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“I don’ want it tae feel like the inside of a ship so much as a lounge on one a the wee old ferries, like in the seventies, you remember?”
Duncan glanced up from the artist’s rendering, the old photos, paint swatches and fabric samples spread before him like a game of solitaire. The steam that had been powering his presentation escaped his body as he really looked at his friend for the first time this evening. Jimmy’s blank eyes were resting somewhere around Duncan’s ear.
The furrows of Jimmy’s brow had pressed the older lines of his forehead into a complex topography. The scruff on his chin was so long Duncan could distinguish the flaxen hairs from the grey. His mouth hung slightly open, and Duncan could almost hear the sad sound he would make if he vocalized. The sudden silence, and perhaps the weight of Duncan’s gaze, seemed to startle Jimmy back to life then. He blinked, shook himself minutely, and looked up.
“Sorry. Sorry, am no fit for company tonight.” His red-rimmed eyes offered a third silent apology.
“Just as well that am no company then, eh?” Duncan reached across the counter to cuff him gently on the side of the head.
A smile peeked out from under Jimmy’s clouded expression. Duncan shuffled his cards away and broke down the empty pizza box before wedging it into the overstuffed bin.
“You’ve had a right shite week, Jimmy boy. Work tomorrow?” Jimmy shook his head. “Then lemme pour you a wee swally,” he offered, reaching for the cabinet he knew always held a bottle or two. Jimmy’s lips pursed in that familiar expression of Duncan-judgment.
“Never touch the stuff maself, mind,” Duncan preempted with a camp lilt as he pulled down a tumbler and uncorked a bottle. Jimmy gave a snort. “No, I think am through wi’ drink for the moment,” he said quietly, sliding the glass to Jimmy’s hand, “bu’ naebody deserves one more than you do righ’ now.”
A small compression of Jimmy’s features spoke concession, gratitude, and the discomfort of praise more eloquently than words. Certainly any words Jimmy Perez was likely to use. Duncan poured himself a glass of water and they clinked rims.
“This week’s been no picnic for you either.” Jimmy’s voice was low and smooth where whisky had cleared the way. “I shouldn’t’ve come down so hard on you earlier. Am sorry, Duncan.”
“An’ the night before?” Duncan pushed his luck.
“Aye, an’ the night before. Sorry.”
“S’aright, Jimmy. When have I no deserved it?” A more polite person might have disagreed, but Jimmy just nodded along, and this made Duncan laugh. Jimmy had the good grace to look chagrinned before joining in.
“Bu’ you said it was Mary that did the cheatin this time?”
“Aye. Now the chucker has become the chucked.”
Duncan braced himself, then looked up with surprise as Jimmy didn’t say the first harsh thing that came to mind. Instead, he took the several sips that emptied his glass before confiding, “Alice cut it off too. Just now.”
“Oft, Jimmy, I’m so sorry.”
“S’aright, s’aright. I was outta my head tae think that could work. After everythin….” He looked toward the bottle, but Duncan reached it first and poured him another.
“Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“That’s true,” Jimmy conceded after a deliberative sip.
“And am here tae tell you, yer allowed tae want things that don't make sense.” Jimmy cracked an embarrassed smile and looked away. A bubble of giddiness shivered up Duncan’s spine. He was floating above the exhausted, despairing man he’d been two hours ago, and it made him want to keep Jimmy smiling and embarrassed. He turned his back to flip on the kettle and quell his own grin, which felt unseemly in the face of Jimmy’s broken heart. “How did she put it tae you?”
“Honestly?” He heard Jimmy take another sip. “She had every reason in the world to be angry, I know that. And I know wi’ Chris an’ the trial an’ all we’d be lucky tae still be speakin tae each other in a year. But some of what she said… you know, I think she was talkin pish!” Jimmy sounded like he’d just discovered a new island, one on which he might not be completely at fault. Duncan made his tea then slid in next to Jimmy.
“What kind a pish?”
“She told me that because a my work, an’ because Shetland’s so small, it must be better for me tae be alone. Apart from people.”
“Bu’ you’re not apart from people. Sometimes I worry you might be lonely, bu’ you’re almost never alone.”
“I know! And I’d just asked her tae dinner, as well!”
“Well, there you go.”
They shared the complicit old smile of two lads in the back of class. Duncan’s heart squeezed. “But maybe there’s a little somethin to it, what Alice said? No, no, no hear me out. Yer puttin yourself out there little by little, an’ I know it’s no been easy. Maybe you’ve started with the impossible ladies, just tae get your sealegs.”
“My sealegs.”
“Aye, it’s treacherous out here on the seas a love.” He let silliness take him where a more serious man might fear to tread. Jimmy chuckled. “You need tae know you can keep afloat before you risk it for real.”
Jimmy’s smile diffused into something unreadable. He emptied his glass again. “So when am ready, you're sayin, I’ll find love on this island.”
Duncan froze momentarily, aware that he was pushing at something he didn’t understand, and he might have just pushed too far. The back of his neck was hot. He stood and made a show of stretching before crossing the room and settling on the sofa.
“Well noo, Jimmy ma lad, whit's fur ye'll no go by ye,” he intoned in a passable impression of James Perez the elder.
“Oh god, I got enough a that on the phone last weekend.”
“You told him about Alice?”
“No, course not, bu’ the sermon never changes.”
If Jimmy had noticed anything odd about Duncan’s behavior, he didn’t say. But then Jimmy always noticed everything and said nothing. At least the sun had finally set and Duncan could blush in peace in the dark living room. But Jimmy stood, poured himself another splash, and ambled over to sit beside him. They sat in silence long enough that when Jimmy interrupted it he did it quietly.
“Am sorry about Mary, Duncan. You tried tae make it last, I know that.”
“You realize that’s abou’ the hundredth time you’ve said ‘sorry’ tae me this evenin, Jimmy. I dunno what’s brought it on, but I could get used tae this.” He could hear his false cheer bounce off the stone walls, return to him. Jimmy was sitting still and watching him. He tried again.
“I did work. I wanted it tae work. Bu’ I got a late start. I’d already blown my chances an’ I didnae realize it. An’ I miss her, and I hate to imagine what Cass thinks of it all. She says it’s fine, bu’ that’s just her used to my screw ups.”
God, but it was taxing to talk like this without a drink in his hand, or one in his gut. But at least he could keep an eye on what he chose to say, or to leave out.
“You miss her?” It was a genuine question.
“Well sure. I love her an’ I’ll miss her. Bu’ I think what I really miss, what nearly sent me packin’ today, is the feelin of bein fixed to a point in the world. I’m Mary’s husband, all right. I have tae care for her, for our home. We have friends together; I have my role tae play at parties, an’ a reason to cut it off for the night. I keep up about wha’ interests her so we can talk, I cook what she likes, I quit smokin, for godsake! An’ I didnae mind, am no complainin. I knew who I was tryin tae be. Now its like I’m barely tethered tae the buoy, half full a water, no name, paint peelin off… oh but listen tae me haver an’ I’m no even the one gettin pished.”
“You’re no haverin, an’ I’m no pished.”
“Aright, Jimmy. Your turn then. Tell me what you miss abou’ bein married tae Fran.” No point in asking if Jimmy misses her. They were still speaking quietly, and Duncan was probably just a hopeless old flirt, but the space between them felt… not neutral.
“Some days I don’t.” Duncan looked up in surprise. “More lately. Some days I’m workin or… well, usually workin. But I think of Fran an’ she’s in the past, you know? I see her there, an’ I love her, but the past stays past for me some days now. An’ I see myself, an’ I’m just a man. No her husband, no the sad old dad.”
Jimmy was feeling his words. The light tune of his voice was accompanied by the hum of the fridge, the liminal slapping of waves on stone. Duncan realized he was holding his breath and snuck out a long exhale.
“You remember when I got back to Shetland an’ Cassie was just wee, I was prayin to God she’d ever stop cryin for her mum. An’ she did. And she grew up, and she told me it was time to stop broodin at home.”
“I remember, Jimmy.” Duncan said it gently.
“Aye, I know you know. You’ve been here wi’ me.” Jimmy seemed to be on the verge of saying more but gave him the gift of a small, true smile instead.
Duncan could feel the depth of the abyss beneath both their feet, so he kept his eyes up as he put his hand lightly on Jimmy’s shoulder. He could feel how tentative his touch was, how unlike the familial slap and pat between them. He felt exposed again, transparent. Literally anything that happened next would have surprised him, so Duncan startled slightly when Jimmy spoke again.
“There’s one thing I miss. Every day. I hate tae go tae bed when I know it’s empty an’ cold.” Then Jimmy’s hand was on his thigh, across the breadth of the muscle. Not an indecent touch, but bold and certain. Duncan felt dizzy; he thought he’d been the one steering this risky course. Jimmy moved toward him and brought his free hand to Duncan’s jaw, which was now hanging open. At the touch of lips, the scrape of whiskers, Duncan paused against his will.
“Jimmy, I think yer a bit drunk.”
Jimmy brought their foreheads to touch. “Duncan, I told you, am not drunk. I’m jus’ havin a midlife crisis.”
“Ah, aright, Jimmy. Ok.” Then they were kissing through laughter, Duncan stroking Jimmy’s sweet, exhausted face, Jimmy clutching at his hip, his waist.
“I have tae ask, though,” Duncan breathed as they broke apart, “does this feel like a crisis tae you?”
The kitchen light caught the clear blue of Jimmy’s eyes as he looked up from Duncan’s mouth. After a moment’s thought, he shook his head no. Duncan grinned, then hitched a leg over and landed in Jimmy’s lap, pressing him back into the sofa. Jimmy’s hands were sure and strong as they slid around his neck, down his back, pulled Duncan’s thighs tighter around his waist. Duncan had forgotten the pleasure of being the smaller partner; he felt lithe and supple as he let himself be moved.
Heat was building in the whisper of space between them until Jimmy broke away with a great, loud yawn.
“Sorry, sorry.”
“Nae bother,” Duncan ran a hand through Jimmy’s hair, “c’mon, lemme take you tae bed, big man.”
Jimmy carried Duncan’s suitcase up the stairs and placed it just inside his own bedroom door. Duncan had to blink away a sentimental feeling before crossing the threshold himself. They undressed in the quiet, in the dark, then Jimmy slid into bed and held the covers back for Duncan. The soft heat of skin on skin banished sleep. Duncan took Jimmy in hand, and Jimmy fell back onto the pillows with a quiet groan.
“It’s been years since I touched anyone’s cock but my own. Ye’ll have tae tell me how you want it.” Duncan’s fingers traced his length lightly, circled his thickness.
“Aye, me too. I mean… it’s been years since…” He trailed off with a waved hand, the full truth too burdensome. “Do me how you do yourself.”
Duncan had to think for a moment. Privately he prided himself on versatility; there was no ‘one way.’ Then he grinned. Jimmy made a soft noise of surprise as Duncan pushed him away onto his side and reached around to fist his cock. He made a louder one when Duncan licked his fingers and slid them along the cleft of his arse. Jimmy throbbed in his hand. He slid fingertips delicately back and forth, the lightest of incidental pressure against his hole. With a groaning sigh, Jimmy settled deeper against his chest, rocking his hips lazily between Duncan’s two hands.
“Is this… how you get yourself off?” His voice was a wisp.
“Aye, when I wanna see stars,” Duncan tightened his grip, shut his eyes, and braved the next words, “or when I’m thinkin of you.”
He felt his confession radiate between their bodies. Jimmy was suddenly much closer to coming, hard and wet in his fist. That should have been answer enough, but the hungry part of him, the never-enough chancer needed to ask.
“Do you think of me, Jimmy?” His mouth was hot on Jimmy’s neck, and with the gentlest press the tip of his middle finger was hot inside Jimmy’s arse.
“…Aye…I…think of you!” The last was a rush of breath as Jimmy lost his rhythm, thrusting and shivering in Duncan’s embrace, pulsing across Duncan’s knuckles and into his own palm. As Jimmy’s pulse settled, Duncan rocked their bodies softly. His own hard-on was tucked patiently between them; he was reluctant to come himself and break the spell he seemed to have cast.
Finally Jimmy turned onto his back and met Duncan’s eye. He brought a hand to Duncan’s cheek, and the weight of it kept Duncan in uncertain orbit above him. His voice was steady and calm when he said it this time.
“I think of you.”
Duncan looked away with an embarrassed smile. Jimmy’s hand brought him back around til they were smiling at each other. Duncan listened to his own heart thudding til he knew he was in danger of saying something stupid, and got up with a swift kiss.
“Lemme get a flannel an’ clean you up.”
The light in the bathroom gave him no quarter as he washed his hands, scrubbed his nails. His face wore the mark of every day he’d lived and shone pale white, except under the eyes. He looked sober and frightened and exhausted. His eyes, though, were glinting with a manic hope that still pulsed between his legs as well as in his chest. He ran a cloth under the tap and hurried back to the warmth of Jimmy’s bed.
Duncan climbed in gingerly, trying not to disturb the lump in the blankets, which was absolutely still. When he was settled under the covers he wrapped his arm around and wiped with the wet cloth at Jimmy’s soft cock, the palm of his hand. Jimmy roused slightly to the touch, stretching his legs.
“Am sorry, Duncan,” muttered Jimmy, and Duncan’s body went still. He’d thought at least to make it through the night before they had to roll back on all this tenderness, these implied promises. His suitcase was still sitting in the corner for godsake. He rolled over and tossed the cloth to the floor. Then he curled into himself with no idea what to do, until the silence was broken again by a loud, stuttering snore, with which Jimmy seemed to jar himself out of sleep.
“Sorry, Duncan, sorry. Am knackered. Have a wank, I’ll suck you off in the morning.”
He turned over and pulled Duncan against his chest. Almost immediately his breath resumed the even, snuffling rhythm of unconsciousness. Duncan looked incredulously at Jimmy’s peaceful face. The last traces of tiredness had just left his body like drops of water in a hot skillet. He shivered a sigh, then gazed up to the dark ceiling. His cock was pointing straight up to midnight. He settled in for a long night.
Over the next several hours Duncan examined the evening with a nitcomb, alternating between a list of the ways he’d screwed it up, excuses Jimmy could make to untangle this, and gentle tugs on his cock as flashes of hot memory overwhelmed him. When he finally slept, his dreams were a seiche on the lake of his mind.
But he needn’t have worried. When he awoke he was pinned to the bed, and Jimmy was keeping his word. And he was as good as his word.