Horatio woke at regular intervals, anticipating watch bells that never came. Kennedy seemed to rest more securely, drugged by the barrel of ale the boy had consumed. More than once Horatio felt the twitch of limbs brushing against him, and startled, waited for a fit that never came, only incoherent muttering. Archie had not been plagued by that illness since the duel, Horatio thought, though he couldn't be certain, no longer sleeping near.
It was early in the morning watch when habit roused him again. It took some moments for Horatio to remember where he was; why there was the deep cushion of feathers under his left hip, and an almost silence, rather than the breathing and snoring of close-packed men. The reason for the delicious warmth blanketing him from neck to tail came to him suddenly, once he recalled his leave, and the inn.
Archie had crept closer in the night, and was now curled tight against him, arse pressed firmly into the small of Horatio's back. The sensation was unfamiliar, but incredibly soothing, relieving an ache he hadn't even been aware of. Horatio had to fight with himself not to push back into that accommodating flesh.
Sleep chased away, he tried to remain still at least, not wanting to disturb his friend. Not since early childhood, and the departure of his nurse, had Horatio shared a bed with someone. It should seem strange. Another's body, so close to his he could feel the pattern of exhalation through his skin. The boneless trust of it, to sleep shoulder to shoulder, made his eyes sting and burn until he had to raise a hand and rub them hard to keep from spilling over.
The movement must have translated itself to Archie, who stretched then, callused feet scratching gently against Horatio's calves. Not quite waking, his friend rolled prone, then turned over again, before finally settling, sprawling across most of the bed. In self-defense, not wanting to end up on the floor, Horatio flipped about, nudging closer to take back his share of the mattress.
There was not much light yet through the window shutters, the darkness lifting only enough for him to make out the barest outline of Archie's form. Instead his memory supplied the image of his friend's face, in the rare relaxation of sleep. It was a Kennedy he never saw otherwise. The pain showed through, when Archie couldn't hide behind mobile energy and jests. Asleep, Archie seemed young, seemed like someone who might actually need him. Someone he must be strong for.
Horatio could guard his friend's slumber at least. He kept watch, while Archie breathed and shifted, holding still as the boy pressed closer again by degrees, drawn to his warmth perhaps. With the fire burned out, the air had a chill. Some time later, the room had grown gray, Horatio propped on a hand turned numb, while Kennedy had tangled a leg between his, padded hip thrust into the hollow of his stomach. Horatio was wondering whether he dare move to relieve the tingling in his arm, when he realized not all of his friend was as soft and compliant as the rest.
He felt his cheeks start to burn, even as he could not keep the corner of his gaze from fixing on the slight tenting of the covers. Horatio had gathered, over the course of his school years, and then the short, but brutally instructive weeks on Justinian, that this morning problem was not uniquely his own. But it was disconcerting to be confronted with the evidence so near at hand. He found himself wondering what Archie might be dreaming of.
Thankfully, his thoughts had not quite taunted his own prick into awakening when he heard a knock at the door, sparing him that embarrassment as he extricated himself from Kennedy's grasp, and slipped quickly out of bed to go answer it. It was the coachman, who he'd met briefly the previous night. John, he thought the name was, looked at him with open curiosity, before telling Horatio that they should be on their way within the hour, if they were to make it all the way to London before full dark made the roads treacherous.
Thanking the servant awkwardly, Horatio told the man he would wake Kennedy soon, and closed the door. Glancing at the bed, he could see his friend had not roused from his leaving. He couldn't quite bear to disturb the boy, limbs akimbo and looking sinfully comfortable. Instead he lit a candle, and moving as quietly as he could, washed and dressed himself. His friend still not stirring, he retrieved Archie's clothes, even the missing button, before feeling he could delay no longer. Kneeling down with a second candle, he called his friend gently, not wanting to startle. "Kennedy, Kennedy..."
The boy didn't move, except to throw an arm over still-closed eyes. "Archie, it's time to be up." Even that didn't work. The small mouth twitched, but no further response.
Horatio finally reached out to shake his friend by the shoulder. He was wise enough to immediately step back out of the way, as Kennedy came awake kicking, with a swing of fists. It clearly took Archie a few moments to remember where they were, staring about and touching the bed before finally looking over at Horatio with a rueful grin.
"Sorry about that." His friend sat up, shaking a sleep-tousled head about with a fierce grimace, then slid out of the covers and began looking about for scattered belongings. Kennedy had far more energy than Horatio thought the boy would manage after being so deep asleep, and with all that beer the night before.
"Did you sleep well, Horatio? I haven't been that warm in months, and I don't remember you kicking or snoring at all. You can share my bed anytime."
Horatio felt himself flushing, and kept his gaze on the ground as much to hide the blush as to avoid looking at his friend's still prominent erection. Archie seemed completely unconcerned with the condition, which only made Horatio feel more awkward. "I slept quite well, Mr. Kennedy," he lied, shoving the clothes he'd gathered and folded into Kennedy's hands. "Your coachman's been already, I'll go down and see about breakfast while you dress."
"Oh of course! I'll be down directly, we've a long way to go before home." Reminded of the time, Archie seemed eager to be on their way. Though Horatio noticed that his friend didn't move to cast off the nightshift while he was still in the room.
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