The storm lasted for two days, starting about ten minutes after they had returned to the harbor. It left them housebound for most of the time, but Chris and Jamie didn’t mind one bit, as it meant that they got to thoroughly explore each other in bed with no interruptions.
Chris was certain now that Jamie’s favorite thing was to be finger fucked, because yes, Jamie begged for it and told him every time that he loved it, but also Chris could tell in the way Jamie’s voice caught when he said it, the way his eyes unfocussed and his breath hitched when Chris’s fingers twisted or crooked inside of him, the fact that Chris could make him come from literally that alone, not having to touch him anywhere else.
He had also discovered that his own favorite thing was the way Jamie jerked him off, the way he had immediately found the perfect pressure on the upstroke, squeezing at the head before twisting his wrist and easing the pressure on the down stroke, all the way to the base where he squeezed and twisted again. The move could have Chris’s legs shaking, have him panting and sweating in moments, but it was slow enough for him to last for ages, coming apart under Jamie’s languid attentions until he was a trembling mess and begging for release. Chris could let him do that forever.
They could have stayed in bed forever, too, but eventually the storm broke and Boomer had been going crazy cooped up in the house with the humans too wrapped up in each other to pay him too much attention. So the first morning where the wind had died down and the torrential rain had ceased, Chris and Jamie dragged themselves out of a bed that seriously needed clean sheets and dressed warmly to take Boomer out on the beach. The Labrador was in his element.
“I have an idea,” Jamie said as they jogged lightly up the stretch. “Why don’t you call your friend Andy and invite him over?”
Chris raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure about that? I mean, the last time Andy came over, you had a pretty horrific nightmare.”
“Ah, but that was before I started sleeping with a big strong Secret Service agent.”
“Shh!” hissed Chris, casting a look around the deserted beach. It made Jamie laugh and he heartily clapped Chris on the shoulder.
“Yeah, because the driftwood and the seashells care so much that we’re together!”
“We’re together?” Chris repeated, his mouth quirking at the corner. Jamie turned and jogged backwards for a while, studying Chris’s face.
“Well, what would you say we were?”
Chris bit the inside of his cheek to stop a grin. “‘Together’ is nice. I like together.”
“Yeah?” Jamie smiled at him wide and happy for a moment before it turned softer. “You know, I made a decision?”
“About what?”
“Taking a position on my mother’s staff,” he replied, facing forward again and resumed jogging beside Chris. “If I’m on the staff, if I’m in the White House almost all of the time, I won’t need somebody to tail me everywhere because Secret Service are all over that place anyway.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That I can finally take you out to dinner.”
Chris felt like the world had shifted under his feet. Their bubble here in the Hamptons had been amazing, but they both knew that it could never last. Jamie was here only to get back on his feet for a few weeks after being discharged from the hospital. The moment they got back to DC, things would be different—there would be no more sleeping in Jamie’s bed, no more movies on the couch, no more runs on the beach, no more privacy. If they wanted to keep that, then they would have to come clean.
Chris stopped jogging and reached for Jamie’s hand, pulling him to a stop. “Is that what you want? To take me to dinner?”
Jamie looked at their joined hands, fingers entwined. He swallowed visibly, suddenly very serious. “Chris, I can’t remember a time when I felt as good as I have this last three weeks. I don’t want it to stop. I don’t just want to take you out to dinner—I want to take you out for breakfast dressed in last night’s clothes. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street. I want to kiss you in front of a million cameras and let them all know that I’m sleeping next to you at night. I know that I’m screwed up and that I have a million problems, and this is all going so fucking fast that it can’t be healthy, but…”
Jamie’s next words were smothered by Chris’s mouth on his, hands on both sides of his neck as he kissed without giving a shit if anyone was around to see it. Jamie’s fists bunched into the thick jersey of Chris’s hoodie as they closed any space between them. Chris’s heart thumped hard against his ribcage, swollen so much with emotion that he thought it would burst.
“I want that,” he whispered breathlessly against Jamie’s lips, between kisses. “I want all of that, so much.”
Jamie laughed, the sound catching in his throat before he gave Chris one last lingering kiss. “Good to know that you’re just as stupid as me.”
Chris laughed, too, then remembered where they were—out in the open for anyone to see. He dropped his hands and backed up a couple of steps, although he was still smiling.
“Not quite as stupid,” he said and smirked. “If a paparazzo caught that, we’d be screwed before we even get off the ground.”
Jamie held up both hands in defeat and grinned. “I’m strictly hands off for now, Agent Roberts.”
Chris shook his head and started to jog again, unable to contain how happy he felt. Jamie had been absolutely right—this had happened far too fast, but it wasn’t just sex. Chris felt real affection for him, like they had connected on a level that he rarely had with people. Chris had been walking around on autopilot since leaving the army, just going through the motions day by day. Jamie had made him feel alive again. Was three weeks too soon to call it love? It probably was, but that was the closest emotion Chris could find to describe it.
They didn’t say anything else as they jogged back to the house, Boomer running along with them and pausing occasionally to dash into the sea, then bark indignantly when his paws got wet. Jamie was wincing when they slowed to a walk and went up the stairs to the back porch, and Chris was once again reminded of Jamie’s problems—his feet were still not entirely healed from being broken in Afghanistan. He wondered if they would ever be.
“Call Andy,” Jamie said again as he grabbed a towel to dry off Boomer’s sodden legs. “Tell him to come over tonight. We could do with some fresh company.”
“Sick of me already, Barratt?”
“Never going to happen,” Jamie replied, only half-joking.
* * * *
“Something is different,” Andy said, leaning back in his chair and carefully eying Chris.
They had been playing matchstick poker for an hour, waiting for the pizza to arrive. Jamie had bought extra and was taking a large pepperoni to the two Secret Service agents that had been miserably holed up in the guest house whilst Chris and Jamie had literally been riding out the stormy weather in bed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean something is different,” Watson repeated, eyes narrowing. “I mean, the last time I was here, it was obvious that you were finally starting to like your job and you and Barratt are getting along like a house on fire, but something is different this time and I can’t put my finger on it.”
Chris hid behind his beer. “Nothing is different,” he replied.
Of course, everything was different. The last time Andy had hung out with them, they had still been sleeping in separate beds, before Jamie’s last nightmare where Chris had held him close through the night, before their first definite hint of sexual attraction, before their first kiss. Chris’s entire world had changed in just over a week and it was apparently obvious. Or maybe it was just Andy’s hyper vigilance.
“Nah, something is. Are you guys sleeping together?”
Beer sprayed out of Chris’s nose, and he glanced frantically at his friend. Andy’s facial expression changed instantly from joking to surprise, then to disbelief. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Shut up!” Chris hastily wiped his nose and mouth with the back of his hand.
Andy started to laugh. “Fuck me, I was joking! How the fuck did that happen?”
Chris glanced over his shoulder to check that Jamie wasn’t on his way back yet. “It just…did,” he said helplessly.
“Oh, my God,” Andy said and chuckled. “You are so fucked if the president finds out.”
“Don’t remind me,” Chris muttered. “Just please don’t say anything, Andy. Please. We’re going to address it when we get back to DC, but right now, nobody can know.”
Andy stopped laughing and grew serious. “Oh, so, this isn’t just screwing around? It’s actually a thing?”
“Yeah, it’s a thing.”
“My lips are sealed, bro.”
Chris sighed with relief. Not that he ever thought Andy would rat him out—they had been through too much together and Andy had always had Chris’s back.
Just then, Jamie came in, chuckling. Andy took a sip of beer.
Jamie grinned, sitting down. “Sometimes I forget that people grew up in places other than New York and they have no idea how amazing our pizza is.”
He shook his head with amusement and opened the giant pizza box on the table, taking a slice. He looked up, pizza halfway to his mouth, and paused, obviously realizing there had been a change in the air. His eyes slid from Chris, to Andy, and back again. “What?”
Chris glanced at his friend. “Andy knows,” he said dully.
“I guessed,” Andy corrected immediately.
Jamie looked between them again and shrugged before biting nonchalantly into his slice. “Cool,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “It’s cool, right, Andy?”
“Absolutely.” Andy reached casually for his own slice of pizza.
“Excellent.” Jamie beamed. “So, Andy, are you coming to my birthday party?”
Chris was dumbstruck again, marveling at Jamie’s unique way of handling situations. He had taken to Andy in the same way he had first taken to Chris—confident in the unspoken 85th pact that you could trust the other soldier to have your back. Jamie’s trust in them both was absolute, and now Chris was sure that he was in love.
* * * *
Everybody’s sobriety was a little blurred around the edges by the time Andy left. Jamie had offered to let him crash at the house, but Andy insisted he take a cab to a local B&B, which in turn Jamie insisted paying for. Chris closed and locked the front door and set the alarm before radioing in the last status report for the night. He turned to find Jamie standing in the hallway, all easy grace with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smiling at him. Chris couldn’t help but smile back as he walked towards him.
“So…” he said, placing his hands on Jamie’s upper arms, giving them a light squeeze.
“So…” Jamie echoed. Chris adored the way Jamie looked at that moment, blue eyes slightly unfocussed, his center just a little off balance. Chris stroked his hands all the way down Jamie’s arms, pulling the man’s hands from the jeans pockets in order to hold them in his own. Jamie really had the most beautiful wrists…or maybe that was just the alcohol speaking. “This is a thing.”
“This is a thing…”
“Are you going to just repeat everything I say?”
“Quite possibly. I think I’m too drunk for coherent thought,” Jamie replied.
“On the contrary, I think you’re possibly at your most eloquent when you’re drunk.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” Chris grinned, leaning down the extra couple of inches to kiss him. Not for the first time Chris realized how much he loved the way that Jamie kissed.
“Let’s go to bed,” Jamie murmured, leading Chris up the stairs by the hand. Boomer followed them uncertainly.
They didn’t undress each other this time. Instead, they moved to their respective sides and stripped rather clinically before sliding beneath the covers, Jamie fluffing the pillow with a closed fist. As Chris shuffled in, he spotted the Labrador still in the doorway, hunkered down as if waiting for permission. Chris suddenly felt horribly guilty for coming so suddenly between the dog and his human. He patted the space between Jamie and himself.
“Come on, Boomer.”
The dog was up immediately, tail wagging happily as he bounded onto the bed and tread a circle between them before lying down and burying his wet nose into the crook of Chris’s neck.
“Poor Boomer,” Jamie murmured, digging his fingers into the short, coarse hair on the Labrador’s neck. Chris rolled onto his side and placed his arm over the dog, smiling at Jamie across the pillow.
“At least he doesn’t hate me for taking you away from him.”
“Of course not. Boomer is a total sweetheart.”
“He’d do anything for you,” Chris said.
“So would you,” replied Jamie sleepily, his eyelids already starting to close now that he was lying down, his fingers ceasing their light scratch on Boomer’s neck.
“Yeah, I think I probably would.”
But Jamie was already asleep, his mouth slightly open, breathing steadily. Chris smiled, tenderly brushing back a lock of dark hair from Jamie’s forehead. Boomer looked at him with large brown eyes, his tail swish-swishing on top of the covers. Chris gave his silky ears a rub.
“I guess we both love him, huh?”
Boomer whined quietly and nudged Chris’s cheek with his black nose before settling his head on his paws, comfortable between them both. Chris fell asleep to the sound of Jamie’s breathing. Somehow, he felt like this was where he was supposed to have been all his life.