William didn't get sick. At least, that's what he had been telling himself the past week and a half, while he shivered, and sniffled, trying to work out a murder. He had been told to go home several times but refused, because 'I'm not sick, and the Inspector was growing tired of his obviously ill Detective not taking the time he needed off.
The Inspector walked into the Detectives office, to see him sleeping at his desk, his hair was a mess, a thin layer of sweat gathered on his face and hands, and even in his sleep, he was shivering uncontrollably —if Murdoch didn't take time off he was going to kill himself or get the whole damned station sick. Thoams walked close and blacked the back of his hand on William's forehead, pulling it back automatically when he felt how hot he was, he had to send him home, but he knew he'd need someone to make sure he stayed home. For how smart the detective was he wasn't much for self preservation it seemed.
Thomas poked his head out the door, "Crabtree," he called in.
"Yes sir?"
"I need you to bring Detective Murdoch home and make sure he stays home and rests."
"Oh... I don't know sir..." George said nervously, "he's a bit impossible when he's like this."
"I'm well aware, but I think you can handle him." Thomas smiled, making the other reluctantly nod in agreement.
The Inspector walked over the Murdoch and gently shook his shoulder, the man's head quickly snapped up, with a small gasp. He looked around hazy about his surroundings for a moment before reaching up and grabbing a piece of paper that stuck to his cheek.
"Sir... Sorry I must have dozed off," he said looking toward the Inspector, then to George, wondering what both were doing in here, "I haven't made any—"
"I'm sending you home."
"But sir, I'm—"
"I wasn't asking Murdoch, you're going home," the Inspector said sternly, "before you get the lot of us bleeding sick."
"I'm not—"
"That's a direct order Murdoch, Crabtree will take you home and see to it you stay there."
George gave an apologetic smile toward the Detective, though everyone knew he was sick, he didn't like being responsible for making sure he stayed home and got rest. Still, Murdoch only nodded, not being hard-headed enough to disobey a direct order, so he got up and the Inspector left, trusting the Constable to get home out of the station and home.
William stumbled a bit and held himself up on the desk, causing George to quickly move to grab his arm, "I'm fine George."
"Oh, I'm sure, sir." the Constable smiled, "but just... hold on to my arm just in case"
The Detective stayed propped up on his desk before sighing and taking hold of George's arm, steadying himself on it as they walked. Now that George had him, he wrapped an arm around his waist, he really didn't need his superior falling and hurting himself when he was put in charge of him.
"George, is that really necessary?" Murdoch asked, glancing around hoping no one was staring.
"If you pass out and get hurt, it will be my head the Inspector has, not yours"
"Point taken..."
It was a long walk, but only because George didn't think to call a gentlemen's cab to pick them up. Probably would have been easier, but he managed to get them to Mrs. Kitchen's house without any problem and up to William's room.
"Maybe you should get into your night clothes, it would be more comfortable,"
"Fine, do you mind..." he waved him off.
George nodded and walked out to give him some privacy, but kept a keen ear in case something happened, no longer than two minutes went by and he heard a thump come from the room, and quickly ran in to see the Detective on the floor with his shirt partially unbuttoned. He frowned and quickly helped him up.
"Sir, maybe it would be best if I helped you..." he suggested, while the thought of helping Detective Murdoch get dressed was embarrassing for even him, but it would be much safer than leaving him on his own.
Murdoch stayed quiet for a moment, holding onto George's shoulder before sighing and nodding, "I think you might be right, George..."
George nodded and let go of the man after making sure he had a good grip on his shoulder. He unbuttoned the last few buttons of Murdoch's shirt, and carefully slipped it off. He reached down unbuttoning his pants, he hesitated a bit, and glanced at Murdoch; he had a lovely tint of red spread all the way up to his ears and down his neck, he was looking away from George and up toward his ceiling. The Detective met his eyes for a second before quickly looking away.
"Get on with it..." he huffed.
George gave a small smile and let his pants down a bit before sitting Murdoch down and kneeling down to take off his shoes and discard his pants.
"Top drawer," the Detective pointed toward the dresser.
He walked over and opened the top drawer. George had never really thought of what his superior's dresser looked like, but it all lined up with any subconscious ideas of how a person like Detective Murdoch would live. Everything was folded very neatly and evenly, the night tops and bottoms matched one another, and his socks were also in the drawer neatly folded and pinned together. The Constable wondered how he had the time to sit and do all that... maybe he was a lot more organized in his time schedule than the clumsy Constable.
Geroge grabbed out the first set he saw and walked back over. Murdoch could probably get his shirt on himself, but with the pants, he would need a bit of help. He kneeled on the ground again, setting the shirt down, and unfolding the pants.
"Steady yourself on my shoulders, it'll make this easier," he suggested.
"I should have stayed in my work clothes..." Murdoch mumbled, standing up and holding himself on George's shoulders, he lifted one leg up then the other, trying not to look anywhere but down at his Constable. He knew George would never tease him for something like this, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to look at the man for a while after this.
"Oh, Don't be silly sir."
George stood back and Murdoch took that moment to let go of him, he found he could stand for a short period on his own... maybe he was a lot sicker than he had originally thought. He sat back down and despite the fact he knew he could take over, he allowed George to put his shirt on for him and button it up. If not embarrassing, it was a little nice to be taken care of by someone he knew cared for him.
"Now, get some rest, sir, I'll—"
"George, please call me William... You did just help me get dressed" he tried to see the amusing side of this... he couldn't.
"Oh... well... William, I'll go see if Mrs. Kitchen has anything I can use to make some soup for you."
William nodded and watched George walk out, he sighed and decided it wouldn't hurt to lay down and get some sleep. He closed his eyes and curled up, under his covers, now that he wasn't focusing on anything he really did feel dreadful. He wasn't sure how long he slept, but when he woke George was still there, William checked the time, it was nearly 11 and the Constable had still stayed with him? He expected him to go home at some point, but apparently not.
George had fallen asleep on the ground with a notebook in his lap, no doubt writing out ideas for his next big novel. Often the constable talked about ideas he had for his books, and while they weren't Williams... 'cup of tea' —as George phrased it— he liked seeing him so excited about something. Though he did make it rather transparent that the main characters were supposed to be some sort of self-insert version of him.
William felt a bit better so he got up and went to the bathroom, taking his time so he didn't fall again, he didn't have all of his energy or strength back, but maybe he could go over his notes now for the case now. He sat down at his desk and looked through the notepad he always carried with him, it didn't have everything but it had enough. He rewrote the notes on some bigger pieces of paper and used an adhesive strip he had made to stick them to the wall.
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
George had woken up to the shuffling, and rubbed his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter on the floor, to see William working on something. He huffed and stood up.
"Oh, really sir, I can't take my eyes off you for a second," George sounded annoyed, his voice rising a bit as he walked closer.
"I'm feeling a lot better, I don't need to spend the whole time in—" He was cut off by George's hand taking his wrist and forcing him to turn.
George pressed his hand against William's forehead, getting a slightly frustrated look before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the man's head. He didn't think too much of it, that's how his aunts always took his temp, something about it being more accurate. Though he understood, the flustered look it gave William considering the affectionate type touch.
"You're still burning up, and I'm sure you're hungry so get back in bed, and I'll bring you some soup."
"George," he found his voice again, "I'm fine—"
"This instant," he pointed to the bed, this time sounding much more stern.
William sighed defeated, he walked over to the bed and got back into it, watching George leave his room. He wasn't looking forward to eating. Bless Mrs. Kitchen she was a wonderful woman but a horrible cook. George had come back after a few minutes with a tray. Setting it on his lap, to his surprise it smelt wonderful, though he was still suspicious.
"I had to leave the house for a bit to grab some ingredients, it was what my aunt used to make for me when I was sick," he explained, "she used to say it was some magical cure, I think that was just to make me feel better as a kid though."
"You cooked this?" he asked.
"Yes, Last time you were stuck at home you complained about Mrs. Kitchen's cooking so I thought I should give you something edible, I feel like I'm a decent cook."
William picked up the spoon and took a sip, a wonderful taste spreading over his tongue, warming his body as it ran through him. The moment the food hit his taste buds he realized just how hungry he was, quickly scooping several spoonfuls into his mouth, ignoring the toast and drink that were also on the tray.
"I'll take that as a sign it's not horrible then," George said with a nervous laugh.
William slowed down and gave a sheepish smile, "yes, George... It's lovely. Please mind my manners, I have much more of an appetite than I thought I did."
George shook his head, silently gesturing that he didn't mind before walking to grab his notebook off the floor while William continued eating. Both of them sat in silence, the sound of pen on paper filling the room as the Constable wrote. A sound that accompanied them quite a lot, whether George was taking notes for a case, or jotting down his novel ideas, the sound followed their relationship quite a lot, it was relaxing in a way.
"What are you writing there, George?"
"Oh, just a romance story... set in the deep corners of the wild west," he smiled, "I've been doing a lot of research, I think it's perfect for the type of romance I'm writing, wild, free..."
"Another best seller then?" he tried taking interest in the man's writing, it was hard to get interested in topics he usually didn't care about. But for George, he'd listen to hours upon hours of ramblings about alien space crafts, bigfoot, and vampires, whatever George's new obsession was. Usually he'd listen along while working, only interrupting if he needed something done that moment, by his Constable.
"Oh... I don't know about that sir," he sounded almost bashful at the suggestion, "I think maybe this one might stay with me."
"Well... I'm sure no matter what you decide it will be as... spectacular as your last one." William was really trying to be a good friend, he liked making that crooked smile appear on his Constable's face, there was a reason he allowed the ramblings and praised him for a good job —though the Inspector claimed he overly praised him for simple tasks, he couldn't help it when it got the man's eyes to light up for him.
"Well... thank you, William." This time he managed to remember that the Detective gave him permission to use his first name in this setting, "if you're done you should get more rest," he said getting up and taking the tray from him.
"Fine, I won't argue this time." William laid back down, and George walked out to bring the dishes downstairs, he turned off his light and turned to his side.
A few minutes went by and William heard the door open and close once more, he wanted to tell George he could go home and sleep in his own bed for the night if he wanted, but before he could open his eyes, the empty side of the bed dipped down. William turned to see George laying down next to him.
"George... what on earth are you doing?" he asked.
"Making sure you stay in bed until morning," he said simply as if it was supposed to be obvious.
He couldn't find the strength —or heart— to argue with the constable, so he turned to the other side and closed his eyes, an arm wrapped around him, he was going to ask why, but he realized that would probably only get him another answer that didn't help his confusion much, so he left it be.
If you asked William a few weeks ago, what he would do if George crawled into his bed, he'd probably think the suggestion weird, but ultimately his answer would be that he would push the man off to the floor; however, he allowed the taller man to hold on to him. The worst part about this is he found it kind of nice, eventually turning to curl into the other's chest; keeping his eyes closed and trying to move in a way that made it seem like he was shifting in his sleep, rather than intentionally trying to do this.
➳༻❀✿❀༺➳
William woke the next morning, before he opened his eyes he could hear the breathing and heartbeat of the man under him. He supposed it would have been silly to wish that was all a dream. He opened his eyes and looked down at the white button-up George was still wearing from yesterday, his breathing was steady, an arm wrapped lazily around him to keep him close. William wanted to hate this... he really did, but found himself drinking in the moments this would last before George would eventually wake up, leave him, and most likely never talk about this again.
He wasn't sure how long he laid there until the man under him moved his arms to stretch out, much like a cat. All he could think about was the fact he should have moved much before this happened; yet he stayed laying on the man's chest.
"Morning, Sir," voice groggy and rasp from sleep, "feeling better?"
At times William wondered how George could be so natural with things that were new, he was probably one of the more progressive constables at the station, but how even with this was he so cool, and calm? Instead of moving away, George placed his hand on William's back gently rubbing circles, unknowingly soothing the man's anxiety about the situation.
"I actually do... thank you, George," Will said, "and please call me—"
"Yes, William," George interrupted, "I'm so used to calling you sir, that it may take a while before I get used to calling you your name. Especially if I'm going to call you 'sir' and 'Detective Murdoch' at the station but then, William alone... oh boy, I'd hate to mess it up, the boys might think I'm being disrespectful, or that you're playing favorites and I wouldn't want that... Henry already teased me about being your pet..."
William felt a small chuckle leave him, of course, the man could ramble even minutes after just waking up. Though the topic got him thinking, accidentally tuning out George for a minute.
"You are my favorite, George." He thought out loud, cutting off wherever the Constable's rambles had led him.
"Oh... I..." the man swallowed, "thank you."
William sat up, missing the warmth and feel of the man beside him as soon as they parted, he looked down at the other, who looked up at him; face red from the confession, seemingly too flustered to even try and spew words out now. The Detective admired him for a moment.
"Maybe you're not actually as well as you think, sir..." George said, quickly shifting his eyes away from the other.
"What do you mean, George?" William furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the motion that he didn't know how he felt.
"You're looking at me... strangely..."
William nodded a bit and glanced toward the closed door of his bedroom, afraid Mrs. Kitchen might come in and see them like this, that would be hard to explain away. However, his eyes are drawn back to the man still laying down and looking up at him, seemingly waiting for an explanation of the 'strange' behavior. He didn't even know if he could explain his behavior, it felt like he was seeing George in a new light, being taken care of last night... sleeping with him, everything felt so... odd, not a bad way… or a good, really. Just odd.
He was noticing how pretty George's eyes were, how adorable those little grins he gave were. George tried so hard to please him, and do as he asked. He didn't get mad even when ended up not needing those things he asked him to do. It hit him just how boring his job would be if George weren't there to bring up some conspiracy or tell him about something new he learned. As he was drawn more into his thoughts, he realized George was usually the first person he would show his inventions to when he was done, and the man often got just as excited or curious about it as William himself would be.
"Thank you for taking care of me, George... I'm sure I'd still be in the station if you hadn't agreed to take me home," he finally broke the silence.
"Oh, that was no problem... William," he gave an awkward smile.
William sat up fully realizing he might do something he regretted if he kept hovering over the man, his lips looked... oddly kissable; maybe he was still ill. He glanced over as George sat up. There were warning sirens going off in his head, his upbringing and beliefs telling him that all this was wrong... and yet he couldn't bring himself to believe that at all. How could any caring, loving god, disapprove or condemn any kind of love? Did he love George? It was starting to feel like that's the type of feeling he had for his Constable.
"Are you sure you're okay?" George broke his train of thoughts, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, I'm fine..." he shifted and turned his body fully toward him.
If he kissed George that would be it for him... he could turn him in for that alone, he didn't believe George would but... it would make things awkward, he didn't want to lose such a good friend and yet he knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least try... he spent so many years with Julia just doing nothing about his feelings toward her, and he didn't want George to become another Doctor Ogden to him. If there was even a small chance they could make something work, he wanted to.
William leaned forward, and George leaned back away from him, leaning on his hand so he didn't fall onto his back.
"Will?" George squeaked out anxiously, confused by the Detectives actions, and behavior this morning.
Will hooked a finger around one of George's suspenders, "do you trust me?"
"Of course... but what—"
William closed the distance, pressing their lips together. George froze and Will was about to pull away, apologize for his actions, maybe feign delirium; before he could, two arm wrapped around him and pulled him down, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into the Detectives mouth. His head whirled at George's actions; had he wanted this longer than William had? His hands found their place around his waist as he shifted his body on top of George. They only pulled away when the need for air overrode their want to be close, both panting softly. George pressed his body closer to the Detective... his Detective.
"Sorry... George," William finally said, licking his lips and looking down at the male, sliding a hand up his body and running a hand through the short hair.
"I don't think... you know how many times I've wanted to do that." George gave a smile, leaning up to press a softer kiss to his lips, this one shorter, less desperate.
"Maybe... Maybe you should get used to it... because if you want, I'd like for that to become more of a regular thing," wasn't the smoothest way he asked someone out, but now that he knew George wanted it, he wasn't going to waste any time, this wasn't going to be like the other people he's been attracted, if there was one person he couldn't afford not to make it work with, it was his Constable.
George only pulled him down for another kiss for his answer. At that moment William decided he should probably call them both in sick for work so they could spend the day exploring their newfound relationship with one another. His work could wait for another day, and surely the Inspector was eager to work on that case and prove he could still do it. For now all that mattered to him was George.
