Who: Jimmy Peakes and Dennis Creevey (open to Nat later?). Where: Around the lake, swimming and sitting in trees... possibly K-I-S-S-I-N-G? When: Saturday, September 10th; late morning. Status: Closed (ish... might be open to someone coming by and interrupting them!) Rating: Pretty low.
The wind of mid-September had given up it's chill and instead, a pleasant mid-sixties day with a clear sun beamed down on Jimmy's shoulders. His eyes closed for a moment- but just a moment as he walked. He heard the scuffing of gravel and dirt under his shoes and the light wind against his ears. But his attention wasn't there. He'd closed his eyes and situated his focus on the feeling of a palm in his. Fingers wrapping together with his. The swing of their arms- sometimes in time, sometimes not. He only took a second, but Jimmy realized the specialness of the contact.
This was the first time that Dennis and he had held hands in public. They'd kept it chaste and as normal looking as possible, but looking across the dinner table at each other as they wolfed down their food... it was hard not to do something. Knowing smiles were all they couldn't fight, and last night, Jimmy's tension had given in and he'd started batting at Dennis' foot under the dinner table.
Jimmy's eyes lifted to the lake and he picked up his pace, turning his head long enough to smile at Dennis. Unfortunately other had had the same idea. The lake was not completely devoid of people, but Jimmy steered them toward a small grove of oaks near the shore. There, shielded by the trunk, Jimmy reached back on the back of his shirt's neckline and peeled it up over his head. Then he shimmied out of his trousers into his swim trunks and eyed Dennis with a sidelong glance. This was more skin he'd shown in days, the lingering effects of the letter still had him wearing droopy pajamas to bed.