Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Linus Baker prepared himself for many things when he decided to abandon his old life and move to the island that held his heart. He’d stolen files that he knew were going to get him in trouble, after all. He’d mouthed off to Extremely Upper Management, and attempted (rather poorly, he fears in retrospect) to sow seeds of doubt within his own department. He’d been prepared to do whatever was needed to keep his children and others like them safe, even though he didn’t know for sure that said children would appreciate being considered his anymore, given all that had come before.

He’d even hoped, deep in his heart, that if the children could forgive him, and he could forgive himself, and he was living on the same island as Arthur—

And yet he’s still utterly unprepared to be standing here, in this little house that is part of a greater whole, looking into Arthur Parnassus’ eyes while Arthur stares back into his.

He’s been back on the island for a week now. Chauncey has been utterly devoted to his role as Linus’ laundryman—a little too devoted, if Linus is being honest. He doesn’t need his clothes washed every day, especially if he’s going to tip Chauncey each time. Being unemployed (and largely unemployable, since he’s living on an island where all the paying jobs are from the same Extremely Upper Management he should be trying to avoid), Linus will need to be more frugal with his funds than he usually is. Not that he’s typically rash in his actions, but—

“Linus.” Arthur’s voice caresses his name, turns it into something beautiful and wondrous even as Arthur raises one hand to touch Linus’ chin. “You’re panicking.”

“I am not panicking.” Linus forces himself to draw in a deep breath, which means he needs to stop taking fast, useless little breaths, and perhaps he is a bit… nervous. “I’ve just… I’ve never… I thought perhaps there would be more dating before we got to the point where we were talking about… other… activities.”

Arthur smiles, his hand falling from Linus’ face. His voice is gentle when he says, “I believe the word you’re searching for is sex.”

It was such a small point of contact, but Linus feels stupidly, needlessly cold without Arthur’s hand on his cheek. “I—yes, that is what we’re discussing.”

Calliope yawns, studying them with disdain from her place atop a stack of cushions that Sal arranged explicitly for her benefit.

All right, maybe Linus is dragging this out more than he needs to. Maybe being deliberate and saying what he’s feeling is going to be the best way forward from now on, even if it sometimes feels like he’s drawing splinters from his own flesh. “I’ve never—ever—had—sex. With someone.” Could he have made that sentence more awkward? “And I’m a little surprised that you… want to? With me.”

“Oh, Linus.” Arthur steps closer, obliterating the little bit of space that had been between them. His hand rises again, this time cupping Linus’ whole face. “You are a beautiful man, and I would be happy to show you that at any time. But if you’d prefer something else—if you’d prefer to walk on the beach, or into the forest, or just to stay here and watch the stars through the window—I’m happy to do that, too. We have time now to do what we want, and I need it to be what we want.”

Linus glances back towards the house. “You’re sure Lucy will be all right with just Zoe and Theodore?”

“I’m certain. And we’re not that far away if I’m needed.” Arthur’s thumb strokes along Linus’ cheek, and it is far more disconcerting than it should be.

Arthur leans forward, and Linus swallows, certain that Arthur is going to kiss him—that he’s going to get lost in the heat and the wonder of Arthur’s hands on him and forget why jumping so quickly to something carnal is a terrible idea.

Instead Arthur’s lips press against his forehead, and Linus gives a little sigh of relief.

“Come.” Arthur links his fingers through Linus’, and leads him to the at least semi-safe location of the chaise lounge. “We need to discuss matters further, I think.”

Arthur settles on the couch, and pulls Linus down next to him. Linus’ left side is pressed tight against Arthur’s right, and Arthur’s right hand rises to rest over Linus’ shoulders. Arthur watches Linus’ face as though Linus has some great secret he can share—some answers that will make everything fall into place. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”

I’m a forty year old virgin, and that’s something so funny they named a whole comedy movie after it. Linus swallows, because the bitterness isn’t what he wants to give Arthur. “You really—me? You’d really want me? Without any further dating or—or—”

“I had considered your time here with us before to be a bit of courtship, but if you didn’t—if you think things are moving too quickly—I’m happy to slow things to a pace that you enjoy more.” Arthur smiles, that same gentle, welcoming, accepting look that he has shared with Linus since the first day they met—the same look he wore when showing Linus the heart of Arthur’s own pain and trauma.

Is that what Linus wants? To take things slow? “I… no, you’re right. I was falling in love with you along with falling in love with the island and the children, and when you kissed me the day I came back, that felt… right. That felt good. I’ve never really enjoyed kissing like that before.”

Arthur nods. “Have you been kissed many times?”

“A few, mostly when I was younger.” Linus laughs, though he trails off as he watches his gut bounce up and down. “I’m not what most men are looking for when they’re trawling gay bars, and I’ve never been terribly good at handling online dating… where I’m also not what most people are looking for.”

“Most people are fools who can’t see beyond the superficial, then.” Arthur leans in, pressing his lips to Linus’ temple. “No, that’s not quite true, because even on a superficial level… Linus, I think you’re beautiful.”

Linus draws in a shuddering breath, giving his head a shake before thinking better of it.

“I do.” Arthur removes his hand from around Linus’ shoulders, instead snaking his fire-warm fingers between Linus’. Are Arthur’s hands warmer than usual? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? “Linus, I love you and I think you’re one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m fat and I’m out of shape and—”

Arthur raises one hand to rest against Linus’ lips, sliding off the lounge and going to his knees in front of Linus as he does. “Who told you that you’re out of shape?”

“I—I mean, I think it’s fairly obvious?” Linus gestures at his own body with the hand that Arthur isn’t holding. “And there’s the fact that I couldn’t even carry my own stuff all the way to the ferry—”

“That’s a long way to carry your entire life without help.” Arthur lifts Linus’ hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You were out of shape when you first came here, I’ll give you that. I don’t think you’d been given the opportunity to enjoy much physical activity. But since coming here—look at your skin. Look at the muscles starting to show. You are so much stronger than you think you are.”

“But still fat.” It shouldn’t matter. Linus knows that it shouldn’t bother him so much—that it’s his health he should be concerned about, not his body. But between the way the doctor hmms at his weight and the children’s declarations of his unfitness and all the thousands of ways their society reminds him at every turn that it is better to be thin, that it must be healthier to be thin—

Arthur’s hand releases Linus’, and then Arthur’s left hand is sliding up Linus’ right thigh, and Arthur’s right hand is sliding down Linus’ chest, and then both his hands are on Linus’ stomach and Linus doesn’t think he could say words if he wanted to.

Fire seems to burn deep in Arthur’s eyes as he looks up at Linus. “You are beautiful. Your body is beautiful. And if you’ll allow me to, I’ll show you that.”

He should still say no. He should give them both some time to come to their senses—some time to make sure that Linus hiding out here as a potential fugitive is going to work out as well as Linus being sent here as an unwitting spy.

Linus looks down into Arthur’s eyes, and all of his determination to do this properly—to do this by the books—flies away. “If it’s what you really want… I’d like that.”

“It’s what I really want.” Arthur’s hands rise, sliding up Linus’ chest until they’re at the first button on Linus’ shirt. “It’s what I’ve wanted for quite a long time, but didn’t think I could even hope to have.”

Linus swallows, reaching out to hesitantly lay his hands against Arthur’s sides. Should he be working on undressing Arthur too? His body seems to be half-paralyzed by the touch of Arthur’s fingers. “You’re gorgeous. You could have so many people…”

Arthur smiles sadly. “Do you know how many people would panic if they found out about what I am?”

Linus starts to say that’s ridiculous and stops, rules and regulations rising unbidden in his head. As a magical creature, Arthur has to disclose his status prior to engaging in sexual relations with someone. If he doesn’t… the regulations had been written with pregnancy and potential childbirth in mind, with protecting people from the shock and dismay that comes with being unexpectedly burdened by a parahuman child, but—

Oh, but there’s so very much wrong with that, isn’t there? Starting with the idea that children like the ones here are a burden, and continuing on through the heteronormativity that should really no longer surprise Linus at this point in his life, and ending with… with Arthur having stopped, his expression a sad, haunted smile as he studies Linus’ face. His voice is gentle when he says, “You understand why it’s not as easy for me to find a date as one might expect?”

“I’m sorry.” Now it’s Linus’ turn to reach out, to cup Arthur’s cheek. “I think you’re perfect and beautiful. You shouldn’t ever have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to, but I’m glad to know you—to really know you. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me, and I’m sorry I left and maybe made you think I hadn’t been safe, and… and…” Linus runs his tongue over his lips. “I’d really like to be fucked by a phoenix?”

That shouldn’t have come out as a question, probably.

Arthur laughs, though, a bright, pleased, warm sound, and his arms wrap around Linus for a brief hug before he returns to working on the buttons for Linus’ shirt.

Really, there hadn’t seemed to be so many of them when Linus was putting the shirt on this morning.

Then the buttons are all undone, and Arthur is tugging Linus’ shirt free of his pants, sliding it off Linus’ shoulders—leaving Linus in just his trousers and his undershirt.

Arthur pauses, cupping Linus’ face in his hands and bringing their lips together for a long, lingering kiss. Arthur tastes like fire and sugar—like sugar being burned into molasses, or like one of those interesting alcoholic drinks Linus never had the courage to order for himself and was never offered by anyone else.

Linus wonders briefly what he tastes like, but then Arthur’s hands are back on his body. Arthur tugs Linus’ undershirt free, and then with gentle, insistent pressure gets Linus to lift his hands so that Arthur can slide the shirt off, leaving Linus just in his trousers. Linus glances towards the door, his toes curling in his socks, glad that at least there’s one fewer article of clothing for them to remove.

Arthur’s fingers return to Linus’ chest, five burning brands above each of Linus’ nipples that slowly, determinedly, make their way down to Linus’ stomach and pause. Not pressing, not kneading, just touching, just holding, and Linus is pretty sure he shouldn’t be getting as hard just from this as he is.

“Did you want me to continue here, or do you want to move to the bedroom?” Arthur’s words are a quiet whisper, but since every atom of Linus’ body is tuned into Arthur’s right now, it’s easy enough to understand him.

“I… uh…” Linus swallows, raising one shivering hand to rest atop Arthur’s head. It’s strange that his hand is shivering, isn’t it? It’s not cold in here. Quite the opposite, really. “I’d really prefer to be in the bedroom, if that’s all right? Since bedrooms are really where activities like these are supposed to take place, and…”

And he sounds like a complete and utter dork. Activities like these? Supposed? Is he actively trying to convince the gorgeous man who apparently wants to have sex with him that it’s a terrible idea?

“You’re absolutely right.” Arthur smiles, and there’s no teasing in it, no sense that Linus has ruined the moment. He reaches out, taking each of Linus’ hands in his, and tugs until Linus comes to his feet.

Linus allows Arthur to loop a hand around his waist, guiding him the scant few steps to the bedroom and the neat, orderly bed within. When Linus turns to close the door—one little extra layer of protection and privacy—Arthur doesn’t say anything. He just waits, too patient, too calm, until Linus turns back to him.

“So…” Linus swallows, waiting for the rest of the sentence to appear.

It doesn’t, but Arthur makes it unnecessary. Leaning forward, Arthur presses their lips together. It starts as the gentlest little caress, fire-warm lips against Linus’ slightly sunburned ones.

It doesn’t stay gentle. Arthur takes a step forward, and suddenly his whole body is pressed against Linus, Arthur’s shirt catching against Linus’ undershirt, Arthur’s pants doing very little to hide the evidence of Arthur’s excitement.

Linus moans, a sound that doesn’t even begin to contain the emotions vying for control of his shivering body. Arthur’s hand presses against his back, holding him tight, supporting him, even as Arthur’s tongue uses the moan as an opportunity to dive into Linus’ mouth.

And suddenly Linus is fourteen years old again, finally with the opportunity to kiss a boy, except he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, his hands are just grasping in need, his body is just trying to get as close as it possibly can to the body in front of him, and his tongue—his tongue is inside Arthur’s mouth, and it’s warm and those are Arthur’s teeth and—

Linus’ knees bump into the bed, and he gives a startled yelp, falling backward.

Arthur follows him down, Arthur somehow managing to look graceful as he plants both hands and one knee on the bed so that he’s half-straddling Linus. “I’m going to finish undressing you now, all right?”

“Only…” Linus swallows. “If you undress yourself, too. The opportunity to enjoy each other’s bodies should be equal opportunity, yes?”

“As you wish.” Arthur practically purrs out the words, his upper body rising as his hands move to his shirt. In one smooth motion he pulls the black fabric off over his head, revealing a bare chest with a smattering of smooth, feathery hairs.

Linus reaches up, his hand resting against Arthur’s chest reverently. Arthur’s skin really is quite warm, and Linus could spend a small eternity just allowing his fingers to slide over Arthur’s skin, comb through that thin little forest of hair that could be feathers, gently flick over Arthur’s nipples…

Except touching Arthur’s nipples causes Arthur to draw in a little gasp, his eyes flashing with a fire that Linus is fairly certain isn’t metaphorical. Arthur’s fingers move down to Linus’ trousers, and before Linus has a chance to say yes—because he is very eager for this—Arthur has undone Linus’ belt and is busy trying to slide Linus’ trousers off.

Linus has to pause in his exploration of Arthur’s body, his trousers too trapped between his ass and the bed to allow Arthur to remove them without assistance. Linus can feel his face heating, and he blinks rapidly. Now is a stupid time to get upset. He’s getting exactly what he’s dreamed about—no, what he didn’t even allow himself to dream about. He has Arthur here, and Arthur is looking at him like he’s something precious.

“Linus Baker.” Arthur doesn’t touch Linus’ boxers, leaving them tented with Linus’ longing. Instead he stands, his hands moving to his own belt and removing it. His trousers slide to the floor with a sinuous hiss, revealing bony knees and skinny legs covered in that same too-fine hair. Sliding up onto the bed, Arthur presses his body against Linus’. “You are everything I want right now, Linus. I can see you don’t believe me, but I’m going to make you understand how true it is.”

Arthur shifts, and he is suddenly half-astride Linus, Arthur’s right knee between Linus’ knees, pressing Linus’ legs open. Heat seems to roll off Arthur in waves, a constant shimmering surge of energy that leaves Linus’ mouth feeling dry and his skin overly sensitive.

“I love you.” The words slip from Linus’ mouth, a prayer to the angel sitting above him. “Arthur, I—I love you.”

Arthur’s fingers bury themselves in Linus’ hair. “I love you, too. When you came back—oh, Linus, at first I thought I was dreaming. I thought I couldn’t possibly be that lucky. And then you not only came back, you brought a promise of security, and you brought the means to rescue more children…” Arthur leans in, and his lips are against Linus’ again. This kiss isn’t gentle, but Arthur’s tongue doesn’t slide into Linus’ mouth again, either. Instead it’s a meeting of their lips, a pressure holding them both together, a sharing of heat and breath and secrets.

When they finally part, Arthur whispers, “I love you more than I love the open sky above me.”

Linus stops breathing for a moment, recognizing exactly how big a statement that is. His hand cups Arthur’s cheek, his eyes searching Arthur’s for any sign of doubt or hesitancy.

There aren’t any, and then Arthur is sliding down. His hands slip from either side of Linus’ neck down into the thick, stiff hair that covers Linus’ chest. Linus shivers as Arthur’s hands circle around his nipples, cupping the extra flesh there as though it were something sweet instead of proof that Linus is old and undesirable.

Arthur looks from his hands to Linus’ face, and then his mouth is dipping down, his teeth gently teasing at one of Linus’ nipples as his right hand toys with the other and his left drops to Linus’ belly.

There is so much flesh there. There is so much more Linus than there should be, so much space that he’s occupying that he knows he is not allowed.

Arthur’s teeth release his nipple, and Arthur kisses his way down to Linus’ navel. Arthur kisses above the sunken space, and then his tongue traces a shape around it. His hands caress along Arthur’s fat roll, and his knee has somehow come up, is allowing Linus to put pressure in just the right place to send a shiver through him.

“You’re beautiful.” Arthur raises his head, and his eyes are definitely glowing now, a fiery light that makes him look inhuman and angelic and terrifying all at the same time. “Every inch, every ounce, every atom of you is absolutely beautiful, and I’m going to make you mine.”

Should Linus be worried about what having sex with a phoenix means? Probably. DICOMY didn’t deal as much in issues of sex as some of the other magical departments, but certainly sexual abuse of minors was something he looked into, and sometimes that involved figuring out what could and couldn’t be done with certain types of magical youth.

Linus is pretty certain Arthur wouldn’t instigate anything that could be deadly to him, so he packages that particular worry away in another part of his mind and turns his full attention back to what Arthur is doing to his body.

To the way Arthur’s fingers are moving down from Linus’ navel, dipping into the slit in Linus’ boxers, and pulling Linus’ phallus into the light.

Linus gasps, his hands reaching for Arthur and finally managing to latch onto Arthur’s right shoulder and hair.

Arthur looks at him, Arthur’s right hand still busy sliding up and down Linus’ shaft. “This is all right?”

“That’s fucking amazing.” Linus gasps out the words, his hips rising almost without his volition, attempting to push his steadily-more-erect phallus into something, anything.

Arthur shifts his knee, and Linus’ testicles are pressed against Arthur’s leg, are rubbing against two layers of cloth as Arthur continues to fondle Linus’ shaft.

“We’re still…” Linus shivers, though sweat has started to break out on his chest and under his armpits. “Still wearing too many clothes.”

“You’re very, very right.” Arthur releases Linus’ penis and rolls to the side, somehow managing to slide his underwear off in a way that doesn’t make him look silly.

Linus has given up on caring about what he looks like. Arthur clearly likes it, bless the man, and Linus’ body is currently one aching vat of need.

And what he needs is Arthur.

Linus draws in a shuddering breath, his fingers trailing over Arthur’s chest again. “Thank you. I… you… this…”

All the neat, orderly rows of Linus’ thoughts disappear as Arthur reaches down and grabs him by the dick again.

Arthur presses Linus back onto the bed, his weight resting against Linus’ chest for just a moment. Should he weigh more? Linus feels like Arthur should, but he’s not certain if that’s because Arthur is a phoenix or because Linus still feels a bit like a beached whale.

“This is still all right?” Arthur kisses Linus’ collarbone.

“Yes.” Linus wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck. “I should be doing something for you, too. I should—”

“Let me give you what I can.” Arthur shifts, kissing Linus’ other collarbone. “Then we can figure out from there what we want to do.”

“All right.” Linus’ words trail off into a gasp as Arthur’s hand moves.

Arthur kisses his way down Linus’ body again, a blazing trail of heat that seems intent on bisecting Linus. When his tongue slides across Linus’ navel again, Linus thrusts upward.

Arthur apparently takes that as an invitation, because between one breath and the next Linus is suddenly thrusting into Arthur’s mouth.

“Oh.” Linus grasps out again, his left hand finding Arthur’s hair, his right burying itself in the bedsheet. “Oh, I—I—”

Arthur makes a soft little grunting sound, and Linus thrusts again, feeling like his whole world has shrunk down to an inferno that is attempting to swallow him shaft-first.

“Arthur—” Linus whimpers, his fingers hopelessly tangled in Arthur’s hair, which is fine because he never intends to let him go. “Arthur, I—I—”

And in an intense, unexpected release, Linus feels himself climax.

For a moment he just sits stunned, staring up at the ceiling. Surely he didn’t—but there’s Arthur’s face, his expression almost comical as he blinks and uses a corner of the bedsheet to wipe at his mouth.

Chauncey is very much not doing the laundry tomorrow.

Which is not the problem that Linus needs to be dealing with now. “Arthur, I’m so, so sorry—”

“For what?” Arthur laughs, a flush rising up to darken his cheeks. “For my being terrible at giving head?”

“I think I’m supposed to be apologizing for… going off so quickly.” Linus reaches out, placing a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“No need to apologize.” Arthur laughs again, running a hand through his hair. The fire in his eyes has dimmed slightly but not gone out. “For all that I talked a good game getting us here, Linus… I… I don’t really know what I’m doing, either. I just know that I love you, and that I desperately, hopelessly want to make you happy. Did I?”

Linus laughs, and for the first time in a long while he doesn’t mind how the sound rolls through his whole body. “Arthur, you have made me happier than anyone else ever has.”

“Oh, good. Because I thought maybe I was being too pushy?” Arthur’s hand touches Linus’ chest, right above his breastbone. “I know you think you’re too heavy, and that Lucy doesn’t help with that, but trust me when I say that Lucy would find something to tease you about. You could be a movie star, and Lucy would know where your weaknesses are and push at them.”

Linus looks away. “It’s fine. He doesn’t say anything other children don’t say. That other adults don’t say, really, because it’s always fine to make fun of the fat people, right? It’s not like they don’t have it coming. If we really didn’t want to be fat, all we’d have to do is eat salad and exercise and have some self control…”

“You have always had more self control than two-thirds of the people alive today.” Arthur’s hand rests on Linus’ cheek. “What I want is to see you with less self control, and more Linus, and I’m very, very glad I got to see that.”

Arthur leans in, and this time when their lips meet it’s with a certain, steady pressure—two hearts beating together, two soul entwined in this time and this space.

Arthur pulls back. “Besides.” He smiles, rolling onto his back. “The night is young. If you want to have your way with me… and then give me another opportunity to see what kind of songs I can sing on your body…”

Linus presses his hand to Arthur’s chest, over the same spot Arthur touched on Linus. He can feel Arthur’s heart beating, fast and light like a hunting hawk’s. “Let me do my absolute best.”

Linus’ best is messy and not terribly much more effective than Arthur’s, but it seems to please Arthur, who immediately curls his body around Linus’ and hugs him tight.

Running his tongue over his lips, Linus hugs Arthur tight in return. His whole body is warm now, his stomach feeling as though it’s filled with lightly burning coals. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s a sensation unlike anything he’s experienced before.

“I haven’t loved often, and I’ve regretted most of the romance I’ve had.” Arthur whispers the words into Linus’ ear. “But I don’t think I’m going to regret anything with you, Linus Baker.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, you won’t.” Linus holds Arthur tight in return. “I’ve never… I don’t think… I’ve known I’m gay my whole life? But I’ve never had sex before, because… it never felt right? I had a boyfriend once, in high school, and with him I might have… but he got too scared, and then our paths separated, and ever since…”

Arthur’s fingers slide through Linus’ hair, a comforting pressure against his skull.

“I’ve tried dating a whole bunch of times. The bars, the apps… but I’m too… reserved for most people, I think. They want to jump right into bed a lot of times, and I… I’ve never wanted to do that.” Linus laughs, though it comes out more like a sob against Arthur’s chest. “Do you know what being demisexual is?”

There’s a pause before Arthur nods. “I do. It’s part of the training DICOMY gives us all.”

“I think I might be that?” Linus swallows, and he can still feel the heat of Arthur all throughout his body, giving him courage. “I’ve never said it because it sounds like an excuse, you know? Of course I’m an old virgin, but it’s not because I’m fat and undesirable, it’s because I… I would have said ‘because I have standards’, but that’s not it. It’s because I need to love someone to want to do this, to want to say I love you and have you in my bed and never, ever want to let you go. And I love you.”

Arthur sighs, a deep, slow exhalation. “I love you too, Linus. And I think you’re wonderful just the way you are. Your body is perfect, and your spirit… your spirit shines so bright it makes me want to lose myself in it.”

Closing his eyes and holding Arthur just a little tighter, Linus says, “You wouldn’t have said that four months ago.”

“I wouldn’t have. But that just means you’ve finally figured out how to properly shine.” Arthur turns, shifting so that he can press a kiss to the tip of Linus’ nose. “Now, are you willing to give me a second chance at figuring out exactly how to make your body do what we want it to do?”

“I’m willing to give you as many chances as you need.” Linus opens his arms, releasing Arthur. “Especially because I want to try everything with you.”

Arthur arches one beautiful eyebrow, his voice dropping to a lower register. “Everything?”

Linus blushes, but he nods determinedly anyway.

Arthur brushes one more kiss against Linus’ nose before claiming his mouth a final time. “Everything involves an awful lot, so we’d better get started. Especially because we can’t take every night to enjoy each other, but the nights we can…”

Arthur lets the rest of it go unsaid, both of them understanding exactly how beautiful and fraught the future might be. How long will DICOMY really leave them alone? How long before Linus needs to go and try to rescue some of those other kids? How long before something happens with one of their children (with Lucy, though neither of them will say that) to ruin this paradise?

But for now, for these few glorious hours, they are together, and they are both beautiful, and they will wake in the morning wrapped in each other’s arms before walking up to the house that sustains them both.

It’s more than Linus ever could have dreamed of, and perhaps—just perhaps—exactly what he deserves.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

“So how much sinning did you do last night?” Lucy asks the question, his face split by a wide grin as he looks from Arthur at the head of the table to Linus at the foot.

Linus immediately turns bright red, opening his mouth to stutter out a response.

Arthur beats him to it. “Please pass the gravy, Lucy. And what have we said about judging other people?”

Lucy rolls his eyes. “We aren’t to judge other people for actions that don’t harm anyone. But the spiders said that sex outside marriage is a sin, and especially gay sex outside marriage, and since Linus’ head is all full of blood like a blood balloon right now I’m pretty sure you did a lot of sinning.”

Linus decides that the safest place to look right now is down at his plate—a plate that Arthur set before him, and that contains a slice of wheat toast slathered in jam, a heaping pile of fruit, and enough eggs that Linus knows he won’t be hungry for at least a few hours.

“I think that brings up a topic we should all discuss.” Arthur smiles, not seeming in the least perturbed by his young charge’s comments. “What exactly is a sin? Who gets to decide it? What does everyone else think?”

At least most of the other children seem just as uncomfortable with this discussion as Linus is. They all shift in their seats, glancing between each other. Linus is a little surprised that Sal doesn’t shift into his dog form with how low he’s slouching in his chair.

Lucy sighs dramatically. “A sin is anything that God doesn’t like. At least that’s what the spiders in my brain say, and there are a lot of potential sins out there.”

Talia sniffs, stroking her fingers through her beard. “I think any God who wants to make sex a sin deserves a good kick in the nuts. Not that I’m interested in sex. Not yet, at least. And definitely not with anyone human.” Talia shudders, then glances at Sal. “You’re not included in that, of course.”

“I mean…” Everyone pauses, including Lucy, listening as Sal manages to pull words together and push them out into the silence. “Do I even count as human? That’s… a long discussion as well. But I appreciate you…” Sal’s voice trails off, his hands rising to indicate a complicated sorting that apparently the rest of the children understand from the nods they give.

“I think you’re as human as you want to be.” Arthur’s words aren’t quite as quiet as Sal’s, but they’re deliberate and certain, containing all the fiery strength he usually cloaks. “And whether or not you’re human, you’re all people, and that’s the part that matters.”

“Because people can sin!” Lucy grins as he brings the conversation back around to his preferred topic of the morning. “Just like you and Linus were—”

“It’s not a sin.” Linus is surprised at the gruffness in his own voice as he cuts Lucy off. How long has it been since he considered religion as something besides that thing that other people did? He’s culturally Christian, of course, and he attended church when he was younger. If he didn’t have that cultural background, would Lucy’s file have even registered as something frightening for him? But he’s not the type to petition God, not when there are plenty of human agencies that need petitioning about this or that.

Lucy pouts, but nothing supernatural happens, so he’s clearly not too agitated. “It is too a sin. I think I should know what’s a sin and what isn’t.”

Linus glances to Arthur, who’s frowning, his hands folded together in front of him.

Chauncey rises up, looking hesitantly around the room. “I don’t think love should be a sin. And it’s clear that Arthur and Linus are in looooove.”

A chorus of giggles erupts from the other children as they look from Arthur to Linus.

Why couldn’t this be one of the days when Zoe was here at breakfast instead of Linus? Why did Linus possibly think the children wouldn’t have at least an inkling of what Arthur and Linus had been up to?

“Hey, Lucy.” Phee runs her finger around in a circle in her water glass. “Is it a sin once they’re married, too?”

“I…” Lucy frowns. “That gets more complicated. But it’s definitely like a double-bad-sin because they’re not married.”

“Lucy.” Arthur’s voice cuts across Lucy’s excitement at being asked for clarification, and Lucy hunches down a bit in his seat. “Please stop trying to make Linus uncomfortable. If you’re upset that I wasn’t able to be with you last night—”

“I’m not a baby.” Lucy straightens, his pride clearly wounded. “I can handle being away from you for one night. We had a good sleepover.”

“I’m very glad to hear that.” Arthur smiles, and his whole face seems to light.

Lucy is apparently just as sensitive to the changes in Arthur’s moods as Linus is, because his shoulders relax and he looks more natural as he returns Arthur’s smile. “Maybe I won’t need to sleep with you period soon.”

“I’m happy for you to do whatever you’re comfortable with in your own time.” Arthur takes a sip from his juice, looking far more regal than he has any right to in this admittedly-gorgeous dining room surrounded by these very special children. “But do you have objections beyond whatever will make Linus blush and squirm the most?”

Lucy shrugs, taking a big bite of his breakfast. “I’m not lying that the brain-spiders think certain things are sins, and they really like it when people sin. Which, usually when the brain-spiders like something it’s a bad thing, right?”

“Usually, but not always.” Arthur takes a contemplative bite of his food. “I promise you, everything Linus and I do is by our mutual agreement, and makes us very happy. Nobody is being hurt, and that’s what matters, right?”

A chorus of agreements comes from around the table, and Linus starts to relax, hoping that the conversation will move on to something else.

Instead Phee asks, “Do you guys think you’re going to get married, then?”

Is it possible to blush so much that you die? Linus thinks he’s going to perform an experiment on it right then and there.

Chauncey makes a noise somewhere between a helicopter taking off and air escaping a balloon. “Are we going to get to host a wedding? Are there going to be guests? Will I get to handle everyone’s coats and hats and everything?”

Arthur holds up a hand, only mildly dampening the cacophony that has overtaken the table. “Everyone, please, calm down. I think it’s a little early to be talking about whether Linus and I are going to get married, but I promise, if we do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Of course we will.” Talia looks down the table at Linus. “Otherwise someone knows exactly where they’re going.”

Theodore makes a squeaking sound remarkable similar to Chauncey’s that Linus takes for agreement.

Lucy stares from Linus to Arthur in clear contemplation, taking longer than Linus is really comfortable with. “I think you should get married. I’ll try hard not to let my head turn around in a circle or to call down a rain of blood or anything like that at the wedding.”

“That’s… very considerate of you.” Linus inclines his head to Lucy.

“All right, children.” Arthur claps his hands. “We’re going to continue our discussion of various forest biomes today—yes, Phee, I’m going to allow you to present your counter-arguments from yesterday’s lecture, have no fear. If everyone could see fit to eating their fill in the next six minutes…”

It really is amazing the way that Arthur can manage to gently but firmly corral the motley crew that is their children into behaving. Or… perhaps behaving is too strong a word, but he’s able to get them all on the same page and pointing their various chaos forces in the same direction, and that’s really just as impressive a task.

***

The next two weeks pass in a blur.

Linus spends most of the time that he isn’t busy with the children or casually—painfully, perhaps badly, but certainly energetically—flirting with Arthur sorting through the case files that he stole.

There are so very many. How had he managed to work at DICOMY for so long without realizing that something was wrong?

Or perhaps that’s giving himself too much credit. He should have realized something was wrong. He had all the pieces of the puzzle laid out in front of him. Sure, he tried to do his best for the children that he visited. Sure, he works best with a schedule and a list of rules and a clearly delineated plan of attack. But after all these years, all these visits, all these passed-over promotions…

He should have known before he met Lucy and Arthur and all the others that everything was built on a foundation of lies, that the spackle that kept the bricks of DICOMY molded together and functional was the pain of children who’d had no choice to be born and who didn’t have a choice in being different either.

Was he really so blind? After growing up gay, after spending a good chunk of the last decade fat…

“You’re brooding.” Arthur kisses the top of Linus’ head. Today isn’t one of the days when they’re going to be able to spend the night together, but they’re stealing an hour or so before Arthur retires to his room and the boy who still desperately needs him.

“I’m sorry.” Linus pushes his work aside, wondering again that it took him so long to realize this is a thing he can do—push unfinished work aside. “I’m just thinking that I’m an idiot. That I was—was—complicit in what were likely horrible things.”

Arthur takes a drink from his steaming hot tea, his eyes searching Linus’ face—not judging, just assessing. “You’re upset about the files you have?”

“I’m upset about the files I have, and about what happened to you, and about what they were planning for Lucy, and—” Linus swallows, his throat far too thick and heavy for the evening that he wanted to enjoy. “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally try to help.”

“That’s not true.” Arthur sets his mug down, placing his hands on either side of Linus’ neck and massaging at the tension there. “If that were true, I never would have allowed you on this island.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” Linus sighs anyway, allowing Arthur to massage his tense muscles—hoping Arthur doesn’t notice his double chin as he allows his head to fall in sheer bliss. “You had to allow inspection, or they would have declared the house a failure and scattered the children and—” Linus can’t say what they would have done with Lucy. Could they have killed him? Would it be possible for the government that was supposed to protect children to actually hurt them like that?

Given the casual way psychic wounds are doled out with each poster and advertisement calling for magical children to be turned in, Linus doesn’t want to speculate.

“There are a few others here…” Linus draws in a deep breath and lets it out in a contented sigh as Arthur’s fingers find just the right spot. “I don’t know how many we’ll be able to sneak to the island. But we’ll need to get them out before they’re either old enough for DICOMY to use—did you know they have a column for that, for usefulness of the children—or for something else to happen.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Arthur’s words are low and rough, full of a fiery certainty that Linus dons to buff his own newly-forged suit of courage. “I’m not the only one that I trust, though I’m the only one that I trust with my children. If the new ones don’t seem like a good fit here, we’ll find them somewhere else to go. You just tell me how I can be of service.”

“Just keep doing that, all right?” Linus allows his body to fall forward, into Arthur’s sturdy, bony, heated embrace. “Just keep touching me and telling me everything will be all right, that we’ll manage to do enough good to make up for the bad that I did. I think I’ll actually believe it, coming from you.”

“Linus…” Arthur stops, dropping to one knee so that he and Linus are on an even eye level. “I do mean it. You were a good man even before you admitted the blind spots in your world view. And you did admit to your blind spots, which is more than a great many other people would do. Be as kind and forgiving of yourself as you would be of the children or someone else who came to us in need of succor.”

Linus swallows, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all any of us can do.” Arthur’s fingers cup Linus’ chin. “What else can I do to help right now?”

Linus feels his cheeks heating, but he says what he wants anyway. “Kiss me again?”

“With pleasure.” The words are a low, hot whisper, and a moment later Arthur’s lips are against Linus’, and all the rest of the world fades briefly and gloriously away.

When the kiss ends, Linus stares into Arthur’s eyes—stares at Arthur, kneeling on one knee before him—and feels his cheeks flush for a different reason. “All that talk at breakfast…”

Arthur shakes his head, waving one hand dismissively. “You know that the children were just enjoying being able to give us a hard time. They all know better than to say that homosexuality is a sin.”

“I mean… if Lucy’s brain spiders think it is…” Linus trails off. “What do you think he is, really? Do you think that there really is a Satan, and a God, and a Fall, and all of that?”

Arthur’s brow crinkles as his eyes narrow in thought. “I think… Lucy is something that has to exist, if magic does. I think he’s the ultimate culmination of a lot of people’s fears. He’s someone who is supposed to be innocent—someone who is supposed to be safe. And he is not allowed to be either of those things, because there is an archetype to the terror that currently rules our world. There is a necessity for there to be someone like Lucy if the God that so many want to worship is real—a necessity for a child to be born who can be blamed for all the terrible ills in the world, through absolutely no fault of his own.”

Linus frowns, turning Arthur’s words over in his head. “So you think he’s some kind of… of… magical thought-form? Not actually the Son of Satan, but the Son of Satan that people and thus magic think should exist? Is that… really so different from being the Son of Satan?”

Arthur shrugs, his shoulders falling just a fraction—the only sign he gives that this conversation and the fear at the heart of it might hurt him. “I think that Lucy is Lucy, and I think he’s trying very hard to be something that nobody except those on this island want him to be. Someone good, and kind, and capable of protecting his friends.”

“You know…” Linus takes Arthur’s hand, gripping it tight. “There’s a certain subset of the religious who believe that Satan was never cast down. That Satan does as God wished, tempting and tormenting only when he’s ordered to. That we’re all sort of like Job.”

“I do.” Arthur smiles faintly. “I rather prefer the subset of the religious who believe that Satan’s fall was something to be celebrated. Who believe that we were owed knowledge, and that either God wanted us to have knowledge and whatever forces cursed us for the search were a blasphemous separation between humanity and God, or that Satan is the power that should be worshiped.”

“Arthur Parnassus, are you admitting to worshiping Satan?” Linus lifts an eyebrow, expecting Arthur to smile in return.

Instead Arthur shakes his head, his eyes straying once more towards where the boy that inspires so very many emotions is hopefully being read a bedtime story by Sal. “Never here. Not knowing what Lucy has been through. Whatever force it is that created him, it was cruel in ways that nobody should ever be cruel to a child. If I could relieve even a little bit of the burden from him… or punish the ones who burdened him in the first place…”

Linus leans forward, wrapping Arthur in a tight embrace. “You do. Relieve some of the burden on him. All I had to do was watch the way Lucy’s face changed when he was with you. You’re the one who takes away his nightmares. You’re the one who gives him the scripts he can follow to find a way through the minefield that is his thoughts. You’re his light in the darkness—his father in all the ways that count. Don’t ever think you’re not doing enough for him.”

Arthur sighs against Linus’ neck, a warm puff of air. “I’m doing my best. That’s all any of us can do, really—all any of us are doing. I was trying to make you feel better, though, not get caught in my own fears.”

“You succeeded. In making me feel better.” Linus presses a kiss to Arthur’s forehead, still amazed at the ease with which he can just reach out and touch this beautiful man. “Now, how about a little more kissing before you have to go back to your room and I have to let Calliope lead me to bed?”

“I think that can be arranged.” Arthur’s hands bury themselves in Linus’ hair, gripping on tight, as though Linus is something too precious to let go.

Linus doesn’t mention the real reason Arthur on one knee made his heart beat so very fast. It’s far too early in the relationship to actually be talking about marriage proposals, after all.

***

The bed is shaking and the air tastes of blood and Linus wakes up absolutely certain that he’s going to die.

That impression isn’t changed when he looks over the edge of the bed and realizes that he’s six feet off the ground, and that a child’s figure with glowing red eyes and shadows that seem to shift and drift into horns and a tail and other demonic accoutrements is standing just inside the doorway to his room.

Calliope hisses low in her throat, a strange, half-strangled sound that Linus has never heard before. Why isn’t she trying to run? Is she so afraid she can’t run? Or is she so affronted by this abasement of the boy who frequently tries to give her treats that she’s decided to spit in Satan’s face?

Either way, Linus realizes that he had best keep Lucy’s attention on him, especially since he doesn’t know exactly how conscious Lucy is.

That involves speaking, which goes against every ounce of self preservation in Linus’ body.

Good thing he turned all of that in when he quit DICOMY, eh?

The pep talk gives him the courage to open his mouth, but it doesn’t keep his words from slurring as he calls out, “Lucy, please stop this.”

Lucy lifts his head, his glowing red eyes seeming to see right through Linus to the very core of him. Lucy smiles, and it’s a terrible expression, all white teeth and red reflections and hungry shadows. “Linus Baker. Sinner extraordinaire. Stealer of fathers and children and hope. Do you want to see the spiders and all that they tell the child of darkness?”

“You are not a child of darkness. Your name is Lucy, and you’re my friend.” Linus finds it surprisingly easy to say those words—finds that they are, both on the surface and deep in their core, the absolute truth. “And friends don’t hurt friends. I don’t know why you’re out here or what you’re hoping to accomplish, but we can talk about it when I have my feet on the floor and you have a jacket on. Wasn’t it supposed to be a little nippy tonight?”

Lucy laughs, and it’s a strained sound, almost a sob. “Lucy isn’t home right now. Lucy wants Arthur to love him, and Arthur isn’t going to love him if he terrorizes Arthur’s boyfriend. Which it’s totally fine for Arthur to have a boyfriend, you know. Perfectly normal. The spiders don’t care. Lucy doesn’t care.”

“Oh, Lucy.” Linus arranges himself on the edge of the bed, debating if he can jump down without twisting an ankle or something more serious. “I know that you’re there, and I’m sorry if you’re upset about Arthur spending so much time with me.”

“I am not!” For a glorious moment Lucy’s voice sounds more like Lucy and less like a demonic portal to a realm of eternal suffering—more petulant child than eternal damnation.

“All right, then I’m glad that you’re handling this in a mature and reasonable way.” Linus starts to ease his legs over the side of the bed and stops as the entire structure shifts alarmingly, dropping towards the floor and then rising again.

“You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?” Lucy tosses the words up with a sneer. “You’re afraid of me and you’re not going to want to bring any other children here because you’re afraid of what I’ll do to them. The ones here I can’t hurt, because they’re too strong or because Arthur was smart and made them mine, but if you bring more…”

“If I bring more, this will be a far better place for them than where they came from, and I have every faith that you will make them feel welcome.” Linus tests the edge of the bed again, and once more it attempts to turn into a bucking bronco.

“You’re afraid of me still!” Lucy hollers the words, and thunder peels outside—or perhaps it just peels inside Linus’ head. “You’ll always be afraid of me! Everyone will! It’s just going to get worse and worse and worse and I’ll never have a boyfriend or a girlfriend and all I’m going to have in the end is these stupid spiders and—”

Linus jumps.

He doesn’t give himself time to think about it. Lucy is clearly losing more and more control, his half-asleep ramblings turning into the terrified ranting of a child on the verge of a complete meltdown.

Lucy needs him, so Linus jumps.

He lands hard, rolling his right ankle, but he doesn’t let that stop him from limping forward and wrapping Lucy’s shaking, jerking, glowing, unnatural body in a tight embrace. “I’ve got you, Lucy. You’re safe, and you’re loved, and we are never, ever letting you go.”

For one terrified moment—one that he will not be proud of moving forward—Linus thinks he’s made a terrible mistake. The shadows seem to grow teeth, monstrous dogs that want nothing more than to rip his skin from his body.

Then they’re gone, shredding away as Lucy puts his head in his hands and sobs. Lucy’s legs collapse a moment later, and he curls tight against Linus, a little bundle of tears and angry mumbled half-sentences that Linus can cradle close to his chest.

“Linus! Lucy!” Arthur’s voice finally comes from the front of the house, and a moment later Arthur charges into the room. His hair is a mess, and he’s not wearing a shirt; a dark line that will likely become a bruise spreads across the right side of his chest. “Oh, Lucy—Linus—are you both all right?”

Lucy peels himself free of Linus’ hold, careening over into Arthur and burying himself in Arthur’s embrace instead. Linus is only able to make out some of what Lucy says, but it’s enough to take all the fear he felt and melt it into protective rage.

“—sorry, Arthur—dream—he was there, right there, and he wanted me to hurt someone—he wanted—didn’t want to—find a way to redirect like you said—don’t be mad at me—”

Arthur rubs Lucy’s back, holding the child and rocking him back and forth as though he weren’t a terrifying monster in the dark just minutes ago.

Once Lucy’s sobs have quieted and he’s a firm barnacle plastered to Arthur’s shirt, Arthur turns his attention to Linus. “Let me get Lucy back to bed, and then I’ll be back to see how you’re doing?”

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Linus waves a hand, turning to limp to the bed—now sitting crooked on the floor—and allowing himself to collapse down.

“Perhaps not. You’re stronger than most give you credit for.” Arthur hefts Lucy up, turning to head for the door. “That doesn’t mean I won’t be back to check on you.”

Linus doesn’t have a chance to answer before Arthur’s gone.

Allowing his head to fall completely back, Linus studies the ceiling for some period of time. It may be hours; it may just be seconds. He doesn’t know what he’s searching for in the swirls of paint, which means it isn’t surprising that he doesn’t find the answers to the tight knot in his chest.

His revelry is broken by the feel of Arthur’s fingers closing around his swollen ankle. Linus lets out a hiss.

“Sorry.” Arthur manages to actually sound contrite. “Does this hurt?”

Linus allows Arthur to go through a complete exam on him. Eventually Arthur sighs, moving to lie along Linus’ side on the bed. “Not broken. Not even really sprained, I don’t think. Just bruised.”

“That’s good.” Linus turns, throwing an arm around Arthur’s chest. “Is Lucy all right?”

Arthur nods. “I’m sorry. I should have expected an adjustment period where his dreams would be worse, but he’s been so happy to have you back…”

“It’s all right.” It is, Linus realizes—or at least, he’s all right with Lucy. “He didn’t want to hurt me. I know that. I can only imagine what it’s like for a boy to have to fight not just when awake but when asleep to not become a monster. I won’t hold it against him.”

“I believe you.” Arthur’s words are half-muffled by Linus’ neck. “And that’s part of why I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I will help you fight whatever spiders or constructs or fallen angels we need to in order to protect Lucy and the others.” Linus says the words firmly, as though he were reciting one of the regulations and not declaring war on the Antichrist’s father.

“The best thing we can do is give Lucy a safe home, and you’re already helping so much with that.” Arthur lifts his head so he can brush his lips ever so lightly after Linus’. “I really am so very lucky I found you.”

“That’s my line.” Linus trails a finger over the already-fading bruise on Arthur’s chest. “Do you want to take turns watching over Lucy for the next few weeks?”

Arthur blinks.

“You’re going to be exhausted if you’re dealing with things like this plus all the regular schooling plus whatever DICOMY decides to pull next.” Linus’ hands close protectively together, creating a circle that encompasses Arthur. “So let me help you. Let me help Lucy.”

“I’ll ask him about it.” Arthur looks more stunned than if Linus hit him between the eyes with one of Talia’s hammers.

“I love you, Arthur.” Linus presses a kiss to Arthur’s mouth, and when Arthur closes his eyes, Linus presses a kiss to each eyelid.

“I love you, too.” Arthur inhales sharply—drawing in Linus’ scent, or something else? “I know it would have been better if I did this when I was on my knee earlier, but Linus Baker, would you like to marry me at a time of your convenience and choosing?”

Linus blinks. “What?”

“I’m proposing to you. Poorly. Because it’s very, very early in the morning and I think I might have hit my head when Lucy got past me.” Arthur laughs, a half-manic sound of delight, and his hands tighten around Linus’ body. “It’s not an eloquent proposal like I wanted to do, and I haven’t waited like I know we should, but I love you, Linus Baker. I would very much like to be your husband someday, and since your concern is contagious, I would like that day to be sooner rather than later.”

“Arthur…” There are so many things that Linus should say. There are reasonable doubts to put forth, and suggestions about waiting until they’re certain, and cautions to say about how a bad relationship break-up could put so very much at risk. “I accept, and I would love to marry you as soon as possible.”

“Does that mean one of you’s going to turn into a tree?”

Linus glances towards the window, unsurprised to see Phee balanced there, her expressive face contorted into a rictus that is hopefully sorrow but might also be glee.

“No.” Arthur seems far too calm about the question. “Humans don’t turn each other into trees when they mate. Linus will remain Linus. And no, we don’t have a date, and no, I don’t know what kind of wedding we’ll have, and I’m sorry, Chauncey, but most everybody we’d invite to a fancy wedding is already here. Perhaps we can ask Helen to bake special desserts, though, and you can help everyone figure out how to eat them.”

“Oh, I like that idea!” If Chauncey or any of the rest have the slightest shame about eavesdropping, it doesn’t show.

A small dog yapping is all the addition Sal manages to make.

Linus sighs, laughing as he hugs Arthur close once more.

Linus expected to be a spy when he came to this island to stay. He hoped to be Arthur’s friend, and if he was lucky, Arthur’s lover.

Instead he has become a part of the family Arthur has put together here, and nothing could be a greater honor or delight to Linus Baker.

He no longer needs to make any wishes, because all of his have come true, even if not quite in the way he would have liked them to.