Entry tags:

genre: slash, pairing: harry lime/holly martins, rating: pg-13

Promises (Harry Lime/Holly Martins [The Third Man], PG-13)
Title: Promises
Pairing: Harry Lime/Holly Martins [The Third Man]
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 497
Warnings: None
Summary: Whatever else he did or didn't do, Holly knew Harry didn't lie to him.
Notes: This was one of my 2008 Yuletide Treats, written for Carolyn. I'm glad I wasn't the only person who saw slashy undertones in this movie!


Holly tries to remain calm as the train nears his final destination, but thoughts of Harry are insistent, as Harry always was. He could never be ignored. Holly settles back behind his newspaper and closes his eyes, deciding he'll let himself drift for a few minutes.

---

When they were boys together, Harry was shorter than Holly, but he had an air about him that made a person think he was quite a bit taller. That cunning manner of speech, the smirk he affected, the way he could tell only parts of a story and get away with it. The way he carried himself, his chin slightly lifted, until he had a secret to impart, when he leaned forward, his dark eyes darting, a corner of his mouth twitching with impatience until you leaned forward as well to hear whatever it was.

His way with women. God, he had a way with women. And always he had a different one on his arm, blondes and brunettes and exotic women, too, shuttling them to parties on New Year's Eve, to the seashore in July, to apple orchards in the autumn. Whispering in their ears as if he and she were the only two people in the world, making them giggle and blush.

But in the end, he always returned to Holly, to their cold water flat, undressing without shame there by the bed, hanging his trousers over the back of a chair and laughing as he told of his adventures that evening. Holly watched, smiling, indulgent, from the bed that was shoved nearer to the wood stove in the winter.

Harry couldn't lie on a bed like a regular person. He stretched and posed until Holly laughed and threw pillows at him and told him to just come to bed, for god's sake, it was cold out there and he'd likely catch his death. And finally Harry did, bouncing in and propping himself up on his elbows and artfully disarranging the blankets that Holly had tucked around himself. Once he'd sufficiently annoyed his bedmate, Harry would make it up with kisses and low laughter and promises, always promises. Promises that Holly always believed when Harry's hand was splayed across his belly and Harry's lips were at his neck.

Whatever else he did or didn't do, Holly knew Harry didn't lie to him like he did to those women. There was no need to keep up appearances when they were in bed together, cold toes on warm calves, hot kisses on bare chests. Holly always knew that whatever happened, wherever life took them, separate or together, at least Harry would never lie to him. He trusted Harry with his life.

---

The train staggers into the station and Holly extracts himself from the tangle of memory, folds his paper, takes a deep, cleansing breath. He smiles.

When he is told that Harry is dead, his face doesn't register shock. He's still living in his memory, where Harry is immortal.