Page 64 of Open Water

“Can I take you out on a date?” Tom asks. He looks serious as well.

“Nah. That would be kind of embarrassing, and I would get all nervous, and... Can’t we just kind of hang out? Here? No dressing up in fancy shit and trying to impress each other with things that don't really matter. I just want to be real. You and me.”

“You and me. No dates. Snuggles on the sofa with wine and a movie? Sounds like we are already an old married couple.” Tom laughs.

“Two kids and a house. We’re practically married, and we can use my apartment in the suburbs for those romantic weekend getaways.”

Lukas is joking. But he is also not. He’s selling the bloody apartment and moving in here. Seriously.

“Sounds romantic. A little love nest in the suburbs. Are we getting a Volvo and a dog too?”

Tom is being so fucking cute and Lukas gives in. Wraps his arms hard around the broad shoulders in front of him. Kisses the skin on his neck. Breathes. Hard. In and out, his heart jack-hammering in his chest.

“Yeah. A dog called Luke. After Luke Skywalker inStar Wars, and don’t tell me you don’t likeStar Wars, because everyone likesStar Wars. Car-wise I am more of a BMW man. German precision and all that.”

“We need a big car for the kids and the dog. Of course, we likeStar Wars. What do you take us for? We bought the box set like three times because they keep bringing out new films and releasing new ‘complete’ box sets. Madness.”

“We’re having more kids?” Lukas is smiling into Tom’s neck.

This is absurd. They are both talking a load of crap, but the hugs are so good. Just standing here being held is like medicine for the soul. Yeah, Lukas’s head is now birthing fucking poetry, but he can’t help it. He’s all giddy with Tom. All of him.

“Well, my first one has almost killed me several times over, this second one seems like a good kid, so what harm can a third one do? You need to be a Dad, Lukas. It’s the best thing. The best and the worst.”

“How much do you know about Matteo?” Lukas almost whispers.

“I’ve got a friend in the police, who gave me the lowdown. Off the record, of course, but apart from no criminal record and fourteen different addresses in the last five years, there isn’t much to tell. The kid is a ward of the state until he turns eighteen and then, he’s on his own. From what I can understand, he has done well at school and seems to be streetwise and smart, but he's weary of being a burden to his friends, and shit scared of being rejected.”

“He’s an amazing kid,” Lukas starts, but then Max stands in the doorway. Arms crossed. Making Tom raise his head from where it was on Lukas’s shoulder.

“Dinner is on the table unless you are gonna stand there and play tonsil hockey all day,” he snarls, and walks off.

“Tonsil hockey?” Lukas sputters, and Tom just sighs and leans back in, like he just needs a little more. One more minute of this. Just being held.

“Kids. Scrap that. We’re not having anymore. You can have mine.BOTHof them. All yours. Take them.”

“Idiot.” Lukas smiles. He means it. What kind of idiot would take on all this shit?

Well, him apparently. Fuck it. He holds on a little tighter. Arms around Tom’s back, and his nose back in the safety of Tom’s neck.

Safety. Lukas can’t even think that he has put the word together in the same sentence as Tom. Tom has never been safe. Yet, here Lukas is. Holding on to him and breathing in his scent whilst Tom’s hands are drawing lazy circles on his back.

Lukas wonders what has changed so drastically in his head, that he now stands here and hopes there can be more. That there will be kisses and little touches. Hand holding and easy hugs. Laughter and friendship and falling asleep with someone who loves you. Someone who loves you as much as you love them. Someone who loves you back. Someone like Tom.

“Let’s go eat,” Tom whispers.

And all Lukas can do is nod.

TOM

He still smiles as he sits down at the table where plates of chopped up vegetables are neatly arranged in small bowls. Spicy mince in a frying pan and warm taco shells that Max is carefully arranging in what looks like a bread basket. Or the remains of one.

“The breadbasket doesn't microwave very well, Dad. I think it’s died,” Max mutters.

“At least, we didn’t set it on fire, Pumpkin.” Matteo laughs, but it’s a kind laughter, his hand stroking gently over Max’s cheek as he passes by, placing a bowl of guacamole on the table.

“You’ve made this?” Tom almost shrieks, staring at the creamy green mush in the bowl. Like he has never seen the stuff before.

“Yeah? It’s really simple. I’ll show you. Sorry, I used up all the avocados. I can replace them.”

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