All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
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PJ
D'n'M Part 7.
From Chapter 6:
Nico paused. "I guess I've got everything completely fucking wrong." He took a deep breath and scanned the room, but soon his breathing became shallow and rapid and his shoulders dropped. "I'm so, so sorry for being such a fuck-up." He could barely hold himself upright. "Please believe me."
As he gave in to the sobs that had overtaken him, he collapsed and toppled sideways onto Milo, who folded him into his arms. No-one spoke. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts. `What next?' they all wondered.
Chapter 7:
What next was pizza and ice cream from the freezer - Roger did offer to cook but the majority vote was for something quick and simple -- and, as they ate, short-term decisions to get them through the next 24/48 hours. Milo's vote was to get the eating done with as quickly as possible, then for him and D and Nico to go back to the apartment and start getting on with the rest of their lives. When Dan heard this he nearly choked on his pizza and the expression on his face left no doubt how he felt about M's idea, but luckily, before anyone else had seen it and before he had a chance to translate his expression into words, Helen looked across at Milo and began to gently intervene.
"You know, M, I think we all wish that things could be as simple and straightforward as that but, sadly, life's rarely that co-operative. For starters, I imagine Nico and his grandpa have still got quite a lot of talking to do."
She glanced meaningfully at Gerry who saw the unmistakably commanding look on her face and quickly nodded. And besides, it was true, he'd definitely got a lot of questions he'd like to ask, now that Nico had finally found his voice and started to speak. Nico himself kept his attention focused on his ice cream. He knew he'd still got a lot of explaining to do but there was also a lot of stuff he wanted to know more about. Top of the list was why his mum had spent years bad-mouthing his family, over and over again, until suddenly, and totally without warning, completely blind-siding him with a one eighty degree turn right at the end when she must have known she was going to die. Sure, he still loved her in a fierce and illogical sort of way, but he also wasn't sure he'd ever be able to forgive her. His thoughts and feelings were as tangled as a knot of rats' tails. Just maybe, his grandpa could help him make sense of things. He realised that Helen was still speaking.
"And the last twenty-four hours or so have been pretty eventful for you and D. Don't you think the two of you might have things you need to say to each other?"
Milo knew, from years and years of experience, that Helen was a great believer in working things out by talking them through (or to death, he often felt), but in his opinion too much had already been said by both him and D, and look what a mess it had got them into. What they needed to do, he thought, was to get Nico home where he belonged, and begin building the family that Kate had wanted for her boy. For starters, he'd begun to actually speak to them and that, Milo thought, was near enough a miracle and, not only that, he'd also explained about the mess up at the hotel, so Milo couldn't see why D would want to go over the whole thing yet again. That made no sense to him at all.
"But ... "
"Mum's right, M. We need to talk, just the two of us. It wouldn't be fair on Nico to have him back at home until you and me are sure we've got our shit together." It was obvious from the tone of his voice and his body language that Dan had made up his mind.
"Okay D, if you think so." And it was equally obvious from Milo's tone of voice and body language just how unenthused he was by the idea of revisiting the events of the previous night, much less the fiasco in the hotel room. Couldn't they just move on?
Gerry chipped in, "Come on, M, you're the psychotherapist, you know better than any of us exactly how important it is to talk."
"And listen," added Helen firmly.
"Okay, okay. Enough already. I get it." Then, with a sigh, Milo turned to Nico. "So, you get the picture. You're going back with your grandpa so me and D can talk'. But it'll just be for one night, maybe two, tops." He smiled. "Don't go getting yourself too comfortable there cause your home is with us, and that's where we want you to be." He turned to look at Dan. "That's right, isn't it D?" Dan nodded slowly. Was Helen the only one to note his lack of enthusiasm?
"We really want to get to know you properly, now that you feel you can speak to us. It's what your mum wanted and we're gonna do our best to make it work -- for everyone." Milo scanned round the room, determined to make it clear that he wasn't going to be deterred from his mission to honour Kate's dying wish.
Dan and Milo's journey back to the apartment was weirdly quiet. Weird because the first thing Dan did having settled into the driver's seat of his mum's car was to turn on the radio and tune it to a local rock music station, with the volume pumped up. This was pretty much the last thing Milo was expecting as they usually didn't bother with music or news or anything else to listen to as they drove along, because they spent every journey happily talking about anything and everything that came into their heads -- work, the weather, what to have for dinner (and who was going to prepare it), the show they'd watched on TV last night - everything. But now, into Milo's head, came two wearingly-familiar voices.
"Oh-oh. Radio on, eh? And loud. It looks like D is pretty pissed off. I reckon you're in for a tough time once you get home."
"That's not helping. If you haven't got anything constructive to say, then you'd best keep your opinions to yourself."
"I'm only saying."
"Exactly."
In an effort to distract himself from his unwelcome commentators and to try to drown them out, Milo began to mentally rehearse what he might say to D once they were back in the peace and quiet of the apartment. Not that he was looking forward to that conversation, not after D had made it clear that he still had doubts about what had happened in the hotel room in Buenos Aires, even after Nico's intervention. What, he asked himself, would it take to convince D that he really didn't want to fuck any teenage boy, least of all his own nephew? That D was the one and only love of his life? That he'd rather die than do anything, A - NY-THING, to hurt him?
"Maybe he doesn't feel the same way about you anymore." Clearly his attempt to shut out the voices hadn't been a success. "Maybe he never did. Don't forget, he's not actually gay." This last comment almost made Milo gasp out loud.
"Wow! That's mean, even by your standards. How's a crack like that supposed to help the situation?"
"I'm only saying."
"Well don't!"
Milo glanced sideways. He saw the beautiful profile which still, after nearly half a lifetime, had the power to make him hard in seconds. He reached out a hand, thinking he'd place it gently on D's leg or, maybe, the back of his neck. He so wanted to make contact, to re-establish the connection that had always been so strong between the two of them.
"That may not be the best idea. What if he's not ready yet? Best not to risk it before you know exactly how he's feeling about everything."
Deep down, Milo knew that the voice was probably right, but the idea that he needed to think twice before having physical contact with D was almost too painful. He pulled back his hand and pretended to brush something off his own leg, just in case D had noticed it moving in his direction.
"Are you planning on getting out?" There was a sharp edge to the voice and it was a few seconds before Milo realised that it hadn't come from inside his own head. It was D who was looking directly at him, having stopped the car in front of their apartment building.
"What? Oh yeah. Sure. I'll be right behind you."
Yeah, behind you,' thought Milo as he opened the car door, But still with no idea what to say to you when we're inside the apartment with the door closed.'
As things turned out he needn't have worried. As soon as they were inside Dan announced that he was going to take a shower. Except, of course, Milo did worry -- worry that the shower was just a way of D delaying the inevitability of the coming fight; worry that the shower was a prelude to D packing a bag and going back to his parents; worry that the shower was D's way of washing off his old life before moving on to a new one - one that didn't include M.
In fact, the truth was quite a long way from any of Milo's negative speculations. Like Milo, Dan couldn't stop the tide of thoughts about the whole `Buenos Aires hotel situation' from washing to and fro inside his head. Layers of interwoven thoughts and feelings coiled themselves round and round. At times his revulsion at the very thought of M wanting to have sex with a fourteen-year-old boy rose to the surface, but then this appalling notion would give way to total disbelief that his M could ever have such perverted intentions. Then again, an echo of Nico's explanation of what had happened in that room burst through to the front of Dan's thoughts only to be pushed aside by the terrifying possibility that he'd devoted half of his life to a sad delusion of undying love and devotion. Could he, he wondered, have made the biggest mistake of his life by choosing to commit himself, soul and body, to another man? If faced with the same decision today, might he choose to make a life-long relationship with a woman? The answer to that question was that it was unlikely he'd ever know. Shit! Shit! Shit!
What he needed was more time, time to make some sort of sense of all these near-overwhelming thoughts and feelings before sitting down with M to decide on the best way forward -- best for everybody. Not that he was convinced that there really was a way forward. Considering all the shit that was flying around at that moment it seemed pretty unlikely. So the shower was the best spur of the moment delaying tactic he could think of.
With D in the bathroom, Milo had nothing to do apart from pace the room and stew in his own negative thoughts. He didn't know what it felt like to be a prisoner waiting to be taken out to be hanged, but he thought it couldn't be worse than waiting for whatever D was going say, possibly before walking out of the apartment and out of their marriage forever.
Well, to hell with that.' Milo knew he wasn't ready to give up on D'n'M, even if D was. If he's gonna leave then it won't be without a fight.'
The first thing Dan knew about Milo's sudden surge of determination to make one, last attempt to save their relationship was when he burst into the bedroom, his shoulders set and his eyes alight.
The image which met those eyes as Milo entered the bedroom was one that still, after all the years they'd been together, had the power to bring a lump to his throat and another to his underwear. D was naked and dripping from the shower, rivulets of water meandering down his skin, some merging together before continuing downwards, others ending their journey in his tummy button or getting lost in the neatly-trimmed thicket above his dick. D could have walked straight out of a TV ad for the latest shower gel or skin-care product. Milo could only stare, more than ever convinced that there was no way he could let this man, his partner, his husband, the love of his life, walk out on everything they'd built together. He opened his mouth to speak but D beat him to it.
"For fuck sake, M, can't a guy get any privacy round here?"
Milo's mouth shut like a slammed door. But his silence was only momentary.
"Privacy? Privacy? You're my husband and this is the bedroom of the home in the apartment that we share. Where does privacy fit into that picture?" Now that he'd started there was no way that he was going to stop until he'd finished telling D exactly how things were.
"I've loved you, D, since I was a little kid, and I've been in love with you from the first day that I understood just what those words mean. I've never loved anyone else; I've never wanted anyone else; I've never even thought of wanting anyone else -- especially not a fourteen-year-old kid. I didn't want Nico back there in that hotel room, I wanted you."
He was so focused on telling D just exactly how he felt that it came as a surprise to realise that he'd taken several steps towards Dan. Milo was suddenly aware that he was standing less that two or three feet away from the still naked and dripping body. By pure instinct he raised both hands and placed them gently on those glistening shoulders, hoping, hoping, hoping that they'd be allowed to stay there. Before D had time to do or say anything, Milo looked directly into D's eyes and continued.
"Yes, Nico has a beautiful body, I'm not gonna lie about that, but it's a boy's body and I don't want a boy's body. I want a man's body. Your body. But it's not just your body that I want. What I want more than anything in the world is the beautiful, kind, fun, loving man who inhabits that body. I want my friend, my husband, my love." Milo moved his hands and took them from D's shoulders and placed them one on each side of his face. "I want you -- now and forever. Not Nico, not anyone else. You, Daniel de Beer-Reed. I, Milo de Beer-Reed, I want you!" Then slowly, carefully, gently, Milo edged forward to close the last few inches that separated them and brought his lips to meet D's in the most loving and, he hoped, convincing way.
If this doesn't work,' he thought, Then we are well and truly fucked!'
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