--1st person POV--

Arthur found himself sitting at the breakfast bar in your kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and trying to look as dignified as possible. Which was difficult, given the fact that he was wearing a pair of ill-fitting sweatpants with his dress shirt, burgundy vest and tie.

They were your sweatpants, to be exact. Hence the shortness in the leg, and the uncomfortable way in which they clung a little too tightly around the crotch for his liking. They were not designed for men, obviously.

Fortunately, it didn't appear that you'd paid too much attention to how he looked, as you'd been mostly preoccupied with scrubbing, spraying and soaking his suit pants, which Arthur was still painfully embarrassed about.

"I think...they'll be fine." You smiled at him. "I've just hung them on the radiator to dry, hopefully they won't take too long."

Arthur pondered over your words.
Were you hoping they wouldn't take too long to dry because you wanted rid of him?
Hell, if you knew that he'd been secretly stalking you then he'd most likely be leaving in a cop car, because who'd want a creep like him in their house?

Arthur hadn't ever meant to be a creep, and now he was actually here in your home he felt deeply ashamed of his behaviour. He'd never deliberately set out to stalk you. He hadn't harboured any sinister intentions. All he had wanted was to know you better, and had figured it would never happen in the conventional sense.
Why? Because he was so socially awkward, he didn't exactly make friends easily.
He had no friends. Only his mom.

"Is Milo bothering you?" You asked, suddenly pulling him back from his negative train of thought.

"Oh no, not at all." He insisted, leaning down to pet the little dog that was pawing at his leg. "I like dogs."

"He loves being fussed. The more you pet him the more he'll pester you. Do you own a dog?"

"No. My building has a strict no pets policy."

"Awe, that's a shame." Drying your hands on a nearby towel, you headed for the door again. "D'you want to come through? It's comfier in the living room."

You gestured for him to follow you, so he did. Milo chasing alongside him excitedly.
As he entered the living room Arthur came to a stop, admiring the framed artwork on the walls. He knew they were all your own work, but he'd never been so close to see it properly before. Now he was able to fully appreciate the beautiful portraits which adorned your walls, and he was in awe.

"Jack." He smiled broadly, taking a step closer.

The little boy's face was unmistakable, and you'd captured his big blue eyes perfectly.

"Yeah....I..I'm an artist, of sorts." You admitted, bashfully. "I painted that last year, but you know kids, they grow so fast. He's changed so much since then, it's kinda scary."

"No you can still tell that it's him. It's.....it's wonderful."

Your heart pinched at his compliment. Usually you didn't know how to handle them, afraid that people just told you what they thought you wanted to hear, too polite to say anything other. But Arthur's gentle voice sounded so sincere, you found yourself believing him.

"You...you really think so?"

He turned to look at you, his light green eyes widening a little in surprise at you having instinctively walked over to stand behind him. Pretty close behind him, in actual fact.

Recovering his composure, he hastily returned his gaze to the artwork. "A-absolutely, they're amazing. Did you paint them all?"

You nodded, but was unable to speak. Your heart had lifted, and your stomach was fluttering nervously with pride.

"You're so talented." His smile increased as he saw one of Milo, and then his gaze landed on another portrait.

It was of a woman, she was pretty, though not as beautiful as you he thought, but she did bear a striking resemblance to little Jack.

"Is this...Jack's mom?"

Your heart immediately sank a little. A natural response whenever anyone drew attention to the painting of your sister.

"Yes, that's Bell, my big sister. Her name was Belinda but we called her Bell for short." You told him, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

As inept as he was at reading social cues, Arthur recognised a broken smile when he saw one. And your eyes. Your beautiful (e/c) eyes were brimming with sadness, haunted by grief.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry. I didn't realise that she was...." He hung his head, unable to face your look of heartbreak. It pained him, not being able to do anything. It wasn't his place to comfort you, even though he longed to.

"Please...it's okay." You said, bravely, forcing your grief back down. Not wanting it to overwhelm you and reduce you to tears in front of him. "She suffered with chronic kidney disease. The most tragic part is...she never got to see Jack grow up."

Impulsively Arthur reached out and gently touched your arm in an attempt to offer some comfort. He didn't even fear that he'd overstepped the mark until it was too late, he'd already done it.
But to his immense relief you didn't brush his hand away.
Instead you amazed him by placing your soft, delicate hand on top of his, and that was all the invitation he needed; His thumb curled upwards, tenderly stroking the back of your hand.

"Wasn't there anything they could do? The doctors I mean."

You shook your head, tears now gathering at the corners of your eyes. "She was on dialysis for a while, but it weakens the heart. S-she passed away before she got a transplant. I...I wasn't a match you see, otherwise I would've given her one of mine."

You were quite surprised then, feeling Arthur's hand clasp around yours completely.
But you didn't dislike it. It felt strong, and certain, and excessively masculine.

"It's too bad I didn't know you then, she...she could've had one of mine."

Taken aback, you stared at him. Again he sounded so sincere, and his expression was one of genuine sympathy. You'd never seen anyone look so earnest and empathetic in all your life. Not even the renal consultants at the hospital had shown such compassion, and it was enough to cause the tears in your eyes to begin flowing freely.

This gentle, kind-spirited man probably didn't have the slightest inclination about what such a process involved. The tests, the operation, and yet...you still couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't just saying this to impress or comfort you.
You'd been right about him. Your instincts were correct.
He had a good heart, you could sense it.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry (y/n). I didn't mean to upset you." He said, as you roughly wiped the tears from your face.

Unbeknownst to you, his fingers longed to reach out and gently brush them away.
His heart ached with sadness for you, and he felt so utterly useless.

"Don't be silly, Arthur. That was such a nice thing to say. You took me by surprise that's all. Even Brad didn't offer to be tested, to see if he was a match."

Arthur's thick brows drew together in a perplexed frown. "He didn't? But...he was her husband."

"Ugh, I know. Selfish asshole! If he'd donated his kidney he probably would've wanted it back if they'd divorced." You gave a brittle laugh, feelings of loss now being replaced by bitter resentment. "He cares about no one but himself. Even Jack isn't a priority."

"What a jerk."

"I know, right?"

You both took a seat on the couch, Milo immediately jumping up so he could curl up in your lap. Arthur perched on the edge, surveying you closely as you combed your fingers through Milo's wiry coat.

Shit. You hadn't meant to begin airing all of your dirty laundry in front of Arthur. He was practically a complete stranger. Yet something about him made you feel surprisingly at ease. You found him easy to talk to, and be yourself around.

"I don't mean to talk bad about Brad, he is Jack's father after all. But he's more concerned with his career and his numerous....lady friends...than anything else." Sighing deeply, you took a sip of your lukewarm coffee. "It's a good thing I work from home, because Jack spends a lot of time here. Which I love, don't get me wrong. I'd rather Jack be here. What with his condition and everything, Brad doesn't have the time to look after him properly and it worries me. Plus Jack seems to prefer being here."

"What is the condition?" Arthur asked, genuinely interested. "Does he have kidney disease too?"

You went on to explain how Jack had been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, thankfully not kidney disease. You told him how the condition affects the pancreas, meaning that Jack's blood glucose levels had to be monitored throughout the day, and injections of insulin given in order to manage them.

In truth, Arthur's head ached a little as he tried to take in all of the bamboozling details. He never even knew what a pancreas was, let alone what it did. But he wanted to learn more, as much as possible in fact, so he continued to ask questions, until he could relatively grasp the basics of the illness.

"He's such a brave little boy." He muttered, more than once. "It's...weird I guess. I mean, I used to entertain the kids in the hospital and I knew they were sick, but I never knew what was wrong with any of them." His expression was one of somber reflection, as he ran a hand through his brown curls. "It's like I didn't really want to know, because it's so sad. And yet the kids, like little Jack, they have to live with their illness. They don't have a choice."

Nodding your head understandingly, you fleetingly regretted having started such a depressing conversation. The subject was immensely sad, and you could see how it had affected Arthur deeply.

A melancholy silence settled over the room for a few minutes, but oddly enough you didn't feel uncomfortable. On the contrary, you felt quite the opposite in fact.
With Arthur, you'd been able to cry without feeling ashamed or stupid, and you recognised a fellow sensitive soul in him, which hinted that he'd been touched by illness, suffering, and tragedy himself, in some shape or form.

Just then the sound of the doorbell ringing broke the heavy silence, causing Milo to growl, shaking you from your quiet contemplation.

"I'll be right back." You told him with a watery smile, which he returned as he watched your little dog scamper after you.

Opening the door, your face fell when you were greeted with the familiar figure of Brad, though it instantly lit up when your nephew jumped forwards, hugging you tightly.

"Aunt (y/n)!" The young boy exclaimed, happily. "I've come for a sleep over!"

"Oh you have have you? What a lovely surprise!" You beamed, ruffling his silky blond hair. "It's a good thing I went shopping today, and got some of your special chocolate."

"Yay! Thank you! Hey boy!" He petted Milo fondly, who licked his hand in return.

Before you could exchange another word Jack rushed passed you into the house, Milo hot on his heels. Leaving you alone to face Brad.
Your temper was on a slow simmer, as you wondered what flimsy excuse it would be this time.

"I take it something important has come up?"

Grinning cockily, Brad shrugged his broad shoulders as he handed you your nephew's overnight bag.

"Hey it's not my fault I'm in demand. A very important client has flown in today and I have to take them to dinner, make them feel like we appreciate doing business with them."

"Yeah? Hm. I didn't realise you worked Saturday evenings now. What is it, overtime?" You narrowed your eyes sceptically, deliberately letting him know how much you didn't believe him.

Not that it mattered. Brad couldn't have cared less whether you believed him or not, and in fairness it wasn't really any of your business.
It just saddened you that Jack missed out on time with him, not that Brad was a particularly attentive father anyway, but still.

Meanwhile in the living room, a slightly startled Jack had discovered a man he didn't recognise sitting on his aunt's couch, which temporarily threw him off balance. He regarded him dubiously, though it hadn't escaped his notice that Milo seemed to like him.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, uh, hey kiddo." Arthur gave a friendly smile. "My name's Arthur. I'm...a friend of your aunt (y/n)."

The boy eyed him shyly, more than just a little wary of the stranger.

"I uh, I like your shirt." Arthur pointed out, with a nod, attempting to break the ice. "Star Wars, right? That's a great movie."

Thawing immediately, Jack's face broke into a winning smile; ecstatic at having met a grown up who liked something that he did.

"I have all the action figures. Wanna see?"

"All of them? Wow. You bet I would."

When you came back into the living room, you were very surprised to see that Jack had emptied what looked like the entire contents of his toy box, and was playing action figures with Arthur, who was sitting cross legged on the floor; complete with Milo in his lap.

"O-oh. Are you showing Arthur your toys, Jack?"

Jack beamed up at you. "He's seen Star Wars aunt (y/n), he knows all the characters!"

"He does? That's so cool." You smiled at Arthur coyly, who blushed a little as he looked up at you through his ludicrously long eyelashes. "Um, are you okay? I mean, don't feel you have to--"

"Are you kidding? We're having fun, right kiddo?" Arthur turned to Jack, who nodded enthusiastically. "We were going to play out with the lightsabers....that is, if it's okay with you?"

"Can we aunt (y/n)? I promise I'll test my sugars before we go out."

You giggled, touched by the adorable sight and the way in which Jack had taken to Arthur. Perhaps he'd told him that he was Carnival the clown.

"Of course you can."

Jack took his blood glucose monitor from his bag, demonstrating to Arthur how he used it. It was evident that the little boy took great delight in his new friend taking an interest, and your heart melted seeing your young nephew's prideful grin when Arthur complimented him on his courage.

"Gee, you're such a brave boy Jack. Braver than Luke Skywalker himself."

"Did you hear that aunt (y/n)? Arthur says I'm braver than Luke Skywalker!"

"I did." Your eyes slid over to where Arthur sat, taking in the way he was absently smiling so adoringly as he watched Jack using the small glucose monitor. "And do you know what? He is absolutely right. You're the bravest boy in the whole galaxy."

After that Jack and Arthur went out into the back yard where they ran around, kicking up leaves and playfully duelling with the plastic lightsabers, Milo chasing after them, yapping excitedly.
Despite his frail appearance Arthur was physically tougher than he looked, and surprisingly in shape, so all the running around didn't phase him at all.
In fact he found he was enjoying himself a lot.
He loved making children smile, and hearing Jack's laughter warmed his heart, making him smile and laugh right along with him.

He found himself forgetting his own problems, and time flew by. Usually it dragged, especially since he'd been out of work, but today he lost track of time completely.
It was only when the light started to fade and you came outside did he realise just how long they must've been out there.

"Your pants are dry."

"Oh uh, thank you." Lowering his plastic weapon, he spun around to see you standing on the back step.

Your sleeves were rolled up and your forearms were spattered with small flecks of wine coloured paint. He smiled fondly. You'd been at work again, but this time he wasn't watching from the other side of a window. He was right here, in your yard, and it was as if his daydreams had all come to life and were becoming a reality.

"I see you've made a fine mess of my yard, Mister Fleck." You teased, eyeing the lawn which was now littered with the autumnal leaves that you'd only raked up yesterday, prettily decorating the grass with rich tones of red, yellow and burnt orange.

"He's not Mister Fleck he's Darth Vader." Jack pointed out. "And I made the mess too, it wasn't all his fault. Though Chewbacca made most of it."

"You raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Chewbacca? Who's Chewbacca?"

"Milo." They both answered simultaneously, which elicited a small giggle from each of them.

"Ah of course. I might've guessed that messy little Wookiee had something to do with it."

"I'm sorry about the leaves (y/n)" Arthur piped up, looking sheepish and alarmingly cute in the process. "I'll rake them back up before I leave."

You giggled, shaking your head. "No you wont, Lord Vader. Surely such a task is beneath you. But seriously, it's no big deal, they're only leaves. Are you boys hungry? I've made dinner. Jack you're due something to eat."

Groaning, Jack made his way towards the door. Arthur followed behind, lightsaber in hand. He was in shock somewhat. Had you just invited him to stay for dinner?
Surely he must've misheard you or something. Perhaps his imagination was running amok again, which it had a tendency to do where you were concerned.

"You seem to have made a new friend there." You nodded towards Jack, as the pair of you stood by the back step, watching as the little boy went to wash his hands. "I'm sorry he kidnapped you."

Arthur shook his head. "Oh no, don't be. I'm kinda used to it, and he's such a great kid."

His eyes widened and he froze up, as you reached out to pluck a piece of dry leaf from his hair.

"Thank you though. I really appreciate it. You taking the time to play with him. His own father never plays with him like that. I do but...well, I'm not a very convincing Darth Vader."

Arthur chuckled slightly, lowering his gaze to look at Milo, who was rolling around in the leaves. "It's nothing really. You don't have to thank me."

"Sure I do. You're a guy and..." You sighed, awkwardly pushing a strand of hair back behind your ear. You were trying to articulate what it meant to you, what it meant to Jack, but for some reason your nerves were jangling, hindering your ability to express yourself. "Well what I mean is...Jack doesn't get to have this sort of male interaction. He doesn't really have a male role model."

He blinked at you, looking slightly flummoxed. "He has Luke Skywalker. He's a pretty good role model."

You laughed at his remark, unsure if he was being humorous or was just genuinely naive. He had an unmistakable innocence about him that was childlike, and undoubtedly vulnerable. It was adorable and made him charming in a boyish way.

"You're funny, Arthur. Listen, I know you don't eat much, but...will you join us for dinner?"

He swallowed hard. "Y-yeah, that would be great. Thank you."

"Okay then, Lord Vader. You'd better get inside and wash up." You couldn't refrain from smiling goofily as you looked at him. His previously gelled curls now tousled, his hollow cheeks tinged pink from all the exertion.

Arthur chuckled. "Okay (y/n)."

"Uh, excuse you. If all you guys are Star Wars characters then you can call me Princess Leia. I know you're a Sith Lord or whatever it is, but I can still pull rank over you. I'm royalty."

"Oh, well in that case...right away, your majesty." He bowed flamboyantly from the waist, gesturing for you to go on ahead. "Please, after you."

The pair of you shared another laugh, amused by each other's silliness.
Everything felt so delightfully natural and relaxed. It gave you a warm, fuzzy feeling inside that was startlingly difficult to ignore.

"Young Skywalker hasn't recognised me, without my Carnival costume. And I won't tell him who I am, so I don't spoil the surprise on his birthday." Arthur whispered, as you both made your way inside.

At that, your heart melted into a gooey mess.

Was this guy for real? Could he possibly get any sweeter?
You strongly doubted it. If he did then it was bound to be the death of you.
Killed by his kind selflessness.

"Thank you, Arthur. That's very thoughtful."

Unable to resist, you reached out and recklessly pulled him into a hug.

The feel of your warm body pressed against his, made Arthur's heart stutter in his chest.
The sweet scent of your feminine perfume filled his nostrils; and he breathed you in deeply, wanting to hold the essence of you in his lungs forever.
He'd never smelled anything so heavenly.

His nervousness made him falter, and he didn't have time to slip his arms around you in return like he so wanted to. The fear of his anxiety causing an episode of unwanted laughter, anchored him to the spot. Driving the blood from his skin.

And then it was too late. You pulled away.
And he mentally screamed at himself for his feebleness.

He should tell you about his neurological condition before he suffered an attack. It was bound to happen sooner or later. It was a miracle it hadn't happened already.
You were kind, and understanding. You wouldn't judge him or think him a freak.

As the three of you sat down to dinner, he forced his niggling worries aside for the time being. He wouldn't allow anything to spoil this perfect evening.
The entire scenario was his idyll.

He felt like part of a family. He felt...wanted.

Yes. He thought. A family would be nice. More than nice.

He was the right age to be starting a family, but he'd never tortured himself with the notion of having his own before. What with his awkwardness, his mental illness and condition, he'd never dared hope that a woman might be capable of wanting him.
Because what did he have to offer? He was an out of work party clown.
An out of work party clown that was responsible for the recent triple murder on the subway.

Shit. You would most assuredly never want him if you knew about that ugly little incident, no matter how understanding you seemed to be. Regardless of how much your nephew and dog seemed to like him.

But now perhaps he had found a chance to put those dark days behind him.
Those killings had been in self defence. Well, mostly.
He'd sworn never to hurt anyone else, and for you he would make good on the promise he'd made to himself.

Although...

The wicked thought prodded and poked at his mind, refusing to be pushed away quite so easily.

Brad was an asshole. He didn't deserve Jack. He didn't deserve to be a father. And his behaviour hurt you.
That angered him.
If only he was out of the way then your life would be easier. Happier.
If Brad was off the scene then the three of you could be like a real family.

Was he getting a little ahead of himself? Dare he nurture the hope that maybe you'd come to see him as something more than just an unemployed children's entertainer?
Something other than just a sweet, oddball guy who liked kids?
He certainly hoped so.

"Will you come and play again soon, Arthur?" Jack asked, as he hugged Arthur goodbye when it was time for him to leave.

It was getting late and he needed to get home to his mother. She'd be wondering where he'd got to.
Actually, who was he kidding? All she ever thought about was Thomas Wayne.
She'd most likely be asleep in her chair in front of the TV.

"Oh, t-that's really up to your aunt." Arthur stammered, as he hugged him back.

Your nephew's bright blue eyes sparkled with anxious hope, as he gazed up at you expectantly.

Your heart gave a twinge as you ruffled his silky locks. "Sure it is." You met Arthur's gaze. A wide smile stretching your lips. You felt undeniably happy. Which in all honesty, was a bit of a novel feeling. "You can stop by anytime. It's been fun."

"I could...I could come by tomorrow?" He offered, making an enormous effort to try and play it cool, when really he wanted to leap up and punch the air. "Then I can rake the yard too."

"Oh, Arthur. Don't worry about the yard. But yeah, that would be great. We'll see you then...Darth."

"No, tomorrow he needs to be Han Solo instead." Jack interjected with some determination.

You frowned slightly. "Why's that sweetie? Is he being demoted?"

"No, it's just Darth Vader is a bad guy, and Arthur's nothing like a bad guy. Aaaaand Han Solo is Princess Leia's boyfriend!" Jack giggled mischievously.

Your cheeks flooded with heat. "Oh! That's...that's really cute, Jack, but Arthur and I aren't...." You gave a nervous laugh, hastily wanting to set the record straight. "He's just a friend, sweetie. Not my boyfriend."

Noticing how Arthur's cheeks were flaming too, you felt yourself inwardly cringing with mortification.

Way to go Jack.

Jack grinned innocently at the two blushing adults who stood on either side of him, oblivious to the mutual embarrassment he had unwittingly caused them. "Well...he should be."