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What had he done? Was Chris actually upset with him about the previous night? Was it because Jamie had accidentally shot at him? Had Jamie been too familiar, because Chris had certainly seemed fine with it at the time, what with the hair stroking and letting Jamie rest his head on him and falling asleep together. Alright, so it wasn’t quite the regular relationship one usually had with their Secret Serviceman, but Jamie had honestly believed that they were more than that and had been right from the start. Perhaps he had been gravely mistaken.

Confused and a little hurt, he made his way back to his friends and accepted a plastic champagne flute filled to the brim from Victoria, settling down next to her on the blanket. She snuggled into him and he casually draped his arm around her shoulders as he attempted to involve himself in the conversation again.

* * * *

“Okay, what did I do?” Jamie burst out in the car journey home. He’d been playing with the zipper of his coat for a good five minutes, looking tired and sullen.

“What?” Chris asked in surprise, giving Jamie a quick sideways glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Well, you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder all day.” Jamie shifted slightly in the front seat so that he was half turned in Chris’s direction. He bit his lip. “I know that I almost shot you in the head last night, but from what I remember, you were pretty cool with the situation back then. Now this morning, you barely look at me, you’re back to calling me sir, you’re all aloof. What did I do wrong? Did I overstep the line? Just tell me if I did and I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Chris glanced at him again and the sight almost broke his heart. Jamie’s eyes were full of hurt and he looked almost as tortured as he had at two that same morning after the nightmare. Except this time, it was all Chris’s fault. He felt awful.

“It’s not you,” he sighed. Jamie made a face. “It’s not!” Chris insisted and sighed again. “Marie Hall called me this morning—she wanted a status report about the gun incident, and I almost let slip that I stayed with you after it happened. I was given a warning, after you slipped in the pool, and I was already in there to help. She told me then that I had to keep my distance, and that I wasn’t here to be your friend. She said that I shouldn’t blur the lines.”

“Did you agree?” Jamie asked.

“No. In fact, I thought it was the worst thing I could possibly do. If I’d taken a blind bit of notice of how Foster or Hall wanted me to act, I wouldn’t have stayed with you last night. I would have turned around and gone back to my own bed, but that wouldn’t have done you any good. And I know that. And I couldn’t leave you.

“You see, its fine when it’s just you and me, and it was fine with Andy because I trust Andy. But today, we had two of my colleagues standing a few feet away and if I had acted the way I do when it’s just us, they would have reported me. I wouldn’t even have made it to the end of the picnic before Foster had turned up and demanded my badge and gun. And I don’t think that’s what either of us would really have wanted.”

Jamie looked down at his hands. “No. But why didn’t you say anything to me instead of just clamming up and letting me think I’d done something terrible?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really have time. One minute we were asleep, and the next you were telling me that we had to be out in an hour, and then Marie called, and I had to cover my tracks so that I didn’t get fired on the spot…and I guess I just thought it would be easier to explain later.”

“You still could have given me a head’s up,” he muttered. “I mean, what the hell was I supposed to think? Everything was fine at two this morning, and then suddenly at ten, you’ve turned into a block of ice.”

Chris sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

There was silence for a second, then Jamie smiled genuinely at him. “It’s okay. We’ve both been kind of assholes now, so I guess we’re even.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

* * * *

By the time they got back to the house, it was like the whole incident had never happened. Jamie watched as Chris locked and bolted the door and enabled the security alarm. Boomer raced past them both and curled up on the rug in the hallway, making them step over him in order to move into the kitchen.

“First Son secure,” he said into his radio before removing his earpiece and placing it on the kitchen counter while Jamie went to the cupboard for a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He started to laugh as he set all three on the counter and unscrewed the bottle cap. “What?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“First Son? Man, that’s so lame! Don’t I get a fun code name? “

Chris grinned as he watched Jamie pour a decent measure of bourbon into each glass.

“Blame Foster,” he replied. Jamie offered him a glass and he hesitated. “I’m not sure I should have that.”

It was full dark by now but still not particularly late. They had been out all day, but Chris still felt like he should be working.

Jamie shrugged. “It’s just us now. No need to try and fool anybody.”

Chris looked from Jamie to the glass in his hand and back again. “Screw it,” he replied, taking the bourbon in one hand whilst loosening his tie and unfastening the top button of his shirt with the other.

They sat at the counter for a while, just talking. Chris had missed out on the group activity that day, so he took the opportunity to ask Jamie about it, to find out about his friends, who they were, how long they had known each other. It turned out that Jamie had dated the girl named Victoria for one summer and they had lost their virginity to each other at fifteen.

Something that felt ever so slightly like jealousy flashed through Chris, but he put it down to the second glass of bourbon. Jamie had been drinking champagne for half the afternoon and was now at the stage where he was almost moving in slow motion. His eyes were bright and unfocussed in the orangey light of the kitchen, his smile wider than normal. Chris liked him this way.

Jamie caught him staring. “What is it?”

“Nothing…” Chris said with a smile, swirling the last sip of bourbon in the glass. “You just…kinda suit being a little tipsy.”

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