whisted | for jollyboat: anywhere you go

He doesn't quite fit.

Horatio had known, of course, that he wouldn't. Even if he had managed to make his way onto a ship years ago, everyone would have known he was odd. Perhaps it's for the best that he's clearly just a bit skittish, just a bit uncertain of himself unlike the other young men his age. Perhaps that would distract the human mind from looking to see just why, exactly, this one didn't seem to be quite entirely right.

It was, nonetheless, one thing to know and another thing to live. Being bundled in heavy unfamiliar fabric is surprisingly uncomfortable. The uniform is far more restrictive than the clothing he had forced himself to become accustomed to while hovering around the port. The sensation of being on a boat, despite the familiarity of the sea, is throwing his stomach through something of a loop. He can't shift and change direction. He can't twist along with the waves, comfortable and easy, or cut through below the discomfort of breakers tugging in the wrong direction. It's unnatural, here on a warped version of the surface. It's twisting something uncomfortable in his shoulders, almost dizzying as he tries to find his feet under him.

This is what he wanted, and it doesn't quite fit.

For the most part, feeling his skin in the sack slung over his shoulders is reassuring. His fingers can worry against the familiar softness with each odd rush of discomfort. This, after all, is the back-up plan. This is the fail-safe if everything falls completely to pieces and he needs to throw himself simply back into the sea. This is the piece of himself which will always fit properly, no matter where he is.

That's why it's resting at the top of his sack as he scrambles up properly into the ship. That's why, in the bluster of humanity, the young selkie doesn't notice that his skin has spilled out onto the deck.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

jollyboat

It's all right. It even has Archie settling against him, just slightly.

"Just want t'be able t'tell you," he says, the brogue curling through his words a bit, "Y'll-- let me?"

From:

whisted

"You can-- tell me anything, Archie."

What could possibly be more than the secrets they already shared? What could possibly need to be kept separate and apart?

Well, other than Archie's head and the door frame. Scrambling through the door to their room doesn't have to be a truly perilous thing.

From:

jollyboat

"Y're th'best."

Which is part of what he wants to tell him.

"'nd you should know I don't-- ever want t'-- own you, okay?"

Which is another part of it.

From:

whisted

That pulls an inquisitive little huff over Horatio's lips as he lingers at the door, moving carefully with the lock. It's an odd thing, fighting the impulse to make either of them feel trapped while hoping to make both of them feel safe.

"I know."

He hadn't moved his skin from any of the places Archie knew--in his chest, in his bag now, in the odd moments when it had to be tucked in under his uniform for safekeeping.

From:

jollyboat

“‘s just that—“

One moment. He’s located the glass of water his past self left to ensure he drank some when he came back sloshed.

“—Your skin ‘s one of th’most— beautiful things ‘ve ever seen,” he continues, “Which I guess makes sense, because ‘s— yours. You’re beautiful— ‘nside and out.”

From:

whisted

The rush of warmth under his skin prickles an entirely lovely flush into his cheeks. The pleased clenching of his heart feels wonderfully warm and, strangely, not at all restrictive.

"--oh."

It's a touch better, perhaps, than clearing his throat, but it's not much less flustered.

From:

jollyboat

He likes that blush. It has him grinning and stepping just a hint closer.

“I like when y’blush,” he tells him fondly, “‘nd when you— smile. I always— want t’kiss you, when y’do.”

And thats a statement which has Archie blushing.

“Would y’— ever like that, d’you think?”

From:

whisted

Moving toward Archie when Archie moves toward him feels like an old instinct now, like the tug of the moon dragging at the tide.

Archie likes his smile. That tugs him another step forward as well.

"I... do think."

From:

jollyboat

"Really?"

He can't help the stunned laughter, at that. He can't help but keep drifting towards him.

"Would y'-- like it now, maybe?"

From:

whisted

"--would you?"

This is new territory. This is an uncharted piece of the map Horatio doesn't quite have fully settled in his own mind.

But that bit of information seems crucial.

From:

jollyboat

"Absolutely."

It's clear how genuine and instant that is.

"'s long as you do. I-- definitely do."

From:

whisted

This feels safe. This feels genuine.

Horatio finishes closing the distance. His nose nudges affectionately against Archie's, lips still shy of an actual kiss.

Meeting in the middle feels safe and genuine as well.

From:

jollyboat

That’s a lovely bump of noses. That means Horatio gets to see the absolute radiacmce of Archie’s grin, before his lips are pressed softly against the selkie’s.

One hand lifts a little tentatively to rest against Horatio’s side, and that’s terribly nice, as well.

From:

whisted

It's a soft sensation. There's nothing demanding or overwhelming about the press of lips against his own.

All the same, Horatio can't stop his teeth from catching just briefly at the other young man's lower lip, delicate and present.

Loving someone meant not pretending to be something other than wild, to his own mind.

From:

jollyboat

That’s a nice little nip. That earns a proper flush out of Archie, his grin broadening.

He doesn’t bite back, but he does bump his nose against Horatio’s once more before leaning in for another kiss.

From:

whisted

Oh. Oh, that's Archie coming back for another kiss. Oh, that's a wonderful continuation of what might have only ever been allowed to them as a heartbeat.

Horatio's fingers catch lightly at Archie's cheeks, gentle and full of nervous awe. His lips press soft and sweet against the kiss, the bubble of a pleased little laugh trapped within.

From:

jollyboat

That’s a lovely touch. That has Archie beaming and laughing a little as he returns the kiss, his fingers curling in all the more in Horatio’s jacket.

It may take a couple of kisses before he at all remembers how to use his words.

From:

whisted

They don't quite need words. They've done well simply understanding before, resting in the security of one another's knowing silences.

It's easy to read Archie's laughter when it's pressed warmly against his own lips. It's easy to understand the soft clutch of fingers, not trapping but very much enjoying an allowance.

This isn't why Horatio came to walk among men, but it swells his heart far too much for any words to enter the space where his lips press again and against against Archie's.

From:

jollyboat

They can just linger a while in the gentle kisses, then. They can keep laughing into one another’s mouths, warm and contented and affectionate.

Eventually, Archie will murmur the quietest of thanks. It absolutely can’t be helped.

From:

whisted

It isn't the sort of odd roughness which came before drowning a man. It isn't the strange discomfort he imagines in sticking to someone who had taken one's skin.

It's simply wonderful--and it very much prompts a few soft 'thank you's in return.

Slowly, hesitantly, his arms shift curiously around the young man's waist.

From:

jollyboat

Archie allows the gentle embrace-- more than allows, even; encourages. He hums happily at the careful touch and leans in just a hint more, lingering just a touch closer.

His own hand unfists itself from Horatio's jacket, thumb brushing fondly against his side as the other lifts to rest carefully at his other side.

From:

whisted

They aren't being kept. They aren't caught. They're simply holding, as gentle as anything, to both stay in place.

That's wonderful.

Horatio's breath comes in a sigh as he gently pulls his lips back from Archie's, eyes dark and wondering.

From:

jollyboat

Archie’s eyes are full of a bright, quiet joy when they pull apart. It’s echoed in the brightness of his smile.

“That was— wonderful,” he says contentedly, “Thank you.”

From:

whisted

"Of-- course, Archie."

How could he not offer this piece of himself to someone who held his devotion? How could he not give freely what he had wanted so much for his own joy?

"Thank you."