Chapter Fifteen, Part I

Untill Morning

Adrian wakes with his hand resting over Jack’s heart.

For a few seconds, he does not remember why the position feels different from the night before. Then Jack shifts beneath him, and Adrian feels the pleasant heaviness in his own body, the faint ache in muscles he had not expected to notice this morning.

Jack’s arm is wrapped around his back. One of Adrian’s legs is caught between his, and at some point during the night Adrian has moved almost entirely onto Jack’s side of the bed.

He lifts his head.

Jack is awake.

“How long have you been staring at me?” Adrian asks.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were looking directly at my face.”

“That’s where you put it.”

Adrian glances down at himself, half draped across Jack’s chest. “I appear to have taken over.”

“You do that.”

“I was asleep.”

“You’re very controlling in your sleep.”

Jack’s voice is rough and low, his face still softened by it. Adrian watches the slow movement of his chest beneath his hand.

“Are you complaining?”

“No.”

Jack’s fingers move once along the centre of Adrian’s back.

“Not even slightly.”

Adrian lowers his head again and rests his cheek against Jack’s chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath his ear.

Neither of them moves.

The room has begun to fill with pale morning light. Somewhere beyond the windows, the ocean continues with the same indifferent rhythm it has kept since they arrived.

Tomorrow morning, they will leave.

The thought enters quietly and alters the room without changing anything inside it.

Jack’s hand stops moving.

“You thought of it too,” Adrian says.

Jack does not ask what he means.

“Yeah.”

They lie still for another minute.

Then Jack tightens both arms around him.

Adrian smiles against his chest. “That will not stop time.”

“I know.”

“It may stop circulation.”

“I’m considering my options.”

Adrian lifts himself enough to look at him. “You could start with coffee.”

“That worked out well yesterday.”

“Eventually.”

Jack’s mouth curves.

He catches Adrian behind the neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

It is slower than anything between them the day before. Sleep still clings to it, along with the memory of the night and the understanding that neither man needs to prove anything this morning.

When Jack lets him go, Adrian remains close.

“Coffee,” he says again.

“Fine.”

Neither of them gets up.

It takes another ten minutes before Jack finally pushes the covers away.

Adrian watches him cross the room naked, completely unselfconscious until he notices Adrian watching.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That is clearly not nothing.”

“I’m appreciating the view.”

Jack looks down at himself. “Considerable restraint?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good.”

Jack disappears into the bathroom.

Adrian remains in bed until he hears the shower begin. Then he looks towards the chair where his clothes are folded in a neat pile.

Jack must have collected them from the hallway before coming back to bed.

The sight does something strange to him.

Not the clothes themselves. A shirt. Trousers. Underwear. His belt coiled carefully on top.

It is the simple evidence that Jack had thought about him when Adrian was not there to see it.

Adrian gets up and joins him in the shower.

They make coffee afterwards and eat the remaining bread with butter and slices of cheese. Jack stands at the counter while Adrian sits on one of the stools wearing nothing but yesterday’s shirt, loosely buttoned.

The carbonara pan is still soaking in the sink.

Jack looks at it.

“Worth it.”

“You said that about several things last night.”

“They were all worth it.”

Adrian lifts his coffee.

Jack opens the refrigerator and studies the contents.

“We have tomatoes, half a mozzarella, three eggs and enough pesto to feed a small village.”

“It is not that much pesto.”

“It’s green and comes in a bowl. That’s a lot by my standards.”

“We can make lunch from it.”

Jack closes the refrigerator. “You’re cooking again?”

“I was thinking bread, tomatoes and cheese. Even you should survive the complexity.”

“I grated two kinds of cheese yesterday.”

“You ate two kinds of cheese yesterday.”

“I grated most of it.”

Adrian looks out through the window.

The morning is clear. No fog today. Sunlight moves across the water, bright enough to make him narrow his eyes.

“What do you want to do?” Jack asks.

Adrian turns back towards him.

It is a simple question, but the answer feels unexpectedly difficult. He does not want another itinerary. Another sight to add to the weekend. Another place they will later refer to as the last thing they did before leaving.

“Nothing,” he says.

Jack studies him.

“Nothing?”

“I would like to stay here.”

“All day?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” Jack leans back against the counter. “I thought you might want to see something.”

“I have seen something.”

“What?”

Adrian gestures vaguely between them.

“This.”

Jack’s expression changes.

Only slightly, but Adrian sees it.

“All right,” Jack says. “Nothing it is.”

They take their coffee outside.

The cottage has a narrow wooden deck facing the water, with two chairs that have spent enough years in the weather to tilt slightly towards each other. Adrian sits with his bare feet resting on the railing. Jack lowers himself beside him and stretches his legs out.

For a long time, they say very little.

They talk when something occurs to them. The weather. The coffee. Whether the bird balanced on the railing is waiting for food or planning an attack.

Jack insists it is a gull.

Adrian tells him it is not.

Neither knows what it actually is.

At some point, Jack goes inside and returns with the small brass whale.

He places it on the railing, facing the ocean.

“What are you doing with that?”

“Giving it a view.”

“It is brass. It does not have opinions about scenery.”

“It hasn’t complained yet.”

Adrian takes the whale from him. “Then it can complain from the table instead.”

Jack settles back in his chair.

“You like that thing.”

“I do not.”

“You bought it.”

“It was charming.”

“You like it.”

Adrian places it on the small table between them. “I am prepared to tolerate it.”

Jack smiles and closes his eyes against the sun.

Adrian watches him.

There is no effort in the moment. No sense that either of them must keep the other entertained. Jack is simply there, one hand resting open on the arm of the chair, his face turned towards the warmth.

Adrian places his hand over Jack’s.

Jack’s fingers close around it without opening his eyes.

The phone inside the cottage begins to ring.

Adrian recognises the sound as his own.

Neither of them moves.

It stops.

A few seconds later, it rings again.

Jack opens one eye.

“That sounds determined.”

“It usually is.”

“Work?”

“Probably.”

Adrian leaves his hand where it is until the ringing stops for the second time.

“You should check,” Jack says.

“I know.”

He goes inside.

The missed call is not from Crew Control, but there is a new roster notification waiting beneath it.

An update.

Adrian opens it and watches the familiar sequence of dates, report times and airport codes arrange themselves across the screen.

His first duty after returning home has not changed. Three days free after the long-haul flight, followed by four days of short-haul flying. Then two days off and a block of standby.

Rest requirements. Report times. Days off. Hours when he must be available without knowing whether Crew Control will call or where they might send him.

The life he understands.

Jack comes in behind him but does not look over his shoulder.

“Bad?”

“No.”

“Good?”

“It’s a roster update.”

“That sounds like neither.”

Adrian puts the phone down on the counter.

“I have three days free after I get home. Then four days of short haul.”

“And after that?”

“Two days off. Then standby.”

Jack opens the refrigerator, although there is nothing in it he has not already inspected.

“Standby means they can send you anywhere?”

“It means I know when I have to be available. I don’t know whether they’ll call me or what I’ll be called out to.”

“So we don’t use those days.”

Adrian looks at him. “It is not quite that simple.”

“I know you have a job, Adrian.”

“I know you know.”

Jack closes the refrigerator.

Adrian hears the defensiveness in his own voice and wishes he had answered differently.

Jack rests one hand on the refrigerator door.

“When do you know the days we can use?”

“My roster is released on the fifteenth. It shows the rest of that month and the whole of the next one.”

“So you already know some of them.”

“Yes.”

“Then we start with those.”

Adrian looks down at the phone.

“The three days after a long-haul flight are rest days. They may appear free on the roster, but they are not necessarily days I can cross the Atlantic again.”

“All right.”

“And two days between four days of short haul and standby are not enough.”

“Also all right.”

Adrian looks up. “You are taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m not asking you to use days that don’t work.”

“No?”

“I’m asking when we start figuring out the ones that do.”

The words land more gently than Adrian expects.

“When the next roster is released, we’ll know more.”

“On the fifteenth.”

“Yes.”

Jack nods once.

“You send it to me.”

“My entire roster?”

“The days that might work.”

“And then?”

“Then we choose some.”

Adrian looks up. “Just like that?”

“No. Probably with a lot of calendars, time zones and you telling me why every suggestion is impossible.”

“That sounds likely.”

“But we choose some.”

Adrian rests both hands against the edge of the counter.

“It cannot always be me coming here.”

“I know.”

Jack says it without hesitation.

“I can travel.”

“You hate airports.”

“I hate airport parking.”

“You also dislike flying.”

“I dislike not being able to pull over when I want.”

“That is generally discouraged in an aircraft.”

“I’ll manage.”

Adrian studies him.

Jack shrugs, but there is nothing casual in his face.

“I own a passport.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Probably.”

“That does not inspire confidence.”

“I’ll find it.”

“And then what?”

“Then I come to you.”

The answer is so simple that Adrian has no immediate response.

Jack steps closer.

“I’m not expecting you to keep crossing an ocean while I sit at home and wait for you to appear.”

“You have a business.”

“You have a career.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Jack stops in front of him.

“We both have lives. If we want this in them, we make room.”

Adrian’s throat tightens unexpectedly.

He looks away towards the window.

Jack’s hand settles against the side of his neck.

“Too much?”

“No.”

“Too soon?”

Adrian turns back to him.

“No.”

Jack’s thumb moves beneath his ear.

“Then what?”

Adrian takes a breath.

“I’m not used to someone making it sound possible.”

Jack looks at him for a long moment.

“It won’t always be easy.”

“That sounds more realistic.”

“It may be a complete pain in the ass.”

“Better.”

“We’ll probably get it wrong.”

“Almost certainly.”

Jack’s mouth shifts into a small smile.

“But it’s possible.”

Adrian covers Jack’s hand with his own.

“Yes,” he says. “It is.”