Climb the Ocean
By Ephemera and Byrne

London
Part Seven

Oliver looked at Tom out of the corner of his eye and smiled. Again. They were walking through Green Park-the Queen's backyard, he reminded himself (thus no frolicking in the flowerbeds) hand in hand, and Tom was pointing off towards the palace, doing his tour guide things again. God, he was adorable.

He'd surprised himself by being able to concentrate at work, all the way through his initial meetings and into the seminar, keeping his focus on what he was doing. Until they broke for lunch he'd been fine. Then he'd had to go up to the room to get a disk he'd forgotten and he'd gotten all sappy, just standing there smiling. He'd thought about waking up that morning, Tom's arm around his waist, his head on Tom's chest. Comfortable. Hard as a fucking rock. All in all, it was one of the best mornings he could remember ever having.

When he'd gone back down to the conference room where they were having lunch Brett had commented that his eyes had gone all funny, and wasn't Tom out doing something? It had been a long afternoon after that. But now he and Tom were out together, laughing and talking and on their way to a sushi place. Oliver decided to count the meal as step one in debauching the innocent.

He looked around the park and asked Tom if it was always open to the public.

"How do you mean? Always in the historical sense? Or more 'can we sneak off behind those trees after dark'?"

Oliver laughed and gave Tom's hand a squeeze. "I meant do they ever close the place off for official functions or stuff. But no? Always here for the public?"

"I think they close them at night - most of the London parks and squares do get locked up - mainly to keep people like us from sneaking off behind the trees, probably!"

"Ah, so the royal family and the city minders have no sense of adventure, I get it." He grinned and pulled Tom to him for a quick kiss. He eyed one of the largest trees and added, "We're not real big. Could probably actually hide behind one of those. Or at least be discreet."

"Was getting arrested on the plan for tonight?" Tom deadpanned. "Because personally, I think raw squid might be punishment enough."

Oliver snorted then turned it into a chuckle with some difficulty. Snorting was so not sexy. "Oh ye of little faith. I'll not risk winding up in the cells. And you'll love the squid. Or at least the salmon. Stay away from the wasabi though, if you don't like strong spicy stuff. It'll take your taste buds off, and water doesn't help." As Carolyn had found out when he'd failed to warn her. The thought of his sister made his eyes narrow and his back stiffen in reflex. Tom's hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.

"Oliver? You ok?"

"What?" Oliver looked at him, startled, then smiled. "Yeah. Fine, love. Just remembering the last time I introduced someone to sushi. My sister. It didn't...well, it didn't go so well. But she liked the food, anyway."

Tom caught his hand, wrapping long fingers around his, and started them walking again, slowly now.

"That after you told them?"

Oliver sighed. "You mean after the great 'Hey, Oliver has his tongue in that guy's mouth' thing? Yeah. About three years later, actually. She called me up and wanted to talk. Said she wanted to understand. So I took her out for lunch." Oliver turned to face Tom, searching his eyes for something--even he wasn't sure what, though. "You sure you want to hear about this?"

"Yeah." Tom nodded a little. "I do. But only if you want to tell me. If you want, we can change the subject entirely - talk about aardvarks or something."

Oliver lifted an eyebrow and smiled fondly at him. "Aardvarks and penguins. You're odd." He squeezed Tom's fingers again. "But I can...yeah, I think I want to talk about it. It's just that it's so different from what you come from, yeah? I mean, it's not violent or awful, but it's not fun."

"It sucks." Tom agreed, and tightened his hold on Oliver's hand a fraction, thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand as they walked.

Oliver looked around him as they walked, thinking back to the look on Carolyn's face when he'd met her for lunch. "She was happy to see me, at first," he said absently. "I though maybe all that time apart had made her miss me. I'd been at school, then Dad took me to Israel, then there was Central America...hadn't really seen her much since Mom told me I wasn't her son anymore."

Tom let go of his hand and Oliver glanced at him, ready to stop talking, to take it back and move the conversation to aardvarks. He smiled when Tom slid his arm around his shoulder as they walked, and found his own arm going to Tom's waist, his thumb hooking in a belt loop. Comfortable. Warm.

"So," he continued, "she called me one day and asked me to have lunch. I said sure, and we decided on sushi, 'cause she'd never had it and seemed willing to give it a try. For me. Like she was thinking about what *I* wanted, and not what Mom had told her was right.

"At first it was good--we talked about Dad and where he was, about school, and her fiancé, now husband, and we ordered. She liked the food, but the wasabi nearly killed her." He almost laughed at the memory--they'd both laughed then, and it had felt almost normal, like it had been when they were kids.

"Then she asked me if I was still 'like that', and didn't I see that it was wrong? She wanted to invite me to her wedding, but couldn't I see that it would be wrong for her to invite me into a celebration of love that I couldn't understand because my mind and body were perverted? That--" his breath hitched and he stopped walking, closing his eyes. "That she would do everything she could to help me get better, but until I agreed that loving men was wrong she wasn't prepared to have anything to do with me."

It hurt still. For some reason he hadn't thought it would.

Tom's arms were warm as they slid around his waist, not pulling him close, just being there. "No way." His voice was warm with certainty. "No way is there anything wrong with you, and no way is this wrong." He took a long breath and when he spoke again, Tom's voice was gentler. "I'm sorry. That you had to listen to that, live with that. That's harsh."

Oliver looked at Tom seeing only reassurance and love, calm strength. He stepped a little closer to him and rested his head on Tom's shoulder for a moment, just inhaling his scent. "It's not too bad, now," he whispered. "My dad's cool. And you're right. There's no way this is wrong." He lifted his head and looked Tom in the eye. "Love you. Thank you. For being you."

Tom's arms tightened around him. "Love you. You make that easy to do, Oliver. Wish I could just make it all better though."

"Yeah, I know," Oliver said quietly. "But it's their choice, right? I mean, if I started trying to be what they want--what my mother wants--I'd lose myself." Oliver kissed Tom just below the ear and started walking again, taking his hand. "It's better now--be glad you weren't around when they first started in on me about it; wasn't pretty at all. Lots of rhetoric and shaming…"

Oliver didn't want to talk about it anymore. He suddenly realized that sharing things like that was important, and good, but it didn't have to be right then. Not when he was holding Tom's hand and walking through a park. Not when he could be enjoying their time together. He straightened his back a little and made an effort to change the mood. "But that's not now, not here. Sushi. Making you eat raw fish--that's now. Debauching you is later. I have a mission." He winked and leered outrageously, which wasn't difficult, really. God, his man was good looking.

"Oh great - so you're going to try and kill me with seafood and weird fire-paste-stuff! Thought you liked me?" Tom seemed to pick up his cues and reverted to their earlier bantering tone. "Do I at least get shiny conveyor belt novelty fun to cushion the blow?"

"Gimmicky food? I think I can work with that." Oliver grinned, feeling a little wicked. "Make you a deal--you can have your playtime at the restaurant and I can have *mine* later. When we get back."

"Deal." Tom fired back instantly. His cheeks started to colour, and he hastily rubbed his free hand over his face. "Um - neither of the things that just crossed my mind are things I should say out loud." he confessed.

Oh, that was just too tantalizing. "You have to tell me now. It's a rule."

"Pretty much 'Yay, I get to be your playground' and 'You can play with me any time'." Tom exaggerated the comedy voices for each line, unable to quite meet Oliver's eye.

The blush rose a little and Oliver smiled, moving close enough to whisper in Tom's ear. "I want to play with you. All the time," he purred. "Love it when you say shit like that, lover. Like to hear it." He licked Tom's ear for good measure and moved away, trying to look like he was just walking through the park on a warm evening.

Tom stumbled a little, and the blushing seemed to be there to stay. "Oliver!" he protested, although a squeeze of the hand softened it. Tom stammered over a few sentence starters before settling on. 'Well - good. *Ahem*. And on your left, there's ... no - tour guide brain cells seem to have lost their focus..." The laughter was starting to force its way into his voice though, and the sentence was doomed.

Oliver laughed with him, all talk of his sister, his mother, and their disapproval forgotten. They walked through the park talking and joking, teasing each other about what made them blush and in general just being happy. Oliver made it a point to only mention the wonders of sushi twice--too much talking about it and Tom might back out. By the time they made their way to the restaurant Oliver himself was famished, his head full of various combinations he wanted to try. Tom looked a little apprehensive.

He tugged Oliver to a stop outside. "The deal still hold if I make an utter idiot of myself?" Oliver nodded and Tom leaned in to kiss his cheek gently. "I'll try not to, but I know *nothing*, ok? I don't want to embarrass you."

"You couldn't if you tried, honestly," Oliver assured him. "You know how to use chopsticks for one, which is better than me. If it looks like you can pick it up and eat it without it falling apart, do that. If it looks like you're supposed to use the chopsticks, use 'em. Stay clear of the green death paste, and you'll be fine." Oliver kissed him again, just because he wanted to, and whispered, "And there is *nothing* that will keep me from playing with you later."

Tom pulled him close, kissed him hard and fast and then Tom was holding the restaurant door open for them to go inside. As Oliver passed in front of him, he leaned in to speak, low and intent, "I want to try everything you want to show me."

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