Christmas Day
Brad swiped at his phone to end the call and tucked it into his back pocket of his Levi 501 jeans. Distractedly, he surveyed all the food spread out over the worktops. The scent of roasting turkey filled the kitchen but barely registered past the turbulent thoughts rolling around in his head.
He wasn’t as confident that Princess and Max were off doing “stuff” as Aaden put it. He wrung his hands, not sure how to voice his concern to Martin about what was happening with their cats and the ruddy witchy poo.
No longer preoccupied with thoughts of sex and last night, Brad had a feeling the other shoe was about to drop. He scratched the back of his neck when the feeling he’d missed something important wouldn’t let go. The fact that he hadn’t physically laid eyes on Princess in more than twenty-four hours had his pulse leading a merry dance along his veins and added to the misery that was his knotted stomach.
Again, his gaze landed on the food, but this time he wondered how he was going to be able to eat anything at all.
“Hey, baby. What’s put that frown on your gorgeous face this wonderful Christmas morning?” Martin’s voice was muffled as he buried his mouth into Brad’s neck, nuzzling the soft skin below his ear.
Martin felt the tension radiating from Brad’s rigid muscles. Not sure what was worrying Brad, Martin folded him into his arms. Holding him tight, Martin breathed in the sweet scent of cherries as Brad relaxed against him, laying his head into the crook of Martin’s neck.
“Princess. Who else?”
Martin tensed, sensing Brad’s sadness as he continued to talk.
“Aaden rang. It would seem that Max is missing, along with Princess. Only he thinks they’re up to no good. Or doing ‘stuff,’ as Aaden calls it.” Brad chuckled. “I think he means Percy filth, but hey, if he doesn’t want to think about his cat getting his rocks off, who am I to blame him when I don’t want to think about my Princess getting down and dirty with Max.”
Brad shuddered against Martin, drawing attention to how close they were. Martin shifted his hips back a little. He sensed Brad wasn’t up for another round of blistering sex this morning. Hell, Brad’s arse had to be sore after what they’d got up to when they’d finally got home last night.
Martin cursed his wayward thoughts. He willed his body to behave, forcing himself to focus on Brad’s anxious face. “Have you tried to call for Princess, like Aaden and Greg do? I know you’ve never really had that kind of relationship with Princess.” Martin had to stop talking when Brad’s lower lip poked out in a sulky pout. Martin counted to ten, hoping it would hold the laughter at bay. He knew his eyes were giving him away when Brad scowled up at him.
“Go on. Laugh. I know you want to. But it’s totally not fair that Aaden and Greg get to talk telepathically with Max. I calculated that I’ve had Princess longer than Aaden has been with Max. It’s so not fair that he can talk to his cat.” Brad huffed, blowing the curls on his forehead out of his eyes.
Stomping his foot, Brad barely missed Martin’s bare one.
He knew he was acting childishly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. He pulled away from Martin and stalked back to the kitchen counters. Brad fiddled with the vegetables. “Don’t you think I haven’t tried that last night and again this morning? If she can hear me, then she is ignoring me. I have a bad feeling, Martin, that she knows about miss witchy poo’s offer to Max. And I also think she knows I know about it. That she is punishing me for not telling her.” His shoulders sagged under the weight of the secrets he’d kept from Princess.
Brad heard the thud before he realised he’d thrown the carrot he’d been holding at the wall.
“Hey, we’ll have less of that. I don’t have time to paint the walls if you decide to decorate them with food.”
The concern in Martin’s voice had Brad drop the cabbage he’d held in his other hand. Martin was right. They didn’t have time for this or for his moping. Not if he wanted to make a Christmas meal for eight people.
Brad sighed.
Dragging his hair away from his face, he pulled the elastic band on his wrist off, tying his hair into a man bun. Brad viewed the kitchen and calculated what was left to do. He was pleased he’d taken the time last evening to tidy up and move back the furniture. The Christmas decorations were still in place from the party, giving the room a festive feel. All that was needed was the table to be set. He batted his eyelashes at Martin, making sure to flash his dimples, even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
“I know your game.” Martin held up his hands as he spoke. “Okay, you win. What do you want me to do?”
The humour in his voice had Brad’s smile turn genuine. “If you start on setting the table, I’ll do the veg. Oh, and the plan of how it should look is in the top drawer of the cabinet over there. And can you put on some cheerful music. I need it.”
Brad pointed to the drawers next to the kitchen sink before he got to work peeling vegetables. The sounds of classic Christmas tunes filled the kitchen.
The mood lightened when Martin started to sing along with Slade. Brad had a moment of regret that Sarah wasn’t there to share this with him. Her friend had offered her a last-minute cancellation to a ski resort. As Sarah had spent months trying to get a booking, they’d both encouraged her to accept. They didn’t blame her for wanting to go away with friends, but he knew she’d be sorry to have missed her brother’s dancing and singing.
Brad chuckled watching Martin.
The tight black jeans and bright red jumper fitted his frame flawlessly. They showed off his assets to perfection when Martin shimmied around the kitchen. His dark hair glowed under the soft sunlight pouring in behind him as he sang out of tune. The happiness evident in the sparkling depth of his azure eyes as they landed on Brad. The flirty wink had his lips twitch into a returning smile.
Brad got quickly back to work, his throat working hard to swallow the tears that had him sniffing. He may be upset because Princess wasn’t here, but it didn’t detract from the ball of emotions that sat in his chest. The weight so comfortable it was almost as if Martin had laid his own heart on top of Brad’s. He could almost feel the beat match his. Their love mingled and twined together, leaving him tethered in a way that no words could express.
He rubbed his misty eyes with the back of his hand, thanking whatever God there was for Martin. He rethought that when he considered his new-found friendships.
No, I’m grateful for all of it. Heck, how could I not be after last night!
Brad shifted his feet, jiggling his hips, hoping the swelling in his trousers would stop. He pushed the thoughts away that wanted to crowd his mind, forcing himself to continue to prep the food in front of him.
Brad got lost in the comfort of his kitchen, running from one task to another, making sure everything was perfect.
Checking the time, he hurried into the lounge and surveyed the room. He’d asked them all to come at two pm, and it was close to that now. He let the warmth of the room cloak him. Martin had lit the fire a couple of hours earlier, so the room was nice and warm, ready for their friends.
The dark greyness that had replaced the earlier sunlight offered little to no light to the room. Brad frowned, licking his teeth. He scurried around, lighting the candles that offered the smell of Christmas. Though how anyone could say that the cinnamon fragrance was the fragrance of Christmas was beyond him. Surely, it was whatever scent that reminded you of the ones you loved?
At the sound of the doorbell, he shook off the questions he couldn’t find the answer for. He was glad he had something to distract him from his meandering thoughts.
Brad skipped in anticipation to the door. His excitement bubbled through him as he yanked the door open, smiling at the rosy cheeks and sparkling sky-blue eyes of Greg. Aaden, Brody, and Nick all stood behind Greg, holding plastic bags.
He grinned at them all, not at all bothered as the icy air blasted his flushed cheeks as he stepped towards Greg, relieving him of his bags. It was only then that Brad noticed the tension radiating off the men behind Greg. The lines around both Brody’s and Aaden’s mouths had him look towards Nick. The blank expression he wore had Brad chew on his bottom lip to stop the questions from pouring out.
Greg broke the silence as he pushed past Brad. “I’m starving, and the smell coming from your kitchen has my taste buds all but ready to beg.”
Brad listened to Greg waffle, but he never took his eyes off Nick. He raised his brow when Nick walked past with no crutches or limp.
Oh, you bugger.
Brad just about managed not to ask about the obvious elephant in the room when Aaden gave him a warning head shake. Brad knew it was too late when Martin walked down the stairs, staring at Nick.
“Shitting hell, what on earth happened to your leg?” Martin wanted to saw his tongue off or better yet retract the question he’d just asked when everyone froze at once. Not sure what he should do, Martin carried on walking down the stairs.
He went to the open door, closing out the wintry afternoon. He turned to Aaden, grabbing the bags he carried so he could do something to get everyone moving.
The chime of the door had him release his pent-up breath. He indicated to Aaden to let Joe and Stuart in as he herded everyone towards the lounge. Martin settled everyone, taking their drink requests as he hustled back into the kitchen with Brad hot on his heels.
“What on earth is going on with that lot? I’m convinced you could cut the tension with a knife. Aaden gave me a warning glare to stop me from asking about Nick’s leg, but you asked before I had a chance to stop you. I’m sorry.” Brad’s whispered words had Martin cast a wary eye towards the empty doorway.
“It’s all right, baby. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But I’d bet my left testicle it’s probably got something to do with the witch. Hell, at this rate we’re going to end up in a remake of the Witches of Eastwick. Only it’ll be the Witches of the Isle of Man.”
Martin dropped the bags onto the floor. He got the drinks ready, placing them on the silver tray Brad produced. He gave Brad a quick kiss before he went back to the stove, playing with the bubbling pots.
Martin inhaled, bracing himself before he walked back into the lounge. He was relieved when the atmosphere wasn’t as tense. Greg’s constant chatter seemed to have lightened the mood.
Aaden and Brody were sitting on the two sage-green chairs pushed into the corner of the room on either side of the fireplace. They were dressed in nearly identical outfits. The grey trousers they wore were topped with soft cashmere jumpers, Aaden’s black, whereas Brody’s was a soft mint green. Martin stepped to each man offering a drink before he went to the large comfy sofa to give Nick, Greg, and Joe their drinks.
The three looked as thick as thieves as he watched Greg’s bright red head duck as he whispered something into Nick’s ear that had him grinning. He subsequently turned and whispered into Joe’s ear, getting the same response, a big arse grin.
The contrast of red hair, pale blond, and rich brown was striking. The three men, though so different in appearance, were all striking in their own way. Greg, though the taller of the three, didn’t appear bigger due to his willowy and lean body. Whereas Nick the smallest was broader, but his fine delicate features gave him an air of fragility that made him appear smaller.
Joe, on the other hand, sat somewhere in the middle between the two other men’s stature and height. The anorexic look Joe had sported when he’d arrived was long gone. It was only his chocolate eyes that offered up some of what had happened to him in the past. The fun playful light he’d been used to seeing for years had slowly returned under Stuart’s loving care.
Martin moved towards the last man in the room, Stuart. He sat on one of the leather chairs they’d carted in from the back room. He lounged on his chair, his hooded silver eyes never leaving Joe. The hint of apprehension that had Stuart’s mouth pinching when Greg spoke had Martin wonder what was going on with his friend.
“What did you do with the bags, Martin? The pressies are in it.”
Greg rubbed his hands together when he looked up at Aaden. Martin couldn’t stop his chuckle at the merriment dancing over Greg’s face. He looked like a kid about to open the gifts Santa had left under the tree.
Martin left the men to retrieve the bags, dragging a complaining Brad with him. “Come on, don’t you want to open your gifts?” Martin wagged his brows lecherously at Brad, making him giggle.
Martin stepped into the lounge, pausing. He felt the urge to capture this moment, this feeling of them all together, sharing Christmas. And though he hadn’t been keen when Brad had sprung his plans on him yesterday, he could see now as Brad beamed at the room that this was Brad and his new family. The friendships Brad had never had or been allowed to develop were all here, sharing their first Christmas.
Martin coughed, dropping the bags next to Aaden. He looked away from his smirk.
He walked to the tree. Crouching, he pulled out the parcels he’d hidden. He paused when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He shifted his head, looking in the direction of Stuart, convinced the noise had come from that side of the room.
Martin knelt on the floor, dragging Brad into his lap when he saw the expression on Stuart’s face. He ignored the sounds of rustling bags and paper as the others sorted through their gifts.
Martin nuzzled his smiling mouth into Brad’s neck, getting ready for the show. He kept his eyes away from Joe, not wanting to let on he knew what that terrified look Stuart wore was all about. He’d felt the very same when he’d proposed to Brad.
Martin sat, holding on to his baby, waiting for his friend to take the bull by the horns and propose.
“Joe…” The croak had Stuart cringe. He coughed, hoping to open up his throat. A throat that felt as if he’d got a golf ball lodged in it.
Stuart wet his lips, trying again. “Joe, can you come here a minute.” He felt slightly better when his voice only shook with nerves this time and didn’t sound like a bullfrog. He supposed he should count himself lucky he could speak at all with a tongue that felt like it had grown several sizes in his mouth.
He saw when Joe finally heard him past the boisterous activity surrounding them. “Come here. Please.” Stuart kept his eyes locked on Joe’s chocolate gaze. A chocolate gaze that had haunted his dreams before the fates had stepped in granting him his one wish. A wish he’d secretly held for more than ten years.
He blocked out the other men in the room, not sure he could get the words out if he looked at anyone other than Joe. He shuffled forward when Joe got up and walked towards his outstretched hands. He clasped Joe’s warm, work-roughened palms, pulling him into his lap. Stuart spoke in hushed tones, letting out the words he’d been dreaming of.
“Joe… I love you so goddamn much it hurts sometimes just to look at you. I never knew that when we met all those years ago, how you would change my life for the better. That one moment we shared at the worst time of my life gave me the best moment of my life.” Stuart paused and swiped at his eyes, sniffing up. “The day I opened the door to my new lodger changed my world again. You became my world. I’m not perfect.”
Stuart ignored the joint snorts he heard, thinking it was probably Martin and Greg.
“But you won’t find anyone who loves you more or who will do anything to please you.”
The loud gaffs of laughter this time had him shift his gaze from Joe’s watery eyes. “Do you mind?” He raised his brow at Nick and Greg. “I’m trying to propose here.”
The sudden silence and the stillness coming from Joe had Stuart’s pulse skip from crazy to insane. His nose burned when the bile in his empty stomach jumped up the back of his throat. Stuart gulped in some air, hoping it would help. He moved his eyes back to Joe’s, praying that he wouldn’t see a flashing NO coming out of his eyes.
Stuart sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, unable to contain the little sob when Joe’s face beamed. The happiness glowing from his chocolate eyes had Stuart struggle to continue.
“Will you…” His question was lost under Joe’s loud shout. Stuart covered his ringing ears as Joe bounced and carried on shouting.
“Yes. Yes. Oh hell. Yes. A million yeses.”
Greg’s raucous laughter competed with Joe’s joyous shouts.
“He hasn’t even asked you properly yet. He has to get down on one knee, like Martin did with Brad.” Stuart threw a deadly look at Greg, willing him to shut up when Joe’s face lit up with a mischievous grin.
“You did say you’d do anything for me.”
Stuart growled.
He shifted Joe off his lap, plonking him on the chair he’d vacated, but not before he glared at everyone in the room.
He pointed to Joe and the others. “Keep quiet.”
Stuart lowered to the red rug. Bending one knee, he lowered the other, pulling the small package out of his pocket. He held it towards Joe, taking a deep inhale.
“Will you marry me, be my one and only, now and forever?” He held still, locking his misty eyes with Joe’s. The seconds felt like hours. Stuart was convinced his heart was about to break his ribs it was pounding so hard. It had him wanting to rub at his chest, but he didn’t want to move until Joe spoke.
“Yes. I want that more than anything. You gave me back my soul. You might not know it, but you mended it when I thought it was broken beyond repair. I’m yours eternally.” Joe swiped at his wet chin and cheeks before continuing, “Our lives are entwined, now and forever.”
Joe swept his shimmering eyes over his friends.
“All of our lives are entwined, and although this buildup to Christmas may have been more like the twelve disasters of Christmas instead of the twelve days of Christmas, I wouldn’t change it for anything.” He blew kisses to his friends before he found his mouth sealed with Stuart’s plush lips.
Joe sighed in contentment. Ignoring the rising noise around him as everyone got into the Christmas spirit, he hugged Stuart closer to his chest as his large arms encased his shoulders. He gasped, pulling back.
“Merry Christmas, fiancé.” Joe grinned when Stuart laid his forehead against his, whispering the words back to him.
“Merry Christmas, fiancé.”