Erik the Pink

by Matthew J. Metzger

  Andreas: Charming answer plus cake gets you laid tonight.

  He put the box of rescued cake on the counter and took a quick photo, before sending it off.

  Erik: Then yes. She looks just like her Spanish dad, who is not only the most attractive man alive but also ridiculously clever and horribly fiendish and puts me in an awkward position whenever he starts scheming.

  Andreas: Awkward position??

  Erik: The unable to stand up in public one.

  Andreas: Ooh, flatterer.

  Erik: Te quiero xxx

  Andreas: *fans self*

  Andreas: Come home soon and bring that cake xxx

  Erik laughed, swiping out of the conversation and rummaging under the till for a carrier bag. They’d already closed for business and brought in all the stray glasses from the beer garden. He could probably leave Tom to it.

  “Tom!” he bellowed into the open cellar doors. “I’m off!”

  “Alright, mate, have a good’un!”

  Cake safely stashed, Erik patted his pockets down for his wallet and keys before heading out of the door.

  Erik: On my way xxx

  It was a warm night. August. It was dark, and Beatriz would be fast asleep in her cot by the time he got home. They were starting to try and persuade her to sleep through the night, albeit the nights were short and ended at six o’clock without fail, and she had to take fewer naps during the day to do it. She’d have been worn out and grizzly through dinner and bath and now wouldn’t wake for the whole world.

  Which meant, all joking aside, Erik might very well get laid.

  Even if he didn’t, he wasn’t in work for the next two days, so had designs on a box of wine and a snuggle, either in bed or on the sofa. Then if Andreas was in a welcoming mood, perhaps he could bribe his boyfriend with incredible, worshipful, devoted sex to take over looking after Beatriz in the morning, and let Erik have a lie in.

  Probably a bit of a stretch, but maybe the cake would sell it.

  Erik: I have a request.

  Andreas: ?

  Erik: If I give you the best sex of your life, will you look after Beatriz in the morning and let me have a lie-in?

  Andreas: Good luck with that.

  Erik: I can do that!

  Andreas: I remain unconvinced.

  Erik: Challenge accepted.

  Andreas: Que la fuerza te acompañe.

  Erik blinked. Sighing, he copied the text and flicked open his browser to plug it through Google—then snorted at the result.

  Erik: #internationalnerdflirts

  Andreas: Guilty.

  Erik: Is that a hint? I didn’t think the good hard bang was your style?

  Andreas: The best sex of my life was a good hard bang though.

  Erik frowned, and searched through his memory. They’d always had sweet, slow sex. It was how he liked it best, and how Andreas deserved it most. Sensual. Worshipping. Taking time to wring every last drop of pleasure out of the pair of them, and overlay even those screws done to scratch an itch with love and care and tenderness. It was how he loved, never mind how he had sex.

  Except—

  Erik: Seriously?!

  Except for the very first time.

  Erik: That drunk shag in your hotel room was the best sex of your life?

  Erik: Are you for real?

  Andreas: Yes. Because you took one look at me and wanted me in every sense of the word. It blew my mind, and I never recovered all the pieces after that. It changed everything. It’s why we’re here now, so yes, while there has been phenomenal sex since (and awful sex, may I remind you, no way am I taking care of the baby if we have sex like we did in that hotel in London after the Placebo gig) that was the best sex.

  Erik: I can’t repeat that.

  Andreas: Why?

  Erik: Because you already know how much I want you.

  Erik: I can’t blow your mind with that again.

  Erik: You’ve known ever since.

  There was a long pause, and Erik had turned onto the corner of their street before his phone pinged again.

  Andreas: I’ll take care of the baby.

  Andreas: Just come here.

  Chapter 13

  It was Erik’s thirty-eighth birthday at the beginning of September.

  Usually Erik’s birthday was spent out getting laddered with the lads at the pub, then drunkenly coming home to Andreas, maybe a bit of drunk sex if he was capable of keeping it up long enough after drinking his body weight in real ale, then spending the following day with a good curry, a list of his favourite films, and some genuinely good sex after the hangover had retreated.

  Of course, that had been before the baby.

  Andreas had been pregnant for Erik’s last birthday, but still at the manageable stage. He’d just looked fat, frankly. But this year, he wasn’t entirely sure of Erik’s plans. He wasn’t convinced a steaming drunk husband in the house with a new baby was the best of ideas.

  So he was surprised the morning of the big day when Erik got up at six for the morning feed like it was an ordinary day.

  “It’s Friday,” Andreas said stupidly.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  “Yep.”

  “So—”

  “So I took the day off work,” Erik said, “and I want to spend my big day with my family.”

  “You going out later?”

  “Nope. Well, Jo did send us a text about eating out. I fancy that Mexican place in town, but do you want to get a taxi instead of wrestling the buggy back on the evening bus?”

  Andreas stared.

  Then he unfolded his arms, stepped forward, and reached up to loop both arms around Erik’s neck. Beatriz, balanced on Erik’s shoulder, cooed happily.

  “You,” Andreas whispered, nosing at Erik’s cheek, “are the best damn decision I ever made.”

  Erik pinked. He smiled, leaning down for a little kiss, but then frowned and asked what that had been for.

  “It’s your big day, and you want to spend it with me and your little girl, instead of going out with the lads.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure by next year I’ll have gotten used to this, but—” Erik coughed. “You know. Still—still getting over my Christmas present.”

  “Your Christmas present?”

  “You do that whole presents in January thing! So Beatriz is a Christmas present!”

  Andreas laughed. “Yeah, yeah, alright. She’s close enough.”

  “Here, take her.”

  Andreas blinked, taking her more on instinct than anything else, then chuckled as two hands clamped down over his bum and he was hauled back into a cosy cuddle.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “After we get her down to bed tonight, maybe a birthday kiss somewhere else?” Erik coaxed hopefully.

  “Not unless you do something about your forest. I’m not picking hair out of my teeth for a month.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It makes the Black Forest look bald.”

  “It’s natural!”

  “There is nothing natural about that.”

  “You’re so fur-phobic,” Erik said, shaking with laughter.

  Andreas couldn’t keep the grin off his own face, but fought for a stern tone anyway. “If you didn’t trim your beard, it would rival Gandalf by now.”

  “When it goes grey, I’m totally doing that.”

  “Then when you go grey, you’re getting a divorce.”

  Erik’s smile froze. Then he took a breath.

  “Oh, hey, I was just jok—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “That’s not—I mean—that’s not—you really think we’ll be married by then?”

  Andreas frowned. “Uh. Well…yeah.”

  Erik beamed.

  “Oh come on, you knew that.”

  “Yeah, I just—you know, we talked about it so long ago, and now things have changed, and—”

  “Things have gotten better,” Andreas chided. He hefted Beatriz a little
higher on his shoulder, and stretched up on his toes for another kiss. Erik’s hands tightened, taking his weight, and Andreas smiled.

  “Love you,” Erik murmured.

  “I know,” Andreas said, and squeezed his arm with his free hand. “But it’s more than that. I loved Tom once, too. I loved Gabriel. But you? It’s different. I was happy with them, I was excited and it was all thrilling, all of the time. But thrilling runs out. I ran out of steam. With you, I’m content. I’m warm, I’m safe. You’re home. Sometimes you still rile me up like they did, and it’s all passionate and I remember what it was like to meet you and fall in love with a stranger, but most of the time, it’s this cocoon. Where I’m just happy. Where I can’t run out of energy, because that’s not what’s keeping us going.”

  Erik’s face made an alarming twist, but then he stooped and burrowed against Andreas’ neck. It was uncomfortable, because he never used oil or conditioner on his beard. The angle hurt Andreas’ back. Beatriz yowled in protest and began to squirm.

  But a hand slid up to the small of his spine, and teeth gnawed at his jugular—probably to avoid an outburst of tears, because Andreas might have landed a bear but Erik was more teddy than grizzly.

  “This is the end of the line,” Andreas murmured softly, “but I got to exactly where I needed to be. So yeah. We’ll be married by then.”

  “And divorced if I grow a Gandalf beard,” Erik croaked.

  “Or you lose too much weight.”

  Erik growled, patting his bum again. “Define too much.”

  “More than twenty pounds. If there’s angles in these cuddles, you’re on thin ice, Viking or no Viking.”

  His ear got chewed, then Erik backed up, a little red-eyed but smiling.

  “You know what I want for my birthday?”

  “What?”

  “Morning at the park watching my little girl trying to feed the ducks. Lunch with the best guy I’ve ever blown—”

  Andreas snorted with surprised laughter.

  “—and a slow-dance in our living room while our baby sleeps upstairs. And then out for an early dinner with the rest of my family, with the maximum of one beer, because I might have to get up in the night to feed or change the kid who’s going to be running my life for the next twenty years or so.”

  “In this economy? Try thirty.”

  Erik beamed. “Fine. Thirty. Still be slow-dancing in my living room with that guy.”

  “Slow shuffling,” Andreas compromised, and finally handed Beatriz back. She gave him a dirty look, and sulked at the boring lack of playtime on her dad’s shoulder. “Let me go and get a shower and dressed.”

  “Hey!” Erik called just as Andreas reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “What?”

  “I still get a birthday present right?”

  “Sure,” Andreas called back, smirking as he headed up to the bathroom. “And if you sort the snake’s nest out, two presents.”

  * * * *

  Erik was woken by a baby crying.

  Sleepily, he rubbed a hand across his face, then patted Andreas’ arm when he felt his boyfriend move.

  “It’s fine,” he mumbled. “I got it.”

  “It’s your birthday.”

  “Mm, and I had my present. And if I’m really lucky, I made a new present.”

  A snort. “You’re not that lucky.”

  Erik smiled as he swung his legs out of bed and pushed his feet into slippers. Ah, wrong slippers. They bit. He slid them back out, found his own under the bed, and finally stood up.

  It had been the perfect birthday. Alright, so Jo had ripped on him mercilessly for being so old that he thought a day with his daughter was better than a night out with the boys, but sod her. It was better. Andreas had got him a perfect picture of Beatriz for his wallet, then when they’d got home and put her down for the night, Erik had been treated to some long, slow, loving sex.

  Admittedly, he hadn’t gotten himself inside, so it genuinely would be a miracle if they’d managed to make another one. And Andreas would probably kill him. But it had been the perfect birthday—even if it was ending at three in the morning with a horrified crying in the nursery.

  “Hey, baby girl,” he crooned as he let himself into Beatriz’s room. “What’s all that racket for, eh?”

  She howled, face screwed up in disgust, and the smell told him loud and clear what the problem was.

  “See, you need to learn to be a big girl and hold it,” he chided gently as he hefted her up and took her into the bathroom. The only large part of the house was the bathroom, and the counter by the sink had turned out to be the perfect size for changing a baby.

  She disagreed violently with his scolding, screaming all the more loudly at the chilly bathroom, but quieted to a dull roar when he peeled her out of her little sleeping trousers and unclasped the sides of the nappy.

  “Paternal instinct is when I love you even when you’re like this,” he said sleepily as he cleaned her up. She regarded him miserably, one fist in her mouth. God knew where she’d chucked her dummy this time.

  It was easy to change her at night—she was tired and less prone to squirming, kicking, or trying to roll off the counter—but when he snapped her clean nappy into place, her stomach gurgled and she began to cry all over again.

  “I told you that you didn’t have enough of the quesadilla,” he teased, lifting her up onto his shoulder. He marvelled at how easy it felt. “Think I’m getting used to this dad business?”

  She dribbled down his back, and hiccuped another angry wail as he headed downstairs.

  “I know you think we both suck at it because bottles don’t magically appear the split second you decide you’re hungry, but that’s just the way the world works, baby girl. You’re like your dad. He goes from full to starving to death in thirty seconds, too.”

  Thankfully there was a jar of her spinach and peas paste in the fridge, and she tended to prefer that one cold. He rummaged up a spoon and took baby and breakfast into the living room, closing the door to try and let Andreas sleep.

  Beatriz was at least tired, and he managed to get her to lie down in his arms after polishing off the jar. She sucked on a handful of his vest, blinking slowly up at him like a tired cat. He could see her mind ticking over, but had no idea how it worked yet.

  “I think you’re going to be a bit more like your dad than me,” he said softly, tweaking a foot and waving it gently. She kicked, cooing, then resumed concentrating on the cotton in her mouth. “Demanding. Convinced the whole world revolves around you. Well, mine does, so you’re not far off. You’re both going to boss me about from dawn ‘til dusk, and I’m going to love every minute of it.”

  He wondered what he’d been like at her age. What Andreas had been like. If his parents had been blue-eyed and red-haired like him. If Andreas’ parents had any fair genes of their own. Would he get a blue-eyed baby one day? Would any of them have his hair? Or would they be like Beatriz, his shapes all coloured in by Andreas’ heritage?

  “I know who I am now,” he told her.

  Beatriz regarded him without much interest. She already knew the answer, Erik realised. She’d known who he was from the very beginning.

  “I’m Dad,” he said. “I’m a dad. I’m a husband. That’s who I am. That’s who I was supposed to be all along.”

  He’d had no name, no purpose, no groundwork. He’d been adrift until he’d met Andreas. He’d wanted to settle down, but never known where or how. Never had the roots to begin putting down new ones. He’d been a Viking on the roam, out looking for somewhere to stop without knowing where it was through the fog.

  “I’m not Erik the Red after all,” he told her softly. “I might look the part, but I’m not him. He was really bad at family, you know? I looked him up once. But I’m going to be great at it, because that’s the whole point. So I’m not Erik the Red now.”

  She yawned widely, and nuzzled at his shoulder. Slowly, a little fist uncurled. He watched her fall asleep, her weight sagg
ing peacefully against his arm.

  Some ancient gap in his chest felt full at last. Some hunger he’d always carried and never been able to stop shivered and disappeared.

  He was home.

  Chapter 14

  “It says here…”

  Andreas pulled a face. He was sprawled out on the carpet with Beatriz. He’d been doing an exercise video, and when the video had ended, had elected to just lie there and play sock puppets with her. They were her new favourite thing, and he was slightly suspicious she’d learned it from the cat and his tendency to attack feet if they were clad in white socks.

  “Let me guess,” he said, wiggling a pink sock at her and letting her rip it gleefully off his hand. “You’re on a baby development website.”

  “I’m just looking,” Erik said defensively.

  “I told you to delete those apps.”

  “I’m just looking!”

  “Worrying.”

  “Looking!”

  “Alright, what does it say?”

  “That she should be crawling by now.”

  “See? Worrying.”

  “It’s a milestone! And she’s a whole month overdue, according to this.”

  “A month, wow, pinch me,” Andreas drawled. He flapped his hand like a mouth at Beatriz, and bit her nose with it. She squealed, and the mouth turned back into a hand to tickle her. “She’ll crawl when she’s ready. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

  Especially her lungs. She shrieked until Marmalade jumped off the back of the sofa and slunk off upstairs in a huff.

  “We should take her to the doctor, just to be sure.”

  “I am not taking her to the doctor,” Andreas said flatly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her.”

  As if to prove him right, Beatriz curled her fists into Andreas’ T-shirt and dragged herself up to his head, shuffling on her bottom to do it. Once there, she began to pinch his nose in a similar manner. He scoffed, putting the sock back over his hand and biting her face with it again.

  “But she’s late. And there could be a number of health reasons why—”

  Andreas sat up, dragging Beatriz into his arms and blowing a raspberry on her belly. She giggled, and gurgled again when he stopped. She was only weeks away from her first proper word, he could feel it.