Sunset was approaching as Tom and Peter made their way to the top deck. Peter carried two glasses and a bottle of Cabernet in hopes of toasting the end of a successful trip. As they made their way toward the bow, they sang a few bars of "We're Called Gondolieri". Peter noticed Tom starting to shiver, placed his glasses and wine on the floor, and offered his black duffel coat. Though the coat swallowed much shorter Tom, he wore it happily, thanking Peter for his kindness. Peter then retrieved the wine, deftly balancing both glasses and the bottle.
"I'd like to propose a toast. Here's to...the continued Adventures of Tom and Peter?" asked Peter. Tom chuckled.
"Oh, Peter, you make us sound like Batman and Robin."
"Okay, how about just further adventures between two good friends?"
Tom liked the sound of that. He gave an approving nod and the two said "cheers" in unison. Tom allowed the Cabernet to linger on his palette as he drank in Peter's smile. Peter continued to hum the same tune, his velvety baritone being music to Tom's ears.
"I don't really want to go back," said Peter suddenly. "I just want this trip to last and last."
"Me too," said Tom in earnest.
"What will you be doing once we get back?" asked Peter, and then it suddenly dawned on Tom that him staying in Italy was a risk. Since Dickie was dead, his original objective to convince Dickie to come home was for naught, and since the police were on his tail and Marge was relentless, he could never fully be safe from being found out so long as he stayed. However, leaving Italy meant leaving Peter, and the idea of him saying goodbye was more than he could bear. I can't think of that now, said Tom to himself. Just let yourself enjoy one night, dammit. Just one night.
Tom then realized that he held his stare too long as Peter looked at him, puzzled.
"What's the matter? Do I have something in my teeth?"
"No, Peter, it's just...you're beautiful."
"Stop, Tom. You're making me blush."
They shared a comfortable silence as they watched the sun set. Tom then stretched and yawned.
"I think it's about time to call it a night."
"Yes, by morning we'll be back to the daily grind. We should savour the rest of our holiday while it lasts," replied Peter, echoing Tom's yawn. The two headed downstairs to the cabin. Once they both retired, Peter lay stretched out on the bed.
"Bed hog," said Tom with a laugh. Peter smiled.
"I'm 6 foot 2. I can't help it," he responded with an equally hearty laugh. He then motioned for Tom to join him.
"Are you sure?"
"If you are."
Tom meandered over to the bed, deciding whether or not he was ready to share his bed with another man, even if that man was the only person he'd ever say that he really loved. Peter was so trusting, so eager, so incandescently happy, that Tom couldn't help but feel glad as well. Even if he knew, given his marred history, his gladness was all-too-likely to be short lived. Once he settled on the bed with Peter, Peter pushed a blonde bang out of Tom's eye and sighed dreamily. Tom's blue eyes met Peter's green eyes and, at once, a teal ocean of passion seemed to wash over them as they both lost themselves to the pale glow of the moonlight and each other's company. When they woke, laughing as they untangled themselves from the sheets, Tom closed his eyes and contemplated if it was possible for this bliss to last.