Page 39 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
Percy’s eyes shot across to him in an instant, confusion, then a charming smile. “No. You’re good looking and you’re funny and I want you with me always.” Even in the dark, Percy could feel the tipsy blush on Joe’s cheeks, and he liked it, but he still said, “I’m not noble enough to do the right thing and throw you over. I’m exactly the sort of man to drag those I’m attached to down with me, so consider yourself warned.”
“I appreciate that.” Joe smiled.
“I like to think I’m an honest sort of person.”
Joe watched Percy across the table, now leaning over his cocktail glass, his dark hair spilling over his troubled face. It must have started hurting more because he’d picked up the sodden, bloody napkin from the table and pressed it to his cheek again, cut and swollen, dripping with water from the melted ice.
All those cuts and bruises. Broken on the outside, just like he was on the inside. Just like Joe was. Broken and wrecked, yet still trying to do something beautiful that afternoon, in whatever misguided way. Percy trying so violently to save and preserve what little beauty there was to be found amongst the ruins and the myriad horrors of the world.
That notion struck Joe right in the heart. Something so romantic, so pure, and so passionate. A glimpse straight into the soul of Percy.
Joe wanted to wipe away the blood. He wanted to sink the stitches into Percy’s skin himself. He wanted to change his dressings and watch him heal, and he didn’t want Percy to stare into his drink a second longer.
“You’re beautiful, Percy.” The slightly indignant look on the much-less-pretty-than-usual face should have been comical, but before Joe could notice or stop himself, he said, “You’re beautiful, and I don’t think I’ve ever met another person quite like you. I think you’re beautiful inside and out and I don’t ever want to be with anyone who isn’t you.” Percy held Joe’s reverent gaze. “Percy, you’re beautiful and I’ve just realised I’m completely in love with you.”
Percy stared into Joe’s eyes a second longer, then broke his gaze and looked down again. “You just don’t know any better yet, Joe.”
“Then I don’t want to know any better.”
Percy made no reply, and even if Joe’s heart beat a little harder and his stomach sank slightly, he knew he couldn’t expect more from Percy. Not tonight. Not with things how they were. He had to get the words out, for better or for worse, and now Percy knew, and that was all that mattered.
It did hurt, though. After all, what was Joe to Percy? He couldn’t begin to imagine how many lovers Percy must have had, how many people must have made the same declaration to him over the years, for all he knew, right here on this terrace.He would never ask either, because there were few times in his life he had experienced the sort of possessiveness, jealousy, that Percy seemed to inspire in him. It wasn’t something he wanted to provoke.
Joe watched Percy’s silent expression as he dabbed gin on his wounds and screwed his face up at the searing pain. It was as good a time as any to say what he’d been holding back. “I’m going away next week.”
That made him look up. “Where?”
“Libya.”
“You’re just mentioning this now?”
“It was supposed to be a secret.”
“Oh.” Percy raised a curious eyebrow. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Joe laughed out. Then he leaned forward and revealed quietly, “I’m going to Libya next week, and Percy…”
Percy leaned forward, too. “Yes?”
“I’ll be right by the Reliquary of Saint Martin. And as you claim to already own the Spear of Destiny?—”
“Claim to!”
“You’ll be wanting to steal its enchanted sheath, I’m sure.”
“I’ve been. It’s not there.”
“You were looking in the wrong place.”
A sly smile crept over Percy’s face as he nodded his understanding.
“We would probably need to kill several evil monks to get to it,” Joe added.
Percy grinned. “That’s something I have a little experience with.”
“So I hear.”
“Is that your way of inviting me?”
