Page 94 of Out of the Shadows
DANIEL
“Look, they’ve got a glühwein tent.” Cosmo nudges me with his elbow before pointing to a large red and white striped marquee. “We’d better have a glass or three just to keep out the cold.” He looks up at me, his grin bright and mischievous.
He’s irrepressible, like a kid who’s woken up on Christmas morning, excited and eager for everything.
On Clapham Common, the Christmas fête marquees and stands are taking a buffeting from the wind. Both of us are wrapped up against the cold, but I don’t care about the biting gusts, not when Cosmo’s cheeks are red and his eyes are shining with life, not when he’s smiling at me as though I’m his whole world. His dark fringe peeks from beneath his dark green bobble, falling into his eyes. I want to brush it away before I tilt up his chin and press a kiss to his lips. My fingers tingle to do it, but instead I keep my hands plunged deep into my coat pockets.
“Come on. Wine has grapes in it, which means it’ll be part of our five a day, and the spices have antioxidant properties, or some such bollocks, so that means it’s really a health supplement.”
Cosmo’s laugh is loud and carefree and, as he drags me off to the marquee, a warmth which has nothing to do with heated up wine warms me better than any winter coat can.
“This is good,” I say, taking a sip of spicy, heady wine, but it’s not the festive drink I’m talking about.
Christmas has been a minefield we’ve tiptoed around. We’ve agreed to go our separate ways, just for a couple of days, but it feels like unfinished business. I know I upset him, and I hated that it prompted our first argument. When all the notices went up for Christmas on The Common, I jumped at it when Cosmo said he wanted to go.
Although it’s not yet midday, the fête is getting busy. Fortified by the glühwein, we make our way back out and push through the crowds. Everywhere is decked out with twinkling fairy lights, brightening up the overcast day, and a brass band plays popular carols, ending each one on a flourish to wild and enthusiastic applause. At one tent, a rotund and jolly Santa poses for photos with children, as proud parents snap away.
“I wonder if he’ll let me sit on his knee? I could tell him all the naughty things I want for Christmas. Do you think he’d come in my chimney and empty his sack for me?” Cosmo’s all wide-eyed innocence — until he gives a low and throaty chuckle. “Don’t look so worried, there’s only one guy I want in my stack. Besides, that big beard of his would itch.”
“Just remember that,” I growl. “If Santa or one of his smutty little elves come anywhere near you, they’ll have me to deal with.” Our gazes catch and lock, and what was meant to be a joke doesn’t feel like a joke at all.
“Possessive, much? I think I like it.” His words are brash but his voice isn’t. There’s a catch in his throat, and the smile that lifts his lips is bashful.
“Why wouldn’t I be—”
A small dog jumps up at us, tail wagging, clumsy and ungainly in a way only a puppy can be. Cosmo and I both stumble back to escape a slobbering, and muddy paws.
“Sorry, so, so sorry. It’s only Puccini’s second time out.” A young woman tries to reel in the enthusiastic pup, but it’s not having any of it.
Cosmo makes a fuss of the young dog, which calms down. The next couple or so minutes are filled with dog talk. I’m surprised at Cosmo’s knowledge, until I remember he told me he’d been brought up with animals.
I stand aside and don’t join in, as my head goes elsewhere.
Possessive. I’ve never been that, never cared enough to be that, not with a lover. But now…?
A nudge in the ribs makes me start. The woman and the dog have gone, and Cosmo’s staring up at me, one brow lifted in a quizzical arch.
“Earth calling Daniel? Come on, there’s lots of free food to sample.”
We make our way around, going from stall to stall and sampling stollen and mince pies, and little tasters of brandy-infused Christmas puddings. From chocolates to cheese, to more mulled wine and spiced warm cider, we taste it all, proclaiming each mouthful is better than the last. His hand entwines with mine, or mine entwines with his, I’m not really sure, but he gives me a quick squeeze of what could be either encouragement or reassurance. The festive foods and the warm, spiced infused wine has smoothed my edges and given the world around me a softer glow.
“See? You haven’t burst into flame, or turned into a pillar of salt.” His words are quiet, and for me alone.
“No. I like holding your hand, but—”
But.
His face stills as he studies me. I’ve wrecked our day together with that one stupid word. He has every right to throw my hand aside; he doesn’t, and instead he nods.
“Small steps. Taking your own time. I remember. Any more than a bit of sweet hand holding will have to wait for later.” He winks, instantly lightening the moment, as we once again push our way through the crush.
“Look, there’s a German cake stall over there.”
“How can you want to eat anything more? I’m stuffed.”
“No, that comes later.” He smiles, and gazes up at me through his lashes.
“Christ…” I plunge my free hand under my coat and try, surreptitiously I hope, to adjust my dick which is making itself known that it’s hungry for a lot more than cake.
