Cute kid, Harry decided. He'd noticed Orlando from the first – really, who hadn't? – and, over the last few weeks, had been pleasantly surprised at how grounded Orlando seemed in private. Quite a contrast to all of his crazy antics. "No worries," he replied, and patted the space next to him. "Plenty of room." Orlando sat and held up a half-full bottle of port. "Drink?" "Yeah, alright." Harry felt a small jolt when Orlando's fingers brushed over his. Their feet dangled over the edge of the dock as they sat in companionable silence, looking up at the stars, and enjoying the warm, clear night. "Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art...Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night..." Orlando recited softly. "Coleridge? Harry asked, impressed. "Keats." "Would've never pegged you for a poet." "Not like I wrote it." "Still." "Guess there's more to me than meets the eye," Orlando smiled, and was still smiling when Harry leaned over to brush their lips together in a light kiss. "I'd like to find out how much more." "Good."
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