"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG."
Sören giggled madly as he flew into his fraternal twin brother's waiting arms and Dagnýr spun him around and around. Anthony held back a few meters, watching as Sören and Dag held each other tight and spun until Sören was dizzy, and then Dag gave him a squeeze and they pulled back, breathing harder, Dag's hands on Sören's shoulders while they looked at each other face-to-face for the first time in five years.
Dag was still very much as Sören remembered him, changing little in the last five years - short black hair threatening to curl if it grew out, with an unruly cowlick. Piercing grey eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses - their mother's eyes. An oval, "boy next door" face with a generous mouth and dimples when he smiled. A perpetual growth of five o'clock shadow. Dag was wearing a heather grey hoodie over a blue plaid flannel shirt, unbuttoned over a sky blue T-shirt, and faded jeans, with dark brown Timberland boots. He was wheeling a black Samsonite suitcase, and had a University of Toronto duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
Sören's eyes misted, a tight ache in his chest. It had been five years. They had been so close as children, then the distance started after Dag was admitted to Oxford at age fourteen, a child prodigy. Even as a neurosurgeon, Sören felt eclipsed by his brother, the famous scientist, and yet it was impossible to hate him because Dag was a very warm, down-to-earth person. Nonetheless, Dag and their cousin Ari had gotten into enough heated arguments about science versus spirituality that Sören felt put in the middle - Sören was an atheist but he didn't appreciate Dag's vitriol, nor did he want to seem disloyal to his twin brother in favoring his cousin - and then after their sister was murdered things got even more strained. This visit was the hope of repairing that relationship, finally, maybe a chance at going back to the closeness they had once known, where Dag wasn't just his brother, but his best friend. Maybe could even convince him to be nicer to Ari. Sören missed Dag. Don't cry, Sören told himself, not wanting to fall apart in Heathrow with so many people around. Don't cry. Don't cry.
Dag's eyes were too bright as well, his jaw trembling a little as he smiled, and then his eyes widened as he got a better look at Sören, his smile fading as he studied him. "You cut your hair," Dag said, and though he tried to keep his expression neutral there was a faint touch of disapproval in his voice.
"Jæja." Sören ran a nervous hand through his short curls. "I'm... I'm really not used to it. Trying to grow it back out again."
"I see." Dag pursed his lips.
Then his eyes narrowed slightly when Sören motioned for Anthony to come toward them, as if he was holding Anthony responsible for the haircut.
Sören swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. "Dag, this is my fiancé, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Anthony, this is my twin brother, Dagnýr."
Anthony took Dag's hand and shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Dagnýr."
"Please, call me Dag," Dag said, patting Anthony on the arm with his free hand, though there was still a tightness around his eyes.
Sören and Dag were fraternal twins, and a year ago, when Sören began kinky roleplaying with Anthony, he'd made the observation that Dag looked more like Anthony's brother than his - not that Sören was attracted to his own brother, but it was simply a fact. That observation was even more true now as Sören saw them side-by-side. They didn't look exactly alike, Anthony was more "leading man" classically handsome, but they definitely looked related, with a similar boyishness, and though Sören had prepared Anthony for that fact a year ago, Anthony's face still registered slight surprise, Dag responding with an eyebrow going up but otherwise saying nothing about it.
Dag then looked at Sören and Anthony together, sizing them up. Sören was wearing a red plaid flannel shirt open over a Nine Inch Nails "Pretty Hate Machine" T-shirt, and indigo jeans, with his usual Doc Martens. Anthony was wearing a navy blue cashmere sweater, black jeans, and the same pointy black boots he had worn on his first date with Sören; Anthony was also wearing his Rolex watch, which Dag's eyes focused on for a few seconds. Sören's short curls were messy, and Anthony's black hair was carefully combed and gelled. Though Sören had a haircut in March, he still kept his facial hair, and Anthony was clean-shaven, smooth from a straight razor. Sören had the tanzanite and sapphire studs in his ears, the bottom edge of Sören's sleeve tattoos showed on his wrists, and Anthony had no tattoos or piercings. They were a contrast of opposites, and not even as opposite as they could be - at the last minute, Anthony had decided against wearing a blazer to pick up Dag at Heathrow, in favor of something more comfortable.
"I have reservations for us at a seafood restaurant and traffic is always pretty bad around here," Anthony said, "so if this is everything..."
Dag nodded. "This is everything, I travel as light as possible."
"Right, let's be on our way."
They were quiet to and through the carport; Sören kept stealing glances at his twin, scarcely able to believe that after so long, Dag was right here in the flesh. Sören had worked today, from five AM to three PM, and Dag looked as tired as he felt. Instinctively, not thinking about it, Sören put a hand on Dag's shoulder when the Audi was in sight, and Dag gave him a weary smile.
"Það er svo gott að sjá þig aftur," Sören said, the heightened emotion pushing him back to their native language.
"Þú líka." Dag paused and gave him another tight hug.
When they pulled apart, Sören saw Dag's eyes brimming with tears, threatening to spill over, which made Sören's jaw tremble in turn, and even though there were fewer people in the carport, Sören still didn't want to break down and cry. Not yet.
Anthony pressed a button on his keyring, unlocking the Audi, headlights flashing on and off as they approached. Dag let out a low whistle when they stopped at Anthony's charcoal grey Audi A7. "Nice car," he said.
"Thank you," Anthony said. "I got it as a present to myself after I'd been at Lincoln's Inn for a year." Anthony gave a sheepish grin. "Before that I was driving just a Lexus. One that my father bought me when I was seventeen."
Dag's eyebrow shot up, and Sören knew exactly what Dag was thinking, because he was thinking it too: "just a Lexus". As if a Lexus wasn't itself a luxury brand, only slightly less prestigious than an Audi. Sören felt a vague prickle of irritation. And whose father buys them a Lexus when they're seventeen.
Sören loved Anthony, but sometimes his overprivilegedness was a bit grating.
"Well," Dag said, "I drive just a Prius. Better for the environment, and all."
"Just a Prius." The subtle snark was not lost on Sören, and he felt another twinge of apprehension, hoping that Dag, the scientist, wasn't going to get preachy about environmentalism while he was visiting. It wasn't that Sören or Anthony didn't care about climate change and other environmental issues, but Sören worried Dag would lecture them when he saw the way they lived and Anthony would resent it, especially from someone younger than him.
After Dag's suitcase and duffel bag was put in the trunk, Sören offered the passenger seat but Dag got in back. Once Anthony started the car, Sören put on the R&B playlist and selected a song by Drake, "Find Your Love". "Here, something to help you feel at home," Sören said, referencing the fact that Drake was from Toronto.
Dag laughed. "Awwww, takk."
"Do you have enough leg room back there?" Anthony asked.
"I'm fine," Dag said.
"All right."
When they got on the road, the silence between the three men was deafening. Even though Sören liked the music on the playlist, and normally being quiet in the car wasn't a problem - Sören liked to zone out and decompress on car trips, something Anthony understood, and Sören likewise understood when others needed quiet time - he still felt awkward that his own brother was here and he was terrible at small talk. And yet, Sören needed to say something. Anything.
"Jæja," Sören said.
"Jæja," Dag replied.
"...Jæja."
"Jæja."
"Jæja?"
"Jæja..."
Anthony's lips quirked at the back-and-forth, and then he gave a small clear of his throat. "How was your flight, Dag?"
"Not bad," Dag said.
"Did you take a non-stop from Toronto, or..."
"Actually, I had a layover in Reykjavik. I got coffee with Ari."
Sören felt his eyebrows shoot up and his jaw dropped. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
Dag chuckled.
"So you guys, like, didn't kill each other or anything?" Sören asked, genuinely curious.
"The visit was fine, Sören. I've mellowed out a bit. Of course, being called a 'pseudoscience huckster' in a public debate with Richard Dawkins on Twitter made me eat some humble pie," Dag said.
Anthony cocked his head to one side.
Sören knew he was missing context, and explained, "Dag is a scientist, and our cousin Ari, ah... he's a personal trainer in Reykjavik but he, ah."
"He's a practicing witch and he does Reiki and stuff like that," Dag said. "He was wearing a big-ass quartz crystal when we were out to coffee."
"And why does Richard Dawkins think you're..." Anthony's voice trailed off.
"I believe in aliens," Dag said, "and I have theories that they've visited Earth, a long time ago."
There was another awkward pause, while Jamiroquai's "Space Cowboy" started on the playlist as if someone was controlling the playlist with their mind. Anthony's eyes met Sören's, as if he were searching for the right thing to say, and then Anthony said, "Well, as a lawyer, I'm trained to look at all sides of an issue, and I think as strange as that belief sounds, it's also equally strange to insist that there is a hard zero chance alien life has ever been in contact with Earth in ancient times. It's impossible to know that for a fact, Dawkins may be an old man but he wasn't there."
"Exactly," Dag said. "I'm absolutely willing to admit the possibility that I may be wrong. In fact, I welcome someone being able to definitively prove me wrong, because that means technological advancements we don't have now, and..." Dag gave a nervous chuckle. "Anyway, one of my theories is that aliens are responsible for human religions, and they weren't necessarily doing it for benevolent reasons. I agree 100% with Dawkins that religion is a cancer and humanity's continued survival depends on outgrowing it, but he doesn't see we're really on the same side. It's unfortunate, not just in and of itself, but it makes certain events awkward because we have mutual acquaintances and friends in common."
"Stephen Hawking was his doctoral advisor's doctoral advisor," Sören said. "So he can say Stephen Hawking is like his grandpa."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."
"Neil Degrasse Tyson is a personal friend of his," Sören went on. "He's been on Tyson's show... They wrote a book together."
"Jæja, I brought, ah, an autographed copy for you guys," Dag said. Sören looked in the rearview and saw Dag shift in his seat; he still wasn't comfortable with being a famous scientist. "Incidentally, it's about pseudoscience, and debunking popular pseudoscientific theories and claims. Not that I think you guys buy into any of that... but anyway." Dag gave another nervous chuckle, and Sören felt a vague sense of unease, thinking about the dreams he and Anthony shared, where it felt very much like 'the other' and something Dag would likely think was bunk. "Ari and I called a truce a few months ago - he reached out to me when he saw me getting flamed on Twitter - and we agreed to not discuss certain subjects. Ari actually agrees with my theory that the 'gods' humanity worships are bad - he practices magic as a way of 'unlocking human potential', no deities involved. It's just that I think that the idea of magic and so-called 'psychic phenomena' is also harmful superstition that's still holding humanity back, but... I decided we can just agree to disagree on that subject. So we're. You know. Getting on better these days."
"That's good," Sören said. "What did you guys talk about instead?"
"Your wedding." Dag laughed again, this time with amusement rather than anxiety. "We want to know which one of us is going to be your best man, Sören."
Sören ran a nervous hand through his short curls and rubbed his beard. "Oh god. We, ah. We haven't talked about that yet."
"Really? It's the middle of May and you guys are getting married in, what, November?"
"Yes," Anthony said. "But I wasn't thinking our ceremony would be entirely traditional anyway, since we're two men getting married... not a bride and groom..."
"And I don't have anyone to give me away," Sören said. "And it would feel shitty trying to choose between you and Ari for a best man."
"Yeah, I wouldn't feel right trying to choose between one of the guys," Anthony said, referring to his friends.
Sören bit back a groan, and the stabby feeling he got at the thought of Vincente being Anthony's best man and Trisha being forced on him as maid of honor. Fuck that shit. "And I mean, I like Colin, but we're... like... work friends. Not someone I call at three in the morning when I'm replaying the death on my operating table last month, in my head."
"You're still thinking about that?" Anthony gave Sören a concerned look.
Sören nodded.
"I can't blame you." Anthony sighed. "I occasionally think about cases long since over, that still bother me."
"Anyway, to answer your question, it sounds like we're not having a best man," Sören said, needing to change the subject.
Anthony nodded. "Just a very simple ceremony, in front of friends and family and some colleagues." Anthony grinned. "The reception, though..."
Sören grinned back. "We better have karaoke. I want to see people make asses of themselves." He gave Anthony a playful poke. "That means you."
Anthony laughed. "We'll see."
"Where are you guys going for your honeymoon?" Dag asked.
"Switzerland." Sören closed his eyes and his breath hitched at the memory of the breathtaking winter landscape last November, and how magical the Alps were, how romantic the hotel was... "We went there for my birthday last year. I fucking loved it."
"Holy shit, wow. I've never even been to Switzerland and I've seen a lot of Europe now, giving presentations for conferences and whatnot." Sören watched Dag shake his head in the rearview mirror, and then Dag went on, "I've been to South Africa and Australia each a couple times too. Gorgeous. You should go one of these days if you haven't."
"So you drive 'just a Prius' and you fly around the world a lot, at least a few times a year, no?" Anthony had that predatory look in his eye like Dag was a prosecution witness, the dangerous courtroom smile. "Isn't that increasing your carbon footprint quite a bit?"
Oh shit. He caught the snide tone in Dag's comment and now the Shark is out for blood. And Sören knew from watching Dag's history of arguing with Ari - and hearing about his legendary feud with former friend Richard Dawkins - that it was unlike Dag to back down from a challenge. Sören felt the pit of his stomach rising. He'd had such high hopes for this visit and already he could feel them threatening to crash down, and...
There was the long, awkward pause, Anthony waiting for Dag to make his move. Sören braced himself.
Dag surprised Sören with what came next. "You're absolutely right," Dag said. "I try to justify it to myself by saying the good I do for the scientific community in giving these talks offsets the cost of the carbon of flying so much, but it really doesn't. Sometimes I need to be called out to do better, so..." Dag chuckled. "Thanks for the little lecture, Dad."
Anthony's eyes widened but then Anthony laughed too, and gave a genuine smile, seemingly disarmed by Dag's response. "So if you stop flying as much because of my challenge..." Anthony's smile got bigger. "Does that mean you're grounded?"
Sören facepalmed, groaning aloud. Dag laughed harder. "I'm too old for that shit," Dag said.
Anthony's eyes met Sören's, and Sören knew immediately what was coming. "Hi Too Old For That Shit," Anthony said. "I'm Dad."
"OH MY GOD SÖREN, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM," Dag yelled.
The response came out before Sören could stop himself, losing his brain-to-mouth filter in the flood of relief that Dag and Anthony weren't going to fight over this... yet. "Things you probably don't want to hear about your 'dad' doing," Sören said with a wicked grin.
"I'M DONE WITH BOTH OF YOU," Dag teased.
"Hi Done With Both Of You," Sören and Anthony said in unison.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Dag wailed.
Sören was glad that, even though the seafood restaurant where Anthony had reservations was more upmarket, there were plenty of patrons in T-shirts and jeans so Sören and Dag didn't stick out too much. Still, Dag gave an incredulous look around at the expensive wooden tables and the heavy glass partitions and the leather-bound menus, and gawped when they were seated and he had a look at the menu.
Anthony noticed, and said, "Order whatever you want, I'm paying."
Dag scowled. "That isn't necessary. I mean, I can afford it, I just -"
"I was going to insist on paying anyway, since you'll be family soon," Anthony said, in a tone that strongly suggested Dag shouldn't argue with him. Then Anthony flagged a waiter and said, "A bottle of Louis Roederer Brut, please."
Show off. Sören resisted the urge to kick Anthony under the table. He understood that, to Anthony's way of thinking, Dag hobnobbed with famous scientists and possibly even some government officials and was likely used to the wining and dining involved, and Anthony needed to "prove" he could "take care" of Dag's brother. But Sören wished Anthony would also realize Dag lived under his aunt and uncle's roof until the age of fourteen, knew the same poverty that Sören did, and just like Sören he hadn't forgotten his roots, even if he was a little more at ease with the high rollers than Sören was. Dag was still the same dorky, awkward kid Sören remembered, and trying to impress him would potentially backfire and have the opposite effect.
But, Dag and Sören both appreciated good food, and they relaxed a little when the food arrived. Sören had a surf-and-turf platter and immediately tore into his shrimp, while Dag worked thoughtfully on his salmon. Anthony stole a few shrimp from Sören's plate, and Sören stole a crab cake, smiling at him indulgently. Anthony dipped a fry in cocktail sauce and fed it to Sören, booping Sören's nose as Sören nibbled on it.
Dag chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You guys are so gross."
"Takk," Sören said.
Dag laughed harder. "But you guys look happy, which is good to see." His eyes met Sören's. "I know you weren't happy, for a long time."
Anthony put an arm around Sören and tilted Sören's face to his. "Your brother makes me very happy," Anthony told Dag, "and I love him very much." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose, making Sören crinkle his nose and bite his lower lip, giggling, before he kissed Anthony's nose in return. "I hope I make him happy too."
"You do." Sören stroked Anthony's cheek and sighed as he looked into those green eyes, gazing at him with adoration. Then Sören looked at Dag. "Anthony has been very good to me... and good for me." Sören wolfed down a shrimp, and gave one example. "He encouraged me to let other people see my art, so I, ah, had an art show in March, at a gallery."
"Really?" Dag's eyebrows shot up, and he nodded.
"I have another show in July," Sören said.
"Oh, man, I won't be able to make that," Dag said.
"Oh... it's OK. I know you're, ah. Busy." Sören felt a twinge of disappointment, wishing his brother could be there to encourage him. He felt another twinge, thinking of the way Jack, Trisha and Vincente blew off the show.
"Maybe you could schedule the show after your next one for when I have some time available. We have spring break in March 2014..."
That felt like forever, but Sören also knew Dag had the kind of schedule where he had to book things months in advance, between teaching at the University of Toronto and the lecture circuit. "I'll see what I can do," Sören said. By then Anthony and I will be married. That thought filled Sören with a warm glow. "But while you're here, I can show you my portfolio in the meantime."
"You should do that," Anthony said, nodding. Then he blushed and said, "Well, minus a few pictures."
Sören almost choked on his champagne. "Yes, obviously he doesn't need to see those."
"Oh god." Dag facepalmed.
"So what about you?" Sören swirled the champagne around in his glass. "Are you bringing a plus one to the wedding?"
Dag looked at Sören like he'd suddenly grown a second head, and then he laughed bitterly. "Not likely."
"You're not seeing anyone, no?"
"No, not since things went pear-shaped with Sarah."
"Oh my god, Dag, that was years ago." Sören scowled. "Don't tell me you're still broken up over her -"
"Well, I mean, I loved her, don't get me wrong, but it's more over how things fell apart." Dag frowned. "The basic schedule incompatibility. Love isn't enough to keep it together when you never see the person. I know that my schedule isn't really conducive to partnership, so I've been single all this time."
"Wow." And then Sören felt a stab of guilt, thinking about all the hours he worked, and how hard it must be on Anthony, even though thus far they had made things work. How he had been single before Anthony in no small part due to his ridiculous schedule. Then Sören tried to be optimistic, wanting the best for his brother. "Maybe you'll meet someone at the wedding. Maybe a long-distance relationship might be a better starter so you can ease someone into the scheduling weirdness..."
Dag shrugged. "I wouldn't count on it, but who knows."
"If I had any female friends who were single I'd offer to introduce you," Anthony said, and then, glancing at Sören and remembering Sören was technically bi, he added, "or queer male friends, if, um..."
"Yes, I'm bi like my brother," Dag said, nodding.
Anthony couldn't resist; Sören knew Anthony was going to go there before it came out. "Hi Bi Like My Brother -"
Dag gave Sören a mock threatening glare. "Sören, the day of reckoning will come for your corrupting influence."
"I was already corrupt," Anthony said, before nibbling on a crab cake.
"I thought you were Anthony," Sören said.
Dag covered his face with his hands and made noises.
Then Anthony's cell phone went off and Sören felt like screaming in frustration, wishing for once Anthony would turn his phone off when they went out somewhere. He understood why Anthony always had his phone on - work - but it was a Friday night and it was unlikely someone would be calling him about work at this hour. If it's one of his friends, and especially if it's fucking Trisha or Vincente... Sören tried to keep the irritation out of his face and body language.
But then Anthony's eyes widened as he checked the incoming number and swiped to accept. "Mum, hi!" A nervous little laugh. Sören heard Elaine's voice, muffled. "I'm at dinner, what's going on?" Another burst from Elaine, and Anthony said, "Yes, Sören's brother Dag is here, he made it safely."
Now it was Sören's turn to facepalm, laughing fondly. Anthony had let Elaine know Dag was coming and even though the two had never met, Sören was family enough to Elaine that Elaine worried about Sören's family by extension.
"Oh, I see. OK, let me run it by them while they're here." Anthony held the phone away and glanced at Dag. "My mum would like to invite you to Sunday dinner. We can pick you up at your hotel or another spot if -"
"Oh, that's... that's very nice of her, takk," Dag said. "Might as well meet my, uh... aunt-in-law."
"Aunt-and-uncle-in-law," Anthony corrected. "My dad will be there too."
"It's too bad he can't meet your grandmother," Sören said, wondering what Anthea was up to right now.
"Oh god." Anthony turned beetroot, and Sören knew what he was thinking - that incident at Christmas where Anthea had asked when Anthony was going to put a baby in Sören. Anthony got back on the phone with his mother. "Yes, we're on for Sunday. All right, six PM? ...OK, thank you. See you then. Yes, love you too, bye."
"I have to work tomorrow," Sören reminded Dag, frowning apologetically. "But I have Sunday off..."
"It's OK." Dag nodded. "I was going to take tomorrow to decompress from the flight and catch up with a couple folks in the area. Sunday dinner sounds good, though."
"His mum is great," Sören said. "I like her very much."
"That's good to hear." Dag sipped his champagne. "That's... important." Then Dag gave a little frown. "Should I bring anything? Uh..."
"Just yourself," Anthony said. "And be prepared for her to feed you really, really well. We're usually taking leftovers home."
It started raining on the ride to Dag's hotel, but Sören still got out of the car to give Dag a hug when they pulled up. It had been too long, and Sören clung. Dag held him tight, rocking him a little.
On the way to their place in Kingston, Sören zoned out to the R&B playlist and the sound of the rain and the windshield wipers, until Anthony tapped him.
"Your brother is interesting," Anthony said.
Sören laughed. "That's one way of putting it." Then Sören raised an eyebrow, feeling a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Interesting good, or Chinese curse interesting?"
"Yes," Anthony said.
Sören laughed, harder.
But then Anthony went on, "I feel like... I already know him, somehow. It's hard to explain."
"Well... you did see that sketch of him back when we were in Paris, and he and I aren't that different and you live with me, so..."
"I'd normally say that was it, but it's... I don't know. It sounds daft." Anthony gave a sheepish grin. "Maybe we were in the same room once when he was visiting London or something. I don't know."
"Hmmm."
Sören splashed in puddles once they got out of the car, like an overgrown kid, making Anthony laugh. He was drenched enough that he started undressing as soon as they got upstairs, and Anthony dragged him off to the shower. After lathering each other and rinsing off together, Anthony slammed Sören against the shower wall, lifting Sören's arms and pinning his wrists much the same as he'd done on their first night together, which felt like ages ago now. Anthony kissed and nipped at Sören's neck, and then he rasped, "Now it's time for you to visit your other brother."
Sören's cock jolted at that - it was so wrong and yet so right. Sören moaned as Anthony's hard cock bumped up against his, their cocks rubbing together as they kissed deeply.
"I love you, bróðir minn," Sören husked, looking into Anthony's eyes, green like emeralds.
"I love you." Anthony kissed him again. "Let me show you."
He let go of Sören's wrists and Sören threw his arms around him, kissing him back with all the fire in him. They kissed all the way to the bedroom, and as soon as they got on the bed Sören spread for him, arched to him, aching to play that wicked game of roleplaying brothers, kinkier now more than ever.
It rained all day Saturday, and the rain let up when Sören and Anthony arrived at Anthony's parents' house in Blackheath at six PM Sunday, with Dag in tow.
Roger answered the door, wearing a burgundy cardigan and khakis. "Roger, Dad, this is my brother Dagnýr. Dag, this is my father-in-law-to-be, Roger Hewlett-Johnson," Sören said.
Roger shook Dag's hand. "Hello, it's nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Dag said.
"Come in, come in."
Dag followed them into the greatroom, and Elaine came out of the kitchen. She paused, and smiled at Dag with such warmth that it made Sören ache. The mother I never had.
"You must be Dag." Elaine's rich contralto filled the room. She was wearing a black cashmere sweater and charcoal grey trousers, with akoya pearls dangling from her ears and a matching akoya pearl pendant on a delicate chain. She put on her glasses to get a better look, then walked over and took Dag's hand in hers. "Hi, I'm Elaine."
"A pleasure," Dag said.
Then Elaine dragged Dag up off the couch and hugged him, and Dag laughed with surprise, hugging her back.
"Tea?" Elaine offered. "Dinner's going to be awhile, but some banana bread while you wait? It's fresh from the oven."
Dag's mouth made a little "o" and he nodded enthusiastically.
Elaine went back to the kitchen and returned with tea and warm banana bread. Sören could have died of happiness at the melt-in-your-mouth treat, leaning on Anthony. There was the usual chat between Elaine, Roger and Anthony of their respective weeks, and then Elaine asked Sören the customary question of how his week had been, and Sören made his usual tired noise which made Elaine chuckle and pat him. "Poor dear," Elaine said. Then Elaine turned to Dag. "I hear you have a presentation at Oxford tomorrow."
"I do," Dag said. "It's a TED Talk, so it'll be on YouTube at some point."
"Oh, lovely, I shall have to watch it when it's available," Elaine said. "What is it about...?"
"Alternate universes." Dag sipped his tea. "You don't have to watch it if it's not going to interest you -"
"Oh no, that's fascinating." Elaine sounded sincere, and knowing Elaine all this time, Sören had no doubt she was actually sincere. Anthony's love of learning came from somewhere, and it wasn't his father - Sören liked Roger, but Roger knew what he knew and he was content to occupy his little corner of the universe. "Sometimes, when I think about all the problems going on in the world, it comforts me to know there might be better worlds than these, that don't have the same problems."
"Or they traded one set of problems for another, more like," Roger gruffed into his tea.
Elaine gave Roger that oh, you look while Anthony rolled his eyes. But then Dag said, "Yes, much more like that," and nodded. "If you consider that there's probably an infinite number of universes, and some might only have small differences between them, while others are radically different... well, the possibilities are really endless... and rather disturbing to think about. It's the sort of thing that keeps me up at night."
"Right," Elaine said, clapping her hands together; Sören got the distinct sense Elaine had made that exact gesture when Anthony asked "why" too many times as a child. "Who would like some scotch or cognac or brandy?"
Anthony limited himself to one shot of Hennessy since he was driving. Sören didn't care much for scotch or cognac or brandy so he declined; Dag and Roger both had shots of Auchentoshan and Elaine had a shot of apple brandy. Sören continued to mellow out, eating banana bread, drinking tea and listening to Dag tell Elaine and Roger and Anthony about what it was like in Toronto; every now and again he glanced over at Elaine and saw she was hanging onto every word, as if Dag were a long-lost family member come home. It made him smile a little, that Elaine had already practically adopted Dag. She was just like that.
Dag became more animated as the whisky kicked in and he recounted how he'd started at University of Toronto. "I was terrified of my first class, so I decided to put on one of those fake glasses, fake nose, fake mustache disguises so that way I could just get over with looking ridiculous... and the very first line I ever spoke to students was 'Sometimes the universe makes about as much sense as my face does right now.'"
Elaine laughed, and raised her glass to Sören. "I see a sense of humor runs in your family."
"Well, you kind of have to have one in the sciences, I think," Dag said. "I was one of the scientists who worked on the Large Hadron Collider - the thing that a lot of people thought was going to destroy the world. So a lot of us joked about it. 'Time to try to destroy the world again,' was a common refrain."
"Terrible," Elaine said. "I like it."
Sören chuckled, and then he gave a small sigh, remembering their childhood in Akureyri, and the way they used to make each other laugh to cope with the horror they were living in. Dag's eyes met his, and Sören had a feeling then Dag was probably thinking the same thing. And as Dag's face lit up while he talked about his misadventures as a scientist and a professor, Sören was reminded of the boy Dag had been. It was comforting to see that as much as things had changed, other things still stayed the same.
Dinner was a roast chicken and a side of herbed potatoes, carrots and squash. Dag complimented the meal profusely, until Elaine said, "Oh, it's simple, really."
"I don't get to eat home cooking often," Dag said. "I'm not much of a cook."
Elaine gave him a sad look. "Whenever you're in England, consider yourself welcome to eat with us, whether or not Sören and Anthony come with you." She reached over and patted his arm.
"Awwww, thank you." Dag smiled, showing his dimples. When Elaine reached out to pinch his cheek, Sören almost spat his chicken, shaking with silent laughter. Dag glared across the table at Sören, who stuck his tongue out, and then Elaine said, "Children, behave."
"I hope you do get some vegetables in your diet even if you're not cooking," Elaine said, her tone motherly, scolding and concerned.
"Oh, yeah, I mean, that's important," Dag said. "I usually bring a yogurt and something like baby carrots with me to work." Dag waved his fork around, which had squash on it. "I don't eat a lot of squash, but this is fantastic, this makes me want to eat squash more often."
"Then I hope you come during the summer," Elaine said. "We grow more herbs than vegetables but we do grow squash in the garden, so we have fresh courgettes in the summer."
"Unfortunately my summer's all booked up," Dag said.
"That's a shame. Sören has an art show in July..."
Dag sighed. "I know."
"Mum, please don't guilt trip him," Anthony said.
"Sorry." Elaine frowned into her water. "It was more of a hope that Sören could see his family more often... and I'd like to get to know Sören's family better, too. His family is our family now, and all."
"Don't mind Mum, she adopts everyone," Anthony said.
"I do not," Elaine said. "There's not really an 'everyone' to adopt, anyway. You never bring any of your friends over..." Elaine sniffed and sipped her water, as if she realized she'd hit a nerve.
Yeah, I wonder why that is. Sören got the feeling Anthony's friends would be bored by "hanging out with the old folks", and it would probably be mutual, even as Elaine and Roger were more comfortable with money and status than Sören was. Sören had the sense that Elaine wouldn't like Trisha at all.
"Would you like to see the garden, Dag?" Roger asked, knowing to change the subject. "Anthony helps me in the garden on weekends."
"It's good for the soul," Anthony said, and then quickly added, "Well, as a figure of speech."
Dag chuckled. "Don't worry, I knew what you meant."
After dinner, Sören did the dishes and Anthony helped him load the dishwasher while Elaine, Roger and Dag sat in the greatroom, then once the dishwasher was loaded and running, Dag followed Roger, Elaine, Anthony and Sören into the garden just in time to watch the sunset. Dag's eyes widened and a grin lit up his face as he looked around and saw the flowers blooming, the herbs in leaf, the vegetables sprouting, everything vibrant and lushly green in spring.
"This is a lovely garden," Dag said sincerely. "It's a lovely place, in general. Your house is really nice..."
"I designed the house," Elaine said.
"Did you?"
Elaine nodded. "Would you like to take a tour after we've sat out here for a bit?"
"Yes, please."
They had lemonade as they sat and watched the sunset in the garden, the sky a riot of pinks, orange and violets in soft blue that deepened. Anthony kept an arm around Sören, gently stroking his back, and then Anthony got up, took the watering can from where it was resting on a stone, and began to make the rounds, watering the plants. Lingering at each one. In his mind's eye Sören saw Anthony as the silver-gold man from his dreams, golden light streaming from his hands, shimmering into plants, hearing the plants chime as if singing, watching the plants grow right before his eyes, thriving in loving care. Here and now, Anthony seemed to burn in the sunset, and the plants swayed back and forth gently in the breeze. If Sören didn't know better he would think Anthony was doing some sort of energy work on the plants - like his cousin's Reiki - but Anthony didn't do that sort of thing. And yet...
A frisson went down Sören's spine, and that vision held in his mind's eye. I need to paint this. And then the title came to him, unbidden. Nothing Gold Can Stay.
Sören wondered, once again, about why he and Anthony had the same dreams, why they were so attuned to each other as they were. He looked over at Dag, who was watching Anthony as if he were studying him, and he wondered why Anthony felt Dag was familiar. If it had something to do with
before.
Sören tried not to snort into his lemonade. Oh come on, that past life shit isn't real.
But billions of people around the world disagreed, and it had been one of mankind's oldest documented beliefs. Why?
Sören went on the tour of the house when the sunset faded into twilight, even though he'd seen the house plenty of times before. He noticed that Dag was trying to keep his expression neutral as they walked around, but Dag was a bit dazed, as if he couldn't believe the house was real.
Elaine sent Sören and Anthony home with leftovers; she tried to give some to Dag too, but Dag politely declined, so Sören and Anthony got even more. Sören held the food containers in a bag in his lap on the way home, dozing off a little as he was full of food and feeling content having spent time with family. Then Dag's voice roused him.
"Your parents seem nice, Anthony," Dag said.
"They mostly are."
Dag laughed. "Mostly."
"Well, my dad has his grumpy moments, moreso now as he's getting older and has arthritis, and my mum... you wouldn't want to get on her bad side. But compared to a lot of other people I've known, especially present company, my parents are decent and I have very little to complain about with them. I know how fortunate I am." That last sentence came across almost like Anthony felt the need to defend himself, and Sören's eyes opened fully. He wondered if Anthony had noticed Dag's discomfort with the privilege. Anthony's a fucking barrister, he's trained to observe people, of course he's noticed.
And then Anthony's tone softened, and he glanced over at Sören. "But my greatest fortune is your brother."
Sören couldn't help but smile. He leaned in and kissed Anthony's cheek.
"Good," Dag said. "You had better value him."
Sören laughed. "Dag!"
"No, it's fine. Not every day I get threatened by a Viking," Anthony said.
"You mean Sören doesn't threaten you every day?" Dag teased.
No, that was our other brother I threatened, and he liked it. And another frisson went down Sören's spine, wondering where he was, if he was out there... And why are you even thinking like this. Even if there is something really going on here and it's not just... confirmation bias... Anthony doesn't seem keen on sharing you this time around.
But if he was, I totally hope he's hot. And French.
Sören tilted his head back against the passenger seat, closed his eyes, and sighed.
"Here we are," Dag said, "all alone in the solar system. As far as we currently know, all alone in the galaxy. All alone in any galaxy.
"But do we know that for a fact? Are we, in fact, alone?
"Carl Sagan had said that of billions and billions of stars -" Dag smiled, and so did several dozen people in the audience, Sören being one of them. "-the possible number of advanced civilizations capable of interstellar travel was about one million, max. Any civilization wishing to check on all the others would have to launch 10,000 ships annually, which is... a lot of spaceships."
A couple of weeks ago, in a moment of spare time Sören had made some bad MS Paint doodles and photoshops for Dag's presentation.
The Alot from the old Hyperbole and a Half blog, covered in spaceships, was on the screen behind Dag, captioned ALOT OF SPACESHIPS. Laughter and a few groans from the audience; Dag smiled genuinely now, relaxing.
"But would they need to check on all the civilizations? And would they have to launch any ships at all? Maybe we're thinking about these highly advanced civilizations, spacefaring, the wrong way. Maybe they are using quantum fields to travel, maybe even pockets of dark matter.
"Tonight, I'll be challenging what you think you know about the concept of life on other worlds. No pseudoscience of UFOs - no need to fly at all. Why fly, when you can just walk through a door?
"Tonight, I'll be challenging what you think you know about the concept of the universe itself. Are we in a universe, singular, or are we in a multiverse, plural?
"We may not be as alone as we think we are. Is that comforting? Not really. Terrifying, harrowing. But just like primitive humans had to conquer their fear of fire, and harness it to survive - we must continue to face that which we do not understand. And in that, science fiction truly is accurate - space is the final frontier."
Fear of fire.
In Sören's mind's eye, he saw the recurring nightmare that had plagued him since he was four years old - burning to death, burning up and up and up, turning to ash and smoke. There had been no house fire, nothing seen on television or in movies, no neighbors' fires or other news of fires, to put the idea in small Sören's head.
And now he saw himself from his dreams, in the forge. Hammering hot steel on an anvil. Refining gold by fire. Cutting jewels by firelight, watching them sparkle in the glow of the flames. Harness it to survive.
Anthony's hand gripped Sören's, and Dag's words continued to echo. We may not be as alone as we think we are.
The nightmare of the ships burning. Burn them all. Sören feeling abandoned, betrayed, forsaken. His pride burning as hot as his passion. If they will not love me, they will fear me.
And now something new, the vision of making glass... a mirror. The Door of Doors. Looking into the mirror and seeing infinite reflections. His ancient other-self looking into the mirror and seeing sometimes himself, and sometimes Sören as he was now, staring back at him. Waving his hand and watching them all wave the same way. Watching Sören and Anthony find their way to each other, again and again and again.
Once I have claimed something, it is always mine.
Sören tried to refocus on Dag's words, but he kept being pulled to the wanderings of his mind. Seeing the mirror, seeing the infinite reflections, seeing himself and Anthony.
Always mine. Always mine...
And then Sören's attention finally snapped back as he was aware Dag was finishing his speech. He felt guilty for not being fully "there", but it was precisely because Dag's words had captivated him, drawn him elsewhere, sparked his imagination.
Or is it just imagination? What is it, really? What's going on here?
...Goddamn, this is crazy shit.
"Ultimately, we can't prove any of this... it's why it's called theoretical astrophysics. The only thing I know for certain, here, is that we really don't know much of anything at all. Indeed, future generations - with more information, better technology - still won't know everything, or even much more than we've learned to date.
"What I do know is that I am willing to be wrong about everything I just said, I am willing to look like a fool, if someone is willing to prove me wrong. Because the future of humanity, here on this pale blue dot, is such that until and unless we can prove these doors exist, and open them... we are still alone. There is dark matter, but the greater darkness is closer to home. It's inside all of us.
"And it is only by being willing to keep delving into that darkness - to learn more, about the nature of reality, the nature of ourselves... that is what preserves this world. That is what has taken us from the caves to the skies. That is the poetry of the starstuff that we are all made of. The willingness to light that fire within, to face the fear of the unknown, and find the truth, however it hurts. However it may break the world that we know, however it may break us, ourselves. Knowledge is power, and it is only in breaking what we think is our reality, and go deeper... that the pieces fall together as they should. As they must, for our continued survival. Thank you."
Sören found himself standing up, applauding, and watched as Anthony stood with him, as the rest of the auditorium rose to give Dag a standing ovation. Tears burned Sören's eyes - he had never been prouder of his brother before this moment. He realized that giving a TED Talk was not quite as much of an accomplishment as getting admitted to Oxford at age fourteen, or working at NASA, or working on the Large Hadron Collider, or teaching at the University of Toronto, or co-authoring a book with Neil Degrasse Tyson. And yet, Sören knew how terrifying it was to speak in front of other people - just at staff meetings at the hospital Sören felt like he was going to choke - and Dag had given some very, very interesting food for thought.
Too interesting.
That night, after they made love, Sören and Anthony held each other, listening to the rain fall; Anthony stroked Sören's curls, and Sören melted into the scalp massage, though he was still irritated with his hair being short.
Finally Anthony's voice broke the quiet. "Your brother gave an amazing speech."
"Jæja, he did." Sören nodded, feeling that warmth and tight ache in his chest again. "I'm very proud of him."
"You should be."
"Sounds like even you're proud of him." And then Sören couldn't resist. "Chip off the old block." He tweaked Anthony's nose, laughing softly.
"Yeah, I guess he is, isn't he?" Anthony laughed too.
There was that frisson down Sören's spine again, and he felt himself break into gooseflesh, hair standing on end.
Anthony noticed the gooseflesh. "Cold?"
Sören pulled the covers around them without answering that directly. Anthony's arms tightened around him and he kissed Sören's brow, and then he gave that frown he did when he was concentrating on something or about to ask a potentially sensitive question. "Sören?"
"Jæja?"
"Oh boy. This is going to sound daft." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, while his other arm squeezed Sören. Then he exhaled sharply. "Right, let me just..." He cleared his throat. "Do you think when we... dream of... well, what we dream of... that we're seeing into another reality?"
"Possibly maybe," Sören said. He thought of the vision he had during Dag's TED Talk, where the other-him was looking into the mirror and seeing some reflections that were the other-him, and some that were Sören himself. "But it..." He searched for the right words. "It feels like everything we're dreaming of, already happened already. Like..."
"Like the past," Anthony said.
"Like a past life, yes. But that's..."
"It's religious bullshit."
"It's religious bullshit, and yet, is it really religious, or bullshit?" Sören shrugged. "I can't answer that. As a neurosurgeon, as an atheist, I want to tell you yes. But science demands proof, and I don't have proof that the answer is 100%, absolutely yes."
"Yeah, same, but as a barrister." Anthony let out a deep sigh. "If it is the past, it raises the question of why it's the past. What happened. How we ended up as... ourselves..."
"...where this is all going," Sören said.
"And who else from our past is out there." Anthony scowled again. "You know when I said I felt like I know Dag somehow..."
"Oh god. You don't think he was our other -" That felt incredibly wrong in a way Sören didn't know how to articulate.
"Oh god no," Anthony said, laughing; Sören was glad Anthony agreed with that assessment. Then Anthony got serious. "But I wonder if he's... family."
"I don't know." Sören sighed. "I know nothing."
"I know that I love you," Anthony said, his voice soft. He took Sören's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes, traced Sören's lips with his thumb before pulling him into a kiss. "And if it was a past life, our present, here and now... this is a choice. You are what I want. Truly. Madly. Deeply."
Sören's eyes teared up, and his throat and chest tightened. He had no words to express how he felt, so he let his body do the talking, rolling Anthony onto his back and kissing him passionately as he straddled Anthony's hips.
Sören is in the body not his own again, with the flood of dark hair to his knees. He is with Anthony in the walled garden, and one of Anthony's small sons is riding piggyback on his shoulders, enchanted by the beauty of the garden...
...and endlessly curious. "Father, what's that one? And that one?"
Anthony is patient, telling his son which each plant is. Then his son has more questions. "How does it grow, Father? What makes it grow?"
When Anthony feels his son has asked enough questions for now, he distracts him by taking them to the bird menagerie. Sören smiles at the birdsong, his smile growing bigger as Anthony talks to the birds like they are his children, and the birds talk back to him. They feed the swans, and watch them sail on the pond.
But there are of course more questions. "Why do birds fly, Father? How do birds fly?"
At last Anthony gives Sören a pleading look. Help, he speaks directly into Sören's mind. You have sons of your own. And they are even more of a handful. How do you handle them?
Sören smirks, and pulls a ring from his finger, handing it to the boy to let him play with it. The boy is captivated by the way the jewel sparkles in the light, the intricate metalwork of the band. "I want one," the boy says, tugging on the hem of Sören's tunic. "I want one."
"When you're big," Sören says.
The boy grabs his father's hand, points to the emerald ring that Sören has made for him - the ring of their secret marriage vow. "I want one like this," the boy says. "I like green."
While they waited for Eurovision to start, Sören heated up the leftovers from Elaine and served Dag, Anthony, and himself, and they watched a rerun of Star Trek: The Next Generation.
"You know..." Anthony swirled the beer around in its bottle and cocked his head to one side, looking thoughtful. "I rather hope there's at least one reality where humanity pulls its collective head out of its collective arse enough to be able to create something like the Federation."
"Well..." Dag chuckled. "I had a conversation with Ari when we were at coffee on Friday that wasn't too dissimilar, except he said..." Dag laughed harder. "Oh god. He said he thinks that different fictional canons are maybe other versions of reality, and people with more 'advanced consciousness' are 'tuning in' and writing it as fiction without realizing it's fictional." Dag snickered and sipped his beer.
"So in other words, he thinks Star Trek is real somewhere," Anthony said.
"Yes." Dag nodded vehemently. "And he thinks that Tolkien's history is actually real. That it happened here, in the distant past. Like there were actual real, live hobbits and shit. I had to call my friend who teaches calculus at the university back in Toronto, and let him know I was safe and whatnot, and I was like 'get a load of this shit, my cousin Ari thinks hobbits are real.' Proust was like, 'you mean halflings.' I laughed so fucking hard I thought I was going to break something."
Sören laughed too, even though he had a vague sense of uneasiness. He chalked it up to being uncomfortable with Dag making fun of Ari - even though they were on better terms now. "Wrow," was all Sören could say, his voice slurred from having had a few beers, and Eurovision hadn't even started yet.
"Yeah. Wrow is right," Dag said. "Wrrrrow."
"Ugh, that reminds me," Anthony said, leaning back in his chair. "I've been meaning to re-read Tolkien. I've read the Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit, not in some time though, and there's that other book that's been on my reading list forever that I've never gotten around to, the, uh..." Anthony searched for the right word - he too was a little impaired from the alcohol. "The Scimitar... no wait, that's not it."
Sören knew what Anthony was trying to say but it was on the tip of his tongue, escaping him. "The, uh. The Milli Vanilli."
Dag spat his beer.
"The S'mores," Anthony said. "No... uh..."
Dag did his best Swedish Chef impersonation. "The Smear-de-beard-de-smear-den-brod-dyr-fear-de-bird-den, börk-börk-börk."
Sören gigglesnorted. "The Vita-meata-vega... uh... Meata-vita-vagina..."
Dag had to put his plate down on the coffee table, doubling over. "Yeah, those Noldor, they were unpoopular. They popped out at parties. They fought over some vinerals."
It got even worse when Eurovision started. Sören made microwave popcorn in the kitchen.
"WHERE'S MAH POPCORN?" Dag shouted.
"I'M POOPING IT," Sören yelled back. "I'M POOPING THE POOPCORN."
Sören sat between Dag and Anthony on the couch and shared the big bowl of popcorn with them. "God, we haven't watched Eurovision in forever," Sören said.
"It's been too long," Dag said. "We need to try to make this a yearly tradition again."
"So you guys are pretty serious about Eurovision, huh?" Anthony asked.
Sören nodded solemnly. "We kind of have to be. We sent people to Eurovision twice that I can remember." Then Sören quickly explained, "Akureyri, I mean. Iceland itself participates every year obviously..."
"The guy this year is from Dalvík," Dag informed them.
Sören howled. "Oh my god."
"What... what's so funny?" Anthony gave them a confused look.
"So people think Akureyri is tiny, because it's only, like, eighteen thousand people," Sören said. "Dalvík is about fourteen hundred people give or take."
Dag nodded. "Yeah, Dalvík is... real small town."
"And a short drive from Akureyri," Sören said, giving the thumbs up. "So he's almost one of us."
Sören watched intently - sometimes cringing and laughing, sometimes nodding along with the music. When the contestant from Iceland came on, Sören's jaw dropped - a young man with long blonde hair and a beard, with a voice as suited for heavy metal as it was for pop. "God, he's hot," Sören muttered, and then at the withering look Anthony gave him, Sören wished he hadn't said that aloud, internally cursing his lack of brain-to-mouth filter, more unfettered than usual because of the alcohol. "You're hotter," Sören quickly assured Anthony, stroking his hand. And that was a sincere compliment, though the Icelandic man with long blonde hair made Sören start thinking of their dreams again, and what Anthony looked like in those dreams.
When the contestant from Sweden was on, Sören and Dag looked at each other and then Dag started singing along in fake-Swedish. "Smear-de-hof-de-brud-de-bird-de-hork-de-brod-de-broom börk-börk-börk!"
Anthony chuckled. "You're terrible."
"Runs in the family, I heard," Dag said.
Sören took that as his cue and started singing "Vita-meata-vega-cheetah-meata-vita-veg-vagina..."
Anthony facepalmed, laughing harder. "Sören..."
The alcohol was really kicking in now. It got worse when Norway's contestant took the stage with a song called "I Feed You My Love".
"I Feed You My Love? Who the fuck names a song that?" Dag yelled.
"Norwegians," Sören said.
Dag lost it, doubling over again.
"We have to make fun of other Scandinavian countries," Sören told Anthony. "It's the law. And they make fun of us. That is also the law."
"We're Norwegian too, you know," Dag said. "Our family came from there centuries ago, before they moved to Iceland."
"Yeah, to what... feed it their love? Wrrrow."
"WRRRRRRRROW."
"WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROW."
"I can't hear the song," Anthony said.
"Good," Sören said, and Dag laughed harder, wheezing.
Anthony shook his head, grinning, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Terrible."
"Yes, most Norwegian music is terrible. Exhibit A: A-Ha," Sören said.
"Oh my fucking god," Dag said. "I can't believe you even remember A-Ha."
"I wish I could forget A-Ha," Sören said, nipping his beer. "Or A-Teens. Though that was Sweden's fault."
"Still better than the Spice Girls," Dag said. "Shitty pop that isn't Scandinavian."
"We do not talk about the Spice Girls," Anthony said.
"Ruh-roh, is Anthony triggered?" Sören asked.
Anthony chuckled. "Almost." Then he added, "The Spice Girls sort of helped me figure out I'm gay. I couldn't wank to them."
Dag had just taken a mouthful of popcorn, and he almost choked, which made Sören laugh harder. "Thanks, Dad," Dag said. "That... I totally needed to know that."
"Now Gavin Rossdale on the other hand..." Anthony turned beetroot.
There was a bathroom and stretching break, and Anthony put on the living room light. When Dag took his seat on the other side of Sören, and Sören passed the bowl of popcorn, Dag snatched Sören's left hand and held it up to the light. "You know, I never did get a good look at your engagement ring till now."
"Oh." Sören reached across awkwardly with his other hand to take a handful of popcorn, and put it in his mouth.
"I could have sworn these were emeralds for some reason."
Sören spat his popcorn, spraying it just as Anthony got back from the bathroom, and Anthony leaned against the edge of the couch, shaking with laughter.
"Wow, smooth as fuck," Dag said. "Good going, Sören."
Sören had chills, remembering the dream from last night, and he desperately needed to dial back the surreal feeling, heart pounding. Sören licked his thumb and forefinger and ran them along his eyebrows before waggling them at Anthony, who was in hysterics as he hit the light and sat back down. Anthony kissed Sören before grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I don't know, he's pretty sexy when he's being an idiot," Anthony said.
"I guess you'd have to think that, to be with him this long," Dag said.
The show wore on, and though Sören and Anthony made snarky commentary, Dag was quiet, and Sören finally glanced over to make sure Dag was OK and not stewing in resentment... and saw Dag had fallen asleep. Sören tapped Anthony and pointed over at Dag, putting a finger to his lips to indicate Anthony should be quiet, and Anthony whispered, "Awwwww."
"Should we call his cab and make him get up?" Sören whispered back. They had driven Dag to their flat, but because they would be drinking, the original plan was for Dag to take a taxi back to the hotel when Eurovision was over.
"He can sleep there," Anthony whispered. "I'll get some linens from the hall closet when this is over."
When Eurovision was finally over, and Dag was still sleeping - snoring softly - Anthony got up and went to the hall closet as Sören washed the dishes. Then Sören came over and gently shook Dag. "Dag," Sören said. Dag was sleeping soundly enough that he didn't wake up right away, and Sören had to shake him a few more times. "Dag. Dagnýr. Dag."
Dag's eyes opened a little, a look of confusion on his face. "Hvað?"
"Þú sofnaðir," Sören said. "Þú misstir af síðasta hluta Eurovision."
"Oh. Oh." And then Dag's eyes widened, as it registered. "Það er lokið núna?"
Sören nodded. Then, for Anthony's sake, he switched back to English. "You don't have to take a cab back to the hotel, you can sleep here tonight if you want."
"But you do have to get up so I can make the bed," Anthony said.
"Oh. OK." Dag nodded. "Yeah, I'm feeling all..."
"Drunk?" Sören snickered. "We're all kind of drunk."
"Jæja, I'm pretty drunk," Dag said, as Sören helped him to his feet.
Anthony grinned, and Sören knew it was coming. "Hi Pretty Drunk, I'm Dad..."
"Jesus Christ," Dag said, but with a small smile.
Anthony made up the couch with linens, and Dag lay down, trying to adjust to get comfortable as Anthony walked back out to the hallway. Sören wondered what he was doing, and sat in a chair next to the couch, reaching out to affectionately tousle his brother's hair. "Anthony sets his alarm for five," Sören warned him. "I go into work at seven tomorrow, and Anthony is going to his chambers at eight, so you'll need to be out of here by then unless you want to be stuck here all day, but we'll both be pretty tired after work tomorrow so -"
"No, I get it. Remember, my schedule is crazy too." Dag's voice was thick with sleep and alcohol.
And then Sören saw why Anthony had disappeared - Anthony came back with Finn and Tony in his arms, and Dag gave a sleepy grin at the sight of the soft toys.
"Here," Anthony said. "I know sleeping in a strange place can be difficult, so..." He handed the stuffed animals over to Dag, who hugged them, and then Anthony pulled up the covers, tucking Dag in.
"Thanks, Dad," Dag mumbled.
"Good night, son," Anthony said, mirth in his voice, but his eyes were also strangely sad.
Sören took Anthony's hand and they hit the lights on their way out to the bathroom, then the bedroom. They didn't make love that night - they were both too drunk, enough that Sören was already cursing the hangover he was going to have tomorrow - but also, Dag was right there in the living room and Sören and Anthony both got loud. They did hold each other for awhile before they got to sleep, and just before Sören dozed off, he said, "It's nice, seeing you in father mode."
"It comes more naturally than I thought. I don't think having kids is for me, but..." Anthony frowned. "I do wonder now if there's, you know. An alternate universe where I have a kid or two."
"Or three."
Anthony nodded.
"Maybe it's a 'verse where men can get pregnant," Sören teased, remembering Anthea's words at Christmas. "Maybe it's where instead of your grandmother saying 'Cornelius, when are you going to put a baby in him,' it's 'Cornelius, when are you going to put ANOTHER baby in him?'" And then Sören felt a shiver go through him, remembering that trip to Brighton where he had a vision of himself with a pregnant belly, walking with Anthony. Wondering if that was just a trick of his imagination, or...
"Maybe," Anthony chuckled. His arms tightened around Sören. "Well... just the same, I'm not looking to have children here. Cats, though..."
"Yes, cats." Sören nodded. He couldn't help himself. "And Dag."
"Oh GOD." Anthony rolled his eyes, laughing harder.
"HEY, KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE!" Dag yelled from the living room, though his tone was playful.
"I DON'T NEED A LECTURE FROM YOU, YOUNG MAN," Anthony yelled back. "KIDS THESE DAYS..."
"I CAN LECTURE YOU IF I WANT. YOU DON'T RUN MY LIFE, DAD."
"SON, I'M DISAPPOINTED IN YOU."
"Oh shit," Sören hissed under his breath just as Dag came back with, "HI DISAPPOINTED IN YOU..."
Sören giggled into the pillow as Anthony made a noise, then Anthony laughed along with him.
Sören's long hours on Wednesday and Thursday - to compensate for having three nights off in a row Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday - meant that he was too tired to spend time with Dag, but Dag took the opportunity to see some friends and colleagues in London, which worked out well. On Friday Sören had another night off, and wanted to see Dag before he flew back to Canada on Saturday afternoon - he and Anthony would bring Dag to the airport, but it wasn't the same as another evening hanging out with his brother. All too soon, this visit was over.
Sören was not amused when Anthony picked him up at the National and said, "I got a call from Jack asking if I wanted to go to the pub with the squad tonight."
Sören tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Really."
"Do you and Dag want..."
Sören shook his head, feeling that if he shook it any harder his neck would snap. "I can't speak for my brother, but I am just. Not up. For dealing with groups of people."
"Well... do you mind terribly if I go? I haven't had a night out with them in a few weeks."
Sören fought the urge to scream. My brother is here and this is one of the only opportunities that we're going to get to spend time with him this entire year, and you fucking want to go to the fucking pub with these shitbags? It couldn't have waited another week? Sören felt his nostrils flare. "Go ahead," Sören said, adding asshole silently to the end of his sentence.
Sören realized when they got home that he was probably being uncharitable - Anthony was stressed from work too and this was how he chose to unwind - but he was still bristling with annoyance when Anthony was out and Dag was on his way in a taxi.
Once Dag got upstairs, Sören brought over coffee and handed him a menu of the Thai place they sometimes ordered from, knowing Dag liked Thai food. He felt a little guilty, since he knew Dag had to do takeaway a lot back in Toronto and could use a nice home-cooked meal and Sören was too exhausted to cook. But it's still less shitty than going out with 'the squad'.
As they waited for their food to arrive, Sören showed Dag his portfolio - skipping over the sexually explicit paintings of him and Anthony - and Dag admired Sören's work. When Dag had seen everything, he and Sören sat out on the balcony, looking down over the Thames at sunset. "This is a really nice view," Dag said.
Sören nodded. "It is. The rent here is sky-high, but this is one of the reasons why."
"Mmm, yeah, you guys have quite a... posh... flat here."
Sören braced himself, hoping Dag wasn't going to get on their case over how much plastic they used, or not buying enough recycled products, and the like. But Dag let the words hang there, and Sören found himself getting even more nervous than if Dag were taking them to task for not being environmentally correct enough.
Once their food arrived and they sat down on the couch with it, Dag gave Sören a pointed look as Sören dug into his plate of pad thai. Sören paused, with noodles hanging out of his mouth. Dag not even laughing at the comical sight of Sören with noodles hanging down his chin let Sören know it was fairly serious. Sören raised an eyebrow.
Dag cleared his throat. "Sören, can I ask you a potentially insensitive question, and can you answer me really, really, really honestly?"
"Probably," Sören said through a mouthful of noodles.
"And can you do it without, you know, looking completely fucking ridiculous? Because this is serious, and I need you to be serious."
Sören put his plate down and gave Dag a death glare, tapping his fingers on his arm.
"OK." Dag took a deep breath, rubbed his face like an annoyed wet cat, and then gave Sören a death glare right back. "Why him?"
"What... what do you mean why..." Sören had a feeling it was going to be bad, but that question completely threw him.
"You know what I mean. Look, Sören, I'm not trying to be a dick, but... you're going to marry this guy, but how long do you think it's going to last, really. I know you guys are all in love and doing the schmoopy thing and whatnot, but have you actually seen the two of you? Like, looked at the two of you. Objectively. You guys are like night and day. He comes from money. He doesn't just come from money, but he does shit like treat me to a sixty-quid-a-plate dinner, with expensive champagne, because he can. He drives an Audi because he can, because it was an upgrade from the Lexus that his daddy bought him. He grew up in a fucking mansion, like something out of that stupid fucking MTV Cribs show. You moved into his very posh flat. We come from nothing. We come from so much nothing that we're completely lost in the world he travels, even though we're professionals too. You said he went out with his friends tonight and it's telling to me that you're not out with them too, and your accent was a lot heavier when you told me on the phone while he got ready, which is a tell that your emotions are running pretty high. Like his friends are an uncomfortable subject for you. And that's not even getting into shit like your hair. You look like a rockstar, and he looks like something out of a British soap opera, but now your hair is all short and -"
"He didn't make me cut my hair," Sören said, feeling himself grit his teeth. "Anthony was fine with my hair."
"So why in the fuck did you cut your hair, Sören?"
"His friend Trisha," Sören said.
"There. That's exactly what I'm getting at." Dag shook his head. "I really, really want to be happy for you guys and I really hope for your sake that it works out, but... I've got a bad feeling about this."
"So what, because someone stomped on your heart four years ago you've decided all relationships are bullshit?" Sören shook his head, feeling annoyed with Dag even though Dag had hit every insecurity of his on the head with precision accuracy. "Anthony and I love each other. He knows what my life was like. I don't fault him for his privilege, mostly, because he gives so much of himself to helping others less fortunate. His friends are assholes, but..."
"You have the shiny new feeling because you guys have been together now, what, a year and a half? What's going to happen five years from now? Ten?"
"I don't know, and neither do you," Sören said. "But I think it's stupid to assume that people fall out of love if they've been together awhile. Nobody would ever stay together if that was the case."
"No, nobody would," Dag said. "But love, by itself, isn't enough to keep a relationship together. I learned that the hard way with Sarah."
"Yes, and now it sours your view of every other relationship -"
"No," Dag said. "I'm being realistic here. If you think you're uncomfortable with his background and the world he inhabits now, I assure you it's going to get worse, not better, with time. The differences are going to become more glaring with time. And that's just the surface shit. I don't know what he thinks of your schedule, and the hours you work..."
"He's a lawyer, he doesn't exactly have a lot of leisure time himself. We make time for each other. And we enjoy each other's company. As you've seen, we make each other laugh. We may be different on the outside, but here..." Sören put a hand on his heart. "We're a lot the same. He gets me. I get him."
"He gets you and... you make time for each other," Dag repeated. "So where is he right now?"
"You know," Sören said, "I had a long fucking day today and I just wanted to chill out tonight. So we can either get off this subject or you can go back to the hotel, because I do not need this shit right now."
"I'm just trying to look out for you," Dag said, his voice soft. "I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I'm fine," Sören said, his annoyance with himself becoming full-blown anger as he heard the edge in his voice. "We're fine. Really."
"OK." Dag started to work on his tom yum soup. "If you say so."
"I say so."
"You're my brother, Sören. I haven't been there for you when you needed me, and I'm trying to change that." Dag sighed. "Like I said. I'm just trying to look out for you."
Sören desperately needed levity, feeling the hysteria rise in him, not wanting to fall apart, not wanting his brother to be right. "Hi Just Trying To Look Out For You -"
"Jæja, fuck you."
"I love you too." But Sören almost hated Dag as much as he loved him right now.
chapter 37 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index