He truly adored Avery, but he had also missed the time they had just between the two of them, whispered affection and affirmation of a decidedly less innocent, childish nature, the physical passion of two adults, deeply in love and desperate for more ways to show it. He falls in with Alecto's plans with a will, losing himself in the movement of their bodies together, putting guilt and shame aside. Seeing Alecto on his knees, swallowing him down, and his legs spread wide in silent, urgent invitation on the very table where he kept them so well cared for, providing a completely different kind of feast for Joshua's senses, served as a brief satiation for an elemental hunger in him that he does not think could ever disappear, always greedy and selfish for more.
He comes desperately into Alecto, biting his lip bloody, thinks about Avery's request for a sibling, he thinks about their home, their family, filled to the brim with laughter and warmth and light, he thinks about coming home to Alecto, each and every night...
He shakily drops to his own knees, laps hungrily at Alecto between his legs to bring him to yet another peak of pleasure, muffling a desperate sob in the lewd wetness of their mutual joining, before they clean each other up in the dark and fall into bed. And if he clings a little tighter to both of them, if he wakes before the dawn to find Avery insinuated between them (once again), if he lingers a few moments more before he finally manages to extricate himself to trim the lighthouse lamps with the rising sun, what of it?
The next morning, he arranges the lighthouse shifts for the time he'll be gone, updates the notes in the logs, reminds the two assistant keepers of their other duties, before arranging his travel and purchasing his train tickets. He comes home in the middle of the day, officially off-duty, and finds most of his things laid out for him already - yet another little weight of Alecto's thoughtfulness, with Avery mischievously unfolding and wrinkling his shirts as he tosses them about the room, so pleased to have 'papa' home unexpectedly to play with him. He packs and prepares with as light a heart as he can manage, knowing now the weight of his own failure, throwing himself utterly into enjoying this remaining time, preparing for the oncoming change.
He kisses them both goodbye the next morning with a genuine smile, slings his travel bags over his shoulder, with the packet holding all the letters and documents he'd amassed over the past few years. The trip itself is uneventful, the quiet sway of travel by horse and the metallic racket of the tracks a significant change from the crash of waves on rocks and the clatter of ships being built. He forgets, sometimes, how different things are inland, dusty stretches of road lined with trees instead of dune grass and shell fragments, the chittering of birds hidden in the forest a more subdued music than the screams of the gulls, the dirt and grime of the cities a muddy contrast to constant wind and grainy sand, but just as pervasive and prevalent.
He presents himself at the law offices in his most formal attire; he draws more than a few eyes, all of which he ignores. The lawyer listed in his correspondence greets him personally after verifying his identity, invites him to walk down to the bank with him to see the box.
The box itself seems small, for what it purports to hold. The lawyer outlines the discovery, several years into the process, of Nathaniel's papers and a letter contained within the box itself, both of which contained strict instructions from the deceased not to allow anyone other than Alecto Blackburn to claim its contents.
The lawyer chuckles, the tone dry and sardonic as old bones. "Not that that was going to stop Mr. Blackburn's relatives. To be honest, I was hoping you'd bring Alecto Bla- ah, Alecto Archer along with you, Mr. Archer. We've all been so curious." Joshua demurs as politely as he can, citing the presence of a child, which the lawyer accepts readily as excuse enough to avoid travel.
"Most of these are trinkets, you understand, Mr. Archer," he says, in a confiding, confidential tone. "A few items carefully set aside for his wife - not a large amount in the grand scheme of things, but enough to keep an economical widow in comfort for a few months." And Joshua remembers the rest of the inventory - mostly jewelry, a few other personal sundry items. He remembers Alecto coming back from an unexpected trip to the next town over, without his wedding ring, and excitedly outlining to Joshua what he wanted to do with the proceeds of its sale.
"The coat, however..." The lawyer's voice lowers, and Joshua has to fight against a feeling of revulsion at the avid expression on the man's face. "The family demanded an accounting of all his unencumbered assets, and the previous executor was - a man easily influenced. My associates tell me that things nearly came to blows in the office at the time. But the letter was very clear; possession of these items was to remain with Alecto Blackburn only, and to do otherwise was to risk violating the favorable terms outlined in the rest of the settlement."
He chuckles again, as he offers Joshua the key to the box, with the bank's attendant standing watch in the room behind them. "Particularly since there was a stream of regular correspondence to the bank, indicating that someone was aware of and interested in the disposition of this particular deposit, someone with connections to Mr. Blackburn's widow. Someone who was willing, it seemed, to diligently pursue the matter on his behalf without any expectation of - financial compensation. The rest of the Blackburns were all too ready to continue to defraud a widow with no family support, but it seemed he had some luck on his side." The lawyer slants a look at Joshua, holding the key silently, his expression politely interested, but clearly oddly tense at the way he'd somehow been slotted into the story.
"I'll leave you to it then, Mr. Archer. Once you've verified the contents against the listed inventory, I'll need you to sign an affidavit for the bank's records, along with a copy of your personal identification and your marriage license to keep on file. Then you can take full possession, and I'll have finally discharged this responsibility."
~~~
The coat is, as expected, beautiful; maybe more beautiful even than he had been imagining all these years. Whether that's a product of reality or of coming to know its owner is a distinction that Joshua is far from inclined to investigate.
It's a far lighter color than Avery's own sealskin, the exact white of that seal from his childhood memories, and almost shimmers even in the dim lamps in the room of the boardinghouse where Joshua had taken a room for the night. Logically speaking, he had no need to fear theft or some other kind of discovery, but he'd locked and barred the door and drawn the curtains in the windows all the same. He lays it out on the bed, his rough hands careful and gentle, as painstaking with the coat as he would be with its true owner (except in cases where the true owner might demand rougher treatment), his palms stroking over the softness with reverence. He can't quite let it out of his sight; he even sleeps next to it on the bed that night, the coat clutched to him as he inhales the scent of the sea, thinking of home.
He packs it carefully the next day, wrapping it in layer upon layer of fine silk purchased from town, and then in a colorful oilcloth packet, before he tucks it back into the lockbox again. The box - so small, again, for what it contained - fits easily in his own bags for travel. He buys treats for Avery, including a small model train, a few items for Alecto and other friends in town, and then goes to the station to catch his train back home.
Through the entire journey, he wrestles with his own thoughts. They were already happy as things were, he reasoned; hadn't Alecto said, all those years ago, that he loved Joshua as much as he'd loved the sea, that he could live out his days with him without ever finding his coat again? And there was Avery now, to think of (his heart sinks again at that thought, of their son being impacted by whatever this became between them, whatever he ended up deciding); weren't things just... better now? If Alecto never found out, he would never know what had been missing.
But Joshua had never been a very good liar, and even less so when it came to Alecto. And he doesn't know how long he could keep this secret, even when their happiness depended on it, when he couldn't even keep Alecto from suspecting that something was on his mind, simply from a disquieting letter.
The train arrives a little early without coming to a real conclusion. On a whim, he stops in at the town post office and greets the postman there with a smile and some stories of his brief foray outside of town. But could he ask the man a favor, and swear him to secrecy, perhaps? He'd brought back something for his wife - the man nods, knowingly - and he wanted to surprise him with it at a later date. Could he perhaps trust the post office to keep it safe for him until he was ready to give it to him? Maybe even stage a delivery when Joshua gave the word? He hands over the lockbox with a mix of relief and dread.
no subject
He comes desperately into Alecto, biting his lip bloody, thinks about Avery's request for a sibling, he thinks about their home, their family, filled to the brim with laughter and warmth and light, he thinks about coming home to Alecto, each and every night...
He shakily drops to his own knees, laps hungrily at Alecto between his legs to bring him to yet another peak of pleasure, muffling a desperate sob in the lewd wetness of their mutual joining, before they clean each other up in the dark and fall into bed. And if he clings a little tighter to both of them, if he wakes before the dawn to find Avery insinuated between them (once again), if he lingers a few moments more before he finally manages to extricate himself to trim the lighthouse lamps with the rising sun, what of it?
The next morning, he arranges the lighthouse shifts for the time he'll be gone, updates the notes in the logs, reminds the two assistant keepers of their other duties, before arranging his travel and purchasing his train tickets. He comes home in the middle of the day, officially off-duty, and finds most of his things laid out for him already - yet another little weight of Alecto's thoughtfulness, with Avery mischievously unfolding and wrinkling his shirts as he tosses them about the room, so pleased to have 'papa' home unexpectedly to play with him. He packs and prepares with as light a heart as he can manage, knowing now the weight of his own failure, throwing himself utterly into enjoying this remaining time, preparing for the oncoming change.
He kisses them both goodbye the next morning with a genuine smile, slings his travel bags over his shoulder, with the packet holding all the letters and documents he'd amassed over the past few years. The trip itself is uneventful, the quiet sway of travel by horse and the metallic racket of the tracks a significant change from the crash of waves on rocks and the clatter of ships being built. He forgets, sometimes, how different things are inland, dusty stretches of road lined with trees instead of dune grass and shell fragments, the chittering of birds hidden in the forest a more subdued music than the screams of the gulls, the dirt and grime of the cities a muddy contrast to constant wind and grainy sand, but just as pervasive and prevalent.
He presents himself at the law offices in his most formal attire; he draws more than a few eyes, all of which he ignores. The lawyer listed in his correspondence greets him personally after verifying his identity, invites him to walk down to the bank with him to see the box.
The box itself seems small, for what it purports to hold. The lawyer outlines the discovery, several years into the process, of Nathaniel's papers and a letter contained within the box itself, both of which contained strict instructions from the deceased not to allow anyone other than Alecto Blackburn to claim its contents.
The lawyer chuckles, the tone dry and sardonic as old bones. "Not that that was going to stop Mr. Blackburn's relatives. To be honest, I was hoping you'd bring Alecto Bla- ah, Alecto Archer along with you, Mr. Archer. We've all been so curious." Joshua demurs as politely as he can, citing the presence of a child, which the lawyer accepts readily as excuse enough to avoid travel.
"Most of these are trinkets, you understand, Mr. Archer," he says, in a confiding, confidential tone. "A few items carefully set aside for his wife - not a large amount in the grand scheme of things, but enough to keep an economical widow in comfort for a few months." And Joshua remembers the rest of the inventory - mostly jewelry, a few other personal sundry items. He remembers Alecto coming back from an unexpected trip to the next town over, without his wedding ring, and excitedly outlining to Joshua what he wanted to do with the proceeds of its sale.
"The coat, however..." The lawyer's voice lowers, and Joshua has to fight against a feeling of revulsion at the avid expression on the man's face. "The family demanded an accounting of all his unencumbered assets, and the previous executor was - a man easily influenced. My associates tell me that things nearly came to blows in the office at the time. But the letter was very clear; possession of these items was to remain with Alecto Blackburn only, and to do otherwise was to risk violating the favorable terms outlined in the rest of the settlement."
He chuckles again, as he offers Joshua the key to the box, with the bank's attendant standing watch in the room behind them. "Particularly since there was a stream of regular correspondence to the bank, indicating that someone was aware of and interested in the disposition of this particular deposit, someone with connections to Mr. Blackburn's widow. Someone who was willing, it seemed, to diligently pursue the matter on his behalf without any expectation of - financial compensation. The rest of the Blackburns were all too ready to continue to defraud a widow with no family support, but it seemed he had some luck on his side." The lawyer slants a look at Joshua, holding the key silently, his expression politely interested, but clearly oddly tense at the way he'd somehow been slotted into the story.
"I'll leave you to it then, Mr. Archer. Once you've verified the contents against the listed inventory, I'll need you to sign an affidavit for the bank's records, along with a copy of your personal identification and your marriage license to keep on file. Then you can take full possession, and I'll have finally discharged this responsibility."
~~~
The coat is, as expected, beautiful; maybe more beautiful even than he had been imagining all these years. Whether that's a product of reality or of coming to know its owner is a distinction that Joshua is far from inclined to investigate.
It's a far lighter color than Avery's own sealskin, the exact white of that seal from his childhood memories, and almost shimmers even in the dim lamps in the room of the boardinghouse where Joshua had taken a room for the night. Logically speaking, he had no need to fear theft or some other kind of discovery, but he'd locked and barred the door and drawn the curtains in the windows all the same. He lays it out on the bed, his rough hands careful and gentle, as painstaking with the coat as he would be with its true owner (except in cases where the true owner might demand rougher treatment), his palms stroking over the softness with reverence. He can't quite let it out of his sight; he even sleeps next to it on the bed that night, the coat clutched to him as he inhales the scent of the sea, thinking of home.
He packs it carefully the next day, wrapping it in layer upon layer of fine silk purchased from town, and then in a colorful oilcloth packet, before he tucks it back into the lockbox again. The box - so small, again, for what it contained - fits easily in his own bags for travel. He buys treats for Avery, including a small model train, a few items for Alecto and other friends in town, and then goes to the station to catch his train back home.
Through the entire journey, he wrestles with his own thoughts. They were already happy as things were, he reasoned; hadn't Alecto said, all those years ago, that he loved Joshua as much as he'd loved the sea, that he could live out his days with him without ever finding his coat again? And there was Avery now, to think of (his heart sinks again at that thought, of their son being impacted by whatever this became between them, whatever he ended up deciding); weren't things just... better now? If Alecto never found out, he would never know what had been missing.
But Joshua had never been a very good liar, and even less so when it came to Alecto. And he doesn't know how long he could keep this secret, even when their happiness depended on it, when he couldn't even keep Alecto from suspecting that something was on his mind, simply from a disquieting letter.
The train arrives a little early without coming to a real conclusion. On a whim, he stops in at the town post office and greets the postman there with a smile and some stories of his brief foray outside of town. But could he ask the man a favor, and swear him to secrecy, perhaps? He'd brought back something for his wife - the man nods, knowingly - and he wanted to surprise him with it at a later date. Could he perhaps trust the post office to keep it safe for him until he was ready to give it to him? Maybe even stage a delivery when Joshua gave the word? He hands over the lockbox with a mix of relief and dread.
And then finally heads home again.