Smoking Hot Ch. 14

It's brilliant.

I ensure he hides the spent rubber in his pocket, not wanting his mum to find it, and fall asleep almost immediately. They may be a bit awkward, but I'm pretty sure his family will be OK.

Dan and Tracey and Janice's heads the morning after, on the other hand...

Come the morning, I wake up, don the dressing-gown thoughtfully provided, and have a quick shower. I'd prefer to be clothed before anyone sees me. Back in respectable but not sexy chinos and a cord shirt, I head downstairs to investigate noises. Mrs J is foisting juice and toast on a very hung-over Tracey. Janice is more sentient, though still got a head like hammers, and lays the table for the rest of us.

"Morning, Adrian dear," Mum goes. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you kindly. And how are you girls this morning?"

"Cracking, now I've had some tea," Janice grins valiantly at me. "And half the eye candy's turned up. Fetch our Dan, would you?"

"I'll go," his mum declares.

"No, no, I will," I insist, and leg it. I know his mum isn't daft and knows he didn't really sleep on his floor, but no point in rubbing the awkward truth in her face.

"Morning, love. Brekkie's up."

"Huh? What? Where am... oh."

"Your mum and Jan and Tracey are downstairs. Compared to Tracey, you're a right respectable child, so get some kit on and come on down."

"You could have brought me tea," he moans.

"If you wanted your mum to see you here, aye. She's being fine, so let's go make nice, OK?" I chuck the dressing gown and towels at him and kick his mardy arse into the bathroom.

"He's just coming." Sure enough, by the time I've made him a mug of tea, he's strolling in, jeans on, drying his hair with the other. I don't know if he's forgotten where he is or that his sister's two friends are here, but their jaws drop at the sight of him, this apparition of a right gorgeous topless man manifesting before their befuddled heads. His mum just has a huge coughing fit, which expresses much the same reaction, I'll wager.

"You really have grown up, like, haven't you Daniel?"

"Shut up, Janice," he retorts wearily. "Like I've been telling you since you were six, you've no chance. Never had."

Tracey has perked up a fraction and lifts her head to tell her friend, "Also, look at him! Can you blame him?"

She means me.

I'm speechless. I've never been the sort of guy who attracts based on looks: not tall, not dark, not handsome. Bashed-in nose, small, scarred. All I've got is my blue eyes, Irish accent, and willingness to fuck... and now, it seems, just some good clothes and the eyes are enough.

Laura has a theory that everyone looks best at different ages in their life. Maybe my forties will be better than I thought.

I look at Dan. "How could anyone blame me?"

Both girls agree, enthusiastically. Dan blushes to his waist, probably regretting not taking a moment to put a shirt on, and changes the subject. "You got eggs and that for a fry-up, Mom?"

"Yes, love. There's mushrooms too. I don't think we've any bacon, but there's ham. Baked beans in the larder, bab." He steps up to cook, and I stand behind him to chop and slice as I'm told. It's automatic, now.

Dan's dad comes in. "Morning, all. Wasn't expecting you, young Tracey, or you, Jan. Is that ham and eggs I smell?"

"Yes, dear. Dan and Adrian set to."

I pass him a plate piled high. "Here you go... sir."

"Eh? None of that. Just 'John', thank you. Mm. Pass us the red sauce." He looks up at me after a few mouthfuls, nods twice. "You'll do."

I'd never thought of Brummies as being as sparse with their words as Yorkshiremen, but there's no doubt: this is high praise.

Dan turns off the hob, puts the last collection of food on his own plate, and sits down next to me. He squeezes my hand before tucking in.

It's peaceful. Some civilised chatter once his dad's finished eating. I have to plead ignorance of both footie and cricket, but Dan was right; his dad can go on about the rugby forever. I commiserate over England's loss to Ireland, he sympathises over those three penalties in five minutes that led to Scotland beating Ireland and losing us the Triple Crown. Followed by an analysis of every other match.

Thankfully, Tracey and Janice change the subject to where we live in London, what Bermondsey is like, how do they get there, where are the good clubs in London, do we know any nice guys for them, how's Max coping without Dan to be the practical one?

Dan's parents then fill me in on twenty years of embarrassing anecdotes about Max, encouraged by Dan who thus escapes with comparatively few about him. Though his mum does mutter, "I know it got him his training, after him and school didn't get on, but I never thought the Army was right for our Dan. But I had to believe it would work out. He's always been sensible, Daniel. Not so bright, maybe, but sensible."

She clearly means it as a compliment, but that attitude would explain why Dan doesn't want to talk about any diploma or degree courses until he's got them under his belt, poor sod. I want to point out he's only dyslexic, and far from stupid, but Dan presses my leg under the table, clearly conveying, 'leave it.'

I end up telling them about some of my experiences when I first came to England, like going to the chip shop and getting laughed at for asking for a chip. 'Only one?' they all went. I don't go, 'ooh, only one chip in your chip butty, then?' do I? Well, not the first time I didn't. Or the gang of us going to the sandwich shop for lunch and driving them up the wall, using the wrong terms for a round bread roll. Bap, cob, roll, barm, batch - Gareth went last, gave up on words and mimed a circle at them.

Dan claims we need to be back home by five to return the car, which is a total porkie but I agree with him anyway. Nice as his folks mean to be, they're a bit much, even diluted by the chirpy Janice and her mate Tracey. If Jenny and Matt were there, it would probably work better.

A hug with his mum, firm and definitely-not-camp handshake with his dad, and we're off, heading back to our own place.

As soon as I've driven round the corner, Dan visibly relaxes. "Hallelujah!"

"Mm? Surviving your folks and your sister's friends for the weekend? Or introducing me to them as your bloke?"

"Both. Thanks."

I don't need to ask what for.

We drive in silence for a while. Then he searches for an acceptable radio station. Some classic rock blares out. I hum along.

Then he goes, "Sometimes I want to do the filthiest, most stereotypically gay thing I can, just to prove I am, you know?"

"Mm-hm. I've had that. Done stuff."

After a belting chorus, I add, "Some was good. Some wasn't."

"After dealing with the parental expectations, I just want to be the total opposite. I don't know. Queer as fuck."

"You fucked me in fucking nightclub toilets last night! Doesn't that count?"

"I'd have done that anyway." He glances slyly at me. "Count yourself lucky. Before I somehow sobered up a bit - you were watering my drinks, weren't you, you tosser - I was seriously planning on taking you on the dance floor."

I try to sound disapproving and fail, as I tell him, "There are other clubs which would be appropriate for that sort of thing."

"So I hear. Maybe, sometime. Maybe watch you, if you wanted?"

"Maybe. Only if you wanted to watch me. Otherwise, call me old and boring, but I'm not particularly interested."

"Really? Cos that's me, too. I mean, I'm really not too fussed either way, but I'm not running out to find anyone else."

"What if we were out together, like back in the sauna, and someone wanted you, though?"

He shrugs. "Perhaps. Probably not. Maybe if you wanted to watch us, though? Is that bad? They'd be basically a sex toy for both of us?"

"Not bad. Just need to be honest. With me, that is. They'd know the deal."

He nods again. Then says, "I do like fucking you with an appreciative audience, I think. Seems kind of right, to share the fun."

"If that makes you happy, sure. I'm totally on board with it - so long as it's not all the time. I like our bed. With just us," I add, thinking of that night with Laura.

"Me, too."

More silence, apart from a wittering DJ. I poke the preset buttons until another radio station works.

Suddenly, he bursts out with, "Why do I feel me studying would shock my parents worse than me coming out?"

"Let them get shocked. Be good for them. I guess back when you were a kid, they didn't want you to get hurt. Now they're out of touch. Need to be reminded you're an adult, until they get used to it."

After passing another junction, I continue, "They're not the 'don't get ideas above your station' types, are they? No? That's good. They'll be proper proud of you when you get the qualifications, then. You give it a go. I'm not saying you'll find it easy, but you've got me and all my mates and all to give you a hand."

He gives a small decisive nod of the head. "I'm going for it."

Fifty miles and three changes of radio station later, Dan adds, "Thanks. Couldn't do it without you."

It's good to get home.

Clean bedding is meant to be messed up, right?

The next night, Jenny calls. Apparently she missed our Dirty Dancing, so she wants us to promise to do it at her wedding.

"'Kin'ell. Do I look like Jennifer Grey? No, don't answer that, you. I'm promising nothing. We've got to survive your hen night first, you mad bint!"

"Oh good, you're joining my team. Dan should be good with a paintball gun, I reckon."

I eye up the nervous gentle lad beside me. "Army sentries don't actually shoot people every day, you know. I've probably shot more than he has - tin cans, scaring off rabbits, all that rural craic."

"Even better!" I walked into that one.

She goes on to explain that it's great Dan will have a partner for the wedding, but really she wants the traditional thing of him on the top table with family, leaving me on my lonesome. "So I was thinking, like, if you brought a friend?" She takes a breath. "Another thing is, I've got a lovely old friend from sixth form. Gaz, his name is. He's gay and single and needs to meet someone."

"What's he like?"

"Really lovely." Why do women always use 'lovely' as a euphemism for 'gay as fuck'? "He's a molecular biologist, works in Edinburgh - or was it Newcastle, now? Somewhere that way. Plays the guitar, looks after his plants. Fit bloke, good sense of humour, kinda dry and sarcastic, only child with somewhat oppressive parents, hence him living up North. Umm... stocky and blond...?"

"You know, I might be able to bring someone. No guarantees."

"Of course not. Just that weddings should provide good opportunities for people to get together." And she's going to manipulate as needed to ensure those opportunities exist. Women!

________________________________________

18 months later (April 2012)

That was how Gareth and Gaz - do not call either of them Gary: I swear that is their main thing in common sometimes - met each other.

There's a same-sex marriage Bill going through Parliament, now. If it ever gets through, Dan says he'll want to make an honest man of me.

And I'll let him.

Diane would be so proud. He's no replacement for her, but he's a good partner for me now, like she was for me then.

That Laura's going to be smug for the rest of her bloody life. Just as well she's got that toddler to keep her down to earth.

She's asked for some assistance in getting up the duff again. I can't wait.

________________________________________

July 2014

Dan wants to go down the Braukeller tonight. I've been working silly hours again the last couple weeks, so it's a good plan to force me to relax and eat. When he tells me I need to take time out, it's a good idea to listen, I've found. I've not even seen any telly or read news headlines for weeks. I'll ask him what I need to catch up on.

The gruff waitress has taken our order.

"So, what's been happening in the world that I've missed?"

"Few things."

Dan looks to both sides, like he wants to kiss me and is ensuring no aggro is likely. It isn't, here, but old habits die hard. Then he fumbles in his pocket and places his fist on the table.

"Adrian?"

"Mm?"

He takes a deep breath, flushing pink. "Adrian Cullinane. Will you marry me?"

He passes me a small, green plush jewellery box. I open it, obviously. Inside, there's a round diamond on a thick yellow-gold band. Heavy, for a diamond ring. Clearly for a man. I wonder what its history is.

"It might need resizing, the jeweller said... if you want to keep it... The Marriage Act got passed a few hours ago."

I'm blinking in shock. I'd been thinking for months how I didn't think I could manage to ask anyone to marry me again without breaking down, and now I don't have to. Eventually I collect myself together enough to realise the man needs an answer. No matter how obvious that answer should be.

"Daniel! Of course I'm keeping it. And you." I manage to shove the ring onto my fourth finger, no idea if it'll ever come off again. I don't care. I stand up, go over to him, and squeeze myself into his lap. "Let me at you. I need to kiss my fiancé."

"Boys, boys. One chair for each of you, please."

I wave my left hand at her. "I'm getting married!"

She shuttles her head, suddenly shaking new facts into place. Then she smiles, possibly for the first time. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch zur Verlobung! Congratulations!" She looks at Dan, jerks her chin approvingly.

"You. You are good influence. Would you believe, this boy used to throw strings of cheese all round my restaurant? Then, he pretends to be a different man so I let him in again! Ha! Me, I am kind, I give him a chance."

"He gave me a chance, too. Don't you worry, ma'am - I'm not going to waste this one," I assure her.

She gives a firm nod and turns to go when Dan catches her arm.

"Excuse me. Do you do wedding receptions?"

There is the biggest proud grin I've ever seen on a German.

"Natürlich. Of course. We do now."

________________________________________

October 2014

Jenny, Janice and Tracey getting told off for enthusiastic cheese-fondue flinging is the highlight of my wedding.

That, and getting legally hitched to Dan, of course. The honeymoon was even better, though we don't tell people much more about that. Let's just say I'm getting quite the collection of erotic art in a drawer in my office, complementing the tamer pieces Dan's sold or I've put up on our walls.

I did summarise it to Laura, quite succinctly:

'Filthy fucking in four countries!'

If she bribes us well enough, I might tell her all about it. It's been a couple months since she last obliged us with sexual favours for artistic purposes, after all.

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