#date everything stackables

It’s happening!! Blessed dryer sheet, it’s HAPPENING!!! If there’s a god above, let there be an empty room and let that nosy candelabra be busier than us for the next several hours!

They barely cross the barrier of the laundry room, completely ignorant of the human opening the closet.

….and then the human slides past them with Hoove. “Uh, guys?”

“Cherub, can’t you see we’re in the middle of-”

The human coughs and points to the laundry closet door. “There shouldn’t be anyone else in there. I’m gonna go work with Hoove, just don’t break anything I’ll have to fix. Or clean. Dear god, do not make me clean something I shouldn’t have to.”

“Of course not! Thank you very much, don’t worry about us, we’ll see you later okay byeeeeeeee!”

He yanks the door open and ignores their and Washford’s laughter, and walks in without a second thought.

Thankfully they're right. It’s just the two of them finally. Finally.

Beau is missing, surely off on one of her, what did she call them? Expeditions! Drysdale had struck up a chat with her about them once, when he had nothing else to do and no one else to talk with. He vaguely remembers some very important academic words and discussions of a “houseologist” while she waved her extension cord lasso excitedly.

The whole thing went over his head and, truthfully, didn’t matter to him right this second because he was very busy dragging Washford behind him and pulling him into another kiss as the door slammed shut.

Drysdale is backed into the wall, hands still tangled in Washford’s hair. He utters an undignified oof before smirking in satisfaction and tilting his head. His hands slide down to grip Washford’s neck and his shoulder, digging into the fabric of his shirt. All the while, Washford grips his waist deliciously hard.

He’s dreamed of this moment a thousand times, dreamt up thousands of clever lines and witty remarks to leave Washford speechless and wanting. How fitting is it, really, that when the day his greatest mistake is finally fixed, he cannot remember a single brilliant quip?

All it took was a human and finally shoving his pride and fear down for-

Washford was leaning back now, exhaling a warm breath across Drysdale’s face. A whine slipped past his lips before he could think better. He would have chastised himself if it hadn’t given him an exhale of laughter from the other. 

He opened his eyes in confusion to see Washford. He looked hungry, and dazed with his pretty hair all ruffled and that lovely blush spread across his face. There was a softness in his sky-blue gaze, and something firm that Drysdale had barely begun to process before his lover leaned back in with his head titled and-

Oh dear god, Washford has started to kiss down his neck. 

It’s slow, sweet kisses that trail from his stubble to his collarbone. Washford glides across him with a grace Drysdale cannot fathom how he can possess in this moment. He feels like a live wire still, jittery with excitement and he knows he should stay in this moment and cherish these kisses (and he does, he really does, every day without his touch was the worst kind of hell) but his blood is burning and he needs needs needs his darling-

“Easy, my love.” There’s a gentle kiss pressed into the side of his neck. “I’m not going to turn into sand and slip through your fingertips.” Washford smiles against his skin and his rich baritone turns slightly playful as he says, “and we don’t need you announcing our reunion to the whole house before we’ve truly made up.”

It takes a minute of remembering how to breathe, and think, before Drysdale realizes he hasn't shut up the entire time they’ve been in this closet.

For God’s sake, his throat is vaguely aching and they’re both tragically still fully clothed!

His blush of arousal quickly turns to one of embarrassment, and he finally loosens his grip on Washford to smooth out his shirt. “Yes, well. I. I would rather like to be the first one to, uh. To inform everyone about us. After. Right,” he splutters. Sadly, he cannot meet Washford’s face right now, or he’ll burst into flames. He’s absolutely sure of it.

So much for suave and mysterious, Drysdale thinks. His poor ego has been torn to shreds these past few days, leaving him stranded and apparently far more frazzled than he thought. Gone is the smooth talker from their early years, replaced with a man scrambling for any shred of English language.

Well. If he can’t think of anything sexy to say, why should Washford get all the seduction and confidence? Drysdale starts to lean towards him, barely an inch away when he catches a worn sigh.

“Drysdale.”

He flinches slightly. He knows that tone. He knows what will follow.

He didn’t really expect for their flirting earlier and present escapade to mitigate their grievances, but it was a welcome distraction. He swallows hard, leans back to meet Washford’s eyes, and prays he can keep his head and pride together this time.

If he messes up now, after all his cherub has done for him, he fears he will never get another chance to fix the worst mistake of his life.

“I know. I didn’t expect to seduce my mistakes away. You deserve better. And I promise I’ll do better this time.” Part of him still wants to turn away, to crack a stupid joke or to stop talking entirely so he doesn’t have to watch Washford’s face fall or flood with tears again. 

But he’s done that once. No more.

“Why did you do it?” Washford asks. “We were together for so long. How is it that I gave you my heart and soul, and you threw it back to me for cheap imitations of flattery? What could that simpering boy give you that I couldn’t? In the middle of OUR act, no less?” His voice cracks, emotion flooding his voice and it tears at Drysdale to see his eyes full with tears. “The human said you were ready to apologize, and I will let you speak, but I must ask you: was our partnership just another fling to you? Did you ever love me like I loved you?”

Drysdale stops breathing. His heart cracks and aches. Of course this conversation isn’t easy, even with the encouragement from the human, but dammit this hurts. He’s going to cry again, and he fears it’s going to be ugly.

You don’t have to be mysterious, Drysdale. You just have to be honest.

“No. No, it wasn’t just another fling. You were never just a fling to me, Washford.” He steels himself and raises a hand to wipe the tears away, his thumb stroking across Washford’s cheek. “I’ve hated myself for causing our split since the moment you swore you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Drysdale sucks in a breath. “I love you,” he chokes through his own tears. “I did, and I always will, through all the grief I’ve caused us. There is no one else for me but you.” He smiles, pitiful and wistful. “You and your beautiful poetry, your soothing voice. The happiest I’ve ever been was performing with you.”

Washford looks… less devastated, he thinks. He’s searching Drysdale’s eyes for any scrap of lie. He won’t find it. He looks slightly confused now, and maybe hopeful? “So you didn’t run off with Dirk at the first chance you got?”

“No! No, no, absolutely not!” Drysdale shouts before he can think. He catches himself with a slight groan, cheeks slightly flushing. “He came back a few days later, asking if we were alright and if he had done something wrong and… I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Or anyone, really. So I brushed him off and said we would perform again later.”

“And then we never did.”

“Right.” He takes his hand off of Washford’s face to run it through his hair. “After a week went by, it was clear we had broken up. I still talked to the others, of course. I can’t shut myself away like you do.” He flashes a small grin. “But I never told anyone about the, ah. The Pale Betrayal until the human.

“I couldn’t bring myself to search for another partner. I just ended up thinking about you and trying to tell myself I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was easy for the first few years, but you hadn’t come back and. Well, it was getting a bit harder to lie to myself.”

He’d spent many a sleepless night stewing in his denial, bitter that his clever idea had gone so horribly wrong. Then the excuses faded until the ugly truth of his error haunted him until sunrise, paired with quiet and frustrated tears. Frustrated at himself for crying, at Washford for keeping away, and at himself again for ever making the foolish mistake of falling in love with him.

He’s honestly embarrassed that it took so long for him to be convinced to call out and initiate their conversation. Bless the human and their stubborn insistence on such a foolish man as he.

Washford squints. “If that’s true… why didn’t you come back to me sooner? All I truly wanted was to hear you own up and say sorry.”

Drysdale makes a frustrated noise and lowers his head to rest his forehead on Washford’s shoulder. “It was stupid, really. I was afraid you had already hated me. It’s a miracle I didn’t wear Florence down with how hard I dug my heels in. I thought you needed to apologize for overreacting.” He can’t help but cringe at himself.

“I know now that was ridiculous, and I don’t feel that way at all anymore!” He waves his hand and lifts his head. “But I didn’t want to believe I’d done anything wrong.” His voice tapers off to a whisper. “By the time I realized, I thought it was too late. That you’d made up your mind and nothing I could say would change it. The thought of begging you to take me back to earn nothing but a cold shoulder was worse than saying nothing at all.” The urge is too strong to inform now, and he glances at the wall.

“I’m so, so sorry for betraying you.” He looks back at Washford with a sniffle. It’s hard to see through his tears, but he blinks them away as best as he can. “I don’t know how you can find it in yourself to forgive me after all this time, but I swear to you I’ll be better. I can’t spend another day without you by my side.”

“Drydee.” Washford exhales, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek. The pet name makes Drysdale’s heart skip a beat, and gasp before he can think otherwise. “I had no idea how badly you were affected. I shouldn’t have tried to ignore it, but I admit I could’ve sought you out sooner. I forgive you, and I hope you can forgive me too.” Miracle of all miracles, he smiles. It’s small, but it’s hopeful, and it’s there.

Drydee Drydee Drydee Drydee, his heart sings as he struggles to remember how to breathe. He leans into Washford’s hand, pouring every ounce of gratefulness he can muster into his gaze. “Thank you, darling. Thank you.” 

“I just have one more question. Why did you even involve Dirk in the first place? Whatever did you think was going to happen?”

And Drysdale’s blood freezes because he thought they were done and he could take this secret to his grave. He stalls with a deep breath, eyes slipping shut as he tells himself to be honest be honest please don’t screw this up.

“It’s. God, it feels stupid now. I just. I missed you. I just wanted to hear you say you loved me.”

A very quick inhale.

Please please please.

“But I did-”

“You did! I know you did! I’m not saying you didn’t, it was just-” and he opens his eyes because Washford has to understand, they cannot go back to before. Not completely. He feels more frantic with every second as Washford stares daggers at him.

“You’ve always been wordy, you know? And! And I love that about you, truly!! I’ve missed it all and I want it all back but! It just got a little difficult to understand you sometimes! You know I’m not an expert in dissecting sonnets,” he laughs, a short and crazed thing, words flitting through his skull a mile a minute, “and I just couldn’t tell sometimes if you wanted to drown me or to ravage me!”

(He’s too frantic to catch it, but Washford”s brows lift. The anger is replaced with confusion, then understanding, but stays quiet to let Drysdale finish his stream of conscience.)

“I don’t want you to completely change for me! Never!! I just.” He bunches up Washford’s shirt, then releases the fabric. “I was confused. And I didn’t tell you so it just. It built up, and up, until I decided to try something different. It was easy to understand what Dirk said about me, I didn’t need to remember what ‘purple prose’ was or think for the rest of the day. But I should have talked to you. I never missed Dirk, just you.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we did both make this more complicated and heart wrenching than it should’ve been, but. The past few days have made it abundantly clear to me that I should’ve talked to you far sooner than after my betrayal. So. Now with all that.” He takes a deep breath, looks again with the most sorrowful expression he can muster. “I’m sorry. Again. Very deeply, truly, hopelessly sorry.”

Oh, his face is on fire again. And it takes Herculean effort to look back up at Washford, curse himself and this house and everything in it-

He’s. He sighed. And he’s smiling? Slightly? Fondly??

Drysdale has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth shut, desperate to fill the silence but more desperate to hear Washford’s response.

“My dear, I would have been more than happy to tell you I loved you. Was that everything that troubled you?”

“Yes.” He’s still deeply embarrassed and mutters, “it was stupid, I know, and I’ll never be the gifted wordsmith you are so we can just. Move on from this now.”

Concern paints Washford’s face yet again. “It’s not stupid at all, my love. I’ve heard plenty of times how difficult other people find me. And I wouldn’t want you to completely change yourself for me, either.” He kisses Drysdale’s forehead, and lingers. “Truth be told, I missed your bold passion and your monologues. I never expect you to match me in poetry,” and he’s interrupted by Drysdale's puff of laughter on his cheek, “but wouldn’t that defeat us? What are we if not two halves of a duo, or the stars pricked against the backdrop of the midnight sky? Complimenting each other, one with its sparkle and illumination and the other with its deep intensity?”

His eyes sparkle with the passion Drysdale has missed. He can’t help but smile wider as Washford continues and, blessing of all blessings, he understands. 

They are a perfect duo! They always have been, no matter how grating their differences may have been to the other. And he’s never going to take this for granted again, so long as he functions.

He snaps out of his musing as Washford suddenly appears. Bashful. “I can’t promise you I’ll learn to simplify myself all the time, but I hope that was easy enough. All you need to do is ask me and I shall try.”

Drysdale smiles again and pushes up to kiss his lover again. This time, it is chaste. A sweet press of lips to lips. Cradling his head in the way he’s dreamed of for years.

“It was perfect, darling, I do understand. I love you too, Washy. Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Thank you for letting someone other than I help you, my love."