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Their first date had happened remarkably quickly, especially given how hesitant that Price had been at first. Of course, it helped that that hesitance had been because of how frowned upon a relationship between officers of their ranks would have been, and not because of any lack of interest. To the contrary, when Price had finally conceded that the consequences would be worth dealing with, he had been even more enthusiastic about planning things than Gaz had.
So Gaz had let him take the reins. He wasn’t complaining - if Price wanted to wine and dine and sweep him off his feet, Gaz was happy to be taken along for the ride. Their first date wasn’t exactly either of the former, but Gaz was certainly swept off his feet.
Price had taken him out to a dance hall - something that Gaz didn’t know even still existed - and introduced him to the entire experience. It was new to Gaz, and he was a little nervous at first. Price hadn’t really given him any warning that they’d be going dancing, and Gaz had never been one to learn any dances. Sure, he could manage to dance at a party or a club, but this was a whole different beast. Everyone there seemed to know the steps to a dozen different dances, and which ones they were supposed to do to each and every song, and it was a little overwhelming.
Price seemed to know all that too, though, and had just chuckled when Gaz had told him that he didn’t know how to do any of this.
“You think I brought you here to not use it as an excuse to teach you to dance?” Price had chuckled, before taking him by the hand.
The song they had started out with wasn't slow by any means, and Gaz still felt as though he couldn't keep up with it as Price started to lead him through the steps, but compared to some of the other songs that had already been playing, he was grateful this was the one Price had chosen. This, at least, he felt like he could eventually keep up with, if only he could stop stepping on Price's feet every time he tried to look the man in the eyes.
It felt a little embarrassing, to be fucking up so often, especially because Gaz knew he was more coordinated than this. It was just that this was new, and he was nervous for the date to go well, and he didn't entirely know what he was doing. Price didn't seem to mind though, and just let Gaz keep stepping on his feet without a word of complaint.
“Sorry,” he said, after the song - a mere three minutes, and yet as long as an eternity - was over, “I swear I’m more coordinated than this.”
Price just chuckled again. Oh, how Gaz loved that laugh. “Don’t worry about it, Kyle, I didn’t exactly expect you to be a master dancer or anything. You’re doing great, anyway. Picking things up very fast.”
Price’s voice had dropped a little at that last part, and Gaz could feel his face heat up. But then the next song had started to play, a little faster than the last one, and Price had dragged him back out onto the dance floor.
Price led him through the next few songs with ease, barely losing his time even as Gaz stepped on his feet or dragged them in entirely the wrong direction. Instead, he just continued to murmur soft praise to Gaz after every song, and despite never having been one to blush particularly visibly, he was sure that Price could tell how much it was affecting him.
Eventually, Gaz felt as if he might be getting the hang of it. As the slow notes of a song began, Price pulled him onto the floor for one last dance.
It was a waltz - or at least, it seemed that way, if Gaz was remembering correctly - and slow enough that for the first time he thought he might not screw it up.
Price seemed to be enjoying himself, especially this song, mouthing along to the lyrics as he led Gaz through the steps.
"Can't take my eyes off of you," he sang aloud, a touch off key and entirely untalented. It should have been embarrassing, cringe worthy even, but Gaz was too far gone on the man to care.
Gaz was about to snark something back, try to distract a little from the way he was flustered and turning to jelly under Price's touch. But then the song suddenly sped up, Price's steps moving faster with it.
As the lyrics of the chorus began, Price dropped him into a dip, and it took all of his willpower for Gaz not to let out a cry of shock.
Price wasn't lying though. He didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off Gaz, all throughout the rest of the dance. Even when he span Gaz, or dipped him again, his eyes were locked on Gaz.
It was… thrilling. Intoxicating. Maybe a little unnerving. Gaz wasn't used to being looked at like that.
As the song ended, and they finally stepped away from the dance floor, Gaz could finally start to catch his breath. He couldn't tell if it was the intensity of the dancing or the way that Price had been looking at him, but either way, it had been knocked right out of him.
"I know that we take the piss out of you for being an old man," said Gaz, "but I think this might be a new highlight."
"What?" asked Price, tone teasing, "Not enjoying yourself enough? Because I'm sure we could fix that."
Gaz didn't have a response for that, maybe a little too flustered from the whole date. If this was what a first date was like, what would things be like further down the line?
If he was being honest, Gaz was a little afraid to find out. He wasn't sure he could handle being tongue tied all that often.
But he couldn't just not go on another date after this. Gaz was very thankful that Price had decided this was worth getting in trouble for fraternising over. He didn't know how he had managed to live without this before now.
The first time Price had said “I love you”, Gaz had just about almost died. Not because he couldn’t handle hearing it - although, admittedly, Gaz had almost had a heart attack when it happened - but because Price had decided to do it at the worst possible time.
Well, not the worst possible time, they hadn’t been on the field or anything, but it was certainly inopportune.
They’d been off base for a week, an overly cautious case of medical leave after Gaz had fallen out of a helicopter - again - and Price had taken some of his built up leave to coincide with it. The two of them were at Price’s house that night, cooking dinner together for a quiet night in.
That was how things had become, of late. Domestic. Sweet. Wonderfully so.
"Pass me the salt, would you?" asked Gaz. He was working away at a stir fry in a pan while Price chopped up more ingredients to add later. There was a painful domesticity to it, and Gaz was in far too deep because of it.
"Of course," said Price, leaning around to press a kiss to Gaz's cheek as he handed over the salt.
"Thanks," said Gaz, turning to put the salt down.
He was a little distracted from the pan, sure, but it was only for a moment, and nothing was happening, so it shouldn't have been an issue.
"Anytime," said Price, "I love you."
Gaz had not been able to process that. He felt the salt drop out of his hand and onto the countertop. He reached out with both arms to brace himself on something. It just so happened that the something nearest was a hot stove.
His hands were maybe a millimetre from the pan's surface when his reflexes finally, finally , kicked back in, and he jolted away from the stove.
"Shit," he hissed. It wasn't exactly the reaction he had hoped to have to this moment, but it also wasn't anything like the situation he had expected it in.
"Are you okay?" asked Price, turning back towards him, "Shit, Kyle, did you burn yourself? Get it under cold water quickly, I'll worry about the food."
"No, no," said Gaz, trying to reassure him, "it's fine, I didn't burn myself. I just..."
He was a little worried that Price would misinterpret his reaction as negative, but thankfully the man just looked concerned.
"Sorry," said Price, "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay," said Gaz, "it wasn't in a bad way, at least."
"Oh?" asked Price, crowding back into Gaz's space now that he knew he was okay, "What kind of way was it, then?"
"This kind," said Gaz, pulling the man into a kiss.
It might have gone on forever - or at least as long as they could hold their breath - but then Gaz took a step back, his back knocking into the stovetop, and suddenly he was springing forwards again.
"Okay," said Price, "no kissing in the kitchen anymore, got it."
"Good," said Gaz, "as much as I love you back, I don't think I love you enough to get burns because you wanted to get a little handsy."
The evening after they move into their first home together is a little bit magical, if Gaz does say so himself.
They're only half unpacked, just furniture and essentials mostly, and they're far too tired to do anything about it. One of them - and John will insist that it wasn't him, but Gaz hadn't been in charge of the kitchen supplies, had he? - had managed to bury most of their cookware deep into a box that was very much not in the kitchen, so cooking was off the table.
John was flicking through the pile of takeout menus that they'd been collecting, humming over what to get to christen their new home with. So Gaz had taken the opportunity to go find a specific box.
Mostly it just held decor and knick knacks for the living room, the box simply labelled "misc. living", but Gaz had been the one to pack it up, so he knew that the item he was looking for was inside. He'd had to check a second box for the other half of what he was searching for - this one labelled "music" - but John had seemed distracted enough that he didn't seem to notice.
In fact, the whole while that Gaz dragged their record player out - John insisted he was not an old man, but its presence suggested otherwise - he was completely left to his own devices. When he pulled the record from its sleeve and set the needle down, that changed.
As the opening notes played out, Gaz could hear John putting the pile of menus down, walking back into the living room to join him.
They didn't have to say a word, just took each other arm in arm and settled into the oh so familiar box waltz they had been dancing together for years.
"You're just too good to be true," teased John.
"Can't take my eyes off of you," echoed Gaz, because if they were being sappy, he was going to be sappy too.
Even though his feet didn't stumble, even though he had done the dance a thousand times before and knew the steps so well he could do them in his sleep, Gaz felt the strangest tinge of nerves in his stomach. Like he was just a young thing again, out dancing with his captain for the first time, breaking rules they absolutely shouldn't be.
And then the music sped up, the horns coming in, and Gaz prepared himself.
When John dipped him, he felt that same rush as he had the first time. But this time, it was John's turn to hold back a gasp, as Gaz pulled the man down after him, their lips meeting in a kiss.
Just as fast as he had been dipped, the kiss was suddenly over, the two falling back into the steps of the dance again. But John was a shade redder, and this time he was the one stepping on Gaz's feet.
"Remind you of anything?" he asked.
"Mmmmmm," hummed John, "this does feel a little familiar."
"Yeah?" asked Gaz, "What does it remind you of?"
"I dunno," said John, "you might have to help me jog my memory again."
And then he was dipping Gaz again - not at all at the correct time - and kissing the daylights out of him.
By the time the song had reached the end, they were lying on the floor, John's head resting on Gaz's chest.
"I love you," said John, grinning down at him, "so much."
"I know," said Gaz, "you can't seem to take your eyes off me."
John swatted at him then, laughing. "I don't know why I put up with you."
"Neither do I," said Gaz, "now get off me, old man, we have dinner to order."
The rest of their night was about as benign as they always were. They ate their dinner on the couch, sprawled out across each other as they chatted about everything and nothing at all. It was domestic, and boring, and Gaz couldn't believe that this was his boring now.
Because even that was magical. Sure, he had orchestrated the important bit, but he couldn't work miracles. And this certainly felt like one.
John might have been the one to say it all the time, but Gaz was pretty sure that the song had become their song more than just because it was true for him. As they settled into bed in their house for the first night, Gaz found himself desperate to keep his eyes open.
After all, he didn't want to take them off the best thing in his life.