22

She-Sha

KARL’S GUT CLENCHED, the bubbling feeling multiplied itself tenfold and had him squirming in his seat. The lump in his throat was back, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Paul had come for him. He flicked on the blinker, not soon enough for his liking.

Red. What was wrong with this light? It was taking forever. His gaze flashed back to Paul, who was now glancing, Karl assumed, at the world's slowest lights. He couldn't help the tiniest grin at that. Then his stomach flipped, and the need to puke came back to him.

He breathed slowly through the sudden rush.

Still red.

He inched the Honda forward. Seriously, there were practically no other cars. Certainly none to the left or right. Could he just . . . He eyed Paul once more, glanced to check everything was free, and accelerated around the corner. One glance in the rearview mirror had his grin widening. Paul was such a goody-goody.

Damn, he was still going to have to wait. So much for that.

He drove into the gas station's car park. Right at the end, where it was practically empty. Only the tail end of a couple of cars being serviced could be seen.

Paul parked two spaces from him, Charlie in the back seat. Quickly, Karl climbed out and strode over to Paul, then lifted one finger. Universal sign of 'just a sec'. Veering to the back door, he flashed Charlie a small wave, opened it, and scooted over to the middle.

"You're back!" Charlie squealed, twisting in his bumper seat.

A smile pulled at Karl. "Sure am." Then, nice and calm, he spoke to the boy. "Charlie, I have something really important to tell you."

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, so put your good listening ears on, okay?"

Charlie pinched his lobes and stretched.

Karl nodded. "I want you to know you calling me Karly had nothing to do with why I left today. I'm very sorry I upset you. You're a wonderful boy, and you can always call me Karly. But only you, no one else, 'kay? It's your special name for me."

Charlie's eyes lit up. "You don't mind, Karly?"

A shake of his head. "No. It sounds like Charlie, remember? And Charlie is such a cool name. I'm lucky if you call me Karly."

Then Karl leaned over and kissed the little monkey's forehead. Little arms wrapped around his neck. Then Charlie whispered, "I think papa really missed you. I don't like it when he cries."

The words panged in Karl's chest and he kissed him once more. "I'm going to try make that better right now, too. See you soon."

He rounded to the front of the car where Paul leaned, biting his lip. He looked up, and Karl stood in front of him. Close, but not touching. No words necessary; they stared at each other. And it said everything. It spoke apologies, asked for forgiveness, acknowledged stupidity and embarrassment, but most of all it cried love.

Karl nodded. Just that. And arms flew around each other into an embrace. Strong, smothering, simply perfect.

A little voice whispered in his head, something that had been there before: Just because this is something you both want, doesn't mean it will be simple. No, it didn't. But it would be worth the struggles.

"Let's go home, Paul."

Arms tightened even more, and Karl felt Paul nod, his chin bumping on his shoulder.

* * *

Party remains: streamers, balloons (Charlie insisted), and gift-wrappings littered the lounge. Karl quickly cleaned them up as Paul put Charlie to bed. When Paul came out, Karl was in the midst of herding the balloons to one corner of the room.

"What are we going to do with all these?" Karl said. "There's close to fifty here."

Paul's answer was to come up behind him and slip his arms over Karl's chest, pulling him close. In his ear: "I don't care."

Karl dropped the two he held and sunk back into Paul. "Okay, what do you care about?" He heard the leer in his tone and found himself smiling with it.

Paul nibbled at his throat. "You. I care about you."

Twisting around, Karl clocked Paul over the back of the head. "Well aren't you a sap."

"Ow." Paul feigned hurt and rubbed the spot where Karl had got him. Then he grinned, "Yeah, maybe I am a bit."

Karl locked his arms around the guy's neck and kissed him gently. "And just maybe I like it."

Paul touched his head again. "That's liking it?"

Shoving with his body, he backed Paul to the sofa. "I haven't finished yet." Once he straddled Paul's lap, he leaned back. How lucky he was. To be here, right now. His insides swelled as the bubbling feelings rushed through him.

"What's on your mind?" Paul asked, trailing a lazy finger over his forehead and down his nose.

"How much I like being here. How happy it makes me that we met each other halfway tonight. How much I hope we are not setting a trend."

Paul kissed his nose. "I like you here. My heart almost stopped when I saw you in the Honda tonight. And what's this about a trend?"

"The drama. That's twice now. Once at Christmas. Today, your birthday . . . Promise me this won't happen again. I'm sort of anxious about my own birthday now."

"Don't be. I won't let anything but good things happen to you on Tuesday. Then you'll see for sure that any whiffs of trends are broken."

They embraced and held each other. Other than to shuffle into a horizontal position, they didn't move. They whispered and chuckled together, interspersed with kisses, until Karl finally felt himself begin to drift. Paul's sudden snore snapped him into a sitting position with a chuckle. He watched the guy, his mouth open and twitching every now and then as if conversing with someone in his sleep.

Karl clambered off the sofa. The idea of carrying the guy to his bedroom was short lived. He might just be able to do it—okay, that was optimistic—but even if he could, it'd wake him. Instead, he grabbed a blanket—the same one Paul had used for him, before—and draped it over him.

Just as he was about to leave, Paul's arm darted out and grabbed his wrist. "Stay with me," came Paul's mumble.

Karl complied. "Okay."

Paul didn't let him go until he was back lying next to him, and before he did, he kissed his burn mark.

For sleeping on the sofa, it was one of the best sleeps Karl had had. Though he was stiff and sore when he woke. Still, it didn't wipe off any of the smile he felt inside. He ground his palms over his eyes, then opened them. Paul, resting on his elbow, was looking down on him.

"Morning."

Karl yawned and stretched. "Mmmm, yeah, morning. What's the time?"

"Quarter to six."

Tsk-tsk. What was Paul doing so wide awake? It was Sunday. "We should still be sleeping."

"Bit hard with the light coming through the windows. We should have shut the curtains."

Karl lumbered into a sitting position, feet on the floor. "Guess we'd better move so Charlie doesn't see us either, huh."

Paul grabbed his shoulders and starting massaging. That felt good. He stretched his neck on both sides. Paul's words hit the back of his head. "Well, um, I don't know how this should go with Charlie. I mean, I'm still sort of nervous about him and us."

Karl went to turn and face him, but Paul tightened his grip on his shoulders, keeping him where he was.

"I mean, I will get used to it, and I don't want to hide it from him anymore, but, yeah still nervous." He chuckled. "But, um, him seeing us sleep side by side that should be all right. Same with the occasional kiss. I don't know, really. What do you think?"

"I think I'm nervous, too, actually. Those things sound okay, though." This time he did manage to swivel around. "It's not always going to be ideal, though. I think we really both need to talk to Charlie and also, maybe we should talk to other gay couples with kids?"

Paul rested back on the couch, his gaze on Karl as he spoke, "It's just . . . it might not always be easy for him, either. Like at school, and with his peers . . . " He sighed. "So, yeah, I'm nervous for him, too. I don't want him to be picked on or anything. Don't want him to go through anything—" like you did. But Karl dropped the words. The sentiment remained the same. And shit, he felt protective of the little monkey.

"That sounds sensible," Paul said, nodding. "Let's look into it more, but first I have to do some talking with my friends and family."

"When—"

"Today. I'm going to chat with Gill and Tirone, and then I'm meeting with Sue and Timothy later. Um, would you—"

"Of course I'll look after Charlie." Karl kissed Paul. "You don't have to ask."

"All right. I don't think I'll be back until after his bedtime."

The day was mostly fun with Charlie, but then he'd have sudden gut clenches when he thought about where Paul was and how things were going for him. The need to see him in those moments made the minutes drag like hours.

Finally, Karl put the monkey to bed, then hunkered down onto the sofa with his Cuisine magazine. He bent three page corners of recipes he'd like try, chuckling as he remembered the last time he'd seen dog-eared pages. That'd turned out one hell of a weekend.

"What are you giggling away there about?" Paul's voice was so close to his ear, Karl jumped.

"Shit. You're a stealthy bugger. Did you just get in?"

Paul straightened out of his crouch. "Yeah." Moving around the sofa, he settled himself next to Karl. "Thanks for taking Charlie for the day."

"You know I love it."

Paul smiled.

"So," Karl started, a little nervous shake in his voice, "how was the talk with Sue and Timothy?"

Paul sighed. "I've never seen Sue cry before, didn't know it was possible. I felt like shit. And sorry for her." Paul stole Karl's hand, feeling each of his fingers. "I think you were right. It helped when I told her that I do appreciate the love she gives to Charlie." He linked their fingers. "I took your advice and suggested they have two weekends every second month. I also invited them here for Easter. So they know they’re still a part of our family."

Karl's heart thumped at the words 'our family'.

"They took us well," Paul continued. "Better than I'd ever have thought. It's more of a relief than I can describe." He squeezed Karl's hand. "I have to say, today has been a big day all around. I'm kaput. When I talked with Tirone and Gillian this afternoon, well, you were right to say she'd be in a good mood. She kept shoving home-baked cookies onto my plate. And, no offense to her, because I know I'm spoiled at home, but her baking's really not that great."

"Should I offer lessons, you think?"

Paul grinned. "She's going to be happy for quite a while, I imagine. That means a helluva lot of cookies will be made and given to us. So, I think yes. Lessons would be a very good idea."

"Consider it done." It'd be fun too, getting to know her more. She really did rock. "I'll ring later this week." Thinking of his schedule reminded Karl of something else coming up. He gave a double squeeze of Paul's hand. "Do you remember I'm having dinner with Will in two weeks?"

"Um, yes. Haven't forgotten that." Paul heard a scowl in his voice, but his expression remained schooled.

"Well, you're welcome to join us." Karl shuffled closer. "Not pushing you to come, okay? Just, the offer is there if you want to."

"Otherwise it's just you and him?" Paul shook his head. "I trust you and all, but I don't know him from a bar of soap, so yeah, I'm coming."

Karl's smile widened, mirrored by Paul's. "Would you . . . ah," Karl started, "would you wear a suit?" He pressed his hands against the man's chest, then whispered in his ear, "You're so hot in a suit. Reminds me of the first time I laid eyes on you . . . Jeez, even thinking about it," he grabbed Paul's hand and held it to himself.

Paul hummed, and gripped him lightly through the material.  

"Besides," Karl continued, "I really want to take it off you after. Everything but that tie."

Paul adjusted himself. "Can I just get into my suit right now?"

"Guess you're not that kaput, huh?" Karl attacked him with a forceful kiss, pulling him up from the sofa and pushing him down the hall, into his room. Until he was backed up against the closet. With one hand he yanked the door open and pulled a suit out by its hanger.  "Let's."

* * *

Karl cracked an eye open when Paul slid off the bed. He hadn't felt this excited in years. A birthday was just another day. But not today. He could feel it. Not to mention how they officially started his celebration at midnight.

The toilet flushed in the background, and the taps turned on. He smiled. Good that he now used this bathroom. Thirty seconds later, Paul jumped back into the bed and straddled him. Karl quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep.

"Give it up already, Karl, I know you're up."

"I'm not."

"Ha!" Paul came closer. A layer of shadow fell over him. "Well, if you're not awake, birthday boy, I guess I get the privilege . . . "

Oh yeah, hell, that sounded like a great way to wake up.

Except it wasn't. At all. Icy water trickled onto his stomach. His eyes jerked open. "Damn that’s cold."

Paul looked down on him with a grin and a tilted glass aimed right at his ribs. Karl slapped away a thread of water zigzagging down his side and tickling him.

"So, you're up? Or do I have to . . .?" He motioned toward the glass.

"Oh no, I'm up." Karl carefully shuffled into a sitting position with Paul still on him, the cup safely held upright. Karl took it, sipped, and rested it on the side table. Softly kissing Paul, he waited until the man relaxed to flip him to the bed and hold him down. Paul stared up at him, startled and amused.

Until Karl dumped the rest of the water on him, and lunged out of retaliation's reach.

A single curse whipped out of his mouth. "Cold, so cold. And I don't mean the water!"

Grinning, Karl made his way to the bathroom. He'd just got into the shower when Paul came in.

"Jeez, just how hot do you have it in there?"

Karl rubbed a circle on the steamy door to see Paul waving the steam away. "Wanna come find out?"

"No thanks, prefer not to be scalded." Paul flipped the toilet seat down and perched on it, studying his hands. Karl had to rub another circle to keep seeing him. Grabbing some body wash, he lathered himself.

"What's up?"

The man's head came up, a goofy grin on it. "Um . . . I wanted to ask you something, and I'm just screwing up the courage to do it right."

Karl hopped under the showerhead to wash off.

"I like sharing the bathroom with you."

Okay, where was this going? "Uh-huh, yeah, me too."

"I'd like to share more than that with you, if you'd like?" Paul shook his head. "Okay, I'd like us to have the same room.”

Karl switched off the water and let a cloud of steam burst in Paul's direction as he stepped out of the shower. In a jiffy, he had a towel around his waist.

"I mean," Paul continued, "you can still keep the other one for your studies, as an office or something. But . . . "

He rested his palms on Paul's thighs and kissed away his next words. "I'd love that. I don't know how I could sleep without your snores anymore."

Paul slapped his ass for that.

Chuckling, Karl made into his drawers and pulled out some fresh clothes. "So is that my birthday gift?"

Paul, who'd followed him in, now lay comfy on the bed watching him, arms locked casually behind his head. "Nope. That was all for me. Guess my birthday wish came true."

"That was what you wished? Thought you said you were going to show me . . .?"

Paul waggled his brows. "Originally I thought I'd just move all your stuff into my room. But, I don't know, then I thought it'd be nicer for me if I asked and you said yes. I don't want you just feeling obligated to share with me or anything."

All dressed, Karl stepped to Paul's side and looked down into his gray eyes. Holding out a hand, Paul took it, and Karl pulled him up and into a soft kiss. "How about this," Karl said, "when you get back from work today, I'll have everything moved over?"

Paul shook his head.

"Not going to work today. Taken the day off. Don't look so surprised, Karl, you're not the only one who planned something for the big two-eight. First up, Charlie and I are taking you for breakfast. And you might want to grab a sweater."

Karl pulled out a thick woolen top. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Paul looked him over. Smiled. "Okay, you won't be needing anything, so other than some shoes, you're ready."

"Uh-huh." Karl reached for his cell and wallet, but Paul pried them out of his hands and laid them back down.

"I said you won't be needing anything."

"Damn, I feel naked without my cell on me."

"Not as naked as I like you."

Karl poked his tongue out. "Hurry up and wake Charlie. I want my birthday breakfast."

Paul readied himself and Charlie, and within a half-hour they were shutting the apartment door behind them. In the lift, Charlie kept humming 'happy birthday to you.' Then he giggled, and started singing aloud:

Happy Birthday to you,

You're a hundred-and-two,

You look like a monkey,

And you act like one too.

Karl shook his head. That one had been around for years. He squeezed the boy to his side and rubbed his knuckles over his head, messing the fine hair. "I'll give you ten bucks if you can think of your own song. Because we all know the only monkey here is you. Try to make it more about me, 'kay?"

Charlie began humming immediately, and Karl could see him already trying to cook something up. "How old are you?"

"I'm twenty-eight."

"Papa, what rhymes with eight?"

"Mate, bait, late, gate, fate, um . . . plate, date . . . "

"Wait, skate," Karl added. The lift doors slid open on the ground floor. But instead of going outside straight away, Paul told him to wait in the lobby a moment. A few minutes later, Paul appeared with a large wicker basket. It all screamed picnic. A grin pulled at his lips. Sweet! He stepped toward the entrance, but Charlie clutched his sleeve.

"Wrong way!"

Karl gave him and then Paul a puzzled look.

"Back to the lifts!" was all Paul said.

"Okay," Karl said, shaking his head. "I'm thoroughly confused. Why'd I have to put on a sweater if we're going back up? And why'd you take me down with you?"

Paul's eyes twinkled. He was enjoying himself. "Exactly the reaction I wanted."

The lift doors closed a second time; Paul pressed the button and stood with his back against the panel.

When the numbers above the door passed the floor their apartment was on, Karl got all tingly and excited. On the top floor, they exited. Karl kept chuckling at Charlie's murmurings—pieces of song that mostly didn't rhyme.

His curiosity piqued when Paul led them up a narrow set of stairs. He sucked in a breath when a blast of air hit them and they emerged on the roof of the hotel. Set up in a sheltered corner sat a table with three place settings.

He stopped. This was amazing. Almost too much.

Paul stopped. "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" Karl breathed out. "This is incredible." And then he took Paul's hand, pulled him closer and planted a chaste his on his lips. "Thank you."

Paul radiated. "Actually, it was Charlie's idea. I wondered where we should picnic, and he said in the sky. We agreed the roof was as close to that as we could organize for breakfast."

Karl knelt and hugged him tight. A burst of 'Happy Birthday' puffed out of him.

"Then let's eat," Paul said, placing the basket in the middle of the table, "I had the restaurant staff prepare us a little something."

'A little something' was enough to stuff them all—and probably for the remainder of the day. Once they'd finished, Paul made a call for someone to clean up for them. They shuffled back downstairs to the parking lot. Half-way to Charlie's pre-school, the monkey piped up. "Got it, Karly."

"What's that?"

He started singing, and whether or not it rhymed well, it was the best Karl had ever heard.

Happy birthday to you,

Today you're twenty-eight

You have a funny tooth and scar,

But you're my bestest mate!

They dropped Charlie off at pre-school, Paul promising to pick him up really early. Just before he trotted toward his friends, Karl said to him, "You're my bestest mate, too."

"Okay," Karl said, admiring Paul's small smile as he drove them across town, "so I'm super curious. What's up now?"

The leer Paul gave him had Karl laughing and shaking his head. "Other than that."

"Not saying," Paul said. "Patience is a virtue."

"One I sorely lack. Now what's happening?"

Paul chuckled and landed a palm on his leg. Squeezed. "Let's just find a place to park. Anywhere near the waterfront."

Once the car came to a stop, Paul unbuckled and leaned over Karl's lap.

"Oh, really, Paul? You wanted to park?"

Paul slapped his knee. "Is sex all you can think about?" But it came out muffled with his head between Karl's legs. With his free hand, he fished under the seat. Finally, he lifted himself up; a square, thin black box came with him. "It's . . . um . . . well just look, and then I'll explain."

Paul watched him, blushing—and looking somewhat nervous—as Karl grappled with the lid. Slowly, he shimmied it off.

The gasp that came out of him left Karl without air or voice. His mouth dropped open as he freed the framed picture from tissue. "How is this possible?" He wanted to look into Paul's eyes to ask, but his gaze remained riveted on the picture of the elderly man. A wicked grin on his face, standing next to a brand-spanking-new Lamborghini.

Pop.

Don't give it up, Pop.

"How is this possible?" he whispered again.

"The answer to that is not exactly . . . ethical."

Now Karl dragged his questioning gaze to Paul.

"It was all a bit fortunate, really, and Gill helped me." Paul swallowed. "I'd been planning to get you something of your pop's for a while, only I wasn't sure how. That was until a place came up for sale just down the road from where your family lived." He hurried an intake of air and continued before Karl had a chance to utter a thing. "So, it gave me an idea. I convinced Gill to help me by pretending to be my wife, and we conned an invitation to your parent's home by saying we were interested in purchasing the house, but wanted to get a feel for the neighborhood. We baked up some crack questions to ask, and while you mother," here his voice fell, as if Paul didn't want to hurt him by mentioning her, "prepared some coffee and cakes with Gill accompanying, I—I snooped. I hoped there'd be some framed photos around. I couldn't believe my luck when I found a photo album lying on the coffee table. Anyhow, I looked through it and, well . . . " He pointed to the picture. "I didn't know what he looked like, but as soon as I saw the car, I knew. So I snuck it—"

Karl knocked the rest out of him as he threw his arms around the man. It was awkward with the console between them, but Karl quickly maneuvered over it, till he was atop Paul's lap.

"Okay," Paul said, "but now it really does look like we're parking."

"Shut up," Karl said, smiling. He grazed their lips together. "Thank you for this." Then, making sure the photo was stable on the passenger seat, he opened the driver's side and tumbled out.

The next half an hour they spent walking along the waterfront. For a Tuesday, there were plenty of people out. Most had lost their winter coats, carrying them over their arms.

Paul stopped, twisting Karl to him and planting a little kiss. Stepping back, he said, "Would it be tacky if I just kept kissing you wherever we go? I feel like a freaking dog, needing to mark you everywhere."

Karl spluttered in his sudden laugh. "Such a romantic analogy. Guess I should be glad it's with kisses, huh?"

Paul frowned, "Ah yeah, the other way verges on too kinky. Even for me."

Karl spewed with laughter. Crass! Icky. Funny. And then: "Speaking of dogs—"

"We weren't speaking about dogs, Karl. We were speaking of me wanting to show you how much you mean to me, and in public."

Chuckling again, Karl pinched another kiss. "At the mention of dogs," Karl started again, "That'd be something I'd be interested in."

Paul arched a brow, shaking his head and giggling. Yep, giggling.

"Get your head Out. Of. The. Gutter. Right now, Paul Hyte." They continued walking, a fresh breeze bringing with it the smell of spring. "I meant getting a dog would be something I'd like. For the future, you know. Maybe after I've finished my culinary training." He’d wanted one for years, but Will had been really freaked out by them. But now . . . God, he hoped Paul would be up for this.

"What type of dog?" Paul definitely sounded interested. Sweet.

"Not one that yips. Heavy growls, strong bark—anything but yippy. Yippy hurts my ears. Um, like a retriever or lab or something. Of course, they're probably not apartment dogs."

Paul shrugged. "Okay, so we get a house. I prefer bigger dogs, too."

Karl had stopped moving. We get a house? We get a house! Paul had said it so off-hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world to suggest. "A house? Do you remember how nervous you were asking me to share a room with you? That was just this morning, right? Now a house?"

"Be nice for Charlie to be able to play in a back yard. And I think animals are great for kids to learn compassion. And, yes, asking you to share a room was more nerve-wracking. But we already live together in an apartment. This would just be changing the setting."

"Oh," Karl said, feeling stupid for understanding it differently, "you mean, it'll be your house."

Paul stopped. "Well, I'd like it to be our house, only I don't want you to spend your money on it. I mean, I have the means, Karl, and—"

"No."

"What?"

"I mean, I don't care that you can afford it all on your own. If and when we do get a house, I will be paying for it, too. Or certainly as much as I can."

Paul frowned, and Karl kissed it away. "I'd want to do that."

"But, why?"

Karl laughed, the whole idea was making him giddy. "Because it would be showing you something. However, Paul, I don't want to get a house right away. Let's explore what we have a bit longer first. But, yeah, when it happens, the dog and the house come together."

"Showing me what?"

"How much you mean to me." Go on, ask me how much that is.

But Paul didn't. Instead, he just smiled and took Karl's hand in his. "Time to get the last part of your gift."

* * *

"I still can't believe you got me this for my birthday!"

"Everyone needs a good suit," Paul said. "Besides, I enjoyed watching them size you up for it."

Karl dressed into the fine, light pants, shirt, and jacket.

"Don't forget this." Paul held a dark green tie. He came up to Karl and, lifting the collar, carefully knotted it for him, continuously glancing into his eyes, a small and sexy smile cornering his mouth. He looked into them again. "Yeah, they're more green than brown now." He planted a soft kiss. "Beautiful."

Karl dragged his lips over Paul's cheek. "You too, handsome. You spoil me rotten."

"You deserve it." He tugged on Karl's tie. "Right then, let's go meet Will . . . "

Rolling his eyes, Karl followed him out of their room. "Yeah, let's. Gimmie the keys, though, I want to drive."

After a goodbye to Charlie and quick thanks to Gillian and Tirone for babysitting, they made their way to the restaurant Karl had suggested.

Once inside, Karl immediately latched on to Will's lean figure, casually leaning against the mahogany bar, one brow slightly cocked. He'd anticipated he might feel strange seeing him again. Particularly considering the anger he'd held against him for so long. But it surprised him that, in fact, he felt nothing bad. Actually, he was excited. Here was Will, coming to see him. Here was their chance to confirm their friendship.

He turned to point him out to Paul, but judging by the guy's scowl, eyes narrowed toward the bar, Karl was pretty sure he'd guessed who Will was.

"You all right, there?" Karl murmured.

"Humpf." Paul paused and faced Karl. "You never said he was—"

"He was what?" came Will's creamy voice over Paul's shoulder. Paul froze.

Karl tsked under his breath, and greeted Will with a hug. "Good to see you again."

"You too, K."

Paul arched a brow at the nickname, and subtly—or not so—pushed Karl to the side, further from Will. Reaching out a hand, they shook. Judging by the slight flinch Will gave, Karl was sure Paul was squeezing a bit more than what was polite.

When Karl elbowed Paul to give it up, Paul dropped Will's hand with a fake pleasant smile. "Guess it's time to get to our table."

Will flicked his head, moving his dark hair from his brow. "It's the one by the windows there."

Sitting down, Karl looked him up and down. He looked different somehow; he'd always been great looking, perfect skin, dazzling smile and all that, but there was something about him that . . . glowed. "You're looking good, Will." He meant it only friendly, but would have sworn Paul's glare was burning into the side of his head.

Will cracked a smile, and Karl didn't miss his quick glance at Paul. Will's smile widened. The cheeky ass. He hadn't changed much there.

"Thanks, K. You're looking as good as ever, too." Now his smile faltered, and Karl caught the way he rolled his lips—like he used to do when he was upset and trying to hold it in. Guess this was harder for him.

"So," Karl rushed on, "what have you been up to the past year?"

"Bit of this and that. Finished my undergrad, which is a relief. Dated for a bit, you know. Nothing serious though. I don't seem to be good at picking for that." He laughed, but anyone could tell it was hollow.

Still, he glowed. Which was becoming more of a mystery to Karl. Their waitress came over to take their orders. Paul hesitated over the wine and beer list and opted for still water instead. "You can drink if you like, I'll drive," he said to Karl while Will, in typical Will style, discussed exactly how he wanted his meal.

"Um . . . nah, I don't want to be the only one drinking."

Paul motioned to Will, and Karl shook his head. "Drinks rarely."

They both stared at Will then, listening as he spoke kindly to the waitress. The salad couldn't have any dressing over it, but the dressing should come in a little dish on the side. Any additional bread was to please come in a basket and not placed on his plate, unless there were no baskets, in which case on the plate would be acceptable. Except in the case there was sauce. If there was sauce, make sure it didn't touch the salad, or alternatively bring the salad in a different bowl.

The waitress gaped at him. A pretty similar look to the one Paul had. Karl refrained from lifting his dropped jaw and shutting it.

"Yes, I think that should be all, thanks," Will said.

Karl smiled at his friend's idiosyncrasies. He'd always been particular when it came to his food. The waiters or waitresses could never get upset, either, because he really was polite. He didn't even mind repeating it if necessary. That, and he tipped well.

Hurriedly, the waitress noted something down, got Karl's order, and disappeared. Within two minutes she was back with their drinks.

"What are your plans for this year?" Karl sipped his ginger ale.

A spark flickered in Will's eyes. Ah, this is where the glow was coming from.

"In two weeks, I'll be studying at the University of Otago—doing my masters there. I’ll be away for a year."

"What do you study?" Paul asked.

"Information Technology and Computer Science. They have an excellent department there, from everything I've heard."

"Where will you be living there?" Karl was curious.

"They have accommodation for international students, but I wanted to do something on my own. So, I've organized to rent a room—actually, it will be boarding—for a month, during which time I hope to find a flat of my own."

"Right." Karl nodded. "Know who you're boarding with?"

"Nah. They sound pretty well off. They kept talking about the room I'll be staying in, apparently it belonged to their son—also studying at Otago, but who's rooming with friends—anyway, it has a view of the city, apparently. In a nice suburb. Ten minute drive to campus. Or half-hour walk." Will smiled. "It's only for a start. I look forward to the year, though, hope to get a lot traveling in."

Will had wanted to travel for years, had always talked about taking a few months and driving around the coast, living in a tent and hiking as much as he could. For someone so fussy about restaurant food, he was quite happy to bunker in cold foliage and eat reconstituted potato mash. Ugh, Karl shuddered at the thought. He'd never shared the interest.

Still, he was glad Will would be getting the opportunity soon enough.

"And what about you?" Will asked Karl. "Plans for the year?"

Karl told him about going to culinary school, eliciting a large, genuinely happy smile from the man.

"So good to hear that. You always were the best cook. Know you'll get there, K." He slipped a hand in his direction.

Paul reached out for Karl's glass of ginger ale, cutting his access off, and Karl chuckled inside. "So, I hear you're into music?" Paul swiftly changed subject.

"Yeah. Singing, mostly. Choir. And I yodel, too."

Paul choked on his drink. What was up with that? Karl had told him about Will yodeling before, hadn't he? Gosh, maybe he hadn't. People did tend to widen their eyes hearing that for the first time. Still, Will was pretty exceptional at it.

They continued chatting through dinner, in the middle of which Will excused himself for the bathroom.

"I don't like him," Paul said, sawing his steak.

"Why not?"

"He looks funny."

Karl laughed. "You mean he looks hot."

Paul's scowl deepened.

"And he yodels. That's just weird."

Karl smiled. "It's sexy, you know."

"What? Yodeling?"

"Hey, stop with that. Will's a good singer and yodeler. But no, I meant what's sexy is that scowl on your face." The jealousy behind it. It’s . . . touching.

Paul's face transformed into a proper smile.

"And that's even sexier."

"And this?" Paul threw him a suggestive look as well as slipping a hand under the table and onto his thigh.

"Mmmm, yeah, I like that."

Paul continued tracing small circles, gradually climbing higher. That felt good. Too good. Certainly it was having an effect . . . Karl's breathing hitched and he squeezed his legs together on Paul's wandering hand.

He came closer to Paul. "Man, I want to kiss you right now." He said it as a statement, but really it was a question. Could he? Would Paul say yes?

Paul's eyes darted to Will coming back towards them. He gave the slightest shake of his head.

Karl dropped back into his seat. Ah, but it was okay. Paul was coming out, just bit by bit. Would take time still. Though Paul had to know Will knew they were together. Like it wasn't obvious to anyone who'd seen the stares Will and Paul threw at each other. Mostly Paul.

The rest of dinner and dessert, Paul and Will seemed to settle into an easier banter between them. Much to Karl's relief. He did so much want Paul to like his friend. Once they were done, and Will had left a thirty percent tip, they moved outside.

It was weird to say good-bye. Especially with Paul watching, eyes like a hawk's. Karl shook his head.

"Good seeing you again, Will." They embraced once more.

"Keep emailing, okay?" he asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Karl squeezed a little harder. "I will. All the best for your time abroad."

"Feel free to come visit me down there," Will said, dropping his arms to his side.

Paul coughed at that, but smiled, too. "See ya, Will. You can tell us all about it when you get back."

Once Will was out of sight, Paul wrapped Karl in his arms and smothered him in kisses.

"I was going to do it right in front of Will," Paul said, "so you'd know I'm really out, for me, for us. But I couldn't do it, because I worried about his reaction. Not in the way you might think, though. I can prove that." Paul grabbed him and kissed him, tongue and all, right there on the open street. Almost pressed up against the restaurant window. A wolf whistle came from behind them, sniggers from in front.

Paul shrugged. "I want everyone to know you're mine. The reason I couldn't do it in front of Will was because I didn't want to rub what he'd lost in his face. I mean, one part of me really wanted him to get just how together we are—because heck yeah, I'm jealous you're still friends with the guy—but he really did lose something amazing. And I didn't want to make him feel any more miserable for it."

"Amazing, huh?" Any disappointment had dissolved, and Karl was cracking a grin again.

"Yes." Paul nipped another kiss. Then held his gaze, "God, yes."

"So, what do you want to do now? Stroll to the waterfront? Or the park?" Spring had come sudden and early this year. Buds could be seen on the trees. A walk would be nice, together, hand in hand.

Paul hesitated. "Sure. Or, um, if we make for home now, we could relieve Tirone and Gill from babysitting, and then . . . you know," he gripped a thumb and finger on his tie and ran them down its length with a suggestive waggle of his brow.

Karl got it. Yeah. A good shudder. Damn good.

"What're you thinking?" Paul asked, eyeing him as if to read his expression.

Karl let his breath go in drabs. "Whether I want to run to the car or have you drag me."

He chose to run, barely beating Paul there. Breathing hard, they collapsed into the car and made for home.

Charlie was still up, but pajamaed and ready for bed. Tirone and Gillian wanted all the details about how Paul had acted in front of his ex, while Paul read to Charlie and put him down.

When the two left the apartment, Gillian winked and grabbed Tirone's hand, linking it with hers. The last thing Karl caught as the door shut was Tirone's winning smile and twinkling gaze as he watched her.

"Charlie wants you to go in and say goodnight."

Karl almost jumped at Paul's voice behind him. "Right." He smiled and kissed Paul on his way past, then continued down the hall to the boy's room.

"You tired, buddy?"

"Never."

"Want me to read you another story?"

"How about five?"

"Settle at two?"

"'kay, but they have to be long ones."

Karl chuckled and heard another muffled laugh coming from the hall. Paul was standing there listening in, huh? He smiled.

After reading two fairytales, picked out by Charlie after he'd counted how many pages they had, he sat up straight. "I like these stories."

"Oh yeah? What do you like about them?"

"They all end good."

"You probably don't want to read the originals then."

"What?"

"Nothing. Good endings are the best. Now it's time for you to settle and close your eyes for the night."

"Still not tired. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to hang out with your papa."

Charlie poked his tongue out. "You gonna kiss him, too?"

Karl was glad for the limited lighting, as he was sure his cheeks had just exploded with color. What to say? "Um . . . "

"'Cause that's what people do if they love each other, right?" His voice rose at the end.

Karl looked out the doorway, at the socked foot poking from behind the door-frame. "Yes, they do. And I love your papa very much." The socked toes curled, and Karl smiled. "Now let's get you all comfy and lights out."

"Good, then you'll stay with us forever." Then he got to his knees, cupped two hands to Karl's ear, and whispered, "See, my magic is real." Then he cried 'yippy', got to his feet, and bounced on the bed.

Karl just laughed; inside he wanted to join the monkey. He glanced to the door again, this time Paul stood in the middle of it. Their gazes caught, tender, warm, and Paul mouthed the words back at him. I love you, too.

"She-sha, she-sha," Charlie yelped, and tripped into Karl's arms. "We'll all live happily ever after."