Tim and Jimmy remember.
An established relationship story.
Written: March 2011. Word count: 500.
Tim awoke to the scent of bacon and coffee. He rolled out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, feet bare, hair still wet, he checked his pocket and went along the hall to the kitchen. Tim hovered in the doorway drinking in the sight of his lover, his glasses pushed up onto his head frying bacon and eggs. "Hey." He paused long enough to kiss Jimmy's cheek before heading for the coffeepot.
Jimmy turned the gas down, before grabbing Tim and kissing him firmly on the mouth, while Tim kept a tight grip on his mug. "Morning." He touched Tim's cheek, before heading back to the stove. "Go and sit down, it's ready."
Tim turned and caught sight of the table for the first time. It was set with their one good table-cloth, matching napkins, their best china and silverware; there was even a single yellow rose in a bud-vase.
He swallowed hard. "You remembered?" He spoke softly.
"Of course I did." Jimmy put a plate in front of Tim. "How could I forget the best day of my life? Now eat." He sat down across the table from Tim and shook out his napkin.
Tim picked up a fork before reaching across the table and capturing Jimmy's hand. "And the worst," he said softly.
Jimmy didn't reply. Instead he entwined his fingers with Tim's and stared down at his plate. Finally, he swallowed and looked back up, his eyes slightly misty with tears. "We're alive, Tim," he said softly. "We're alive and together. It's the -"
"One good thing that came out of that day," Tim said quietly.
Jimmy nodded. "Yes. We can't change the past. Now eat." He gently tugged his hand from Tim's and picked up his knife and fork.
They ate in comfortable silence, but it was tinged with an edge of something. Tim wondered if Jimmy remembered something else. Remembered what they'd vowed as they'd left Vance's office, both shocked, devastated, stunned by what he'd told them. Never had Tim seen the director so grim, so pale, so shaky.
Did Jimmy remember what they'd vowed five years ago, as he'd pulled Tim inside the conference room and kissed him hard, told him he wanted him, told him he'd always wanted him, told him they could now be together, told him they had to find something right in a day that was so wrong?
Did he remember how they'd repeated that vow several hours later as they'd lain naked in one another's arms in Tim's bed, the scent of their frantic, desperate, cleansing lovemaking in the air?
There was only one way to find out. Tim wiped his mouth on his napkin and put his hand into his pocket. "Do you remember something else, Jimmy"? He pulled out a small box and put it on the table.
He watched Jimmy put his fork down and put his hand into his own pocket. Seconds later, a similar box sat next to Tim's. "I remembered."
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