They sat at a picnic table outside under a large umbrella, with a modicum of privacy, and had a discussion and a light meal, the wind blowing their hair out of order with its sea-smelling breezes. Archie was looking well. A bit thin, but lively-eyed.
"I live on ramen noodles," he admitted with a cheeky grin. "But it's worth it." He gave Harris a blisteringly warm smile, and Harris was forced to look down quickly into his drink and clear his throat.
"I did miss you, you know," said Archie after a moment, quietly. He set down his drink, and Harris looked up at him quickly. He had a tiny foam moustache. It looked rather like his moustache when he hadn't shaved for nearly a week. He wasn't a fast grower of facial hair, Archie. But he had grown rather a lot on his head. It was flyaway and soft-looking, longer than it had been, and beautiful. He looked very nice with longer hair, a bit more his age.
"Harris," said Archie, in a husky sort of voice, staring right at him, with a longing, intense expression. "That day, when Grim came with the news of this job. I, well, I wanted to tell you something, before I cut my hand and lost my nerve." He twisted his fingers the way he did when nervous. "I wanted..." He ducked his head quickly. "You'll probably think I'm a fool," he mumbled.
"No." Hardly realizing what he did, Harris reached across the table and covered one of Archie's restless hands with his own.
Archie looked up at him, startled and pleased.
"It's just you've never given me reason to think you… you would feel the same way, so…so I'm probably wrong, but..." He took a quick gulp of beer and hurried on, his eyes anxious and his face strained. "I really like you, Harris. I have for ages. I mean, I like like you. I'm—I'm sorry if that upsets you. I just... I do. I can't help it."
"You fancy me?" asked Harris, blinking. That was backward, wasn't it? He'd spent so long telling himself it wasn't possible, he could hardly hear it now.
"Harris, I—" He got up suddenly, looking anxious. "Don't be upset. We can stay just friends. But I had to tell you. I couldn't tell you when I was working for you and you were recovering—that would be wrong on so many levels. I—I...that was what I was accused of at my last job. Sleeping with the boss. But I didn't. I wouldn't. So I had to wait, but I still needed to tell you, Harris. I think of you—well, a lot." He sat down again, gulping. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at the table. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm sorry if you didn't want to... know."
Somehow, finally, Harris found his voice. "But I do. I…I'm glad. I feel the same way."
They stared at each other, blinking.
"So you really..." began Archie cautiously.
"But how can you possibly fancy me? I'm old and staid and going gray, and frankly, rather boring."
"No, Harr, you could never be boring. You know so much about—about everything, and you're kind and gentle and generous and funny and beautiful and oh damn, did you really say...? Did I imagine it? Do you really, Harris?"
Harris was laughing, a gentle, delighted laugh like water bubbling up from a spring. "Yes. Yes, Archie, I do."
"Oh damn." Archie put his face in his hands. "I can't... I can't..."
"Arch." Harris reached across the table and squeezed his arm gently. "Calm down. Is it so very strange that I could like you?"
"Yes." Archie nodded, looking serious and intense. "I'm short and clumsy and I talk too much and can't keep a job. But oh, Harris, I feel so tall when I'm with you. You look at me like I'm real. I'll never just be 'that short guy' or 'that clumsy guy' or 'that idiot' to you. You really see me, and like me anyway, and I—I can't..." He bent forward, head in hands, gulping hard.
"It's all right." Harris gripped his arm tightly. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
And he didn't.
~
That evening, they walked along the beach together. It was nearly dark, and the sky was awash with colors. They didn't hold hands or even touch, but Harris was grinning so hard it almost hurt. He knew he looked cocky, but it was difficult not to, when you were the luckiest man in the world.
They'd done little but talk, eat, and drink together all day. And now it was nearly night, but he didn't want to say goodbye. Didn't want to think about a future where he drove home, and Archie stayed here without him.
Archie's arm nudged him, and Harris looked over at him quickly. "Yes, Arch? What is it?" His voice came out odd-sounding. Please don't say goodbye. I want to just pretend we'll see each other again tomorrow. He cleared his throat and brushed his hair back out of his face, trying to look calm.
Archie gazed up at him nervously in the sunset. "Wondered if you'd like to stay the night," he croaked. If Harris felt self-conscious, Archie sounded many times more so.
"How can I?" Harris swept a hand towards the hotel in the distance.
"No, no, of course not." Archie reached out and gripped his arm, staring up into his face. "I didn't mean to pressure you. I wouldn't ever want to do that to you."
"No, I know you wouldn't." He pried his arm loose gently and caught Archie's nervous little hands, squeezing them carefully, hoping to still their anxious movement. "But I'd be unlikely to find a room unbooked, that's all. And you can't expect them to allow double occupancy in a single room. It's a question of logistics."
"But I can," said Archie, staring at him. "Didn't I tell you? I booked a double."
For a moment, they gazed at each other. A slow, embarrassed yet cocky grin spread across Archie's face. He shrugged, his eyes dancing. "I… I knew you'd probably never be interested in me. But I had to, just in case. I had a checkup, too. And I was never going to push you, if you didn't want to stay with me."
Harris laughed aloud, a gut-busting laugh from the depths of body and soul. "I want to, Archie. I want to." And then, mindless of their dignity, of time and place, he wrapped Archie in his arms and pulled him close, and kissed him soundly in the sunset, on the sand, nearby the crashing waves of the sea.
Archie kissed him back, thoroughly, passionately, breathlessly.
His mouth was even softer than it looked.
When they had to separate, he was gasping for breath, but the way he looked at Harris—or possibly some trick of the light—made his eyes seem to positively glow with love.
"Want to see it? The room, I mean," he added quickly, and bit his lower lip and ducked his head.
"That too," said Harris, and touched his chin lightly, tilting it up. "Don't hide. You're lovely. Thank you, so much, for saying what I never could."
Archie's hands closed on his arms, and held on, comfortably loose but sturdy and strong, too. He stared up at Harris, a smile playing on his mouth. "I just... there's times when you have to take a chance, no matter what it costs and... that was my time. I knew I'd regret it forever if I didn't say something."
"But you must've guessed how I felt. You must've guessed," said Harris.
Archie shook his head. "I knew you were fond of me. But I could never tell exactly how. You really keep your cards close to your chest." He laughed and turned towards the hotel. "C'mon. Let's turn in."
"Oh? Terribly tired, are you?" asked Harris softly. Though he realized that actually, he was, too: the long drive and the emotional upheaval of the last few hours had taken their toll.
"N-not really," said Archie. He wasn't meeting Harris's gaze at all now. Harris reached out and touched him, placing his palm in the middle of Archie's back, and jostling him gently as they walked.
"Hm? All right?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," said Archie very quietly. He turned and gave Harris a bright, nervous smile. "Just don't expect too much, okay?"
Harris blinked. "Of course not." They needn't have sex; kissing would be fine. Maybe a little cuddling… And he realized there was nothing he'd rather do than spend the night holding Archie. He wondered just how much cuddling Archie would allow; for instance, would he let Harris hold him all night, or stroke his hair, or murmur things to him?
"You're blushing," said Archie. His mouth twitched up at the edges. "Anything to sha
re with the class?"
"I'll tell you when we're indoors," promised Harris.
"Do you think it'll work?" asked Archie softly, bumping up against his side as they walked back across the sand, close together but not otherwise touching now.
"Hm? What?"
"Us," he said softly. "Me with my radio job, you back home, being so brilliant and…and far away." He raised his hands, dropped them helplessly, and sighed.
Harris smiled. "Arch, of course it'll work. It's no trouble. I can do my job anywhere. I'll move down to be near you and rent out my home. And if you can get a job down there someday, we'll move back in together, and it'll be our home."
Archie cast him an incredulous look, mouth fallen open. "Do you... do you...really mean it?"
"Yes, Archie. I mean it. Now let's go to bed. Goodness, you do talk a lot sometimes."
Archie gave an unsteady laugh and leaned against him, gripping his arm hard.
~
It was just a room in a hotel. But tonight, it looked like the most beautiful place in the world, full of possibility and beauty and dreams come true.
Archie was a shy undresser, going into the bathroom to be private and emerging in a dreadful green bathrobe that hung nearly to his ankles. Even so, Harris caught a glimpse of his slender, slightly hairy ankles and calves, and felt his desire stir.
He couldn't keep himself from smiling at the beautiful picture Archie made. He thought he could've stared at him all day, like a great work of art.
"Harris," said Archie, looking down, fiddling with his terrycloth belt.
"Archie." He leaned back on the bed, his ankles crossed, his hands clasped behind his head, trying not to grin too hard. He wore boxers; he hadn't wanted to be too forward and undress completely.
"You know I'm not, er, very big, right? Don't expect too much, all right?"
"Oh, Arch." Harris sat up quickly on the bed, feeling a faint twinge in his back. He reached for Archie with tender hands, and drew him towards the bed, finally seeing just how insecure and nervous his dear man was feeling. "You're perfect. Honestly, you are. Have you ever taken a look at me? You're a Greek god in comparison. Please don't worry." He drew him nearer.
Archie gave an unsteady laugh. "How can you say that? You're strong and good-looking and just so very…" His voice cracked a little, and he buried his head against Harris's shoulder. "You won't want me."
"Shh. Of course I want you. I love you. I think I fell in love with you almost immediately. How could I possibly change my mind, no matter what?"
He stroked Archie, as he had wanted to do for so long, his hands even more tender than his words. Arch was only a little taller than he when Harris was sitting on the bed and Archie standing. He melted into Harris's touch, and then under his tender kisses and cradling arms, tilting his chin, closing his eyes, making a small sound in his throat, abandoning himself to the touch, the love.
"Come on, let's take that off," murmured Harris at last, sliding a hand down, tugging at the horrible green cloth. "Come to bed, Arch. You're perfect, I promise. And we won't do anything you don't want. We can just… just be near each other."
"You're too nice to me," said Archie. "But I don't think I'll ever get tired of it." He slid out from the bathrobe and crawled naked into bed with Harris. "Um. I would like to do more than just be near you, though. Is that okay?"
"Oh, yes," murmured Harris, and kissed him on the sweet, upturned face. "You gorgeous man."
He really was perfectly proportioned. He may not have been large, but everything fit together beautifully. He fit up against Harris's side even more perfectly.
And the rest of it was perfect, too. Archie was a gentle, tentative lover, giving and sweet. He responded so beautifully to kisses, caresses, and soft words—as if he'd been waiting for them all his life. His warmth, his slender, clever hands, and the love that glowed in his eyes made it perfect for Harris, too.
Afterwards, he held Archie tenderly, all the way down into sleep. And Archie held him just as carefully, as if he treasured everything about Harris, and loved him just as he was.
I don't want anything more from life, Harris realized. He's enough.
He pressed one last kiss against Archie's temple before sleep claimed him. It was dreamless, but full of happiness nonetheless, full as his arms and heart.
And this was just the beginning.
Epilogue
"Hey, it's Grim!" cried Archie. He turned a delighted grin on Harris, and then dropped the spackling knife and ran. Harris craned his head after him to watch. It was a warm day, and Archie wore short cut-off jeans that revealed his lovely, slim legs and his elegant bare feet. And he was shirtless, showing the curve of his back as he ran.
"Grim!" he shouted. "Come to see our renovations?" He was almost dancing across the summer-hot, sharp driveway stones, lifting his feet high and moving quickly, but he didn't hesitate or turn back to get shoes.
Harris wiped his hands on a cloth and trailed after him, smiling. They were fixing up a guest room in Harris's home. Their home. Archie had found a nearer job after all, only a couple of months after their first night together.
It was wonderful to be home. Together.
Now, instead of a wistful jealousy, all he felt was smug satisfaction. How could he possibly be jealous of Archie's shouted good cheer to Grim, when he and Archie had shared a bed last night?
Harris had made them both cocoa and they sat up and drank it, Archie kept shooting Harris glances: shy, pleased, hopeful, and naughty. He'd finished his cocoa first, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and fidgeted impatiently. He laid a hand on Harris's thigh and began to stroke him through his pajama bottoms.
"You're such a slowpoke, Harr," he said, opening his eyes wide in the way he must know Harris couldn't resist.
"Don't rush me," said Harris. "As I recall, you like it when I'm slow about some things…"
That made Archie blush, and then Harris had to set his cocoa aside unfinished and reach for him.
They undressed one another and rolled into bed, tangling their limbs together, kissing and touching and saying sweet words to one another. He knew he would never grow tired of this beautiful man, who somehow also wanted to spend his life with Harris.
Afterwards, they lay in bed together, and Archie gave a heavy, dreamy sigh. "I could do with a cigarette. And I don't even smoke." Then he leaned over, kissed Harris, curled up, and promptly fell asleep, his chest rising and falling, rising and falling like beautiful, human clockwork.
It took Harris longer to sleep, but he was still smiling when he dropped off.
Now he trailed out after Archie, smiling indulgently as Archie flung himself at Grimsby. "Grimmy!" he shouted.
"Don't get plaster on me!" shouted Lionel, taking a step back and waving his hands for Archie to stop.
Archie didn't.
Later, Harris toasted his beloved and their friend with the bottle of wine Grim had brought. They all three watched the sun set, and talked together of old times and new.
…the end…
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-Hollis Shiloh
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About the author
Hollis Shiloh writes love stories about men, with the preferred genres of contemporary, historical, and fantasy. Hollis’s stories tend towards the sweet rather than the spicy. Hollis writes short as well as long stories and likes heroes of various sizes and shapes. When not writing, Hollis enjoys reading, retro music, and being around animals.
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Falling for Archie (sweet gay romance) Page 6