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Edward nursed a warm beer, perched lazily upon a bar stool. He wasn't much of a drinker, though alcohol in London was inevitable even for the youngest child; but his case was closed, his return ship was far away yet, and Spitbucket wasn't the most tourist-friendly location. Supping on some alcohol was about the most interesting thing to do on a night like this, besides getting your hat shot off by bandits.
Though his head was down, he felt a gaze down the back of his neck. The near-yet-distant murmurs of a drink being ordered buzzed in his left ear, and though they were hard to understand through a veil of tipsyness, he recognised the voice as Thompson almost instantly. A smile cracked over his face- recently he'd found himself not being able to get enough of the man. There was just something so... refreshing about him. His presence, his blunt remarks, his dry laugh whenever Edward told some manner of stupid joke. He hadn't formed such a close bond since his childhood friends.
It occurred to him that a good friend of his, a young man certainly belonging to the upper echelons of society, would likely describe his feelings as 'befitting a Uranian'. Edward scoffed at the very idea, of course; after all, he had a sweetheart back home, and most of what he'd seen of self-described Uranians was lying, infidelity, and scandalous behaviour with members of your own sex.
Now. He had nothing against these men, but it had absolutely naught in common with these... feelings... he harboured towards the sheriff.
So why did seeing his flushed, woozy face appear in his peripheral vision bring a blush to Edward's own cheeks?
"Y'know," Sheriff Thompson drawled at him after taking a measured swig from his whiskey, "You're awful purdy for an Englishman."
Edward sputtered, swallowing quickly so that he wouldn't spit beer all over the bar. "Pardon?!"
Thompson seemed to find his reaction amusing. "I said, you're awful purdy. Don't usually see folks from England being so, but ya really are purdy as a peach." His compliments were punctuated by him sliding closer to the other man, sidling up to him as a real flirt would to a woman...
Internally, Edward was panicking. He supposed the sheriff's behaviour could be a simple consequence of inebriation, but what if this was really how he felt? Edward wasn't sure how ready he was to face that. "I- Thank you? You're, well, certainly a prime article yourself..." he replied bashful-like, digging his nails into the dusty counter to disguise his nervous tics.
Thompson still noticed, because of course he did, nothing could get past the man. "I sure hope 'm not makin' you uncomfortable, Detective." The reverence with which he spoke Edward's title flustered the man further than he imagined was possible. The sheriff continued, "I know ya'll high-class middle-class Englishfolk are real uptight 'bout the taboo, an' I mean no disrespect by it-"
"Oh I assure you I don't mind," Edward blurted. Well, there was no backing out now. His attraction to the rugged man was romantic, and he wasn't going to lose this chance to try what he never thought he'd be permitted to. "I'm shocked I suppose! But your... advances are welcomed." In saying this, he moved to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the other man, who then laid his head by Edward's neck. He full body shivered when he felt Thompson's hot breath on his skin.
"Yknow. Nothin' that happens in this bar is fuel for gossip. Everywhere else maybe, but here? We could," the sheriff whispered into Edward's ear, "Start whatever."
They gazed at each other for a few beats, the air around them thick with tension. The detective swallowed. Staring into Thompson's umber brown eye, his tanned, freckled cheeks, his rough lips that slid into an inviting smile as he noticed Edward's eyes scan over them; it made him feel emotions he didn't know existed, made him want to drop all inhibition. And he was almost sure that wasn't just the alcohol talking.
So, he went for it. Gently, he moved his hand under the other man's head and tilted his chin up. Soft, dangerous words tumbled from Edward's mouth,
"Can I kiss you?"
Thompson looked up at him, his gaze filled with want. "Good God, Edward, yes. Please." Edward closed the admittedly tiny gap between them.
Behind the counter, the barkeep rolled his eyes and passed a handful of coins over to a smirking customer. This was why he never bet against patrons.