sunburned | (no subject)

"Then, I do not know, John," Laurence replied, feeling almost helpless again. One divide might have been bridged, but another one was now fit to begin looming at his feet and he did not know what he was to do. "I do not know what you wish me to say."

With his good hand, he reaches up, curling his finger around Laurence's wrist, holding on. When he manages to speak again, his is raw.

"I can't help it, Will. You're..." He swallows. "It's all I think about. And, Jesus, I hate myself for it, but it's true."

Laurence truly did not know how Granby wanted him to reply. In fact, he did not know if Granby even wanted him to reply at all. Perhaps he only wanted silence and someone to unburden his thoughts to. The notion made sense to Laurence, enough sense to stifle the small part of him that wanted to simply leave and refuse to hear what the other man was saying. Instead, he let the hand on Granby's shoulder squeeze gently as he kept his silence.

The fact that Laurence doesn't pull away is a blessing but it doesn't relax Granby, not yet. He drags a breath in, squeezing Laurence's wrist gently.

"I have tried to...put it out of my mind entirely. And I know that I said we'd never speak of it. But..." He shakes his head. "You, Will. I can't..." He closes his eyes again. "I'll understand if you tell me to go and never come back. I'm sure Julie will have me. And...I can live with it, I promise. Put it down as...as a wound. What's another scar?"

"Good Lord, man," Laurence said, finally breaking his contact with Granby so that he might face him fully. The idea might have been laughable at another time, but not then. "Do you really think me so changeable and hardhearted that I would renounce our friendship?"

"Is that really what you're hearing? Jesus, Laurence - you're the most willfully ignorant person I've ever set eyes on, when it suits you." He opens his eyes, looking Laurence full in the face. "Ask me why. Ask me why you might want to send me away."

"Why might I want to send you away, then?" Laurence asked, though the words were forced and it was clear from his expression that he already thought he knew the answer he would receive.

"Because I want you, Will," he snaps, standing his ground, angry colour burning in his cheeks. "Because I will want you. And that is likely more than you can bear."

He shrugged and then he looked away. "And why would you?"

Laurence was silent throughout Granby's outburst, waiting until it was entirely over before speaking. "I think I may be able to bear more than you believe, John. I would not renounce our friendship over such a thing. Would you?"

"I wouldn't renounce our friendship over anything," he says, quietening somewhat. "I would not lose you for the world, but..."

He swallows and then steps in, crowding into Laurence's space a little. "You must see what this is, Will. You cannot possibly be that...naive."

"Please remember that I was a Naval man for most of my life, Granby," Laurence said, standing his ground as the other man moved towards him, every fibre of his being the picture of an unyielding gentleman officer. "Naivety of any kind does not last long in a midshipman's berth."

"But I've said it, Will," he says, quietly, and he's never been as good a gentleman as Laurence. He's never been as unyielding. "Said I want you. It was easier before, before I'd had..." He blinks. "This is not Midshipmen."

"I am well aware of that." Only half-conscious that he was doing so, Laurence had been steadily retreating behind the facade he usually pulled on when caught off his guard. He was proper, he was polite, he was stiff as a poker, and it came so naturally that he barely noticed. For Granby and his confession had caught him very off guard. "I was merely using it as an example."

For his part, Granby's noticed the shift in Laurence's demeanour; he's known him for long enough that it's painfully aware of the change in him. HE tries not to let it hurt too badly. Even if it does feel like being shut out.

Still, Granby is military, too. He can snap to attention.

"Forgive me," he says, stiffly. "It was foolish of me to think."

Perhaps it was because of Granby's period of prolonged insolence when they had first met, but, despite the fact that he barely registered a change in his own demeanor, the shift in the other man's was noted immediately as something still not entirely genuine, something almost mocking. "I never meant to imply that you could not think as you wish."

"God, Laurence," says Granby breaking almost immediately, anger flashing across his face. "I do not know how to put this more simply. There is a line and we have crossed it and I cannot stop thinking about crossing it. For the love of God, you're maddening."

It was not the first time that Laurence had been called maddening. It was not even the first time that Granby had pronounced him so. But it was definitely the first time that it had occurred under such singular circumstances. If nothing else, it left him quite lost for proper replies.

"Oh, for the love of..."

It's a toss-up, right then, between slapping some sense into him or kissing him. Granby's infuriated, his face flushed, pulse throbbing in his temple and, still, even then, he can't stop wanting.

He crushes his mouth against Laurence's.
At worst, he'll end up with a black eye and a definite direction, rather than this spinning in the wind.

Laurence, once more, did not know what he was to do, and he was getting tired of it. He was tired of the feeling of being adrift, of being helpless. He was a Captain. When he did not know where he was going then it was simply time to plot a new course. Or so he kept telling himself.

He caught at Granby's arm, not pushing him back and not pulling him closer. For the moment he simply held on.

It's not a long kiss but it also does not result in a black eye and, for that much at last, Granby sees reason to be grateful. He's aware of Laurence's grip on his arm, of how close they are, of, perversely, the smell of Laurence's skin.

He swallows.

"This is what I mean, Will," he says softly. "If there's a line, then I've lost it."

"Then I suppose we may have to reestablish it," Laurence said, his breath coming in strange after the kiss. Perhaps it was an advantage of it not being so late at night. Perhaps it was because they were in an environment far less perilous than the Inca court. Whatever the reason, he found himself less unsure of himself than he had been the last time.

He can't help it - he winces. He catches Laurence's meaning well enough, he supposes and, frowning, he nods, clearing his throat.

"I suppose you're right."

"You are still my dearest friend, John," Laurence said, squeezing his arms reassuringly, trying to smile, to do something to counteract Granby's wince and frown. He didn't think he had misspoken, but perhaps the other man did. "Whatever this thing is it does change that. It will just take some time to settle properly."

"Aye, and for that I'm grateful." He finds himself fairly solidly held by Laurence's grip on his arms. "And what do you imagine 'this thing' is, Laurence? Because, honestly, I'm finding you bloody impenetrable - which has been charming in the past, honestly, but, for now, it's causing the most dreadful ache in my head."

"It is--" Laurence paused momentarily, trying to put his thoughts and words in some semblance of order. "I am still not entirely certain what it is, or what it may be, but I am willing to wait and see. Does that help?"