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On the eve of his and Monty’s two-month anniversary Henry still could not believe his luck. Each day was filled with happiness that at times reached such blissful heights that it overwhelmed him. But Monty’s flat was too small for two men, as much as they loved to cuddle together. And now, after lots of searching, they had found a little house all for themselves, on West 20th Street, a bit closer to the Bowery, which Monty used to frequent not long ago for drinks, entertainment and nights with fellow fairies.
Currently both Monty and Henry were overseeing the movers bringing in their things. While Monty’s share had been small and easy, with most of his things remaining at his parents’ apartment, Henry looked self-conscious as the men carried in yet another boxful of books.
“I, erm, I’d forgotten how many I actually had,” he murmured to Monty. “I already donated a fair amount to the library but-” He cut himself short as he saw his phonograph about to be dropped on a table and rushed forward in panic. “Careful with that!”
Monty looked at Henry with the ever growing amusement, although he, too, got worried about the phonograph for a moment. When Henry took the apparatus and placed it on the table himself, with utmost care, Monty chuckled and shifted his attention to one of the men.
“Um, this goes into the drawing room, over there,” he directed after checking what was in the box.
Just saying “drawing room” made him smile more. Finally, a proper house, with a proper amount of rooms! Before meeting Henry, Monty hardly cared about where he lived. He had a good room at his parents’, and during his escapes all he needed was a comfortable bed, preferably fit for two people. The previous flat was perfect for his short stays between his adventures around New York. But, once Henry moved in, Monty started to spend more time at home, and it soon became clear that the little place wasn’t enough for them. And there were neighbours in every other flat, of course.
Admiring their new home, Monty took a deep, content breath, knowing that now they were going to live in their own, nice house, without having to worry about anybody. A small, but cosy-looking kitchen with an old-fashioned stove, an empty drawing room and a dining room occupied the ground floor. Upstairs, there was a library, a bathroom with a big tub, which helped the two lovers decide on buying this house, and two bedrooms. One was doomed to be empty, but maybe they’d find a use for it later, Monty thought.
He made his way through a small corridor of boxes to approach Henry and looked at the phonograph, as if it was a pet.
“Is it all right?” he asked quietly, placing his hand on Henry’s shoulder for a second – until a mover passed by to grab another box.
Henry gently worked the handle of the machine before stepping back, his heart rate returning to normal. “No harm done, though I dread to think. It’s been with me so long and on my travels... imagine the irony of it meeting its demise during something mundane like a move!” His eyes were full of affection when he turned round to look at Monty. “Thank you for worrying about it, too.”
“I would hate for it to break, it’s so important to you!” Monty smiled, but then quickly turned to the front door where one of the movers announced that they were done. “Ah, great!” Monty reacted, feeling a relief from knowing that they would be left alone soon.
Once the workers, generously tipped, left, Monty returned to Henry with an excited grin. “I can’t believe it, Henry!” He looked around again, trying to comprehend that this was where they were going to live from now on. Overcome with happiness, he kissed Henry passionately, wrapping both arms around him. “Congratulations,” he whispered.
“To both of us,” Henry whispered back before quickly resuming their kiss and pulling Monty closer, relishing the fact that they were alone at last. They had been unable to get close to each other all day, having gotten up early for the move and just finishing a quick breakfast before the workmen had arrived at their old flat. Eventually, he let Monty go, though still with his hands placed about his waist. “At last, Monty. No more interruptions or nosy neighbours.”
“Now, isn’t this heaven?” Monty, in turn, rested his head on Henry’s chest, but, before he closed his eyes, he caught a glimpse of boxes and raised his head. “I suppose we should start unpacking... At least some boxes. I suspect half of these are your little library.” Monty gave Henry a teasing look. “Good job my library is rather modest. Where should we start?” He turned to face the boxes that were still in the hallway, his hands on the hips. “I had no idea we had so many things…”
“First, cups and the kettle, I’m dying for a cup of coffee.” Not noticing Monty’s little grimace upon the mention of coffee, Henry went straight to one of the smaller boxes and sifted through the contents. “And I’ll make tea, of course, too, for my cheeky lawyer,” he smiled back at Monty who still had his hands on his hips. “That’s a very good look, by the way. Very aesthetic.”
“Oh?” Monty smirked and posed for Henry playfully. His lover’s laughter warmed his heart. “Aesthetic!” He looked down at himself, then back at Henry. “I think you forgot one word, Professor: ‘little’!”
“I didn’t want to bring it up, but since you mentioned it yourself, my dear Mr Fitzgerald…” Heading to the kitchen, Henry lightly brushed his free hand against Monty’s backside as he passed him. Monty did not mind either “little” or that cheeky pat. Truly a man transformed by love.
Everything in the kitchen seemed big and nice, from the stove to the pantry. Even tea, coffee, and biscuits, located after some frustrated searching through several boxes, tasted better than one day before. By the time the lovers finished their little break, they had decided which bedroom they would sleep in, where they should move the bed, and when they would eat in the kitchen and when in the dining room, rather big for the two of them.
Henry said that it was like a little honeymoon, and perhaps it was. Monty couldn’t imagine even thinking about work, let alone being away from Henry, moreso now that the semester was over.
“But let us have our little honeymoon for now,” Monty decided, putting his cup down. “We’ve been waiting for it, and you need a couple of weeks’ rest. To a certain extent, mind you.” He arched an eyebrow knowingly and leaned to Henry to whisper with a smirk, looking into his eyes, “I can’t wait to check the bed. So, try to not exhaust yourself too much this evening, all right?”
Henry gulped a little, looking down at Monty’s lips which were tantalisingly close to his. It was unbelievable how he could turn from playful to sultry in the blink of an eye. Even all these weeks in, Henry kept on getting wrong-footed in the most exquisite way possible and he hoped Monty would never stop. “I’ll - erm - try,” he said, eyes still fixed on Monty’s mouth which widened into a grin.
“Good! I’ll help you as much as I can, I promise.” Placing his hand on the back of Henry’s neck, Monty drew him in for a kiss, his fingers, as usual, sliding up to Henry’s soft hair. Once he got his fix, he admired the flushed face of his lover and stood up as if nothing happened. “Right, I think we should get unpacking now…”
With a promise not to tire themselves out, they decided to split the work. Monty was the first to approach the mount of boxes, humming softly. At first, Henry simply stood there as he listened to Monty humming. He did it so very often these days – not that Henry minded or counted the times that he did – it was a sure sign that he was happy. And when Monty was happy, so was Henry. Smiling to himself, Henry began to tackle the boxes in front of him, which were full of his books and the occasional old shirt which he’d used to wrap up the more fragile volumes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Monty joined Henry in the library about half an hour later. It felt like they had been in this house for a few weeks. Rubbing his forehead, he looked around the inviting room that was already beginning to look like a proper library. And with a beautiful bay window, its centerpiece.“Have you read all of these?..” he asked in slight astonishment and approached Henry with a stack of books.“The better question would be ‘how many have I read’?” joked Henry as he took the books and pecked Monty on the cheek in thanks. “I wish I could say it was half of them, but I think it’s nearer a quarter.” He filled up the remaining space of the bookshelves and frowned. “We need to buy another shelf... and a smaller one so as not to tempt me to get more books!” He walked over to the box to see what else was in there and let out an exclamation of surprise. “Ah, I’d forgotten I had taken this with me from London!” With a flourish, he approached Monty with an old photo album in his hands. “Care to see some photos of a travelling professor?”And so another break was inevitable. Sitting together on the sofa, the two lovers went through the album, its photographs showing Henry about six years ago, when his travels and research for his book were in full swing. There was a very blurred picture which turned out to be his first self-portrait, made when he still hadn’t got the hang of his new camera. He evidently got better at it, his self-portraits mixing with pictures of everything that he had seen on the solitary journey. Monty was enthralled. He appreciated every little glimpse into Henry’s old life, no matter how blurred. Very well aware of their separate lives prior to the meeting on the Carpathia, he nevertheless found it odd to think that they lived without knowing each other for several decades.“I had more hair back then, as you can see.” Henry failed to avoid Monty’s nudge and gazed at his younger self who smiled rather diffidently as he stood in a pale linen suit on a beach. “I believe that was Devon, judging by what I’m wearing. I deliberately made a point of going there in summer to enjoy the weather. I wish I had extended that pearl of wisdom when I went up to Scotland…”“How did you take these self-portraits?” Monty asked without looking from the album, his smile never fading as he saw each new photograph, fingers lightly touching a page.“A friend of mine – a more avid photographer than myself – made a clever little device with a timer which released the shutter for me. And it worked out quite well most of the time. My house in London,” Henry said, stopping on a page which showed the facade of a very Victorian-looking abode. “And I took a photograph of my library for some reason.” He scratched his head in puzzlement, before going: “Oh, of course, my phonograph! I think this was when I first got it and I was very pleased with myself. And here’s Mrs Pearce, our housekeeper who’s been with us for as long as I can remember.” A grey-haired woman looked out at them, smiling smartly for the camera and clearly proud of her job and the photographer. She had the air of a kind and understanding aunt.This was when Monty came to decide that they needed a camera of their own. To capture all the lovely moments of their living together… How they didn’t have one at this point? Henry’s camera, unfortunately, stayed in London.“Well, I think we can always buy a new one, but we definitely need to have a camera.” Monty’s eyes widened at the sudden idea. “Or we could go to a photo studio, one of those that make keepsake photographs! Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t buy a camera, but it would be quicker. Photos are such a great way to save memories, as you can see yourself.” He gestured at the album. “Probably the best way... And if we are to go somewhere this summer, not having any photos taken would be a crime, surely! Do you know how to develop them?”Henry laughed warmly as he took all this in. “Slow down a bit, you’re going like a locomotive with excitement.” He leaned over to kiss Monty’s shoulder. “Which is one of the reasons why I love you dearly. And you’re absolutely right, we should take photos, and as many as possible. I should be able to develop them, I just need to acquire the right chemicals and perhaps brush up on my technique.”The idea, the endless possibilities couldn’t leave Monty’s thoughts so soon, but he returned to the pictures on display. When curiosity got the better of him, he finally asked if there was a photo of Henry in a kilt. Henry flicked through the album before quickly pausing at a page at the back, somewhat startled.“Ah, I’d forgotten I had a ridiculous moustache as well…” He tried to close the album, not wanting to let Monty see.But Monty was unstoppable. “You wh-” He immediately grabbed the album, shifting away so that Henry couldn’t take it back, and found the right page. “Oh… That is quite a look, Professor!” By this point Henry was half on top of Monty, arms outstretched, but gave up and sat back down. “Rather dashing, too… What on earth made you grow a moustache?”“I didn't grow the moustache to go with the kilt, mind you,” was Henry’s answer as he composed himself, while Monty snickered at his failed attempt. “My Scottish adventure happened to coincide with a passing fad.” Subconsciously, he touched his upper lip. “It was a time when I wanted to look more mature, I think. I kept on getting mistaken for an undergraduate and was rather tired of it all.” He chuckled, his eyes twinkling at Monty. “Much like your adventure when you attended my lecture.”“Maybe I should grow a moustache for the next time I attend your lecture…” Monty lifted the album to Henry’s face to compare it with the photo, barely able to contain himself. “Well, you did look more mature... I guess. And it suits you, really. It’s just a bit... unusual. Or maybe the kilt compensates for it.” Monty looked at Henry teasingly and handed him the album. His fingers touched Henry’s upper lip as he kept smiling faintly. “If you get this passing fad again, do warn me, though.”“I could say the same if you ever decide to get one.” Henry clasped Monty’s hand to his lips, kissing his fingers tenderly before letting go. “I don’t know what I’d do if you walked into a lecture like that…” He flushed a little, knowing exactly what he’d do to Monty, students or no students – and Monty knew too, naturally. Before he got too carried away, he diverted their attention back to the task at hand. “I think that box you brought in should be the last. Hopefully.” Henry stood to walk to the large bay window, sunlight streaming through the curtains. “Here’s a cosy little spot for us to read in the sun, if we like. A pot of tea between us and a blanket to wrap up in when the weather gets cooler.” Henry imagined the scene, smiling to himself, before moving to a spot near the window. “And if you ever need to write up your articles – as a prospective journalist – we could put our desks here together.” He glanced over at Monty who was watching him from the sofa, his expression soft as he got quite lost in that fancy that would soon be real. “Do you think you're going to get a typewriter if you end up writing for a paper?”Monty got out of his dreamy state with a scoff. “As if I’m thinking about a job at all! Well, yes, probably I will need one. And I’m not even sure if I’m going to be a journalist. It’s just a dream... Well, sort of, because right now my main dream is just to spend days here, with you. And it is your fault, mind you, because I want to forget about all of our chores and do what you’ve just described, immediately.” Monty got up, approaching the shelves to check if his books were there. The full library gave him a sense of home he was not aware of until this day. Even if the shelf he was looking at contained mostly his old legal volumes. Then he turned to Henry. “What would you recommend to read, by the way?”“You mean you haven’t read my book yet?” Henry assumed a disappointed look before chuckling. “Not that I blame you, a three-hundred page tome on British accents and dialects isn’t really meant for leisure reading.” “Actually, I was going to read it this summer. I was just waiting for you to get free, so that I can shower you with questions whenever I want.”“I look forward to being showered with questions... among other things. Chesterton is a favourite of mine – especially Father Brown . I do like a bit of Forster, too, his Room with a View was very enjoyable.”“Oh, really? I’ve enjoyed Father Brown , too!” Monty exclaimed, grinning. To this day, when they found something else in common, it always brought him a bit of joy. “But I haven’t read Forster yet... Do you have his books here?”“Ah, you’re in luck.” Henry had gone over to the small box again and took out a slim volume. “Here it is. I’ve read his Howards End too, but I liked A Room with a View better. I think you’ll enjoy it. It is set in Florence in the beginning, then it moves on to England. All following a young heroine who tries to do what society expects of her by marrying a very proper but pompous fellow, but gives into her heart instead. There’s a passage here which really moved me…” He fetched his glasses, went through the book and, finding what he was looking for, read out: “‘It isn’t possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.’” There was a short pause where Henry realised he might be talking about his own feelings and coughed a little self-consciously. Monty was listening with his head tilted and his look fond. “Well, yes, it’s a bit romantic, but I do enjoy it in moderation. Erm - here you are.” Henry put the book into Monty’s hands quickly, taking off his glasses as he did so.“It is an excellent passage. And very true, too - now I know it. There is nothing wrong with being romantic, don’t you think?” Monty looked at the book’s cover and added softly and with a hint of hesitation, “You look lovely in glasses, by the way. A tad different, but lovely.”Henry blinked, before smiling at Monty’s sudden shyness. After all these weeks together, he was still just as lovestruck as he was for him, dear man. “Then I’ll make a point of wearing them more often,” ventured Henry equally softly, covering Monty’s hand with his upon the book. “Perhaps I’ll take to reading in bed as well,” he added teasingly. “Speaking of which, didn’t we say we wanted to move the bed?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Therefore reading, whether in the bedroom or in the library, had to wait. They moved the bed in one room, more light and bigger than the other bedroom. It did not look quite cosy or homely yet, even when they made the bed, but a vanity with a spinning stool won Monty’s heart. “Are we keeping it here?” He took a spin on the stool and, facing Henry, twirled a lock of hair with his finger with an air of a flirting woman. Henry nearly choked as the small distance between them suddenly felt much too far. Monty, seemingly oblivious, turned back to the mirror. “I believe we are…” Grinning, he glanced at Henry in the reflection and then checked the little drawers of the vanity that were, of course, empty.Henry leapt to his feet. “You incorrigible minx.” Keenly aware that Monty was watching their reflections, Henry rested his hands lightly upon Monty’s shoulders, feather-like at first, before sliding his arms around him and nuzzling his face against his neck. “We can keep the vanity on one condition,” he breathed into Monty’s ear and was pleased when he was rewarded with a quiet gasp. “That you never stop doing that thing with your hair.”Monty closed his eyes and chuckled lowly at the same time. His hand found its way to the back of Henry’s head, and he only let go after receiving a kiss on the neck. “I will do it every morning. And not only that.” Monty spun on the stool and looked up at Henry, passion looming through a playful twinkle in his eyes. “And... An incorrigible minx?” He laughed in delight. “I like it even more than a cheeky little lawyer!”“Well, if you ask and behave nicely…” Henry slowly ran his thumb down from Monty’s cheek to under his chin before alighting on his shirt collar. Knowing exactly the effect he was having on him, Henry loosened his tie and flicked open the first two buttons, relishing these rare moments when he was in control. “I might consider calling you an incorrigible minx from now on. But if you don’t…” Henry’s hands started to tremble and he abruptly tightened Monty’s tie again, almost too tightly as the collar ran up his neck. “Then I’m afraid it's back to a cheeky little lawyer, Mr Fitzgerald.”As much as Monty wanted to look at Henry, his eyes, against his will, closed again in delirious excitement and pleasure that Henry’s simple yet so seductive actions gave him. Only when he felt the tightness of the collar around his neck Monty opened his eyes and shook his head, shifting slightly on the stool. A moment later, after composing himself, he said quietly, his smirk returning, “Then I will stay a cheeky little lawyer, I suppose. Because you know I can’t behave. Although I can try and ask nicely... Should I do it on my knees?” Monty was aware that they were dangerously close to forgetting about everything they had to do today and staying in this bedroom, but, once again, he became unstoppable.Henry grabbed Monty about the lapels, nearly knocking him off the stool. He pulled him up just enough so that Monty was half-standing before kissing him hard, his mouth feverish and insistent. Before he completely lost his mind and got short of breath, he drew back – barely. “You incorrigible minx,” he repeated, only this time it was close a growl. “You’ve been on your knees before, you and I know that very well…” With the last of his willpower, Henry forced his gaze to look at the wooden floorboards beneath them. “But I’ll wait until we get this room carpeted so as not to hurt your delicate little knees. Then you’ll have no excuse.” His whole body now at risk of being wracked with want, Henry released him and turned away, lest he got tempted by the sight of Monty staring breathlessly at him from the stool.Monty, indeed, was overwhelmed. This wasn’t what he had expected. He didn’t even know Henry could be so… intense? Monty failed to find the right word. Lost for words and breath alike, he looked at Henry as he turned away. If he had enough strength right now he would have, most likely, rushed after Henry, but he couldn’t even get up. Running his fingers through his hair, Monty leaned back, but at the last moment, he remembered that he was sitting on a stool without any back and grabbed the vanity’s tabletop, nearly falling. This made Henry turn back.“Damn, Henry…” Monty uttered in a whisper, still staring at him in amazement. He tried to pull himself together and return to his nonchalant and cheeky self again and let out a chuckle that sounded rather nervous. “Right now, I don’t mind hurting my delicate knees for you.” By this time, Monty had absolutely forgotten about their chores – he couldn’t think of anything else when Henry was being like this. He released his grip on the vanity and loosened the tie, his breath still heavy. No matter how much he tried to tame his own body, he just couldn’t.To tell the truth, Henry hadn’t expected himself to get so carried away. But Monty’s turn of phrase had sparked something within, something he hadn’t known the existence of until now. And poor Monty, by the look of him in his loosened tie and collar, was in a state of near shock. Desire now battling with a growing sense of embarrassment, Henry took slow, deep breaths until he was composed enough to walk over to the vanity. Kneeling so that they were at eye level but not looking him in the eye just yet, Henry smoothed out Monty’s crumpled lapels, running his fingers gently over the fabric. Eventually, he turned his gaze up, his expression contrite. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me... your words, they just-” Henry paused, realising he was the one making excuses now, and sighed, shaking his head. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”Monty shook his head quickly. “Not at all, only surprised. And I was the one who started teasing you, so…” He was about to say “sorry” himself, but instead he said quietly, “Oh, sod it!” and, grabbing Henry’s face, kissed him passionately, lingering the kiss more and more. “Don’t apologise for things like this, not to me,” he added eventually, cupping Henry’s cheek and feeling how hot his face was. “The things we do to each other!..” Monty chuckled again, this time in genuine amazement. “I’ll make sure to try it once more tonight. You beast.” Monty smirked, his usual attitude coming back, but his chest kept heaving, and his mind was still rather frantic. And, naturally, his body was too aroused to even think of getting up or doing anything.“I’ve never been called a beast before, so that’s a first.”Now Henry was rather pleased with himself. Still elated from Monty’s response and also sensing that he too was struggling to calm himself down, Henry shifted so that he laid his head on Monty’s lap, gazing at the bed and then the window which stood opposite them. Monty tensed at first, but relaxed gradually. In fact, it helped him calm down. At once, deft, clever hands weaved into the fair hair and Henry smiled: Monty’s constant fascination and apparently a source of comfort for him, too.“Gentle, but teasing beast, yes…” Monty said softly. Even though a few minutes ago Henry was far from gentle. Not that Monty minded it.They remained like that for some time, and Henry closed his eyes, lulled by his lover. Monty’s passion gradually subsided into the usual fondness he felt in Henry’s presence. Exhaling slowly, he leaned down to kiss Henry’s hair tenderly and glanced at him, genuinely wondering if he fell asleep. So he asked carefully: “Henry?”“Hmm?” There was a smile in Henry’s voice as he opened his eyes to see Monty gazing fondly at him, his face close to his. Not close enough to kiss, but perhaps it was better this way lest he got carried away again. “What are you going to put in that vanity anyway?” he asked, returning to the object that began all this. “A whole array of colognes and powder puffs?”Monty turned back to look at the vanity for a second and shrugged. “Well, why not? Cologne, yes, but smoke instead of powder puffs. Though, who knows... I can leave a drawer for your pipe and tobacco, if you want. Only I’m not sure why we so quickly decided it will be just mine!” He grinned, his fingers returning to Henry’s hair to stroke it gently. “I’m also not sure what women keep in there... Perfume mostly, I suppose. Maybe you have some ideas for it?” Before Henry could answer, Monty added, “But you know what is the main purpose of this vanity, no doubt…” and twirled Henry’s hair around his finger.Henry exhaled sharply, feeling blood rushing to his face – and elsewhere – again. “Monty…” he said in warning before reluctantly getting to his feet. He rubbed his slightly sore knees, ignoring Monty’s pointed gaze. “We definitely need carpet on that floor soon.” Henry turned to look at the bed. “And you mentioned we needed to get the other nightstand?”Monty sighed melancholically and got up just as reluctantly. “Well, yes. We only have one right now, as you can see. I don’t mind getting on top of you every time I need to take or put something on the nightstand, but I think it would be more convenient to have one on each side.” As Monty motioned to go to the second bedroom, Henry closed his eyes for a different reason, willing himself not to pay attention to the comments about the nightstand. To distract them both, he wondered what they could do with this spare room.“We might accommodate guests here. Or even throw a party!” Monty offered with small excitement.“A party here would be something one day. It might be better than going out there amongst people we don’t know... and I wouldn’t need to dress up for the occasion either.”“Wouldn’t need to dress up? I would expect my partner to be as dapper and smart as possible, at any party!” Leaning on the windowsill and folding his arms, Monty smiled to show that he was joking. “Nah, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to be comfortable, be your wonderful self. And speaking of dressing up, I intend to wear my robe most of the time here. All this jacket-waistcoat-shirt thing is too much for home, especially in summer. And nobody would disturb us anyway.”Henry slowly eyed Monty up and down, wondering if he was being serious. “Your robe - surely not just your-” He gulped, pausing for a moment before deciding to take the bait, mirroring Monty’s pose as he turned to face him fully. “And what would you like your partner to dress up in then? If not in a jacket-waistcoat-shirt thing?” He leaned forward in interest.“Maybe not just the robe (although I don’t see why not), but certainly the robe.” Monty, in turn, studied Henry’s figure, humming as he thought. “As for my partner, if he has a robe - for I haven’t seen him in one yet - then, of course, he can wear it. But really, there are so many combinations. Robe, shirt and trousers. Waistcoat, shirt, and trousers. Shirt and trousers. Just trousers.” He looked at Henry knowingly, offering him to continue, if he wanted to.Henry felt warm again and not just because the sun was shining right on him now. And not because Monty seemed to have edged closer towards him along the windowsill with every word. “Well, I do have a robe somewhere…” he offered. “And all the rest of that, of course. Though I might just pair the robe with a shirt and trousers. At the very least…”“At the very least! Splendid! Can’t wait to see it.” Now Monty took Henry by the lapels, but did it gently, just as gently as he kissed him, leaning closer for their chests to touch. “Congratulations, Professor, the domestication of Monty is complete,” he announced quietly, rubbing his nose against Henry’s. “Well, sort of. He might want to go out into the wild every now and then.”Henry rested his forehead against Monty’s, awash in contentedness. “And this Professor will be there to join him – or rein him in, if need be. Although perhaps I might be the one needing to be reined in. Gentle, teasing beast that I am, hmm?” They shared another kiss when suddenly, Monty looked to the nightstand. “We still need to move it. And there are other rooms we haven’t blessed with our love yet. Oh, this sounds rather blasphemous, doesn’t it?” Monty frowned, but by his short laughter, it was obvious that he didn’t care.“Appropriately blasphemous for a Sunday, but I, for one, have no wish to be redeemed.”The next room they went to “bless” was the bathroom. Its main element, a big new bathtub, drew their attention like a magnet. Monty didn’t know that it would be so difficult to focus on moving in: despite his excitement about finally having a house of their own, all he could think of was Henry. Who was standing behind him, in his shirt, without either a waistcoat or jacket. Perhaps it was the lack of the time they’ve had together this morning that Monty desperately needed to compensate. Even when he approached the tub, his look returned to Henry.“You know, as much as I like this look, I prefer you wearing a waistcoat without a jacket. Don’t know why, it’s just more appealing to me.” Monty had been restraining himself for too long. He approached Henry, smiling at him as he took his hand. “Although... I do love this combination as well.” His fingers deftly unbuttoned the right cuff of Henry’s shirt. “It just needs a bit of improvement.” The left cuff followed suit, and, after Monty glimpsed at Henry with a mix of playfulness and curiosity in his eyes, he rolled the sleeves, slowly, his fingers lightly touching the skin. Monty took a step back, like an artist who inspected his own work, and expressed a satisfied grin. “Yes, this is much better. In my opinion, of course.”Closing his eyes as he underwent this “improvement”, it also took the dregs of Henry’s remaining self-control not to give Monty that shared bath he so desired by throwing them both into the bathtub, water or no water. Even pared down to shirt and trousers, his body was beginning to show the telltale signs that there was still too much, rather than too little covering it. They had barely managed to leave the bedroom unscathed and now he wasn’t certain if the bathroom would share the same lucky fate. Henry let out a quiet sigh of relief when he felt Monty moving away, only to see him grinning smugly back at him. Henry took a moment to examine himself before looking back up.Still holding Monty’s gaze, Henry raised his right hand up to his collar, swiftly unbuttoning the buttons there. “I think you missed a spot,” was all he said, his tone almost challenging.“This was the next step.” Monty’s chuckle could be hardly heard, practically an exhale. For a couple of seconds, he kept admiring Henry, secretly enjoying the state he was in. “But I’m glad you’re taking initiative. It is also very, very appealing.” He returned to Henry and rested his hand on Henry’s trouser band, leaning in for a sweet kiss and thumbing the band teasingly. But, after they broke the kiss, Monty drew back and turned towards the door, pretending to ignore Henry’s state. “I’m afraid we have all those boxes to get rid of…” he said with a dramatically sad sigh.To their mutual surprise, Henry let Monty leave without incident. Still in the bathroom, he managed to take a few ungainly steps forward, the floor like air beneath him… before making a desperate beeline for the washbasin. “God damn it, Monty,” he muttered as he put his head under the tap, gasping at the shock of cold water. Barely had Monty made a few steps when he heard the sound of water and peeked into the bathroom. “Oh my, am I getting a wet, dishevelled Professor already?” he exclaimed in exaggerated glee. Henry remained where he was: under the tap. “The day just keeps getting better!” With a cheerful, teasing laugh, Monty quickly left, descending the stairs lightly.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Henry eventually extracted himself from the washbasin. Thoroughly soaked and looking half-drowned, he nearly stumbled his way down the stairs. Readying himself to face Monty again in the drawing room, he stopped when he saw him singing quietly and nearly skipping around amidst the pile of boxes. It was almost enough to make Henry march back upstairs for another soak. Almost. “At least one of us is enjoying himself,” he announced coolly from the doorway, his hair still dripping.Monty’s singing stopped. Hiding his amused smile, he busied himself with folding yet another box. “Were you trying to drown yourself or just cool down? I hope it won’t come to this every time I try to improve your look. It needs improvement now, too, by the way, your shirt is absolutely soaked. Oh!.. Have you decided to go with this look for home? I certainly don’t mind…” As much as he enjoyed teasing Henry, Monty cut himself short there for the poor man was obviously on the verge of exploding. With a cheeky smile, he took the next box, trying not to look at Henry, even though he was very curious.Glaring daggers now, Henry opened his mouth to fire a volley of curses, but shut it when Monty leisurely took up yet another damned box. This gentle beast of his wasn’t feeling so very gentle anymore, but neither was he very comfortable in his wet shirt… “I - you - God damn you, Monty!” Henry bellowed as he marched over, taking off his sopping shirt and flinging it at his lover. It landed with a satisfying slap on Monty’s face, but Henry barely had time to enjoy the sight as he grabbed him roughly by the front of his shirt, effectively silencing him. “You - bloody - infuriating - little lawyer.”The briefest moment of fear didn’t even get to reflect on Monty’s face - instead, the corner of his lip went slightly up in a smirk. “Are we coming up with new nicknames today? I might be a bit behind,” he said innocently, as if he wasn’t being held by Henry, who was evidently angry. Secretly, Monty tried to gauge just how angry he was. And the fact that Henry was shirtless didn’t help, of course. Monty gulped and stared at him in a challenging manner, avoiding lowering his look to Henry’s bare chest. “Try to be gentle, all right? The shirt is quite expensive.”Breathing deeply through his nose, Henry flicked his gaze downwards at the shirt bunched up in his curled fists. Even through the apparently expensive fabric, he could see the rapid rise and fall of Monty’s chest belying his nonchalant facade. “Oh, Mr Fitzgerald,” he pronounced in his most dangerously professorial tone. “Whatever are we going to do with you?” Without warning, Henry unhanded him but did not take his hands off him, instead smoothing out the front of his shirt, palms barely making contact as they strayed further across his torso. If Monty wanted him to be gentle, oh, he’d be gentle all right... he’d barely touch him at all. And Henry? Well, two could play at this game, no matter how many times he needed to put his head under a tap. Tilting his head a little, his wet hair now getting into his eyes, Henry let his left hand hover above Monty’s chest at the point just above his heart. Monty watched in tense silence. With his right, Henry mirrored the pose on his own bare chest, but fully pressing his palm against his damp skin. When he looked up at Monty, his eyes were blazing. “Well? Am I being gentle enough for you?” he whispered.Curiosity spurred Monty to go further, to find out more about this unexpected side of his lover. He pulled all his strength to feign indifference in his voice. “Actually, I only meant the shirt.” There was a challenge in his eyes again. His fingers wrapped around Henry’s right wrist, craving for more touches and for more feeling of these hands, but refusing to show it. Henry nearly gave in. Meanwhile, Monty leaned closer to ask in a whisper, “So, what is so infuriating about me?..”Fighting every instinct which was now screaming at him to give in, Henry wrenched his hand away, to Monty’s visible disappointment. He adopted a haughty expression, continuing: “Still talking, sir? And you wonder what’s so infuriating about you? As if my shirtless state and wet hair aren’t manifest enough.” Their faces now were barely inches from each other. “If I weren’t so furious, I would stop that overly cheeky mouth of yours with a kiss.” Henry glanced down at Monty’s lips which were now pressed together in agitation and anticipation... and then stepped back, sighing wearily. “But I’m afraid there’s nothing that could assuage me now…”It was now not just a teasing game but a competition, and Monty wasn’t going to let Henry win. Or..? Hiding his frustration, he stared at Henry for another moment, then asked, “Nothing?” By his tone, it was obvious that not only he doubted it, but he also had an idea that could probably assuage Henry. Monty clenched his jaw and suddenly knelt, still looking at Henry. “Don't worry about my knees, there is a carpet. So how about this... Professor?”Henry spared a moment to gaze at his partner’s unusually humbled figure on the carpet before him. A moment was all he could spare because the sight was much too delicious to be borne any longer. With a near growl, he dove at Monty, the carpet cushioning the impact upon his own knees. “It’ll do,” he said, holding Monty’s face between his hands and kissing him passionately.His heart pounding, Monty smirked against Henry’s lips and, without breaking the kiss, suddenly pushed his upper body, forcing Henry to lay down on the carpet. Pressing himself against Henry’s, almost grinding, Monty lingered the kiss for several more seconds before drawing back and looking at Henry in triumph. “Am I forgiven?” Now he allowed himself to look at Henry’s torso and further down. Catching his breath at the sight, Monty leaned his head down for another, shorter kiss. “We should have started in the reverse order, ending with the bedroom. I can’t imagine what is going to happen in the dining room!” He laughed, staying on top of Henry and enjoying his victory.“You took your time, you incorrigible minx.” Despite his “defeat”, Henry laughed along as he lay back on the carpet, placing a hand on either of Monty’s thighs. “And yes, you’re forgiven although you do talk too much at times. And you still need kissing to quiet that mouth of yours which I’m only too happy to oblige.” He tilted his head up for another kiss. “No doubt we’ll have an epiphany in the dining room at the rate we’re going, what with our quest to bless this entire house.”“An epiphany! God, we are going to hell for all this, aren’t we?” Monty showed no intention to let Henry go for now. “Well, I am in heaven now, so I really don’t care.” His hands on Henry’s shoulders, he observed him affectionately, biting his lip. “I am spoiled for choice, Henry. You’ve offered so many options for your home wear.” Seeing that Henry frowned, sensing his teasing again, Monty smirked and brushed his fingers up and down Henry’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m doing this just for my very cheeky mouth to be silenced. By my strict, hard to assuage Professor…” He kissed Henry on the chest and, his head still low, looked at him. Henry bit back a shiver. “What made you so angry?”Henry himself was in heaven now, so it was hard to recall why he got this angry. “I don’t know why I got so worked up.” As he shook his head, Henry’s neck brushed against the mildly damp carpet, reminding him of the state of his hair. “The things I wanted to do to you in that bathroom...” he admitted, fingers starting to trail anxiously across Monty’s thighs and travelling upwards. “I thought I had it under control when I dunked my silly head under the tap, but then I saw you looking so damn pleased with yourself and you just wouldn’t quit with your teasing-” He suddenly grasped Monty’s hips, fingers almost digging into the softness there. “The things you do to me, Mr Fitzgerald… what is this magic you possess?”Monty shrugged coquettishly, as if his body did not stir. “It’s love, I suppose.” Actually, he could ask the same question. But he asked another. “And… The things you wanted to do to me in the bathroom? Why didn’t you do them?” Looking at Henry, he lowered himself to kiss his chest again, but then stopped with a chuckle. “I’m sorry, it seems I can’t help with teasing you! If it is too much, though, do tell me, in the future. I get carried away, as you can see.” Despite his own words, Monty ran a teasing hand down Henry’s torso, nearly absentmindedly. That “future” wasn’t anywhere near enough.Glaring at Monty’s renewed teasing, Henry was nevertheless unable to suppress a shiver this time. He shifted a little, partly in an attempt to buck Monty off, but mostly because Monty’s weight upon his lower body was starting to cause... problems. “As for what I thought in the bathroom, I’m still considering the things I wanted to do to you.” Henry focused on a spot on the ceiling, hoping to empty his mind. “The only reason why I didn’t go through with them is that you haven’t deserved them yet," he continued, his tone deceptively conversational, and flicked a pointed look at Monty. “And if we are to make love in this house, surely the first place we would grace with our unholy presence would be the bedroom.” He let out a sigh. “I’m a traditionalist in that way, I suppose. And as for when…” Sending his fingers up Monty’s waist and towards his chest, he regarded Monty as if he was a conundrum encountered in his research: “Well, it’ll probably happen, eventually. Hopefully. Somewhere down the road. In the near... or should that be the distant future?”Monty glared at Henry. “If I sit down right now, on you, this future will be very close.” He slowly lowered his hips and laughed at how tense Henry had become. He quickly bent forward, his lips close to Henry’s ear to whisper, “And it will be here, on this lovely carpet, whether you want it or not, Professor.” Monty looked very pleased when his words sent another shiver through Henry’s body and, satisfied with the result, lay down on the floor next to Henry. Much to the latter’s relief. “And what do I have to do to deserve all the things you want to do to me? Getting on my knees wasn’t enough, I gather?”“Getting on your knees was a start,” murmured Henry. With some difficulty, he turned on his side on the carpet, propping himself up on his elbow. Slowly, his eyes traversed the length of Monty’s body before returning upwards to stop at his covered chest and tsked. “First, if you want to get into Professor Higgins’ good graces, I would recommend a level playing field. It is hardly fair that I should be shirtless and you are not.” He ran a finger along the line of pristine buttons, deliberately avoiding contact with Monty’s body and ignoring his heated glare. “Expensive shirt or no, it’s got to go. Don’t you agree?” Henry looked at him expectantly, making it clear that he had no intention of removing it for him.“God damn you, Henry…” Monty grumbled jokingly and sat up to unbutton his shirt, not looking at Henry. Once the shirt was removed, he lay down on his back again, turning his head to Henry with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to start here? Considering that we are halfway there, and it’s your doing. You took off your shirt (well done on throwing it right in my head, by the way), and you asked me to take off mine. I sense you were lying, Professor…” Monty’s fingers shot up Henry's chest until he resolved to look at the ceiling, feigning a melancholic look. “But since I am so undeserving now, and you prefer getting your pretty head wet instead of choosing the charming, infuriating me, I suppose I should abandon any hope…”Barely paying attention, Henry let Monty talk, preferring instead to let his eye rove about the smooth, uncovered planes of his chest. “Oh yes, the tap,” Henry suddenly exclaimed when Monty trailed off, so suddenly that it nearly made him jump off the floor. “Why, I’m surprised you haven’t tried it yet, it’s wonderfully bracing.” Watching Monty closely, Henry rested back on the carpet, planting both hands in his hair to smooth it back with an exaggerated sensuality that was almost obscene. “Positively dishevelling, I dare say.” He sighed, throwing Monty a pitying look. “I’m afraid you’re right in supposing there isn’t any hope for you, next to the marvels of our washbasin…”Monty stared at Henry, battling the strongest desire to come back on top of him and cover him in kisses - for a start. He also thought he was rather in need of the tap, especially if he was going to control himself. “Very well,” he said quickly and stood up. Without looking at Henry, Monty collected several flattened boxes as if it was the most interesting occupation in the world and they were his remaining scraps of sanity. He marched out of the room, even though Henry was magnetic to him at this stage. He even ignored his lover’s “I think you’ve forgotten something!” as Henry waved his shirt.Monty climbed up the stairs, to the attic, where he dumped the boxes and decided to stay for a while. It was cooler here, for one thing, just what he needed. The attic was dark, not just chilly, and not in a very inviting way. The previous owners used it for old kitchen appliances, by the look of dusty pans and casseroles. On a childish whim, Monty locked the door and approached the window to look outside, calming himself and his body. Only the calm wasn’t to last.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As Monty’s footsteps faded upstairs, Henry fell back to the floor, laughing, but also - curiously - feeling quite worn out. Although pleased with the little show he had put on and now beginning to understand why Monty found playing the coquette so appealing, it was surprisingly exhausting work. Tempting as it was to follow his flustered partner, Henry instead exited the drawing room to put their shirts in the laundry basket. Upstairs, he collected their clothes from the spare bedroom before heading to their own. There, he put on a clean shirt and, smiling to himself, reached for his waistcoat. Eventually, he turned round to observe his reflection in the vanity’s mirror, wondering what on earth was Monty doing now.
Not that there was much to do in the attic. To Monty’s amusement, a young woman, looking up, noticed him and, after a moment of surprise, hastily looked away. Monty, in turn, glanced at the door, but apparently, Henry hadn’t come here. This was disappointing...
Suddenly, Monty felt that something crawled up his bare arm. A spider, he realised and flinched.
“Oh, fff…” he let out before noticing, with horror, a cobweb in the corner of the windowsill. With an even bigger spider in it. “There are spiders, Henry! Two of them!” Monty cried with slight panic in his voice, belatedly remembering that, even if Henry was outside, he couldn’t come to his rescue. Because the door was locked. “Get off, you bastard,” he mumbled and backed away, bumping into a rack with old pans, casseroles, and pots. With a clatter, they fell to the floor, several of them hitting Monty. Despite a little pain, he was glad to see that the wretched spider had disappeared. Hurriedly, he unlocked the door, flinging it open, and came down the stairs only to find that Henry was no longer in the drawing room.
Henry’s thoughts were rudely disturbed by a godawful racket upstairs which made him think the roof was about to collapse.
“What the devil?” he began to say, rushing out of the bedroom and up to the attic. The door was wide open, revealing a small mountain of pots and pans and beyond it Monty’s abandoned boxes. Well, that was one mystery solved. “Monty?” He peered round the door, half-expecting to be clobbered with a skillet in revenge. The attic, however, was empty... save for two spiders scuttling around in the corner. Frowning, Henry headed back downstairs and heard cursing from the drawing room. “Monty?” he said again, re-entering the room to see him standing there in the middle of it, arms wrapped about himself in evident agitation.
Monty turned to Henry, relieved to see him. However, Henry was now wearing both a shirt and waistcoat, and Monty felt like an idiot in his shirtless state. “Never, ever again I am going to that damned attic!” He shivered, squeamish as he remembered the encounter, and responded to Henry’s confused look, “There were spiders in there! I thought you heard…”
“I
heard
what seemed to be the roof collapsing, but never mind that now. Are you all right? Did they bite you?" Henry approached Monty to check over his torso for injury, but then realised he was shaking. He placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his gaze gentle and more than a trifle concerned. “Monty, you aren’t afraid of spiders, are you?”
Monty wanted to say confidently that he wasn’t afraid of any spiders, but looked down and muttered, “I am. Well, not afraid. They’re just…” He grimaced. “Disgusting. If I find a spider in any room I’m moving out.”
Monty glimpsed about the drawing room, just to make sure that there wasn’t any nasty little arachnid there. The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched in amusement.
“I hope it won’t come to that, I’ll be awfully lonely here if you do.” Henry’s fingers cupped Monty’s chin, turning his face towards him. “And if there are more spiders, they’ve got me to get past before they even think about reaching you. All right?” At Monty’s quiet nod, Henry smiled and took his hand. They headed towards the stairs, Monty doing his best to hide his embarrassment. “Come on, let’s get some clothes on you before you catch a chill. And once you’re dressed, I’ll put the kettle on again.”
This time they had tea in the dining room, the only one they haven’t explored yet. Neither of them could fathom that this was where they were to dine now, in a big room and with no worries about nosy neighbours. Monty had overcome his embarrassment and returned to his cheerful self rather quickly. He also felt a bit tired, just like Henry, after all their escapades, and felt that an apology was due.
“I might have gotten carried away... But I enjoy these games with you, as you can probably tell by now. Really, I’ve never enjoyed something like this so much before.” He gave Henry a look of impression and adoration and kissed his shoulder. “But honestly, if you ever feel it is too much for you, do tell me. I want us both to enjoy it, just as everything else.”
"Oh, I
do
, I do enjoy it very much. And I suppose we both got carried away,” said Henry sheepishly into his cup, thinking upon all the madness of the past hour. “But I presume it also shows how well we complement each other.” He reached out to stroke Monty’s cheek. “You do know I adore you, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, I do, and it makes me incredibly happy.” Monty turned his chair so that he could look at Henry properly and propped his head on his hand. “Although sometimes I wonder why you adore me. I can count so many flaws about myself... But then, I think ‘why’ is the last question one should ask when being in love. It just... happens. And this is when I believe in destiny.” Glancing at Henry affectionately, Monty took another sip, enjoying their little break.
Henry smiled. They’ve been over this before, of course, this almost miraculous fate that they shared. The Titanic seemed a distant memory now, though Henry avoided bringing it up for Monty’s peace of mind. But it was a scenario that he’d occasionally thought of: if the Titanic had indeed reached New York and Henry had indeed joined his mother in Fiume, their lives would have been very different. And this house, this nest of theirs would not exist. How long would have he remained in hiding, if not for Monty?
He set his cup down and took a biscuit. “In a way, I do think you saved my life. Oh no, not
that
way. I never had such desperate thoughts,” Henry added at Monty’s momentary look of alarm. “But you have saved me and brought me out of my shell for better or worse as you’ve seen… and as even Langham has seen. I don’t think I’ve told you, but some weeks ago he came up to me and said I looked so much more cheerful. And do you know what else he said?” Henry leaned forward, his eyes full of barely suppressed mirth. “He added in a silly little stage whisper that it must be all down to a woman! Can you imagine?” He laughed now in earnest, shaking his head at the absurd scene.
Monty’s very soul filled with thrill and elation, he wanted to kiss his lover, but laughed suddenly. “Why, yes! What’s her name, again? Monteen Fitzgerald?” Despite promising to behave, Monty twirled a curl with the most feminine grace. “Has she finally conquered the charming Professor Higgins’ heart?” he purred, all but batting his eyelashes, but snickered in the end, unable to hold his amusement.
“Oh, far beyond that, she and Professor Higgins are living in sin under one roof. Such a scandal.” Henry took a long and casual sip of his tea, trying to ignore Monty’s feminine charms. “I heard he’s planning to elope with her, the rascal…”
With an exaggerated gasp, Monty clasped a hand to his chest, amusement seen through his mock shock. “To elope? How scandalous! Who would have thought!.. They must love each other very much to live such a sinful life! Whatever do they do, living together?..” He waved a hand in front of his face as if to fan himself after realising just what exactly “they” did.
Henry casted a long-suffering look at Monty, before glancing around him for possible eavesdroppers. “Is it love or something else? I dare say the man looks ten years younger with all that ‘exercise’. And as for the lady… well, we’ve yet to hear what she thinks though we’re all naturally on tenterhooks.”
Monty covered his mouth in shock at the word “exercise” and bit his lip for a second. “Oh, I’m sure she is very happy,” he continued in feminine voice. “What with him being so handsome, interesting, apparently passionate and, no doubt, well endowed.” He directed a shy glance away. “Certainly, a woman would have never done something as scandalous as this if she wasn’t madly in love with the man!”
By this point, Henry needed to put his cup down to stop himself from spilling his tea. “
Well
, that explains a great deal!” he managed to say through delighted chuckles. “The lady has chosen well and has a voracious appetite of her own, or so I’ve heard. It’s fortunate that the professor is so blessed with these ‘gifts’ or I doubt he could even keep up with her.”
“It would seem they are perfect for each other!” Monty got to say before bursting into laughter again. He kissed Henry on the lips out of the blue, hands on his cheeks, and then leaned back, still smiling. “Perhaps I should think about acting…”
“Oh, that would work
very
well,” said Henry, wiping away tears of laughter with a handkerchief. “Every night, I could appear with a bouquet of roses at your dressing room door and hold off your legions of fans.” He took a moment to gaze at Monty in amusement. “And ‘Monteen’ will be your stage name, of course…”
“Yes, obviously,” Monty nodded after a quick sip of tea and tried to refrain from laughing more. “Because it won’t be some boring acting at your average playhouse. No, it will be in one of those places, for people like us, where female and male impersonators are aplenty. This is another place we’ve got to visit one day, by the way.” He took a deep breath and let out in a more feminine voice again, “Ah, I can see the fame ahead…” Monty chuckled, gazing at Henry fondly and returning to his normal voice. “And I can see you standing there with roses, my scandalous professor. The rascal!”
“Naturally, this lady deserves nothing but the best.” Henry twirled an invisible and appropriately rascally moustache. “Roses, champagne and…” He gestured expansively at himself. “This apparently handsome self, of course.”
“Your handsome self is the pièce de résistance, the star attraction, if you want. The only man every act will be for – but of course, my
legions
of admirers will be blissfully ignorant about that.”
Drinking tea, Henry smiled at the scene playing out in his head before looking back at Monty. “I gather the place we’ll be going to will be nothing like the music halls back in London. No, of course not, if it’s one of your favourite haunts.” His smile widened. “I’m intrigued, to say the least.”
“What do you mean by ‘if it's one of my favourite haunts’? I like music halls very much, just so you know! But yes, those bars, saloons, can be a bit wilder. I would say they are just music halls with more freedom. When we get tired of our perfect nest and of blessing each room with our love, we should visit one of those haunts.”
“I was only teasing, Monty,” Henry smiled, standing to reach for the teapot. “But you must admit you are more well-versed in this world than I.” He refilled their cups and was suddenly struck by what Monty said earlier. “Just imagine if our first meeting was at such an establishment! You, the star. Me, the lovestruck admirer, one among hundreds and too shy to ask for even a glance my way...” Henry could picture the scene now and it was almost too painfully accurate. He shrugged, a little diffidently. “But I’d like to think that after enough drinks, this professor will pluck up the courage to ask the object of his devotion out for a dance. Or two.”
Monty’s face lit up in excitement, but before asking the question that immediately came to his mind, he said softly, “Don’t forget that I noticed you both on board the Carpathia and in the bar. Oh, and in the park, too. And not only that, but I also wanted to speak to you and I did. But I like the scene, it’s very... romantic! Now, tell me, can you dance?”
Secretly, this was something Henry had wanted to do for a long time… but like his imaginary self, had never summoned the nerve to do so until now. In answer, he spun once, decently enough, on his heel, still holding the teapot and much to Monty’s obvious delight.
“I’m just going to set this down here,” he smiled, putting it on the table. “One dance partner is enough as it is!” Approaching Monty, he bowed low and extended his hand. “May I?”
Monty grinned and eagerly grabbed Henry’s hand to stand up. “I’m glad you’re not saying you are inexperienced in dancing. You said the same about... relationship, and we both know what your inexperience did to me.” More interested in dancing with Henry than recalling their first intercourse (which was surprising), Monty didn’t let Henry say anything, bringing a finger to his lips. “Now, what are we going to dance?” Only then, smiling in anticipation, Monty removed his finger from Henry’s lips.
As they slid into place, Henry felt a thrill that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Dancing was - to paraphrase a famous author - a certain step towards falling in love. Only in their case, they were doing it when they were already madly head over heels with one another. He glanced down at their bodies which were close enough to touch... but not yet.
“You will lead, I presume?” Monty asked, his tone close to hopeful.
Without a word, Henry pulled Monty towards him, so that their bodies were flush against each other’s. Right hand placed almost possessively upon Monty’s waist with the left holding their hands aloft, Henry leaned, his whisper like a caress in his lover’s ear: “I let you lead in bed, it’s time to see what happens when I take the initiative in other things.” Monty barely had time to respond before Henry led them expertly in a spirited polka, humming the accompaniment and narrowly avoiding the dining table as they went their mad way around the room.
Monty liked to be in charge - or lead, - but he also enjoyed it when Henry was in control. It even made him look different, although Monty couldn’t really say in what way. There was confidence about the gentle features. He tried to figure it out as he fixed his eyes on Henry while they danced, his look that of excitement, passion, and admiration. “You’re very good at it! I’m impressed!” he exclaimed, making sure they didn’t bump into a chair. The feeling of Henry’s hand on his waist made Monty lose focus for a short moment, but he quickly resumed the dance, shaking his head and chuckling quietly, the room seemingly spinning around them.
“Are you saying you
weren’t
expecting to be impressed? You’ve hurt me deeply,” joked Henry, taking another turn around the table for good measure.
His footwork was lighter than Monty’s, but that might be because years of dancing lessons - all part of a gentleman’s toolkit - have been drilled into him. Sensing that Monty was about to get irrevocably dizzy, Henry gradually slowed their pace, revolving gently as they made the transition to a waltz. The relative slowness allows them to get closer and Henry held his partner closer than he ever would a woman in such a position, going so far as to press his chest against his and to place his hand a little lower down his waist.
Monty couldn’t resist and rested his head on Henry’s shoulder as they danced - not because he was dizzy, but because they were incredibly, tantalisingly close. He smirked, feeling the path of Henry’s hand, and looked up at him, his heart beating even faster once their eyes met. “We need a gramophone,” Monty decided in a whisper. “To dance every night. I know you have the phonograph, but you need it for your research…” He went silent, feeling that somehow, it was wrong to talk right now about trifles like this. As they continued to dance, Monty leaned to kiss Henry, wanting this moment to last as long as possible.
Henry lowered his head to meet Monty’s lips halfway. It was an exceptionally sweet kiss, made sweeter by the fact that they were so close to one other. A gramophone playing in the background would indeed be wonderful, but it couldn’t compare with the music of how they were kissing now or the adoration shining in Monty’s eyes as he briefly opened them to gaze at Henry.
“Oh, Henry…” Monty pronounced, just to say his beloved’s name, out of the strongest love and affection he felt at the moment. His hand slipped down Henry’s arm, and he moved closer, for their chests to touch again. From Henry’s arm, Monty’s hand travelled to his back. He knew it wasn’t right for a waltz, but he didn’t care. It was as if he wanted their bodies to become one, or at least to get closer yet to one another. Once again, unable to resist, Monty kissed Henry on the neck, breathing slightly heavier against his skin.
“God,” Henry exhaled shakily.
“I don’t want this to end,” Monty whispered again, even though he thought this phrase was only in his head. He didn’t know how one would feel under a spell, but he was sure this was close. Deep down, he asked himself whether by “this” he meant only the current moment or something else as well, but Monty refused to think about it.
Though Henry was still leading, he wasn’t sure if he really was anymore. Or if they’ve left the dining room and entered another realm of bliss entirely. He could only manage to make another turn round the room before stopping near the table, the edge just brushing the back of his leg. They didn’t completely stop, for Henry didn’t want the moment to end too. His left hand joined his right on Monty’s waist as they revolved on the spot in a slow dance. He hadn’t expected Monty to be so moved as he was - as they both were, eyes locked on each other, their breaths mingling when Henry leaned in for another kiss. The attraction between them now electrifying, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to make another transition to a whole new “dance” completely. Monty tilted his head back as Henry trailed his hot mouth down to kiss and gently nip at the uncovered skin of his neck.
“This doesn’t have to end,” Henry rasped when he pulled back slightly, desperation entering his voice. His gaze fell helplessly to their entwined bodies. “I don’t think
I
can end here…”
“Oh?” Monty reacted with curiosity. He felt the tabletop behind him and, after a second of hesitation, sat on it, drawing Henry to himself, letting him stand between his legs. “I’m afraid everything has to come to an end, eventually…”
Monty didn’t know why he said it or what to do as he felt that he ended their dance too abruptly and too soon. But he justified himself, thinking that if they were to continue, things could get more frisky. Not that it was impossible now, he thought as his hand gently caressed the fabric of Henry’s waistcoat. Then, with a quiet, tired groan, Monty pressed his forehead against Henry’s stomach, feeling helpless, and shut his eyes.
Stiffening a little - and perhaps in more places than one, - Henry relaxed enough to smile amusedly at Monty’s bent head resting on his stomach. “Goodness, is the shining star of the theatre overcome? Has the shy professor made his mark with his dancing?” he inquired, teasingly.
Weaving his fingers through the lush, dark curls and resting his other hand on Monty’s back, he felt the rise and fall of his gently panting breaths. Evidently the dear man was so overstimulated, by their dance and their hour of extended antics, that he was uncharacteristically worn out. Henry was tired too, but his body just wouldn’t let up. Monty had often called himself insatiable in his sensual appetites and Henry was beginning to understand a little of what he meant. Then he let out a long sigh, willing all his pent-up desire into it as if to expel it from his being.
“Monty, if it’s too much, tell me. I can back off if you want, though only just…”
“Don’t you dare.” Monty quickly straightened up and mock glared at Henry. “I just overexcited myself, and…” He interrupted himself as he glanced down. “Well, we both did. And I’m trying to figure out if I need to slow down and use your advice about cold water. Or we can use the hour before preparing dinner for something else.” Looking at Henry, Monty tilted his head, his fingers tracing Henry’s hand. “I’m afraid I would need your help here, Professor.”
“Asking for help when I’m almost beyond help myself. Damn it, Mr Fitzgerald,” said Henry in a half-groan, half-chuckle. But he just about pulled himself together and took Monty’s roaming hand to kiss it still. “An hour before dinner is... enticing,” he admitted, nuzzling his lips against Monty’s fingers. “But I don’t want to rush things. Not on our first day - or should that be night - in our own house. And certainly not on a tabletop, tempting as it is and tempting as you are.” Henry allowed himself another moment to take in Monty’s spread legs before gently tugging him off the table. This returned some of Monty’s lost hope, but not for long. “Regrettably, it appears we now have a rendezvous with the kitchen tap…” he sighed as he took him by the hand towards the kitchen.
Monty’s disappointment soon changed to confusion. “The kitchen t- What? Henry?!” He regarded the sink with a sceptical look that he then shifted to Henry who turned the water on. “I’m... not sure I’m actually ready for this.”
“
You
’re not read-” started Henry, but stopped before he said anything he’d regret. Rolling his eyes, he took off his waistcoat and tossed it on the kitchen counter. “That’s more for me than you,” he explained at Monty’s suddenly hopeful look. “I’ve already ruined a shirt, I’m not going to ruin my waistcoat for... God!” Henry swore as he doused his head a second time, the shock of cold water no better than the first, but just as effective in dampening his ardour. Extracting himself from the sink, he caught Monty by the arm as he tried to sneak off. “No, you bloody don’t!” His hair dripping and already making small puddles on the floor, Henry dragged his struggling partner to the sink.
“No, Henry, don’t you dare!” Monty exclaimed as he tried to break free, dangerously close to the sink already. “I fff- If you do it I-” was all he managed to say before he gasped at the sobering and rather unpleasant feeling. Monty almost kicked, but Henry did not relent, smiling in grim amusement when Monty’s head finally met the water.
With curses and swearing, Monty grabbed the rim of the sink, struggling to dodge the water. Henry held him fast, and Monty got to straighten up only when Henry loosened his grip. Panting after the struggle, Monty glared at his lover, but not for long, for water streamed from his hair into his eyes, and he shook his head quickly.
“Damn you, Henry!” he grumbled, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his palm and grimacing at the water running down his spine, dampening his shirt. Monty even squirmed a little before he noticed Henry’s waistcoat. His first thought was to wipe his hair with it, but in the end he just grabbed it from the counter and tossed it at Henry. “Never, ever do it again!” he said with another glare, pointing a finger in Henry’s chest.
“Or you’ll do what?” Henry countered, batting his waistcoat away so that it landed somewhere on the floor. He even took a step forward so that Monty’s finger dug deeper into his chest. It was hard to glare at each other or even have some semblance of seriousness when they were in such a state, but that was the absurdity of a lovers’ quarrel for you. “Come on, Monty, tell me. If it’s getting my head soaked again, I can do that myself for the third time.” He shot a bad-tempered look at the tap which hadn’t yet been turned off.
“Yes, please, do, because your brains are clearly damaged!” Monty retorted in childish anger, even though deep inside he wanted to kiss Henry’s pressed lips. “Maybe the third time you’ll be lucky and get them back to normal.” Then, with the most indignant look he could muster, “I am sleeping in the spare bedroom. That’s what.”
Henry’s eyes widened, only to get more water into them and he squinted in discomfort. Grabbing a dishcloth and wiping his face, he glared at Monty: “I’d like to see you try. You wouldn’t- you wouldn't last a night without me. And with a draught to keep you company, too, what a wonderful bedfellow you’ll have.”
Stunned silence filled the room, before Henry realised that the tap was still running and wrenched the damn thing off.
Monty narrowed his eyes, offended that Henry did not believe him. Even if it was a joke at first, now he was quite determined to prove Henry wrong. “Oh, I spent a night in the Atlantic, I think I’ll survive a little draught.” He snatched the dishcloth from Henry’s hand and wiped his face quickly. “You look absolutely absurd,” Monty added, ignoring the fact that he certainly didn’t look any better.
“Well, I’m evidently brain-damaged so the absurd look shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.” Henry turned around to look for his waistcoat and upon finding it, made to leave the room. “If you need me, I’ll be cleaning up the attic. I’ll try to get rid of those spiders for you while I’m at it, but they might be crawling about the house as we speak since I forgot to close the door…”
Monty scoffed and didn’t move - that is, until Henry said that he forgot to close the attic door. Wondering if it was just bluffing, Monty rushed after Henry. In fact, he was feeling guilty, rather than being afraid, as he was well aware just how foolishly he acted.
“Henry, wait!” Monty exclaimed, grabbing Henry’s hand when he was already climbing up the stairs. God, they did look ridiculous... He hesitated, but knew he had to say it. “I’m sorry. I was just... I told you I wasn’t ready. But I am sorry. For acting like this.” Monty released Henry’s hand and looked down in shame.
From the step above, Henry regarded Monty in lingering irritation, but he could never be angry with him for long. In fact, he had already forgiven him the moment he had followed him up the stairs. Unsure of what to say and not wanting to return to the mindless insults they’d flung at each other in the kitchen, Henry merely said, as gently as possible: “I wasn’t joking about the spiders or the door, by the way. But if we’re lucky and I get there in time... but we must hurry.” He resumed climbing up the stairs.
Monty frowned, doubting whether he was forgiven. He hesitated again, but, not wanting to stay alone, followed Henry upstairs, although he preferred to stay by the attic door and watch Henry, who walked inside, from there.
“Well?..” Monty asked as he glanced around and then down at the stairs, half expecting to see an army of spiders there. In fact, he was more interested in finding out if Henry was still angry with him or not, but he didn’t show it and just took a studying, slightly anxious look at him.
Henry raised a brow when Monty decided to remain outside, but went in without comment. Stepping over the mound of pots and pans, he quickly located the spiders which were - fortunately for Monty - where he last saw them.
“They’re still here!” Henry called back, before throwing open the window which unloaded a cloud of dust right on his face. Coughing, he scooped the spiders up and encouraged them to crawl outside. “I wouldn’t come in here right now if I were you,” he said wryly when he saw Monty gingerly poking his head around the door. “My hands are full of arachnids.”
“You’re
touching
them?!” Monty exhaled, poking his head more, despite the warning.
He grimaced just saying this, trying to avoid imagining what it was like to touch a spider. But of course his mind kindly offered the exact sensation. Monty shivered in disgust and then, while Henry wasn’t looking, gazed at him with adoration. For the fact that Henry went to get rid of these nasty spiders right after their stupid quarrel was very admirable to Monty.
“Are they gone?” he asked again, venturing to come inside and approach Henry to peek at the windowsill over his shoulder.
“Almost. This fellow’s a bit undecided. Go on now!” Henry gave the smaller spider a nudge and with a final, seemingly indignant twitch of its legs, it scuttled off. He quickly shut the window and dusted his hands off. “Well, that’s that,” he declared, turning round with his hands outstretched, like a conjurer who’d done a magic trick. “Should I go wash my hands?” he smiled at Monty’s slightly squeamish look.
Trying not to think where the spiders would go, Monty shifted his alert gaze to Henry, first to his hands, then to his face. After an unusual moment of hesitation, he reached to kiss his beloved on the lips, gently and briefly, and took a step back after that, unsure how Henry felt about the whole ordeal.
“Um... Yes, if you aren’t tired of water yet, I think you should wash your hands.” Monty glimpsed around the dark room, feeling rather uncomfortable in the attic, despite witnessing the expulsion of spiders. “You think there are no more of them here?..”
Henry let out an affectionate chuckle. Monty’s almost incapacitating fear of spiders came as a surprise to him. He had always imagined him to be completely unflappable, the suave young man who could turn him round on his little finger... and here he was, like an adorable little boy.
“They’re spiders, dear, I can’t magic them away from this world. But they shouldn’t be back for a while, at least.” Henry pecked him on the cheek, keeping his hands to himself for Monty’s sake. “Shall I leave you here or are you coming along? Best to close the door, if you do.”
Monty checked whether Henry was teasing, but didn’t say anything. In fact, he was the first to leave the attic and made sure Henry closed the door. All this spider banishing made them both peckish, so it was decided to start cooking soon. Besides, the earlier they dined the more time they would get for themselves… so to speak. Safe to say, Monty did not want to spend the night alone anymore. Neither did Henry, as a matter of fact.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
How were they to maintain an entire house? That was the question on Monty’s mind as they enjoyed their first dinner in the small but cosy kitchen, pork and rice, like their actual first dinner back at the flat. Hiring a servant would be wise, but either of them would never dare to let a stranger in, both for safety reasons and because they didn’t want anyone else to disturb their haven. And Monty didn’t like cleaning… But leaving it all to Henry would be unfair. Surely they’d figure it out.
There were other things to wonder about. How much he had changed, for example. A few months ago he could confidently say that he preferred to dine out and couldn’t cook much. Now he enjoyed every second of cooking with Henry, cooking
for
Henry.
Admittedly, this resulted in a bit of weight gaining, for both of them. As Henry said, his waistcoat hid many sins, gluttony, for one. Well, nothing a bit of exercise couldn’t fix.
Of any kind
.
They didn’t burn any food this time, even though the old stove was tricky to master and soot covered everything around it. Maybe the pact to avoid kisses helped there. Both rice and pork were better this time, one last hello from their old place. The lovers had a bit of grocery shopping ahead.
After dinner and… some other activities Monty had to tend to Henry’s hand. It was probably inevitable, with Henry’s adorable clumsiness, that he’d burn his hand a little. Small sacrifice for an intact meal, perhaps? Thankfully, Monty had a magical ointment – Henry could use no other word for it.
Henry sat in front of the vanity and Monty on the floor, gently taking the injured hand. He’d hate to cause even a moment of pain to his beloved.
“My brother was very clumsy, so we’ve always had plenty of this at home,” he said as he applied the ointment to the red skin as carefully as he could. Despite the worry, Monty’s heart fluttered. It was another kind of intimacy he treasured: care for his dear partner. At Henry’s hiss he glanced up. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to bear with me.” A small consolation in the form of a soothing kiss on the tips of Henry’s fingers. “It does look rather nasty, Henry. Are you sure it’s not bound to get worse?”
Though the hand was indeed sore, the loving care that Monty administered made Henry almost forget the discomfort. Nearly breathless by the time Monty kissed his fingers, he leaned closer, ostensibly to examine the hand, but more to fondly gaze at the face of his lover which frowned in concentration and concern. How lucky he was to be blessed with such a man! Suppressing the urge to kiss him senseless, Henry smiled as Monty finished applying the ointment.
“With all the care you’ve lavished on it, I dare it to not get better or I shall be very cross!” He flexed his fingers and noted the ointment was already having an effect. “I’m hopeful it will improve, if you and your brother swear by the stuff. I didn’t know you had a brother, by the way,” he added in curiosity. “Is he anything like you?”
“Hm?” Monty let out, looking up from the jar he was resealing. “Not really, quite the opposite, in fact. Very well-behaved… I did tell you that I have a big family, didn’t I? Three sisters and one brother, to be exact. But I’m the most handsome one, or so I was told.”
He grinned, a glimmer of affection peeking through playfulness. To just sit here, by Henry, was quite enough to make Monty happy. The bedroom, light but empty, was yet to be turned into the cherished corner of love with pictures and sweet mementos, but it already felt cosier there.
“Vanity, thy name is Monty,” Henry proclaimed with mock solemnity and tapped the top of the vanity behind him. “We should name this after you, so when I wake up each morning I’ll address it instead.” He did kiss Monty this time, affectionately on the nose. “I’m glad I got myself a handsome Fitzgerald. And the most mischievous one at that, hm? I can imagine you as an university student, sneaking off at odd hours of the day for a forbidden tryst or two, but still managing to pass all your exams. Oh, I know and have taught your type!” A flight of fancy suddenly took hold of Henry. “Just imagine if I were younger and we were contemporaries at university. God, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at all on my studies with the way I act now!” His fingers, which have been playing with Monty’s hand, stopped as Henry’s thoughts took a more pensive turn. “Sometimes I wonder if our paths should have crossed earlier. The days,
years
I’ve spent when I could have been with you…” he trailed off quietly.
“They should have, perhaps,” Monty agreed after a serious, worried look at Henry. “And yet I can’t help thinking that everything comes in due time. Think about it.” He moved to sit on the bed, facing his lover. “We could have met, what, ten years ago, at most? When I was green and even more insatiable, when I had one meaningless fling after another, wanting to try everything. If I met you back then I wouldn’t even appreciate you. I was very foolish, that I know. And even five years ago, when I was still a student. No, we met at the right time… At least for me. Because-” Monty shifted and looked at Henry, as if needing his presence and quiet support. For he was about to mention the Titanic. “Because I think I
needed
to experience the sinking. As wrong as it sounds, it… I feel that it straightened me out. That’s why I decided to quit my job, to move out. Something clicked, changed in me, and I felt I wanted to change my life. Before the sinking, I wouldn’t even think of these things, and of settling down, too. Yet here I am now.” Monty addressed Henry a soft smile and approached him. “I met you just in time, Henry. Neither earlier nor later would have been that perfect.”
Moved by these words, Henry took Monty’s hand to kiss almost reverently. “You’re right, of course, you’re absolutely right. I myself would have been too scared or in awe (both most likely) if we had met earlier.” Sensing that Monty would need support on the memories he was about to bring up, Henry held his hand to the chest, stroking the knuckles. “And when we did meet aboard the Carpathia, well, I suppose the conditions were just right for us. I was in the dining saloon the first time I set eyes on you and you came in looking so… lost.” He kept his gaze trained on Monty’s face as he spoke in a hushed, gentle tone. “Of course, there were other survivors there who were as devastated, but there was something about the dark-haired young man who my heart went out to. You know how I am, at the time I thought of nothing but to be of help or of service to him. Little did I realise that he would take my heart in another way as well,” Henry finished with a shy smile, pressing Monty’s hand closer to where his heart was.
“You remember where you first met me?” Monty asked with a smile, more touched than surprised, and blinked a few times to fight back tears. To avoid thinking about his first days on Carpathia any further, Monty cupped Henry’s cheek and turned his face to him for a sweet kiss, his hand still feeling the beating of Henry’s heart. “I don’t even want to think what would’ve happened if I didn’t meet you, didn’t take your heart. Not because I could have done something stupid to myself, but because…” He frowned, trying to come up with the right words. “Because I don’t want to return to my chaotic previous life anymore. Honestly. It is exciting and all, but also rather ruinous, if one is to pursue this life all the time, not just in his youth.” He pursed his lips. “I’ve been awfully bad with words recently... But I hope you understand what I mean. I finally found my perfect companion, in every possible sense and way, and I am now content. Whether you knew it or not, you changed me a great deal, Henry. Consider it an achievement.”
“The greatest achievement of my life.” Reaching for another kiss, Henry tasted tears on both their lips. “Well, look at us two… getting all emotional at finding one another. We could be two heroes in a romantic novel. Now, no more crying in future unless they’re tears of joy,” he decided and wiped away Monty’s tears. “Because there
is
much joy to be had for us, whether it be now or tomorrow on our morning walk and wherever we might be the day after that.” Monty nodded, smiling, and Henry’s own smile brightened as he continued excitedly: “And tomorrow, well, it’s another special occasion of its own, isn’t it? The two-month anniversary of our first meeting.”
“And the first full day here! I thought that we could go for a morning walk, buy a bottle or two of wine - Chianti, I’d say, if we find it here, that is.”
“Of course. An essential part of any respectable man’s bath time routine. Especially in
this
house of sin.”
“One must commit sins in style, you cannot deny it! We should buy a gramophone, and a camera, we can’t go out without it! Maybe bicycles too, to explore the suburbs…”
The locomotive of Monty’s thought was once again set in motion. He was growing restless, but Henry smoothly channeled this bubbling energy into changing into pyjamas.
“Whatever next?” Henry inquired amusedly. “Champagne with every meal? Not that I’d mind, but I dread to think of my poor head in the mornings and the state of our wallets.”
“I told you I like the life of leisure, and I’m not going to stop! I’m only going to work - eventually - for us to have enough money to make our life perfect and have anything we want, even if it is just a passing whim.” Monty smirked a little, in a teasing manner. “I am ready, however, to have mercy on your poor head, so we can have champagne every other meal. No mercy for our wallets, though!”
“Again, you are absolutely incorrigible.” Henry looked at Monty and ruffled his hair affectionately. “And you spoil me, you really do. I have never felt so relaxed or pampered in my life! You make a life of leisure look like a full-time occupation with your suave ways and I confess it is very tempting… just you always are to me.”
“Good! It’s time you got used to it. You deserve to be spoiled, and this is what I intend to do for as long as I can. Life is meant to be joyful and all that…” This deep thought Monty mumbled, because his body was very glad to feel a pillow under his head. Bubbling with ideas moments ago, he was close to falling asleep already after such a long day. Rather like a toy train that rushed along the track a minute ago and then slowed to a stop. “I’d very much like it to be my full-time occupation,” he added, stubbornly battling his sleepiness, and hid a yawn.
It was clear that Monty was quickly dozing off. He even rested his head on Henry’s shoulder, like he always did before falling asleep. But now and again, he stirred himself to stay awake. Henry had studied and learned these signs, knowing that if he responded, Monty would want to stay up the whole night and neither of them would get any sleep. Conversely, if he didn’t, worry would set in and Monty would be kept up because of it. Whereas Henry sometimes fretted over what he perceived as lost time, Monty acted as if there simply
wasn’t enough
time. As if every minute spent resting or sleeping was a minute wasted. It was no doubt another trauma from the Titanic and while Henry well understood this urge to live life fully... Monty needed to slow down lest he wore himself out before he even turned thirty.
This was where Henry’s steadying presence came in and which he showed now, arranging himself so that Monty could hold him without the fear that he’d disappear during the night.
“Well, consider yourself hired, Mr Fitzgerald, when can you start?” he inquired in jest and got a mumbled reply in return. “And there’ll be plenty of time for you to do that tomorrow,” he continued assuringly, stroking his arm. “You can start right away, at dawn if you like, but you must sleep first…”