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There’s little worse in a community than a missing child. Nothing like it for unsettling people, for making them point fingers and suspect each other. It’s hard to condemn the boy’s father for looking for someone to blame; his son is missing, of course he’s being unreasonable. It’s unreasonable of anyone else to expect him to be otherwise under those circumstances. That does not mean Leonard’s going to stand by and let it happen, let Daniel be attacked. Also, he supposes, by some extension he’d be letting himself be.
Sidney tries to stop him, probably thinks he’s going to make things worse, but Leonard feels confident in his approach.
“No,” he holds his hand up to shush Sidney, he does know what he’s doing. “What is it that you believe he is?”
It works; Mr Riley stalks off, calling for his missing son. People are usually happy to imply all sorts of things, but they tend to be more reluctant to actually say what they mean in plain English when addressed calmly. They don’t want to speak the unspoken things they disapprove of, because that would make them real.
It’s Phil Wilkinson of all people who wanders over to him once Mr Riley’s gone. “Nice work.” The incident with the Archdeacon last year seems to have accorded Leonard a certain level of respect from Geordie’s sergeant.
“He’s just upset about his son.” That’s not entirely true, there’s plenty of good old fashioned bigotry at play here as well, but it’s true enough. There’s a moment, when Leonard thinks about the slightly baffled expression that had crossed Sidney’s face, that he feels it must be nice to be surprised by something like this, rather than accept it as inevitable. His only surprise was at Sidney’s.
“Upset he may be, but he’s not making our job any easier,” the sergeant complains, “Parents in missing children cases are a bloody liability.”
Leonard thinks he could well point out that a lack of empathy can be a bloody liability too, but he shares Phil’s frustration even if it’s for different reasons.
Talking to Phil also means he doesn’t have to meet Daniel’s eyes.
-
In the evening, with the search parties halted by the failing light, Leonard takes refuge in the vestry. He’s distracted, still thinking about earlier, and assumes when the door opens that it must be Sidney come to disturb his peace. He’s a little taken aback to see Daniel, but manages a smile before focussing firmly on the candles in his hands (safer and easier than the man in front of him), even as Daniel tries to thank him.
Leonard denies the accusation of bravery, setting the candles in their holders and nearly knocking one over with suddenly unsteady hands. He hadn’t felt brave, just determined. He’s never been good at keeping his mouth shut when he thinks people are wrong. He’s not sure that’s bravery. His own recent actions suggest folly is very much more in his line.
“It’s a wonder how even the most educated of people can confuse a predilection for men with one for boys.” Daniel’s hurt by the whole thing, of course he is. He’s defending himself, even though Leonard’s the last person he needs to defend himself to about this. However Leonard’s also quite possibly the only person Daniel can defend himself to about this.
It should be deeply shocking, Daniel declaring quite calmly and openly ‘a predilection for men’, but Leonard’s more comfortable than he’d have once thought he’d ever be. He shuts down the subject anyway. “I’m not sure people are ready to be open about these things. I’m not sure they’re even ready to think about them.”
Daniel, perhaps wisely, lets it be. “You never came to collect your photographs.” If he’d been looking for revenge for Leonard’s dismissal of the conversation, he couldn’t have done better than to bring up that dreadful photo shoot. He’s not trying to be cruel though, he’s curious and has no idea of the weight behind what he’s asking.
It takes Leonard a couple of tries to explain that the engagement has been broken off. Imparting that bit of news doesn’t seem to be getting any easier, any less humiliating.
Neither of them mentions Hilary’s name.
Daniel says he’s very sorry. He doesn’t look very sorry. His expression though certainly isn’t unkind.
There’s an awkward, silent moment as Leonard busies himself with the candles again and Daniel looks away.
Unfortunately Daniel’s gaze sweeps down to take in Leonard’s wrist, exposed as he reaches for another candlestick. Bandages removed, the wound’s starting to heal but still a rather damning testament of what he tried to do.
Daniel captures his hand, gently but firmly, and steps in closer as he turns Leonard’s wrist upwards to get a better look, as though he’s not really convinced of what he’s seen.
Leonard can feel his lips form a nervous smile as he tries to lie. As though, even if he weren’t an abysmal liar, there were really any believable explanation but the obvious. “There was a knife in the erm, in the kitchen sink...”
Daniel doesn’t believe him, and doesn’t lift his eyes from Leonard’s wrist. He’s clearly not going to listen to Leonard’s excuses.
“Leonard...” There’s so much that Daniel seems to be trying to say with just his name.
Leonard doesn’t know how to respond as Daniel bends his lips to kiss Leonard’s damaged wrist, obscuring the wound from view. A gentle blessing over a mortal sin.
Like the feel of Daniel’s lips on the delicate skin wasn’t a mortal sin all of it’s own.
This is shocking, but not unpleasantly so. For a long moment Leonard can’t look away, transfixed by an act of tender care he doesn’t think he’s felt the like of since his mother died. Then, flustered by the feel of warm hands and warm lips, Leonard gasps quietly and pulls away, breathing heavily.
Daniel immediately lets him go, looking at him like he’s worried he’s done something wrong, crossed a line. He has, of course he has, but Leonard is far from angry about it.
They’re both flustered now and all Leonard can think to do is go. He grabs the candelabra and leaves Daniel in sole possession of the vestry.
The church is busy with people, including the archdeacon who is the last person Leonard wants to see when he’s just had another man’s lips on him. He deposits the candles and escapes back to the vicarage.
-
The next day the missing boy is safely returned to his parents, the whole thing a sad, messy affair that’s managed to hurt everyone it touched, including Daniel.
Leonard finds himself back in the vestry with another very hurt man, only this one he finds easier to talk to. He’s got little to offer Sidney though other than to return his own advice from months before to him. “It gets easier, living with a broken heart.”
Sidney and Amanda have been an untenable proposition ever since he’s known them, but the end still feels more surprising than it has any right to. As though deep down Leonard believed that surely two people who loved each other could overcome any obstacles. He knows that’s not true. It came down to Amanda or the Church, love or duty, and Sidney always picks duty in the end.
It’s odd, but in a way Leonard thinks he might be a little more free to declare himself to the person he loves than Sidney is. Sidney and Amanda were just that bit too far outside of the bounds of law and convention for it to work. What he wants is so far outside that it somehow feels less impossible.
He’s not naive, he knows there could be talk if he and Daniel are seen together. The clerical collar provides him some limited protection, but not much. There’s been talk about the two of them before, the Archdeacon made that very clear, and yesterday’s events have certainly indicated Daniel is not as discrete as might be wise, people know what he is – and it’s not helpful that part of Leonard loves that, loves his quiet defiance. A predilection for men, Leonard can’t help smiling at the memory, at the audacity. If he’s honest, he admires it.
People however do have a way of not seeing things that they don’t want to see, things that would prove uncomfortable or inconvenient. The idea that the vicar’s having an affair with a pretty, young, soon-to-be-divorcee, is entertaining gossip. Leonard knows that the idea of anything between him and Daniel would be viewed quite differently, so differently in fact most people wouldn’t want to see it to begin with. There’s a chance they might have an easier job avoiding scrutiny in some ways.
Not that it matters. If he can contemplate, indeed try, ending everything, then surely he can contemplate risking everything. If only that’s still what Daniel wants, if only their encounter in the vestry means what he hopes it does.
Following that dreadful night when the broken engagement just felt like the last nail being hammered into his coffin, Leonard’s starting, slowly, to feel better. More like he can breathe again, like he’s not going to shatter into pieces with every step he takes. He feels strangely calm at this point. Nothing like the numb emptiness he’d felt while writing that letter to Sidney, that even the first bite of the razor blade couldn’t cut through. It feels like he’s pulled back from the edge. The world feels manageable again, he thinks he can cope. Actually, he thinks he is coping. There are undoubtedly going to be days when he won’t feel like that, but today isn’t one of them.
-
The wedding is lovely, Mrs M thankfully persuaded into wearing something more befitting a bride, and the happy couple look like they’ve waited their whole lives for each other. In a sense perhaps they have. Leonard is ridiculously happy for them and sheds a few brief emotional tears in his room while freshening up before the reception. As he fastens the cuff of his shirt his fingers linger on the skin Daniel kissed.
“Be honest, accept each other’s foibles. Accept your own. Because if you don’t, no one else will.” Is it cheating that he’d said the words in the service that he most needed to hear himself? He thinks he has accepted his own foibles, though ‘foible’ is not what the church would call it.
Sidney was right however, he can’t be anyone but himself. Leonard glances over at the church as he leaves the house. I tried it your way, he thinks, I doubt either of us would claim it ended well. I can only be who, and what, I am. I hope it’s enough.
The mixed emotions that come from such difficult thoughts are impossible to sustain though. The marquee is full of life and happy chatter and Leonard can feel himself smiling more readily than he has in a while as he chats with Cathy, congratulates Jack, and kisses Mrs M (“Mrs C!”) on the cheek.
He notices Daniel a short while later, stood in a corner checking over his camera. Taking a gulp of champagne (regrettable, it’s too fizzy to be gulping), Leonard summons up his courage and makes his way over to him.
“Hello.” Daniel greets him with an encouraging smile, looking happy to see him.
“Hello.” Leonard doesn’t know what else to say but luckily Jack catches sight of Daniel at that moment and puts him to work.
This photo shoot is much better than the last one of Daniel’s Leonard was involved with. For one thing he’s not in most of it which means he can stand to the side and appreciate Daniel at work. He’s obviously good at what he does, knows how to get the best from people. Even Mrs C is quickly relaxed and Leonard’s sure the photos are going to be lovely.
Afterwards though he gets no chance to talk to Daniel as he’s dragged into conversation with first one person then another. For all he’s often felt friendless, it turns out that half the parish wants to talk to him when it’s inconvenient.
He’s been handed more drinks than he’d normally indulge in. Sidney being the prime culprit, who seems to think that no clergyman should have to face his parishioners at an event like this without a drink in hand. He may be right but Leonard still disposes of a few of them, managing not to stray any further than mildly giddy – which is sort of his default state when he’s at something as exciting as the wedding of a loved one anyway.
There are however only so many times he can have the same conversation about how the bride looked lovely and how ‘charming’ everything is. Charming appears to be code for ‘why are we in a tent when the groom’s got money’. Leonard still holds that the marquee is better than any hall and that the bunting is perfect.
Across the way he can see Geordie and Cathy talking before taking to the dance floor, and he smiles. Not because it’s his duty as a clergyman to remind people of the importance of the vows they made, but because he knows they love each other and it seemed such a waste that Geordie nearly threw it all away. The way they’re looking at each other now though suggests they’ll probably be alright, and Leonard’s heart hurts a little looking at them.
He wants all this. He wants it and can’t have have it. No one is ever going to dance at his wedding, and no one’s going to encourage him to dance with who he’d choose at anyone else’s either. Not that he really can dance, but that isn’t the point. There’ll be no anniversaries, no ‘don’t they make a lovely couple’, no bunting, but a relationship’s about a lot more than simply other people’s perception of it. That look in Geordie and Cathy’s eyes, he could have that.
Leonard excuses himself from another round of parishioner conversation, abandons another drink, and slips away. He’d seen Daniel step out not long before, but his camera is still safely stored in a corner by the record player so he’s clearly not headed home yet. Once Leonard gets outside he sees he’s not gone far, he’s stood with his back to the marquee looking out across the dark meadows. It’s a beautiful tableau, Daniel stood beneath the branches of an ancient oak, outlined by the soft lights strung around the marquee, hands in his pockets, jacket accentuating broad shoulders. He looks at ease, out here on his own, staring into the dark. Leonard stands and looks for a little while, almost not wanting to disturb the scene.
When he does join Daniel though, Leonard surprises himself by how purposefully he walks over to him, how steady his voice is, how he’s suddenly not quite so afraid. He’s been walking this path for a long time now though, deviated from where he was going on a few occasions, stopped, paused, tried to turn back, but always, he now realises, heading for this.
“Maybe people aren’t ready for us to be honest.” He can suddenly hear Geordie’s voice in his head, You’re brilliant at telling the truth. This probably wasn’t quite what the detective had had in mind, but he’ll take the vote of confidence anyway. “We should at least be honest with ourselves.”
Daniel looks heart achingly hopeful and kissing him is suddenly the easiest thing Leonard’s done in years. He’s still scared and worried, and not thoroughly sure he’s going to be any good at it, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.
It would be too simple to say his fears dissipate the moment he feels Daniel’s lips on his, but they’re certainly not so loud as he’s used to them being. He’s trembling, anchored by the warmth of Daniel’s hand on the back of his neck, the small of his back, but it’s not from fear.
It is altogether simpler and more wonderful than he had ever thought it could be and for a moment he could kick himself for never just letting Daniel kiss him when he wanted to long ago. However he has a feeling that there would have been an important difference between kissing Daniel and simply ‘letting’ Daniel kiss him. He really doesn’t have the presence of mind to think about that though. He’s busy trying to remember every moment of being in the other man’s arms, as though part of him worries it won’t happen again.
When they part, they both go reluctantly, neither moving back far, Daniel’s hand lingering on Leonard’s arm.
Leonard’s breathing hard and doesn’t know what to say, but apparently that’s alright because Daniel can’t seem to stop smiling at him.
They draw further apart as the noise of a couple of tipsy girls emerging, laughing, from the marquee brings home that this wasn’t the safest place for this. Instead of being gripped by panic though, Leonard finds himself catching Daniel’s eye and their shared look is one of the fun of getting away with something, the illicit thrill of snatching a biscuit fresh from the oven and dodging away safely before Mrs C notices.
Still, there are other reasons they shouldn’t linger outside too long tonight. “We should go back in,” Leonard says. “I shouldn’t miss Sidney’s speech.”
Daniel walks back in at his side, murmuring something before he wanders off to check on his camera. “That was worth waiting for. You’re worth waiting for.” Leonard only just catches it over the noise in the marquee and his heart, only just starting to calm, races again.
Sidney’s speech is, of course, perfect. The man has a gift for finding the right words which Leonard can only envy. He’s never going to deliver a sermon like Sidney can, but sometimes he thinks getting to listen to them is better than giving them. He can’t resist turning to look at Daniel as Sidney toasts to love, and is delighted to find the other man smiling back at him. He’s not sure Daniel’s stopped smiling since their kiss and that thought makes him blush so much he has to look away again.
It’s not much longer until Jack’s whisked his bride away. People are starting to drift home, only a few stragglers on the dance floor now. Geordie and Cathy have left, notably together, to get the children to bed, the youngest already asleep in Geordie’s arms. Sidney’s disappeared, doubtless into the comforting arms of a bottle of whisky. Leonard’ll worry about him in the morning. Sometimes it’s best to let Sidney drink himself into oblivion for a bit.
He makes his way to where Daniel’s collecting his camera and tripod. “Can I give you a hand with that?”
Daniel obviously doesn’t need a hand with it, the equipment's modern and not particularly cumbersome. Leonard just wants to spend more time with him.
“That’s very kind of you, Mr Finch.” Daniel’s smile and the formal term of address make Leonard blush again.
-
The night’s a lovely one. Warm and still, clear skies filled with stars. They wander together through the quiet streets, Leonard carrying the tripod Daniel could have easily managed himself.
“I hear you conducted the ceremony.”
“Yes. Sidney gave Mrs M away.” Leonard lets that sound like it was always the plan and leaves out the part where they weren’t sure Sidney was actually still going to be a member of the church and so it had seemed best all round to plan for Leonard to take the ceremony. That’s a long story for another time. “I think I was as nervous as Jack was. We had a nip from his hip flask while we were waiting for her at the altar.”
Daniel’s laugh is loud and bright in the sleeping lane. “I never knew you were such a rebel!”
“Oh, shush!” Leonard laughs. “If you had to live up to Mrs M’s expectations you’d want a stiff drink too!”
“Well I’m sure you performed admirably, everyone was saying how lovely it was.”
“It’s been a lovely day all round.” The advantage of the dark, Leonard thinks, is that though he can see Daniel’s smile, Daniel probably can’t see him blush.
“It certainly has been.” Daniel’s voice is warm and low and he’s walking so close that their shoulders brush every few steps. “Unexpected, but lovely.”
They fall into a very companionable quiet until they reach Daniel’s house. It’s too dark to see Daniel’s small well-kept garden, but Leonard remembers it well enough to picture what it looks like. He’s avoided this lane for months and it’s surprisingly pleasant to be back. He can smell some night blooming flower he doesn’t know the name of and combined with the night sky, and the company, it all feels rather romantic. He’s not sure if Daniel would laugh at him if he said that though so he keeps it to himself for now.
Daniel gestures to the tripod Leonard’s carrying. “Do you mind bringing that up to the darkroom?”
Leonard nods and follows Daniel up the stairs. The darkroom is fascinating, though it smells strange. He looks around curiously as Daniel carefully stows his camera and tripod away. It seems an odd room to start in when seeing inside someone’s house for the first time, but then it’s also a place that is clearly important to Daniel. Whenever he talks about his photography it’s obvious it’s much more than just a source of income. “I’ve never been in a darkroom before.”
“It’s not a terribly impressive set up,” Daniel says modestly, “But it works.” There are a couple of beautiful shots of the river in the sunlight, hanging from what looks like a washing line, which suggest the set up more than ‘works’.
Something in the way Daniel says it though makes Leonard wonder if he’d once had a more impressive set up than this. He doesn’t know much about what Daniel’s life was like before he moved to Grantchester, and it seems far too personal a question to ask. Instead he remarks, “I thought the light would be dimmer.” For a darkroom it doesn't seem very dark.
Daniel moves closer, leans past him, and flicks a couple of switches so that the main light is replaced by the soft glow of a dull red bulb.
Leonard hears himself whisper a breathy, “Oh.” It feels so intimate in the dim light and Daniel's stood so close, if Leonard makes the slightest move they’d be touching. He’s not sure if he wants to make that move or not. He’s upstairs alone with Daniel, in his house, probably less than ten feet from his bedroom, it’s more than a little thrilling but it’s also daunting enough to make his stomach cramp with nerves.
Daniel meets his wide eyed gaze with one of fond amusement. There’s a definite streak of mischief in the man, he’s enjoying catching Leonard off guard. He seems to realise Leonard’s not entirely comfortable though. Instead of kissing him, as Leonard expects, Daniel interlaces their fingers, turns the light back on, and gently tugs Leonard towards the door. “It’s more comfortable downstairs. Stay for a drink?”
Leonard swallows hard, still a little off kilter. He doesn’t want to leave but he’s also not sure he should be drinking any more than he already has. “Well, I think I’ve probably had enough alcohol for one night to be honest. Sidney’s likely to be nursing a three day hangover come tomorrow, one moping clergyman’s enough for Grantchester Vicarage.”
Daniel smiles, “I was thinking about making some cocoa.”
“Oh,” Leonard nods eagerly, “That sounds perfect.”
Daniel’s kitchen is small, tidy and scrupulously clean. Even Mrs C couldn’t find much to criticise here, Leonard thinks.
“So why is Sidney likely to be moping?” Daniel asks as he prepares their cocoa and plates up a piece of wedding cake he produces from his pocket, neatly wrapped in greaseproof paper.
“He ended things with Amanda.”
“Oh dear.”
Leonard shrugs. “It was a hopeless situation, but I can’t imagine that makes it hurt any less.”
“No,” Daniel says softly.
“It’s funny, I was thinking that maybe they were in a more impossible position than us.” Leonard hurries to explain himself, “Sidney could have a relationship with someone else without all the associated drama, they both could. They can’t even easily be friends without people thinking something’s going on. People are going to make assumptions about them that they might not be quite so quick to make about us, because people often don’t see things they don’t care to. Does that make any sense?”
It all sounded better in his head, but Daniel’s smiling at him like he thinks he’s said something clever. “Are you coming round to the idea that life outside the bounds of society's conventions might have its advantages as well as its problems?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Ever thought that it’s the conventions that are the problem, not those who don’t fit in with them?” Daniel asks as he hands Leonard his cocoa.
It’s playful, he’s teasing now, but Leonard answers seriously because he’s fairly sure that just because Daniel's teasing it doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. “I have thought that. I’m also aware that my job involves upholding quite a lot of conventions, and that there are plenty of them I don’t disagree with. Even if you do.”
“You make me sound like I’m advocating utter anarchy.” Daniel says as they step into the hall.
“No! I...” Leonard stops, horrified, and turns to see Daniel’s laughing, still teasing him. Daniel kisses him softly in apology, a quick brush of lips that’s over almost before Leonard knows it’s happening, and ushers Leonard into a comfortable living room.
“I know we don’t agree on everything.” Daniel sits and Leonard joins him on the settee. “Could get awfully dull if we did.”
Leonard’s not so sure. He’s terribly afraid of just how different he and Daniel are in some ways.
Then again he and Hilary had plenty in common and what a mess that was.
Daniel breaks the cake in half and proffers the plate. “Cake and cocoa, I suspect we both agree on that as a good way to end a lovely day.”
Leonard’s smile is one of mingled joy and relief. In all the awkwardness they’ve been through he’d almost forgotten how easy it is to just be himself around Daniel. How well they’d always seemed to fit.
The cake’s good; Leonard hadn’t had chance to try it at the reception, though he’d wound up pressed into service making sure the guests all had some to take with them. Jack had apparently been a little extravagant when ordering the cake as there was rather more than enough of it to go around. It was a sign of just how happy Mrs C was that she completely neglected to chastise him for it.
As soon as they’re done with cake and mugs, Daniel takes his hand again. This time though it’s Leonard’s right hand and the rough edges of the healing wound catch against Daniel’s smooth skin. Daniel doesn’t let go though, instead he draws Leonard’s hand closer to him, resting it palm upwards on his knee and tracing his fingers gently round the ugly scab. There’s that same look on his face that Leonard had seen in the vestry. A kind of devastated weariness, an expression that suggests there’s a lot he wants to say and nothing that he knows how to. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but...what happened?” The question sounds a lot like a plea.
There’s no one easy answer. Leonard could talk about the broken engagement, the realisation that he’d dragged a sweet, grieving woman into his mess and hurt her badly. It’s not that simple though, Hilary was the final straw on a load that had been threatening to overwhelm him for longer than he can remember. It feels like there’s either not a lot to tell, or far too much. He can’t even begin to think about trying to explain his battle with his faith and his worries about whether God will love and accept him as he is. Religion’s a tricky topic between the two of them, with Daniel managing to seem simultaneously supportive and sceptical of Leonard’s faith.
He settles for a very literal interpretation of the question. “I wasn’t coping very well. I suppose it was one of those moments where you just don’t know how to get to tomorrow. I wasn’t expecting Sidney to come back, but fortunately he did. He found the letter I’d left him and...well then he found me before things could go any further.”
There’s still a weight in his stomach every time he thinks about it, that moment of panic when he’d heard Sidney calling his name, when he’d realised he was about to get caught. The mix of mortification and something that might have been relief, or might have been frustration. Unable to do anything but sit there and try not to make a mess as he waited to be barged in on.
Daniel’s stroking his hand, holding it between both of his. It’s like he’s worried Leonard might slip away if he lets go. “Thank god he did!” Daniel’s words are quiet but vehement.
“He was very kind.” That’s an understatement, but it’s also lacking the qualifier of ‘until he took off to have his own crisis and left me to deal with everything’, so Leonard leaves it at that. Really the whole vicarage hasn’t been doing well lately. He hopes today can be a turning point for them all.
“If you ever need someone to talk to, please, Leonard...”
Leonard interrupts, trying to be reassuring. “I don’t intend to do it again.” It’s different, slightly more honest, phrasing than he used to Sidney on that awful night. It’s a hard thing to make promises about. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried something drastic, but he’d like to think it could be the last. “I’m alright.”
The look Daniel gives him is sceptical but kind and Leonard’s forced to concede, “Well, I’m certainly better than I was. Things feel better. I will be alright.”
Daniel just raises Leonard’s hand to his lips and kisses it. The sad, slightly helpless, look in his eyes takes Leonard right back to that dreadful moment when they’d both realised Daniel was there to take the photographs for Leonard’s engagement. He’d met Daniel’s eye that day expecting to see scorn but finding only sorrow. Daniel had tried so hard to be supportive and to just do his job well under horrendous circumstances and Leonard feels suddenly, dreadfully, guilty.
“I didn’t know about the engagement shoot,” he blurts out. “I mean I knew about it but not that it was with you!”
Daniel chuckles, “I could tell. Rabbit in the headlights didn’t quite cover it.” He doesn’t seem to have any trouble following the abrupt turn in conversation. “Though I expect I may have had a similar expression.” He smiles wryly, “I thought it was Sidney getting engaged.”
Leonard winces. “He said. I’m sorry.”
“No.” Daniel insists. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”
“I acted like I didn’t even know you!” Of all the things he did, that still feels the most egregious, because it was the one truly intentional deception. The rest of it was thoughtless and delusional, but he’d not set out to deceive other than in that moment when he’d known he couldn’t tell Hilary he already knew Daniel.
“Under the circumstances,” Daniel allows, “I could see why.”
Leonard squeezes Daniel’s hand. “The minute I saw you I just wanted to sit down and talk to you, without everyone else there.”
Daniel looks away for a moment, an almost embarrassed look on his face, but only for a moment. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for months. When I thought it was Sidney’s engagement photos that I was taking, I was hoping you’d be there, that I might get a chance to see you.” His voice goes quiet and low. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I’m sorry.” Daniel’s voice is soft, layered with guilt. “If I’d just...”
Leonard’s not entirely certain what Daniel’s going to say but he knows it’s going to relate to what caused their rupture in the first place, and he knows he doesn’t need to hear it. He doesn’t need to hear the story of the man he found Daniel with and he doesn’t need more apologies, because it really doesn’t feel like it matters any more. “No. No, there’s no purpose now to rehashing what either of us should or shouldn’t have done. It’s not going to change anything. We’ve both done things we might choose to do differently now. I’d like it if we could accept that we can’t change those things and that that’s alright, because it all led us here. What do you think?”
Daniel smiles slowly, “That you are a wonderful, forgiving soul.”
Leonard shrugs off the compliment. “Forgiveness is very much in my line of work. It’s not always the part I’ve been best at, but when you have to learn to forgive yourself it makes you think differently about things. And I happen to think you’re a wonderful soul too.”
They’ve drawn slowly closer to each other since they sat down, their knees are touching now and Daniel’s still holding his hand. Leonard wants to kiss him again, but he’s nervous. It’s different here, in Daniel’s house, where there’s nothing to make them break apart if they don’t want to. There’s also no one to see though, no one to judge him but Daniel and, put like that, it’s hard to be afraid.
“What’s that smile about?” Daniel asks like he isn’t wearing a matching one.
“I was just remembering you once told me there was nothing to be scared of.” Leonard leans in and presses his lips to Daniel's.
The kiss is every bit as wonderful as the first one, maybe even better now Leonard’s a little less nervous and knows for certain that Daniel will kiss him back.
Daniel’s response is enthusiastic but gentle, coaxing Leonard to relax into the kiss until he feels a brush of Daniel's tongue against his own. It makes him gasp and squeeze Daniel’s hand hard but he doesn’t pull away.
Daniel keeps Leonard’s fingers interlaced with his but his other hand has wandered boldly under Leonard’s jacket to rest on his waist, thumb caressing softly at the base of his ribs.
Leonard loses himself for a while in the feel of Daniel, the faint taste of chocolate on his lips, and the sensation of being held and cherished. He summons up his courage and lets his free hand rest on Daniel’s knee and thinks he can feel Daniel smile into their kiss when he does.
He’s not sure how long it’s been when they finally part, both breathing heavily. Long enough that his lips are tingling and the clock on the mantelpiece is chiming midnight and the start of a new day.
Leonard, still thrilled that he can, strokes Daniel’s hair where it’s slightly rumpled. Did he do that? Daniel leans into his touch like a friendly cat. It makes it all the harder to say, “It’s late. I should get back.”
Daniel kisses him again, short and sweet this time. “Want me to walk you home?”
Leonard’s tempted to say yes, just to get more time with him. No, not just because of that, but because that’s what courting couples do, they walk each other home and kiss goodnight on the doorstep. It doesn’t make much sense for them though. “No, then you’d just end up walking back here alone. I can get myself home alright.”
“Call me then,” Daniel presses, “Let me know you’re back safe?”
“It’s Grantchester, Daniel, what exactly do you think is going to happen?” Leonard laughs, because he’s too giddy not to.
Daniel accompanies him to the door and fixes him with a mock stern look. “How many murders has Sidney investigated now?”
“More than he should have if you ask Mrs C, his sister, the Archdeacon, and probably a fair few of Geordie’s colleagues.” Leonard manages to stop laughing. “Alright, I’ll call you when I’m back.” He’s never seen Daniel fuss like this, it’s nice, it makes him feel loved, cared for.
Daniel thanks him by pulling him into a searing kiss, pressed against the front door, that leaves Leonard breathless.
Leonard walks home half in a dream and has to remember to take care not to wander into the road. He’s told Daniel he could get himself home safely, it would too humiliating if it turned out he couldn’t! The dark streets of Grantchester don’t phase him though, no matter how many murderers Sidney and Geordie manage to find. He feels safer and more at home here than he thinks he’s ever done anywhere. Safety, he supposes, was what was at the core of both Daniel’s offer to walk him home and his own refusal. It’s another convention unlikely to work for them. Men walk women home to keep them safe. He and Daniel are both safer not being seen together; they increase, not decrease, each other’s risk.
Leonard’s very much more conventional than Daniel in general. He has a distinct feeling that Daniel likes casting off conventions, he’s certainly not much of a traditionalist, he seems awfully modern in many ways. He didn’t even wear a tie to the wedding. Leonard can’t disapprove when he looked so smart and handsome anyway.
Of course Leonard wasn’t wearing a tie either. There’s an extent to which members of the church are already a little outside of society and the communities they serve. Sidney’s been bitten by that with Amanda, by the way the church has it’s own conventions that you flout at your peril.
Leonard’s coming round to Daniel's way of thinking though. Maybe there are advantages to be found outside what’s expected of you. So much of life seems dictated by ‘how things are done’, so many people never stop and think if that actually fits with what they want, with how they could be happy. It’s like when you go for a walk for the joy of it rather than because you have to get somewhere, instead of following a set path you get to wander at will and that’s always when you find the best places, the hidden beauty spots and quiet refuges. As he lets himself into the vicarage, he thinks that, much as he loves his home here, Daniel's cottage could become a very pleasant refuge.
The other man answers the phone midway through the first ring. Leonard smiles at this proof he’s been waiting for him. “It’s me, I’m home safe.”
He can hear an answering smile in Daniel’s voice. “Glad to hear it.”
“I was thinking, it might be nice to escape the vicarage tomorrow while they’re taking the marquee down and everything’s likely to be in chaos. Would you like to join me for a wander to the Orchard tea rooms?”
“I would love to.”
There’s such warmth in Daniel's voice Leonard doesn’t want to hang up. He has to though, he’s tired, it’s been quite a day. He’s strict with himself, says goodnight, grins like an utter idiot, and makes his way to bed.
Whatever the future holds for him and Daniel, it won’t be what Leonard had once assumed his life would be. It certainly won’t be conventional. He finds though that he’s rather looking forward to seeing which conventions do work for them, and what interesting alternatives they can come up with for those that don’t.