Archive of Our Own ^beta

"There." Will slapped the sheaf of folded papers down on the desk in front of Kit and proceeded to collapse onto the bed. "The final part," he said from behind a partly pulled bed curtain. "And if it please thee, prevent me from composing anything so damnably long ever again."

"My poor Will," Kit said, rising. The end of Hamlet was going to require a cup of wine if the earlier parts he'd seen were any indication. He poured Will one as well, and took it to him, where he was now curled on his side, head on Kit's pillow. "A drink for thy efforts, then."

"Not a kiss?" Will said in forlorn tones. He didn't try to make it a joke, and Kit saw the look in his eyes was as of a man who'd returned from war.

Kit set the cups aside and settled next to him, kissing Will soundly until he seemed more himself. "A little sleep? I'll wake thee when I finish reading."

"They're still going, in my head. Shouting and wailing fit to drive a man mad. Suits the subject, marry, but they do exhaust me," Will finished around a yawn.

Kit traced his cheek, his eyebrow. "But 'tis done now."

"I pray thou'rt right." Will sat up and sipped his wine, and Kit repaired to the chair by the fire with the manuscript pages. By the end, he was blotting tears. In the bed, Will stopped snoring and wiped his bleary eyes.

Kit shook his head, hardly able to speak. After a moment, he managed, "My heart breaks for Horatio most of all."

"Ay." Will nodded. "He hath sworn himself to no pretty chore."

"No indeed." Kit gazed at the pages in his hand, rereading the final lines.

With a pensive curve to his mouth, Will asked, "Will it serve, then?"

Kit stared at him a moment, and then laughed. "What? Of course 'twill serve. 'Tis thy best yet!"

"Although performed truncated, or spoken as fast as rain and hardly acted at all." Will rose and took a turn before the fire, warming pale, ink-stained hands.

"Then shalt publish. 'Tis hardly the same play as that old quarto, and this infinitely better." Kit paused. "Again, Horatio at the end, and foolish Gertrude, and young, heartbroken Laertes."

Will cut him off with a kiss. "Thankee, love. It is betimes difficult to know when a story's found its end."

"I daresay when thou hast killed all but thy storyteller --"

Will chuckled, a better humor returning to his eyes. "A valid point. As your second Tamburlaine --"

"-- was well-termed a bloodbath, yes," Kit said, smiling as he rose. "Now come and comfort me, for my head is full of Hamlet's tragedy."

"Oh, ay," said Will softly, and then he kissed Kit again, and opened his shirt, and pressed a strong, sure hand over his heart.