Author's Note: So, first of all, this is NOT the companion piece I had promised for "The Intruder", and for that I apologize. I haven't gotten around to beginning that one yet, and this is something I found left over in last semester's spiral so I thought I would post it in the interim (it is rather fitting for the new, lovely spring weather, after all). It's just a sweet little something that I wrote while bored during class so don't judge it too harshly. Also, if the characters seem a little OOC at times, try to remember that the whole point of the story is that it's a daydream, so it should feel a little strange. Anyway, please enjoy the delicious Heronstairs goodness!

Will was daydreaming. He was laid out beside his favorite old Oak tree, legs sprawled before him, luxuriating in the sunshine like a cat. It was rare indeed that London offered days that were sunny and Will was taking full advantage of this one.

His eyes closed, the warm spring breeze in his dark hair, Will was seeing his parabatai. Beyond the lazy red spots dancing behind closed lids, Will was seeing Jem. He was sleeping – or half-sleeping, or maybe-sleeping – and somewhere, there in the place between dream and waking, Jem was there too.

Will imagined Jem without his cane, healthy and whole, enjoying the temperate weather and teasing Will for his laziness.

"You're worse than Church," he scolded fondly, looking sideways at Will from a yard or so away.

Will rolled his shoulders against the warm grass. "Hmmm?" he asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Nothing," Jem smiled – Will could hear it in his voice – "nothing at all."

Will could see Jem here, and feel him here. He could smell him here – all soft like chamomile tea with sugar cubes and a little spicy like cinnamon and toasted cloves. Will smiled at the smell, at the warmth on his face, and pushed at his mind – nudged it into continuing the daydream.

He heard Jem giggle and opened his eyes to find the other boy examining a caterpillar on the stem of a flower. He put out his hand to let the tiny creature board his pinky finger. Will took note of his graceful movements and smiled.

"It tickles," Jem complained as the caterpillar's furry legs marched over Jem's knuckles.

"'Course it does," Will smiled, "that's what bugs do."

Jem mused on this for a moment, then asked mischievously, "Are you ticklish, Will?"

Will opened his eyes to find Jem had abandoned the caterpillar and now sat beside Will's reclining form, only a hand's span away. He had a terribly wicked gleam in his eye.

Will frowned. "James Carstairs," he said seriously, "we have known each other for a very long time and I consider you my closest friend. You are dearer to me than my own soul, Jem, but I swear to you: if you attempt to tickle me, I will not hesitate from physically tossing you into the nearest body of water."

They stared at each other for a few moments – Jem obviously rolling Will's threat back and forth in his mind, wondering if it might be worth it; Will watching his parabatai warily for any signs of a sneak attack.

"Fine fine," Jem conceded eventually, "have it your own way."

"That's what I thought."

Will closed his eyes once more, arrogant contentment oozing from his every pore. He let himself drift after a few moments, let the breeze blow back his hair, let the warmth of the sun lull him, and Jem's presence sooth him, until his breaths were slow and even and he felt safe.

And that was precisely the moment Jem chose to mount his assault. A flurry of long fingers against Will's ribs, under his arms – everywhere – and Will was shouting, rolling, doing anything he could to get away from the sudden and alarming sensation that was making him giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Jem!" he panted in between mirthful outbursts, "Jem, please! Truce! Truce!"

Jem eased off just enough to let Will breathe but kept him held tight beneath him, ready for a second assault at any moment. "I'm sorry, Will," he sad mockingly, "but I simply cannot release you. You threatened me with bodily harm not moments ago – if you are free, then I am not safe."

Will looked up from his position held fast on the grass and tried to catch his breath. He knew Jem's words were more drama than anything else, and they both knew that from this position Will could easily flip his partner. Jem might have had better aim, cleverer fingers, and greater dexterity, but Will was by far the stronger of the two.

Will grinned, playing the next few moments out in his mind's eye as he knew they would go, as he knew Jem knew they would go. Very well then…

"You have no one to blame for this but yourself," Will smiled, twisted himself out of Jem's hold, got the smaller boy beneath him, then slipped both arms under him and lifted Jem from the grass.

Jem's shout was perhaps not very manly, but then, neither had been Will's earlier giggles. They tripped their way down to the pond at the bottom of the hill. Jem began pleading with his captor when they were yet a few feet away, but Will merely laughed and waded out until the water reached his knees.

"It's quite cool," he taunted Jem, pretending to shiver.

Jem groaned at Will's psychological torment and then smiled as he said, "Alright alright. You've had your revenge-" But he never finished his statement as Will pushed his body up and outward. The silver boy made something of an undignified squeak and threw his arms wide just before hitting the water, as if hoping to grasp something that might save him. The only effect of his flailing, however, was a terrific splash as he hit the surface of the water.

Will doubled over laughing, feeling warmth and contentment like a drug that made his whole body feel lighter.

When Jem resurfaced he looked pitiful. Rivers of water ran from bunched strands of silver hair down over his face and neck. His shirt clung to his willowy frame, making him appear even slighter than he was. But he had murder in his eyes, and Will had only a moment to attempt a retreat when Jem was upon him – arms around his neck, attempting to pull him in. If Will hadn't been so light-headed with bliss and giggles, he might have noticed how close Jem's face was to his own, or the way their bodies were pressed flush against each other.

Jem tugged with all his might, but they both knew that Will wasn't going down unless he wanted to go down. And so it was a surprise to Jem when his parabatai ducked out of his grasp and dove past him into the pond, quicker than Jem could follow.

When Will reappeared several yards away, Jem called to him happily: "You're not playing fair, Will! We both know you're the stronger swimmer."

And though this wasn't necessarily true, Will complied with Jem's unvoiced request and returned to his side in the shallows.

They spent the next hour diving and resurfacing, splashing and waging underwater war, touching and laughing and shedding their clothing piece by piece.

And Will knew it was a daydream because London was sunny and Jem was healthy and Will was happy. But he shut his eyes tighter, let the sun rise higher into the sky. It was directly overhead now and Will could feel his hairline dampening in the noontime heat. He willed himself back into the dream and saw Jem climb out of the water, dripping chilly pond water and stripped down now to just his pants…

Will marveled at how perfectly his mind conjured up Jem's naked frame. He had never actually seen Jem unclothed before, not unless he were sick or injured; Jem was incredibly private – alarmingly modest, even with his parabatai. So Will was truly surprised by how easily he could imagine Jem's form here, in the white sunlight, still slim but whole. Every inch of the boy was pale as moonlight, but his cheeks were kissed crimson with laughter and exercise; his damp hair stuck up in a halo of uneven spikes about his head; his muscles were lean and his skin was young and flawless. Perfect.

Jem laughed at Will still in the water and began wringing out both their clothes. He laid these in the sunlight and laid himself a little ways away on drier ground. Will submerged once more and then followed his parabatai, shaking the water from his hair as he went.

"Will!" Jem protested happily, "you're getting me wet all over again!"

Will made a point of blocking Jem's light and shaking even more vigorously. Jem rolled his eyes, but he smiled too.

Then Will joined him on the grass and they lay for a long time in companionable silence. Will could feel the water slowly evaporating in the sunlight, drop by drop. On his shoulders, his chest, his stomach … it felt warm and cool both at once, sensitizing his skin and making him shiver. And he rolled his head to look at Jem, only to find that Jem was already looking at him. His silver eyes were bright and full of something that looked so much like love that it caught the breath in Will's throat. He was so entirely focused on Jem's eyes, he was slow to recognize the feel of Jem's sun-warmed fingers, still pruned from the water, as they slowly twined with his own.

Jem smiled at him and Will's eyes automatically dropped to his lips. They were full and pink and they parted as Will stared at them. Then they formed the words, "I want to kiss you," and Will startled and looked back up to meet Jem's gaze.

Jem licked his lips and squeezed Will's hand. He lifted himself up onto an elbow and looked down at Will. There was sunlight shining from behind his silver hair, the breeze was playing with it and casting all sorts of disorienting shadows…

Jem watched Will's lips, then met his eyes one last time and whispered, "Will? I am going to kiss you now…" before closing his eyes and lowering himself to meet Will's mouth.

Will watched him come as if in slow motion. A pale angel backed by white sunlight, casting everything in a bright, pure brilliance. A single drop of water slid down the bridge of Jem's nose, exploded on to Will's cheekbone, and then Jem was kissing him.

If Will thought his occasional back-alley flings with tavern girls had counted as anything remotely resembling romantic experience, he was sorely mistaken. Jem did not blush and giggle, or accidentally-on purpose let his hands roam to Will's waist, or tease Will with batted eyelashes and stray locks of hair. His kiss was honest, and bold, and meaningful. He held Will's face solidly between his two hands in a way that made it very clear that his kiss was intentional and meant for one person and one person only. So unlike the sloppy, arbitrary trysts of his past – girls liked to play at romance, certainly, but the reality of it was that Will could have been any boy in the world – they were not all that selective.

But Jem was, and he had chosen Will. He let his first kiss settle on Will's lips, pressed together, deliberate and sure. Then he pulled back just enough to let Will feel the warm air rush between them. When he returned he kissed Will's top lip, and slipped away just as Will tilted his head to meet him. He did the same with Will's bottom lip. Then he pressed forward, a fraction of an inch, met Will in a kiss that mirrored the first, and parted his lips, parting Will's at the same time. Will felt Jem's breath inside him and sucked it in greedily; he felt Jem softly chuckle.

Jem tilted his head just a bit to the left and, still holding Will firmly between his hands, let his tongue find Will's. Will arched up into the kiss, held himself up on his elbows, let Jem hover above him, let Jem control the method and trajectory of the kiss. And Jem did – set an agonizingly slow pace, guided Will where he wanted him by the long fingers holding him close, took pleasure and offered it in equal measure. And Will's body language could not have been more obvious – his neck straining to receive more, his arms shaking with the effort of trying to get closer, his mouth open and eager and accommodating: Will was putty in Jem's hands. He wanted, but he would not take; he was absolutely desperate, but Jem was making him wait.

It was the most fantastic sensation Will had ever experienced.

When Jem retreated, Will followed. Jem laughed and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs over the soft skin just beneath Will's eyes – dark blue and dancing.

Will wanted to say, "Come back", "Don't go", "This is heaven", but only managed to whimper Jem's name.

Jem smiled and let his fingers slide down Will's cheeks to brush his swollen lips. And then he asked: "Are you happy, William?" and Will's heart beat a few uneven beats in his throat.

"Deliriously so," he whispered, and was shocked at the sincerity in his own voice.

"Good," Jem replied thoughtfully, "because I have wanted to do that for a very, very long time."

Will could have replied that he had surely wanted it longer than Jem had, that he had spent so many nights fantasizing about this very moment, that he would have declared himself years ago had he only known, that this was his daydream after all…

Will opened his eyes and felt the scratchy confines of his shirt against his shoulders. He had been lying still too long; the sun was descending into late afternoon. He brought a hand up to touch his lips and groaned at the stiffness in his arms. He could still smell Jem, could still feel Jem all over – closer than his own skin and far more dear. But the noontide sun had long faded and there was no pond and no one to hold him steady. Will felt the hollowness settle in his chest – the old bittersweet melody he had learned by ear, and could have wept.

"Were we playing hide-and-go-seek? No one told me."

Will sat up to see Jem arduously climbing his hill, cane clutched in one hand, the other at his chest as if it might make breathing easier.

"I am always playing hide-and-go-seek," Will joked bitterly. "Congratulations, friend, you've found me."

Jem laughed. "How long have you been up here?"

"I haven't the faintest. What time is it?"

Jem checked his pocket watch. "Near to six," he said, before joining Will on the grass.

Will scrunched up his nose. "Five hours then? Or near enough to make no matter."

Jem smiled fondly. "I thought so. Here," he passed over Will's jacket. "It's going to get cold once the sun sets. I thought you might need this."

Will took it and laid it across his knees. "You haven't come to fetch me back?"

"Well supper is over and done with, Charlotte has dismissed you as a lost cause, and I told Thomas to cancel our evening training. So no, I am not here to do fetching of any sort. Just to bring you your coat."

"Why did you cancel our training?"

Jem shrugged. "It was sunny today. You always spend sunny days lazing about up here." Jem frowned a moment. "Was I mistaken? We can go back and have Thomas-"

"No no," Will interrupted, "you were quite right. Though the use of the word 'lazing' may have been unwarranted…" Will smiled sideways at his parabatai.

Jem laughed and lay back in the grass. "My apologies. What would you say it is you do up here, five hours at a stretch?"

Will looked over his shoulder and down at Jem, lying and smiling up at him. The sun was all but gone now, slipped finally behind the dip of the horizon. There were dim shadows beneath Jem's eyes, but his silver hair splayed around his face like a halo and his lips were soft and smiling. Will tugged on the coat Jem had brought him.

"Dreaming," he said after a while, a note of sadness that did not go unnoticed in his voice. He lay back beside Jem and said, "I come here for dreaming."

Together they watched the sky turn pink, then purple, then blue. And then the stars came out.