About time, dudes (Thomas/Spectre)

[in-spectre-mors.livejournal.com]

Spectre had been staying at Deirdre’s since having a fight with Thomas that had ended badly. Both of them being interrupted by their son James who had overheard much of the fight. Spectre had told himself he was giving Thomas time, but the truth was that he didn’t want to speak to Thomas. He was avoiding it with all his might, as he was sure that the second he finally confronted his husband again, their marriage would be over. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

There came a time, however, when it couldn’t be avoided any more. Spectre hated being away from Katya and James, and the looks Stephie gave him were not helpful while he stayed at Victoria Lane. He needed clothes and in the end, he missed his husband. It seemed as if not talking had gotten them into this mess to begin with. Perhaps it was time to clean up, no matter what the outcome.

He let himself into the house to find Thomas stretched out on the sofa, one leg hanging off it, his arms flung haphazardly across his body. He was wearing nothing but boxer briefs. Oh he did have to make this difficult, didn’t he? Spectre actually found that slightly adorable and he smiled lopsidedly before edging into the living room slowly, wondering if Thomas would awaken without him needing to make any noise.

Thomas stirred, and Spectre raised his eyebrows. “Psst. Thomas,” he whispered, and then Thomas’ eyes snapped open, a momentary look of terror on his face, Spectre both jumped a little from shock, and he felt a pang of guilt for whatever fear his husband had felt then, even if only for a second. “Sorry.”

Thomas blinked wearily at Spectre and then he sat slowly, folding his long legs underneath him, leaving the rest of the sofa vacant.

Spectre made no move to join him there. Thomas made no effort to say anything.

“Hi...”

Thomas arched his eyebrows, his expression clearly showing he was too tired to deal with this right now. “Kids are with Mums.”

“Ah.” Spectre shuffled his feet. “Thomas-“

“You hungry?” Thomas lifted himself off the sofa, teetered a little, and then he headed into the kitchen with Spectre following behind timidly. It was easier for Thomas to focus on smaller things than on anything big, Spectre assumed.

“No, I- I’ve been staying with Deirdre. She’s been doing her best to make sure I don’t fit into my leather trousers any more.”

Thomas halted his progress, a jar of jam in one hand. He put it on the kitchen bench with a sigh and then he turned around to face Spectre, rubbing his eyes. “Right.”

It was now or never. So with his stomach twisting in fear, Spectre made the effort to speak to his husband he should have made months ago. “Thomas, I’m sorry I stayed away for a while. I was afraid.”

Immediately, Thomas looked up to meet Spectre’s eyes. There was sorrow there. Sorrow and guilt and something else Spectre couldn’t quite place. “Afraid? Of me?”

“What? No! No, not- I was afraid that you- “ Spectre shook his head, biting down hard on his cheek. “I was afraid you didn’t want me any more because of the things I said.”

Lifting his body up onto the kitchen bench, Thomas sat there, watching Spectre in a way that made Spectre feel slightly worried. He wasn’t saying anything. Was that a bad sign?

“Thomas?”

“The things you said were horrible, but I wasn’t exactly a peach,” Thomas admitted, though it didn’t sound like an apology. “Katya heard. She thought she had to go back to Russia. She decided to run away to grandma’s house with James. I calmed them down.”

Spectre thought his heart might break and he put his hand over his chest, surprised at the force of the pain. “Oh, Katya...”

“Look,” Thomas said, lifting his hand into the air. He sounded like he was taking charge and Spectre was partially relieved for that. Though if Thomas was about to kick him out of the house, he wouldn’t be surprised. He might even deserve it. “You and I went into this relationship when things were different. We were both different. I was dead for a start.”

Spectre smiled a little, shyly. “You were very charming for a corpse.” Maybe if he was cute, Thomas wouldn't end things. What he had said certainly sounded like it could be an ending.

“Everybody says so,” Thomas replied and then, finally, the cracked the faintest hint of a smile. That tiny expression caused something to release in Spectre. A pressure that had been on his chest for so long he hardly noticed it any more just lifted. This was going to be okay, though he had absolutely no delusions that it would be easy.

“The rules of our relationship were different. I was only here part time. I was something special and different and every time I was here, we took as much time for each other as we could. I think...we got used to that. We got used to having time for ourselves and being able to do things without thinking about someone else. And when we were together, that time was just for us and that's not how things normally work. That was our relationship for so long...even when we got married, those were the terms... We never learned how to do the real relationship thing. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Pretty much constantly, actually.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” Spectre admitted.

“We have to figure out how to do this now. This isn’t having time to do our own thing and then spending a few weeks with just each other, only to go back to our own thing again. We have to figure out how to co-exist all the time. I mean...if you still want to.”

“Of course I do!” Spectre said so quickly, completely foregoing his usually composed and proper self. He stumbled forward, feeling out of control and gangly. He was sure his legs were suddenly two feet longer, only terribly uneven. When he reached Thomas, his husband slid off the kitchen bench and then Thomas’ strong arms were around him. Those arms always made him feel so safe.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Thomas finally apologised. “I’m sorry I kind of suck at this.”

“Me too!” Spectre gushed, still feeling uncontrollable. “I’m sorry you felt abandoned, Thomas! I never meant for you to feel like that. I didn’t think to ask, and I’m really sorry for that.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t just say something,” Thomas said back. “We have a lot of stuff to work through. But...Adrian, will you come home?”

Spectre nodded quickly, leaning his head against Thomas’ chest. “You know...the boxer briefs weren’t terribly fair.”

Thomas chuckled, and Spectre realised it had been far too long since he had heard his husband’s laugh. It was such a joyful, sweet sound. How had he managed so long without hearing it? “I wasn’t actually expecting company,” Thomas replied. “Mums took the kids and I basically passed out. They’ve been sleeping in my bed, which is sweet and everything, but James is fond of ball-kicking while he’s asleep. Doesn’t make for very restful nights.”
Spectre grimaced and he leaned up to kiss Thomas’ chin. “If you want me to come home, do you want me to...should I sleep in the bedroom with you?”

Thomas kissed his hair, and Spectre smiled to himself. “It’s your bedroom too, babe. Of course I want you there.”

Spectre was pretty sure all that would be happening in the bedroom for a while was sleeping, or perhaps talking, but he was okay with that. It was better than the silence that had been eating him alive for weeks.