Page 126 of Pansies

“Cute.” Alfie turned Fen’s face to his and kissed him gently. Stole the last of his sadness. “Doesn’t have to be now. Just promise me we will.”

“I promise. On Sunday. But, um, for now”—Fen was turning the colour of his hair tips—“can we…extend our…our deal?”

“Our deal?”

“Yes. The one we made last night. On your car. You know. When we were boyfriends.”

“You mean, you want to be boyfriends again? Or still. Or whatever.”

“Y-yes. For the rest of the week.”

“Course we can, but—”

“Oh God. What?”

“But,” Alfie went on doggedly, “if we’re boyfriends, then I get to take you out proper like.”

“What, you mean dinner and a movie? Alfie, that’s what you do when you want to sleep with someone, not after.”

“Right, yeah, because once you’re going out with someone, there’s no need to make an effort anymore. I should sit at home in my socks, farting.”

Fen giggled. “Well, if those are my options, I’ll take the date.”

“Mebbe we could go to the theatre. You like that, don’t you?”

“In the North East?” Fen wrinkled his nose.

“Oi.” Alfie elbowed him. “Don’t be a southern ponce. There’s the Customs House, the Empire, the Theatre Royal. Bet we could find summin.”

“All right, all right. I’ll leave it in your hands.” Fen climbed to his feet. “Now, I think I was promised lasagne?”

“Damn right you were.”

Despite mild confusion over the oven—Fen was right, it had a lot of knobs—Alfie decided dinner was a success. Yes, he would have preferred it if there’d been meat involved, but the tomato sauce was really rich and the cheese, frankly, excessive. And that almost made up for the lack of meat. As did Fen’s enthusiasm—he ate like a starving wolf, went back for seconds, declared Alfie a kitchen god, and finally collapsed on the sofa. Alfie wrapped up what was left of the lasagne, which wasn’t much, and put it in the fridge. Did the bare minimum of washing up and then plonked himself next to Fen.

“Best boyfriend,” mumbled Fen, rolling into his lap like a sated cat.

Alfie petted him. “You alreet?”

“Food stupor.” He groaned. “Ten out of ten. Would overeat again.”

The evening slipped away very quietly in lazy conversation, though Alfie couldn’t remember exactly what they talked about. Only that Fen made him laugh and made him think and made him feel weirdly comfortable at the same time. And when Fen dozed off, as he inevitably did, Alfie claimed the laptop and went to work.

“You’d better not be doing the accounts,” said Fen, stirring against his knee.

“Naw, just making some bookings.”

“Bookings?”

“Yeah. For tomorrow. For our date.” Alfie couldn’t quite keep the smug note out of his voice. “We’re having dinner at Colmans Seafood Temple.”

“At the what?”

“The place they built in the old bandstand near Bents Park.”

“That’s the closest thing we can manage to a restaurant that isn’t a curry place, is it?”

Alfie tweaked the tip of Fen’s nose. “Oi, Colmans is like a South Shields institution.”

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