"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."
Watson's said that all of that before. César's nearly done with the foot he's on.
"I married you for the mind and soul that so completes my own." César's smile is warm, his eyes soft. "You led me so easily into a life of debauchery, so don't cut your good looks short! ... I'm also too attracted to the handsome man in front of me to pity him. I want you, even right now."
His expression softens. "Sometimes I feel as though Johnny and I corrupted you, but I don't think I have much regret about that, love." Watson stretches to rub his toes along César's thigh, gently. "Perhaps I do regret the fact that I have an unerring ability to love people who can see through me."
"You won't hear me complaining." César teases back, smiling a bit wider at the toes touching him. "Mm. Maybe you just want people who can see you when you need it and polite to pretend they don't see you the rest of the time."
"Perhaps I do," he says, seriously. "Is that so wrong? Sometimes a man wants to be seen, and sometimes he doesn't. And perhaps it's very vain of me, but... it is nice, after all, to be told that anyone finds me handsome, as I do not always feel that way."
"It's not wrong at all; in fact, I think all of that is very nice and balanced." César finishes with Watson's right foot and shifts to start working on his left. "And for the record, and it bears repeating, I find you handsome at this very moment."
"Thank you," Watson says, soft. "And I suppose that if an old ache is the price I pay for the day we had, and this sort of pampering, I will be content to pay it."
"You're welcome." César's expression grows soft, and he takes a moment to just look at him with love. "It was an absolutely perfect day. You mowed me down!"
Watson gives a little bit of a guffaw, and settles back into the sofa. He takes a long sip of his tea. "I am grateful that the two of you tolerate my flights of fancy."
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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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"I married you for the mind and soul that so completes my own." César's smile is warm, his eyes soft. "You led me so easily into a life of debauchery, so don't cut your good looks short! ... I'm also too attracted to the handsome man in front of me to pity him. I want you, even right now."
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"Thank you," Watson says, soft. "And I suppose that if an old ache is the price I pay for the day we had, and this sort of pampering, I will be content to pay it."
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Watson gives a little bit of a guffaw, and settles back into the sofa. He takes a long sip of his tea. "I am grateful that the two of you tolerate my flights of fancy."
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He's smiling, so very relaxed as if he's the one who is getting a foot massage. "I'm grateful to be invited."