Work Text:
Arthur was ushered by John, led by his waist, as he had started doing all the time since the day after they first kissed. Arthur had told him that they should ‘tone it down’, when they were in public, but after all, could you blame him if he indulged in it a little bit? It was everything he ever wanted. And John seemed to not be able to be physically away from him for more than ten minutes.
They entered the museum. The British Museum. Martin had managed tickets for all of them, saying that it would be a nice experience, all together. It had been not even a month since Arthur and John had been left in 2019 London, in front of the Magnus Institute. And so much had changed. They weren’t even looking for the Black Stone anymore since… well, Kayne had promised them a new body for John, if they got it for him, but they already had it. And… they didn’t really want to leave London. And Jon and Martin.
Jon had found them a new little house for them, so that they wouldn’t have to stay for much longer in Jon and Martin’s guest room. They were to move the following week. A new house. All for them.
“Here.” Jon was leading them to the first room.
Arthur heard a little gasp of surprise from John when they entered it. Martin had told them that the first room they’d see was the Ancient Egypt one. He guessed that John had never seen something like that.
“Arthur…” he said. He wasn’t touching him, but he was still quite close. He hadn’t spoken very loudly, and Arthur could hear him well. It was like he didn’t have words to say, in front of what he was witnessing. “Arthur this is…”
“That is pretty cool, huh?” Martin cut in.
“I wish you could see this, Arthur.” John kept going. “It’s… it’s amazing.”
He heard him move away from his side, towards something to see. He quickly followed him, there were many people in the room, and he didn’t want to get lost. Not that Martin and Jon would let it happen, but he also just… didn’t wanna be away from John.
His boyfriend. Boyfriend. They had called each other that just a week ago. They were boyfriends. Life couldn’t get any better.
“This is a…” John started explaining to him. “It has… I think it was a coffin. With… painted on it, the resemblance of a human. Of a corpse, maybe. I don’t-”
“It is a sarcophagus.” Jon interrupted him. Ominously, to be honest. “They used to bury people in these. Well- in Ancient Egypt, and only the upper class. The lower class was buried in much simpler sarcophagi.”
“O-okay. Thank you, Jon.” Arthur replied.
“This in particular… I believe it was a-” Jon continued.
“J-Jon, I think…” Martin stopped him. “I think maybe let’s… let’s just enjoy things without getting too much into it. If it’s not…asked.”
“Yeah… sorry.”
“No, that’s- that’s okay.” Arthur reassured him.
They all stayed silent for a beat. Arthur supposed they were all watching the sarcophagus.
“Wait… what is that?” John asked. Then he directed himself towards it and dragged Arthur along, again, by his waist. Not that he was protesting.
When they all came to what John was pointing to, he said. “It looks… it’s a stone. With carvings on it. It’s… it’s a language- different languages…”
“Oh! That’s the Rosetta Stone, John!” Arthur intervened. “That is… I’m no archaeologist, but that is a very important stone. I think…” He cut himself short because he heard a strange whispering on his left side.
It was Jon. Of course it was.
He noticed, evidently, and turned towards them, saying. “I can read it.”
“Isn’t it… hieroglyphics?” Arthur asked.
“…And ancient Greek. Yes.” Jon confirmed. “I can read it.” He reiterated.
“How… how can you read it when I can’t?”
“I can read any language in the world.” He explained.
“Oh.” A beat in which nobody knew what to say. “And I probably can’t.” Then he added. “But I can read languages from other worlds! So I guess…”
“Well… I think technically, I could read them too, if-”
“Jon. Jon!” Said to him Martin, that had just joined them, having lingered more on the first sarcophagus.
The museum visit proceeded without too many incidents. Arthur felt Jon painfully restraining himself from vomiting on them all the knowledge he just knew about things. He limited himself to a couple of insights on some paintings, a few comments along the lines of ‘This is proper stealing. The English really stole everything they could’, and pointing out that ‘That is actually incorrect’, on some wall labels. All in all, not bad, since Arthur had seen him get into a book, or a story, or an artefact before, and not being able to stop telling the context behind it. Of course, this was also thanks to Martin, that scolded him gently a few times when he saw that Jon was starting to get into a whole background story.
The thing was- it wasn’t just the story he was telling, it was the way he was telling it. His voice would get more grating and ominous, and- it was unsettling. Even just to hear it. The first time it had happened in front of him and John, the latter had been the only one not unsettled by it, and had remarked on the way ‘His scars glow lightly of a dark green’.
“His scars?” Arthur had asked.
“Yes, yeah, he has scars all over his face- well- all over his body I think.”
“Oh.” Arthur had said. “I- I didn’t know.”
“Well, you told me not to comment on people’s appearances…”
“Yes, that is true, but you could’ve-”
“I am still in front of you.” Jon had pointed out.
It had been one of the few instances in which Jon had really let go of any breaks and had gone ‘full eldritch monster’ on them. Or- on Arthur, since John was not affected by it.
Because of all this, it wasn’t the best idea to let him do that at the museum. Even though it probably was very tempting for him. All of the… things he knew, things that needed to be said.
Martin had followed them closely, but he preferred to see art and artefacts on his own. He had warned them about this before putting even a foot outside their house, that morning. He liked to enjoy art on his own. That was a fair stance, Arthur had thought.
And, well, him and John, they were… always beside each other. John had taken the habit of guiding Arthur by his waist, and God, was he not complaining about that. Every time he felt John’s familiar, warm touch on himself, he felt secure. And protected. John was there for him, no matter what. He didn’t need to worry.
At the museum, they started going through the rooms while holding hands after the first one. John had commented how there were many couples that were doing that, and Arthur had wasted no time lacing his fingers with John’s. So they strolled together, intertwined, among the paintings, and sculptures, and other things, that John was doing his best to describe to Arthur. He let the other take his time, given that he would make a surprised noise each time they entered a new room. He would observe for himself, and then tell Arthur. That was good. That was everything he needed.
Soon enough, though, Arthur started to feel like holding hands wasn’t sufficient. He genuinely thought in that moment that he was getting too addicted to that. John’s touch. At home, they were constantly around each other, and that had probably spoiled his very… inclined nature. But it wasn’t enough. So he started clinging on to John’s arm also with his other hand, as he loved to do.
The other had sighed in fondness and had started stroking his hand with his thumb. When they would stop in front of a painting, Arthur would perch his chin on John’s shoulder, and the other would sometimes nudge him his with his nose. It was unbelievable, almost, for Arthur, that he was now able to just do that in front of that many people. Was he that needy that he had bypassed all his shame to have just a little more of John? Did he need John that bad?
Sex hadn’t happened. Not yet, Arthur kept saying to himself. It was not like he was opposed to it, far from it, it just… hadn’t come up naturally in conversation, and he didn’t really know how to introduce the topic. He didn’t even know if John wanted something like that. But anyway he was content with what they had, even if it was not to change. They kissed and made out plenty, so much that sometimes Martin just kept knocking on their room’s door to make them stop and get out of bed.
In any case it was not going to happen at the museum. It was a thought for another day.
They stopped in front of what John described as a ‘very pretty vase’. It was an ancient Greek painted vase. Arthur remembered them, and understood why John called it pretty.
“What does it depict?” He asked.
“It’s… it’s difficult to make it out.” John started. “There are many figures in the lower rows, and they are all… fighting I think. With swords, and blades, and shields. It’s an intricate design, black figures over a red background. They overlap with each other in certain places. And… and in the top row there’s…”
“What?” Arthur asked sweetly.
“There are two men that are…kissing. They are sharing a passionate kiss, and they are- they act as they are alone, there. As if they don’t hear the noises of a war, beneath them. They look… happy to have each other.”
For a moment, next, the only thing Arthur could hear was their heavy breaths. Then he reached out with his hand, and cupped John’s face to turn it towards him. And kissed him. Gently, chastely. A small kiss.
But a little kiss usually didn’t open this abyss of want, though. In a moment, Arthur knew that it wasn’t enough. He knew there were other people in the room, but he couldn’t hear them anymore. The only thing his ears perceived was his own heartbeat, rushing warm blood all over his body. He wanted- he-
“Arthur.” John interrupted his train of thoughts. His voice was low, and gentle, and…strained. Like he was holding himself back, painfully. “Do you…” he continued. “Do you want to go… I don’t know- I just-”
“Let’s go to the toilet. If there’s-” Arthur had taken the situation in hand. He was going to get more.
John led him by his hand in a direction that Arthur followed hastily. He trusted him completely. After a couple of minutes, they arrived at a single-stall bathroom. An empty one.
They entered and John locked the door behind them quickly, needily. Then they just froze, one in front of the other, the silence filled by their heavy breathing.
In a moment, John crashed their lips together and moved Arthur to pin him against the door. And Arthur let him do whatever he wanted.
They kissed, feverishly, like they hadn’t kissed in a hundred years, and like their lives depended on it. Their teeth kept smacking against each other, but they didn’t care. Arthur was cupping John’s face with both hands, and the other had one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, that pinned him to his place.
After a few kisses, John trailed out Arthur’s mouth, making a path of gentle but lavish kisses along his jaw, and to his neck. He kissed all over his neck, and Arthur slightly tipped his chin to let him have more space. It wasn’t the first time they did that, and he knew he loved it.
One of John’s legs was somewhat slotted in between Arthur’s. He didn’t know when that had happened, but he was starting to… notice it. A little moan escaped his lips, and he tried to muffle it as much as he could. He ignored that urge with every fiber in his being. If he was gonna have sex with John it wasn’t going to be in some museum’s bathroom.
He pulled John away from his neck and kissed him again a couple of times. After that, they remained on the other’s face, catching their breath, noses brushing against each other.
“John…” Jesus fucking Christ he sounded ragged. “John, I think…”
“Was that okay?” He interrupted. “I’m sorry I was just…”
“No yeah no, it was great. This is great.” He reassured him. “It’s just… we have to go back to Jon and Martin, and,” He swallowed. “We can’t keep the bathroom occupied forever.”
John nodded. “Yeah. I know.” Then he stroked Arthur’s face with his gentle rough hand, and with such apprehension that Arthur’s heart fluttered.
“This is definitely the best museum visit I’ve ever done.” He commented.
“Mine too.” John agreed. “Although it is my first one.”