Holding his hands up in defense, the two’s petty fighting wasn’t really his cup of tea. The only time he ever physically fought was when it was for fun, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see himself jumping in to stop the two or perhaps beat up Charles if he had to. Letting out a laugh to diffuse the situation, he pushed from the table.

“Yeah, unfortunately. We’ve both got some work to tend to, eh? Science won’t progress on its own, will it?” He reminded the other before offering a pat on Charles’ back affectionately. “As for Beatrice, we’d be more than honored to send you as many letters as you want. Shower you in them, even.”
 
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Despite the polite smile Joseph offered at the other's optimism, he knew better than anyone that the chance of science progressing at his school was slim at the current moment. He wanted nothing more than to be able to teach his students through action, to show them the human body and allow them to have a hands-on learning experience which he believed was the only true way to learn. The lack of cadavers was starting to mean that that aspect of his job might have to take a break for a prolonged period until a cadaver came their way, and whilst his superiors at the school were as equally as irked by that as he was, they also didn't find it too distressing. They claimed that it wouldn't stop education nor science progressing, that the students could still be taught in the school's grand lecture rooms by an established, respect doctor like Joseph - he didn't necessarily need to have them work on bodies for them to learn from him.

Inevitably, that much was true, and thus, there was nothing Joseph could really do over the following two weeks or so than perform that method of teaching; simply standing at the front of the lecture hall beside a blackboard, orating to his students and directing them to pages in their books to back up his word. He could only use models of the human body to show them what he was talking about outside of the books, which depressed him entirely. It wasn't just the students and their learning that he was depressed about - it was the loss of scientific progress for himself that he mourned. The bodies that were brought in constantly gave him a chance to learn more about what science knew about the body, to discover something to add to the history books. Not having that opportunity cut him deeply.

But grave-robbing had proved too risky and he didn't want to end up in prison for attempting it - then his students wouldn't even have him to teach them, however mundane the classes presently were. Yet, not having a cadaver to work on was slowly tearing him apart, to the point that he would return home and not even feel the happiness at seeing Ricky or reading through a letter from Beatrice. Nothing really impacted him and probably wouldn't until the situation found itself resolved.

"...They hate my classes, they look so bored. It can't help them being taught by someone who finds them boring, I suppose. I yawn constantly, I can't be setting a good example - but gosh, they are so boring, Ricky. Standing for two hours, talking from a book. It's not active, engaging learning," he moaned once arriving back to his house after another long day at work, removing his coat and unashamedly reaching for another cigar, which were the only things he found that helped relieve a little stress from his bones. "...What's the cook prepared for dinner today? I could really do with a nice piece of steak, some roast potatoes maybe..."
 
“Luckily for you I did pick up a nice slice of steak and I made some fresh bread earlier. You’re lucky I care enough about you for me to subject myself to a woman’s job,”replied Ricky from the kitchen before walking to meet the other, a smile on his face as he wiped his hands on his slacks, adjusting his unbuttoned collar casually.

Since he didn’t have a job, Ricky spent most of his day trying to entertain himself. He had used cooking as one of those outlets, along with wandering about Edinburgh. He wasn’t one to sit down and just accept doing nothing all day so if it meant having to wander, then he’d do it... until hearing his lover mention the stress of work.

“I can help you out, you know that. It’ll give me something to do, Joseph. I did it before and I didn’t get caught, at least let me do it once again. I hate seeing you so sad, this is your passion!”
 
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"For one, the stress it put on you is something I'd like to avoid. You say otherwise, but your back was in pieces and you could barely walk without moaning and needing to crack your bones, and that's something I don't want to see given how much I... care for you," he began with a faint frown at how soppy he sounded. Despite the fact Ricky all but lived with him at this point, under the rouse of being his in-house cook, he had yet to tell the younger man how much he genuinely cared, fearing that the strength of his feelings wouldn't be reciprocated.

"Secondly, even if I agreed, it isn't as easy to get into the graveyards. Ever since the robberies became common knowledge, the yards are guarded at night. I'd hate for you to be caught. I... would prefer you here with me than rotting in a jail cell. So I'll just persevere with the teaching as it is, at least my students are still learning. It's not the method I'd prefer them to learn through, but I... it's better than nothing," he smiled, slipping down into the armchair opposite the fireplace, reaching to his side to pour a small glass of whiskey for himself, which he always had before dinner. "You don't need to cook, you know. I do have a cook for that, I pay her to help me out with meals. I only tell my neighbours that you're my cook, to avoid suspicion - you don't actually need to. Mind you, I quite enjoy it. You're a wonderful cook, Ricky."
 
“It really isn’t a problem, I enjoy cooking for you. It gives me somethin’ to do while you’re gone, after all,” he reassured as he stood behind the chair, his hands resting on the older man’s shoulders. Leaning down, he offered a few soft kisses to his neck with his usual smile.

“I think it could be fun, sneaking about the graveyard,” he offered casually, humming at the thought. “I could scope it out, perhaps make friends with the guards... not to be so bold but I do believe I’m a likable person. It would be a long process most likely but I still think I could get you somethin’ sooner than the state could. You’re right, though, all that work certainly messes with my back more than it should for a lad my age...”
 
"And you can't be cooking for me with a bad back, can you? So it's best to leave it, something will come along eventually. There's no greater certainty in life than death, after all, as morbid as that sounds. People die all the time, even with the improvements in medicine. I'll be able to teach them properly, it just requires patience," he decided with an optimistic smile, one that he hoped would hide just how sad that conclusion left him. He felt horrible about the outlook he had, that he was practically admitting that he wished people died a little more often just so he could teach, but he wasn't going to pretend that that wasn't the case. His students needed to learn through experience, and cadavers to learn from were necessary - it was just a part of the job he couldn't fulfil if he didn't have them to work from.

"...My actual cook isn't very happy about you taking over her job. I don't want to let her go, you can't cook for me every day, but I still feel a little bad about bringing you in out of the blue like this. She's been cooking for my family for years," he reminded as he pushed himself up from the chair to retrieve his newspaper. "...If you're genuinely serious about cooking for me, as a job, I'd let her go in an instant. I'll give you money for the groceries and pay you a wage, if... you want that? You said you're looking for a job, I can't think of a better option for you than this."
 
“I dunno, I... I’d have to think about it,” he replied before tilting his head towards the kitchen. “I don’t want her to lose her job, so I’ll just cook every now and then...? Or perhaps I’ll cook once in awhile, nothing too crazy. It isn’t a matter of money now that you’re letting me stay here, it’s more of a matter of entertainment. It gets so boring most days without you.”


With a casual shrug, he headed back to the kitchen to slice the steak before playing it for them both, adding some rolls and carrots for a side. Despite insisting that he wanted to cook, it didn’t mean he was a master chef yet.
 
"I might be around more often now my working hours have all but been cut in half. I spent most of my time with the cadavers, teaching students that way. Without that, I can't see how I'll be teaching constantly. I suppose I'll have my hours cut, so another teacher who's used to lecturing can take over. It's sad but... at least we'll see more of one another," he proposed with a faint smile, following after him to avoid sitting alone and drinking; something he didn't like to do when it reminded him of his father so much.

"There's not a lot we can do, Ricky. We're different people with different likes and dislikes. I won't be going to that awful tavern again, and I doubt you want to come to my friends' houses for dinner parties with me. We'll just be stuck in this house, annoying one another if I don't go to work-- it's good to have space, isn't it? I... don't want our relationship suffering because I'm around the house so often, irking you."
 
“Oi, the tavern isn’t awful! There’s nice people there, people who have helped me adjust to living in Edinburgh,” he countered almost immediately as he cut the steak thin, a pout in his lips. “I’ve had plenty of fun there, yeah? It’s nice to get lose and unwind with some rum. As for your friends parties, I’d love to go with you again if you don’t mind. I mean, I don’t mind the parties too much if they don’t put me down for who I am. Your other friends are lovely and so are mine! They’re just... a little different.”
 
"I never thought you'd want to come to another get-together with me. I didn't think you liked the last one. You did get drunk and confront me in front of all my friends, Ricky. They don't forget easily; I'm sure they've gossiped about you and your behaviour. I'm sure they're judging me for it, in fact. Now, I'm over what happened at that party, I just doubt they've forgotten," he admitted honestly, deciding wisely that it wasn't worth lying just to spare how Ricky might feel about learning that. It wasn't very nice to hear that people would be judging him like that but lying about that very real possibility wasn't nice either, and Joseph didn't want to be responsible for lying to someone he cared about, even loved.

"...We don't need to go to my parties. I have a feeling your friends are possible less judgemental than mine, even if I find that tavern... uncomfortable. It unnerves me being there. Maybe that's just my own judgemental attitude coming into play. I wasn't aware I had one but maybe I do, subconsciously. I just think I'll end up hurt if I go to that bar again; I hardly fit in, Ricky."
 
“I’ve accepted that your friends are judgmental but everyone is, in some level. I don’t really care if they point and laugh at me,” he reassured with a soft smile. “I don’t mind because I know that you care about me, hopefully more than you care about some social standing. I don’t care if I go to any of your parties and I’m mocked or what have you, I knew this would happen the minute I decided to come to Scotland.”

As he spoke, Ricky moved to get up and grab a drink for himself, pouring a small glass of scotch. Having cut back a bit on his drinking, if didn’t mean he was going to quit completely. It was proof that he was trying to adapt to the snooty ‘elite’ culture that he was a stranger to.

“I mean, there’s an open invitation to the pub if you’d like. Speaking of which, I should probably move my things in here if you’ll let me,” he suggested before returning to the seat, his eyes scanning the other hopefully. “I mean, I understand if you don’t agree. It could be seen as suspicious, so...”
 
"How is it suspicious? People assume you're working for me, I've told them you're my in-house cook and maybe I told them you cleaned up for me now and then. I made up some story to evade suspicion, Ricky. You don't need to worry. As suspicious as my friends usually are, they swallowed my lies up surprisingly easily," he admitted with a faint sense of pride, the smile that peeked at his lips indicative of that. He wasn't the greatest liar or actor, so managing to pull the wool over his friends' eyes was something he could take some pride in, however small a victory it was.

"I want you to move in, of course. I don't know what our relationship is, we haven't discussed it entirely, but I know I care for you and that's all I need to invite you in. I want to be around you, so... of course, move in permanently when you're ready, my door's always open."
 
“I care about you too,” Ricky responded quickly, his cheeks growing bright red bashfully. He wasn’t the most suave or romantic person in the world and all of his past relationships failed before they could even really take off, the fact that he had somehow found someone who not only was willing to put up with him but openly admit to caring about him was more than what he was used to.

“That’s great news! I don’t really have much, just some clothes and a few knick knacks from home - oh, and that lovely portrait your friend painted of me. Everyone at the pub was so confused when I brought it home, all of them teased saying how I’m ‘secretly royalty’ and whatnot, it was cute. We can... I dunno, we can put it up somewhere. I would say it’s a prized possession, even,” he admitted proudly, his smile only growing to its usual, goofy size.
 
"...Yes, well, the less said about the portrait, the better. It's... wonderful, Charles is undoubtedly very talented, but... I can't help but feel he only painted you for free because he has... a romantic interest in you. Charles is from an aristocratic background; he's a distant relative of the royals, in fact. But he needs money. He wouldn't go out of his way to paint a portrait of that magnitude for no fee, I... just find it difficult to believe he doesn't like you in a manner of romance," he murmured calmly, looking up from the newspaper in his hands with a faint grimace. Charles was his best friend and the one person that knew him best, but that didn't mean he could be happy about the potential reality of him fancying his boyfriend. It was difficult to find someone like Ricky, who was happy to act on their sexuality regardless of the risk involved - it was even more difficult to find someone who Joseph got on with so well and felt so much younger around.

He didn't want to lose all of that to Charles, who, reluctantly, he could admit had more in common with Ricky. Charles was free-spirited and wild; he wouldn't care about going to a tavern, regardless of the attention it would get him. He didn't care about reputation too much, his philosophy being to have a good time in life while he could. It didn't help that Charles was handsome, dashingly so, with both a youthful appearance and a manly, tough body. Joseph felt he had every reason to be insecure and worried that the life he was setting up with Ricky might be taken away from him before it even had a chance to flourish.

"...I don't know, maybe I'm paranoid. I'd like to think I am. I'd... hate for Charles to try and... take you from me. He's so charming, I'd imagine he could get anyone he wanted."
 
“Oi, relax!” Ricky urged, his smile wide as he physically waved the other off. “Seeing you so jealous is adorable, actually. Little ol’ me, a simple commoner, making someone like you jealous? Charles is a good man but I don’t see any romantic connection. He seems like a lovely friend is all. Now you may know him better than I do but I think Charles sees me as a friend as well. He didn’t try and sway me with any romantic words. Besides, I think you’re my perfect match,” he admitted before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I won’t mention the painting again, sure. As for moving, I won’t have much trouble moving it all on my own. If I can carry dead weight, a painting and a few small personal items won’t be very difficult. I may look silly but what else is new,?”
 
Hearing Ricky dismiss the possibility so easily was comforting. Even though Joseph was sure that there was something there (albeit only on Charles' side), having Ricky completely shoot it down without hesitation made him a lot less worried that he would lose the first proper relationship he had ever been in. The portrait was a reminder of his paranoia and his anxieties, but he could hardly tell the other not to bring it around when he was evidently so excited about it.

"I can help you, you don't need to do everything independently. I'm sure we'll get all this sorted out within a week or two," he confirmed as positively as he could. In fact, the talk of Ricky moving in was a welcome distraction from the trouble he was having with his job. He had talked about it in great length, though failed to really let his boyfriend in on how emotionally wrecking it all was for him. Without doing what he loved, he really didn't think there was even a point in going to work. The lectures weren't fulfilling him at all; the only aspect of the job that was worthwhile was the practical work, and without cadavers to work from, that part of the job was impossible to access.

"...I think I'll be home a lot, anyway. They don't need me working there until bodies come through the doors, so... it'll be nice to spend time with you hm? Having all this time off work will give us time together, so that's a positive, at least."
 
“You know what I’m going to say,” began Ricky slowly, his brows raising as he cut into the meat, taking a large chunk with a content hum. “You know what I can do and I’ll do it for you, no problem. I mean, I have no problem helping you find things to do but I know how much you love your job. You aren’t the wander type, Charles - you like your space and you know it.” He reminded after a pause to chew his food. His table manners weren’t up to the same height as aristocrats but he was at least nice enough to know how to finish his food before speaking.

“That bein’ said, I enjoy your company. I know you aren’t a huge fan of the people I surround myself with and that’s not a problem in my eyes. I would love for you to get to know ‘em a bit better. Sure, they’re mostly roustabouts but so am I, right?”
 
"And I told you that I won't allow you to get yourself arrested for helping me out doing... that. It just isn't worth it, Ricky. I love my job, but I couldn't work there knowing that you were imprisoned helping me; it'd drive me insane with guilt, I think. No, we'll just... wait. People die, it's the only certainty of life. It's not... good to think like that, to be waiting for people to die because it benefits me, but... that's the truth of the matter, isn't it?" He murmured to himself, his grimace growing at just how macabre and dark such thoughts were... but they were the truth, and he felt comfortable enough admitting that to Ricky.

"...I could spend time with your friends, you're right, but I don't think I'd quite fit into that environment. It'd make me uncomfortable - and that's not your fault. It's just me. I like my own space, you said it yourself. I don't even like attending functions of those of a higher class. I like being here, reading or studying a little."