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arch_calzen(I think I'll stop adding the heading, at least until something changes (the rating?))
A/N for the chapter: I am in love with this house, therefore I declare Douglas' to be a similar one.
Also, I still failed (again. AGAIN) to fit everything I had planned for the initially ninth chapter, so the hints from the previous one float gracefully through this one and on to the next one :DDD Oh gosh, I am a horrible person
And on an entirely different matter, Timbuktu is brilliant!!! All the feels
Part 10
* * *
Douglas glanced to his right and turned the volume control, reducing the soft sounds of ‘La traviata’ to almost lullaby-like state. In the passenger seat, Martin curled up as much as the seatbelt would allow him – which wasn’t much and certainly didn’t seem extremely comfortable, – resting his head against the window and dozing.
Martin’s van refused to start back at the airfield, and Douglas managed to save himself from the epic sulk that threatened to follow by offering to give him a lift home. It would be only convenient, as Martin had previously declared he had no moving job scheduled for the weekend, and prepared to spend the two days sleeping and reading. And since a trip to Martin’s house was only a small detour on his way home, Douglas deemed it be only convenient.
Martin nodded off almost immediately after the amusement of the evening died down, no longer fueled by Arthur’s enthusiasm. Which gave Douglas plenty of time alone to think. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any before, but he disliked the idea of mulling over important things while in presence of anyone else. Plus, the rolling railway bed and soft hum of the car’s engine disposed to meditative musing.
Yes, Douglas had accepted that it would be wise for them not to hasten. The obvious reason for that would be to give Martin time to adjust, as he was the younger one in the pair, thus the less experienced, confident, and secure. A great deal of time would be required of him to learn how to exist in a relationship – and in a somewhat unorthodox one, to speak honestly – but underneath the obvious reason there lay another one, and Douglas reluctantly allowed it to surface in his mind. The thing was, the older man was probably just as insecure, treading a path yet unknown.
True, his reputation of a Sky God was not build on nothing; even though ‘thousands of stewardesses’ was indeed a bit of an exaggeration, no one would claim that Douglas Richardson professed celibacy. And yet, regardless of the above statement, the fact was that his otherwise wide experience never included blokes.
Really, Douglas never doubted his sexuality, never had awkward boners in school showers, never caught himself staring at someone’s muscled forms: really, neither his body nor his mind ever gave him a single reason to suspect anything.
Besides, his generation was not exactly accepting, and it was not really easy to shake off the prejudices rooted deep in his unconscious.
Douglas tore his gaze away from the road and looked at Martin’s sleeping form, all dangly limbs and sharp angles, not in the least softened by an ill-sized uniform.
To be honest, his Lexus was infinitely more used to carrying somewhat curvier creatures with silky hair and long eyelashes – in short, definitely, definitely female creatures, whereas Martin was anything but female.
And this, coupled with the fact that their relationship was shifting now from friendship to something more intimate… Douglas wouldn’t be able to lie to himself about it: yes, this was unnerving.
He spared another glance at the sleeping man and resolutely did not turn when the car reached the furcation which led to Martin’s house. Once again, Douglas Richardson was up to the challenge.
Douglas gripped the wheel a bit tighter and thinned his lips in thought.
* * *
Martin was fairly sure he had been dreaming, though he was unable to remember the subject. That was the problem with falling asleep in transport: infinitely uncomfortable position, shallow, half-awake state of slumber, and a nauseating feeling of a fever even if one was as healthy as one could be.
Ugh.
And someone was shaking him. Slightly, yes, but the movement echoed in his sore and stiff neck. Martin moaned quietly.
“Martin,” he recognized Douglas’ voice a second later. “Wake up.”
“Nnngh,” he replied and attempted to get away from the persistent assault. The attempt wasn’t a success, however, as he was restrained by the seatbelt and the window pressing against his forehead.
“We ther’ ‘lready?” Martin mumbled, trying to lift his eyelids. God, why was he so sleepy? It wasn’t like stand-by was an exceptionally tiresome occupation.
“Excellent observation, if Sir doesn’t mind me saying so,” a hint of amusement and – fondness? – undertoned the voice.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, the sooner you get up, the sooner you will lie down, if it isn’t too much of a paradox for your brain at the moment.”
“Mmmph,” Martin was incapable of producing anything that resembled words at the moment. He felt Douglas’ hand slide off his shoulder and the car dip slightly as the older man got out of it, closing the door. Cold winter air from outside swirled into the car, and Martin fidgeted uncomfortably, sensitive in his half-asleep state.
Muffled sounds of footsteps reached his hearing as Douglas rounded the vehicle and tapped gently at the window. Martin got the indication and made himself straighten a bit, so that his upper body wouldn’t fall out of the car. A rush of chilly air washed over him as his door was opened.
Martin cracked his eyes open a fraction, squinting as Douglas bent and leant forward to unbuckle the seatbelt. The younger man let his eyes close again, inhaling deeply when the rough fabric of Douglas’ coat brushed his nose and right cheek.
“Okay, now you really have to make yourself functional,” well, that was definitely amusement. “Not that I would mind, no, but I believe it’s a tad bit too soon to carry you over the threshold.”
“Mmmmnn,” Martin blinked slowly, his lips stretching in a sleepy unguarded smile. Douglas smiled back and squeezed his shoulder briefly. “Come on, up you go,” he spurred him gently once again and disappeared from Martin’s vision. Judging by the sounds and the cold air swirling now behind him, Martin guessed Douglas was retrieving their belongings from the backseat. He finally gathered his strength and will and swung his legs to the side. And yet again was he reminded of his height as his feet dangled above the ground instead of being placed neatly on it. The changed position found him leaning against his seat sideways, and the temptation to rest his head against it as well was almost too much.
“Impressive. Another effort, perhaps?” Douglas was in front of him yet again, their bags clasped in one hand, the other holding the door open.
Martin frowned. Another effort seemed too much. But the cocooning warmth has already seeped from the car, and he still had to climb the stairs to his attic… Yeah, better get going.
‘Wait… two bags?’ a stray thought passed his mind as he heaved himself out of the car. Douglas stepped aside to make room, and Martin was finally able to look at the house in front of him.
“’Tis not my house,” he managed, cool air awakening him almost instantly even though he still swayed a bit.
“Nice observation, Captain. Sir is certainly at his best tonight,” Douglas closed and locked the door behind him.
“But why? Why?” Martin shook his head, attempting to make his hazy mind work.
“For purely practical reasons, you see. I surprisingly found myself low on fuel, and while it would definitely allow me to make it to your house, it just as definitely might present certain difficulties on my way home, and there aren’t any twenty-four-hour petrol stations or aeroplane fuel tanks on said way. So, sadly, you are stuck here for tonight. Now this way, please,” Martin stared at the house dumbfound, listening to Douglas’ eloquent speech, then followed him just as absently. Something didn’t sound too fool-proof in the explanation, but Martin couldn’t make himself care. Anyway, staying overnight at a house which belonged to the person you fancied, what could be better?
“Aand here we are,” Douglas announced as they entered the house. Martin hasn’t been there after the divorce, when Helena and Douglas sold their house and split the money, and the only thing he could tell so far was that this building was definitely smaller.
Douglas switched on the lights and shrugged off his coat, indicating for Martin to do the same, then routinely gestured around from left to right, “Loo and kitchen to the left from the staircase, living-room and storage to the right, this door leads to the garden, that one leads to the garage. Guestroom, bedroom, study and bathroom upstairs. That’s it,” he kicked off his shoes, placing them on the shoeshelf, and stepped on a small carpet lying in the middle of the hall. Martin mimicked the motions absently and glanced around. “It’s… a lovely place.”
Douglas shrugged indifferently. Martin couldn’t help but notice as the other man’s mood dropped, though he could not for his life define the reason.
“Are you hungry?” Douglas asked, and with surprise Martin heard his stomach rumble. True, it was not like he had eaten much during the day, but neither had he worked, so he couldn’t say he felt particularly starving.
“Um, uh, no? I mean, it’s fine, I’m not really. No, not really,” Douglas was standing so close, and Martin found himself staring down at the carpet’s unobtrusive ornament showing between their socked feet.
“Maybe tea or coffee?” low, almost purr-like voice sent a small shiver down Martin’s spine. He looked up and was immediately caught in a firm yet gentle kiss. Martin sighed, tilting his head to a side, hands sliding up on their own accord to Douglas’ sides, while the older man’s arms encircled his waist in a loose hold – not demanding or pressing, just there. Douglas’ lips coaxed his mouth to open, and Martin easily let him in, lost in sensation. He’s never done an awful lot of kissing in his life, no, but still he had enough data to compare – and Douglas’s touch and taste just didn’t feel like anything he’s ever felt before, and it was intoxicating.
Douglas started to pull back, and Martin quickly raised his hands to cradle the older man’s head and stood on tiptoe and kissed him again. He felt Douglas smiling against his lips.
“Martin. Martin…” each word was accentuated by another peck. “You…” the hold tightened fractionally, and the younger man nipped slightly at his lower lip.
“Ah you little..!” And just so, Martin was swept up as the embrace suddenly reached a rib-crushing level, Douglas pressing him against his chest and even spinning a little.
“Bha- wait- put me down!” Martin choked out in mock-horror. Douglas complied after pressing his lips against Martin’s crown and breathing in. Initially, Martin had to lean forward a bit after he found his footing, and he looked up to meet Douglas’ fond gaze. He almost reached up again for another kiss, but was treacherously interrupted by an almost jaw-dislocating yawn.
“And impressive yet again,” he felt Douglas’ chuckle rumble through his chest as the older man’s hands rubbed small circles in his back. “Tea, then. And bed. But first of all – shower.”
Martin smiled and nodded, pushing back to finally regain his balance instead of slumping against Douglas’ broad form. “Oh, but…” he started in confusion. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”
Douglas licked his lips in brief thought, then stepped around Martin and headed upstairs, “Let’s find something for you, then.” Martin picked up his bag and followed.
As they reached the upper floor, Douglas paused for a second, gesturing to the left. “First door is guestroom – you’ll be staying there – next one is my study. And here,” he crossed the distance in two wide steps to the right and pulled the door open, “is my bedroom. Come in.”
Martin treaded in after the other man somewhat sheepishly – was it appropriate to stomp into people’s bedrooms just like that? Douglas seemed oblivious of his inner battle as he opened his wardrobe to the right from the door and started rummaging through it.
“Bathroom’s that way,” Martin followed the direction of Douglas’ thumb and saw the half-opened door. “There are spare towels in the closet near the bath, choose whichever tickles your fancy.” Martin nodded absently, glancing around the room. It wasn’t exactly big – just like any other room in this house seemed not to be – but still large enough to contain a double bed with two nightstands, a wide bookcase and a wider wardrobe, plus a cozy, soft-looking armchair. The head of the bed was against the right wall, and the bookcase was standing at the opposite wall, with the bathroom door to the left from it and the armchair between the bookcase and the window, a low desk standing close to it.
“Ah-ha,” Douglas exclaimed in satisfaction and straightened back, holding out some folded clothes to Martin. “I’m afraid it’s not quite your size… Who am I kidding, one can probable fit two or three of you in those,” he smiled as Martin accepted the clothes.
“Thank you.”
“Take your time. Come downstairs afterwards, I think I had some biscuits in one of the cupboards.” Douglas glanced at him fondly before heading out, leaving him with no other choice but to go to the bathroom.
After shower, tea and some more snogging – brief as it was, since both of them were almost falling asleep – the two men arrived at the upper floor yet again and stopped between the two doors, turning to face each other.
“My, and don’t you look twenty.”
Martin attempted not to blush at the appreciative remark, fiddling with the hem of the borrowed t-shirt as he glanced up at Douglas. Something – some emotion was there, in his voice and his eyes, and Martin almost frowned in confusion, but it was gone in less than a second.
“Well, you can’t blame me for wearing stuff twice my size,” he retorted half-heartedly, suppressing a yawn. It was true; the t-shirt, even though it was too small for Douglas, hung loosely on his shoulders, while the sweatpants swallowed up his feet almost to the toes and were so big that he had to constantly retie the intentionally decorative lace that served as a belt.
“Who said I was blaming you?” Douglas leant forward slowly to give him a warm kiss, and Martin melted happily into it for a few seconds before pulling back and straining to make his eyes stay open. Douglas sighed and nudged him softly towards the door to the guestroom.
“See you tomorrow.” Martin looked around and saw Douglas taking half a step back to his own bedroom, reaching behind to grasp the door handle, eyes still focused on the younger man.
“Good night,” he smiled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. It was a slightly smaller room than Douglas’, with a single bed, an armchair, a small wardrobe and several shelves filled with books, heavy curtains drawn to block the view out of the window. All in all, the room, while inhabitable, didn’t look exactly lived-in. Martin felt a faint stab of sorrow at the thought that Douglas didn’t have a lot of visitors, at least since the divorce. For a second, he contemplated an idea to cross the small corridor to Douglas’ bedroom and comfort the other man, but then decided against it; surely that wasn’t the man’s main concern at the moment; and anyway, both of them did need their sleep.
Douglas had already made the bed for him while Martin showered, so all he had to do now was to climb in the bed and turn off the lamp on the nightstand. As the room sank into darkness, he sighed and rolled onto his side, inhaling the smell of the sheets and his clothes and pretending he could feel Douglas’ scent behind the washing powder.
* * *
* * *
Aaand that's it for now. Ugh. See me failing at writing kissing -_-; I wonder what I am going to do when we get to the smut :D
A/N for the chapter: I am in love with this house, therefore I declare Douglas' to be a similar one.
Also, I still failed (again. AGAIN) to fit everything I had planned for the initially ninth chapter, so the hints from the previous one float gracefully through this one and on to the next one :DDD Oh gosh, I am a horrible person
And on an entirely different matter, Timbuktu is brilliant!!! All the feels
Part 10
* * *
Douglas glanced to his right and turned the volume control, reducing the soft sounds of ‘La traviata’ to almost lullaby-like state. In the passenger seat, Martin curled up as much as the seatbelt would allow him – which wasn’t much and certainly didn’t seem extremely comfortable, – resting his head against the window and dozing.
Martin’s van refused to start back at the airfield, and Douglas managed to save himself from the epic sulk that threatened to follow by offering to give him a lift home. It would be only convenient, as Martin had previously declared he had no moving job scheduled for the weekend, and prepared to spend the two days sleeping and reading. And since a trip to Martin’s house was only a small detour on his way home, Douglas deemed it be only convenient.
Martin nodded off almost immediately after the amusement of the evening died down, no longer fueled by Arthur’s enthusiasm. Which gave Douglas plenty of time alone to think. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any before, but he disliked the idea of mulling over important things while in presence of anyone else. Plus, the rolling railway bed and soft hum of the car’s engine disposed to meditative musing.
Yes, Douglas had accepted that it would be wise for them not to hasten. The obvious reason for that would be to give Martin time to adjust, as he was the younger one in the pair, thus the less experienced, confident, and secure. A great deal of time would be required of him to learn how to exist in a relationship – and in a somewhat unorthodox one, to speak honestly – but underneath the obvious reason there lay another one, and Douglas reluctantly allowed it to surface in his mind. The thing was, the older man was probably just as insecure, treading a path yet unknown.
True, his reputation of a Sky God was not build on nothing; even though ‘thousands of stewardesses’ was indeed a bit of an exaggeration, no one would claim that Douglas Richardson professed celibacy. And yet, regardless of the above statement, the fact was that his otherwise wide experience never included blokes.
Really, Douglas never doubted his sexuality, never had awkward boners in school showers, never caught himself staring at someone’s muscled forms: really, neither his body nor his mind ever gave him a single reason to suspect anything.
Besides, his generation was not exactly accepting, and it was not really easy to shake off the prejudices rooted deep in his unconscious.
Douglas tore his gaze away from the road and looked at Martin’s sleeping form, all dangly limbs and sharp angles, not in the least softened by an ill-sized uniform.
To be honest, his Lexus was infinitely more used to carrying somewhat curvier creatures with silky hair and long eyelashes – in short, definitely, definitely female creatures, whereas Martin was anything but female.
And this, coupled with the fact that their relationship was shifting now from friendship to something more intimate… Douglas wouldn’t be able to lie to himself about it: yes, this was unnerving.
He spared another glance at the sleeping man and resolutely did not turn when the car reached the furcation which led to Martin’s house. Once again, Douglas Richardson was up to the challenge.
Douglas gripped the wheel a bit tighter and thinned his lips in thought.
* * *
Martin was fairly sure he had been dreaming, though he was unable to remember the subject. That was the problem with falling asleep in transport: infinitely uncomfortable position, shallow, half-awake state of slumber, and a nauseating feeling of a fever even if one was as healthy as one could be.
Ugh.
And someone was shaking him. Slightly, yes, but the movement echoed in his sore and stiff neck. Martin moaned quietly.
“Martin,” he recognized Douglas’ voice a second later. “Wake up.”
“Nnngh,” he replied and attempted to get away from the persistent assault. The attempt wasn’t a success, however, as he was restrained by the seatbelt and the window pressing against his forehead.
“We ther’ ‘lready?” Martin mumbled, trying to lift his eyelids. God, why was he so sleepy? It wasn’t like stand-by was an exceptionally tiresome occupation.
“Excellent observation, if Sir doesn’t mind me saying so,” a hint of amusement and – fondness? – undertoned the voice.
“Come on, Sleeping Beauty, the sooner you get up, the sooner you will lie down, if it isn’t too much of a paradox for your brain at the moment.”
“Mmmph,” Martin was incapable of producing anything that resembled words at the moment. He felt Douglas’ hand slide off his shoulder and the car dip slightly as the older man got out of it, closing the door. Cold winter air from outside swirled into the car, and Martin fidgeted uncomfortably, sensitive in his half-asleep state.
Muffled sounds of footsteps reached his hearing as Douglas rounded the vehicle and tapped gently at the window. Martin got the indication and made himself straighten a bit, so that his upper body wouldn’t fall out of the car. A rush of chilly air washed over him as his door was opened.
Martin cracked his eyes open a fraction, squinting as Douglas bent and leant forward to unbuckle the seatbelt. The younger man let his eyes close again, inhaling deeply when the rough fabric of Douglas’ coat brushed his nose and right cheek.
“Okay, now you really have to make yourself functional,” well, that was definitely amusement. “Not that I would mind, no, but I believe it’s a tad bit too soon to carry you over the threshold.”
“Mmmmnn,” Martin blinked slowly, his lips stretching in a sleepy unguarded smile. Douglas smiled back and squeezed his shoulder briefly. “Come on, up you go,” he spurred him gently once again and disappeared from Martin’s vision. Judging by the sounds and the cold air swirling now behind him, Martin guessed Douglas was retrieving their belongings from the backseat. He finally gathered his strength and will and swung his legs to the side. And yet again was he reminded of his height as his feet dangled above the ground instead of being placed neatly on it. The changed position found him leaning against his seat sideways, and the temptation to rest his head against it as well was almost too much.
“Impressive. Another effort, perhaps?” Douglas was in front of him yet again, their bags clasped in one hand, the other holding the door open.
Martin frowned. Another effort seemed too much. But the cocooning warmth has already seeped from the car, and he still had to climb the stairs to his attic… Yeah, better get going.
‘Wait… two bags?’ a stray thought passed his mind as he heaved himself out of the car. Douglas stepped aside to make room, and Martin was finally able to look at the house in front of him.
“’Tis not my house,” he managed, cool air awakening him almost instantly even though he still swayed a bit.
“Nice observation, Captain. Sir is certainly at his best tonight,” Douglas closed and locked the door behind him.
“But why? Why?” Martin shook his head, attempting to make his hazy mind work.
“For purely practical reasons, you see. I surprisingly found myself low on fuel, and while it would definitely allow me to make it to your house, it just as definitely might present certain difficulties on my way home, and there aren’t any twenty-four-hour petrol stations or aeroplane fuel tanks on said way. So, sadly, you are stuck here for tonight. Now this way, please,” Martin stared at the house dumbfound, listening to Douglas’ eloquent speech, then followed him just as absently. Something didn’t sound too fool-proof in the explanation, but Martin couldn’t make himself care. Anyway, staying overnight at a house which belonged to the person you fancied, what could be better?
“Aand here we are,” Douglas announced as they entered the house. Martin hasn’t been there after the divorce, when Helena and Douglas sold their house and split the money, and the only thing he could tell so far was that this building was definitely smaller.
Douglas switched on the lights and shrugged off his coat, indicating for Martin to do the same, then routinely gestured around from left to right, “Loo and kitchen to the left from the staircase, living-room and storage to the right, this door leads to the garden, that one leads to the garage. Guestroom, bedroom, study and bathroom upstairs. That’s it,” he kicked off his shoes, placing them on the shoeshelf, and stepped on a small carpet lying in the middle of the hall. Martin mimicked the motions absently and glanced around. “It’s… a lovely place.”
Douglas shrugged indifferently. Martin couldn’t help but notice as the other man’s mood dropped, though he could not for his life define the reason.
“Are you hungry?” Douglas asked, and with surprise Martin heard his stomach rumble. True, it was not like he had eaten much during the day, but neither had he worked, so he couldn’t say he felt particularly starving.
“Um, uh, no? I mean, it’s fine, I’m not really. No, not really,” Douglas was standing so close, and Martin found himself staring down at the carpet’s unobtrusive ornament showing between their socked feet.
“Maybe tea or coffee?” low, almost purr-like voice sent a small shiver down Martin’s spine. He looked up and was immediately caught in a firm yet gentle kiss. Martin sighed, tilting his head to a side, hands sliding up on their own accord to Douglas’ sides, while the older man’s arms encircled his waist in a loose hold – not demanding or pressing, just there. Douglas’ lips coaxed his mouth to open, and Martin easily let him in, lost in sensation. He’s never done an awful lot of kissing in his life, no, but still he had enough data to compare – and Douglas’s touch and taste just didn’t feel like anything he’s ever felt before, and it was intoxicating.
Douglas started to pull back, and Martin quickly raised his hands to cradle the older man’s head and stood on tiptoe and kissed him again. He felt Douglas smiling against his lips.
“Martin. Martin…” each word was accentuated by another peck. “You…” the hold tightened fractionally, and the younger man nipped slightly at his lower lip.
“Ah you little..!” And just so, Martin was swept up as the embrace suddenly reached a rib-crushing level, Douglas pressing him against his chest and even spinning a little.
“Bha- wait- put me down!” Martin choked out in mock-horror. Douglas complied after pressing his lips against Martin’s crown and breathing in. Initially, Martin had to lean forward a bit after he found his footing, and he looked up to meet Douglas’ fond gaze. He almost reached up again for another kiss, but was treacherously interrupted by an almost jaw-dislocating yawn.
“And impressive yet again,” he felt Douglas’ chuckle rumble through his chest as the older man’s hands rubbed small circles in his back. “Tea, then. And bed. But first of all – shower.”
Martin smiled and nodded, pushing back to finally regain his balance instead of slumping against Douglas’ broad form. “Oh, but…” he started in confusion. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”
Douglas licked his lips in brief thought, then stepped around Martin and headed upstairs, “Let’s find something for you, then.” Martin picked up his bag and followed.
As they reached the upper floor, Douglas paused for a second, gesturing to the left. “First door is guestroom – you’ll be staying there – next one is my study. And here,” he crossed the distance in two wide steps to the right and pulled the door open, “is my bedroom. Come in.”
Martin treaded in after the other man somewhat sheepishly – was it appropriate to stomp into people’s bedrooms just like that? Douglas seemed oblivious of his inner battle as he opened his wardrobe to the right from the door and started rummaging through it.
“Bathroom’s that way,” Martin followed the direction of Douglas’ thumb and saw the half-opened door. “There are spare towels in the closet near the bath, choose whichever tickles your fancy.” Martin nodded absently, glancing around the room. It wasn’t exactly big – just like any other room in this house seemed not to be – but still large enough to contain a double bed with two nightstands, a wide bookcase and a wider wardrobe, plus a cozy, soft-looking armchair. The head of the bed was against the right wall, and the bookcase was standing at the opposite wall, with the bathroom door to the left from it and the armchair between the bookcase and the window, a low desk standing close to it.
“Ah-ha,” Douglas exclaimed in satisfaction and straightened back, holding out some folded clothes to Martin. “I’m afraid it’s not quite your size… Who am I kidding, one can probable fit two or three of you in those,” he smiled as Martin accepted the clothes.
“Thank you.”
“Take your time. Come downstairs afterwards, I think I had some biscuits in one of the cupboards.” Douglas glanced at him fondly before heading out, leaving him with no other choice but to go to the bathroom.
After shower, tea and some more snogging – brief as it was, since both of them were almost falling asleep – the two men arrived at the upper floor yet again and stopped between the two doors, turning to face each other.
“My, and don’t you look twenty.”
Martin attempted not to blush at the appreciative remark, fiddling with the hem of the borrowed t-shirt as he glanced up at Douglas. Something – some emotion was there, in his voice and his eyes, and Martin almost frowned in confusion, but it was gone in less than a second.
“Well, you can’t blame me for wearing stuff twice my size,” he retorted half-heartedly, suppressing a yawn. It was true; the t-shirt, even though it was too small for Douglas, hung loosely on his shoulders, while the sweatpants swallowed up his feet almost to the toes and were so big that he had to constantly retie the intentionally decorative lace that served as a belt.
“Who said I was blaming you?” Douglas leant forward slowly to give him a warm kiss, and Martin melted happily into it for a few seconds before pulling back and straining to make his eyes stay open. Douglas sighed and nudged him softly towards the door to the guestroom.
“See you tomorrow.” Martin looked around and saw Douglas taking half a step back to his own bedroom, reaching behind to grasp the door handle, eyes still focused on the younger man.
“Good night,” he smiled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself. It was a slightly smaller room than Douglas’, with a single bed, an armchair, a small wardrobe and several shelves filled with books, heavy curtains drawn to block the view out of the window. All in all, the room, while inhabitable, didn’t look exactly lived-in. Martin felt a faint stab of sorrow at the thought that Douglas didn’t have a lot of visitors, at least since the divorce. For a second, he contemplated an idea to cross the small corridor to Douglas’ bedroom and comfort the other man, but then decided against it; surely that wasn’t the man’s main concern at the moment; and anyway, both of them did need their sleep.
Douglas had already made the bed for him while Martin showered, so all he had to do now was to climb in the bed and turn off the lamp on the nightstand. As the room sank into darkness, he sighed and rolled onto his side, inhaling the smell of the sheets and his clothes and pretending he could feel Douglas’ scent behind the washing powder.
* * *
* * *
Aaand that's it for now. Ugh. See me failing at writing kissing -_-; I wonder what I am going to do when we get to the smut :D
