sunburned | (no subject)

Entry tags:

laurence

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

"When we're ready, I mean," he says, with plenty of beer left in his own glass. "I'd...I'd spend some time with you somewhere not quite so public."

"I see." Laurence looked down at the table, turning far more red than was comfortable in such a public setting. "I think I would not be... disinclined to it, John."

Which wasn't entirely the answer that Granby was expecting. He blinks, reaching for his drink and taking a sip.

"Really?"

Laurence nodded, taking a fortifying drink of his own. "I believe so. Just-- Just slowly still, if you please, John."

"Slowly," echoes Granby, still somewhat disbelieving that they're having this conversation at all. "But surely, I think. Small steps, but always forward."

Laurence quickly glanced around the rest of the tavern, his face an unspeakable shade of red, his voice as low as was politely permissible. "Very small steps, if at all possible." The current discussion was as much of a step as he was willing to take for the next week or more.

Granby thinks that Laurence is quite red enough and nods, raising his glass in a loose sort of toast before he drains it.

"Come on," he says, reaching for his bag. "We're off. Before you actually melt."

Laurence was actually grateful for Granby's course of action, for, while he very much doubted he would melt, he had been feeling for some time that the air inside the tavern was far too stuffy and only got more so.

"That is quite a good idea," he said, rising from his own seat with a speed that rather betrayed his own opinion of the plan.

He's under no illusions that Laurence's haste has anything to do with designs on his body. It's got much more to do with sudden and complete embarrassment. But Granby will take what he can get.

Once they're outside, he turns, heading towards the hut that they share. He glances across at Laurence.

"Are you well?"

"Entirely," Laurence said, glancing questioningly over at Granby. Though he was well aware of how flustered he likely looked, he had not thought he appeared ill or otherwise not himself.

"Just checking," says Granby, managing to keep a straight face through sheer force of will. He's aware of walking a very narrow line, not wanting to do anything that might provoke Laurence into withdrawing.

He nodded, more under control now that they were both removed from the rather stifling, in his opinion, atmosphere of The Winchester. He walked steadily now, calm, collected, and no longer an ungentlemanly shade of red.

It's not a long walk to their hut and it passes, mostly, in companionable silence. At the threshold, Granby stands aside to let Laurence step in ahead of him. It's a pleasant night, cool and clear.

Granby drops his bag by the door.

"Would it be untoward of me to ask you to come here to me, Will?" he says.

"No." Laurence came closer and stood within an easy distance of Granby. It was no great hardship to do, and, if a casual observer was to, for some unknown reason, wander by and peek in, it would not necessarily signify anything untoward. "No, it would not."

He reaches out, his fingers grazing the side of Laurence's neck. He kicks the door closed with his heel and tugs him in closer.

The tugging caught him momentarily off-balance, and the hand that Laurence put against Granby's arm to steady himself stayed there even after the moment had passed.

Granby leans in and kisses him, gentle at first, soft and lingering but with undeniably heat, thumb smoothing along the line of his jaw.

He returned the kiss steadily, showing no signs of hesitancy or thinking about backing out now. Not after the conversation they had just had (embarrassing as it may have been).

He's very aware that they're standing practically on the threshold, albeit with the door closed. He doesn't care - he can't. Gently, he eases it deeper.

For the time being, Laurence followed where Granby lead without complaint or second-guessing. He did, however, begin attempting to move the both of them away from the door somewhat.

Granby lets himself be guided, happy to go where Laurence will lead him; that much, at least, has not changed. His hand slips from the side of Laurence's neck to his shoulder and then on down to rest against his waist.

Laurence pushed the kiss a bit deeper, but only just a bit. As he had told Granby before, he needed time and to go slowly.

He'd quite happily kiss Laurence for hours, even if he's not to be allowed anything else, but he's loathe to do it standing.

He breaks the kiss, sucking lightly on Laurence's bottom lip before he pulls away.

"This could be more comfortable," he says.