Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thomas waded through nearly black slush to the studio. Not his studio, of course—some hired space in Ealing he’d had to spend hours getting to. He’d taken the gig because he needed the money to get a studio.

He was scowling when he walked in the door. The person doing up the set asked if he was alright. He needed to calm down, but, God, if bad weather and commuting to London didn’t make him absolutely miserable.

Not to mention, this was a Christmas shoot, and Thomas hated Christmas.

Well, not Christmas, per se, but the adverts and the expectations and the saccharine cheer. Christmas meant people asking if he would be going home to see his family, which he hadn’t done in over a decade and never would again.

He set up his camera, expression mostly blank. He just needed to get this over with.

“Have the models arrived yet?” he asked that nosy set dresser when they passed.

“They have. Lorna has them in back getting their clothes on,” they said.

Thomas noted their nose ring had a tiny Christmas tree charm hanging from it, which was amusing to him but he refused to feel any joy about it. If he saw anyone but the models in a red and green jumper, he was leaving, he promised himself.

“Shall we have some music for the occasion, lads?” he heard one of them say from behind the partitions that were playing at being walls. “Wonderful Christmas Time” started up shortly after—apparently, the place was wired with Bluetooth speakers.

Thomas was beginning to reconsider his decision to become a photographer.

Then they started singing along like only a group of raucous young men could—badly—and Thomas decided he needed a smoke.

He gave them a good ten minutes, and they were ready to start when he returned. The music was still going, but he could get through it now.

“Alright, who’s first?” he called. The models were all in robes, so he couldn’t see whose outfit matched the backdrop.

“We’ll have Mr. December first,” said the creative director, beckoning one of them over.

He was blond and a bit on the short side. He also had a red bow on top of his head…and the most beautiful face Thomas had ever seen.

He knew going into it that this was a calendar shoot. They wouldn’t be nude, just suggestively costumed. He’d told himself that he was a professional. But when the robe came off…

Thomas coughed into his elbow, trying to make it seem like he were looking away for a more appropriate reason than the model being so fit he could die. Good God…how was he going to do this?

The model had bows over his nipples.

He remembered a small detail he’d somehow managed to overlook: this was to be a charity calendar sold by a lingerie company. A women’s lingerie company. He must have assumed the models would be women, or not connected the dots in some other way…

Thomas looked through the screen on his camera. That was alright, wasn’t it? He was meant to do that.

They had the model wearing a red bra and knickers. The bra was sheer fabric at the cups with the bows attached at the centre, then another bow at the top centre of the knickers. The knickers were…small. Matching lace hid a lot, so it wasn’t like he could see every detail of his cock…but…still…

He had to get ahold of himself. He had to. He was at work. And so was the model, for that matter.

“Let’s have you under the tree, Jimmy,” the CD instructed. “Maybe lying back with your arms behind your head?”

Thomas forced himself to snap out of it and snap the picture. They did a few poses like that, then some alternates with the model—Jimmy—wrapped in a massive ribbon.

Then it was over. Jimmy put his robe back on.

But not before winking at Thomas.

What was that supposed to mean?! Had he noticed?

They began to change the backdrop and Thomas went for another smoke. But before he could get to the door, someone called to him from behind the partition.

“Psst! Hey!”

It was Jimmy.

Oh, God.

Thomas went behind the partition.

“I’m starving. Can you help me?” Jimmy asked in a whisper for some reason.

Thomas squinted down at him. “With…bringing you something to eat? Isn’t that someone else’s job?”

“No, I mean help me out of this thing! I’m no good with hooks.” He scratched at his back over the robe where the bra fastened.

Jesus Christ! “That’s also someone else’s job, though.”

“They went out for coffee. Come on, please? For a fellow Yorkshire lad?” He gave Thomas some sort of variation on puppy dog eyes, not that Thomas would resist without them.

“I’m- I’m from Manchester originally,” he answered feebly.

Jimmy grabbed his hand and started towing him into the bowels of the studio. “Come here, you mardy bum. It’s only a simple favour. And I know you want to.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just undo me bra! It can’t be that hard!” Jimmy removed the robe once they’d reached the makeshift dressing room, tossing it on a folding chair. Then he turned around so Thomas could get at the hooks.

No, it wasn’t that hard, but he couldn’t afford to be caught undressing people at work! But he was back there now, so he pulled it apart with as little contact as possible; thankfully he could do it one-handed.

Jimmy took it the rest of the way off and flung it across the room with a huff. But he didn’t look very pleased when he turned around. “Have you done theatre?” he asked.

“No,” said Thomas, distracted into staying longer than he had to. “What sort of question is that?”

“So are you straight or bisexual?”

He blanched. “I don’t think that’s any of your business!” Thank God for the Queen song currently blasting all around them.

“I don’t want to go to the trouble of giving you my number if you’re just going to waste my time,” Jimmy retorted.

“What?!”

“Which is it?”

Thomas floundered. He didn’t want to dignify whatever tactic this surely was with a response, but he also wanted that number. Very badly, actually. So, after a few moments of opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he said, “N-neither?”

Jimmy frowned. “What’s that mean? You’re a gay man who does drag? Why do you know how to do that?”

“W- Because it’s not hard! You said so yourself!”

He crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “You don’t have a girlfriend back home? One who doesn’t know you like looking at blokes in bras and panties?”

“No! I’m gay! Just gay! Jesus!” Thomas was beginning to think he’d somehow stumbled onto some elaborate scheme to catch somebody’s cheating boyfriend, but then Jimmy pulled the pen from Thomas’s shirt pocket and picked up his hand again.

“Good. Because it’s happened before,” he mumbled, writing his number on Thomas’s wrist.

Thomas sighed, trying to look anywhere but at Jimmy. But he did clarify, just in case, “I don’t cheat.”

Jimmy put the pen in Thomas’s hand and turned to pick up his clothes. Thomas, of course, stayed to watch.

He threw a long-sleeve shirt on, then reached for a pair of jeans.

He hadn’t removed the knickers.

“You’re not going to wear those out, are you?” Thomas asked.

“Why not? You going to tell the director?”

“No.”

“Good lad.” Jimmy tucked his shirt in, picked up a coat, and walked past Thomas toward the exit.

Thomas stayed inside. He did want a smoke, but he’d rather Jimmy not think he was following him. Besides, it wouldn’t take very long for them to change the backdrop.

He looked at his wrist while they did the finishing touches. He hadn’t gotten a bloke’s number that way in…God, it must have been at least fifteen years ago. He sent Jimmy a text, just to keep himself occupied and avoid the number being lost to sweat under the studio lights. It was a simple ‘this is Thomas from the shoot.’

There wasn’t a reply, and Thomas went back to work. Every other model was your standard fair, 6’2”, shrink-wrapped bloke who made the lingerie look like an unfunny joke. He wasn’t interested in that, which made the work much easier.

He didn’t see Jimmy for the rest of the gig, which had him wondering if he actually nicked the knickers, but it wasn’t like he’d never stolen something himself. By the time he went for dinner, he’d nearly forgotten the whole thing.

It was past midnight when he finally received a response from Jimmy.

.:do you have a fetish for lingerie or did you just happen to fancy me in it?:.

Thomas didn’t know how to answer that, not least because he’d been woken up by the message. He’d never thought of himself as kinky, nor someone with any particular fetish. He ought to know by now if he had one, right?

.:because if it were your fetish that would explain why you knew how to unhook my bra with one hand:.

.:I don’t know why you think my fancying you has anything to do with the underwear?:. Thomas replied at last.

.:because photogs are always massive perverts:.

.:It’s just my job. I wanted to have my own business.:.

.:yeah right:.

Thomas scoffed. He put his phone back down and turned over, deciding he wouldn’t respond until a reasonable hour.

***

Thomas drew his coat around himself as he walked to Jimmy’s hotel. At three in the morning. Less than a day after meeting him.

He cursed himself for staying in London when the shoot ran long.

But every bit of irritation melted away once he arrived. Jimmy’d locked the door behind them and kissed him until it felt like his lips might’ve fallen off.

“Do I get to know your surname at all, or…?” he asked as Jimmy worked his trousers open with one hand and dug through his pockets with the other.

“Where’s your wallet?”

“Back right.”

Jimmy pulled it out, letting his trousers drop around his ankles with his coat. “I don’t really do surnames,” he said, retrieving the fresh condom Thomas had loaded it with, then discarding the wallet on the floor.

Like…a mononym? Surely not. Who would go by only Jimmy?

He could’ve looked at his driving license, Thomas thought as he watched Jimmy examine the expiry date. But he didn’t, nor any of his cards. At least it’s a two-way street.

“Why not?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t like to. I had…somebody turn up at my job once, before I started modelling.”

He didn’t seem to have the best track record with men so far. Thomas’s little romantic heart said, ‘I’ll be different.’ His mouth said, “I see. Did you actually keep those knickers?”

Jimmy smiled. It was too beautiful for words. “I snuck back in after lunch and left them. Why? Were you hoping I’d meet you at the door in them?”

“No. Just curious.”

He stepped back a bit and flopped onto the bed—it was a small room. “Come here,” he said. He hadn’t met Thomas in those knickers, but he was in just his pants—plain boxers that he probably got free from a shoot. They did often do that, although perhaps he didn’t want to be known to have women’s underwear in his wardrobe.

Thomas kicked his shoes and trousers off and climbed up. Jimmy’s skin was smooth and soft, and he clearly put work into his appearance, as was to be expected of a model. He either shaved or waxed his chest, too. Thomas kissed him, slower than they had before.

Jimmy, meanwhile, had continued his previous ministrations. Thomas had only ever put a condom on himself before, so having it done for him felt rather novel.

He rolled over to get his own pants the rest of the way off while Jimmy did the same. Then Jimmy was on top of him, sliding Thomas’s cock inside him like someone had hit fast-forward—no working up to it, no preamble, just right in.

Thomas must’ve looked as confused as he felt, because Jimmy explained, “I don’t like having strange men’s fingers in me. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird!” Thomas said. “Not for fucking yourself before I got here or whatever, but…” He shook his head, not wanting to point to their interactions up to that point. Then again, he probably ought to address it. “Are you one of them blokes who fucks like a hundred people a year? ‘Cause you’re very strange.”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’d just like to know the man I’m fucking right now! I don’t need your full name for that, you know.”

Jimmy leaned forward, bracing himself on Thomas’s chest as he began to slowly move his hips. “Fine.” He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I worked in an hotel before I were a model. Parents are dead. I play piano.”

“Fascinating. None of those things are pertinent. If I suck your cock later, am I going to need antibiotics?”

“Fucking hell,” Jimmy moaned. Whether it was frustration or pleasure, Thomas couldn’t be sure. “I’m not a bloody alpha chap, alright? I haven’t fucked another man in at least a year.”

“A year?”

“I’ve been- ah- busy with work. And blokes I meet are usually toffs, so- fuck-” He threw his head back as Thomas moved with him, guiding his hips in just the right way.

“You want me to…?”

Jimmy nodded. “Hah- Yeah.”

He got off and flopped onto his belly along the bed. As Thomas followed him, he noticed a very...peculiar toy sitting on the bedside table next to a travel size bottle of lube. He tried to ignore it, and pressed into Jimmy again.

“Can you take your shirt off?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas paused to do so, tossing it in the general direction of the rest of his clothes.

Jimmy peered over his shoulder at him, his head pressed into a pillow. He pulled his knees under him a bit, raising his arse a little higher and pushing Thomas with him. “And-”

“Right.” Thomas spit in his hand and found Jimmy’s cock—practically second nature. He couldn’t ignore the dildo. “Is that a unicorn horn?”

“I don’t come into your hotel room and question your personal items,” Jimmy grumbled.

“Why do I get the feeling you would do if you had the chance?”

He rolled his eyes. “What’s it matter? Jealous?”

Thomas bent down close to Jimmy, following the curve of his body with his own, and whispered, “I don’t need to be jealous. You and I both know I’m bigger than that.”

Jimmy sighed and turned his face into the pillow.

Any further communication was done purely through small sounds and body language. And Jimmy was fantastic at it. He was so perfect…

Well, for the most part. But Thomas wasn’t of a mind to consider any of that at present.

He was just getting close when Jimmy’s phone rang on the bedside table.

“Oh, fuck,” Jimmy whined into the pillow. He wriggled loose from Thomas’s grasp and scrambled over to it. “Hello?”

Thomas thought it might be an emergency—why else would someone call that late—so he sat on his heels. But something about Jimmy’s voice was…he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was familiar and calm and quiet, not panicked or worried.

“Right,” he murmured. He muted the call and turned back to Thomas. “Can we keep going?”

“You want me to fuck you while you’re…?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Thomas couldn’t resist, despite his reservations. He thought it was rude to both of them—him and the person on the other end of the call—but… He motioned for Jimmy to come to him.

On his back this time, Jimmy laid flat and opened his legs for Thomas. He was noticeably tense, though. Maybe it was an emergency after all? A sister, perhaps? The voice on the line sounded female but Thomas couldn’t make out any of it.

Thomas reached over him for the bottle, seeing as there was a bit of resistance now. Jimmy, having unmuted the call, turned his head away to sigh as Thomas re-entered him.

He wanted to ask what was going on, but that seemed like none of his business, which was absurd.

Instead, he mouthed, “Alright?” That was broad enough to not seem like he were prying, he thought.

Jimmy nodded, though his expression didn’t suggest that was true. “It’s- Right. Right, I know,” he said to the caller. He ran his free hand up Thomas’s chest, then muted the call again. “Come on, fuck me, Thomas. I’m not getting any younger.”

Thomas frowned, but didn’t argue. He returned to the pace he’d taken before all this, stroking Jimmy with residual lube this time. But it wasn’t as fun without Jimmy’s undivided attention, and Thomas didn’t like feeling the need to silence himself unnecessarily. It wasn’t even hot.

Even so…Jimmy made up for it after a bit, muting the call and letting his hand fall back against the bed. He arched his back, pressing his belly against Thomas’s knuckles. “That’s right, Thomas. Just like that!” he said, finally letting go of the phone in favour of grabbing onto Thomas’s waist. “Mmh!”

Thomas bent down to kiss him, hoping it would keep him focused. In doing so, however, he could hear what the woman was saying.

“I just don’t know what to do with you! I mean, first you’re off to London without telling me, and next you’re buying yourself takeaway with my card… Just what do you think you’re playing at? You’re being very naughty, Jimmy. You must come back to me at once. I’m booking you a ticket for the 11 o’clock train, and you had better be on it!”

Jimmy broke off to pick up the phone again. “Ah- I will! Don’t get your panties in a twist!” he said. Then he closed his eyes and mouthed “Fuck!”

Thomas consider leaning in again to hear her response, but Jimmy finally managed to hang up before he could.

“Fucking hell,” he said again.

“Who was that?” Thomas asked, panting.

“N- hah- Nobody.”

But he was too far gone to argue. Jimmy pulled him in again and that was that.

Thomas rolled onto his back once he’d finished, pulling a pillow into place behind his head.

Jimmy stared at him.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t cum yet!”

“I know. Your unicorn’s over there.” Thomas pointed toward the bedside table and closed his eyes.

“B- W- Why are you being an arsehole?!” Jimmy spluttered.

“Ask your girlfriend.”

He scoffed.

“In fact, I should be going. You have a train to catch in a few hours.” Thomas got off the bed and slipped into the en suite to clean himself up.

He could hear Jimmy throwing his clothes about. But he never denied it.

So much for what he’d said back at the studio. ‘It’s happened before’ my arse.

When Thomas came out, Jimmy was sitting in the armchair in the corner, pouting. Thomas’s clothes were piled on the bed for him, all turned inside out.

He righted them and dressed, ignoring Jimmy’s scowl.

“Lose my number,” he demanded as Thomas reached for the doorknob.

“Fine by me,” Thomas said, and left for his own hotel.

***

“If you don’t want to go-“

“I don’t.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Well I don’t, either, but I’m still going.”

“It’s only a Christmas market, Thomas. Just pretend it’s a regular market and you’re there to buy bread,” Sybil insisted. “And maybe a hot chocolate.”

“I don’t think there’s much point in arguing,” said Tom. “We all know he’ll tag along. He’s got nothing better to do.”

“Piss off,” Thomas answered.

Mary uncrossed her legs and stood. “You and I will go find a corner and people watch while the rest of them skate. How’s that?” she offered.

Sybil followed suit. “Maybe you can take pictures!”

“Slán agat,” Tom said with a nod as he followed his wife and sister-in-law out, leaving Thomas to his tea in the mostly empty café.

The following Saturday, he walked, camera in its bag at his hip, through throngs of people. It wasn’t quite snowing, but it was threatening to, and he was freezing.

Thomas eyed Sybil’s hot chocolate enviously. She’d gotten it before he joined them, but if he got one, he’d still look like he were enjoying himself. Can’t have that. Instead, he set up a candid shot of her and Tom looking up at the lights.

Before he could take it, though, he spotted a familiar blond in the crowd. He frowned, shuffled a step to the right, and snapped the shot without him in it.

What was Jimmy doing in York? He did say he was a ‘Yorkshire lad’, but surely he would’ve moved to London. Then again, he’d had an hotel room…

Thomas decided to ignore his presence. Just a bit longer, and he would be home, cozy and alone in his flat.

He followed his friends through the market for a while more. He was just about to announce his departure when Sybil pointed to a sign next to a team of massive draught horses. Sleigh Rides.

“Let’s go on a sleigh ride!” she said. “It’ll be fun!”

“It’s a carriage,” Thomas mumbled to himself, eyeing the wheels, though he wasn’t so averse to going along with it. It would be better than walking endlessly or sitting on a bench by the skating rink.

The carriage went out with a load of passengers as they walked up, so they joined the queue for the next one. There seemed to be two or more going at once, which made the wait much quicker.

While they stood by for the next carriage’s alighting passengers, a woman in a fur-lined coat approached Mary and Sybil.

“Excuse me. I think we know each other,” she said.

The three of them discussed seeing each other at the odd thing while Thomas was distracted by the woman’s companion: Jimmy.

Thomas groaned internally. Of course he would manage to find him.

“This is my husband Tom and our friend Thomas,” Sybil said.

“Thomas and I have met before,” Jimmy interrupted—or perhaps he’d already been a part of the conversation; Thomas hadn’t been paying attention. “He was the photographer for a shoot I did recently,” he said, looking at Thomas smugly.

“Right,” said Thomas. “I’d almost forgotten. How have you been?” Extending a hand, he forced Jimmy to shake it via social pressure. He wanted Jimmy to touch him—to possibly feel the spark between them again, to feel badly for how he’d treated Thomas. It turned out to be a literal spark, though, and they both jumped at the static shock.

Jimmy chuckled, his jaw tense as he shook the pain from his hand. “I’ve been very well, thank you.”

“Small world,” Mary said, eyeing Thomas suspiciously.

“I can take six! Step up!” the carriage driver shouted over the crowd noise.

The mum of the group in front of them turned to Tom. “I promise I wasn’t eavesdropping, but you’re welcome to go in front of us! You make six now, and we only have three,” she offered.

Jimmy’s girlfriend—presumably—clasped her hands together. “Oh, that would be wonderful!”

“Yes, thank you so much!” said Sybil, before climbing up with Tom.

There were only two rows. Tom, Sybil, and Mary were in front. Jimmy was sandwiched between Thomas and the other woman.

And Jimmy looked absolutely disgusted.

The ‘sleigh’ wasn’t really wide enough for three people. The front seat looked cozy with one average man and two thin women, but Thomas and Jimmy were crammed together in back, and it was made worse by how much Jimmy seemed to be leaning into Thomas.

Thomas had no choice but to put his arm around him, which Jimmy glared at him for. Thomas smiled devilishly back.

“I do love visiting Yorkshire,” Jimmy’s girlfriend said. “The north of England is just so quaint and charming.”

“Where are you living now, Lady Anstruther?” Sybil asked.

“Oh, I’m back and forth between Glenrothes, London, and Paris these days. What about you? Last I heard, you were in Dublin.”

“We moved back to Downton when our daughter was born, to be nearer my parents.”

Jimmy shifted in his seat, somehow getting even closer to Thomas. Even when he wasn’t pouting over being sat next to him, Jimmy seemed rather miserable.

Thomas decided to take his mind off whatever was bothering him by bothering him some more. “Have you finished trying to wriggle into my lap, or would you like to go on and get in it?” he whispered.

“Shut up,” Jimmy answered through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t a long ride, just an easy loop around, and the guise of enjoying the scenery provided a convenient excuse to not talk. They all got off in the end, Thomas having every intention of heading home.

Unfortunately, Sybil suggested a trip to the café to warm up.

Thomas followed his friends, plus Jimmy and Lady Anstruther, through the market once again, scowling at the snow that was now accumulating on the ground.

Mary fell in beside him at the back of the group at the first opportunity. She threaded her arm through his conspiratorially.

“So,” she said in a low voice, “you met him at a photoshoot?”

“Yes,” Thomas hissed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can see that much.”

He felt her looking at him expectantly and sighed. “Look, it’s complicated.”

“Oh, darling, it’s always complicated,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Nothing. It’s not a problem.”

Thomas looked forward again as they stopped outside the café, only to catch Jimmy’s eye. He looked less than pleased.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Thomas muttered once they’d all filed inside, slipping from Mary’s arm and starting toward the sign for the toilets.

“Good idea. Me too,” said Jimmy haughtily.

The pair of them left the others behind, Thomas refusing to look back as he led the way. He’d been to this café before, and he knew the toilets were a cramped space. Even so, if Jimmy intended to have it out with him, he wasn’t about to let it happen in the open.

Jimmy did not wash his hands, but rather stood beside Thomas with his arms crossed the whole time Thomas scrubbed. “Well?” he prompted once Thomas had shut off the tap.

“Well what?”

“Are you fucking that tall, skinny one?”

Thomas scoffed, certainly not expecting to hear that. Unfortunately, his natural inclination when confronted by something so audacious was to smirk, which probably made him look a bit…like it were true and he were daring Jimmy to say something more about it. “Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. That’s what gay means; I don’t like women,” Thomas said.

Jimmy didn’t budge. “Blokes lie about that. They lie all the time.”

“W- You mean like you?!” Thomas pointed to the wall where the café staff had posted a sign in place of the mirror reading ‘mirror temporarily out of order’, indicating Lady Anstruther on the other side of it. “Who’s that then?!”

The lines on either side of Jimmy’s mouth made their presence known. “That’s different,” he said.

“How is it-” Thomas pressed his fingers to his eye sockets, reminding himself not to raise his voice too much. “How is it different? And what does it matter? We slept together once-”

The door opened suddenly, and Tom took two steps inside. “Ah- Sorry,” he said, eyes going wide for a moment before he smiled awkwardly. “I’ll come back.”

Once they were alone again, Jimmy stepped forward, about an inch from Thomas’s toes. “It doesn’t matter. You made that clear.”

Thomas didn’t know what to say, but his mouth didn’t care. “Is that who called you—that woman who was so important you had to listen to her the whole time?”

“It weren’t the whole time.”

So it was her. Thomas had guessed that much, though. He recognised her voice. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?”

“I don’t have a choice, Thomas!” Jimmy hissed. “Did it look like I wanted to have her in me ear while you fucked me? ‘Cause I didn’t!”

“So leave her then! This isn’t fucking 1910!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?!”

Jimmy looked away. He was still scowling, but his eyes seemed to have gone a bit shiny. “I just can’t.”

What could that possibly mean? It had to be something ominous. And, of course, Thomas was taken in by the possibilities. After resisting for as long as he could, he just couldn’t help but touch him, though he kept his hands to his shoulders. “Look. I- I’ll help you if you need help, alright? Against my better judgement…”

Jimmy shook him off. “Don’t do that.”

Letting his arms fall back to his sides, Thomas tried to parse the conflicting feelings that now swirled around his insides. Was this a cry for help or wasn’t it? God. “Then what the fuck do you want from me?” he said.

Jimmy kissed him suddenly, hands gripping either side of his face.

Tom walked in again, assessed the scene before him, then turned on his heel without a word.

“I can’t leave her, but I want you, too,” Jimmy said, low and with his lips still brushing against Thomas’s. “You said yourself, it’s complicated. Why can’t it be a little more complicated?”

“That-” Thomas tried to say, but the words failed to go farther than his throat. He knew he would feel stupid later, but he wanted Jimmy, too. He’d wanted him since he first saw him.

He felt stupid now, actually.

He wrapped his arms around Jimmy, pulling him forward enough that they were properly kissing again. He was considering whether or not they could get away with fucking in one of the stalls when he remembered they hadn’t come alone. And that this was cheating. He reluctantly let him go.

“I’m staying with my godparents while I’m here,” Jimmy said before Thomas could suggest they go back to their group. “She’s put up with some of her toff friends.”

“So?”

“She’ll leave after a cuppa. We’re on opposite sides of the city, so she won’t take me with her. I’ll take you with me after she’s gone,” he explained.

Like a man possessed, Thomas simply nodded.

“Good lad. I’ll go out first.”

With a pat on the cheek, Jimmy went out, followed by Thomas not long after.

“There you are,” Mary said under her breath as they sat down at the table the rest of them had landed at.

“Is there still a queue?” Tom asked, no one else batting an eye. Had he covered for them or for himself?

“It’s free,” Jimmy said, the picture of nonchalance.

Tom stood abruptly and made his way back to the toilets. Meanwhile, Lady Anstruther had snaked her hand onto Jimmy’s thigh under the table. He was sat between her and Thomas again, making the move and his discomfort evident.

But Thomas kept quiet for now. Since he’d foolishly agreed to Jimmy’s plan, he hoped he would at least be able to understand what exactly was happening between him and her.

They all chatted about this and that—the others more so than Thomas and Jimmy—until Lady Anstruther said goodnight. Anstruther had hired a car and met the driver outside, after which point Jimmy stood and stretched.

“Suppose I should be off, too,” he said. “Good seeing you, Thomas.”

“Right.” Thomas considered letting him wait outside for a few minutes, but what did he care if the others thought he was going with him? Tom had already caught them snogging, after all. “Me, too, actually.”

“Oh. Well, do send us any photos that turn out,” Sybil said.

Thomas nodded and patted his camera bag, then he and Jimmy were off into the night.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to ask Jimmy to talk about his private matters where anyone could overhear, but all they had were private matters. What else was there?

Thankfully, Jimmy spoke up first. “How do you know them?” he asked, eyes ahead as they passed under part of the Roman wall.

“Sybil and I worked together for a few years.”

“What about the other two?”

Hadn’t he heard how they were related? Or wasn’t he listening? “Mary’s Sybil’s sister. Tom is Sybil’s husband,” Thomas explained.

“They know you’re gay?”

Thomas sighed exasperatedly. “Yes.”

“And they don’t mind?”

“Why would they mind?”

Jimmy nodded toward some terraced houses ahead of them. “Nearly there.”

Thomas shut his mouth.

Leading the way into one of the houses’ front doors, Jimmy announced to the perfectly ordinary couple sitting in front of the television, “Brought a mate from work. ‘Night.”

The man simply grunted in acknowledgement while the woman said, “Goodnight, love. There’s extra linens in the hall!”

Before Thomas could do so much as wave, Jimmy was pulling him up the stairs. He brought him to a small room clearly set up for guests, with a double bed and not much else.

Pushing him down on the bed, Jimmy turned and locked the door behind them while Thomas deposited his camera bag safely on the bedside table. Thomas let him undo the button on his jeans before stopping him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “I didn’t- I need to know what’s going on, Jimmy.”

Jimmy huffed and stood up straight in front of him, clearly annoyed. “With what?”

“With you! Why can’t you leave that woman? Are you cheating on her by being with me?”

“It’s not like that. It’s open. ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ or whatever,” Jimmy said.

Thomas was taken aback yet again. He didn’t believe for a second that was truly their arrangement, but even if it was… “I’m not open, though! I don’t want that!”

“Who cares? It’s not like I’m marrying you.”

Thomas scoffed. “Sit down,” he ordered, contemplating pretending to be into corporal punishment for the night.

He sat up on the edge of the bed while Jimmy did the same.

“I want you to tell me why you think you can’t leave her. You clearly don’t like being around her.”

“I don’t.”

“Why?”

Jimmy sighed. “She’s rich and lonely since her husband died. She buys me things and lets me stay in her houses,” he finally admitted, though it didn’t really answer the question of why he didn’t like her. “She gives me head twice a day when we’re together. I can’t leave that.”

Thomas stared at him, wondering if he’d heard all that correctly. “You can’t leave her because…she sucks your cock,” he repeated.

“Did you miss the part where I said she buys me things and I stay in her houses?”

“I…I don’t understand what-” He ran a hand through his hair. “Are you saying, if you leave her, you’ll be homeless?”

“No! Not really. I have this place.” Jimmy gestured to the house around them. “But that’s not the life I want. I want to be able to go wherever and whenever I like, spend money, dance with…people…drink champagne.”

“But you don’t like her,” Thomas argued.

“No…but whether I like her doesn’t come into it,” Jimmy said. “I can’t stay away from her, and she couldn’t stay away from me. So there’s no point in leaving, beyond all the other reasons to stay.”

That reminded Thomas of something Jimmy had said when they first met. “What do you mean ‘she couldn’t stay away’?”

“She wouldn’t. First time I slept with her, she turned up at the hotel I worked at to stay the night a week later…gave me her spare key.”

“You mean she stalked you?”

Jimmy pulled a face. “You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t,” Thomas agreed. “I don’t understand why you would insist on staying with a woman you don’t like, who turned up at your work to harass you… You didn’t even want to give me your name in case I did that!”

Jimmy sat there for a while, looking down at his feet. Then he muttered, “You harassed me at work.”

“I didn’t,” Thomas answered, thinking back to the entirety of the time they spent together at the shoot. He hadn’t, surely. If anything, Jimmy was the one violating codes of conduct.

“You were leering at me. You watched me change.” Jimmy was watching him now—watching his reaction as if it were some sort of test.

“I’m…sorry.” He was certain Jimmy was trying to catch him in something, but on the off chance Thomas had made him feel uncomfortable…he did mean it. He didn’t think looking disrespectfully was quite as bad as stalking, but who was he to be the arbiter of morality? Not that that would be the point.

He wasn’t sure if he’d passed or failed, but Jimmy looked away suddenly and changed the subject. “Do your parents know about you?” he asked, bringing his hands together in his lap and wringing them.

“Yes,” Thomas said, assuming he meant about his sexual orientation and not…who could say what else.

Jimmy peered up at him out of the corner of his eye, his head bowed with his elbows on his knees. “And?”

“And I’m estranged.”

That didn’t seem to be the answer he wanted. He kicked off his shoes and stood, removing his outerwear at last. Thankfully his godparents kept the house cool or they’d be boiling by now. Thomas was already sweating a bit.

“Did yours know?” Thomas asked, unbuttoning his own coat.

“Nobody does. I don’t.”

“What do you mean you don’t?”

“I don’t know what it’s all about. I don’t know what all them letters mean. I couldn’t bear to tell me folks if they were still here. Wouldn’t know what to say if they were and I could.” Jimmy continued undressing until he was down to his pants and socks, his skin carrying a slight sheen. “I don’t know who I am really.”

Thomas hadn’t anticipated dealing with an existential crisis on top of Jimmy’s toxic relationship with Lady Anstruther. “Oh Lordy,” he sighed, not knowing how else to react and sounding rather like his grandad.

Jimmy climbed onto the bed, lying back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid, but when I saw you at the photoshoot, I felt like I knew exactly what I wanted. I still do when I’m with you,” he said. “You just seem so sure.”

After tossing his coat on the foot of the bed and taking off his boots, Thomas laid back next to him. It was partly an excuse to think through his words. “I think you’d be surer if you weren’t binding yourself to someone who doesn’t treat you as an equal,” he said carefully.

That seemed to give Jimmy an idea. He put an arm behind his head and looked over at Thomas. “Would you show me what it’s like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Go out with me and act like my boyfriend. Just for a little while,” Jimmy said.

Never been asked that before, Thomas thought. “I’m not interested in being anyone’s pretend boyfriend.”

“Not pretend, just temporary! Over Christmas, say. She goes somewhere warm at Christmas, so I have her London house all to myself. You can still fuck me and all.”

Thomas’s stomach turned at the thought of sex being some sort of reward. Why did he have to make it so transactional? What was next, a blowjob for doing the washing up without being asked?

And yet…

“I’ll only do it if you stay here and tell Lady Anstruther you want a break. I’ll…pay for things, but you can’t use anything of hers.”

Jimmy frowned. “Where will you stay, though? I couldn’t have Gavin and Lisa looking after you for a whole week out of the blue. They’d do it, but I’d feel badly.”

That wasn’t the part Thomas expected him to object to. “I’ll stay at my own flat, obviously. I only live in Downton.”

“You mean like…some long-distance shite?”

“It’s a twenty-minute train ride from Thirsk,” Thomas scoffed.

“What if I just stayed with you?”

Bloody hell. And yet! “I’d need your full name for that.”

Jimmy gave him his hand to shake after a moment’s hesitation. “Jimmy Kent, at your service.”

Thomas shook it against his better judgement. It would probably be fine, but he didn’t trust Jimmy not to do something stupid—not after all this. “Thomas Barrow.”

Grinning, Jimmy yanked Thomas to him by his hand, pulling him into another kiss.

***

“Do you see the sausage down there, my son?” Gavin inquired, squinting at the table in front of him in search of the plate.

Thomas wasn’t quite sure if he were talking to him or Jimmy, but thankfully Lisa passed it to him before he needed to find out.

“Can I get you anything else, love?” she asked Thomas.

Thomas shook his head. The woman had already filled the table with every dish one could think of. He wasn’t even hungry.

“So,” said Gavin, “what sort of modelling do you do?”

“Er, I’m a photographer, actually.”

“Oh! That must be interesting,” Lisa said cheerily.

Thomas nodded, and the table fell into awkward silence. He hadn’t intended to stay for breakfast, but it was all set out by the time he and Jimmy came downstairs.

They must know, he thought. There’s no way they don’t know. We slept in the same bed!

As soon as Jimmy had finished, he stood and grabbed his coat and bag from the back of his chair. Thomas, not wanting to get left behind with Lisa and Gavin, followed suit.

“I’m going south for Christmas,” Jimmy announced, more cheerfully than the way he’d spoken to them the night before. “Stripped the bed.”

Lisa hurriedly swallowed her food, waving. “Have fun, love! And Merry Christmas!”

Jimmy held up a hand, Thomas gave a polite smile, and the pair of them were back out onto the street.

“I’m going to meet her for brunch,” Jimmy said, kicking a stone that had fallen from a retaining wall running alongside the pavement.

Assuming that meant what he thought it meant, Thomas nodded. “Good.”

“Will you call me tonight?”

“Don’t have your number anymore,” Thomas lied.

Jimmy pulled out his phone and sent him a message, and with that, they went their separate ways.

***

“You’re doing what?!” Tom said.

After a few moments’ waffling because he did not know what he was doing, Thomas repeated, “I’m showing him what its like to have a boyfriend over Christmas.”

“What about Lady Anstruther?” Mary asked. The three of them had stopped in an alcove, interrupting their quest for Christmas gifts for Sybil and Matthew; apparently, this was not a conversation that could be had while walking.

“I only agreed under the condition that he break it off with her,” Thomas explained. “At least for the time being…”

“And you think he will?” she said incredulously.

Thomas walked on without them. “Neither of you understand.”

“Thomas, darling, don’t be so quick to count us out.” Mary caught him easily, taking his arm. “I’m just trying to understand the situation you’ve found yourself in. Foolishly.”

Tom jogged along behind. “So you’re seeing him…as some sort of trial?”

“I guess.”

“Why?”

Thomas sighed. “He’s unsure of himself. He’s never been in a proper relationship with a man, and he’s reluctant to leave his…Lady Anstruther.”

“So she’s his sugar mummy,” Tom concluded.

“Shut up,” said Thomas.

“Why are you defending her?” Mary squeezed his arm. “You said yourself she was horrid.”

“I’m not. I’m defending myself because Tom is implying I’m taking over for her.”

He could sense her rolling her eyes. “Let’s just go in here and forget about the whole thing for a while. I don’t want to be worn out before we’ve even begun,” she said, nudging Thomas toward the door of a wool goods shop.

As he helped the two of them pick gifts, he began to wonder if he ought to buy something for Jimmy. He was going to be playing at being his boyfriend, after all…

But what did he like? Thomas had only really known him a few weeks. Barely two days, actually, in total.

He looked at the usual things—scarves, socks, mittens, jumpers, even some jewellery—but nothing felt right. So, he decided to wait and try to get to know Jimmy better. Jimmy had let him know they had a week for their ‘trial,’ with Christmas toward the end, giving Thomas a few days to do so.

Despite the strangeness of it all, he felt a bit excited to start.

***

“I’m nervous, though,” Thomas complained, pouring himself another glass.

“That doesn’t mean he should find you drunk,” Mary reasoned.

He stared at his phone for a bit, thinking. She was right but it was too late now. “Oh, God,” he groaned, running both hands through his hair. “Why do I always do this? Why do I always ruin things?”

“I don’t know; I’m not a psychologist. Tell him I was there earlier and we had a few drinks, then offer him one. I’m sure he won’t object.”

“What if he’s sober or s-” There was a knock at the door, making Thomas jump. “Fuck! He’s here, I have to go.”

He ended the call before she could respond.

Thomas had almost forgotten how perfect Jimmy looked. Tan skin even in winter, wavy blond hair...pouty, kissable lips… “Hey,” Thomas said, leaning on the door frame and trying not to ogle.

“Are you drunk at eleven in the morning?” Jimmy asked, a puzzled look on his face and a duffle bag on his shoulder.

Thomas tired desperately to come up with an excuse that sounded better than the one Mary had given him, but he couldn’t. “My friend Mary was here earlier. You know what posh women are like—mimosas and all that.”

Jimmy squinted at him, but seemed to accept it. They stood there awkwardly for a moment before he said, “Can...I come in?”

“Right. Yeah.” Moving away from the door, Thomas willed himself to sober up, which didn’t work but did make him feel more focused. But he wasn’t that drunk, anyhow, he assured himself. “Do you want anything?”

“Ah- Sure, I suppose. Might as well.”

God, what had he done?

Leading the way back to the kitchen, Thomas grabbed his glass while Jimmy was preoccupied with looking around the flat and poured it into something clean. Thankfully, he’d already polished off the half-bottle of Merlot he’d had on hand and had moved onto a cheap pink Moscato. People probably drink this at brunch, he thought as he carried it to Jimmy.

“This is all I had left. But you said you liked champagne, right? It’s sparkling.”

“Dry champagne, yeah,” Jimmy said with a laugh, eyeing the glass. He took a sip and pulled a face. “This is like something my grandmother would drink. Only the best for your boyfriend, eh?”

Thomas shrugged, grinning stupidly at Jimmy calling himself that. “What...would you like to do?” he asked.

Jimmy took another sip very bravely. “I thought we might go for lunch, but, well…”

“I have a whole loaf of sourdough someone made me. Do you want a toasty?” Thomas offered.

After a moment of thought that left Thomas panicking inside, Jimmy smiled. “I’d like that, actually.”

So, while Jimmy sat on the sofa, Thomas prepared lunch for them both, the strangeness of all this finally hitting him in the face. Why had he agreed to this? What sort of person asks to be temporary boyfriends?

Anxiety rising in his chest once again, he carried their plates back out to the living room. Jimmy had taken to watching the soap Thomas had on, scarcely looking up to receive his plate.

They ate and watched together, piling their dishes on the coffee table once they’d finished. They didn’t speak. Jimmy seemed—or at least pretended to be—enraptured by the programme until it ended and he was forced to say something.

“Used to watch this with me mum,” he said, wringing his hands in his lap just as he had the other night. “Hardly recognise anyone now.”

He wasn’t the Jimmy whom Thomas had met at the photoshoot; this was someone soft and insecure. How had that happened? Thomas wasn’t sure he’d earned a look at this Jimmy.

“Did you have more of that pink stuff?” Jimmy asked.

“Right. Sure.”

Thomas brought the bottle in along with another glass—might as well. He and Jimmy slowly polished it off over a few more episodes as though it were evening and they were winding down.

Perhaps Jimmy was as nervous as Thomas was.

As the credits rolled again and they stared down the empty bottle, Jimmy shifted in his seat. “What are we meant to do?” he asked. “Hold hands?”

Thomas waited until he finally looked up at his face; he couldn’t tell if that’d been meant as a joke. But it didn’t appear to be. “You can hold my hand if you want to,” Thomas offered with a shrug.

Jimmy’s hands didn’t move from his lap, though. “I thought it’d be more natural,” he mumbled, looking back down at them.

That...put a pit in Thomas’s stomach. “Well, it won’t feel natural when we’ve skipped over everything, will it?” he said. Then he regretted his tone, so he put his arm around Jimmy, leaving his other hand on offer on the knee closest to Jimmy.

Hesitantly, Jimmy sat back, letting his head rest against Thomas’s arm. He looked up at Thomas again, eyes full of trepidation that quickly hardened into his usual aloofness. “You sure we shouldn’t just go upstairs for a shag?”

“Suppose we could,” Thomas said, nearly gritting his teeth. “But I don’t want to.”

Jimmy pulled a face. “Why not?”

Thomas sighed and took his arm back. “Is that all you think about? I didn’t agree to this so you could have some sort of gaycation.”

“And I didn’t ask for it! I just-” Jimmy shifted forward to look at him more directly. “Look, I want to know what it’s like! Why don’t we go to a- a gay bar or meet some of your gay friends, summat like that?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, but Jimmy’s pleading voice worked wonders on him as he’d come to expect. “You’ll be disappointed if you thought that’s what we’d be doing...because I don’t have any gay friends.”

“You what?”

After staring at the ceiling for a while trying desperately to calm down and/or come up with something to say that would explain how he came to have not a single friend in the life, Thomas grabbed the remote. “You want to know what it’s like, you’ll do it my way,” he said, spooling up Paris Is Burning. “Hope you like documentaries.”

***

To his credit, Jimmy sat through an entire evening’s worth of GLAAD Media Awards alumni, only stopping to help bring in their takeaway supper. He didn’t talk, or ask any questions. Thomas was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t let him off the hook and take him dancing when he put his head on Thomas’s shoulder.

Unfortunately, it was only because he’d fallen asleep.

Thomas wondered if he ought to wake him and show him to the bedroom. He regretted his earlier refusal, not because he wished they’d slept together but because it would feel hypocritical to ask for it now. Watching a series of films frequently featuring alluring images of men from the last hundred years was perhaps not the best idea, even if it were interspersed with total melancholy.

He waited until the current film had finished before moving, letting Jimmy feel the sensation of falling to wake him up.

“What time is it?” he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Thomas glanced at the old clock on his bookshelf. “Half past ten.”

“God. Why am I so tired?”

He shrugged. “Alcohol, I suppose. Or maybe you’re just getting older.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m going to bed. Are you coming or would you like the spare duvet?”

Jimmy squinted up at him. “You’re going to let me sleep with you?” he asked.

“Only if you behave.”

“Oh, behave—I’ll show you behaving, you daft cunt,” he grumbled as he plucked his bag off the floor and started for the stairs. “Barmy, mardy bastard… You showing me where it is or what?”

Thomas followed him up, smirking to himself. They went their separate ways at the bathroom, Thomas going on to the bedroom to change. He was just getting his pants on when Jimmy came in, gel patches under his eyes and shirtless.

They took turns looking.

“What are those for?” Thomas asked once Jimmy had turned away in faux disgust. He pointed to his own eyes for clarity.

“I have a routine. I’m a model.” Jimmy dropped his bag on the bed and began rooting through it.

Thomas found it inexplicably hot. Perhaps it was the intimacy of it—seeing him in a state he might not let anyone else see. That was purely projection, of course; Thomas would’ve stayed in the bathroom if that were part of his nightly rituals. Jimmy could be different.

He finished putting on his pyjamas, only to hear a frustrated noise behind him.

“What is it?” he asked, turning to find Jimmy with his hands on his hips.

Jimmy hesitated, but finally admitted, “Forgot to pack owt to sleep in.”

“You don’t need pyjamas to sleep,” Thomas said, completely mindlessly. But he had said it now, so he was forced to commit to it, “Not like you’ve worn them in bed with me before.”

Jimmy was speechless at that. Thomas wasn’t quite sure what emotion he’d settled on; he looked as though he’d gone through the five stages of grief.

“I have some you can borrow, you daft cunt,” Thomas said, making out like it were a joke and not his own depravity tumbling out of him like fruit and veg from an overloaded paper bag. He took a set out and offered them to him.

But Jimmy turned his nose up at them. “No, thanks. You’re right. I’ll just sleep au naturel.” Taking his bag back with him, he returned to the bathroom to finish his routine.

Thomas stood with the pyjamas in his hands for a few moments, plotting and processing. Should he strip down, too? No, that would be…

Finally, after he’d returned the pyjamas to the drawer, he brushed his teeth with a disposable travel toothbrush and got in bed. He decided he should probably let Mary know he was alive, so they exchanged a few messages.

Jimmy came in a while later, naked. Thomas put his phone away.

A smug look on his face, Jimmy got in next to him. “Goodnight, Thomas,” he said cheerily. Then he turned on his side away from him and turned out the lamp on his side.

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned out his own lamp. He started to arrange himself in a suitably no-contact sleeping position, but Jimmy grabbed his arm.

“Come on, hold me. You’re meant to be my boyfriend, after all,” he said.

Thomas put his arm around him, keeping his lower half well away. “If you want me to fuck you just say it,” he muttered.

“You said you didn’t want to,” Jimmy countered, shifting his hips back until his bare arse was pressed against Thomas’s groin. “So we’re going to sleep.”

Thomas scoffed, but he had Jimmy’s number. He was fucking with him, and that was fine. If he wanted Thomas’s cock poking him in the arse, he could have it.

Jimmy seemed to settle in for a moment, but then he shifted his hips again, rubbing against Thomas.

Naturally, the movement caused a reaction. Thomas grabbed Jimmy’s hip to hold him still. I won’t be embarrassed by it. This is what he wants. If he doesn’t, he can move.

But as soon as Jimmy could feel him, he was back to teasing. He grabbed Thomas’s hand and pulled it onto his belly, manoeuvring his arse until Thomas’s cock was sitting in the perfect position for him to grind against. Then he stopped. “‘Night,” he sighed.

Thomas laid there, knowing Jimmy could feel his breath on his neck and his pulse in his cock. How else could he retaliate? He had to put his hand somewhere, but where?

He broke free from Jimmy’s grasp and slid his hand up his chest, letting his fingers land lightly on one of his nipples. It wasn’t a genius play, but it was all he had. If Jimmy were sensitive, it might make him squirm.

And he lasted all of a minute.

Grabbing Thomas’s hand again, he returned it to somewhere just south of his navel, rubbing against Thomas again in the process.

Fuck. Thomas sighed, turning his head toward the pillow and pressing his nose into the nape of Jimmy’s neck. God damn your perfect arse, Jimmy Kent.

“You’re making me hard,” Jimmy whined, wiggling a bit more.

“So? Sort yourself out, then,” said Thomas. The thought of Jimmy wanking while they were like this made him buck his hips unintentionally, pressing even more along the end of Jimmy’s spine.

Jimmy inhaled like he were about to say something more, but stopped himself. More wiggling. “Ah, fuck,” he sighed. After a few more moments’ intermittent rubbing, Jimmy let go of Thomas’s hand.

It took Thomas a bit to realise he was actually doing it. Jimmy’s breathing was laboured, he arm moving quickly back and forth. Thomas grabbed his hips and ground into him, sandwiching his cock between the top of Jimmy’s arse and his own belly.

“Do you have- hah- tissues somewhere?” Jimmy panted.

Thomas let go, reaching back for the box on his side, then brought a few tissues under the blankets for Jimmy.

Jimmy thanked him with more movement, his back arching. He whined as Thomas took hold of him again, guiding him where he needed him. “That’s it, Thomas. Please. Please!”

“Please what?” Thomas groaned against his neck.

“Hah- Don’t let go. Please. Oh, God!”

They both came at practically the same time, Thomas possibly a bit later. It all blurred together really.

“Fuck.”

Thomas listened to their combined breathing, eyes closed and suddenly aware of the sweat clinging to his back. After a bit of reflection, he took the opportunity to squeeze Jimmy’s arse. He’d been thinking about that since their first encounter. His skin was so smooth.

Jimmy cleared his throat, bringing Thomas back to the present. “Are you… Can we agree to let that happen again?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m not opposed,” Thomas said, confused at his wording.

“What I mean is…I don’t think I can stand not having sex with you the rest of this week.”

Thomas laughed. “No, I think that would be unnecessarily torturous.” He slid his hand across Jimmy’s belly again, letting it dip into his pubic hair. Unfortunately, he kept it trimmed, or Thomas would’ve grabbed a handful of it. “God, Jimmy,” he sighed contentedly.

Jimmy stretched, his arse sticking to Thomas’s pyjama trousers somewhat.

“Should I go have a shower?” Thomas wondered aloud.

“No. It’s only cum,” said Jimmy, dropping his handful of tissues off the edge of bed to the floor. “Goodnight, Thomas.”

“‘Night.”

***

“I think you’re insane! But far be it from me to tell you what’s beyond the pale,” Mary said. “Bring him along, I don’t care.”

Thomas pushed the lever down on the toaster, then shifted the phone to his other shoulder so he could use both hands for the eggs. “But…do you think Matthew will mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’d be a fool if I thought I had any say in yours and Mary’s plans,” Matthew said, sounding like he were sitting or standing beside her. “Even if I do think it’s mad.”

“It’s not just mad, it’s completely barmy!” Sybil chimed in from somewhere in the room. “But I’m sure we can all get on.”

“I want to meet him properly!” said Tom.

It hadn’t occurred to Thomas that they would all be there listening, but he was in too good a mood to feel any particular way about it. ”Oh, well, so long as we’re all in agreement,” he said, smiling to himself.

“What are you doing?” Jimmy asked, coming in behind him, shirtless and freshly bathed.

“Right, I suppose I—or we—will see you later. Bye.” Thomas ended the call and put his phone in his pocket. “What’s it look like? I’m making breakfast.”

He took something from his shoulder Thomas had thought was a towel and put it on, revealing it to be a t-shirt. “Do you do this every day?”

Thomas turned back to the eggs. “No.”

“So you’re making breakfast for me.”

“So what if I am?”

Jimmy stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s waist, resting his chin on Thomas’s shoulder. “You know nobody’s ever made me breakfast before? Or lunch for that matter,” he said. “Not counting Mum or Lisa, of course.”

That went to Thomas’s head like strong drink. “Well…”

“Who were you talking to?”

“Hm? Oh, just Lady Mary,” Thomas answered, no clue why he’d suddenly included her title. “If…you’d like to, we can go on a triple date tonight. Mary, Matthew, Sybil, Tom, you, and me.”

He could feel a smile spread across Jimmy’s face. “Like an actual date? With your not-gay friends? Like we’re really together?”

“We are really together,” Thomas corrected. “It’s temporary, not pretend, remember?”

“Right. Right you are, Thomas.” He squeezed Thomas’s midsection, then went off into another room. “Where are we going?” he shouted.

“Up to Downton Abbey. They’re lighting the big tree and giving tea in the library.” Thomas transferred the eggs to a plate. “The date part is drinks and charades afterwards.”

Jimmy returned wearing one of Thomas’s jackets off the hooks in the hall. “Isn’t that…sort of intimate?”

“Not really. Loads of people from the village come up for it every year. I used to work it—serving tea and all that. When we get tired of the crowd, we go to the billiard room and drink.”

Jimmy frowned. “Have you brought other blokes before?”

“I haven’t had any other blokes,” Thomas said, trying to make it sound lighthearted. “Not since I got to know Mary, anyway.”

Jimmy frowned some more. “What did you do, then? Hang around as the fifth wheel?”

“Well, Mary and Matthew are only recently married. She and I were a team for years, and it were just the four of us. But we used to play bridge,” Thomas explained.

“You are such a toff,” Jimmy said, shaking his head as he tried random drawers looking for silverware.

Thomas rolled his eyes, though he knew how it sounded. “The point is, Matthew hasn’t joined us until this year, either, so it won’t be like you’re intruding.”

“Right.”

Somehow, they found themselves eating in front of the toaster from the same plate rather than sitting down anywhere. Thomas kept looking at his jacket, slightly oversized on Jimmy and hanging lopsidedly from his left shoulder. Did he do things like this with Lady Anstruther? They’d gone to the Christmas market together, obviously, but Jimmy hadn’t been enjoying himself.

In spite of how deranged Jimmy could be and the whole scenario they’d placed themselves in, Thomas found himself wanting to make Jimmy feel loved. He would be a proper boyfriend, and he would make their first ‘date’ a success, he decided.

***

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Jimmy grumbled as they waited for Lord and Lady Grantham to turn the lights on. “It’s only a blooming tree, in someone else’s house no less.”

They were surrounded by people who’d all come to see the spectacle and get a free look inside the house. Normally, they sold tickets for this sort of thing—and they would do for the next couple days. But there wasn’t much going on in the village itself besides the parade, so the Crawleys provided. If he were honest and didn’t have the connections he did, Thomas would’ve just as soon stayed home.

Jimmy had worn his own clothes to the affair, although Thomas would’ve liked seeing him out in one of his jumpers. But, the cable knit, layered number he had on suited him.

He didn’t look around much at the hall. Perhaps he was used to grand interiors, having lived in Lady Anstruther’s various houses for who could say how long. Thomas began to wonder if that wasn’t what had him in this mood…

Lord Grantham finally gave his little speech that he gave every year, then Lady Grantham gave her part and flipped the switch. The crowd applauded the thousands of twinkling lights, artfully arranged by the decorating staff. Meanwhile, Thomas put his arm loosely around Jimmy.

“What?” Jimmy whispered.

“Nothing. I was just putting my arm around you,” Thomas said, hoping it weren’t a misstep.

Jimmy seemed to think about it for a while, his gaze remaining on the tree. Then, he uncrossed his arms and pulled Thomas’s around to hold his hand instead.

Then the carolling started.

“Do we have to stay for this?” Jimmy whinged.

Thomas was struck by the realisation that this was what he sounded like to other people. He wasn’t annoyed by the Christmas spirit for once, but he would’ve been asking Mary the same thing if he were standing next to her instead of Jimmy.

In fact, he did say as much the first time he’d attended as a guest rather than a modern-day footman. Why wasn’t he annoyed? Where had his grinchliness gone?

“You don’t like Christmas carols?” he asked.

“Not without a drink in me hand.”

Thomas looked to Mary, who was positively beaming as she sang along with her husband. Was that what he wanted?

He pulled Jimmy along by his hand, heading for the door by the stairs.

After sneaking through the museum in the old servants’ area, then through one of the employee-only doors, he found the back entrance where he used to go for a smoke. He let go of Jimmy to pull out his cigarettes, stealing glances at him to see his reaction.

“Are we allowed out here?” he asked, though he didn’t look too concerned.

“Probably not. But if they want us out, they’ll have Lady Mary to contend with.”

Jimmy smiled to himself, and plucked a fag from Thomas’s pack once it was offered. “So you met…S-“

“Sybil?” Thomas lit Jimmy’s, then his own.

“Sybil, yeah. You met Sybil at work? Like, when you were working here?” He indicated the house with the tip of his cigarette.

“No. We were in the army together, actually,” Thomas explained.

Jimmy frowned. “The army?”

Thomas nodded. “I joined up with the RAMC when I was 19.”

“What for?”

“I…” Thomas took a drag, giving himself time to plan how to say it without sounding like the delinquent he was. “I stole from my family’s shop. Frequently.”

Jimmy blinked at him.

“Eventually, my dad gave me the option of enlisting, or he would report me to the police. So I enlisted. Stayed in four years, did my reserves, and then I was free.”

“You were in for four years?”

“They give you 90 days to back out, after that you’re locked in for a minimum of four years. Then you’re on call for another six.”

Jimmy looked a bit distressed.

“Unless you join at 16–then you’re stuck until you turn 22,” Thomas added.

That didn’t help.

“It’s alright,” Thomas assured him. “I made it.”

“Yeah, but…my dad didn’t.”

He felt the blood drain from from his face once that sunk in. “I-I’m sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t know.”

Jimmy shook his head. “It’s just, I can’t imagine you doing that. I get you didn’t have a choice, but…”

“Well…that’s why I picked nursing,” Thomas offered, attempting to shift to something marginally more positive. “So did Sybil. That’s how we met.”

“Why did she join up then? Isn’t she that Earl’s daughter, too?” Jimmy asked, pointing in the general direction of the hall.

Thomas shrugged. “Teenage rebellion?” But that felt wrong. “Actually, she wanted to help people. She thought if she just went to school or joined some other organisation, they would give her special treatment. And she’s still a nurse now—civilian—but she’s been part time since she had her daughter.”

Seeming sufficiently distracted from that horrid pit Thomas had plunged them into, Jimmy held his cigarette between his lips and rubbed some heat into his hands, stepping a bit closer to Thomas in the process. “Why aren’t you still a nurse?” he asked.

“After I left, that’s when I got the idea to run my own business. I didn’t want to be so consumed by my job all the time. Tried and failed at that a couple times, but Sybil got me a job here in-between. Eventually, I found some success with photography.”

“What else did you try?”

Thomas smiled sheepishly. “Well, a pyramid scheme to start.”

Jimmy gave him a funny look, but then Thomas’s phone buzzed and they were summoned back up to the festivities.

***

“Well, I can see why,” said Matthew, perhaps not realising they were in Thomas’s earshot.

Mary scoffed. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not saying I would do it! I just think it’s understandable...when one is single and gets a proposition from someone who looks like that.”

Thomas didn’t know how to feel about that. Matthew was right, on the one hand; Thomas was at the mercy of his self-indulgence, and Jimmy was very attractive. But it wasn’t just that. He’d felt something for Jimmy—felt obligated to show him what sort of life he could have...with Thomas.

No, not obligated. He wanted to do it. He wanted Jimmy to see him in that light.

Thomas pursed his lips. He didn’t particularly want to consider the deeper motivations he’d had for agreeing to be Jimmy’s temporary boyfriend. That would require reckoning with his own mental state, and he was at a Christmas event.

“Maybe he just makes him happy,” he heard Tom suggest. “He’s done worse.”

“God, the queue is unimaginable. Here you go,” Jimmy whinged, handing Thomas his paper cup of Downton’s non-alcoholic answer to mulled wine. He must have caught a glimpse of Thomas’s face before he’d schooled it, because then he asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Thomas lied. “Just daydreaming.”

Jimmy watched him for a moment before pulling a couple celophane-wrapped slices of cake from his pocket. “Chocolate or sponge?”

“Halvsies?” Thomas suggested.

Smirking, Jimmy opened the chocolate slice and broke it roughly in two.

They had their cake and sipped their drinks, then Mary came to collect them for charades. Thomas was feeling a bit nervous about it if he were honest. What if it was terribly awkward?

With Thomas and Jimmy bringing up the rear, they all walked over to the billiard room, where Thomas got to work preparing their traditional hellish cocktails with Lord Grantham’s lineup of sophisticated liquors. Jimmy, not really one to be a wallflower, introduced himself properly to Mary, Sybil, and Tom. He used his full name, too, Thomas noted.

“Matthew Crawley, Mary’s husband,” Matthew said when it was his turn. “You and I will be the newbies tonight.” He turned to Mary. “Might we start our education with another explanation of why, exactly, we’re meant to start off with mystery concoctions?”

“Because it always turns into mystery concoctions, so we decided to start there and get it out of the way,” Mary explained.

Thomas brought the tray ‘round, stopping for Sybil first so her mocktail didn’t get switched.

“Three cheers for breastfeeding,” she joked. “I’ll be enjoying my one drink, thank you.”

Once everyone had their glass, Thomas watched Jimmy swirl the orange liquid around in his. “Is it going to be, like...orange juice and crème de menthe?” Jimmy wondered.

“That’d be telling,” said Thomas with a smirk. “Besides, that would turn brown, wouldn’t it?”

“To new beginnings,” Tom said, raising his glass.

They all followed suit, and took a sip.

“It is orange juice and crème de menthe,” Jimmy whined, wiping his mouth.

“White crème de menthe,” Thomas corrected gleefully, in spite of the flavours coating his mouth.

Jimmy took the rest of it like a shot, holding his nose.

“Well, that will wake us up,” Mary said.

“Is mine orange juice with toothpaste?” Sybil asked, examining her glass.

“Only on the rim.” Thomas brandished the travel size tube he’d brought from home.

“That’s diabolical,” Matthew laughed.

After preparing fresh drinks, they arranged their chairs around the fireplace and got to the business of splitting into two teams.

“I think it should be partner against partner,” Mary said. “Sybil, Thomas, and I; Tom, Jimmy, and Matthew.”

“That’s not fair! You and Thomas share a brain,” Matthew argued. “And Sybil’s your sister, and she’ll be sober.”

“I think it’s fair,” said Sybil. “I’ve never been very good at charades, and Mary’s too impatient.”

“I don’t know where you get the idea we share a brain. Thomas and I are two completely different people!”

Matthew scoffed. “You had a perfect score at the newlywed game when we all played for charity two years ago.”

“Why don’t we just draw straws?” Tom suggested, going over to the bar cart to prepare them. When he returned, they each drew one and split into a short straw team and a long straw team.

Thomas, Jimmy, and Matthew drew short straws.

“Do you think this is fairer?” Jimmy asked Matthew once they’d split off to write their prompts.

“That depends. How are you at charades?”

“We’ll be fine,” Thomas assured. “Nobody in this room’s a crack player.”

“Speak for yourself!” said Jimmy.

They filled their buckets and reconvened, then the two people on the ends of the semi-circle—Thomas and Sybil—drew straws again. Thomas drew the short straw, so he picked a prompt from the bucket Tom held out for him.

When Harry Met Sally. Christ.

Thomas passed the paper to Sybil and waited for Mary to start the timer. They got through the first bit—movie, four words, second word.

Thomas pulled at his earlobe.

“Sounds like,” Jimmy and Matthew said at once.

Thomas sacrificed his hairdo, shaking it all out to the tune of Mary’s barely-stifled laughter.

“Crazy,” Matthew tried. “Frustrated.”

Thomas shook his head. What else could he do? Ah. He indicated two syllables and pulled the collar of his shirt down enough to reveal his chest hair. He wasn’t exactly a bear, but surely...

“Hair- Hairy. Harry!” Jimmy guessed, and Thomas touched the tip of his nose.

Good God, this is embarrassing. Thomas held up one finger, then pointed to his watch.

“When Harry Met Sally,” Jimmy guessed again before Matthew could even open his mouth.

Thomas indicated Jimmy was correct and sat back down while Matthew patted Jimmy’s shoulder congratulatorily. They watched as Sybil pantomimed The Nutcracker, then it was Jimmy’s turn.

He picked his prompt, giggled, and gave them their initial clues: movie, one word, three syllables. Then he did a pose a bit like Christ on the cross, which completely threw Matthew. He flapped his arms a bit, but that didn’t help. So, he changed tack and pulled off his shirt and jumper, sending the other team into hysterics. He then got down on the floor, reclining in a very particular pose.

“Titanic,” Thomas said, it all suddenly making sense.

Jimmy jumped to his feet, finger on his nose and beautiful grin across his face.

***

“Goodnight!” Sybil called out the driver’s side window as Thomas and Jimmy helped each other to Thomas’s front door across uneven pavement and patches of ice.

Thomas unlocked it, and Sybil drove off, leaving them alone. They made it to the stairs before Jimmy wrapped himself around Thomas, kissing him sloppily.

Why didn’t I agree to this sooner? I mean, I agreed when he asked, but I could’ve suggested it ages ago, Thomas thought.

Jimmy pulled back to look at him. “We make a good team, you and me,” he said.

“We do,” said Thomas.

They’d lost track of the score somewhere along the way, but they’d won as far as Thomas was concerned. Even Matthew had scored them a few points.

“What do you want to do now?” Thomas asked, his nose brushing against Jimmy’s.

“Let’s go upstairs and fuck until we fall asleep.”

Thomas laughed, but agreed and followed Jimmy up. They made it as far as taking their clothes off and getting in bed before deciding they were too tired and going to sleep.

Chapter Text

Thomas poured just a splash more cream into his tea before he really buckled in for his daily sudoku. Jimmy was still in bed as they’d come in quite drunk, and he wasn’t much of a morning person.

Or so Thomas thought.

“Put that down,” Jimmy ordered, walking into the kitchen just then, wearing Thomas’s jacket again.

Thomas put his teacup back on its saucer. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep any longer.” Jimmy came around behind him like he had the day before. “Kept thinking about you down here. Thought I’d come fuck you while it were still dark out.”

Before Thomas could process that sentence, Jimmy had his hand in his trousers. “Jesus Christ,” he spluttered, bending over the bench top automatically as Jimmy grabbed hold of his cock. He felt his face turning red, an excited grin going along with it.

“I watched this movie when I were younger...a bloke’s brother comes to stay with him and his wife, and the brother comes into the kitchen in the middle of the night. The wife’s just there, and they’ve had chemistry this whole time, you know. So they fuck right then and there.”

Thomas pushed his cup and puzzle book out of the way. He tried to make sense of it all, having now been deprived of caffeine. He ended up closing his eyes and resting his head on his arms.

“I always thought that was hot, but...sometimes I’d imagine it were the other bloke he found in the kitchen,” Jimmy continued.

“His brother?”

“No!” Jimmy insisted, his hand faltering a bit. “I mean, yeah, I guess, but I weren’t thinking about them like that. Shut up.”

“Sorry,” Thomas chuckled. “You were saying?”

He heard Jimmy sigh. “The point is, I liked the idea of it—two men, just…shagging out in the open. Anybody could walk in.”

Thomas could feel Jimmy against him. He was already imagining it himself, although he refrained from pointing out it was just the two of them in the flat. “Because they were blokes, or because they might be caught?” he wondered aloud.

Jimmy didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed Thomas’s pants and trousers down with his free hand.

“I used to think about that sort of thing, too. No romance, nobody knew about it and the two of them never discussed it, sometimes to the point it was almost non-consensual. Did you ever see Brokeback Mountain?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t think I even knew what sex was when that came out.”

“Yeah, I were around 15 or 16.”

Jimmy let go of him in favour of running his hands along his arse and thighs. He took a step back to do it, taking the feeling of his hard cock away from Thomas. “Actually, I remember that now,” he said, his kneading feeling thoughtful, “because me parents came home early and nearly caught me wanking in front of the telly.”

Thomas would’ve laughed, but he’d gotten himself caught up in the memory. He also figured he knew why that’d happened. “People didn’t know what it were about before they went to see it. I didn’t, either, but I took every opportunity I could to get out of the house. Thankfully I went alone, or I might not’ve seen the whole thing. That’s how I knew I was gay—really knew.”

“I’ve never actually seen it. All I know is they’re gay cowboys.”

That was probably for the best. It was much too sad a topic for the present situation. “Maybe we can watch it together sometime. But, don’t let me distract you.”

“Right. I’m fucking you in the kitchen,” Jimmy said, one hand pulling away from Thomas’s arse. Then the other stilled and his voice got quieter. “Can I fuck you in the kitchen?”

Thomas snorted. “Yes. Thank you for asking.”

He smacked his little bottle of lube onto the bench and resumed his kneading, though it was a little rougher now.

“Don’t forget to grease the dish, ducky,” Thomas said, smirking to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s Polari. ‘Grease the dish’ means to put lube on someone’s arsehole.” He’d only said it to amuse himself, but it also served as a test to see if Jimmy had been paying attention to the documentaries they’d watched the night before last.

And, surprisingly, he had. “You mean like…that secret code?”

Thomas hummed.

“You know how to speak it?”

“A little. It’s not like I ever really used it.”

Jimmy’s strangely endless massage transformed into something rather more gentle—a caress, if you will. It was no longer the quick, forbidden fuck he’d promised.

Finally, he picked the bottle up again, spreading a lukewarm glob of it all around. It felt like he’d never done it before, which didn’t make sense because he definitely had, at least to himself. He started with his middle finger, hesitant where he didn’t need to be.

His other hand, previously resting on Thomas’s lower back, moved around to his front. It was his left, making his light tugging a bit awkward, and he kept switching his grip on Thomas’s cock.

Thomas pressed his forehead into his wrist, toes curling in his socks in spite of Jimmy’s clumsiness. It was so…endearing. Something told him Jimmy wouldn’t like being thought of as cute.

“You’re so easy,” Jimmy mumbled, bringing Thomas back to the present.

“Thanks. I try.”

“The first few times I tried this, I couldn’t get it. It took me two weeks to get that unicorn horn in me.”

“Being relaxed makes a huge difference.”

“I thought I was…” Jimmy eased another finger in, which only served to make Thomas realise he was already up to three.

It must’ve felt satisfactory to him, as he took his left hand away and started faffing about with something, presumably his own cock. After a bit of that, he slid his fingers out, replacing them with the floppy tip of his sheathed prick.

It made Thomas smile uncontrollably. This was meant to be impromptu, and yet he’d still brought the whole kit. It was more maturity than Thomas would have previously expected from him.

Then again, maybe he’d learned the hard way.

Jimmy’s hand returned to Thomas’s back as he slowly guided himself in. “Fucking hell,” he moaned.

“Are you alright?” Thomas laughed, making a lazy attempt at looking over his shoulder at him.

After a long, deep sigh, Jimmy said, “You feel like… Fuck, you feel like- I don’t know what.”

“Never heard my arse described quite like that before.”

“I mean it,” he whined. “Good God, Thomas.”

“I’m glad you like it. I like it, too,” Thomas admitted. He wanted to move, to push against Jimmy, but Jimmy’s description of the movie scene they were recreating led him to believe he should let him do what he wanted.

His hands moving to Thomas’s hips, Jimmy pressed himself the rest of the way in. Thomas could feel him breathing as he leaned forward. Then he drew back, and thrust in again quicker and harder—hard enough to knock Thomas forward and cause his cock to smack the side of the cabinet he was bent over. It was an odd feeling to say the least.

He braced himself properly for the next one.

“Sorry,” Jimmy said, attempting to be a bit gentler.

“No, it’s alright. Hard as you like.”

“Really?”

Thomas hummed in response. Why did it seem like this was Jimmy’s first time topping? Well, maybe it was. Thomas tried not to think anymore.

Unsurprisingly, Jimmy didn’t last very long. He shuddered to a halt, his breathing heavy and grip tight on Thomas’s hips. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned.

Thomas pictured the scene from an outside point-of-view. He didn’t think he could cum from just his imagination, but he felt like he could in that moment.

He didn’t get much time to try, though, because Jimmy pulled out, tossed his condom in the bin behind them, and turned Thomas around. “Blimey, you’re hard,” he mumbled, on his knees with Thomas’s cock on his lips in a matter of seconds.

He might’ve said something sarcastic, but Thomas was at once lost in the bliss of all his dreams coming true. That’s what it felt like, anyway.

Good God!

“Jimmy,” Thomas groaned, that being all he could get out.

Jimmy paid most of his attention to the last inch of Thomas’s cock, swirling his tongue around and around it, his lips forming a seal. The rest he pumped by hand, the other fiddling with all the rest of Thomas’s bits in succession. Jimmy’s mouth and right hand never really deviated at all; something about it gave Thomas the distinct sensation that he was more used to giving head to women than men…not that he would know from personal experience. In fact, why the fuck would he think that?

Thomas threw his head back and let the pressure build, willing himself not to think yet again as his hands gripped the edge of the bench. But it was the feeling of his own jacket sleeves brushing against his thighs that sent him over the edge, conjuring images of Jimmy wearing it around the house, taking it off in the bedroom when it were time to change. “Ah-hah!” Thomas panted, cumming into Jimmy’s mouth.

Once he’d come down a bit, he opened his eyes and looked down at Jimmy, who was looking up at him. Then he made a show of swallowing like he’d been waiting for Thomas to see he’d done it.

Should he tell him he was a good boy? What was he meant to do with that? “You didn’t have to do that,” Thomas said.

Jimmy pulled himself to his feet by Thomas’s hips, keeping his hands on them once he was up. “I never liked it when…people were in a hurry to spit it out. But I don’t like when they muck about with it either—drooling and all that.”

“Well, what if I like to see it all over?” Thomas teased.

But Jimmy didn’t pick up on it. There was the smallest hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Thomas back-pedalled. “I’m joking. I was being sarcastic. I don’t have a preference.” He ran his hands up Jimmy’s arms, but it didn’t seem to be enough to fix it. Barely a second had passed. He felt like an actual arsehole. “I’m sorry,” he said, hoping a few kisses would make Jimmy happy. But the sliver of disappointment hadn’t gone once he’d done it. “You’re wonderful. I loved it. I love y-“

He froze. He’d gotten carried away. Why had he said that?!

There was nothing Thomas could turn it into that would make it sound like he hadn’t just said ‘I love you.’ Jimmy was going to think he was insane! They’d only known each other a few weeks!

Fuck!

“You what?” Jimmy’s expression was a mix of confusion and amusement.

The blood that had drained from Thomas’s face was rapidly returning to make him look like a ripe tomato. Did Jimmy think he was serious? It…it was true, but he couldn’t just say that! Oh, God, in less than thirty seconds, he’d gone from a pleasant post-cum conversation, to being an arsehole, to being a clingy fruitcake!

A knock on the door sent them scrambling for their trousers—thank God. If it were sufficiently distracting, Jimmy might forget it all and Thomas would be saved. He needed that to happen.

Once they’d both righted themselves, Thomas went to answer it, his chest tight.

“I thought you’d be up,” Mary said cheerily yet ominously. “There’s an emergency and we’re in need of your services.”

Thomas’s stomach did somersaults until he finally realised she meant she wanted him to take pictures. “I thought you hired a landscape photographer…”

“We did, and she’s been stuck in New York for two days while her flights keep getting cancelled,” she explained. “Why are you all sweaty?”

“I was exercising,” he lied.

“Well…you can have a shower later. Say goodbye to Jimmy. We need you at the house.” She waved him forward impatiently. “I’ll be in the car where it’s warm.”

Thomas watched her go back down the steps, then shut the door. He turned, finding Jimmy there behind him.

“Was that Mary?” he asked, any indication he was still thinking about the previous incident gone from his face.

Thomas thought he might need to start attending church again...or perhaps swear his life to Mary in gratitude. “Yeah. Her family was going to have photos taken of the grounds and the decorations before they set up for the tours this afternoon.” It was a horrible time for him to have to come up with plans on the spot, much less a way to tell Jimmy he had to abandon him for a gig.

“Why didn’t they hire you from the start?”

Thomas smiled wryly. “They have a usual photographer for these things, and they started long before I did, so…”

Shifting his weight to his other foot, Jimmy seemed to understand the situation. “Can I bring you lunch, then? Or coffee, or summat. You know, like-“

“Yes,” Thomas said, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I’d like that.”

They stood awkwardly for a few moments more. It felt like aeons.

“I should…change and get my kit,” Thomas announced, indicating the stairs.

Jimmy stepped out of the way. “Right. Yeah.”

Climbing the stairs carefully—apparently his legs had gone a bit wobbly without him realising—Thomas attempted to pull himself together. Then he stopped halfway and turned back toward Jimmy. “Make yourself at home, by the way,” he said.

Jimmy gave a tight smile and nodded.

***

Thomas performed well under pressure, and the task took his mind off...things. Mary absolutely knew something had happened, though.

She very politely waited until they were walking alone to the secret garden before asking after it. “Did you and Jimmy have a row of some sort? Why are you acting so strangely?”

“No,” Thomas muttered. She wouldn’t balk at hearing the whole thing; they’d gone with Sybil to a convention once and sat through a presentation on cunnilingus they’d accidentally wandered into together. But they’d never discussed their actual sex lives before. “It’s nothing.”

Mary sighed. “Thomas-”

“Don’t take my arm and call me darling. I’m not in the mood,” he warned. “I embarrassed myself, alright? And you don’t want to know the whole story, so don’t ask.”

“Well now I have to hear it,” she said.

“You don’t, actually.”

Mary stopped short of the archway so Thomas could take a picture without footprints in the dusting of snow. “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you cum prematurely? Is that it? A sudden bout of erectile dysfunction?”

Thomas felt his face heat despite the cold and wind. He lined up a shot of the glasshouse. “No.”

“Don’t make me keep guessing.”

“I said…” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “’I love you.’ It was an accident.” That wasn’t the whole story, of course, but Thomas was determined to keep the rest to himself.

Mary was almost speechless. For a handful of blessed seconds, she had no words. The peace ended swiftly. “To a man whose surname you only found out a few weeks ago?” she said. “Although I don’t know why I’m shocked; you invited him to live with you.”

“Like you’ve never said the wrong thing?”

“Actually, I’m quite well spoken,” she answered, scoffing.

He wouldn’t admit the truth, not even to Mary. He walked on toward the gate. “I change my mind. I had a sudden bout of ED.”

She followed, trotting to keep up in her impractical skirt; they were doing portraits later. “What did he say?”

“About my prick not working? He fucked me up the arse and all was right with the world.”

“About you confessing your love.”

The dirt path was all mud, which Thomas discovered by nearly falling in it. “Bloody- We didn’t have a discussion, Mary. I said it, it was awkward, and then you swooped in and saved me. That’s all.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” she asked, stopping at the edge of the pavers and dispensing with her teasing.

“I don’t know him. You said so yourself.”

“No...but you’re quite...emotionally adept for a man,” she said. “That’s something I admire about you. You know your own feelings, even if they are ill-advised.”

Thomas looked back at her. She was making her best attempt at softness, which Thomas had to give her credit for. Perhaps he ought to show his belly a bit, too. “I do like him.” He turned back to the task of taking a picture of the dormant flower bushes along the path. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I’ve enjoyed these last two days.”

“Are you thinking of extending the terms of your arrangement?”

Snapping one last picture, Thomas imagined having Jimmy living with him indefinitely. He knew things were new and novel, and they would likely settle down with time, but the thought of coming home to Jimmy was a heady one. He was a model who was used to cumming at least twice a day; it was all the makings of pure heaven.

Perhaps Jimmy’s sensibilities were rubbing off on him. He reminded himself that Jimmy and he also got on quite well...most of the time. And Thomas wanted nothing more than to show Jimmy exactly how much better a life with him would be compared to that with Lady Anstruther.

He started back toward Mary and the safety of firm ground. “I wouldn’t be opposed. But it’s up to him.”

“Well…” She held out her hand once he reached the spot he’d slipped before, keeping him steady as he crossed it. “It’s your life and no one else’s. Let’s go back. We should be ready for our family photo by now.”

***

“Thomas,” Lady Grantham said, pulling him aside before he could put the lens cap on. “While your here, I’d love to have some pictures taken of the baby. Sybil was telling me how hard it is to remember to take them, so I’d like to surprise her and Tom with something. You can add it to our invoice, of course.”

“Ah- Certainly. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” she said, sounding relieved. “Tom just took her up to the nursery to warm up, so we’ll sneak up there when he’s not looking.”

Thomas nodded and watched her go to clue her husband in on the scheme. Figuring it was a good time to swap cards, he dug for a spare in his bag. As he searched, he heard something like a bicycle bell ringing and turned toward the sound.

It was a bicycle bell. Jimmy had ridden all the way up to the house despite the cold and the rank full of taxis waiting to take people up from the village. He stopped beside Thomas and pulled one of Thomas’s rucksacks off his back. “’Morning,” he said, squinting against the sun.

In addition to the bag and his coat and the jacket underneath it… “Is that my bike?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah. Found it under the stairs.” Before Thomas could answer, Jimmy kissed him, making their relationship very unambiguous to everyone else standing in the drive. And it was more than a quick peck. “Hope you don’t mind,” Jimmy said once he broke it off.

Mind? Why would Thomas mind? Mind what? He shook his head.

“I didn’t know Thomas was seeing someone,” he heard Lord Grantham say somewhere behind him.

“Don’t ask,” Mary replied.

Jimmy opened the bag and pulled out takeaway boxes from the café in the village, along with bottled drinks. “I didn’t know what you liked,” he said, offering Thomas his choice.

Thomas didn’t know quite what to say. “When you said you’d bring me lunch, I thought you meant you’d meet me somewhere… You rode all the way up here with that?”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t very far. I used to do deliveries after they sacked me at the hotel.”

“I didn’t know they sacked you,” Thomas said, his mind focusing on the decisions before him. Jimmy seemed to like almost anything, but he did say he drank dry champagne, so Thomas chose the sweeter of the two beverages.

Jimmy smirked and did not elaborate on the sacking. “Thought you’d pick that,” he said. He put the other drink under his arm and examined the boxes. “Food’s the same, but one’s got a couple of brownies in it.”

Thomas suddenly remembered he was meant to be taking pictures of a baby. “Is it hot?” he asked.

“No, sorry. I was afraid it would be ruined by the time I got here without an insulated bag.”

Thank God. “Because I’m not quite finished, unfortunately. I just have to go upstairs for a few more pictures, then I can eat with you.”

Jimmy glanced up at the house for a moment. “Anything I can help with?”

Thomas did his best to temper his reaction as a tingle ran its course across his body. He was so pleased. “I-if you’d like.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s a surprise for Sybil and Tom, so don’t mention it.”

“Right,” Jimmy said, smiling conspiratorially. He popped the boxes back in the bag and followed Thomas, parking the bike by the door.

They waited in the hall for a few moments as Tom descended the stairs and went back outside. Lord and Lady Grantham snuck in just after and motioned for Thomas to follow them upstairs. They found the baby in the nursery with Lady Edith.

“I didn’t think he’d ever leave,” she said. “Sybil will be coming to feed her soon, so we should really get to it.”

Lady Grantham leapt into action. “Robert, you watch the door. I was thinking we could have a few of her playing…”

“She’s sitting up now, so that should be no trouble,” Thomas said, smiling at the baby in Lady Edith’s arms. “Should we put her down on the rug in front of the window and give her some toys?”

Edith hurriedly arranged the girl with a few blocks in the mid-morning light, the crocheted blanket Lady Grantham’d made for Sybil draped around her. She sat up dutifully, her eyes fixed on the stranger in their midst—Jimmy.

Thomas got down to her level as quick as he could. “Jimmy, see if you can draw her attention to the camera,” he said. “She’s watching you.”

He felt Jimmy get down behind him, presumably pulling some sort of face as the baby started to smile. It was perfect, really. Thomas hadn’t done many baby portraits, but he heard it could be gruelling work. But Jimmy made for a natural assistant.

Checking his shots, Thomas picked out a good one to show Lady Grantham.

“Oh, Thomas, that’s absolutely darling!” she said, hand clasped to her chest.

“Sybil’s going to love it!” Edith added.

Lord Grantham opened the door a crack. “They’ve all come in downstairs. Have you got it?”

“Robert, come look at this!”

When everyone had finished cooing over the picture, Thomas and Jimmy made a break for the servants’ stairs before Sybil could spot them on the gallery. Unsure of what to do once he’d gotten there, Thomas let muscle memory guide him back to the old spot. They had to slip past the people running the museum and preparing for the paying visitors, but that was easily done.

“You’re good at this sort of thing,” Jimmy said as they stepped out into the storage yard. “Working with kids, I mean.”

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” Thomas finally opened his drink and waited for Jimmy to unpack the boxes. He couldn’t stop himself wondering if Jimmy might want kids someday...with him, perhaps. Then, as soon as he’d thought it, he pushed it to the furthest reaches of his mind.

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of pink gracing Jimmy’s cheeks. “Any idiot can make funny faces at a baby,” he said.

Thomas’s chest felt tight looking at him. How could anyone be so perfect?

“What is it?” Jimmy asked, half-mirroring Thomas’s smile.

He shook himself out of his deranged thoughts and took the box Jimmy was holding out to him. “Nothing. Er, you’re- you make a good assistant, you know?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes as if Thomas were teasing him and opened his box.

***

Thomas rubbed his eyes. He’d been editing for hours on Jimmy’s insistence that he do what he needed to do. He’d gotten quite a lot done, and would be ready to have the surprise picture printed before Christmas. But it was dark by then, and he was exhausted...not to mention having Jimmy downstairs waiting for him was driving him to distraction.

He’d been so helpful today. Bringing Thomas lunch, presumably buying that lunch without so much as suggesting Thomas chip in… He could’ve asked to be reimbursed; Thomas had said he would pay for everything, after all. And then he’d pitched in as Thomas’s assistant, and was now sitting alone while he worked. Thomas hadn’t thought about it in the moment, but why had he done all that? Why was he being so attentive and considerate now, when for all Thomas knew he was quite selfish normally? Did he want something?

No, he couldn’t think like that. And there was no reason to—they were simply having a nice time together. After Christmas, Jimmy would go back to whatever he was doing before, or, hopefully, decide he liked being openly queer and kick Lady Anstruther to the curb.

Oh, but Thomas couldn’t bear the thought of him going back. Surely it must feel natural, being with a man; he had to believe Jimmy would choose him—anyone but her.

He decided to go downstairs before his mind wandered any further.

As he reached approximately the halfway point of the staircase, where his head officially moved to the ground floor, he heard Jimmy switching between programmes. All normal, until he reached the sofa and caught Jimmy hastily wiping at his eyes.

“All finished for the day, then?” he asked, nonchalantly watching football and sounding remarkably fine. Perhaps Thomas had just been imagining things.

“For the day, yes. There’s still some editing to be done, but I’m ahead of schedule.”

Jimmy turned a bit so he was looking directly at Thomas. “Would it be too early to turn in?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t. We were both up before dawn.”

Nodding, Jimmy turned off the telly and started clearing up the coffee table.

Assuming he’d meet him in bed, Thomas got a glass of water and went back up. He sent the edited photo to Lady Grantham for approval while he waited for Jimmy, his nighttime routine being much simpler than Jimmy’s.

A bit of chatting with Mary and her mother later, Jimmy appeared wearing a set of Thomas’s pyjamas. “I nicked these from your drawer. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, already climbing into bed.

“’Course not.” They weren’t so noticeably large on him as Thomas’s jacket, the jacket being a bit worn, but Thomas liked it just as well. The term ‘boyfriend cardigan’ came to mind. He didn’t pay much attention to women’s fashion, though he’d seen enough adverts to know ‘boyfriend’ was a genre of item. Did straight men fancy that sort of thing? While Jimmy looked at his own phone, he sent Mary a message asking, .:do women wear boyfriend cardigans because their boyfriends like seeing them in their clothes?:.

She wrote back straight away, .:I don’t know. I think it’s the opposite. It’s menswear made for women with a price tag to match:. Then, .:M says he would rather I wear my own clothes:.

Hm. So why did Thomas like it so much when Jimmy wore his clothes? Too tired to think much more about it, he put his phone on the bedside table and turned out his lamp.

Once he was on his side, Jimmy had his own lamp off and was wrapping himself around him. He wasn’t asking for anything, Thomas didn’t think, but seemed to be attempting to crawl inside Thomas’s skin. He kissed Thomas’s exposed cheekbone and jaw before burying his face in the crook of Thomas’s neck, his left arm snaking under Thomas’s body to fully encircle him. He even draped one leg over Thomas’s hip.

“Can I help you?” Thomas teased.

“No,” Jimmy mumbled. Then he sighed contentedly and said, “Goodnight, Thomas.”

Thomas smiled to himself. He wanted to call him ‘love’ so terribly, but that was out of the question now. It would sound like an admission rather than a general and colloquial term of endearment. “Goodnight, Jimmy,” he answered instead, and closed his eyes.

***

Thomas sat as his desk yet again. On top of delivering the edited photos, he still had to pick up a nice frame for and print the surprise photo. It was Christmas Eve Eve, after all, and he wanted to have everything done so he could enjoy the holiday with Jimmy.

Thinking of Jimmy made his mind wander from the errant birds he was lassoing. He could be editing pictures of him just then.

He’d handed over the calendar shots to some other editor and, stupidly, binned the originals out of spite. Had Jimmy ever posed nude? Or had he perhaps done porn?

Thomas saved the file and put his head in his hands. Jimmy was downstairs. They’d had sex yesterday. Why was he becoming so obsessed?

Footsteps in the hall snapped him out of it.

“Tea, cream and sugar,” Jimmy said, nudging the door open with his shoulder as he did his best to balance a full cup on a saucer as well as a plate of food. “That’s how you like it, right?”

Thomas’s heart thudded around in his chest like it was going to fall out. He watched Jimmy put his load down on the desk next to his mouse. “What’s that for?” he asked.

Jimmy gave him a funny look. “For you, you nutter. For eating.”

He might’ve just fallen into depression momentarily—he couldn’t be sure—but he said, “Why are you being nice to me?”

Jimmy started to tease him again, but faltered. He looked almost nervous. “What do you mean ‘why’?” he countered.

“I don’t know that I deserve it. And you don’t know me that well.”

Relief, which he covered with laughter… “Don’t be daft!”

He was probably right. He was being stupid. Thomas took a sip of tea—too sweet, not that he would admit it.

“I watched that movie,” Jimmy said, changing the subject. “The one you talked about…Brokeback Mountain.”

So that’s why he looked like he’d been crying the evening before. Maybe he’d figured something out? Thomas could only hope. “You did? What did you think?”

Jimmy shrugged. “Bit soppy, to be honest.”

Thomas smiled into his cup. Of course Jimmy would be dense about it.

“Why did it make you…know? Because you fancied them actors?”

“Because I knew how the characters felt. Not really, I mean—I hadn’t done anything but toss off yet. But I knew I wanted summat I couldn’t have without my whole life falling apart.”

Jimmy pursed his lips. “Did it fall apart—your life? You said you’re estranged from your parents.”

Well… “Not because I came out. They didn’t like it, but me being gay wasn’t what did it.”

“Oh.”

Thomas nibbled on the food a bit, trying to look appreciative. Really, he just wanted to talk with Jimmy, not eat or work. “I- I’m not trying to press you, but why haven’t you talked to your godparents about this sort of thing?” he asked, dipping a biscuit in his tea. “Do you think they would be unsupportive?”

Jimmy went to the old armchair in the corner, falling into it with a sigh. “No. They have a niece who’s transgender or whatever, and they’re fine with that,” he said. “So am I,” he added hastily.

“But?”

“I don’t know. We don’t talk like that. I was doing me GCSEs when Mum died and I went to live with them, so we didn’t exactly bond. I was practically an adult by then.”

Thomas wanted to correct him, say he was still a kid, but he assumed that wouldn’t go over well with Jimmy. “Well, what do you think would happen if you told them you were seeing me? Now that you’re more used to the idea, I mean.”

“Wouldn’t do that,” Jimmy said.

“Hypothetically.”

“Still wouldn’t. It’s not ‘cause you’re a bloke. I haven’t told them about anyone I’ve seen.”

Thomas changed tack. “Alright. Suppose they walked in on us. What do you think would happen?”

Jimmy shrugged. “They’d shut the door and never speak of it.”

This wasn’t going the way Thomas had hoped. Why were they doing this, again? “So, nothing would happen if they knew you fucked other men. You kiss me in front of strangers. What exactly is it that you’re afraid of?” he asked.

“I didn’t come up here for that,” Jimmy groaned. He stood and made for the door, but Thomas caught his wrist.

“Jimmy, love, I didn’t mean owt by it,” he assured him. He cursed himself for calling him that, though. “I’m just trying to understand so I can help you.”

Jimmy didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He blinked several times, something shifting in his demeanor. “Finish up. I’m bored sitting around all on me ownsome,” he said, taking his wrist back and going on out of the office.

***

Jimmy was still a bit cold when they went out to pick up the frame. They walked through the village in silence, and Jimmy split off to go to the pub while Thomas went to the shops.

Things weren’t going well.

Thomas’s fear was that he would have done all this only for Jimmy to cast him off and go right back to Lady Anstruther. He didn’t want that, partly for Jimmy’s sake and partly for his own. He didn’t think he could go back to being by himself all the time.

Of course, how could he possibly expect it to continue? Jimmy should be in London or some other major city, modelling underwear and dipping his toes into acting, not in a tiny Yorkshire village bringing a freelance photographer his tea.

Thomas stopped in front of the wool goods shop, spotting the old mannequins in the front window. It was a Christmas display, with the mannequins dressed in pyjamas and surrounded by wrapped gifts. It gave him an idea.

Entering, he searched for the table that held the pyjama sets. Not the winter flannel sort, though—Thomas was after the viscose and silk blend he’d bought last year. As much as it pained him to do it, he passed up his size and grabbed one smaller in a nice blue. If Jimmy didn’t stay, at least he’d have something to remember Thomas by.

He had the set wrapped and moved on to pick up the frame. By the time he’d finished, he thought Jimmy would’ve been through with the pub. But Thomas had no messages from him. Maybe he’d gone back to the flat?

Downton, again, being a tiny village, Thomas hiked back home to check for Jimmy and hide his gift.

No sign of him. Thomas put on an extra layer under his coat and went back to the pub, where he finally found Jimmy up at the bar.

He was just getting his card back when Thomas walked up, though he had a full pint in front of him. “Hey, you,” Jimmy said, not totally drunk but on the path to it.

Thomas returned Jimmy’s sloppy smile. He was so perfect. How could Thomas ever be cross with him? He reminded himself that it had been the other way around and resolved to gain back any ground he’d lost. “I’m sorry I left you here so long.”

Jimmy checked the time and seemed surprised to find it was nearing evening—evening for winter, that is. “Christ. Where have you been?”

“Here and there. Then I thought you might’ve gone h- er, back to the flat, so I went there first.”

“No, I lost track of time myself,” Jimmy said, pouting. “I suppose you’re here to take me back, then.”

Thomas eyed his pint. “Only if you’re keen to go. I’d hoped to have summat to eat.”

Jimmy smiled again and drank leisurely, like he was savouring the moment now he knew he wasn’t going to be rushed out. “Should we grab a table?” he asked once he’d finished wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Thomas shrugged. He got old Mr. Smith’s attention, then asked Jimmy, “Have you eaten?”

He nodded and got himself up off the stool, but waited for Thomas to put in his order and collect his own pint before walking off. They both took a bench seat in a cosier area of the pub, Jimmy pulling Thomas to sit next to him rather than across.

Then he tried to kiss him, but Thomas automatically pulled away, glancing at one of the old men sitting across the way. He was looking at them.

“What’s the matter?” Jimmy asked. He seemed genuinely concerned at first until he followed Thomas’s line of sight. Then he looked a bit hurt. “Oh, what, I can’t kiss me boyfriend in public now?” he said, directing it squarely at Thomas.

Thomas sighed, his stomach twisting. The old man looked away. “It’s not- it’s not that,” he said quietly, almost muttering it. “It’s just that this isn’t London.”

Jimmy sat back against the worn leather, his shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly. “You’re worried?” he asked, not quite as quietly.

He didn’t understand. Of course, why would he? It was all a big game to him. No, that’s ungenerous. “You never know. And I live here,” Thomas explained.

Someone brought his food ‘round and Thomas picked at it. Jimmy was cross again; he could feel it.

Then Jimmy took one of his chips.

“You know how people tell you when you’re growing up to just be yourself?” he asked.

Thomas smiled sadly. “I suppose.”

Another chip. “Do you ever feel like you don’t know who you are, so you couldn’t possibly be that person?”

He meant himself? Thomas had been sure Jimmy was about to chide him for caring what other people thought. He didn’t know what to say.

“I guess you wouldn’t. You’re so sure of yourself all the time,” Jimmy continued.

“I-I’m not. Not really, not underneath.”

He looked morose. “But you’ve known since you were fifteen! You’re sure about that.”

Thomas put a hand on Jimmy’s knee under the table, trying to be comforting. “Because there was never any other way! Even when I were little, I thought I’d be alone the rest of my life. There was never a question of what I felt about that. It just was, and I could hide it forever or embrace it. If it’s not like that for you, then that’s fine. It’s normal.”

Jimmy shook his head, then took to staring intently at his beer. “I came here thinking you would help me make sense of all this in me head, but I just feel even more confused every day.”

“Why?” Thomas asked. He pushed past the fear of pressing too much again and added, “I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

With a look up at the old man, Jimmy shook his head again. “Not here,” he said, nicking a third chip. “You’re nothing like her, you know. She doesn’t fancy owt but…” he gestured to his chest, “this broody, manly thing. She likes when I play hard to get.”

“And what do you fancy?”

He took a deep breath and a long drink. “Suppose I like it, too. But not with blokes.”

Thomas resolved to finish his meal so they could go home and talk openly, though he left half the chips for last in case Jimmy wanted more.

He watched him drinking out of the corner of his eye. How many had he had? They were cheap at the Arms, but the pyjamas weren’t. And he wouldn’t be paid in full until he delivered the files and framed photo tomorrow. And Lady Grantham would write him a cheque. Suppose Jimmy wanted to go galavanting before their time together was up…?

But, hold on, he’d paid, hadn’t he? Why else would Mr. Smith have had his card?

They took their last gulps and Jimmy shoved the remaining three chips in his mouth at once, then they went back to the bar. Just as Thomas thought, it was just his he had to pay for. He’d said he would pay and Jimmy had already bought their breakfast the day before; why wouldn’t he wait?

Or maybe he had, and it had just been so long he thought Thomas had abandoned him. That didn’t feel good to think about.

“What do you fancy, Thomas?” Jimmy asked once they were out on the street. It wasn’t far to the flat, but it had gotten colder.

Thomas walked close to him. “How do you mean?”

“How do you like your men?”

God. Just like you, he thought. Maybe with a bit less reticence. “Ah. As Mary says, ‘I like them handsome.’”

“But that’s not all,” Jimmy protested. “And where do you get off bringing her up, anyway? Is she your best mate?”

Thomas scoffed. “Are you seriously still jealous?”

“I weren’t before!”

“Yes you were! And you are now, too!”

“Is she?” Jimmy repeated insistently.

“She’s one of them, yes,” Thomas said. “I don’t really think of it that way.”

“What way?”

“Best mates. They’re all my mates, some closer than others, but none of them best. I’ve never had an abundance such that I had to single one out.”

Jimmy stuffed his hand in the pocket with Thomas’s, interlacing their fingers in Thomas’s warmth. “You’re daft.”

“Well, who’s yours, oh gregarious one?”

He went silent, but it didn’t feel like Thomas had made a mistake; he was embarrassed. His face was turning red, though he tried to hide it by looking in the opposite direction. When he looked back, he was doing his best not to smile. “I’ll only tell you if you promise not to laugh,” he said.

“Promise,” Thomas answered.

He looked away again, his hand squeezing Thomas’s all the while. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “You.”

“Me?!”

“You promised!” Jimmy remind him, though Thomas wasn’t laughing.

“Do you not know anyone else?” Thomas asked, his mouth left open at the shock. It was amusing, but it also made Thomas’s heart hurt.

“Not really,” Jimmy admitted. “Not anyone I like better. I know I haven’t known you long-“

“Yeah.”

“But neither have you. And you still…”

Thomas wasn’t sure if he went red or white. He looked down at the pavement in front of them. “But that’s me. You should have friends all over,” he said, half-hearted and mortified.

“So-“ he cut himself off instantly. Then he started something different, softer this time, “You know I’ve lived with her six years? And she’s never said it.”

“Have you?”

“No. But that’s not what she wants. And I don’t.”

“You don’t…?”

“Love her.”

Thomas couldn’t say he was sad at that. In fact, he could’ve guessed. If only Jimmy would break it off for good.

They reached Thomas’s front door and Thomas pulled out his keys with his free hand, not willing to let go of Jimmy’s. Thankfully, Jimmy had his left hand.

“That’s why I’m confused, being with you,” Jimmy continued once Thomas’d let them in. “Every girl I’ve ever fucked…it feels like a one night stand. I don’t want it again. Every time we fuck, I just want more.”

Well, that makes two of us. They stood in the entry once the door was closed behind them, hands still tight together, neither moving to take off their coats. “Even Lady Anstruther?” Thomas asked.

“Do gay people have friends with benefits?”

Thomas laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Some of us, I guess. It’s not a foreign concept.”

“Well, It’s like that, but we’re not friends.”

He was feeling a bit bold by then, so he said, “Sounds like you’re her live-in, human sex toy.”

“Yeah. She’s mine, too, though,” Jimmy reminded him, totally nonchalant.

Thomas pursed his lips.

“Don’t look so grim about it. Just because you love me, doesn’t me she-“

“I do love you,” Thomas admitted, with an air of definitiveness that perhaps came off a bit forceful or possessive. “I don’t like the thought of you with her.”

Jimmy looked cowed by that. He’d been teasing Thomas, obviously, but if he were going to say it out loud, then so was Thomas. “Why? Because you fancy having me all to yourself, Mr. White Knight?” Jimmy tried again, weakly.

“Yes.”

The last vestiges of humour fell away, leaving only shock behind. But Thomas didn’t feel it was a bad sort of shock—more that he hadn’t expected Thomas to be so forthright all of a sudden.

Thomas finally let go his hand and unbuttoned his coat, leaving his keys on the hook. If he didn’t like blokes playing hard to get, then Thomas would do the opposite.

Jimmy just stood there for a while. When he spoke up again, Thomas was stepping around him to go upstairs. “Why?” he asked.

Thomas looked back, stopping with one foot on the bottom step. Jimmy looked genuinely, deeply confused, bless him. “Why what?”

Jimmy watched him a moment more, then shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know,” he said, and started taking off his own coat.

***

Thomas threw on his coat and shoved his bare feet into the nearest pair of outdoor shoes. Mary and Matthew sat in their car out front, on a mission to ‘get ice cream.’

He passed the photo and the memory stick in to them through the open window. “I was going to come up there with them in the morning,” he said. “They’re going to think you’re pregnant.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “They can think what they like.” She turned on the interior light and examined the photo of the baby. “Oh, Thomas. This is really very beautiful.”

“You print these yourself?” Matthew asked once Mary had given him a chance to look.

Thomas shrugged, his hands shoved back in his pockets. “Cheaper for everyone in the long run. Otherwise I would’ve had to gone into York for it.”

“I’m sure Edith will document them opening it. I’ll send you the video,” Mary said, pulling a cheque from her bag for him. “Go inside. It’s freezing.”

Thomas tipped his invisible hat and walked back up.

Jimmy was on the sofa watching some police procedural. Thomas had gotten the text to have the photo ready just after he’d changed into his pyjamas, so it was hard to say what the vibe would be, as the kids say.

He kicked off his shoes and walked in anyway. “Now, that’s that sorted,” he announced, depositing the cheque with his phone at the little table where he kept all his miscellaneous pens before he could forget.

“Come watch with me,” Jimmy ordered.

It wasn’t Thomas cup of tea, crime dramas. Not that it mattered—he sat beside him anyway.

Jimmy hadn’t changed, but he was wearing Thomas’s jacket again. He was picking at a little hole in the sleeve absent-mindedly, his legs pulled up close to him, making him look…well, it was sort of feminine. Not that that mattered, either, just that he usually had his legs far apart, feet on the floor. Sybil used to call it manspreading.

He glanced at Thomas and put them right down, like he’d been caught with his feet on the coffee table.

“This one’s almost over, then it’s Poirot,” he said, his hands placed on the tops of his legs now.

Thomas let his knees go a bit farther apart than he normally might, just so his leg would rest against Jimmy’s. He did that a lot when he was younger; the sort of touch that could easily go unnoticed or be dismissed as accidental. “Do you like detective dramas?” Thomas asked, if only to prevent a silence from forming.

“Only the old stuff. Me dad used to put Columbo on sometimes. He had it on tape from when he were a kid, ‘cause his mum was American. And I used to turn on Murder, She Wrote when I’d come home late or couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why I like the American ones best.”

“You’re full of mysteries, aren’t you?”

Jimmy smirked at him for a moment, before turning his attention back to the telly, where Poirot was just starting. “Did you ever take French?” he asked as Poirot was immediately splashed with someone else’s blood.

“No. I took Gaeilge for a bit, but I never got anywhere. My mother’s Irish.”

“You never said!” Jimmy stretched his arms across the back of the sofa, one behind Thomas. “Why don’t you get on better with Sybil’s husband, then?”

“I don’t know where you got the idea we don’t get on,” Thomas laughed. “Tom’s alright. We worked together at the big house.”

“Is there anyone you didn’t work with?”

“Haven’t done much with Matthew, unless you count wedding pictures,” he said.

Thomas appreciated the conversation, considering the somewhat disturbing content so far. He wasn’t squeamish, but it wasn’t a relaxing experience.

Had Jimmy already seen this one? He seemed distracted.

“I took Spanish. Thought it’d be easy,” Jimmy said. “Didn’t last long.”

“You thought it’d be easy?”

“People go on holiday to Spain a lot, don’t they? Couldn’t be that hard, I thought. Turns out I can’t roll me Rs.” Jimmy shifted again, pulling his arms back down. He was restless more so than distracted, perhaps. “You don’t like murder stuff, do you?”

Thomas pursed his lips, wondering how Jimmy guessed. He thought he’d been perfectly attentive. “It’s not the murder. I just prefer programmes that don’t keep me so focused on them. If I’m going to get stuck in, I’d rather put on a film,” he said. Then, thoughtfully, “I like garden stuff.”

“Have you ever gardened?”

“No. But I don’t fancy ever going on safari, neither, and I still like nature documentaries—Attenborough and all that.” Thomas pondered it a bit more. He didn’t think much about his preferences because nobody ever asked to hear them. “Actually, my favourite books are horror novels,” he added.

“How can you accuse me of being full of mysteries when you say things like that?” Jimmy teased.

They fell into silence for a while after that, each of them getting drawn into the story as Poirot unraveled the conspiracy at hand. Truth be told, Thomas had read the novel—Murder on the Orient Express. It had been a few years, though, and he did enjoy this rendition.

Thomas felt eyes on him once the investigation was well underway. Jimmy was watching him in the dark, their fronts illuminated by the screen. It was a long, meaningful look. Once they’d made solid eye contact, Thomas saw movement in his peripheral vision—Jimmy’s hand moving to his lap. He grabbed hold of himself over the joggers he was wearing, doing more than a simple adjustment.

Thomas watched him, wondering just what Jimmy was playing at, and what Thomas was meant to do about it. His hand tingled, ready to move as soon as it was given permission to. Finally, he crossed the Rubicon, following Jimmy’s fingers so as to avoid appearing to search for it

Once Thomas had taken over, Jimmy put both hands behind his head, smiling contentedly. Thomas knew the shape of his cock, obviously, but feeling it in the dark, over two articles of clothing, and with his non-dominant hand was a bit disorientating. He pressed gently with his fingertips around the edges, his palm against the whole of it.

He looked back at the telly. Poirot was still at it. It seemed odd for this to be their backdrop, but he wasn’t complaining.

Jimmy shifted his hips forward, pressing himself into Thomas’s hand. Thomas took it at as an invitation and found his waistband. He wanted to say something, to praise Jimmy and his perfect cock, but he didn’t want to ruin things by speaking. So, after he’d pulled him out into the open, he switched hands—spitting into his right on the way—and leaned over to him, nudging a path to Jimmy’s neck.

Jimmy gave a quiet noise that was at a sort of midpoint between a laugh, a moan, and a sigh. Once Thomas had gotten his mouth under the corner of his jaw, Jimmy ran a hand through the hair at the back of his head, the other falling back down somewhere.

Thomas answered with a grumble of his own, very much on purpose. If he’d forbidden himself from talking, he would communicate his happiness in other ways.

Jimmy’s cock was only getting harder. Thomas didn’t feel the need to go any faster than a languid pace. After all, why hurry?

But he wanted him every other way. It was a challenge to go on like a pair of teenagers, too afraid to do anything more serious than a handjob. Mostly, he wished Jimmy would touch him, too, but he couldn’t ask for it. He could only bite gently at his skin and squeeze his hand a little tighter around his cock.

“Mmh. Here,” Jimmy mumbled, pushing Thomas’s shoulder back just enough that he could turn his head. He kissed him, his breath skating over Thomas’s lips in quick bursts. Jimmy’s free hand met his other in Thomas’s hair, pulling it wherever he could get a good grip.

Thomas heard Poirot shouting and looked back toward the telly for a moment, but Jimmy pulled him back. He let go after that, his hand finding its way over Thomas’s on his cock. He made him let go, then guided him down below. There was a silicon disk where his arsehole should’ve been.

No wonder he was squirming. Thomas looked down at him, searching for instruction.

Jimmy let go of his hand and pushed his joggers down, kicking them off. Thomas watched with interest as he pulled the unicorn horn out and placed it carefully on the coffee table in front of them. Then he took Thomas’s hand again, putting two in his mouth first before pressing them inside himself, his arse hanging part way off the edge of the sofa.

Thomas took over from there. His head was swimming. He wasn’t a strange man anymore—officially. He kissed Jimmy softly, despite his excitement at all this. He wanted to tell him he’d do anything for him, that, again, he loved him. He hoped that came across.

Maybe it had, because Jimmy scrambled up all of a sudden and put himself over the arm of the sofa.

“Please,” he whined, panting. “Please, Thomas.”

Thomas got up as well. “I-I’ll just get the-“

“No, just fuck me. Please? I’m ready for you, I promise.”

He did a lot of pleading, didn’t he? Was that something he liked to do? It struck Thomas as odd in that moment, incongruous to how he normally was. Even so, he got out of his pyjamas and positioned himself behind Jimmy. He spit in his hand, but it didn’t seem enough, even with whatever’d been on him this whole time. He held out his hand to Jimmy. “I’ll need a donation from you, then,” he sighed.

Jimmy hesitantly spit into Thomas’s hand.

“And you’re-“

“Yes, Thomas,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Please!”

Mingling their saliva together on his bare cock, Thomas guided himself in. Jimmy leaned back, eager as he was, taking Thomas the rest of the way. Thomas couldn’t pretend it wasn’t alluring to him, too.

“Oh, fuck,” Jimmy moaned, his forehead pressed against his arms, hiding his face.

Thomas looked down at his back, clothed in his old jacket. On a whim, he adjusted it so that Jimmy would cum into it when the time came. There was something arousing about the thought of it, something Thomas couldn’t quite place.

With a bit more of his own spit, he got to work. Jimmy was breathing with his whole belly, his cock throbbing in Thomas’s hand.

“How does that- hah- How does that feel, love?” Thomas panted. He knew how it felt for him. Jesus.

Jimmy whimpered like he was trying to come up with the words, but ultimately resorted to a thumbs up.

“Good. Good lad,” Thomas sighed. “Oh, Jimmy…my love.”

“Thomas,” Jimmy mumbled, then turned his head so he could speak clearly, “don’t pull out. Please?”

“Alright.” Thomas slid his hand up Jimmy’s back, pushing his shirt and Thomas’s jacket up to reveal his bare skin—decorated by a few moles and the faintest hint of stretch marks. “My perfect boy,” he said quietly, tracing Jimmy’s spine with his fingertips.

He’d slowed down considerably, so he made an effort to fuck him just a bit harder. His mind was running rampant with what Jimmy might be thinking and feeling, as Jimmy only grunted softly for communication on that subject, though his back arched to meet Thomas’s hand once he’d placed it flat again.

He paused for a bit more spit.

“Mmh, you’re so lovely, Thomas,” Jimmy said once Thomas had his hand on his cock again. “Lovely and wonderful and- fuck- and lovely.”

Thomas grit his teeth, pushing into Jimmy as far as he could go without losing his balance, leaving Jimmy draped across the arm of the sofa. His hand still pumping frantically and eyes shut tight, he came into him. He thought he might’ve been able to buy more time, but it wasn’t possible. Fuck.

“Oh, God, Thomas,” Jimmy moaned, sounding rather far away as he, too, spilled cum over Thomas’s hand.

Thomas braced himself with his free hand against the cushions, his head bowed to rest against Jimmy’s back. Once he’d caught his breath, he let go of him and wiped his hand on the inside of the jacket before attending to Jimmy in the same manner. He had a sudden thought that Jimmy must have his bits waxed along with his chest, seeing as he hadn’t a single hair anywhere from his thighs to his arsehole. Thomas would’ve felt them if he had.

His skin was so soft.

Jimmy propped himself back up and got out of the jacket, handing it back to Thomas. After wiping himself down with it, Thomas wrapped it into a ball and dropped it gently onto the coffee table next to the unicorn horn.

“Christ,” Jimmy said, taking a moment more to collect himself before he picked up his joggers. He put them on while Thomas did the same with his pyjamas, then stood there for a bit, watching Poirot walk up to the authorities in the snow.

Something was…off. Thomas sat back on the sofa, trying to figure out what.

“I’m going up to shower,” Jimmy announced, but Thomas caught his hand.

“Are you alright, Jimmy?”

He looked down at Thomas, then quickly away. When he finally turned back again, he looked like he was about to cry.

Thomas pulled him down, towards himself, and Jimmy allowed himself to be brought into an embrace. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?” Thomas asked, arranging Jimmy’s pliant limbs such that he was very much in his lap.

Jimmy buried his face against his shoulder. Then he went totally limp, sobbing into Thomas’s pyjama shirt. “Don’t want to go back,” he cried, blubbing like a child.

“Oh Lordy.” Thomas held him tight, rubbing his back. He hoped it was soothing; he’d never been the one doing the comforting before. “No one says you have to,” he said.

“I can’t!”

Thomas wasn’t sure what he meant, but he didn’t want to question him. “You can stay here as long as you like,” he assured him instead. “Stay here where you’re loved.”

Jimmy sniffed. “You wouldn’t love me if you knew me,” he said between sobs.

Thomas shushed him. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held him closer.

He held him through half an episode of Heartbeat before he finally calmed down, all the while battling the anxious thoughts running around his mind. He hoped desperately that Jimmy would decide to stay. Thomas couldn’t bear to see him go back to that…witch.

At last, Jimmy raised his head.

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” he said, sniffling.

“Don’t be, my love. How about that shower?”

***

Thomas returned from the bathroom to find Jimmy sprawled on his bed, his hair fluffed up as it air dried for probably the first time in many years. “How are you feeling?” Thomas asked.

“Cold,” Jimmy mumbled against the pillow. “I feel like a baby.”

“You’re not,” Thomas insisted.

“It’s pathetic.”

“Jimmy.”

He watched Thomas silently as he put on a fresh set of pyjamas and went around to join him in bed. Once Thomas was holding him again, he whispered, “I like your cologne. Have I said that?”

“You haven’t.”

“Do you put it on for me? I noticed you put it on before bed.”

Thomas felt himself blushing. “Well…it smells better than just smoke, doesn’t it?”

Jimmy turned over so he could rest his head against Thomas’s chest, then took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Having Jimmy’s arms around him was like heaven, Thomas thought. He tentatively ran a hand through Jimmy’s hair, and when he didn’t object, he played with it, twisting locks of it around his index finger.

“You left the light on,” Jimmy murmured.

“I suppose it will just have to stay that way. I’m not moving.”

Jimmy sighed and sat up. Straddling Thomas, he leaned over and flipped the switch. That done, he stayed up there, propping himself up with his arms on either side of Thomas’s head. He stared down at him in the dark for a while before asking, “Did you really mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That I can stay.”

Thomas found his face, cupping his cheek. “Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Yes, I meant it.”

He wasn’t sure what Jimmy’s reaction was; he just sat there for a little longer before lying back down with him. “Goodnight, Thomas,” he said.

“‘Night.”

***

Thomas slept like a particularly exhausted rock. When he finally woke up, sunlight was streaming through the blinds. But Jimmy was still with him, and Thomas felt Jimmy’s hand on his belly. He struggled to get his bearings, eventually realising Jimmy was stroking the trail of hair descending from his navel, Thomas’s pyjama shirt pushed up to his ribs for it.

“What time is it?” he groaned.

“Don’t know.” Jimmy pushed Thomas’s shirt up even further to get at his chest hair. He seemed to have developed a fascination with it.

“What are you doing?”

Jimmy looked up at him with an expression of faux offence. “You were playing with my hair last night. Am I not allowed to play with yours?”

Thomas let his head fall back against the pillows, rolling his eyes. “You’re barmy,” he said. Jimmy would get more than he might’ve bargained for if he kept it up.

“You’re finished with your work, aren’t you?” Jimmy asked.

Thomas hummed affirmatively.

“Do you have any activities planned for us?”

“No,” Thomas chuckled. “Why?”

Jimmy propped himself up so he was looking down at Thomas’s face. “Can we go somewhere?”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. Somewhere with people and places to go and things to do.”

“York?” Thomas suggested.

Jimmy wasn’t keen. “I’ve been to York a thousand times,” he said, sneering at the idea. “Not counting when I lived there.”

“Leeds, then?”

Not much excitement for Leeds either. “Didn’t you say you’re from Manchester?” Jimmy said.

“You want me to take you to Manchester? On Christmas Eve?”

“Better Manchester than London. And we’ll be stuck here tomorrow.”

Thomas groaned, but sat up, moving Jimmy to the side. “Alright, get your clothes on,” he said begrudgingly.

Before long, they were on the train. Thomas checked his emails, bleary-eyed. Jimmy contentedly looked out the window.

Thomas wondered if Jimmy thought this would be some sort of return to Thomas’s homeland. He didn’t want him to be disappointed, but he was as much a creature of the countryside as he was of the city. He couldn’t even remember where his family had lived, since they’d moved house when Thomas was 13, to take over the shop in Huddersfield, and they’d moved within Greater Manchester twice before that. His memory was all just bits and pieces before the shop.

“This is where we used to get on to go see me old aunt,” Jimmy said as they passed through a station somewhere in Leeds, “before she died. Me dad’s grave’s back there a ways, by the football pitch.”

They were both recalling old memories, it seemed. “Do you visit it?” Thomas asked.

He shook his head. “His body’s not there. It’s just a marker. Mum’s in with her parents back in Scarborough, but I never saw the point in going. Me cousins can’t stand me, so it’s just Jimmy contra mundi.”

“Mundum.”

“Hm?”

“That phrase—it would be ‘Jimmy contra mundum,’” Thomas said. “‘Jimmy against the world.’”

After a moment’s reflection, Jimmy shrugged. “Lisa always used to say it like that, ‘Jimmy contra mundi,’ whenever I’d come back from school with a split lip or an exclusion…or both,” he said ruefully.

That sounded familiar, although Thomas didn’t often get into fights growing up. He’d often come close. “What were you fighting for?” he asked.

“Girls, mostly,” Jimmy said, making it clear he didn’t care then or now. “Thought it were funny when a bloke’s girlfriend fancied me over him. Got in trouble over that a few times. Used to flirt with them.”

“Why?” Thomas knew why, of course. He’d also done that before—not because it was funny, necessarily, but for revenge.

Jimmy pondered his question for a while, looking back out the window. Finally, he answered, “Didn’t have owt else on, I suppose. I were bored.”

Thomas had his own theories. If he understood the timeline correctly, Jimmy was in a new place, at a new school, and having lost both his parents when he would’ve been in the throes of puberty. And he may or may not have been grappling with his attraction to other boys. It would’ve suited him to insert himself in that way—to be wanted by the girls and hated by the boys. That was power, and a means to evade scrutiny. He and Thomas were similar. Thomas liked the parallels, even if he wouldn’t approve now he were older.

“What is it? Why’re you looking at me like that?” Jimmy asked, giving him a funny look.

Thomas’d been staring, and with a smile on his face no less. “Sorry, I was miles away,” he said, shaking himself out of it.

Jimmy shifted in his seat, leaning forward a little, toward Thomas. “I could see that. Where were you?”

God. “I was thinking about…myself at that age,” he said. It was partly the truth, anyway.

“No you weren’t,” Jimmy accused astutely, smirking. Then he turned back to the window, looking quite proud to be an object of Thomas’s fascination.

***

They found a café first, for a late breakfast and caffeine. Thomas had his wallet out to pay when Jimmy stopped him.

“I’ve got it, ducky,” he said. “You paid last time.”

Thomas, bewildered, stepped back while he did it, Thomas’s fingers still gripping his card. It all made sense when they walked away to wait for their order and Jimmy put his hand on the small of Thomas’s back. He’s playing up the boyfriend thing.

As if to confirm it, Jimmy kissed him while they waited—briefly, but on the mouth.

“Would you mind cluing me in on the game?” Thomas whispered.

“You said Downton isn’t London. Manchester’s big enough, isn’t it?” Jimmy said, looking up at him with the tiniest hint of an impish smile.

Thomas did his best not to look disapproving. “Acting the way you think-“ he cut himself off with a sigh. “Is this what you’re like with women you’re seeing?”

Jimmy frowned. “How do you act, then? Because you’re not doing that.”

“I-“ Thomas didn’t know what to say. Maybe he wasn’t acting the way he might if this weren’t…what it was, an artificially accelerated relationship, but how else was he meant to act? He’d never been one for PDA. And his only real relationship to date had been with a man who was very much intent on marrying a woman some day! “I’m sorry to disappoint, but this is how I am.”

He regretted saying anything. Jimmy turned his head, his arms crossed. He was so…

“Look,” Thomas said, “I know it seems like we should be able to do anything we want, but that’s just not the reality most of us live in—even in Manchester, even in London. There’s always a risk. So a lot of people just don’t, or they keep it quiet. Maybe if we were in a gay bar or whatever, but I’m still just not that inclined to be so affectionate in public. I’m sorry.”

Jimmy looked over his shoulder at the other patrons of the café. As if to illustrate Thomas’s point, there was a man sitting with two others who might’ve been giving them a funny look, and looked down at his food once he’d been caught. When Jimmy looked back at Thomas, his expression had softened. “Do you think…I shouldn’t have kissed you?” he asked, lower than a whisper.

Thomas glanced back at the men, then felt a wave of relief come over him when he noticed one of the others had an unobtrusive and well-worn pink Union Jack pin badge on his bag. Fortunately, it was the type with the pink in place of the blue, meaning it wasn’t just sun-bleached. It made him feel emboldened in an odd way. He pulled Jimmy to him and kissed his forehead. “We’re alright,” he said.

Jimmy looked back again, this time in confusion. “But-“

“One of them’s gay.”

“What? How do you know?”

Thomas didn’t have a chance to answer before the one who’d been looking at them stood and walked in their direction.

“Excuse me. Is that you across the street?” he asked Jimmy in some sort of American accent, indicating a shop window with, indeed, Jimmy’s upper half on it.

Jimmy smiled, relief flooding him, too. “Yeah, mate. Erm, I do some modelling.”

“Cool,” the man said. “Sorry to bother you. I just had to ask.”

The others were snickering back at their table.

“Right, no worries,” Jimmy said with a slight wave, and the man went back to his mates.

Thomas took the opportunity of Jimmy’s arms no longer being crossed to grab Jimmy’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “My little celebrity,” he said sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Jimmy answered, squeezing his hand.

They had their breakfast—Jimmy called it brunch—and went back out into the cold. None of their surroundings were at all familiar to Thomas, not least because it had been almost two decades since he’d last been there; a lot would’ve changed in that time even if he’d had memories of it.

Jimmy stopped in front of a music shop, the sort that sold guitars and drum kits with some CDs and vinyl records on the side. He dragged Thomas inside and sat down at an expensive keyboard.

He began to play what Thomas quickly recognised as a pop song, though he couldn’t place the title. It wasn’t just a piano cover, though—there was jazz to it, improvisation. Jimmy glanced up at him occasionally, as if checking that Thomas was sufficiently impressed.

Thomas put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder because he just wanted to touch him again. Through the layers, he could feel Jimmy’s muscles working; it didn’t seem like an easy piece to play, although Thomas knew next to nothing about music.

When he’d finished, Jimmy led the way to the CD area.

“Were you ever into CDs?” he asked, browsing through the S’s. “You know, back in the day when they were invented.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I didn’t have any of my own. I just listened to the radio or put on TRL or cd:uk when they were on.”

Jimmy pulled an album from the rack and offered it to him: The Smiths. “Well then. Here. You can add it to your depressing media collection.”

“This is my sister’s sort of thing, not mine,” Thomas said, snorting. He read the track list thoughtfully, patting the edge of the case against his palm. “I met Morrissey once. I was three years old, and my sister hated me ever since because she wasn’t out with us.”

“Is she much older than you?”

“Well, she was 21 when I was born. So, yes.” Thomas replaced the album.

Jimmy looked shocked. “21?!”

“Believe it or not, I was actually the planned one.”

He searched through the racks broodily for a bit before pulling out another. This time, it was one of those compilation discs they’d been putting out for decades with all the popular songs on them. “I don’t know much about you, do I?” he wondered aloud as if to the back of the case.

“Most people could say the same. I know I’m not exactly forthcoming, so it’s not your fault,” Thomas said. He’d meant it to be reassuring.

Jimmy offered this CD to him as well. “Radio hits,” he said. “This is all you listen to?”

Thomas looked at the tracks, but the titles were only ever vaguely familiar. “I wouldn’t know unless I heard them.”

Jimmy put the CD back and ushered Thomas toward the exit. “Come on. This shop’s wasted on you.”

They walked around the city a bit more. Somehow, Jimmy managed to find a cinema as they wandered, and Thomas was sat in front of a massive screen before he knew what was happening. He hadn’t even heard of what they were seeing.

“Haven’t you seen the adverts?” Jimmy asked when Thomas said as much.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Thomas looked around while they waited for the film to start. There were a few other people seated around them, but it wasn’t full by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone else was also sat in such a way that it would be awkward to people-watch. With that diversion off the table, Thomas resigned himself to thinking.

He felt badly for shutting Jimmy down before. He didn’t mind so much if Jimmy was affectionate in public—really, he didn’t, within reason—but the way he’d been doing it just felt so fake. On the other hand, he knew how Jimmy was with Lady Anstruther, and that would be much worse.

Tentatively, he placed a hand just above Jimmy’s knee. This caused Jimmy to look up at him, giving Thomas the opportunity to sneak in a quick kiss.

Jimmy blinked at him.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Thomas dropped his voice low enough that only Jimmy could hear, leaning in. “I didn’t mean to say you shouldn’t ever kiss me in public before, or owt like that. I just- I don’t-” He struggled to find the right words. “You said it’s a temporary relationship, not a fake one.”

“I weren’t faking it!” Jimmy answered, equally low. “That’s how I’d treat a girl I fancied.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Thomas. “But have you ever fancied a girl longer than it took to sleep with her?”

Several emotions flitted across Jimmy’s face. He seemed to take it to heart, and thought about it for a few moments. Finally, he said, “What would it mean if I hadn’t?”

The lights dimmed just then, signalling that the film was starting. Thomas and Jimmy reluctantly turned their attentions to the screen.

***

Thomas could hardly focus the entire two hours they sat there. Jimmy was clearly on the precipice of an important conclusion, and it was delayed by a horror film of all things.

They left the cinema in silence, Thomas making sure to hold Jimmy’s hand as they went, if only to remind him he was there.

“Can we go home?” Jimmy asked as they walked aimlessly along the street.

Thomas’s anxiety was such that he almost didn’t notice Jimmy had called his flat home. When he did notice, his heart fluttered. “If you want to,” he said.

They turned and started back toward the station.

Once on the train, Jimmy sat beside Thomas rather than across from him as he had before. He resumed their hand holding, his free hand scrolling away on his phone.

Thomas did his best not to look, but he couldn’t help but notice him searching for what the letters in the acronym stood for. He saw an article about bisexuality pop up with a purple link.

He wished Jimmy would just talk it out with him. Thomas didn’t have all the answers, but at least he had experience. But he wouldn’t press, not now.

After what felt like years of agonising silence, they alighted in Thirsk, and were back at the flat not long later.

Jimmy didn’t let go of Thomas’s hand, not even once they were inside.

He pulled Thomas back to him and into a kiss. Then he held Thomas’s forehead against his own with his free hand. “Give me another day. Please,” he said.

“You still have two and a half before our week is up,” Thomas reminded him, not sure what he was getting at.

“I know, but-” He sighed and stepped back from him. “I know you were reading over my shoulder some. I know you want an answer.”

Ah. Thomas squeezed his hand. “It’s not about what I want.”

“But it is what you want, though, isn’t it?” Jimmy held his gaze for a very long moment, searchingly. “That’s what everyone cares about.”

“Not anyone who matters,” Thomas answered, frowning. “All I care about is if you think you can love me or not. I don’t think you really have a problem with the rest of it. I mean, what’s stopping you from calling yourself queer, when you have no trouble being with me?”

“But it’s all so confusing, Thomas!” Jimmy let go of his hand and took off his coat. “Maybe not this part of it-” He groaned. “Look, I admit, I didn’t come here to figure out if I fancied blokes or not. I know I do. I just needed to get away. I needed to know if it were me.”

That shouldn’t have been a surprise. His justification for this scheme was always flimsy, but this didn’t make sense either. “If what were you?”

“If…it were me who changed. I liked-” Jimmy cut himself off and glanced at Thomas, unsure. “Do you even want to hear this? About her?”

He didn’t, particularly, but not for the reasons Jimmy was implying. Everything he’d heard about Lady Anstruther up to now had triggered his jealousy immensely, and that was a bit too much feeling for a temporary relationship. Not that it mattered much now the cat was out of the bag… “Go on.”

Jimmy nodded, his outerwear rolled up in his arms as neither of them moved to leave the flat’s entry. “I liked being with her at first. I thought it were the ideal setup for me—as much sex as I wanted, no expenses, access to her money.”

Thomas pursed his lips, hoping his face wasn’t showing how he felt.

“But, after a while,” Jimmy continued, “it started to feel like the games she plays aren’t games. I-I’ve been with people since who do all that stuff, proper like. I know how it’s meant to work. But with her…I can’t have a break from it; it never ends. And it makes me feel like I’m going mad, because it still looks ideal! But I’ve never been with someone long-term, so I thought, maybe this is just what it’s like with women. Or maybe I don’t fancy women at all anymore, and that’s why I don’t like it.”

“You mean how she speaks to you?” Jimmy looked slightly confused, so Thomas clarified, “I heard some of what she said, after the photoshoot.”

He reddened. “Yeah. It’s hard to explain, because I don’t know what’s what. I’ve said to her before, like, ‘I’m not in the mood,’ and she just tells me,” he switched into an imitation of her voice, “‘It’s just a game, poppet. Don’t you want to have a bit of fun?’”

Thomas nodded.

“She’ll lay off for a while, but that usually means she’s gone somewhere. Then, when she gets back, it’s like I never said owt. It’s this unspoken thing that I always have to be performing for her—playing a role. And if I don’t, then who knows what could happen.”

“Has anything ever happened?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy took a breath, perhaps stalling to think. Then, he said, “She locked me out of the house a few times. She says she didn’t, but it had to be that.” Jimmy finally tossed his things on the floor by the shoes and motioned for Thomas to follow him. Then he went to sit in the living room. “Sometimes, I’ll go to use her card somewhere and find she’s locked it. But she does that for no reason, too. I asked her once what I did to deserve it, and she just made summat up,” he continued while Thomas removed his own coat.

When he’d unwrapped himself, Thomas sat beside Jimmy, but not too close. He didn’t want anything to make Jimmy stop talking now he’d started. “What did she do when you got back from London?”

Jimmy smiled sheepishly. “She said I owed her for the food I bought, so she went out and left me there with the empty cupboards. We were at her dead husband’s estate, so I couldn’t go anywhere. She was gone until sometime after I went to bed, then she woke me up with her, erm…” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “I don’t fuck her. She fucks me,” he explained, abandoning his previous sentence.

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

He waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. “No, no, not because of that. She doesn’t like things inside her. Anyway, she said if I wanted to run off and get fucked so badly, she would show me what I was missing.”

Thomas’s stomach clenched.

“So she made me get up and, you know, get ready, but when I came back, she’d gone to bed. So I got blue balled twice in a row.” Jimmy said the last bit like he was teasing Thomas, but his heart wasn’t in it at all. He just sounded hollow. He seemed to realise this and corrected himself, “I don’t mean to drag you into it. It’s just that…hearing it all out loud…”

Somewhat relieved, Thomas propped his chin up on his hand, his elbow resting on the back of the sofa. Sybil would be better at this than he would, he thought. Jimmy would just have to make do. “You’re not mad,” Thomas assured him, making sure to look at him straight on. He wanted to ask how Lady Anstruther reacted when Jimmy told her what he was doing this week, but perhaps it wasn’t the right time for a complete tell-all. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. That’s…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you from the start,” Jimmy said, cutting him off.

Thomas shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. What are you going to do?” he asked.

Jimmy looked a bit like a startled deer for a moment. Then he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

They sat in silence for a prolonged period of time, though Thomas couldn’t say how long. The urge to reach for Jimmy, to touch him, was ever present.

Finally, Jimmy turned to him, having perked up a bit. “But we have another two and a half days,” he said.

“Yes,” Thomas answered hesitantly. “But…you don’t have to follow that. She can go fuck herself.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Well, for now… How about summat to eat?”

***

The whole thing had seemingly been shoved to the side once the pans came out. As much as Thomas wanted Jimmy to stay, he was acutely aware of how much influence he exerted—he didn’t want to be like Lady Anstruther, not even a little bit. So, fearing that, Jimmy would have to make up his own mind.

Not talking it through anymore than they had done was driving Thomas mad, though.

When they sat on the sofa again after eating standing up in the kitchen, Jimmy crinkled as he moved. He reached for his pocket. “Oh, right. I thought of summat we could do together—a game,” he said.

Thomas gave him a funny look. “What sort of game?”

Jimmy pulled from his pocket a bit of folded paper. “I nicked this from the magazines at the station,” he said. “I thought, since we were already on a date, we could do more silly, soppy stuff. Here.”

He handed part of the paper to Thomas. It was half a page from one of the magazines which had been torn along a perforated line.

‘The Great Couples Quiz,’ it read at the top.

Thomas supposed they had been on a date. He hadn’t thought of it that way before then. And this did feel silly, even in his own estimation, but he was willing. “So, how exactly is this meant to be a game?” he asked.

“I don’t know. The page I left behind just said to take turns asking questions off this list.”

“Are they all the same?” Thomas took Jimmy’s half and compared the two before handing it back. “Why don’t we pick which ones we want to know about each other, and then we’ll go down the list asking,” he suggested.

Jimmy agreed, so they both took pens from Thomas’s collection and marked their lists. There were loads of questions, some serious and others…less so. Thomas was a bit nervous to choose the serious ones, but Jimmy looked like he was circling a majority of his list, so he resolved to ask them.

When they reconvened on the sofa—now with alcohol, naturally—Thomas yielded the first go to Jimmy.

“Number one,” he began, “what’s your favourite colour?”

Thomas laughed. “I don’t think I have one,” he admitted.

“You don’t have a favourite colour?” Jimmy asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“Yellow.”

“Right. Er….green, I guess.” Thomas’s first selected question happened to be a serious one. He hated to follow with it, but it was part of the game. “What is the most important aspect of compatibility for you?” he asked.

“Sex,” Jimmy answered without hesitation. “I had the same for you.”

“Oh, er, values. Shall I go again?” When Jimmy nodded, Thomas moved down his list. He felt himself blushing. “What’s your favourite bank holiday?” He hadn’t chosen that one, but the next of his would’ve been even more serious.

Jimmy thought about it for a moment before answering, “Summer, last Monday in August. Closest one to my birthday.” He read from his list, “‘Does your partner prefer taking a dominant or submissive role in bed (or do they like to switch it up)?’”

At last, an easy one for Thomas. “I’m vers,” he said.

Jimmy squinted at him, a smirk blooming on his face. “I don’t think they mean top or bottom.”

“Well- Neither? I don’t know.”

“I think you’re a sub at heart.”

That sounded like an accusation. “I wouldn’t know. I’m sort of…plain.”

“Then I have a follow up question: What’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” Jimmy asked, skipping down the list.

Jimmy wearing his clothes immediately sprang to Thomas’s mind. Was that a fantasy? He liked seeing it in real life, his imaginings of it just a replacement for that. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Let me help you. Number 23, ‘How does your partner feel about watching porn? If they're into it, what type do they prefer?’” Jimmy asked.

“I-” God, what an embarrassing question. “I’ll have to show you,” Thomas said.

“Really? Alright. Show me, then.”

Thomas stood, taking his glass and list with him. “Come on. Upstairs.”

He led Jimmy to the bedroom, where he kept his collection in his bedside table drawer. Setting his wine safely aside, he pulled out the stack of magazines and plopped them onto the bed.

“This is what I started with. I tried it other ways, but that wasn’t until I was discharged, so nothing else ever took,” he explained.

Jimmy grabbed one and was lying on the bed, flipping through it before Thomas had even finished. “I’ve never seen one of these in real life before!” he said, marvelling at a centrefold’s almost unnaturally long prick.

“I used to nick them from the shop near the cinema when I was younger,” Thomas said as he joined Jimmy on the bed. “An ex bought me some later, but other than that, this is what I’ve looked at for the past twenty years.”

Jimmy looked up from his ogling. “How many exes have you had so far?” he asked.

“Counting hookups?”

“Boyfriends only.”

“One,” Thomas admitted.

“I don’t know why you look so embarrassed. I’ve only had one real relationship before, too,” Jimmy said.

That was true. He’d said it before. Perhaps it was just that alpha-like persona tripping Thomas up again. “I think you owe me about three questions by now.”

Jimmy put the magazine back on the stack and gestured for Thomas to ask.

Thomas steeled himself to ask three serious ones in a row. He decided to say them all at once to make it easier. “First, ‘Does your S.O. want children? If so, how many?’ Second, ‘Does your partner want to get married someday?’ And third, ‘Is your partner open to relocation (for your work or theirs)?’”

Jimmy pulled a face as he considered them, as though it was difficult to answer succinctly. “Maybe, I don’t know; maybe; yes,” he said, managing to do it regardless. “I never really thought of what I might be doing later on. You know, past me twenties. I don’t mind children. Don’t really care whether I’m married or not. Don’t care where I live. What about you?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas was somewhat surprised when Jimmy didn’t react. He’d expected some sort of visceral rejection. “If possible,” he added. “As for how many…I don’t have anything fixed in my mind. Not like I can just go make one.”

“Right.” Jimmy turned and finished what was left of his wine, then laid back with his hands behind his head. “I think that’s three more for you now.”

Thomas consulted the list. Another serious one, but he didn’t mind as much now. “‘What’s your partner’s biggest insecurity?’”

“What is this, a job interview?” Jimmy said, smirking. He was stalling. “I don’t know. I used to be really obsessed with my body hair, ‘cause you can’t see it unless you look close, or the light hits it just right. And I’m short. And my cock’s just so-so. But at least I can wax me chest.”

“You’re not short; you’re average height,” Thomas corrected. “There’s nothing wrong with either.”

“So you think my cock’s just so-so.”

He’d walked into that trap. “Jimmy-” Thomas remembered the magazines and picked out a particular one, flipping to the middle and unfolding the poster. “Look. Centrefold.”

“But he’s got…70s bush all around it. It’s longer than what it looks.”

“You think the people looking at it are thinking that? No! It’s hot just as it is.”

Jimmy looked up at Thomas playfully. “You think it’s hot?”

“Of course I do. All of you is.”

He smirked. “I were talking about the centrefold.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and tossed the magazine back onto the pile. “Well…I knew he’d be in there, didn’t I?”

“So you fancy men with lots of hair?”

“I don’t have a preference. And it’s not your turn.”

“Sod the rules. We made them up anyway. What’s your idea of the perfect man for you?”

That wasn’t on the list. And the answer was painfully soppy. “I don’t need an idea,” Thomas said, looking at his hands.

Jimmy seemed to realise what he meant, and, perhaps not wishing it be said in plainer terms, got up from the bed. “Refill?”

***

They spent what was left of the afternoon and the early evening quizzing each other on every inane detail—dream holiday destination, what one would do if they won loads of money, love language. Thomas didn’t believe in that sort of thing, and he said as much. They were working through Thomas’s liquor cabinet by then, and making headway, so Jimmy tortured Thomas with online personality quizzes and horoscopes for a while. Thomas could only smile blissfully through it, because he was getting sleepy and Jimmy was just so perfect.

They dragged themselves back downstairs for dinner after the sun had set. Thomas remembered as he rummaged through his spice cabinet that it was Christmas Eve.

Jimmy only had a couple nights left—unless he chose to stay. Maybe Thomas ought to give him his gift early. So, after they’d eaten, he brought the wrapped present out.

“What’s this?” Jimmy asked, instinctively trying to figure it out without disturbing the paper. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

“I know, but I thought you could use it now,” Thomas explained, sitting beside him on the sofa where they’d settled again.

He watched Jimmy open it. He was careful until he saw the shop’s logo on the box’s lid underneath the paper, at which point he ripped it off and tossed it onto the floor, following shortly by the lid.

Thomas had gotten them monogrammed, as they hadn’t been busy and did it by machine in the back of the shop. His were all monogrammed as well, but he knew he wouldn’t have had the time to do it himself like those pairs. Besides, the machine-done embroidery was much fancier and neater.

“I-” Jimmy glanced around himself for a moment as if looking for something, flushing from more than the alcohol. “I don’t have yours wrapped,” he said with slight panic.

Thomas knew he hadn’t gotten him anything, and he hadn’t expected it, but he was curious what he would come up with. “That’s alright.”

Jimmy folded the pyjamas again—he’d taken them out to feel the fabric—and placed them on the back of the sofa with care. Then he grabbed the ribbon from the rubbish on the floor and stood. “I’ll…be right back,” he said, taking the pyjamas with him after all.

He was wearing them when he returned not long later, having gone upstairs. The ribbon, however, had disappeared. “Right-” He stumbled on the edge of the carpet on his way back to the sofa, but quickly righted himself as if he hadn’t. He stood beside Thomas.

Thomas looked up at him expectantly.

“Er, I didn’t really think that through, did I? You can’t see…” Hesitantly, he pushed his waistband down just enough that Thomas could see the crumpled loops of a bow tied around the base of Jimmy’s cock.

“You nutter,” Thomas muttered. “Come here.” He sat Jimmy beside him and helped him back out of the trousers, then ‘unwrapped’ his ‘present’ lest the non-elastic ribbon hinder his circulation. Jimmy wasn’t hard yet, after all, and it was tied rather tightly.

“Was going to put it on me head, but it wouldn’t stay put,” Jimmy said.

Once Thomas had it off, he tossed the ribbon back onto the pile. “What would you like me to do?”

“Nothing. Wanted to suck your cock,” Jimmy mumbled, putting his hands behind his head. “But, now you’re hand’s already there, so…”

Thomas’s hand was resting on Jimmy’s upper thigh, so he simply moved it up. His left he combed through Jimmy’s hair while appreciating his smooth skin and the red blush that emanated from it.

But after a while, his contented smile slipped away, replaced with half-concealed worry. “I want to stay here, Thomas,” he whispered, “but you wouldn’t want me to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Thomas assumed it was just alcohol-induced feelings of guilt. He bent down and ran his tongue along the side of Jimmy’s cock.

“If you knew, you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t-” He drifted back into pleasure, seemingly forgetting the whole thing. “Bloody h- God, Thomas.”

Thomas decided he would convince him. He wasn’t difficult to please, and he’d said the most important aspect of compatibility in a relationship for him was sex. So, Thomas put his skills to use.

Jimmy came easily, almost surprising Thomas; he’d gotten lost in the experience. Deliberately, Thomas held his cum in his mouth until Jimmy opened his eyes and could see that he’d swallowed it.

“Can I kiss you?” Thomas asked, his lips already just inches away. He thought he might check first.

Jimmy nodded sleepily, but quickly regained some vigour, pushing Thomas to sit back against the sofa. Once he’d gotten his fill of Thomas, or the taste of himself, whichever or both, he slid off the sofa and knelt between Thomas’s legs.

Thomas, still in real trousers, wasn’t so easily accessed in his entirety.

“I hate zippers,” Jimmy said under his breath as he struggled to turn the edges of it out of the way. Thomas helped him, pushing his trousers and pants down past his knees. Jimmy got them the rest of the way off, along with Thomas’s socks. “There you are,” he whispered, his breath tickling the underside of Thomas’s cock before he pressed his lips against it.

He seemed to have learned from Thomas already, no longer leaving his mouth in just one place. But he still had much more stamina with his tongue than anyone else Thomas had been with, and he used it to his advantage.

“You’re doing so well, love,” Thomas said quietly, having gotten the idea that Jimmy liked to be praised.

As if in response, Jimmy held his gaze while he dragged his tongue flat across the entire length of Thomas’s cock.

Thomas gave his hair an encouraging but gentle tug. “My love,” he repeated. “My man. Perfect. Golden.” He was barely conscious of what he was saying, just letting his own tongue have free reign.

Jimmy moaned slightly; Thomas felt it.

His head lolling back as he came, Thomas moaned, too. As soon as he’d come back to himself, he made sure to observe Jimmy swallowing in kind. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “Well done,” he panted. “Well done, Jimmy, love.” He held either side of Jimmy’s face, urging him to come up and kiss him.

“Better than your ex-boyfriend?” Jimmy mumbled as he got up from the floor.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “Yes, of course.” Philip had preferred to use his hands rather than his mouth, so Thomas didn’t actually know, in truth. But Thomas preferred to avoid talking about him.

Jimmy kissed him sloppily, his tongue apparently still in the mood to work. He climbed onto Thomas’s lap, though in a much happier mood than he had the last time they’d enjoyed the sofa.

Eventually, they turned on the telly and fell asleep there.

***

Thomas was awoken by a buzzing noise. His head hurt, so he got up to drink some water and take something. That done, he left another glass and pair of tablets on the coffee table in case Jimmy needed them. Then he heard the buzzing again.

He couldn’t help but look at Jimmy’s phone. It was sitting face up, and lit up with the vibration.

He’d received a message.

From a contact called ‘Lady A’.

Thomas picked up the phone. It wasn’t passcode-protected, so he opened the message.

.:Happy Christmas, darling! I haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope you’ve been good… I’ll be back in London today x:.

He felt as though he might be sick, and his hangover did not help matters.

Jimmy never told her. That was why he felt guilty. That was why he’d acted strangely the other day when he’d brought Thomas tea!

Thomas was outraged. More than that, he was hurt—deeply, profoundly hurt. Once it had sunk in a bit, his eyes began to sting.

He scrolled up from the most recent message, perhaps hoping he’d simply misinterpreted that woman’s wilful ignorance.

No. It was worse. There were messages from as soon as the night they’d played charades with responses from Jimmy.

.:What are you doing?:. Lady Anstruther had asked. .:You’ve turned your location off again. Cheeky:.

Jimmy had replied, .:nothing. Never you mind:.

.:So mercurial. I was just looking at an old picture of you. Your face used to be so chubby and cute. I’m not sure modelling is conducive to your cuteness.:.

.:ha ha:.

Then there were a few more messages Jimmy hadn’t replied to before the most recent one, but he had read them.

Thomas did his best to push his emotions down, letting only anger seep through. He wasn’t going to do this again, pining over a man intent on passing for straight and stringing him along.

He marked the message from Anstruther as unread and tucked Jimmy’s phone between his arm and his chest. Then, he went to find his own phone. With it in hand, he returned to the living room and sat in his little-used armchair, from which he sent a message of his own: .:Your phone was buzzing. x:.

And he waited.

Jimmy startled awake just a bit at the vibration. Rather than read the message, though, he put the phone on the arm of the sofa and tried to go back to sleep.

Thomas seethed.

“I should check that if I were you. Might be important,” he said, making Jimmy jump again. His voice almost broke, but he managed to keep control.

Jimmy turned over, searching for Thomas, bleary eyed. His face went white when he saw him—his expression of contempt, more like.

They stared at each other for a bit, Jimmy frozen and Thomas waiting patiently for his moment to pounce. That was how he imagined it anyway.

Hesitantly, Jimmy picked his phone back up and looked at the message. When he’d read it—them—he sat up and looked guiltily at Thomas. “I’m sorry.”

This wasn’t good. Thomas was going to cry. He couldn’t cry in front of Jimmy—he wouldn’t. “Get out,” he said coldly, hanging on to the last shred of composure he had.

Jimmy blinked. Wordlessly, he gathered any of his things that had made their way to the living room and went upstairs for the rest.

Thomas practically hyperventilated once he’d gone up. He put his head in his hands, willing his body to comply just for a little while longer.

But while he waited, Thomas’s mind refused to remain on standby. Why had Jimmy let him fall for him, when he knew he’d violated Thomas’s one condition? Why hadn’t he just told her?

Jimmy had tried to keep him at arm’s length, Thomas realised. That was why he wouldn’t commit to staying, despite how much he clearly wanted to. That was probably why he’d been so reluctant to talk to Thomas about his sexuality, too, until he’d admitted his real reason for coming to stay with him...if that had even been the truth.

Oh, God. How could I be so stupid? How did I not see it?!

Anstruther’s message replayed itself in Thomas’s mind over and over and over again. Of course this would happen on Christmas of all days.

Thomas remembered then that Jimmy wouldn’t be able to take the train back to London. Because it was Christmas. And the trains weren’t running.

No matter. He’d contrived all this, surely he could figure out a way to get back to her. Besides, she had plenty of money to hire him a car or a coach, or even a plane for that matter.

The sound of Jimmy coming down the stairs made Thomas snap back to attention. He watched him step sheepishly back into the living room. Why had he come back? To offer an explanation?

After catching Thomas in his misery, Jimmy placed his pyjama set on the back of the sofa, folded neatly. Then he headed toward the door.

Thomas’s heart was throbbing, his whole body screaming at him to get up. The trains aren’t running. It’s Christmas! He must’ve been afraid of her reaction, he convinced himself.

He moved quickly, before he could stop himself, and managed to reach the front door just as Jimmy opened it. He put his hand flat against the broad side, pushing it closed again. “There’s no trains today,” he said, sounding incredibly hollow and shaken.

Jimmy stared up at him as if waiting for further instructions. When Thomas didn’t give him any, he prompted, “So...what do you want me to do?”

Thomas wanted to hold him so badly. He knew himself. He could justify anything. If Jimmy simply provided him with something, some reason… Surely his subconscious was right, and he’d been too afraid to tell Anstruther he was leaving. He wouldn’t have let Thomas go on and on about loving him, wouldn’t have wept in his arms about not wanting to go back if it had all been a ruse. And a ruse to what end?

“Thomas?”

He’d closed his eyes without knowing it. He opened them again and stepped back. “Come back in. Tell me why,” he said.

“But I don’t know why.” Jimmy looked beaten—well and thoroughly beaten. Thomas probably did, too. “I don’t know why I did it, Thomas,” he said again.

“Because you were afraid of what she might do?” Thomas suggested.

Jimmy shook his head. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“To hurt me?”

He shook his head again, more vigorously this time. “No. No, of course not! I never wanted to hurt you.”

Thomas swallowed, though, naturally, the lump in his throat didn’t budge. And his nose was whistling when he breathed. He sniffed; he had no choice but to do it, even if it sounded like he was crying when he wasn’t yet. “Then tell me what was going through your head when you decided to go on with this behind her back—my one condition for helping you with...this.” He said the last word weakly as his anger was swiftly dying out. He couldn’t even bring himself to sneer as he said it. He was wet and spineless and pathetic.

Jimmy looked at his bag, then at his shoes. “I just...thought it’d be easier,” he admitted. “I knew I could play it off when I got back, so I didn’t see a need to tell her.”

Thomas knew he would do the same thing, or at least consider it, especially when he was younger. He sighed. “And me?”

Jimmy looked up at him again, questioningly this time.

“You couldn’t say anything all this time? You were just going to string me along?”

“I didn’t know it would get this serious,” he said, his voice low and breathy. He cleared his throat.

“You told me all you did at your godparents’ house because you thought it wouldn’t get serious?”

From the looks of it, that hit. “I thought you’d just fuck me like she did!” Jimmy said through gritted teeth. “That’s how it all started. I thought, worst case scenario, I’d end up with two of her.”

“Why would you think that?” Thomas asked. It hurt a bit, actually, that that was what he’d expected.

“Because I don’t know owt. I’ve never slept with a bloke who didn’t just want that—just sex. When you said you weren’t open, that you didn’t want to be part of that, I thought...I thought it’d be different. And it was. But I didn’t believe it would be until it’d already happened.”

Thomas reevaluated. Jimmy wasn’t trying to get out of trouble; if he had been, he would’ve taken the first out Thomas had offered. And, he’d had no reason to lie about what Anstruther was like before. “Jimmy…” Thomas shook his head, eyes closed, trying to gather himself. What else could he do? “Do you want to stay?”

Jimmy frowned in confusion. “What?”

“Do you want to stay?” Thomas repeated with a bit more impatience.

After a few moments searching Thomas’s face for any hint that he didn’t mean what it sounded like he meant, Thomas presumed, Jimmy answered, “Yes.”

Thomas’s eyes prickled with fresh tears. He exhaled, nodded in acknowledgement, and walked back into the living room. He could hear and feel Jimmy on his heels, but he had to calm himself. He sat on the sofa and massaged his forehead, hoping the tablets would kick in soon.

Jimmy stood awkwardly behind him. “Thomas, I don’t understand.”

“What’s there not to understand?” Thomas grumbled. “I’m in love with you. I want you to stay. I don’t want you to go back to her. All that in spite of the fact you lied to me from the start and broke your word.”

“But...are you saying I can stay?”

“Yes, for Christ’s sake.” Thomas was beginning to think the throbbing in his heart had been some sort of mixed signal with the throbbing in his head. “And would you sit down?!”

He heard Jimmy drop his bag on the floor and come around to the front of the sofa. He sat, not moving for a long while. Then he picked up the pills Thomas had left for him. “How am I going to get everything from her place?” he wondered aloud, taking them.

“I don’t know.”

More silence. “Thomas?”

“What?”

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much now, and I don’t mean owt by it...but I’m in love with you, too. I’d say, ‘I wish I knew how to quit you,’ but that doesn’t really fit. ‘Cause I don’t want to—quit you, I mean.”

Thomas peered up at him, sideways with his head still in his hands, just as Jimmy wiped a tear from his own face. Other than that, he looked rather normal. “When will she be back in London?” Thomas asked, a scheme forming in his mind. If he didn’t scheme, he would end up either crying at long last or introducing the sofa to makeup sex.

Jimmy shrugged.

“Can you find out?”

“What for?”

“You have a key, don’t you? And I have mates with a car.”

He caught Thomas’s meaning at last. He pulled out his phone, but stopped short of typing anything. “Are you sure?” he asked.

Thomas sighed. “Well, if we’re doing inappropriate quotes from Brokeback Mountain, then...‘Too early in summer to be sick of beans.’”

The corners of Jimmy’s mouth quirked up, not quite a smile but on the way there. He turned back to his phone and typed something out.

***

Thomas and Jimmy piled into the back seat of Mary’s car. Matthew was driving, which seemed inadvisable. Thomas would’ve preferred Tom, and Matthew was a solicitor.

Thomas reminded himself that what they were going to do wasn’t illegal. And, Mary was the one who invited herself; Thomas had intended to just borrow the car. None of it mattered ultimately, he thought. We’re just going there and coming back.

“You both look terrible! What’s happened?” Mary asked, twisting in her seat to look at them.

“Hungover,” Thomas lied. Well, not really, but that was just part of it. If he decided to tell Mary about the morning’s events, he wasn’t going to do it in front of Jimmy and Matthew.

“Why do you have to go today?” Matthew chimed in, pulling away from the flat.

Thomas started to answer, but Jimmy cut in himself, “My, er, ex is coming back from France today, unexpectedly. It would be better to get out before she gets there.”

Seeing as Thomas had only told Mary they needed to get to London as soon as possible—via car—to get some of Jimmy’s things, that explanation came as a shock. “You’re moving in with Thomas?” Mary said, her eyebrows practically in the heavens. “Permanently?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy answered, without hesitation but still sounding unsure of himself as his voice rose questioningly toward the end. Perhaps he’d assumed Thomas had told all, and was surprised to find he hadn’t.

“She doesn’t know yet,” Thomas added. She never knew, he added in his head.

“That’s rather drastic isn’t it?” said Matthew.

Mary turned around and sat properly in her seat. “For multiple reasons.”

“Neither of you had to come,” Thomas pointed out, shifting the focus away from the still-prickly subject of his and Jimmy’s relationship.

“I’m not letting you drive my car all the way up to London,” Mary argued. “Besides, I’m half American. Have lawyer, will travel.”

The car fell mostly into silence after that, save Matthew’s music playing at a low volume, and they were all on the verge of losing their minds half an hour in. Mary’s heritage did not transfer, it seemed.

Just after they’d passed Doncaster, a particular song came on that was different from the rest of Matthew’s American hip-hop and Brit-hop library: ‘Just a Friend’ by Biz Markie. Thomas hoped Mary would intervene and skip it, not only because he had always found the song sonically grating, but also because the story it told hit a bit too close to home at the moment. But she didn’t, and as Matthew turned his head, checking his mirrors and such, Thomas could see that he was mouthing the words.

Jimmy could also see, as quickly became apparent. At the last chorus, he grabbed Thomas’s hand and held it tight as he began to sing along. Matthew caught on by the second refrain, joining him as they barrelled down the M1.

Thomas wasn’t completely sure what it meant, just that he didn’t get the sense it was done callously. Jimmy looked to be enjoying himself for the first time since the night before, as was Matthew. Perhaps he was saying, ‘I know I did this, and I won’t hide any longer.’ Perhaps he was poking fun at himself, too—a bit of self-deprecating humour for the long journey, to put everyone at ease.

And it worked. Matthew and Jimmy were laughing by the end of it, and even Mary looked to have found it somewhat amusing. Thomas caught himself smiling because Jimmy was smiling. His heart felt warmer and lighter. Maybe things could work out for him, for once.

***

They were cutting it quite close to Lady Anstruther’s ETA when Matthew parked the car along the street near her London house. Thomas and Jimmy went upstairs while Mary and Matthew kept watch near the door, once Jimmy had let them in.

It was just as opulent as Crawley House, but with more modern decorating. The room Jimmy led Thomas to turned out to be, essentially, a large storage closet. He grabbed an old duffel bag and a couple of suitcases and began shoving things in—almost entirely clothing and shoes—while Thomas looked on.

“Across the hall, there’s a bedroom with a bathroom attached,” Jimmy said. “My stuff’s by itself on the right side when you go in. And I have a little plastic basket in there with the things from the shower. Can you go get it?”

Thomas nodded and went across the hall. The bedroom looked like something out of a magazine, with perfectly-made bed and elegant furnishings and rich textiles. No offence to Jimmy, but it definitely didn’t look like he’d lived there at all.

Naturally, his toiletries also looked out of place, once Thomas found them hidden away in the cabinets. It wasn’t like he used 3-in-1 shampoo, but compared to the glass bottles in the shower, Jimmy’s soaps looked like he’d picked them up at the corner shop two years ago.

He was looking too much into it. Thomas piled everything he could find in the basket and carried it back to Jimmy, who was nearly done emptying the chest of drawers in the other room.

He threw the basket in with his pants and socks, then zipped that suitcase closed. He didn’t have much, considering he’d lived there for...what had he said? Six years?

“Thomas!” Matthew shouted from the floor below, startling them slightly.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Is that all?” Thomas asked.

Jimmy nodded, so Thomas grabbed the duffel and a suitcase while Jimmy took the other.

Downstairs, Lady Anstruther had just walked in, having been met at the door by Mary and Matthew. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you get into my house?” she asked coolly, as if they’d chanced to meet at the park. With the winding staircase, Anstruther couldn’t see them, but they could see her occasionally.

“We were, erm, invited,” said Matthew. He’d stepped into her path, blocking her from stepping toward the stairs.

“We’re here helping a friend,” Mary added.

“A friend? What are you talking about? Jimmy!” she called.

Thomas came around the last corner with Jimmy just behind him. She could see them now, and when she did, she frowned.

“Jimmy? Where do you think you’re going?”

Thomas glanced at him, finding him making a face like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “Leaving,” Jimmy said.

Anstruther’s gaze darted back to her peers beside her. If she was the type to cause a scene, she wouldn’t do it in front of them...hopefully. “What...do you mean?” she asked, keeping her tone measured.

“I mean I’m leaving. For good.”

She caught his arm as they passed, stopping him with a surreptitiously strong grip. “Jimmy,” she said, drawing his name out in a whiny, sing-songy way, “we discussed this the last time you tried to leave me. You know you can never stay away for long.”

Thomas watched the muscles in Jimmy’s jaw move under his skin. He hadn’t noticed before, but she and Jimmy were the same height with the heels she had on. Counting her hair as it’d been flung about in the wind, she was a little taller. But not stronger, surely. And it was four against one, even if Thomas’s experience with fighting amounted entirely to getting himself punched. He wasn’t sure why he was considering that possibility, though; he didn’t think she’d ever hit Jimmy, but one never truly knew these things as an outsider. Perhaps he needed something to focus on to prevent himself stepping in before he ought to.

“What is it?” she said, pouting as if she were speaking to a crying baby. “If you’re not sure, then why make a fuss?” She loosened her grip, but only so she could give his arm a squeeze.

Thomas mentally kicked himself for not coming up with a more thorough plan while they did little else but sit in a car for the last four hours. If they had, he might’ve been able to weigh his chances of being reported to the police if he pried her hand off Jimmy. He looked at Jimmy, then back at her, and found he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Let go of him,” he said, managing just a hint of condescension; he figured an attempt at threatening would be inadvisable.

After a few moment’s delay, Lady Anstruther glanced at Thomas, her mouth opening to speak, but Matthew got there first.

“Yes, I’m afraid I must insist you not touch my client, Lady Anstruther,” he said, stepping close to her and hovering a hand near her shoulder.

“Oh!” She took back her hand, leaving it up for a moment in a gesture of false surrender. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised my Jimmy had gotten himself involved in industry.” She dropped the pretence, almost laughing. “I know who you are, Matthew Crawley. Our world hasn’t become that modern.”

“Shut up,” Jimmy said at last. “I’m leaving with them. I never want to see your face or hear from you ever again. Do you understand? We’re done. No more.” Strong as his words were, his voice wavered, and his expression betrayed his pain. Dropping his suitcase temporarily, he pulled out his wallet and handed back her credit card, followed shortly by her keys.

Thomas nodded to Mary and got her to take the suitcase Thomas was carrying while Matthew grabbed Jimmy’s. Slinging the duffel bag strap onto his shoulder, Thomas took Jimmy’s hand and pulled slightly, hoping to guide him on toward the door.

“Fine,” Anstruther said, glaring down at their clasped hands. She looked up again, boring a hole through Jimmy. “But when you find yourself alone and in trouble again, remember how you treated me and do not darken my doorstep. Good luck with your delinquent, blackmailing photographer.” Then she shooed them the rest of the way out, locking the door behind them.

Thomas pressed on in spite of what she’d said—what she’d known. He knew how she probably found it. All it took was knowing his name and a connection with the upper classes, one which she definitely had, and the other she could have found out. Then, she needed only to find the right person.

After loading everything and everyone in the car, Mary took over the long drive home.

***

Having stopped briefly for provisions a couple of times, it was dark by the time they arrived. Jimmy had fallen asleep on Thomas’s shoulder for some of it, but was awake to unload the car when Mary dropped them off at the flat.

“Do you mind if I have a shower?” Jimmy asked once they were alone, the two of them leaving Jimmy’s belongings in the entry for now.

“You don’t have to ask, Jimmy,” Thomas said.

He pursed his lips and started up the stairs, only to stop midway and twist around to look back at Thomas. “What did she mean?” he asked.

Thomas knew what he was referring to, of course. He’d been turning it over in his head the whole way home, trying to work out the paths that information might’ve taken to get to Lady Anstruther. Neither Thomas nor Philip had ever been inclined to post much on social media, after all. So it had to be through word of mouth. “My ex,” Thomas explained, as much as it pained him to do so, “is a duke. We kept our relationship secret, but that wasn’t what I wanted. One day, he finally decided he was going to find some heiress to marry and cast me off, so I sent screenshots of our conversations to his mother and any other relative I had access to. He told them all they were easily created from whole cloth, and that I were a thief, so nothing ever came of it. I assume she found out my name and asked around.”

Jimmy looked down at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. That were my fault. She asked who I were with after the photoshoot and wouldn’t quit badgering me until I told her your name. I said I were having drinks with the photographer.”

“No harm done, love,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I don’t care what she thinks.”

Jimmy stood there for a moment. Thomas could see his jaw tensing and relaxing in thought, even from the foot of the stairs. “Why did you send those pictures?” he asked at last.

“I don’t know. I suppose I thought it would force him to stop lying, or else they’d give me summat to keep me quiet. Didn’t work though. They all just dismissed me as some urchin running a scam.”

He nodded and continued up the stairs.

***

Sybil and Tom were delighted with the photo. Mary had sent the video of them opening it once she’d got home, and Thomas watched it while he sat in bed.

He didn’t know what would happen now. He hoped he and Jimmy could just pretend today never happened and go on like they had yesterday. At the very least, he hoped things were properly resolved. He thought they were, but there was always that sense in his mind that everything was about to fall apart.

But he’d forgiven Jimmy hours ago. Even if he hadn’t, seeing how he looked facing her made his reluctance to tell her in the first place seem justified. He just wondered how Jimmy felt.

He walked into the bedroom not long later, towel around his waist and face all shiny with product. He glanced at Thomas, removed the towel, and began patting his face with it. “Were you...worried, that I wouldn’t leave her after all?” he asked, tossing it over the drying rack Thomas kept near the radiator.

Thomas hadn’t considered that a possibility. “I wasn’t going to leave you there. So, no, not really.”

Jimmy climbed into bed and over to Thomas, wrapping himself around him, a bit like he had the other night. “I thought for a second she was right, that I would end up crawling back to her. Because that’s what I did when I got sacked ‘cause they caught me going to her room at the hotel. I told her it was her fault and all, but then I couldn’t stand sitting alone all day, so I called her up,” he said. “When you told her to let go of me, though...it was like…”

Thomas ran a hand through Jimmy’s hair, hoping to comfort him.

“I felt like you wouldn’t let that happen, like you’d protect me. I know that sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t,” Thomas insisted, shaking his head.

Jimmy sat up so he could look him in the face. “I’m sorry about all this. I really am.”

“It’s all over now. Don’t let it trouble you,” Thomas said. “I love you, Jimmy.” He pulled Jimmy in to kiss him, not wanting to leave a lingering silence if he didn’t want to say it back.

But he needn’t have worried. Jimmy pulled back just enough to say, breath skating across Thomas’s lips, “If you let me rub my cock against your arse like you did the night I came here, I’ll say it back, you soppy beggar.”

Thomas laughed and turned off the light.

***

The following Sunday, Jimmy announced that Thomas had half an hour to get ready, because they were going to York. He complied, of course, but he assumed Jimmy just wanted to get out of the flat again. Things had been rather boring since Christmas, after all.

But, when they got off the train and started in the direction of Jimmy’s godparents’ house, Thomas had to ask what Jimmy had in store for him.

“Sunday roast,” he answered simply, totally nonchalant.

When they walked inside, Lisa seemed shocked to see them. “Oh! Isn’t this a nice surprise!” she said, wiping her hands on her apron as she came ‘round to give Jimmy a hug.

Jimmy smiled, but was a bit stiff. He gestured to Thomas. “This is Thomas. He’s me boyfriend,” he said. “Remember, from last time?”

Thomas nearly thought he’d misheard.

Lisa smiled fondly, but didn’t make a fuss. “Well, come in and grab a plate! We were just sitting down.” She started back toward the dining room, leading the way. “It’s been a while since we’ve had Jimmy for Sunday roast, hasn’t it Gav?”

Gavin looked up like he hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention. “Hm? Oh, yes. Quite a long time.”

“Now, you remember Thomas from last time, don’t you?” she said. “He’s Jimmy’s boyfriend.”

Gavin, eyebrows raised, stood from his seat at the table. “Alright, my son?” he said, shaking Thomas’s hand.

Thomas nodded and smiled, despite feeling as though he might burst into flames at any moment.

Lisa carried another plate in from the kitchen, then took off her apron and hung it on a nail. “Help yourself to anything!” she said cheerily.

Jimmy nudged Thomas toward the kitchen, where he got them both a plate and silverware.

“Did they know we were coming?” he whispered.

Jimmy smiled sheepishly. “I sent Lisa a message on the train that I was in York with a friend and might pop by.”

“Jimmy!” Thomas scolded. “God...I can’t believe-” He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the lingering embarrassment. Then he put his plate and silverware on the bench so his hands were free to hold Jimmy’s head still while he kissed him. “Thank you for this. I mean it. But next time, give us all some warning,” he laughed.

Jimmy’s cheeks were red when he let him go. He nodded toward a particular cabinet. “Pour us a pint of cider, love. I’ll bring the plates in.”

Epilogue

With Mary pregnant and forced to take bed rest, Sybil working, and the billiard room opened for visitors this year, charades had officially been postponed to after the holiday season. Instead, they all—minus Sybil—snuck onto the gallery to watch the lights come on from above, each of them with a cup of mulled ‘wine’.

“I do wish Christmas would get on with it. Being stuck in my room all day with people about has been supremely annoying,” she said.

“Can’t you just go live in London whenever Downton’s open to the public?” Jimmy asked.

“We do in the summer.” Mary took a sip. “The few days we do this around Christmas aren’t worth the hassle of making the trip.”

“By which she means, they would have to pay someone to come dust everything at Crawley House,” Tom chimed in, earning himself an eye roll from her. But she didn’t correct him.

“That’s not the only reason. Mary won’t admit it, but she likes having Christmas at Downton,” said Matthew.

“I will so admit it! I just won’t go on and on about it like Papa.”

The man in question began his speech just then, so they turned their attentions downstairs.

Once the lighting ceremony had finished, Matthew took Mary back to their room while Tom went down to the library for cake. Thomas waited, letting Jimmy take the lead.

The two of them stood, looking down on the crowd for a while. Then Jimmy whispered, “Would you mind if we just went home?”

“No, I don’t mind. Why?”

Jimmy leaned in closer, glancing about to make sure they weren’t overheard. “’Cause I thought I could stand it without charades, but this thing’s cutting me fruit and two veg to ribbons.”

Thomas gave him a funny look. “What thing?”

Jimmy turned his back to the floor below and lifted his jumper and the shirt below, revealing he was wearing a red bra and panty set—the sides of the latter resting above the waistband of his trousers, at the very tops of his hips. Thomas recognised it from the photoshoot where they’d met just over a year ago.

“Where did you get that?” Thomas questioned him, not quite believing it.

“Never brought it back.” Jimmy covered himself again. “I were waiting for you in it when I first sent you a message, but then you ended up chatting with me for so long I couldn’t stand it anymore. I just found it rolled up in one of me old shoes. I know you’re more into me wearing your clothes, but I thought it’d be fun.”

Thomas thought back to then. He was sure Jimmy’d told him he’d returned the knickers, and he’d left the bra at the studio. “But you said-”

“It were embarrassing! I went back, but there were people in the dressing room, so I just grabbed the bra from the corner and went back to my hotel room. Then I lied ‘cause I thought you’d want to see them on and they made me arsehole itch. And they still do.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and pulled Jimmy by the hand to one of the bedrooms on the gallery—one he knew was empty for guests. He sat both their cups down and locked the door behind them, excitement already building in his stomach. “Shoes off,” he ordered.

“You’re daft,” Jimmy said, but did as he was told.

Thomas helped him out of his trousers, then his jumper and shirt. He figured the knickers were more of a nuisance than the bra, so he left that on and got on his knees. Slowly, he peeled them down, freeing Jimmy’s hips and arse before finally pulling them off his cock—his bollocks were already partly free on their own. His skin had red patches where the lace had chafed, which Thomas gently palpated. “I’ll put some nappy cream on you when we get home.”

“Thomas! Don’t tell me that!” Jimmy protested.

Thomas leaned forward, threatening to put his mouth on him. “You don’t want me to tend to you?” he asked, smirking.

“Not if you’re going to talk about nappy cream.”

He brushed his lips against the tip of Jimmy’s cock, then swirled his tongue around it lightly. “If you want to talk about what you mentioned this morning, we’ll have to talk about nappy cream,” he teased.

“Not. Necessarily. Since. I. Don’t. Care. About. Age,” Jimmy said through gritted teeth.

Thomas relented. He’d been giddy enough when Jimmy brought up adoption totally unprompted while he did the washing up from the night before; he was very pleased to find Jimmy seemingly hadn’t been flippant about it.

Actually, he couldn’t resist teasing him just one more time.

“Well, my mistake. I thought you wanted a baby considering how often you tell me to cum inside you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath. “Get up. We’re going home. I’m fucking you for that and there’s no lube here.”

Laughing, Thomas pulled himself to his feet and helped Jimmy out of his bra.