Characters/Pairing: Owen, John, Bran (Owen/John)
Summary: Owen deviates -- just a little.
Notes: For over_look.
He didn't mean to kiss John. It was a thing that happened, a moment of gravity, inevitability. And yet -- it didn't feel wrong, and John didn't push him away, but put his hands on his shoulders and looked into his face, confused and yet --
It had been stupid. A teenager's thing. A temptation, a pitfall, a test of faith. But he hadn't been able to resist. He'd kissed John again, despite everything. And John had kissed back.
Nobody seemed to realise. The first time he'd walked into the church after it, he'd expected to feel guilt. But there was only welcome in the still, quiet little place -- and something softened, something new. He was tempted to think he hadn't done a wrong thing after all, despite everything he'd ever been told about it. It was easy to believe that it changed nothing, meant nothing except that he had someone, that John had someone. Comfort, and companionship, and a friend to rely on, but deeper.
"Does it feel wrong?" Bran asked, awkward, tense, when he confessed about it; driven to distraction by the thought of John's rough-skinned hands cupping his face, the thought of John's mouth surprisingly soft against his.
"No," he said, quietly. "But -- "
"Trust your judgement," Bran said, almost gently. Then he stood up, scraping his chair back. "And please, don't ask me about romance again, okay? It's... weird."
Owen reached out, ruffling Bran's hair -- just the same as always, almost, except something was softer here, too, an old pain easing away. Bran made a face at him and hurried to his own room, dragging his schoolbag after him.
And John was coming up the path to the door.
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