Lewis Fic: Finite
***
Title: Finite
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Lewis
Characters/Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,471
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing. No material profit made, only the social and cultural capital of fandom participation and creativity.
Summary: Christmas night seems like the perfect time for an important discussion about sleeping arrangements.
Author notes: This was written for venturous1 as a Lewis Secret Santa gift over one lewis_challenge. I'm reposting here for posterity. Pre season 8. For the purposes of the fic you can assume that Lewis and Hobson have settled for a friendship. Thank you to margaret_r for a quick and efficient beta.
It was raining by the time he got out of Mass; a dreary, relentless drizzle that was as far away from the postcard White Christmas as it was possible to get without actually crossing the equator. James turned up his coat collar, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he walked down the church steps. Most of the congregation was still inside, exchanging Christmas wishes and family news, almost all long time parish members. A few, like him, had put in a special appearance only and were slipping away, hunched shoulders and bowed heads melting into the darkness. James watched them go, tracking each lonely figure until they were out of sight, unable to switch off the occupational habit to observe, observe, observe.
The cheery chattering of the Mass-goers was growing louder behind him, punctuated by the high-pitched excitement of children allowed to stay up way past their bedtime. James tucked himself into the shadows and out of the way, the stonewall damp and cold against his back as he watched the people walk by, couples holding hands, kids running around. ‘God become man’; the priest’s words echoed in his mind. Infinity held within the limits of flesh.
James had mouthed the familiar responses and hymns along with the rest of the congregation, but they had seemed false and meaningless in his mouth. Used to be that the Christmas Mass would evoke a feeling of quiet awe, a connection to something bigger than himself, even after he’d left the seminary, long after his faith had eroded into a hollow, painful shell. Not so now. Instead, James felt decidedly... small. Finite. Like no matter which way he turned there were barriers he couldn’t breach, lines he didn’t know how to cross.
‘Another bout of existential flue’, Lewis would have called it. James thought maybe it was more about accepting his place. Either way it didn’t make the Christmas night any cheerier and certainly didn’t bring him any closer to divinity.
The sound of a car door slamming snapped James’ attention back to his surroundings, just in time to notice a distinctively familiar figure stepping out of a distinctively familiar vehicle and opening an umbrella. He watched Lewis scan the thinning crowd outside the church. His gaze travelled over James in the first pass, hidden as he was by the shadows, but snagged on the second, tripping on the involuntary shifting of feet. It was almost like James’ body wanted to be found, clearly having had enough of the cold and introspection.
“There you are,” Robbie said, smiling like it had never been in doubt. It made James feel both disappointed at having been caught so easily and unspeakably relieved that there was someone doing the catching at all.
“More to the point,” he countered, trying in vain to ignore the pleased surprise suffusing his insides with warmth, “here you are. Don’t tell me we have a case?” James honestly couldn’t tell which answer he preferred.
“No case.” Lewis shook his head, holding up the umbrella and inviting James to duck under. “Peace on earth and goodwill among men so far. Knock on wood,” he added, tapping his own forehead.
“Don’t jinx it, sir,” James said, wrestling the umbrella from Robbie’s hand before he managed to lose an eye.
“Show-off,” Lewis muttered good-naturedly when James held the umbrella aloft, covering them both with ease and minimum risk to eyesight. “Get in already, will you? I don’t want to stand around here all night.”
James did as he was told, folding himself and the now dripping umbrella onto the passenger seat. Lewis settled next to him, starting the car and joining the sparse traffic smoothly. The rain continued, the car’s windscreen wipers beating a steady, almost hypnotising, rhythm that somehow did more to calm James’ thoughts than the Mass had.
“Where are we going,” he asked after a while, only mildly curious. Lewis could have said the morgue or Maidstone and James would still sit here, content to just be along for the ride.
“Well, I know this place,” Robbie said, turning the car toward a familiar neighbourhood. “Serves a mean hot toddy. Comes with a comfortable sofa too. And,” he added, “I hear it’s conveniently located for tomorrow’s dinner plans.”
With a sideways grin Lewis parked in front of his house, snapping his seatbelt free. James followed suit, though neither of them made any move to actually get out. The shared Christmas dinner had been planned for weeks. They were back on rotation on Boxing Day so it was pointless for Robbie to try and get to Manchester to see Lynn and her family this year and James... Well. He hadn’t even pretended to have other plans, guessing correctly that Lewis would see through such attempts immediately.
“I don’t know, sir...” James drawled, feeling obligated to make at least a token protest, “Your sofa isn’t that comfortable.”
“Well...” Robbie said, seeming to hesitate for a moment, almost... nervous. “There’s an easy solution to that.” He pulled the key out of the ignition, fiddled with the ring and then put the whole thing into his pocket, movements almost exaggeratedly slow, almost as if he was buying time.
“Oh ,indeed?” James asked, trying to capture the levity of the moment ago but unable to stop his forehead from creasing in worry. Something wasn’t quite right here. “Have you purchased some extra pillows?”
“No,” Lewis answered almost curtly and then didn’t say anything else. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, then in his lap, then back on the wheel, staring resolutely ahead even though the weather and the late hour made it almost impossible to see anything beyond the nearest lamp post.
It was quiet, the sound of their combined breathing and the soft click of the cooling engine the only things breaking the silence. James shifted in his seat, turning sideways as much as he could, hampered by his thick winter coat and legs not made for the confines of the car foot well. “Sir,” he started, genuine worry bleeding through his earlier contentment, “what-?”
“Don’t sleep on the sofa,” Robbie blurted out. Then he closed his eyes tightly as if against a sudden onslaught of a migraine.
“What?” James repeated, confused. Surely Lewis didn’t mean for him to go back home, not after he’d gone to all this trouble of practically kidnapping him after the Mass. “Where...?”
“With me,” Robbie said, finally turning to meet James’ eyes. “Sleep with me.” He grimaced, blushing hard enough to be noticeable even in the scant glow of the reflected streetlights. “I don’t mean... I mean just sleep. For now and then, maybe, if you want...” He trailed off, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face. “This was not how I was going to tell you. To ask if...” Robbie sighed, looking chagrined.
No matter. There was enough information in the broken sentences to send James’ heart racing. “You’d planned this?” He asked, the question coming out somewhat shaky, his breath escaping in a white cloud thanks to the cooling air. “How long?”
“A few weeks,” Lewis answered, then hastily added: “I’ve known longer though, suspected even longer but didn’t let myself really think about it. Can’t remember why not anymore...” He reached across, slowly, tentatively, as if expecting James to pull away, giving him every opportunity to do so. “James,” he said, breathed, the name beseeching and gentle and scared, all in equal measure. Like a prayer.
Or a promise.
By the time Robbie’s fingers settled against his cheek, palm a safe cradle against which he could rest his head, James’ eyes had fluttered shut of their own volition. “Yes,” he said, “Yes,” surging forward blindly because Robbie had already been the brave one, already brought him in from the cold, literally and metaphorically, and James would, he would...
There was no need to worry, no need to flounder, because Robbie was there to guide him, just like he always was. All James had to do was trust him and that was no effort at all, never had been.
Robbie’s mouth was almost shockingly warm against his, chasing away the chill and loneliness and lingering self-doubt with every careful, reverent brush of lips. They kissed for a long time, twisted awkwardly toward each other, rain drumming steadily against the car roof.
The world seemed to tighten around them and within the circle of Robbie’s arms James felt even smaller than before, but content, secure. He was held, enclosed by touch and shared breath, defined by the limits of flesh and time. And yet, right then with his hands tracing the shape of Robbie’s back, his heart expanding with joy, James found that he did not mind. Being finite was more than enough when the limits began and ended with the two of them.
***
Title: Finite
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Lewis
Characters/Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,471
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing. No material profit made, only the social and cultural capital of fandom participation and creativity.
Summary: Christmas night seems like the perfect time for an important discussion about sleeping arrangements.
Author notes: This was written for venturous1 as a Lewis Secret Santa gift over one lewis_challenge. I'm reposting here for posterity. Pre season 8. For the purposes of the fic you can assume that Lewis and Hobson have settled for a friendship. Thank you to margaret_r for a quick and efficient beta.
It was raining by the time he got out of Mass; a dreary, relentless drizzle that was as far away from the postcard White Christmas as it was possible to get without actually crossing the equator. James turned up his coat collar, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he walked down the church steps. Most of the congregation was still inside, exchanging Christmas wishes and family news, almost all long time parish members. A few, like him, had put in a special appearance only and were slipping away, hunched shoulders and bowed heads melting into the darkness. James watched them go, tracking each lonely figure until they were out of sight, unable to switch off the occupational habit to observe, observe, observe.
The cheery chattering of the Mass-goers was growing louder behind him, punctuated by the high-pitched excitement of children allowed to stay up way past their bedtime. James tucked himself into the shadows and out of the way, the stonewall damp and cold against his back as he watched the people walk by, couples holding hands, kids running around. ‘God become man’; the priest’s words echoed in his mind. Infinity held within the limits of flesh.
James had mouthed the familiar responses and hymns along with the rest of the congregation, but they had seemed false and meaningless in his mouth. Used to be that the Christmas Mass would evoke a feeling of quiet awe, a connection to something bigger than himself, even after he’d left the seminary, long after his faith had eroded into a hollow, painful shell. Not so now. Instead, James felt decidedly... small. Finite. Like no matter which way he turned there were barriers he couldn’t breach, lines he didn’t know how to cross.
‘Another bout of existential flue’, Lewis would have called it. James thought maybe it was more about accepting his place. Either way it didn’t make the Christmas night any cheerier and certainly didn’t bring him any closer to divinity.
The sound of a car door slamming snapped James’ attention back to his surroundings, just in time to notice a distinctively familiar figure stepping out of a distinctively familiar vehicle and opening an umbrella. He watched Lewis scan the thinning crowd outside the church. His gaze travelled over James in the first pass, hidden as he was by the shadows, but snagged on the second, tripping on the involuntary shifting of feet. It was almost like James’ body wanted to be found, clearly having had enough of the cold and introspection.
“There you are,” Robbie said, smiling like it had never been in doubt. It made James feel both disappointed at having been caught so easily and unspeakably relieved that there was someone doing the catching at all.
“More to the point,” he countered, trying in vain to ignore the pleased surprise suffusing his insides with warmth, “here you are. Don’t tell me we have a case?” James honestly couldn’t tell which answer he preferred.
“No case.” Lewis shook his head, holding up the umbrella and inviting James to duck under. “Peace on earth and goodwill among men so far. Knock on wood,” he added, tapping his own forehead.
“Don’t jinx it, sir,” James said, wrestling the umbrella from Robbie’s hand before he managed to lose an eye.
“Show-off,” Lewis muttered good-naturedly when James held the umbrella aloft, covering them both with ease and minimum risk to eyesight. “Get in already, will you? I don’t want to stand around here all night.”
James did as he was told, folding himself and the now dripping umbrella onto the passenger seat. Lewis settled next to him, starting the car and joining the sparse traffic smoothly. The rain continued, the car’s windscreen wipers beating a steady, almost hypnotising, rhythm that somehow did more to calm James’ thoughts than the Mass had.
“Where are we going,” he asked after a while, only mildly curious. Lewis could have said the morgue or Maidstone and James would still sit here, content to just be along for the ride.
“Well, I know this place,” Robbie said, turning the car toward a familiar neighbourhood. “Serves a mean hot toddy. Comes with a comfortable sofa too. And,” he added, “I hear it’s conveniently located for tomorrow’s dinner plans.”
With a sideways grin Lewis parked in front of his house, snapping his seatbelt free. James followed suit, though neither of them made any move to actually get out. The shared Christmas dinner had been planned for weeks. They were back on rotation on Boxing Day so it was pointless for Robbie to try and get to Manchester to see Lynn and her family this year and James... Well. He hadn’t even pretended to have other plans, guessing correctly that Lewis would see through such attempts immediately.
“I don’t know, sir...” James drawled, feeling obligated to make at least a token protest, “Your sofa isn’t that comfortable.”
“Well...” Robbie said, seeming to hesitate for a moment, almost... nervous. “There’s an easy solution to that.” He pulled the key out of the ignition, fiddled with the ring and then put the whole thing into his pocket, movements almost exaggeratedly slow, almost as if he was buying time.
“Oh ,indeed?” James asked, trying to capture the levity of the moment ago but unable to stop his forehead from creasing in worry. Something wasn’t quite right here. “Have you purchased some extra pillows?”
“No,” Lewis answered almost curtly and then didn’t say anything else. He placed his hands on the steering wheel, then in his lap, then back on the wheel, staring resolutely ahead even though the weather and the late hour made it almost impossible to see anything beyond the nearest lamp post.
It was quiet, the sound of their combined breathing and the soft click of the cooling engine the only things breaking the silence. James shifted in his seat, turning sideways as much as he could, hampered by his thick winter coat and legs not made for the confines of the car foot well. “Sir,” he started, genuine worry bleeding through his earlier contentment, “what-?”
“Don’t sleep on the sofa,” Robbie blurted out. Then he closed his eyes tightly as if against a sudden onslaught of a migraine.
“What?” James repeated, confused. Surely Lewis didn’t mean for him to go back home, not after he’d gone to all this trouble of practically kidnapping him after the Mass. “Where...?”
“With me,” Robbie said, finally turning to meet James’ eyes. “Sleep with me.” He grimaced, blushing hard enough to be noticeable even in the scant glow of the reflected streetlights. “I don’t mean... I mean just sleep. For now and then, maybe, if you want...” He trailed off, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face. “This was not how I was going to tell you. To ask if...” Robbie sighed, looking chagrined.
No matter. There was enough information in the broken sentences to send James’ heart racing. “You’d planned this?” He asked, the question coming out somewhat shaky, his breath escaping in a white cloud thanks to the cooling air. “How long?”
“A few weeks,” Lewis answered, then hastily added: “I’ve known longer though, suspected even longer but didn’t let myself really think about it. Can’t remember why not anymore...” He reached across, slowly, tentatively, as if expecting James to pull away, giving him every opportunity to do so. “James,” he said, breathed, the name beseeching and gentle and scared, all in equal measure. Like a prayer.
Or a promise.
By the time Robbie’s fingers settled against his cheek, palm a safe cradle against which he could rest his head, James’ eyes had fluttered shut of their own volition. “Yes,” he said, “Yes,” surging forward blindly because Robbie had already been the brave one, already brought him in from the cold, literally and metaphorically, and James would, he would...
There was no need to worry, no need to flounder, because Robbie was there to guide him, just like he always was. All James had to do was trust him and that was no effort at all, never had been.
Robbie’s mouth was almost shockingly warm against his, chasing away the chill and loneliness and lingering self-doubt with every careful, reverent brush of lips. They kissed for a long time, twisted awkwardly toward each other, rain drumming steadily against the car roof.
The world seemed to tighten around them and within the circle of Robbie’s arms James felt even smaller than before, but content, secure. He was held, enclosed by touch and shared breath, defined by the limits of flesh and time. And yet, right then with his hands tracing the shape of Robbie’s back, his heart expanding with joy, James found that he did not mind. Being finite was more than enough when the limits began and ended with the two of them.
***