The Great Grey

Alistair rarely slept well anymore.

He missed the creaking and swaying of the ship. He missed the sounds of the crew, missed the distant sound of bells tolling and the comforting hum of the screws turning through the water. He had tried cracking the window, to allow the sounds of the city to wash over him, but it simply wasn't the same. Even worse than the silence was the loneliness of it all.

It was that loneliness that prompted him to leave his bed, padding through the house like a restless spirit until he found himself in front of Xiao's door. The man was somewhere between friend, lover, houseguest, and oddity, but he was also the only one in the house with whom Alistair could speak frankly. The servants could not offer the companionship he desired, after all.

But Xiao's bed was empty, and obviously unslept in. The duke had known the other was gone the night before, but he had assumed that the other would've returned by now. A bit miffed, and perhaps even a bit concerned, Alistair abandoned his plan and instead made his way to the study. Surely there was some book as yet unread; something to settle his mind and lull him back to sleep. The shelves were all too familiar, though, and his wandering fingers and eyes produced little of value for his purposes.

In the midst of his hunt, the distant sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the house. Eyebrows raised, Alistair left the study to peer down the stairwell to the main hallway below. The sight of Xiao gave him more relief than it probably should've, but he saw no reason to hide it. Hurrying down the stairs, mindful of the servants still sleeping, he cleared his throat and raised eyebrows in askance. "And what's this, then? Out until all hours, coming home looking like that. Tch, what will the neighbors think?" The gentle mocking in his voice aside, he really did wonder where the other man had been.

With his arms crossed over his broad chest, half disappearing into the dark with the rich blue of his dressing gown, catching the other coming in at something close to three in the morning, Alistair really was channeling his father's attitude more than he remotely realized.

Xiao’s cravat was still in his pocket.

It would not be the latest he had ever made it back to the Argyll residence, but surely it would be close. He did not want to worry Alistair, not anymore than he already probably did, perpetually so he took his time to tie it as he nudged the door open with his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any straying maids that had bothered to stay up in the early hours of the morn. It had been an adjustment for certain, to find himself among the people that haunted the halls. Xiao supposed he could not hold it against them, or against Alistair, and he wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of having someone to steep a bath for you, but it was still strangely foreign to him. The language was probably an aspect, but Xiao would not be foolish enough to attribute all of his problems to something as simple as a language barrier.

And so it had been silent for a couple moments as he briefly considered the possibility that he would make it to his room uninterrupted. Of course, fate would never be so kind, and Xiao had already been awake for too long to even be considered remotely subtle. Coupled with the events of earlier in the night, Xiao should have expected the sight of Alistair with his arms crossed. Xiao cleared his throat, he was not entirely certain how embarrassed he should be. He was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions, but admittedly some of them had been quite foolish and he was sneaking back into his room as if he was fifteen again. He made an effort to flatten his hair. “The neighbours should be fast asleep by now, or they are as bad as I am,” Xiao shrugged, straightening his coat and trying to gauge how indecent he looked. Xiao liked to think he was capable of putting himself back together, and after all they had experienced, he felt Alistair would think the same.

That also meant he probably put everything together. At least Xiao had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. “And what has your bed empty? I hope you were not waiting up for me,” Alistair was in his night clothes, so there was little chance of that being the case, but Xiao found he couldn’t help but ask anyway. He breathed out, shoulders sagging as if the cord that was pulling them up straight had been cut loose. Xiao eyed the man who was in name, his employer. “To bed, shall we? Or at least to someone’s room,” He sent Alistair a small smile, “I have not slept in long enough that my eyes feel as if they will fall closed at any moment.”

It had not been Alistair's intention to cause his friend discomfort, or harangue him for whatever it was that had kept him out until this ungodly hour. It was hardly as though the duke was some blushing virgin, innocent of ever having done similar. Besides, Xiao had been lost these past weeks, it seemed to Alistair. So long as his diversions were not anything overly unhealthy, he could not dream of begrudging the fellow his diversions.

But he did not look much like a young man coming in from a lover's amorous embrace, or a run of luck at a card parlor. He did, indeed, look tired even in his disheveled state. It was the beaten-down kind of exhaustion, too; were there any signs of a physical altercation, Alistair would've been worried that the man had been accosted during his night out.

"It held only me, until recently," he answered with a click of his teeth, though he was grinning. There were very few that he trusted or desired enough to bring to bed in his own home – as depressing the thought was. The servants here were mostly those whom he had known since boyhood, and the idea of bringing a tawdry guest in under Mr. Keane's elderly and judgmental gaze turned the duke's stomach. It had been terrible enough to bring Xiao home, and so far their intimacy had been kept rather quiet, at least as far as Alistair knew.

Taking the few steps to close the distance between them, he threw a friendly arm over Xiao's tired shoulders, pulling him up towards the stairs, and their rooms above. "I couldn't sleep," Alistair admitted as they made their way up the steps; he tried to put a cheery note in his quiet voice, but it was hard to make it seem a good thing, really. "I didn't realize you were still gone until I went to join you and found you missing." Curiosity burned at him, and likely the question of it could be heard in his voice, but he wouldn't push the man tonight. Not when he was quite so exhausted.

"Come to bed with me," he asked more than demanded, accompanying it with a slight shake of the other man's shoulders; a hopeful recommendation, even as his own mind shied from the idea of spending the last few hours of the night alone. "You can tell me of the evening's excitements tomorrow over breakfast." And, belatedly, smelling dried sweat upon Xiao's skin, he added dryly, "And a bath, I think. I would draw one for you tonight, if I thought you'd stay awake for it."

Xiao could not help the effect that Argyll House had on him. Most of London, Xiao found, was only palatable in small doses, but Alistair was an unlikely companion, one that Xiao discovered he was rather fond of, and he supposed that the sentiment extended to the man’s property. Not worth looking into, not right now when his brain felt as if it was full of cotton. It was nice though, to have a shoulder to lean on. Xiao tucked his chin into his collar, quite a valuable asset, especially after nights like tonight.

Dark blue eyes flickered through his mind, he wondered what Alistair would think of the surgeon, but once again decided he should perhaps attempt to discuss the subject when his thoughts were more grammatically correct and notably not in Mandarin.

“Pity,” he clucked his tongue, but Xiao decided they both knew he didn’t mean it. Certainly the Duke was endlessly charming, Xiao suspected he would not be here if Alistair wasn’t, but he wasn’t the sort to fill his sheets with the endless slew of bodies no doubt accessible to him. Though, Xiao knew better than to think Alistair required something so limiting as a bed to find himself in the company of another. Still, it was all too easy to tip his head back into the other man’s shoulder as they traversed the empty halls, still foreign to Xiao, but familiar enough he did not stub his toe on the stairs or fumble over the expensive carpets decorating the floors. “I am rather exhausted, so here’s to balancing each other out,” Xiao mumbled, dark eyes searching for blue in the late hours of the night. As opposed to Alistair’s sleepwear, Xiao hadn’t even shedded his jacket. He would, eventually, but Xiao was a little fond of the weight on his shoulders, at least until he could replace it with something else. “Well, you’ll find I am no longer missing.” And, Xiao found, not quite dissuaded from company. Xiao had known all his life that he was not particularly interested in being alone, and while he didn’t often show it, finding someone of the same ilk was a comfort to him, more than he would ever admit.

Xiao smiled, stifling a yawn. “That sounds lovely,” and then he paused, nose wrinkling as he recalled the night’s events. Did he smell? He couldn’t be certain, Xiao was one to keep himself properly manicured, but also, it had been quite the evening, one that left a bittersweet aftertaste in his mouth as different faces flickered into his mind, but eventful nonetheless. “A bath does sound pleasant, but I’m afraid you are correct, I’d fall asleep in the tub.” He sighed, hoping he did not reek too terribly and the stairs creaked almost imperceptibly under their weight. Eventually, the steps evened out into the long hallway and Xiao became less concerned with tripping over the edge of the floor. “My nightclothes are in my room, Alistair.” Xiao mumbled, trying to keep the sleep from his voice. “Permit me a moment to fetch them, and I’ll join you,” though he found he dragged his feet as he left. He wondered if it was as obvious, the way he urged himself to fill the silence with companionship, compared to the Duke’s subtle restlessness that made Xiao feel as if he was not completely insane for acting the way he did.

Xiao hoped that was far from the case, he was uncertain how vulnerable he wanted to be, especially tonight.

The comforting weight of a body tucked into his already chased away some of the unease from earlier. Xiao was returned home, in one piece, unharmed, none the worse save for his exhaustion it seemed. There had been no true cause to worry, and now Alistair would be able to sleep better with a body beside him.

In spite of all these reassurances, there was still an unease that would not be truly forgotten until he was able to tease the truth of the night from Xiao's lips. It would certainly have to wait until tomorrow, though; even if Xiao had been less exhausted, the duke's own body was informing him of how many nights he'd spent doing... Well, anything but sleep, lately. The accounts for the duchy were looking much improved for his diligence, but one could not say the same for the dark circles accruing under his eyes.

"Mm, yes. A pity that you were not here to take advantage of it." It was far less a tawdry tease and far more a faux disappointing judgment. Alistair would never truly begrudge Xiao his free time, and if he'd been feeling particularly amorous that night there were plenty of alternatives that would've fed his appetite just as well. (Though perhaps not as readily, completely, or discreetly.)

There was no need to belabor the point, though, and Alistair did not want to give Xiao the incorrect impression – he truly did want to sleep, and he did not want to have the other feel pressured to perform after whatever kind of night he'd had. So instead he squeezed the other man's shoulder and nodded along to the replies to the matter of a bath and the next morning. He was more reluctant to leave the other to his own devices to change, but there was nothing for it. Xiao was a grown man, who hardly needed help undressing and slipping into his sleeping clothes.

"If you take too long, I'll simply be forced to come and retrieve you," he warned, fully intending to do exactly that if necessary. Xiao was not an unfamiliar weight in his arms, after all. But he did retreat to his own room, taking advantage of the time to refill the hot water bottle from the foot of his bed and return it. The weather was not quite the harshness of true winter yet, and Xiao's body under the blankets would help warm him, but one sensation that he had never become accustomed to even for all of his travels was that of cold feet.

Xiao made a noise in his throat. “Next time,” he said loftily. It was an interesting routine they had settled into, one that Xiao found he did not want to examine too thoroughly. There was a comfort found in Alistair’s embrace, in the safety of his manor, but it was far from permanent, far from ideal, so Xiao took what he could, and would continue to take until Alistair was no longer an option. A rather pitiful arrangement, but then again, thorough introspection was hardly what Xiao was known for. So he drew his lips up into a slight grin, eyes creasing at the corners.

“I won’t stray,” Xiao drawled as he departed to his own room, though that was perhaps one of his most prolific traits. Still, true to his word, Xiao wasted hardly any time in removing the clothes sullied by his time on London’s streets. He fumbled with the buttons, as usual, but that shirt in particular had been unbuttoned and done up more times today than should be considered proper, so he found he could not lament too much as he unfastened them. Certainly, Xiao was not prone to dwelling, but it seemed almost too easy as he shrugged off his shirt and donned his nightclothes. In truth, he worried for the surgeon, for what became of Mister Blake. Xiao knew of the dangers of that sort of consorting, knew the blond had more to risk in London than Xiao ever could, so anxiety pulled at his mind and festered uselessly under his eyelids. It was what kept Xiao’s heartbeat unsteady, he assumed, and no matter what sort of distractions he sought, the worry lingered. Still, Xiao was the resilient sort, and found he had been able to outrun much more devastating circumstances, so he wasn’t opposed to another attempt, or at least to use the company of another to satiate his dreadful thoughts.

He dropped his day clothes onto the bed, figuring that it would not be of much use for tonight.

Xiao could not properly estimate how much time had passed before he arrived at Alistair’s room, but he suspected he had been sufficiently quick as he slipped into the Duke’s room with the sort of ease one could muster after enough repetitions. He stifled a yawn as his eyes sought the other man’s in the dark, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to suppress it. “I pray that sleep comes easier to you, Alistair,” now that I am here. Xiao thought, recalling times when it was rather obvious Alistair had spent nights uncomfortably restless. He wasn’t one to judge, sleep was too scarce a commodity nowadays, so all he could wish for the Duke was a comfortable sleep, at least for the remaining hours. Xiao could hear his heart in his ears as he found space in his companion’s bed. Xiao could probably comfort himself with dozens of little escapisms. It was cold enough that Xiao naturally sought some external warmth, and Alistair was a sea-faring fellow, one that had little compunctions surrounding these sorts of things, but he was not that removed. Ignoring everything else they had done, Xiao had to admit he was fond of the duke, of spending nights in his arms.

Something Xiao would push from the spotlight of his mind, along with visions of dark blue of the man who had disappeared into the night.

Xiao had dreamed of Mister Blake when they had first parted ways, he wondered if he would dream of the man again.

There was probably some sort of terribly inconvenient unspoken rule surrounding dreaming of one man in another's arms, but Xiao was nothing if not a slight against English decorum, and it was not as if they were the most typical pairing anyways.

How often had he wondered about the true nature of their relationship? Alistair was many things, but he wasn't blind; wasn't a fool. Xiao had come with him back to Britain because it had benefited him. Had his family situation been stable, had he been the rising star of his family, he would have stayed in China. He would have married some pretty young woman that gave his family some kind of boon or advantage, and have long since forgotten the brash Scotsman that had visited his country.

Instead he was here, in London. Far from his family, far from any acceptable marriage prospects, likely hiding from his brother's machinations.

It didn't offend Alistair, to be used in such a fashion. That was the nature of humanity, it seemed, and it was hardly as though he didn't also benefit from their friendship. He had so few friends; even those that were conditional, like Xiao, were something to be treasured even as imperfect as they were. While it seemed like the other didn't agree with that sentiment, the duke wouldn't hold it against him. So long as he was safe, and as happy as he could be, Alistair would be content.

... At least, that was what he told himself. It did not stop those thoughts from circling in his mind as he readied the bed anew, and it did not stop worry from creeping into his mind even as he greeted the prodigal house guest with a smile and lifted covers. "It always does when I'm not alone." More than he'd admit to most; not as much of an admission as he could make. He was fond of Xiao, though he held not false beliefs about how far that fondness went, or how one-sided it might be.

Still, he slept better with a known friend than a stranger. He knew that he was safe to wrap a strong arm around the other's waist, pulling him close, his back against Alistair's broad chest. "Sleep well, Xiao." It was murmured tiredly into the soft hair at the nape of the other man's neck, Scottish burr with the fatigue settling in. It was safe enough, even if they should sleep later than normal; the staff knew not to bother Alistair unless he slept in ridiculously late, and they would never attend to Xiao's room until the afternoon hours at the soonest.

His final thought as he drifted towards sleep – something that came so much more readily now that Xiao was in his bed that it bordered on laughable – was to wonder at the faintest scent of rosemary on the other man's skin.

It had always been difficult to get through the night uninterrupted. Xiao had always been a light sleeper, kept up by the constant noise his household provided. In spite of most impressions, he found he was also incredibly prone to overthinking. It was easy to waste away a night with pointless drivel while he reenacted useless conversations behind his eyelids. It was even easier to startle one’s self awake after a terrible vision or several, the sort that followed its subject around even after Xiao had managed to rouse himself from sleep’s ever changing grip.

He had found remedies, over the years, medicine and medical treatments that were about as effective as Xiao was un-fond of them, or distractions that all ended with them being more fond of Xiao than he ever was of them, but they were easier to acquire and he felt less dead in the morning.

All in all, Xiao preferred a warm body to anything else, someone familiar enough with reality that they were content with being just that, so the rather atypical routine worked out with Alistair was probably more appreciated than the Duke would ever know, than Xiao would ever let him know. He had never approached the man’s room first, not willing to initiate anything more than he already had, because Xiao knew that someday he was bound to push too far, and then it would all be over, like a rug pulled out from under his feet.

So it may have been the fact that there was not a lot of night left, or that he was already exhausted before slipping into Alistair’s bed, but Xiao knew better than to assume that he would have drifted off any easier without the sailor’s weight pressed against his back. “You as well,” came Xiao’s last words before the night took him, barely whispered and trailing off at the end as his eyes shut tight.

It was later than Xiao would have liked when his eyelids pried themselves open, sunlight cluing Xiao into the hour in which he rose. His head was curled into his chest, no doubt his hair would be going every which way, but Alistair’s arms were still hugging him into the other man and Xiao found he was in no hurry to leave. This was his life now, a life with very simple responsibilities, with no one to really look after save for himself.

It was bittersweet, all things considered, and Xiao’s opinion on the matter varied from day to day. Today, it was sweet enough to startle a content rumble from somewhere in his chest. He turned over and the light made him squint in distaste, some secretary he was.

“Alistair?” Xiao swallowed, urging the sleep from his voice. “I believe it would be best for us to face the day, now.” Or at least, what was left of it, the sun behaved weirdly this late in the year. He sat up, resting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Xiao supposed that he wouldn’t mind sleeping a little longer, if it came to that.

He wrinkled his nose, ignoring the strange pull inside his chest.

Even before his travels, Alistair hadn't been one to sleep for half the day. He would read until his eyes grew heavy, or once he got older and his interests shifted somewhat, he would stay up to drink and carouse, but ever would he wake not long after the sun rose. Or, during the depths of winter, even before it rose.

When he heard his name, he was immediately pulled to wakefulness, long habit prompting him to startle slightly before sitting up to take stock of the situation. Squinting against the light, he scrubbed his face and made a noise of rather obvious dissatisfaction. "What time is it?" The fact that light poured through the windows alone betrayed that it was far too late in the day, and it was primarily that fact which prompted him to abandon the warm weight of Xiao's body against his own and scoot over to sit on the edge of the bed.

A thin needle of panic pressed through his skin as he saw the time on the clock on his bedside table, and Alistair quickly scanned the room for the most remote sign that the staff had entered it while they still slept. He thought that he would have heard them, but he also would've thought that his body's natural inclinations and habits would have woken him up before they had lost the entire morning to sleep.

Nothing obvious was out of place, but even still Alistair resigned himself to the possibility of them having been discovered. While they had not been doing anything too untoward – they were both dressed, and there genuinely had been nothing intimate between them last night – he was well aware of how they had slept, and how they had woken up, and the embrace was not what one would expect two fraternal companions to engage in while sharing a bed.

It was a problem for later, though, he decided through the fog of oversleeping. "I'll have missed my meeting with the accountant," he sighed, then shook his head. Instead he looked to his bed companion, fixing Xiao with a wry smile. "I suppose that means my schedule is now quite open. Shall we ring up some breakfast, and have a bath drawn?" Remembering the state of Xiao last night, Alistair's nose wrinkled slightly and he asked in a rather dry voice, "Or should the bath be first, Mr. Walker?"

Xiao was also of the opinion that he was a light sleeper. It was never quiet, growing up, and Xiao learned rather early he needed to be as alert as often as possible. Still, his hours spent out had taken their toll, had him lulled into unconsciousness easier than it took for him usually. Though, Xiao thought he would have heard someone entering Alistair’s room, they had remained undisturbed until this late in the day, surely they would have woken up at being intruded on.

Not that it was intruding, Xiao reasoned with himself, stubbornly, if he wanted to be caught and strung up for sodomy, Xiao at least wished to have actually done something worth getting strung up for. A risky thought, but one Xiao found he didn’t disagree with past its initial shock. He sighed, running a hand through his hair in an effort to flatten it down, London was really doing terrible things to his morality, or at least, to his capabilities involving his impulse control. Not that, Xiao admitted to himself, he had much to begin with. His family had been most of it, and without anything to tether himself to, Xiao found he was more prone to recklessness than a proper, filial son should be. Dark eyes drifted towards Alistair with thinly-veiled examination, he supposed that the Duke was the closest thing he had here, to anything even remotely familiar.

The thought hit him with an unexpected weight, one that Xiao quickly shrugged off as he pulled himself from the man’s bed, answering Alistair’s smile with one of his own. “I’d hate to be a nuisance.” Xiao hummed, straightening his nightclothes as he leaned against the bed, resisting the urge to narrow his eyes in the bright of the sun’s light. He was fond of the beaming through the windows, just perhaps, not so immediately after being pulled from a sleep more pleasant than he was accustomed to. He wrinkled his nose in turn. “I assume there is an option you are leaning towards, Your Grace.” He drawled, playing with the cuffs of his sleeves as he stepped closer. Xiao was not small, not for a man, not for a lot of people, but he still found that it was necessary for him to tip his chin back to meet the other man’s eyes, blue, dark and enthralling in a way Xiao really did not want to think about this early in the day.

Though, he supposed, it was not too early anymore.

His lips twitched and Xiao put his arms above his head, stretching as he tried to get his body to listen to his mind in ways of agility. “A bath then, Alistair. And then perhaps a cup of coffee strong enough to wake the residents of Highgate.” He resisted the urge to tease the other man about scones, for as bland as they were (and by Xiao’s palate, that was to say, incredibly so), he found that they did not upset his stomach as much as some of the other, stranger, English dishes that he had been introduced to. So he had grown strangely fond of the flour bricks the British loved so dearly.

For as long as he has lived in the manor, his steps still contained a good deal of uncertainty. He fiddled with the buttons of his nightshirt, pulling at the collar as he came to stand beside the Duke. There was a great deal of impermanence in his current situation, Xiao knew, but he decided that he would rather focus on the warmth that licked away at his ribcage in the other man’s company, at least Xiao could enjoy his company, for as long as it managed to last.