Chapter
Three
Wesker: It was the morning sun
trying desperately to peek through the curtains that aroused the
ex-ventriloquist from his happy dreamless sleep. He was warm but alone. A
blanket had been thrown over his curled form; glasses haven been taken from his
face again.
He
knew he was alone even without opening his eyes. The lack of body heat didn't
chill him, but it woken a sense of panic he had to will away before slowly
stirring in the bed and then sitting up.
Alfred
was gone. Probably off doing morning chores. Breakfast stuff. Arnold had to
tell himself. He had to remember the British man WAS a butler after all.
Hazy
blue slowly cracked open to a fuzzy room, and he set his mismatched hands into
his still blanketed lap and just sat there for a moment.
Asides
from being alone, he didn't feel all that scared. Last night had sure been an
experience, that fit he'd thrown and still the other had run away. Had
Wesker truly made a friend?
Oh
he hoped so.
Alfred: While
the usual morning would be a rush of activity that meant scolding the newer
cooks and having to help the maids in the southern wing, today was surprisingly
subdued. The cleanup effort had been nearly finished the night before, and
there were no important events scheduled today.. No parties, no meetings, no
remodeling... and no guests. Save for one.
One little guest who Alfred could devote the day to.
He wondered why the thought made him so happy as he stepped out of
the shower, wrapped himself in a dark towel. Early that morning, he'd woken up
and was startled to feel a body.. A person, clutching him. But when he
remembered who it was and why he was there.. What he'd done.. He felt nothing
but a sense of calm. He didn't have to work hard to extricate himself from
those arms, but kept his motions quiet as he left the room and went to his own
quarters. He was smiling as he did it. As he washed what hair he had, he was
smiling. Adjusting his tie and tugging on his jacket, he smiled. Placing the
monocle over one dark eyes, he smiled. As he passed the dim cook who'd set a
fire in the kitchen the night before while making Quiche Tarts, he smiled.
Alfred was known to moving about with that relaxed, stoic
expression.. The look of dry, reserved amusement that came so naturally. But..
now, he was practically grinning as he walked, as he helped himself to a piece
of toast in the kitchen and collected breakfast for Master Wayne, the breakfast
he regularly assembled that would sit on Bruce's end table and grow cool as the
Batman slept, face pressed into the pillow.
He was smiling as he returned to the kitchen and assembled another
morning meal- An omelet, sausage, and perhaps too much toast- And headed down
the hall to knock quietly on the door he'd be entering for the fourth time in
the past twelve hours.
Wesker: Evil.. no post evil hand did
a bit of fumble on the nightstand; he had a hutch. Glasses had to be.. had to
be.. ah yes! There they were! Fingers closed onto the thick frames and he
brought them up to his face so that he could see the new morning with brighter
eyes.
It
wasn't too bright, the shades were still drawn, but the morning Gotham Sun was
vigilant enough to chase away all the dimness. Wesker remained in the bed; for
a few reasons. Because he wasn't sure what to do; because his hair and
clothes were all bed wrinkled; but most of all, he sat in bed waiting for that
morning damn boner to go away.
Why
today? He didn't get them EVERY morning. In fact it was more
not getting them; then getting them these days.
He kind of wished
he could will it away rather then waiting for the blood to settled. Hands
lifted the blanket and he peered down at it for a moment, nothing overly
shocking; even if he'd run around with it, he wouldn't have put a maids eye
out. But still; just the sight of it made him feel a little shameful at
himself. Usually he was alone in his crappy apartment and he could ignore it
watching the news, or go and sit in the tub.
Go
away. He
narrowed his eyes and then sighed very loud; only to squeak as a knock came to
the door. ACK! Alfred was back!
The
Ex-Ventriloquist balled the blanket up over his lap, and clutched his
mismatching hands together over it. Don't let him see! He'll think you're a
pervert! And the idea of Alfred being displeased at him; even after
sharing a bed with him for most of the night; made Arnie feel more ashamed.
It
would be why his face was red, and his neck was sweaty by the time he let out a
cough. "I'm.. u-up! H-hello!"
Alfred: "Oh!"
He half-expected Wesker to be out like a light, but this was..
"Good!" His voice was raised slightly as he waited outside the door,
reached up to touch his fingers to the side of his neck with the hand that
wasn't balancing the small tray.
"Are you, er. Are you decent?" That could have been a
loaded question, but he figured opening the door while the man was changing
would have been terrifically awkward. Though.. What did he have to change into?
Still, he paused in front of the door, watching the wooden paneling as if it
were the one talking, and ignoring the prickle of warmth in his face as best he
could.
Wesker: "Are you decent?"
What a question! Wesker felt more sweat collecting on his neck,
and he jittered in the bed for a moment. He didn't want to keep Alfred waiting;
he could hear the light clink of something. Arnie wasn't dumb; he could gather
that A) Alfred had things to bring it or B) it was breakfast.
"Oh I'm-"
Breakfast in bed? As flattering at the idea sounded (and made his
stomach growl!) It made him a little sad to think the man was trying to serve
him again. Well, if anything, he would have to just enjoy the food like he
hadn't eaten in forever.
But what to do about... He lifted the blankets to scold at it once
more before balling it back over the top. He didn't want Alfred to think he was
doing something indecent in here. Maybe if you just keep it covered, he
won't notice.
"--Okay, just s-sitting."
He reached up quickly to wipe at the sweat on his forehead and
took a few deep breaths; tried to smooth what was left of his snowy white hair
into place and adjusted his glasses.
"You c-can come in if you want too."
Alfred: "Alright," he called, one hand moving to turn the knob
and slip inside the small room. When he set down the tray at the foot of the
bed and straightened up, Wesker could see a man who looked much less imposing
than he had only a few hours ago. He still stood stiffly, had a brisk look in
his eyes and put forward more than anything the idea that at all times he knew
just what he was doing... But now.. Well. When he glanced up to meet his eyes
with smooth yellowish lenses, he looked much more affectionate.
After all, he couldn't quite keep his mind off the other, and it
wasn't really so odd.. All this was a new and intriguing development, and naturally
he'd become rather taken with it. This was something he'd enjoy doing for quite
a while, taking care of Wesker-
And when you
don't need to take care of him anymore, what then? He's a man, after all,
sooner or later he'll straighten up and he won't need anyone to cling to
anymore. Will you be proud of him, or resentful? You are proud of Bruce, and
you don't wish he was a helpless teenager again, certainly.. But you miss his
moments of doubt, don't you? Moments he'd come to you, when he'd need the reassuring
accent and the steady white-gloved hands.
Incidentally, Alfred hadn't bothered with the gloves this morning.
Wesker: He wasn't sure if he was ready for company; honestly, but how
could he make a man like Alfred stand in the hallway while he spazed over his
own personal conflictions. No point being selfish. Only Wesker would find
such a trivial universal thing as what was afflicting him; selfish.
So he just balled up the blanket a bit tighter and turned his head
toward the opening door, and despite his nervousness, just seeing the other man
entering the room, brought a small smile on his face.
There WAS something different about Alfred today! He looked so
less.. butlery, even carrying a tray to the edge of the bed. Wesker's vision
dropped momentary to the tray and he felt his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten
since lunch yesterday; he probably would have some snacks last night if he'd
not fainted, but ah well. And wow.. look at all that toast.. that was the
biggest breakfast the little guy had seen in years. I can't eat all that.
Wow.
"G-good morning, Hello!" Arnie jerked his head back up
to smile at Alfred, nose wrinkling in a mousy manner, he gritted his teeth in a
smile, but didn't move from his position. Oh god, he wanted to leap on that
tray.. it smelled soooo good. But y'know....
"I'm s-sorry if I was too clingy, did you sleep okay? Did I
keep you up?" Hands balled up more tightly, retching the poor blanket
between his mismatched fingers. Why wasn't it going away? God!
Alfred: "Me? Aah.." He
hesitated. There was something.. odd about him this morning. Nervous and mousy
as usual, but.. Hmm.. "I slept fine- Please, don't worry about all
that. Have something to eat, I'm sure you're starved.." He rested in the
chair, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap.
"I can go and get your things from the laundry room, and then.." And
then.. what?
Alfred certainly wouldn't mind if Arnold stayed, but of course if
the other man needed to go home, Alfred could drive. At this point, he'd do any
little favor.. It was because of the apologetic gleam in those rarely seen
eyes, the humble way he requested and the blissful way he accepted affection.
Doing a favor would be a chore if it were for anyone else..
But..
Huh. There was something definitely different about him today. He
cocked an eyebrow, wondering to himself.. Wondering if he felt ill or.. Hmm..
Wesker:
The
notion that Alfred had sleep good, even with him wrapped around the taller man
like a clingy monkey, was a settling notion to Arnie's mind; but it did nothing
to settle his problem. Just a few more moments, it'll go away. Not if you
keep concentrating on it.
At the cock of the eyebrow, Arnie smiled and giggled
incredulously between his clenched teeth.
"Oookay!" He swallowed down the nervously laugh, and
just decided if he couldn't just sit there, so he did the next best thing;
scooted toward the tray on his butt, keeping the blanket in his lap. "You
r-really didn't have to wash them, b-but thanks! This looks really good."
Ugh. He hoped Alfred wouldn't take his strange behavior as if
Wesker wanted the other man to leave him alone. It was further from that truth.
He would have liked to enjoy his company for as long as he could. He knew that
after breakfast he would probably have to leave; he couldn't really stay here,
soaking up hospitality. But... like they said last night...
"I should p-probably go home soon..." But maybe he could come back another day? Or.. they could arrange something... He reached for the fork.
Alfred:
"You,
ah.." He glanced down at his lap, not paying too much attention to the way
Wesker ate his breakfast with one hand occasionally pressing down on his lap.
Alfred might not have seen it right away, but.. he wasn't stupid. Though saying
anything about what he thought was up would be quite improper. He allowed
himself a secretive little smile and kept his eyes averted-
"You don't have to. Unless you want to, I mean. That is...
Oh!" He changed the subject suddenly, looking up. "If you like I can
escort you to the bathing room and get something, er.. Clean for you?"
Though he realized as soon as he said it, Wesker.. wouldn't want to.. get up,
not if what Alfred suspected was so.
"..Or I could give you directions.." He bit his tongue,
trying not to make Arnold uncomfortable with all this. He wanted to help, but
not intrude..
Wesker: It was probably a good thing, Arnie didn't know Alfred had
figured out 'what was up.' He'd probably have dived under the covers turning
completely red. As it was, once he got a bit of that food into his mouth, he
couldn't stop eating it. It was.. damn good.
When you live off cold cereal or often just skipped breakfast;
just pouring coffee down your throat to get going in the morning, you forget
how good this kind of food was. When he'd been with Scarface, the puppet always
made him eat something. (And thus, he had pooch; another few months without
Scarface, and he'd loose a few more pounds.) 'Yer muddah ever teach yah
breakfast is dah most important meal of dah day? Sit yer tuggy ass down 'n'
feed me one of dose sausages."
Scarface might of been quite a bastard, but he'd always taken care
of Arnie, even if it wasn't good for him. He'd lived and kept living; now
without the puppet, he'd come to realize how bad he was at being on his own.
But maybe you have a friend now. Arnie put another shovel
of food into his mouth, took a bite of toast and then looked back up at Alfred.
"Or I could
give you directions."
Arnie blinked under his glasses and then tried as
inconspicuously as he could to peek under the covers. He wrinkled his nose with
a sigh and then looked back up at the butler.
"You can escort me if you want." Hah! Food wins.
He smiled.
Alfred: Alfred smiled
back, and then glanced at the tray.
"D'you mind if-" But of course the response he got was a head-shake,
and he took another piece of toast. As the two ate, Alfred occasionally
helping himself to a small something as Arnold sated his long-empty
stomach, they didn't talk too much. The butler had a feeling that
Arnold's problem was resolving itself, and felt a pang of guilt that he
was there, preventing Arnold from being the one to prompt the
resolution. But..
But really, did Arnold..?
He didn't seem like the type upon first glance, but was there really a
'type'? Everyone did it, didn't they? No matter.. He took another bite
of the tangle of bread, and it was about half-gone when he noticed
that most of the food was gone, and he piped up.
"Shall we?"
Wesker: Being as there was
MORE then enough for little Arnie's stomach (even poochy as it was), the
ex-ventriloquist didn't mind it one bit that Alfred shared the food with him.
As expected, the butler got nothing more then a quick face-full nod out of the
little man before the silent breakfast had continued.
Once finished and Alfred had indicated that they should
head on. Arnie nodded again, swallowing down the last bite of toast and finally
slipped out from under those covers.
He still clenched his teeth in worry as he slipped from the bed,
hoping it truly was gone. For his sake, his groin was flat, the material only
tented a little from the movement, and he quickly smoothed it down with
mismatched hands before it could look more conspicuous then it was.
Indeed a thought; if Alfred hadn't been here; if Arnold had been
home alone, would he have done.. anything about it? Usually not. Rarely did he
even give in to his own urges when they were more then just that
morning-wake-up-ten-minutes-before-you, even when it was obviously caused by
more then sleep. There was something hard-wired dirty into his head. Thanks to
Scarface; thanks to pervious attackers, thanks the whole world.
But it was gone; and though Arnold looked a mess; his shirt half
untucked, his neck sweaty, his face still sticky from sleep and the good
breakfast; he was cleaner in body now. Time to freshen up.
"Okay." He told Alfred with another nod; taking a moment
to pull the blanket back over the bed. Not quite making it, but not leaving it
in shambles either.
The smaller man took a step toward Alfred and clasped his hands
together. "I'm ready to go."
Alfred: "Very well." He might have
retained the clipped sort of speech that he'd been using all his career.. And
he'd been a butler for much more than half of his lifetime.. But he didn't
sound dismissive or stuffy at all. He picked up the tray- It was much lighter
with only a plate and a fork on it.. And was soon walking down the hall with
Wesker again.
"This is an expansive estate.. As you can tell, er.. There
are many rooms and many guest suites, but as this manor is very old and has had
no need to be completely retrofitted, there are not many latrines.." There
were only one or two for each floor, and in a mansion with only one family and
the servants using separate quarters, few bathrooms were added over the years.
Only enough to suit a family and a few guests at a time. Alfred paused as they
passed the kitchen where he'd gotten breakfast and dropped off the tray to a
still sleepy-eyed younger butler.
"There are two bathing facilities in the manor and two in the
servants' quarters. Master Bruce will be waking up soon and using the one
closest to his room, and so we will be going downstairs to the second in the
manor." Alfred wasn't usually this verbose, but the silenced between them
were slightly awkward.. He wasn't sure why. Something about the quietude of the
other man.. When he was silent.. It wasn't unsettling, exactly, but it
certainly gave him pause. Just as Wesker thought they couldn't possibly walk
further, they reached a large cage like elevator and boarded. The doors
clicked shut behind them, and Alfred only looked at the way the light was
thrown crisscross over Arnold's shoulders before pulling the lever and sending
them down..
Wesker: Wesker certainly did have a quaint quietness about
him. Almost as if he was afraid to talk most of the time. Which really was the
case. Arnie had never really been good at conversation. With his doctors, with
his rather distant mafia family; even when Mr. Scarface. It was usually the
dummy who spoke and Arnold who simply nodded in respect and gave the
occasional. 'Yes Sir, Mr. Scarface, Of course Mr. Scarface."
It
was almost the same way with Alfred as they walked down those long long
hallways. The only difference being his occasional. "Yes." And
"Of course" were said with a smile in his voice. Now that his
particular problem had ahem.. resolved itself, he didn't feel so uneasy. So he
paid attention to the surrounded, but mostly to Alfred. He noticed that the taller
man wasn't wearing gloves. He remembered how his hands had felt last night,
barely scrapping against the skin on his back where his shirt had a tendency to
ball up while he slept. The man had a workers hands; not the typical snooty
butler's hands. It was obvious the man did more then just butle. Maybe he
worked with machines, or who knows. It was like Wesker's one evil hand. They
could tell so very much.
When
they reached the elevator; Wesker was feeling a just little bit exhausted.
It wasn't the back hurting or the stiffness in his neck that he use to get from
standing for so long with Scarface. Just a little bit flushed in the face and
breathing a bit heavier.
Once
in side the elevator, the ex-criminal scooted a bit closer to Alfred. The
motion made him a little queasy due to just having eating, especially the
initial elevator-drop feeling. He managed to recover and finally looked up at
Alfred and gave him a thankful but pointed look. "I appreciate this much,
but you don't really have to go out of the way for me, I could get cleaned up
at home."
Though
he was pretty sure, these bathrooms Alfred were talking about were really
really nice. Even had a bathtub? Of course they had a bathtub! His
apartment had one, but it was dinky even for him.
And
would Alfred have anything that would fit Arnie; if what he said about getting
him into something cleaner was referring to his clothes? Hm.
Alfred: "It's not a trouble.." And
though he said that less than truthfully to many guests, this time it really
wasn't a trouble. Alfred slid back the lever as the elevator reached the lower
floor, and the doors slipped open with a low rattle. This bottom level looked
rather like a hotel, and though nothing at Wayne Manor could really be called
decrepit, this place had a more utilitarian appearance than the upper levels..
Not bare or even somber, but very subdued and practical. The colors were more
bluish and gray than the main ballroom, which had more of an earth tone.
As the two moved down the hall, which was dimly but coolly lit,
Arnold might have noticed that the facilities here were not living spaces but
more geared toward recreation. They passed doors marked for weights, aerobic
facilities.. Even an indoor pool! But.. Arnold might not have been looking at the
doors. He may have still been focused on Alfred.
The butler walked with his hands folded behind his back, and they
were a bit more creased and worn than one might have expected. They looked much
less sensitive than they seemed when hidden by white fabric..
The second bathing facility in the manor appeared, as Alfred
opened the sixth door on the right of the hall, as if it were meant for many
people. The air was clear.. It had not been recently used, and it seemed under
stocked as far as towels and soap, but there was still more than enough for
only one person.
Wesker: Indeed,
Arnold paid more attention to Alfred then the surroundings, but that didn't
mean he walked around like a love-sick puppy. He would give the occasional
glance at the recreation rooms as they passed them. The indoor pool got a brow
arch; it made Arnie try and think if he could even swim anymore. He hadn't done
it in ages. (Well ONCE when Rhino had driven right into the Gotham
River, and it had been more of a doggy paddle, gasping like a drowned rat to
get out of the water.)
"I'm
glad." He answered Alfred as the man said it was no trouble. Arnold didn't
want to be any trouble at all. He wouldn't have been able to stand it, if he
thought Alfred was finding the task of helping him out mundane and boring. (It
honestly SHOULD have been that way) but he figured the old butler ...was .. it
seemed he was almost enjoying himself.
Oh
Arnold could wish.
When
they reached the bathroom, the little man took a few steps into it and then looked
around. He looked at the sink the tub, and then back at Alfred, and then just
started unbuttoning his shirt! How Scandalous!
One had to
remember, this was a man who'd lived a lot of his life in a crowded
prison, an asylum; with a wooden puppet barking at him. While he
had shame and meekness for just about everything else. Arnold Wesker wasn't
really bothered with having to undress in front of people. He was so use to
either just slumping his clothes into a prison wash bin, or having orderlies
take them from him.
"Do you want
me to just put them on the sink? I can just put them back on, you don't need to
wash them, or get me anything." Skin was pale, Thin in most places, pudgy
little pot belly; he wouldn't even looked back up at Alfred till he'd shrugged
out of his shirt completely.
His
next response would completely depend on how the butler was reacting.
Alfred: That voice was completely moderated, and
his cheeks remained a modest pale, but Alfred wondered for a long moment
whether he ought to go to the on-site physician and have the nurse be sure that
he wasn't stricken with Angina. Alfred swallowed, regaining his composure with
lightning speed, and held out his hand.
"I can take those.."
Why had his heart hammered so loud for that second.. maybe two? As
he took the garment and folded it over his arm, he got the impression that
Arnold didn't mind that he was being.. looked at. For whatever reason, Alfred
wanted to see. To look, just for a few moments- Though no one could call the
Ventriloquist a beauty.. Alfred wasn't exactly a hunk by any usual standards
either. And was that why he wanted to look..?
The glasses that brought a quietude to his face, like a blank
mask.. And the white, papery skin.. Alfred gulped. It wasn't.. Well.. No. It
couldn't be sexual attraction. But.. It was definitely attraction. Something
about him..
Wesker: Now had Alfred been red or had turned around
quickly, Arnold would have remember right quick he wasn't in the Asylum, and
Alfred wasn't a orderly who was utterly use to seeing every freak, psycho and
loon stark naked. He would have gulped and apologized. But since the other man
just held out his hands for the clothes Arnie continued.
He
didn't have much to take off; really. His outer jacket, tie and shoes had been
removed last night. It was honestly just the pants and socks. Socks came off
first, then his hands went to his belt buckle and pants. A little grunting to
get them down off slightly pudgy hips and he was soon stepping out of them and
handing them over to the butler. This left the ex-criminal in a pair of old,
but cleanish looking white underwear. Asides from the waistband looking a
little torn, they didn't seem too bad. He didn't have a lot of body hair, or
what he did have was either too light to see, save for the heavier trail that
went from his belly button into his groin.
No,
Arnie wasn't pretty. He had thin bony wrists and ankles; pudgy midsection,
thinning hair. Though granted most of his skin looked soft and pale, he wasn't
breaking out in liver spots. The best way to describe him was oddly cute, if
you looked past his age and at the typical not-so-appreciative features. He did
have scars though. Lots of them. Crisscrossing over his wrists from handcuffs
dug too deep. Almost fingernail like scratches on his hips, and even a rather
nasty scar just under his waist line where a bullet had grazed him (By
Scarface itself) that only became visible once he yanked down his
underwear.
Because
yes, he did yank them down. He wasn't worried if Alfred saw his cock or not. It
wasn't acting like it had earlier that morning, it was behaving, limp. Though
once he got the underwear down and off, there was a light rush of blood.
..to
his face. Because it dawned on him. Not that he was naked before the man, but
his underwear. That's gross. He didn't want to give those to Alfred. They were
balled up in his mismatched hands in front of his belly and he stammered.
"I'll k-keep these.."
Alfred:
"If
you like-" Alfred was almost completely expressionless, but there was a
tumult behind that clean, reflective monocle. Part of him wanted to laugh.. It
was almost like Arnold was ashamed of the state of his underpants.. Of all
things to be embarrassed of! But.. a second part of him felt very
uncomfortable, because the third part wanted badly to reach out and feel what
the pale scarred skin at his hip was like to touch. He was small and trembly
wrapped up in his clothing- Imagine what he'd feel like without all that,
how secure he'd be wrapped in your ar-
Now. Alfred.
He shook his head slightly when Arnold wasn't looking, swallowing.
He wasn't too far gone to acknowledge that this attraction was entirely
unhealthy. It wasn't even so much that Arnold was a man.. Alfred was too
wrapped up in the WHY. You don't see him as an equal, do you, Alfred? You
see him as a human.. More than most reformed criminals, sure, but not an equal.
And can you really love someone you don't entirely respect? You don't love him,
you just love how he makes you feel.
And, well.. If all you love is your own feelings, don't go being
tender and doing him a disservice, not when you claim you want to help.
"I.. I'll go.." He mumbled, taking a step back. "If
you want to be left alone.."
Wesker:
Yes, aha,
of all things, Arnie was worried over his underwear. But once, Alfred didn't
insist on taking them, the little guy folded them up and put them on the
bathroom counter. He didn't notice Alfred's inner turmoil over the situation,
how could he? Granted, if he'd known, he might of curled up at the butler's
feet and whined. To love or not to love.
What
was happening between these two men? Was Arnie becoming attached to the butler?
Vice-Versa? Or were they using each other for outlets to their own problems in
life? Whatever the case was, Arnie knew that normally he would have skittered
right home, yet here he was, he'd stayed, and of all things he was naked in
front of another man.
Even
if Arnie had slept in Alfred's arms last night, that didn't mean he loved
him, or the same thing right back. Just Alfred made him feel safe. Really safe.
He didn't even mind the man looking at him. He did, however, catch the slight
stutter in the other man's comment.
Brows
raised a bit, and then Arnie bowed his head and let out a sheepish chuckle.
"I..don't mind, but you don't have to stay if you don't w-want too..
Heh.. I can handle this myself."
Not
like I expect you to come wash my back or something, no, not like that. But even Arnie had to
admit it was a stirring thought.
Stirring..
better get into the tub before something did start stirring. Thinking like
that.
Right!
He turned away quickly and walked over to the tub to turn on the water, bending
just slightly. Alfred would at least be spared the usual bare-assed
white-blinding eyeful. Since the ex-Ventriloquist never spent time in the sun,
he didn't have obnoxious tan to none-tan areas. "T-thank you for
everything."
Alfred:
"My
pleasure.." He had to bite his tongue before saying anything further, and
took a few rapid steps back before turning and leaving the room. As the door
clicked shut behind him, he let out a little uncharacteristically bitter curse.
His walk down the long hall to the elevator wasn't brisk and calm so much as
stiff and rushed, and when he released the lever as he reached the floor just
above, he sighed.
He wasn't sure how to describe his feelings, or explain what
brought them on.. Nothing made SENSE. The walk to the laundry room barely
registered to the shaken butler, and he didn't realize where he'd been heading
until he arrived. He tossed the items of clothing into the shallow basket just
inside the door, and retrieved a few of Master Bruce's less expensive things
from an outgoing rack. Bruce was a down to earth sort of fellow who placed his
entire heart into his job, and the notion that he'd be upset over a missing
shirt or two didn't even occur to the butler. In his state, nothing much
occurred to him beside the burning desire to kiss that barely wrinkled forehead
again.
Alfred furrowed his brow as he climbed back into the elevator, wiping his own forehead before pulling the lever. He was beginning to scare himself, thinking like that.. He hadn't had the urge to act on such libidinous feelings in so long.. But there was the thrill of having a sort of.. project, and that couldn't be mistaken for love or even lust. Not at all.
The hallway was warmer than he remembered.. Or was that him? Well.
He clutched the clothing a bit closer to his chest as he stood in front of the
door.
Can't go in.
No, can't go in until you get rid of this sort of.. Well.. Urge.
Hmm. The urge to.. what, exactly?
The urge to take off his monocle and have a bath with the reformed
little creature?
Alfred shuddered, bowing his head slightly, and wished desperately that he'd driven Arnold home. For the sake of BOTH of them. But he turned the knob and opened the door..
Wesker: Arnie blinked a bit under his glasses as Alfred
headed out. He felt a bit of guilt wallow up in his throat. Maybe Alfred had
really wanted to stay and talk to him some more? Maybe he had wanted to
wash his back. Had Arnold's sudden independence upset him.
Don't
get so cocky to think that it might pain someone to not spend time with you. He scolded himself.
So
with a sigh, he plugged up the tub and let it fill up. Only once the tub was
filled enough to his liking did he reach up and take off those glasses and set
them on the top of the toilet. The world around him immediately became blurry,
but he could see enough of the tub to settle himself down into the water.
Which
was hotter then he'd originally thought. Shouldn't of used his calloused up
hand to test it! Argh, it was a bit tougher then the rest of his weak soft
body. Arnie grinned and bared the hot water though, Sinking into the tub and
letting out a hard sigh.
Now he should of
just been washing, getting in and out. He wasn't at home, he was suppose to be
just cleaning up. But the ex-ventriloquist found his mind wandering. He
couldn't help but think how nice it would be to have Alfred around every day.
Not to do stuff for him, but just the other man's company. He'd never felt so
safe in his life as he'd been last night. All the bad things that had
every happened had been forgotten for a few blissful hours sleeping in
those lightly wrapped arms. Amidst the drag of the Brit's breath, Arnie had
forgotten everything about the mob, about black gate, Donnegon, Scarface,
Arkham. It had just been them.
It
had been nice.
God
yes, if only it could last. Was it selfish of Arnold to even ponder what it
would be like to spend the rest of his life with Alfred? If they were more then
just random sleep over buddies, more then friends, more then...
The
turning of the doorknob broke his daydreaming and Wesker sat up a bit. Blind
blue eyes squinted, trying to see past his own bad vision and the water on his
face. It had plastered what was left of his white hair to his temples and neck.
"A-alfred?"
Alfred: The butler paused in the doorway,
freezing in place, hand gingerly placed upon the doorknob. A thin mist of steam
had begun to cloud the room, and the air was much warmer than in had been.
His glasses were off.
Without them, Arnold squinted toward the door, face set, and
Alfred.. wasn't sure why he kept his mouth shut, watching quietly from the
door. Maybe he didn't want to disturb the peaceful way he was sitting in the
water?
Alfred had really better stop lying to himself.
He removed his hand from the doorknob but didn't move, didn't
speak.. Just.. Watched, barely breathing. The white of his skin and his hair
and the tile.. It all blended together in the steam rising off the water..
Wesker: Mmh. Maybe he'd been mistaken. Blind
blue squinted a little harder toward the door of the bathroom, but he
couldn't make out anything. He had trouble seeing his own hands in front of his
face clearly, let alone across the damn room. Yet still, he'd been pretty sure
he'd heard the door opening. And honestly he couldn't imagine Alfred would just
be standing there, staring at him right?
Oh
god, if only Arnie knew.
After
another movement of squinting the ex-criminal finally just sighed out loud to
himself and figured he really should get to washing. Mismatched hands fumble
around the edge of the of the rather large tub till he finally found the
soap...
..
and he knocked it right into the water. "Oh, darnnit."
That
meant searching around the bottom of the tub for the slippery thing like an
idiot. Which he did, for almost a full minute before he came up with the
thing and rubbed it together to form a sudsy foam to start washing himself
with.
He'd
barely started on one shoulder when he paused again and squinted at the door.
He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there, either that or the door
was open. He felt that creeping panic starting in his chest.
Just
grab your glasses and check.
So
Arnold stood up in the tub, water poured off him, collected in his navel and
continued lower, and he reached for his glasses on the top of the toilet.
Alfred: Alfred felt a creeping fear rise up in his
throat, a mixture of shame and alarm, and closed the door with a loud click.
"Hullo,
Arnold, just.. I have, ah, some new clothes.. " He came very close to
stammering, trying to pretend he'd only just arrived, his grip on the white
sleeve of the shirt near enough to bruise someone's arm. The fabric wasn't so
easily affected. "I.." He gulped, not sure of what to do, and
couldn't help his gaze from straying.. Oh my.
He
felt red creeping over his face, despite his very best efforts.. He felt his
facade cracking, shattering into several pieces on the floor. He felt as
though his accent could turn Cockney and his gait could take on a loping
quality at any second, he felt as though he could throw his monocle into the
waste bin near the door. All he could do at the moment was drape the clothing
over the closed lid of the toilet and snatch up the yellowy glasses before
Wesker could take them and.. SEE.
"These're
all fogged up, do you no good.." He muttered, brows raising. Strangely
beautiful, he was. One might think, 'he was a handsome young man!' But really,
Alfred imagined his looks hadn't diminished at all.. Just changed.
Wesker: Even though Arnie couldn't see his hearing
was quite fine. Even as Alfred tried his best to sound like nothing was wrong,
Arnold could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He could tell something was off
the norm for the bottlish butler.
"O-okay."
He said lightly as Alfred snatched up his glasses in almost too quick of a
manner. He accepted the excuse even though his own brain easily told him: you
could wipe them off, there was a wash cloth right there. But Arnie was diligent
in that manner; he would never argue with someone.
Yet
he really did want to know what was wrong with Alfred. But certainly it wasn't
because of him, right now! Certainly Arnold did not cause this
heightened confused sense. Making Alfred catch his breath faster, his heart
beat harder, feeling hot under the collar?
Arnie
might of taken and nose dive into the bath, the sheer knowledge that someone
was finding him appealing, dear god. That would've been too much, right? Or was
it exactly what he might of needed to help him heal?
"T-thank you
for the clothes.. I'll be done soon, just need to wash.." He slowly sat
back down into the tub, ah but the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.
"Maybe you should sit down f-for a moment, you sound out of breath. You
d-don't have to rush around for me... Please." He didn't want Alfred
waiting on him. He kind of really wished he could see him. Ah but he'd have to
settled.
He
shifted his head back down to stare blindly at the water, and then his brows
canted in worry, mouth pulled in a sorrowful line. "... I lost the soap
again.. "
Alfred: He didn't need to be told twice! Alfred sat heavily upon the shut
toilet, the plastic seat creaking just a little bit with the pressure. He
allowed himself a slow out breath, fiddling with the glasses between rough
fingers, and wiped them absentmindedly against his shirt.. Though they weren't
even terribly foggy.
But then..
Alfred swallowed, eyes flicking to rest on the tub.. The water
that had gotten slightly cloudy with soap, and he felt his hands trembling. He
rested the glasses, after a few long moments' deliberation, upon the tile
floor, and felt himself tugging off the coat with tails, felt him drape that
over the toilet and felt himself kneeling beside the large ceramic basin. And
then.
And then he wondered why the hell he was pushing up one
shirtsleeve and..
Well! One could hardly protest with one's body when it acted..
Alfred couldn't protest with his arm as it felt carefully along the bottom of
the tub, staying far away from the Ventriloquist's body.. As far as he could
be. He wondered if Arnold could even see him there.. But the ripples from his
arm and.. maybe even his shallow outward breaths.. They could be felt, most
definitely.
Wesker: Arnold
actually let out a little sigh of his how when he heard Alfred sit down. He
didn't want the poor man running ragged. Not for him.. Not for him.
..and he certainly
didn't expect Alfred to go and try to fish the soap for him! While he couldn't
see Alfred outside of a blurry butler shaped mass, he could hear the water
sloshing and feel the waves and yes, the other man's breath.
"Oh! No you
don't have too! I can find it!!" Arnie let out a squeak and tried
desperately to find the soap before the other did. Boy, this game should of
brought back some horrible memories, but the only thing Arnie could think about
was not making Alfred do anything more for him, he'd already done so much. The
small man leaned forward in the tub as he franticly felt around for the elusive
chiclet of soap.
He
didn't find it.
But
he DID find Alfred's own searching hand. For a moment calloused
fingers soften by the hot water clasped onto the other's hand, squeezing
briefly before he realized that wasn't the soap. "Sorry!" He
actually jerked, splashing.. poor Alfred with bath water. Not even
knowing he did it.
But
then the ex-Ventriloquist did something strange. A low little laugh left him,
and he smiled. "Gosh, I'm sorry, did I get you wet? Did you find the soap?
God.. this must be so silly right now."
Alfred: Even through the emotion
that most closely resembled horror at his own actions.. Through all that, he
could note how.. different the noise of a laugh sounded coming from that man.
It was the sort of noise that made his heart prickle with warmth, and he
withdrew his arm from the water, rested it on the edge of the tub. The sound of
Arnold's laugh provoked a little chuckle from the butler, and he rested his chin
on crossed arms.
"Don't worry about it."
Those hands had felt so sure around his.. Thinking that he'd found
the soap, Arnold had grasped so eagerly and tightly..
The splash was nothing. In fact, it only charmed Alfred further.
Yes.. It could have been the steam, it could have been that he wasn't quite
feeling himself, but.. The mixture of pity and tenderness he felt for the other
man was being joined with another, more intense flood of feeling.. The little
nervous manner, the way he squinted, the way his hair stuck to his skin..
Alfred was charmed.
"Not a problem at all.."
Wesker: Arnold's wet head tilted a little, puppish like when
the little scamps hear an interesting noise. So there he sat; naked in a tub
with that escaped bar of soap melting somewhere in the tub (No doubt it was
under his butt, that's where it always ended up when you loose soap, we just
never bother to check.)
The
smaller man squinted hard, blinking quite a bit. His vision was poor; but at
this moment, he didn't need to see. He could hear the other man pause, rest,
and that charming little chuckle he produced right back. It made Arnie want to
laugh again, and then maybe cry a little bit. This felt good, and it was so
strange.
"You've put
up with s-so much from me in the last twelve hours.. I don't know how you could
manage, I'm such a pest." He turned a bit in the water to face Alfred; he
could see his outline barely. "Taking care of me while I was out, letting
me cry on your shoulder, sleeping with me... " He trailed off and reached
up with a wet hand to rub at his balding head, his cheeks were flushed and it
wasn't from the hot water either.
"I
c-can't thank you enough." That was nearly a whisper. Arnold dropped his
chin to his chest in a humble manner. "You don't really have to spend more
time with me, I appreciate w-what you've done so far."
He bite his own
lip and sloshed a little nervously in the water. "Unless you want.. I'd
want you too.. I mean.."
There
was a short pause and then Wesker sighed loud. ".. are you sure you're not
upset I splashed you?"
Alfred: "I'm not." There was something
about the unsure sound of his voice and the way his head dropped.. Alfred
tugged gently at his tie, undoing the bow of the thick black ribbon around his
throat, and let the short strap fall on top of his coat. When that was done, he
turned his attention back to his guest, one hand dipping into the water.
"It'll dry. It's just water.." And before he knew what
he was doing, he was leaning forward.. Slowly, not wanting to startle the
myopic fellow.. And placing his mouth right against Arnold's. Lightly, and not
at all forcefully, but in such a way that Arnold could feel his intent without
any question. Alfred remained there for a few long seconds before pulling back,
letting out a shaky breath, gripping the white edges of the tub with uneasy
hands.
"Just water."