Jackson noticed his dilemma and wordlessly started drying him with the towel before wrapping the plush monstrosity around them both. They waddle-walked together into the main changing area, still giggling all the while.
Elliot’s laughter abruptly stopped when he saw Chris Green sitting on a bench in the changing room. He had his phone in his hand and a shocked expression frozen on his face.
“Erm, hi,” he said after a beat. "Forgot my phone," he added, waving the device in the air.
There was no way Chris could interpret this as anything other than what it was. Elliot was standing in front of Jackson, pressed flush against him, naked and wrapped up together in Jackson’s ridiculous towel.
It wasn’t subtle.
Elliot silently grabbed his own towel from the bench, wrapping it tightly around his hips before gathering his clothes in silent frustration. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hide his relationship with Jackson; it was so new and so fragile, he was worried he would break it. But he was also utterly terrified of Chris’s reaction.
Jackson let out an audible sigh, and it made Elliot wince. He’d done that. He’d wiped the easy grin from Jackson’s face and replaced it with a look of unease.
“Mate, could you not say anything about this? Please,” Jackson was asking Chris as Elliot continued to spiral. It was like his voice wouldn’t come out. He wanted to tell Jackson it was fine and not to worry about it, but it wasn’t fine, and he was terrified. He could feel his chest constricting like it did whenever he thought about his carefully crafted façade crumbling.
He could distantly hear Chris and Jackson talking. Chris seemed to be reassuring him that he wouldn’t say anything, but he wasn’t sure if he was making that up to comfort himself. The roaring in his ears was so loud now that he couldn’t focus. Distantly, he thought he could hear soft whispers in his ear. As he came back to himself, he felt strong arms holding him in a gentle embrace.
“Princess,” Jackson whispered. “It’s ok. He’s gone, and he isn’t going to say anything.”
Elliot whimpered. “Sorry,” he mumbled into Jackson’s chest.
He could breathe again now, but he stayed nestled against Jackson in an effort to avoid eye contact of any kind. He wanted to explain, but it was bloody mortifying.
“Chris won’t say anything.”
“I know,” Elliot replied. “I know he’s not like—” he gestured emptily, hoping he wouldn’t have to say the words out loud.
“He isn’t.”
“And you won’t say anything about him, about earlier?”
Jackson hugged him tighter. “Definitely not. Not now. I won’t do anything that could hurt you, Ell. Never.”
“I hate feeling like this. I’m just really afraid,” he admitted.
“I know.” Jackson nuzzled his neck. “We don’t have to tell people until you’re ready.”
“What if I never am?”
Jackson didn’t miss a beat. “Then we’ll be super sexy secret spy boyfriends forever.”
“That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Hey,” Jackson said, tipping Elliot’s head up to force him to meet his eyes. “Let me worry about what’s fair to me.”
“But one day you’ll want that. You know, finish line kisses.”
“Is that what you think I want? Finish line kisses?” Jackson sounded amused, which was irritating because Elliot was trying to be serious. Most things about Jackson were irritating, though he liked him anyway. Liked him too much for his own good, because he was going to eventually have to let him go so he could be with someone who could give him everything he deserved.
“The only thing I want, Ell, the only thing I’ve wanted for months now, is you.” Jackson kissed him on the temple. “Well, and an Olympic medal,” he amended.
Elliot shoved him. “They only give out three of those.”
“Do you not believe in me?” Jackson asked in mock offence.
Looking at Jackson, there next to him, Elliot softened. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Fuck. I believe in you one hundred per cent.”
“Oh god, that’s so sappy.” Jackson laughed. “No one would ever believe what an absolute softie you are, Princess.”
