Work Text:
Thomas was in the library, sitting with his leg crossed in front of a table where Alison had left him an ebook that automatically turned the pages. He smiled at himself.
He really liked technology.
He didn't even notice that a couple of hours had passed and it was already afternoon.
He had finished the book.
Thomas sighed and lifted his eyes.
Julian was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and the usual grin on his face.
“You missed food club”, the MP said.
Thomas scoffed.
“This”, he said while pointing at the ebook, “was more important”.
Julian nodded and looked at his shoes.
Thomas didn't understand what the other man was doing there: they never really had normal conversations. They didn't chat.
“We chose tonight's movie”, Julian informed him.
The poet widened his eyes and sprang to his feet.
“What?! Alison said we had to choose together!”
“Yes, but you weren't there”, Julian legitimately pointed out.
Thomas couldn't believe what he was hearing: every single time Julian had to tease and mock him, like a very irritating child.
Thomas strode over to the MP.
“Not a chance sir! I get to decide too!”
They were so close. Maybe too close.
Julian raised his chin.
“You don't even know what film we chose.”
Thomas folded his arms.
“Oh, then please tell me: what film did you choose?”
Julian's cheeks reddened a little.
“Pride and Prejudice”, he muttered.
“I beg your pardon? I didn't get that.”
Julian cleared his throat.
“I said Pride and Prejudice.”
Thomas grinned.
“Oh, did you? And may I ask why? Since when do you like... What did you call them?”, Thomas stroked his chin.
“Oh, yes. 'Romantic drivels', you said.”
Julian straightened his tie.
“Don't think I did it for the romantic parts! I just saw the cover of the dvd and saw the leading lady! That... what was her name? Keira something. She's hot!”
Thomas nodded, even if he didn't believe a single word the other man was saying.
“Yes, of course.”
Julian really couldn't keep looking at those inquiring wide eyes and took a step back.
“Oh, please, don't go! I want to hear everything about your fondness for Mrs. Austen's work!”
Julian quickly left the room.
“No, thank you!”
Julian had to be honest: that movie wasn't bad at all.
He grimaced.
Never tell this to Thomas.
One morning, Julian was walking in the gardens, when he heard someone yelling.
He rolled his eyes and moved closer to where he thought he had heard the yell coming from.
He saw Thomas climbing up a tree.
“Humphrey!”, he called out.
“Up here!”
Julian was watching the scene from below.
“What are you doing up there?”, the MP asked.
Thomas looked down.
“I accidentally kicked Humphrey's head.”
“Again!”, the nobleman protested.
“I'm sorry! I really am!”, Thomas said while reaching for the head and then placed it under his arm.
“You always say that...”
Thomas started climbing down the big tree.
Julian almost said Watch out! but Thomas couldn't really hurt himself, could he?
When he reached the lowest branch, the poet sat on it and handed Humphrey's head over to Julian, who gently (because the poor chap had suffered enough that morning) placed him at the base of the tree.
“Thanking you kindly”, the nobleman said.
“Whatever”, Julian shrugged.
Instinctively, he raised his hand and held it out.
Thomas took it and jumped off the branch, landing right in front of the MP, too close for comfort.
Thomas glanced down.
Julian's slightly larger hand was still holding his very tightly.
His thumb gently brushed against the poet's knuckles.
Thomas looked up and blushed vigorously, looking at the other man with his wide dark eyes.
When he realised what was happening, Julian immediately let go of the other man's hand.
“I-”, Thomas started, but Julian was already long gone.
The poet watched the MP briskly walking away and noticed how he flexed his hand, the one he was holding just some moments ago, as if in anguish.
Thomas looked down at his own hand.
“Everything alright?”, Humphrey asked.
Thomas snapped back to reality and nodded slightly.
“Let's go inside...”
Julian didn't know what had happened with Thomas.
Damn him.
Damn him and his stupid eyes.
Damn him and his stupid hand.
Damn him and...
Julian sighed.
It was late at night but he had found himself not so prepared to take part in any activity Pat, or anybody else really, had planned, so he had decided to take a walk through the gardens.
It was so quiet. Not a single cloud in the sky; he looked up and every star shone in front of his green eyes.
He didn't like being alone with his thoughts, especially in these last days, as they all converged towards a single, too male, topic.
He stopped in the back garden. Julian looked down at the little flowerbed he had accidentally stepped into. Little yellow, red and blue flowers.
Maybe he could find a way to distract himself.
He crouched down and prepared his thumb and index finger. He needed to train if he wanted to improve his powers.
But, as much as he tried, he couldn't pick up the little blue flower.
“You missed film club”, said a voice behind him.
“What the f-!”, Julian jumped to his feet and turned around, “Don't do that ever again!”
Thomas was standing a few meters behind him, his hands as always behind his back.
He smirked.
And Julian cursed in his head, because moonlight brought out all of his best features, even more than daylight.
He would obviously never admit that out loud.
“Well?”
“What?”, Julian asked as he crossed his arms.
“Why did you miss film club?”, Thomas looked at him with his definitely too pretty eyes.
Julian shrugged his shoulders.
“It's none of your business, don't you think?”, he replied sarcastically.
Thomas sighed heavily and took some steps forward, approaching the MP.
Julian stayed still.
He wasn't afraid, why would he be?
Thomas was shorter than him and far too skinny to represent a real threat.
“What were you doing?”, the poet asked, pointing to the flowerbed behind the politician.
“Again, it's none of your-”
“Will you please”, Thomas closed his eyes to calm down, “For one time, just answer to my question?”
Julian swallowed.
“I was just trying to pick that flower up...”
Thomas looked down and smiled a little.
“It's beautiful.”
Julian rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on. It's just a flower.”
Thomas seemed offended.
“You know, flowers can represent many things: hope, family, friendship, death...”, his expression softened, “Love.”
He took another step forward and they were really too, too close.
Julian found himself unable to move, his feet felt so heavy.
“That one is a cornflower”, Thomas whispered.
He grabbed the lapel of Julian's jacket with his left hand and gently tugged him down, their noses just a few inches apart.
“It means romance. And patience”, Thomas' eyes were so deep, like that night's sky.
And for the first time Julian really thought about the consequences that all of this could cause.
None.
He was dead. Thomas was dead.
He had got nothing to lose.
No press, no scandals, no irritating co-workers.
Suddenly, Julian felt his usual charm and confidence come back to life.
He lifted his hand and placed it on the poet's nape, pulling him even closer.
“Too bad. I've never been a patient man.”
And Thomas' lips were much softer than he could have ever imagined.