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"Hopefully," Jeremiah replied with another huff of breath. At Algie's jiggle of release, he just tugged a bit more. He was pointedly ignoring the pulled bandages and the look he was being given. Instead he was tugging, pulling at the other to come closer. Fingers pressed to the inside of his wrist as they were always like to be, before he slid up his forearm and tugged -

- sorry, Alg, Jeremiah was definitely trying to pull you into sitting. You know where.

Pink-tipped ears were usually a good sign. Usually. Some of whatever had tightened in his stomach uncurled, Jeremiah letting out a quiet breath when Algie gave in and let himself be pulled into his lap.

He did not let go of his wrist, barely resisted putting an arm around his waist to hold him in place. No need to trap him, not when he had come along.

"Really." Jeremiah replied, his tone firm. It was an old familiar look on his face. One that had changed from when he was younger. There were crows feet there and other lines on his face that had not been there when he had first given Algie the look. It had, in all honesty, only gotten worse.

His fingers slid back to the other's wrist, fingers pressed against his pulse point. Most people he just barely checked, Algie he always lingered. "Alg. I can't ..." He took a deep breath, eyes sliding shut for a moment before he opened them back up to watch him. "There's been too much that has happened recently for me to just keep letting this get away from me."

"I know you're not." Jeremiah's hand was still gripped Algie's wrist, even as he was raising his hand and pressing it to his chest. "I am just very selfish, Alg. I'm a little more aware of my own mortality and that makes me want to change. To do things I should've done."

His other arm came up and loosely wrapped around the professor. Jeremiah squeezed lightly, head leaning forward so that they were forehead to forehead. His nose brushed briefly along Alg's cheek until they were cheek to cheek, foreheads together. "If it's not now, it's soon," he spoke quietly, "but neither one of us are going anywhere and I've waited this long already."

Jeremiah always had that perfectly calculated level of stubble and beard. Had for years and it was hardly going anywhere. Algie always seemed to shift one way or another. (Never mind that dandy phase the other had gone through that left it's mark on Jeremiah's own personal taste and wardrobe.)

His voice was even, his heart surprisingly steady. The tension was lessening moment by moment. With the mention of other conversations he snorted. "Yes, one with my son. Where I take whatever he says because I deserve it for not considering the impact of my decisions on other people's life." A huff of breath, fingers squeezing Algie's waist. Not stupid but he also did not regret so much where he was now.

In a way the detective probably should tell Sunny thank you.

"For now ..." he breathed out, lips close to Algie's ear as he spoke. He pulled back, lips dragging along Algie's cheek briefly before he tilting his head enough to press a kiss to the other's forehead.

"... you bandage me up," his lips moved away and pressed to Algie's cheek again, "and feed me the dinner you've got simmering," lips against the corner of the other man's mouth , "and make sure I learn your fine art of layering," lips hovered right over the other's, "and then I go find said son to talk."

Then he pressed a kiss to Algie's lips. Something soft, something tender. Jeremiah pulled back so that they were resting forehead to forehead again. "Then we'll talk."

Jeremiah released the other reluctantly, letting his hand be removed. He reached out and smoothed out Algie's shirt (it was sleepwear for the most part and really could not be smoothed out) before he let his hand drop back to his lap.

"This old dog has learned more than a few things." Like magic. He let out a breath, a near laugh that turned into genuine chuckling as he was swatted out. It got louder when he heard Algie mutter what he did.

"Pot." A finger was pointed at Algie. "Meet kettle." Then pointed at himself. "After all these years I was bound to pick up a flair for the dramatic." Jeremiah fell still after that, content even with the pervasive chill, and let the shorter man tend to his back.

"Maybe bring me my vest? I've got my jacket but I think the extra layer can't hurt. I should see if it can even still be worn." The vest was scorched down the middle of it and it had been shed before his shower.

"I still want it," Jeremiah had that look on his face. Particularly stubborn, particularly not-letting-go. The vest was actually one of the ones he had been given by the other man, one of the bits of color that made it's way into his wardrobe.

If called on being a sweater thief, he would just get shifty-eyed.

"Just give me one of your sweaters then," not a sweater thief if they're given to him, bite me, Algie, "and bring me my vest." With the bandaging in place and the other man moving away, he was reaching for the kettle and pouring himself another cup of tea.

It went quickly, much like the first one, Jeremiah drinking it without any frills and refilling. He watched the other man a moment, over his tea cup, and definitely was getting that smile on his face.

The one he'd always had.

The one that was always Algie's.

Sometimes he tried to hide it, tried to push it away, but not this time. "Thank you, snezhinka." For putting up with him, for bandaging him (all these years), and just ... Algie knew.

"Stuff it, precious." Jeremiah wasn't even drunk - though being in pain had to count as something similar - but being called m'lord always pulled some kind of reaction from him. Especially when he bowed and <********, Alg.

The detective sat there, staring hard at where the other disappeared. It did not even falter when clothing was dropped onto his head. Instead he leaned forward, clothing on head still, and set his tea cup down. "Immensely," he replied, "can't you tell? This is my happy face." Stare, stare. Probably not as good as it usually was with the black eyes and the clothing on his head.

Not that he did not shuffle, shift, and make the clothing fall forward into his lap. The clean shirt was tugged on and buttoned up, the cardigan shuffled on, and he still stared. Except that the stare faded second by second.

Algie sweater and Algie smells apparently appeased grumpy Jeremiahs. (The other man probably knew this and took advantage, the b*****d.)