Page 8 of Decorated

The moment was broken when Uncle Robert walked into the room.

“There you are,” he said. “Glad to see you made it all the way to the room where your party will be held. What do you think?”

Alfie dragged his gaze away from Blaine and turned to Uncle Robert. “I like it,” he said. “It’s very festive and well-decorated. I’m sure my commanding officer will like it, too.”

“Good,” Robert said. “How many people do you think will attend the party?”

Blaine tuned out the answer. He was too busy staring at Alfie and reveling the spark that had ignited between them. It had just been a moment and they barely knew each other, but since when had knowing someone stopped him from a little ho-ho-holiday fun?

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as talk of the Christmas party went on. He was definitely getting laid by a soldier for Christmas.

THREE

The toy driveand Christmas party at Hawthorne House were supposed to be minor side-tracks for Alfie. They weren’t part of the process of winding up his time with the RAF, although it could be argued that it would help with his transition to civilian life. Regardless, he should have put his full focus into logistics and ensuring that his brothers-in-arms had everything they needed for their continuing campaigns around the world and that whoever took over from him next would have everything they needed.

But that didn’t stop Alfie from eagerly checking in on everything at Hawthorne House a time or two after his initial meeting with Robert Hawthorne. It didn’t stop him from thinking about Blaine Hawthorne almost constantly either.

Blaine had successfully avoided his pursuer on that first day. Alfie had found that out two days later, when he’d made an excuse to drop by Hawthorne House with a load of toys that had been collected at other locations. He was only there to drop the toys off, but he’d ended up having a half-hour conversation with Blaine about his now-defunct decorating business and the sorts of jobs he used to do.

“Ha! I’ve just realized something,” Blaine had said, blossoming into a breezy smile and chucking Alfie’s arm playfully towards the end of that conversation. “I’m a decorator and you’re decorated.”

“Very funny,” Alfie had said with what probably came off as a wry smirk. “I would argue that you’re decorated, too,” he said, nodding to Blaine’s loud shirt of the day.

It was vaguely military in style, which had Alfie wondering if that was on purpose, but in lurid shades of purple and pink with an iridescent shine. It was irreverent and awful, but Alfie couldn’t stop staring at it and smiling.

“This old thing?” Blaine replied, extra campy, brushing the compliment away. “You’re too kind.”

Inwardly, Alfie appreciated Blaine’s easy sense of humor and flamboyant mannerisms more than he had admitted. Being able to be yourself and express who you were was a trait he couldn’t afford in his line of work, but that he liked.

The second time he’d taken a load of toys over to Hawthorne House, Alfie looked specifically for Blaine. He’d walked up to the house with an excited spring in his step, glanced around the front hallway in search of him, and checked in every room with an open door as he’d walked to the dining hall with his toys. Blaine wasn’t around that day, though. Alfie was surprised how much of a disappointment that was. He told himself it was because he’d been looking forward to seeing Blaine’s ridiculous shirt of the day, but he knew that was a lie.

As he was leaving, Alfie got caught in a parade of kids from the local primary school in the front hall. Robert had explained to him during his initial tour that a few local primary schools bussed kids in for art classes during the weekdays. Alfie had been standing in the wrong place at the wrong time and been trapped by two large groups as they arrived and one that was leaving.

“Wow! Are you a real soldier?” one boy who was about ten asked him as he waited for the log jam in the hall to clear.

“I am,” Alfie had answered. “I’m Corporal Alfie Spears, Royal Air Force.”

“Do you fly jets?” a girl standing next to the boy asked.

“Not jets,” Alfie answered, standing a little taller and presenting himself like the imposing officer he was sure the kids wanted him to be. “I flew cargo planes. The really big ones.”

“I saw pictures of those online,” the boy said in a breathless rush. “They’re so huge! I saw one that was filled with people being evacuated from Kabul a few years ago. It was really neat!”

Alfie clenched his gut and his jaw for a moment as the scent of all those people, the dirt and sand, and the cries of terrified women and babies as they were filed into a great, metal beast that would take them far away from everything they’d ever known came back to him.

“Those are exactly the planes I flew,” he said, forcing himself to relax and be honest with the kids. “You might have even seen a picture of my plane.”

“Wow!” the boy said again.

Alfie would have loved to continue the conversation, but the class had moved on, and he’d needed to get back to his office.

He liked kids. He always had. Some military men had a hard time talking to them, but Alfie always felt better after being around kids. That was one of the reasons he’d volunteered to spearhead the toy drive.

It could be why he felt so drawn to Blaine Hawthorne, too, although his interest in Blaine was definitely not childlike. He liked Blaine’s playfulness and open spirit. He had enjoyed the few, short times they’d spent together.

He would also enjoy spreading Blaine out on his bed and railing him until he cried out in ecstasy for divine intervention, but that was also another story entirely.

“Spears.”

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