you could have my heart (and i would break it for you)

-or-

be gay do crime

By: Aviantei

[Shibuya Operation – Story Storm]

Two Futures, Act Five:

"i'm thinking 'bout you (and only you)"

1870

The room looked like any other sleeping quarters might, almost unassuming in its décor. The electric lights did plenty to keep it bright, and it could have been mistaken for any other guest room were it not for two key factors:

The first was the lingering smell of sex that Jameson had recognised in a heartbeat.

The second was the camera upon its tripod, facing the bed.

It didn't take much effort to put the two together and know what was expected of him, but that didn't stop the churning feeling of—of something inside him. Nervousness was there, yes, and maybe a bit of exhilaration at doing something society would consider inappropriate, but neither of those emotions often left Jameson feeling as if he was suspended above the world, watching himself from afar.

"You are a pretty thing, now aren't you?"

Though the question was directed at him, Jameson didn't answer. For one, he didn't think he was expected to. For two, even if he was, he didn't want to say anything that he shouldn't and cause trouble. Besides, the more he was put through, the more convinced he became that shutting up and letting it all pass was for the best.

"You'll have to forgive her," Stratford's voice was saying from what felt like a great distance, "she's gotten rather shy these days." He spoke as if that were a great disappointment, though Jameson felt uneasy. How was he supposed to not be shy whenever the number of unfamiliar hands and eyes upon him had been increasing?

Unfamiliar hands and eyes like those of the woman who'd tilted up Jameson's head to get a better look at his face. Her features were beautiful, but there was something about the lilt of her smile that made Jameson wish to look away.

He didn't, though. He was coming to learn that good dolls didn't do much.

"There's no need to worry," Leinster said, her voice oozing confidence. "That shyness won't be a problem. I find it often makes the photos better." She looked over Jameson again, and he couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare back at her. "You'll behave, now won't you? Yes, I'll be able to get some excellent shots from you."

In the dark of the room, the light of the flash sent spots across Jameson's vision that didn't fade for days to come.

April, 1875

The Great Western Royal Hotel was one of the finest establishments London had to offer, reserved for the elite of the elite. The concept of how many pounds it had taken for Albert to receive a room on such short notice was enough to make Jameson's head spin, and it felt even more inconceivable that such riches had been spent upon him. But with Albert's insistence, he found that he didn't mind getting spoiled so, and, after already indulging earlier, Jameson had been left with a pool of lingering desire inside him.

Jameson had nothing to complain about all the help that Lucy and Maryanne had provided him, but those encounters had felt much more like instructions than anything else. That had been the point, yes, but there was something much more exhilarating about being caught up in the moment, arousal pulling Jameson in. Albert's body was firm beneath him, his heat melding into Jameson's own, and all the casual touches beforehand provided Jameson with a satisfying enough fantasy of what joining themselves together could be like.

There was no reason to constrain the situation to nothing but mere fantasy, though.

He lowered his face closer at the same time he fit himself into Albert's lap. Just like he'd done with Lucy beforehand, Albert's hands landed upon Jameson's waist with the perfect amount of pressure. They were broad hands, and Jameson ached to know the sensation of them upon his own skin, the way calluses would give the faintest scratches of sensation paired with an undeniable smoothness, exploring each and every part of him to the fullest extent.

Kissing Albert was simple, and the taste of wine lingering upon both their tongues was even sweeter than it had been upon first conception. His mouth was firm, but no less receptive, Albert adjusting to the perfect angle to draw them as close as possible. He didn't press too far, though, but it didn't feel as if he was acting cautious so that Jameson wouldn't break. No, instead, there was a curve to his lips, one that indicated he was happy for the attention and almost curious as to what Jameson would do next.

Jameson answered that with his tongue. He'd intended to take a slower approach, but Albert responded in kind, his lips parting and meeting Jameson's tongue with his own. They tangled in the open air, wine flavouring the experience, and Jameson put his hands to Albert's hair so they could draw ever closer. Albert responded in kind, his hand gentle against the back of Jameson's head while he let Jameson explore all the way to the back of his throat.

When they broke apart, it was for no more than the bare minimum of distance to catch their breath. Albert let out a pleased sigh, licking his lips. "I've been waiting for you to do that."

"Have you now?" Jameson felt much more confident than he expected, but he wasn't about to waste the opportunity. "I was surprised you didn't take the initiative sooner." It wouldn't have been out of character for him should the rumours be trusted.

"It wasn't for lack of desire, I assure you." Albert brushed a thumb over Jameson's cheek, the simple action enough to make him feel cherished and precious. "Would you like me to correct that behaviour, Jameson?"

Jameson rested his forehead upon Albert's, enjoying finding the flecks of even darker green in Albert's already forest coloured eyes. "I'd like you to enjoy me as much as I'm about to enjoy you." He ran a finger down Albert's chest. "Based on what I saw you do to Miss Lucy, I feel there's plenty to relish in."

"I do try my best in that regard." Albert's own palms—broad, and so, so warm—ran down Jameson's back. "You were also quite the sight if you don't mind me saying so. I'd like to take a closer look."

"Look away." Jameson reached for the knot of his ribbon, tugging just right to make it come off, nice and slow. Albert's forest green eyes followed the motion, hunger sparking them further to life, even more so than his playful advances with Lucy and Maryanne. Wanting to add more to that desire, Jameson reached up, also removing Albert's necktie with ease, though his eyes followed the garment as Jameson dropped it to the mattress beside him. "That's not where you're supposed to be looking."

"Forgive me. I just—" Albert's smile became sheepish of all things, which Jameson hadn't expected at all. "It may sound silly, but I'd prefer if we didn't just leave our clothes in a pile." Upon a quick moment's reflection, Jameson did recall Albert's clothes ending up in a neat, folded stack, even as he tended to Lucy's requests. "I know it's a hassle, but if we could…"

"Will it help you keep your focus on me?" Albert nodded, looking beyond earnest, and Jameson couldn't deny that he wanted all that attention. Folding clothes seemed like a trifle in comparison. "Then I can fulfil such a request. Just do take pity on me if I don't do it to your standards."

Jameson picked their neckwear back up, the experience in working on the laundry making it but second nature. The slight crease melted out of Albert's eyebrows, his own hand coming up to rest on Jameson's hip. "Now you've become even more attractive to me, Jameson. I didn't know it was possible for perfection to improve upon itself."

Such a line didn't seem as if it could apply to him, but arguing each and every compliment Albert graced upon him would not be a productive use of either of their time. Besides, even if they sounded unreal, Jameson still loved to hear it, Albert's sweet words building up a pure sense of arousal inside him added upon what already existed beforehand. "I can believe it," Jameson said instead of expressing his doubt. "After all, you've become more enthralling to me with each interaction we have." He started to undo the buttons of Albert's vest, feeling eager to advance further.

"I'm glad to hear it, Jameson." His name in Albert's mouth was a deep rumble, the sound more than enough to swallow him up. Jameson wanted to sink into it and never crawl out. Reciprocating Jameson's lead, Albert reached up, massaging Jameson's shoulders, starting to ease out a tension he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It was enough like heaven that he let out a satisfied moan. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Let yourself relax with me."

Jameson shuddered. Albert's voice was already enchanting enough, but it was even more so with such tender words directed at him. "If I relax too much, I won't be able to touch you as I like." He'd already gotten the taste for having more autonomy, and he had no intention of giving such a thing up, though he had no doubt Albert would give him an unforgettable experience.

Albert's chuckle was just as wonderful as the rest of him, one of his hands coming up to brush his knuckles against Jameson's cheek. "In that case, we'll have to split the work between us." Jameson hummed his approval, having no issues with such an arrangement. "May I bother you for another kiss, then?"

"No," Jameson said, "because that would imply it's a bother." He chuckled at the look on Albert's face, the man having been caught off guard, and Jameson stole a kiss from those lips, all for himself. "You may 'bother' me for whatever you like, Albert. Miss Lucy seemed so delighted with you that I'm curious to repeat the experience." Just as Albert had hoped, the tryst had helped to boost his confidence, helped him feel as if he wasn't a complete and total lost cause. "Consider it a celebration, my lord."

Albert shook his head, but his amused chuckle made Jameson feel even hotter than he already was. "I tend not to like being called that, but you have me willing to make an exception." His thumb brushed over Jameson's lower lip, the look of desire on his face growing—and Jameson could feel the results from where he was sitting as well. "What a talent you have, Jameson. I'd be remiss not to accept such an offer then."

Not another word needed to be spoken for the two of them to move into a kiss. It was a bit slower than the previous one, but no less explorative. Having just the opportunity to enjoy one drink at the brothel earlier, the taste of wine upon Albert's tongue wasn't overpowering, but something about his aroma blended with his cologne had the same succulent and intoxicating effect, like a hot spiced drink enjoyed by the fire. His hands untucked Jameson's shirttails, feeling up his back, and Jameson arched at the touch, enjoying the feeling of gentle hands upon his skin, drawing out his desire to indulge to the fullest possible extent.

So indulge he did, his own hands pulling off Albert's jacket. It was hard to taper down the immediate desire to toss it aside and continue his work, but Jameson did, folding the garment over on itself—enough to be considered neat, but not enough to cause wrinkles he'd have to iron out later. Albert gave Jameson an appreciative kiss beneath the ear for his troubles, so it was well worth the effort. Jameson was, however, impatient enough to just open Albert's vest and button-up, leaving them to hang open while his hands and eyes explored the new sight available to him.

It was no surprise at all that Albert's physique was toned, what with him being a military man. Jameson had seen him in full dress uniform once or twice as he left the manor for work, and it had been a wonderful sight, the sharp lines of the clothes matching his figure well, showing off just the right amount of bulk in his shoulders that promised much more delightful treats beneath. Such promises had not been a lie, well-defined abs and pectorals leaving the perfect lines for Jameson to trace with his fingers.

Just because it hadn't been a surprise didn't mean it wasn't appreciated.

One lick of the lips later, and Jameson was already leaning down to kiss over that chest, enjoying the soft moan that earned him. Albert's fingers settled into Jameson's hair, leaving gentle strokes there to encourage him, where the other hand continued its exploration up Jameson's back, making sure to trace the shape of every vertebrae of his spine, as if exploring the very foundation that held him together. Jameson did not feel bold enough to leave marks, nor did he want to pull away long enough to ask if it would be welcome, instead committing himself to seeing what each peck and touch did to help increase the evidence of Albert's desire.

Albert was not one to let Jameson do all the work, though. Whenever Jameson came up for air, those hands cupped Jameson's cheeks, guiding him into a fresh kiss. He continued the kiss all through slipping off Jameson's upper layers, and it was the distraction of their mouths melding into one that kept Jameson from complaining as Albert's hands weren't all over his bare skin. For an Earl, though, Albert was skilled in turning each of Jameson's garments into neat little rectangles on the edge of the bed, and then he took Jameson by the hips to lift him up and move him.

Somehow, the action was almost gentle, despite the fact that Albert had repositioned them so that Jameson was upon the edge of the bed. Rather than risking squashing Jameson beneath Albert's weight, though, he had kneeled upon the ground, looking up at Jameson as if he were worth the admiration of a piece of fine art. Leaving his chest wrappings untouched, Albert's palms slid down Jameson's sides, instead choosing to explore the curve of hip, the shape of his thighs, all the way down until his fingertips tapped at Jameson's ankles through his socks. Albert's hands were broad enough that Jameson suspected he could fit thumb and forefinger around his ankle and still have the slightest room to spare.

And then Albert retraced his touch, but in reverse, and Jameson sighed as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Rather than snaking back up Jameson's torso, those hands stopped at his waist, working on undoing the buttons of his slacks. Not even needing to be told, Jameson lifted himself up just the slightest amount to make it easier to remove his pants, though his undershorts stayed on for the time being. After a brief pause of noncontact, fingertips were drawing a line down the inside of his thighs, the sensitive skin singing in delight, as well as the rest of it, all the way down until his foot had been lifted with the gentlest of touches, a soft kiss placed against his ankle.

Jameson's next exhale turned into a soft hum of pleasure, though even that volume level didn't last. The lips were too soft, the mouth too warm as it worked its way back up the same path the fingers before it had followed, no more than an inch between each point of contact. The pace remained consistent—not so fast as to be hurried, nor so slow as to be excruciating—but it was just a matter of time until Jameson's undershorts became an obstacle. Calloused fingers pushed the fabric up and out of the way, leaving for more room of mouth against skin, his sounds of pleasure growing louder until—

"Oh, William."

Jameson's insides turned to ice, and he slapped his hands to his mouth, shame crawling up inside him. He was not proud of his past, no, and he never would be, but when it came to acting as an object of desire? That was an area he'd taken great pains to become an expert in, and—barring a few mishaps in his early days—he never made as foolish of an error as calling an incorrect name in the middle of intercourse. To make such a mistake—

Forget the shame. Jameson felt nothing but panic.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Jameson."

"I'm sorry, please forgive me, I won't do it again—"

"Jameson!" He flinched, curling in on himself and then regretting it the next second. Pulling away was going to do nothing but make it worse—and sure enough there were a pair of hands grasping onto his shoulders. He should've relented, should've allowed them to do as they pleased since he knew fighting further would just make it worse, but he couldn't let it happen, not anymore, and he struggled, managing to connect a backhand in a solid hit, the resulting grunt both terrifying and satisfying all at once. "Jameson, it's alright, I'm not upset, please calm down."

Albert.

The reminder of who he'd been bedding was enough to erase some of the sense of immediate danger, but not quite all of it. Albert would not force anything upon Jameson—but that didn't mean he wouldn't be upset. Jameson had always been upset, each and every time Stratford had refused to call him his name, instead praising his mother, whom he attempted to hold onto despite her being gone. What Jameson had done wasn't quite the same, it didn't change the fact that he, too, had no idea how to let go of someone he no longer had a right to—had never had a right to in the first place.

In that moment, every single surge of emotion Jameson had been contending with welled up, sending hot and unrelenting tears down his face. As he'd stopped trying to fight, Albert released Jameson's shoulders, instead rubbing his back and running a hand through his hair. There was a sound like a gentle breeze, and then Albert took Jameson's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Jameson, it's alright. Let's…get dressed first, and then we can talk."

Albert did his best to make everything comfortable, and Jameson appreciated it. They moved back out to the sitting room, Jameson curling up on the couch in both robe and blanket, the furniture just the slightest bit less comfortable than those at the Moriarty Manor. The disconnect from the bed made it easier to recentre himself, and the room service was even active at the late hour to bring them some tea. Jameson had yet to take a drink, but the familiar weight of a full teacup in his hands was comforting, and he was sure the cream and sugar augmented taste would do the same once it cooled enough to be palatable.

It was a nice start, but it didn't change the fact that Jameson felt awful for his error.

"…I am sorry," he managed to whisper. He didn't sound as desperate as he had before, which was a good start, for what little it mattered. "You've been treating me with such kindness, and I let my mind wander elsewhere." Even worse, he'd called someone else's name—William, who'd rejected him and he shouldn't have felt attached to still, and Albert's younger brother on top of it all.

From his seat on the closest chair, Albert pursed his lips, not bothering to fake a smile. Jameson couldn't tell if that made him feel better or worse. "I won't lie and say that hearing someone else's name is not disheartening. In fact, I'd never experienced such a thing before." Jameson grimaced. Of course he hadn't, of course anyone that Albert had bedded would have been able to think of nothing but him. "But I will say, if I had to hear anyone else's name but my own, I'm glad it was Will's."

The reminder set Jameson's entire being on fire, which helped burn away some of the shame and fear still lingering in his blood. He shouldn't have been surprised that William still occupied his every thought, his ongoing desire. He'd known that about himself, but it was the intensity of the affection that had caught him off guard.

It was unfair of him, to want so bad that he couldn't appreciate what he had in front of him. Albert was no less wonderful than William, no less lovely, even if he offered his own charms. Given enough time and effort, Jameson had no doubt he could love Albert—and, on top of that, Albert was willing to love him in return. They could be happy, but in order to do that, Jameson would have to let William go.

"I'm sure that for you," Albert said, "William feels safe." Jameson nodded, not quite willing to look Albert in the eyes. Instead, he stared down his own reflection in his teacup. "I may be assuming, but he's special because he's someone that saved you, yes?"

"Yes." William had come and rescued Jameson from something he'd thought he'd never escape, and then he'd said Jameson wasn't at fault, that he deserved happiness of all things. "William is…without him, I don't know how much longer I would've made it." If the Moriartys had not received the request for vengeance upon Stratford when they had, if it had come just a bit later or they'd conducted their plan a bit further out, would there have been anything left of Jameson to save? "I know I shouldn't after he put me aside, but I can't help but still care for him."

He had a love in him that burned as bright as the fire they'd set to Aldborough Manor, and it would not be extinguished until Jameson himself had burnt to a crisp.

"I'm a fool," Jameson said, almost hating himself all over again for admitting it, even if it was just to himself. "I know I'm not worthy of him. I'm not even worthy of you, Albert. But I'm so selfish. This should be enough—being free from Stratford should be enough!" That freedom alone was a blessing, and yet Jameson wanted more; he wanted to destroy the regulars, he wanted to keep living in Moriarty Manor, and he wanted William to love him, each demand more impossible than the last. And yet William made all of that seem possible. "Even now, whenever you've been kind enough to express interest in me, I can't stop it. I fear that even if he rejects me over and over, I won't stop wishing to be at his side."

"Jameson, you are not a fool, nor are you being selfish." Jameson snorted in disbelief, but Albert did not let him protest. "For starters, if you were being selfish, you would be acting without any consideration for William's thoughts and feelings on the matter. Second, caring for someone as you do is not a fool's endeavour. It's beautiful that you can still feel such a way after everything you've been through." Was it? Perhaps Jameson was more of a pragmatist than he'd thought. "Wanting beyond the bare minimum is more than acceptable, and you deserve to have at least the opportunity to try and receive those things."

When the newest round of disbelief met him, it was much harder for Jameson to put the sensation away—that challenge further compounded whenever there was such evidence that seemed to contradict it. Whenever he mustered up the will to speak, his voice was small and fragile: "But William already rejected me." Saying so was enough to make tears well up in him, though he wasn't certain just what he was crying for. "I made a mistake with him, and he decided I wasn't worth it anymore."

Albert adjusted in his seat, his frown growing. Jameson did his best to retreat more into his blankets without spilling tea over himself. "Jameson," Albert said, and Jameson bit his lip, attempting to brace himself, "Will cares about you much more than you think. Now listen—" Jameson had opened his mouth, but he allowed Albert continue, calculating his counterargument all the while. "Yes, he did decide to step away from you, but that was not out of a lack of concern.

"He's seemed to have gotten it into his head that continuing to be close to you—intimate or otherwise—runs the risk of harming you." Forget every flirtation that had fallen off Albert's lips; those words were the hardest to believe. William had abandoned Jameson because he couldn't handle what was wanted of him in the bedroom…hadn't he? "He and I are of the same mind that you have gone through enough, Jameson, and that you shouldn't have to endure anything you don't wish for. I don't know the precise details—" and Jameson released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding "—but I understand that something happened during intercourse, yes?"

"Yes," Jameson said, his voice coming out near breathless. He didn't mind admitting to such a thing, though that might've just been because all of his mental faculties were far too preoccupied with the concept that William could still care about him.

"Whatever it is, Will fears that he might frighten you again, though I know he is capable of acting with more than enough consideration to prevent such a thing. And this may just be my own interpretation of the situation, but…" Albert paused, as if debating whether he would be speaking too far, but then he chose to push forward. "Well, for all his intelligence, I've never seen him become attached to a person in such a short amount of time before, nor in such a matter. For someone as logical as Will, that uncertainty of strong, intimate feelings might be something he's not certain how he wishes to handle."

Jameson considered the words, repeated them in his mind, and then drew a conclusion that seemed just as ridiculous as everything else being said in the conversation. "You cannot be suggesting that he's avoiding me because he has feelings for me." Not William, who was beautiful and wonderful and so, so, so perfect. Harbouring such emotion for Jameson?

It was complete and utter nonsense. There was no way such a thing could ever be possible, let alone probable.

Albert, on the other hand, didn't look uncertain at all. "I won't speak on such the level to assume what he's feeling, nor to its intensity. But I believe such a theory makes sense. Even if his feelings are not romantic in nature and remain in the realm of the sexual—" That at least sounded logical; Jameson could accept someone's lust for him as easy as a land in drought accepted the rainfall "—he's still never had a particular attachment to someone. I wouldn't be surprised if it's made him awkward. Still, that's a matter you should ask him about yourself, rather than taking my word for it. However, speaking as his older brother, I think you have a great chance of success with such an approach."

William might not want to abandon me? Just the prospect alone was enough for Jameson to feel a little bit of hope, and, barring the obvious errors, Albert's logic did make some sense. "So what are you suggesting? That I approach him and ask him to take me back?" It was the most straightforward option, no doubt, but Jameson couldn't help but balk at the possibility that William would outright refuse to speak with him at all.

"If that's what you wish to do, then yes," Albert said, sounding far too certain for Jameson to believe him. Sure enough, his encouraging smile dimmed the next moment. "I… If I am to be honest, Jameson, I would much prefer you stayed with me and gave me the chance to win you over. I would do everything in my power to make you happy and comfortable. I would court you with the intent of marriage and swear my loyalty to you alone, should you desire that. But if you wish to pursue Will instead, I will not stop you." He reached out, then hesitated, as if he feared what touching Jameson might do. "I wish you to be happy, Jameson. And if being by Will's side is what will bring you that happiness, then I will support you all the way.

"But if you are to make such a choice, there's something you should know about the Moriarty Plan."

Of all things, Jameson had not expected the brothers' crime consultancy to factor into the equation. He could understand the issue if they'd kept their true behaviour secret from him, but Jameson himself had joined while offering his full consent. "What do you mean?"

"It's about the end of the plan. It's still far away in the future, but William outlined his vision quite a while ago. If we are to change the class system, just eliminating those who use their positions to do evil will not be enough. We will instead need to make the commonfolk and the nobility wish to join forces, to become allies so they don't recreate their past errors. The rough concept is that we will accomplish that by giving them a shared enemy to ally themselves against."

That made sense, but Jameson couldn't quite see what that had to do with whom he decided to court. "…Do tell me if I'm wrong, but are you all intending to make yourselves that enemy?"

"Yes, and that's where your…involvement with us comes into play." Albert clasped his hands in his lap, leaning forward in his seat. "Jameson, what do you think is the best way to vanquish a great evil from the world?"

Death. Even if Jameson hadn't been involved with the Moriartys, he would've drawn that conclusion. It took just a few seconds longer for him to connect the rest of the pieces into place. "You're telling me you're all planning to die to make your ambitions a success." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be, but a small piece of Jameson's heart couldn't help but hope that his conclusion was flawed.

The set of Albert's lips told him that he wasn't. "Yes, you're right." Jameson gripped his teacup much harder than he should have, but the fragile chinaware held strong. "For William, I think that the prospect of involving himself with someone who cares about him, knowing full well he plans to die in several years' time, is even crueller than everything else." Whenever you combined that with his accidental frightening of Jameson, it seemed like the perfect storm to drive them apart.

"And you?" Albert looked up, not having expected the question. Jameson held his gaze, two different shades of green searching each other out in the dim light of the room. "What about you, Albert?"

"For the sake of the plan, I've been willing to die as well." There was something else to it, something he wasn't quite saying, but Jameson didn't have it in him to push the matter, not when he was looking for answers to his own concerns. "That still holds true. I've wanted to change this world for the better, to make up for my own unfair position in life. I've never considered death to be an unfair price to pay." Jameson's heart wrenched in a way that had nothing to do with his earlier panic. It was starting to make sense how he'd found himself in such a generous position: it wasn't going to last. "I can do nothing but speak for myself, Jameson, but if you chose to stay by my side, I would be willing to live for you."

Jameson found himself unable to speak, and the emotion that filled him up was so strong and overwhelming that he couldn't even identify it. Did he wish to cry, to scream, to exalt in celebration? He didn't know, and he didn't know how to tell—but he did know he'd just been offered a precious gift, the offer of someone's life, given to him in full, a promise to not separate so long as it could be helped.

'Til death do us part, claimed the traditional marriage vows, though Jameson was certain said vows had never accounted for a situation like his.

It should have been a simple choice, then. Albert was willing to love him, to stay with him, to live their lives in bliss as a couple, even marrying someone like Jameson, who was no longer worthy of such indulgence—and not even the death he'd already resolved himself to would hold him back, the plan taking a backseat to Jameson's wishes and happiness. It would be difficult to let go, but Jameson was confident he could learn to love Albert in return.

And with William, there were no guarantees, nor did Jameson expect to receive the same offer. If that had been an option, he doubted William would've retreated from him in the first place. No, despite their mutual desire for each other, Jameson held no disillusions about William being able to love him back, nor did he think he could handle such an affection if it did exist.

Not that any of that was a true factor.

It feels like fire, Jameson had explained to Louis when describing his desire to kill the regulars.

Loving William felt an awful lot like that, too.

"…I'm sorry," Jameson said, though he didn't sound anywhere near as desperate as he had earlier. "I'm so sorry, Albert. I just… I can't… I can't let him go." The tears were back again, and the shame was enough to make him tremble—but not enough to make him take it back.

If there were two futures before him, then Jameson knew the one he wished to pursue.

"I see," Albert said, his handsome face caught on the edge of a great disappointment. "I thought you might say that." He ran a hand through his hair, some of it falling out of its careful styling to obscure his eyes, and let out a great sigh. Jameson, feeling as if he was witnessing something he was not meant to see, at last took a drink of his tea, the drink long past cooled below the optimal temperature but not cold enough to ruin the flavour. Albert let out a chuckle that echoed with a sense of fragility. "I will not do you the disservice of attempting to change your mind, Jameson. I meant it when I said I would do everything in my power to make you happy and comfortable, and that includes this." He looked up, Jameson able to do no more than hold half of his gaze. "Alright, you wish to court my dear younger brother, then? Yes, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful match. I could ask of no one better to pursue him."

He meant it. Albert meant much more than that, had so many unwinding spools of emotion in him at the moment, each of them tangling into each other, but he was not lying. If Albert could not pursue him, he would be content with the alternative.

Jameson took another drink of tea to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. "That supposes that William will accept my advances in the first place." It could very well be that Jameson was choosing an outcome that had no possibility of success whatsoever.

"Of course it does. I have every confidence in your success." Albert reached over, patting Jameson's shoulder through the blanket draped over him. "Be patient with him, Jameson. If you're going to love him, please don't give up."

And Jameson could do nothing but give his honest answer of, "I won't."

William had not slept more than a fitful hour or two after returning with Moran, not even as the carriage attempted to rock him into slumber and his bed invited him to recharge amidst its comforting blankets. He'd woken up before dawn, before Louis even, and he'd wandered the streets of their neighbourhood before returning for the breakfast he knew his brother would fuss about were he to miss it.

Moran had already confirmed the successful passing of Harris's files onto Paterson, the sign of a job well done—and yet William felt even more unsettled than he already had before. Yes, his and Moran's work would improve the lives of many people, but the reminder of Leinster was impossible to ignore. Jameson had given William names so he could conduct research and prepare a course of action. Said research and preparation had come to a halt with the incident in William's room and his own busy season of work, but it was not something he could ignore forever.

Jameson had still made a request of William as a crime consultant. That was not a duty he would abandon, not whenever it involved someone who no doubt deserved it.

And yet he hadn't pressed Jameson for any details he didn't offer on his own, respecting the other man's privacy. Even without being told, William understood enough to follow through. And yet, here he was, with a thread that connected a pile of pornographic photos with a woman whom Jameson had identified as a target.

William, once more, did not like the conclusion he had drawn.

William, once more, could not stop crossing the threshold of Jameson's boundaries, no matter how unintentional the transgression was. Even whenever he'd taken such efforts to not be in the other man's presence except for what was necessary, he'd still crossed that line. If he and Jameson had still been interacting with each other on a regular basis, it would have been simple to initiate the discussion, but that wasn't an option just yet.

Moran had been right. It was not like him to be so distracted. William didn't like it. What was worse was that, while his mind may have been racing, it had not hit its limit, so it wasn't as if he could lie himself down to sleep to achieve a moment of peace.

It will have to be done sooner rather than later, he reasoned. He couldn't help Jameson without developing a plan—or at least not without violating his express wishes to be involved in the matter. William had violated enough without taking away Jameson's opportunity to take vengeance with his own hands. If that's the case, I should at least develop a rough strategy. I still believe it's too close to Westmeath's death to act, but that doesn't mean we can't start laying the groundwork. I don't think Leinster would be a poor next target, but looking into the habits of the other two will help with that. If he were to accomplish that, he would need to do some research, which necessitated leaving the house.

William knew it wasn't his sole motivation, but even he couldn't help but feel like he was running away.

The work needed to be done regardless, so he made to stand up, picking his jacket off the back of his chair. Midway through shrugging it on, though, the door swung open without so much as a knock. Such a thing wasn't an uncommon occurrence, as often Albert or Louis would do so during an emergency, and he braced himself for news he would need to account for.

And then he saw Jameson instead, his mind scrambling to catch up.

"…I didn't know you had returned home," William managed to say, careful not to make the words accusatory. Though he didn't think Jameson had taken advantage of it yet, they'd since given him the freedom to come and go as he pleased without supervision.

"I just got back." Yes, that was evident in the almost breathless tone in his voice, in the lingering wrinkles in the suit indicating that it had been worn the day prior. Were they closer, William had very little doubt he would be able to smell the hint of sex mixed into Jameson's sugar and lotus—if not the spiced aroma of Albert's cologne. "I wish to talk to you."

Even if he weren't caught up in a storm of conflicting emotions, William would not have been able to turn Jameson away. He did not, however, feel that sitting would be appropriate, so he kept his position a few strides off from his desk, not daring to move to a more polite distance. Jameson's presence beforehand had been unsettling enough even when in the company of others, but William was finding it even more so now that they were in a room, alone—and a room where they'd shared a handful of intimate moments at that.

"You're always welcome to speak to me about anything," William said, meaning it but also putting on a mask of casual politeness at the same time. It was one thing to avoid Jameson's presence by making sure they didn't meet, but it was another altogether to refuse his company whenever Jameson had sought him out for that express purpose.

Jameson peered at William for a few moments longer than felt comfortable, his eyes observant. William hadn't noticed it before, but Jameson was one of the few people whose gaze made him feel vulnerable. No, Jameson couldn't see all the way through him, but he could make it several more layers down than most people ever did, which was more than unnerving for someone like William, who had long since crafted his exterior to be what was most beneficial for the world to see: the mild mannered math prodigy-turned-new-professor, not the ruthless killer willing to bathe in blood to reform society. And beneath all of that?

Whatever Jameson saw, though, he chose not to comment on it, instead saying, "Very well. Then I wish for you to give me an honest answer." William nodded his assent, and Jameson cleared his throat. "Tell me why you decided to start avoiding me."

For all the possible options that William had concocted in his mind, that topic had not been one that he'd anticipated—at least not with such bluntness. It had been pure cowardice of him, but William had been somewhat relying upon the more hesitant aspects of Jameson's nature to keep him from pursuing the topic outright. But now that the inquiry had been posed, lying would just be doing Jameson's courage and stubbornness an intense disservice.

"…I thought you might not want to be left alone with me after I frightened you." It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the whole truth, either, and Jameson's expression made it clear he was aware of that. "I also didn't wish to be reminded that I'd hurt you in such a way."

"You should have asked me." Jameson was right; William shouldn't have made such an assumption. The note of sadness in Jameson's tone just made the accusation even worse. "I thought you were throwing me away because I couldn't live up to what you expected of me."

William grimaced at the admission of what his own actions had caused—not because he hadn't thought Jameson would take it that way, but because he'd known Jameson would have that impression, and he'd done nothing to correct it in hopes that it would make it easier for Jameson to make a clean break from him. "That was unfair of me," he said, and the whole situation was unfair wasn't it, that William had even dared to let Jameson feel such affection in the first place "Regardless of my intent, I should have let you know my reasons."

"Yes, you should have." Before, William had found it sad how Jameson aimed to keep himself together, even whenever his sadness was bubbling up beneath the surface. Now, that feeling remained, but William was the slightest bit relieved that he didn't have to face it head on. "Lucky for us both, we are both capable of talking now and clearing up any unresolved areas of concern, and I'd like to go first." Clever words indicating that Jameson understood William was still not being as truthful with him as he should be without outright accusing him of such a thing. William couldn't tell if that was better or worse. "I am going to talk for a while, and I want you to listen to what I have to say in full before responding."

Was it going to be the moment whenever Jameson decided to give up on his involvement in the plan, washing his hands of the whole affair? He had the money; it would be simple for him to escape out somewhere in the world and live whatever sort of life he desired, never once having to work again. William wouldn't have begrudged him for it, would have encouraged it if it would've done any good.

If his mistake could give Jameson such freedom, it just might've been worth it.

"I won't deny that I was afraid before." Jameson brushed his fingers across the opposite wrist, and William felt a fresh surge of guilt. "I…I have far too many memories of such things to not be. But you stopped, William. You listened to me." That much should have been common courtesy, but William had agreed not to argue, so he kept the thought to himself. "I'm not afraid of you, nor do I want to avoid you. I… You're important to me. I want to continue our involvement as it was before, and I want to make it a long-term understanding."

Their understanding—their sexual involvement with each other.

To continue as they had been before would have been enough—in fact, that wouldn't have even been a question. Though he'd been trying to restrain himself, William had not been able to erase Jameson from his mind. That wasn't a problem per se, but the additional stipulation that Jameson had added, for it to be long-term, involved a level of commitment William could not, in good conscience, agree to.

He offered an apologetic smile. "Jameson, I'm flattered, but that's not something I can give you—"

"Why not? Because you're planning on dying?" The question turned the very blood coursing through William's veins to ice, and he flinched without being able to stop himself. Jameson, eyes sharp, didn't miss the action, nor did he pass up the opportunity to press onward. "That's what this is, isn't it?"

"Albert told you, I presume," William said, knowing full well that he wasn't answering the question. Still, it was a very Albert thing to do, to not hide anything at all from someone he'd decided to pursue, but it was also a very Albert thing to do, to be upfront and explain to Jameson where some of William's hesitation came from.

Jameson stared William down, that very stubbornness and fire in his expression that made him oh so very appealing coming out in full force. "It doesn't matter what Albert told me. I want to hear it from you, William."

The words were not a request, but instead a demand, and one William doubted he could deny. But such hesitation had been his issue ever since the night of Westmeath's death, that he couldn't bring himself to admit to Jameson that he would disappear—and for what?

Whenever William forced himself to look at the situation from an objective perspective, to put his own actions upon another person, the answer was more than obvious.

"…I should have told you that was another part of my reason for putting distance between us. That I made you uncomfortable in bed was an excuse to not have to explain such a thing to you." It made it easy to go through with, the perfect reason to keep away from Jameson, whom William had burgeoning feelings towards that he didn't deserve to have. "I…was afraid that if I told you about our plans for the future, you wouldn't want to keep my company anymore." And yet, keeping that distance between them, watching Albert at Jameson's side instead hadn't been much better, now had it? "You deserve much more than I can ever give you, Jameson."

Jameson had remained a respectful silence while William spoke, but those final words were enough to make his face twist in frustration. "I don't deserve a damn thing!" he shouted, and, though William ached to tell him otherwise, it didn't feel that was his place at all. "If this was about what I deserve, I wouldn't have had to go through everything I did! If this was about what I deserve, I wouldn't have the gall to even attempt to pursue you in the first place!" Jameson marched forward, his combat training already evident in his stride as he jabbed a finger into William's chest. "You're the one that told me it was okay to do what I want. If you don't want anything to do with me, fine, but don't you dare try and make this about being for my sake!"

Such criticism was more than well deserved, and William wouldn't disrespect that by attempting to make excuses. In fact, seeing Jameson become so incensed was enough to help ease some of the concern in him; after all, if Jameson could still yell at him like that, wasn't that proof that he was acting of his own decisions rather than following along on a path William had set for him?

"If you don't want me," Jameson said, his gaze not wavering in the slightest, "then tell me so."

William's mouth had gone dry, but he forced himself to reply, "I won't be rude enough to say something that isn't true."

"Alright. Then tell me what you're worried about." Jameson let out an exhale, and William realised that the other man was shaking, though he couldn't tell what for. Regardless of the reason, Jameson didn't back down. "Say it and let me decide what I want to do for myself."

Say it. It will have much more power if you do.

To have his own words turned on him in such a manner was enough for William to let down his defences, and the words that he spoke were halting, but he needed to push through, for both of their sakes. "In the future, once we have brought change to this country and overturned its class system, I will die to make that dream a reality." The additional detail that he was planning on dying alone, sans his brothers, was not important in the slightest. "If you wish to remain involved with me, I shan't be able to stay by your side forever."

No matter how wonderful a prospect such a future that could be, it was still one that would never come to pass.

And yet, knowing that, the choice Jameson would make—

"Even so," Jameson said, his voice having softened but his words no less honest for it, "I would like to stay by your side until then." He reached out, squeezing William's hands in his own, the touch so warm that it seared itself into William's mind and heart alike. "Whenever I feel desire, I want no one but you to be the one to fulfil me. And whenever you feel the same, I wish to be the one you choose to pursue." He smiled, but it wasn't the soft expression of his joy, but instead the smoothness of a seduction that fit him all too well. "I take it such an agreement would be beneficial for us both, yes?"

Stunned by the effect of Jameson's appeal, William found himself unable to produce an immediate answer. His situation wasn't helped in the slightest by Jameson's following giggle, the man looking beyond pleased with himself. "Apologies," he said, "I just believe that's the first time I've made you look so flustered."

William cleared his throat, for what little good it did to help him regain his composure. "I don't know what other sort of reaction you expected upon pulling out all the stops on me in such a manner." Jameson's elation didn't fade in the slightest, and William allowed himself to squeeze Jameson's hands in return. "But that doesn't serve as an answer. If you're willing to have me, I would be remiss to not accept such an exclusive arrangement." The prospect of having Jameson's attention all to himself was far too compelling to turn down, not whenever all the cards were on the table. "Thank you for being willing to give me another chance, Jameson." No matter what they'd agreed upon, it didn't change the fact that William had almost hurt Jameson in a way he couldn't take back, and it was no small feat to still have the man's trust.

"No. Thank you for not giving up on me." Jameson's voice trembled, and he gripped harder onto William's hands. "I…don't want to leave here, William. I want to stay at your side. You… You make me feel like I'm worth it."

Not having expected those words, William couldn't do anything but stare. Even after seeing his flaws, even after knowing the darkness William was willing to tread into for his ideals, Jameson had managed to find an unconditional faith in him that went beyond mere loyalty. And while returning those feelings in full was a dangerous prospect William couldn't allow himself to return, he could still offer some form of companionship until the time came for him to complete his sacrifice.

All of those were reasons that he could argue with Jameson, and William was eloquent enough that he had no doubt he could emerge victorious—but what good would that do in the end?

"It seems we both have something to be grateful for, then." Jameson blinked, but William reached out to take hold of his hand. It had been not much longer than a fortnight since they'd last made contact, and yet William wished to savour the moment in full, from the softness of Jameson's skin to the precise shape of his long, thin fingers. "I don't wish to promise more than I can offer. But I am happy to be in a committed arrangement with you, if that's what you desire."

"That's much more than I expected to receive." And yet Jameson looked more than satisfied with the result, which was a bit sad, but at least he hadn't gone to his default response of stating he didn't even deserve that much. Jameson grasped William's hand tighter, that lovely smile of his blossoming again in earnest. "I've been practicing my baking more. Would you be willing to be my taste tester today?"

"I'd be happy to."

May, 1875

Amidst all the personal drama within their household, April had disappeared in what felt like at least half the time it should have taken, if not even less. That meant that not only was the social season about to begin, leading to the Moriarty house receiving a plethora of invitations, but that Albert's birthday was soon approaching. Each day seemed to pass at a breakneck pace, crosses upon the calendar bringing them ever closer to yet another celebration.

It was not as if he begrudged the concept, but Jameson would be grateful for the rest of the year to pass in peace. By then, he would have had enough time to recover and plan for what sort of gifts he could prepare.

Because, when it came to Albert, there was no doubt that gifts were, in fact, a necessity. He hadn't outright demanded them, but people had a tendency to shower others with the type of affection they desired, and Albert was not shy with his indulgence to others. Jameson did plan to take over the baking of the birthday cake as well, as he'd been asked, but he wanted to at least pick something out as a show of thanks.

Not as if I expect a gift to be able to solve any lingering awkwardness. Jameson still didn't know how to accept that Albert had stepped aside without much of a fight once he'd chosen to pursue William. Jameson couldn't have done the same, not with such grace at least.

Jameson suspected his disbelief stemmed from the fact that very few people in his life the past decade had been willing to take no for an answer.

But it would soon be a time for celebration, and so Jameson set such thoughts to the side. If finding an appropriate gift for William had been difficult, Albert was even more so—he enjoyed purchasing things for himself just as much as others, picking up whatever he felt he desired without much issue, so he arguably needed even less than William had.

"And so you'd like to go out shopping together with the both of us?" William asked whenever Jameson had brought up the topic over lunch while Albert was at work. Wanting every resource he could get, Jameson had extended the invitation to Louis as well, and the two brothers exchanged a glance. "It's been some time since we've gone out in such a way, hasn't it, Louis?"

"Indeed, Brother. You've been so busy with work these days. But since you're off for the summer, we should take advantage of it." Hm, if they needed such time together, perhaps Jameson could allow them to go out and take care of shopping himself… Before a strategy to make such an outcome could form in full, Louis's sharp gaze landed upon him. "Stop right there. The point of this is to help you pick out something for Albert's birthday, right? It defeats the point if you don't come along."

Jameson offered a sheepish smile and raised his hands in surrender. "Apologies." He couldn't quite control his first instinct on the matter, but he could choose not to follow through on it. "Another time, you two should spend time together, but you're right. Now, I would appreciate the assistance from you both."

Having finished taking a long drink, William returned his teacup to its saucer. "I think it sounds like a wonderful idea. I had been still contemplating what to get Albert myself, so this will be a good opportunity to make sure we don't double up in any way. Have you gotten anything yet Louis?"

"No, not yet. It was on my schedule to take care of in the next few days, though."

"Perhaps we should get something as a matching set, then? I daresay that would make a much stronger impression than individual gifts." As always, William had brilliant ideas, and both Jameson and Louis nodded their approval. "We can discuss ideas while we clean up after lunch, then. I'm sure if we put our heads together, we'll find the perfect solution in no time at all."

Jameson wasn't quite certain just how much he'd be able to contribute to that, but he shared William's confidence that the day would end in success one way or another.

Louis had no objections to shopping as a group, since it was a welcome change of pace. He still had a number of other things he needed to pick up for Albert's upcoming party, so those were added to their list of what to do throughout their outing, but those would be saved for last, with the main goal finding a gift for Albert.

Which Louis would have been able to focus on more if he didn't have to notice the way Jameson and William were acting around each other.

Their interactions were nothing egregious. In fact, compared to the awkward atmosphere had been lingering over the two of them for the past several weeks, it was much improved. It wasn't even on the same level of flirtation that Albert had been directing at Jameson beforehand, but Louis would have been blind to think that there wasn't a much more content peace between the other two men than before.

Jameson's smile was an obvious indicator at any rate.

That said, Louis did not intend to make unfounded accusations. He knew Jameson and Albert had gone off to spend an evening together, so perhaps that was the cause of Jameson's much improved mood, though Louis thought it unlikely. If that were the case, Jameson wouldn't bother to stand the slightest bit closer to William than was considered appropriate for friends, wouldn't light up at every turn of conversation.

William wouldn't look so at ease, either.

Still, Louis held himself together, more so because the overarching mission of the day was more important than such concerns. William would always be the most precious to Louis; there was no doubt about that. But Albert was also someone Louis had come to cherish as his brother, the concept of blood relations be damned. Albert had brought Louis into the Moriarty family, allowing him the surgery he'd needed to survive. Albert had accepted Louis as his brother without question, had looked out for him and William both as they grew up. Their crimes had bonded them together, tighter still, and Louis was not about to allow his personal feelings to get in the way of finding an appropriate birthday gift.

And there wasn't much need to worry about such interference. Jameson had been earnest in his request, and he was studious of the shelves. They'd taken to exploring a department store in tandem, making a rather interesting-looking trio. Though none of them had the bloodline to back it up, William, Louis, and Jameson alike were, by name, members of the nobility, so they must've made an interesting sight all browsing knickknacks and such, Jameson's own enthusiasm lighting up his face in a genuine joy.

Louis couldn't blame him. He'd held much of the same fascination himself when first exposed to such things. It wasn't as if they were in a hurry, either, and Louis took the opportunity to observe which objects caught William's interest as reference for later. The more he watched, though, the more apparent it became, the way Jameson lingered close to William's side, the way William turned to him without even needing to be asked.

Once or twice would have been nothing, and yet Louis counted five times within the hour. In the clothing department, Jameson plucked up a hat to place upon William's head—a gesture that would've been simple and unobtrusive were it not for the way he also brushed some of William's hair out of his eyes, his touch lingering against William's skin for just a bit longer than could be considered appropriate for acquaintances.

"That's enough," Louis said. His tone had been more exasperated than angry, but Jameson jumped and flushed anyways, and even William—of all people!—looked abashed by the comment. "I was trying to let it pass, but I shan't let this happen any further, not without an explanation." It felt as if he had just had the same discussion with Albert, and yet the topic was being broached again. "Jameson, if it were with anyone other than my brothers, I would be willing to let it slide. However, I believe I should know what you're doing, and all the more so if you intend to be so obvious in public."

His face was still red, but Jameson didn't back down. It would have been impressive how far he'd come had it been involved in any other circumstance. "William and I have reached an understanding," he said, which was about as appropriate as he could respond in the middle of a semi-busy department store.

Well, at least he wasn't lying, not that honesty was enough to ease Louis's concerns. "And Albert?" he asked, not caring if he made the situation awkward. The least Jameson could do, should he intend to entangle himself with the two eldest Moriarty brothers, was be open.

"We parted ways in that manner. He did, however, give me his blessing." Louis was realising that, when it came to such matters, William and Albert alike were awful as communicating such things when it mattered most. Jameson, however, was not ready to give up yet, and he tilted his head. "Will you do the same, Louis?"

Given the way they'd been acting, Louis hadn't expected to be asked permission in the first place—and yet, Jameson was. It wasn't as if he was even pursuing a serious courtship, either, since they'd reached an apparent understanding. When it came down to it, it wasn't Louis's place to say anything on William's own decisions—but it was still nice to be considered.

"Brother," Louis said, "is this what you want?"

At the end of the day, so long as William was satisfied, Louis wouldn't object.

Louis and Jameson alike watched William, who, for once, seemed a bit uneased from the attention. "It is," he said, and Louis couldn't help but notice the way Jameson looked relieved to hear it. "I should've mentioned it to you earlier, though. For that, you have my apologies, Louis."

"No, I wasn't seeking an apology…" Louis sighed, knowing that William was more than earnest. "So long as you're happy, Brother, I won't protest. Just let me know if anything changes." He was having a hard enough time keeping up with what changes had occurred in the past month. "Now, with that settled, need I remind you both that we're here to find gifts for Albert?"

"Ah, yes, you're right," Jameson said. Collecting himself, he went to retrieve the hat he'd placed on William's head, returning it to its stand. "Though I feel confident that the lot of you would all look wonderful in anything you wore, so it's a bit difficult to tell what will work best as a gift in the first place…"

William chuckled, but his eyes were sharp as they roved over the shelves. "Regardless, there's nothing that says we need to pick out something to wear. Even just a trinket to decorate his office would be appreciated, I'm sure. Perhaps we should move to a different department, then?"

"Perhaps…" Jameson didn't look quite satisfied with that outcome, though, his eyes still casting across the room. A few moments later, his expression lit up, and he stepped around William to head further down the aisle. "Oh! I remember seeing something that might be good on the next floor up. Shall we head that way?" Neither Moriarty brother had an objection, and soon they found themselves amongst cosmetics. Jameson seemed to have a solid idea of what he wanted, though, because navigated the shelves without pause. "I was right—they have specialty soaps here."

Louis and William exchanged a knowing smile. To anyone else in their position, something as simple as soap wouldn't be considered special—but they were often treasured items in Whitechapel. Even the simplest scraps of a bar had bargaining power, and that was for items that did the bare minimum of cleaning, let alone smelled pleasant.

"We passed these whenever Albert took me shopping a few times," Jameson continued. "We had plenty of supplies at the manor, so I didn't pick up any, but they do smell lovely." At last noticing the looks on Louis and William's face, a light dusting of pink emerged underneath his freckles. "…Or is that my just picking out something as a gift that I'd want for myself?"

"I don't think it'll be an issue. Brother likes these sorts of things," William said, stepping closer to observe the variety of available scents. Even Louis was impressed by the selection. "We could each pick out a scent we like and treat it as a bundle. That level of sentimentality will be plenty to make him happy."

Louis nodded his approval. "It's a consumable good, too, so we won't have to worry about it piling up and never seeing any use." Albert did his best to try and use everything at his disposal, but his spending habits tended to mean some items didn't see the light of day more than once or twice a year. "I approve. Besides, anything else Albert wants, he'll end up buying for himself anyways. Let's take care of this, and then we'll sort out the rest of the supplies we need."

And so, the afternoon's shopping trip was considered a success.

With a gift secured, all that was left was the preparation for the celebration itself. Unlike the previous month, Jameson was starting to feel much more comfortable within the halls of Moriarty Manor, and thus he had a rough idea of how to set things up. Albert, of course, had planned most of his celebration himself—an outing for the four of them consisting of a luxurious dinner followed by a trip to the symphony—but the final stop of the evening was at home for what seemed to be the most important part of all:

"One cake, as requested," Jameson said. Unlike at William's birthday not even a month ago, where he'd all but begged Louis not to bring the cake out, Jameson himself brought the dish over, pulling off the cover with a sense of confidence. That was enough to almost distract Albert with the dessert itself, which had a chocolate frosting that he was already looking forward to pairing with the cabernet sauvignon in his glass. "I practiced a bit, so this time I hope its looks are a much better indication of its taste."

"It's clear that you've much improved," William said, Jameson accepting the praise with glee. "I'm certain it will be even more delicious than the one you made for me." The heat in Jameson's face didn't feel so bad at all, and William nodded towards Albert. "Will you cut it, Albert? I think we're all more than ready to give it a try."

"Of course," Albert said, accepting the knife from Jameson. It took him a few moments to line the blade up just as he wished it, but soon he had cut through the chocolate icing to reveal the yellow cake within, and Jameson gave a small sigh of relief that the layers seemed to have behaved. From there, Albert was distributing near equal pieces to the others. "I believe this will pair well with the evening's wine, as well."

Jameson smiled, settling back into his seat. "That's what I was aiming to do…though Louis is the one who helped me figure out the best pick." Louis nodded at the acknowledgement, for once his stern expression melting away into something softer. "Now, Albert, if you'd do the honours."

"Don't mind if I do." Impatience stirred inside him, but Jameson stilled himself. If nothing else, the next birthday celebration would be his own, and then he'd be free to indulge as much as he wanted. That was still a handful of months off, though, so perhaps he'd make a cake beforehand to enjoy, seeing as he rather enjoyed the baking process. After what felt like an eternity, Albert had moved his fork to his mouth, mulled upon the bite, and then swallowed. "Delicious," he said, reaching for his wine glass (which Louis had just topped off) in the process. "I daresay that you've improved, Jameson. Good show."

That was all the permission enough Jameson had to tuck into his own piece, and Louis and William did the same. Just like the previous birthday cake he'd made, Jameson had opted to keep it simple, but that simplicity was where the strength of the flavours could shine through, the cake itself buttery while the richness of the icing adding that deeper chocolate kick to make it beyond delicious.

Further, it was concrete proof that Jameson had improved. The past month, for all its unfortunate circumstances, hadn't been for nothing. "Well, Louis?" he asked. "You're much more the expert than I. Does it pass your assessment?"

Jameson had no doubt that the resulting critique would be blunt, but it would be worth it if it gave him the opportunity to make even more delicious treats. Louis took another bite, his expression every bit as focused as it was when he was providing Jameson instruction in combat. "It's well-balanced, and I can tell you mixed and timed the baking well. If I had one complaint, I think the recipe is missing an extra note of flavour, but that's no fault upon yours. Hm, perhaps more butter…?"

The option seemed to make sense, but Jameson wasn't sure if he could trust his instincts on such matters just yet, not when most of his experience was with the eating end of the equation without having any clue as to what happened beforehand. "I'll try it next time and see what happens," Jameson said. "Do give me your feedback then as well, Louis."

"So serious," Albert said, sounding amused. "Well, if it means we get to continue to enjoy your baking, I won't compla—oh." He'd stopped midway through cutting off another bite of cake with his fork, blinking in surprise. A few moments later, he produced the coin that Jameson had baked in, the ten pence piece shining between his finger and thumb. "Ah, it appears that I've been blessed with extra luck this year, as well."

"Congratulations, Brother," William said with a smile. "Is this the part where saying 'many happy returns' is in order?"

Albert chuckled. "I wouldn't be opposed. That said, I'll just have to hope that this luck follows me throughout the year." He glanced to Jameson, who returned his smile with one of his own. "Thank you again, Jameson. I'll be sure to repay the kindness tenfold when we celebrate you in November." Which was a silly thing to say, seeing that Jameson thought that Albert had done more than enough already.

But since it was his birthday, Jameson supposed he wouldn't argue with him.

The morning after his birthday celebration, Albert awoke with a floaty sort of happiness around him. His dream still lingered in his mind—falling, but without panic, through the air at an endless pace, not unlike Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole and into Wonderland. There had even been rose petals fluttering around them, though they had not been the red of passion, but instead the white of innocence.

Albert had not hit the ground before he woke.

And so he rolled around in bed a bit longer than he tended to otherwise before at last pulling himself up. While he'd been fortunate enough to get the day of his birthday off, he still had to arrive the day after. Unlike many other things he'd inherited from his father, Albert at the very least was grateful for his high alcohol tolerance and general resistance to hangovers.

Once he got out of bed, pure habit carried him through his routine. He washed his face off, then started to assemble himself into his uniform. Each piece had a precise location it was expected to be, no wrinkles in sight, and Albert revelled in the satisfaction of looking pristine in the mirror. That done, Albert went to head down to breakfast, but he stopped upon catching sight of something on his dresser.

His mind did not take well to the break from the norm, from the uncertainty of something not being in its place; he'd even gone so far as to put his birthday gifts away and into his closet before sleeping. It took but a somewhat longer look to recognise the coin he'd pulled from his birthday cake, which at least made sense why it was upon his counter and not tucked away with the spare change in his wallet.

A symbol of good luck to come, Albert thought, and one Jameson had prepared for him. Well, a little luck never hurt anyone, and it wasn't so bad to break out of the norm every once in a while, what with something so sentimental involved.

With a smile, Albert slipped the coin into his uniform pocket before heading out for the day.

[Author's Notes]

(Me trying not to lose my mind after writing this author's note like three times on and it vanishing on me aaaaa)

*ahem*

And with this, the "Two Futures" arc is complete, and the [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm] season with it! We've made it through this conflict, and now it's all Willson hours all the time. Will they get their shit together and realize their actual feelings? Haha, no, but it's progress.

Just because we've finished [SOSS] though doesn't mean Season Three for this story is done, though! We've dropped some hints about the nature of our next target, so that will be what we're getting up to next!

Title of the chapter is from Yamashita Tomohisa's "Reason."

Next time: His Third Bow, Act One. Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[24 February 2024]