here you go team! just a short one because I want to keep most of it a secret for now. warnings for domestic abuse, emotional and implied physical abuse/non-consensual corporal punishment. Johns in a bit of trouble :)
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“Elphie” John tries, praying that the nickname will do something to endear himself to the furious man above him. He stills for just a moment and John thinks it’s worked just before harsh fingers grab his jaw and force his head up. He has no choice but to look into a face of renewed fury. Malcolm's voice is soft once more. It is equal parts terrifying and dizzying.
“Now I’m Elphie again? Your dearest Elphie once more, now that you need to be taken to heel and found you don’t want to? Have some dignity, John.”
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Hope you all enjoyed! Stay tuned for this weekend and as always I’m taking suggestions for things you’d like to see!
The question is always, is it enough crying? Probably not.
John's home late. He knows Elphie will worry. The sky is getting dark quickly, the clouds low and promising rain. When he finally opens the door to Elphie's little brownstone, he has already rehearsed what he might say to apologies, and is scolding himself in advance for his temper, hoping he has the patience to let Elphie get his thoughts out without snapping or talking over him.
Elphie isn't in the foyer, though. Odd. The house is quiet.
He leans his cane up against the wall and pulls his overcoat off his shoulders. Even two years out, he has pain, especially on cold days. His fragmented fingers in his mittens ache the most, but today his chest is tight and sore as well, and he's glad he had the cane with him.
When he's got his outer layers shed, he goes into Elphie's study, considering lighting a fire against the chill before he does a little search.
There he finds Elphie. He's at the mantel, looking at a photograph.
John's by his side in an instant. When Elphie notices his presence he turns away, wiping his eyes. He pushes the photograph away, facing it towards the wall. Turning it away from John.
It's all useless of course. John knows who lives in that little round frame. Elphie's wife, Mary, who John never met, who died giving Elphie a daughter.
"My apologies," Elphie says, his voice so even and controlled, even as his eyes still weep. "I should be giving you a lecture on staying out late."
"It can wait," John says. He raises a hand— still he startles at his own fingers some days, half-missing, gnarled things— and gently wipes at the tears on Elphie's cheek.
"I shouldn't mourn her so," he continues. "I don't mean you disrespect, John. You mean the world to me."
John's disturbed to even hear it. "How could you say such a thing? She was your wife. Your daughter's mother."
"I don't want you to think, just because I…"
"Love her? I should hope you do."
Elphie turns to meet John's eyes. His eyes are red, but he's smiling. "You know… I am so sure that you two would like each other. I think it all the time."
"I think we would have, too." Any woman Elphie deemed worthy of love was a wonderful person in John's book. Maybe it was the long day, the ache in his joints, or the gray clouds, but John's own eyes start to prickle. "You know, I've imagined it."
"What?"
"Living here, with the three of you." John's turn to look away, his cheeks reddening. "I know its terribly selfish of me, to want to be part of it. But the thought calms me. You know I've never been good at… that sort of thing. I'll never find a wife. It is nice to imagining seeing you and her happy, and... Being in proximity, even, would be enough." He stops himself, before he says something terribly embarrassing. Something like how he'd love to help them look after their child, which he does now without her and hopes she is looking down from heaven and finding he's doing a good job. How he's imagined giving his income to their household, so they'd always have enough, and maybe consider having a second child. He's imagined being as good friends with Mary as he is with his brother's wife Kate, letting her walk him through the park on days where he's hurting, pretending he's escorting a lady and not the other way around, her escorting an invalid.
When he looks back, Elphie's tears are streaming just as freely. Before John can apologize, he pulls him in closer, and gives him a gentle, wet kiss.
