Dirty Work

"This looks suits you," decided Ricky once taking in the other' more plain and humble outfit. It was similar to something he grew up wearing so to see it covered in paint, he was both amused and horrified. On one hand the sight made him panick when memories of his father getting angry from his messiness flooded back, distinctly remember the man shout that 'he wasn't going to get another pair so to be careful'. That being said, the man looked ridiculous nonetheless and so snorted, choosing to be s little more lighthearted.

"Yes, we're just enjoying the weather. What have you been doing? You look like you've trudged through a whole forest , for a painting? Bless your heart, that is more effort for a painting than I could ever do," he praised with a chuckle.
 
"The sunlight was coming through the leaves and trees beautifully and highlighted this gorgeous patch of flowers, and when inspiration hits, you can't wait or it'll disappear, right? I had to capitalise on the moment; a little dirt and mud really isn't important. I'm not afraid to get a little dirty if it means capturing the moment," he replied, wiping his hands on his trousers as he took in his painting a final time, deciding to come back later on in the afternoon to finish it off. The spot was too perfect and he was afraid that by disrupting it by moving the canvas, the entire thing would be ruined.

"I think I may as well joined you. Beatrice is already a third-wheel, so why not add a fourth; really annoy you?" He teased, winking playfully to emphasise the lightheartedness as he strolled up the small bank to meet them. "I might stay here, you know. This place is perfect for my art and Joe won't mind me crashing here a few months-- unless you'd both miss me so terribly. I might have to come back with you to the city if that's the case~"
 
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"I think that's a brilliant idea!" Urged Ricky, albeit mostly as an excuse not to feel guilty for leaving Beatrice behind out in the country. It was very clear that she had mental health problems, he was no stranger to that by now. If Beatrice could have Charles as a companion, it meant he could freely enjoy company with Joseph again and get back to the romance he was desperately craving.

"I would love to see what you finish whilst here," Ricky urged before offering Joseph a look with bright eyes as he tried to hide his urge to grin. "I would love to see your work out on display, even!"
 
"Your eagerness for me to stay isn't very subtle, Ricky. But I understand it, of course I do. I won't take offence," the artist snorted, waving the desperation behind the urge off easily. He could understand quite easily just why the other might prefer him to stay behind and if Charles didn't want that himself, he wouldn't have mentioned it. He wasn't one to deliberately cause drama... even though he was admittedly a fan of it happening to others, given his propensity to gossip.

"Well, your portrait is my main piece of artwork here; it's probably the one thing I'm proud of. It's a new venture for me; might propel me into portraiture for the royals or the aristocracy. That'll pay marvellously, earn me a good reputation-- and I'd have you to thank, hm?"
 
"Well, you're certainly of high enough class to be able to at least contact the aristocracy," Ricky admitted, the whole idea of having his portrait in the walls of a rich man's home only stroking his ego a bit. He hid just how much the idea made his ego soar, a feeling he craved so much after living in such a boring life while blending in with his brothers as a unit as opposed to an indivisual. He would give up everything just to be able to rub that fact in his father's face.

"Hm... these few days have been amazing," he declared after a pause, his cheeks red. "Sure, there's been some ups and downs but I think this whole time has been incredibly eye-opening. Not only that but I've been able to spend some amazing time with lovely people. I know it may sound silly but it's true, you know? I care a lot about you even though I've just met you all recently. Though I suppose I'm a social creature, ti should be no surprise that I'm happy to have met you all."
 
"Your companion is awfully soppy, Joe. I think he's perfect; softens you up, makes you less of a moody so-and-so," chuckled Charles in response to the compliments, refusing to really thank the other for them, at least not verbally. He knew he'd just end up sounding as soppy as he playfully accused the other of being, but, to avoid seeming rude, he gave Ricky a quick smile and a wink to show that appreciation. He evidently felt the same or wouldn't be spending hours of time painting a portrait for the other completely free of charge. Despite his high status, he was a struggling artist and couldn't afford to give away his time like that - but he made an exception for someone he genuinely liked, especially if that someone was dating one of his best friends.

"...You will come and visit, won't you? I'm not entirely sure I can go back to the city yet, but I'd hate for it to be months until I see you again, Richard. And Joseph too, of course," the woman sighed as she stood back up, having zoned out from the conversation a tad as she busied herself collecting the berries she had planned to. "I... I'll be much better when you visit next; less scattered, I hope. I certainly won't make a fool of myself again like I did last night-- I must have embarrassed you all terribly."
 
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"Oi, I'm not soppy I'm just comfortable with my emotions. I know it isn't very gentlemanly of me but I don't want to deny my feelings. Let me get soppy now because I can assure you I'm certainly not this soppy while I've had a few glasses of proper elixir," he reassured dismissively with a roll of his eyes and a small nudge to Charles. His attention was then taken away by Beatrice.

"Oh, of course, we'll visit. You're a lovely woman, Beatrice. Now, I insist that you call me Ricky. Richard just sounds so formal, you know? As for the embarrassment thing, it's just natural for people to act silly every now and then. Relax. It was a party, after all, wasn't it? I'm sure I embarrassed Joseph far more than you did, I acted inappropriately," he murmured.
 
"...You were a little out of order, but I suppose I'm the one that caused you to be enraged, and perhaps I ought to have realised that you're a man ruled by emotion. In many ways, I can laugh about last night. You gave half the people in that room a fright, storming in like you did. I... suppose, in hindsight, it was funny," the doctor murmured as he reflected upon the previous night's events, finding his immediate reaction to be a faint chuckle and a smile regarding it. Sure, he would find it hard to live the night down and he knew he'd be answering questions about just who the 'uncouth young man' was, but it was worth it to see the looks of horror on the privileged guests' faces.

"I'm not sure I'm suited to parties with those people, they're awfully boring," she laughed in reply, taking Charles' arm just so she could avoid intervening in the closeness between the other man, having worked out by now that their closeness was more than just friendliness - and she wasn't going to interject on a romantic moment, however subtle that moment was. "...Well, when you two go, at least send me and Charles letters. It'll be nice to wake up to something to read; to keep up to date on your life together."
 
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"I am ruled by my emotions, aren't I? Well, I suppose it isn't the worst thing to be controlled by, huh?" Ricky countered easily before laughing, carefully patting Beatrice's shoulder as proof of just how casual he felt around her and Charles alike before he letcout a deep yawn.

"Relax, Of course we'll write! I absolutely love to write and I've been practicing my cursive to try and look a little neater, more polite and whatnot. I would hate to send a letter looking ridiculous, hm? I wouldn't say we have a particularly interesting life - well, I don't at least, aha..." he explained, his cheeks only growing brighter on the mention of "their life together".
 
"Joseph works with dead bodies and you're a regular at a tavern, which I imagine is lively and full of characters. How can you not say you lead an interesting life? Something that may seem simple to you is utterly fascinating to me. I've been inside a small, cramped padded room for months, barely able to read for more than ten minutes a week. I'd adore to hear your stories from the tavern or... or whatever you do. I'd find it interesting," nodded Beatrice firmly, holding back the urge to get emotional about the reminder of her time at the asylum, the only evidence that she was thinking about it being the reddened, angry blush that spread over her cheeks. She brushed it aside, of course, and forced another smile as she stood up, having bent down to pick some flowers.

"I'll write to you about all sorts of things. I'd like to start sewing again, that'll be interesting to update you upon. Maybe I'll find a nice young gentleman who would court me and... whisk me off to get married. I suppose I'd have to socialise at events for that and nobody is going to invite me along after last night--"

"...Joe goes to events a lot, I do too. I'll invite you along myself," smiled Charles with a playful wink to the blushing woman, though the blush came from the bashfulness of the wink this time. "Right, enough sorry talk. I'm getting chilly standing here like lemons, let's get a move on, shall we?"
 
"I'll put these in a glass when we return," reassured Ricky quietly, daring to grab an extra few flowers once noticing that the woman seemed eager to have so many. Once having his own handful of them, he snorted at just how 'interesting' the woman seemed to insist his barlife to be rather than seeing it as him being an alcohol - a fact he would disagree with wholeheartedly.

"Oh, don't worry, ma'am! You're very beautiful. I'm sure you could land whatever fella you set your eyes to. Not only are you beautiful, you're also very fun to speak to. Huh, mates?" He confirmed as he showered the woman in compliments, looking to them expectantly. "Though of course I'd love to write to you. My handwriting is quite atrocious but I do love to practice," he nodded in agreement.

Once returning to the home, he promptly grabbed a jar to set the flowers in. It was far from fancy, what were essentially weeds setting in a simple empty jar, but he saw it as a beautiful and professional floral arrangement. Proudly setting his hands on his hips, he motioned Joseph over.

"Perhaps I should become a florist, yeah?" He suggested, not taking note of the droopy dandelion that peeled through the lip. "It's better than what I was doing before, according to you, Joe. It's weird calling you Joe."
 
"Better than hauling up dead bodies from their eternal resting places? Anything is better than that, Ricky," the man replied as he took in the vase of sad-looking weeds, a smile arriving nonetheless at how proud his boyfriend seemed to be with the display. As awful and as unromantic as he found the sight to be, he would never admit it if it meant dashing the other's pride. Besides, just because he found it lifeless didn't mean anyone else would. Charles, for example, would probably gush about how artistic it was and babble on about how it was somehow a metaphor for something; a thought that made Joseph chuckle to himself.

"Don't you start calling me Joe, I don't really like it that much. I mean, I don't mind it; it just doesn't feel right. Charles persists with it, of course. The man is in his own world, he doesn't take notice of my pleas," he shrugged, setting his winter coat down over a chair to dry, having been caught by a light snow shower on the way back to the home. "Beatrice does it occasionally but I can't exactly tell her not to; she gets emotional easily. If you want to, I suppose I'd also make an exception, seeing as you could just stop dating me-- and that'd be awful, of course. So I'm willing to let you call me whatever you want, provided you don't decide to move onto someone younger and in a more fashionable career, like some arty poet or novelist."
 
"Oh, stop it! I wouldn't stop enjoying your company just because you said no to me wanting to call you Joe. It'll be a lot harder than that to get me off your ass," he teased and, taking up the opportunity of them being alone while the other two also dried off, he offered an affectionate kiss to Joseph's temple before stretching out his arms, a proud smile still on his lips.

"It brightens up this place. I would love to make a cute little arrangement for your home as well. Ah, it'll be lovely! Set it right on your windowsill so you can see it when you get fresh air," he suggested, the fact that Ricky could make some quickly dying weeds cheesy and romantic just evidence of his views on life. Snaking an arm around the older man's waist, he hummed briefly under his breath. "I can't wait to be home again, with just you and I. Just holding you close like this quenches some of my thirst but there's nothing I'd like more than to have you in bed." He whispered with a smirk before letting go. "We shouldn't waste much time in the morning."
 
The flirtation and unsubtle desire wasn't lost on Joseph, though he rarely ever proceeded in returning the sentiment. It only made him feel awkward if he tried to replicate the words and engage in the suggestive conversation, feeling as though the words sounded wrong and clunky coming from his mouth, and that was hardly romantic. It also just made him feel older as a result. He knew Ricky didn't like to hear his insecurities about being almost a decade older than him, claiming it didn't matter, but it did; at least, it did in Joseph's head. He liked Ricky's vibrancy and energy, but it always made him feel slow and tired; he felt like an old man the more energy Ricky displayed. Having him place kisses on him and hold him with the suggestive words was lovely, sure, but the risk-free attitude was another element that just made Joseph feel ancient. He realised it was his own insecurity and Ricky couldn't care less about the age difference, but getting over it was easier said than done.

"...Yes, well, I'm not sure I want flowers in my house. They belong outside. I get hayfever too, occasionally, and I'd hate for you to see me all congested and ill. It's hardly a handsome sight," he laughed as he awkwardly adjusted the distance between them, constantly on alert for any of his servants catching them in the act. "I'll encourage your new hobby in the workplace, however. A few vases of flowers around the school would do it wonders; it always seems so gloomy and dark there."
 
Deciding to not take note of just how awkward the other seemed, Ricky instead decided to leave the man to enter the kitchen, his stomach growling. He was starving and wanted nothing more than to have a nice, warm roast to counter his admittedly still damp frame. Was it smart to be wearing them? Probably not, but he decided to fix it with eventually wandering out of the kitcjing with a loud stomach to thr main room, lighting the fireplace properly.

"I do with you would relax, mate. No one is here right now and there's no reason for you to be so tense," Ricky eventually decided to mention when he no longer could hold it back. "You need to lounge a little, enjoy something to drink. I hate seeing you this stiff, it ain't good for 'ya."
 
"I think you need to exercise a little more caution, frankly. My staff are here, they can find us and report us. As loyal as they are, they won't understand... this; us. I don't want to lose what we have before it's hardly gotten started, and your blasé attitude is-- it's a little grating, really. I admire you a lot but not when your advice is to relax in situations I can't relax in, or else get discovered. The only time I'm willing to fully relax is when I know, for certain, that we're alone," he reminded, grimacing awkwardly at having to repeat himself - but he wasn't going to suddenly become so laid-back he risked being caught. Even something as simple as close proximity would arose suspicion -he knew that from past experience- and he wanted to do everything in his power to avoid that, even if it meant irritating the person he was with.

"It'll be fine when we're back at my home in the city. I... don't know why you're so infuriated by me trying to, quite wisely I thought, keep us safe from detection-- or would you rather us be caught and imprisoned, all over a simple kiss or two?"
 
""I know, I understand the consequences. That being said, that doesn't mean I'm too worried. You're far too paranoid, Joseph. I'm not going to make love to you right on the stairs, don't be ridiculous," he reassured, keeping his voice low despite his smile. Shaking his head, he laughed casually.

"I won't lend a finger on you until we get home, how about?" He suggested, his brows raised. "Just know that I won't hold back when we get home~! I just can't help it, you're irresistable," he reassured.
 
"Irresistible? Now I know you're mocking me," he cheerfully responded, only breaking his gaze away from his boyfriend when Charles entered, clean-faced but his clothes still covered in colourful paint, apparently enjoying the comfort of the attire too much to consider changing out of them and into something far more 'proper'. That clothing looked nice but he realised now, through means of comparison, that it wasn't at all comforting to wear.

"This looks mighty cosy," the man beamed as he strode across to the pantry, rummaging through for something quick to eat, returning to stand in the sunlight's path through the small window. He was probably Joseph's opposite in every way: Joseph was serious and Charles almost too carefree and airy; the doctor was handsome, but he was mature with his appearance, while the artist was youthful without being boyish, often being mistaken for a man a decade younger than his actual age of 30. They epitomised the phrase 'opposites attract', having been best friends since their university days, though that wasn't to say they didn't irk each other with their differences. Right now, Joseph was tutting under his breath at his friend's apparent refusal to change into something more presentable, unsubtly judging him for it. "...I really think you ought to change before lunch, the servants will only gossip about you and word spreads quickly around these parts, Charles. You'll be the talk of the local village; a gentleman looking as wayward as you do right now will hurt your reputation--"

"Because a bunch of villagers in the middle of nowhere are keen art-goers in Edinburgh, hm? Do relax, Joe, you're being awfully ridiculous. I like these clothes and I'm comfortable in them, it's not your decision, is it? Fuck what the staff think," replied the artist boldly, ignoring the horrified look he received for both his use of a curse word and the deliberate attempt at sounding posher than he was when saying 'staff' to mock Joseph. He was already posh with his accent, he knew that, but he was nowhere near Joseph's level, so taking the opportunity to mock him at least made him chuckle a little to himself. "Tell your dear old boyfriend to behave himself, Ricky. He's not my father but he seems to want to act like he can tell me what to do."
 
"Charles has a point. You both are well known aristocrats, I doubt they'll say a word if they don't want to lose any little chance they had at possibly scaling the steep pyramid of this horrible class system we have," added Ricky, not wanting to dwell too much on the boyfriend comment. He knew they weren't the most subtle in their - or rather Ricky's - flirting but he didn't expect Charles to just blatantly bring attention to their affection.

"Do you intend to go into down? Perhaps that might be a good opportunity to change into at least something a little less, ah... covered in paint? I ain't no aristocrat so I don't mind some cozy, dirty clothes every now 'n then. I don't care what you wear, Charles, just accept the consequences."
 
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"Tell him that then," he repeated with an accusatory finger pointed in Joseph's direction, his eyes rolling as he took a large bite from the apple he had found. He could deal with Joseph for hours at a time, but there were moments where dealing with him became exhausting and he had no other option other than telling him straight. He knew the man wasn't going to be upbeat all the time, but coping with the constant seriousness over a weekend that was supposed to be fun was incredibly frustrating.

"...Anyway, you gentlemen are heading back soon, aren't you? Make sure to write; Beatrice is looking forward to that. It'll keep her occupied and I suppose that'll help her; to focus on something."
 
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