On Tuesday, March thirteenth, Sören worked overnight into Wednesday afternoon. Anthony had been fairly stressed out before Sören went to work on Tuesday night, so Sören didn't ask him about plans for the following evening then, not wanting him to have to think and plan even more. But in the late morning on Wednesday, just before Sören's final patient of the day, and when Sören knew Anthony would be going to lunch soon and getting a chance to answer, Sören texted him with Do you know what we're doing later?
Anthony didn't reply right away, and Sören waited, and time wore on. Sören took the Tube home, getting a little worried. And once he got back to the flat, his eyes were heavy and he knew he needed a nap. He ended up passing out on the couch, and was eventually woken up by his cell phone playing "Rock Me Amadeus".
"Hey," Sören mumbled, his voice groggy.
"Hi, sorry I didn't text you back immediately. It's been... a day."
"Oh, elskan. It's OK, I took a nap."
"Yes, I can tell." A soft chuckle. "Sören, are you going to hate me if I want a quiet evening at home tonight? I'm in a burn-everything-to-the-ground mood and I don't want to be out in public when I'm like this."
"That's totally fine! I wasn't hell bent on going out or anything, I just didn't know if you wanted to since I haven't had many full evenings free lately."
"Normally I would be in favor of taking you somewhere. Tonight, though..." Anthony made a little noise. "Also, I may be a little late, like by a half-hour to forty-five minutes. I have some paperwork to take care of and I don't want to bring it home with me." A pause. "Don't want to shit where I eat."
That definitely sounded like the day had been awful. "OK, elskan. Don't worry about getting anything on the way home, I'll take care of it all."
"Thank you. I'm so sorry -"
"It's all right. Life happens. I'll see you when you get here."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Sören gave a soft sigh when the call ended. He knew Anthony had been stressed out last night about court today, but Sören didn't know it was going to be this bad, and he ached for Anthony, wanting to do something to make him feel better.
They'd gotten takeaway last night, as they tended to do when life was hectic. Sören knew Anthony appreciated his cooking, and Sören felt like a nice home-cooked meal was a way to help take care of him. So as worn out as Sören was from the last few gruelling days, he headed out, taking a walk to a smaller grocery store that had less of a selection than the one they usually shopped at, but he could shop and get back home before Anthony arrived. He picked up steaks and fresh greens; there were potatoes at home.
On the way back it started to rain, and Sören found himself wishing Anthony was there to take a walk with him in the rain, which would have been kind of romantic. It did, however, put Sören in the mood to make the evening romantic in tone, hoping that would help put Anthony in a better place for awhile.
When Sören got in he got right to work, marinading the steaks. Sören watched the clock, wanting to have dinner ready when Anthony walked in the door, and timed the rest of the preparatory work, chopping the red potatoes and coating them with olive oil and seasoning, putting the steaks on the broiler and potatoes in the oven, and then, later, started wilting the greens.
Everything was coming out just as Sören heard Anthony's Audi pull up. He lit candles in the living room and added candles to the bathroom and bedroom, to be lit later. As Anthony walked in Sören was loading a plate for him, and he paused and gave Sören a look that melted his heart.
Sören also saw how utterly exhausted Anthony looked. Right after Sören put out the food, he came over and just held Anthony for a moment - who was taking off his shoes - and Anthony leaned against him with a deep sigh.
"I love you, you know," Anthony said.
"I know." Sören kissed the tip of his nose. He began pulling Anthony towards the couch.
"Er, let me get out of my robe first." Anthony frowned. "I feel like fucking burning it right now."
"Oh my god, that bad?"
Anthony made a noise before he stalked off.
When he came back, in pajamas, he gave Sören a kiss as he sat down, where Sören had food waiting for the both of them. "Sören. You must be exhausted. I would have been happy to do takeaway -"
"I wanted to do something nice," Sören said, cutting him off.
"Well, that's very, very nice." Anthony gave a sad little smile. "It's such a relief to come home to you on a day like today."
"How bad was it? Do you need a drink?"
Anthony nodded. "My usual."
Sören got up, poured him a shot of Hennessy and brought it over. Then he started eating, while Anthony took a moment, swirling the cognac around in his glass, collecting his thoughts.
Finally Anthony spoke. "I hate some of the cases I have to defend. When I'm charged to defend the indefensible. I keep reminding myself I do this so the innocent, the unjustly accused, can get a fair trial. So I can ask for mercy for those who are led down the wrong path because they had far less privilege and far more problems than myself. I keep reminding myself that I went into this line of work because somebody has to. But on days like this..." Anthony's nostrils flared before he sipped his cognac. "I hate being a lawyer. I hate people, when I see the worst of humanity. I hate myself for defending them, I feel like the worst sort of filth..."
"Ohhhhh, elskan." Sören's eyes misted. He put his food down on the coffee table so he could take Anthony into his arms for a moment, gently rocking him. "You're not filth. It's like you said - you went into this line of work for the right reason. You have a strong conscience. You told me when we first met, you would defend ninety-nine who were guilty, to make sure the one who wasn't, went free. You're right that somebody has to do this job. You're doing the right thing."
"Right now I hate it."
Sören pulled Anthony's head into his chest and his arms tightened around him as he pet Anthony's hair. "You have a good heart, elskan. And I love you."
"You have a good heart." When they pulled apart, Anthony stroked Sören's face and planted a tender little kiss on Sören's brow. "You remind me there are still good people in the world. And you're one of the best."
Sören smiled and stole a kiss. Then he gestured to Anthony's plate. "Eat, dammit."
"Right, sorry."
After a few minutes of eating, Anthony rubbed Sören's knee and said, "You're such a good cook. I still can't believe you went to that trouble after your long shift..."
Sören gave him a little kiss. "You're worth the trouble. It was, you know, what I could do to try to help you feel better."
"I appreciate it very much."
"Besides." Sören glared. "You didn't sleep last night when I was at work, did you?"
Anthony shook his head. "I tried. Sleep wasn't happening."
"Then you definitely need the fuel. Jesus Christ, Anthony."
"This happens periodically, has been a part of what's 'normal' for me over the years I've been practicing law. Difficult cases that bring on sleepless nights, then the battle in court, then the adrenaline crash. And this was a particularly nasty case. I was never so glad to lose in court in my life."
"Can you talk about it? Do you need to talk about it?"
Anthony looked Sören in the eye. "I defended a rapist in court today, Sören. A minor celebrity, has been known to do charity work, who nonetheless is a reprehensible human being. I felt sick the entire time, but it's my job, I didn't get a say." He looked down. "Forgive me."
Sören couldn't finish his meal.
Sören didn't want to go cold to him - he knew that it was in fact Anthony's job, it wasn't a choice, Anthony would have to practice another form of law entirely to avoid cases like this. And he realized that when he and Anthony first met, and Anthony gave him the speech about defending ninety-nine monsters so one innocent wrongfully accused would go free, this was part of the ninety-nine. He knew this going into the relationship - he didn't like thinking about it, but it wasn't like he wasn't aware. And Sören wondered how many people he himself had operated on, given a second chance at life to, who had done something terrible and didn't deserve that chance. He knew it was a non-zero percentage of the patients he'd had.
And yet, Sören had to sit with the knowledge that Anthony had defended a man charged with performing at least one act of the very same thing that had changed Sören's life forever, had sent him fleeing his home country and likely never to return. He knew that the courts were very hard on victims, and he wondered how hard Anthony had been cross-examining the accused's victim. How much of a defense he'd put up, and he imagined Anthony couldn't have just thrown the battle, if nothing else his chambers would have frowned on that.
Sören's plan of a relaxing bubble bath and then a massage went out the window. Anthony sensed the tension when he'd finished eating and they were both not-watching the news. Anthony finally got up and said softly, "I'm doing the dishes and then I'm going to try to get some sleep."
Sören felt a pang of guilt, but he also needed time to sit with these unexpected difficult feelings. And after Anthony had been in bed for awhile and Sören sat in the living room, alone, trying to draw on his WaCom tablet to distract himself - much as Sören, too, needed some sleep, he wasn't there yet - Sören realized they'd come to a crossroads point in their relationship.
From tonight on, he was either going to have to accept that Anthony really did mean what he said when he spoke of defending ninety-nine guilty for the sake of one innocent, and that someone had to do it, dirty as it was - people had the right to a fair trial, that was how justice worked in this country, and Sören did in fact know that in countries where it didn't, prisons were filled with innocent people who didn't belong there - and Sören was going to have to try to not take it personally despite his own history with child abuse and rape, or he was going to have to bow out of the relationship before it went much further, not just for the sake of his own mental health but also because he could see in Anthony's eyes and entire demeanor that he felt bad enough about doing what he had to do, and didn't need to come home to someone who froze on him for doing that.
Sören's stomach did flip-flops as he weighed it back and forth. Yes, he hated it that Anthony defended a rapist today. And it didn't seem fair to ask Anthony "don't talk to me about your job" if he needed to vent, and even if he didn't talk about it, Sören would always know from this point forward at least some of the cases he took on were like this, and possibly even worse.
But was it worth ending things over? He knew Anthony felt terrible about this case, much more so than came out in his words. And though they'd only been together since the end of November, and it was now mid-March - not a lot of time - it felt like longer. It felt like they'd known each other for far longer. Things escalated quickly between them because it felt right. And before Anthony told him of this case, it had still been right. If he walked away because of this, he'd miss Anthony desperately, like having a limb cut off, and he knew it would hurt Anthony too. And Sören knew that part of why he'd fallen in love with him as deeply as he did was those strong convictions, that commitment to justice and doing the right thing even when it meant taking the fall, being the bad guy in the eyes of many, because the alternative was worse. Anthony did what he had to do, because somebody had to do it. To keep doing it, even when it was distasteful, took a tremendous amount of fortitude. Sören had loved that sense of purpose in him, that calling, just like medicine was a calling to him. They were on two different career paths, but they sparked from the same place. Every client of Anthony's was potentially someone like Anthony's uncle, every patient of Sören's was potentially someone like his mother. Their lives had both been touched at a young age by tragedy and they rose up to say, Not again, on my watch. Not today. Sören gave the chance of life, and Anthony gave the chance of freedom, to the deserving as well as the undeserving.
Sören remembered once when he was a tiny child visiting Reykjavik for the first time, all of four years old. During their trip, his mamma had given money to a derelict, no questions asked, and then little Margrét, when she was Magnús, who was seven, had asked, "Why? What if they use that money to buy drink?" And Sören's mamma had said, "My grandfather always told me rain falls on the field of the good farmer and the bad, and that is why we have food on our table."
Sören had been named for his mother's grandfather, and now he took those words to heart. He found himself sketching his mother for the first time, as Lady Justice - blindfolded, bearing a sword in one hand and scales in the other. It had hurt too much to draw her before now. It still hurt, but everything hurt, and somehow, drawing this now was lancing a wound, cleansing it.
Sören was tired enough that he didn't finish the sketch that evening, starting to nod off as he was drawing. He ended up putting the tablet on the coffee table and drawing the throw blanket on the back of the couch around himself, stretching out. I'll just power nap for five minutes, then I'll be fine to get up and get ready for bed.
And of course, as soon as he let himself take that "power nap", he was gone. He slept on the couch that night, fully clothed. He heard Anthony in the living room in the morning, and he opened his eyes with a little gasp, and said, "Oh."
Anthony - who was in his suit and tie, heading out to work - gave him a stricken, hurt look, and walked out the door without saying anything.
"Fuck," Sören muttered a minute after the door closed. He facepalmed, feeling terrible. He was of a mind to run out after Anthony and shout, "HEY I LOVE YOU," but the car was already starting, and it was pouring rain outside.
Sören was in a bad mood all morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this crap, and though he tried to keep it from showing, he nonetheless got a few concerned looks from Colin and Pamela and Ed, like they knew something was bothering him.
Sören felt frazzled, not just from the obviously unresolved tension in his relationship - made all the more unpleasant because this was so sudden, they had been so happy together - but also he hadn't slept all that well on the couch. It had been deep enough to keep him there instead of his body waking him up to get him crawling off to bed, but it hadn't felt restful at all. It was Sören's turn to pick the music in the operating theatre today, and instead of going for his usual classic rock or prog metal, he went with more downtempo music, something to try to take the edge off.
During a chiari malformation surgery on a young woman, Sören thought again of his mother, who had died at the same age. Not that the woman on his operating table had a life-threatening condition - though chiari malformatons could be debilitating, and in her case she had headaches, dizziness, tinnitus, muscle weakness, balance problems, and vomiting, which was a definite quality of life issue. This surgery was still a second shot at life, one without the symptoms that had been draining the life from her. He had no idea what she was like as a person in her day-to-day life, only that here, now, her life was literally in his hands as he cut open her head.
Love, love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Fearless on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me, makes me lighter
Fearless on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath
Sören thought of the woman's boyfriend, who was sitting in the waiting room; the haunted look in his eyes as she'd waved goodbye to him right after Sören had given them both a matter-of-fact rundown of the procedure. He remembered the look in Anthony's eyes last night when Anthony told him about his hell in court, and the pain in his eyes this morning that Sören had slept on the couch, assuming it was avoiding him. I have to call Anthony as soon as I'm done with this.
And then, an inexplicable frisson down his spine, gooseflesh breaking out over his arms and neck. For a moment he felt like he'd been thrown into a vacuum and all the air was sucked out of him, his heart starting to race for no reason.
Water is my eye
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath
Teardrop on the fire
Of a confession
Fearless on my breath
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath
"Anthony," Sören heard himself say out loud, heart pounding harder, breath coming out in ragged little gasps. Something happened. Oh my god, something happened...
Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath
Colin looked across the operating table at him. "Sören, you OK, man? You need someone to relieve you?"
You're stumbling a little
You're stumbling a little
Sören thought about it, but then he shook his head. He closed his eyes and pushed out the thought of Anthony, used the meditation of glass closing between himself and the world, to quickly pull himself back to where he needed to be, here and now in the surgery. "I got this." Whatever it is, it can wait until we're done.
And so it was. The minute surgery was over and Sören scrubbed out, he grabbed his cell phone. The panic he didn't allow himself in the operating theatre slammed into him and he shook like a leaf, hyperventilating as he dialed Anthony's cell. There was no answer. Sören looked at the clock. This was a time when there was a reasonable chance Anthony would have a moment free to answer his phone, and if nothing else, Anthony would see Sören called and call him back at his first available opportunity.
Moments passed, and no call or text came. Sören didn't want to be a pain, but his panic was too strong, and he called again. There was still no answer.
Sören went on break, opting to hang around in the employee break room today instead of the cafe at the hospital, even though the coffee in the cafe was better. As he sat down with a yogurt, Colin said, "Mate, what happened to you in there? You choked."
"I'm OK," Sören said, not wanting to get into it.
Colin's eyes challenged him. "No, you're not."
The BBC was playing on the TV in the break room and Sören never usually paid attention, but a scrolling headline caught his eye: BOMB THREAT AT LINCOLN'S INN.
"Oh my fucking god." Sören dropped his spoon and got up from the table.
He made a beeline for the TV. Colin, Pamela, and Ed stood around him as he watched footage of the police bringing a bomb squad to Garden Court Chambers, with the newscaster saying a bomb had been intercepted, the suspects being members of a radical feminist militant group, claiming it was in retribution for representing a reality TV star charged with rape yesterday...
"Oh god." Sören felt ready to keel over. Ed's hand steadied one shoulder, Pamela's the other. "Oh god. Oh god..."
It was bad enough that this happened, which would have been awful on its own. It was that much more unsettling to Sören that he'd felt something was very, very wrong.
"It didn't go off," Pamela said, assuring but firm. "The police got there just in time."
They were leading him back to the table to sit down. Colin brought him an ice-cold ginger ale, knowing Sören liked them. Pamela opened it for him and held it to his lips.
"Sören, go home," Ed said. He was the man in charge this shift.
"I..." Sören looked at the clock. "I've still got a few hours -"
"If you were starting to get sick with flu I'd send you home so you don't get anyone else sick and cause an epidemic. You're too stressed out. It can't be helped, just like it can't be helped if you get flu. We'll manage. Go home, see your partner, and we'll see you as usual tomorrow, unless you need to take a day. All right?"
"I feel awful about it," Sören said.
"Shit happens," Ed said. "You've covered for others before, let us cover for you this time. Go."
Sören continued to try Anthony's cell on the Tube ride home. He considered going directly to Temple and seeing if Anthony was still there, but he had a feeling that might be a bad idea if the police were still hanging around or they had additional security.
He got home, hoping Anthony had beaten him there, but the flat was empty. Sören showered and changed into pajamas, hoping that Anthony would finally call him back when he was in the shower. But when he checked his cell, still nothing.
Sören sent a text. I'm home now. They sent me home when it was on the news.
And a second text. I love you. Please be OK.
Sören had his eyes glued to the BBC news as he waited, though they were covering other topics now. And then, a little over an hour after he sent his texts, his phone finally went off with a text notification sound. Sören snatched up the phone right away.
lol hi im drunk
Sören couldn't blame him, and mostly he was just relieved Anthony was OK, at least physically. Sören sent a text back. Hi Drunk, I'm Sören
A minute later Anthony texted back a poop emoji next to a heart.
Sören thought about calling and yelling at him not to drive, but he also knew Anthony wasn't stupid and would probably find the admonishment patronizing. And twenty agonizing minutes later, Sören heard Anthony's keys in the door.
Anthony stood there for a long moment, with Sören sitting on the couch, the two of them just looking at each other.
"I took a taxi home and the car's being towed," Anthony said, his voice slightly slurred, as if he knew Sören had worried about him driving in his condition.
Sören wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't make words. His jaw trembled and a little sob bubbled out of him. Anthony staggered over to where Sören was sitting, and he got down on his knees and rested his head in Sören's lap. Sören pet him, crying, and at last he picked Anthony's head up, pulled him up and cradled his head to his chest, rocked him.
"I'm so glad you're all right," Sören whispered. "I was so scared. I..."
Anthony kissed him. Sören could taste the alcohol on him. Then Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder.
"You don't hate me," Anthony said, bluntly.
"No." Sören took a deep breath. "I... I struggled, last night. But I wasn't on the couch avoiding you. I drew to try to... cope with everything, and ended up falling asleep out here." Sören stroked Anthony's face, looked into his wounded eyes. "I love you. That's what matters."
Anthony nodded. "I'll go into another branch of law, like commmercial, if you really can't deal with this."
"That isn't your calling," Sören said. "You have to do this, even when it's shitty. You can't walk away from it anymore than I can walk away from medicine. I understand."
"I don't even understand myself sometimes." Anthony gave a rueful laugh. "This isn't even the first time my life was threatened, you know. It most likely won't be the last."
And then Sören blurted out, "I felt it. I was operating and I knew something was wrong, and then on break... the news..."
Anthony's eyes misted. He opened his mouth, closed it, and now it was his turn to pull Sören close and hold him tight.
When they pulled apart, Sören helped him onto the couch and Sören got up to make tea. But before the tea was ready, Anthony was half-asleep from the effects of how much alcohol he had. Sören gently shook him. "OK, you, bed."
Sören turned off the kettle, then walked Anthony to the bedroom, helped him get in pajamas, and tucked him in. After visiting the bathroom he got in bed beside Anthony and just held him. Anthony fell asleep and Sören stayed awake for awhile, watching him.
And even more than the conclusions he'd come to last night, it was what happened today that made his decision for him, to stay. To accept what was, and try not to dwell on it. Because the thought of losing Anthony was unbearable to him. He'd likened it to losing a limb, but when he'd felt the danger, the brush with death, as his hands gave a patient a second lease on life, Sören's heart had cried out the truth - it was more like having a piece of his soul ripped out.
They weren't married - yet, that discussion hadn't even come up and Sören wasn't going to press it now if at all. But the words came to him, from the English vows. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.
For better or worse.
...for better or worse, to have and to hold.
Even though he was hungover, Anthony still elected to go to work on Friday the sixteenth, and Garden Court Chambers would indeed be open as usual, with some added security, but open nonetheless.
"I'm surprised," Sören said as he watched Anthony get changed.
"Do right, fear no-one," Anthony quoted the motto, squaring his shoulders. He turned around and looked Sören in the eye. "I have to show the world I really mean that."
Sören made himself go to work as well, even though Ed had told him he could take the day off if he needed to, Sören not only didn't feel right about others pulling harder to carry his weight, but he didn't want to get into the habit of avoidance, which he knew from experience years prior was a slippery slope for him. If he called out today, he'd start calling out more often, making excuses for himself, and that would eventually tank everything he'd worked so hard for. And he had ambitions of eventually making consultant, as young as he was, and he wasn't going to get there unless he pushed himself.
Colin, Pamela and Ed seemed to recognize that Sören wasn't really fully recovered but was OK enough to operate and that had to be good enough, and attempted to keep his spirits up with lame jokes, and some tasteless ones, as gallows humor was common with them.
"I heard that bomb threat was a ruse so you two could run off and shag," Pamela teased.
Sören snorted, but couldn't resist a grin. "If only."
Anthony picked Sören up in the evening. They stopped to pick up Thai takeaway and ate at home in their pajamas, and then Anthony asked if Sören wanted to play a game to help them further destress. Playing Sonic the Hedgehog together after the kind of week they'd had felt surreal, but that was exactly why it was needed. It was made further surreal when Sören remembered what they had in the freezer and they ate orange sherbet with vanilla ice cream out of the carton, eventually feeding each other spoonfuls. When Anthony watched Sören suck on a spoon the old familiar look of lust was in his eye again, which Sören found comforting and reassuring tonight as well as arousing, and when that game finished they went to bed, and took turns giving each other a sweet, loving blowjob before tangling up together to go to sleep.
On Saturday morning Anthony was up before he was - not an unusual occurrence, Anthony tended to keep the same hours every day - and Sören found him sitting at his desk, but towards the window, watching the rain on the river.
"There was a moment," Anthony said quietly, "when I thought to myself, I wonder if they're right, and if I am scum and deserve to die for this."
"Oh my god, Anthony." Sören's heart broke.
"And then." Anthony turned around, sitting properly at his desk - albeit in his pajamas - and he folded his hands on his desk. "I had to remind myself, I've probably done more for women than that group ever has. Like the woman I defended pro bono for killing her partner for beating and molesting her children. Like other women I've defended who fought back against their abusive partners, maiming and killing them. Like women who've sold their bodies to feed their children, because there was no better option. Like young women who were trafficked and still charged like they had done something wrong instead of a great wrong being done to them. Like young women who grew up in council housing and turned to drugs and gang violence because they had no other options. I could go on and on, but you get the point."
"You've done a lot of good." Sören nodded.
"Apparently, not enough for some."
Sören walked over, took Anthony's chin in his hand, and made Anthony meet his eyes. "Enough for me."
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it, and then he said, his voice husky with emotion, "I love you."
"I love you."
Anthony frowned. "And unfortunately, I have paperwork to catch up on that I didn't get a chance to do on Thursday."
"All right."
Sören worked on his WaCom tablet as Anthony worked on paperwork and his laptop. Sören kept stealing glances at him, rumpled and sexy in his pajamas and wire-rimmed glasses, and fought the urge to go over and take him on his desk. Morning wore into early afternoon and Anthony finally got up, yawned and stretched, and said, "I'm going to take a nap."
"Hi Going To Take A Nap."
Anthony threw an armchair pillow at Sören, who tossed it back at him, hitting him in the ass on his way out, both of them laughing. Sören thought about joining Anthony in bed, since he was a little tired himself, but then he decided he wanted to do something nice for Anthony, a surprise while he was sleeping, a sort of morale booster. The question was what...
Sören recalled that Anthony really enjoyed the birthday cake that Sören made for him last month, having gotten the tip from Elaine that his favorite was lemon. It wasn't Anthony's birthday, but it was the kind of dismal, dreary weekend where having the oven on and something sweet and comforting was appealing.
Sören got up, threw on clothes, and headed out to the small grocery store. He bought a lemon cake mix, frosting, and eggs, feeling a little guilty that he was using a mix instead of making it from scratch, but it was still cake. When he got back to the flat he set to work right away, preheating the oven, mixing the cake, readying a bundt pan.
Sören wondered if the smell of cake would wake Anthony up, but he was still sleeping soundly just before the cake came out of the oven. After the cake cooled, Sören frosted it, and then he cut two generous pieces and brought them into the bedroom. But before he could get on the bed and wake Anthony up, the sight of him holding Finn the lion went right to Sören's heart - something precious and innocent at the core of him, that needed to be protected.
Sören found himself making a blanket fort, and letting himself in with the cake. He gently shook Anthony awake, and rained kisses over his face. "Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hm?"
"Guess what I have."
Without opening his eyes yet, Anthony grinned and mumbled, "A boner?"
Sören snorted and said, "Look, arse."
Anthony opened his eyes and then he let out a little gasp and gave an adorable smile, surprised, at the sight of the cake. "Oh my god, Sören." Then he looked around at the blanket fort, sheltering them. "Wow. You..."
Sören broke off a bit of cake with his fingers and shoved it in Anthony's mouth, and Anthony attempted to talk through a mouthful of cake, making Sören laugh.
"You're so sweet," Anthony said, and fed Sören a piece of cake.
They took turns feeding each other bites of cake and then Anthony's cell phone went off, which was on the bedtable outside of the blanket fort. "Swear to fucking god," Anthony growled, lifting up a blanket to retrieve the phone. Then his eyes widened and he swiped to accept. "Mum! Hi!" And then, "Yes, yes I know I haven't called. I was going to call you this evening. I needed a few days..." Elaine's voice, frantic staccato. "I'd assumed you'd watched the news and saw nobody had gotten hurt. We had to evacuate and..." Anthony huffed and rolled his eyes as Elaine continued lecturing him. "Mum, I'm fine. I just needed... to shut down for a bit." More of Elaine's chatter. "Sören's fine, Mum. He takes good care of me. He made me cake, which I was eating just now before you called." Sören heard Elaine's "is that what you're calling it now" and Anthony turned beetroot, sputtered and said, "No, Mum, actual cake. The kind you make from a box."
Sören lost it, howling. "HI, ELAINE," he yelled loud enough for Elaine to hear him.
"Is that Sören? Put him on," Sören heard Elaine say.
Anthony handed Sören the phone, shaking his head, and Elaine said, "Sören, love, how have you been holding up?"
"God. It's been stressful but I think we're gonna be OK," Sören said. "I assume you've been stressed out too, I can't believe he didn't call you."
"See, SOMEBODY UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN, CORNELIUS ANTHONY," Elaine said loud enough for Anthony to hear. Then Elaine went on, "Sören, please do me a favor and come for dinner tomorrow night if you're free and drag that stubborn boy along with you, hm? His father wants some help planting in the garden, besides."
"We're going to dinner at your mum's tomorrow night," Sören said, as he fed Anthony another bit of cake, who nodded.
"All right," Sören said. "I'll see you then. And hopefully there won't be a next time, but in the event anything happens I'll get on him to actually call you back in a timely manner."
"Such a dear boy. Thank you, Sören. Please put me back on the phone with him?"
Sören handed Anthony the phone, and Elaine lectured him for an additional moment with Anthony saying "Yes, Mum," and then another "Yes, Mum," and then another "Yes, Mum," which made Sören giggle and Anthony glare daggers. And finally Anthony said, "Yes, Mum, I love you too, see you tomorrow."
When he got off the phone Anthony yelled, "GOD."
"I'd be worried too," Sören said. "I was worried."
"I know." Anthony gave Sören a sad look and reached up to stroke his face. "I..." He took a deep breath. "It still gets me here," he said, holding his stomach, "that you... you felt it."
Sören thought then about telling Anthony about the strange dreams he'd been having - where they were themselves but somehow looked like other people, and they actually were brothers, in an incestuous relationship, sons of a king. But that seemed too weird, so he didn't. He shoved more cake in Anthony's mouth.
Then when Anthony fed him a bit of cake, Sören got frosting on his nose. Anthony laughed at him for a few seconds with the dollop of frosting hanging off the tip of his nose, and then he leaned in and playfully licked it off. That led to them kissing, and then more sensuously feeding each other, licking and sucking each other's fingers.
"Whew," Sören said, "it sure is warm in this blanket fort." He took his shirt off and then he arranged cake on his chest, deliberately getting frosting on his nipples. Anthony growled as he licked it off, and Sören moaned and sighed - his cock was already getting hard, and it twinged even more now as his nipples were teased.
Anthony one-upped Sören, taking off not just his pajama top but also his bottoms, getting back on the bed naked, and arranged all of the rest of the cake on his chest, stomach, and thighs. Sören ate it off him, licking his skin clean, and when the cake was gone Sören nibbled on his thigh and asked, "Where did the cake go?" before nibbling some more.
"I don't know." Anthony examined the empty plate, and then he frowned. "Pity, I wanted more frosting."
Sören giggled. He licked the plate clean, Anthony watching his tongue with heat in his eyes, and then they kissed, tongues teasing, tasting. "Hold that thought," Sören husked, and climbed out of the blanket fort. He went to the kitchen, covered his erect cock in frosting, and came back with the jar of frosting just in case they had any further use for it. When Sören let himself back in the blanket fort Anthony laughed appreciatively at Sören's frosting-covered cock, and then he stopped laughing to dive down and lick it off, slowly and deliberately.
"Mmmmm," Sören said. He bit his lower lip and groaned, his cock throbbing from the slow play of Anthony's tongue. "Does my little brother like that?"
Anthony's breath hitched. "Oh god." He gave a moan as he licked again. "Yes, I do." He took a few more licks and said, "My big brother takes good care of me."
"I love my brother." Sören groaned again, feeling like he could almost come just from Anthony's tongue and the naughtiness of the game they were playing. "And I love my brother's tongue."
Anthony licked Sören's cock clean, and now Sören was leaking precum. Anthony chased it with his tongue, and at last took the head of Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking it, swirling his tongue as he sucked. Sören bucked and cried out, clutching Anthony's head. "Fuck..."
Anthony swallowed more of Sören's cock down, sucking hungrily, stroking himself as Sören moaned and cried out, panting, already on edge. And then he teasingly let Sören's cock slip from his mouth, gave it a few more licks, and husked, "I want to taste you now."
"Go for it," Sören breathed.
Anthony took Sören back in his mouth and it didn't take long for Anthony to bring him to climax, Sören giving a hoarse shout as he let go, shivering, cock throbbing and pulsing with release. Anthony swallowed and came up to kiss Sören. He was rock hard, rubbing against Sören's thigh, and feeling his erection got Sören going again right away, guiding Anthony's hand down to his stirring cock to tease it back to life.
"Tell me what you want," Sören whispered.
"You." Their eyes met. "Make me safe again."
Sören threw his arms around him and kissed him hard, and rolled Anthony onto his back. He kissed Anthony again and again, and then kissed and licked him all over, his hands sliding, fingers walking over every inch of him, as if every kiss, every lash of his tongue, every brush of his fingers, was weaving a sort of protective magic. "Once I have claimed something," Sören rasped, kissing down from Anthony's left hip to the scar over his thigh, "it is always mine. And nobody, nothing, will take you away from me." He kissed the scar, not knowing what it was from, only knowing he'd survived something, and the little shuddery sigh let him know he was right.
Sören teased him, then, licking his cock, sucking slowly, keeping orgasm just out of reach. He licked around the rim of the opening and pushed his tongue inside, tongue-fucking in a slow yet insistent rhythm, readying Anthony for more. When Anthony started to produce broken cries, gasping for breath, Sören stopped licking inside him and resumed licking Anthony's cock, getting the lube and working slick fingers inside, one then two then three. At last Sören rose and poured lube over his cock and the ready, waiting channel, and pushed inside, slowly. He took Anthony's hands when he was all the way inside, and after a few slow thrusts he pulled Anthony up a little, into his arms, rocking into him harder, faster. Anthony's arms held Sören tight, so tight, hips working back at him.
"I love you," Sören growled, and kissed him hard. Then he held nothing back, driving into him fast and furious, as if he were driving away the forces of darkness itself with the fire of his being.
Anthony returned kiss for kiss, nails raking Sören's back hard enough to draw blood. "Sören." He moaned. "Sören. I love you. I need you. My brother. Mine."
"Yes, elskan. You've got me." Sören stroked his face and kissed him harder. "I've got you."
They kissed as deeply and hungrily as they could, Sören slamming into him with wild, frenzied abandon. A few minutes later Anthony let out a tortured sob as his climax overtook him, and at the feeling of his stomach and chest being splashed as Anthony's silken heat pulsed around him, Sören came, giving a fierce cry of his own.
The cataclysm left them both breathless, wide-eyed, and then they kissed once more, breathing each other's breath, palms and fingertips touching. "I love you," Anthony called out.
"I love you too."
Now it was Sören's turn to doze off, and when he woke up, he found Finn and Tony curled up next to him, holding each other. He heard the shower, and he came down. He got in the shower with Anthony, and they just held each other under the spray for awhile, leaning on each other, just being together, letting the week wash away, holding each other up. It was one of those moments that didn't need words, when it said everything that needed to be said between them.
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