amicably_absent | (no subject)

(no subject)

Six weeks is a long time for anyone. For Glitch, it is both forever and no time at all, depending on the exact minute.

Overall, it's been a long time. He's been glitching again, not severely, but more than he prefers. Going through his old labs in Central City, in the palace itself, he's remembering glimpses that flinch away as he reaches for them.

He has no concept of how long has passed. No one's thought to really remind him, he almost prefers not knowing. And no one was sure about when the Tin men would return, so no one really pushed it.

Which is why Glitch isn't waiting for them when they return. He's sitting in the garden, reading his old diaries and half listening to the whispers of Ambrose. He's still wearing Cain's hat though.

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Glitch smiles warmly, only gets as far as, "Not as much as Ambro-" before he's being kissed. And returning every kiss, hands cupping Wyatt's face just as tenderly. He can feel it, the shift of emotions, somewhere in his chest, between the kisses and it feels amazing.

Like he finally knows himself.

Time loses all conceptual meaning, cushioned by grass and earth and holding the man he loves. The suns move across the sky and there's a warm breeze, but nothing compares to this.

Later, but how much later anyone is the wiser, their lips part, and for the moment, it's enough. The moment may be brief, but it's a moment, nonetheless.

"Did you get my letters?"

"Letters," he murmurs with a curious tone. "Oh. Yes. I did. I think. I think they were in the diary I was reading."

And then he kisses his lover again, slow and tender, pulling Wyatt's arms around him.

It is perfect. That is all.

"Glitch?"

Glitch hums softly, snuggling in. "Yes, Wyatt?"

For a moment, panic strikes, because his brain catches up with his mouth and clicks into gear. Is it the right time? How do you say it? I can't breathe. And the most scary thought of them all: What if--?

"I love you."

Glitch pauses, and looks up at Wyatt, eyes wide with amazement. "You-"

"Master Ambrose! Her Majesty is looking for you- Oh!" The manservant stumbles back behind a hedge. "Her Majesty requests you in the Main Hall. I'm sure she wasn't aware that you're with company..."

Wyatt will readily admit to himself, while letting the back of his head thud dully into the ground, that What if some twerp walks in on us before I get some sort of positive response? was the furthest from his mind.

If timing were a tangible concept, he'd strangle it.

He'll just have to settle for a sigh, and a peck to Glitch's cheek. "Go on. Her Majesty needs you, Her Majesty needs you." He can't compete with that.

Glitch looks back to Cain, up to the messenger, back again. "Tell Her Majesty that unless it's an emergency, I'm taking this afternoon for myself since Wyatt is home."

The messenger nods and leaves in a hurry.

"Now..." Glitch purrs. "Where were we?"

He blinks, not expecting that response. Once he's certain the servant's left, he looks at Glitch's cat got the canary grin, and asks, "You can do that? Just...take an afternoon off? For me?"

"Why not? The building isn't going to run off during the night, it'll be there tomorrow for work. And if it isn't an emergency, it's my day and my time and she and Ambrose can just wait. I haven't had you for weeks and weeks."

He does have a point. An entire batch full of very valid points that he's more than happy to support. It's been a long, long several weeks. "You're right. It's been far too long."

"Far, far too long." He sits up enough to push Cain's coat open and starts trying to unbuckle his holster so they're not lying with his gun right there.

"Sorry about that." He lets Glitch have a go at the closures before butting in with a helping hand. "I got distracted."

Not that that's new where him and Glitch is concerned.

"So, you kept a diary while I was away, didn't you? We were going to read it together when I got back, get us both up to date on what you've been up to."

It's just a suggestion.

"Reading later." He tugs to slide off the leather and drop it to the side, undoing the snaps of his vest and pushing his hands up under Wyatt's shirt. "I want to be with you. Close and just us."

He shivers, comes entirely too close to giggling from the unexpectedness of hands up his shirt in the Queen's garden.

"Not out here you don't!" But despite the exclamation, there's a quite blatant promise in there as well. It implies things, see, of what they might get up to elsewhere.

"Why not here? No one will disturb us." He grins wickedly at Cain. "Come on, Tin man, live a little."

"You know what, Sweetheart? Someone just did, and I'm not roaring for an encore."

"They won't after that." Not by the time the servant mentions what he saw. He kisses Wyatt slow and deep, tender and wanting and with all the emotion of six weeks of 'I miss you'. One of those kisses.

One of those kisses that go right to Wyatt's head, and no necessarily the one that does the rational thinking. His eyes close, his arms go around Glitch again and pulls him close, because it really has been too long. Too many nights of being unable to sleep for the images that flash before your eyes and staying up watching the stars and the moons, wondering if Glitch is out dancing.

He moans despite himself.

He presses in close, close as he can, hands skimming Wyatt's sides as they kiss, slow and deep.

He's missed this. He remembers it, but the memory is hazy and only there from being re-written and re-read. He wants it fresh, like this, lively and real.

It's been fresh and vibrant and vivid in Wyatt's mind since he left; not being able to act on it is his problem. Now that he can, despite the risk of getting caught blaring through his head like a foghorn, he can't keep his hands to himself.

His lips close over every square of skin, along his jaw, down his neck, skimming his ear at a whim; his hands press through fabric to feel and map familiar ground all over again. He feels alive again.

Glitch kisses back, wild, erratic kisses on whatever he can reach at the time, clinging onto Wyatt tightly. "Missed you," he whispers. "Missed you so much."

His hands bunch up fabric, rush to the front to fiddle with buttons, then deciding he can't be bothered and instead pulls his shirt up. Why?

So he can kiss his way all over his chest. All over. This is something he's been wanting to do since they first went from kissing to making out like adolescents on the couch.

Glitch obliges, lifting his arms and then rolling them over, away from the gun so he's lying on his back, Cain over him, giggling like a teenager and arching into the kisses.