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He was alone.
It was a Friday night, his glass of wine sat ignored on the coffee table. He wondered if he should go to the Loft and have a glass there instead. Maybe meet a man with light hair and blue eyes. Bring him home, keep the lights low, pretend... He heard a clap of thunder. He sighed. Or not.
He needed to let go. Date someone. Fuck someone. Jesus, just think about anyone else. Not Harry Thompson.
"I care about you, Harry.”
“Why? Why do you care about me?”
“You know why.” He could hear the agony in his own voice.
“No, I don't, James.“
“Because I love you.”
To finally say it out loud... was a curse and a blessing. He knew Harry loved Ste and would never love him. But he was relieved to finally say it out loud. The words had been at the tip of his tongue for months. And subconsciously, a hell of a lot longer than that.
He didn't realize at first. When he tossed Harry's trainers into the pond, he thought Harry simply did something stupid for Ste again. He never considered that Harry thought he killed Amy. Yet, it didn't stop him from protecting Harry. He would never deliberately harm anyone. He was good and loyal to a fault. Harry needed someone to look after him, Lord knows, Ste and Tony were useless in that department. So why not him?
It wasn't until Armstrong's blackmail... until he told him that Harry was the reason he was able to let go of John Paul. He didn't realize it was the truth until he said it. He thought it was another lie in a series of lies to protect Harry... oh.
James loved Harry Thompson. It all made sense now. Why whenever Harry said please, James would do anything in his power to help. Why it hurt so much to see Harry waste his life with Ste, a man who was so obliviously self-absorbed that he left everyone he 'cared' about in danger of being consumed by it. He took and took until Harry had nothing of his own that wasn't linked to Ste.
Except for that night. It may have started off by them moaning about their former partners but James made sure that Harry forgot about Ste for awhile. The only time Harry looked away from him was when he came in James's hand and whispered his name.
He really needed to get over this. It was pathetic... Harry was thirteen years younger than him. It would never have worked. Sure, Harry was smart and handsome and funny. But he was a pain in the arse too, always coming to James to fix his messes. Trusting James. Never expecting him to change, Harry saw him as someone reliable... someone who could protect him. And yet...
There was an incessant knock at his door. James looked at the clock, just after 11, could be his mother, lonely and suggesting a movie night. He just hoped it wasn't DS Thorpe, still angry that James cracked Amy's murder and got his nephew arrested.
James gaped as he opened the door and revealed a sopping wet Harry Thompson at his doorstep. Before he could get out a confused hello, Harry launched himself at James. Their teeth bumped as Harry attempted to kiss him.
James grabbed both of Harry's arms and pushed him away, “Harry...”
“I love you too.”
James thought he misheard because that was the last thing he thought Harry would ever say to him. “Could you...possibly repeat that for me?”
Harry smiled, it's been awhile since James saw him do that, it completely disarmed him, “I said... I love you too.”, slowly, each syllable clear.
“Right.” He grabbed the back of Harry's neck and kissed him properly. He was totally weak for this lad. James wasn't sure he believed Harry's words but his actions... like slipping his tongue into James's mouth as Harry's right hand caressed his face, well, they were telling him all he needed to know.
When Harry's hands began wandering, James finally allowed himself to pull back and said, “Are you sure about this?”
“I haven't been more certain of anything in my entire life.”
“Maybe, we should talk... I just opened a bottle of Merlot...” James couldn't quite believe what he was saying. A beautiful young man wanted to do something that was not talking and James Nightingale suggested discussing their feelings instead. Harry Thompson had ruined him.
“I'm standing here in soaking wet clothes and you want to talk? Are you okay?”
“Just... when I told you I... well you weren't responsive.” James looked away, “I'll just get you a towel. And a change of clothes.”
It only took James a moment to find a towel, a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt. Harry had already taken off his blue hoodie when he came back in.
“Here,” he handed Harry everything and turned away. He heard Harry chuckle, “As if you haven’t seen me change before.”
James made his way over to the kitchen to look for another wine glass. He spent a minute longer inspecting it for water spots.
His breath caught when he finally turned around and saw Harry, no shirt and rolled up sweatpants, in James's clothes, standing in his living room like he belonged there. Harry clearly had no intention of putting on a shirt, James sighed.
He poured Harry a glass of wine and took a sip of his own, “Sit down. We haven’t talked since…” Since the proverbial shit hit the fan… Ryan’s confession and arrest for Amy’s murder. Tony and Ste swooping in late as per usual, with apologies and I love yous. James pushed to the side and forgotten.
“I've been busy. I reapplied to Uni.”
“That's great. You're a smart lad.”
“I really screwed up, I don't know if they'll take me back.”
“They'd be stupid not to.”
Harry just smiled at that, “I had a lot of thinking to do as well, finding out I wasn't a murderer… and everything you said.”
Everything James had said? His confession hardly warranted three weeks of radio silence.
“W-what?”
“I know you're hung up on Ste but… it can't be that surprising.”
Harry's face was utterly adorable, baffled, “But… why me?”
“I really don't know. I just do.”
“Right… I, well, I have to go. Thanks for… thanks.” He fled like a scared rabbit from a hunter.
“I'm sorry I left like that. I was confused… not every day James Nightingale confesses to having human emotions.”
James smirked at that, “You bring out some of my better attributes.”
“I realize that now. That you don't help just anyone. Dad didn't believe me when I told him everything you did for me. Ste, um, Ste wasn't surprised. We didn't get back together by the way if you were wondering.”
He wasn't wondering. Ste came by to see him a few days after his confession. James was sure that he was there to threaten him, but he thanked James, for finding Amy's real killer, for taking care of Harry all this time. He received a similar call from Tony as well, though a bit more begrudgingly.
“I couldn't stop thinking about it, what you said, and the way you said it… like you knew I'd cut and run.”
“I knew you'd reject me. So why are you here now saying you feel the same…?”
“Because I do love you. So much, it kind of overwhelmed me there for a while. And then I couldn't wait another second of not telling you.” Harry inhaled a shaking breath, “I trust you. You hide it well but you're kind and loyal. You took care of me and expected nothing in return… You told me I was a good person so many times I started to believe it. You're the most complicated man I've ever met. I could wax about all your desirable attributes, but I wouldn't want it getting to your head. You can be cold and crude but I know that's just a front. And I love you… I didn't realize it was love at first but now that I do, I'm not letting you go.”
“If this is all because you feel grateful…”
“No, no, it’s not like that and you know it.” Harry exasperated, “You make me happy. I think I've been slowly falling in love with you since we first met but I wouldn't let myself… and I know John Paul broke your heart… and I know I left you hanging, but I'm all in if you are.” Harry took James's hand into his, “Please.”
James laced their fingers together, “Okay, why not?”
“Really?” Harry sounded surprised. James was the one who was surprised though, he never thought in a million years that Harry Thompson would be sitting next to him, in his oversized sweatpants, looking at him like that, telling him he loved him.
“Really.” James scooted closer, “I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s all right?”
“Yeah, that’d be… fine,” he stuttered as James leaned in.
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When James woke up the next morning, his limbs tangled with Harry's, he smiled.
He wasn't alone.