22 September 1891 — Macnair Home, Inverness

The route to Macnair's bedroom from Ford's house was a needlessly complicated one, but Ford didn't mind. From the Greengrass home he walked to the Three Broomsticks, where he paid a knut to use the floo to one of the two locations in Inverness that were open to the public and within walking distance from the Macnair home. He switched which one he used, and if he stayed the night he always ensured he used the opposite one the next morning, so that it didn't seem too conspicuous. From there he walked through the countryside until he could see the gothic architecture of the house, found a spot off the road where he couldn't be seen, and apparated up to Macnair's room. It provided almost no chance of being caught, because if someone happened upon him at any point before he reached the bedroom he could always pretend he was going somewhere else. It gave him time to think, too, as he walked through the Scottish Highlands, and he liked that he always had time to think of how he wanted to greet the other man before he saw him.

What he wanted tonight was to find a way to say three words: I love you. When he'd missed their last appointment and Macnair had sent him a letter asking where he was, Ford had felt panicked and overwhelmed. Verity had still been missing, and although there was nothing he could do he also felt it was his duty not to leave the house for too long. What if she came back? What if Grace had a breakdown? He had to be there, just in case. But he'd also been worried that Macnair would misinterpret his absence and take offense, which had made it difficult to say no. Nevermind that the only thing Ford wanted to do in that moment was crawl into Macnair's arms and hide from the entire world. After he'd sent Macnair a reply, he'd worried about it incessantly until he received a letter back. You should know you can tell me if there's something wrong. Let me know when you want to come over. Yours.

His relief had been palpable, and the only thing Ford could think as he folded the letter up and tucked it into his breast pocket was I love you. But he couldn't write that, because they hadn't said it yet, so instead he'd said nothing until after Verity was back and he'd had a chance to come down from the anxiety that had gripped him the entire time she'd been gone. Although the intensity of his emotions had dwindled somewhat, the sentiment remained. Ford wasn't used to being on the receiving end of offers of support, and the way that Macnair had offered without insisting was so gracious and caring. Combined with everything else that they'd been through since the start of their relationship, Ford was sure of what he felt. He was less sure of how Macnair would react to it. Ford had made half of this admission before, after all — that disastrous night at the club — and while Macnair hadn't rejected him straight out, he certainly hadn't reciprocated the sentiment.

Bringing it up had to be tactful, which meant Ford had a lot more to think about on his walk to the Macnair home than he usually did. He hadn't resolved it by the time he'd reached the end of his walk and found a good place to apparate from, which meant when he appeared in Macnair's bedroom he was feeling more haphazard than usual. "Hey," he grinned, moving immediately to close the distance between them and offer Macnair a kiss.

---

Valerian had allowed himself to get attached to Greengrass, but that didn't mean he'd necessarily broken down every wall. Each day had passed as a day that Greengrass hadn't returned his letter, and while concern and unease had begun building up in his chest, so did the wall he'd allowed Greengrass to start breaking down. But the three-day-long silence came to an end, and Greengrass had revealed that it wasn't second thoughts or forgetfulness on his end, but a family issue.

And then Valerian's worries left him life a breath he'd been holding in for a long time, complete with the aching in his chest in all. He wasn't sure what to call it—relief, maybe, that he hadn't been abandoned, or maybe reassurance that everything would be alright, at least with Greengrass himself. He couldn't speak for the Greengrass family, and in truth he didn't care much about them; it was selfish, but it was true, and he found himself hoping that whatever one of his siblings had gotten themselves into wouldn't bring down his spirits too much.

(It was, he knew, a little hypocritical given that he had his own family problems that would probably bring down Greengrass' spirits, but that was why he'd been trying to keep the conversation away from the topic.)

Valerian hummed happily as Greengrass kissed him, his arms winding around his waist as they had many times before. He squeezed Greengrass a little tighter and pulled him in a little closer, telling himself that he deserved as much after being deprived of the kisses he'd been looking forward to the week before. When he finally pulled back, his hands slipped from around Greengrass' waist and came to rest on his hips. Valerian tried to get a good look at him, his gaze first lingering on his face and then slowly following the exposed skin of his neck, then his wrists, and then back up to his face. There was nothing visibly wrong, so that was good. A good start.

"Hey," he said, his lips sliding into a smile, "You've kept me waiting long enough."

---

Ford had intended the first kiss to serve more as a greeting than anything else, but he didn't protest when Macnair wrapped his arms around him. He was in no fit state mentally or emotionally to be denying Macnair kisses, even if he'd had the inclination. There was a comfort in being back in his arms that Ford needed, after the week he'd had. Things at home were fine now, ostensibly, but it would probably be months before he was able to look at Verity again without a twinge of anxiety and guilt. But he didn't want to think about that now — not while he was here. He didn't plan to spend the night, although he hadn't told Macnair that yet. He didn't think he could really leave his family for that long at the moment without having a mild panic attack, and he didn't want to risk dragging Macnair into the middle of everything he was feeling about his sister. So he wasn't going to stay longer than two hours, or maybe three — he ought to be able to put all that shit aside and just be here for the next few hours.

"I didn't mean to," he replied. He tried to look appropriately chastised by Macnair's comment, but he couldn't entirely erase the traces of a smile from his face — the taste of Macnair's lips was still lingering on his, and he was noticing all the little things about Macnair that he liked, and he was so relieved to finally be here. "You know I'd be here every night, if I could."

Well, maybe Macnair didn't know that yet, but he would soon enough if Ford followed through on what he wanted to say tonight.

---

Valerian tried to look suspicious, but no matter how hard he tried the smile strained its way back onto his lips. "I don't believe you," he teased, and even though it was true to some degree—insecurities without evidence—he hardly meant it in the moment. Greengrass was here, but it was in his absence that Valerian had realized how lonely married life could be. He'd always thought singleness was lonely, and that marriage, if not rooted in love, might at least bring companionship, but his relationship with Tatiana was nothing like he'd imagined it would be. He cared for her and it was something like love, but his feelings remained as platonic as before (and maybe even more so since their honeymoon had resulted in it).

Even though it was something major, something he'd have to confess eventually, but that he was all too willing to pretend didn't exist... for now. Greengrass was here, and he didn't feel as lonely a he had minutes ago, and Valerian was determined to enjoy the night he had with him.

"You'll have to prove it to me, won't you?" He leaned down and pecked him again, but didn't linger as long this time. His hands slid up to Greengrass' wrist and up the lengths of his arms until they rested on the side of his upper arms. "Or do you want to talk first?"

---

Macnair was teasing him, and Ford wanted to just go along with it. In fact, before Macnair had even finished he was already leaning in, curling Macnair's lapel into one hand while his other hand moved below the other man's belt. They should talk first, though. If Ford let things continue until they'd fallen into bed together, he wasn't going to end up saying what he wanted to say. He couldn't say it while they were in the heat of the moment, or right after they'd finished, because then Macnair would think he hadn't thought it through.

On the other hand, maybe that was safer. Maybe if Ford said I love you while they were in bed together and Macnair reacted poorly, it would be easier to recover. He could just pretend he hadn't meant to say it and didn't really mean it...

Except he couldn't, because Ford had never been a very good liar. With something like this, he was sure he wouldn't be able to manage it. Even if he managed to get through a lie without crumbling, Macnair would see right through him.

"Let's — agh." Ford had started to say let's talk, and pull back as he did so, but became immediately frustrated by the space between them. He closed the distance again, wrapping himself around Macnair as best he could. "Kiss me for a minute, then we'll talk."

---

He didn't argue. It would have been smarter to talk then, but not easier, and Valerian welcomed anything that came between him and the admission. He let his arms slide back to their position around Greengrass' waist and leaned in to kiss Greengrass. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment, unable to stop himself from comparing how soft and warm Greengrass' lips felt against his own compared to how stiff and cold Tatiana's felt in the rare moments they did share a kiss. He hated the comparison, but, as he told himself, it was not a comparison that left him conflicted, but rather more certain that he (1) was not at all attracted to his wife, and (2) enamored with the man in front of him.

Finally he forced himself to pull back, but only far enough so he could catch a breath. He pressed his forehead to Greengrass' and hummed contentedly. He didn't talk, instead waiting for Greengrass to talk—it had been him who'd mentioned family problems, and Valerian assumed it would be the topic of their conversation.

---

This hadn't been the smartest idea, because once they started kissing Ford didn't want to stop. Even when Macnair pulled back and rested his forehead on Ford's, Ford was still inclined to lean into him and start the whole thing off again. How much time would it take to get Macnair's belt off...? If he started in again he knew he wouldn't stop and he wouldn't end up saying it, but would that really be the end of the world? It wasn't something Ford expected to change anytime soon. He could tell Macnair next week.

The problem was that Macnair already knew they were supposed to talk about something, so he'd probably bring it up after they'd finished, and Ford would have to scramble to think of something else to say. Which... actually, how did Macnair know they were supposed to talk about something? He couldn't have guessed what Ford wanted to say, so he must have meant something else.

"Did you want to talk about last week?" Ford asked, trying to hide a grimace at the thought of having to dive into all of that.

---

Valerian tried to hide his own grimace. There were certainly other things he needed to talk about, but it was so much easier to take the chance to talk about Greengrass and his troubles than it was to talk about things that might trouble their relationship.

"If you're comfortable discussing it with me," he replied, leaning forward so their noses brushed. It would be so much easier to give into their physical desires, to avoid the uncomfortable conversations—but avoiding those conversations had ruined things last time, and Valerian didn't want to be dishonest about things that would eventually come to light.

---

He wasn't sure exactly what had done it. Macnair's words themselves, or the way he moved, or maybe just how nervous and high-strung Ford had already been before either of those things had happened. Whatever it was, Ford felt his throat lock up with sudden emotion, and before he said anything he'd maneuvered in closer to Macnair so that he could embrace him. Ford nestled his head down against Macnair's chest, and although he had to stoop slightly to do so he didn't mind in the least. He wrapped his arms around Macnair tightly, closed his eyes, and breathed him in for a second. "I'm comfortable with you," he muttered into the fabric of Macnair's jacket. It was true, but it didn't ease the feeling of anxiety about having to talk about any of this. The last week had been stressful enough without reliving it all, but he understood why the other man would be curious about what had happened based on Ford's behavior.

"I didn't mean to stand you up," he mumbled, relaxing his grip on Macnair slightly but not fully removing himself from the embrace. "I was so caught up worrying about everything else I think I forgot what date it was entirely until I got your letter. You letter meant a lot — not the first one, I mean, the response," he clarified. "When you said I could tell you if something was wrong. I don't — I mean, I have a lot of friends but I don't have a lot of confidantes, I suppose. So that meant a lot to me, that you offered."

---

His arms wound tightly around Greengrass and he allowed himself to just be, just for a moment. The weight of Greengrass' words sent a rush of warmth through him, but what followed was much less pleasant.

Guilt. There was so much of it, and he wasn't sure what the exact cause of it was and where to direct it. He felt guilty for getting Tatiana pregnant when he yearned to spend every night with the man he actually desired, but then he told himself it was absurd to feel that way. He didn't promise Tatiana romantic love, and Greengrass knew why he'd gotten married. It was his duty to father children, not only for his wife's sake but for his parent's—but then, why did it feel like less a blessing than a curse? And why had he slept with her at all if he hadn't wanted a child to interrupt what he had with Greengrass? There were so many questions he hadn't begun to wrap his head around, but there wasn't time to work through them before he had to inform Greengrass of the reality of the situation.

And it didn't help that Greengrass was being so affectionate, so willing to share his intimate feelings and how much he meant to him.

"You know what you mean to me," he murmured into Greengrass' hair. "I'm here to listen. Always." Even if Greengrass probably wouldn't want to talk to him after he said what had to be said.

---

Macnair's words made his heart beat a little faster. Ford may have been considering how he would get around to saying this for several hours before he came, but in the end nothing he'd been thinking through mattered; the words just poured out of him the same way the feeling had when he read Macnair's letter the week before.

"I love you," he said, and for a moment he wasn't even anxious about the response. The dominant feeling was relief, actually — because now it was said, and he didn't have to have it hanging over his head anymore, and he didn't have to worry about trying to keep himself from letting it slip out at the wrong moment or in the wrong way. Ford wasn't worried that Macnair wouldn't reciprocate — not when he'd just said you know what you mean to me.

At least, for half a second he wasn't worried about it. Then the anxiety set in all at once and forcefully, because of all the ways he'd thought he might bring this up, this particular path had been in none of his plans.

---

His chest tightened in a way it really hadn't ever before. If he was less knowledgeable in the medical field, he might have suspected he was having a heart attack, because he swore his heart skipped several beats just as his lungs seemed to lose the ability to exhale. I love you—it was so intimate, so real. In that second he knew he'd never again be able to tell himself that this—what he and Greengrass had—was something that would inevitably end when Greengrass got sick of his body and his company, because he'd said he loved him. Merlin.

But that was a good thing. That's what caused his lips to spread into a smile against Greengrass' head, what sent an involuntary shiver up his spine. What caused his chest to tighten and his lungs to give was the realization that now he'd have to reveal the news to the man who loved him.

And who he loved back. He said it, too, pulling back to smile as the words, "I love you, too," left his lips. But then his smile faded and his brows knitted, and suddenly the worry was evident on his face. "I need to tell you something, though."

---

Ford hadn't expected that Macnair would say it back, even a moment ago when he'd said you know what you mean to me. Feeling it and saying it were two different things, and Ford would have been content with a more neutral response for the time being. This was more than he'd dared to hope for, and his heart leapt into his throat. Macnair had started to pull back from the embrace, but at the moment all Ford wanted to do was throw his arms around him with renewed vigor, kiss his neck and fall into bed with him.

Until he saw Macnair's expression. The look on his face was unmistakable; this was bad news, whatever it was. Ford felt as though he'd suddenly swallowed a large ice cube. Every inch of his skin still ached to touch Macnair, but there was a coldness in the pit of his stomach spreading outwards, arresting any movement before he could start. Ford relaxed his arms slightly, remaining in the embrace but adding an extra sliver of distance between them so that he could better see Macnair's expression. "What is it? What's the matter?"

---

It wasn't that bad, he tried to tell himself, over and over until it became clear that no amount of self-reassurance wouldn't make the dread disappear. It didn't help that Greengrass' own expression had so rapidly switched from warm and affectionate to the wide-eyed alarmed look that made his insides twist uncomfortably.

"It's—" he tried at first, but words failed him. Was there a right way to phrase it? He'd been elated by the news of a child when Tatiana first came to him (not because he was a particularly family-oriented person, but because it meant he'd done his duty) so it wasn't as though he could genuinely say he was sorry for it. What he was sorry for, however, was how it would affect this. Them.

"Tatiana is with child," he finally blurted after the painful moment of silence passed. "And, well—it doesn't affect my feelings, but I'm not as sure that it won't affect yours."

---

The awkward silence before Macnair responded made Ford's insides squirm, but once Macnair had actually come out and said it, Ford wished it had taken him longer. It say that he was caught off guard by the news would have been an understatement. After what they'd just said this was emotional whiplash.

There was no reason he ought to be surprised by this development. Macnair was married. People who were married tended to have children, unless they went out of their way to avoid it, which Macnair had never indicated he had any intention of doing. He'd told Ford that things were different between himself and Tatiana compared to a typical husband and wife when his engagement had been announced, but he was still married. He might not be in love with her but he still had certain responsibilities. (Macnair had said he wasn't in love with her, hadn't he? Ford wanted to believe he had but now he couldn't remember exactly how that conversation had played out. He remembered asking the question: so, what, you just fell in love with her this week? How had Macnair responded? Had he answered or had he dodged the question? Ford didn't recall and it was suddenly killing him. He'd never gotten the impression that Macnair was in love with her, and Macnair had never explicitly said that he was... but then, they didn't spend much time talking about her to begin with, so there wasn't much opportunity for it to come up).

(Macnair had just said I love you, too. It seemed terribly unfair — but also somehow entirely expected — that Ford wouldn't be allowed even one full moment to revel in that before new circumstances cast aspersions on it).

The other piece of this, whether Macnair had any feelings for his wife or not, and whether those feelings were competing with what he felt for Ford or not, was that if Tatiana was pregnant it meant they'd been intimate together — probably more than once, probably regularly, perhaps even often. While he'd known that in an abstract sense, it didn't mean he was keen to actually picture it. It didn't mean he was ambivalent to being presented with the proof of it. The idea of Macnair being with someone else in the same way that he was with Ford made Ford's gut twist. Because if Macnair held her the same way that he held Ford, if he kissed her the same way that he kissed Ford, if he muttered the same sorts of things to her when they were lying in bed together — how could he not have feelings for her? How could he not be at least a little bit in love with her?

"Oh," he said, letting his arms droop until the embrace dissolved and he was left standing awkwardly and wondering what to do with his hands. He blinked several times, trying to figure out what he needed to say or do next that would qualify as acting naturally. What was the natural response to the news that a man you were in love with had gotten his wife pregnant? "I, ah..." Macnair had said it didn't affect his feelings, and maybe right now it didn't. He wouldn't have said I love you, too just a moment ago if he hadn't meant it. Ford had more faith in him than to believe he was capable of lying about something like that right to Ford's face. Just because it hadn't affected his feelings now didn't mean that it wouldn't, though. He was going to have a baby. That was going to change everything — including everything about their relationship, by necessity. Macnair was going to have a family, one that he was responsible for in a more tangible way than his brothers and one that would require more of his attention and energy than his wife, and Ford couldn't compete with that. At the moment, though, Macnair had only said this development didn't affect his feelings, and Ford was hardly going to protest that he was wrong about that. There was nothing to do except wait and see how things went.

This was the beginning of the summer all over again, except this time it was worse, because now Ford was in love. This was the entire reason he'd distanced himself from Macnair in the first place: he'd been trying to avoid this exact scenario. Instead, he'd walked right into it. He was going to be distracted and heartbroken and desperately lonely whenever Macnair got around to calling things off, but in the meantime Macnair wanted to know if Ford's feelings were affected. (And what was he going to do if Ford said yes, they were? Take it back?) Ford blinked again and swallowed. "Right," he said. He was vaguely aware that this wasn't an answer to Macnair's question, but Macnair also hadn't asked a direct question, and in his current state of mind Ford thought he'd do better to wait and respond to a direct line of inquiry — less chance of sticking his foot in his mouth.

---

As stoic as he always tried to appear to the public, long gone were the days where he could manage it with Greengrass. His expression twisted with regret and grief, and he wasn't sure whether he was more upset for waiting this long to tell Greengrass that Tatiana was pregnant or for blurting it out the minute Greengrass admitted he loved him. He'd been wanting to hear it for a while to reassure himself that he wasn't the only one with such intense feelings, and now he'd gone and sullied it with this. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn't he be overjoyed at his wife's pregnancy and overjoyed that the man he loved also loved him, without the two being at odds?

"I do love you," he repeated in a soft, low voice. He wasn't sure he could get much louder, certain that anything more would send Greengrass fleeing back through the fireplace. "It would be naive of me to think that the baby shouldn't change anything, but I promise: I do love you." He didn't want this to be like the time where Valerian had revealed his engagement, where everything went to hell and he'd spent weeks feeling insecure and unwanted. He needed them to be okay.

---