"I'm worried about Anthony."
Sören gave a sad smile. "Hi Worried About Anthony, I'm -"
"Sören." But Nicholas wasn't angry - after over two years of being with Sören, he was used to it by now, understanding this was one of Sören's coping mechanisms. It was, in a way, strangely comforting.
Sören exhaled and nodded, his face stone sober now. "Jæja. I've seen him upset before, but... never like this. It's understandable, what with his father having just died, but -" Sören made a vague hand gesture, like he couldn't find the right words.
"But still concerning."
"Já."
Nicholas had also been with Sören long enough to know that when more Icelandic peppered his speech, emotions were running high. The look in Sören's sweet brown eyes broke Nicholas's heart all over again - it wasn't just that Anthony wasn't doing well, but Sören hurt for him, and that made Nicholas hurt too. Nicholas paused his work in the kitchen and came around to where Sören was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, and gave him a tight hug.
It was Saturday night - Roger's wake was going to happen tomorrow, Sunday afternoon. Anthony had taken the entire week off from work. Sometimes he was with his mother in Blackheath, but when he was home, he tended to retreat to the bedroom and just lay in bed, sleeping too much, or not sleeping at all, laying there looking like the world had ended. He hadn't eaten much this past week, and he spoke little; Anthony had been too depressed for sex, as well. Nicholas was making bouillabaisse tonight, one of Anthony's favorite things that he cooked, hoping to encourage Anthony to eat something, since barely eating for days like this wasn't good for him.
Dinner was, in fact, almost ready. "Come taste this and tell me what you think," Nicholas said, dipping a big spoon into the pot.
Sören got off the stool, walked over, and gave Nicholas a kiss, tongues swirling sensually. Nicholas groaned into the kiss, cock stirring. With a cheeky grin, Sören leaned in and sipped on the broth in the spoon. "Delicious," Sören said. "The soup's good too."
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. He swatted Sören's ass. "Teasing brat."
"Takk." Sören turned around to give a sassy butt wiggle. Then Sören faced Nicholas again, folded his arms and leaned back. "Should I go upstairs and tell him it's dinnertime?"
"If you don't mind."
Sören went upstairs while Nicholas got out dishes and silverware. He thought about serving dinner in the rooftop garden, but before he could head to the stairs up to the roof, Sören came back, shaking his head. "He says he's not hungry."
Nicholas's eyebrows shot up. "Did you tell him what it was?"
Sören nodded.
That was cause for alarm - Anthony normally wouldn't turn down bouillabaisse. Nicholas finally took off his apron, throwing it haphazardly on the counter rather than hanging it up neatly, and found himself storming upstairs. Anthony was under his weighted blanket, holding his stuffed lion Finn, eyes closed, with Seumas keeping vigil beside him and Miss Balls laying on top of him. Nicholas picked up Miss Balls with one hand and turned down the blanket with the other.
"Anthony, come eat, or I'm going to force feed you."
Anthony opened his eyes and gave Nicholas a look.
"Yes, I understand it's very difficult right now. But you're not doing yourself any favors by not eating." Nicholas put a hand on his hip. Miss Balls squirmed and meowed, and Nicholas gently set her down on the bed. Miss Balls climbed back on top of Anthony and put the "paw of ownership" on him.
Anthony sighed. "I know you went to a lot of trouble -"
"For you. Because I care." Nicholas's voice softened. "Your father's death wasn't your fault, and you shan't punish yourself for it."
Anthony put Finn off to the side, picked up Miss Balls and gave her a hug - she headbutted his face, then gave his right eyebrow a little nibble. Nicholas managed a smile. Anthony kissed the cat, set her down and sat up, stretching. Nicholas handed Anthony his cane, and Anthony, in his pajamas, followed Nicholas out of the bedroom.
"That's a good boy," Nicholas found himself saying.
Anthony paused, and Nicholas turned around. Anthony reached out and gave Nicholas a hug. Nicholas pulled Anthony close, squeezed him, and tousled his already-tousled hair. He kissed the top of Anthony's head and rocked him a little. "We'll get through this, one step at a time."
Anthony just leaned on Nicholas for a moment, saying nothing, but the sorrow in his green eyes, dark circles underneath, said it all. Nicholas felt like crying with him and for him, but he stayed strong. He took Anthony's free hand and led him to the stairwell, and they came down together, to Sören's waiting arms.
Up in the rooftop garden, with the fairy lights and lanterns lit up, Sören and Nicholas kept the conversation light, to avoid awkward silence. But then, the conversation got a bit more serious - a few months ago, they had planned on taking a holiday in August, but Sören had gotten some pressure to put that off longer to help pick up the slack as yet another doctor went into private practice. Sören announced that a new vacation window had opened up for October or November, and they discussed the merits of going sooner versus waiting till it was closer to Sören's birthday.
"Really, I could use an entire fucking month off." Sören scowled.
For the first time since they had gotten together, Nicholas mused aloud, "Are you quite sure you want to take a consultancy at the National?"
Sören shrugged. "I don't fucking know anymore. I haven't made art in months. I'm always too tired, too tapped out." He sighed. "I'm surprised my blood pressure isn't through the roof." Then Sören facepalmed, realizing he'd said that out loud in front of Anthony, whose father had died days ago of a heart attack. "Sorry."
"It's all right." Anthony nodded. "Though, that's something we should all be keeping track of. I made an appointment for a physical in two weeks. Having a first-degree relative die of a heart attack means I'm going to have to be careful."
"You're not exactly in a stress-free profession yourself." Sören frowned. Then he facepalmed again. "Jesus. No more vino, no more veritas." He put down his glass of wine.
"No, and I feel about as burned out as you do." Anthony sighed and looked down. "At least my father seemed to be enjoying his retirement before he passed on."
"Sixty-seven is too young to go, nowadays," Sören said. "But at least there's that - he seemed to have a full enough life, from what I could tell."
Nicholas finished his glass of wine. Roger was born in 1950 - he would have been sixty-eight in early July. Nicholas would be sixty-nine in December. His eyes met Anthony's across the table and he knew Anthony was considering that age, possibly wondering how much longer he had left. Nicholas sometimes wondered about his mortality as well, how many years he had left - how many good years, where Sören would not have to be in the position of caring for a frail old man. Right now, Nicholas felt healthy. He walked, he did tai chi, he gardened, he drank at least a glass of wine every day, he had a regular sex life, he enjoyed his job though he sometimes had complaints about his students... all in all, he didn't feel like he was at death's door. But then, Roger had seemed healthy as well, and then suddenly...
Anthony got up from the table. "Excuse me."
Once Anthony left the garden, Sören put his face in his hands. "I put my foot in it, didn't I."
"No, not really." Nicholas took one of Sören's hands and kissed it, stroked it reassuringly. "I think everything is simply raw for him right now. I don't think he's angry with you."
Sören looked down, seemingly unconvinced.
That night Nicholas and Sören retired early, to make sure they were rested for the wake tomorrow. In the middle of the night Nicholas's bladder woke him up, as it was wont to do at his age. When he got out of bed and began the bleary-eyed stumble to the bathroom, he noticed Anthony's space on the other end of the bed was empty. Sören was sleeping like a log, snoring softly. As Nicholas walked down the hall towards the bathroom he saw it was unoccupied, so it wasn't that Anthony had gotten up to use the bathroom. Nicholas felt a prickle of anxiety that got stronger as he washed up, and he decided to head downstairs to see if Anthony was there, sitting up in distress.
Anthony wasn't downstairs, and now the prickle of anxiety became full-fledged panic. Nicholas hoped Anthony hadn't done anything rash in his grief, and even the slight possibility that he had filled Nicholas with terror. He grabbed his cell phone from the charger but then he saw Anthony's cell phone was still on its charger and it wasn't like Anthony to leave without his cell phone, unless of course he had done something rash. But there was no note, nothing else amiss. In fact, Anthony's brogues were exactly where they were supposed to be in the shoe rack.
Nicholas took a few deep breaths, and went with the most logical option. He went up to the rooftop and sure enough, Anthony was sitting there with the lanterns lit, staring off into space. Nicholas quietly sat down next to him.
"Bad dream? Couldn't sleep?"
"Both." Anthony gave a humorless laugh.
Nicholas put an arm around him, and after a moment Anthony rested his head on his shoulder. Nicholas began to rub Anthony's back, and pet his hair.
A long silence passed, and at last Anthony said, "You know, I give speeches in front of courtrooms, I have to live and die by my words... and I can't think of a bloody thing to say at the wake tomorrow. Words fail me. Everything is too raw, everything hurts too much."
"Is it possible for you to forego saying anything?"
"Well, sure, I could say I can't, but that... wouldn't look good. I'd feel worse if I didn't even try, than if I just got up there and cried like an idiot." Anthony exhaled.
"Perhaps that's what you should go with. Say you have too many feelings... because you loved him."
"Perhaps." Anthony frowned. "I don't know. I'm trying to think before I give up. It's why I came up here."
"I didn't know where you were, but I'm glad my suspicion was right."
"I'm sorry if I alarmed you."
Nicholas patted him. "I'm not angry, dear heart."
Anthony kissed Nicholas's cheek and rested on his shoulder again.
"Do you want me to let you be so you can process your thoughts about the speech?" Nicholas asked.
"Not yet." Anthony snuggled closer.
Nicholas couldn't resist. He pulled Anthony against his chest and started rocking him a little, continuing to pet his hair. Anthony didn't cry - in fact, he hadn't cried much at all this past week, as far as Nicholas could see, it was as if Anthony was numb and in a state of shock. Nicholas had a feeling that dam was going to break sooner rather than later, and he needed to be there when it did. But for now, Anthony just let himself be held, and when Nicholas got sleepy again, Anthony followed him back to bed. Nicholas tucked Anthony in before going around to the other side of the bed, and Sören rolled against Anthony, murmuring soothing noises as he spooned him and wrapped his arms around Anthony's waist. Nicholas spooned Sören, and Tobias climbed on him, purring. The sound of Tobias's deep purr lulled Nicholas to sleep.
"My father and I had a good relationship. It wasn't the best. We didn't see eye to eye on everything. We were... very different. But it was still good. I never doubted that my father loved me, and I like to believe he knew how much I loved him. And for all of our difference on sociopolitical issues, he accepted his gay son. As a criminal defense barrister, I have many clients who were born with less privilege than myself, who made the wrong choices because they didn't have many options. Sometimes, I get a young queer kid who ends up selling drugs or their body because they've been on the street, or close to it, for some time, the same sad story of parents who kicked them out for falling somewhere under the LGBT umbrella. That never happened to me. I didn't come out to my parents until I was in my late twenties, but neither of them were surprised - they both suspected it when I was a teenager, and they took it in stride. I could have been one of those kids I fight for, and I didn't, because, whatever my father's flaws, he understood his son was human, and queer people just want love and family like everyone else. Just before he died, I came out to him as polyamorous, in a committed relationship with two men, and he was OK with that too. That meant more to me than he will ever know, not just his acceptance in and of itself, but the gift of hope that came with it, that if somebody as conservative as him can come to a place of understanding and acceptance, maybe someday there will be equality and justice for all. Thank you."
Anthony stepped down, tears in his eyes. Elaine gave him a fierce, tight hug - Elaine had been trying to keep composure so far, but now she started to weep, and Anthony cried a little as they clung to each other. Then Anthony took his seat between Nicholas and Sören. Nicholas offered Anthony a handkerchief, and Sören kissed his cheek and took his hand.
"Your speech was lovely," Nicholas whispered, and meant it. For someone who had struggled with the right thing to say, Anthony had said something beautiful and inspiring. Nicholas was also touched that Anthony had outed himself as polyamorous - with himself and Sören - in front of all these people, almost none of whom Nicholas recognized, extended family and family friends. He knew that in 2017 it wasn't as scandalous as it was a couple of decades ago, but polyamory still had a way to go for societal acceptance. Nicholas felt proud of Anthony... and proud to have Anthony as one of his partners.
"Proud of you," Sören husked, mirroring Nicholas's thought.
"Indeed." Nicholas put an arm around Anthony, and was able to reach to rub and pat Sören's shoulder as well.
The rest of the service passed in a blur. Anthony managed to pull himself back together, though he was looking ill at ease, like he just wanted to get back to his home and his bed. Unfortunately, Anthony wouldn't get to do that for some hours - after the wake they had plans to have dinner with Elaine at her house.
When the service was over, Nicholas was finally introduced to several people - neighbors who had known Elaine and Roger for decades, some of Roger's friends, who were polite but palpably uncomfortable... and then Nicholas met the surviving Hewlett-Johnson brother, a man named Grant who had the same hawkish grey-blue eyes of Roger.
With Grant was his son Alistair, an Olympic sport fencer who'd once won bronze, who Nicholas had only heard of by reputation, namely that Alistair and Anthony did not get along. Alistair bore a striking resemblance to Prince Harry, but clean-shaven, and a bit darker auburn. Alistair gave Anthony a smile that did not meet his eyes. "Cornelius. It's been a long time."
Anthony gave Alistair what Nicholas recognized as his "courtroom smile" as Anthony shook his hand. "Hello, Alistair."
"I'm sorry about your dad."
"So am I." Anthony nodded.
"That was some speech you made there." And that was when the mask came off, and Alistair stopped smiling, now looking at his cousin like something the cat dragged in. "Did you have to bring up being gay."
Anthony blinked. "I... beg your pardon."
"What is it with you people? Always making everything about identity politics. This is a funeral, not the Gay Bloody Pride parade. It's fine if you want to be a deviant behind closed doors, but you don't need to shove it in our bloody faces. Your father might have accepted you, but I assure you, wankers like you who go on and on about gay this, alternative lifestyle that, are why you lot will never be accepted -"
Sören backhanded him. Alistair held his cheek, staring at Sören with disbelief.
"And yet, you have the lack of class to spew off bigoted bullshit at a funeral," Sören said. "Sounds more like you're the one with the agenda."
Sören looked ready to hit him again. Nicholas took Sören by the arm and pulled him back a few paces - not that Nicholas blamed Sören for the outburst, but he didn't want things to escalate and police to end up involved.
"And this is why I don't talk to you outside of events like this," Anthony said to Alistair. "Except now... if there's any more family events... just don't fucking talk to me. Again. Ever. Piss off." Anthony made an obscene hand gesture before he turned and hobbled towards his partners.
Nicholas thought that would be the end of it, but then at the house in Blackheath, as Elaine served dinner, she gave Anthony a look and said, "You know, you could be nicer to your cousin."
Anthony's jaw dropped. He leaned back in his chair and matched his mother's look of annoyance with one of his own. "Mum. Did you bloody hear what he said to me? There was no excuse for that, least of all at a bloody sodding funeral."
"I'm not excusing what he said. But two wrongs don't make a right." Elaine now gave Sören a look, who squared his shoulders defiantly. Nicholas braced himself - if Elaine was intending to lecture Sören she was about to find out one did not lecture Sören Sigurðsson. "If you fight hatred with hatred, all it begets is more hate. All it does is tell the bigots they're justified."
"The problem is that people like us have been trying to advocate peacefully for our civil rights for decades, and look where it got us. The Americans elected Donald Bloody Trump." Anthony pursed his lips. "When you ask someone politely to stop stepping on your toe and they continue to step on it, there comes a point where you have to acknowledge politeness isn't working. And I shouldn't have to politely ask to not be treated like a bloody second-class citizen. I've put up with Alistair's snide, homophobic remarks for years, but he crossed a line today being like that at the wake. I am grieving my father, he knows I'm in pain, and he still decided to kick me while I was down. No, we're not going to just turn the other cheek and keep taking it from people like him."
"That wasn't what I said. But you," Elaine looked at Sören again, "hit him."
"Be glad I didn't kick him in the balls," Sören said, and put an olive in his mouth. Nicholas tried not to laugh; he did love Sören so.
Elaine huffed and sat down.
"You're not even related to Alistair by blood," Anthony said, his voice shaking with anger. "I... I can't believe we're having this conversation. You can't simply say 'gee son, I'm sorry your cousin is a homophobic piece of shit' and be done with it? You have to tell me to be nice to someone who has delighted in hurting my feelings over and over again since we were kids? While I'm in pain, while my heart is wounded and bleeding, when my father is dead and never coming back, and this is the worst possible time for this nonsense? Really? I'm thirty-seven fucking years old -"
"Cornelius Anthony."
"I'm thirty-seven fucking years old," Anthony repeated, louder, as if his mother hadn't heard him the first time. Nicholas's eyes widened - it occurred to him he'd rarely heard Anthony raise his voice. Anthony went on, "And I don't need this fucking bullshit from you." Anthony rose up from the table and walked out.
Elaine sighed.
After a minute Sören followed Anthony outside, and Nicholas sat there, feeling awkward and a bit helpless. When Sören came back in, he said, "Anthony's calling a cab."
Elaine stood up. "Let me pack you some leftovers if you're not staying -"
"Thank you," Nicholas said.
Sören didn't thank her; Nicholas wasn't going to press him. Elaine quickly loaded some containers with the meal - roast beef, baked potatoes, carrots, and sides of olives and cheese slices - and put them in Nicholas's and Sören's hands.
"Have a safe trip home," Elaine said. She gave Nicholas a quick hug and then her eyes met Sören's and she gave Sören a sad look. Sören stepped forward, his hands full, and he allowed Elaine to put an arm around him and pat him. It wasn't quite an apology, but Sören seemed less obviously angry as they headed to the door.
Anthony was livid, his face as angry as Nicholas had ever seen him, sitting on the steps waiting for the cab to arrive. When he saw Sören and Nicholas coming down with leftovers, Anthony stood up and for a brief instant Nicholas hoped the sight of his mother being kind enough to see them off with the meal would soothe him somewhat, but instead Anthony snapped with rage. He grabbed a container out of Nicholas's hand, leaned against a column as he opened it, and Nicholas watched with horror as Anthony emptied the contents over the lawn. Anthony snatched a container away from Sören before he could protest, and Anthony shook it, flinging the baked potatoes out - one of them flew up onto the roof. The sight of a baked potato sitting on the roof over the porch was so ridiculous that Nicholas restrained a laugh, quickly sobering when he realized this was no laughing matter.
"Anthony, cut that shit out. People in Third World countries are fucking starving." Sören was angry again.
Anthony's eyes widened and his mouth opened, as if he was just now coming out of a fugue and saw what he'd done. His covered his mouth and his jaw trembled, his eyes filling with tears. By the time the cab arrived, Anthony was in hysterics.
The driver immediately asked, "Is he all right?"
"Jæja, he's. Uh." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "We went to a funeral today."
"Ah. My condolences," the driver said.
"Actually, before you bring us to the destination, stop at a McDonald's or something, já?" Sören looked at the one container of appetizers that he'd held onto.
Nicholas rolled his eyes. He loved Sören, but sometimes... "McDonald's, really."
"Listen, I'm fucking stressed out and want trash food, OK? Not McDonald's then, if you can immediately think of a better place with a drive-thru."
Anthony sobbed harder. "I'm sorry. This is my fault."
Sören sighed. He gave Anthony a hug. "We'll... we'll deal with it."
Nicholas couldn't think, torn up inside seeing Anthony in distress - and the mess of everything that would likely take time to clean up. "McDonald's, then." Nicholas couldn't believe he was agreeing to McDonald's. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Nicholas thought to himself.
They ate dinner in the living room. Nicholas had a grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomato, Sören had a Big Mac, and Anthony had a box of chicken nuggets; they also had chips, though Nicholas gave the lion's share of his to Sören, who split them with Anthony.
"I haven't had chicken nuggets since I was at uni," Anthony said. "I forgot how good they are."
"Next time we go grocery shopping I'll pick some up," Sören said. He grinned. "I'll get you the kind with the dino shapes."
Anthony managed a smile, while Nicholas shook his head, chuckling.
Then Anthony's face fell and he looked down. "I'm sorry, again. I... can't believe I went off like that. I'm not like that."
"No, you're not." Sören patted him. "I think it was just all too much at once."
"Yeah." Anthony nibbled on a chicken nugget and then the tears started again.
"Anthony..." Nicholas took a deep breath. He didn't want to make sore feelings worse, but he was friends with Elaine and had been since childhood and while his loyalty was to his partner so he couldn't quite say he was caught in the middle, he felt for both of them and knew it didn't do his partner any favors to be estranged from his mother, who he'd previously been very close to. "As you know, I don't agree with your mother's stance on your cousin and how you and Sören should have behaved at the wake - your cousin's behavior was inexcusable. But you should call your mother and apologize for... dinner."
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't right now."
Nicholas scowled. He didn't want to argue with Anthony - and he recognized the futility of arguing with a lawyer in the first place - but he wasn't going to back down so easily. "Your father died suddenly and as you said in your speech, you believe he knew you love him." In his mind's eye Nicholas recalled the recurring dreams he had, crossing an icy wasteland with Sören and Anthony in other bodies - brother-lovers - and having a falling out with Sören... feeling Sören die some time later, without ever getting to say goodbye, without ever getting to reconcile, tell him how much he loved him... Nicholas's voice shook as he went on, "What if your mother dies tonight, without the chance to mend fences -"
"Nick." Sören glared. "Can you not."
But it was too late. Anthony put his chicken nuggets back down and started sobbing harder. Nicholas immediately wished he could take back those words, like rubbing salt in the wound. "I'm sorry," Nicholas said.
Anthony got up and maneuvered as quickly as he could on his cane to the staircase and up. A few minutes later, a door slammed upstairs, and Sören and Nicholas looked at each other as they heard Anthony weeping.
"Fuck." Sören gnawed on chips like they had personally wronged him.
Nicholas exhaled, pinched the bridge of his nose, and rubbed his forehead. He felt very, very tired and very, very old. "This entire day has gone to hell in a handbasket."
"No... it's gone through all of Dante's levels of hell, and met whatever final boss is down there." Sören cringed and shoved more chips in his mouth.
"I shouldn't have said that," Nicholas said.
"Jú." Sören bit at his burger. "But you did."
Nicholas felt like he needed to justify his mistake somehow, even though he knew it wouldn't undo what was said and wouldn't really make up for it - and Sören wasn't the one he needed to explain himself to. "I've had recurring dreams where you and I have a falling out and then you die before we can reconcile." Nicholas decided not to go into the detail of how it felt like past life memories but of course none of that was real, not wanting to sound utterly daft.
Sören's mouth opened and for a minute Nicholas worried he had once again said the wrong thing, but then Sören just finished his burger, staring at Nicholas like he'd grown another head, and Nicholas saw Sören's arms - suit jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up - had broken out in gooseflesh. Before Sören could say anything, there was a thud like a fall and Anthony sobbed louder.
"Shit, that's not good." Sören got up and Nicholas followed him upstairs.
Sören opened the bedroom door and they saw that Anthony was laying on the floor of the bedroom, cane knocked to the ground beside him. His weighted blanket half-hung off the chair. When he saw Sören and Nicholas standing over him, he fell apart again.
Sören knelt beside him. "What happened? Are you OK?"
Anthony couldn't speak right away, just cry.
Sören and Nicholas helped Anthony off the floor and onto the bed. Sören made him wiggle his fingers and toes and arms and legs to determine nothing was broken, and then they sat beside him. "I reached for my blanket and I fell off the bed," Anthony said, looking sheepish. "I'm a fucking idiot -"
"No, you're not." Sören kissed the tip of his nose. "You've had a shit day, and a shit week."
"I need another week off." Anthony sighed. "I was planning on taking tomorrow off anyway but I..."
"That's fine." Sören tousled his hair. "Actually, I'm gonna call Ed right now and tell him I'm not coming in tomorrow, family emergency."
"Sören, you don't have to -"
Sören put his finger to Anthony's lips and immediately pulled out his cell phone and made the call. As he did, Nicholas pulled Anthony close, rocked him, and let him cry. Nicholas was sure Ed could hear Anthony crying in the background - in fact, at one point Nicholas heard Ed's voice ask "is he all right?" - and it seemed that helped Sören's case for needing tomorrow. When the call ended, Sören put his phone down on the bedtable and joined in the group hug.
Then Miss Balls trotted in with a chicken nugget in her mouth.
"Oh Jesus Bloody Christ," Anthony said. He started laughing and crying at the same time, as Nicholas took the prize away from her. Miss Balls made a sad whine.
"Oh my god. I... I better save the rest of your nuggets." Sören dashed downstairs. A minute after he made it downstairs, Nicholas heard Sören bellow "ÞÚ FOKKING KETTUR" at the top of his lungs. "Slæmir kettlingar! Litlu þjófarnir! Ég trúi ekki fokking þessum skít!"
Anthony and Nicholas looked at each other and laughed - they both loved Sören in "drunk Viking mode". Then Anthony cried again, laughing and crying, and a few minutes later Sören came back to the bedroom with the last few remaining chicken nuggets in the box, and the barbecue sauce, looking ready to murder someone. It was so comical that Nicholas and Anthony started laughing again.
"Those little shits had two chicken nuggets on the floor - they didn't eat much, thank fuck - and there's the one she got. I'm sorry."
"Well, as you know, they're starving," Nicholas quipped. "They haven't eaten in days." They'd received a fresh can of food as soon as they got back from the wake.
"Those poor, neglected, abused cats. They need a telethon so people will send them food." Sören rolled his eyes and sat down next to Anthony with the box of chicken nuggets. "Here, elskan." He dipped a nugget in barbecue sauce and began to make the "airplane" with it, to Nicholas's amusement.
Anthony ate from Sören's fingers, and Nicholas couldn't help petting him, finding it adorable. "Good boy," Nicholas said, and kissed Anthony's cheek.
Anthony glanced over at Nicholas with something like longing in his eyes, and then Sören turned Anthony back to him and "airplaned" another chicken nugget.
When Anthony's chicken nuggets were finished, and the box and sauce container disposed of, they washed up and got in their pajamas - Nicholas decided to forego the evening walk and tai chi, since tending to Anthony was more of a priority, and sure enough, once they were washed up and changed, Anthony started to cry again.
Nicholas and Sören lay on either side of Anthony and held him together, letting him cry and cry. For a long time Anthony just cried, not able to articulate his feelings in anything but tears and wounded animal noises, but at last he choked out, "This fucking sucks."
"I know, elskan." Sören rocked him a little, smoothed his hair, kissed his brow. "I know."
Anthony sobbed into Sören's shoulder, then he turned and they both looked at him. Anthony took a deep breath and rubbed his face, looking like he was collecting his thoughts. He broke down weeping again for a few minutes before he found his words. "It's not just that he's dead. And it's not just that he died... well, young-ish, because sixtysomething isn't super old anymore."
Nicholas's lips quirked at that.
Anthony went on, "Nicholas, you were there when I came out to my parents about being poly. You saw my dad apologize to me for anything he might have said or done to make me feel like I couldn't tell him, like he wouldn't accept me. That was... that was a big fucking deal. Like I said at the wake, I've never had a bad relationship with my father, all things considered our relationship was good... but it wasn't great. There was some distance because, yes, how different we were, and that slight sense of disapproval or disappointment about my, uh, personal life. When he apologized to me and told me he accepts me, I felt hope not just that more people like him were starting to come around on LGBT rights issues, but I felt hope for my relationship with him. That we might go from having a merely good, decent relationship, to being closer. And now that chance is gone, because he's dead." Tears spilled down Anthony's cheeks. "He died so suddenly. If I'd have known, if there had been some warning, I would have spent more time with him in his final weeks, or something..."
"Oh, love." Nicholas pet Anthony's hair, and Sören tenderly rubbed Anthony's stomach, chest, and shoulder.
Anthony cried a little more, and then he said, "And it's not just that, either. It's... he dropped dead on our one-year anniversary of getting back together. I came back from that picnic feeling the best I've felt in literal years, feeling hope that everything was going to be OK, and suddenly, it wasn't. And now, that day is going to go from the nice, happy association of 'this is when Sören and I got back together', to 'this is when my father died'."
"Well, elskan, I'm OK with us celebrating our original anniversary in November," Sören said.
Anthony nodded, and sniffled. "But still."
Sören also nodded, frowning. "But still. Yeah, I get it. And..." Sören kissed his brow. "I also get what it's like to be afraid of being happy because you expect the other shoe to drop. When things get quiet, you wonder when the storm is coming."
"Yes." Anthony sighed. "I hate feeling this way. I know my father didn't die on purpose, I'm not angry with him, I'm just... I'm just angry at life."
"I know, elskan. It's a very understandable feeling."
"I fucking hate it. It's like being right back to square one when I woke up in the hospital from the accident, afraid to hope that things would get better."
"But things did get better after the accident... and things will, eventually, get better from where you're at right now. It'll take awhile, it'll be a lot of step by step, one foot in front of the other... but the only way out is through. You'll get there, you just have to allow for the possibility that not everything is going to be hopeless bullshit forever." Sören gave him a little kiss. "I know that's easier said than done. I've been there too, in different circumstances, but the feeling is similar."
"And you don't have to go it alone." Nicholas took one of Anthony's hands, kissed it, squeezed, and pressed it to his heart. The other hand stroked Anthony's face. "We're here with you, every step of the way."
Anthony's eyes filled with tears again, his jaw trembled, and he let out a shaky sob. "I worry about losing you guys next."
Nicholas could practically hear a like before at the end of the sentence, and a frisson went through him - but of course Anthony hadn't said that aloud. They couldn't possibly be sharing dreams or... memories, that was absurd. Your mind is playing tricks on you because emotions are running high. Deep breaths, pull yourself together.
But Anthony wept harder, as if he had spoken those two words and ripped open some ancient wound.
"Oh, elskan." Sören grabbed him and pulled him close, and Nicholas gathered them both into his arms, holding them as tightly as he could.
Once again, Nicholas wondered how much longer he himself would be alive, and hoped he wouldn't go anytime soon - not just for Sören's sake, but he knew it would devastate Anthony. He didn't want to make false promises of eternity, or even that he'd be here this time next year. But right here, right now... "I'm here, love." Nicholas rubbed his nose in Anthony's hair, and rocked them, safe and tight in the fortress of his arms. "I'm here." He stopped himself from saying Daddy's here - that was a game he played with Sören - and Anthony knew that - but hadn't yet played that game with Anthony, and wasn't sure how Anthony would react.
But the paternal, protective feeling was there for Anthony, just like it was with Sören. "My boys," Nicholas husked, rocking and rocking. "My good boys."
Anthony wept until the middle of the night, like his soul was bleeding out. Nicholas had known for days this time would eventually come, but it still took him by surprise just how fiercely Anthony could cry, and all he could do was hold Anthony and encourage him to let it out. Sören and Nicholas both stayed up with Anthony, holding, rocking, petting, not letting themselves sleep until Anthony was all cried out and passed out from exhaustion. Even then, Nicholas stayed up a little while longer to watch Anthony sleep, aching for him, wishing there was more he could do.
Nicholas taught summer classes at UCL, as he had for years, and he hadn't had the foresight to request Monday off as Sören had, and didn't feel right about taking a personal day on such short notice, so even though Nicholas had only gotten a few hours of sleep, he still made himself go into work, grateful that he had a more sedentary job.
Nicholas was still bone tired by the afternoon, when his class was done and he could go home. To avoid falling asleep on the bus, missing his stop, and ending up in a strange part of London, he stopped and got a cup of coffee before he boarded the bus. The coffee was a little too strong and though he was still drained, Nicholas was wide awake by the time he got home. The idea of taking a nap still sounded good, and he made his way upstairs, expecting that Sören and Anthony would be sleeping in and he could just climb in beside them.
As he went up the staircase, he heard the distinctive sound of Sören and Anthony's moans. Anthony let out a louder moan and Nicholas heard Sören's voice: "Does my brother like that?"
"God, yes," Anthony groaned.
Nicholas's cock leapt in his trousers. That was just wrong, and yet... so arousing. So deliciously forbidden. Nicholas quietly walked to the door and watched, drinking in the erotic sight of Sören and Anthony kissing, rubbing their cocks together. Anthony was laying on his back, and Sören started kissing and licking his neck, reaching to take both their cocks into his fist. "I love my brother," Sören husked, before nibbling Anthony's neck. Anthony let out a long moan and when he opened his eyes, they met Nicholas's. Anthony gasped.
"Oh, uh, hi," Anthony said, sitting up a little.
Sören turned his head and saw Nicholas standing there, his trousers obviously tented. Sören smirked at the bulge, then licked his lips and purred, "Hi, Daddy."
Oh, shit. Nicholas had an idea of where this was going, and he liked it. He liked it too much. Glancing at the clock, he wondered if Sören, knowing what time he got home from the university, had timed this. Nicholas's cock jolted at that thought, a shiver going through him. He cleared his throat and composed himself a little. "What are my boys up to?"
"We're playing a game, Daddy. I'm playing doctor to make my brother feel better." Sören gave Anthony a kiss, and their tongues played together before Sören turned back to look at Nicholas like he was on the menu. "Do you want to play with us, Daddy?" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
"What does your brother think?" Nicholas's eyes met Anthony's again. He had no idea Sören and Anthony roleplayed like this - which was driving him mad with lust - but just because Anthony was fine with Sören being his "brother", didn't mean Anthony wanted a daddy, too.
But to his relief, Anthony gave him a shy, sweet little smile and nodded. "You can play with us too," he said, turning pink.
Nicholas got undressed as quickly as he could. Already, his cock was leaking precum. When he joined them on the bed, Sören and Anthony took his hands and dragged him closer, then fell on him, taking turns giving him deep, hungry kisses, their hands roaming over him, caressing, teasing. Nicholas moaned, almost undone just from that alone.
Nicholas kissed Sören back, and sucked on Sören's lower lip - how he loved those full lips - before he touched Sören's face and looked into those adoring brown eyes. "You're a good boy, taking care of your brother," Nicholas rasped.
"I try to be a good boy, Daddy." There was that nose wrinkle and lip-bite again. Nicholas resisted the urge to push Sören back and just take him.
Nicholas turned to Anthony and touched his face, stroked his hair. Anthony looked up at him with something almost like awe, like he was looking at Nicholas for the first time. Nicholas traced Anthony's lips with his thumb before kissing him, and then he rubbed noses with Anthony and said, softly, "And you're a good boy too."
After Anthony's meltdown yesterday, Nicholas knew Anthony needed to hear that, needed that acknowledgment that they knew he wasn't usually like that, the stress had made him snap - and Nicholas had learned enough about autism the last few months to know it was harder for an autistic person to manage. Anthony's eyes were too bright, and spilled silent tears. Nicholas kissed his tears, and Anthony grabbed Nicholas's face and pulled him down into a fiery kiss that made Nicholas's cock throb, wanting him so very badly.
Nicholas and Anthony kissed again and again, then Nicholas stole a kiss from Sören. Sören ran his fingers through Nicholas's chest hair and tweaked a nipple. "I think," Sören said, "Daddy should help me help Anthony now."
"And what does Doctor Sören propose?" Nicholas smiled.
"You should kiss him better." Sören grinned.
Nicholas turned to look at Anthony. "Would you like that, dear boy?"
Anthony nodded. "Yes."
Nicholas decided to test the waters. "Yes, what?"
Anthony's cheeks were pink again as he said, "Yes, Daddy." He gave Nicholas such an adorable shy smile that it made Nicholas's cock jolt, throbbing, aching for him.
Nicholas proceeded to kiss Anthony all over while Sören watched, stroking himself. Nicholas couldn't help stroking his own cock, either, his arousal intensified at the beauty of Anthony's body, and Anthony's moans and sighs, the look of bliss on his face as Nicholas kissed his nipples, stomach, hips and thighs. Nicholas took Anthony's cock into his mouth and began sucking slowly, his eyes locked with Anthony's. Sören leaned in to kiss Anthony and then started kissing Anthony's nipples as Nicholas continued sucking Anthony's cock. Anthony groaned and reached out, one hand on Nicholas's head, one hand in Sören's hair.
"Is that good, brother?" Sören asked.
"Yes." Anthony shuddered. "Fuck..."
Sören gave him a wicked grin before licking and kissing his neck. "You like what Daddy's doing to you?"
Anthony made a feral noise, cock pulsing in Nicholas's mouth.
Nicholas let Anthony's cock slip from his mouth and took long, slow licks at it, teasing him. "Such a good boy," Nicholas whispered. "Daddy's good boy."
"Oh, fuck." Anthony shivered and let out a little whine. Sören groaned and dove down to bite a nipple, then soothed it with his tongue. Anthony arched to them, panting, gasping, trembling.
Nicholas continued to lick at Anthony's cock, while Sören lapped and suckled Anthony's nipples, kissed and licked Anthony's neck. "That's it," Sören husked. "Let Daddy take care of you, brother."
"Oh god." Anthony made another animal noise through clenched teeth. Precum flowed down his shaft and Nicholas chased it with his tongue, savoring the taste of him... smiling a little, pleased that Anthony liked this sort of play too. The three of them were going to have lots of fun together.
Nicholas licked and sucked at Anthony's balls, then parted Anthony's legs; Anthony instinctively bent his knees. Nicholas looked at the pink hole, the little dark hairs, and his cock throbbed again, wanting inside. But first... "Yes, dear boy. Daddy's going to kiss it better." Nicholas brushed his tongue in slow, lazy circles around the rim of the opening, making a few rounds before his tongue pushed inside, tasting lingering notes of soap and clean-earthy musk.
"Fuck!" Anthony quivered. His breath hitched and he moaned as Nicholas began to rub his tongue inside him. "Oh god." And there it was. "Daddy..."
Sören and Nicholas both moaned together. Sören stroked himself harder, coming in to kiss Anthony, and kissed Anthony's neck while he watched Nicholas eat him.
Nicholas groaned into Anthony's passage, eating him like he was starving for it, utterly possessed by lust. Knowing Sören liked watching him do this just stoked the fire even hotter. Nicholas's tongue lashed away, making Anthony writhe, panting, moaning. Sören rubbed against Anthony's thigh as he resumed licking and sucking Anthony's nipples. After a few minutes Sören's kisses trailed lower, down the planes of Anthony's sensitive stomach, and then Sören took Anthony's cock in his mouth and sucked while Nicholas continued lapping inside him.
Anthony bucked. "Daddy... brother..." He shivered again, and couldn't make words anymore, just noises, gasping for breath. His green eyes were like liquid emerald fire, fevered, his face flushed, hair tousled; his chest hair was starting to get damp from sweat. Nicholas loved seeing the professional, clean-cut lawyer undone like this, in the throes of passion. Sören reached to take Nicholas's cock in his hand, stroking, and Nicholas returned the favor, playing with Sören's cock as his tongue rubbed inside Anthony's channel. Anthony bucked again, writhed, moaning, his eyes wild and desperate.
Sören's free hand cupped and rubbed Anthony's balls, and then Sören paused, pulled off of Anthony's cock, and said to Nicholas, "He's close." Nicholas guessed Sören could feel Anthony's balls tightening.
Nicholas was pretty close himself, and as much as he liked tasting Anthony, he had a better idea... a way to really cement where this was going. He stopped licking Anthony's passage, slid up to lap the precum flowing down Anthony's shaft, and then he kissed Anthony's hip and side. "Does my boy want Daddy inside him?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Fuck, yes." Sören bit his lip and groaned. "I want to watch."
Sören grabbed the lube and Nicholas readied himself and Anthony. He slipped a pillow underneath Anthony's hips and pulled Anthony's legs around him. Their eyes locked as Nicholas began to push inside, and when he was all the way in, Nicholas leaned down and kissed him deeply. Anthony threw his arms around Nicholas and kissed him back with all his fire - Nicholas fought back an orgasm, not wanting to come right away - and when the kiss broke, Nicholas rested in him, looking into his eyes, stroking his face. "I love you," Nicholas said.
"I love you, Daddy."
They kissed again. Sören whimpered and growled, "Fuck, that's hot," and when Nicholas pulled back he saw Sören stroking himself furiously. The magnificent sight of Sören pleasuring himself made Nicholas growl and he began to thrust into Anthony, wanting, needing.
Nicholas lost himself in the silken heat of Anthony wrapped around him, the beauty of Anthony moaning, gasping, shaking as the sensation overpowered him, the deliciousness of Sören stroking himself as he watched them. "You guys are so fucking hot," Sören rasped, pulling back his hand for a moment so they could see how thoroughly slick with precum his cock was. Then Sören collected precum on his fingers and stuck them in Nicholas's mouth. Nicholas leaned down again to kiss Anthony, sharing it with him, and the moan Anthony made into the kiss drove Nicholas on harder, faster.
They took turns kissing each other and Sören, and as Anthony and Nicholas got closer to release, Sören moved forward, giving them an even better sight of their cocks. Sören rose up on his knees and Anthony began to lick at Sören's cock, greedy for it, and Nicholas helped, lapping Sören's cock all over, sucking at the head, he and Anthony sharing the precum in a kiss before licking at Sören for more. When Anthony started to suck Sören's cock, the sight of Sören's cock in Anthony's mouth brought Nicholas right to that edge. Then Sören's cock was in Nicholas's mouth and Nicholas trembled, feeling himself climb that edge higher, rushing to the point of no return. He reached down and madly stroked Anthony's cock, wanting Anthony to come first, and when they were both licking Sören's cock again, Anthony lost control, giving into his climax, spurting over Nicholas's chest and his own with a cry. Sören came, moaning, painting their faces and necks and chests with his seed - watching Anthony lap like he was drinking from a fountain set Nicholas off too, shouting out "My boys," as he let go, coming inside Anthony.
Sören licked the cum from their faces and kissed both of them, then they kissed each other, and Sören snuggled up against them, giggling, radiant. "Holy shit, I cannot believe how fucking hot that was," Sören said.
Nicholas smiled and kissed Sören's brow, then gave Anthony a sweet, tender little kiss. "Did my boy like that?" he asked Anthony.
"God, yes." Then Anthony chuckled and turned pink again, looking shy and adorable. "I. Ah. Well, now you know Sören and I pretend to be brothers sometimes when we fuck."
"Yes." Nicholas nodded. His eyes met Sören's for a moment and he wondered then if either of them - or perhaps both - had dreams similar to what he had... where they had been brothers, and lovers; Nicholas had been the middle but the "responsible adult" of the three of them, which made a certain amount of sense that he would be the eldest and their "daddy" now... if past lives were real, which of course they weren't. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a bit too uncanny. He wanted to confess his dreams, or ask about theirs, and he held back, not wanting to ruin the magic of this moment.
"I... don't want you to get the wrong idea," Anthony said, blush brighter. "I don't condone incest and... I don't want you to think I had a thing for my own father..."
"No, I understand." Nicholas nodded. "As you know, Sören and I have been roleplaying in a similar vein for some time - I'm his daddy. As an historian, a classicist, I know that relationships between younger men and older men were considered very special in ancient Greece - they understood young men need mentors, a father figure. I'm not seeking to replace your father - I can't - but there is also nothing wrong with letting me be a father figure to you, if you need one, just like Sören does. It's natural."
"Thank you... Daddy." Anthony reached for Nicholas and pulled him close, squeezed him. Nicholas kissed Anthony's cheek and then their lips met, and what was meant to be a soft, chaste, post-coital kiss quickly heated, their tongues swirling. Nicholas felt Anthony's cock rise again and he chuckled.
"Oh dear, does my boy want to go again?" Nicholas's eyebrows shot up.
Sören was hard too, and Nicholas laughed harder - but now his own cock was stirring as well. "You boys are a terrible corrupting influence," Nicholas teased.
"Takk," Sören said; Anthony grinned.
Nicholas pet both of them. "What would my boys like?"
"Yes?" Anthony smiled at Sören, who nodded vehemently.
Nicholas laughed again. It was, indeed, difficult to make decisions about sexual positions, when there were so many enjoyable things the three of them could do together - it was like choosing just one type of ice cream from dozens of flavors. Nicholas thought for a minute, and then he had an idea of how further to soothe Anthony and establish the daddy-boy bond.
"Would you like to top me?" Nicholas asked Anthony.
Anthony's eyes widened with surprise, but then he nodded. "Yes, I would."
Nicholas didn't bottom very often - maybe twice to three times a month at most... and since Anthony had joined them in March, he hadn't bottomed for Anthony yet, only for Sören; it was now the beginning of July. He didn't dislike bottoming, and it wasn't that he found the idea of giving himself to Anthony objectionable, but they had been exploring different things - as well as revisiting old favorites - and it hadn't felt like the right time yet. Now, it was the right time.
If Anthony didn't have trouble with kneeling, with his spinal injury, Nicholas would have further suggested that Sören ride his cock while Anthony took him, so Anthony could embrace Sören from behind... but Sören figured something else out. "You want me inside you while you're inside him?" Sören asked, stroking Anthony's face.
"Fuck, yes." Anthony laughed. "You guys are spoiling me."
Nicholas lay back. Sören and Anthony spent awhile kissing, licking, and caressing him, and at last Anthony began to work his fingers inside Nicholas, relaxing him, getting him open and ready. Anthony's fingers found the prostate right away, rubbing, and watching Anthony and Sören kiss while Anthony's fingers worked got Nicholas eager for it soon enough, fucking himself on Anthony's fingers, once again seized by fevered lust at the beauty of his boys kissing each other.
Anthony climbed over Nicholas and began to push in. Anthony was a little thicker than Sören, but there wasn't much resistance and soon Anthony was all the way inside and kissed Nicholas once he bottomed out. Anthony took the first few thrusts slow, kissing Nicholas sensually, hands playing over him, while Sören watched, stroking himself, working lube over his cock.
"You feel good, Daddy," Anthony said, before kissing Nicholas again.
"And you feel good." Nicholas groaned as Anthony's cock brushed that spot inside him, back and forth, teasing so sweetly. "Such a good boy, taking care of your daddy like this." Nicholas smiled. "Such a big boy."
"Oh. My. God." Anthony shuddered and kissed Nicholas harder. He started to thrust a little faster; Sören's breath hitched.
Nicholas watched as Sören got behind Anthony. Sören grabbed Anthony's hips and rocked forward. Anthony cried out as Sören speared him, and growled once Sören was all the way inside. Sören and Anthony found their rhythm, pushing and pulling, and when Sören began to rock faster, Anthony matched Sören's rhythm, thrusting harder and faster into Nicholas.
"That's it, brother. Fuck our daddy," Sören rasped. "Give Daddy a good, hard fuck."
Anthony groaned and bit Nicholas's shoulder, working his hips faster. Nicholas moaned, the rubbing inside him deliciously intense, melting away the rest of the world, the only thing that existed was this, their bodies, their pleasure, their desire, their fuck.
"Fuck him like I'm fucking you." Sören slammed into him harder, grit his teeth, and growled.
Nicholas moaned again - he loved watching the animal side of Sören come out. Anthony's moans got louder as he gave it his all. A few thrusts later Sören leaned down, his chest against Anthony's back, and started kissing and licking Anthony's neck. Nicholas cried out, so completely aroused by watching them. He groaned as Anthony turned his face and Sören kissed him, their tongues licking between kisses, so sensual with each other. Nicholas started stroking himself in time with the rubbing inside him.
Anthony reached down and took Nicholas's cock in his hand, and Sören put his hand on top of Anthony's. Anthony took turns kissing them - claiming Nicholas's mouth while Sören kissed, licked, and nibbled Anthony's neck, then kissing Sören, tongues teasing, Nicholas thrilling to the heat in their eyes as they looked at each other.
"I'm close," Nicholas warned.
Sören's other hand was rubbing Nicholas's chest now, what he could reach of it. Nicholas grunted as Sören's thumb grazed his nipple, pinched it, rubbed it. They were moving towards the finish, one rhythm, one pleasure, one need. Anthony started kissing and nipping Nicholas's throat, his hand tightening around Nicholas's cock, stroking faster. When Anthony's tongue licked down Nicholas's throat to a nipple, Nicholas felt himself right there, and when Anthony drew the nipple into his mouth, lips tugging, Nicholas exploded, letting out a hoarse shout as his seed shot over Anthony's torso. With Sören's teeth on the back of Anthony's neck, Anthony came, crying out around the nipple in his mouth, shuddering as his seed spilled into Nicholas. Then Sören threw back his head and screamed, trembling, before he collapsed on top of Anthony, shaking, panting, twitching. "Jesus Christ," Sören breathed, erupting into giggles. "Fuck. Holy. Fucking. Shit."
"Wow." Anthony laughed too. Nicholas loved the way his face lit up - both of them - and gave Anthony a tender little smile, then a gentle kiss.
When they were able to move again, Anthony and Sören lay on their sides facing each other, heads on Nicholas's chest. Nicholas held both of them, and, with his boys in his arms and the three cats surrounding them, purring, Nicholas felt deeply content. He knew, of course, that this was just a lull in the storm - Anthony was going to be grieving for awhile - but at least they had this for comfort.
Nicholas finally drifted off for that nap he'd been wanting, and came to a couple of hours later to the sound of Anthony's voice in the guest bedroom, which suggested he was on the phone. Nicholas was sleep-muzzy enough to not be able to make out most of the conversation, but he caught the tail end, hearing Anthony say: "OK, Mum, I love you too. Bye."
Anthony sauntered back in the bedroom and Sören woke up now, that confused-grumpy look on his face that Nicholas always found strangely adorable. Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose as if to apologize for disturbing him.
"That was your mum?" Nicholas asked, relieved.
Anthony nodded. "I did like you said yesterday and I called her. I let her know I still disagree with her about Alistair, but I apologized for acting like a twat at dinner." He rubbed his face like a wet cat who was unhappy to have a bath. "My dad's birthday is on the sixth and she doesn't want to be alone then so she's... inviting us, if you guys can come."
Nicholas did the mental math. The sixth was a Thursday. Sören closed his eyes for a minute - Nicholas knew he was mentally reviewing his schedule - and then Sören nodded. "I have that evening free."
"Thank you." Anthony gave him a hug. Then he reached over and pulled Nicholas into the hug. "And thank you for telling me to call her."
"I still feel as if I overstepped my bounds, but I hope you realize I meant well," Nicholas said.
"I do." Anthony patted him.
Nicholas kissed Anthony's brow. "You're a good boy, Anthony."
Anthony smiled, turning pink. "Thank you, Daddy." His smile got bigger and Sören grinned, pinching his cheek.
chapter 11 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index