Title: No Secrets
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: John Smith/Arthur Eddington
Fandom: Doctor Who/Einstein and Eddington
Rating: PG-13
Table: 2
Prompt: 83, Secret
Note: Continuation of Strangers When We Meet.
Author's Note: This fic doesn't feature the Tenth Doctor, but technically, since he is John Smith, it does fit the challenge claim. Slight spoilers for Einstein and Eddington.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own John Smith or Sir Arthur Eddington. Please do not sue.

***

John glanced at his watch, realizing that it was past time for Arthur to be home. He'd been at the University all day, and though he'd said that he would be home as soon as he could, he hadn't materialized since late morning. John didn't blame him for that; there had probably been some unforeseen work that he'd had to deal with at the last minute.

He'd been able to spend a bit of time at the University, both with and without Arthur, and he'd enjoyed the time there. He really would rather have spent all of that time with Arthur as his guide, but he understood that the other man had responsibilities.

It was enough that he was able to stay in Arthur's home as a guest while he was here, which was something that he hadn't expected. He'd thought that he would be sleeping in some unused dormitory room, but no, Arthur had refused to let him do so. John had been more than a little startled at Arthur's vehemence, but he'd given in to it.

He'd said that it would be inhospitable of him to let anyone stay in those sorts of accommodations, and though John had protested, Arthur hadn't taken no for an answer. The other teachers at the University had looked over him after the first polite hello, as though he didn't exist, but Arthur was different from all the others.

Different in so many ways, John told himself, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out above his head. Arthur seemed so young and vulnerable to be at such a high point in his career; he wasn't the sort of person that John would have expected to meet, here at Cambridge or anywhere else, for that matter. He'd been a breath of fresh air amongst the scholarly stuffiness.

Was he like that? John frowned, wondering just how he appeared to Arthur. He didn't think of himself as being stuffy and cautious, as most of the professors here and at his own school seemed to be, but there was no telling what someone else might think. And it was a bit disconcerting to realize that he couldn't remember what he might have been like in the past to compare.

It was strange, not being able to remember anything past the last few weeks. Had he suffered from amnesia at some point in his life? If he had, then that memory was gone, like so many others seemed to be. But it wasn't something he had to think about now; he would have plenty of time in the future to muse on that small failing of his.

"There you are. I hope you haven't been in here alone all day!"

John's head snapped up from the papers in front of him when he heard Arthur's voice, a smile spreading over his features. He hadn't heard the other man enter the house, though he'd been listening for him, and he hadn't heard that soft tread enter the sitting room.

Arthur was standing there in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a slight smile curving his lips. John could hardly take his eyes from that face, those lips in particular; he'd been mesmerized by Arthur's mouth from the first time he'd laid eyes on the other man. He'd had such fantasies about kissing that tantalizing mouth in the time he'd been here ....

John forced his thoughts away from the path they were taking, telling himself firmly that he couldn't entertain such ideas about Arthur. He'd probably be scandalized and horrified if he knew what John was thinking; no, those thoughts were his secret, something that he'd have to keep to himself and never let out into the open.

He stood up as Arthur approached the table he was sitting at, sweeping his papers into an untidy pile. "No, I haven't been here all day, really. I did a bit of sightseeing around the campus -- it's an extraordinarily beautiful place. And I had lunch with WInnie -- she was good enough to spend some time with me today. She's a lovely person."

Arthur's smile widened, showing off his dimples and lighting up his face. "Yes, she is, isn't she? I've been blessed to have her in my life. Some people might think that it's strange for me to live with my sister at my age --" A shadow crossed his face, quickly gone and replaced by that ready smile again. ".... But I have my reasons for that."

John hadn't missed that shadow that had passed over Arthur's face, and he couldn't keep himself from frowning at the idea that something was bothering the other man. He made a mental note to bring up the subject as casually as he could; if there was something on Arthur's mind, maybe he could somehow help with it. At the very least, he could listen if Arthur needed to talk.

"I was just going to go for a walk before dinner," Arthur told him, gesturing to the gardens outside the window. "You're welcome to join me, if you'd care to."

"Of course I would." John moved towards the door, wanting to ask Arthur why he looked so sad and resigned, but thinking better of it. Still, there had to be a way to get this quiet young man to open up and talk to him .... If he could bring Arthur out of that shell he seemed to hide himself in, then so much the better.

Following Arthur out of the house, John couldn't help but notice the slump of his shoulders, as though he was depressed or upset about something. Should he ask what the problem was, or would that be looked at as being intrusive? John couldn't be sure one way or the other.

But what could it hurt? The worst thing that Arthur could do was refuse to tell him what the problem was; of course, he himself could be the problem, John thought, catching his lower lip between his teeth when the thought occurred to him. Arthur could be regretting taking in a guest, even for a short amount of time. He could be an imposition on the other man's time and energy.

No, that couldn't be it. Arthur didn't seem like the type of man to begrudge anyone his time, and he'd seemed pleased to have someone staying with him who was interested in his work -- even if John didn't quite understand everything about it. He certainly wasn't the kind of person who would turn anyone away, especially a fellow scholar.

Arthur had slowed his pace, sitting down under a large tree and resting his chin in his hands, as if deep in thought. John sat down beside him on the grass, cross-legged, taking a deep breath and trying to think of something to say. He certainly didn't want Arthur to get the idea that he wasn't going to be much of a companion, not after Arthur had expressed an interest in him being here.

"Is there something bothering you?" he finally blurted out, unable to keep the question back any longer. Arthur looked up, startled by John's words, his eyes wide with surprise. Wonderful, John groaned inwardly. He'd probably have been much better off to keep his mouth shut, and let Arthur initiate any conversation. But he'd stuck his foot in it now.

Arthur shook his head, looking down and not meeting John's direct gaze. "No, I wouldn't say it's bothering me," he said softly, his voice slightly choked. "It's something I have to live with every day of my life -- my own failings and regrets."

John frowned again, wishing that he could say something to chase that expression of sadness from Arthur's face. "We all have regrets, Arthur. And we all have our failings. Though sometimes we're the only people who look at them in that way -- they may not be seen as failings or weaknesses to others. We're all our own worst critics, so the saying goes."

"I suppose it's not so much a failing, as something I should have tried harder to do," Arthur sighed, still not meeting John's eyes. "I .... let myself be held back by the constraints of society, instead of being brave enough to say how I felt and to be myself. I've regretted it ever since, especially as it's something I can't make right in any way."

"Why is that?" John kept his voice soft, wishing that he had the courage to reach out and take Arthur's hand. The sadness in the other man's voice cut through to his heart; he could hear the regret in Arthur's words, and he wanted to know just what it was that could make this beautiful young man seem so .... so hopeless.

"Because he's dead," Arthur whispered, his voice breaking on the last word. John was shocked to realize that Arthur was crying, tears streaking silently down his cheeks in the dusky half-light. "I never told him how I felt, and now it's far too late. I should have done it when I had the chance -- but I didn't have the courage. I was too afraid that he wouldn't feel the same."

John couldn't speak for several long moments, his mind whirling and unable to settle on one coherent thought. What was Arthur saying -- that he fancied men? John ached to burst out with his own confession -- that he'd felt the same, ever since he could remember, and that he hadn't had the courage to be honest about who he was, either.

"I'm sorry if I've said too much," Arthur said softly, still not looking at John, his slender hands clasped in his lap. "I've kept this secret for so long, John -- Winnie is the only person who knows. I needed to tell someone -- and you seemed like someone who could understand. I'm sorry if I've shocked you. I won't speak of it again."

"No, there's no need for that." John moved towards Arthur, taking the other young man's hands in his own and straining to see into Arthur's face in the deepening gloom of the evening. "I understand, Arthur. More than you could possibly know."

"Do you?" Arthur whispered, his voice breaking again. John's heart ached for him; having to keep something like this inside had probably been tearing him up for years, if not all of his life. John was sure that he'd felt the same way at some point in his life -- though he couldn't access those memories from wherever they were lodged in his mind.

"Yes, I do," he murmured, rising to his knees and taking Arthur's face between his hands, forcing the other young man to look directly at him. "Believe me, Arthur, I understand. I've never lost someone in that way, but I know what it's like to have to hide my true self. I live with it every day, too, and I hate it. I know how it feels to live a lie and not be able to tell anyone who I really am."

"I wanted to tell him so badly," Arthur sobbed, whatever vestige of self-control he'd possessed stripped away. John slid his arms around Arthur's slim waist, letting the other man lean against him, feeling a lump rising in his throat. He couldn't imagine what it was like to lose someone he loved in the way that Arthur had, but he could imagine the pain Arthur was going through.

"Shhh, it's all right," he whispered, trying to soothe the man sobbing in his arms as best he could. "I'm sure he knew that you cared for him, Arthur, even if he didn't know you were in love with him. He must have known that. There's no way he couldn't have."

"I've kept that secret for so long," Arthur said, his voice on a more even keel now. "I was beginning to think there was no one who would ever understand ...." His words trailed off, and he pulled back slightly from John, his dark eyes finally resting on John's face. "I know there are others who feel the same way -- but I never thought I'd meet someone who did."

"You have," John whispered, raising one hand to cup Arthur's cheek, hoping against hope that he wouldn't pull away. "I-I probably shouldn't say this, Arthur, but -- I could ...." He fell silent, looking down, not knowing how to put what he wanted to say. What would Arthur possibly see in him, anyway? He was nowhere near this man's league, in any possible way.

He was startled to feel Arthur's fingers closing around his own, his hand enveloped in a warm grip, being pulled towards the other man and pressed against his slim body. "I could, too," Arthur murmured, seconds before his mouth came down on John's.

John's senses whirled, the earth seeming to spin crazily around him. Arthur was actually kissing him -- this beautiful man who he'd thought he would never have a chance with was kissing him, holding him, those hands moving down his body, clinging to him as though he was some sort of life preserver held out to a drowning man.

And he was kissing Arthur back, kissing him as though he'd never have another chance to kiss anyone again. His hands were exploring Arthur's body with every bit as much passion as Arthur's hands were touching him with; he was completely unable to stop himself, his actions ruled by something outside of his conscious thought.

When Arthur finally pulled away slightly, John was breathless from not only the kiss, but from the unexpected onslaught on his body and his senses. He was panting, almost whimpering, wanting more of that touch and those lips and those hands and the feel of Arthur's body against his. It was all he could do not to beg Arthur to touch him again.

"There shouldn't be any secrets between us," Arthur whispered, resting his forehead against John's. "I know that you won't be here for long, John -- but I can't let you go back to London without telling you how I feel. And I may be wrong, but I think you feel the same way."

"I do," John managed to say, steadying himself by resting his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I've been thinking about you ever since the first day I've been here -- I can't get you out of my mind. I've been so sure that you'd be disgusted by my feelings that I didn't want to say anything. I should have been brave enough to tell you from the beginning."

"We've wasted enough time with secrets already," Arthur murmured, getting to his feet and pulling John up with him. "No more of that." He looked towards the house, sliding an arm around John's waist. "I expect Winnine already knows. She's had a knowing look about her for the past few days. She'll be delighted, I'm sure."

"I hope so," John said softly, leaning against Arthur and feeling more contented than he had since he'd arrived in Cambridge. He could think of so many reasons for them to turn away from each other, not to follow this madness that seemed to have taken them both over -- but he wasn't going to listen to his head. No, he was going to follow his heart, and damn the consequences.

He had no way of knowing what the consequences of their being together would be, and neither did Arthur. John could only hope fervently that neither of them would face any kind of heartbreak in the near future. He didn't want to put Arthur through that again.

And he certainly didn't want to deal with that kind of pain himself. Besides, Arthur had already been permanently separated from one man he'd loved. Fate couldn't be so cruel as to rip the two of them apart, now that they'd finally found each other.

No. It couldn't be.

***

Next story in series - The End of the Innocence.