It was nearly six in the evening before you saw Arthur again. He’d disappeared around lunch, claiming he had business to deal with and you hadn’t heard any more of it until now. Until he clattered into your office, shoulder first, looking behind him rather than ahead.
‘Arthur,’ you addressed him, standing from your desk chair. ‘You could’ve knocked.’
‘Good, you’re ‘ere,’ he replied, only acknowledging you once the door was shut again. ‘I need a favour.’
‘A favour?’
‘Yeah,’ he grunted, ‘a favour.’ He crossed the room to the desk stiffly and pulled his gun from the holster under his arm. It made contact with the wood in a dull way, not slammed down, but not placed carefully either. ‘Can you fix it?’
Your eyes widened, then darted to the glass of the door. It was late, yes, but only barely past closing time. ‘Arthur, you can’t just-’
‘S’alright, everyone’s gone home, love. Checked before I came in, didn’t I?’ He fidgeted in front of you, his hands pushing into the pockets of his slacks. ‘Go on, have a look.’
Sighing, you picked the thing up. ‘Well, what’s wrong with it?’
‘Jammed. Din’t fire.’ His weight shifted again, and this time his eyebrows pinched slightly with the movement.
‘I mean...’ you started, exasperated, ‘I know as much about guns as you do.’
‘I know, I know.’ Looking around him, he located the nearest chair and lowered himself into it, the awkward rigidness of his body made you lose interest in the gun entirely. ‘But your hands work neater than mine,’ he said.
You walked around the desk, leaving the broken weapon behind. It was a strange request to start with, but now it just seemed like a cover story for something else, a reason to be here without exposing his real motives. ‘Arthur, are you alright?’
His face crumbled, screwing up as if you’d asked something stupid. ‘Course I am.’
‘Show me.’ You folded your arms. ‘Please?’
Already knowing he couldn’t lie to you, or rather, shouldn’t lie to you, his fingers dropped to unbutton his waistcoat - his chin dipping with them. He was embarrassed, or uncomfortable, or like an injured puppy with nowhere else to go. Once it was undone and pushed aside, the damage was obvious.
‘Jesus, Arthur,’ you gushed, stepping closer. ‘You were just walking round like that?’
He looked at the red stain on his shirt like it was new. ‘Looks worse than it is, it just scraped me I swear.’
‘What did? A bullet?’ You couldn’t control the pitch of your voice; it rocketed upwards with each question you asked.
He gave a half-nod, slowly, as if unsure of your next response.
‘I didn’t want to worry Pol,’ he explained, though you didn’t need anything from him, ‘But it din’t feel right to ask you.’
You sighed. Your relationship with Arthur was new, but stable, and you’d already learnt enough about his lifestyle to know what your role would be. ‘I don’t know about the gun,’ you said, ‘but I can help with that. Come on.’ You held your hand out for him to take.
‘What?’ He sounded surprised, as if he had expected you to toss him to the street, bloodied-shirt and all. ‘You gonna stitch me up, aye?’
He hadn’t moved yet, but there was the slightest hint of a smile beneath his moustache, only just overshadowed by the discomfort of his ribs.
‘Something like that. Now, come on,’ you insisted, gesturing him toward you with your fingers. He took your hand and you pulled, speaking around the effort of it, ‘Just, try not to bleed on me. It’s a new dress.’
Arthur snorted, holding onto you once he was standing again. ‘Alright, love, I’ll try.’
Warnings: section 1 is fluff, no warnings apply and after the line is a time cut to many years later, nothing is described in detail, but brief mentions of sickness (cancer) and character death, mourning
Genre: Fluff and then sadness
I wasn’t sure if I should post this but here ya go
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It was a lovely evening when Race and Albert went for a stroll on the beach. Rays of gold, red and even purple danced across the sky as they stood side by side, staring out over the ocean, watching the sunset. Race took a deep breath, fingering the satin box that he held tightly in his left hand, his right laced with Albert’s. He steadied himself and turned to his best friend, who he loved more than anything.
“Albie.”
Albert turned to Race. ‘What?”
Race took another breath and said, “I’ve loved you for so long, Albie. From when we met in our freshman year of high school and you tripped and I caught you and I insisted that you were falling for me.”
Albert blushed slightly at the memory, a smile on his face.
“But actually, I fell for you that day. We became best friends and when you finally asked me out while we were hiding in the ceiling vents waiting to drop down on and scare Elmer for his Halloween surprise, it was the best moment ever. Well, not exactly, because I had this whole fancy plan of asking you out, but you know what I mean.”
Albert rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to say. Yes, I’m an idiot, but I want to be your idiot, forever. So, Albert DaSilva,” Race got down on one knee and saw Albert’s eyes start to water, and felt his own blur, “Will you marry me?”
Albert tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled croak. “Yes, yes, yes, a million times. Always.”
Race slipped the simple silver band onto his boyfriends--no, his fiance’s finger, and pulled him into a kiss. And so they stood there, on that warm summer evening, hugging, and everything was perfect in the world.
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It was many years later before Race returned to the beach. He was old, in his late 80’s, and tired. Nothing had been the same since Albert had passed away, so many years ago, when they were 32. They had only been married for 7 years, but it had been the best seven years of Race’s life.
He had been diagnosed with severe cancer, and had only lived 8 more months before he had died. Race’s life had gone grey and dull, and for months he had felt empty, like he had nothing left. And in a way, he didn’t. All he had ever wanted was to be with Albert forever, but that was a long lost dream now.
Race took off his hat and stared out over the ocean. How similar it was to that day, so many years ago. Race remembered the absolute pure happiness that had flowed through him when he had proposed. And when Albert had said yes. Race looked to the side, and saw a young couple standing at the water’s edge, laughing at something.
He smiled, seeing one of the girls take the other’s hand, and how they both blushed. They reminded him so much of how he and Albert had used to be. Race finally turned, and walked slowly up the beach. He had been away from Albert for so long, but he knew that they would be reunited soon.
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this killed me to write I put off posting this for so long because it was so sad and I considered just posting part 1 because I LOVE IT ITS SO FLUFFY but I thought it was beautiful how he goes back all those years later and yeah he’ll be reunited with Albert soon
if anyone wants a short fic of the story of when albert asked race out while hiding in the ceiling vents just ask
