It was a nice thought. Never letting his mind wander back to the streets of London, through the gardens that surrounded the Brennan estate like snakes coiled around their nest. Unrealistic it might have been, but then he had always thought that wanting love was an unrealistic think to hope for too.

Malachi closed his eyes as he accepted the kiss. Arthur’s lips were still a warm comfort against the cold, heavy air that permeated every inch of space within the cellar, and the hands held within his own were a grounding presence.

He leaned his cheek lightly against the doctor’s head, after placing another kiss to the top of it. His hair still smelled of the fancy floral shampoo that Malachi had washed it with before.

“I will get my clothes out first,” he confirmed, “but nothing else. It makes sense for my clothes to be gone, as I have not lived here in years, but taking anything more might raise suspicion.”

There were plenty of things he would have taken, had he the space and the time to do so. The piano in the grand hall, the first thing he’d been allowed to enter the house for; the cane, and the guns, and several other items from his father’s room. But he did not need those things.

“I don’t–” he cut himself off, eyes opening into the shadowed darkness.

“There… might be something else in my father’s office. I will check and grab it beforehand, if so.”

Lifting his head, Malachi released Arthur’s hands just to pull him into a close embrace instead.

“Well, my love,” he murmured, “are you ready for dinner?”