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Cowardice was not, all things considered, one of the traits with which Tharkay generally associated himself. He could not go so far as to list bravery among his assets—more often it was a sort of ruthless practicality—but he had willingly put himself through enough dangers to avoid the mantle of coward.
That morning, however, ruthless practicality, driven by a need to ensure his own survival, led him to the coward’s route, and he took it with relieved ease. He heard stirring from Laurence’s room as he passed on the way to the dining room, and hurriedly took himself off in a different direction instead. He was far better served to avoid that conversation for as long as possible, he had no doubt.
Tharkay left the main house of his estate and meandered through the grounds, coming to a halt finally on the far side of his stable. It was out of sight of Temeraire’s pavilion, so the dragon could not betray his location without making an effort to stir himself, and there was a handy stoop for him to sit upon. He sat and contemplated the thicket of trees in front of him to avoid letting his thoughts wander back to the previous night.
It was probably for the best, he concluded, having failed utterly to control his own mind. Tharkay had never been accustomed to having that which he most wanted, and his father’s estate was a dangerous precedent. The patrimony secured, that which he wanted most in the world was Laurence’s continued residence therein. Far better to lose that now; if he had managed to keep it, there would have been the undeniable risk of becoming greedy.
The sun was still rising above the treetops, and Tharkay watched the changing colors of the sky in peace, but it was not to last. No sooner had the fiery orb crested the tallest canopy than he heard a cough from his right, and turned to see Laurence standing there with two cups in hand. “Might I disturb your reverie?” the man asked, extending one cup towards Tharkay.
Tharkay took it and nodded, all his nerves standing on end in nervous anticipation. The stoop he sat on was not large, but when it became evident Laurence meant to join him on it, he moved as far over as he could manage, in order to leave some semblance of a space between them. The cup proved to be full of coffee, a thick, strong aviator’s brew, and Tharkay drank it down in relief. “How did you find me?” he found himself up to murmuring, so fortified.
“It was not difficult,” Laurence said. “When you did not show up for breakfast, I thought you must be hiding, and for all the grandeur of your estate, there are not so many places to hide.”
“I shall have to remedy that,” Tharkay said nonsensically, diving back into his cup of coffee. Next to him, Laurence did the same, looking for all the world like there was nothing he wanted better than to be crowded on a step that smelled of horse next to a man who had only the night before offended his honor. “If you have come to tell me you wish to depart, know that you will face no objections from me,” Tharkay murmured finally, unable to stand the silence a moment longer. “If you wish to repair back to your brother’s farm, I can at least stay out of your way while you pack, or if you seek a different situation I can look into it on your behalf. Just tell me if you wish me to be useful or to be invisible, and I will be obliging.”
Laurence made a soft, considerate noise in the back of his throat. “I had never dreamed you would not be obliging, if the need arose. But neither of those options appeal to me, I find.”
“Oh?” Tharkay raised an eyebrow, still looking at the trees instead of at Laurence. “What third option have you found?”
“Why, to remain where I am,” Laurence said. Tharkay sighed and dropped his head, looking into the dregs of coffee in his cup. “I see no reason to remove myself, unless by your declaration last night you meant rather than you wished me to leave than that you wished me to... well. One seems more likely than the other, but it is possible I was mistaken. If you wish me to leave, I will leave; otherwise, with your permission, I will stay.”
“No,” Tharkay said, bone-dry, “you were not mistaken. I did not declare myself, as you put it, in order to hint that you had overstayed your welcome. But I cannot imagine you truly desire to stay. Is it not instead that you wish to assure me of your discretion and friendship, and are doing so by remaining in an uncomfortable situation rather than cause me offense?”
Laurence snorted. “I am not so self-sacrificing as all that, Tenzing. I had enough of rough berths in the navy, I can assure you. Were I uncomfortable, I would remedy it, but I am not uncomfortable.”
Tharkay swallowed. “I am glad to hear it.” After a few moments’ silence, he went on, “I can offer you assurances, if they would be of use to you.”
“What sort of assurances?”
“That I have no ill intent, and have no cunning designs upon you. I am perfectly content with your friendship, so long as you are willing to give it, and should you desire to withdraw it I would survive. I am no predator, out to ensnare unwilling victims.”
“I did not for a second dream you were.” Laurence sounded offended on Tharkay’s behalf, and Tharkay had to laugh around the swelling of his heart. “If you truly have no designs upon me, so be it. But I do not think you a predator merely for having emotions fall where you would not have chosen to place them.”
Now it was Tharkay’s turn to snort. “If you are fishing for compliments, Laurence, you are being remarkably blunt about it. My feelings have fallen precisely where I would have placed them, if you would drag another confidence out of me. You must know...” He swallowed heavily and forced himself on. “You must know I think the world of you.”
Laurence did not respond to that for a moment, choosing instead to drain what remained of his coffee and set the cup on the ground. “Why now?” he asked, turning to fix his eyes on the side of Tharkay’s face. “Why declare yourself now, if you have no designs and no intentions?”
Tharkay shook his head. “I do not know,” he confessed. “It simply became... intolerable, to continue on with you not knowing. The balance shifted until you knowing and becoming enraged became more appealing than continuing on with you in the dark. I cannot say why.” Laurence had made some comment about their time in Australia, some half-joking remark on why Tharkay had chosen to take a job that would send him around the world from the war instead of continuing with his espionage work, and something inside Tharkay had snapped.
Surely you know, Laurence.
Know what?
Know that everything, from the moment I took your hand in Istanbul, has been for you.
Tharkay had fled Laurence’s stammers, choosing to drink himself into an early sleep. Perhaps he was still drunk, he reflected; this conversation was not going at all how he had envisioned it. “What happens now?” he asked, almost to the trees he was still staring at instead of the man next to him.
“Now?” Laurence shifted beside him. “Now, if what you say is true and you lack all designs or intentions, now we carry on as we have been. Housemates, and friends.”
Tharkay finally looked at him, sidelong and curious. “You sound almost disappointed.”
“That is reasonable, as I would be disappointed.” Laurence’s eyes met his, frank and uncompromising.
“You wish me to have designs upon you? I cannot see what purpose that would serve, but I am sure I could contrive some, if it would please you.”
Laurence blew out his breath. “Come, Tenzing, do not mock me. I may be an ignorant fool, but I am not enough of one to turn down a good situation just because it did not occur to me to want it before it was offered to me.”
Cursing himself for a weakling, Tharkay looked away again. “I do not want your logic, Laurence. Do not talk yourself into a liaison because you have decided it would be beneficial. No doubt it would suit you to have a bedmate closer than the offices of the Admiralty, but that is not what I want from you. And there, you have it out of me. I do want something from you. But not what you are offering.”
“You are not listening to what I am offering, so how can you know if you want it? Tenzing, look at me,” Laurence said, years of command still resident in his voice. Tharkay’s neck snapped to attention, turning his face back to Laurence’s. “Is it so inconceivable that I could want you back?” he asked softly. “I confess the notion had not occurred to me before last night, but I have always been quick at making up my mind.”
“It is nearly inconceivable,” Tharkay breathed, eyes caught in Laurence’s gaze.
Laurence smiled. “I shall hold onto that nearly.” Impossibly, he blushed. He was not an attractive blusher, Tharkay was gratified to note, no more than he was an attractive crier. But it made Tharkay’s heart race all the same. Gingerly, Laurence moved his hand from the stoop to Tharkay’s nearer knee. “I said, back in Istanbul, that I thought I should be sorrier to lose you than I yet knew. I think that is still the case, and much more so than I realized. I would hate to lose an opportunity for happiness just because you cannot bring yourself to believe me.”
And, Tharkay realized with a start, he did believe Laurence. He knew Laurence, better perhaps than he’d ever known another man in his life, and Laurence was not a dishonest man, nor a coward, nor incapable of knowing his own mind. His one period of dishonesty had been entirely turned against himself, and he was easily shaken out of it once someone cared to try. I myself was the one to wake him, Tharkay thought idly.
Something of his epiphany must have written itself across his face, because Laurence’s expression sharpened, and the space between them took on a weight, a heft that Tharkay had only felt a few times before. Laurence’s eyes dropped to his mouth, then flicked back up to his eyes. “Will you...” he asked, trailing off meaningfully.
“I am almost tempted to make you do it,” Tharkay said without meaning to, “to ensure you mean it.”
“I mean it,” Laurence said immediately. “I have never meant anything more in my life, I think. But I cannot—you must, if it is to be done at all.”
His mouth quirked up, self-deprecation sitting ill on his face, and, all the gods in all their heavens help him, Tharkay leaned forward and kissed his friend.
Laurence surged forward as soon as their lips met, a natural aggression no doubt tended to by his time in Admiral Roland’s arms, but when Tharkay did not immediately rise to it he gentled, allowing Tharkay his leisure. Tharkay did not take much of it, preferring a short reconnaissance to a long one, just taking enough time to get a feel for the taste of him, the way his breath stuttered when Tharkay pressed him, before leaning back. “Why could you not?” he asked.
Laurence laughed, his smile wide and rueful. “Do you know, I think it was because there was still a chance I could have been wrong? Call me a coward, but I could not bring myself to ruin our friendship if I was.”
“I would never call you a coward,” Tharkay said honestly, and Laurence’s face flushed that ruddy, mottled red again. “Call me one instead, for not being willing to face you this morning.”
Laurence shook his head. “A tactical retreat, one I was too tactless to honor. But it has all turned out for the better, I think, don’t you?”
Tharkay kissed him again, and took his proper leisure this time.
“I suppose I shall have to explain things to Jane, the next time I see her,” Laurence said later, over a cold breakfast and more hot coffee. “Not that it is you, or a man at all, but that there is someone. She will wonder why I will no longer... well.”
“You needn’t, on my account,” Tharkay said. “She had you first, and I believe I am willing to share with one so worthy as Admiral Roland.”
Laurence shook his head. “I could not. It would feel dishonest. I do not crave the physical realm so much that I require two lovers.”
Tharkay picked up his toast, weighed his options, and went all in for bravery. “Do you crave it at all?” he asked, taking a bite. “You went an awfully long time without it, and many men could not have. You would not be the first; some in the world do not require or desire the physical.”
That seemed to set Laurence aback; he lowered his knife and fork and stared into the middle distance. “I cannot answer that,” he said finally, his eyes focusing back on his breakfast. “I enjoy it, to be sure, but... I have been up all night wrestling with my sudden desire to spend my life with a man. This question will have to wait for another sleepless night.” Tharkay raised his cup in acknowledgement. “Do you have other lovers?” Laurence asked, almost too casual.
Tharkay shook his head. “No. My heart, once given, is given entirely, until such a time as it is given back.” A brief thought of Sara Maden crossed his mind, and he watched it cross Laurence’s as well, played out upon his face.
“I shall have to be careful what I hand to you, then,” was all Laurence said, lightly. “I will not be so careless as others have been.”
“So, a word in Admiral Roland’s ear that you are taken by another. I have no one with an interest in my life to tell. What of Temeraire?”
Laurence shook his head. “It cannot be kept from Temeraire. He knew of Jane without my telling him, it cannot be supposed he will miss it with you. I will be strict with him about the need for secrecy, but, well. You have heard a dragon try to whisper.”
“Well, you have survived treason, and I have survived being foreign,” Tharkay said, amused. “No doubt we will survive some ill-placed rumors, especially if neither of us plan to enter public life again.”
“I, for one, do not,” Laurence said, stabbing his sausage with a little more force than necessary.
Tharkay laughed. “Nor I. Do you wish me to come along when you tell Temeraire?”
Laurence shrugged one shoulder. “It is up to you. He will be delighted either way. Temeraire has always been dead set against my marrying, and this turn of events prevents that from happening quite nicely. In addition, I believe he still thinks of you as one of his crew.”
“Why, of course,” Temeraire said when they approached him after breakfast. “You mean you were not already? And of course I shall be the picture of discretion, Laurence; when have I ever betrayed you?”
“Never, my dear,” Laurence said, laying a hand on his snout. “I meant only to underline the importance of secrecy and a lack of gossip, not to imply that you would ever willingly betray me.”
Temeraire nuzzled him, and then turned his great head and nuzzled Tharkay, hot breath gushing over Tharkay’s face and shoulder. “If that is all, Laurence, could you please read to me the text of the proposed bill on feral conscription? I want to go over it again before Parliament meets next week.”
“Of course,” Laurence said, sharing an amused glance with Tharkay.
“Tharkay, you stay,” Temeraire instructed. “You understand the legalities best.”
“I am at your disposal,” Tharkay murmured, settling down onto the floor of the pavilion as Laurence fetched the bill from Temeraire’s chest in the corner.
Temeraire huffed at him, pleased. Laurence emerged with the large scroll and came to sit next to Tharkay, rather closer than the great expanse of pavilion floor demanded. Their knees pressing together, he began to read.