[He sets his glass down again. Light on the table, but with purpose.]
You make it sound like a bad thing.
[Offered with no judgment or offense. Nothing but concern and space to continue if he wants. Sheehan's still hurt, now very confused, but direct questions, he knows, will only cause Arthur to shut down.]
I am most myself with you, detective. More than I am with almost anyone. [His quiet times with Crozier feel most authentic, but they rarely talk. It's not the same.]
[Arthur is silent and still for a few seconds. Mental scales always weighing up what it's worth admitting, and what he owes.
Until finally he lets a slow breath out, and sits slowly up again.]
And I am honest with you, doctor. But there is... [His face tilts slightly, looking away if he'd had the sight for it.] There are parts to me that I will not share. Not then with Parker, not even now with John.
[Things that he did share, and got used against him. Things he's ashamed of, still hurts for, things he should and does regret and things he refuses to.]
That you can't tell me and you think I want to know?
I want to know you, detective. Plainly. And I'm pretty damn sure I have a good picture of that, despite how tightly you hold back.
[He refills glasses, takes a drink.]
You're abrasive. Cutting. You use anger as a first line of defense, but that's only because you're hurt. I knew that before you told me.
But you're fiercely loyal. Caring. Stubborn as a fucking mule.
I don't need to know your traumas to know you, Arthur Lester. In fact, I'd rather you tell me only what you're comfortable with. I'm not your damn doctor, but I'd really like to be your friend.
[That gets a quiet chuckle - he can hardly protest the accuracy of all of it - but it's the first sound in a while that hasn't come out tinted with bitterness.
Because it does finally feel like tension he hadn't noticed building has leeches from his shoulders a bit, and he leans to pick up his drink again.]
You can't half tell I'm used to people pushing for it all, can you.
[But it's only dry, not cynical, and this time he only takes a sip rather than finish the drink.]
Of course. Because there's an instinct to fix it. That helping means prying the truth from a person like you're cutting out a cancer.
[He huffs.]
Some of my....colleagues are like that.
But I don't want to fix you. If I get to that point, then I've fucked everything up.
I want to have a drink with you. I want to tell you about my goddamn day. I want you hear what weird bullshit you have to explain to John.
I want to tell you about my patients and the pretty nurse who I know makes my coffee with extra sugar because she likes me. I want you to tell me more nonsensical stories because you enjoy my reaction.
I don't want to avoid the hard shit just because it's hard, but not every talk has to be like that.
[A part of him hates that he immediately thinks of Parker. How they fell into the routine of all that sort of thing just by existing, that he hadn't needed to ask. It just was.
And Arthur didn't fully realise how desperately he yearned for that small piece of himself.
He loved John, but there was always that faint edge of him learning, always some new facet of humanity to discover. It wasn't a bad thing, Arthur enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same. And God forbid Dorian ever miss an opportunity to slip his mad trials into a conversation.
He missed being normal. How sad was that, in its own way.
So he levels a smile at his doctor, soft and genuine.]
Frankly, Sheehan, I'm not sure there's something I'd enjoy more with you than that.
[He's glad Arthur can't see how brightly he smiles at the sound of his name. A wash of relief, like a cold shower, hits his chest and he lets out a breath.]
Good. Now. Have another drink and let me tell you about Molly.
[He refills for both of them, though the intent is less to escape and more to enhance.]
Now. Arthur. This nurse was a knockout. Bright red hair. The cutest damn freckles you've ever seen. A laugh like a siren call. I swear to God, I nearly asked her out right then and there. But doctor - nurse. You know how it is...
I thought I'd be alright, but then she started offering to bring me my midmorning coffee.
[It's easy to feel how fast the remaining tension vanishes from the room, and when he's been refilled Arthur settles more into the couch and finally lets himself fully sink into the moment.]
Should I be praising you for your restraint or smacking you for not taking the opportunity? She certainly seems like she was just as much after your attention, too.
You're supposed to admire my restraint! We were on an island. What if I had shown her what a complete disaster I am in relationships? She would have nowhere to go. I would have nowhere to go.
[He laughs, crossing his legs and sitting back.] Besides, the coffee was very good and I know better than to gamble with that.
'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. [His grin widens, broad and shit-eating, as he lifts his glass in a small cheer.] But a halfway decent coffee could make celibates of us all.
I won't ask you to go drink for drink with me, then. [Not that he's in a mood to lose himself to alcohol now, but still.] But I'd be delighted to invite myself over for a coffee. [He takes a sip of his drink with an easy smirk.] I can only hope it'll be half as good as your nurse's.
[The laughter doesn't help the colour go away - quite the opposite in fact - and he takes a much larger sip to try (and fail) to hide the fact of it.]
S-still, it was- unbelievably rude of me, I-I-I should have made more of an attempt to ask-- [if he'd thought to bring John with him then he would have known immediately and he's fucking mortified.] I can certainly stop intruding on your time like this- shit--
[That comes from him trying to get to his feet and immediately whacking a shin into the table in his haste to make less of an idiot of himself.]
[Honestly, he's not even mad he hit the table: the shock of pain is a moment of clarity to cut through his flustered panicking, and he chuckles sheepishly as he hears the table get readjusted.]
Right, right, I-I know that, I just... Christ, I don't know.
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You make it sound like a bad thing.
[Offered with no judgment or offense. Nothing but concern and space to continue if he wants. Sheehan's still hurt, now very confused, but direct questions, he knows, will only cause Arthur to shut down.]
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I suppose that depends. Is there a fire I should be watching for from you, or are you just blowing smoke up my arse?
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I am most myself with you, detective. More than I am with almost anyone. [His quiet times with Crozier feel most authentic, but they rarely talk. It's not the same.]
That's the full truth.
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Until finally he lets a slow breath out, and sits slowly up again.]
And I am honest with you, doctor. But there is... [His face tilts slightly, looking away if he'd had the sight for it.] There are parts to me that I will not share. Not then with Parker, not even now with John.
[Things that he did share, and got used against him. Things he's ashamed of, still hurts for, things he should and does regret and things he refuses to.]
I'm sorry.
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That you can't tell me and you think I want to know?
I want to know you, detective. Plainly. And I'm pretty damn sure I have a good picture of that, despite how tightly you hold back.
[He refills glasses, takes a drink.]
You're abrasive. Cutting. You use anger as a first line of defense, but that's only because you're hurt. I knew that before you told me.
But you're fiercely loyal. Caring. Stubborn as a fucking mule.
I don't need to know your traumas to know you, Arthur Lester. In fact, I'd rather you tell me only what you're comfortable with. I'm not your damn doctor, but I'd really like to be your friend.
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Because it does finally feel like tension he hadn't noticed building has leeches from his shoulders a bit, and he leans to pick up his drink again.]
You can't half tell I'm used to people pushing for it all, can you.
[But it's only dry, not cynical, and this time he only takes a sip rather than finish the drink.]
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[He huffs.]
Some of my....colleagues are like that.
But I don't want to fix you. If I get to that point, then I've fucked everything up.
I want to have a drink with you. I want to tell you about my goddamn day. I want you hear what weird bullshit you have to explain to John.
I want to tell you about my patients and the pretty nurse who I know makes my coffee with extra sugar because she likes me. I want you to tell me more nonsensical stories because you enjoy my reaction.
I don't want to avoid the hard shit just because it's hard, but not every talk has to be like that.
What do you say?
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And Arthur didn't fully realise how desperately he yearned for that small piece of himself.
He loved John, but there was always that faint edge of him learning, always some new facet of humanity to discover. It wasn't a bad thing, Arthur enjoyed it, but it wasn't the same. And God forbid Dorian ever miss an opportunity to slip his mad trials into a conversation.
He missed being normal. How sad was that, in its own way.
So he levels a smile at his doctor, soft and genuine.]
Frankly, Sheehan, I'm not sure there's something I'd enjoy more with you than that.
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Good. Now. Have another drink and let me tell you about Molly.
[He refills for both of them, though the intent is less to escape and more to enhance.]
Now. Arthur. This nurse was a knockout. Bright red hair. The cutest damn freckles you've ever seen. A laugh like a siren call. I swear to God, I nearly asked her out right then and there. But doctor - nurse. You know how it is...
I thought I'd be alright, but then she started offering to bring me my midmorning coffee.
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Should I be praising you for your restraint or smacking you for not taking the opportunity? She certainly seems like she was just as much after your attention, too.
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[He laughs, crossing his legs and sitting back.] Besides, the coffee was very good and I know better than to gamble with that.
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This is better. No more pretense. No more dancing. Just an actual friendship.
There's still a knot, centered right behind his ribs, but it doesn't hurt the way it did before. It's an easier burden to bear.]
But you aren't wrong about coffee. I still have my press I told you about. Gonna need it tomorrow if I have any more to drink.
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I won't ask you to go drink for drink with me, then. [Not that he's in a mood to lose himself to alcohol now, but still.] But I'd be delighted to invite myself over for a coffee. [He takes a sip of his drink with an easy smirk.] I can only hope it'll be half as good as your nurse's.
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Not that I mind.
[He taps the table softly.]
But come by for coffee tomorrow and I will change your life.
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Fuck-- I-I'm so sorry, doctor, I didn't even consider--
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S-still, it was- unbelievably rude of me, I-I-I should have made more of an attempt to ask-- [if he'd thought to bring John with him then he would have known immediately and he's fucking mortified.] I can certainly stop intruding on your time like this- shit--
[That comes from him trying to get to his feet and immediately whacking a shin into the table in his haste to make less of an idiot of himself.]
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He rights the table and reaches for the glass to keep it from tumbling.]
Good lord, Arthur, I've worn this a dozen times to the gym for my lessons with Dimitri.
You're not intruding.
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Right, right, I-I know that, I just... Christ, I don't know.
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[He stands up with a soft laugh, gathering the glasses and taking them to the side to wash later.]
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[There's no bite, just bashful exasperation.]
Excuse me for not having any reason prior to this to try and imagine you in your damn pyjamas. You did this to me, you twit.
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Jesus.
[He chuckles, leaning on the desk, gritting his teeth for a moment as he tries not to think about Arthur imagining him in his night clothes.
What a fucking mess. Goddammit.]
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[And now he's back to laughing, to teasing, to not worrying about anything more than taunting the shit out of a friend.]
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