Chapter Thirty-Five
Freddie
After the heat had faded away, Freddie collected himself. He thought Taine seemed more centred somehow, but couldn’t put his finger on why. It was a feeling he couldn’t quite shake.
The thought slipped away from him when Freddie’s eyes caught sight of the massive wet spot on Taine’s trousers. Cach. He hoped the man kept a spare change of clothes in his vehicle. Tea would definitely devolve into a disaster if his dads caught sight of damp jeans.
And he won’t exactly fit in mine, will he? Be like shoving too much meat in a sausage casing.
Thankfully for both their sakes, Taine’s travel kit stashed in the rear of his Bentley hadn’t been moved. While he switched out of his mucked-up trousers, Freddie dragged his own up. He could run up to his old room for a fresh set of clothes without drawing too much unwanted attention.
The mood in the farmhouse didn’t initially appear drastically changed from Christmas Day. His dads were edgy and tense. His aunt tried to counteract it by being overly jolly and trying to cheer everyone up, a trait he obviously inherited from her.
Dashing upstairs to his old bedroom, Freddie scrounged around for clean boxers, jeans, and a shirt of his own. A shower would’ve been nice, but it would’ve taken too long. He dragged a blue cardigan over his head; even with the fireplace, the old house could be cold in the winter.
He didn’t want to leave Taine alone with his family for too long. It might traumatise the man. He might run away and never come back.
Hearing sounds in the kitchen, Freddie veered off the path to the den to help bring in the tea. His tad gave him a warm smile. They worked together to get everything sorted on two trays.
“Are you and Dad all right?” Freddie might’ve been frustrated with them, but he loved his fathers. “Did you have supper last night?”
His tad paused while pouring hot water into the teapot. “Realising our son is old enough to make his own choices has been sobering and difficult. We love you, cariad. We’re proud of our baby boy. I know you’re all grown up. It’s just impossible to not see the little brown-haired lad who trotted around the farm in his Paddington wellies when I look at you. I’m sorry we hurt you, and so is your dad. It’s the last thing we’d want to do.”
Freddie threw his arm around the man, careful of the kettle in his hand. “Love you, Tad.”
“We’ll give your Taine a fair shake, cariad. I promise, both your dad and I will.” He set the kettle down to gather his son into his arms. His tad always smelled of coffee and pipe smoke—the one he hid in the barn, thinking no one knew about it. “Christmas without you showed us a vision of life if we’d never had a son. I’d prefer to never experience it again.”
“Stop cwtching in the kitchen and bring in the tea,” his dad yelled out from the den. “C’mon, you two.”
“Your dad.”
Freddie grinned against the familiar flannel of his tad’s shirt. “Your husband. Don’t forget his biscuits.”
“What have I said about mocking your father?”
“Only do it where he can hear?” Freddie’s smile brightened further. He hoped he could take this for a sign his fathers would accept Taine in his life. “If you hold the door for me, I’ll take the tray into the den.”
His dads tried. They did. Freddie could almost see the effort they were going through to avoid having a repeat of Christmas.
The strained conversations eventually bled away into more genuinely cordial chatter. His dad’s interest in rugby paved the way. He’d soon engaged Taine in a heated debate over the use of aggressively rolling mauls in a recent national team match.
“Turns out you only had to turn on the rugby to get them to ease up.” His aunt sidled over to join him on the floor by the fire. She snatched a biscuit from his saucer. “Do I want to know what you two got up to in the shed that required a change of clothing?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“No.” Freddie glared at his aunt, who smiled in return. “Quit it.”
“Anna, don’t harass Freddie.” His dad came to the rescue. “I haven’t seen him blush so badly since we found naughty stories on his computer.”
“Oh. My. God.” Freddie shot to his feet, barely avoiding upending his tea. “Taine? Want to see the cows? We should go see them, right now. This very second. Let’s go.”
“Cows?” Taine chuckled the entire way out of the house into the brisk air and lightly falling snow. “Not interested in mooning animals, but I do want to hear more about these ‘naughty stories’ of yours. Did you write them?”
“No,” Freddie snapped at him. He could feel the blush spreading up his neck to his face and ears. “I’m going to kill them and feed them to the cows.”
“Think it might affect the taste of the milk?”
“Twmffat.” He shoved Taine—or attempted to do so. The brick wall of a man didn’t budge an inch. “I can’t believe my dad brought it up. He went from hating you to embarrassing me rather quickly.”
Taine grabbed him by the shoulders and massaged them firmly. “What sort of naughty stories were you reading?”
Freddie dropped his head forward with a groan. “Doctor Who fan fiction.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Freddie decided he’d rather crawl through the pasture full of cowpats than continue the conversation. “Stories written by fans of the Doctor Who show.”
“Naughty ones?” Taine asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t write any of them?” Taine shook him gently by the shoulders. “I think you did.”
Freddie groaned as his answer. Taine turned him around to press him up against the wall of the barn. Oh God, I can’t sneak up to change my trousers again, they’ll notice this time. He didn’t have a chance to voice his argument before the taller man’s lips descended on his.
Taine licked a swath from Freddie’s mouth up to his ear, teasing his earlobe with light nibbles. “Now, tell me all about the fantasies you used to write about. Maybe we can act out some of them.”
“Why? Do you have a Tardis?” Freddie retorted sharply.
Silence.
“Well, not exactly, but I can promise it’s bigger on the inside.” Taine rested his head against Freddie’s shoulder while they both broke into a fit of laughter. “Want to see my screwdriver?”