Jim's eyebrows both go up in surprise at John's response. "It is?"
The answer comes quickly, thoughtlessly, and Jim very nearly asks why-- but he knows why. Jim did betray his trust, after all, took something intimate they had and shared it with someone else. Regardless of who that someone else was, and the reasons for it, he did it anyway.
It's still a painful thing, to hear that John won't forgive him, that he's cutting him out of his life just like that. Tangled mess of feelings aside, John is such a close friend to him, the closest along with Mary in this place, and to lose him cuts deep and hurts too much. But he can't blame him for not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.
"I see," he mutters, trying not to look or sound like he's falling apart on the inside. His gaze falls, unable to meet John's eyes anymore. "Will you please, at least... not cut Mary out? You're a dear friend to her, and she cares about you a lot. And here, she's..."
He doesn't want to use the word 'lonely', but lacking in people she can trust and confide in, definitely. He ends up not specifying, flicking his gaze briefly to meet John's. "I'd hate to be the reason why she'd lose someone close to her."
John can at least understand that at the response Jim is giving him, he has misunderstood their conversation to some extent. Though to what he has no way of knowing without addressing it directly himself. Blinking in confusion as he watches the other man deflate before him, he finds he must rally himself again. Even despite the nauseating twisting and turning of his insides.
"Ah," he says, as delicately as he can. "That is. I did not think."
He clears his throat, softly, before trying again. "I had thought that she might not. That is. A man such as myself..." He offers the other man a little smile that does not meet his eyes at all.
"We are not all from your future, James," he says, though he means no malice in the words. "Do you mean to suggest that she would willingly associate herself with a known sodomite?"
Or allow Jim to continue their association, for that matter.
Jim tries his best not to wince at John's wording, and ends up failing utterly. He frowns, resists the urge to tell John to shut up, and shakes his head.
"Really wish you wouldn't use that word," he says. He knows that's just what people call it in John's time, with all the negative implications that come with it, but it just makes it sound like it's wrong, like it's a horrid, disgusting thing. It makes Jim feel sick.
"I'm sure she won't judge you on that. She was... shocked, about us. But she wasn't disgusted by it. If it bothered her, then she would've broken things off with me too. I mean... I'm pretty sure I've slept with more men than you, and I sure as hell wasn't nearly as secretive about it."
Though he has slept with about the same number of women, but that doesn't change the truth in his original statement. And honestly, if Mary were to end her friendship with John because of that, Jim's not sure he could stay with her.
It isn't the best word, John knows, but it's the only one he knows to describe what he is. Other than perhaps Molly, which strikes a certain image in his mind that he feels is perhaps even more derogatory than the one that Jim is protesting as it stands.
He raises his eyebrows slightly as Jim continues -- pretty sure I've slept with more men than you.
"Is that a boast, Captain?" John tosses back, unable to help himself. "Or have I perhaps given you reason to suspect that my own sexual exploits are so limited?"
Jim's eyebrows arch slightly, surprised by John's answer. "It's neither," he says. Though he supposes it may have come across that way, it's not what he was aiming for. But John is a careful man, Jim can tell that much, and being from his time, Jim can't possibly imagine he was nearly as liberal about sleeping around as Jim was. He's pretty sure at some point people mockingly called him the Academy bicycle and there was good reason for it, no matter how offensive it was. "Sorry if that's what you got out of that, but I didn't mean it that way. Anyway, it-- it doesn't matter. I just mean that Mary knows I've slept with men and she hasn't kicked me out or ended things with me. You being gay isn't going to bother her nearly as much as you think it will."
There's a brief pause, then he adds when he notices the word he used. "'Gay' is a term that's often used for a homosexual person, where I'm from. Before you ask."
Technically homosexual is not a term that John is familiar with either, sodomite really had been the only word widely in use, though he can parse out what it means. Homo-, of course, meaning same, and sexual... Well, he doesn't need his Greek or Latin to translate that one for him.
"Perhaps not," John replies, raising his eyebrows at the other man in reply. "But it is easier to forgive the man you love than it is to forgive the man he has slept with."
"The man I have slept with before she and I were actually together, the man who never even knew I knew her, let alone that I was close to her? If she's to be upset at anyone, it should be me, not you," he says. He does still believe that he had a shitty attitude towards John especially, which wasn't at all what he meant to do.
"Just... talk to her. It's all I'm asking. You'll see I'm right," he says. "You don't have to-- ah, see me. I understand that you don't want to. I'll be sure to make myself scarce if and when you ever want to come visit Mary at the cottage."
Because he's still very much under the impression that John's upset with him for having outed him, and it's not like the other man has said anything stating otherwise so far.
John frowns for a moment, confused. He understands that he doesn't want to...? Oh, hell.
Taking two swift steps forward, John closes the distance between the pair of them and places a hand on Jim's shoulder. Careful not to be too intimate in the touch, for of course he has no right to that, but it isn't like that, and he does need Jim to understand.
"James," he says softly, squeezing his hand in the effort to coax the other man to look at him. "You will do no such thing. I would like to know that the pair of you are comfortable in my company, and that our friendship not cause any rift in your relationship together. But of course I should like to see you again. You are, and ever have been, my very dear friend."
Jim nearly startles out of his skin when John steps closer, then reaches out to touch him. He doesn't mind, obviously, he doesn't even flinch-- he just wasn't expecting John to even want to be near him, let alone touch him with that kind of familiarity.
Then the other man talks, and Jim can practically feel that painful tension that was coiling in him unfurl like a wave, washing out of him with an audible breath.
"I am," he mutters, wide-eyed. "I am? I mean, you're... you are, too. My friend. I thought... I thought you'd be mad at me."
Oh, screw careful. With a shuddered sigh, he pulls John into a hug, relief practically making him shake. "Thank you."
The hug does surprise John more than slightly, but he's grateful for it nevertheless. Raising his arms, he moves to wrap them around the other man in turn, tucking his head into Jim's shoulder and letting out a soft breath before shaking his head in reply to the other man's words.
"Not mad," he reassures gently. "I do understand why you had to tell her. I understand why you felt you could not hide such a thing from a person you cared for any longer. Believe me, my friend, I -- I know how it feels, to have a secret that eats away at you inside. I just..." He squeezes his arms around the other man gently, attempting to be reassuring, hoping that he will understand.
"I -- need time. To adjust. To the idea of... Sharing in this. It is not something I had thought that I could, you understand. The only reason I have shared such a thing with you is the fact that we have been together. And it is not because I do not trust you, but it is because it has been the way of things. The only way I've known."
Jim pulls back, nodding. "I understand," he says. "I do, really. I get that it's a crime where you're from, and it's dangerous for you. And it's terrible that you've had to live your life like that, but I..."
He sighs, giving John's arms a squeeze before letting go of him again. "I hope you'll find another way to live, here. Even if it's just for a little while."
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The answer comes quickly, thoughtlessly, and Jim very nearly asks why-- but he knows why. Jim did betray his trust, after all, took something intimate they had and shared it with someone else. Regardless of who that someone else was, and the reasons for it, he did it anyway.
It's still a painful thing, to hear that John won't forgive him, that he's cutting him out of his life just like that. Tangled mess of feelings aside, John is such a close friend to him, the closest along with Mary in this place, and to lose him cuts deep and hurts too much. But he can't blame him for not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.
"I see," he mutters, trying not to look or sound like he's falling apart on the inside. His gaze falls, unable to meet John's eyes anymore. "Will you please, at least... not cut Mary out? You're a dear friend to her, and she cares about you a lot. And here, she's..."
He doesn't want to use the word 'lonely', but lacking in people she can trust and confide in, definitely. He ends up not specifying, flicking his gaze briefly to meet John's. "I'd hate to be the reason why she'd lose someone close to her."
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"Ah," he says, as delicately as he can. "That is. I did not think."
He clears his throat, softly, before trying again. "I had thought that she might not. That is. A man such as myself..." He offers the other man a little smile that does not meet his eyes at all.
"We are not all from your future, James," he says, though he means no malice in the words. "Do you mean to suggest that she would willingly associate herself with a known sodomite?"
Or allow Jim to continue their association, for that matter.
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"Really wish you wouldn't use that word," he says. He knows that's just what people call it in John's time, with all the negative implications that come with it, but it just makes it sound like it's wrong, like it's a horrid, disgusting thing. It makes Jim feel sick.
"I'm sure she won't judge you on that. She was... shocked, about us. But she wasn't disgusted by it. If it bothered her, then she would've broken things off with me too. I mean... I'm pretty sure I've slept with more men than you, and I sure as hell wasn't nearly as secretive about it."
Though he has slept with about the same number of women, but that doesn't change the truth in his original statement. And honestly, if Mary were to end her friendship with John because of that, Jim's not sure he could stay with her.
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He raises his eyebrows slightly as Jim continues -- pretty sure I've slept with more men than you.
"Is that a boast, Captain?" John tosses back, unable to help himself. "Or have I perhaps given you reason to suspect that my own sexual exploits are so limited?"
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There's a brief pause, then he adds when he notices the word he used. "'Gay' is a term that's often used for a homosexual person, where I'm from. Before you ask."
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"Perhaps not," John replies, raising his eyebrows at the other man in reply. "But it is easier to forgive the man you love than it is to forgive the man he has slept with."
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"Just... talk to her. It's all I'm asking. You'll see I'm right," he says. "You don't have to-- ah, see me. I understand that you don't want to. I'll be sure to make myself scarce if and when you ever want to come visit Mary at the cottage."
Because he's still very much under the impression that John's upset with him for having outed him, and it's not like the other man has said anything stating otherwise so far.
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Taking two swift steps forward, John closes the distance between the pair of them and places a hand on Jim's shoulder. Careful not to be too intimate in the touch, for of course he has no right to that, but it isn't like that, and he does need Jim to understand.
"James," he says softly, squeezing his hand in the effort to coax the other man to look at him. "You will do no such thing. I would like to know that the pair of you are comfortable in my company, and that our friendship not cause any rift in your relationship together. But of course I should like to see you again. You are, and ever have been, my very dear friend."
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Then the other man talks, and Jim can practically feel that painful tension that was coiling in him unfurl like a wave, washing out of him with an audible breath.
"I am," he mutters, wide-eyed. "I am? I mean, you're... you are, too. My friend. I thought... I thought you'd be mad at me."
Oh, screw careful. With a shuddered sigh, he pulls John into a hug, relief practically making him shake. "Thank you."
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"Not mad," he reassures gently. "I do understand why you had to tell her. I understand why you felt you could not hide such a thing from a person you cared for any longer. Believe me, my friend, I -- I know how it feels, to have a secret that eats away at you inside. I just..." He squeezes his arms around the other man gently, attempting to be reassuring, hoping that he will understand.
"I -- need time. To adjust. To the idea of... Sharing in this. It is not something I had thought that I could, you understand. The only reason I have shared such a thing with you is the fact that we have been together. And it is not because I do not trust you, but it is because it has been the way of things. The only way I've known."
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He sighs, giving John's arms a squeeze before letting go of him again. "I hope you'll find another way to live, here. Even if it's just for a little while."