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After years of being in the military, the Captain had built a systematic living schedule, which, like all his other quirks and habits, died hard (pun intended).
So every night he would go to bed at 2200, flat on his back, arms on his stomach. He would list all the great battles in alphabetical order, or memorize one of the king’s or queen’s speeches, and then after exact 9.5 minutes he would be sound asleep. Fanny usually woke him at 0200, but at this point, he was able to go back to sleep in the blink of an eye. All in all, he slept very well.
Until tonight.
He had already counted all of the English kings and queens, both in alphabetical and chronological order, he even listed their significant others, while trying to describe them with just one word (he gave Charles II “slutty”, he didn’t want to speak of the royals in this disrespectful manner, but it was what it was), and he still couldn’t sleep.
In fact, he was so restless he felt like he was coming out of his skin. His heart pounded, his forehead and hands sweaty, he was even slightly flushed. And he just didn’t get it.
Granted, it was the best Christmas he had ever since he’d been dead, but should it affect him this much? Or this way? It was almost like he was hot and bothered. It didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t have been aroused by the queen’s speech, could he? It was so highly inappropriate, to the point that just the idea of being turned on by THE QUEEN made him sick to his stomach and he couldn’t stay in the bed for a minute longer.
He got up, thinking some air might help, and wandered downstairs to the living room. The fire had already died down, Robin nowhere to be seen. He was debating whether to just sit on the couch for a bit or go out to the lake when he heard a long, familiar sigh.
He groaned, because due to some unidentifiable reason, Thomas was the last person he wanted to see at this troublesome moment. But the Captain still turned to the adjourning door to the dining room, and sure enough, Thomas was there, leaning against the door frame, looking up at something. His face was half hidden in the dark, half lit by the moonlight, and the Captain was suddenly struck by the fact that Thomas was truly a beautiful man, if only in his pale, skinny and dramatic way.
He also had an epiphany about why he was having a hard time falling asleep.
He was aroused. By Thomas. Because of the Twist-It.
Groaning once more, because the idea of being turned on by THOMAS was actually not so much better than being turned on by the Queen. Yet here he was, frozen on spot, staring at Thomas, all the sensations of being pushed up against Thomas in all the inappropriate parts flashing back to him, and he found himself almost half erect.
No, this was NOT happening.
He slowly backed off, desperate to retreat to his bedroom, when Thomas spotted him. Of course he did. It was just the Captain’s damn luck.
“Why are you still up?” Thomas squinted at him, suspicious, “you were never up in the middle of the night, even when Fanny was screaming particularly loudly those few nights.”
Damn him. They had been living together for so long that they hardly had any secrets left. And that was such a spot-on question to which the Captain had no answer to. Or he did. He just didn’t wanna offer it.
So he stalled. “I could ask you the same thing!”
“No, you couldn’t”, honestly, Thomas was way too sober at this goddamn hour, “I’m always up late in the night, and you know this.”
The thing was, he DID know this. He was always sound asleep, but somehow, he knew Thomas often had trouble sleeping.
He was thinking a different strategy to steer this conversation when Thomas spoke again, he seemed like he figured something out and was even rolling his eyes.
“She was in TV and nobody can actually touch her. Would you get over it already?”
It took ten seconds for the Captain to catch up on what Thomas was saying, and he was both relieved and a little embarrassed, because really, when did they get to know each other this well?
Better to go with it though. “But we can see her and her surroundings! In such close range! That was so unroyal!”
“You do know unroyal is not a word, right?” Thomas rolled his eyes, again. And the Captain was getting a little annoyed. Seriously, if there was one ridiculous person between them, it would so not be him.
“And you do know even if Alison wanted to kiss you, which she didn’t, and even if you two had the chance to both stand under the mistletoe, which you hadn’t, you still couldn’t physically lock lips, right?”
It was a low blow, he knew. And judging by the hurt look on Thomas’ face, it blew hard.
He expected Thomas to yell at him, to take a swing at him which led them into another fight (he would NOT admit that even the idea of fighting with Thomas turned him on a bit because what the hell was wrong with him), or to simply storm off. But instead he just glared at him, a million emotions flash through his big eyes, hurt, wistful, and angry. The small mistletoe hanging above his head, adding a flavor of irony and sadness into the image, and suddenly, the Captain didn’t feel like victory at all.
It didn’t help his guilt when Thomas seemed deflated like a punctured balloon after some hard glaring. He looked down, shoulders sagged, he looked even more pale and fragile than his usual self, which was saying A LOT.
“We really couldn’t, could we?” He murmured, sounding defeated.
Silence fell over them. Thick, uncomfortable. To the point that the Captain felt the need to lighten the mood, except he didn’t know how. So he spoke the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be: “But we could.”
Fuck. That came out of nowhere, and it was such bad flirting the Captain felt his face was on fire.
Thomas was visibly confused for a moment, until he wasn’t. He widened his eyes then. “Did you just suggest...”
OK. Time to do damage control. The Captain opened his mouth to say it was just stating the fact and what was Thomas thinking that it could possibly mean what he thought it meant, but his mouth decided to disobey his brain at that crucial moment.
“I mean you and Alison couldn’t, but you and me could. In fact, we did touch each other a lot during that Twist-It session.”
So there went all his hope of avoiding humiliation, great.
He didn’t want to look at Thomas after blurting out all of his inappropriate thoughts, because he knew what would be on his face. Surprise, confusion, awkwardness, even disgust. It was not his first rodeo.
Except he knew Thomas pretty well, even if it pained him to admit it. He knew, deep down, Thomas was not one to be disgusted by desire or attraction, even if they were not the normal kind for him. So he mentally braced himself and looked.
There was surprise on Thomas’ face, sure. But he also looked flustered. At first, the Captain thought it was embarrassment, but then Thomas licked his lips, eyes darkening, and the Captain found himself once again aroused, the desire so strong he felt like being punched in the stomach.
“But I thought you were straight?” He knew he should throw caution to the wind. His libido screamed at him for still asking questions when he could finally get some after such a long time, but he just couldn’t help himself.
“And I thought you would never be attracted to me. Guess we’re both wrong.” Thomas smirked. Actually SMIRKED. He looked nothing like the usual version of himself, not a single ounce of nervousness and awkwardness. He looked like the one he described in his love story with Lady Elisabeth: confident, handsome, sure of himself, not afraid to show his love and fight anybody who dared to stand in his way, and fearlessly enthusiastic. It was such a good look on him.
Feeling slightly dazed, the Captain stepped forward, like being pulled by some invisible string, while Thomas stood there, still leaning against the door frame, but somehow his whole demeanor had “invitation” all written over it.
When the Captain finally stood in front of Thomas, he was already so turned on he couldn’t see straight. And by the look of Thomas’ hungry eyes, he was equally affected.
But just when they were inches apart, breath mingling, two hearts pounding in sync, the Captain spoke, lustful yet still confused. “What are we doing? This doesn’t make sense. We never wanted each other before.”
“Didn’t we though?” Thomas whispered, brown eyes locking his blue ones. “I had been attracted to you even before you were dead, you know, pining military man who is this good looking? I might be dead, but I’m not blind. I didn’t think you would feel the same, but apparently tonight has proven me wrong.”
He smirked once more. Which made him impossibly more attractive, damn him, and said in a flirtatious tone. “And even if we didn’t, what is Christmas if not kissing the wrong person under the mistletoe?”
With that, he captured the Captain’s lips.
It didn’t feel wrong at all.