better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

seventeen: the world needs you.

i know i haven't been perfect/but give it some time/'cause not a single day goes by/when you don't cross my mind

"So is everything okay at the compound?"

Arthur hums, his eyes lifting from his glass of wine. It's oddly domestic, sitting in this restaurant with him. He's having wine with me for the first time since we've ever met. We've always had whiskey – or, Scotch, as he corrects me many times in his snotty accent that I hate to admit I have grown to adore.

I chuckle. "You said you were called back in today? Is everything okay?"

"Oh," he nods, chuckling a little as his misstep. "Yes, everything is alright." He studies me for a moment. "You are incredibly distracting."

My smile is devious. "I know."

"I will have to return to the compound tonight," he breathes, reaching across the table to grab my hand.

I frown. "What for?"

"Well, Mick returned to London this afternoon," he replies, letting a sigh flow past his lips. I don't care what he says, he cares about Mick. Maybe subconsciously, but he does. "After Dagon and Renny...Mick has a lot to answer for."

"So now you're the guy in charge?"

He nods. "Yes, well, that is one way to look at it."

I crack a small smile. "I'm proud of you. Even if it's just because Mick had to go back to London, I'm still proud. You deserve it, you know."

He stares at me strangely for a moment before replying. "I don't know about that, but...thank you. You are quite possibly the first person who has spoken those words to me."

"I can keep saying it," I tease.

He shakes his head, but I can tell he secretly enjoys it. "No, I don't want to talk about work all evening."

"Good," I smile softly. "Me either."

"So...dark secrets?" I look up to see him raising his eyebrows.

There's the teasing Arthur Ketch I know and love. "Are you planning to spill some of your own?"

"I'm sure I can think of a few."

"Alright. What d'ya wanna know?"

I watch as he studies my face for a moment, taking a deep breath. There's only one thing I know of that would leave him at a loss for words like this, so I start talking, saving him the painful moment of trying to figure out how to word his question.

"I felt like I was always in the way," I say truthfully, bringing my glass of wine to my lips. "It felt like I was hurting more than I was helping. So I made the deal. Because with the deal, I was helping." When he doesn't say anything, I clarify. "It was me being in The Empty forever for my brothers staying alive indefinitely. At the time, the world was in a pretty crappy state. So it was a good deal. The world really needs them, you know."

He nods slowly.

It isn't the full truth about the secret, but it's truthful enough. I did feel like I was in the way. I did feel like nothing I did helped. But I didn't just make the deal. It wasn't as simple as that. Nothing was ever that simple.

I had thought about it for weeks, hell, I felt those feelings for months, but always shoved them down. Sam helped. He always told me I was needed. He always let me help with research. But it was one too many beers for Dean and one mess up from me and suddenly hell was breaking loose in a motel room. Suddenly I was getting yelled at for some stupid stumble of mine and suddenly I was the worst decision of their lives – keeping me, instead of letting Bobby raise me.

Our food comes to the table, putting the conversation on a momentary hold and startling my thoughts back into the present. But halfway through the meal peppered with some mindless small talk, Arthur decides to speak.

"The world needs you, as well."

I look up from my food, his small statement catching me off guard. "Thanks." I'm not sure I believe that just yet.

"And while I can understand your thought process, I hope you haven't considered...making another..."

I smirk, shaking my head. "No." I pause, reaching forward and grabbing his hand this time. "I actually feel like I have something— someone to lose this time. Someone I really don't wanna lose."

He runs his thumb over the back of my hand soothingly, wrapping his hand around mine. His hands are much bigger than mine, which is always interesting when we hold hands. But it's comforting. And comfort isn't something I have felt in a long time. But comfort is something I feel every single moment I spend with him.

"What about you?" I ask, smirking. "Make any deals with the Devil?"

He laughs then. "No, no deals. But do you recall when I mentioned The Men of Letters being my family?"

I nod. "I recall."

I can tell he wants to scold me for briefly mocking his accent, but he doesn't. "Well, that is because I don't know my real family."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

"Mick and I attended Kendrick's, a feeder school for the British Men of Letters."

I nod again. "I've heard some of you talk about it."

"I was dropped off there," he continues. "So I don't know my parents. What little I did remember is gone now. I remember being dropped off, but nothing more."

"Arthur..." I pause, squeezing his hand. "I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's all right. It's in the past."

I smile. "You know just because it's in the past doesn't mean you can't still be upset about it."

It takes him a moment, but he nods. "I will try to remember that."

"Good," I nod, squeezing his hand again. "Because Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"The world needs you, too."