lestercraft | TLV: IC Inbox

Arthur? Do you have a minute for me?

[ Just in case there's concern- ]

I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to check in about something.

[Still vaguely concerning, but he's trying to take it on trust that John actually is fine.]

Y-yes, of course. Your room, or-?

My room works. Maybe I'll make some tea for us?

[ See? Not just diving into the conversation pit. Normal things! ]

[Honestly the fact that John is trying to be casual about it is making him more suspicious, but he can - try and give him the benefit of the doubt.]

That sounds- good, yeah. Thanks. I'll be there in a few minutes.

See you then.

[ He's trying not to worry you! Their life has been a non-stop cavalcade of emergencies pretty much since October of last year. He just wants to see you! He's allowed to just want to see you!

...and ask you something.

All the same, there's the very distinctive scent of one of John's apple cheddar pies in the oven and the soft trill of a tea pot whistle as Arthur makes it to the door.]

[Admittedly the smell of the pie does a lot to set him at ease when he walks in. At least sharing lunch is routine enough to settle his raising hackles.

When he steps in he brushes his hand on John's back to signal his approach.]

Hey, John.

[ Which will earn him a sinking of shoulders; he's always so much happier being close to Arthur. The pie, for what it's worth, is actually sitting on the counter and has been for some time; they need a little time to wait, after all. John's just finishing with the tea. ]

Mmm, Arthur. How's the wardrobe?

[He gives a dry hum as he accepts his cup, bracing it idly against his chest as he leans the other hand on the kitchen counter.]

Uneventful when someone's not trying to kill me, so. The kitchen still treating you well?

I enjoy it better when I'm cooking at home. I always feel like I have to be careful in the dining hall.

[ Can't experiment too far, have to make sure everyone's covered for dietary needs, can't tweak it to anyone's preferences. ]

But it's not a bad job. And I am learning things. It's letting me taste a lot of foods to use for my cooking at home.

[He gives a dry huff.]

I'm glad you have so many people for your more adventurous forays into cooking.

[And he means it sincerely, as he shoots a soft smile up at John.]

[ The urge to get in affection before Arthur gets into a tizzy about what he's going to ask about even if it's just a question and he's not doing anything is very very strong. He'll give into it just a little, lean against his shoulder. ]

Less adventurous. But it is helping with consistency. I'm better at making the same thing multiple times and having it come out the same.

[ Most of an important skill than one might think. ]

Did you want some of the pie too?

[Unlike some people, Arthur can actually keep his thoughts to himself. The tizzy is well and truly underway, locked beneath the casual conversation at surface level.]

Just a small piece, perhaps. [His appetite had been taken out back and shot after everything with Peter, but it's finally starting to feel normal again.]

[ Which is why this is a hearty, but meatless, dish. Guess who's going to go on a sudden vegetarian kick?

Either way, he'll serve up for both of them. ]

Want me to get on with it?

[ He does know you. ]

[That gets a huff, but he'll accept the call-out graciously and lift his mug in a sly cheers.]

Please.

[ He'll hold up a finger before taking a bite to enjoy how the pie came out, his eyes lighting immediately at the blend of flavors between the apples and the sharp cheddar and the buttery crust. This one is probably a keeper.

He swallows, lamenting what seems like an inevitable 'he asks the question and then Arthur loses what little appetite he has and gets Fussed when the nerves he's been pretending he isn't having decide to air themselves'.

...he'd love to be wrong right now.]

Your room sucks. We can do something about it.

Is that something we can talk about?

[Partial credit to John, he is correct in how the nerves make themselves known in a flash of worry across his face, followed quickly but briefly by irritation.

And then he just- sighs. Resigned to John fussing about it, and it's a narrow thing that he manages not to roll his eyes as he takes a mouthful of tea to wash down the sudden bitterness lurking in his mouth.]

It's fine, John. We don't need to do anything about it.

[ You think very loudly sometimes, sir. ]

We don't need to, but I want to. So. Can I?

[He puts down the cup a little too heavily, making it slosh slightly, but he ignores it.]

If you want to fuck around with rooms, John, you have your own cabin. Don't drag mine into it.

[ John, on the other hand, keeps his cool. His hands are steady. ]

So it's not that it's 'fine'. It's that you want it that way.

[ A glance up. ]

Or you don't want it that way, but you feel like it has to be for some reason.

[ And down to his tea.]

You could have just said that. Whichever it is.

[He can't help the way he bristles, at John so succinctly dismissing his perspective on it, and he pushes off the counter to move away. Not leaving, just not right next to the bastard.]

If you knew I was going to say no, then why did you even bother asking?

[ That has him looking up, startled, and the confusion is plain. That isn't- ]

I didn't know that.

[ What? When did he say he knew that? ]

I asked because I didn't know. And at first I thought maybe you really didn't care when you said it was fine. And since I care, I wanted to do something about it. I asked because I didn't want to assume and make you unhappy with your room.

But you're getting angry, so it's pretty clear you do care. So I don't know why you said something different.

[ He pressed his lips together.]

You usually don't lie to me, or try to confuse me about things like this.

Edited 2024-03-12 03:47 (UTC)

[The open confusion is what makes Arthur's next growl stick in his throat, and he still, confusion clear on his own for a moment.

John's not fucking with him.

Of fucking course he's not. He barely knows how and he- he doesn't. Not with him.

Christ he's a fucking idiot.]

N-no, no, I'm...

[He can feel his face burning as he straightens, tense now from the self-admonishing embarassment.]

I-I'm not. Lying, I mean. I just... [he runs his hand through his hair and sighs tightly. Use your fucking words.] It's- it's the same as the filter, John.

[ He'll get to see the flash of fear in his eyes as he's reminded of the filter, and then a quick nod. He'll look down at the tea. ]

Okay.

[ No fight. He's said his piece; hopefully Arthur heard him when he said he hates it. Because he does.

But if he tries to point that out now, it'll sound like manipulation.
He still remembers how angry Arthur had been back in Addison.

He won't.

He nods. ]

Understood.

[He hates how his stomach roils at the sight of John's fear, and his hands come together automatically, rubbing the side of his left hand in a too-rough pinching motion.]

John, I'm... th-this isn't about- keeping you out, it's... [It feels pathetic saying it, and his right hand tightens thoughtlessly, making a throb of pain surge up his wrist.] It's- having something of my own, making that mean something, I... look, I just don't want it changed, alright? If I do, I'll let you know.

[ He nods again. ]

I just realized I hadn't asked. Or made it clear that I would do it if you wanted it done.

I wouldn't touch it without you saying so.

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