Chapter Text
"Dude, your grandpa is the funniest fucking person I've ever met! I see where you get the deadpan thing from."
So it was safe to say that Dylan was getting along with the family quite nicely. Not that Thomas ever doubted that. Dylan got along with everyone, he was just that kind of person. Genuinely happy and excited to meet new people and see new things, he radiated a friendliness and acceptance that gave people a certain sense of ease around him.
Thomas chuckles, “Yeah, I guess I did pick up a bit of that Scottish humor. I’m glad you like them though, it’s nice to see you getting along.” He says as he takes the shared thermos of coffee from Dylan. He means what he said, Dylan had always felt like home to him, and to see him sitting and laughing with his grandparents and dear relatives gave Thomas a type of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. He kicked at the dead leaves at his feet and smiled down, this trip turned out to be a pretty good idea, despite his previous fears. At the feeling of being pulled into Dylan’s side by an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he looks up just in time to receive a loud kiss on the cheek.
“I’m glad you brought me along.” Dylan grins at him, the hand draped over his shoulders stays in place.
Thomas smiles and hands him the thermos, “Here, I need both my hands.” He pulls out his rolling tobacco, paper and filters, puts one filter in his mouth, and starts measuring the amount of tobacco he’d need. He’s very aware of Dylan raptly watching the movement of his fingers as he starts rolling the cigarette.
“How can you do that while walking? I can barely do it on a table.” Dylan muses.
“Practice.” Thomas smirks sideways at him as he pops the finished cigarette in his mouth and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He takes a drag, then brings the cigarette to Dylan’s lips, seeing as his hands are full. Dylan pulls away from his hand with the cigarette still in his mouth and hands the thermos back in order to be able to grab it.
“Thanks babe.” He says through the smoke streaming out of his mouth. He seems adamant on keeping Thomas in his embrace and Thomas has absolutely no complaints. He winds his hand around Dylan’s waist and leans into him more.
They continue down the path for a little while like that, trading the thermos for the cigarette on each drag in a weird one-handed dance that they perfect by the time they finish the fag. It’s a beautiful evening, the smell of wet leaves is mixing with the tobacco in a strange cocktail that Thomas just knows will take him back straight to this moment whenever he feels it from now on. Maybe it can be bottled, he’d like that. The sun travels ever lower as he nudges Dylan to take a turn in the narrow forest path that they are both walking half off of in order to stay intertwined like this, and they make their way to a big old oak at the edge of the little forest.
“This is the oldest tree in town,” he tells Dylan, “at least according to my grandfather.” He lets go of Dylan and without further ado, hoists himself up on the lowest branches. Dylan just stares at him as he makes his way up a few more. “Ava and I used to climb it all the time.” He clarifies, then adds, “Come on, put that down and come join me, I have a surprise for you!” he calls and continues his climb.
Dylan, however, still looks skeptical. “Will it hold both of us?” he calls up at Thomas, who rolls his eyes and looks down at him. Dylan frowns, points up at him, “Hey, you weigh like 3 pounds and that’s including clothes.” he accuses.
“If my grandpa could climb it so can you!” Thomas challenges, and with an outraged gasp from the ground, Dylan is on his way up to him. He makes himself comfortable on one of the thicker top branches and pulls out his tobacco again. By the time Dylan has reached him, a little out of breath, he’s already got the cigarette lit.
“So… what’s… my surprise?” Dylan asks between breaths as he settles next to him on the branch.
“Those smoker lungs don’t seem to be doing you any good mate.” Thomas decides to tease him instead of answering his question. Dylan glares.
“Oh shut up you’ve been smoking longer than me.”
Thomas chuckles and takes his chin gently. Dylan’s face lights up, but Thomas turns his face to the right, where a view of the whole countryside under the twilight is stretching in front of them. “That’s your surprise.” He informs him and watches with satisfaction as his partner stares slack-jawed at the magnificent changing colors under the setting sun. Thomas himself never got tired of this view. It was one of the things that brought him back here every autumn. That, and his grandmothers minced pie.
When Dylan notices him smiling at him, he turns to Thomas and schools his expression into an unimpressed scowl. He’s overdoing it, in Thomas’s opinion. “That’s it? I was hoping for something else to be honest…” he smirks at the end for effect, and if Thomas leaning in despite himself doesn’t show just how whipped he is, nothing will.
Thankfully, Dylan is just as whipped, judging by the goofy, lovesick grin that stretches across his face and matches Thomas’s just before they close the gap.