A/N: This ficlet is dedicated to Ames/ dreamhusband-thewarlock from tumblr. =D
"I didn't know you liked the idea of getting married," Jimmy says, as cautiously as possible, but Thomas's head shoots up all the same. In a split second the expression on his face turns from confusion into something that's hardly ever aimed at Jimmy – unconcealed anger.
"Who says I do?" Thomas snaps at him, an unmistakable tightening in his jaw, and his cold blue stare makes Jimmy's stomach churn with anxiety.
"I saw you in church earlier, Thomas. I saw that you um... you were-"
"I wasn't!"
Jimmy chews his bottom lip, watching as Thomas's gaze finally drops in defeat.
Jimmy isn't thick. He knows of course that Thomas doesn't particularly like Mr. Carson – to put it mildly. But as the vicar spoke his words, Thomas clenched his fists at his sides, lips pressed into a hard pale line while his steely glance bored holes into the church floor, and Jimmy knew without a doubt that this was not about Mr. Carson's and Mrs. Hughes's wedding.
With Thomas sitting right beside him, Jimmy risked a closer look at his face and couldn't help but notice tears glistening against the pale skin before Thomas quickly wiped an unwilling hand across his cheek. It made Jimmy's heart ache in his chest, more than he ever thought possible for another human being. So after assuring himself that no one would pay them any attention today, Jimmy softly pressed the back of his hand against Thomas's until their fingers touched, from knuckle to tip. A wave of heat rose in Jimmy's cheeks at the contact, coloring his face like a bright flame, and he didn't dare meet Thomas's eyes. Still, he didn't move his hand away until the ceremony was over and everyone started to leave the church. Neither did Thomas.
"See, you don't have to marry to find happiness," Jimmy points out mock-casually as he kicks a small pebble with the toe of his shined shoe, hands buried in his pockets. It's meant to be soothing, a comfort, but Jimmy isn't good with words, never has been. The moment they leave his mouth, he feels like a complete simpleton.
Because Thomas doesn't even have a chance to decide against marriage.
Because there is no choice for people like him. For people like us. Jimmy mentally corrects himself and all of a sudden his mouth feels as dry as the desert.
Looking back, it's always caught Jimmy with little shocks of clarity whenever Thomas made a complimentary remark about another man, yet it wasn't before Thomas mentioned "a nice bloke in the village with hair just like yours, Jimmy" that it hit him like lightning. Although Jimmy wished his friend happiness with every fiber of his being, the sheer notion of Thomas being happy with someone else was completely and utterly excruciating; just too painful to even be within the realms of possibility - he hoped. In any case, Jimmy still doesn't feel anything close to comfortable with being in love with Thomas, or being that way in general. Maybe he never will; it's something he usually prefers not to think about.
Jimmy looks Thomas over and swallows, something in his throat constricting at the pitiful sight of the man in front of him: with his head down, slightly disheveled dark hair falling over somber eyes, Thomas seems utterly forlorn – almost broken. Only once before has Jimmy seen Thomas so miserable (and that was mainly Jimmy's fault!) but he will do anything, bloody anything to never see him like this again.
He lifts a hand, resting it on Thomas's chest, close to his heart, and mutters,
"Please remember, you're not alone, Thomas. I'm always here for you."
Thomas blinks at him.
"You're right and I'm so thankful for it, Jimmy. But that's not the same, is it? After all, we're just friends," he replies quietly.
"Just friends"
Jimmy feels his heart sink. He's always been immensely proud of their friendship, the close bond they've managed to form against all odds.
Friends.
Now, it sounds flat and meaningless, and the weight of everything they're not feels like an unbearable burden on too-small shoulders. Jimmy knows he has to say something, to tell Thomas right now, because if he doesn't, he might never bring up the courage again. Once more he wracks his mind for all the right reasons, reasons which have always been washed away by a crippling fear that's been keeping its ugly hand around Jimmy's heart like a vise since the day at the fair.
Yes, he should have talked to Thomas a long time ago; everything would have turned out differently then. But Jimmy never did, and now a familiar sensation, regret mingling with rage, is surging through his body stronger than ever before.
All these wasted years ...
"We're not just friends and you know that!" he all but shouts, taking a quick step forward and clutching firmly at the shoulders of a very surprised Thomas. For a second Jimmy's gaze lingers on his half-open mouth before falling down to the creamy-white buttonhole on Thomas's jacket.
So perfectly bright and cheery.
Jimmy lets out a dismissive snort. What a bloody farce for a man that looks like he's just been to a funeral. A man forced to applaud the happiness of a world that he himself is shut out from.
The world has never cared about your happiness, Jimmy thinks, infuriated, and in one angry motion he rips the mocking flower off the jacket and chucks it on the ground, into the dirt where it belongs. Jimmy grimaces briefly at the view, anticipating a scolding from Thomas.
It doesn't come. Thomas only stares at him, obviously too shocked to speak and now it's Jimmy's eyes that are wet. With both hands tightly grasping Thomas's lapels, Jimmy finds himself overcome with a mix of emotions he can barely disentangle.
"We- we love each other in our own way, don't we Thomas?!" He sniffles, vision slightly blurring. "Don't we?"
"I'm not sure I understand-" Thomas's voice is thin like paper, his wide eyes warily searching Jimmy's face for something he stopped hoping for years ago.
In a sudden rush of bravery, Jimmy flings his arms upwards, around Thomas's neck, screws his eyes shut and unceremoniously presses his mouth to Thomas's.
Oh.
Thomas's lips are warm, unexpectedly chaste and so much softer than Jimmy imagined. There's no fierce passion, no tongues or teeth. Clearly, this kiss is a fragile, uncertain thing, but Jimmy's heart races nevertheless. And though it's over far too soon, Jimmy does get the message across. For the second time this day, Jimmy sees tears sliding down Thomas's face, only this time he's smiling.
"It's true, we're not like other people and we can't have what they have," Jimmy begins while gently rubbing his nose against the faint stubble on Thomas's cheek. "So what, Thomas?" His head's still spinning from the kiss and for a fleeting insane moment Jimmy considers dropping to his knees but, eventually, decides against it; after all, Jimmy Kent is not the soppy kind. Instead, he grabs Thomas's left hand and curls his middle finger around Thomas's wedding finger, forming a tight ring.
Now Jimmy smiles, too.
"That doesn't mean we can't have love..."