Touch - Swallows and Amazons fanfiction
Title: Touch
Fandom: Swallows and Amazons
Rating: G
Length: 500
Content notes: Set before Pigeon Post, a sequel to Sensual (but hopefully standalone). Timothy Stedding/Jim Turner.
Author notes: For the "New" square of my
fan_flashworks bingo card and the 15th prompt in my 50x500 Swallows and Amazons challenge. Dedicated to constantlearner on AO3, who wanted to know what happened after Sensual :)
Summary: Jim and Timothy, and a quiet moment on a Brazilian mountainside.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Timothy murmurs, gently tracing the new scar on Jim’s forehead with a fingertip as Jim rests his head on his shoulder, “but I’m very thankful you got this cut in the cave-in.” The scar will probably fade quickly, he knows; it wasn’t a particularly deep cut, and has been healing well. He’s traced it so many times by now, though, that he’s sure he’ll always be able to find it.
Jim chuckles, tightening his arm around Timothy’s waist. “I’m jolly thankful too, I was driving myself mad trying to work out if I was imagining things or not! And I doubt we’d be here, together, if that cave-in hadn’t happened… but here we are.”
“Here we are,” Timothy agrees, glancing down at the empty mountainside below them. They’ve found no trace of gold in all that steep climb, or in the cave whose entrance shields them from view should anyone approach, but he can’t bring himself to care. How can he give his mind to gold, when Jim’s arm is warm around him? This intensity of feeling is new and strange to him, and he thinks it should probably be terrifying - but somehow, with Jim at his side, it isn’t. As he runs long fingers along Jim’s scar once more, a sudden thought strikes him. “Do you mind that I keep doing this?”
Jim almost shakes his head, but stops himself in time. The last thing he wants is to dislodge Timothy’s hand. “No, I like it, don’t stop.”
Timothy smiles, relieved, and does it again. “It reminds me of our first kiss.” Of the kiss, and of everything around it - that split-second choice to go for it, to show his feelings, and the exhilaration of having them returned.
“Me too,” Jim says affectionately. And it does, but that’s not the only reason he likes it. Timothy’s touch is so soft, so gentle, so… loving, that’s the key. Every time he touches Jim, it’s like his heart is in his hands - from that first night after the cave-in, huddled in Jim’s tent (both of them fumbling and hesitant, afraid of being overheard, but too worked up by the close call of the collapsing tunnel to let it stop them) to the wonderful freedom of the past couple of days, since they left the main camp to search further afield. Jim’s had a few flings before, at Oxford, in far-flung corners of the world, but this is different. This is special, and he desperately wants to make it last. There’s no gold to be found here, he’s more and more certain, and that means returning to England… But perhaps, just perhaps, it doesn’t have to mean an end to this.
“Jim?” Timothy asks. “What are you thinking?” He lets his hand drop from Jim’s forehead to his strong shoulders, leaning further against his comforting bulk.
“Do you know the old copper mines in the Lake District? I remember seeing something there, up on the fells…”
Fandom: Swallows and Amazons
Rating: G
Length: 500
Content notes: Set before Pigeon Post, a sequel to Sensual (but hopefully standalone). Timothy Stedding/Jim Turner.
Author notes: For the "New" square of my
fan_flashworks bingo card and the 15th prompt in my 50x500 Swallows and Amazons challenge. Dedicated to constantlearner on AO3, who wanted to know what happened after Sensual :)
Summary: Jim and Timothy, and a quiet moment on a Brazilian mountainside.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Timothy murmurs, gently tracing the new scar on Jim’s forehead with a fingertip as Jim rests his head on his shoulder, “but I’m very thankful you got this cut in the cave-in.” The scar will probably fade quickly, he knows; it wasn’t a particularly deep cut, and has been healing well. He’s traced it so many times by now, though, that he’s sure he’ll always be able to find it.
Jim chuckles, tightening his arm around Timothy’s waist. “I’m jolly thankful too, I was driving myself mad trying to work out if I was imagining things or not! And I doubt we’d be here, together, if that cave-in hadn’t happened… but here we are.”
“Here we are,” Timothy agrees, glancing down at the empty mountainside below them. They’ve found no trace of gold in all that steep climb, or in the cave whose entrance shields them from view should anyone approach, but he can’t bring himself to care. How can he give his mind to gold, when Jim’s arm is warm around him? This intensity of feeling is new and strange to him, and he thinks it should probably be terrifying - but somehow, with Jim at his side, it isn’t. As he runs long fingers along Jim’s scar once more, a sudden thought strikes him. “Do you mind that I keep doing this?”
Jim almost shakes his head, but stops himself in time. The last thing he wants is to dislodge Timothy’s hand. “No, I like it, don’t stop.”
Timothy smiles, relieved, and does it again. “It reminds me of our first kiss.” Of the kiss, and of everything around it - that split-second choice to go for it, to show his feelings, and the exhilaration of having them returned.
“Me too,” Jim says affectionately. And it does, but that’s not the only reason he likes it. Timothy’s touch is so soft, so gentle, so… loving, that’s the key. Every time he touches Jim, it’s like his heart is in his hands - from that first night after the cave-in, huddled in Jim’s tent (both of them fumbling and hesitant, afraid of being overheard, but too worked up by the close call of the collapsing tunnel to let it stop them) to the wonderful freedom of the past couple of days, since they left the main camp to search further afield. Jim’s had a few flings before, at Oxford, in far-flung corners of the world, but this is different. This is special, and he desperately wants to make it last. There’s no gold to be found here, he’s more and more certain, and that means returning to England… But perhaps, just perhaps, it doesn’t have to mean an end to this.
“Jim?” Timothy asks. “What are you thinking?” He lets his hand drop from Jim’s forehead to his strong shoulders, leaning further against his comforting bulk.
“Do you know the old copper mines in the Lake District? I remember seeing something there, up on the fells…”