They lay entwined for a long time on the bed, kissing and touching and dreaming of the future. Michael had Griffin’s come inside of him and he wanted for nothing more to make him happy.

“Engagement rings?” Griffin asked.

“Nah,” Michael said, tiredly, blissfully lying on Griffin’s chest as Griffin stroked his back with his fingertips.

“Engagement…cock rings?” Griffin said.

“Talk me into it,” Michael said.

“Big wedding? Little wedding?”

“Little wedding,” Michael said.

“Okay. We’ll keep it small. Two-hundred people.”

Michael lifted his head and looked at Griffin.

“That’s small?”

“Size is relative.”

Michael glared at him.

“Hey, you’re lucky I’m not ordering you to marry me in the middle of Times Square, sub. We could project the wedding on the big screen. Invite the whole city as guests,” Griffin said.

“No, no, sir. Hard no, sir. Wings. Safeword. Red.”

Griffin’s chest moved underneath Michael’s head with quiet laughter. “Fine, no Jumbotron. We’ll figure it out. We got time. You don’t graduate until May anyway. And you’ll be twenty-one by then. That’s a respectable age for getting married.”

“In 1952 maybe,” Michael said.

Griffin slapped Michael’s ass.

“You fell in love with an older man. You have only yourself to blame,” Griffin said and pressed a kiss on the top of Michael’s head.

They lay in contented silence for a few minutes before Michael posed an important question:

“When are we going to tell people?”

“Oh…” Griffin said with a sigh. “I don’t know. Whenever.”

“You’re dying to call your mom, aren’t you?” Michael asked.

Griffin ran a hand through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. “It’s like a stick in my back and it won’t stop poking me until I call her,” he said, miming a poking action with his finger.

“It’s not midnight yet,” Michael said. “She’s probably up.” Alexis was a bit of a night owl. Griffin got that from her.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Sweet!” Griffin threw Michael off of him, and started to run out of the room.

“Pants!” Michael yelled after him.

“Pants. Right. Calling Mom. This is why I keep you around.”

Alexis had discovered FaceTime recently and there was nothing more awkward than getting a FaceTime call from one of the moms while bare-ass naked. Griffin grabbed his jeans off the floor and raced to find his phone he’d apparently left somewhere in the living room. Nothing surprised Michael about any of that except Griffin had used his feet to get to the living room and not the pogo stick that was propped by the bedroom door. Well, it was a little late for pogoing. They did have downstairs neighbors to think about. The Nussbaums were very nice people after all, and they needed their sleep.

At a far more sedate pace, Michael pulled on boxer shorts and a t-shirt and followed Griffin to the living room. Griffin sat on the edge of the couch, phone to his ear, waiting for an answer.

Michael found his own phone on the coffee table and sent his mother a quick text to see if she was up.

“Mom,” Griffin said. “Don’t panic. There’s nothing wrong.”

Michael smiled. Griffin looked at him with bright eyes, happy eyes.

“No, it’s good news this time,” Griffin said, grinning. “Mick and I…we’re getting married.”

Griffin had to immediately hold the phone two feet from his ear. The scream was so loud Michael heard it on the other side of the room.

Michael’s phone beeped in his hand.

Mom: What’s up, kid?

Michael: You busy?

Mom: At work but I have a second.

Michael: Don’t freak out but Griff asked me to marry him. I said yes.

A pause followed, but not a long one.

Mom: Not freaking out. Not even surprised. I’m just smiling. I’m happy for you.

Michael: You are?

Mom: You’re too young but when has that ever stopped you before?

His mother made a fair point.

Michael: Thanks, Mom. Love you.

Mom: Love you, too. Wish I could talk now. Call me first thing tomorrow morning. I want to hear everything.

On the couch Griffin was grinning broadly as he tried to talk his mother down off the ceiling.

“Mom, calm down. We’re getting married in May, not tomorrow,” Griffin said. “We’ve literally been engaged an hour so we haven’t figured out the guest list yet. Why didn’t I call you an hour ago? We were, ah…a little busy, okay? Don’t be gross, Mom. I’m a virgin. What?”

Griffin listened.

“Mom wants to know what you’re wearing for the wedding,” Griffin said.

“A red latex catsuit.”

Griffin raised his eyebrow. To his mother he said, “We haven’t figured that out yet.”

“Can I tell Nora?” Michael asked. Griffin gave him the thumbs up. He sent Nora a text message.

Michael: So…you want to be my Maid of honor?

Nora: Me? A maiden? Have you met me?

Michael: Matron of honor?

Nora: Do I look matronly to you?

Michael: Mistress of dishonor?

Nora: Now we’re talking.

A few seconds later came another message from Nora.

Nora: I’m so happy for you both.

Michael: Thanks. This is the right thing, right?

Nora: Are you happy?

Michael looked at Griffin, who was currently discussing various castles in Europe that his mother deemed acceptable for a Fiske family wedding.

Michael: Very happy.

Nora: Then it’s the right thing. Also, your priest sends his felicitations.

Michael: He actually said “felicitations”?

Nora: He’s so weird.

Michael: Is he happy for us?

Nora: He must be. He just did a cartwheel. Pretty impressive move for someone his height.

Michael: You’re an adult.

Nora: There goes the ceiling fan!

Michael: Bye, Nora.

Nora: Love you, Angelface. You two are going to be insanely happy together forever.

Michael: Yeah, I think we are.

Nora: Ahem…

Michael: Yeah, I think we are, MISTRESS.

Nora: Better.

Michael sent her a kiss emoji as a sign-off. He went over to Griffin and sat next to him on the sofa. Griffin immediately threw an arm around Michael’s shoulders and pulled him down and across his lap. Michael closed his eyes, exhausted and spent and sleepy. Griffin hung up on his mom and called his butler and then his brothers to give them the news.

Curled up on Griffin’s lap with his fiancé’s hand caressing his back, Michael looked at the black wing tattoos on his wrists and wondered what he would do if, by some strange magic, his wings turned from flesh and ink into feather and bone. Michael didn’t know what he would do with his wings if he had them, but he did know the one thing he would never ever do.

He would never fly away from Griffin.