Chapter Text
During the first few days of being with Duncan in this altered way, Jimmy is so absorbed in the rightness of it that he doesn’t think to share the news with anyone. He feels at home in his body, in his house, with Duncan in his bed, so deeply that it doesn’t feel new. He almost forgets that the world doesn’t already know.
On the fourth morning of waking up together, Jimmy returns to consciousness pressed along the back of Duncan's naked, sleeping form and realizes with a flush of guilt that one of them (or both of them) should probably tell Cassie. She’s likely worked it out already. But even if she has, he knows they should actually tell her outright so she doesn’t think they’re trying to hide it from her. He’s been careful all along to be casually open with her about the fact that not all of his relationships have been with women; Duncan has spoken not only of women but also the men he's been with over the years. But Jimmy knows there’s a difference between knowing your parents’ relationship history and learning about their relationship present.
He smooths his hand over Duncan’s shoulder, running a thumb along the three black lines: Fran, Cassie, Jimmy. He remembers when Duncan told him what the lines meant, and when he’d asked permission -- over a decade now -- to add the third line. Duncan had broached the subject almost shyly, with a defiant set to his jaw the only indication of how much it really meant to him. Jimmy hadn’t fully understood at the time why anyone would get permanent ink on their bodies -- but he’d said yes because he couldn’t say no, not to the seductive idea that Duncan thought of Jimmy as an indelible part of his family.
This morning, Jimmy traces the lines with the pad of his thumb, then bends to kiss the spot where his thumb has just passed over. Then he twists in the bed -- Duncan shifting restlessly and murmuring in his sleep -- and reaches to palm his mobile off the nightstand.
There are already a string of new texts from Cassie waiting: A selfie of her and Edison in their flat, lots of heart emojis. He smiles, then shifts his shoulder so he can type one-handed.
So I heard you told Duncan I wasn’t dating Asha. He begins.
He pauses for a moment to see if Cassie is on her phone. Then realizes it’s two hours earlier in São Paulo and she is likely still asleep.
Thank you. I should have said something to him sooner.
He hesitates. What to say? Duncan and I are... dating? in a relationship? boyfriends? "Partners" feels closest to the truth: Without even knowing that’s what they were doing, they’d skipped straight over any more casual period of getting to know one another years ago. It feels ridiculous to tell a daughter whom they raised together as if he’s dating someone new.
Beside him, Duncan stirs. Then rolls over to snuggle in to curl of Jimmy’s arm and shoulder. Jimmy presses a kiss to Duncan’s forehead. Duncan makes a querying sound in his throat.
“I’m just texting Cassie,” he says.
Duncan murmurs an assent and presses closer, seeming to subside back into sleep. Jimmy drops his phone to his chest and closes his eyes, feeling the already familiar weight of Duncan on his arm and chest. He thinks about what it might have been like to have this years earlier; to have this be an early morning exchange about who would make breakfast or drive Cassie to school.
“We should tell her, aye?” Duncan says, softly but clearly, without opening his eyes.
Jimmy huffs a laugh. “So you are a mind-reader. I was just thinking the same.”
“Is this going to be like the time you tried to get me to give her the if-you’re-going-to-have-sex-use-protection talk?” Duncan pokes Jimmy in the belly with his finger.
“If I recall,” Jimmy points out, “I was wildly unsuccessful.”
Duncan pats him on the chest. “You always have been the more responsible parent.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes, an unsuccessful rejoinder since he still has his eyes closed, and then opens them as he picks his phone back up. “Fine, then. But I’m adding you to the text.”
Duncan just woke up and says I should have said something sooner too, he types. He’s not using your bedroom any longer.
He drops his phone back of the bed and rolls Duncan onto his back so Jimmy can prop himself up on one elbow and look down at ... his lover? friend? partner? He finds himself thinking of the word husband, a word he has only ever applied to himself in relation to Fran. When had he stopped thinking of himself as her husband? Years after her death. But he hasn’t imagined himself … he’s had no relationship since that one that reached the point where husband? was a question in his mind.
Except, yes: Here he is looking down at Duncan’s slightly grumpy morning face, with it's shadows of sleep and tangled hair and overnight stubble, and no other word feels more appropriate.
He can’t say it, though. Perhaps he should be brave enough. But he opens his mouth to say...what. Will you marry me? It’s been less than a week (it’s been eleven years). He doesn’t know how to make those two things make sense anywhere but in his head.
Duncan reaches up with a hand and draws his thumb across Jimmy’s forehead. “My worrier,” he says, fondly. “She will forgive us.”
“You think we're doing something to forgive?”
Duncan snorts. “Not now we aren’t. I meant she’ll forgive us for taking this long to sort ourselves out.”
Jimmy doesn’t have words ready to hand to say what he’s feeling in this moment. But it’s comforting to realize neither Duncan nor Cassie mind that about him. He leans down to press a light kiss to Duncan’s lips. During the past few days they have enjoyed many different kinds of kisses; this is a soft, leisurely one with no intent behind it apart from enjoying time with one another before the alarm goes off and Jimmy has to start thinking about getting ready for the day’s work.
Duncan slips a warm hand behind Jimmy’s head, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of Jimmy’s neck. Whispers of breath pass between them. Jimmy traces his tongue along Duncan’s chapped lower lip, Duncan responds by pushing through Jimmy’s parted lips into his mouth, tasting, teasing. Jimmy pulls back just enough to kiss his way gently across Duncan’s stubbled skin to the soft sweetness behind his ear. Duncan sweeps his hand down the plane of Jimmy’s shoulder, fingers tickling along Jimmy's spine, until he reaches the rise of Jimmy's bottom and thigh, tugging him closer.
“Ah, love,” Jimmy starts.
“I know,” Duncan agrees, soft. They rock together once, twice, gestures of what has been and will be shared. This is not the time, even as Jimmy feels them both twitch with interest, feels desire pool warm and hopeful, at the edges where one body gives way to another.
“How am I going to manage three weeks without you, sweetheart?” Duncan’s touring schedule has never loomed so large in his consciousness.
Duncan chuckles, a deep, rich sound. “Mmm. Take some of that time you never take and come with me.”
He considers it, stroking his hand down Duncan's flank. It has the appeal of anonymity. Of trying on this new life as Duncan's partner away from prying island eyes. He knows half the station has a betting pool going on how long before or after Duncan moved in they began fucking. But he still shies away from the image of he and Duncan holding hands on the high street where one of the beat constables might see. Let alone bringing Duncan as his plus one to the next office Christmas party. He and Duncan haven't talked about this, yet, in so many words -- but he feels shame at even the slightest hesitation.
He pulls back from Duncan's body far enough so that he can read Duncan's face without squinting. “Once we’ve talked to Cassie I should say something to Rhona. I’ll ask about taking some time at the end of your tour.”
Something flickers across Duncan's face, one of those looks that even after all this time Jimmy isn't sure how to parse. “Is it okay that I tell Rhona?” He smooths his palm in slow, gentle circles against Duncan's hip.
Duncan shakes his head minutely against the pillow, but it's a dismissal of shadows not a rejection of telling Rhona their relationship has changed. "Just thinking about how I used to wonder who'd replace me as your emergency contact."
That requires another kiss, because Jimmy feels the sharp regret that Duncan worried for a single moment about being replaced as that first call in a crisis. The fact that Jimmy had always assumed -- even when dating someone -- that Duncan would always be that person in his life should have clarified things long before this.
"There was never any competition," he whispers fiercely against Duncan's mouth.
"Good," is Duncan's only reply.