does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

[docwithablog]

[ He's standing in the doorway to the kitchen while Khan, a couple of hours into his stay, is sitting at the table, fixing -- something on the kettle again, what is it with the bloody thing, it worked fine last he used it, didn't it? Licking his lips a bit nervously, he steps into the room fully and walks over to the kitchen counter, leaning back against it, facing the other man. Hands gripping the edge of the counter. Sock-clad feet shifting a bit restlessly from side to side.

It shouldn't be this damn hard, honestly. It's just a -- suggestion, the man can tell him no and they can go fuck in the bedroom as per usual. But John isn't stupid, he knows what the implications are. You don't go from being fuck buddies to buddies, once you decide a friendly outing is in order, no, if you go out, then -- you go out as something else entirely and he has absolutely no idea how well that is going to play out. For either of them.

Nevertheless -- okay, good, here goes. A deep breath. ]

I was thinking I'd take you to the National Army Museum today.

Comments

[insuperiorstrength]

[ John doesn't draw away, though there's something in his expression that doesn't quite let up. Khan looks him over, then drops his hand to his side. He stays close to him, however, thinking that trust is always difficult, as it should be, if you aren't gullible. How would John trust him, really, when there's little but a specter to acknowledge, aside from the sex which, really, says a lot and nothing all at once? He thinks about the tea kettle. Perhaps, eventually, there are other ways he can leave himself and his world behind for John to find - to find and, hopefully, to wonder at. He likes the thought of that. He likes the thought of the other man in awe.

But as time goes by, he likes the thought of leaving him behind less and less.

Frowning, he finally steps back, turning to look at a nearby exhibit without actually seeing the contents. He really should cease reminding himself of the temporary nature of their relation; what's the point? He already knows. He knows it well, just as he knows that he's letting his crew down with every day that passes. Really, in doing this with John - this thing that he can't rightly name which in itself speaks volumes - he's closing his eyes. Willingly and without regrets.

A harsh exhalation.

Always without regrets. ]