Page 46 of Pansies

When Fen actually came into the room, a few minutes later, it almost felt like Alfie had brought him there by thinking about him too hard. He putMy Fair Ladydown on top ofKiss Me, Kateand braced himself for another well-deserved shouting at.

But Fen didn’t shout. Or say anything at all. He just stood awkwardly in the doorway to his own living room, not quite meeting Alfie’s eyes.

“Everything’s in hand.” Alfie squirmed in the squidgyembrace of the sofa. It might have looked like an alien from the sixtiesStar Trek, but it was shockingly warm and comfortable.

Fen still wouldn’t look at him. “Yeah, I saw. I just wanted to say…” He’d gone a little pink. He stepped forward, brought a hand out from behind his back, and offered Alfie a chunky purple flower. “Thank you.”

“Uh.” Alfie really wasn’t sure he wanted a flower. But Fen was sort of half smiling at him, eyes slightly downcast to expose the absurdly opulent sweep of his lashes. “Okay.”

He took the damn thing and stared at it, trying to think of something he could possibly say. It was…well, it was nice? It had a thick, scaly stem, and the flower itself was partially enclosed in similar tough, diamond-patterned leaves, like it was resting at the base of two cupped hands. The petals themselves were oddly delicate, their edges as intricate as old lace. “It’s…uh…hardcore.”

Fen nodded. “You’d better believe it.”

And because it was the kind of thing people did in movies and gardening shows, Alfie obligingly stuffed his nose into the heart of his hardcore man-flower. Then recoiled. “Bugger me.”

“Sorry. I should have warned you not to do that.”

“Smells rank, mate. What the fuck is it?”

“It’s, well, it’s a cabbage.”

There was a pause.

“Anornamentalcabbage,” added Fen, as if this would somehow make it better.

Alfie had never been given flowers—well, a flower—before. He was pretty sure it wasn’t the sort of thing that was supposed to happen, but he surprised himself by…well…by not feeling nearly as weirded out or outraged as he thought he probably should. “I love it, mate. Thank you. Do I have to put it in water or something?”

“Yes, yes”—Fen seemed to be trying very hard to be casual, but his still-pink cheeks and his softly gleaming eyes betrayed him—“as we have established, flowers need water.”

There was a second pause. Alfie laid the cabbage carefully on the arm of the sofa.

“I don’t get you, Fen.”

“Oh?” He took another step forward. A lift of the brows.

“Well, I try to make things right, and you want to put my head down the toilet. I completely fuck up your bathroom, and you give me a flower.”

“I’m complicated.”12

Alfie would have replied, but Fen was suddenly standing right in front of him, and that was distracting, because he was all close and smiling and flowery. Then one of Fen’s knees landed on the sofa in the space next to his leg. Followed by the other on the other side. And now Fen was straddling him, not quite in his lap, but it wouldn’t have taken much, and all Alfie could think was,Wow. Because everything about him was hot and taut and straining somehow, like the fabric of his trousers across his very spread thighs. Which was where Alfie instinctively splayed his hands, feeling Fen’s response in the tremor that ran through those long, lean muscles. Which made Alfie imagine having Fen like this again, but naked. White and gold, and rough and smooth, just beginning to sweat and flush and tremble.

Lean forward, Alfie would tell him.Put your hands on the sofa back. And Fen would, he would. Arch his back and lift his hips and offer himself to Alfie.

Fen—the real, fully dressed one—moved a little closer. His hair and his breath tickled Alfie’s cheek. “You sorted it. Just like you said you would.”

“Yeah but”—Alfie dug his fingers into Fen’s thighs, trying toresist the urge to just reach out and claim him—“I was the one who messed it up.”

“I don’t care. You still came through for me. I think I’ve almost forgotten what that feels like.”

Their lips were so close. All this bounty. A mouth, a kiss, a flower. But then came the bang of a door from down the hall, and Alfie bucked hard enough to nearly throw Fen off his lap.

There was a moment of undignified scrabbling before Fen steadied, his hands spider-monkey tight on Alfie’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh nowt…nothing. Just, y’know… Dad’s right there.”

Fen’s eyes met his, sharp behind his silver frames. “You’re not in the closet?”

“No. No. They definitely know I’m gay.”

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