InsaneJournal

The temperatures had plummeted overnight, witnessed in the thin coating of ice that had laced over the window panes, obscuring the view to a frost-glazed world outside and diffusing the soft glow of early morning. There was a sharper bite to the air when Gideon found the wherewithal to push back the heavy blankets and quilts (perhaps dislodging a disgruntled feline or two in the process) and emerge from the delicious nest of heat that was his bed -- and in it still, the most persuasive argument to remain there: the still slumbering form of his bed partner whose limbs had been intertwined with his.

Still, work ethic (and complaining, hungry cats) drove him to start the day when all else failed -- he slipped into layers of clothes to ward off the chill and attempted to remain as quiet as the creaking wooden floorboards allowed. The fire in the hearth was built back up, the house animals’ breakfasts doled out in several bowls which were attacked as soon as he stepped away (he had little idea of how the remaining pygmy puffs survived -- they didn’t care for any of the food served to them and seemed content to consume anything questionably edible that crossed their path). Breakfast was sizzling away in the cast iron pan and the kettle was only just starting to heat up when it occurred to him.

He was happy.

There were fears, yes. There were always fears. It was far from a perfect life. There were the things he didn’t like and perhaps unhealthily avoided. There was the simmering anger that paced in the shadows and he had to bite his tongue every time he changed the dressings on Bilius’s chest. Things still remained uneasy with Fabian’s avoidance of him. But here, now: his heart was light. He would exist in this moment forever if he could.

The cold spot next to him didn't wake Bilius, not when it was quickly replaced with piles of fur until those too departed. But the scent and sound of breakfast being made woke him and he stretched in the bed that had quickly become home. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd made excuses for sharing Gideon's bed. Now, he couldn't imagine anything else. Bilius pushed himself out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe and padded towards the kitchen. Saturday's visit to Hogsmeade had been tiring, but it had been good to go, to see Hannah and Ginny and Ron and the rest of the family, to be out. He'd behaved, spending nearly the entire day sitting at a corner table at the Hog's Head. The trip had proved he was getting better, even if it was slow progress.

Bilius came up behind Gideon, wrapped an arm around him and kissed his shoulder. "You spoil me, you know. Home cooked breakfast every day." It was addictive, this odd domesticity that had sprung up between them.

“It’s not spoiling if it continues to happen every day. I like making you breakfast.” As he watched the eggs grow from translucent to opaque white, Gideon was helpless to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up in a small, quiet smile. It was easier still to lean into the solid, warm presence behind him, how fluidly the lines of their bodies fell together. “I like you here. And I didn’t think I’d ever have that feeling again, with anyone.” He had guarded his solitude as a dragon would its hoard, after Azkaban.

"Well, I like eating it, but when my hand is back to normal, you need to promise to let me cook for you once in awhile. I'm not clueless in a kitchen, you know," Bilius explained, planting another kiss on Gideon's shoulder before moving around to take the kettle off the stove and fill the teapot so it could steep. It took him a little longer to do things with his off hand, but he was managing and he felt the need to do something instead of just being useless.

Gideon's admission took him slightly by surprise. He had grown used to Gideon's silent presence, not pressing him to talk about things. Now he moved back into Gideon's personal space, letting his body rest against the taller man. "I like being here. It feels like home." Which left questions about the Hog's Head and Hannah, but he was willing to leave those unanswered for now.

“Alright. Though if you make meals like you make your drink concoctions, I think I’m done for.” Sometimes it was difficult to simply stand by and watch, but Gideon only curled his fingers into his palms, his arms folded close to his chest, in order to keep his observation weather eye at best while Bilius staked his claim to independent motion. Bilius was better, at least, than he had been before, and upon hindsight, Hogsmeade had been a good idea (he wasn’t immune to Bilius’s growing sense of restlessness, which in turn, had made him feel a mite tetchy), even if he avoided glancing anywhere in the direction of the castle and probably came off as a curt sod to anyone who tried to talk to him that hadn’t been family.

Still, it was a relief to welcome him back into his arms, to reciprocate and wind his limbs around him as if there were no other possible way he could position himself. He could look down at Bilius, and the moment felt heavy, there were words pressing at his throat. You said… But it was easier to cup the back of his neck, lean down, and kiss him instead, over frying eggs that would threaten to cook to rubber and hopeful dogs gauging whether the sliced bacon could be snatched up with no one the wiser. “--then stay. For as long as you like. For the foreseeable future.” Forever. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll say work on the farm’s exceeded the capacity of one man.”

Bilius reached up, hands cupping Gideon's face (bandage still annoyingly present on his left hand). "You're sure. You're not going to go silent or disappear into the greenhouse for an hour? I know I pushed before…" Bollocks. He was doing this all wrong. He brought Gideon down for another kiss, pouring unspoken words into it. "Yes. I'll stay. For as long as you'll have me. It'll figure itself out." Somehow. Though how they were going to continue to keep this from the family, he had no idea. Weasleys may be eccentric, but they were not stupid.

“Good. Good. We’ll…” The thought of how seemed overwhelming, absurd, impossible, but once they crossed this lines, he didn’t want to, couldn’t, go back. He frowned. “I’d need to go to the greenhouse anyway.”

"I know. I just meant- I know I can be pushy at times. But I don't want to push you more than you're ready. I've no problem with keeping this under wraps for now…" Except that he'd already told Arthur. His gaze dropped. "Gideon… I… You make me happy. Extremely happy, despite needing you to play nursemaid at the moment. I… there are times when it's hard for me to contain that happiness…"

The remark caught Gideon somewhere between a smirk and laughter. “Oh, I think I am well aware of those times,” he said, voice pitched lower, body edging forward, a deft hand putting out the hob and then slipping around Bilius’s hip. This, too, was a revelation, to freely reach out and stroke and touch, each point of contact sending a warm rush of sensation through him. The more he did it, the more he wanted it, this newborn, burgeoning hunger.

Bilius groaned, eyes closing momentarily as he pressed against Gideon, arms twining around his neck as he buried his face in Gideon's shoulder. "I don't mean wanting to shag you. I mean…" Damnit, why did Gideon have to smell so good? "ItoldArthur," he murmured against the taller man.

For a moment, he couldn’t quite understand the garbled words, and the underlying moan beneath them was a more enticing note to unravel as his lips found the shell of Bilius ear, slightly chilled but warm, warming, with the ministrations of his tongue. But his mind, his damn analytical mind, had too many hard years of training to stop processing details even after he wanted it to.

I told Arthur.

He almost wanted to ask, stupidly, Told Arthur what? but the realisation of Bilius’s reluctance made it clear.

It was like suddenly being woken up from a dream, made all too aware of one’s surroundings, all the harsh lines of reality closing in: burning food, tufts of fur lazily floating in the air, still the edge of chill seeped into the house. “What?”

Bilius had nearly forgotten his words thanks to Gideon's actions and presence. But then the mood shifted. Bilius ran a hand over Gideon's chest, reluctantly bringing his eyes up from Gideon's shirt to his face. He sighed, face pale as he watched his lover's reaction carefully. "I told Arthur about us. Not in as many words. And not the fabulous sordid details of that thing you do with your mouth." And the reason Bilius wore collared shirts or a scarf whenever they had company. But he was nervous now, and babbling. "But we were discussing the attack.. and what happened and how we didn't want to change. But we might need to take some preventive measures. And we talked about the four of us - you, me, Arthur and Fabian coming up with some options. Just in case. And I might have said something about relations being tense between you and Fabian. And he said something and the next thing I'm telling him you might blame Fabian for what happened - a bit. Because of his.. influence. And Arthur asked if there was truth for it. And there is, even I'll admit that. I wouldn't be in the Order if it wasn't for Fabian, even if the attack seemed more to do with me as a Weasley than me as an Order member. But then I said something about you being invested in me. And me in you. And well. I didn't come out and say 'Why, yes, Arthur, I'm snogging your brother-in-law,' but I'm afraid I said enough. I told him to keep it quiet though. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything without talking to you. But you're important to me. And I needed to explain why when I was lying there in the alley, I warded you, and not him. I'm sorry, Gideon. So sorry."

Somewhere within Bilius’s rambling explanation, they had separated. Perhaps he had been first to move away, arms dropping to his sides, steps taken back until his hips hit the counter edge, arms folded over and around himself as if he could ward off the implication of Bilius’s words. They seemed to run together and warp, and yet he understood each one anyhow. “Why...why would you--” But he shook his head, started again, “I’ve somehow kept this from everyone for twenty years and now within...within weeks, Charlie knows, you’d tell Hann if she asked, and now Arthur, who will tell Molly because he can’t not, who will…” And, gods, the thought of Molly, who perhaps in her utmost sibling concern would dare to tell Fabian. There wouldn’t be rejection, not really, of course not. There would be concern and pity and unwanted commentary.

Bilius was not a man to anger easily. He tended to avoid it at all costs, much more likely to deny any emotion or disguise it with absurd silliness. But the lack of Gideon's touch, the distance, the accusing words was too much for him to bear. "I almost died, Gideon!" he snapped uncharacteristically. "In the last war, I lost my lover and I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't tell anyone. Do I need to remind you that I hadn't told any of them anything about me, let alone you, until a month or two ago? Maybe it's bloody pandora's box, I don't know, but now that they know I'm bent, it's a lot harder to hide the fact that I don't feel the need to run off to Brazil or drink myself to death to stop the pain! I'm trying, Gideon, Merlin, I'm trying. But if it weren't for you, I'd be dead. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have wanted to still be alive, not after what she did. And fuck me if I'm having a hard time keeping my reason for living under wraps. I'm doing the best I can."

“Yes, it must be so nice to walk in that sun without a care in the world. Would that we could all be so...so indifferent to others’ opinions than those bloody mouthy and rebellious Weasleys.” In his bitter words, he could hear the disdain of his parents when Molly and Arthur first announced their engagement. It would have horrified him to hear something so uncomfortably similar spilling from his own lips too if he had a mind for anything but the slowly unfurling anger within his chest. “As if you’re the only one to experience loss and not be able to tell anyone. So yes, bully for you on only almost dying again doing something so reckless and stupid, I’m sure even my idiot brother would have taken you to task for it. I trusted you -- you, even before Fabian.”

Bilius tensed, hands turning to fists at his sides, reminded of the times in school when he would defend his younger brothers. The action caused pain to blossom through his body and his face to grimace. Damnit, he couldn't even fight properly, like this. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Gideon," he exclaimed, his voice high and tight with pain as he leaned on the counter. "I'm not trying to betray you! I'm not trying to out do you or force you to do things my way. I know you have suffered as much and more than me. Do you think I don't see your pain every time I look at you? Do you think I wouldn't do anything I could to take that pain away? I would do anything for you! I love you and if we weren't who we are, I'd say let's just leave and never come back ever again!"

Bilius paused, chest heaving as he steeled himself. "When you shared your past with me, it meant the world, because it meant that finally, there was someone who could understand what I went through. I didn't dare to dream about anything more in that moment, but now that I have it, I don't want to lose it. I can't lose you, Gideon. I can't…"

The very real reminder of what had happened to Bilius (her), sent another spike to his heart, the freewheeling fear that became directionless anger that was focused into an immediate and worthy target -- “So you can just casually disregard and erode my confidences when it suits you, because you’re so happy and unencumbered now. You know, for being in a secret order, you’re bloody terrible at keeping secrets.”

At the peak of it, he pushed off the counter, too tumultuous to remain still any longer. The short distance between the kitchen and the front door was eaten up in seconds; coat and wand retrieved from their usual hooks by the door (where they had, until recently, lived contentedly beside Bilius’s). He had only half shrugged into it by the time the door had slammed shut behind him.

"Gideon!" Bilius called, starting after him in a rush and sinking to the floor before making it to the living room, grateful for the sheepdog that came to his side, a piece of bacon in her mouth.