by Claire Davis
Chapter Nine
Tork
He got all the way to Adam’s hall before he baulked. But he resolutely walked through the piles of late autumn leaves, noting the crisp chill in the air.
There were so many students around, and although none of them took any notice of him, still the anxiety creeps began seeping into his muscles.
He slowly uncurled his fists and imagined Adam’s face when he knocked on the door. It was enough to get him through the main doors and up three flights of steps.
He knocked sharply.
“Yeah?” Adam’s voice rang out, sounding bored and cross.
“Yes? What do you want? Who is that banging on my door so rudely?” Tork called back.
There was a thunderous crash as Adam yanked open the door. He was wearing only tiny underwear. The morning sun danced across his skin, illuminating the fair hairs on his stomach.
“Good morning, Adam. You dressed for me,” said Tork, gently moving Adam to one side so he could enter Adam’s room.
“You could have told me you were coming!”
“You’d have baked a cake?” Tork shut the door firmly and slid his hands up Adam’s sides, wanting to devour him. Morning Adam was always grumpy and in need of firm discipline.
“Yeah, I’d have got something up for you.”
Tork opened Adam’s soft lips with his own, rubbing the rough stubble against his chin. “I see you already have,” he said, rocking his hips slowly against Adam.
* * *
An hour later, they were both in underwear and cleaning up the room. “Don’t you ever hang your clothes up? And why does one man need so many jeans?”
“I’m so embarrassed you saw this. Honestly, I’m normally fastidiously tidy. Dusting is my middle name,” Adam lied. “So, you’re coming to have breakfast with me, then I’ll show you round the college?”
“What’s this about? A Christmas dance?”
Tork held up a leaflet that was stuck to the desk with a piece of old pizza, remembering how much Adam had wanted to go to the Summer Ball.
“Yeah, but I’m not going.”
“But why? You said everyone who is anyone went.”
“Can’t afford it, now my dad’s cut my money back.” Adam imitated his dad’s voice. “Got to stand on your own two feet sometime. I can barely afford rent and food.”
“Oh. Didn’t your friends ever pay you back for all that money you lent them for rent?”
“Nope. Sore point, actually.”
“But you get paid for the art classes at the shelter now, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m so lucky Mike gave that session to me. But I’m saving that money up for Christmas presents.”
Tork kissed him. “Remember what I said? You’re only allowed to spend ten pounds on me at Christmas.” He smiled cheekily at Adam, who glowered back. “There is a thrift store you might like to visit.”
Adam groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. Tork slipped the grubby leaflet in his pocket.
* * *
The college tour took a couple of hours, because Adam wanted to show Tork every building where he would attend lectures in January. Tork still couldn’t believe it was real, but the warm hand holding his was solid enough to keep him from worries.
“I can show you again, before you start. And I’ll just be around the corner to help if you need me.” Adam beamed. “I’ll draw you a map.”
“Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Tork said seriously, meaning every word.
“You’re going to meet your dad again now? Want me to come?”
They had met a few times. The first visit was so difficult, but now at least they were able to look each other in the eye. He hadn’t yet met Dad’s wife or her children, but one step at a time.
“No, you’d better get to your lectures. It’s just a coffee. I’ll call you after, OK?”
Adam pulled him into an alleyway to kiss him goodbye.
Chapter Ten
Adam
It was bloody freezing. The stall was outside the shelter, in front of the cathedral. They’d worked around the clock, trying to get it all ready for the December shoppers. Their origami models were spread out, each one a tiny masterpiece. Tork had showed the art class how to make a few simple designs, but then the class got inspired. Now they had everything from cats to a Christmas tree. Some of them even had little lights inside.
“You warm enough?” he said to Tork, who was fiddling with the models.
“No. Are you?”
“No, I’m freezing my tits off.”
They giggled together.
“I wonder how much money we’ll make. Mike says they’re shorter than ever on cash for this year’s Christmas dinner. Not too many people donating anymore. I hope we make enough to buy them a big, fat turkey. Remember last Christmas?”
Tork nodded. “I do. But Mike says we’re not allowed to help this year. Adam! People are coming over! Put your best smile on.”
They had a flurry of sales, with lots of shoppers charmed by the little models. The cash in their box began to grow.
By lunchtime, they had sold all their first models and were on to the next. Adam loved having a chance to show off in front of Tork, showing people how the models were made and telling them where all the money went. He felt Tork watching, and glowed inside.
“Well done, this looks great. Adam, I’m so proud of you.”
Adam nearly dropped his coffee in shock when he saw his own parents standing there. He’d told them about the stall, but he hadn’t expected them to drive the forty miles to see him.
“Hello,” he said, going all hot and cold as his mum came around the back to kiss him. “And you must be Tork. Nice to meet you,” Mum said, leaning forward to kiss Tork too. “We’re Adam’s parents.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Tork said, shaking Dad’s hand.
“This is just wonderful! All those poor people having to live on the streets in this cold. You did all this to help them?” Mum hugged Adam again, and a fog of surreal happiness and her perfume engulfed him. He nodded, tongue-tied.
“Here, let me put something in your tin,” Dad said. “And we’d like to buy a few of these little decorations. Had no idea, Adam, really. You made it sound like it was nothing, and look at you both, standing here doing all this work! Well done.” Dad hugged him and patted him on the back. “You’re a good boy.”
Mike appeared with a camera. “Smile nicely, boys. We can put this in the local newspaper. Be good publicity for us. Can I say you’re an ex-client, Tork?”
“Of course.”
“You mean our faces are gonna be in the local mag?” Adam demanded.
“I can blank your face out if you want, son?”
“No way. Just let me comb my hair, ’kay?”
His parents laughed. “Can we take you both out for a meal after you finish?” Dad asked. “We’ve come all this way. It would be nice to spend time with you both and get to know Tork and have a chat about Christmas.”
Adam glanced at Tork, wondering if it would be too much for him.
“We would love to. Thank you for the offer,” Tork said quickly, and Adam realised right there and then that he loved him. Of course, he’d already known it.
“Oh my god,” Adam said, as his parents wandered off, waving. “Wonders will never cease. Proud of me!” He laughed giddily.
“I’m sure they always were. Except maybe that time you stole his car.”
“And used his credit card once when I was drunk.”
“Hmm. You’ve come a long way. I didn’t know you’d told them about me.”
“Of course I did. Said you were like James Bond with green hair.”
They sold most of the models, even the fairly crap ones Adam had made, and eventually began to pack away. His hands were numb, and he was dying for a pee. He went inside to use the loo.
When he came back from the shelter with Mike, Adam saw the best thing ever. It took his breath away in one g
igantic motion and made tears spring up against his eyelids. He clutched Mike’s arm.
“Wait,” he said.
Tork was standing outside the cathedral, talking to a man, a woman, and three children. The man had the same oriental features as Tork—the same smile, too.
“He came,” Adam said fiercely to Mike. “It’s Tork’s dad.” He gripped Mike’s arm tightly.
“Easy, son,” Mike said hoarsely.
“If they hurt him, I’ll—I’ll…”
“Yeah, me too,” said Mike.
But after a while, Tork beckoned them over, smiling.
Chapter Eleven
Tork
It was Christmas Eve, and also the day of the college Christmas dance. Their little Christmas tree was lit up with the origami models Adam had brought back from the garages this morning and resurrected with glitter. The star with attitude was right up on the top, catching the lights and casting pretty patterns on the carpet.
Beneath the tree were presents, some wrapped with paper from the thrift store.
“Are you sure you’re up to going to my olds tomorrow night? We can cry off if you’d rather stay here?”
“No, Adam, it’s fine. I am looking forward to it. No screaming in bed, though, in case your parents are listening.”
“Hmm, I guess not. Then meeting your gorgeous dad on Boxing Day. It’s like having Tork clones. You think he’d, y’know…?” Adam gave Tork a saucy wink.
“No,” Tork said firmly, snorting. Adam was pulling a shoe lace across the floor for Dickens, who was lazily dipping his paw into a cup of tea. Tork thought maybe he had made Adam wait long enough. “Adam? Shall we go out tonight?”
“Nah, it’s too cold. And I can’t afford it.”
“Oh. What if I said where we’re going, there is free champagne, and you get to dress up in the very finest suit that hangs in your wardrobe. I’d really like to see you in that suit. Everyone at the college would like to see you in that suit. You owe it to the world.”
Adam stared at him frowning. “I think you’ve inhaled too much glitter.”
“Maybe, but look what the Christmas fairies brought us.” Tork handed over the tickets. They were glossy, black, expensive. Once upon a time, he would have thought they were frivolous and stupid.
Adam’s blonde eyebrows shot back into his perfect hair.
Tork laughed softly. “I can see your fillings. Don’t rub your head, or I am not going with you.”
“But…”
“Yes?”
“But how?”
“Remember all that money you used to leave me? Before your dad put his foot down. I never spent any of it. I just put it all in a pile and tried to forget about it.”
Adam began to smile. “And you’re coming with me? For real?”
“Yes.” He waited for Adam to question what he would be wearing and thought he might test him a bit, with talk of charity shops and trousers borrowed from Kevin.
But Adam was up and flying towards him, and soon they were in bed, making noises that probably made Dickens blush.
* * *
They were to meet at the corner of Adam’s block, so they could walk together to the hall where the dance took place. Of course Adam had nattered on about limousines, but Tork had easily shut him up, saying they could turn up on Adam’s bike.
It was bright, chilly darkness, and Tork had arrived ten minutes early, so he could watch Adam turn the corner and prepare himself for the night ahead.
He was not going to be nervous. He was not going to freeze, or run, or make Adam look stupid in front of his friends. He wanted to give this night to Adam so much…for Adam to be proud of him.
But his hands shook slightly as all the students milled about, wearing gowns and suits.
He was not going to be an outsider tonight, though, because he had the world’s best boyfriend, he had Dickens the cat, and he had a family just waiting to know him. Tonight, there were no rules.
Tork took a deep breath, and waited.
* * *
Adam
“No,” he said firmly, and shut the door on them. They banged for a while. There was even a kick.
“Adam! Come on, you can’t turn up sober! We have fifteen kinds of drink here.”
“No,” he repeated, and eventually they left him alone to begin the long and magnificent process of making himself utterly drop-dead gorgeous.
But it was weird. With every spray of cologne, he felt more nervous. With each tiny peep in the mirror, he became more and more convinced that going to the dance was a terrible mistake. He wished he was wearing jeans and a sweater. What was he thinking? Tork would hate it all, his friends would be idiots, and what a waste of money anyway.
“Jeez, Adam,” he said to his (awesome) reflection in the mirror. “You are one sad loser.”
But there was no denying, he looked fantastic.
He decided to meet Tork anyway and suggest they just go home to Citywise together. Dickens would be pleased to see them.
But when Adam turned the corner, he had a minor seizure of the heart, eyes, and trousers. Tork looked utterly brilliant in his dark suit. His green hair and unusual features just shone under the street light. He looked special and fine, but that was nothing new to Adam.
What made him start was the way Tork stood—confidently—nodding and laughing with a bunch of drunken girls. Adam stepped backwards, almost certain he did not know this man and had no place at his side.
But Tork saw him and waved excitedly. After a few seconds of furious blinking, Adam waved back and ran to meet him.
The Christmas Eve Dance
Tork
Adam led him to the archway and squeezed his hand hard.
“You OK? You sure?” he asked, and that made Tork resolutely step through the boughs into another world.
It was massive…overwhelming…like an engulfing cosmos, pulsating with brilliant life.
“Oh my god, it’s disgusting! They went to town with this. Looks like Harry Potter’s grotto,” said Adam.
The great hall was spectacular, plastered with ornate decorations and brilliant flowers. It was tacky, synthetic, and utterly beautiful. There were balloons, lights, 3D images, and little waterfalls illuminated by floating candles.
“I’m so sorry it’s so crap. You wanna go home? We can, if you want?” Adam asked worriedly. Suddenly Tork let go of the last brick to his fortress and opened his eyes.
He saw it all, sucking it in like he was starving. It was so different to the drunken horror he’d expected, and so much better. Instead of people throwing up, it looked like a scene from a Jane Austen book.
There was no way he could be here, amongst so much noise and attention, yet here he was, shaking hands with strangers and smiling right alongside Adam, who refused to let go of his other hand. Any more than five people usually made Tork’s heart race and his back go icy, yet all he could feel was the excitement thumping through his veins with the music.
There were hundreds of people he didn’t know—flowing gowns, sparkles, glitter and black suits—all whirling across the dance floor, looking like a magical world. Tork saw, and suddenly he was drunk—drunk with the heady acceptance that this was where he belonged, with his boyfriend.
“Come on, let’s dance,” he said to Adam, who gawked back at him in shock.
“Dance?”
“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you move. Let’s show these people what two guys can do.”
Adam looked horrified, but he followed Tork to the shining dance hall and slung his jacket over a chair. “The things I do for you! Wouldn’t you rather sit in a corner and watch?”
Tork grinned and shook his head, giddy with excitement and energy. The other couples were dancing sedately, but it was time to break free.
With a whoop, he kicked off his shoes and let fly. His limbs soon moved into the beat, and the orchestra worked hard to meet his lithe body. When Tork was a kid, he won the gymnast championship trophy three years running. That was a long
time ago now, but it seemed his body remembered how to move like fluid water running over the rocks and stones of life.
There were plenty of people clapping and shouting, but all he cared about was the delight and pride in Adam’s eyes .
They were soon dancing together, like two crazed magnets… drinking champagne… laughing… eating strawberries… dancing… and it was 11:59 p.m.…
“Happy Christmas,” Adam slurred unsteadily.
“It will be. It already is,” said Tork, grabbing Adam’s tie and pulling him close.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?”
“Me too,” Tork whispered. “You are my happy Christmas and my heart.”
The kiss tasted of fizzy bubbles, mint chocolates, and a heady promise that there was still so much more to come. It tasted of the flickering lights, slow music, the magic of Christmas, but mostly it tasted of Adam.
Tork kissed, and kissed, drawing in the whole essence of the man he loved, whirling it around his heart and dancing with his soul.
The End
About Claire Davis and Al Stewart
Al Stewart and Claire Davis write about people who are not perfect. Claire embraces the dark side, and Al the good side of the force. Their work is there for a fusion of both, mixed often with kink and humour.
Contact and Media
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goodreads.com/author/show/8510218.Al_Stewart
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By Claire Davis and Al Stewart
