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They're sitting on Carl's sofa, a couple of cans on the table in front of them. Carl makes some fucking shite joke about something, and Hardy can't help but laugh at the fact that Carl expected a laugh for that.
He puts one arm on the back of the sofa, turning his body so he's facing Carl, who's still talking. Hardy knows that any second now he'll notice that he hasn't interrupted him to disagree for a while, and he'll ask what's wrong.
‘What is it?’ he stops and looks down at Hardy./p>
‘Just you.’
‘Me?’ His brows furrow.
‘You’. Hardy puts his other hand on Carl's upper arm, and when Carl doesn't pull away, he leans in to kiss him.
Carl's clearly surprised for a second (not much of a detective, Hardy thinks) but just before Hardy pulls away to apologise, he starts to kiss him back.
He feels Carl's hand come up to the back of his neck, and he's about to deepen the kiss when Carl pulls away.
Hardy lets go of him, a little uncertain. 'Sorry. If I'm reading things wrong we can forget this’.
‘You're not. But…’ he trails off, unsure how to ask what he wants to.
Hardy shrugs his shoulder, 'mate, we don't have to do anything you don't want to’
'I do want to.' Carl answers immediately. /p>
Hardy's confused, but he doesn't want to push anything. They could go back to talking about whatever it was they'd been talking about and brush this off if Carl wanted. ‘Then, what's the problem?’
‘You're...’ Carl frowns, eyebrows drawing together, before he comes out with it. ‘Do you like you men?’
‘What? Fuck kind of a daft question is that, I've just kissed you, haven't I?’
‘Yeah, you have,’ Carl shoots, a little viciously. But Hardy can hear the beginnings of worry underneath it, and something clicks. Now he gets it.
‘Oh, right. You know I know you're a man, mate. Just as much as I am. I always have. You know that?’
It's a rhetorical question, really, but Carl nods. He didn't really want to think anything other of Hardy. Still, he has to ask, 'You don't think it's 'different'? Like, it 'doesn't count?'' he says bitterly.
'Its not different' Hardy says clearly, 'You're a man. I'm bisexual,'
‘ Well, how come you liking men hasn't come up, then? You talk about enough women you fancy.’
Hardy looks at him, soft. ‘Because while some of them are good looking, no one's come close to you,’
‘Fuck off,’ he says. But he thinks Hardy might actually mean that.
‘Seriously,’ he says. He sees the tension leave Carl's body, and Carl's hand comes back up to stroke a thumb over Hard's beard. 'I promise,' Hardy smirks, 'I'd want to kiss whatever you had in your trousers.’
‘Well in that case…’ Carl grins, the atmosphere light again.