Post-war drabble
Gale crosses one ankle over the other and tries to look nonchalant even as he presses himself harder to the wall behind him. It's warm from the sunshine that lights up his sister’s backyard every morning, drawing the smell of dewy leaves and flowers from her herb garden. Although it's still too early to feel the summer heat, sweat gathers on the back of his neck.
John's arm is propped up against the wall beside Gale's head.
It's impossible to ignore. John's talking - has been for the last fifteen minutes - about what, Gale can barely grasp. Baseball and teams and the beauty of loving things with everything you have. Sports, he means, but Gale imagines something else. How could he not, when John is leaning more and more into Gale's space as he continues musing? How could he not, when John's blue eyes bore into his from only a few inches away?
Gale wants to run or to push John away, but the wall is warm and John's body runs hot too, and Gale spent too much time freezing during the war to shy away from the heat now. His gaze drops down to John's pink lips. He tracks the way they thin and part around the words. How John's smirk tugs at his moustache, and how his teeth peek out playfully whenever he says something funny. It’s a mesmerizing dance.
Gale watches it in silence. He wants to be asked to join in. Always did. But John doesn’t dare ask or even want to ask him, and the moments, those quiet, comforting ones like this one, slip away. Gale is tired of all that. He’s so tired. All he wants is a dance.
He leans forward and kisses John the way he always wanted to. Softly, lingering, like a lover who knows that a thousand more will follow from an endless well of love and feels content for it rather than greedy.
When he pulls back, his and John's eyes meet through eyelashes sweeping low - then John smiles and returns the kiss with a dozen of his own. Quick and happy and insatiable, all over Gale’s lips and the flushed skin of his scarred cheeks. John's arm slips from the wall to curl around Gale’s neck and holds him close, holds him and loves him the way one loves a spouse. The dance Gale always dreamt of, suddenly his. Just like that.
What took them so long?
