Luca and the Long, Hard Summer Ch. 06

"And what if there are people around?" he asked as he tried to regain his equilibrium. Luca was still grinning, pressing his lips together like he was reliving the experience.

"Then I'll step on your foot," he answered merrily. "Seeing as I can't grab onto you leg in public."

Thomas hit him in the arm, but couldn't stop the grin that followed. "I didn't mean to grab onto your leg, I just -" Thomas saw Lucky's shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Oh shut up," his face coloured and shoved into him with a well-aimed shoulder.

"To bed then?" Lucky said when he got himself under control.

Thomas ducked his head to hide a shy smile. "To bed."

Luca marvelled in the feel of Thomas' hand in his as they walked back towards the tent. Together, they were starting to sweat, but he wasn't quite ready to let it go yet. It was potent. Like a talismen against all the things that could go wrong. It was dizzying too - almost like being high. If he wasn't so tired, he would have stayed up all night just revelling in it.

As it was the walk was over much too soon, and they were forced to let go as they kicked their shoes off and ducked into the annex. The wet canvas underneath was cold on his feet as he sneaked over to the only dry corner of the tent. Thomas' hand snagged his sleeve as they walked in procession to the bed. Or, to the bed and a half that was still dry. Without too much thought, Luca opened the sleeping bag and held the corner back for Thomas. With no hesitation at all, Thomas crawled in.

Luca smiled gently. Thomas really was a soft bastard. His acting ability was probably all gained from trying to pretend he wasn't. Luca felt the prickle of happy tears as Thomas pressed his back against the length of his body. As he wrapped his arms around Thomas' waist, he felt his hand taken up again, and Luca smiled as he threaded their fingers together. With Thomas' back pressed closely to his chest, he couldn't remember a time when he'd felt happier. Honestly, that should bother him more, but right now, he just wanted to surrender to the feeling of being completely, and utterly content.

With the tent flapping in the wind, and Thomas' breathing evening out in his arms, he wanted to bask in the moment forever. But sleep was creeping into the corners of his mind, blurring the outlines, and softening the sharp edges. He finally surrendered to sleep, safe in the knowledge that Thomas would definitely find him in his dreams.

As he drifted off it occurred to him: Maybe he was just as soft as Thomas was. To hell with that. It was never a 'maybe'. He was definitely soft.