John is instantly a bit put out by Harold's laugher. He took this plunge, he took a risk by doing this, and Harold is acting like it's so trivial— but then Harold is kissing him again, so John instantly forgives him. Maybe that's being easy, but truly, he's happy just like this.
He's sure Harold has things he wants to do, had said something about making arrangements, but John doesn't mind being a distraction. In fact, he's rather happy in this case to delay Harold's plans. There's no urgency to this kiss, no push for it to be something more (though, perhaps one day—), just slow and gentle. Now that Harold has given it to him, John lets himself relax into it. He's wanted this for so long.
It's truly a little unbelievable that he gets to have this now. He's wanted this for far longer than they've known they were soulmates. But it's not exactly a thing he could ever tell Harold. It's not like it's a thing he deserves to have. His hand on Harold's cheek, his lips on Harold's. And yet, Harold has given him this. Would he have done so if they weren't soulmates? If, somehow John had worked up the courage? Or is this a privilege he can only have with this revelation? It doesn't matter, he supposes, since he gets it anyways. He can just enjoy what he has.
But Harold does have things he wants to do, so after a little bit John draws back, though he can't quite stand to drop his hand from Harold's face. "Thank you," is all he says, but he thinks Harold will be able to see how it's softened him, how much it meant.
There's a brightness to Harold now, a relieved urgency like he wants to make use of every moment. He's all too conscientious of how little time they have. Right now they're eking out what is bound to be a rare memory, a sparing chance to know one another with nothing else getting in the way. That's what they've chosen to make of their lives -- dedicating them to helping others, making up for their pasts -- and he doesn't regret it.
But stealing these few days to themselves feels illicit, a thrum of excitement like teenagers skipping class. Harold hadn't ever expected to feel this again.
Harold buzzes around making arrangements and booking a lodge and ordering supplies for them. He does occasionally ask John's opinion, and he does supply him with a guide to Rocky Mountain birds, and Harold grows unconsciously more serious as they get closer to the appointed time to leave. It's just two days, but he loves making plans for no reason other than to spoil someone he loves and to indulge one of his interests. His eyes are bright and in private he grasps John's hands with his and he speaks earnestly of the bird species he's hoping to see.
It comes time to leave and Harold dresses in jeans and a rugged windbreaker for the first time John's ever seen him, apparently without thought, and he bustles over to John as if newly inviting him on this excursion and trying to sell him on it.
"We'll have three days," he says. "We can't stay on premises without roughing it--" Which Harold has not signed up for, needless to say. "But we should be able to see most of the park from where we're staying. Our rental car is waiting for us outside. Trail Ridge Road is the highest elevation paved road in the United States, did you know?"
Harold preparing for the trip can only be described as "cute". He's cute. John can tell how excited he is, and it's catching, just a bit. There's still a heaviness in his heart, an ache that he can't shake, that clouds over everything, but John just tries to focus on Harold. On listening to Harold talk about his birds, his plans. He's good about his physical health too, no more drinking and eating properly under Harold's watchful eye. He spends his time reading the bird book Harold gave him. Birds themselves are alright, but Harold's enthusiasm about them makes them more interesting.
Harold in casual clothes is a sight to behold, too. It makes John want to kiss him again, which he hasn't pursued since that first time. Is he allowed to do that now? Surely he can if he wants. But Harold is ready to go, so John shelves it for another time. They have three days, after all.
"I didn't know that. Will we be driving on it?" John assumes he will be driving under Harold's direction. He's planning on going slower than he usually does, there's no need to rush right now; speeding along seems counter to this whole plan.
Harold has always been a reserved person, always been prone to holding back his stronger feelings and sharing them quietly, tentatively, like he's afraid to expose them to the air. But the past few years since Nathan's death, it's been more than that: he's smothered and stifled himself as much as he can, especially his personal characteristics, especially the small things that bring him joy. It had taken so long after that experience with Dillinger to feel open to even letting John know that he likes a certain diner, and now he's watching old cinema with him and arranging bird watching trips. It stings like a stiff, disused muscle, making his happiness fragile.
His mind is bursting with facts, the sort of mood that leads to him giving John a much longer explanation than he'd strictly asked for. He keeps teetering back and forth between indulging it and holding it in.
He's still not the sort to initiate casual physical contact, and Harold has yet to think of it as something John might want on a regular basis because he's too busy thinking about everything else. He shrugs on his coat and slings his bag over his shoulder and approaches the door, automatically waiting to let John out first in a move that has become second nature.
"Yes, we'll be able to take it from our lodgings. The weather forecast looks relatively clear, but tomorrow we may have some rain. That could be a stroke of good fortune, actually, as it's migratory season and sometimes that will ground whole flocks as they wait for the rain to pass..."
He trails off, finishes a touch self-consciously, "I've brought a sketchbook this time, so you needn't donate more of your arms to my whims."
John wants to say that he doesn't mind, that he likes having Harold's drawings on him. A physical reminder that they're... together. That he's Harold's. But he doesn't know how to express that. It's not something he has the words to say. But he wants to, so he struggles through it for once, pushes himself. It's uncomfortable and words come out clumsy and a bit unsure.
"I would, if you wanted."
He's a bit embarrassed now that it's out there. It's not the kind of thing he usually says. It's personal on a level he's unused to showing, but he wants to give that to Harold, wants to participate in this relationship they're growing into.
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He's sure Harold has things he wants to do, had said something about making arrangements, but John doesn't mind being a distraction. In fact, he's rather happy in this case to delay Harold's plans. There's no urgency to this kiss, no push for it to be something more (though, perhaps one day—), just slow and gentle. Now that Harold has given it to him, John lets himself relax into it. He's wanted this for so long.
It's truly a little unbelievable that he gets to have this now. He's wanted this for far longer than they've known they were soulmates. But it's not exactly a thing he could ever tell Harold. It's not like it's a thing he deserves to have. His hand on Harold's cheek, his lips on Harold's. And yet, Harold has given him this. Would he have done so if they weren't soulmates? If, somehow John had worked up the courage? Or is this a privilege he can only have with this revelation? It doesn't matter, he supposes, since he gets it anyways. He can just enjoy what he has.
But Harold does have things he wants to do, so after a little bit John draws back, though he can't quite stand to drop his hand from Harold's face. "Thank you," is all he says, but he thinks Harold will be able to see how it's softened him, how much it meant.
no subject
But stealing these few days to themselves feels illicit, a thrum of excitement like teenagers skipping class. Harold hadn't ever expected to feel this again.
Harold buzzes around making arrangements and booking a lodge and ordering supplies for them. He does occasionally ask John's opinion, and he does supply him with a guide to Rocky Mountain birds, and Harold grows unconsciously more serious as they get closer to the appointed time to leave. It's just two days, but he loves making plans for no reason other than to spoil someone he loves and to indulge one of his interests. His eyes are bright and in private he grasps John's hands with his and he speaks earnestly of the bird species he's hoping to see.
It comes time to leave and Harold dresses in jeans and a rugged windbreaker for the first time John's ever seen him, apparently without thought, and he bustles over to John as if newly inviting him on this excursion and trying to sell him on it.
"We'll have three days," he says. "We can't stay on premises without roughing it--" Which Harold has not signed up for, needless to say. "But we should be able to see most of the park from where we're staying. Our rental car is waiting for us outside. Trail Ridge Road is the highest elevation paved road in the United States, did you know?"
no subject
Harold in casual clothes is a sight to behold, too. It makes John want to kiss him again, which he hasn't pursued since that first time. Is he allowed to do that now? Surely he can if he wants. But Harold is ready to go, so John shelves it for another time. They have three days, after all.
"I didn't know that. Will we be driving on it?" John assumes he will be driving under Harold's direction. He's planning on going slower than he usually does, there's no need to rush right now; speeding along seems counter to this whole plan.
no subject
His mind is bursting with facts, the sort of mood that leads to him giving John a much longer explanation than he'd strictly asked for. He keeps teetering back and forth between indulging it and holding it in.
He's still not the sort to initiate casual physical contact, and Harold has yet to think of it as something John might want on a regular basis because he's too busy thinking about everything else. He shrugs on his coat and slings his bag over his shoulder and approaches the door, automatically waiting to let John out first in a move that has become second nature.
"Yes, we'll be able to take it from our lodgings. The weather forecast looks relatively clear, but tomorrow we may have some rain. That could be a stroke of good fortune, actually, as it's migratory season and sometimes that will ground whole flocks as they wait for the rain to pass..."
He trails off, finishes a touch self-consciously, "I've brought a sketchbook this time, so you needn't donate more of your arms to my whims."
no subject
"I would, if you wanted."
He's a bit embarrassed now that it's out there. It's not the kind of thing he usually says. It's personal on a level he's unused to showing, but he wants to give that to Harold, wants to participate in this relationship they're growing into.