Will, Jem pondered, would look good in gold. Gold would clash beautifully with his ruddy skin, blend with his black curls, would set out his dancing azure eyes.
He told this to Will, and the other merely shook his head and smiled. A secret was in his eyes, something glimmering-beyond the usual playfulness mixed with seriousness that was always in the cerulean depths. It was almost maddening, trying to figure out that secret.
But every time Jem would approach him, Will would fix him with That Gaze-the one that weakened Jem's knees and set him stammering and blushing.
Like now.
"What should I wear?" Will asked, voice low, eyes teasing.
"Noth-gold." Jem's flush deepened as 'nothing' almost slipped out.
"Nothing? Oh, James. Naughty, naughty."
"Shut-" Jem was silenced with a searing kiss, his back hard against the wall, Will's leg finding the space between his and pressing almost painfully.
Almost.
A whimper fell from Jem's covered lips at the sinfully good pressure and he inwardly cursed himself for turning to jelly at Will's touch, his kiss.
...What was Will supposed to wear?
Wait.
He was supposed to do something…
Jem's thoughts shut down completely as Will's lips found his neck. Later, he promised himself, dazed, he would ask later.
Which happened in two weeks.
A note on his bed, saying to go to Will's room, signed WH, amidst a thin coil of silver. Jem slipped the cord over his neck and fingered its charm, a ring, still warm, the ring Will always wore.
It made him smile.
And when Will rose to shut the door behind him, Jem stared. And his smile grew, because he was right.
Will did look good in gold.
.
.
.
But even better without it.
I didn't like this one that much _ It was too boring to me
But the end, you can assume, was a lemon
