Closed It Was Inevitable

[Monty Pendleton]

The evening had been lovely, as usual. In fact, Monty was inclined to say it had been more lovely than usual. He enjoyed going out to dinner with Rupert, and still did so every few months, but the man’s suggestion to start dining at each other’s houses had been most welcome. It was less expensive, and, well, more private. Rupert was liable to be recognised in any magical establishment and Monty was rather conscious that they had been spending a lot of time together lately. There was nothing going on - they were only good friends - but Monty didn’t like to invite rumours if he could help it. They could both do without them.

Rupert was in the kitchen and Monty had been left to his own devices for a moment. This was seldom a good idea. Wine in one hand, he stood up, drawn over by a strong curiosity to a glass cabinet in the corner of the room. It was full of all sorts of interesting things. Small, ancient books, carved wooden figurines, strange metal instruments - Monty only had a vague idea of each item’s origin. Whatever their original purpose, they seemed to serve now mostly as decoration. Behind the cabinet, several framed photographs and diagrams hung on the wall. He tried to decipher some Latin. He wasn’t very good at it.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was inevitable, but a very mischievous idea came to him. He wandered out to the kitchen, putting on his most serious face. “Rupert,” he said, “why do you have a picture of me?” He tipped his head toward the hall. Goodness, he was fantastic at this. Being Arvo’s best friend had given him a lot of time to perfect his poker face. He was sure he looked genuinely troubled. “In the dining room.”

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert was a patient man in most elements of his life, but that had never been the case for his romantic entanglements before. All of his previous dalliances could best be described as a race to the good bit, so to speak, and as time passed he was finding himself more and more out of his depth when it came to his relationship with Monty. It was an unexpectedly delightful feeling; to spend years getting to know someone on such a deep level, making space for one another as they were, without a hurry to reach some predetermined milestone. Whatever they were to one another it was special, and that meant more than any of the conquests he had previously valued so, making them look petty and meaningless by comparison.

So Rupert had long since set aside any inclination that dinner at home may mean more than dinner at home - dinner at home was a special event all of its own, and Rupert found himself consumed by anticipation for each one as they came. Tonight's meal had been an excellent one, and Rupert had stepped aside a moment after the fact to handle the dishes, before the pair of them would no doubt retire to the parlour for brandy and conversation. He was making quick work of the task, plates shedding their water and returning to their places with a final flick of his wand.

He was just closing the cupboard when Monty entered the room, blinking in confusion at the man's unexpected question. "A picture of you?" He asked warily, quickly running a mental inventory of the house. He didn't keep all that many cursed items around given the nature of his current employment, though there were a few odds and sods from the old days lying around, as well as a couple of pieces he had picked up recently to assist in Lysander's training. He couldn't recall any frame that might project a person's image on it though, and he frowned slightly in concern. "I'm not sure what that might be..." He said, one hand on his wand as he made his way through to the dining room. Had he really been so foolish as to forget some cursed item lying around in the dining room of all places?

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty maintained the facade all the way back to the dining room, where he beckoned Rupert toward the picture frames. “I’m absolutely mortified, Rupert,” he said. “I’ve clearly just stepped out of the bath. I mean - look.” Stopping by the cabinet, Monty pointed to the accused photo. It was, in fact, a picture of a very wrinkly mandrake. To be fair, there was a resemblance - especially around the chins. Monty turned a theatrically displeased look upon his friend. “Explain?”

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert's grip tightened on his wand as he followed Monty to the offending picture, already mentally running through the various enchantments they may be dealing with, and hoping desperately that Monty hadn't been subjected to anything too terrible. He froze when he saw the picture in question - a scientific diagram he had no doubt gotten out of some book or other as a far younger man - and his mind ground to a halt for a long moment as he did his best to put the pieces together. When the prank finally clicked he burst out laughing, all the tension flowing from his knotted muscles as he chuckled heartily, pocketing his wand again. "You scared me!" He laughed. "I half-thought I must have left some horrible cursed item lying around somehow, and we'd be ending this evening with an impromptu disenchantment session." He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, glancing at the picture again. Well - certainly no excuse for going too far, but Rupert couldn't help but feel he had reason aplenty to tease Monty back in turn. Just fluster him a little, maybe. "Well, forgive the assumption, but I didn't think you were hiding quite so many wrinkles under those robes..."

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty raised his glass to his lips to hide his grin. It was, perhaps, the most stupid joke he'd ever come up with, but he was terribly proud of himself, if only because he'd managed to fluster Rupert. There was a time Monty had wondered if anybody could. The man was so confident, so collected - he never seemed to have to search for the right words, or second guess them once they'd left his mouth. Monty would have loved to get inside his brain for a little while, just to see what it was like. But he wasn't convinced it was that simple. There had to be something, he reasoned, that worried him. There had to be a part of him that wasn't... well, perfect. And in moments like these, Monty almost saw him: the Rupert who got anxious, who fidgeted with his hair, who laughed at childish jokes and dished them out with equal silliness. Almost...

Monty put down his wine. "Oh," he said. Was he doing this? Oh, god. This was happening. "I didn't realise you'd thought so much about it." Something was definitely happening. There had been a tension for months and now something wanted to give. It was awkward and clumsy and Monty's heart was pounding like he might keel over but if Rupert felt it too, if Rupert felt it... "Really, I mean - if you'd wanted to know..."

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert had known his words would fluster Monty and was fully prepared for the pair of them to trade some mild ribbing after the fact, maybe a chance to enjoy the older man's nervous stammering and the flush that dusted his cheeks. What he wasn't prepared for was the almost solemn air Monty took on. Had he gone too far? An apology began to knit together in the back of Rupert's throat, but the words unraveled helplessly a moment later, choking him slightly in alarm when Monty spoke. He didn't look like he was joking. He very much didn't look like he was joking, and Rupert felt a bit like he had just stepped for the next stair and gone tumbling straight off a cliff instead. He had always prided himself on knowing just the right thing to say, but this was the first time in his life where all of his regular go-tos were very much the wrong thing.

"I... didn't think finding out was on the table." He admitted, voice a little weak as his usual charm failed him entirely. But was that too presumptuous? He had no idea how to read this situation, and every moment he freefell further and further from familiarity. "I - Monty, the last thing I will ever want is to make you feel... pressured, or.... or unsafe around me. You... I will never ask anything of you that you don't want to do." He managed, quite certain that he was making a spectacular idiot of himself.

 

[Monty Pendleton]

This. This was the Rupert Monty was falling for. Unsure, gentle, more concerned for what Monty wanted than what he wanted. And Monty was grateful for that, really he was - the man had the patience of two saints - but now, standing here in the soft dining-room light, he had never felt more certain of his feelings. He wanted this. He wanted it, and he wasn't afraid, and he wouldn't hide it.

He put his hands on Rupert's chest. "I feel very safe," he said. And then he kissed him.

It was tender. A lifetime of longing might have preceded him, but there was nothing to rush for now; the night was theirs and Monty was born anew. He had thought it might feel like this, like falling into himself, but he could never have imagined that it could feel so elegant or so right. His hands were in Rupert's hair as he pulled him closer, letting that warmth blossom, letting it take him. But then he pulled away. "Is this what you want?" he asked. He suddenly felt like crying, but there was no sadness in his eyes. Just love. "Is it all right?"

 

[Rupert Cresswell]

Rupert had had a lot of good kisses in his life. A lot of very good kisses, as it happened. But as Monty's lips met his, he realised he had never had an important kiss before - not like this. This was a gift - a gift of trust, so much trust that it tore right through Rupert's shell. He felt nervous, unseated, vulnerable, and it was almost enough to make him want to bolt. How could he hold so much responsibility in his hands - a person like him, caring for a heart as delicate as Monty's? This had to be a mistake - a horrible mistake. Rupert ruined people, that was what he did, and for the first time in his life he desperately didn't want that to happen.

But as Monty pulled back, Rupert knew that to show this fear on his face would be to ruin the moment, so he settled on a soft, open smile, wrestling the fear and self-loathing down to the very back of his mind. "I want as much as you want to give me." He breathed softly, one hand coming up to rest gently on the older man's cheek. "And I promise to cherish and honour every moment of that gift."

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty grinned. His love, a gift? "Well, I don't know about that," he said, leaning his face into Rupert's hand. "I wasn't joking about the mandrake." He was about to go in for a second kiss, but something stopped him. There had been a hesitance in the first, he thought, and surprisingly it wasn't his own. Maybe he had sprung this all upon his friend too suddenly. He'd been building up the courage for so long, he'd forgotten that the process was completely independent. "Are you sure? Because this doesn't have to happen now. It doesn't have to happen ever, but - what I mean is - this won't be our only chance. I'm not going anywhere. We can come back to this. I want this, but I want... I want it to be right for you. Otherwise, I can't."