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“Mister Slugworth, sir?”
Arthur looked up from his paperwork, a scowl already settling on his face. His staff knew better than to interrupt him after he had retired for the evening. Gaze falling on the familiar figure of his housekeeper, Juliette, Arthur raised an eyebrow in disapproval, waiting for her to continue.
She pushed the door to his study open fully, curtsying as she entered the room properly. It was long past the time that most of the household staff should have retired for the day as well, Arthur realised. She sent him a weary smile. “You have a visitor, sir.”
Arthur’s eyebrows crept higher. Eyes darting to the clock, he shook his head in disbelief “Who on earth is calling at this hour?”
Juliette’s smile took on a brittle edge. There was a tightness around the corners of her mouth and the edges of her eyes that set Arthur’s nerves on edge. “I took the liberty of settling Mister Fickelgruber in the parlour with a nice, strong pot of tea.”
The sound of wood scraping against wood echoed through the study as Arthur stood, paperwork forgotten. He was hardly in the right state to be accepting guests. Shirtsleeves rolled up, he had long since discarded his waistcoat and suit jacket. Truth be told, he had been considering calling it a night. It was already a little after one.
Why on earth would Felix call at such an hour? Arthur thought as he crossed the room in four long strides. Juliette shifted out of the way without a word, making room for him to pass.
“Thank you, Juliette. That shall be all for this evening. I shall see to Mister Fickelgruber myself,” Arthur said firmly, sending the woman a tight but genuine smile.
“Very good, Mister Slugworth. The green room has been made up, if Mister Fickelgruber does happen to stay the night.”
Arthur’s smile softened around the edges as he nodded his thanks. While everyone on his staff referred to the guestroom opposite the master bedroom as such, they all knew that there was truly only one guest who was ever welcome to use the suite of rooms decorated in the exact same shade of green as the Fickelgruber emblem. Not that it happened nearly as often as Arthur would have liked (not that he would ever admit as much).
“Oh, and Mister Slugworth?”
Arthur turned back, a questioning look in his eyes and a sharp retort ready to fall from his lips. The seriousness in Juliette’s expression quelled his tongue.
“It looks like Mister Fickelgruber is having a trying day. Perhaps it might be best to be gentle with him.” Not once in her three decades of working for the Slugworth Estate had Juliette ever dared suggest how Arthur should conduct himself. It set off warning bells in the back of his mind.
Arthur inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I shall take that into consideration.”
He made his way through empty hallways and past lavishly appointed rooms quickly and efficiently, taking shortcuts he never would usually dream of using when staff or guests alike may be around to see. Arriving at the formal parlour, Arthur paused, eyes flickering around the room for any trace of the other man. It wasn’t like Felix to go wandering without an explicit invitation. If nothing else, the other man’s manners in such things were impeccable; he would never be so forward.
Where on earth could he be? Arthur thought. He was certain that Juliette said she had left Felix in the parlour. Unless she hadn’t meant the formal parlour at all, but instead Arthur’s preferred sitting room, reserved strictly for informal visits with just a handful of people Arthur considered close enough to call friends. I suppose Felix is close enough as anyone for such assumptions to be made.
While the two of them had known each other for over twenty years, since Felix was a young man barely in his twenties and Arthur was just on the cusp of thirty, he wouldn’t say that the two of them were precisely close. Not in the same way that Felix and Gerald always appeared to be.
He would never admit it, but Arthur had grown somewhat jealous of Gerald’s ability to worm his way past Felix’s flirtatious defences and charming facade so seamlessly. It was as if the two of them had a secret language all of their own, an understanding that Arthur, no matter how much he tried, could never quite get past. Sure, he and Gerald had a long-standing friendship of their own; the two of them had known each other since they were boys, long before either of them had even thought of inheriting their family businesses. Yet somehow, only Gerald had managed to get close enough to Felix for the other man to let down his defences and be anything less than perfect while in each other’s company.
Coming to a halt at his private parlour, Arthur pushed the ajar door open with little fanfare, seeking out the other man. Irritation flashed through him when he saw the mess of footprints covering the indigo rug. Someone had lit a fresh fire for the other man, the chill of the late-night air only just beginning to dissipate beneath the roaring flames. On the low, elegant coffee table sat a neat spread of delicate tea cups and a steaming pot of tea, dainty pastries arranged artfully on a neat cerulean side plate that Arthur knew from experience Felix wouldn’t deign to touch, no matter how much he clearly wanted to eat the darned things.
Arthur’s ire only seemed to grow as he took a step, then another, then another into the room. Dark puddles covered the floorboards and rug alike, and was that one of his good guest towels twisted between the other man’s hands?
“I do hope that is only water, Felix,” Arthur said without thinking, his stern voice echoing throughout the room.
It wasn’t until Felix turned around that Arthur truly got a proper look at him. Gone was his usual meticulously kept appearance; his suit was almost black with water, soaked through his suit jacket and waistcoat alike, leaving his white shirt clinging and translucent against his skin. Felix stood, turning to face Arthur, lips twisting in apologies the French chocolatier couldn’t even hope to focus on.
Mud splattered his trousers — both the legs, and the entire back of him, from shoulders to thighs. He was missing his tie, one cuff peeking out through the sleeve of his jacket, the cufflink long gone. There was no sign of his usual lapel pin — the one that Arthur hadn’t seen him without on a single occasion since they had welcomed him into the cartel all those years ago, nor was there any sign of his pocket square.
Arthur’s gaze flicked up. That was one of his good guest towels, he realised belatedly, taking in the dark stains on his favourite chaise with an air of detachment. Felix’s hands trembled around the fabric, clinging to his as if he were trying to draw strength from it. Arthur’s gaze moved upwards. Felix’s hair was a mess. There was no trace of his usual pomade, the dark salt and pepper strands hanging in bedraggled curls. Arthur didn’t even know Felix’s hair was naturally curly.
Wide hazel eyes stared back at him, lips twisting as though expecting further retribution. Arthur’s eyes lingered on Felix’s face. He could feel his own expression hardening, fury seeping into every inch of him. Between one breath and the next, Arthur crossed the room. Without thinking, he reached out, broad hands brushing the sharp line of Felix’s cheek. The other man flinched back, eyes screwed tightly shut.
The room remained frozen in place, neither man daring to speak, to move, to breathe too loudly. Nothing but the crackling of the fireplace could be heard between the two. A livid red mark covered Felix’s cheekbone. His right eye already looked as if it was beginning to swell shut. His lower lip was split. Up close, Arthur could see faint traces of blood splattered against the collar of his shirt, a dark stain on one sleeve that looked as if it could be blood too.
“Felix?” Arthur said softly, not daring to close the gap between them. Hazel eyes crept open. The taller man sent him a valiant smile. The trembling in his hands gave him away.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
The words hung heavily between them as Felix fell silent once more, lips twisting into a grimace. He looked away, what little courage he had left seeming to leave him completely.
“My apologies, Arthur. It is terribly rude of me to interrupt your evening like this. And without invitation. I shall see myself out. I do hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me for the intrusion. If we could not speak of this again, I would be most grateful.” Felix placed the towel carefully down on the chaise. A look of mortification flashed across his face when he caught sight of the stains he had left behind. He stood stiffly — not, Arthur realised, out of formality, but out of some unseen pain beneath his suit — moving as if to leave.
Arthur reached out, hand gently encircling Felix’s wrist. Both men looked down. Had Felix’s wrists always been so slight, so fragile? Knowing his own strength, Arthur was careful not to allow his grip to tighten too much, not willing to risk hurting the other man any further. Felix was freezing, he realised, the chill of his clammy skin seeping into Arthur’s hand. Something had happened to the German chocolatier. And Arthur was determined to get to the bottom of it.
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “You have a standing invitation. We have known each other more than long enough to make such formalities no longer necessary. You are always welcome at my estate, no matter what time of the day or night.” Arthur found himself stunned to realise that he meant every word that he said. Felix looked back at him with wide eyes.
“That is… very generous of you, Arthur. I could not possibly take advantage of your kindness in such a way. I have already imposed more than enough for one evening. If you would be so kind as to pass along my thanks to your housekeeper? She was most kind,” Felix said. The smile on his lips didn’t touch his eyes.
“Sit down before you fall down, Felix. You look as if you might collapse at any moment.”
The other man sat without hesitation. Two sets of eyes widened as his actions sank in. Felix had a habit of listening to Arthur when it truly mattered, but when it came to the little things? Pushing back was second nature to him. To act without thought like that, to follow Arthur’s command no less, was not normal. Before he could stand again, Arthur pressed a hand against Felix’s shoulder. Once he was sure that the other man would remain in place, Arthur joined him on the chaise, gaze never leaving him.
“We shall get you out of those wet clothes shortly. I am sure that I have something that you can borrow for tonight.”
Felix shook his head. “Oh, I could not possibly—”
“That is not a request.”
Felix shifted in his seat, eyes falling firmly to the floor. Silence sat heavy and uncomfortable between them. Arthur couldn’t tear his gaze away from the other man’s face. He reached out again. This time when Felix flinched, Arthur didn’t pull back, instead allowing his hand to gently cup the other man’s cheek, guiding Felix back to face him.
“What on earth happened?” Arthur’s grip remained steady as Felix tried to turn away again. Arthur could see the way the other man’s hands trembled against his thighs, a light tremor running throughout his body. “Did something happen during your drive home?”
Arthur’s thoughts turned back to their meeting earlier that evening. The three of them had parted ways a little after ten, the Chief of Police leaving shortly beforehand. Arthur hadn’t hesitated to leave for his waiting car, knowing that the other two chocolatiers would follow in short order.
“Did something occur on your way home?” Arthur tried again as Felix remained silent. Arthur reached for Felix’s hand, warm fingers wrapping around cold, trembling digits. “Should I call the police?”
Hazel eyes widened in fear. “Absolutely not! There is no need for something so drastic, Arthur.” He forced a smile onto his lips. Arthur could see the way that it wavered, muscles pulling at sore, swollen flesh as he tried to muster up his usual little smirk.
“Something happened, Felix. You came here for a reason. Let me help you.”
Felix’s lip began to tremble. Opening his mouth, nothing came out. He pressed his lips firmly together before shaking his head. He couldn’t force himself to meet Arthur’s gaze.
Warm hands squeezed Felix’s trembling hands gently. “Let’s get you in the shower and cleaned up, hm?” Arthur stood, holding out his hand towards Felix. Hesitantly the other man accepted, standing without his usual grace. “There will be time enough to talk later. Wherever you are ready.”
It was strange, leading Felix through the opulent hallways without a single word spoken. The other man usually filled the silence between them with idle questions and flirtatious banter. No matter who he was with, Felix rarely allowed a conversation to fall flat. It was a gift that Arthur had long coveted. When it came down to business, Arthur spoke confidently, whether that was about his own sales figures and projections, or his latest recipes due out the next season. Yet when it came to deeper conversations at the little high society soirees and gatherings that the three of them so often found themselves invited to, Arthur found himself at a loss for words. He hadn’t realised just how much he relied on Felix to fill the silence between them.
“Your room — the green room — is ready,” Arthur said, wincing at his slip. “Well, it shall be, once you have finished using the facilities. I shall arrange for a fire to be lit. There should be towels and your usual multitude of products.” Arthur’s voice carried through the hallway, breaking the uncomfortable nothingness between them. “Though, Heaven knows why you need quite so many as part of your routine. It hardly seems as though anyone should need such a complex hair and skincare routine,” Arthur added, words pitched low.
A sharp huff of laughter sounded behind him. Arthur turned sharply to look over his shoulder. A ghost of a smile settled on Felix’s swollen lips. Arthur’s chest tightened, his own words suddenly failing him. What on earth could have happened for Felix to turn up in such a state? It had not been that long since the two of them had last been together. How on earth had something happened to him in such a short space of time?
“Thank you, darling.” Felix smiled at him softly, hand reaching for Arthur’s shoulder. Before Arthur could realise what he was about to do, Felix leaned in, pressing his lips to Arthur’s cheek.
Arthur stared at the dark oak door long after it closed behind Felix. He could hear the faint sounds of movement inside, footsteps echoing across tiled floors, fabric pooling on the ground, and the rhythmic patter of water against porcelain. As the minutes slipped past, he found himself reluctant to move. He had to force himself away.
Arthur went through the motions on autopilot. He considered calling for someone to light a fire in Felix’s room before quickly dismissing the idea. The thought of allowing someone else into what he considered to be Felix’s space was an unpleasant one. With how fragile the other man seemed to be, he didn’t want to risk allowing anyone else into the room unless Felix specifically requested it.
It took longer than he cared to admit to light it himself, but by the time the fireplace crackled to life, Arthur felt a sense of accomplishment — and of regret, as he caught sight of the state of his trousers. Brushing himself off, Arthur gave the room one last check. Everything seemed to be in order; pillows pumped in place, blankets pulled back, curtains drawn. He made his way the short distance across the corridor to his own room, pausing only long enough to confirm that that shower was indeed still running. Something flickered in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was trying to tell him.
Arthur moved straight towards his dresser, searching through the immaculate lines of meticulously folded pyjamas for something for Felix. Whatever he selected was sure to be a poor fit, Arthur realised, the legs far too short and the shoulders too broad. But it would be better than nothing.
I shall have to ensure that I have something more appropriate for him for next time, Arthur thought. He paused. Not that there should be a next time of such circumstances.
The other chocolatier had stayed often enough to have a room that Arthur’s staff considered to be his own, for heaven’s sake. Arthur knew that the likelihood of Felix staying was almost a guarantee. While the majority of cartel meetings took place in the Vault, the three of them were known to convene at Arthur’s estate from time to time. While the Prodnose Estate was but a short drive away, Felix’s Estate was a little further out. Extending an invitation to stay seemed only polite.
Arthur’s hands came to rest on a particularly soft pair of silk pyjamas in a peacock blue. They looked closer to green than blue to Arthur’s eye; he rather thought that they would suit the other man.
Clothes carefully folded in hand, Arthur made his way back towards the other bedroom. Surely Felix would be done by now. As he passed the bathroom door, he realised he could still hear the rhythmic sound of water against porcelain. He glanced down at his watch. Felix had been in there for quite some time. Surely he must be done by now? At the very least, the water was bound to have run cold.
Frown settling on his brow, Arthur knocked on the door. “Felix? Is everything alright in there?” He couldn’t hear a single sound, other than the steady thrum of water. Concern growing, Arthur tried again. “Felix? Do you require assistance?”
When still no response came, Arthur weighed up his options. The respectful thing to do would be to leave Felix to it. Perhaps he merely wished to have a long shower, or scrubbing off all of that mud was taking longer than anticipated. Yet Arthur doubted that. What if Felix had fallen and injured himself? What if he required help? Or what if neither of them had realised the extent of his injuries?
“I am going to come in if you do not respond, so speak now if you have any objections.” Arthur paused. He counted to ten, doing his best to tamper down his impatience. By the time that he reached ten, concern overrode impatience. He tried the door handle, thankfully finding it unlocked. He pushed the door open, eyes zooming in on the claw-footed bathtub and showerhead above. His eyes flicked down.
Felix was curled in a ball in the shower, arms wrapped neatly around his knees, head hanging down. Dark hair fell in soaked curls. Arthur made his way across the room quickly, eyes roving across the pale expanse of his back. His right shoulder was scraped almost raw as though he had fallen against brickwork or been dragged across uneven cobblestones. The ghost of a purple-blue mark was beginning to bloom on his side. But it was his hip that caught Arthur’s full attention. He could only see one side, but Arthur was certain: those were fingerprints.
Hesitantly, he reached out to touch Felix’s shoulder. The other man was freezing, the water having long since turned cold. He flinched away violently from Arthur’s touch, eyes screwed shut, holding his breath as though awaiting a blow.
“Who did this to you?”
Felix shook his head. Hazel eyes crept open. He looked so weary, Arthur realised, far more exhausted than he had ever seen Felix before. Arthur turned the shower off, grabbing the nearest towel and covering the shivering man. Felix sent him a wan smile. “I am fine, darling. It is nothing.”
“This most certainly is not nothing, Felix! Look at the state of you. I demand—” Arthur’s words fell short. He could see Felix retreating before his eyes, the weak but real smile curing into something less real, more careful, more… practised. Thick fingers reached out, cupping Felix’s cheek. Hazel eyes blinked back at him as though fighting to leave a trance. “You came here for a reason, didn’t you? Let me help. Let me fix things.”
Felix let out a bitter, choked sob. “You can’t fix everything, Arthur.”
Arthur followed a pace behind Felix, uncertain whether he was hovering to make sure that he could offer assistance, or whether he was worried that the other man might collapse at any moment.
The bedroom had warmed up nicely in the time since he was away, the logs crackling merrily and casting the room in a warm, soft glow. Felix made his way towards the fire, nothing but a towel clutched around him. Arthur followed in his wake, laying the pyjamas on the foot of the bed without a word. He eyed the chairs by the fireplace, contemplating sitting until Felix was ready to talk. Before he could make up his mind, the other man turned.
“Thank you for allowing me to stay for the evening. You did not have to—”
Arthur held up a hand, stopping the other man before he could get any further. “Please do not finish that sentence. How long have we known each other? Do you honestly think that I would turn you away in the middle of the night, no matter what state you were in? Do you think so little of me?”
“Not everything is about you, Arthur.” Arthur’s mouth slammed closed. Felix’s eyes widened, regret shining in hazel depths. “What I mean to say is—”
Arthur shook his head, holding up his hand once more. “Please do not try and reframe the truth with pretty words. You are entirely correct. This is not about me. But that does not mean it has nothing to do with me. I am here for you, Felix. Whether that means you wish to talk about it tonight. Or a week from now. Or a year from now. Or… or if you need something else entirely from me. Or nothing at all, other than a safe place to stay for the night, and we shall never speak of it again. But please, Felix, please, just tell me if there is something I can do for you, here and now.”
Tears welled at the corners of Felix’s eyes. He scrubbed at them roughly, hissing at the way that the heel of his hand dug into his swollen eye. “I know that there are a dozen things I should be doing right now, not the least of which is calling my physician. But I cannot… not tonight. Tomorrow is another day. I… would it be terribly selfish…”
“I highly doubt that.”
Felix let out another low laugh. “Help me get dressed? It hurts to lift my arms,” he admitted softly. A fresh wave of anger rolled through Arthur. He was quick to push it down. It would do the other man no good right now.
Arthur moved silently, making sure to go slowly and telegraph his movements before he drew too close. Felix watched him closely, shifting to keep Arthur in his line of sight at all times. It made Arthur’s heart ache. He helped the other man into the silk pyjamas with care, buttoning the neat row of buttons up carefully. He had been right; the shirt hung comically low off of one of Felix’s shoulders, the trousers having to be tied tightly to stop them falling completely from Felix’s hips — and still, they sat a good three inches too short on him
Arthur took a step back, giving Felix space physically and mentally, to decide what he needed next. He could tell that something was on the other man’s mind from the way that his eyes darted nervously towards him and then away again, neat white teeth nibbling on his lower lip in indecision.
“Anything, Felix,” Arthur said softly.
Shoulders straightened. Felix winced, the sudden movement tugging at some unseen injury. Arthur winced in sympathy.
“If I were to ask you a favour — you could, of course, say no,” Felix hastened to add before he could even get the words out fully. Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. “I know my… reputation. And I am not saying that you would ever act on that reputation,” Felix said firmly, not quite able to meet Arthur’s eyes. “But if, hypothetically, someone was to ask you to platonically share a bed with them…”
Dark eyes softened. “Allow me to get changed. I will be back before you know it. Get comfortable.”
Arthur forced himself to knock on the door. He knew that if he allowed himself to hesitate, he would never go through with it. The quiet call to enter reached him.
Despite the roaring fire, Felix was already carefully burrowed beneath layers upon layers of blankets. He looked painfully small in the expanse of the bed. It didn’t sit right with Arthur. Not one bit.
Freshly changed into another set of pyjamas, Arthur slowly approached the bed, giving Felix every chance to change his mind and call things off. The closer Arthur drew, the stiffer Felix became, until he stood at the foot of the bed, unable to convince himself to move any closer. He took a steadying breath.
“If one were to hypothetically change their mind, there would be no shame in it,” Arthur said softly, no trace of teasing in his tone as he used Felix’s own words against him.
Felix smiled at him in return, long fingers reaching out to pat the bed beside him. As Arthur approached the left side of the bed, careful to keep himself between Felix and the door, Felix paused. “Would… I would appreciate it if you would sleep on top of the covers?”
Arthur let go of the covers without hesitation, moving to lie on his side of the bed. He was careful to keep a good distance between the two of them, worried that any closer may not only set off Felix’s already frayed nerves, but may lead to accidentally aggravating his injuries. Arthur glanced at the lights, regretting not turning them off. Before he could stand, a hand reached out to grasp his arm. Dark eyes turned to Felix, giving him his full attention.
“I was merely going to turn the lights off,” Arthur explained, voice low and soothing. Felix shook his head once, a short, sharp motion.
“I would rather leave them on, if it is all the same to you.” The two of them settled in silence, each laying side by side, their only point of contact Felix’s hand on Arthur’s forearm. Arthur would swear that it felt as if his skin was tingling.
An eternity later, Felix broke the silence. “If one were to ask…platonically, to…”
“Anything means anything, Felix. Tonight, you don’t have to ask.”
He felt more than he heard the other man shuffling closer, bed dipping as Felix slid alongside him. Cautious hands moved Arthur’s arm away from his side, lifting it behind Felix. Arthur didn’t dare move as Felix settled himself on Arthur’s chest, cheek pressing over the steady thump-thump-thump of Arthur’s heart, arms wrapping tightly around his waist as though he was trying to ground himself.
Arthur waited until Felix’s breathing evened out and his body fell still. He could still see hazel eyes open, gazing into the fireplace. Slowly, Arthur wrapped his arms around the taller man, cradling him gently against his chest. He could feel the tension seep out of Felix all at once like a puppet getting his strings cut. Soon after came trembling. A tell-tale wetness spread across his chest.
Felix pressed his face firmly against Arthur’s chest, burrowing his face against the soft, dark fabric. Sobs wracked his body, loud and wet and heartwrenching in a way that Arthur hoped to never hear again. He didn’t dare say a word.
Long after Felix’s sobs had fallen into soft tremors, tears finally run dry, Arthur was beginning to think that he had fallen asleep at last. His own eyes ached with unshed tears, chest tight, anger and guilt and sorrow swirling together in his chest in a confusing mix that he knew there was no time to explore. Not while Felix might still need him.
He felt the faintest tickle of breath against his collarbone as Felix turned his face to one side at last, cheek pressing against the soaked fabric of Arthur’s nightshirt.
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
He sounded so lost. Without thinking, Arthur brushed his lips against the crown of Felix’s head. “You came precisely where you needed to go, Felix. I am glad that you felt safe here.”
“There’s nowhere safer than with you, darling.”
Arthur’s chest clenched. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He pressed his lips to Felix’s hair once more, daring to squeeze just a little bit tighter before releasing his hold once more.
“I have you, Felix. Now and always. And nothing shall ever change that. No matter what.”