The words swim in his ears for a moment before properly settling in against the noise of his mind. They set a faintly different lens on reality as Horatio's mind flies back over the last few minutes of conversation.
They also make William's hand on his arm somewhat more gently insistent. They pull Archie's fingers on his hand into something somewhat more properly pleading.
Horatio knows the risks. He's weighed them over and over in his mind--over the last few years, over the last few minutes. It comes oddly warm in his gut to set them aside for a moment and contemplate what the quiet request of the other two men means to them.
They all know the risks. They all know the care, the discretion, the protective delicacy that they'll have to conduct themselves with. Two of them--two of the best men Horatio has ever known--are prepared for all that trouble for the simple reward of complete honesty with one another. One of them--the least deserving of this amazing gift--is fighting that honesty tooth and nail, the other two hearts be damned.
There will be time to hate himself later; to tear through the last few months and brand his sins against his mind like scars. Now, surely, there's time enough to let his heart behave the way hearts were meant to.
His lips press into a thin line as he wavers. His brow furrows more acutely as his hand on the table shifts briefly, thumb catching with nervous affection at Archie's fingers over his own. His breath comes in an unhappily sharp exhale as he lets himself turn, forehead seeking the unfamiliar security of pressing in against the crook of William's neck.
What an odd thing, to be so willing to die for these men and so petrified of showing living affection.
no subject
The words swim in his ears for a moment before properly settling in against the noise of his mind. They set a faintly different lens on reality as Horatio's mind flies back over the last few minutes of conversation.
They also make William's hand on his arm somewhat more gently insistent. They pull Archie's fingers on his hand into something somewhat more properly pleading.
Horatio knows the risks. He's weighed them over and over in his mind--over the last few years, over the last few minutes. It comes oddly warm in his gut to set them aside for a moment and contemplate what the quiet request of the other two men means to them.
They all know the risks. They all know the care, the discretion, the protective delicacy that they'll have to conduct themselves with. Two of them--two of the best men Horatio has ever known--are prepared for all that trouble for the simple reward of complete honesty with one another. One of them--the least deserving of this amazing gift--is fighting that honesty tooth and nail, the other two hearts be damned.
There will be time to hate himself later; to tear through the last few months and brand his sins against his mind like scars. Now, surely, there's time enough to let his heart behave the way hearts were meant to.
His lips press into a thin line as he wavers. His brow furrows more acutely as his hand on the table shifts briefly, thumb catching with nervous affection at Archie's fingers over his own. His breath comes in an unhappily sharp exhale as he lets himself turn, forehead seeking the unfamiliar security of pressing in against the crook of William's neck.
What an odd thing, to be so willing to die for these men and so petrified of showing living affection.