Chapter Text
It was a grey day over London today, though Joshua Cristo liked these types of days. Despite living most of his life in the UK, he still had distant memories of his boyhood in the hot sun of his home country and the dry heat in the summertime, the type that he felt as though he could melt after only a few minutes outside. Here in London, most days he could throw on a pair of jeans and a jumper and be comfortable. It was a strange shift when they moved here when he was eight years old, but one he adjusted to like a well-worn cardigan.
He finished his coffee and ijeh, making sure to leave some for his roommate, Adam Young. Joshua and Adam met during Welcome Week in their first year at London University of Science and Arts, and they'd been inseparable ever since. Adam was a natural leader, the type that liked to bring Joshua to parties in an effort to get him out of his shell, and even encouraged him to join the drama society with him. When he came home for summer break, his parents were probably a bit shocked to see their usually quiet son return with a bit more gumption, though he had Adam to thank for that.
He heard The Cure playing from Adam's room, so he could only guess Adam was up. Adam was usually the type to stay up late, either studying or partying, and then waking up from only a few hours of sleep, fueled by espresso. "See ya later, Adam," he called as he rushed past Adam's room.
"Oi, Josh," Adam said, slipping out, curly blonde tied back in a ponytail and dressed in his normal dark clothes. "Pub after class today?" he asked.
Joshua smiled. "Yeah, could use a drink already this week," he nodded. "Professor Crowley is no pushover."
Despite that, Joshua loved Professor Anthony Crowley's courses. He was still in a liberal arts degree and was hoping to find something that was more focused soon, though the professor almost made him want to move to America so he could work for NASA. His family would certainly prefer that over some of his more lofty aspirations, which ranged from carpentry to running his own pizzeria, or advancing his interest in photography. Either way, there was something he enjoyed about Professor Crowley's enthusiasm and knowledge, going on long tangents about cosmology and the Big Bang or his favorite band, Queen.
Adam's phone started ringing, and he ducked away towards the kitchen. "Sorry, Mum's calling. Text ya later, Josh," he said as he clicked on the "answer" button on his phone. "Morning, Mum. Yeah, I'm up, was just talking to Josh…"
Joshua chuckled as he stepped out of their townhouse they rented and walked over to the bus stop. About five minutes later, he was on his way to campus, and about five minutes after that, he was walking up the steps to Pratchett Hall, the sciences building.
His classmates slowly filed into the classroom, most of them clutching a cup of coffee from the local cafe, some of them with their headphones as they listened to their morning podcasts. Professor Crowley strutted in right at the dot at ten o'clock, dressed in mostly black, his greying red hair in whispy short waves, sunglasses perched on his nose, though he quickly took them off and replaced them with his reading glasses. His dark brown eyes glinted with that passion for all things space and astrophysics as he wrote "Cosmic Inflation" on the blackboard behind him.
"Well," he said, clapping his hands together and bringing everyone to attention, "hope you all did your readings this weekend. Who can tell me about the theory of cosmic inflation?"
Joshua raised his hand, and Professor Crowley pointed at him to answer. "It's the theory that right after the birth of the universe, a small piece of matter expanded into the universe we have today, like a prequel to the Big Bang."
"Good job, Joshua," the professor smiled, softening the sharp edges and lines of his face. "Yes, Alan Guth wondered, what was it that banged? Was it a speck of dust? Matter? Space itself? Now who can tell me what happened after this inflation stopped? Yes, Pepper?"
"The expansion cooled after the Big Bang, and then turned to normal matter."
"Excellent. Even so, our universe expands far beyond what any telescope can see. The cosmic inflation was only just the first inklings of what we know as the Big Bang."
Professor Crowley was always ready to teach even in his morning lectures that Joshua wondered how he took his morning coffee. The man was far too energetic for simple Earl Grey, but perhaps a few shots of espresso or a double mocha? Did he smoke? Joshua felt as though he'd smelled cigarettes on him before, during his office hours, but the scent seemed less potent in recent weeks.
In fact, Joshua realized he didn't know much about the man, other than that he was an author of several books about astrophysics and space, was originally from Edinburgh but had also attended London University of Science and Arts, and had been there ever since as a student and now a professor. Joshua even wondered if he had a partner or was married. He watched as he talked with his hands, gesturing and waving them about as he explained the arguments against the cosmic inflation, but saw no rings on his fingers.
An hour later, class was dismissed, and Joshua rushed across campus for his next class, a beginners photography class. At first, the course was a bit tedious, as he felt as though he already knew some of the basics of photography, but it also allowed him to freshen up what he knew. The professor for that course, Professor Pulsifer, had already recommended him for the next advanced photography course in the next term.
He managed to grab lunch at the dining hall between courses, during which he received a text from Adam:
A: Terry's at six-ish?
J: You bet!
Once his last course for the day was done, he headed back to his and Adam's place, passing by a mural of planets and a figure with a bow and arrow. There was also a bookshop on this street, owned by an old man named Derek, though Joshua often saw his associate Asa when he needed a book for his studies. Recently, Asa had sold him a copy of one of Professor Crowley's book at half price, as well as a few other books about photography and carpentry.
As he passed by, he could see Asa chatting with someone through the window, then shifted to the other window and realized it was Professor Crowley, judging by the lanky build and red hair.
He wondered what book he was there for, or maybe he was looking for a specific publication about astrophysics or even about houseplants. During most of the few times he stopped by Professor Crowley's office for help or advice for something, his windowsill always seemed to have a plethora of houseplants and succulents lined up, green and lush as they could be.
Eventually, though, it started to rain, so he caught a bus back to their place. Adam's courses wouldn't be done for another few hours, so he lounged back in the settee and took a nap.
Joshua didn't like to talk about it, but ever since he was a boy, he always had the same, reoccurring dreams. Ones where he was a savior of sorts, someone who could make lepurs leap, exorcize demons from the bodies of others, raise people from the dead, even walk on water and turn water into wine. He brought people together, gave hope to the outcasts and downtrodden, even helped people turn their lives around. At one point, he believed these dreams were the reason he'd wanted to become a carpenter, though that was supposedly just this Not-Him's day job.
He'd call it wishful thinking of sorts if it didn't always end so horribly. Always with a supper, a betrayal from someone he thought was a close friend, and then being nailed down to die. Usually, he woke up in a cold sweat and gasping for breath, and this time was no exception, sprawled out and staring up at the ceiling fan. He wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling slightly dizzy and like he could use a tall drink of water.
"Dream again, Josh?" asked a voice, and there sat Adam, slumped into the comfy recliner as he highlighted some passages in his book.
"Yeaaaaah," Joshua mumbled as he sat up and scratched the back of his head. Adam was supposedly used to it, so he also got up and headed into the kitchen to pour his friend some water. "It's so strange. Like something from a different time, or universe… yet it feels familiar somehow."
Adam tsked as he handed him the glass of water. "Like my dreams I used to have," he said as he sat next to Joshua on the couch. "It was like I was an ordinary kid, and then suddenly I got a big guard dog, except he's this little terrier, and I have all these powers that I don't understand. Strange thing was, my friends like Pepper, Wensleydale, and Brian were also in these dreams."
Joshua shook his head as he took a sip of water. "Can't make sense of mine," he said. "People acting as though I'm some savior… I don't think I could handle that. Think I prefer being just Joshua."
"And I prefer being just Adam," Adam agreed, "without all the powers." The two friends chuckled, and Joshua gulped down the last of his water. "It's almost six, wanna head to the pub soon?"
"Sure, let me change," Joshua said as he stood up. He changed out of his usual attire consisting of jeans and jumpers, clothing that gave away that he was a uni student, and into something sleeker, dark trousers and top, something that Adam would joke made him look like he was heading to the disco.
They were off to the pub a few minutes later, a homey little place called Terry's Pub, consisting of a fully stocked bar as well, a blend of antique and modern furniture, and portraits of the former proprietor, Terry. There was even a beer garden in the back, though it was too grey of a day to enjoy it, so Joshua and Adam opted for having beers at one of the tall pub tables.
"What'll you have tonight, gentlemen?" asked the bartender, Dagon, as they walked in. She manned the bar alongside the head bartender, Michael, who was a master mixologist, while Dagon handled the beers and wines.
"Witbier, please," Joshua said as he quickly glanced down at the menu.
"Same here," answered Adam. "And we'll have some fish and chips, please."
"Drinks comin' right up," Dagon nodded as she turned to the tap to pour them each a drink.
As they waited, Joshua glanced around the pub, taking in the scenery and the people there. Mrs. Sandwich from the seamstress shop, grad students Muriel Scrivener and Eric Damon, who were interns at the nearby law firm and worked at one of the local clubs, and even Professor Archer (whom many called Professor Uriel) who taught English at London University of Science and Arts.
Then he heard a familiar voice, a Scottish lilt that made him peek past Mrs. Sandwich and the owner Justine pacing around. There, by the window, illuminated by the faint sunlight coming in through the nearby window, sat Professor Crowley, smiling and chatting with someone as he ate steak and chips, a glass of wine by his hand. Across from him sat a man with short, wavy blonde hair, well-manicured fingers carving into chicken parm. He said something that made Professor Crowley throw his head back and cackle with laughter. It was probably the first time he'd seen his professor in this light, relaxed and cheerful, as opposed to the academia and stuffiness that LUSA could often exude.
"Isn't that your professor?" Adam asked, tapping his shoulder. "The one that teaches the space classes?"
"Yeah," Joshua muttered, keeping his voice low so that the two older men wouldn't see him. Last thing he wanted was to intrude on his professor's private life. "Wonder if they're together."
It was then that Joshua realized the other man was the associate from the bookshop. He certainly seemed a bit more buttoned-up than he usually was, between the jacket and the paisley bowtie. Joshua wasn't sure how to describe it, but there was a strange, budding type of intimacy between them, as if they had just met and yet already saw each other as old friends… or maybe something more.
In the middle of his ponderings, Dagon set their witbiers down on the bar, and the two friends smiled to each other as they took their drinks and sat down.
Anthony walked through the side street of London, feeling a bit deflated. It could've been worse, maybe could've gone down like a lead balloon, but he also felt as though he'd blown it a bit.
Many times, often when sitting in his motorcycle, in the middle of traffic amongst the Mercedez Benz and muscle cars, he'd seen that soft-looking man with the equally soft, wavy blonde hair walking down the streets towards the blue bookshop and walking in. It was always around the same time, in the same morning commute around London, so he could only guess the man worked there. He certainly looked as though he worked or even owned a bookshop, always with that studious, old soul expression and in a structured shirt and some variety of waistcoats and brown trousers.
Anthony didn't know how to describe it, but it was like seeing an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time, like the feeling of returning to the South Downs once the quarantines and lockdowns were lifted and feeling the seasalt breeze on his face again, or like seeing someone he knew in a past life. On a deeper level, he was vaguely reminded of Arthur Eddington's belief about energy, which explained how energy never disappears but simply changes. That humans were all bits of stars gone wrong, and he wondered if he and this man were once part of the same galaxy.
So, finally, once Anthony was done with teaching his courses for the day, he decided to stop by the blue bookshop in the middle of London, sunglasses over his eyes in case the blonde caught him giving a once over. And did he look equal parts adorable and sexy today, the first few buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a hint of soft skin and even a small gold chain.
And then Anthony had to open his stupid mouth and revealed that he was the author of the book that the man tried to sell him for half price. He regretted it right away, especially when he saw the apologetic and worried expression on the man's face when he realized who he was.
Anthony was, for lack of a better word, charmed regardless. Up close, his eyes were like swirling galaxies of blue and green and maybe a bit of hazel, his irises like stars depending on the lighting.
Though, it did turn around when the man showed him a classic he'd been looking for a copy of for ages - Sir Arthur Eddington himself, "The Mathematical Theory of Relativity". Second edition, though it still thrilled Anthony.
"Wonderful, it's my lucky day," Anthony smiled as he flipped through the book.
"Oh, good. Mine too," giggled the blonde man, eyes crinkled.
"How so?"
"I, uh, have a book you want."
The older man who owned the shop rang him up, saying something about Brian Cox and his "Astrophysics for Everyone", though the blonde quickly brought up that he wrote it and had two boxes in the garage. Definitely not as cool as he wanted to portray himself in that moment. Anthony thanked the blonde again and was on his way, back into the grey streets of London.
Maybe he could stop by again, looking for other books on astrophysics or even gardening. Perhaps he could ask him out for coffee someday, where he could get a double mocha and the man he imagined getting a London Fog and maybe some Eccles cakes. Or maybe his brothers were right that he just needed to get laid. Well, he did something even worse, and had attempted to quit smoking cold turkey a few weeks ago, though he felt as though he could use a cigarette with his adrenaline up…
Then he heard someone yell "Oi!" and turned to see the blonde sprinting towards him again, puffing for breath and asking for him to sign the copy of "Astrophysics for Everyone". Even out of breath and handing him a pen, the man was adorable.
"Fell. Asa Fell with an S," he said when Anthony asked for his name.
Asa. A gorgeous name fitting for a gorgeous man.
"I need you to write your number down for me," Asa added, breath becoming more even, "so I can ask you to dinner."
Anthony held his own breath as he looked up to meet the man's eyes again, his eyes full of sincerity and hope, the crinkles etched his face as he fiddled with his hands.
"And… you'll say 'no,' and um… at least I'd asked." There was that anxious little lilt again, endearing and sweet, though somehow Anthony could tell he was a bit of a bastard deep down. This man was full of surprises, the way he chased after him with a copy of his book, like a fan wanting an autograph but really he wanted his number.
"Umm, I won't give you my number," Anthony told him. "I'll wait for you. Where are we having dinner?"
Yes, wait for him, that way he knows you're in for it too.
Asa exhaled, and they grinned at each other for a beat before Asa suggested Terry's Pub down the way.
And so, a few hours later, Anthony was sitting across a table from Asa in a homey little pub, the portrait of the former owner watching over them as they chatted and ate. Along with the typical pub food, Terry's also had a few pasta and seafood dishes.
"Should try the oyster platter one of these days," Asa said as they looked at the menu. "Don't know what Dagon does to the oysters, but they're divine."
"Don't think I've ever eaten an oyster," Anthony said matter-of-factly as he eyed the dessert menu. He wondered if he could get Asa to agree to splitting a slice of chocolate cake.
"Well do let me tempt you to…" Asa started, though he cut himself off as Anthony glanced up from the menu. "Err, maybe a different time," with that same nervous laugh, face lighting up as he did so.
Anthony smiled at him. Different time. He was already thinking about a different time, about going on another date with him after this one. "Perhaps for our tenth date," he teased.
"No no, that'd be when we go to the Ritz," Asa corrected him. Asa went to the Ritz? He certainly seemed like the type to enjoy their Sunday tea service. "You like sushi? Lovely little place not far from here, House of Kobe. They also have other dishes there if you don't like sushi. Also the jazz club, Freddie's, their cocktails are to die for."
"Cocktail of choice?"
Anthony's eldest brother, Hans, once told him, "You can tell a lot about a man by his drink of choice." He didn't fully believe it, though liked to ask people regardless.
"Appletini. You?"
Ahh, a frou frou cocktail with the little umbrellas. Anthony was hooked.
"Godfather," Anthony answered. "Though I do enjoy an aperol spritz on occasion."
They both snickered, then Justine came by for their orders. Steak (medium-well done) and chips for Anthony, chicken parm for Asa, and they both ordered a glass of red wine.
"So, how'd you end up in London?" Asa asked him as he sipped his wine.
"Accent's that obvious, eh?" The question made Asa's face etch with worry again, as if he'd accidentally offended Anthony again, but Anthony smiled and waved it away to show he was joking. "Nah, I got a scholarship for their new physics program. Always had an interest in it, read all of Arthur Eddington's books and would often visit my grandparents' South Downs cottage in the summertime. My grandfather had this fancy telescope where we'd spent hours each night watching the skies. So, it was natural that I'd end up as one of the first students there in their astrophysics program. Eventually I went on to my Masters', returned to Edinburgh and taught there for a few years, then I was offered an opportunity to come back to London as a professor."
The conversation seemed to flow from that, Asa chatting about his love of books, raised by a single mother who ran the village library and was also a connoisseur in wine, fancy chocolates, and books. He was particularly a fan of Dickens and Wilde, and might've even messed up the spine on his mother's copy of "Collection of Oscar Wilde Plays". As they waited for their food, Anthony caught himself resting his elbow on the table, fist to his chin, listening to this man chat about all things English literature and even some of the American authors (Fitzgerald, Melville, and Le Guin were some of his favorites). His face lit up in a way that Anthony hoped his did the same when he talked about the stars.
Then their food arrived, and he had to pause mid-cut into his steak as Asa took a bite of his chicken parm. Asa hummed and wiggled in his chair, licking a bit of sauce from his lips as he chewed, and Anthony gulped and washed that first bite of steak down with a sip of wine. The man had no right to make a sound like that at food, looking as sweet and lovely as he did. He looked like an angel, for Someone's sake, though apparently angels were only a work of fiction in certain sci-fi and fantasy novels. Sometimes they looked like the man sitting across from him, though other times, they were Eldritch horrors, depending on the author and setting.
"How is everything?" Justine asked sometime later as they finished up. She smiled when she saw the empty plates, then added, "Dessert?"
"It's scrumptious," Asa told her. "And…" he looked to Anthony, "thinking of getting the chocolate cake. Wanna split?"
Anthony smiled. Turns out, he didn't even have to persuade him. "Sure thing," he said, "if it means the date will go on longer."
Justine nodded and took their plates, and they continued where they left off. "Scrumptious. Don't think I've heard someone use that word in real life before."
"My mother used to say it," Asa chuckled. "Another one she used to say was tickety boo, and squiffy. Hopelessly, yet amusingly, drunk."
"Squiffy," Anthony snorted. He felt as though he could get squiffy with Asa one of these days. "So, the bookshop?"
"Ah, yes, so Derek, the owner. We used to teach together in Richmond. I taught literature, and he taught science. Well, he decided to take an early retirement and convinced me to work for him. Was something he apparently always wanted to do, and I was somewhat on the same boat, son of a librarian and all."
"Really?" Anthony said. "So, who would you say are trickier, kids or customers?"
"Oh, kids for sure. Not everyone wants to learn about Wilde or the Dickens, and don't get me started on Shakespeare. That could be a slog. Once I dropped a pile of books in front of a student who'd fallen asleep in class. Gave the poor lad quite a scare, and didn't dare fall asleep in class again."
Anthony couldn't help but throw his head back and cackle with laughter at that. He was right: the man was a bonafide bastard. At that moment, Justine came back around with a plate of the most decadent chocolate cake Anthony had ever seen, as well as two dessert forks.
"Though, I do occasionally get some colorful characters at the bookshop," Asa continued, forking up a bit of cake. "People who come in at the last minute before closing and browse around, or try looking for Jeffrey Archer books. I even had someone curse me out on the phone for not having a very specific book. Derek eventually banned them from the bookshop."
They finished their cake - this time with even more of those little noises and even a few fluttered closed eyes from Asa - and split the bill.
"Lift home?" Anthony asked as they walked out again. "Where do you live?"
"Soho, Whickber Street," Asa told him. "And yes, please."
"Whickber? That's not too far from me," Anthony said as they walked side by side down the street to where he parked his vintage Bentley. It looked like it was going to rain, so he drove that today instead of his motorcycle. Perhaps he could bring Asa for a spin around London on that one of these days, arms wrapped around him, chest against Anthony's back while Anthony revved up his motorcycle.
"Actually," he said as they slipped into the Bentley, him on the driver's seat and Asa in the passenger, "could I get your number? So I could buy you lunch sometimes?"
"Of course," Asa said as he got out his phone. "Let's switch."
They handed each other their phones and typed their numbers into the Contacts. As they switched back, Anthony started up the Bentley and made his way through the streets of London. "Saw there was that new coffee shop by the bookshop," he suggested. "If Derek allows it, perhaps we can grab a coffee or lunch there. Saw they also have crepes."
"Indeed," Asa agreed. "All kinds, too. Savory, sweet, somewhere in between… tomorrow, perhaps? I only work half the day on Wednesdays."
"Works perfect, as I only have morning classes tomorrow."
"Tickety boo!"
Anthony beamed to himself as they continued to chat until they eventually reached Asa's street. He had him drop him off as a shabby little townhouse next to the record shop, and he waved to Anthony as he stepped out and walked up the stoop to his home.
Well, Anthony decided as he drove off, that didn't go down like a lead balloon after all.