Chapter Text
By the time James lands in Christchurch, the hope that followed him onto the first flight of his journey has worn thin and doubt is beginning to creep in around the edges. What was he thinking, flying halfway around the world on a whim because Robbie sent him an email? What a ridiculous, romantic comedy grand gesture. Robbie isn’t going to declare his undying love in the airport, chuck Laura aside, and take James home to live happily ever after in the wilds of New Zealand.
He stumbles to his feet when the fasten seatbelts sign turns off, retrieving his rucksack and guitar, then stands hunched over in his middle seat as he waits for the passengers in front of him to disembark, finally able to stand upright again once he makes it into the aisle to shuffle off the aeroplane.
It was one thing to let himself get caught up in the moment with Duncan, to sleep with him just because he wanted to; with Duncan, he had nothing to lose. With Robbie, the potential for loss is too much to contemplate. But he’s here now, stepping onto the burgundy carpet of an airport terminal on the other side of the world, and Robbie is somewhere in the airport waiting for him. He said he was looking forward to seeing him. He wouldn’t have invited James to visit if he didn’t want to see him.
Robbie wouldn’t have invited him to visit if he didn’t want to see him.
James has travelled from the northern part of the Northern Hemisphere to the southern part of the Southern Hemisphere. He’s lost a day and slept, at most, two hours in the last thirty. He feels like an insect shoved in a jar and shaken—too much unpredictable motion, not enough light or oxygen—but it’s not the distance or the lack of sleep that’s got him all out of sorts, it’s why he’s here, what he’s come here to say. Or perhaps it’s all three.
But Robbie wouldn’t have invited him to visit if he didn’t want to see him.
James repeats it like a mantra as he navigates beige corridors past airport shops in a mass of bleary-eyed fellow travellers. He repeats it as he waits in line to go through customs and responds to the inquiry about the purpose of his visit with, pleasure. It’s not business. Will it be pleasure?
Robbie wouldn’t have invited him to visit if he didn’t want to see him.
He repeats it as he glimpses the man himself through the milling masses on the other side of the barrier. After two and a half months, the sight of him is a balm to the jittery churn of hope and doubt. Robbie looks tan and relaxed even from this distance, expectant, as he scans the crowd. He is wearing jeans and a checked shirt in a blue that would bring out the colour of his eyes if James was close enough to see them. A shiver of longing skitters up his spine.
“Excuse me,” says a voice from behind him. James blinks. He is stood in the way staring, transfixed by the sight of Robbie Lewis.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, stepping aside and pulling his guitar closer to himself so he’s less of an obstacle.
When Robbie spots him, a smile of genuine joy breaks across his face and James can’t help but smile too, breathing a bit easier as Robbie waves and walks toward him.
Robbie wouldn’t have invited him to visit if he didn’t want to see him.
They keep smiling at each other over the heads of the people slowly making their way through the turnstiles until James is outside security and Robbie is right in front of him. Close enough to touch.
“Hello, James,” Robbie says. His smile hasn’t dimmed.
“Hi,” James says through a haze of jet lag and sudden, overwhelming delight; unable to stop grinning, unable to come up with anything better. “I made it.”
“I see that.”
The sheer relief of standing next to Robbie after months apart nearly bowls him over. It is beyond good to see his face, to be this close, he could reach out and— James doesn’t hug him. They don’t hug. One email and one revelation, yet to be confirmed, doesn’t mean they do now. Doesn’t mean the fizz of giddy anticipation in his chest is anything other than wishful thinking and lack of sleep.
Robbie takes half a step closer, still grinning, clasps James’ elbow. Then another half step and Robbie is pulling him into a hug—somewhat awkwardly with James’ guitar in his hand and his rucksack slung over his shoulder. James drops his rucksack, bends down just enough to place his guitar on the floor, and wraps both arms around Robbie. Robbie’s arms tighten across his back, James presses his face into his shoulder. He is warm and solid, the fabric of his shirt soft.
All the hours of air travel were worth it. Even if he doesn’t get any more than this, it was worth it. James could happily stay here in Robbie’s embrace forever.
Sooner than James would like, but not unreasonably so considering where they are, Robbie starts to pull away. James loosens his grip, steps back enough to see Robbie’s face, his hand slides from James’ shoulder to his upper arm.
“It’s good to see you, man.” Robbie’s tone is soft, rich with the possibility that he truly did miss James, that the words of the email he has now memorised were indeed sincere. He squeezes James’ arm.
“You too,” James says, which doesn’t begin to cover how lovely it is to be standing here. He is dimly aware of people moving around them; pushing trolleys laden with suitcases, greeting each other, the constant murmur of conversation, but all he can see is Robbie. He never wants to go so long without seeing him ever again.
Robbie looks James up and down, his smile gone crooked. “That flight’s a doozy, isn’t it?”
James huffs out a breath, rubs his eyes. “I think I’ve reached a fugue state.”
“You’ll feel better once you’re outside.” Outside, where he can finally have a cigarette. Robbie turns toward the exit then stops, looking over his shoulder at James as he retrieves his rucksack and guitar from the floor, brow creasing in confusion. “Don’t tell me you’re so knackered you forgot to get your suitcase?”
James shakes his head. “I don’t have anything else.”
Robbie’s brow furrows further. “It’s an awfully long flight to only stay for a couple days.”
“No, I—” James shrugs, his rucksack shifting on his shoulder, and looks down at the beige tiled floor, suddenly feeling very foolish. “I don’t have a return ticket.”
“You don’t?” Robbie looks shocked. Shit. This is why he doesn’t let himself do things on a whim.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked. It’s not fair to impose on you like this, I—”
Robbie shakes his head, resting his hand on James’ arm again. “It’s fine, lad. I’m just surprised.”
“You’re sure?”
Robbie nods, meeting his eyes, and there’s something there that’s beyond simple reassurance, something James’ jet-lagged brain can’t quite parse. “Aye, I’m sure.”
Robbie wouldn’t have invited him to visit if he didn’t want to see him. And it’s clear, very clear, after that hug and by the look on his face, how true that is.
“And Laura?”
“She’ll be chuffed to have someone else to share the cooking duties.”
“Ah, the real reason you invited me.”
* * *
The drive from the airport to Robbie and Laura’s house isn’t what James expected. New Zealand conjures images of fjord-like mountain valleys, impossibly blue lakes, and snow-capped peaks, but the land around Christchurch is a wide, flat plain.
The motorway by the airport soon gives way to tree-lined streets. Pleasant neighbourhoods of one-storey detached houses behind neat fences and hedges with gardens of flowering trees, leaves the bright green of spring, interspersed with the occasional palm tree. The sun is shining, the blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, and it finally sinks in that he’s not only travelled to the other side of the world but to a different season. Obvious, of course, but he hadn’t quite internalised that part of it during his mad dash across hemispheres.
As Robbie drives, he tells James that the house he and Laura are renting is on the Banks Peninsula, southeast of Christchurch. The first glimpses of the peninsula rise above the plain not long after; rolling hills in varying shades of green, not entirely dissimilar to the hills of Shetland.
Soon enough, they’re driving up into those hills, the road twisting around switchbacks as it climbs, the houses now two storey and further apart, the landscape between them more wild. Until there are no houses, only trees and signs for a park ranger station and expansive views across the valley at every switchback turn; the landscape changing from forest to grassland, to forest again as the hills grow steeper still.
Yellow flowers scatter the grasslands, the blue sky interspersed with more puffy white clouds as they go up in elevation. James catches sight of trails winding up the hillsides, and despite the dragging weight of jet lag exhaustion, he longs to get out and walk.
They round another bend, pass a carpark for a scenic overlook, and then they’re over the pass and heading down the other side of the mountain. The view only gets more gorgeous; the aqua-blue water of a bay laid out below and the mountains of the peninsula interior beyond. It is captivating to the point where James has been sitting silently for who knows how long just watching the landscape pass by.
Robbie glances at him as they round the next bend and smiles. “Laura knows how to pick a spot, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, she does.”
“We’re only a little over thirty minutes from Christchurch city centre, believe it or not.” And James doesn’t quite believe that a place that looks this wild could be so close to a major city. They come around another switchback, the road sloping toward the bay, houses scattered up the steep hillside in front of them. “Lots of holiday homes.” Robbie nods toward the hills. “That’s what ours is, got a good deal renting it in winter.”
“Right,” James says, still trying to wrap his mind around the difference in seasons. “August is winter, and October is spring.”
“Aye, your timing is better than ours was, but the baby was due when she was due. At least winter here is warmer and sunnier than Oxford.”
The road winds through the lowlands, skirting the edge of the bay, up small hills and down, past sandy cliffs carved out to make way for the road. They pass the occasional horse, and grazing cattle and sheep. Through breaks in the trees, James catches glimpses of houses up in the hills; large windows and wrap-around decks. And then Robbie turns off the main road, up a steep side road to a steeper dirt drive, stopping in front of a two-storey house built into the hillside that rises above them.
“This is it.” Robbie turns off the engine. “If you think the view is nice from the road, wait until you see it from the deck.”
James follows Robbie up a flight of stairs along the side of the house, then around the back to the door. Just inside, he stops to lean his guitar against the wall and take off his boots; two weeks of Shetland muscle memory now well ingrained.
“Wow,” he says when he straightens up to take in the space.
His little cottage in Shetland had a lovely view, but this is spectacular, even from the entryway. The house is open plan with an unobstructed view across the kitchen island and out through the oversized sliding doors in the living area. The aqua-blue water of the bay sparkles in the sun, dotted with a couple of islands and ringed by the smaller mountains on the far side, a town perched between the base of the mountains and the edge of the water.
The house itself is simply but comfortably furnished. The ceilings vaulted, but not ostentatiously so, with wide wooden beams and wood cladding up to the peak of the roof. The space has a homely feel, yet is open and airy despite it not being overly large. The kitchen cupboards and island seem to be made of reclaimed wood, the tile floor natural stone that continues from the kitchen into the small dining area.
In the living room, an L-shaped sofa is nestled under large corner windows with a couple of armchairs facing the sliding doors and a wood burner in the opposite corner. There isn’t a spot in the house that doesn’t have a view, and the sofa and chairs look very comfortable. James resists the urge to curl up in the corner of the sofa and gaze at the scenery until he drifts off to sleep.
“Not bad, eh?” Robbie crosses to the sliding doors, opening them to let in a warm, gentle breeze.
“Not at all. What time is it?”
Robbie looks at his watch. “Just after noon.”
“Huh.”
Robbie chuckles knowingly. “The time difference is a bit of an adjustment. Put your things anywhere.” He gestures to the house at large as he heads toward the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”
Make yourself at home. Something James had always done in every one of Robbie’s flats over the years, though he can’t remember Robbie ever saying the words. Had James been that comfortable in Robbie’s space from the beginning and never put much thought into it?
James blinks and shakes his head. The lack of sleep is catching up with him. His brain is moving in fits and starts and he keeps getting stuck; still stood in the entryway holding his rucksack. He picks up his guitar from where he left it by the door and moves it and his rucksack to a corner of the dining area, out of the way.
“You hungry?” Robbie asks from the kitchen.
“I think so.” Or he should be anyway. Maybe that’s part of his problem. It’s not as if he hasn’t gone this long without sleep before and under much less pleasant circumstances.
“Go sit on the deck,” Robbie says, pulling packages from the refrigerator and putting them on the kitchen island. “Being outside will help with the jet lag. I’ll rustle up some lunch.”
James wants to help, but he just stands there stuck again. It feels like his eyes are half closed, though they are wide open; a grey haze of sleep colouring everything.
“Go on.” Robbie waves his hand at him. “I’ll be out in a tick.” James goes.
There is a small table and chairs on the wrap-around deck with a couple of sun loungers off to one side, and an umbrella which is currently folded. James turns his face to the sun, feeling the warmth and the slight breeze before he pulls out one of the chairs and takes a seat facing the view.
It is so much warmer here than in Shetland, or even Oxford two weeks ago, so much brighter. He can feel the anticipation in the air of warmer weather still to come. And it smells amazing, eucalyptus mingled with a whiff of sea air and something else he can’t quite place, but it’s lovely. Everything is lovely, sitting in a remarkably comfortable deck chair, watching the mosaic pattern of cloud shadows move across the mountains on the far side of the bay. It would take him a very long time to get tired of this.
James takes out his mobile and snaps a photo, which doesn’t even begin to do the view justice, then pulls up the new contact Duncan added at the airport in Lerwick, half a world away.
Hi, it’s James. Made it to NZ. I’ve lost a day, it’s already Sunday afternoon here, but the view isn’t bad
Not until he’s hit send does it occur to him that if it’s noon on Sunday here, it’s midnight Saturday in Shetland. But a reply comes only a couple of minutes later.
>> That’s it? You’re just going to leave me hanging?
Wasn’t sure you’d want the gory details
>> Are there gory details?
No. We only just got to the house
Robbie’s making lunch
>> And?
It’s really nice to see him
He hugged me at the airport
That’s it. Now I’m sitting on the deck as pictured
>> Is that usual? A hug?
No
But it was nice
>> 👍🙏
>> Glad to hear everything is so nice there
How about you? Is it nice there?
>> Jimmy asked who you were
What did you tell him?
>> That you’re a friend
And?
>> He saw right through me
>> Always does
>> Then I sort of told him I love him
>> Turns out he feels the same
Are congratulations in order?
>> Let’s just say I’m looking forward to Cassie going back to Glasgow so we can have the house to ourselves 😁
Duncan did it, he told Jimmy how he feels and it seems to have worked out for them. Maybe there is hope for him and Robbie. He half wishes Duncan were here so he could introduce the two of them, so Duncan could tell him if he sees on Robbie’s face what James saw on Jimmy’s. If the hope he’s clinging to is enough to carry his weight.
>> You still there?
Yeah, sorry. Jet lag is getting to me
>> I can only imagine
>> Jimmy says thank you, btw
He’s there?
>> It’s after midnight, we’re in bed
Then why are you texting me?
>> Was curious, wasn’t I?
James hears footsteps behind him and looks up to see Robbie coming through the sliding door with a plate in each hand, the sleeves of his checked shirt rolled up.
“Didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”
“Not yet,” James says, smiling at Robbie over his shoulder. Robbie smiles back, sets the two plates of sandwiches on the table, then goes into the house again.
Robbie’s here, got to go, James types quickly.
>> Enjoy your romantic lunch 😏
I don’t think that’s how it’s going to go
>> You never know 😉
He doesn’t know, it’s true. This is uncharted territory. James puts his phone down as Robbie comes through the door wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat and carrying a tray containing a full cafetiere, two mugs, and a sugar bowl, with a second matching hat balanced on top.
A cloud passes over the sun, the day darkening then brightening again as Robbie puts things on the table and sits opposite James. James blinks at him, considers getting his sunglasses from his rucksack. He must look a state, but Robbie only grins and passes him the straw hat.
“Put that on,” Robbie says.
James takes the hat, frowns at it, and puts it aside. “Think I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t.” Robbie’s tone turns serious. “There’s a hole in the ozone layer. It’s either that or slather yourself in suncream.”
“Oh. I didn’t realise.”
“Neither did I until we got here. It’s better than it used to be but it’ll still give you skin cancer.” James puts the hat on. It fits him, which means it can’t be Laura’s.
“Did you buy this for me?”
Robbie shrugs and flashes him a crooked grin. “May have.” He fills both mugs with coffee, adds sugar and passes one to James, then picks up half of his sandwich and nods toward James’ plate. “Go on, you’ll feel better once you’ve eaten something.”
“I don’t feel bad just… out of it.”
“That’ll still help.” Robbie gestures toward James’ sandwich. “Everything is local; bread from the bakery in the village, summer sausage and sheep milk cheese from the farmer’s market, and greens from our farmshare.”
That does sound good. “All this and no drip coffee,” James says. “Has New Zealand turned you into a foodie?”
Robbie scoffs. “Hardly.”
But he is smiling as he takes a bite of his sandwich. His smile has barely dimmed since the airport, no trace of the doubts that plagued him before he left Oxford. As much as James has missed him, seeing how happy Robbie is here, he is certain that encouraging him to go with Laura was the right thing to do. He’s never seen him smile so much.
“The holiday looks good on you,” James says.
Robbie’s smile widens into a grin that verges on cheeky. If it were Duncan sitting across from him, flashing him that grin, James would assume he was being flirted with.
“Ta.” Robbie takes another bite of his sandwich. James looks away from his smiling eyes and bare forearms and things he’s likely reading wrong due to lack of sleep. He picks up his own sandwich and takes a bite.
It could be that the last time he had a decent meal was in Shetland, or it could be the company, or the view, or the local ingredients, but the sandwich is more delicious than any sandwich has a right to be, and the coffee is the nectar of the gods. When he tells Robbie as much, he gives James another cheeky, verging on flirtatious, grin.
“Who was that, then?” Robbie asks after he’s finished half his sandwich, nodding toward James’ mobile where it’s sitting on the table next to his plate.
“Who?” James narrows his eyes at him.
“Whoever had you grinning down at your phone earlier.”
“A friend,” James says dismissively.
Robbie raises an eyebrow, his grin less cheeky now and more inquiring. He looks encouraging. And maybe the slightest bit disappointed? The jet lag really is affecting James’ brain function.
“And this friend…?”
“He was—” James looks down at his sandwich and shrugs. “I met him at an open mic night when I was in Shetland. We had a bit of a fling.” He can’t quite bring himself to say one night stand, but considering he’s just been texting Duncan, that Duncan referred to James as his friend when talking to Jimmy, maybe it’s not a one night stand at this point anyway. Maybe they are friends, or at least on their way to becoming friends.
“When you were in Shetland?” Robbie glosses over the fact that James has admitted he had a fling with a man. But then, if Robbie knows how James feels about him, he must be aware of a few other things as well.
“When I got your email,” James looks up at Robbie, casual as he can manage, though it’s a struggle not to smile at the wide-eyed, incredulous look Robbie’s giving him.
“The day before yesterday?”
James gives up trying to suppress his grin. “Yeah.” If the hug in the airport hadn’t been worth thirty hours of air travel, watching the contours of Robbie’s face as he pieces together what James is saying would be.
“But you’d have to…”
“I came here directly. I was on a walking holiday.”
“You cut your holiday short?”
James shakes his head. “Extended it, actually. Bit of a last minute decision. Sent Moody an email from Heathrow and haven’t looked at my work inbox since, but I can’t imagine he’s happy with me.”
“James,” Robbie says, concern colouring his voice. “Are you all right?” His hand moves on the table as if he’s about to reach for James, then stops. He picks up his coffee mug.
“Yeah,” James replies reflexively. He meets Robbie’s still concerned gaze and lets the love he feels for the man wash over him. “I really am. More than I have been in a long time.”
Robbie’s expression softens, his lips curve into a smile again. There’s no mistaking the look on his face, it’s not cheeky or flirtatious or concerned, just affection, pure and simple. Robbie cares about him. James knew he did to a point, but this is something beyond inspector and sergeant, possibly even beyond friends.
How long has Robbie been looking at James like this and he couldn’t see it? He doesn’t need Duncan or any other objective third party to confirm his hypothesis, it may not be love the way James wants it to be, but it’s so obvious that James is important to Robbie. That Robbie knows how James feels and those feelings aren’t a burden to him the way they always have been to James. That this knowledge hasn’t harmed their friendship.
James’ shoulders relax. He smiles too.
“I leave for a couple of months and you’re taking holidays and having flings. Good for you.”
James shrugs. “Had to get there first.” An echo of what Robbie said when James dropped him and Laura off at Heathrow two and a half months and a lifetime ago, when James had been afraid he would never see them again. An echo of what James said to Robbie when Robbie told him he deserved to have some fun too. He didn’t believe it then, but he’s beginning to now. Maybe not that he deserves it, but that he can have it. He can do things he wants to do because he wants to do them and it may just come out all right in the end.
Robbie gives him a knowing look, as if he is aware there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push. “No return ticket, you said. How long are you staying?”
“How long do you want me?” James asks before he can stop himself.
Robbie meets his eyes, and says, “As long as you want, lad,” without a hint of irony.
James can’t seem to form a response to that, except to smile at Robbie like a bloody fool. And he is a fool. He’s a fool for this man and he has been since the very beginning. He looks away and takes a sip of coffee before the weight of so much eye contact becomes too much, picks up his sandwich.
“So,” Robbie says when they’ve both mostly finished their sandwiches. “You met someone while you were in Shetland?” The question is casual with an underlying hint of warmth. He wants to know but he’s still not pushing. James gets the feeling that if he changed the subject Robbie would drop it, possibly for good.
“Yeah, Duncan. We have some things in common and we slept together, but…” He hadn’t planned to bring this up so early in the visit. He didn’t have a plan beyond getting on the plane, but jet lag seems to have loosened his tongue. Probably for the best. As much as James is more than a little terrified to say it out loud, he needs to confirm with words that Robbie knows how he feels, not just rely on his interpretation of the way Robbie is looking at him. He won’t stay in Robbie and Laura’s house under false pretences.
James sighs and picks up the cafetiere, refilling his mug to buy himself a little more time. “Duncan is also in love with his best friend,” he says as he puts the cafetiere down.
When James looks up, that incredulous look has returned to Robbie’s face. “I’m your best friend?”
James nods. “You are.” Not the part of the confession he expected Robbie to latch onto.
“You’re mine too, you know.”
“I didn’t,” James admits. There is a prickling at the corner of his eyes, he blinks it away; the lack of sleep catching up with him again. “But I’d hoped.”
“Me too.” Robbie is still gazing at him, his expression open and warm. His eyes are shining. James fights twin urges to launch himself over the table, grab Robbie by the collar and snog him senseless, or run for the hills. But he does neither, he sits there and lets Robbie look at him, lets himself be seen.
When it becomes too much, James picks up the last of his sandwich and takes a bite. He looks over Robbie’s shoulder to the view and the sun sparkling off the bay.
“Also in love with his best friend, this Duncan?” Robbie asks, after a quiet moment, gently leading James toward what he needs to say.
“Just like I am.” James makes himself meet Robbie’s eyes. The look on his face is kind without a hint of unease. It is no less than he should have expected, Robbie is kind above all else. Even if James’ feelings made him uncomfortable, Robbie would still be kind, but it’s a lot to have that kind gaze directed at him without judgment after confessing something so monumental.
“I’d wondered if you’d ever say anything.”
“I hadn’t planned to. Ever. I didn’t— Well, you know,” James sighs and gestures to himself. Does Robbie know? James isn’t sure he knows himself, to be honest. “It was Duncan who helped me realise that you likely already knew, or he pointed me in the right direction anyway. I had a bit of an epiphany while I was out walking— So, yeah.” James shrugs. “Now you know for real.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Robbie’s smile is softer now. Beautiful. One of the many reasons why James fell in love with him. Robbie takes a sip of his coffee and when he sets the mug down his demeanour has changed somewhat, less serious, a bit playful. “Since you’re such a fan of walking, how about I show you one of my favourite hiking routes when we’ve finished lunch?”
“I’d like that,” James says. He’d can’t think of anything he’d like more at this moment.
James has near as confessed his love and Robbie has accepted it, not made a big deal of it, changed the subject to something neutral to give James time to get his head around it. Something Robbie has done for him innumerable times over the years. And somehow there is no awkwardness between them, even after months apart, even with James’ feelings now laid bare; as if the two and a half months that passed while they were on opposite sides of the world meant nothing. It’s the years before that matter, and that they’re together now.
He still needs to say the words out loud at some point, but this is enough for now. Robbie knows and James knows for sure that Robbie knows and nothing has changed between them, they don’t need to sort everything out immediately. This friendship which is the most important relationship in James’ life hasn’t been ruined because part of him wants more.
“Where’s your other half?” James asks as he finishes his coffee. He truly must be jet lagged because it’s only now occurred to him that Laura’s not here. Robbie did say in his email that she’d encouraged him to invite James but what if he—
“With her niece and the baby. They’re in Lyttelton,” Robbie gestures behind him to the town across the bay. “She takes the ferry over on Sundays to help cook meals for the rest of the week.”
“Ah,” James says, relieved.
“Don’t worry, she’s looking forward to seeing you too.”
“I wasn’t—”
Robbie smiles. “You were a little. But don’t be, Laura used to call you that too, you know.”
“Your other half?”
Robbie’s smile brightens. “Aye. She wasn’t wrong.”