Babe, I could've sworn I wrote a fic on that subject already. Okay, let's try it from a different angle...
He didn't consider any of the kisses that first night to be their first kiss. Call him a hopeless romantic (just not to his face, his Texan pride would lead him to knock your head off), but he didn't think any kisses done before a relationship was established counted. So, if you asked him when their first kiss was, it was a radically different answer than the one Herbert would give.
For Will, their first kiss was a week later, after a few evenings spent trying to figure some sense outta what happened the night Herbert kissed him and where they'd go from there. They'd reached a point where they couldn't agree on a damn thing by the next weekend, so it was a good thing they had a bivouac to worry about. Twelve miles out into the woods and foothills to where they were to set up camp, stay the night, have a class or two, then head back by the next evening.
The march had been long and hard, made harder by the fact that they weren't gonna be able to drink anything until they got to the campsite. Herbert had made sure of that by ordering the canteens emptied a mile outside the bounds of Toccoa. By the time they'd reached their designated area (which had taken three more miles than the twelve they were supposed to go because Herbert'd got them lost), everyone was tuckered out, so tents were pitched, hasty dinners were had, and everyone went to bed except the night watch and Herbert and himself.
They stayed up to discuss the coursework for tomorrow, and the route back to Toccoa. Well, that's what they were supposed to be discussing, except Herbert had gotten annoyed when Will said that he oughta have the map on the way back so they wouldn't get lost. It led to some emphatic (but thankfully quiet, because otherwise the men woulda lynched them both) pointing at the map and the route they'd took on Herbert's part, while Will tried to point out the way they shoulda gone. Which, in turn, led to their hands brushing against eachother, and, before Will could decide it was a bad idea, pulling Herbert in for a kiss that was a lot gentler than the actions leading up to it would've led you to believe.
"Forget the damn map," he muttered against Herbert's lips. Then he resumed kissing him sweetly, sighing, thinking this was a Helluva lot better than some rushed, uncontrolled kiss. Probably because the feelings were known to the both of them, or some other stupid romantical reason like that. He didn't care.
They ended up under the same blankets that night, doing nothing but actual sleeping. Not that either were complaining. Will figured it was the best night of sleep he'd ever had out in the field.
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branchandroot
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Date: 6 September 2008 04:19 (UTC)He didn't consider any of the kisses that first night to be their first kiss. Call him a hopeless romantic (just not to his face, his Texan pride would lead him to knock your head off), but he didn't think any kisses done before a relationship was established counted. So, if you asked him when their first kiss was, it was a radically different answer than the one Herbert would give.
For Will, their first kiss was a week later, after a few evenings spent trying to figure some sense outta what happened the night Herbert kissed him and where they'd go from there. They'd reached a point where they couldn't agree on a damn thing by the next weekend, so it was a good thing they had a bivouac to worry about. Twelve miles out into the woods and foothills to where they were to set up camp, stay the night, have a class or two, then head back by the next evening.
The march had been long and hard, made harder by the fact that they weren't gonna be able to drink anything until they got to the campsite. Herbert had made sure of that by ordering the canteens emptied a mile outside the bounds of Toccoa. By the time they'd reached their designated area (which had taken three more miles than the twelve they were supposed to go because Herbert'd got them lost), everyone was tuckered out, so tents were pitched, hasty dinners were had, and everyone went to bed except the night watch and Herbert and himself.
They stayed up to discuss the coursework for tomorrow, and the route back to Toccoa. Well, that's what they were supposed to be discussing, except Herbert had gotten annoyed when Will said that he oughta have the map on the way back so they wouldn't get lost. It led to some emphatic (but thankfully quiet, because otherwise the men woulda lynched them both) pointing at the map and the route they'd took on Herbert's part, while Will tried to point out the way they shoulda gone. Which, in turn, led to their hands brushing against eachother, and, before Will could decide it was a bad idea, pulling Herbert in for a kiss that was a lot gentler than the actions leading up to it would've led you to believe.
"Forget the damn map," he muttered against Herbert's lips. Then he resumed kissing him sweetly, sighing, thinking this was a Helluva lot better than some rushed, uncontrolled kiss. Probably because the feelings were known to the both of them, or some other stupid romantical reason like that. He didn't care.
They ended up under the same blankets that night, doing nothing but actual sleeping. Not that either were complaining. Will figured it was the best night of sleep he'd ever had out in the field.