2023-08-23 18:16:01 ¶ ● ⬈

somuchbetterthanthat:

> > Jonelias week &lt;;3
> > Day 2 - Regency AU / Up too late
> > Complement to @kalgalen’s yet again gorgeous art, it’s all about the HANDS (and the tender gaze, oh gosh, the tender gaze)

> “Jon, there’s truly no need for this,” Jonah says behind him, voice torn between amusement and exasperation.

> Jon glares at him as he puts on his coat, although for once in their acquaintance, Jonah is not to blame for this. He did try to point out the time to Jon a few times over the course of the afternoon, even made a casual mention of the weather when the rain started to pound against the windows, but Jon had dismissed all of those little reminders in favour of their latest discovery and the complementary research needed. It seems eventually Jonah also lost track, or decided that it didn’t matter — and now they are here, nearing midnight, and Jon is… Still here.

> If he were less angry at himself, he would be flushing at the impropriety of it all. He’s… aware that the social conventions are not quite the same for a lady as they are for a gentleman, of course. He’s acutely aware of them, living the life he lives, dressing as Mr or Miss Sims depending on what he thinks the situation demands, but for all his daring, never before had he found himself alone, late at night, in the home of another gentleman. And not any gentleman — one who knows his secret. One who’s made it very clear, a few weeks ago, that he intended to marry at last, and that none would do but the elusive and aloof Miss Sims.

> The mere reminder of it does actually bring a flush to Jon’s face. “I overstayed my welcome,” he mutters sharply.

> “You never will in this house,” Jonah retorts, and Jon misses a button of the coat, mouth suddenly dry.

> Jonah makes him feel foolish, at times. He gives up on the coat, picks up his gloves instead, refusing to look at his — friend.

> “I shall write to you soon so we can decide what to do next,” he tells Jonah, to distract them both, hastily putting on the first glove. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to meet again before the month ends, at least not in such a fashion, but I will make sure Miss James cont—”

> His voice dies in his throat as Jonah takes his left hand in his own, the one still bare. Warmth crawls up Jon’s neck, his fingers tingling at the sensation of Jonah’s soft skin against his. It is such little contact — ridiculous, truly, but the intimacy of their positions, the intensity of Jonah’s stare, the gentle yet firm grip of his fingers, suddenly makes Jon feel like he is one of those heroines that his school companions used to dream of being.

> “Stay the night,” Jonah whispers. “I have a spare room, Jon. Rest assured you will have all the privacy you require. None of the servants will be allowed in, if that’s what you wish for.”

> “This is —” Jon flushes. “You know why I cannot—”

> “Miss Sims cannot,” Jonah retorts. “But Miss Sims is at home, as is proper for a lady of her rank. I am entertaining her brother, and nobody will judge me for offering a bed to a friend in need, especially in this weather.”

> “Jonah,” Jon breathes.

> He has no real argument, he realises. He is much too tempted at the thought, and Jonah must see it in his expression, because he takes yet another step closer and, without looking away from him a minute, brings Jon’s hand to his lips and kisses it. Jon wavers. People have kissed his hand, before, many times. But never like this. Never while he was being Jon.

> “Jonah,” he repeats and almost leans on his tiptoes to kiss his mouth proper.

> “Soon,” Jonah smiles, thumb caressing Jon’s palm. “Soon, I shall have all of you, and will be the happiest man one can be. But for tonight, I only ask that you agree to stay.”

> “I… would appreciate the hospitality,” Jon decides, throat tight and thick with emotion.

> Jonah’s sole answer is to kiss each of Jon’s knuckles, slow and tender.