Page 134 of Pansies

He might as well have been standing there in his school uniform, waiting for Aidan to tell him he wasn’t good enough for his son.

“Well,” said Aidan finally. “Let’s get ourselves comfortable.”

Alfie trailed after them into the living room, which was higgledy-piggledy with books and DVDs and, slightly surprisingly, PlayStation games. Fen went straight to a vase of withered flowers and whisked it into the kitchen.

“Uh.” Abandoned and trying not to panic, Alfie picked up the nearest game box, which was a much-loved copy ofBloodborne. “I always wanted to play this. Is it good?”

“Oh God.” Fen’s voice. “Don’t get him started.”

Aidan’s eyes were still kind of wary, but he smiled at this. “I like it.”

“Dad secretly thinks he’s a medieval warrior.”

“That’s not true.” Aidan smiled suddenly. And, now, he really did look like Fen, all sharp and toothy and fascinating. With such capacity for joy. “Sometimes I secretly think I’m a starship captain. Or a cowboy. Or some other sort of gun-toting ne’er-do-well.”

Fen came back into the room and plonked the vase, now full of flowers again, back into what was clearly its usual spot. Thenhe tidied up a stack of newspapers. And when he was done with that, he began stuffing books back onto a shelf.

“Stop fussing me, Fenimore,” said his father. “You’re my son, not my wife.”

He’d spoken gently, but when Fen turned round, his eyes were far too shiny. Unthinking, Alfie held out his hand and was actually a bit stunned when Fen reached back to him and took it.

Alfie tugged him a little closer. “I thought you didn’t do domestic.”

“Someone has to,” whispered Fen, curling against his side.

Aidan, however, wasn’t having any of it. “No, they don’t. And Nora was even worse. I don’t think there’s a tidy gene in your body, a leanbh.”

He didn’t seem too worried that his son was practically in the arms of a guy who’d just turned up. Which Alfie should have been relieved about, but he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And despite the fact Aidan had been nothing but friendly, he was already half-convinced the man didn’t like him. Could see right through him.

“So you might as well accept it,” Aidan was saying, “and settle down. Now can I get anybody a drink? Would you like a beer, Alfie?”

It actually took Alfie a moment to remember he was allowed. “Oh, yeah. Please.”

Once Aidan had brought him a nicely fridge-chilled bottle of Newky Brown, Alfie squooged himself into a corner of the sofa and tried to relax. Without relaxing too much. Or drinking too fast. Or generally doing anything wrong or making a bad impression.

Aidan clearly had “his” chair—a big, slightly shabby wingback—and Fen perched on the arm, one foot swinging idly. AndAlfie tried not to get weirded out again. When Alfie was with his parents, he was this special version of himself he’d sort of semi-unconsciously put together to reflect what he thought they wanted to see. Even knowing they probably preferred not to see a gay bloke.

But Fen was just Fen. Just like always.

At one point when they were talking, he even said “fuck.” Alfie would never have dreamed of saying “fuck” in front of his parents. Well, not casually anyway, like you did with your mates.

Or holding another man’s hand.

It was kind of strange, watching them together. Listening to them. Alfie loved his parents, he really did. But this was different. It was like Fen and Aidan were…sort of…friends almost. Like they actually knew each other.

“Huh?” Belatedly, he realised Aidan was talking to him.

“You’re Alfie Bell, aren’t you? Alfred’s son, William’s brother?”

It took him far too long to work out that “William” was Billy. Which made it look like he didn’t know who his own family were. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

Alfie felt vaguely alarmed. But he had no idea why.

“What are you doing these days?”

“I’m, well, I guess I’m in banking. Equity capital markets.”

---