A/N: This is something I wrote while in Oxford this summer(taking an English course) where I went against my unoriginality instincts and wrote about where I was. What I knew. Oxford inspired me the day that I wrote this, and I’m very glad I let it. This is one of the short stories I’ve written almost like practice for myself, to not think about everything so much and just let the story guide me. Also to describe looks and surroundings more, as that is one of the major criticisms I’ve gotten from various friends and teachers over the years. You probably won’t be too fond of this unless you’re a sappy romantic just like me.

“I feel like a tourist,” Ben said and continued to bite his thumbnail.
“You are a tourist,” Martin smiled affectionately at him as he took another stroke to propel them further along the Thames, that was more correctly called the Isis as it was running into Oxford. A gust of wind caught their boat making it sway slightly.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Ben remarked, continuing his string of falsely negative comments.
Martin knew that Ben didn’t like being in a boat, but he also knew that he loved Oxford, meaning that most of Ben’s protests against doing anything touristy were bound to be simply for the sake of protesting. Rowing further down the river, Martin studied his boyfriend. The over-sized t-shirt with a Beatles print, the long, blonde hair done up in a ponytail, the dark sunglasses giving an air of nonchalance to him(but that was really just a way for him to hide what he was looking at). Like right now, when he was alternating between looking at the scenery and looking at Martin’s bare chest. He really wasn’t trying to show off. The day was just exceptionally hot.

They made an odd couple, Ben and him. Martin was half Greek and tanned all through the year while Ben had ancestors from Scandinavia, which made him pale in the winter and blushed when he was exposed to the sun. Martin was confident and loved to exercise while Ben was more careful and had an insatiable love for ice cream. As did Martin, when he came to think of it. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Not when it came to ice cream flavours, and not the important stuff either. They had the same religious views, the same political believes and they loved the same music. But above all, they loved each other. Martin stopped rowing, putting the oars down on the sides of the boat and smiled at his boyfriend. He couldn’t suppress the urge to reach forward and kiss him.
“I love you,” he said between kisses, ones that Ben reciprocated happily.
“What’s gotten into you?” Ben asked with a smile on his face.
“You have,” Martin answered and peppered his neck with kisses. The boat swung back and forth as their kissing got more heated, and as Martin leaned further forward the balance was set off. Panting, Ben reached for him, grabbing on to his belt buckle to pull him closer. Neither of them noticed how much the boat was tipping, nor did they think of any possible witnesses to their passionate display of affection, despite the business of the day. The wind grabbed on to them once more, this time causing the already unstable boat to wobble, and just like that the inevitable happened.

At first they were shocked, and Ben managed to swallow a mouthful of dirty water, but then they got themselves together and resolutely swam to shore. Laughing, they sat there on the grass for a good five minutes, before they realised that the boat they had been in was a rental.

EDIT 21st February 2013: I’m a huge Sherlock fan, and I’ve read a fair amount of Johnlock fanfic in my time, but I seriously didn’t realize until now that these characters are called Ben and Martin. Seriously. Perhaps my subconscious was trying to tell me something(though they obviously don’t look like Ben and Martin, but still).

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