A/N: I think this has become my "add stuff to when I feel like it" fic, since I plan to keep it as light-hearted as possible, so it'll always be "complete" but I'm also going to be adding stuff when the plot bunnies strike. Also, the rating went up because I forgot I made this K+. My bad.
And I have no reason for this other than it was utterly pouring the day before I started writing this (augh, we can have such insane weather here). And I haven't done a rainy scene before (that I can recall), and figured I should intentionally indulge in clichés at least once. And look! I can make obscure references to lines, too! I'm insane. =.=
Hamlet's perspective is infinitely more entertaining to write, even though I love Horatio more. Haha. As always, please try to refrain from murdering me and enjoy.
I usually try to reply to all reviews, but I'm lazy now so I'd just like to say I love all of you for being so nice and thinking so highly of this fic. I really can't thank you enough.
"It's the summer! What do you mean you're busy?"
'I told you, Hamlet, I'm working. Right now. In fact, I shouldn't even be talking with you.'
Hamlet rolls over onto the cool spot on his bed, wondering why the air conditioning isn't on. "You'll come to see me later, won't you?"
'If I spirit you away much more, your parents will file a restraining order on me.'
Hamlet scoffs. "Stop speaking nonsense; it's unbecoming of you. My parents love you."
'That's because they don't know we're dating.' Horatio's voice has become softer, and Hamlet can only assume that he's trying to avoid getting caught.
"Speaking of that, Marcellus has another bet going on, doesn't he?"
Horatio easily accepts the sudden change in topic. 'Yes. It's a bit saddening that he has nothing better to do with his money than bet it on such trivial things.'
Hamlet grins, sitting upright. "You do know we have complete control over whether or not he wins?"
Horatio chuckles lightly. 'Of course I do. He won't tell me what days he put down.'
"He's that confident in his guessing abilities, is he?"
'Realistically speaking, in his mind we should've had sex already.'
Hamlet pauses, scooting over to another part of his bed. "Do you want to?"
There's a long silence, and Hamlet begins to suspect that the call was dropped (only because Horatio would never hang up on him). It's not like they haven't talked about it before. They had even managed to have a serious conversation about it once, somehow. Hamlet was, is, all for it; the sooner the better really, because even before they'd 'officially' become a couple he had been plagued by more than troublesome thoughts about Horatio. Horatio, of course, said he was fine with it, but he didn't want to force anything. Hamlet lost the discussion on that particular day, but he knows it's only a matter of time and persuasion before Horatio will fall – that's how it always is, after all.
'We shouldn't really be talking about this right now,' Horatio finally says, sounding distressed.
"Are you in trouble?"
'Not yet,' he says in that tone that implies an extra statement: but I will be soon.
"All right, all right. But we have to talk about this later. Bye." Hamlet hangs up, places his phone on his bedside table and flops down onto his bed.
What is he going to do now? He's hardly going to venture outside his room; that would become very troublesome very fast. Summer work?
He glances at the books he's required to read (that Horatio was kind enough to use his discount on even though Hamlet has more than enough money to pay for them). After a long moment he sits up. He grimaces and chooses one at random to flip through.
Oh. It's the play. No wonder Horatio had had such a concerned face when he'd shown him the book list (Hamlet hadn't even looked at the list until now). Well, at least he can get one book over and done with, and with little effort on his part, too.
He finishes within the next two hours only because he spent an extra amount of time carefully interweaving as many brazenly facetious comments as he could into his replies to the prompts.
Feeling that he has been sufficiently productive for the entire week, he calls Horatio again, since he can't quite remember when his shift ends. Horatio answers immediately, a good sign.
"I finished a portion of my summer work. Now you must come to see me."
Horatio laughs. 'So you finally noticed that Hamlet was in there?'
"You should see some of my answers. I spent an inordinate amount of time explaining why Horatio lived and had a distressingly difficult time keeping it clean."
Horatio laughs. 'You're really too cute. Did you want to do something later?'
Hamlet frowns (pouts). "I still don't understand what you mean by that. Well, I haven't been outside in a week. Let's go to a park or something."
Horatio scoffs. 'Have you been locked in a tower or something?'
"If we had one, I probably would be."
'Poor baby,' Horatio comforts mockingly, 'don't worry; your knight is here to rescue you.'
Hamlet rolls his eyes as he leaps off the bed. "You're not a knight," he says quietly, peeking out of his room before quickly sneaking down the stairs.
He opens the front door, and there Horatio is, phone to his ear, a wide smile on his face. "I am for you, my lord."
And that never fails to make Hamlet's face heat up. "You're so embarrassing, Horatio," Hamlet mutters even as he pulls Horatio close to kiss him.
"You like it." Horatio grins, arms comfortably around Hamlet's waist. "Are you really intending to go out like that?"
"I can't go out barefoot, in a t-shirt and sweatpants?"
Horatio shrugs. "Go right ahead, but it's supposed to rain later."
"Whatever. You'd give me your jacket and carry me if you had to."
Horatio smiles softly. "Yes, but when I fall ill you'll be without your savior for a while."
"I can legally drive now, you know."
"I still have no idea how you got your license."
Hamlet grins widely, closing the door and grabbing Horatio's hand, leading him down the walkway. "Oh you know, a smile here, a few words there, and you could control the world."
Chuckling, Horatio quickens his pace and cuts him off from the driver's side. "Uh-uh, it's the passenger seat for you."
"Have a little faith in me, won't you?" Nevertheless, Hamlet easily slips into the passenger seat. "Oh. Shoes."
"I figured you would have left without a pair. We're about the same size, right?"
Hamlet hums in response, easily slipping on the tennis shoes and tying the laces. "But I'd rather wear your Converse. Maybe then you'd know what it looks like to have both of them properly tied at once."
"You could always tie them for me," Horatio says absently as he concentrates on driving.
"Oh, but you have to learn for yourself, babe, or else what are you going to do when I'm not there?"
"I'm sure I'll find some way to manage."
"Hey, let's stop here," Hamlet says suddenly.
"Here?" Horatio pulls up to the curb and parks, but with a questioning look on his face. "We're still a little way—" Hamlet interrupts him, leaning over and latching on to him. "Or you could do this."
Hamlet hums. "Help me over, will you?"
With practiced ease (which is a little strange, since they've never done this in particular before) Horatio seats Hamlet more comfortably in his lap, yet he doesn't comply when Hamlet leans down for a kiss. "This doesn't seem very comfortable for you."
"It only seems, so," He kisses him fully on the lips, and it's perfect for all of ten seconds before Horatio separates them. Horatio is always doing that. It's a little aggravating, really. Hamlet frowns. "What now?"
Horatio pecks him on the lips before smiling. "Marcellus, Barnardo, and I got an apartment," he murmurs against his lips, "as long as we keep to ourselves, anything goes."
"You're getting back at them," Hamlet smirks.
Horatio smiles widely and menacingly. "Unfortunately, Marcellus and Barnardo just do not believe me when I say I can hear everything."
"No wonder you're so tired lately." Hamlet leans down to kiss him but is distracted as he glances out the window. Horatio's forecasted rain starts falling heavily on the car. Hamlet grins, turning from the window to Horatio. "Yes. I've been waiting for this."
"Oh, no, Hamlet. I'm not stepping foot into that downpour."
Hamlet smiles mischievously. "Well I am, so you know you are eventually." He kisses Horatio on the forehead before flinging the door open and jumping out. He waves happily, runs in front of the car and takes off down the sidewalk.
"Hamlet!" Horatio smiles fondly and sighs. He grabs the raincoat he had in the back seat and, after locking the car, takes after him.
Hamlet laughs, more freely than he has in years, and slows his running into a light jog. The rain is cold against his skin, but refreshing, and he's completely soaked to the bone. But it feels great, and exhilarating, and so, so wonderful. Hamlet eventually comes to a stop, but he can't quite tell where he is or how far he's run. Horatio's steps are right behind him and not seconds later there is a raincoat over his head.
Horatio's body is warm and comforting against him, a sensation that was foreign to him until Horatio came into his life. "You, my lord, are absolutely insane," he whispers.
"Invariably so, dear Horatio. It's fun; you should try it some time." Hamlet rests his arms on Horatio's shoulders, smiling softly. As he does so he carefully removes Horatio's water-spotted glasses and hides them away. "Live a little."
Horatio tugs the raincoat to cover Hamlet a little more. "Only a little?"
"You've got to learn how to crawl before you can run, 'Ratio." Horatio's hands gently cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Hamlet's breathing slows as he searches Horatio's eyes. "What is it?"
"I love you, Hamlet," Horatio barely whispers before he brings him into a kiss, soft and whole.
Hamlet responds earnestly, wrapping his arms tightly around Horatio's neck and the jacket falls somewhere but neither of them notices.
"I love you too, of course."