(no subject)
It was a lovely day, the ideal sort of day for a sail.
William had his hand on the tiller of the Prospero II, his legs stretched lazily out in the body of the boat. Archie and he, they had spent the morning sailing around the side of the island, a christening voyage for the new boat. It had been a perfect morning, and perfect was a word William Bush was loathe to use, and now noon was coming on, and the breeze was picking up, and the rest of the day was looking to be even better.
There was a picnic, too, waiting for them when they got hungry. He had learned from Joe’s mistake, and packed it when he was sure no one was about, but it was still there. Just for he and Archie.
He smiled softly at the blond, happy to be silent but not much minding that, considering the company, the silence wouldn’t last long.
William had his hand on the tiller of the Prospero II, his legs stretched lazily out in the body of the boat. Archie and he, they had spent the morning sailing around the side of the island, a christening voyage for the new boat. It had been a perfect morning, and perfect was a word William Bush was loathe to use, and now noon was coming on, and the breeze was picking up, and the rest of the day was looking to be even better.
There was a picnic, too, waiting for them when they got hungry. He had learned from Joe’s mistake, and packed it when he was sure no one was about, but it was still there. Just for he and Archie.
He smiled softly at the blond, happy to be silent but not much minding that, considering the company, the silence wouldn’t last long.