Being Earnest
Ernest Hunt turned his head as he heard the familiar tap of a cane approaching and saw Nestor Locke's lanky figure picking his way through the library shelves. Ernest clicked his tongue quietly to let his partner know where he was. An equally soft double tap on the cane let him know Nestor was heading over to him, and he cleared the stack of books he was reshelving off the nearest chair.
He was just in time for Nestor to sprawl into the chair, long limbs draped over the edges, cane propped beside him. “Should have known I'd find you hanging around books.”
“Just helping out a little,” Ernest told him. “Somebody pulled every book on clown costumes off the shelf and left them in random piles.”
“What fun.” Nestor's smile was a little too thin and a little too sharp to reassure anyone, but its familiarity was comforting nonetheless.
“Quite.” Ernest placed a light hand on Nestor's arm. “It won't make me late home.”
Nestor covered Ernest's hand with his own. “I'll put your share of the takeaway in the warming oven anyway. Then if your students do start clowning around in clown suits, it'll be waiting whenever you finally make it.” He flowed back to his feet again. “And if they ask...”
“You were never here, I know.”
Nestor's grin was sharper than ever. “As always, we Hunt as one.”
“And I shall keep that thought Locke'd in my heart.”
They didn't kiss, but Nestor nodded to him, and turned for the door. Ernest watched until he vanished behind a shelf, and then went back to sorting his stack of books.
