sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence

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There is always paperwork to be done. Granby has handwriting typical of an Aviator - educated by the Corps from the age of seven, there had always been more exciting things to do than practising making letters, especially once he'd started to show promise as a Mid. It's not that it's illegible, just that it's a bit of a scrawl and he does have a tendency to spread the words out more than they maybe need to be. Still, he's grateful of something to be doing, something to keep his mind occupied. He's been aware of being something of a scrub for the last week or so, but it really is impossible, unable to tell what way Laurence is going to go from one minute to the next.

Files? Are much easier to predict.

Granby glances up towards the clock. Not long until dinner, but time to finish what he's doing.

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"That we have." Laurence put his hand quite carefully atop Granby's. "Thank you for that."

It's only a small touch, a casual touch and one totally acceptable between friends but it still quickens Granby's pulse a tiny little bit. He glances at their hands and then back to Laurence.

"What else am I to do?" he asks, smiling. "I've got to make up for being such a terrible scrub at the beginning."

"You have more than made up for anything in the past," he replied, well aware that he himself was not entirely without blame in those early days. Neither of them had necessarily been at their best. And now here they both were. Laurence blushed a little. "I hope I have as well."

He nods, his thumb grazing against the length of Laurence's, the barest shift of movement. He notes the blush.

"A hundred times over."

Laurence smiled at that, his blush deepening. He let the contact remain for another moment or two before pulling his hand back and taking another drink. "Thank you, John."

He's grinning himself, flushed under the sunburn, and he rubs the back of his neck before he reaches for his drink.

"You're welcome, Will," he says. "I'd have stayed with you and Temeraire forever, if Iskierka hadn't come along when she did."

"I am certain Temeraire would have found that arrangement entirely to his liking," Laurence said with a fond smile, still missing the dragon desperately, but willing and able to talk of such things. "Though I would not have had you forgo rank simply to remain in my crew."

"He didn't like to share me overmuch, did he?" says Granby, remembering the conversation that they'd had around the time that Iskierka had hatched.

"I wouldn't have been doing it just for you," he says, quietly. "That would have been only a part of it."

"What would have been the rest?" Laurence was not intentionally trying to be intrusive, but was honestly interested in what Granby's answer to the question would be.

"Temeraire himself, for a start," says Granby, who could never have turned down an opportunity at serving with that dragon. "And the other fellows. And the things we did, Laurence. I wouldn't have missed any of it for the world." He gave a wry smile and adjusted the edge of his bandage. "Even with all the being knocked about the head."

"You do seem to have something of a knack for it," Laurence admitted, smiling fondly as he spoke. It was well-known that the other man did not often have the best of fortune. "God willing, you will have a better string of luck here."

"And some," he says, gesturing to the waitress for another drink as he finishes the first. "I'd like to not lose anymore limbs, if it's alright by whoever decides."

"I do hope so as well. A crewman without a hand is one thing, but the loss of anything more may prove to be a bit of a problem. " Laurence gestured for another drink for himself as well, though his first was not yet done. At this rate they might be there for a while.

"Aye. I'd be no use to anyone," he says, grinning. "And how would you press me into service then?"

"Well, I suppose we would just have to find some other use for you," he answered, realizing only in hindsight how that might have sounded. At least he had not blushed.

Laurence might not blush but Granby does, flushing under his sunburn and choking on the swallow of beer he'd just taken.

"Well," he says, finally. "I imagine we would."

As Granby flushed, Laurence could not help but mirror it with one of his own. He had not intended for the statement to be taken in such a manner, but there was apparently no going back now. He concentrated rather determinedly on his drink in a bid for more time in which to answer. "Yes. I-- I suppose so."

A smile tugs at the corner of Granby's mouth and he ducks his head.

"I apologise, Will," he says, quietly. "That was unnecessary of me."

"The fault is mine for mentioning it," Laurence said, ready as ever to take blame onto himself. With what had occurred between them he supposed he must get used to such missteps.

"Don't do that," says Granby, making a face and then taking a long swallow of his beer. "Just let me apologise and accept it with grace for once, would you?"

His smile tugs the corner of his mouth. "You're bloody infuriating, you know that?"

"Am I?" Despite the asking he almost dreaded what the answer to that question might be. He had heard far worse about himself though and hardly spoken with an accompanying smile such as Granby's.

"You are," says Granby, blithely enough. "And for a whole multitude of reasons."

He tactfully takes a sip of beer and glances across the bar. "And yet, here I am."

"Thank goodness for that," Laurence said simply. In truth, he did not know what he would have done on the island without Granby there as well. And no amount of confusion could possibly diminish that sentiment.

This time, it's Granby that reaches out, his fingers barely grazing the back of Laurence's hand before he glances away, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"We should take a walk after this," he says, still looking away.

"Should we?" He glanced at the drinks before them. At this rate a walk might not happen in the near future if he did not begin to pick up the pace of his own consumption.