The Day Before Lockdown Midterm was creeping up. And Tarquin couldn’t wait. He liked his job, and Merlin knew it wasn’t the most taxing thing in the world, nor did it involve especially high levels of dealing with people. He didn’t dislike people, per se. He just preferred them in moderation. And as the term went on, the cumulative level of peopling he’d had to do built up and it just felt like it took him longer and longer each evening to return to feeling relaxed and sociable. Which, given his extrovert husband, who couldn’t wait for him to come home every day and spend time with him, became an increasingly tricky balancing act as the weeks went by.
Today had been a long day too. He’d done one of his afternoons of ‘keeping everything up to date’ before then actually staffing the library desk for most of the evening. But Danny was quite good at making plans for Tarquin’s longer days. He had work to do too, but he usually also went to the gym, and Tarq thought he’d said something about having coffee with a friend this week, which would probably have been today. They could have some supper, and then Tarquin thought he could get away with ignoring his husband for the rest of the evening - harsh as it sounded, he really did just need some down time.
The house smelt of tomato soup as he stepped out of the fire. He walked through to the kitchen, where Danny was putting cheese and bread next to the steaming bowls.
“You are good to me,” Tarquin smiled, kissing his cheek, because he did appreciate his husband, and how well taken care of he was. “How was your day?”
“Eh,” Danny shrugged. “Raquel cancelled on me. She’s got this fever.”
“Oh. That’s a pain.” For both of us. Because that meant that Danny had spent the afternoon home alone and restless and had a lot of pent up ‘wanting to talk to someone’ and only one place left to direct it.
“Yeah… Yours?”
“It was alright. Long.” Subtext, I am tired and want to be left alone this evening. Danny knew him well enough after thirty plus years to know this. And he knew Danny well enough to know that he wouldn’t back off unless explicitly told because he was some combination of just the wrong amount of optimism and amnesia that he seemed to never quite give up on the possibility that Tarquin valued constant stifling attention.
“No one burst into flames. Or song?” he asked. The news of the accidental magic virus and its various effects had unfortunately reminded Danny of a story Selina had told him about her teaching days at Salem, when something - he couldn’t recall whether it was an accident or a prank or what - had caused people to burst into song. Between that and his own little stunt with the dishes, he was fully back to the idea that living in a musical was a realistic life goal.
“Thankfully not,” Tarquin replied. He was definitely not on board with this idea.
“So, what shall we do after supper?”
The ‘we’ confirmed what he had suspected. I want to read my book. Alone, was the honest answer but didn’t really work when the presumption was there that they were doing something.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“I didn’t finish the paper this afternoon. You usually like reading after you’ve had a long day, so I thought I’d save some of it.”
And that did it. Because that was so considerate, which Danny unfailingly was. He had been bored and restless all afternoon no doubt, but had saved the paper so that he wouldn’t be bugging Tarquin for attention when he knew that he was tired, but so that they could read together.. And there was no way that Tarquin could slope off and read by himself without seeming unreasonable.
Danny was looking forward to Midterm, and to a couple of weeks of not having to share his husband with Sonora. He knew they had it pretty good really, in terms of work-life balance but he could also tell when Tarquin was starting to need a break. He knew deep down that it was just how Tarquin was and it didn’t mean that his husband loved him any less but when it felt like he had to fight to get his attention, to get Tarq to want to spend time with him, he had to admit that it did bug him, however irrational and unfair he knew that was.
He didn’t even feel particularly good about it as they settled on the sofa, Tarq with his nose in a book, him with the paper. He had saved the paper to make sure he had some pretext for them spending the evening together, when he wasn’t fully convinced it was what Tarquin wanted to. It felt like he’d tricked and co-erced his husband into being there. He wasn’t even convinced it was much better than spending the evening actually just by himself, because he didn’t just want Tarquin’s company but wanted him to want his in return.
He should leave him alone. He should let him read quietly.
“How’s your book?” he asked.
“It’s a new one. I haven’t really started yet.”
But getting past one’s own nature was difficult, however well you knew that theoretically someone worked differently to you. He couldn’t stop wanting to somehow deal with the situation. Make it better. Logic said Tarquin didn’t work like that, but even after all these years, instinct was stronger. The innate certainty that being touched and talked to made people feel better because that was what worked for him. The slightly needy personal note on which he needed to feel valued and reassured that he was wanted, however prickly his husband was being.
“What’s it about?”
“The Byzantine Empire.”
“Oh,” there wasn’t much he could say to that because the Byzantine Empire was one of those things that he had heard of but couldn’t really pin down anything more specific about it than ‘a really long time ago.’ “Didn’t know you were a fan.”
“We’ll find out.”
Danny nodded, taking up his paper, and curling up against his husband.
“I need that arm,” Tarquin informed him, indicating the fact that Danny was leaning too much. And his tone was mild, not really reproving, but it made Danny feel like he’d done the wrong thing, which made him want to search for the right thing to make up for doing the wrong thing both for Tarq’s sake, so that he would be happy and comfortable, and for his own to know that Tarq wasn’t annoyed with him.
“Right, sorry…”
“It’s fine.”
He tried settling his head on Tarquin’s shoulder instead.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s fine,” Tarquin answered again, wondering why Danny couldn’t just sit. Why he had to keep prodding when he knew, surely by now he knew, that it was just irritating. But in spite of spending plural decades together, he still hadn’t found a way of pointing this out that didn’t seem to hurt Danny’s feelings. Even though Danny had known what he was like and had chosen to marry him anyway. Though as Danny liked to point out, that worked both ways - and that by law, fifty percent of Tarquin’s personal space belonged to him. And he didn’t mind it most of the time but right now he really, really just wanted some space.
He blinked in surprise as Danny was no longer leaning on his shoulder, but appeared to have very abruptly moved to the other end of the couch. Tarquin looked up, surprised. Danny was looking back at him, mostly confused but also a touch hurt.
“Did you… did you just push me?” Danny asked.
“No,” Tarquin replied, vaguely holding up the book that still occupied both hands, and looking baffled.
“Well, I didn’t move of my own accord. You did. You’ve got the virus thing and you pushed me away!” the confusion left. The hurt grew, accompanied by anger.
“If I’ve got the virus, it’s hardly my fault what happens. I wouldn’t push you on purpose.”
“But you wanted me to get off you?”
The accusation hung for a second, because Tarquin couldn’t lie, couldn’t say that wasn’t true…
“It was an accident.”
“Accidental magic is a reflection of what a person wants. Isn’t that what you were saying the other day when calling the kid that punched someone a psychopath? If you wanted to be left alone, you could have just said,” That part really wasn’t true. It was a recurring problem that he couldn’t just leave well alone. That he had to push and push, and it always ended up with Tarquin in a bad mood, and then him upset that he was upset with him... Although one of the worst things about a long term relationship was the inevitably with which you had certain fights again and again, because those ways in which you didn’t gel were so very difficult to overcome, and one’s natural instincts so hard to override. Although this time, he had more reason to be upset - was more justifiably so. “I’d rather you did than sit there resenting my presence.”
“I don’t resent your presence.”
“You. Pushed. Me. You want some space? Fine. Have the whole damn couch. I’m going upstairs.”