"It's so small," Morgan announced slowly as they stepped in front of the Mona Lisa. It was hidden behind a thick wall of glass that was circled by velvet ropes to block it off, mounted on a single portion of a wall in the middle of a ginormous room that had other much more detailed pieces of art on floor to ceiling canvases.
"I told you," Walter pointed out, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, and looking around the room, eyes stopping on a rather lovely painting of a young woman and a wonderfully brushed shade of blue. He started towards it, but Morgan's hand on his abdomen stopped him. Morgan's eyes didn't break contact with the da Vinci though.
"Stay here a bit longer, please."
"I was just-"
"This is one of my favorites by him," Morgan whispered, voice basically lost in the whispers from other tourists crowded around the single painting, all others in the room forgotten. "Please stay and look at it with me."
Morgan's hand dropped from Walter's muscles the moment he realized where his hand was resting. He heard an annoyed little breath, but Walter obeyed, turning back to the painting.
People around them came and went for several long moments, maybe an hour or two before Morgan inhaled deeply and turned to Walter.
"Which one's your favorite?"
The barest of smiles covered Walter's face and he simply turned away without a word and Morgan raced to catch up with him. Morgan followed him through what felt like millions of endless hallways decorated floor to ceiling in artwork that he tried to appreciate before having to run once more to catch up with Walter's long strides.
"What is it called?" Morgan asked as they once more stopped for Walter to check a map of the building.
"The Coronation of Napoleon," Walter replied, starting off again before Morgan had a chance to gather himself.
"By whom?"
"Jacques-Louis David."
"I don't recognize the name?"
Walter rounded sharply and Morgan crashed into Walter, stumbling backwards. "What do you mean you don't- how could you- you don't..." Walter closed his eyes in a pained way, his shocked stuttering falling silent. "He did Napoleon Cross the Alps." Walter looked up only to find confusion over Morgan's features and the boy shook his head. Walter blinked. How had Hannibal never shown the kid any of David's work? It was perfect in every detail. "The Intervention of the Sabine Women," Walter tried again, only getting the same little shake of his head. Walter groaned irritated. "Leonidas at Thermopylae." Another shake. "What do I call you Einstein for, Einstein? Portrait of Madame Récamier?"
"Oh!" Morgan said with a nod of his head, though there was still a question on his brow. "I thought that was by François Gérard."
Walter rolled his eyes and took Morgan's arm, tugging the boy along. "You're impossible. I feel like you do this to me on purpose."
"Sometimes," Morgan answered with a smile. "But I really don't know who you're talking about this time."
"You'd know his artwork if you saw it," Walter assured. "Especially The Intervention of the Sabine Women."
They made a few more rounds and twists and turns before they came to stand in front of a massive painting that stretched the length of a wall, covered in magnificent reds, blues, and golds.
"Look at the robes on Josephine de Beauharnais," Walter instructed in a whisper in Morgan's ear. "He had to have used real fur to make her robes."
Walter pressed softly at the small of Morgan's back, moving him closer to the portrait. Morgan did his best to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks and he did as Walter asked. His eyes hovered over the kneeling woman's robes, and he looked over the carefully painted fur. Walter hadn't been lying. The fur looked like it had come right off an animal and had been glued to the canvas. The blue carpet on the stairs was actual carpet and the jewels on the crown were one hundred percent real. He glanced over his shoulder to where Walter had taken a seat on a bench, facing the painting with a content gaze.
"Why does the pope look so weird?" Morgan asked, leaving the painting to come sit beside Walter. Walter looked over him for a moment before he turned his attention back to the painting with a funny little smile.
"He's fucking pissed Einstein," Walter explained, smile growing, and he gave a small laugh. "Napoleon is crowning his wife and himself as the Emperor and Empress of France. His crowning himself shows that the church is no longer above the king. Kingdom is no longer a god appointed, given right. It belongs to man and man doesn't need to listen to the church." There was another laugh. "Just as well though. Religion is bullshit."
"I agree with you, but what about this painting makes you say that?" Morgan asked, looking over Walter's strong features.
"Do you really not know anything about history?" Walter asked in disbelief, though his eyes stayed on the painting. "For everything you do know-"
"I try to avoid things related to religion," Morgan explained. "It's too complicated to make sense of, and none of it is probable or logical. It's fiction. Someone no one knows anymore but is either rolling in their grave or laughing from how his trick is still being believed thousands of years after it was made."
Walter snickered at the words. "The catholic church had three popes at one time. It was called the Western Schism. They all excommunicated each other and ruled from 1378 to 1417."
Morgan laughed and Walter's eyes jumped from the painting and to the boy whose laugh echoed around the hall, calling eyes once more to them. "They excommunicated each other?" There was a snort and Morgan's hand covered his mouth and Walter bit his lip to keep from smiling.
"You've never snorted before," Walter muttered, watching the blush go all the way to Morgan's hairline as he hid behind his hands. "When did you start snorting when you laugh?"
"Always. I try not to show it," Morgan replied, voice muffled behind his hands as he still laughed. There was another snort and Walter chuckled, smiling brightly. "Shut up."
"I didn't say anything," Walter said, something strangled in his tone.
"You're thinking something."
"I sure hope I am. I'd be dead otherwise, Einstein."
"Oh my god, shut up." But another snort only made Walter laugh again.
"It's not that funny, Einstein," Walter said, sitting up a little more and reaching out to ruffle Morgan's hair. Morgan only leaned over.
"I'm embarrassed. Fuck you."
"You're adorable, Einstein," The grip in Morgan's hair pulled the boy's blushed face from his hands. "Can we stay here for a bit more? I love this painting." Morgan gave a nod and Walter's smile softened. He ruffled once more at Morgan's waves and turned his attention back to the painting, hand dropping to his side on the bench.
The hours ticked by in a quiet silence between the two of them, each staring at the art, though Morgan couldn't keep his eyes off the real art that was beside him instead of the stolen moments of history in front of him.
His eyes lingered on the man that was so lost in his mind, just as he always was. It was so difficult to keep Walter present. The only time he was still was when he was locked away in his head. The place that Morgan didn't want him to be, save for at this moment. This moment was perfect enough to allow Morgan a few stolen moments that he hardly ever got to look over Walter.
"Wally?" Morgan asked softly after a moment. Walter didn't acknowledge him, and Morgan looked back to the painting for a moment before reaching out and touching Walter's shoulder. "Wally?" Walter blinked several times, coming back to himself. He glanced over to Morgan with a questioning look. "Can..." Morgan looked nearly guilty. "Can we get something to eat? I'm getting hungry."
"I'm sorry. I did it again, huh?" Walter stretched his hands over his head and stretched before rubbing his eyes.
"Where do you go when you do that?" Morgan got to his feet and Walter followed.
"Uh... it depends on what I'm thinking of," Walter explained with a shrug. "I was in that painting this time. Watching the coronation."
"How do you do that?" Morgan tipped his head to the side curiously. "I don't think I could imagine things like you can."
"I..." Walter ran a hand through his hair. "I guess it's something that Dad taught me. He taught us how to use empathy, right?"
"Right," Morgan whispered. "I've never been very good at opening myself up like that."
"I guess I just... trying to put myself there. Be each person in the painting, see what it's like. It was the only way that I could make father's lessons something to sit through. Drawing helped. I'm not sure how else to explain it."
The heat outside was blistering and both boys nearly wilted under the sun. "Of course, the weekend we pick to go out there's a heat wave," Walter grumbled, heading out towards the street to hail a cab. He wasn't about to walk to their next location.
"How do you think Father is fairing?" Morgan asked and Walter laughed at the thought of the man in his suit, sweating in the afternoon heat.
"Not good, Einstein."
A cab finally stopped, and both climbed in, the driver looking downhearted and sweaty. Walter gave instructions and both sat back, letting the hot wind from the outside world into the car through the windows.
Walter watched Morgan from the back seat, the boy leaned against the side of the window, waves blowing in the wind. He looked like he was nearly asleep until they entered a roundabout and Walter couldn't stop smiling when Morgan sat up straight with that stupid little smile on his lips. He glanced back at Walter before his attention returned to the Arc de Triomphe.
The kid's expressions had been all that Walter had wanted to see. Walter couldn't care less about what they were seeing. It was dull and he had seen them all multiple times before. But Morgan was far more entertaining and enlightening than any landmark they could possibly see.
The city was hot and muggy, but that smile made Walter forget about the sweat that ran down the back of his legs. They circled the marble arch several times before they finally left the roundabout and then found themselves outside of Notre Dame.
Walter let Morgan come to a stop outside of the cathedral to look at it. Walter kept his stroll slow for Morgan to catch up. He walked through a large gathering of pigeons and into the shade of several trees before turning back to look at Morgan who still stood dumbstruck out by the street, book still on his wrist.
"Einstein?" Walter called with a light smile. "Are you coming?"
"One moment," Morgan's voice replied, almost lost among the crowds of people around them and the coo of the birds that had once more settled so people could feed them.
Walter tipped his head to the side with a fond little look, allowing Morgan as much time as he needed to take in the building.
"Did you know," Morgan said, snapping back to himself and following Walter, "that there was supposed to be a swimming pool built into the roof?"
"I did not." Walter let his arm sling around Morgan's shoulders, and he guided Morgan towards a line of people waiting to get through a police line at a metal gate put up around the church. At Morgan's odd look, Walter took pity on him. "You have to be dressed appropriately to enter the church." Morgan glanced up at Walter and did his best to ignore the way that Walter's eyes trailed over his body slowly. "You should be fine."
Morgan let his body be pulled into the line and ignored the heat of the day to enjoy the way that Walter's arm felt around his shoulders.
They were let into the cathedral and the change in temperature was immediately welcome. Both sighed and took a seat in one of the pews, letting the coldness of the stone enclosure soothe their heated skin.
Morgan closed his eyes, listening to the organ that was playing and echoing about, enjoying the way that Walter's fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Morgan couldn't help but sink into Walter's side, the scent of sweat so normal on Walter's skin from his years of workouts and soccer games, something so relaxing about the smell of a soccer pitch and hard work.
"Let me know when you're ready to go. There's this really good place for dinner that you need to try," Walter muttered and Morgan shivered as Walter's nose nuzzled against his temple as Walter rested his head against Morgan's.
"Alright," Morgan whispered with a small nod, resting further against Walter who only tugged Morgan closer, fingers once more in Morgan's hair. "Wally?"
"Yes, Einstein?"
"Have you missed me?"
There was a slight silence, but there was nothing tense about it. It was more thoughtful, and Morgan's heart stuttered in his chest at a nod from Walter against his head.
"Yes," was breathed out in Morgan's ear. "Of course, I've missed you. You're my best friend."
"Brother?"
A shake of his head. "Not my brother," Walter corrected. "Bother isn't a good term for what we are."
"What are we?" Morgan asked softly.
"Closer," Walter whispered. "We are closer than family." It was true. Normal families weren't usually taught to struggle until they learned to strive and blossom under any circumstance and, at the same time, care for each other with love. And there was not a word for that. It was what it was. Just Walter and Morgan, the family of Hannibal and Will. "We define category."
The silence fell once more between them and once more time ticked by. They didn't need to worry about time. They had all the time in the world if they wanted it. They didn't have to worry about anything or anyone around them. They were perfectly happy right where they were, and the world could spin on without them and neither of them would care.
There was a low grumble that interrupted them, and Walter laughed, pulling away from Morgan who gave an embarrassed smile, a hand to his stomach.
"Let's get some food," Walter said with a smiling shake of his head. "You must be starving."
"Sorry," Morgan whispered, following Walter from the bench for a slow single walk around the cathedral to look at it. They stopped momentarily at the large rose windows and Morgan once more had that stupid smile on his lips.
Another cab ride and Morgan found himself in front of the Eiffel Tower. The metal frame twisted and turned upwards into the sky, sunflowers at the base, all of the golden blooms chasing the sun that was finally starting to lower in the distance.
"Is everything here so beautiful?"
Walter glanced up from paying for the cab and his eyes fell on Morgan who was outlined in a golden light from the setting sun. "Yes," he answered, the word leaving him before he could pull it back and he hoped the color in his cheeks passed off as heat instead of his embarrassment.
Morgan just turned back with a blinding, heart stopping smile and Walter's mouth went dry.
"Where were we going to eat?" Morgan asked, making his way back over to Walter, a hand reaching out to take Walter's hand, fingers trailing over the muscle in Walter's forearm before lacing with his fingers. "I'm dying."
Walter closed his eyes with a steadying breath, and he was met with a clear and joyful blue gaze when he opened his eyes.
"Come with me," Walter answered weakly, voice cracking. He pulled Morgan along with him and around the metal structure and to where a large field lay out. There were groups of people eating on blankets, children playing games and further back, beyond the field, there were more children playing in a fountain in an attempt to cool off.
Walter led them to a small stand that was selling what looked like fair food and Morgan rolled his eyes. Of course, Walter would want something cheap. It wasn't until Walter paid that Morgan stared at the soft pretzels, meats and cheeses that cost a ridiculous amount that left Morgan speechless.
Walter led them back to the field and glanced around at the ground that was covered in beer bottle caps that left nowhere for them to really sit. Walter set his food down and stripped his shirt over his head, resting it over the ground before sitting over the bottle caps and taking a sip of his own bottle of cool beer.
Morgan blinked several times before slowly lowering himself into Walter's t-shirt. He did his best to not stare at the ridiculous amount of bruising that covered Walter's torso. Some were yellowing and older and some new and fresh, deep blues and purples. Walter didn't seem to notice the bruising or perhaps had forgotten about it, so Morgan did the same.
"Thank you," Morgan said, breaking apart a piece of his pretzel before placing it in his mouth.
"You're welcome." Walter reached out and took a piece of prosciutto and gouda and shoved it into his mouth before downing it with another swig of beer.
"What does that taste like?" Morgan questioned, pointing to the beer in Walter's hand before eating a slice of Coppa de Corse.
"You wouldn't like it, Einstein," Walter said in a sure tone that made Morgan frown.
"Can I try-"
"Absolutely not." Walter shook his head, free hand reaching out to mess up Morgan's long ago ungelled hair. "Good try, but you know father would absolutely have my head if he so much as got a whiff of alcohol on you."
Morgan pouted, taking a sip of his lemonade instead and looking back towards the tower. They were quiet for a moment, eating until a ball rolled towards them and hit Walter's knee.
"Par ici!" (This way!) a young boy's voice called and Morgan glanced up to find a kid with bleach blond hair racing over to them. "Passer le ballon." (Pass the ball.)
A grin split across Walter's face, and he got to his feet, tucking his foot under the ball. He flicked his foot and the ball jumped on command up into his hands.
Morgan gave a small smile as he watched Walter take a few steps back, holding out the ball with a straight arm. He took a few running steps, let the ball drop, and kicked it.
It flew incredibly high, but not far. Right to the blond child, just as Walter wanted it to.
"There's a reason you got a scholarship," Morgan said, taking another bite of the pretzel.
Walter gave an embarrassed chuckle and ran a hand through his hair with a small shrug.
"Whoa!" the kid said after he had chased down the ball. "Voulez-vous jouer avec nous?" (Do you want to play with us?)
Walter's grin dropped and he glanced over at Morgan as if asking permission. Morgan rolled his eyes with a snort and a smile.
"Go on," Morgan approved, waving Walter away.
"Oui. Un instant s'il vous plaît," (Yes. One moment please,) Walter called back to the boy. He turned back to Morgan, an index finger pointed at Morgan. "Do not touch that beer."
"Well, I wasn't going to, but now I want to," Morgan teased.
Walter dropped down to his knees beside Morgan and leaned over to whisper in the boy's ear. "You touch that, I will punish you and I promise it will be far worse than anything Father could come up with." Walter got back to his feet and raced after the kid who passed the ball to Walter who stopped it expertly.
Morgan did his best to keep his heart beating steadily in his chest, as the words did something funny in his stomach. It twisted into knots and rose into his chest making it hard to breathe.
There had been no threat in Walter's words. Not a real threat. It was more a promise of something that Morgan almost wanted to see happen. He was curious where it was going to lead.
Morgan finished his food and pulled his new book out, looking over the written message in the cover before settling himself in to read, but he couldn't quite focus.
Not when French was being called out by a voice that spoke it so effortlessly that it might as well have been Walter's first language. Not when talented limbs did exactly what they did best, holding ultimate control over an unruly object. Not when a man looked as beautiful as he did in his natural element that he was born into.
Walter raced over and Morgan picked up his beer, holding it out to Walter, whose hands were over his head as he breathed hard, body slick with sweat. "Little buggers keep ya on your toes," he said with that stupid half smile he liked to wear. He took the outheld drink, put some in his mouth and swished it around before spitting it out. He took another drink, this time swallowing it. His eyes dropped down to Morgan and that half smile turned cocky. "You, uh, enjoying your book?"
Morgan tore his eyes from Walter and shook his head. "Uh, yeah. Oh, yeah," Morgan answered quickly, voice thick. Walter chuckled. "You know how I am with poetry."
"You look a little flushed, Einstein." Walter lowered himself back onto his knees and held out the beer. Morgan looked over the cold bottle that had condensation on it. "Did you drink any of this?"
"No," Morgan whispered with a small shake of his head.
"Good boy," Walter said, that smile stealing the breath from Morgan's lungs in a way that he wasn't sure he had ever experienced before. He stared at those buttery eyes and there was a strange little tug in his gut, and he licked his lips. Walter's eyes followed the movement before he mirrored it unconsciously. "So obedient," Walter continued softly, words leaving him without permission. His hand reached out and Morgan waited for fingers to grace his cheek, but they didn't come.
"Vouliez-vous toujours jouer?" (Did you still want to play?) the kid's voice called and Walter quickly dropped his hand, a smile covering his lips.
"Non, merci," (No, thanks,) Walter called back, shooting that smile to the kid before turning back to Morgan. "You don't mind heights, do you?" Morgan shook his head. "Good. We have quite aways up to go, don't we?" Walter made a show of looking up at the Eiffel Tower and Morgan smiled in disbelief. "Though, I can't say I'm fond of heights after falling into that pit. You'll make sure to protect me, right?" Morgan's face cracked into a smile, and he shook his head.
"Of course." Morgan nodded and closed his book. "What else am I good for?"
"You're perfect as you are and good for anything you set your mind to, Morgan," Walter assured, once more using Morgan's name. It felt odd coming from Walter's lips, but it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest. In fact, Morgan found that he enjoyed the way his name sounded in that voice that he had grown up listening to at night. Read him to sleep. Sometimes it would sing. Sometimes tell him stories about going camping or seeing a baseball game. Odds and ends, but anything that that voice said Morgan had always clung to. "You ready?"
"Yes!" Morgan answered excitedly, getting to his feet, and holding out Walter's shirt to him, still unsaying of the markings across the elder's skin. Walter took it back with a grateful nod and pulled it over his head before picking up their trash and heading towards a trash can. Walter had Morgan get in line and disappeared for a moment before returning with a bag on his wrist.
Up they climbed. Stairs and stairs and more stairs in that god awful heat, hair damp and sticking to foreheads. Breathing puffs of sauna like air through open mouths. And finally at the top of the stairs, Walter paid for the lifts, and they started going up once more.
Walter stayed to the very center of the lift and watched as Morgan pressed himself to the side, looking through the glass and around them at the bolted metal and the large pulleys that would be helping them up to the top.
The lift creaked as it continued to move upwards, and Morgan bounced slightly as they made their way into a space where he could see. See for miles and miles across the city that stretched on for years. Built across generations. Breathless history all laid out for Morgan to see. But the person he wanted to share it with was nowhere near him.
He turned back to find Walter huddled around himself in the very center of the cart, among the others inside it, despite how hot the bodies must have been. Morgan's smile fell and he glanced once more out of the elevator before moving carefully through the people and to where Walter stood.
"You weren't kidding, were you?" Morgan asked softly, a hand taking one of Walter's forearms that were over his chest. "You really are afraid of heights, aren't you?" Walter shook his head with a snort of laughter, but it was fake. So incredibly fake that Morgan frowned. "Wally, please come look with me."
"I'm fine right here," Walter whispered, voice low as his head fell forward.
"Wally, I'll protect you," Morgan said, calling those frightened toffee eyes to him. "You're perfectly safe when you're with me."
"Safe," Walter repeated with a slight shake of his head.
"Safe," Morgan agreed, rising to his tiptoes to be near Walter's ear. "I could kill everyone in this room for you without issue. I can assist you with any medical ailment that befalls you if something happens. Nothing and no one in here is going to hurt you. Come with me. Experience this with me." Morgan pulled on Walter's arm and excused their way over to the edge of the elevator. Walter kept his head down and only held to himself a little more and Morgan would be a fool to not notice the way that Walter's breathing caught, and his body went rigid. "Look, Wally. It's beautiful," Morgan once more coaxed, a hand reaching out to tip Walter's chin up.
Morgan kept close to Walter, hand not leaving Walter's arm as Walter slowly came to stand beside him, huddled closely to Morgan. His eyes flickered wearily across the city as they continued to move upwards. His lip was tugged between his teeth, and he shifted his weight nervously.
"Acrophobia is the most common phobia. Up to five percent of the population suffers from it," Morgan muttered, fingers gliding over Walter's arm and watching his face carefully. Walter closed his eyes tightly as the elevator stuttered to a stop, loud with the creaking of metal. "You know that you could work with Father to get over it. It's curable."
"I don't know if I..." Walter let out a deep and shuttering breath before he opened his eyes once more. "I don't know if I can face this yet."
"You've come this far."
"My knees are going to buckle," Walter gasped out, head once more falling forward. "There are stairs that lead up to the fenced off deck. I'll meet you at the bottom."
"No," Morgan shot back with a frown. "You did not come all the way up here to go back down without seeing what the city looks like from the top. You brought me up here for a reason. Come on."
Morgan pulled Walter from the elevator and up the stairs that Walter indicated until they were surrounded by a mesh wire cage that gave way to the city below them. Walter stayed towards the wall, but Morgan carefully eased him towards the railing and fencing.
"Look, Wally," Morgan said, lightly tugging on Walter's arm, while pointing out in front of them. "There's a soccer pitch next to the Seine. I miss watching you play."
"You do?" Walter's weak voice asked beside him, body shaking as he edged closer to the railing.
"Yeah. It was just us, remember?" Morgan smiled and rested his head against Walter's bicep, nuzzling into the muscle. "And then you would take us out to eat after all your games were done. Stupid places like hot dog stands, but if we were together then it was fine."
"You didn't like the snack shack at the field?"
Morgan's face twisted into dislike, and he shook his head. "It's all processed and plastic. But it made you happy."
"I guess you can rip an American kid from the US, but you can't make him like caviar and figs."
"Caviar is gross," Morgan grumbled, and Walter gave a relaxed laugh, a hand catching Morgan's to stop how it continued to trail over his arm, sending goosebumps across his skin. Morgan gave a confused look.
"The view on the other side has the sunset. Let's go watch it," Walter explained softly, turning away from Morgan to follow the circular path, though he once more made his way for the center wall to be as far away from the edge as he possibly could. They pressed through people until they found themselves on the opposite side and Morgan sighed as he looked over the city, the sky the same color as the orange cream that his father would sometimes make for dessert.
"It's beautiful," Morgan whispered, leaning against the railing. He could feel Walter's eyes trapped on him, but he didn't exactly mind. And he knew that it was most likely so that Walter didn't have to focus on how high up they were.
"Yes," Walter whispered, and Morgan froze. That was the same voice Walter had used earlier when they had arrived at the landmark and Morgan had to force himself to try not to analyze it and break it apart bit by bit. "It's breathtaking."
Morgan tried his best to ignore the way that Walter's hand rested against the small of his back. Morgan closed his eyes and his head dipped at the extra heat that was placed against his body with how close Walter was.
"Morgan," Walter whispered, calling Morgan's gaze to his face and there was a breathless little look in those pale blue eyes. One that had Walter's chest constricting and his gut squirming. Morgan. Perfect, spoiled little Morgan. Happy, stupid smile Morgan. Walter's first and last thought of every day. Every stupid future daydream of what his life could be. It always had Morgan in it somewhere. Morgan was always his future.
There was the passion of a thousand suns under the boy's skin, a true north that Walter held to for stability. A saucer to his teacup. A passion like liquid adrenaline being injected right into Walter's bloodstream - not so strong as to freak him out, but just enough to make his skin prickle.
"Yes?" Morgan asked softly.
For the first time in years Walter felt like if he opened his mouth nothing witty or interesting would come out. He would be mute, unable to answer a question that he didn't know he had prompted. His voice was gone, and his cheeks flushed, stomach heavy. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to rip out of him. His body numbed as Morgan stepped a little closer and Walter became painfully conscious of the strawberry that still clung to the boy's hair and skin. He would remember the scent of strawberries for the rest of his days.
Walter's eyes dipped to those pink lips and the urge to lean forward and touch them with his own was debilitating. He wanted to know what Morgan tasted like, felt like. He wanted to know if Morgan's breath would stutter, and his heart would stop. He wanted to know if Morgan would kiss him back or shove him away.
There were too many things against Walter though. He knew there were. Their parents were the first in the long list. Their age. The physical distance between them. His addictions that he struggled with and didn't tell anyone about. School falling to the wayside. His scholarship was bound to be a ship that sailed far far away.
His coach. He didn't even want to think about that man or the things he would whisper in Walter's ears when no one was looking and the way that Walter felt so dirty after each practice, how he had to scrub himself raw in the shower in a futile attempt to remove those words from his skin. And Walter wasn't sure if he actually just wanted something physical or if this meant something more to him. Was this a single moment and he was about to fuck up everything or would this turn into something more?
He had never been with a boy, had never once thought of being with a boy. His coach had effectively extinguished any flame that could have possibly been struck there, but there was something about Morgan that sent a little spark through him. There was something safe with Morgan. Something familiar and unjudging with Morgan. If this was something, could be anything, it would blossom with Morgan.
Morgan's hair and skin caught the unnatural orange of the sunset, painting him in an ethereal glow and Walter's hand reached up, ready to risk it. Ready to tangle his fingers in the kid's hair and ruin him. Ready to show Morgan exactly why this was called the City of Love, but those icy blue eyes severed the feeling when he met them once more. His courage went up in smoke and he felt small next to the boy.
His hand dropped back to his side, and he quickly looked down, finding his excuse on his arm. "I-I bought you something," he said quickly, and Morgan's face dipped into what Walter could only take as disappointment before it was replaced with a smiling acceptance, waiting for Walter to continue. Walter dug into the bag on his arm and produced a small box that had a clear lid and Morgan grinned. "Ces macarons sont très magnifiques." (These macaroons are very beautiful.)
"I'm sure," Morgan said with a small laugh. Walter opened the small box and Morgan picked out a wickedly bright red one before crunching down on it. He hummed and closed his eyes and Walter bit his bottom lip, wishing he wasn't such a coward. Wishing he could just close the space between them. "La perfection absolue," (Absolutely perfect.) Morgan moaned around another bite and Walter exhaled sharply at the way his gut clenched. "Merci, Wally. Aujourd'hui a été ... la perfection." (Thanks, Wally. Today has been...perfection.) Morgan gave a snort and shook his head. "Sorry," he quickly corrected in English. "How do you switch so effortlessly between languages. I get stuck in them sometimes."
Walter gave a shrug. "I'm conscious through every word when it's not English. It's paralyzing. I have this undying need to be perfect."
"Because of Father?"
Walter gave a small nod and shoved a whole cookie into his mouth causing Morgan to laugh and shake his head, returning his gaze gratefully back out to the sunset. "You know how he was with my German. I would hate for him to see me screw up something like French."
"You know that you don't have to be perfect for them, don't you?" Morgan asked sadly before grabbing another cookie to munch on. "They wouldn't care if you dropped out of school and came back home."
"You wouldn't care," Walter corrected, nudging Morgan with an elbow.
Morgan shook his head. "I'm serious. They would still love you unconditionally."
"No, they wouldn't." Walter gave a laugh to dismiss the inadequacies that were swirling through his body and making him feel weaker than the height was. "They scare me, Einstein. They're terrifying in their perfection."
Morgan snorted. "They aren't perfect. If you were ever home, you would know that Dad still burns food and that Father constantly misplaces his glasses. Father messed up the Goldberg Variations the other day. Said he couldn't remember the notes. Dad was kissing him, so I don't think it really counts, but..."
Walter gave a smile and shook out Morgan's waves. "You almost done here? My knees are going to snap."
Morgan gave a concerned nod. "Yeah. We can go back down."
The tenseness from Walter released the moment he stepped off the stairs and onto solid ground and Morgan couldn't stop from smiling at how Walter straightened up with a deep breath as if he hadn't been able to inhale deep enough before.
"Are we heading back to the hotel?" Morgan asked and was shocked when he received an incredulous look from Walter.
"No, Einstein. I am nowhere near done with you yet." A hand reached out and snatched up Morgan's loosened tie and Morgan was drug back across that grassy field until they were at the very opposite end of it. The heat of the day persisted despite the fact that the sun was nearly down. Morgan was out of breath when they finally stopped and Walter turned to face Morgan, hands on Morgan's shoulders after releasing the tie in his grip that was now scrunched up from sweat. "Alright. Stand right here and don't move."
"Wally," Morgan laughed, head turning against the order to glance back at the tower that stood proudly behind him. Hands snatched up his face and pulled him back to face Walter who was glowing with the sunset behind him, looking so much like a J. M. W. Turner painting that Morgan felt his breath leave his lips. Walter's thumbs gently caressed his cheeks and there was an unbelieving smile on his lips.
"You're impossible," he scolded Morgan teasingly. "You can't ever just listen to me, can you? You have to do whatever you want."
"Wally," Morgan whispered, unsure where his voice had gone, desperately wanting to know why Walter was being this kind to him. It wasn't that Walter wasn't kind to Morgan. He absolutely was, but he had never been like this. He had never been open and vulnerable with Morgan. Not since Germany. Not since he opened the door to Hannibal's room and stepped inside before returning with a haunted look to shove cleaning supplies into his hands. "I-"
"Just face this way a little longer, Morgan. I promise it will be worth it," Walter whispered, thumbs still gentle in their caressing of Morgan's face and Morgan's heart fluttered in betrayal in his chest.
Was Morgan reading too far into this? Of course, he was. He always did. Walter's actions were nothing more than just actions. This didn't mean anything to him. He wouldn't care about the blush that was creeping a path across all of Morgan's skin. He wouldn't see the way that Morgan's limbs turned to jello whenever Walter touched him. He wouldn't notice the way that Morgan couldn't breathe. Wouldn't notice the silent begging across Morgan's face that the kid couldn't hold back. A plea of, kiss me. Please just kiss me.
Only Walter saw. He did see. And felt. He felt all of it. Every little emotion flooding off Morgan and pin pricking across Walter's flesh. Walter almost did. Almost closed the distance between them, but the lights on the Eiffel Tower as the sun finally faded brought him slamming back into himself.
Morgan's blue eyes were closed, and his breathing halted, but once more Walter's confidence shattered and all he could do was lean forward and place a kiss to Morgan's forehead. It was close, just not enough, but it had to be enough. It just had to be for now. For the rest of time. They could never come back to this space. This was now and this was all it would ever be.
Walter pulled back and his soul smashed into a thousand pieces at the look in Morgan's eyes. A look that would haunt his dreams, a look that he wished he could wipe from the kid's face with something more substantial than a stupid radio tower left to rot that stood behind them.
"Look," he whispered, unable to make his voice go louder. He let his hands drop from Morgan's cheeks and to the kid's shoulders, slowly turning Morgan around. The reaction wasn't immediate, and Walter bit his tongue with bated breath, waiting for that stupid little smile to once more cover Morgan's lips. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Yes," Morgan answered dully, blinking blankly up at the tower that was lit up with the brightness of the sun. That stupid little smile did come back to Morgan's face as soon as the light show started. Flashing lights that glittered like stars through the darkness that clung unforgivingly to the heat of the day. "And you get to see this all of the time?"
"When money allows," Walter answered. "I stretch it pretty thin. I don't like asking dad and father for help."
"I'm jealous. If I saw you every day, forever, Wally, I would remember this time."
Walter let out a deep breath, a hand slowly caressing the back of Morgan's neck. "Strange seeing you here in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years."
"Come visit more often and maybe I'll be something more real."