Patrick's Personal Card Ch. 06

The next two days went past quickly. Tuesday night Peter told Patrick and Grethe about the meeting with the hospital and their intention to schedule Michael for treatment at the earliest possible moment. This meant several days of testing and checking starting the following Monday. Patrick managed to absent himself physically or mentally whenever Peter started discussing medical details with his aunt. He simply couldn't bear to hear about the difficult times which awaited their sweet little boy.

On Wednesday morning Peter helped Patrick create a program on his shop website, where customers could book meetings during specific time periods on weekdays and Saturdays. Patrick also posted the new shorter opening hours and reminded his customers he could be reached via email or mobile phone in case of urgent commissions for personal cards. So far he hadn't been overwhelmed by people contacting him on his work phone and email, and even if his shop was doing better than expected, he knew it would always cater to a small exclusive group rather than a crowd.

He phoned John and arranged for the two couples to meet at the shop on Saturday just before he closed. He'd have the card for Anthony's mother ready by then. John groaned a bit at the reminder. "I'm glad we're going out with you Saturday night. It will keep my mind off the dreaded Sunday lunch. I love Tony, but most members of his family are boring bigots, penny pinching prudes or agonizing aunts. But since this is my mother-in-law's birthday, I cannot escape. At least Tony's parents are pretty cool." Patrick laughed heartily at John's alliterative insults which were surely a much repeated complaint.

Grethe had taken over the kitchen and Patrick encouraged her to rearrange it to her liking, and buy whichever implements and ingredients she wanted. They'd gone shopping for a dishwasher and managed to find a shop that could deliver and install by Friday. She'd already made several small improvements in addition to the smell of baking and the sound of happy Danish chatting which greeted him every afternoon. Grethe had wasted no time in establishing a visiting friendship with Mr. Archibald, who was more than pleased to come over for tea once or twice a day. Interestingly the old man got on well with Michael too, in spite of the language barrier.

Although Patrick knew Mr. Archibald had several grandchildren, he'd never paid much attention to them or their relationship with his neighbor. But apparently he had a grandson who was a year younger than Michael and had a passion for LEGO. This came out on Wednesday where Patrick brought home a rather expensive set which Michael lusted after according to Grethe. Peter had gone back to Copenhagen on an afternoon flight, so he wasn't there to protest against the extravagance. Patrick's hope was to distract Michael in case he missed his father, and the plan worked beautifully.

Especially since Mr. Archibald helped build the complicated Star Wars space ship. He'd line up the parts and assist whenever a bit of extra pressure was needed to fix the building components together. Michael was quite capable of following the instructions, but he enjoyed the attention and admiration of the adults as he slowly assembled the LEGO construction. Michael didn't say much, but stayed focused on the task and communicated by pointing and a few easy phrases such as "Press here, please. Where this? Help please." Patrick was proud of him for remembering the magic word, especially since Peter had told him there was no precise Danish equivalent of 'please'.

On Thursday afternoon Mr. Archibald's daughter arrived with not quite seven-year-old Robert, who clutched a bag with his two favorite Star Wars LEGO contraptions. The boys were equally shy but managed to spend half an hour finishing Michael's toy, assisted by Rob's granddad. Afterward they lined up the figures and space ships on the large kitchen table, while the adults talked and moster Grethe helped the boys communicate now and then. Patrick was relieved by Sheila ignoring the matter of Michael's dad being in a relationship with him, but of course the absence of Peter helped. Whether her reaction would be curiosity or censure, he felt ready for neither.

Their visitors left around six, and Patrick stood on the door step watching Rob skip next door with his granddad carrying the bag of Lego. Sheila lingered enough to say: "Thank you for the generous offer on my dad's house." When Patrick tried to protest the price hadn't even been set yet, she shook her head. "I'm not talking about the money, but about giving him time to get used to the idea and sort out his life." Mr. Archibald's daughter gave him an arch look. "And we might even get out of moving those damn rose bushes, since I've the feeling dad will be visiting his old house regularly in the future."

She left with a parting chuckle and Patrick went back in, smiling at how she'd picked up on her dad's growing fondness for tea with Danish biscuits and a chat with moster Grethe. Peter's aunt was already getting ready to make supper, and she gently chased Patrick off. "I've settled Michael for a quick nap in my room. You go and do whatever you need and supper will be ready at seven thirty." He knew better than to object and in fact did have various small tasks to do. Just as he was finishing up on his lap top, Grethe came out of her bed room carrying a still sleepy Michael. "Time to wake up, my boy, supper's ready." Just then the doorbell rang.

Patrick stood up in surprise, wondering who it could be. As he walked to the door, he got a fleeting glimpse of Grethe and Michael looking at him with equally mischievous and pleased grins. Next thing he knew two familiar figures popped into his mind wearing identical expressions of secretive glee. What on earth... But Patrick got no further in his thought, because he opened the door to find a large blond Viking with tired but happy blue eyes grinning at him. "Hi, honey, I'm b..." This was as far as his boyfriend got, before he suddenly had an excited brunet wrapped around him and kissing him right there on the door step.

Afterwards he wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up with his arms clutching Peter's neck and his legs wound around his hips, tongue kissing outside the front door. His boyfriend certainly liked the enthusiastic welcome and held him close with one arm supporting his butt and the other hand wrapped in his hair. The light from the hall illuminated them and in spite of the chilly night, Patrick felt as if steam was coming off their joint bodies. The angel voice in his head was cooing: 'oh he's home early, show him how happy you are to see him' while the little devil was chortling 'fuck yeah, go for it boy, let's give the whole neighborhood a live show right here in your front garden.'

In the silence of their small side road, the shocked gasp from next door was painfully audible. Once again the two different viewpoints in Patrick's head managed to coincide. 'Uh oh, shit's about to hit the fan!' Both men turned their heads to the side and met the outraged glare of the woman, who'd just come out of the neighboring house. The vague disapproval which Patrick had felt from her at previous encounters was now a torrent of indignant disgust and fury. Before they could react, she'd turned around and gone back inside, slamming the door behind her. "Oops we'd better get inside before she reports us for indecent exposure."

Patrick was embarrassed at the incident, but also genuinely shaken by the malice he'd felt. Profoundly grateful for Peter's attempt to joke he let his man carry him over the threshold and deposit him on the nearest living room chair. Immediately the two entities voiced their opinion as to the significance. 'Just as if you're newlyweds, so romantic.' The devil smirked 'Oh boy you think this means you'll get your cherry popped tonight?'

Peter turned around and caught Michael up in a hug, kissing the boy as he clearly bragged about something. "Vi holdt det hemlig, far, lissom du sa'. Papa vidste ikke noget." Patrick felt Grethe's hand on his shoulder and almost knew what she was going to explain.

"He's very proud he managed to keep the secret of his dad coming home tonight instead of tomorrow. Peter wanted to surprise you."

"He certainly did. And ehm, I guess we gave the woman next door a shock too. I'm not sure she approves." Well, this might be the understatement of the year. He tried to quell the feeling of inadequacy and shame, knowing it was due to the fact his neighbor's reaction reminded him of how most of his parents' adult relatives had regarded him. Although for completely different reasons.

Both figures shook their heads at him and left with a final joint admonishment, though worded differently. 'Fuck what those idiots think. It's your life, so go get laid.' And 'Forget the bigots and focus on the man you love and your future family.' On the rare occasions those two annoying voices in his head agreed, he knew the advice was sound.

They went back outside to haul Peter's two suitcases inside. "I brought more as freight on the plane, it should be delivered tomorrow." After a nice dinner, they relaxed in the living room. Patrick was content to let Michael have his dad's full attention, since the young boy would soon go to bed. He had the feeling moster Grethe might retire early too, which would leave them with time to talk and make decisions. When Michael began to nod sleepily on Peter's lap, the blond man rose and tried to carry him to the guest room. This caused a minor crisis and the card maker quickly intervened.

"Peter, take him upstairs to his own room, and tell him papa will be along soon. I can see you're exhausted, so go to bed too." In fact, Peter had revealed how he'd spent most of the night packing up his place, only sleeping a few hours. He'd done the paper work, met with various people and finished the packing during the day, in order to return home as fast as possible. It made Patrick's heart beat harder to hear his boyfriend use the word home for their house without even thinking about it.

He chatted a bit with moster Grethe about the plans for Friday and the weekend. She assured him she'd do her best to persuade Michael to stay with her the next nights. Patrick tried not to blush. Fortunately, the boy had decided he wanted a new bed, once he'd seen the possibilities online and realized a smaller sleeping place would free up space for a desk and more toys. Patrick had been relieved, because thinking it over, he'd concluded that having sex in a bed which subsequently would belong to their son might feel weird for both of them.

Patrick said goodnight to Grethe, went upstairs and got ready for bed, including a quick shower to take off the edge. He imagined Peter's hands sliding over his body, distributing soap over his intimate parts and whispering naughty things in his ear. A few strokes of his erect manhood and a soapy finger sliding into his ass was all it took to have him spurting and moaning Peter's name. Was it natural to be so sensitive and turned on by the man he loved? To be brought to the edge just from imagining intimacy?

He'd indulged in many erotic fantasies for the past fifteen years, but nothing made him come the way Peter's smell or touch or voice did. And they hadn't even gotten to the point of actual sex. 'I wonder what making love will do to me?' Patrick quickly dismissed the thought, to avoid having to deal with another unruly hard-on. But he couldn't help a quick prayer to his patron saint as he slid under the duvet next to his two Danish bed fellows, both fast asleep. 'Please let me experience the love of my Valentine soon. Before I go mad with longing. Thank you.'

The next day Patrick was busy at the shop, and he didn't get home till late evening. Peter came by at lunch time with a sandwich, which helped with the ache of missing his boyfriend. Well maybe the hugs and kisses were the most important parts of the visit. Peter had several errands to deal with and only stayed for half an hour, but Patrick made sure to convey his gratitude for the brief encounter. "Please drop by any time you want, my love. I just wish I could do the same, when you go back to work."

The card maker closed his shop for a couple of hours in the afternoon and went to the meeting he'd scheduled with his parents' lawyer. He'd been quite surprised the day before when he called to book an appointment, to be immediately transferred to Mr. Wickham himself and assured of being welcome any time on Friday. The old lawyer actually came out of his office to greet Patrick, before taking him back inside for their talk. He seemed pleased to hear the good news and not the least bit upset when Patrick used the word boyfriend.

"My dear boy, it's a relief to see you looking happy for the first time in years. Of course I'll help with the acquisition of your neighbor's house, or at least with the transfer of funds. For the paperwork I'd like to refer you to a colleague with experience on estate business. Do you have any idea about the amount needed?"

The next business matter concerned the paperwork to be done in the event of marriage, a possibility which had the lawyer visibly taken aback for a moment. "Oh, I hadn't thought about this, but you're quite right to bring it up, even if it's only a future option." Patrick decided not to tell the lawyer how eager they both were to tie the knot. "Will you get married here or in Denmark? Do you want pre-nuptial agreements to differ in case of divorce? Are you going to formally adopt his son?" The list of subjects up for discussion was long, and the lawyer made it clear to Patrick how decisions on most of them needed to involve Peter. He seemed almost relieved when Patrick mentioned talking to some else who might know about the intricacies of gay marriage.

After they'd concluded this, Patrick brought up the matter of getting in touch with his cousin. Mr Wickham nodded and went to his filing cabinet. "Ms Fiona's actually my client as well, and she asked how you were doing when she was last here. Since you were adamant about not having anything to do with your relatives, I told her you're OK, but not interested in any contact. Otherwise, I'm sure she would have come by the shop or sent you an email. So I won't be breaking any client confidentiality by giving you her contact details." He wrote them down and handed Patrick the piece of paper.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and Mr Wickham wished Patrick luck. "Please get in touch when you need assistance on your financial matters, I'm always ready to be of service." He was too old fashioned and formal to do more than shake Patrick's hand warmly, but it was clear the old lawyer genuinely cared about him. The card maker vaguely recalled his father saying Mr Wickham having gone to Cambridge with Patrick's grandfather, but it was the first time he'd considered the lawyer as a possible family friend. Or at least someone with ties and knowledge about his relatives beyond lawyer/client matters.

When Patrick came home, Grethe had a meal waiting for him. At her request he'd phoned shortly before leaving the shop and she heated up the delicious lasagna she'd served Peter and Michael earlier on. The boy was ready for bed and greeted Patrick with a hug and cries of Papa. He insisted on sitting next to him while he ate and tell about his day with Peter translating patiently. Apparently most of it had been taken up with planning his future room, unpacking the additional boxes from Denmark and the arrival of the dish washer. Michael was annoyed at being banned from the kitchen and the fascinating sight of two guys installing it.

When Patrick was done, Michael clearly expected to be picked up and carried into the living room. He settled on his Papa's lap with Richard Scarry's Min første ordbog containing Danish and English words next to the illustrations. They spent twenty minutes saying and repeating the terms of various household objects in both languages, and Patrick had the feeling this would be an established evening ritual for the foreseeable future. Not that he minded in the least. The tender smiles and proud looks from Peter were just additional bonuses.

This time Michael didn't object when his dad took him into Grethe's room. His aunt followed after saying good night to Patrick, and the card maker managed to keep cool and act normally. As soon as she disappeared into her room, he rose, switched off the lights and went upstairs to get ready for bed. A quick shower ended his preparations and Patrick slipped into the briefs and silk pajamas he'd bought on the way back from the lawyer. He came out of the bathroom to find Peter waiting for him in the corridor.

The blond Dane immediately fixed his compelling azure gaze on the shy brown eyes and the tension spiked within seconds. Neither man spoke, but Peter took his hand and silently led his flustered and anxious Valentine into their bedroom. Patrick didn't know what to expect, but the room looked the same except for a large candle on the chest of drawers. It was lit as was the far bedside lamp, creating a romantic and intimate atmosphere. The top of the blue bedspread was turned down, revealing two pillows and duvets in unfamiliar pristine white linen with a subtle geometric pattern.

Peter closed the door behind them and the sound of the lock being turned was loud in the anticipatory quiet of the room. There was no doubt his Valentine wanted to be undisturbed for what'd happen next. Patrick's boyfriend was obviously in charge of the situation which suited his younger companion perfectly. He let himself be lead over and seated on the bed and Peter sat down next to him. From somewhere behind him he produced a folded piece of paper, a small black box and a red rose.

"Patrick, my love, I'm free to make love to you the way we want. The test results from the clinic are on here, if you'd like to see them." He waved the paper slightly, and Patrick shook his head. Of course he trusted his boyfriend. His attention was on the black box, which had an unknown name embossed in gold on the top.

"You've already agreed to marry me, Patrick, making me the happiest man in the world. But I'd like us to be engaged the Danish way." Peter opened the box to reveal two identical rings (except for size), and Patrick gasped at the beauty of them. White gold with a small heart-shaped ruby flanked by two diamonds inset in the wide and fairly thick bands. "They are meant to be worn on the left hand and changed over to the right when we marry. At that time we'll have them engraved with names and the date."

He took out the smaller of the two rings, and Patrick held out his left hand, which was shaking from excitement. Peter slid the ring on, making sure the pointed end of the small heart was innermost. He held out the box and Patrick managed to wrest the other ring from the velvet grip. "I love the rings, and I love you, Peter." He pushed the ring onto his fiancé's left hand and moments later their lips were crushed together in a long, intense kiss.

As they parted, Peter held out the rose, which was slightly flattened from being caught between them. "I love you, Patrick, and I want you to be mine forever." Patrick took the rose and inhaled the soft perfume from the red petals. He loved how Peter romanced him without apology for being soppy at times. The rose would be dried and kept as a cherished memento of this night, and they would wear sister blooms at their lapels when wedded. A fleeting vision of that future event teased his inner eye, but Patrick pushed it away. The present moment was too important.

His fiancé was claiming his lips again and their tongues entwined. Peter pushed him back on the bed and his hands caressed Patrick's chest and hip. "Mmm, I love the pajamas, but I want you naked in our bed, my darling. Can I take them off?"