth of their embrace. 

Asa then stepped back slightly, still holding on to him. "I’m furious with the bus driver, not with you. I’m so relieved you’re okay that I can’t hold it against you for not being careful. But if you weren’t paying attention because of what I said to you this morning, then just forget about it."

"Anthony, wake up, sweetheart..."

Asa gently shook his shoulder, but Anthony buried his face deeper into the pillow and groaned, "It's not time yet."

Asa chuckled softly and said with a playful tone, "That’s not what your alarm has been saying for over fifteen minutes."

nthony felt Asa kiss his hair and then his breath in his ear as Asa asked, "By the way, you don't start until eight, so why did you set the alarm so early?" 

Anthony rolled over and replied in a sleepy voice, "Because I have to stop by my place to change into clean clothes."

Asa brushed Anthony’s hair aside and replied softly, "You know there’s a way to avoid that."

"How?" Anthony asked, looking puzzled.

Asa continued stroking his hair and replied in a low, slightly hesitant voice, "By moving in here...for good."

"Anthony?"

His lover's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Did you hear what I just said?" he continued. "Forget my suggestion. It’s probably too soon, and I… I don’t know what came over me, but it’s okay you know, I can wait, I—"

Anthony cut off Asa’s rambling by cupping his face in his hands, leaning toward him and saying, "Oh, really? Because I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about nothing else since this morning. Tell me when, and I’ll pack up all my boxes and come over."

He watched with delight as a smile spread across Asa’s lips. Asa whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it, "Really?"

Anthony nodded.

"Really."

Then, ignoring everything around them, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Asa’s in a tender kiss that sealed their decision.

Later that evening, as they lay in each other’s arms after reaffirming their love in a more intimate way and banishing the last traces of fear from the narrowly averted accident, Anthony told Asa about his flashbacks. Once he’d finished, Asa simply said, "And you saw all that after just a few months together. Imagine what it would be like after a whole lifetime." 

Then he leaned in to kiss Anthony, who returned the kiss passionately.

It was a kiss that celebrated the joy of being alive. 

It celebrated the joy of being able to continue sharing and multiplying the fragments of happiness that now made up their lives.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here