Uh...France?{Jeffmads}

You waited too long for this sorry

Twenty two

James sighed in relief, one more hour and he'd be free of Reynolds' torment.

"What are you working on?" Reynolds snatched up one of James's draft copies of a newspaper report he'd been writing.
James hastily tried to get it back but Reynolds held it high.

"Give it back!" James demanded, trying his best to reach.

"Take it and you can have it." Reynolds pushed him back down into his chair. James gritted his teeth, balling his fists and giving Reynolds a hard look.

"Give it to me!"

"Jesus, you're like a gremlin." Reynolds continued reading through the draft. James stood to try again but Reynolds raised it above his head, someone then snatched it from him.

"Get back to work," Jack Kelly said from behind him, his accent driving the demand home. Reynolds hastily made off for his own desk. "This yours?" Jack held out the draft.

"Yes."

Jack handed him the paper with a sympathetic smile. "He pesters you like that again," he started. "Tell me, a'ight?"

James nodded and watched as Jack turned on his heel and headed off. He sat back and straightened out the now crumpled paper, placing it beside his computer and resuming his typing. He sighed, pausing his work to read over it. He was quite pleased with it. His friends had always told him he had quite a way with words, he always enjoyed acknowledging that he could often find clever if not brilliant ways to write something.

Finishing finalizing his report quite quickly, James had been complimented on his work by his boss and had it sent to the publisher's to be printed in the next issue of the magazine he rarely agreed to write for.

Before he knew it, it was time to gather up his things and head home. He packed all of his papers neatly in with his computer and headed out, Jack waved to him as he left.

Plugging his headphones into his phone, he put his musical theatre playlist of shuffle and walked home. He reached the complex and headed by himself into the elevator, the first thing he saw upon reaching his floor was Thomas outside of his door.

Thomas sat there, his back against the wall and his eyes closed, something lay beside him. James took out his headphones and made his way over. "Thomas? What are you doing?

Thomas's eyes flew open and he turned to James, a smile spreading across his face. He stood and grabbed the item beside him, a newspaper. "Waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Two reasons," Thomas stepped forward. "One; I happended to stumble upon this article today, written by non other then a mysterious James Madison." Thomas showed James the article with that he had in fact written, his names signed at the bottom. James felt a little embarrassed now.

"And, what else?"

"I want to take you somewhere." Thomas stepped aside as James unlocked his apartment and entered, Thomas following. "Put all your stuff down and hurry up."

"Where are we going?" James asked as he set down his keys and computer bag.

"It's a surprised." Thomas took the keys in his hand and headed for the door.

"Should I be concerned?" James sighed, following reluctantly. James waited outside and locked the door behind James as he exited.

"Course not,"

James chuckled mirthlessly. "But for some reason I am." They headed down to the parking area and climbed into James's car. For the first few minuets of the drive the two fought over what radio station to play but finally agreed on one and James had to suffer with Thomas singing with passion but no pitch. When they finally seemed to have arrived, Thomas insisted James closed his eyes whilst he led him to the 'surprise', as he referred to it. They'd parked by an old fence and on the other side was what looked like a small forest. 

The ground beneath his feet was rough, James was confused, why had they come here? Thomas made him wear his hoodies and pulled the string so his whole face was covered, he couldn't see anything. Thomas led him slowly so he wouldn't trip over anything, he outstretched his other arm to feel around him. Eventually they came to a stop and Thomas pushed James in front of him.

"Look," he instructed. James pulled back the hood and found what he was staring at was a thick tree trunk with a make do ladder that travelled all the way to the top where a wooden platform just poked through the canopy. Immediately he felt a sense of nostalgia wash heavily over him.

"Monticello." He said, taking another moment to look at it all before turning back around to Thomas. Thomas who wore the most sheepish expression, like a child excited, "You remembered."

"Of course I did!" Thomas ran forward and began to climb the ladder, "C'mon, Jemmy boy!" James followed him up the ladder without hesitation. The treehouse creaked under their weight a little and James felt a jab of panic for just a second or two. Both boys had to bend to avoid hitting their heads on the ceiling of Monticello.

"This brings back so many memories." James sat and Thomas joined him.

"Yeah, it does."

What followed was silence, a comfortable silence that neither of the boys wanted to break. They stayed there like that until the stars shined into the small windows, but even then they didn't leave. They fell asleep there in the tree house, next to each other and close together.