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As they finally caught their breaths at the riverbank, with the appropriate thumping on the back and dry heave to get any water out. Michael catches his eye and laughs, a full-body one, flopping on the grass next to him.
"You have the strength of ten good soldiers, and can scale fortress walls as well as you are walking upright, but you cannot swim?"
Michael laughs again in incredulity, Peter joins him this time. He has never seen Michael this open before, let alone laugh. His eyes and nose scrunched, his body shaking. It’s nice.
"Thank you," Peter said, looking at Micheal beside him, holding his gaze "I probably would have drowned if it were not for you"
Micheal met his eyes, a deep brown, the kind Peter could feel himself getting lost in already.
"Probably," he smirked, rolling to his back, looking at the now clearing sky. "Your body washed out to sea, taken to the depths of the ocean. Who knows where you would have ended up without me.”
“Eaten by the fish perhaps”
“You know what this means"– Michaels's eyes gleamed as he points – "you owe me your life now"
"I guess I do, where do I sign my name?" Peter said, nodding along in exaggerated solemnity. Miming out signing with a quill.
They both crumpled into wheezes again.
_
An easy quiet overtakes them. This was much more different than the stiff silence over the last few weeks. If all Peter needed was to almost drown to make conversation with Michael, maybe he should have jumped into the river earlier.
Michael had been mostly quiet with him beside their fight right before arriving at the base camp. After they were assigned their tent, he kept more or less to himself. Talking only when essential, with the most perfunctory sentences. But the glimpses he had seen of Micheal had sparked something in Peter, making him want to know more. The consistent scribbling in the small leather book that he seemed to keep near his person, the sharp and hilarious comebacks he would have for Eugene or the way he just seemed so clever, always being the first to solve the challenges given to them by Sir James. Peter knew he wasn't the most observant, but for some reason, with Michael, noticing came easily.
As they laid side by side by the riverbank, the midday sun, drying their sodden clothes, Peter couldn’t help but look to the boy lying down beside him. Michael’s eyes were closed, taking in the day’s warmth.
His braids were caught on the inside of his shirt. Peter could not help but follow the path it led from the nape of his neck to his clavicle. The wet, from the river, was still clinging onto Michael's temples. He was noticing all too much. Peter gulped and looked away, the grass was suddenly more interesting than ever.
"So"
Michael had stood up and held his hand out, snapping Peter out of his haze. The sun haloed behind him, his eyes too knowing as if he saw right through Peter.
Fuck.
“We should find Sir James and the others, they might think we perished in the river,” He said with a nonchalance like he didn't pull Peter out of the rushing river just an hour ago.
Peter took the hand. Michael's grip was warm and firm pulling him up, this time he could actually register his touch, drowning withheld. Peter could feel the lines of their palms meeting and the newly ripped skin from yesterday's training. He must have lingered too long, clasping like a fool because Michael dropped his hand like he was burned.
"We should go" his voice lowered, his hand had shot up as if he was about to swipe it around his ear. He didn't. Like he caught himself.
Peter's stomach fluttered. He could feel his ears tingling. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, he certainly had felt it many times before in the presence of other boys. But this was putting his cart before the horse, and he owned neither.
He couldn't.
The tension between them had just cracked. He shouldn’t.
–
As they climbed up the hill, Michael stopped abruptly. Peter almost walked face-first into his back.
"MJ"
"What?"
Michael huffed, turning around "My friends call me MJ"
Peter grinned "Alright MJ, glad it took you saving me to become friends, not, you know, sharing a tent for five weeks"
"Shut up," MJ said, rolling his eyes, Peter could hear the beginnings of a laugh."You now definitely owe me"
His grin felt too big for his face, but Peter couldn't stop smiling. The fluttery feeling had risen up into his chest, and spread across his shoulders. He knew his face was pink. He jogged a little to properly walk beside MJ.
His heart was tripping on nothing, maybe he could.