Chapter Text
Weddings, Thomas concluded, at least weddings in villages on private islands, were for getting drunk and dancing until you were dizzy with anyone who asked you. At least that was his justification for being very, very drunk, and half hanging off one of the island’s newer inhabitants. Admittedly his partner, whose name was Chris something or other, was the only person who had asked. If he were sober, he might be offended by the lack of attention. As it was, he was simply remembering how much he ruddy liked dancing; realizing how much nicer it was to dance with another bloke than whichever girl needed a partner; and coming to the very accurate conclusion that it was impossible to tango properly when you couldn’t remember which foot was your left one or who was leading. At least he thought one of them was supposed to be leading. Did someone lead in the tango?
Fortunately Chris didn’t mind having his feet stepped all over. He also didn’t seem to mind Thomas clinging to him to stay upright. Theo, on the other hand, seemed to mind some part of it because Thomas was suddenly aware of his presence, just to their right. He cleared his throat. “While I’m glad you two are enjoying yourselves, I think you might want to sober up a bit before you dance anymore.”
“What, we aren’t doing anything wrong,” Chris frowned, refusing to release Thomas’s waist. “We’re just dancing.”
“Right,” Thomas agreed, although he rested his head on Chris’s shoulder to keep the room from spinning quite so much. “I like dancing.”
Theo gave him a very stern look. It was the sort of look his Mum had given him as a kid when it was time for bed and he’d been clearly exhausted, so she hadn’t believe him when he’d said he wasn’t tired. Definitely that sort of a look. “I’m very glad to hear it and it’s nice that you’re having a good time. However, you’re also about to trip each other and I’d rather the event not end with us asking Dr. Hartley to set your broken neck. You can dance more later, but for now you need to sober up before you fall over.”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “I will not fall over,” he insisted, pushing away from Chris to demonstrate how stable he was on his feet. It would have gone better if he’d not immediately toppled over backwards into someone. Fortunately the someone seemed to be expecting him, because he found himself caught from behind by a pair of strong, sober arms. He blinked, rather confused by the turn of events.
“Er,” Chris said intelligently, then gave Theo a somewhat abashed look. “Well. I was just dancing at any rate.”
Theo sighed and placed a hand on Chris’s arm. “Look, Chris, let’s get you some punch, assuming Tully hasn’t gotten to it, and let Thomas get some air, and then we can think about dancing some more.” Looking behind Thomas, who was trying to get his feet under him, he said, “Would you take Thomas outside for a bit? Make sure he doesn’t fall into a bush or something.”
“I’m not that drunk!” Thomas protested, once more trying to stand straight. If he concentrated, he could do it. “There, see?”
“In which case, I’ll just be keeping you company,” a voice said in his ear.
He turned to discover his rescuer was Richard Ellis, who he then wound up grabbing hold of as he’d turned a bit too quickly and overbalanced. Richard’s arms caught his waist and after a moment while he contemplated the wisdom of letting go of the other man, Thomas concluded, “I suppose a bit of air couldn’t hurt. And company’s always nice.”
“It is,” Richard agreed, helping him get his feet again, and then offering his arm for support. “And there’s lots of air, so we don’t need to rush out before it’s gone.”
Thomas gave him a sideways glance. He suspected the other man was laughing at him. Unfortunately the other man was also starting, rather slowly, for the door, so Thomas had to walk if he didn’t want to wind up being dragged. Careful of where he put his feet, Thomas let Richard lead him out of the parish hall. Outside the sun had set hours ago and a spring breeze had cropped up, so the air was brisk. Thomas immediately sobered a bit. “Alright, that is bracing,” he noted, letting go of Richard and finding a patch of wall to lean against. He dug in his pockets and came up with his cigarettes and lighter. After he’d managed to fish a cigarette out and get it lit, blowing his first stream of smoke into the air, he noted, “It really was nice of Sam and Alfie to get married, so we could have this party. It’s been a long time since I danced at all.”
“It’s fun,” Richard agreed. “Although I think Tully’s having more fun than anyone, seeing how much alcohol he can get in all of us.”
Thomas laughed at that one. “Probably making up for Henry and Miles. Those two might as well have eloped.” There had been a ceremony, of course, followed by a discreet wedding breakfast and then the two of them had packed off for a honeymoon at the cabin. They’d come back with merry tales of shooting things and fish getting away. It wasn’t Thomas’s idea of romance, but he supposed it was their wedding. Sam and Alfie, being working class lads, and probably a bit tired of behaving what with all the mainland building crews that had been all over the island for what seemed like months, were making a much better to do of it.
“Yes, well, not everyone can convince Tully to give up half of his whiskey to the cause.”
“Don’t think it’s half. Pretty sure he has an underground cave someplace full of the stuff, just in case the North sea freezes over and he can’t get anymore.” The idea of Tully smuggling emergency rations of alcohol into some seaside cave like an old pirate made Thomas chuckle. Jessop would have to keep an eye on the pub while he did it, so no one would get suspicious. “We should make a rule,” he announced, changing topics abruptly. “Every wedding must have dancing. It’s not fair that we don’t get to dance more.”
“Want every opportunity to step on Mr. Webster’s feet, do we?” Richard asked, giving him a smile. There was something off about that smile. It didn’t reach his eyes the way it should.
Thomas frowned, trying to puzzle through what was off. “Webster? You mean Chris?” He took another drag and shrugged. “Not really, he’s just the one who asked me. The only one who asked. All night long.” He was starting to get sober enough for that to be irritating. He was a good dancer, especially when he was sober, and certain people were always making it sound like he had a gaggle of men after him. So why hadn’t anyone else asked?
“Well, he did scoop you up before anyone else really got the chance, and he hasn’t let you go,” Richard pointed out.
Thomas just glared at him. “Anyone could have cut in, if they really wanted. Faint heart never won Thomas Barrow.”
The observation earned him an arched eyebrow. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You do that.” Thomas gave a sharp nod, then looked out into the darkness. It was a lovely night. The parish hall didn’t have much of a view, but it was up high enough that you could catch glimpses of the ocean. The moon was near full, surrounded by stars, and reflected in the water. “When I get married, there will be dancing.”
Richard gave him another of those sideways glances. “Honestly, we’ve all been a bit surprised you haven’t yet. Gotten married, that is.”
Thomas frowned again. “Why would I have? No one’s asked, have they?” There was that irritation again. “Really, every time the subject comes up, people make it sound like I’m spoiled for a choice, but I’ve not seen any indication of it.”
This time the look Richard gave him could only be described as ‘odd’. Thomas didn’t know what to make of it at all. “Well, perhaps since you are, as you said, spoiled for a choice, they’re waiting for you to make a move.”
Thomas scoffed. Syl would have been proud of that scoff. “The last time I made a first move I wound up in the bloody Clinic, didn’t I? And before that I had me job threatened.” He frowned, trying to remember if there had ever been a time he’d made a first move and had it not end in disaster. The answer was not really. He and Phillip had sort of skirted around each other a bit, at the start, but Phillip had the advantage of power and so had taken the first really big step. He sighed. “I can’t even tell you who the options are, honestly. Who’s actually interested and who’s just a friend. The only time anyone showed a real interest was when some bloke offered to walk me home from Church back when I’d first gotten here and nothing felt real yet. I’ve not gotten a nibble from that quarter since.” His tone was pitched to imply that it had been very unfair of Richard to not let him get settled and learn the rules of courtship before asking him to take such an important romantic step. He went to take a drag, only to discover the cigarette had burnt out. He sighed and dropped it.
“To be fair, you immediately took up with Kit,” Richard countered, although he sounded more curious than defensive.
“I didn’t take up with Kit!” Thomas protested. “I agreed to go to a concert with him, that was all. And RAMC drinks with Peter was simply getting to know the locals. I hadn’t realized yet, back then, that I couldn’t say ‘good morning’ to a bloke here without it being the sign of an understanding between us.” Old memories dredged themselves up, making the irritation worse. It was as if suddenly everything was his fault again, just when he thought he’d settled into village life enough that he could be free of that.
Richard seemed to realize he was making things worse. “Alright, so maybe you aren’t the only one who can’t read a situation.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Shouldn’t think I was,” Thomas huffed, crossing his arms and glaring up at the moon. “Not with this many people about.”
“Perhaps I should offer to walk you home from Church again some time.” Richard’s voice took on a soft, almost teasing tone.
Thomas was having none of it. He wasn’t going to be calmed down that easily. “Perhaps you should.”
There was a moment of silence, then Richard suggested, “Then again, it’s been long enough, perhaps I should skip that part and just ask you to marry me.”
“Perhaps you - “ Thomas was half way through the retort when he realized what the other man had just said. He blinked. Twice. Then he turned to look at Richard, tilting his head and squinting at the other man, trying to judge if he was serious or not. When Richard reached out and smoothed a hand along his cheek, Thomas figured he must be. “Should wait until I’m sober to do that. Wouldn’t want people saying I’d only said ‘yes’ ‘cause I was drunk.”
Richard considered that for a moment, or pretended to. He had a very smug smile. “Perhaps I should,” he allowed. “In the meantime, could I walk you home from Church on Sunday?”
“You could,” Thomas grinned back, ducking his head, certain he was blushing.
“And when we go back inside, might I have a dance?”
“Can have all of them, if you’d like.”