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'Come on, now.’ A soft voice in his ear. 'I think it's time we were getting out.'
He nodded, and the warm column of Harry's body moved away from him and the cold came rushing back in.
Well there's a fucking metaphor for you.
If it had been cold in the lake, it was nothing to how it felt once they'd clambered back onto the jetty, and the cool evening air began to properly chill the water still clinging to their skin.
The sun sank further below the treeline behind them.
'Shit.' He shivered, looking around for his clothes.
Years of stripping off scrubs had made him forget what was normal, acceptable in polite company when it came to undressing in public. And he was trying to be polite, and normal with Harry, to show him that he could be. And nothing had ostensibly changed between them. Nothing spoken aloud anyway.
But he stepped out of his dripping boxers without thinking, glancing up to see Harry’s eyes widen slightly, before he turned away to take off his own and struggle into his trousers.
He held up a hand. ‘Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean- ’ he explained. ‘It’s a work thing. I-‘
Harry nodded, turning back to him.
‘Yeah, I got that,’ he smiled wryly. ‘It’s ok.’
And how many times have you had to say that to me?
He frowned.
Harry said, ‘It’s ok,’ again, then cleared his throat. ‘So. What now?’ he asked, buttoning his shirt.
‘Er, I’ve got a room here,’ he shrugged. ‘It came with being best man, but Emma must’ve forgotten about it.’
Harry’s brow furrowed. ‘I didn’t mean… I meant, should I go and say hello to Greg and Emma, pay my respects, or whatever it is.’
He shrugged again. ‘They already think you stood me up. You won’t be missed.’ He saw a flicker cross Harry’s face and amended, ameliorated. ‘I mean, you don’t have to. Don’t feel you have to.’ He looked up at the darkling sky. ‘Everyone’ll be half-cut by now anyway.’
‘Whereas we’re completely sober, of course…’ Harry raised his eyebrows.
‘I am after being in that fucking lake.’
‘Being in that fucking lake was your idea.’
Harry abandoned the attempt to get socks over wet feet and grimaced as he slid them bare into his shoes. ‘And you never did get the bottle after all,’ he added reflectively.
‘Well, actually,’ Adam paused. ‘I would think – in the circumstances - it’s fair to say that I have-‘
Harry cut him off.
‘Adam Kay, if you’re about to come out with some appalling line about having actually – finally - got the bottle, I will throw you back in the water right now, so I will.’
But he was shaking his head as he spoke, laughing slightly, as he always did when mildly exasperated by Adam.
Adam was unrepentant. ‘The line was right there.’
Harry huffed in acknowledgement. ‘Ok, fair enough, it was.’ He bent and picked up their discarded jackets, handing Adam’s to him.
Reaching to take it, he caught Harry’s gaze in the twilight and held it. ‘And it’s still the truth,’ he said softly.
He saw Harry take a breath. Saw him absorbing what Adam had said, processing it, deliberating and weighing it. Adam held his ground, didn’t look away.
Harry didn’t glance away this time either, but looked at Adam again, steadily as he had in the lake - that clear blue gaze that saw and understood so much of him - looking, as if searching for an answer.
The evening wrapped itself around them.
Eventually Harry spoke.
‘I suppose I do look a bit of a state to be showing my face at a fancy wedding like this,’ and he ruefully made a gesture which took in his wet hair, his rumpled jacket and the shirt still sticking to his damp skin.
I think you look beautiful.
But Adam didn’t contradict him.
’And it’d be a pisser to try to get a cab back to town at this hour,’ he continued, half to himself, thinking.
Adam waited. Hoped.
On the other side of the lake a clamour of rooks rose noisily into the air before re-settling in the tall trees.
Harry seemed to reach a decision. He met Adam’s eyes directly once more.
‘If I stay, it doesn’t mean…’ he hesitated, considering his words. ‘I’m not promising anything,’ he said seriously.
Adam nodded, slowly. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘And I’m not expecting anything. Honestly.’ He smiled and waved vaguely in the direction of the country house behind him. ‘You know what these places are like; the beds are enormous. Big enough to share without impugning your modesty.’
Unless you decide later you want me to impugn it, that is.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Come back to the hotel with me. Have a hot shower,’ he went on. ‘Wear a ridiculously fluffy bathrobe. We’ll order room service, and charge it to the wedding party.’
He slipped an arm through Harry’s without thinking, mainly to keep warm, as he pulled them back around the way they had come. Before he realised what he’d done, before he could pull back or apologise, Harry had drawn him close against his side, just as instinctively it seemed, as they set off.
‘We can’t spend their money, Adam,’ replied Harry.
Adam turned to him. ‘Whyever not?’ he demanded.
‘Well,' said Harry, and Adam could see him trying not to smile, 'what about the poor donkeys?’
‘Fuck the donkeys,’ said Adam with emphasis.
Harry’s laughter rang out clear and golden and precious in the air, and after a second he joined in, as they hurried towards the floodlit hotel and a newly-risen full moon hanging low in the sky above it.