His Friend

Joshua went to answer the knock. Harris couldn't see the door from where he was sitting, but he heard the voice of Joshua's friend Scott- immediately lowered after Joshua informed him that Eliza was asleep- and assumed that Joshua would want to spend some time alone with him. He retrieved his jacket and got ready to leave.

Scott and Joshua were still hovering in the doorway. "You've not properly met, have you?" Joshua said. "Scott, this is Harris. Harris, this is Scott."

"Right," Scott said, frowning as his eyes passed over Harris without taking too much of him in. "Harris." He shook Harris's hand, frown deepening. "All right?" he asked vaguely.

Harris nodded awkwardly to him, slinging his coat over his arm. "Joshua, I should go."

"No," Joshua said immediately. "Stay."

Even though he already had an idea of how badly the rest of the evening would probably go, Harris said, "All right," and put his coat back down.

Joshua made tea and Harris held his cup cradled in his hands and let the conversation wash over him. Mainly Joshua and Scott caught up with each other, talking about their respective jobs and families and tossing out in-jokes that despite Joshua's obvious efforts tended to go over Harris's head.

More than once, Joshua tried to draw Harris into the conversation. Harris told anecdotes and gave his opinion when pressed, but for the most part he kept it to a minimum. Scott clearly tried to listen to him, but as soon as Harris stopped talking he quickly changed the subject. It wasn't his fault; Harris was just boring to most people. Part of the spell or energy or whatever it was that made him unnoticeable meant that the things he said didn't stick in people's heads. If Harris had told a story about how he had climbed to the top of Mount Doom, returned with the head of a thunderbird, and been knighted by the Queen of Candyland for his troubles, it would still be one of the dullest things Scott had ever heard.

Harris didn't mind. He had been a bit worried that the steady diet of Joshua's attention would give him a taste for it, but Harris found that he really couldn't care less if Scott found him interesting or not. It only mattered to him at all because Joshua got more and more uncomfortable as the conversation wore on.

Harris excused himself and lingered in the hall for a time in order to give the two of them some privacy. When he came back out, Joshua was alone washing teacups in the kitchen. "What happened to Scott?" he asked.

"He had to go," Joshua said, back to Harris. "He said goodbye." That last part was clearly a lie; Harris found it oddly warming that Joshua was trying to spare his feelings that way.

But then Joshua looked at Harris and the warmth fled. He looked miserable- worse than Harris had seen him since perhaps the day Harris first walked him home and saw his mother's black eye. Harris had no earthly idea what was going on, but it had affected Joshua profoundly- so much that when Harris looked at it his aura was actually fluctuating, hints of grey swirling through it for the first time in several weeks.

"What's the matter?" Harris asked, immediately crossing to Joshua and gripping his upper arms. It had become so second nature to touch him that it didn't occur to Harris that it might not be a good idea until Joshua had already stiffened under his hands. But before Harris could back off Joshua gave a soft whining noise and collapsed against his chest, his fingers curling into fists against the fabric of Harris's shirt. "Darling," Harris murmured, the endearment slipping thoughtlessly off his tongue. His hands slid up to Joshua's shoulders and then around his back. "What is it?"

Joshua made a strangled noise. "Look, Harris, I get that you're a gentleman and all, but you can't pretend like you didn't notice how rude he was to you."

Harris was silent for a moment, stunned. He had seen- of course he had seen- that Joshua felt awkward about the way Scott was ignoring Harris- but he hadn't thought for a second that he was that upset. "I suppose he was," Harris said, hesitantly, to fill the silence. He really should have left when Scott arrived, but he hadn't because Joshua had so clearly wanted him to stay- probably because he had wanted Harris to meet his friend. Ah. "But Joshua, he was here to see you, not get to know me. We don't exactly have a great deal in common."

"Like you and me, you mean." Joshua sounded even more hurt.

"That's different, Joshua. I'm sure we were both surprised by how well we… fit, I suppose. But it was still work in the beginning. It's natural for you to want your friends to like me and vice versa, but you can't expect it to happen right away. I'm sure they find what we have… odd." Harris was stretching the truth with that last remark, but he knew that Joshua's friends and family would find it odd if they could remember Harris long enough to form opinions. Harris had thought so little about his appearance for so long, but he must have looked at least twice Joshua's age, and the way that he dressed, and the way that he behaved… His friendship with someone like Joshua would look very odd indeed. "I wouldn't mind having you to myself for a little while longer." And that was entirely too true, given that it was exactly the opposite of what Harris was meant to be doing. "I wasn't offended, Joshua, and I certainly won't let it drive me away. Unless, of course, you want it to." He couldn't help the way he tightened his grip on Joshua when he said that last part. He didn't know how he would do his job without being near Joshua so much if he couldn't do it while they were practically living in each other's pockets- and what was more, he didn't want to see less of Joshua, not at all. But if Joshua wanted him gone, if somehow his presence was making Joshua shut down again…

"No." Joshua's head came up sharply, and Harris saw him flush. "No, Harris, I don't want that at all."

"Good," Harris said, and smiled, and pulled Joshua to his chest again. "Good."

He held Joshua like that for such a long time that he began to wonder if it wasn't awkward. He liked having Joshua in his arms much more than he should under the circumstances- but when he tried to let Joshua go Joshua whined softly and burrowed closer. Harris considered pretending to be annoyed but decided against it. Instead he kept Joshua close but steered him to the couch, returning to where he had been sitting while he read to Eliza.

Joshua rested his head on Harris's chest, the rest of him all but in Harris's lap, and Harris kept his arms around him, rubbing his back gently. He was a little surprised when Joshua dozed off like that, but Harris would be lying to himself if he tried to act like he minded. He couldn't have been happier to have finally won Joshua's trust so completely.

Harris was more surprised still when Joshua slept through his mother coming home. Michelle passed through the living room and eyed them both. Harris's normal tendency to pass outside anyone's notice warred with a mother's natural instinct to find it noteworthy when she saw her son asleep in the lap of a well-dressed man she had never seen before. Harris didn't want to wake Joshua; having his mother treat Harris the same way Scott had would probably make things worse again when Harris had only just managed to make them better. "Goodnight," Harris said to her, casually, as if this was something that happened regularly.

Michelle's mind gripped that explanation and clung to it. "Goodnight," she said vaguely, and she drifted away, the shower starting a few minutes later.

Harris wasn't sure how much time passed before he felt Joshua shift slightly against him, blinking sleepy eyes.

"Sorry," Joshua mumbled. "Didn't know I was that tired."

"It's no trouble," Harris said, absently pulling Joshua up and tugging him toward his bedroom.

"Gonna tuck me in?"

"That's the idea." Harris had to pour Joshua into his bed, glad he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt rather than street clothes so Harris didn't have to rouse him enough to change into pajamas. As Harris lifted the bedclothes to cover him, Joshua gripped his wrist.

"Stay," he said quietly. He said something else, too slurred for Harris to make out any detail, and Harris pulled the covers around him.

"All right," Harris murmured. On impulse he kissed Joshua's forehead, and if the touch lingered a little too long, he blamed it on sentimentality and the lateness of the hour.

He returned to the couch and lay down on it.

Harris didn't sleep, as such- he just sort of… dropped out of the mortal plane for a while until he was next required. Lately he'd been avoiding that, but he felt oddly safe and grounded in Joshua's home, and he began to drift almost the moment he settled.

If his lips tingled a little from where they had touched Joshua's skin, Harris ignored it. It had been a very long time since he had done anything like that, and Joshua felt so nice.

His last thought as he drifted away was that it didn't- couldn't- mean anything more.