Theo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Come sit down and I'll hold you and we can talk some. How does that sound?"

He pressed his forehead against Fletcher's for a moment before offering a hand out to him to take as he took a step back towards the bed. "Thank you for being considerate of me. I just want...to take care of and nurture you back. You always seem to be the one stuck drying my tears. Sorry."

"'S not. 'S not too much. Really. Whatever it takes. Last thing I want to do is hurt you, love." He let his collar go, but it was clear now that he was in a barely-contained panic. "Sometimes I see it: you don't believe me. Or you say you do and I know you don't. So whatever it takes."

Fletch looked even more alarmed at the offer, but stumbled over what the right words were to say. "Not like this. Not when there's this thing hanging over us and you're hurting. I'll hold you and I'll love on you, but I'm not taking advantage. It's like you said with Neal: last thing you wanted was for me to do that, right? Well you don't need to do this to keep me around. Even tipsy I can tell you're not in it for the right reasons."

His hand fell limply to his side at what he first thought was rejection but then Fletcher was tearing his shirt aside and the man was left deeply confused. He furrowed his brow and shook his head quickly, his own hands coming up to rest on his lover's chest. 

"Jack, no. It's okay. I don't need you to prove your word. It's a bit much to need to smell a woman on you or rifle through your things don't you think? You said you haven't and I believe you. And again...it's alright if you do. I get it. But that being said...would you like some attention, my heart? Get your nobleman on his knees for you?"

Fletcher frowned. He drew back and pulled his hand from Theo's and then grasped him by the shoulders. "Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo. No. Hey. Look at me. Look at me, gorgeous. I wasn't with anyone." His expression sank even further as he pulled his shirt aside, exposing his neck and shoulder. "All I've done is splash my face. So you come here and tell me you smell a woman on me, love. Because there hasn't been one. I just went for a drink and Yule stuff. That's all. Go look in the second drawer if you don't believe me."

He attempted to slip his hand into Fletcher's and interlock their fingers. "I told you, I missed you." Theo swallowed thickly, his smile wobbling some with anxiety. "I can go if you want. I just noticed you come home and wanted to greet you. If you're tired or not in the mood, that's okay. Just glad you're safely back."

Fletcher did a clumsy and hasty job of drying off. He turned around in Theo's arms — a difficult maneuver even when sober — and leaned back on the wash stand as he considered the man. With so much booze in his system, though, he couldn't stay guarded for long, and the loving smile he reserved for Theo crept back across his features. The nobleman grew closer. Or maybe Fletch did. He wasn't sure. He only knew that the presence of him awoke that same fire all over again and shoved all hurt and frustration aside. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, and returned the embrace with a kiss that betrayed just how much he'd been wanting the man. He ignored the question. They'd get to that later. "So, Pretty Boy," he breathed. "What're you here for tonight?"

The door opened for him and Theo got up to lock down his room and draw the curtains before entering. With Fletcher washing his face he was unsure with how upset the man still was with him but decided to be a bit brave. He stepped up close and gave him a gentle hug from behind. 

"I missed you," he said truthfully. "Did you have a good time?"

He'd pulled his boots off and tossed his coat on the chair and was about to splash his face when he heard Theo's voice. He stopped in front of the basin and listened. There it was again. Sighing, he pushed away from his little wash stand and made his way to the nanny door. He unlatched it and nudged it open with his foot, then returned to the other side of his room, unsure whether he wanted whatever feelings and confessions and inevitable fighting Theo wanted to drag in with him tonight.

He'd heard the guard shift change and Fletcher leave. But as dusk became evening became night, Theo found himself quietly staying up by the fire waiting to feel the man's return. He wondered briefly if this was how it would always be; them stinging against each other, Fletcher running off to drink and white because Theo had said he was fine with it, and Theo waiting up all night to know he got home safely.

His eyes were aching by the time his bodyguard returned though from straining to read by the fire. A drawer opened and closed. Footsteps across the floor. A floorboard sagged underfoot.

For several moments he held his breath unsure of what to do. Should he get up and knock? Should he just go to bed since he hadn't come for him? Would he be seen as a needy or jealous lover if he did? Or uncaring and petty if he didn't?

"Jack?" He called ever so softly, hoping that the hearing every sound possible hadn't been so entirely true while also hoping the other man would respond back. "Is it too late to bother you?"

He spent the rest of the afternoon doing what every other bodyguard did: guarding Theo from afar while allowing the man his privacy. By the time his shift was up, he'd grown restless and thirsty, and wanted nothing more than to escape this house and find himself a distraction from his own thoughts. He knew it would look bad. He knew what Theo would think of him. Seeing as the man didn't want to talk about it long enough to clear the air on the matter, he found that he didn't much care at the moment. Or maybe that was just the lie that he told himself. 

He made his way into town in the evening, bundled up against the chill, with coin in his pocket ready to spend on vices and Yule gifts alike. He took his time wandering the night market. Found a set of hair pins with frogs on them for Neish, and some cigars for Tiff. He fought back memories of Theo in the cloak, and when they would no longer stay at arm's length, he left and found a pub — a different pub from the one they'd been to.

Hours later, when all was cold and quiet and the occupants of the manor had long since gone to sleep, he stole back in through the servant's entrance and snuck up the stairs to his room. There, he dumped his gifts into a drawer drawer, had himself an unnecessary nightcap on top of his already comfortable buzz, and began to ready himself for sleep.