'Being able to give Emery back his glasses' was a strong candidate for the award for best moment of the day, even when its chief contender was 'knowing Emery had been released from the hospital'.

Emery's eyes were filled with gratitude, a welcome change from all the bickering and arguing they'd been doing since they'd seen each other again. With the mask in place and only the barest hint of stubble covering his head, his brown eyes were even more expressive than usual. His hand shook slightly as he extended it to take the glasses from Josh; he almost seemed afraid they might disappear.

"Don't be disappointed if putting them on makes you feel a little woozy," Josh said, unable to drag his eyes from the look of wonder lighting up Emery's face. "They told me it's normal if you haven't worn them in a while, that they'll feel off, but that you should still wear them. They're your exact prescription, so if they don't feel okay in a week it's because someone messed up the lenses and we'll need to get them to fix them."

Emery looked to the glasses again, then slowly — almost reverently — put them on. He blinked a few times, one hand braced on the edge of the hospital bed for support, the other covering his mouth and nose even on top of the mask.

His gaze wandered around the room, eyes darting rapidly to take in his fill of all the details he had been missing, before finally fixing on Josh; judging by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled Josh would bet he was smiling. "This... You... How..."

"Mr. Davies. He got me in touch with your assistant, and she knew your doctor's name."

"Do they know..?"

"Just the doctor, and just about the TB. I couldn't get him to give me your prescription without explaining why you couldn't go get it yourself."

If Josh hadn't been looking so closely he'd have missed the hint of unshed tears wanting to break free from Emery's eyes.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," Josh replied, cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn't seem to shed. He'd berate himself for the unmistakable fondness in his voice some other time.

They stood in that hospital bedroom, two fully grown men, just drinking in the sight of one another as the minutes ticked by. Josh had no doubt that, for Emery, it was the joy of finally being able to see properly; for himself it was that he hadn't seen that look in Emery's face in so long that he couldn't look away.

The other man was still unbearably thin; the shaved head, mask and hospital gown did nothing for his figure. Despite all that it was as if, somehow, putting on the glasses had allowed him to cast off some of his vulnerability; the first step towards becoming the man Josh remembered so well once more.

---

Josh had little hope that Emery's reaction to the rest of the things he'd been bought would be anywhere near as joyful. That probably explained why he was sitting in his recently parked car, seat belt still in place, Emery beside him, thinking up ways to not go home yet.

None came to mind. It was stalling, and he couldn't do much of it — the other man was comfortably dressed in some of the clothes Josh had bought him, and seemed warm and snug in his new winter coat, but Josh knew he'd need his rest very soon. No time like the present, he supposed.

Outside his apartment, Josh fished the key chain with the spare key he'd had made from his back pocket and handed it to Emery. "You'll need a key once you're cleared to go out. Mark says it'll be a couple of months still, but I figured it was a good way of welcoming you home. Care to do the honors?"

The word home was not a slip of the tongue.

Emery took the key, turning the key chain over in his hand before bursting into peals of laughter, occasionally broken up by his coughing. He sobered up slowly, eyes still fixed on the keychain. "Emma was a poor influence on you. This would have made her day."

Josh smiled at the fond memories that evoked. "It would, wouldn't it? Did you know she once asked me to get her a pack of cigarettes? I don't think I'd been there a week yet."

"Cigarettes?" Emery frowned slightly as he unlocked the front door. "She didn't smoke."

"Yeah, I think she was setting me up. When I said I didn't know she smoked she went 'Trying to pick up the habit. I hear they'll kill you slowly. It'd be an improvement'."

Emery's laughter was softer as Josh emulated Emma's clipped half-sentences, trapped in the bittersweet ache of remembrance. "She was most certainly setting you up, yes."

They were in the living room; stalling would do him no good now. "Emery, I... There's something I did that you're about to find out, and I'd rather not have a fight over it, so I'm... I don't know. Trying to prepare you, I guess."

He didn't miss Emery's hand on the back of the sofa for support, or the way he swayed while attempting to remain upright. The other man was exhausted from the ride home; Josh could only hope they didn't have a shouting match to look forward to in about a minute. He gestured to the bedroom door, Emery trailing close behind.

"Whatever you have to say, there's no point in delaying. I'll keep your warning in mind."

Always dignified, even when he was about to pass out. It was a skill Josh envied.

"I, erm... Bought a few things. That you'll need." He was suddenly ten and under scrutiny from his father for throwing a football through the kitchen window when he shouldn't even have been outside at that time. "And I went overboard, a little." There was an art to understating even as he confessed. "Mark was here while you were in the hospital, and when he saw the things he mentioned that I might have... That I was probably overcompensating. For the inheritance you forced me to keep. I didn't realize it until he said it, but, well. There you have it. So, uh, don't freak out?"

He opened the door for Emery to walk into the bedroom. For the longest of times there was no reply — just the sound of Emery's footsteps touring the bedroom. When even that sound had faded he looked up from the floorboard he'd been so keen on studying; Emery was looking at him intently, clear eyes without a hint of obfuscation.

"Josh." His tone was gentle, gentler than Josh had ever heard from him. Three years ago that tone would have come accompanied by a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think I've said this in so many words, but please know you were the best thing that could have happened to her. And to me. The very best. You gave me my sister back when I thought I'd lost her for good even before it was time — showed me that what I thought was an unbridgeable abyss was nothing but a short step I needed to take. You've nothing to compensate for."

Josh swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

"Now," Emery continued, steel underneath the gentleness, "did you keep the receipts?"