"You look like a sporting fellow! Care to test your strength, lad?"

The barker had cut clear through the cacophony of chatter and the occasional shrieks of glee or fear. Thomas had been watching the swing ride, which had started to give him sympathy nausea, when he knocked into the back of Jimmy. He had stopped dead and was apparently no longer able to walk and think at the same time. That would explain a few things, Thomas thought, not unkindly.

"We have a history," Jimmy said, gesturing towards the game with a flick of his head.

"I'm assuming you don't mean the old man?"

"No, I didn't mean the old man. The game. Last time I tried it, it showed me up." He appeared to consider for a moment. "If I don't win this time, will you laugh at me?"

"Yes."

Jimmy's face screwed up in consternation and he huffed his way over to pay the man in charge for two attempts. The man handed him the mallet and Jimmy squared himself. He swung the mallet down with as much force has he could muster, but the bell remained steadfastly silent. "It were nearly there," he said defensively, spinning around to Thomas. "And, well - I'm not fighting fit, am I? So it's no wonder, really."

In a voice dripping with sympathy, Thomas asked Jimmy if his jam injury was playing up.

Jimmy turned a rather fun shade of red. "That's not funny."

"I don't know, Mrs Patmore could barely get it out for laughing when she told me."

"Bloody woman. I meant 'cos I'm a bit drunk, aren't I? It's hardly fair."

"You wanted to do it." Thomas was often bewildered by Jimmy's strange, sometimes angry, fits of woe-is-me. God help you if you tried to extend sympathy - he just wanted an audience to rave to. Thomas still had to bite back the desire to reassure him.

"Lad, are you going to want your second go or not?"

"No." Jimmy extended the handle of the mallet to Thomas. "You give it a go."

Thomas sighed. To succeed would surely elicit one hell of a sulk from the blond, but Thomas wasn't going to slacken his effort. There was a sweetly sadistic streak in him that got a bit of a thrill watching Jimmy pout. He instinctively wanted to kiss it away and watch the sulk drop from him like a veil.

Grabbing the mallet, he swung it downward without a pause and the bell cried out. Quite loudly, he noted.

"That were right graceful, son," the barker said, nodding his approval. Thomas handed the mallet back to him. "Wait just a moment, you've got a reward coming."

"With a bad hand and all," Thomas said, clapping Jimmy on the arm.

The man extended a very small teddy bear, almost certainly made by his wife. "For the nipper. Tell 'em your a regular strongman." Thomas took the bear somewhat awkwardly and nodded a good day to the man. He steered Jimmy quickly away before he spent any more money trying to one-up Thomas.

"I don't suppose you'll want this?" Thomas asked, holding the bear up. Jimmy glared daggers at him.

Thomas frowned down at it for a moment, when he suddenly held it out in offer to a little ice-cream faced boy. The boy looked unsure, but slowly reached out for the bear until he held its paw. "Tell your mum that the bear wants ice cream," Thomas said. The boy lit up at the idea and finally tore the bear from Thomas's grip. He gave a sort of garbled, over-excited thanks and took off. The two men began in the opposite direction.

"You're an odd bird, aren't you?" Jimmy asked, amused.

"How's that?"

"I wouldn't have taken you as being good with kids."

"I'm fine with kids until they get tetchy. How I've managed to put up with you for so long, I'll never know."

Jimmy laughed and slapped the back of his hand into Thomas's ribs. "You used to be so nice to me."

"You didn't like me very much when I was nice," he said easily. Jimmy bumped his shoulder into Thomas's arm with a friendly sort of reassurance.

"You should have a drink. Join me." They bumped into one another again before they stopped their aimless journey.

"I doubt I'll be catching up to you," Thomas smiled. He looked around to locate the spot where the punch was. Not terribly far, not terribly busy. "I could maybe meet you part way?" Jimmy nodded.

"You can go get some while I play this." He gestured to a game behind him.

"Good luck," Thomas smiled. He turned and disappeared into a crush.

Jimmy spun himself around to the game and paid for ago to throw a ball at a tin pyramid a couple of times. He hit it each time, but the bottom row would not budge for love or money. He frowned and looked into the crowd.

"That one was bloody fixed," he muttered under his breath. He attempted to console himself with a cigarette only to find they weren't in his pocket; he suddenly had a very clear image of them on his dresser. He swore aloud, provoking the glares of several passers-by. He winked at a disapproving woman and she blushed away her upset.

Thomas re-emerged from the crowd, shaking his head. "I could you hear from back there. You'll have a mother's brigade after us soon, if you're not quieter."

"You're never going to meet me," Jimmy frowned at the cup Thomas held.

"I had one back there, as well."

"Good. Can I have a cigarette?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, but retreived his pack and handed it over. Jimmy took one out and slid the pack into his own pocket. He put the cigarette between his lips and stared at Thomas expectantly. He looked at the cigarette, but made no indication of action.

"Do you think I could have a light, as well?"

"Needy," Thomas replied, getting his lighter and extending its flame to Jimmy.

They ambled on in silence for a time, enjoying the buzz of summer and the extent of the happiness engulfing them. Thomas felt the warm disjoining of alcohol creep over him as Jimmy slid a little further back to sobriety. They settled for passing a bit of time watching the tug-of-war (a different set of 'champions' than the ones they'd encountered). Said champions wasted no time in tidily beating two different groups during the length of time the men watched.

"We must have been very impressive," Jimmy said, smirking. Thomas agreed.

After a brief trip to return the cup they wandered the side of the fair they'd not yet come to. Jimmy kept stealing glances at Thomas, who did his best to ignore them. It wasn't long before curiosity got the best of him, and he looked to Jimmy and raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"You've got a terrible tell. You go all red when you drink, like you're wearing rouge."

"Oh, that's great. That's what I needed to hear, thank you," Thomas laughed.

Jimmy turned to walk backward in front of him. "Would you do something if I asked you to?"

"I don't know. Probably. What?"

Jimmy stopped and moved out of his eyeline, revealing a photographer's stall.

"Not that."

"You said you would do what I asked."

"You hear everything as what you'd like to hear. I said 'probably'."

"Come on. It's only thruppence. I'll pay for it."

"It's hardly that; thruppence isn't likely to lead to my ruin." Thomas made the mistake of looking at Jimmy, who was trying to look endearing. Trying, succeeding.

"I know it won't be your ruin. That's why we should, see?" Thomas looked pained. "Can I not have a photo of you?"

"I'll give you one."

"I want one from right now, though."

"You just told me I looked like I'm made up."

Jimmy frowned and looked like he was deep in thought. After a moment, he perked up. "No, you know what it is?"

"Hm?"

"You look like," Jimmy began, before dropping his voice and leaning into the other, "you've been fucked."

Thomas snorted and ducked his head down. "And you want to commemorate that," he said, voice twisted in a grin.

"Well, it's now or never. Unless you fancy buying one of those instant cameras."

"You'd only use it for smut."

"That's what they're for," Jimmy said, as if Thomas were a bit dim.

"Probably," he acquiesced. Then, in a far lower voice, "But unless you're thinking of going into business, there's no sense in spending four pounds so you can enshrine your cock. Even you can't be that vain."

"You're absolutely no fun."

They continued walking, edging closer to the booth, when Thomas halted and grabbed Jimmy's sleeve to get him to stop.

"Why do you want one done so badly?"

"I told you, didn't I?" Jimmy said, a strain of annoyance sharpening the words.

"It's probably not a good idea. You don't need a photograph of me, anyway. I'm always with you."

Jimmy let out an frustrated burst of breath and headed to a cluster of tables. He sat down heavily, in the direct glare of the sun, and scowled at the people having their photos done. Thomas stayed standing where he was, flummoxed. He watched Jimmy's face and came to sit at the table with him once the anger had trickled down to resignation.

"You'll burn your face if you keep in the sun."

Jimmy wordlessly moved his chair into the shade.

The silence was frayed, both of them choking back words. Thomas wasn't entirely sure why Jimmy was quite this put out. He hadn't said it unkindly, but it was true: barely two hours passed through without them seeing one another, at least in passing. He thought it had been teasing and while Jimmy had a tendency towards overreaction, this was a bit much for that. He stared at Jimmy, willing him to cheer up and to return the pilfered cigarettes.

Jimmy sighed and turned to look at him. "Is it really just that you're worried?"

"Mostly."

"In for a penny." He shrugged. "A fairground photo's not going to be anyone's undoing. Plenty of mates were getting theirs done. It's just a bit of fun."

Thomas felt like he was being tested, in all senses of the word. Jimmy looked him at pleadingly, and it made his chest hurt. He hated denying him, especially over something that was, essentially, trivial. "Please, Thomas?"

"You're not going to let up, are you?" He received a shake of the head in answer. "Let's go, then."

Jimmy gave him a brilliant smile.

"You shouldn't get worked up so easily."

"You should let me have my way."

"You're such an arse."

"I'm the worst," he agreed, cheerily.

"You'd better treasure this postcard until your dying day, for all the fuss."

"I'll be buried with it and all."

Though Thomas had started this line, he ached to hear Jimmy agree. Jimmy looked at him expectantly, very openly, as they reached their destination and told him to pay the photographer. He looked so pleased with himself and Thomas wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms and kiss him quiet.

The photographer watched them expectantly until Thomas fished out the change and handed it over to him. "Very good. Go through that curtain there and just sit yourselves down. Or stand, if you like. No matter to me."

They walked into the booth and Jimmy swept an arm out. "Shall we sit?"

"This is embarrassing."

"It's not. Stop being a clod."

A great paper moon was suspended in the middle, with a black bench placed behind the bottom. "I think he's enjoying himself a bit too much," Thomas said, gesturing to the disconcertingly salacious expression which adorned the moon.

"Oh, hell," Jimmy laughed. He leaned an elbow on the moon's nose. "Sit down. Closer, like you've met me before."

They stopped fidgeting about when they saw that the photographer looked as ready to shoot them with a gun as a camera. Jimmy sat just ahead of Thomas, so their shoulders barely overlapped, and with a studied languidness dropped his hand on Thomas's thigh. "Don't look miserable or I'll make you buy another, I swear," Jimmy warned.

"Are you quite finished?" The photographer snapped. They both burst into laughter, feeling for all the world like naughty schoolboys. The photographer seized the opportunity that their shutting up presented and took the photo.