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Jimmy had never given his sexuality much thought over the years. Sure, if you'd asked him, he'd probably tell you straight because he'd had an uncomplicated life with a series of girlfriends and a wife, all of whom had been the ones to make the first move. He wasn't like Duncan, who was secure and free with his affections (though perhaps slightly less free these days). Naming sexualities or romantic attractions was for other people who needed that sort of thing; lesbian, bi, straight, gay—Jimmy didn't need to name it, declare it. Uncomplicated, straightforward, that was what he was.
What Jimmy was rapidly coming to realise, however, seeing Duncan in his kitchen cooking them a meal like he'd been doing it every day in a shared, uncomplicated life (this part of Jimmy's life was decidedly not uncomplicated), smiling, bantering, affectionate, was that Duncan was very attractive. This wasn't a new realisation as such: everyone knew Duncan was attractive. The difference between Duncan is attractive and Duncan is attractive was that one was an objective fact and the other was not.
Having unlocked this new, potentially complicated fact felt rather like uncovering a piece of evidence or missing information upon which a case hinges: the sudden mystery of Jimmy's sexual and/or romantic attraction towards his co-parent. There were a number of factors to take into account in this case, factors which would determine which step to take next, but none of them were—perhaps surprisingly—issues of identity. Jimmy was not having a crisis.
What he did have was a place to be, which was the airport—not because he needed to escape, but because Tosh needed picking up. He said so.
Duncan laughed and said: indulge me. It felt like a first move. So Jimmy proceeded the way he usually did when he wanted to be seduced—indulged Duncan; stayed, had dinner. Straightforward and uncomplicated.
After that, Duncan didn't make any further moves and Jimmy came to realise something about him that he had always known: there was a brittleness in Duncan that was at odds with his extroverted attitude. He continued to make Jimmy dinner, he slept in Cassie's bed, he tried to fill the space between them with conversation—and underneath it all there was a delicate structure that Jimmy thought might just topple over if he brushed against it.
So: Jimmy let Duncan retreat. He let him stumble through the awkward, messy, painful end of another marriage, let him stay in Cassie's room (and if Duncan was filling out a space Jimmy didn't want to think about, that was a matter between him and himself), ate his food, answered his words.
It wasn't that Jimmy didn't make first moves out of principle, nor was it any kind of laziness—relationships just always seemed to kind of happen to him. He was so keenly attuned to other people that he was always aware when somebody was attracted to him, and all he had to do was answer. Yes or No. Straightforward.
Duncan had always seemed straightforward (but never uncomplicated), but now? Now he was anything but. It'd been a fluke, that day, Jimmy decided, born out of an onslaught of emotion and possibly a need for comfort. For all that Duncan had an open heart and enough love to share, he seemed to hurt all the more for it. And for all that Duncan claimed this was the best part of life, he seemed to struggle with it all the same. With every two steps towards Jimmy, Duncan took one step back—an intricate dance, the mating ritual of the hunter, patient on the surface but turbulent underneath.
Maybe, just maybe, Jimmy had to be the one to make all the first moves this time. Take a step towards Duncan, then another, and another, until Duncan could retreat no more and they could come together. Jimmy had the patience for it; he'd waited for Fran long enough, for her to be ready to make the first move. He could wait for Duncan.
Once, Duncan had said he could go to a hotel, and Jimmy had just told him to not be ridiculous. Now the living room had boxes in it and nowhere for them to go. Instead of clearing out Cassie's wardrobe (it was her wardrobe, her room, her space—she might be in Brazil, but it was always going to be hers) Jimmy cleared out all of Fran's stuff from the wardrobe in the master bedroom. Duncan didn't say anything when Jimmy directed him to the empty hangers and drawers; the look in his eyes was enough.
The rest of the boxes stayed in the living room, not quite out of sight, never out of mind.
It was obvious that Duncan didn't like existing in a half-way state. Half-way out of his life with Mary, half-way into—something else. He inhabited Jimmy's house in a way that was both uncertain and confident; he had no issues asserting himself in Jimmy's kitchen, but then he'd tiptoe in a towel from the bathroom to the bedroom as if he wasn't sure he really belonged there.
They co-existed in easy companionship. Duncan worked mostly normal hours and was home during normal leisure hours, while Jimmy's erratic work schedule resulted in odd hours and reheated dinner in the early hours of the morning, Jimmy hovering by the microwave to open it before it pinged and woke up Duncan.
Jimmy's erratic schedule resolved into three days off, effective immediately, get some bloody rest, followed by a text message from Duncan that just said: pizza. He picked up a large family pizza, sneaking a slice in the car as he drove, and came home to an abandoned dinner in progress and a red-eyed Duncan on the sofa. Jimmy deposited the pizza box on the coffee table, then poured Duncan a glass of water and wet a little washcloth. Drink, Jimmy said, and when Duncan had gulped it down, he placed the damp cloth on his forehead. Lie down.
Do you want to know, Duncan said and Jimmy said, sure if you want to tell. I don't think I do. Okay. Jimmy sat, moving Duncan's legs onto his lap and turned the TV on. They ate half the pizza. Duncan fell asleep under the washcloth. Jimmy watched the TV, unseeing, mind wandering.
He woke at a gentle whisper, don't get up, and a blanket. In the precious moment between wake and sleep, it was Fran, kissing his forehead. I love you. Cassie. I thought you were in Brazil. I came back, she said. Shh, dad, don't get up. Tell me in the morning.
He didn't wake when Duncan got up. He woke when he could hear voices and smell food cooking. Duncan and Cassie were in the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones and cooking up a storm of a breakfast. Every other second, Duncan would squeeze Cassie or give her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. Jimmy wanted to squeeze and kiss both of them.
Cassie. Jimmy squeezed her as tightly as he could. I missed you. I know dad. Duncan put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. I explained the situation here. Okay. I'll give Cassie her room back and go—
Don't be ridiculous.
We'll talk about this later. Eat.
Heartbroken, Cassie stayed. Weeks passed, and she didn't go back to university, she didn't find a job—like Duncan, she seemed to just want to stay close to Jimmy and heal. Duncan stayed too. First he insisted on sleeping on the sofa, and then one early morning Jimmy came home from a stressful case to find Duncan asleep in his bed. Jimmy just crawled in next to him.
That was just how things were. Cassie never brought it up, though Jimmy caught her giving the two of them long looks every now and then. They must've been a vision every morning, half-dressed and bleary eyed, stumbling out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to dive into the first mug of coffee available.
Jimmy caught Duncan giving him long looks as well. With the house sold, Mary gone, and Cassie preparing to go back to university, Jimmy thought, now is the time. Duncan had stopped retreating; now when he took a step forward, there were no steps back.
So, Jimmy advanced.
It wasn't a grand plan or a grand gesture. It wasn't a plan at all, and the gesture was small. Duncan was cooking dinner. Cassie was sitting at the dinner table, going over text books. Jimmy had just come in from work, he was cold, he was tired, and the house was warm. When Duncan turned towards him, infinitesimally, the angle of his body just a fraction of what it'd been before, Jimmy kissed him.
And Duncan kissed him back.