The naked yearning on Major André Côtard's face as he watched France disappear behind the stern of the Hotspur was almost embarrassing. First lieutenant William Bush glanced away before the Major turned and caught him watching him. Though, considering the kiss that Côtard had bestowed on him the previous evening, the Frenchman would probably be flattered to realize that Bush was watching him. In fact, the Major would probably take it as a compliment and try to kiss him again. Perhaps pet him a little, too. He shook his head briefly to clear it. He had Côtard on his mind far too much these days. He needed something else to think about. At that moment, a hand touched his shoulder and he turned to find Côtard at his shoulder, a smirk curving those French lips. "You are too serious, Mister Boosh. Smile."
"You are not serious enough, Major," he retorted calmly. "I have my duties."
He resolutely turned forward, doing his best to ignore the other man's presence. "You are not always on duty. You should enjoy zat time."
"I do enjoy it," Bush replied, keeping his voice low so the others on the quarterdeck wouldn't hear him.
He wondered if he imagined the ghost of a touch across his arse. "I see you later, Mister Boosh."
"Of course you will, Major. We share a berth." His comment hung unanswered in the air because Côtard had already left the quarterdeck.
* * *