[Arthur doesn't know why he's nervous. There's always the normal reasons--like all the complications, for example. Dating humans can't ever last more than oh, five or more years, whether or not they know who--what--he is. So much time spent with a nation takes its toll on them; they begin to age more slowly, and then depending on exposure, they lose their sense of time and their minds start to degrade....
He snaps himself out of that utterly depressing train of thought. He's enjoyed himself and Q makes for excellent company, and there's absolutely no good reason why he ought to spoil his own mood with matters that are both irrelevant in the current moment and inevitable in the far future.
Casual dating is definitely not on the list of things to avoid. As for jumping right into the sack? He's not drunk enough to not pretend that's what he's hoping for. The lad's got such a brilliant mind and wonderful looks and great taste in cardigans. How can Arthur possibly resist?
When Q speaks up, Arthur peeks over his mug of tea and tries not to smile. His cheeks go a little pink, though.]
So did I. Don't think either of us have enough interruptions from work.
[...Idiot. Say something else!!] Er, you know. We should. Do this more often. I like it.
[ He's somehow ... cute despite it all. It's odd. Q feels this man is somehow well beyond his looks. There's a certain age about him that one can't place with any evidence. No wrinkles, not really. No grey hair. But...
Q offers a small smile in return, not realizing just how bashful it looks. He moves in closer. He could always use it as an excuse. Just a quick kiss if he's not feeling it in return. Surely, though, he can't be imagining it this much. ]
I certainly wouldn't mind being interrupted more often.
[ The words are as smooth as his posture is stiff. Both relaxed and awkward all at once. It's not like he's never kissed anyone before - or never kissed Arthur before. ]
[Arthur's actually smiling a little now, and he can't help it.] If I were to interrupt you though, I wouldn't want to be rude.
[The tone in Arthur's voice suggests that the word 'interrupt' should be changed out for something else.
Of course he notices the posture and movement, so he remains relaxed, even shifts toward Q just slightly. Arthur's leaning is subtle, casual, in contrast with the rest of him; reserved, always a tad guarded.]
[ An eyebrow raises and his small smile changes to something of a smirk. Really? He will throw himself at you if it's absolutely necessary. ... But he doesn't want to make a fool of himself either.
Here. Allow him to make the message far more clear. Q leans close enough to press a tentative but well meaning kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. Enough to show some intent without diving in head first. It's an odd feeling to kiss him. He's been in love before. This isn't quite that. Not yet. But there's a very strong feeling of closeness he can't explain. They haven't known each other that long. ]
[Arthur can feel that odd magnetism. He's felt it much, much more since the Olympics and the Jubilee, when the Union flags were left out afterward and Britons cheered for their united countries with a bit less guilt than before. Here, so physically close to someone, it's like a flame to a very old, very lonely old moth--except the contact of a kiss was obviously much more pleasurable than a burn.
His heart swells and he holds himself together. He finds Q's expressions endearing and his wit irresistible. The most embarrassing thoughts about him haven't been the dirtiest ones. They were the thoughts that had Arthur making him tea the morning afterward, and of limbs tangling in sheets when neither of them wanted to leave the comfort of the other's arms and bed.]
If you want to write it with your mouth... [Arthur trails off and takes the small risk of pressing their mouths together so they can linger gingerly in contact.]
[ Hm. They do say great minds think alike. Funny that they've managed to entertain the idea of being comfortable. At this very moment, however, his mind is on the much less innocent thoughts.
The kiss is returned, neither wild nor daring. But it is passionate. And it's not broken without intent magnifying every moment. ]
Or tongue?
[ On your skin. He'll let that one be implied. They have to leave something up to mystery.
Now, this kiss. This kiss. This one is much more clear, deepening quickly and sending out a still subtle but clear invitation. Don't make him beg. He will. ]
[Freckles on Arthur's cheeks pop up with his blushing. He's close to losing the self control of propriety and just diving headlong into things. So unbearably close. His ancient heart feels like it's tripping over itself with barely restrained excitement.
Arthur's reply is to hold the kiss and cup Q's face in both his hands, easing himself close enough that they can feel the other's body heat. That Arthur's holding back even now implies there's more meaning to Q's companionship than meetings and kisses and stray hands. Arthur would like to do this the right way and express his fondness for the other man in the hopes that his feelings are also abundantly clear.]
[ Q's notorious control is just as quickly vanishing. Especially for someone that's not a quick fuck, he doesn't want to be this way. He doesn't like to give himself so quickly. It's foolish.
And yet. There he is. His hand resting just above Arthur's knee as the kiss deepens. They can talk about it later when they've fucked away the physical need. Or they can prove it by attaining non-sexual intimacy in the morning. Whatever. He's only half thinking with his upper brain and it should bother him much more than it does.
[One hand of Arthur's strays south, just to spread its fingers over Q's chest and sit there lightly. His kisses are slow but insistent, growing more impatient as the seconds pass. Use of his tongue is fleeting for now. It simply flicks across Q's mouth before Arthur reluctantly draws back. His eyes are lidded but clear and sharp.
Arthur hasn't taken his hand from Q's cheek yet, nor the one that rests over his heart through that hilariously cozy cardigan. He hopes his timing is correct, and not some mistake that'll ruin the entire evening.]
I'd--I think we ought to retire upstairs, if you like. [He certainly wouldn't take offense if he was turned down, nor would he insist if the answer was no.] We could compare penmanship. [With their tongues.]
[ His eyes go wide, almost boyish. The kissing has to stop already?
Oh thank God. Q feels himself release a breath he didn't know he was holding. He nods once as the kiss breaks, grinning softly but brighter than any he's shown tonight. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ His eyes can't quite make contact with Arthur's as his hand pushes up his leg. ] I have been wanting to compare notes ... since the first date, really.
[ No sense in lying to the man. Q finally pulls away enough so they can make it to the bedroom. Arthur suggested it, so that's probably his comfort zone when it comes to -- well, bedroom matters. ]
[Arthur would be blushing more if his blood wasn't heading south. As it is, he's been rosy-cheeked for the last several minutes. He laughs softly, wishing in vain that Q's hand would be more adventurous before they went upstairs.
He rises too and drains his tea, then lightly laces their fingers together.] Speaking of notes, we'll be writing sheet music very soon I hope--[on their way up, he snorts]
--God, I'm sorry, that was awful.
[Arthur's house is very cluttered and cozy. It's full of photographs, bookshelves, knick-knacks and other odds and ends, all obviously with their own place--but there's so many things, it's obvious he's been living in this house for a very long time. The upstairs hall is lined with more exotic fare from Victoria's reign; like very, very old framed photos of Arthur in various events and places. There's even one of him in Egypt! In shorts and long socks next to a disgruntled camel on an excavation site. It's a house of nostalgia. He doesn't really have to say it out loud for an observant person to know he misses the glory days of the Empire.
At least his room is less cluttered and much tidier, and far more modern.]
[ Q manages a chuckle of his own. It helps that they're properly holding hands. Had they really done that before now? Q can't really seem to remember. Well, he himself has always had a small aversion to PDA. ]
Could have been worse. ... Barely.
[ The knick-knacks and memorabilia are not missed. But, Q is focused just enough on what they're doing to miss that every single person in the photographs and portraits is the same man holding his hand and leading him to the bedroom. ]
You're very worldly.
[ It's a mild compliment but one he does mean. One day, he hopes to hear a few of those stories. Of course, he doesn't realize that having attended any form of school or - you know living there - he already knows them.
More than anything, he's thankful he won't have to climb over some stuffed tiger to crawl into bed with him. Q feels much more comfortable now that they are in the privacy and sanctuary of a bedroom. It feels more final in what they're going to do. He lets go of Arthur's hand only to wrap it around his waist and kiss him on the jaw. ]
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no subject
He snaps himself out of that utterly depressing train of thought. He's enjoyed himself and Q makes for excellent company, and there's absolutely no good reason why he ought to spoil his own mood with matters that are both irrelevant in the current moment and inevitable in the far future.
Casual dating is definitely not on the list of things to avoid. As for jumping right into the sack? He's not drunk enough to not pretend that's what he's hoping for. The lad's got such a brilliant mind and wonderful looks and great taste in cardigans. How can Arthur possibly resist?
When Q speaks up, Arthur peeks over his mug of tea and tries not to smile. His cheeks go a little pink, though.]
So did I. Don't think either of us have enough interruptions from work.
[...Idiot. Say something else!!] Er, you know. We should. Do this more often. I like it.
[...quite passionate, aren't we Arthur?]
no subject
Q offers a small smile in return, not realizing just how bashful it looks. He moves in closer. He could always use it as an excuse. Just a quick kiss if he's not feeling it in return. Surely, though, he can't be imagining it this much. ]
I certainly wouldn't mind being interrupted more often.
[ The words are as smooth as his posture is stiff. Both relaxed and awkward all at once. It's not like he's never kissed anyone before - or never kissed Arthur before. ]
no subject
[The tone in Arthur's voice suggests that the word 'interrupt' should be changed out for something else.
Of course he notices the posture and movement, so he remains relaxed, even shifts toward Q just slightly. Arthur's leaning is subtle, casual, in contrast with the rest of him; reserved, always a tad guarded.]
no subject
[ An eyebrow raises and his small smile changes to something of a smirk. Really? He will throw himself at you if it's absolutely necessary. ... But he doesn't want to make a fool of himself either.
Here. Allow him to make the message far more clear. Q leans close enough to press a tentative but well meaning kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. Enough to show some intent without diving in head first. It's an odd feeling to kiss him. He's been in love before. This isn't quite that. Not yet. But there's a very strong feeling of closeness he can't explain. They haven't known each other that long. ]
no subject
His heart swells and he holds himself together. He finds Q's expressions endearing and his wit irresistible. The most embarrassing thoughts about him haven't been the dirtiest ones. They were the thoughts that had Arthur making him tea the morning afterward, and of limbs tangling in sheets when neither of them wanted to leave the comfort of the other's arms and bed.]
If you want to write it with your mouth... [Arthur trails off and takes the small risk of pressing their mouths together so they can linger gingerly in contact.]
no subject
The kiss is returned, neither wild nor daring. But it is passionate. And it's not broken without intent magnifying every moment. ]
Or tongue?
[ On your skin. He'll let that one be implied. They have to leave something up to mystery.
Now, this kiss. This kiss. This one is much more clear, deepening quickly and sending out a still subtle but clear invitation. Don't make him beg. He will. ]
no subject
Arthur's reply is to hold the kiss and cup Q's face in both his hands, easing himself close enough that they can feel the other's body heat. That Arthur's holding back even now implies there's more meaning to Q's companionship than meetings and kisses and stray hands. Arthur would like to do this the right way and express his fondness for the other man in the hopes that his feelings are also abundantly clear.]
no subject
And yet. There he is. His hand resting just above Arthur's knee as the kiss deepens. They can talk about it later when they've fucked away the physical need. Or they can prove it by attaining non-sexual intimacy in the morning. Whatever. He's only half thinking with his upper brain and it should bother him much more than it does.
It helps that Arthur is damn good at kissing. ]
no subject
Arthur hasn't taken his hand from Q's cheek yet, nor the one that rests over his heart through that hilariously cozy cardigan. He hopes his timing is correct, and not some mistake that'll ruin the entire evening.]
I'd--I think we ought to retire upstairs, if you like. [He certainly wouldn't take offense if he was turned down, nor would he insist if the answer was no.] We could compare penmanship. [With their tongues.]
no subject
Oh thank God. Q feels himself release a breath he didn't know he was holding. He nods once as the kiss breaks, grinning softly but brighter than any he's shown tonight. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ His eyes can't quite make contact with Arthur's as his hand pushes up his leg. ] I have been wanting to compare notes ... since the first date, really.
[ No sense in lying to the man. Q finally pulls away enough so they can make it to the bedroom. Arthur suggested it, so that's probably his comfort zone when it comes to -- well, bedroom matters. ]
no subject
He rises too and drains his tea, then lightly laces their fingers together.] Speaking of notes, we'll be writing sheet music very soon I hope--[on their way up, he snorts]
--God, I'm sorry, that was awful.
[Arthur's house is very cluttered and cozy. It's full of photographs, bookshelves, knick-knacks and other odds and ends, all obviously with their own place--but there's so many things, it's obvious he's been living in this house for a very long time. The upstairs hall is lined with more exotic fare from Victoria's reign; like very, very old framed photos of Arthur in various events and places. There's even one of him in Egypt! In shorts and long socks next to a disgruntled camel on an excavation site. It's a house of nostalgia. He doesn't really have to say it out loud for an observant person to know he misses the glory days of the Empire.
At least his room is less cluttered and much tidier, and far more modern.]
no subject
Could have been worse. ... Barely.
[ The knick-knacks and memorabilia are not missed. But, Q is focused just enough on what they're doing to miss that every single person in the photographs and portraits is the same man holding his hand and leading him to the bedroom. ]
You're very worldly.
[ It's a mild compliment but one he does mean. One day, he hopes to hear a few of those stories. Of course, he doesn't realize that having attended any form of school or - you know living there - he already knows them.
More than anything, he's thankful he won't have to climb over some stuffed tiger to crawl into bed with him. Q feels much more comfortable now that they are in the privacy and sanctuary of a bedroom. It feels more final in what they're going to do. He lets go of Arthur's hand only to wrap it around his waist and kiss him on the jaw. ]
For someone who tells bad jokes.