Watson chuckles, warmly. "We don't want that, do we?"
He stretches, rubbing at his leg idly. "As fine as this place is, I admit the weather is a bit cold and wet for my taste, even with the help of the fireplace."
He guffaws, in a sudden burst of laughter. "Come here. Come sit with me. Your warmth and presence is always a gift." He extends his free hand in invitation, shifting slightly on the sofa.
"I will even rub your feet if they are in my lap. I like cooler tea, so you'll have my hands to yourself for several minutes." César is feeling just as indulgent.
"Then I shall." César puts down his tea and does just that, making sure he's right where he needs to be, and putting a pillow between them to support behind Watson's knees.
César smiles indulgently at him as he begins to massage his right foot, gently to start. "You're welcome. And I don't mind." He looks down at the foot he's rubbing. "You're kind to me when I need it, so it's easy to do in turn."
"I am blessed to have such husbands. I am blessed to have husbands." Watson gives a little laugh. "I haven't any notion what my life has become, sometimes, but there is such joy in it."
"Ah, hey!" César can't sell it, laughing as he is after he gets poked. "Maybe you did! I picked this up when Mama was very pregnant with Rex. Not that she ever asked me to rub her feet, but when Papí said her feet hurt her, I wanted to help in some way."
He laughs a little, looking up at Watson properly. "I argued it'd be a good thing for me to practice since I intended to marry."
César laughs, light and happy, and quietly does not mention the existence of mpreg to Watson at this time. Another time. Then he can be horrified at humanity properly without ruining a moment between them.
He looks at Watson quizzically, not judgmental. "How so?"
Watson finds himself staring at the ceiling, shakes his head very slightly.
"Sometimes I hardly remember what it's like to not be in pain, or to have to think about making sure I won't be in pain later. I ought to be used to it by now, is all, or at least not need help for it."
César's hands slow down for a moment as he listens, head back down, but then they pick right back up. He considers those words, lets them sink in thoughtfully. Watson's telling him this for the first time, after all. This is a sudden vulnerability he didn't expect. He's probably kept this from them to not want to be treated differently.
"You can handle this alone, though; it'd just be more miserable if you went off by yourself, that's all."
César looks up at him again, concerned but not alarmed as Watson's chronic pain is now familiar. "Are you in pain that often, love?"
Watson takes a moment to answer, because he's already regretting saying anything.
"There's always some stiffness. Some days I feel hale and whole, hardly need my cane at all, and other days --- damp days, cold days -- I ache like it's new again. Most of the time it's there, but bearable."
César nods along, looking down at his work for a moment, although it's slowed, before looking up again, a soft look in his eyes, as if he's truly seeing his husband. His observations were right on the mark, then.
"Both Johnny and I have noticed, you know." Johnny's observant; César doesn't need to ask to know that. "It's easy enough to know when you have good days and bad and everything in between after being with you for so long. But you never wanted to be fussed over because you're a capable man, so we didn't."
"I promised Johnny I would not work so hard to hide it from the two of you, actually." Watson can't quite look at César as he makes this admission. "I... try. It's difficult. I don't..."
It takes his a moment to manage to finish that sentence.
César waits patiently for Watson to say the words he expected all along, and as such, he only gives a breath's moment before replying. "Johnny was right to ask. I'd be a cruel man if I did. John... I married you. I married all of you. This included."
His voice is calm. César's stating things he's long since made up his mind about.
"And the two of you are so... handsome, and hale, and I am not."
It sounds stupid to him, too, when he says it aloud. Watson covers his face with his hand. "Or at least, sometimes I am not. And I don't want pity. I couldn't bear pity."
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He stretches, rubbing at his leg idly. "As fine as this place is, I admit the weather is a bit cold and wet for my taste, even with the help of the fireplace."
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César's replies back, before he can stop himself. "I'm certain I can help warm you up if you'd like."
He freezes, deer in headlights, then smiles dumbly and innocently.
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"Just throw your legs over mine if you need to stretch out."
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It feels cosy and comfortable, and indulgently lazy, which is perfect for his current mood.
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"Thank you," he says. "I know I can be an absolute bear when I hurt, but... this does make things easier."
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"I am blessed to have such husbands. I am blessed to have husbands." Watson gives a little laugh. "I haven't any notion what my life has become, sometimes, but there is such joy in it."
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Oh, he's already finding a knot. :)
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"I certainly think you deserve happiness," he says.
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He wants to kiss Watson, but he's too far away. Oh well.
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Watson stretches to poke César gently in the ribs with his toe.
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He laughs a little, looking up at Watson properly. "I argued it'd be a good thing for me to practice since I intended to marry."
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He gives a soft sigh. "It feels an indulgence that I don't quite deserve."
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He looks at Watson quizzically, not judgmental. "How so?"
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"Sometimes I hardly remember what it's like to not be in pain, or to have to think about making sure I won't be in pain later. I ought to be used to it by now, is all, or at least not need help for it."
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"You can handle this alone, though; it'd just be more miserable if you went off by yourself, that's all."
César looks up at him again, concerned but not alarmed as Watson's chronic pain is now familiar. "Are you in pain that often, love?"
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"There's always some stiffness. Some days I feel hale and whole, hardly need my cane at all, and other days --- damp days, cold days -- I ache like it's new again. Most of the time it's there, but bearable."
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"Both Johnny and I have noticed, you know." Johnny's observant; César doesn't need to ask to know that. "It's easy enough to know when you have good days and bad and everything in between after being with you for so long. But you never wanted to be fussed over because you're a capable man, so we didn't."
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It takes his a moment to manage to finish that sentence.
"I don't want you to think less of me."
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His voice is calm. César's stating things he's long since made up his mind about.
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It sounds stupid to him, too, when he says it aloud. Watson covers his face with his hand. "Or at least, sometimes I am not. And I don't want pity. I couldn't bear pity."
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