Page 99 of Pansies

“So what we watching?” Alfie was so flustered, it was all he could manage: the incongruity of his response hanging in the air like an off-key note.

“Are you blushing?”

“No way.”

“Oh my God, you are. That’s…actually rather adorable.”

“I’m just confused cos you hardly ever say anything nice to me.”

“Well, you’ve never given me such incentive before.” Fen leaned in and closed his teeth gently over Alfie’s earlobe. Gave it a wicked little tug that sent rainbow sprinkles of pleasure cascading all the way down his spine. “I like making you blush.”

Great. Alfie was more than halfway to a hard-on. Like a teenager with his first kiss. Except Alfie’s first kiss had been a girl—a very nice girl called Lauren—and it had done absolutely nothing for him.

“You’ve perked up a bit,” he said.

“Smell of food. And having you here with me.”

He was really starting to see why David had been so into staying at home. “Did you find a movie?”

“I found several, actually.” Fen pointed proudly at a haphazard stack of DVDs, most of which were emblazoned with red sale stickers. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“The bad news?”

“They’re all musicals.”

“What’s the good news?”

Fen cringed. “Um, there isn’t any. I just wanted to try and make the bad news seem less bad.”

“I’m not sure it works that way.” Alfie sorted through the pile in dismay. “You don’t have Netflix or summin?”

“You’ve seen where I live. What I drink. You know I can’t have nice things.”

Alfie didn’t have a subscription himself—he didn’t have time to actually use it—but he seriously thought about getting one now. Except Fen would probably get all proud and stubborn andpissy about it. And he much preferred Fen like this, believing he was perfect.

“How about this?” Alfie wavedLes Misérables. It looked the newest of them.

Fen pulled a face. “Well, okay, but if you hate it really deeply, we have to stop. And if you make one comment about how implausible it is that they’re singing, I get to punch you in the head.”

“Deal.”

They put it on, and Alfie squidged into the sofa, with a box of vegetables and sauce.

“Hey,” he said, “that’s Wolverine.”

Fen flashed him a little smile. “I know. All that, and he can sing.”

“And that’s Maximus Thingius. He’s…not so happy.”

“Must be his hat. It’s awful.”

There really was a lot of singing. Singing and scenery. And Fen didn’t eat as much as Alfie would have hoped.

On the other hand, as soon as he was done, he put his food aside and stretched right out, his feet falling very naturally into Alfie’s lap. For a moment or two, Alfie just left them there, enjoying the heat and the pressure, and the sense of closeness that came from having a bit of Fen right there on top of him. Then, experimentally, he encircled his ankles. Fen yipped and jerked.

“You ticklish?”

“Nooo.”

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