jollyboat | (no subject)

Entry tags:

rp,
with: horatio

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Maybe he isn’t meant to be as upset as he is.

Archie isn’t sure, because he thought he and Horatio had had something particularly special, but the other young man had still gone and romances (in a sense) the young woman that had died on the bridge. And Horatio hadn’t been particularly paying attention to him even once they’d landed in France, and he’d not been acting as upset as Archie thought he might by the way Edrington had started (rather brazenly, if in the quiet way all men of their ilk knew how) flirting. So it’s easy for his mind to assume that this is Horatio’s way of telling him it was over and time to move on.

It’s just he thought Horatio would be clearer about that sort of thing, and so much of the problem could just be characteristic of Horatio’s preoccupation with the rest of what he needs to work.

So Archie’s being careful about his approach, if entirely uncertain. He’s approaching Horatio one night while he’s brooding and settling next to him in companionable silence.

Breaking it is a hesitant yet somewhat abrupt thing.

”Major Edrington was— wondering if I’d any plans for our shore leave.” A long, uncertain pause, “I wasn’t— certain what to tell him.”

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Oh. That’s rather a relief. That has Archie’s shoulders relaxing just slightly, though he doesn’t completely stop being tense right away.

“You still want to?”

"Of-- course."

But wants are such funny things. Wants can be taken away by needs. This want could be taken away, perhaps, by something slightly less--by Archie's wants.

"That's... As long as you-- still want to. I-- I want to."

“I still want to.”

It seems important to affirm that.

“Just— it didn’t seem like— you did, anymore.”

They have to be careful. Even in safe ports, even on less than horrible ships, they have to be careful.

It doesn't at all help with the clarity this sort of communication needs.

"Why... would you think that?"

His shrug is a slight, fretful thing.

"You seemed-- disinterested," he explains after a moment, "In-- me, at least. Others certainly-- caught your attention."

One particular other, but he hopes it's not too cruel to mention the dead woman now.

"--no."

It's an impulse rather than an explanation. It's a rush of honesty rather than a measured thought. It bubbles up with a shift of his body, fingers reaching to catch hold of the other young man's without any impulse for shame.

"Archie-- no."

He squeezes back instinctively, but it’s a quick thing by necessity. He has to drop his hand with a nervous glance over his shoulder, but he shifts closer even once he lets go.

It will let Horatio see the hurt wrinkle in Archie’s expression rather easily.

“The other men were— saying you’d spent a night with her. You— almost died for— her.”

He hates bringing it up, but he can’t help the ache in his chest.

The discomfort in his shoulders starts with that flicker in Archie's expression. It tightens further as the conversation is directed toward his most recent failure.

Shutting down is easy. Shutting down has always been easy.

His lips keep moving, trying to capture the right words all the same.

Shit. Horatio shutting down is the last thing he wants to see. It’s got his expression immediately crumpling into something regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t have— That was too far, ‘m sorry. I was— worried and hurt, but that— I shouldn’t have been cruel when I know you’re feeling poorly about it already.”

And now, once again, he's hurt Archie. Now, in spite of himself, he's brought that crumbling into Archie's already tired features.

What he wouldn't give for an hour properly on their own. What he wouldn't sacrifice to be genuinely alone, to actually hold Archie's hands and force the truth up from his gut.

Instead, all Horatio can do is briefly squeeze his eyes shut, trying to find his center without actually reaching for the man beside him again.

"She wasn't... you."

That's the beginning of the thought.

Maybe it helps that Archie is shifting yet again to brush his elbow against Horatio's. It has to be brief, but it's full of adoring concern.

It's just he can't help the soft hint of bitterness in his voice as he asks, "Wasn't that-- the point?"

"I don't know."

And this isn't the place to unburden about it. This isn't the place to let out the hurt and the confusion and the turmoil of this lingering devotion.

"Please--"

Horatio means to ask Archie to share a room with him. He means to ask the other young man to not make any decisions before they can work themselves up to talk properly.

"--stay with me."

It's not quite right, but it's entirely honest.

He shifts to briefly study Horatio’s face searchingly, and discovers from the earnestness in his expression how much the other young man means and needs it.

Archie can’t help the soft sigh, but he nods after a moment.

“—Okay.”

They can't speak freely. They can't clutch together. They can barely stare at one another's faces very long before it becomes suspect.

But Horatio has to add the rest of the thought. He has to lean slightly closer, forehead not quite bumping Archie's, with another piece that matters.

"I don't wish... for you to feel trapped with me, Archie."

A shrug.

"I don't-- mind being trapped, if it-- means you want me."

Archie feels trapped. All he can hear above the faint new ringing in his ears is that he makes Archie feel trapped.

But they can't speak freely.

"...just-- share a room with me."

"I will." And gladly, if the relief on his face is any indication. "Thank you."

And then it will, unfortunately, need to be time for them to drift apart. His fingers catch at Horatio's elbow for a brief squeeze as he turns to go.

It won't do away with all of the fretfulness about where they stand, but knowing they'll be in a room together on the shore eases something in his shoulders as they count down the days to their leave.

It absolutely eases all the more, when they're finally properly alone together.

Horatio isn't certain of the last time he'd felt this tightly wound. He always feels some amount of tension. He can always point to the moments of incredibly high stress.

But nothing quite compares to being held in on himself in the utter fear that he's hurting the man he loves more than anything simply by existing.

Being on shore doesn't relieve any tension. Being properly hidden away in the room he's sharing with Archie doesn't so much relieve him as allow him to take a beat in proper panic, perched on the edge of one bed with his eyes squeezed shut, trying not to feel like the ghost of the man who truly had kept Archie Kennedy trapped.

Of course it doesn't take Archie long to notice. Of course he's worried about the fact that, despite they're finally alone together, Horatio's still so obviously tense.

Of course Archie's going to drift nearer to him, settling carefully next to him at the edge of the bed.

"'ratio? Talk to me?"

It helps infinitely to be allowed to reach, carefully and nervously and fretfully, for Archie's hand. It helps to feel at least that much certainty as he tries to pull the words from his throat.

It's the same tightness as feeling prepared to cry. It's the same tightness that he knows would be released if he could hide himself in against Archie's shoulder for even just a few minutes.

"It's..."

"Yeah?"

His hand is already catching anxiously at Horatio's. He's already shifting a little closer, entirely fretful.

"N-no one is you, Archie."

That's the place to start--or, at least, he desperately hopes it is as his fingers lace into Archie's.

"No one ever will be."

His voice is so tight and small that he almost doesn't recognize it himself, apart from the exhausted honesty somewhere in the middle of it.

"But if you're... trapped, then--"

He can’t help the crease of worry in his expression at the tightness in Horatio’s voice, even with the way the gentle reassurances fill him with comfort. He can’t help the gentle squeeze is his hand around Horatio’s.

“I told you, ‘ratio. I don’t— mind, if it’s you.” And there’s absolutely an obvious sort of earnestness on his face as he says it, “Besides, it’s not like it’s— you doing the trapping.”

Horatio knows he doesn't always understand people. He knows, intellectually, that things simply feel easy and comfortable to other people.

But he likes to think he knows Archie--or, at any rate, that he adores Archie well enough to find his way to understanding.

"What... d-do you mean?"

A gentler shrug as he squeezes Horatio's hand.

"I want-- you. More than-- anything," he begins to explain, "'s my-- heart that's keeping me here, not-- anything or anyone else. I'll want you-- 's long as you want me, and if you let me I'll likely still-- remain around just to be near you even when you don't anymore."

Because of course it's going to be a 'when.'

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i love how this has become a Thing that they say.