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

by Aviantei

William James Moriarty tended to prefer his men a bit taller, a bit sharper at the jaw and darker in complexion, but this one had managed to land in the exact exceptional sweet spot to catch his attention. William wanted to destroy him. (Who became destroyed in the end was a different matter altogether.) [William/Trans Male!OC] [Shibuya Operation - Story Storm]

18. Emergence of Lotus

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

-or-

be gay do crime

By: Aviantei

Emergence of Lotus:

"jump to the sky (and wave goodbye to all our fear)"

---

Jameson had noticed so before, but the immediate days following the death of one of the regulars brought with it an undeniable sense of peace. That they'd also passed the halfway point of his vengeance further added to the feeling of relief. Each time, Jameson was able to do more on his own, proving that he wasn't anywhere near as helpless as he feared he was.

More blood upon his hands should've felt like cause for concern.

Jameson felt nothing but unbridled joy.

He wondered if, perhaps, such a feeling made him an awful person, but those thoughts never lingered for long. Was he supposed to feel bad about taking back his own agency? About eliminating someone who exploited children like him for pure profit and that the law would have a near impossible time touching? Jameson couldn't believe that such a feeling was wrong, not after everything he'd gone through, and so he decided to embrace it and allow himself to enjoy the happiness that he had while it lasted.

Thus there was nothing wrong with using his burgeoning skills with baking to prepare himself a special treat, now was there?

Unlike the past few cakes he'd baked, Jameson allowed himself to use a recipe he'd done before. In particular, he was remaking the yellow cake he'd made for Albert's birthday. Louis had left him some suggestions of ways he could tweak the ingredients, with the idea being that Jameson could see the effect they had, giving him a reference point with ways to improve recipes later on. It was a little intimidating to think about, yes, since baking was precise enough that you didn't have a lot of leeway, but it was also exciting to imagine the possibilities that could come from simple changes.

And if I could manage to make a dessert that's crafted to my precise tastes, whyever wouldn't I want to do so?

When it came down to it, Jameson realised that he found baking fun.

It wasn't just the results that were enjoyable; the whole of the process was a delight, even more so than cooking. The mixing of the ingredients, the preparation of the different elements, deciding which pan to use when applicable, seeing it all come together, and then enjoying the flavour at the very end, knowing it was the result of his hard work—Jameson adored it all, and the fact that it was also a practical use of his time just added to it. He felt safe calling such a thing a hobby, the first thing he thought qualified, and he felt lucky there were four of them in the house, as it meant they could eat through his many experiments before they even had the chance to go bad.

It was nice, the idea that something he found enjoyment in could also be useful.

And so Jameson poured the batter into the pan, knocking out any air bubbles before setting to bake. Preparing the frosting came next, as the otherwise lengthy wait until completion went faster whenever Jameson kept his hands busy—and so he fell into a comfortable rhythm that he felt he just might be able to get used to.

"Ah, there you are, Jameson," came William's voice from the doorway. With the cake secure in the oven, Jameson had been scrubbing the flour and such from the counters, though he dropped his rag to wave. "I couldn't find you anywhere, but I suppose I should've guessed you'd be here." It took him no longer than a few seconds to look over the kitchen and draw a conclusion, and Jameson had complete faith that his deduction was correct. "It looks like you've had a productive morning, dear."

"Yes!" Jameson smiled, his earlier joy having grown even more from the morning. It was an incredible thing, the power of doing something you enjoyed. "I never had much of an opportunity to realise it before, but it's a wonderful feeling, doing such things for yourself." He didn't even mind the cleanup process afterwards, since it felt like a nice capstone to put everything back in its place, making it much easier to enjoy the cake itself when it was ready. A glance at the clock told him he had other concerns. "Ah, apologies, I lost track of time. I haven't had the chance to start lunch yet."

William shook his head, unbuttoning his cuffs so he could roll up his sleeves. Jameson didn't even bother to hide the way his gaze traced over the thin but pale length of skin. It was a wonder that someone so skinny had such strength in him, but that just worked out to Jameson's greater benefit, now didn't it? "It's not a trouble at all. I'm not quite hungry enough to eat right away just yet, but I'm sure I will be once we finish preparing things. Besides, since it's just the two of us today, it shan't take long at all to whip something up." Albert and Louis were both out on social calls—the latter on an invitation he couldn't afford to refuse, the former having accepted every possible invitation he could get away with—which was part of why Jameson had lost track of the time in the kitchen anyways. "You know," William said with a slight smile, "the weather was lovely today. Why don't we make something that we could go ahead and eat outside?"

"A picnic?" It was such a simple concept, and yet Jameson couldn't contain his excitement at the prospect. "Can we, please? I haven't done anything like that since I was still back in Whitechapel." And even then, anything outside had been just because it was convenient, not for any sort of excitement—and he'd also never had the chance while at Aldborough Manor, either, as Stratford had never been interested in such things.

William's own gaze seemed nostalgic, and Jameson wondered if he, too, had similar memories of pretending to have much more than just the few scraps of bread one could afford in the slums. "If you're so interested, then it's settled. Some simple sandwiches should be plenty when we pair them with your cake. Let's see…I remember where our picnic basket and some suitable outdoor blankets are. Would you mind getting started on the food while I grab them, dear? I'll be sure to help out once I get back."

"Go ahead, darling," Jameson said, his mood somehow soaring even higher than it already had been, "I don't mind at all."

---

Finishing up preparations with lunch was not a difficult task with two pairs of hands working to feed two mouths, even when you accounted for William's own detour to gather additional supplies. As ever, Louis kept the kitchen well-stocked, so they had everything they needed. What ended up taking the longest was for the cake to cool enough to apply icing, but that gave William enough time to move everything else out to the backyard, setting up their lunch so it was ready whenever Jameson joined him not long after.

A picnic with just the two of them felt like even more of a treat than usual, the weather blessing them in perfect form. The sun was high, but there were just enough clouds to keep the heat from growing too intense. Between that and the collection of sandwiches and the fresh-made cake that Jameson had prepared for them, William felt a wonderful sense of contentment.

Perhaps that's in part because Jameson's most recent case was a success? That twisted part of him held some satisfaction that he'd been able to assist in removing another corrupt noble from the world, and there was an even darker satisfaction in him that they'd been able to punish two people that had hurt Jameson so.

"You've gotten that look on your face again," Jameson said, those jade green eyes wide with concern. He reached out, rubbing a thumb between William's brows, as if smoothing out the crease that had formed there. "It's almost like you're miles and miles away whenever you get lost that head of yours."

"Apologies, dear. I didn't mean to get distracted from you." William meant it, too, and so he put effort into smoothing out his expression. Jameson's fingers moved to caress his cheek instead, helping William ease back into the relaxing atmosphere.

Whatever conflicting feelings William had about his actions, he couldn't deny that the way it made Jameson smile was doubtless worth it.

"I'm sure that your mind is always working on something, isn't it?" William couldn't deny it, but Jameson's expression was filled with an immense fondness, regardless. "Do you want to talk about it, darling? I know I could listen to your voice about anything and be more than satisfied with my afternoon."

"While I'm certain that is true, I'd much rather talk of something else and appreciate lunch with you." If Jameson wished to discuss their recent crime, William would of course indulge, but he wanted to enjoy the more pleasant things in life while he could. "After all, the cake you made smelled delicious, and we wouldn't want to skip straight to dessert on an empty stomach."

The look on Jameson's face suggested that he would, in fact, like to do such a thing, but he didn't protest. Instead, he pulled out a sandwich for himself, then passed the plate over to William so that he could do the same. Though they weren't anything complex—cucumber, chicken salad—the change in their usual routine made the flavours seem even more fresh, making it much easier to unwind.

And with Jameson scooting closer and resting his head upon William's shoulder, William wouldn't have changed a single thing.

"'The brave, the gentle, and the beautiful,'" Jameson recited when they were about through with their sandwiches, his voice carrying an undeniable lilt of poetry to it, "'The child of grace and genius.'" He chuckled, leaving William to wonder just what kind of expression he was making to earn such a reaction. "I was reading the other morning, and the lines caught my attention. I thought I should return the favour of complimenting you with poetry."

"Hm, 'Alastor' is it?" William was familiar with Percy Shelley's works, though it had been some time since he'd read them. "There is some rather enjoyable language in Shelley, though I do find his wife's works to explore much more compelling concepts. Have you read any of hers yet?" Jameson shook his head. "I'll be sure to leave some on your shelf when I get the chance, then. But for now I appreciate the compliment you have offered to me." William skimmed his memory, landing upon the precise line he wanted. "Ah, yes. The 'voice was like the voice of his own soul/Heard in the calm of thought; its music long,/Like woven sounds of streams and breezes.'" That was an appropriate enough metaphor for Jameson, whose own voice was so lovely that William could not get enough of it.

Jameson flushed at the compliment, though he still looked beyond pleased to have received such words in the first place. "That's quite unfair of you, just pulling that from your mind," he said, his tone lighter than anything else. "It took me much practise to make sure I wouldn't mess up the words when I said them." The image of Jameson pacing about his chambers, reciting the lines out loud to himself, was far more precious than anything William had thought to imagine before. Jameson gave him a sly smile. "Though if you chose those lines, does that mean you find me on par with a dream you would be willing to travel the whole world over for a chance to find?"

"Is that not accurate? Though I suppose there is one key difference between the two of you." Jameson looked curious, and William couldn't resist reaching out to cup that freckled cheek in his hand, running the pad of his thumb across the soft skin waiting there, drawing out an even stronger blush that just intensified as William added, "You are no mere dream, and I am lucky enough to taste you in reality without needing to go on a grand adventure, though of course I would do so to find you if need be." Now that he'd indulged in Jameson more times than he could have imagined, William knew he would be worth any investment of time, money, and energy to enjoy again.

"I suppose you've managed to become luckier than the speakers in our poems, once again," Jameson said, his own smile turning much more flirtatious. Yes, that was true, as the subject of "Alastor" never managed to find what he'd been seeking; William, on the other hand, was able to enjoy the sensation of Jameson's soft lips pressing against the pad of his thumb. "Though as far as I'm concerned, I'm the luckiest one of all, darling."

"Whyever must it be a competition? We can be equal amounts lucky together, don't you think?" It was much better to compromise than to debate the matter for any extensive amount of time. William leaned forward, dropping a kiss on Jameson's forehead. "Shall we enjoy the cake that you worked so hard on, dear? I know you've been looking forward to it."

It was not accurate to say that Jameson pouted at the change in topic, but he did appear rather conflicted by which avenue he wished to pursue. "Is there any reason at all we can't continue to compliment each other while doing so?" He did, however, reach for the slices of cake they'd brought out in advance, though his gaze was still focused on William. "I may not have as many lines of poetry at my disposal as you do, but I have plenty of thoughts I could use to sing your praises, still."

William chuckled, making sure his expression showed no opposition to the concept whatsoever as he accepted the slice of cake offered to him. "Is that so? I happen to have similar thoughts about you, my dear." In the end, poetry was just one of the many tools within William's arsenal, and he considered himself eloquent enough to express his thoughts into words. "For starters, I do adore how your joy makes you even more radiant than usual. I wouldn't hesitate to call it one of the finest sights humanity has ever had the chance to see."

"And yet it's a sight I daresay I'd let you and you alone see." All of Jameson's practise was paying off if he could speak such lines, even while embarrassment burned his face into a brilliant shade of crimson. The contrast made it all the more delectable to see, and then Jameson's joy came back in full force as he took his first bite of cake and released a moan not all that different than the ones William pulled out of the other man's mouth in bed. "Oh, it came out more moist than last time. That's even better than I thought it would be."

With praise as high as that—and to support Jameson's hard work as well—there was not much more that William could do than to try it for himself. Sure enough, Jameson's assessment was correct, the moistness making the already subtle flavours meld more together. "Mm, yes, I agree. Depending on what you were also serving, you might not want to go overboard, but I do think this is the most superior cake out of the three when I put my personal taste preferences aside."

Jameson let out that little pleased exhale he did upon hearing something quite satisfying, though he tried to demur, "I just followed the recipe suggestions that Louis gave me."

"It takes more than a good recipe to make a successful dessert, though," William said, thinking back to some of his and his brothers' early adventures in the kitchen. "I will admit that, so long as you follow the steps, it is rather straight forward. But even then, there is a certain level of skill involved. Why, you've even improved your frosting technique." It was still rough around the edges, yes, but it was much more put together than the cake Jameson had made for William's birthday. "Jameson, you may not be used to such things, but it is alright to take pride in your accomplishments, and all the more so after you've taken on the challenge of improving yourself in so many ways."

It wouldn't be fair to say that Jameson had become an altogether different person than when they'd first met, since there were still plenty of pieces of that man present. However, those pieces were not alone, instead joined by all the new shining and glittering panels that represented the new sides to him, all of them forming an intricate multi-colour mosaic of stained glass that grew all the more beautiful by the day.

"I…thank you, darling," Jameson at last said, and William was glad that the other man was learning to accept compliments as well, even if it did still require a little pushing to do so. "I believe when it comes to baking, I keep comparing myself to all the other wonderful treats I've tasted, and that makes it difficult for me to accept that I've done something right."

William nodded; such a mindset was common when it came to any field, and he'd seen it plenty in his students as well. "Such feelings can be difficult to ignore, that is true. But also being able to accept that you can't do everything is also wonderful. It gives you a goal to strive for, so if you've set your sights higher, take this—" he raised his plate containing its already halfway eaten slice of cake "—as proof that you can improve whenever you put your mind to it. I have no doubt that if you keep working hard, then you'll reach the level you're now comparing yourself to one day."

Jameson's smile returned, his jade green eyes glittering in the sunlight. "Thank you, William. I appreciate you. Do be more careful when eating, though. I'm sure high society would be in an uproar if they saw you making even the smallest of messes." William didn't follow, not until Jameson licked his thumb and reached up to wipe at the corner of William's mouth. Not even hesitating for a second, Jameson then popped the digit into his mouth, sucking the frosting clean. "Besides, we don't want to let such a delicious frosting go to waste, do we?"

"No, no, we wouldn't want that at all," William said through a chuckle. The action had left a bit of dark chocolate along Jameson's pink and inviting lips, and William leaned in himself. "You have some on your face, too, my dear. Would you permit me to clean it away for you?"

"B-by all means." Jameson's voice trembled in anticipation, and William claimed that sweet kiss for himself, taking even more time than usual to run his tongue over Jameson's lips, the taste of the frosting compelling but still paling in comparison to the taste of Jameson himself. Whenever they parted, William didn't move far, nor did Jameson as he whispered, "Did you get it?"

"Not quite." There was, in fact, not a speck of frosting remaining in sight.

"Mm. Then you should try again."

There was no sense in trying to determine which happened first: Jameson pulled William towards him as William moved closer on his own, and then they sunk into the happy rhythm of exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. Jameson put his almost finished plate of cake aside, giving William much more space to press their chests together as well, though the end result was that they were at much more of a slanted angle than upright. It didn't matter, either, not whenever they'd both chosen to abandon any pretence shrouding their true intentions.

There were far worse ways to spend an afternoon than kissing Jameson in the backyard, no one in the world but the two of them.

As an extra indulgence due to the weather, neither of them had been wearing their jackets, their sleeves still rolled up from their time in the kitchen. William may have seen Jameson bare in his entirety before, but there was something compelling about seeing an exposed stretch of skin that was most days tucked out of sight. The one less layer also made it much easier to feel the shape of Jameson's biceps and torso as they topped over and back onto the picnic blanket with no reservation.

William would have sworn he had no intention of pushing matters too far, instead happy to just enjoy the taste of Jameson he'd been offered; however, that would have been a lie. Yes, he hadn't planned to go further, but he also did nothing to slow Jameson's own heat in their kisses, nor did he protest whenever one of Jameson's thin fingers smeared something sticky on the side of William's chin.

"Goodness," Jameson murmured, his intentions clear, "it seems you got some frosting here as well."

"Yes," William murmured back, having no reason to protest whatsoever, "would you mind wiping that off for me, dear?"

"Not at all, darling." Jameson's mouth was featherlight as it moved across William's cheek, though that sensation didn't last much longer whenever he got to the offending patch of icing. There, Jameson's tongue came out, unable to remain slow and sensual as he enjoyed the taste of the chocolate; William found that impatience of his much more charming, in any event. After the sound of a swallow, Jameson planted another, wetter kiss, attempting to use salvia to remove any lingering stickiness that might remain.

So of course William returned the favour by dabbing some frosting onto Jameson's neck as well, right above his collar.

The little game continued from there, layers of clothes shedding inch by inch as they sought to expose more skin of each other without making too much of a mess for the laundry later. In time, they ran out of frosting to use as an excuse—at which point William had Jameson eat the remaining cake straight from his fingers—but that didn't stop them from exploring each other under the afternoon sun with the scent of summer grass all around them.

"You know," Jameson said, letting out a series of breathy giggles, "I've never indulged in intercourse outside before." William didn't stop kissing his way up Jameson's thigh, though he did glance up to that adorable face with a bit of surprise reverberating through him. "For all I got traded around, I was supposed to be his dirty little secret, you know. Those are much easier to keep behind closed doors." Despite the memories, Jameson smiled. "I'm glad I get to give you a first for once."

It occurred to William in that very moment that he was being trusted with something even more precious than usual, and, though it shouldn't have surprised him after almost six full months, the realisation still managed to send a faint tremor of shock through William's system. But that wasn't all, no, because—

I'm also glad I get to give Jameson something he's never experienced before.

I wish to give Jameson as many special things as I am capable of mustering.

"Shall we continue with that in mind, then?" William asked, already planning out different alternatives. Jameson, as ever, looked intrigued by the possibility, and so William proposed, "There are a number of different positions we have yet to try together, my dear. Would you be opposed to mixing it up a bit this afternoon?"

"If it's with you by my side, then I'm always willing to try something new." The key word in that sentence being try, but William wasn't too bothered by it; even were he lying with someone who didn't have Jameson's history, he never would have pushed something further than his partner was comfortable with. Jameson nuzzled their cheeks together, his fingers drawing random but enchanting patterns against William's lower back. "Whatever did you have in mind?"

"A different position." William partway sat up, his hands pressed to Jameson's shoulders to lift him up the slightest amount. Whenever he put Jameson back down, the other man was resting upon his side, not so different from how he slept, though at the moment those jade green eyes were wide open watching William's every move. He continued, lifting Jameson's thigh out of the way and scooting closer so it was obvious how their bodies would connect together, with William looking straight down on him. "Your thoughts?"

"I'd love to try," Jameson said, his gaze somewhat unfocused in the way that indicated he was starting to get lost in his imagination. Judging by the more pronounced flush across his cheeks, the results were favourable. "Believe it or not, as much as people used me, they weren't very creative with how they did it."

Which, in effect, also meant that William was giving Jameson his first when it came to the position, as well, and that made him feel very satisfied indeed. "It's an unfortunate side effect of treating such things as taboo that not many people have much imagination whenever it comes to their pleasure. Rest assured, I'll do my best to make it as enjoyable for you as possible."

Jameson reached up, his hand pressed against William's cheek. "I know you will." His smile was soft and warm—and it also made him attractive to an irresistible extent. Were William not already aroused, he was certain that moment alone would have been enough to bring him to full attention. "Shall we try it, then, my darling?"

"As you wish." William leaned down to press another kiss to Jameson's forehead, and then it was just a matter of getting their remaining clothes out of the way. The sun would doubtless add even more freckles to Jameson's skin and turn William pink should they be out too long, but whoever could focus on such concerns? Not William, not whenever he got to indulge in Jameson's warmth, easing his way into that wetness fraction by fraction. Whenever he made it in halfway, he pulled back to help spread Jameson's slick to grant him further entry, repeating the process another time to make it all the way in, earning soft little moans each time. "Your thoughts?"

"I-it's different, but I don't mind." It was then, at the very least, not an uncomfortable position, which was the bare minimum as far as William was concerned. It took Jameson a moment to do so from an unfamiliar position, but he managed to squirm enough to make his intentions clear. "William, please, move, I want to see what it's like."

William did not need to be told more than once to follow Jameson's request, and his own impatience was a big contributor to that fact. Movement was whenever everything became real, whenever his sensitive nerves would make the rest of his body resonate in kind, making that unmatchable bliss. And whenever Jameson asked for more, coaxing William to pick up the speed, the pressure of his thrusts?

He called Jameson's name in nothing but gratitude.

Due to the angle of the position, it was difficult to accomplish any tender acts like kissing, but William was able to at least compensate by feeling over Jameson's lifted leg, teasing the flesh to make Jameson all the tighter inside. Jameson had likewise managed to grip upon the wrist of the hand that William was using to keep himself propped up, that single sensation all the more intense for the limited contact, William treasuring every last second.

"Th-there!" Jameson called after William adjusted his angle. The high pitch of Jameson's voice sent a shiver down William's spine, pleasure from pleasure. "Ah, that feels the best, William."

"Is that so?" If William would have been in a state of mind to care about such things, it would have been a struggle to keep his voice steady; since he was not, however, he hoped that his tone of voice would give Jameson some sense of satisfaction. "The best for this position, or the best altogether?"

"N-not sure." Hm, it had been rather unfair to ask Jameson such a question while they were so embroiled in each other. Still, the adorable attempt at concentration on Jameson's face made it rather hard to feel any sense of guilt over the matter. "I-it's just… Mm!" William had given another strong thrust, just to see Jameson's reaction, and he didn't find himself disappointed in the slightest. "I just like it a lot, darling!"

"Jameson, my dear." The words made Jameson grow tighter, almost as if on command, and William released a sigh of pure pleasure, ecstasy starting to inch into his bones. He teased his fingers over Jameson's thigh, moving closer to his clitoris but not quite, instead caressing the line of skin right before gold-flecked-ginger pubic hair. "Do you like it enough to orgasm for me?"

The answer was an immediate and breathy, "Yes." Jameson popped his free hand into his mouth, coating them with his own spit, and William had no desire to stop him. It didn't take long for him to slide his hand between his folds, and their position meant William had the perfect view of it all. "Darling, William, please, tell me—!"

Tell me what to do? Tell me how wonderful it feels, how incredible the view is? Jameson did not manage to finish his request, any attempt at words soon lost in moans, but William didn't mind. If Jameson had not the chance to be specific, he would then just have to tell Jameson everything, and the mix of commands and praise would be plenty for the both of them to achieve release together.

"Jameson, you're beautiful." Jameson's breath caught, but his hand didn't still, nor did the thrust of William's hips or the stream of words coming from his mouth. "I adore your face whenever your eyes close and your mouth opens from pleasure. I find your desperation as you chase orgasm delicious." Another squeeze from Jameson's walls, the tightest one yet. "I crave the feeling of being deep inside you, your voice calling for me—" ("Darling," Jameson managed to whimper, almost sounding like he was about to cry) "—and urging my excitement higher and higher and higher." William groaned for emphasis, just waiting for the moment that Jameson tipped over the edge so that he could join him. "I long for you to achieve ecstasy by my own hand, begging for more with everything you have—"

"Oh, God, William!" There it was, and William didn't hold himself back. He continued to thrust into the same spot Jameson had preferred, none of his speed or force waning. "William, William, just like that, I love it so much, my darling, my darling, my darling—"

"Jameson." There had never been a hope of William being able to hold himself back, not when it came to Jameson, but such an attack from his side was more than unfair. It was the moment whenever the two of them were so caught up in their release that there was nothing they could focus on aside from making it last as long as possible, and once again William was struck with a much more intense sensation than he would have predicted for himself. "Oh, my dear, you exceed my expectations every time. I daresay I've never felt such pleasure before you."

"G-good." That hadn't been the response William had been expecting, and Jameson didn't seem aware enough to recognise the implications of what he'd just said. Hell, William didn't grasp them in full, thanks to how fuzzy his brain felt from his now fading orgasm. "I want to make you feel good, William."

"You make me feel so much more than that, Jameson." Both of them having ridden their pleasure all the way through, William allowed himself to slow his movements, easing Jameson's leg down so he could rest upon his back. At last, William was able to claim a kiss again, the action just as much for his own sake as it was for thanking Jameson. Jameson drank the kiss up as he always did, which just made him even more charming. "Now that you've had the full experience with that position, what are your thoughts?"

Jameson paused a moment to think, during which William went about the careful process of rolling them over so that Jameson could lie atop him—a job that grew much more complicated whenever he had to account for not rolling onto the remains of their picnic. "I liked it a lot," Jameson said, which matched up with what he'd said before. "I'd…like to do it more often, if we can. The angle and the pressure were amazing."

At last settled, William allowed himself to relax, a process aided by Jameson beginning to leave gentle kisses against his neck. "I have no objections to that, dear. I enjoy it much myself."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Getting to see how your whole body reacts is something I rather enjoy. Not to mention since you found it so enjoyable, I got to hear the most delectable sounds from you, and however could I complain about that?" Since he was still flushed from pleasure, it was difficult to see the way Jameson blushed darker at the praise, though their close proximity helped matters. William went to continue, but instead it was a yawn that spilled out of his mouth instead. "Do forgive me. Don't think this is because I find you boring or anything."

"It's alright. I don't mind. It might be strange to think so about someone like you, but you're very adorable when you've worn yourself out, darling." Jameson giggled, his smile unrestrained and free in a way that William had yet to see upon him, and Jameson continued as his hands began to tease William's hair, fine golden strands catching the summer sunlight. "Did you know you're beautiful? Of course you do. Did you know I think you're beautiful? 'Cause I do. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He captured William's lips in a short kiss, followed up with a sigh of, "Oh, my darling."

"My dear," William murmured in return, because it was about the one thing he could say out of all the thoughts in his mind. He was satisfied with their arrangement, yes, and he did not wish to give it up—but he could not erase the part of his mind that knew very well that Jameson could do much better than him.

Jameson giggled, repeating "My darling" before sneaking in another kiss, then another, it turning into an exchange of small pecks as the two of them settled into more comfortable positions, though no move was made to untangle their limbs from each other. In fact, with the temperature so wonderful and the warmth of the sun just right, there seemed like no reason to move for some time to come. "Thank you for reminding me what it's like to feel happy."

There it was again, that mixture of both satisfaction and surprise that claimed him, the sense that Jameson was giving far too much to William whenever he would receive so little in return. It would have been easy to argue, easy to remind Jameson of what awaited them at the end of their time together, easy to protest that Jameson could do so very much better than William—and it was just as easy to imagine what Jameson would say in return:

It doesn't matter.

William, I want you.

(I love it, Jameson had said, the first time he'd used such a word between the two of them.)

William let out a soft breath, taking away the temptation to speak by pressing his lips to Jameson's shoulder, allowing that sugar and lotus scent to lull him into the comfort of sleep. And if the two of them awoke from their nap with the afternoon gone and a couple of bug bites sprinkled along with the kiss marks upon their skin, it was still worth every last moment.

---

As was customary whenever someone died, there was a funeral. As was customary whenever a noble died, the whole matter became a very elaborate affair, with a rather large ceremony involved. That it was the middle of the social season with even more people in London's immediate radius than usual, it was no surprise whatsoever that Leinster's funeral had attracted a rather large crowd.

Before, Jameson hadn't attended much in the way of funerals at all, what with Stratford having kept him isolated. Now he'd attended two funerals within the span of half a year, one of which he'd caused with his own hands, the other a direct result of his inaction.

The Countess's funeral was much easier to handle, though. For one, Jameson wasn't the primary mourner, which meant his each and every action wasn't under close scrutiny. The rules of mourning had in part been welcomed, because they'd given Jameson a clear series of instructions to follow, but it had also been restricting, since he'd all but been forced to act as if he cared that Stratford was dead, when it was instead a great relief.

For the present affair, it wouldn't have been inaccurate to say that there was little need at all to act too concerned; Jameson would fit right in, after all. Noble funerals were expected to be attended, though they often had little feeling to them. Yes, the immediate family and close friends could be impacted, but the sheer majority of the numbers? They were there to serve their duty, some to whisper about rumours—What had the Countess been doing with a workman photographer that caused them to kill each other in his studio so late at night?

Not even half of the guesses came close to the truth, but that was for the best, Jameson thought. Leinster and Sherridan had both received their ultimate punishment, and the Moriartys had taken great care to destroy any unsavoury dry plates left over.

Jameson wouldn't have wanted his photos exposed to the public eye, and he doubted any of the other victims would have, either. They'd burned and broke them all.

With the mystery buried, there would be nothing but an endless speculation that no one would be able to unravel with the truth—but even such things wouldn't hold the public's interest forever. The nobility were a rather self-centred bunch, and there was no doubt they'd all be back to the social season bustle of ballrooms and dinners and tea parties by the next day, if not sooner, as if the loss of a human life was worth nothing more than a fraction of entertainment.

Jameson thought that was almost as bad as being considered merchandise, but not quite. At least with one of them, you still were allowed to keep your dignity while you were alive.

"Are you doing alright?" Albert asked, his voice low but no less full of concern because of it. The two eldest Moriarty brothers sat on either side of Jameson, with Louis at the other seat beside William; it was a silly thing to notice, but they'd arranged themselves in order by age, though not on purpose. "Your showing up today is more than enough to meet any social obligation. We don't need to go to the burial if you're not feeling up to it."

Jameson shook his head. "No need to worry. I was just lost in thought. I'll be fine." While he without a doubt thought so, it was too crass to remark out loud in public that he'd feel better after he saw the Countess buried in the ground with his own eyes. He glanced to William and Louis so they could see from his expression that he wasn't lying. "Besides," he continued at a whisper, "leaving now might cast suspicion upon us, and I don't want to risk that."

William may have calculated his plan to have minimal risk, but that didn't mean Jameson wished to make them start to fray at the edges.

Louis—who doubtless could understand the feeling with his extensive loyalty to his brother—nodded. "We should be alright if we mingle into the crowd at the graveyard but don't stay too close to the front. That way, should we need to slip out, we'll be less noticeable." Jameson wasn't sure he liked the implication that he'd need to leave, but he also could admit that having a plan in place did help him feel a bit better about the whole affair. "Your thoughts, Brother?"

"So long as Jameson is comfortable doing so, I have no objections." With the bustle of people moving out of their seats and the rumble of general conversation, William was able to give Jameson's hand a quick squeeze without drawing any attention. "I will note that our appearance thus far has been more than enough for a newer acquaintance, so don't feel as if you need to push yourself."

It was what seemed like a strange paradox that having such concern expressed for him made Jameson feel as if he had plenty of energy to spare, though it was nothing at all. Besides, compared to everything else Jameson had been able to endure, it was nothing to make it through a few hours of standing around and appearing sad, despite his true emotions being anything but. He could do it forever without batting an eye.

"I will be fine," Jameson said, and not calling William in such a public place was a far greater challenge than anything else he'd been tasked with that day. Hoping it would give his words more weight, Jameson stood from his seat. "I wouldn't say no to a bit of a breather before the procession, though. Shall we go and get some fresh air?" There was plenty of time until the burial proper, so Jameson liked the idea of having a break from public scrutiny while he had it.

"Sounds like a fine idea," Albert said, and neither William nor Louis had any objections whatsoever. After a moment to slip around the still mingling nobles, they moved as a group to retrieve their hats, jackets, and canes from the reception, where there was a smaller line, leaving them to wait their turn. Sure enough, the more Jameson looked around, the less the atmosphere was sombre and the more people seemed to be caught up in the throes of gossip—not that Jameson had much right to judge them, since he was there putting on a performance of grief as well. "Oh, Jameson. Is that not your new friend over there?"

Jameson blinked, following Albert's gesture to see that, sure enough, Cecil was on the other side of the entryway.

Cecil had not come alone, and, while Jameson had not seen them before, there was no doubt he was with his family. The eldest man—the Baron Carfax, he presumed—appeared so close to Cecil in appearance, as did the several other young men that had to have been his brothers. The lady with them had the same eyes, and there was something familiar about the shape of her brow and the set of her mouth that Jameson couldn't quite place at the moment.

And yet, for all their physical appearances being the same, they bore no similarity whenever it came to demeanour. Gone was any of that kindness that Jameson considered essential to his friend, and, while Cecil was no doubt shy, he looked even more uncomfortable than usual surrounded by his family than Jameson had ever seen him.

William had also taken to observing the group. "Care to introduce us?"

"I'm not certain that's a good idea right now…" Jameson said. While part of him longed to head over and check upon his friend, there was every chance Cecil was in genuine distress over the Countess's death—which Jameson had been responsible for. And even if that weren't the case, Cecil had yet to talk about his family aside from their marriage expectations during any of their interactions, so Jameson was willing to bet it was a bit of a sore spot for him. Barging into that environment without any warning seemed crass. "Cecil's mentioned his father knew the late Earl Leinster. I'd like to not make the situation any more complicated than it needs to be."

How many of the Moriarty brothers were able to tell that Jameson wasn't revealing the full truth of the matter? As none of them said anything to the effect, it was difficult to tell, and William just hummed. "Yes, that's a good approach. It's also the middle of the social season, so it's not as if we won't have plenty of opportunities to meet later, should you choose to allow us to meet."

"You could even invite him over for dinner, if you like," Albert said, with enough interest that suggested that it was far more of a request than a suggestion, though not quite a demand. Still, it wasn't as if Jameson had any outright objections to such an idea, should Cecil be up to it.

"I'll ask him about it the next time we meet, then," Jameson said, glad to have something else to look forward to, as little as it was. The trick was that he had to contain his smile so as not to appear inconsiderate to the staff member who was taking their names to retrieve their belongings, but it wasn't as if he needed to do so for long.

Getting through the rest of the funeral procession ended up not being difficult at all.

---

July, 1875

---

It took a bit of time for Cecil to have some free time, but they were able to meet up within the week. Cecil had suggested going for afternoon tea at a garden that allowed for private reservations, and Jameson had no issue indulging, since he was curious. Bit by bit, his list of locations that he'd been able to explore in London was expanding, and that added to Jameson's overall positive mood as of late.

Being not well versed in such things, Jameson wasn't able to do much but appreciate the beauty of the gardens on his own; Cecil was more than capable of filling out the gaps in his knowledge, though. The tight balls of tiny blue and pink flowers were hydrangeas; the ones with almost feather-like pink to white petals were peonies. Lavender grew in tight, conical stalks of purple, while dahlia were round and the colour of coral and made up of what seemed to be hundreds of small, near triangular petals.

The explanations continued all the way to the table (tucked between some rose bushes, which Jameson did not need to be told), and even then Cecil had yet to run out of things to say—and that was without wandering into any of the greenhouses, which contained out of season and exotic plants alike. Jameson was content to let his friend continue to talk, in no small part because he was relieved that Cecil didn't seem to be all too in distress over the Countess Leinster's death.

Even if he had been, Jameson still wouldn't have regretted what he'd done—there were some things he just couldn't forgive—but it was nice to have one less worry on his plate so he could enjoy what was otherwise the perfect afternoon: one spent in the company of a good friend with good tea and good snacks. The biscuits, in particular, with almonds baked in, were something Jameson wouldn't mind attempting to make at home once they worked their way through his latest batch of muffins.

Still, it's nice to see him looking cheerful again. Compared to the way he'd looked at the funeral, it was almost as if Cecil was a different person altogether in the current environment. Of course, supposing that Jameson knew everything about him after their small number of interactions was foolish, but that didn't change the fact that the difference was significant enough to notice. To bring it up whenever he's so relaxed now seems cruel, though…

Jameson set the matter aside, listening to Cecil's passionate explanation of the flower arrangement upon their table. Based on his evaluation, it seemed that it had been assembled more out of aesthetics than meaning—which there didn't seem to be much wrong with, as the beauty was well worthwhile on its own—but it was still interesting to see how flowers that looked so good together could have contradictory intentions when viewed through a different lens.

"—and that's how we…oh, I got carried away again. I haven't even asked you how you've been these days, and here I am prattling on about my interests." The tips of Cecil's ears had turned pink, and he reached for the cup of tea Jameson had poured him not quite five minutes ago. "Do forgive me."

Jameson shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive," he said, meaning every word. As well as he'd been doing the past week, it was complicated to explain why, so he didn't mind the subject lying elsewhere. "You just have me thinking, though. When it comes to flowers, there are far too many options out there. In fact, talking with you more has made me all the more aware of that than ever." Jameson sighed, admiring the variety of blossoms in the garden, unsure of where to even start. "I was hoping to show someone my appreciation, but now I fear that I shall pick out the wrong flower and say something that I don't mean." William was so brilliant, after all, that he would doubtless know what the flowers were saying, and Jameson didn't wish to miss the opportunity to shower him with more affection while he had the chance.

Not all flowers were kind, though, despite how pretty their blossoms were. One could craft an insult with the same ease as crafting an elaborate confession.

"When you say showing someone your appreciation, what did you have in mind?" Cecil's interest seemed to have been piqued, and he was leaning forward in his seat. "There's plenty of different kinds of appreciation, after all. You wouldn't want to come across too strong to someone who's just an acquaintance, nor be too tepid with someone you are close to."

For not the first time, Jameson was forced to contend with the fact that he did not have a way to explain his relationship with William in public. Yes, the official story was that he was a ward of the Moriarty family, and that much didn't change—but William was so much more than that. To consider them lovers would be presumptuous beyond belief, but they were much more intimate than that. However, even putting aside the fact that they were both men, the type of relationship they did have was of the sort that would be frowned upon by most others, one built upon lust and indulgence.

"May I…ask you to keep a secret?" Goodness, Jameson shouldn't have even requested such a thing in the first place; it was not just his own reputation at stake, but William's as well. Still, it was too late to take back what he'd blurted out, so he would just have to be as careful with his words as possible. "Apologies for being presumptuous, considering we haven't known each other too long, but I do feel as if you're someone I'd like to trust more…"

Not with everything—his past and a number of his current activities were too much to reveal—but some of it? Yes, Jameson thought he could trust the other man with at least the handful of his much more mundane problems.

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm delighted!" Cecil, realising the intensity of his outburst, flushed and cleared his throat. "That is…I don't have very many people I feel I can trust, myself. Most of my relationships with people my age are with acquaintances my parents picked out for me, and none of them have been as understanding about my interests as you have, Jameson… What I mean to say is that I consider you a dear friend!"

It wasn't that Jameson had been expected to be rebuffed by Cecil—it would have been quite rude for starters, not to mention the two of them were forming a bond—but he hadn't expected such an enthusiastic response. It made Jameson feel rather touched in a way he hadn't prepared himself whatsoever to feel whenever he'd woken up that morning.

I'm not certain what I've done to be lucky enough to find such a friend, but I shan't waste the opportunity now that I have.

"Thank you. That means very much to me." Cecil's smile lit up, and Jameson couldn't help but return the expression. "The truth is…there is someone whom I care very much about. However, we're not in a position where such affection can be public." That was a safe enough explanation, was it not? I should have discussed this with William first, Jameson couldn't help but think, but it was a bit too late to backtrack after letting that much out. Just to be safe, Jameson would leave it at that. "After hearing you talk about them so much, I was just thinking that it would be nice to give them a bouquet to say something special…"

"I love it!" Cecil clapped his hands together, looking even more elated by the second. "Flowers are wonderful, since even if the recipient doesn't know the complete meaning, they can still appreciate them for their beauty. Though I will admit I'm a bit surprised…" Jameson raised an eyebrow while sipping at his tea, and Cecil flushed a bit. "Considering Earl Moriarty's, ah…'reputation,' I didn't expect them to try and restrict your options when it comes to choosing a partner for yourself…"

Oh. Yes, that was the most logical conclusion, and all the more so since Cecil's family was much more insistent on such matters. But to think that even Cecil knows about Albert's tendencies… Well, it was an intentional choice on Albert's part, so Jameson wasn't about to argue for the man's honour or something.

"Ah, it's nothing to that effect." In fact, Albert had given his explicit blessing, though that was far too complicated of a story to explain. Perhaps Jameson had bitten off far more than he could chew by broaching the subject. "Lord Albert has been nothing but supportive of my choices in this arena. It's more that other people might not be as understanding, you know?"

Jameson hadn't thought it would be possible, but Cecil looked even more elated than before. "So it's a forbidden love, then?" Cecil asked, almost tipping over his teacup as he leaned forward even further. Jameson had no other option but to nod. "I know that must be hard, but that's incredible. I think there's something amazing about caring for someone so much that you don't care about any sort of barriers…" He shook his head as if to reset his thoughts. "Apologies, I got caught up in my own mind. I'd be happy to help you develop a bouquet, if you'd allow me to. In fact, I know a good florist, so, if you'd like, we could even pick one up once we're done here."

"Today?"

Cecil frowned, almost looking disappointed. "Did I overstep again?"

"No, that's not it, I just…" There it was again, that uncharacteristic embarrassment that had no place cropping up over something so mundane after everything Jameson had been through—and yet he couldn't deny that his face was burning hot. "I'm more concerned about myself overstepping." What would he do if he were to bring home a bouquet of flowers, just for William to feel uncomfortable by the display of affection?

They'd just agreed upon how they'd spend their time in bed, and Jameson, despite his own undeniable feelings on the matter, wouldn't dare to ever ask for more than that.

"Hm, I do suppose there is a bit of a challenge. Giving flowers without a reason could attract unwanted attention from others…" Cecil seemed to be attempting to discover a workaround, one which Jameson wasn't all too certain he needed. After all, no one else but Albert or Louis would know, and neither of them would protest. Albert would be all for it, that was certain, and Louis…well, he'd tolerated much so far, so Jameson didn't see him complaining so long as William was happy.

But that's the issue. I don't know if such a thing will make William happy.

Jameson knew firsthand just how stressful receiving unwanted affection could be. And while his situation had been one taken to the extremes, it didn't negate the fact that such things could be uncomfortable. Jameson didn't want to make anyone feel like that.

He also didn't want to risk the chance that William would turn him away again.

"If I may confess," Jameson said, swirling his tea in its cup, "our relationship has more of a…physical bent to it." Cecil's eyes went wide, but he didn't seem to be expressing any sort of judgement, so Jameson continued without much reservation. "That isn't to say that I don't harbour other feelings, but the more intimate aspects are part of why we keep our involvement a secret." And, again, the association of two men together, but, as much as Jameson was trusting Cecil already, he wasn't quite ready to divulge that much yet. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that there's any way to express that in flowers as well?"

"Don't be silly." Cecil's response had come much quicker than expected, and it was Jameson's turn to watch in surprise as he continued, "Plenty of flowers are associated with intimacy. You have red Ranunculus, orchids, tulips depending upon the shade…even the cactus is associated with sexual desire." Well, Jameson shouldn't have been all that surprised—sex was a natural part of life, after all—he just hadn't expected Cecil to have such a ready set of examples at his disposal. "Of course, there are plenty of other options as well, and these flowers do have other meanings, so it's just a matter of figuring out the exact nuance you want to express. And since most people are familiar with the flowers' more common meanings, then you can often slip such expressions under their noses, since you wish to keep the true nature of your relationship more concealed."

Jameson did not know what he'd done to receive such an excellent friend to help him navigate those matters, but he was grateful for it, nonetheless. "I'm not sure whatever I would do without you, Cecil," he said, hoping the words came across as genuine rather than a platitude. "Though I'll admit you're taking the news that I'm in an 'immoral' relationship much better than I expected." Jameson may not have felt as much shame for his actions as he once did, but others' opinions were a different story.

Cecil's demeanour didn't change, aside from him squinting a bit in thought. "While it's not something I could see myself doing, that doesn't mean I think it's wrong. In fact, I'm a little jealous that you've managed to find someone you have such passion for." Yes, passion was a safe word to land upon, nowhere near as sticky as the other emotions floating around Jameson's chest. "Besides, as you said, your relationship is the sort that would be frowned upon by society. Seeking to enjoy each other whenever you can't be public with your relationship makes plenty of sense." He offered a smile. "You asked me to keep a secret, Jameson, and I shall. Please don't feel as if you need to worry about my opinion changing. As I said…I consider you a precious friend, and I do not wish to lose your company over such a matter, and all the more so over something that makes you happy."

Come to think of it, he hadn't expressed any displeasure when it came to mentioning Lord Albert's own escapades… That with everything else was enough to convince Jameson that Cecil was being genuine, and as such it would do no good to push the matter further. "Thank you, Cecil. I appreciate you saying so." It was nice to know that his show of trust hadn't backfired. "Back on the subject of the bouquet, though—you just said 'passion.' Do you think it would be possible to make that the theme?"

"Oh, of course! In fact, there's almost too many options to choose from there…" Jameson should have suspected as much, considering the number of flowers Cecil had already brought up, but it was still impressive the way he had committed such things to memory. "I understand if you don't wish to risk revealing more than you already have, but I do think it would help to choose a flower that has a more personal association with your lover. Then you could build a design that complements the central flower, making it easy to narrow down your options."

"A personal association?" It was an intriguing idea, but Jameson had no idea where to start.

Cecil, however, was in his element, not missing a beat. "Yes. For example, when it comes to you, I'm reminded of the eastern lotus flower—or perhaps you've heard them called water lilies?" Jameson thought he'd heard mention of the term while reading poetry (Tennyson, perhaps? He'd skimmed over so many poets as of late they were starting to blur together), but he didn't have a clear visual in mind. "They of course have many meanings, but for you, they make me think of resilience. You're someone who I consider to be both strong and graceful, if you don't mind me saying." Jameson had no idea however Cecil had reached that impression, but he couldn't bring himself to complain in the face of such a straightforward compliment. "But, yes, something to that effect. I know you're not as familiar with flower language, but if there's any particular bloom that comes to mind, I'd be happy to let you know if it fits."

Being put on the spot, Jameson couldn't do much more than hum as he munched through the almond scone he'd been picking at most of the conversation. It was true that talking with Cecil had made him consider flowers much more, but not enough to have a ready answer. William doubtless had the beauty to be compared to a flower, there was no denying that, but which one suited him best? Albert was simple; Albert could be nothing but roses, and even Louis gave off the impression of a humble but simple flower, but William? What if Jameson had the wrong impression altogether, and the meaning of the flower was more an insult?

Stop complicating things. If that turns out to be true, it would be better to have Cecil let you know now rather than later. But William… Jameson let his eyes flutter shut, remembering everything about William that he could, which was more than enough to construct an image of him in his mind. William's fine hair, his pale skin, the brilliance of his scarlet eyes; William's warmth and strength, packed into a slender frame; William's taste, further complimented by his scent, that of cinnamon and—

"Lilies." The answer slipped out of his mouth with ease, the image in his mind coming together as if it had always meant to be so, William surrounded by swaying stalks of large, open blossoms, almost bell-shaped save for the way their petals curled outward instead of in. "White ones, if that helps."

Cecil had a soft smile upon his face. "Devotion and purity. Sometimes rebirth. With some variation depending on the specific type." Well, Jameson couldn't argue with the devotion aspect one bit, not to mention William had been the one that allowed for Jameson's own rebirth, in a way. "It's a lovely flower to choose for someone."

"I'm relieved. I was worried I'd choose something awful."

Shaking his head, Cecil chuckled. "While the flower language meanings are helpful, I think it's much more important to choose something that resonates with you."

"I suppose that's true enough." Something chosen from the heart would be appreciated; Jameson was sure of that, even if the idea was making him feel much more vulnerable than it had upon first conception. "If you don't mind, though, could you help me put together something, then? Even just giving a list of flowers is fine; I don't trust that I won't forget something or make a mistake." William might have appreciated it, regardless, but that wouldn't stop Jameson from wishing it to be as perfect as he could make it.

"I'd be happy to help, but on one condition." Cecil held up a finger, and Jameson nodded despite his uncertainty. "You must let me know how they react. I don't wish to miss such a thing. That should be a fair exchange, yes? Besides, I'm sure you'd like to talk to someone about your relationship at times, so I volunteer myself."

Jameson got the impression that Cecil and Albert would get along quite well, though it was difficult to tell if that was a good or a bad thing. "So long as I can have you in my pocket to help me in the future, I believe I can agree to that deal."

Yes, Jameson found himself to be oh so very blessed by having such a friend in his life.

---

"It's been some time since we were able to have a chat with just the three of us, hasn't it?" Albert asked, holding his cup of tea, unable to contain his excitement. He'd been looking forward to the conversation for the longest time, and at last, the opportunity was there.

"It has," Louis said, his small, pleased smile much more evident than usual. He, too, had doubtless been looking forward to the gathering, albeit for very different reasons than Albert.

"This time of year always manages to keep us out of the house, I find," William said, his tone light to any outside observer, but to his brothers, plenty anxious in his slight tells of a furrowed brow—doubtless for the exact same reasons that had encouraged his elder brother's excitement. "Having to handle such a long-term crime consultancy case has also made things trickier to navigate than usual, I daresay."

To bring up such a topic of conversation at such timing had to mean that William wished to divert into a much safer compromise for him. Too bad that Albert didn't intend to offer any such mercy. "I'm quite certain it has," he said, and William didn't even attempt to hide his faint embarrassment. "After all, Will, I believe your life has changed the most out of all of ours. Do tell me how things have been with Jameson."

There were many things about himself that Albert would deny, but the fact that he adored gossip was not one of them. Yes, he knew how to take things with a grain of salt and was careful what he said to others, but part of the appeal of social gatherings for him was hearing about the various new ongoings amongst his peers. For all they attempted to present themselves as better, there was always some scandal and drama in the nobility, and hearing how such things progressed was a great source of enjoyment for him. Even the less scandalous comings and goings were interesting to him, in particular the details of people's love lives.

Now with his very brother in the middle of a budding relationship, regardless of the precise context? Albert had no intention of leaving such a situation untouched, not one that was so close to him.

William, used to operating under a very different type of pressure, managed to keep his cool. "I believe you don't need me to tell you more than I already have. Taking care of the Countess seems to have helped his mood to a great extent, and we're leaving more time before we pursue his next target. Everything so far seems to have cleared a great deal of darkness from Jameson's heart, so it's achieved the desired effect as well."

"Yes, I'm quite certain you in particular have been instrumental when it comes to helping his heart recover," Albert said, further driving his brother into a corner. William glanced to Louis; Louis, knowing full well that Albert would not let the subject die, chose to maintain his silence whilst sipping at his tea. "Come now, Will, there's no point in playing coy. We all know Jameson's crusade is going well, but we don't know the full details of your relationship." Out of respect for Jameson, Albert hadn't pressed him much on the issue, but it was a different matter altogether when it came to his little brother.

"Jameson and I have come to an arrangement that suits us both. Whatever else could you want to know?"

Was that a challenge? William must have recognised that Albert was not about to let the topic drop, but he still wasn't being forthcoming with the details. Albert had no intentions of giving up, though. "And I assume that arrangement is an intimate one, yes? After all, despite my best efforts, Jameson chose you in the end. And since you reciprocated, I believe it's fair that Louis and I should know to what extent your involvement is."

The pieces seemed to click for William, and he sighed. Albert may have had a genuine wish to spend time with his brothers, but he was also not above using Louis as a bargaining chip. "Your tenacity is as notable as ever, Brother," William said, though it was a good sign that he didn't seem too put out. "Jameson…has requested we have an exclusive intimate relationship, and I have agreed." Albert nodded, though that much was obvious, even by observing. "I'm not sure there's much more to say than that…"

"Don't be ridiculous. Has he been satisfying?" He must have been, to capture William's attention so, but it was reassuring to hear such things out loud. "You haven't taken such interest in any type of partner before, Will, even from a mere sexual standpoint. I believe my curiosity is more than warranted, wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't avoid answering for too long, Brother," Louis said. "You know that Albert shan't drop the conversation for anything at this rate. Might as well indulge him so that it's over with sooner."

"Be that as it may, there is also always the chance that Albert will take the opportunity to drag the conversation on even longer than anticipated," William said in jest. Albert couldn't deny it, nor would he waste his time upon such a useless endeavour. "But, yes, since you've asked, Jameson is far more satisfying than I've ever expected to find in a partner."

Albert let out an ooh at hearing such high praise from William—not to mention his brother was even turning the faintest bit pink. Albert didn't think he'd seen such a show of embarrassment since they were still boys in public school. "How fortunate for you," Albert said, and he still meant it. Yes, a part of him was still disappointed at his own loss, but seeing William enjoying himself so more than made up for it.

"I'm not certain I would call the exact circumstances of our meeting fortunate, but I suppose I cannot argue with the result. Jameson seems to be happy, which is a major improvement from before. Beyond my own satisfaction, I believe that's what's most important here."

That was William; as concerned for others always. "Be that as it may, I'm certain that Jameson would be happy to know that you're happy as well." Albert was no fool, after all; Jameson may not have asked for anything more than a physical relationship, but that did not mean he didn't wish for it. At the bare minimum, Jameson's feelings for William went far beyond the physical, and William cared enough for Jameson—not to an extent such as love, no, but far more than Albert had ever seen him care for anyone outside of his immediate circle—to watch over him in such a way. "So, Will? Are you happy?"

Even Louis had abandoned his uninterested demeanour to watch William close for his response, he and Albert making a united front as they waited to hear the answer. Albert was interested in the gossip, that was true, but none of that mattered in the face of his brother's wellbeing.

You've put yourself through so much already and you'll continue to do so. Don't deny yourself even this.

Having recognised the inquiry as serious, William fell into a contemplative silence whilst staring into his teacup. Albert didn't dare interrupt, nor did Louis. For all intents and purposes, it hadn't been meant as a difficult question, but William had never been one to make things simple.

"I…am enjoying myself," he said, though Albert couldn't help but notice the particular choice of his words. "I've never thought of having a recurring partner for obvious reasons, and I think to promise anything more to Jameson would be cruel, given the circumstances." Given the future where all three of them would give up their lives to achieve their ideals. "But he made his request knowing such things already, so I cannot argue with him whenever he's so genuine. And since our attraction is mutual…yes, I suppose it's not so far off the mark to say that I'm happy with the state of things."

Good. It might've taken more words than Albert had hoped for to reach such a conclusion, but the answer was still a favourable one, regardless. Louis and Albert exchanged a glance, the both of them smiling, and Albert even mustered a chuckle. "I don't think I've ever met anyone but you who could say so much to a yes or no question," he said, and William offered his own flustered laugh. "But I am glad to hear it, Will. Though I will confess to wishing to hear more details than you've offered…"

The conversation continued, and it was the liveliest teatime the three of them had had in quite some time.

---

Jameson was learning that he needed a mix of time with others and by himself to feel at his best. As better as he was feeling in recent days, spending too much time alone with his thoughts was just asking for trouble; however, he didn't thrive upon constant parties and social engagements like Albert did, and he also felt better upon spending time with people he felt closer to, with the Moriartys being obvious and Cecil also working his way into such a category.

And it was with such realisations that Jameson was relieved to have a full day at home, even if it meant he was spending his morning in the kitchen and his afternoon would be occupied with other such chores. In fact, there was something satisfying about waking up early and getting to work on preparing the table, all the way from cooking the food to selecting the dishware they'd be using for their morning tea.

At last satisfied with his decision, Jameson finished loading the teapot, the creamer, the sugar bowl, and enough cups and saucers for the four of them onto the tray. Whenever he turned around, though, he found Louis giving him a stare that, upon first glance, might have seemed harsh, but to someone who was familiar with him—or growing familiar, as was the case for Jameson—it would be recognisable as a much more studious gaze.

Which begs the question of why? Louis hadn't been inattentive of Jameson since early March, but it was still unusual of him to put Jameson under such intensive steady without a clear reason. Jameson cleared his throat. "Is something the matter, Louis?"

"No, I wouldn't call it that." Well, that made matters a tad more complex; it would have been much easier if Louis were attempting to correct something wrong with his housekeeping skills, which had become passable, but were a far cry from Louis's own expertise. "This is just mere conjecture, Jameson, but have you developed an interest in tea sets?" Jameson blinked, not having expected the inquiry in the slightest. "I've noticed that you've been taking a lot of care while selecting what we use throughout the day, so it seemed probable."

Had he been taking that long? While a quick glance at the clock revealed that he'd been at it longer than expected, it wasn't such a lengthy process so as to be an inconvenience. But this isn't all, is it? I've been paying all sorts of attention to the tea sets whenever I've been visiting others' estates, too. The same held true for the other dishware as well, but there was no doubt the tea sets—with their interconnected pieces and attachment to one of his favourite times of day—often earned more scrutiny than the others.

"I…suppose I have." Come to think of it, he'd written a few entries in his journal about the tea party dishes he'd encountered at the various parties he'd attended to; nothing extensive, but enough to remember the rough designs by. "This is rather silly. To think I wouldn't notice my own interests like this."

"People often understand themselves the very least of all and tend to need an outside eye to be much more objective with themselves. Such a thing is common enough." Louis had stepped closer, his gaze flicking over the cabinet with its numerous tea sets waiting. "Come to think of it, we don't have a personal set for you, do we?"

"A personal set?"

"Yes. I'm sure you've noticed that Brother and Albert both have their favourites." Jameson had: William's being a simple white bone chinaware set that had accents of gold in simple yet beautiful patterns, while Albert's had gorgeous red roses rendered upon a deep green that fit him to a T. Whenever Louis was in charge of tea for one of his brothers, you could expect those sets to be the one brought out. "We have a variety that we've picked out so far, but those we received custom-made. And, of course, Albert insisted on getting one for me as well." Following Louis's gaze, Jameson found the violet and golden striped set resting upon a high shelf. "It's not often, but whenever I make a cup just for myself, I will use it…"

Jameson smiled, once more touched by the bond between brothers and the way it seemed to soften all of Louis's edges, if but for a moment. "I'm glad you have something that makes you smile like that."

There it was: that subtle little blush that disappeared just about as quick as it had formed. "In any event," Louis said, his voice sounding just the faintest bit strained from embarrassment, "it's become clear that you'll be a member of our household for quite some time. There's no reason not to order you your own set, and all the more so if it's something that you have an interest in."

Jameson's first reaction was to protest; however, the fact that it was Louis suggesting such a thing—and not William nor Albert, who were rather prone to spoiling Jameson—stopped him. It wasn't that unusual for a noble household to have a variety of dish sets, as evidenced by the collection the Moriartys already had, and you could even swap them out depending upon the occasion. So long as all the dishes were used often enough, it wasn't as if they were to go to waste.

And, more than any of that logic, Jameson could admit, now that the idea had been presented to him, it was almost too difficult to resist.

"If you don't think it'll be a hassle to store, then I wouldn't mind purchasing one for myself." As simple as it was, Jameson liked the feeling that he did in fact belong at Moriarty Manor, even if it was in the smallest of ways. Further, just thinking about searching through various tea sets to find one just for him was enough to make him feel excited. "Ah, that sounds wonderful…"

If this is my reaction, then perhaps Louis was on to something…

"It won't be an issue at all. Heavens know we have more than enough spare rooms to account for anything extra." Moriarty Manor was, in fact, on the small side for a noble residence, there was still more than enough space for four people to live when it came down to it. Jameson needn't have fussed so much, but it was still a new permission he was being granted, and he didn't wish to lose the privilege before he'd even gotten the chance to enjoy it. "I know of a few showrooms for this sort of thing, but you could also order a custom set for yourself."

Jameson shouldn't have forgotten such a thing, not whenever he'd been taken around by Albert to get so many custom outfits, but he still found himself ignoring that was an option. Perhaps it was because clothes made sense to fit to your own body, while something like a tea set could be used by anyone, no matter the design. And yet… "I think I'd like to do both. At the very least, looking at other designs should help me get an idea of what I might want to request, and if I find something I like, that should settle it without much issue, yes?"

Louis nodded. "Well I have no intentions of stopping you from obtaining one for yourself. Let's see…two days from now I was planning to restock the groceries, so we could go then. It won't be a problem to add a stop or two while I'm already out." Looking pleased with himself, Louis whipped out the small pocketbook he used to keep track of various things around the household. "It looks as if you don't have anything scheduled that day, either. If that doesn't change after we receive today's post, shall we commit to going together?"

Already brimming with excitement, Jameson had to resist the temptation to insist that they go that very afternoon; it would have been rude to abandon his household duties, for one, and, for two, he couldn't impose on Louis in such a manner. "That sounds wonderful. Ah, but perhaps don't tell Albert? I worry that if he catches wind, we won't be able to make it home without bringing the entire store home with us."

Even if Moriarty Manor did have ample storage, there were still limits, and Albert had no issue with pushing any such limits to the brim. Louis seemed to be in agreement, were his chuckle any indication. "Yes, that's for the best. Though I should warn you that once he does manage to catch wind of your interest, he'll buy you additional items anyway. Once I mentioned how useful a spatula was and he attempted to buy me a whole set of the things..."

Jameson could picture it with absolute ease, and he was unable to hide his own laugh at the image. "I shall accept that it may be inevitable, but that does not mean I need to hasten the process," he said, a little worried at what he might be inviting in. But removing something that gave him joy wouldn't do, either, so Jameson would just have to face the consequences whenever the time came. "Though apologies for distracting us from what we were doing…Shall we finish preparing afternoon tea and then go gather the others? We haven't had an afternoon with all of us home in quite some time."

Louis agreed, and they fell into their usual routine without much issue, though the air seemed just a bit lighter than it had even fifteen minutes before.

It wasn't until later that evening whenever Jameson was getting ready for bed that he realised that was the first time he'd heard Louis laugh.

---

Jameson had thought that, after having been privy to so many social events across the nobility—both in the past two months and the handful from his time at Aldborough Manor—that he'd had a rather comprehensive idea of what tea sets could be like.

He was then proven wrong in a near instant.

To begin with, the various patterns of paint all played a critical role, and the porcelain came decorated with a rainbow of colours and beyond. Some were simple—nothing more than a band of colour upon an otherwise white cup, saucer, and such—while others were much more intricate, hosting complex patterns and paintings, not unlike the apple blossom cup that had caught Jameson's attention and allowed him to meet Cecil for the first time. Many of the more expensive pieces had gold integrated into the designs.

After that most obvious part, there was then the shape of the dishware itself. There were plain designs, the sort that Jameson had been familiar with when he was younger, simple and meant for a middle to lower class table, though they still had their charm when paired with the right paint. And then things became more complex. It was interesting how inverting the angle of the design could change the very impression a teacup had, and that was without getting into working the cup into different shapes. Some had intricate moulding that made the rims appear like flower petals, all the way down to the texture, and others were made so fine and thin that you could hold them up to the light and almost see through them.

The last time Jameson could remember his heart beating so fast was whenever William had rolled him onto his side atop the picnic blanket, and it seemed rather unfair to compare the two, save for the way the situations came from the same emotion: pure excitement.

"I want them all," he whispered, unable to bring himself to choose.

"Please don't let Albert hear you say that," Louis said, sounding near distraught. Jameson couldn't blame them; were the eldest Moriarty present, he would have bought out the entire shop without hesitation, and then Moriarty Manor would be overrun with more dishware than they could hope to use in a year. "That said, don't feel as if you need to restrict yourself to one. If there are a couple that strike your interest, we have the room for them, and it's not as if you'll let them go unused."

That much was true; Jameson didn't think he could bear to choose such a wonderful design and not enjoy it with his tea at least several times a week. "Even if that is the case, I do still think it best to just start with one or two." Besides, he was already stretching it by spending his money on a gift for himself; even if he had the wealth to do so, that didn't mean he could bear to buy out the whole store. Jameson picked up a display cup, admiring the multicoloured daffodil design upon its side. "I can't help but notice a lot of these are floral designs, though. Did I tell you Lord Cecil is well versed in flower language? It makes me think twice before buying one, in case the meaning is something unintended." If there were so many flowers whose meanings were connected to concepts of lust of all things, Jameson could do nothing but imagine there were those who contained insults in their petals.

Louis had stepped to his side, observing the cup with the keen eye of a head butler of the household. "I suppose I'd never considered that much before. Most of our dish sets focus more on patterns than such paintings. They are impressive works of art, though." Jameson agreed, and there was a faint excitement that came from noticing how each cup—while similar—was not quite identical to each other, the sort of variation that came from each one being hand-painted. "Were you considering getting one, then?"

"Yes, I think so. Though I do need to think about the flower before I commit." He had but a limited knowledge of flower meanings, but when it came to those that he was familiar with…

For example, when it comes to you, I'm reminded of the eastern lotus flower—or perhaps you've heard them called water lilies? They of course have many meanings, but for you, they make me think of resilience. You're someone who I consider to be both strong and graceful, if you don't mind me saying.

"Louis? You said you know somewhere we can place custom orders, yes?"

---

Later in the week, whenever the tea set with its mint green designs and delicate lotus flowers painted upon the side arrived, Jameson could say with confidence that there was nothing more delightful than tea from a pot and cup that had been made just for you.

---

[Author's Notes]

Y'all, it's time for Season Four to drop, let's go!

Thanks to Lunardiviner and CountessOfWisdom for leaving comments on AO3! I love this story a lot, so every bit of response to it makes me giddy.

This time we're starting off with a bit of a breather chapter of playing with character dynamics and also getting Jameson into tea sets! It's something I've been slipping in little hints of building up to, so we're finally here with Jamie getting another hobby.

Fun fact: This chapter's smut scene was supposed to be the first time Jameson asks to call William darling, but he ended up deciding to do it last season. These two only go fast in their relationship whenever it's inconvenient for my plans.

And the funnest fact: Over the summer, I finally wrote the complete first draft of this fic, all the way through Final Problem, which has been my master plan from the start! Which means, so long as I balance out my editing schedule (as always, aggressive thanks to my wonderful partner Punk Trash Noiz for betaing), we'll be seeing consistent updates of this fic through to the end, and that starts with our fortnightly updates of season four. I hope you're ready for the next ride, and lemme know your predictions for this arc!

Title of the chapter is from Fox Stevenson's "Stratosphere."

Next time: The Adventure of the Missing Young Woman, Act One. Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[21 August 2024]