Out!

by JL Merrow

  “Nah, we got an INSET day today. No school.” He sent Fen a glance that was equal parts accusing and admiring. “You never told me you were bunking off.”

  She went pink. Mark could feel a stern lecture on the perils of Doing Things to Impress Boys coming on.

  Later. Once he’d got her home, safe and sound. Mark was beginning to see the virtues of those doorless towers fairy-tale princesses always seemed to be locked in.

  “Am I grounded?” Fen asked sadly. Mark’s heart melted. “We’ll see, okay? Let’s just get you home for now. Ollie, do you need a lift back to your house?”

  “Nah. ’S just round the corner. I can walk.” The steel in Ollie’s eye and the stubbornness in his tone seemed to hint that anyone thinking of suggesting he might not be up to the walk could avail themselves of the message on his T-shirt.

  “Right then,” Patrick said briskly. “Just give me your number, and I’ll sort something out with your mum and dad, yeah?”

  Mark waited while they exchanged details. “Fen, you’d better say good-bye to Ollie now,” he instructed gently.

  She bit her lip and looked down at her Doc Martens. “Bye, Ollie.”

  His ears went pink again. “Yeah, see ya.”

  Mark rolled his eyes. Kids.

  When they left the house, they found David outside, talking animatedly to the most enormous man Mark had ever seen. Si and Alasdair would look like a couple of Hobbits next to his Gandalf—no. Next to his Smaug. (Fen had discovered to her horror recently that Mark hadn’t seen any of the Hobbit movies, and had insisted on rectifying that with the aid of a box set of DVDs and an industrial-size bucket of popcorn. He’d quite enjoyed them, actually.)

  The giant wore a black leather jacket that appeared to be a close cousin to Lex’s metal boots, slung over smart blue overalls embroidered with the logo of Langley Locksmiths. That, and the Harley Davidson currently obstructing the pavement went a long way to reassuring Mark that David wasn’t about to be flattened by the irate tenant of number twenty-three.

  Lex let out the most high-pitched noise Mark had yet heard from them and flung their slight body at the biker. “Rex! You din’t ’ave to come.”

  Mark shot Patrick an incredulous glance. “Lex and Rex?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe it’s how they got talking? Someone said Lex, and he thought they said Rex? Who knows?”

  “What’s he even doing here?”

  “Lex rang him—they were s’posed to be meeting for lunch today, so they had to let him know what was going on. Looks like he’s the protective sort.”

  “Course I come, din’t I?” Rex was saying, looking down—way, way down—at Lex like they were the only person in the world. “Weren’t gonna leave you on your own to get in trouble when it ain’t even your fault.”

  “Rex, this is Patrick, yeah? My boss?”

  Rex smiled at Patrick through his immense beard, and held out a paw. “All right, mate? Listen, me and the lads are having a bit of a bash at me mum’s house at the weekend, fort you might wanna come along? So Lex’ll know someone else there apart from me? Bring your bird or your bloke if you got one.”

  Patrick nodded, but sent Mark a quick glance that made his stomach flip. “Let you know on that one, all right? But yeah, I’m definitely up for it.”

  Mark decided there and then he could face making small talk with the entire British arm of the Hells Angels if it meant he was back with Patrick again.

  At that moment, a red-faced and breathless Ellen turned the corner, carrying a briefcase and walking fast in unsuitable heels that looked like they pained her. She stared at the seven of them milling around outside her house.

  Mark gave her a beaming smile. “Ellen! Nothing to worry about, after all. It’s all sorted out now. You might as well go back to work.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Think we need to talk,” Patrick said in Mark’s ear after Ellen had stomped off back to the station after a short but impressive blow-up at Mark that’d stopped just short of flattening him with her briefcase. Which, in all fairness, he’d probably deserved. Patrick just hoped someone had thought to put the dirty tea mugs in the dishwasher or she’d be pissed off all over again when she got back home tonight.

  Mark looked torn. “I really need to get Fen back home. And forge a sick note for her.”

  David gave them a saintly smile. “Not to worry. I’ll get the little moppet home for you. You two lovebirds can take the scenic route.” He heaved a dramatic sigh.

  Patrick gave David a sharp look, but Mark just said, “If you’re sure you don’t mind?” and waved them off.

  Lex had already roared off on the back of Rex’s Harley.

  “Right, then,” Patrick said. “Car’s this way.

  He helped Mark in, and they drove in silence for a while, Mark apparently as reluctant to break the silence as Patrick was.

  “Yeah, so,” Patrick said in the end, staring straight ahead through the windscreen. Had to keep his eyes on the traffic, didn’t he? “Think you might have noticed already, but I got a bit of a temper. Get it from my dad, much as I’d like to think I’m sod all like him. And yeah, well, adding a few drinks into the mix generally isn’t such a great idea.”

  There was a silence. Shit. “’S okay, I get it,” he carried on, his chest feeling hollow. “Not the sort of thing that’s much fun to be around. Prob’ly best you found out sooner, yeah?”

  “Wait—what?” Mark sounded genuinely confused, so Patrick risked a glance over to him. He looked baffled and all. “You’re apologising to me?”

  That… That was sounding a lot more hopeful. But Patrick didn’t wanna count his chickens too soon. “Well, yeah. Shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. ’Specially not in front of everyone else. Not cool, and I’m sorry.”

  “No. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to be on the receiving end of. But…a lot of what you said was true. Well, not the bit about me having everything handed to me on a plate,” Mark added.

  Patrick winced. “Yeah. I knew it while I was saying it, you know? It’s just—sometimes I open my mouth and shit comes out.”

  Mark gave him a funny look, halfway between a grimace and a laugh. “You are aware that’s a really unappealing image? Especially for someone who’s kissed you.”

  Patrick had to laugh then. “Yeah, but it kind of proves my point, doesn’t it?”

  “Possibly. No. It wasn’t…shit…what you said.” Mark huffed something like a sigh. “I just need to know how much of it you really meant.”

  That was the clincher, wasn’t it? How much had Patrick actually meant? Trouble was, what with the beers and the heat of the moment, he wasn’t totally sure he was even remembering it right. “Which bits?” he asked cautiously.

  “I mean, if you really think my work as a tax advisor is fundamentally immoral, we might have a problem.”

  Shit. “Look, I just—there you were, boasting about your bonuses, and I—”

  “I was not boasting. That’s ridiculous.”

  “No? ’Cos it sounded a lot like it to me. In fact, that seemed to be the main point of what you were saying.”

  “You just heard what I said to Si, took it out of context, and didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

  Patrick’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he made a conscious effort to ease back on the accelerator. “So go on, then, explain.”

  “Well… Have you ever thought that tax loopholes might be the one thing keeping a company in this country, rather than taking all the jobs elsewhere? And some of those corporations make sizeable donations to charity. I’m not going to pretend they do it for anything other than the PR value, in a lot of cases, but the end result is the same.” Mark drew in a heavy breath. “And…the other thing that was said. I’m sorry, but I do think people have to take responsibility for their own finances. And there are some people in
this country who take advantage of the welfare state. Maybe you’re right, and companies should pay more tax. But equally, there are some people who claim benefits they’re not entitled to, or who just sit back and let the state pay their bills instead of bothering to get a job.”

  Ouch.

  “You don’t agree?” Mark asked after a long moment of silence.

  Patrick swallowed. “Yeah, see… I told you a bit about my dad, didn’t I? Well, that’s him, basically. When he’s not in jail. So… I guess it felt like a bit of a dig, when you said all that.” Christ, it was like ripping off a scab.

  The silence prickled. Then Mark spoke, his tone a lot different from before. “Patrick… You’re not your father. You’re a much better man, and I would never throw what he’s done in your face.” He huffed. “At least, not now I know about it. I’m so sorry you’ve had all this to deal with, and I think you’re doing a bloody marvellous job.”

  Mark reached over to grip Patrick’s thigh, and Patrick took his hand off the wheel for a mo to cover Mark’s hand with his briefly. God, that felt good. Like things were back how they ought to be, finally.

  “I think you might have noticed already,” Mark said after a moment, his tone apologetic, “but I can be a little pompous and self-satisfied on occasion.”

  “And defensive,” Patrick teased, because his heart was flying somewhere up in the clouds and yeah, he was a bastard.

  “Now wait a—oh. Yes, I suppose so.” Mark was silent a moment. “But the thing is, I do see your point. It’s just… Things aren’t always so cut-and-dried.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Mum’s been telling me that and all. And Fen, come to that. Came round my house last night to read me the riot act. ”

  “Ah. Yes. She does that.”

  “Think it’s a female thing. They probably learn it in the Girl Guides or something.”

  Mark nodded. “They have a badge for everything these days. Not that Fen stayed long enough to earn any.” He took a deep breath. “So are we all right? Because—” He broke off as his phone buzzed.

  He looked at the screen and winced.

  “Something wrong?” Patrick asked.

  “No—well, not really. A text from David: Little moppet about to expire from hunger. Taking her to lunch at Pizza Express. I’m fairly certain that’s not what Teenager Taming would recommend as the ideal way to impress upon her that skipping school is not to be repeated.”

  They were almost in Shamwell now. Patrick made a split-second decision to turn right instead of left when they got there. “Teenager Taming?”

  Mark flushed. “It’s a website.”

  Still sensitive about his parenting abilities, then, poor sod. If he hadn’t still been driving, Patrick would have leaned over and given him a hug. “Bit late to worry about it now, I guess. It’s pretty good of him, really,” he added after a pause. “He fancies you, doesn’t he?”

  “He, um, did seem to at one point. But he and Fen get on like a house on fire.”

  “Still pretty decent of him to give us some time together.” Patrick wasn’t certain he’d be so generous in similar circs. “He knows we’re together, right, you and me? What am I saying? He’s mates with Fen. He probably knows more about our relationship than we do.”

  “So… We do still have a relationship?” Mark asked, sounding so hopeful, Patrick would have reached over and squeezed his knee if they hadn’t been going around a roundabout at the time. “It’s not a total deal-breaker, then, my profession?”

  “Do you want us to still have a relationship? Not too pissed off at me for the way I went off on you?”

  “God, yes. I mean no—”

  Patrick cut him off with a laugh. “Then yeah, we got a relationship.”

  “Oh, thank God for that. I won’t have to run the London Marathon after all.”

  “What?”

  Mark’s face went red. “It was just an idea. I was going to run the London Marathon for charity, to prove to you I can be a giver as well as a taker.”

  Patrick was glad they’d got to his house, ’cos it meant he could pull up at the kerb and turn to give Mark the incredulous stare that deserved. “Mate, you barely made it twenty-six feet in the Shamwell Fun Run. I’m not sure you ought to be tackling twenty-six miles anytime soon.”

  “Well, that was one idea. I’m open to suggestions. Actually, I thought I might do a bit of volunteering at the Citizens’ Advice Bureau. Help people with their taxes, their money, whatever—you know, people who can’t afford to pay an accountant.”

  Swallowing down a lump of emotion that was threatening to get stuck in his throat, Patrick turned and cupped Mark’s face with his hand. “Yeah, that’d be good. Long as you’re doing it ’cos you want to. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Now come on, let’s go inside.”

  Mark unbuckled his seat belt, then paused, frowning. “Oh—we’re at your house.”

  Patrick nodded. “It’s a good house. Got a nice little garden, doesn’t cost too much to heat, and most importantly, Mum’s out at work until five so we’ve got it all to ourselves. Coming?”

  “Oh God, yes.” At least, Mark fervently hoped so.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mark’s mouth was dry as he followed Patrick into the house. This was it. Finally he was actually going to get to have sex. Gay sex. With a man. With Patrick. “Are you sure your mum’s at work?” he couldn’t help asking, looking around as if she might be hiding somewhere, ready to jump out and catch them in flagrante.

  “Positive. It’s Monday, and her car’s gone.”

  Mark felt like a teenager again. It was like the one and only time he’d dared to sneak Ray into his house, and they’d spent the whole time paranoid Mark’s dad would burst in on them. “I keep getting this awful feeling something’s going to happen again to interrupt us. Your mum will decide to take the afternoon off. David will bring Fen up here. The house will spontaneously combust.”

  “Nah, trust me. It can’t keep happening like that. Third time lucky, yeah?”

  “Or is it bad things always come in threes?” Was that a movement off in the living room?

  Patrick slipped his arms around Mark’s waist and pushed him gently against the wall. “Look at it this way. As long as we keep trying, there’s gotta come a time when we actually manage it. Basic laws of chance, innit?” His kiss was sweet and dirty. “Bed?”

  “God, yes.”

  They hurried upstairs, Patrick pulling off his shirt as they went. His bedroom was larger than Mark had expected, all in deep blues that made his eyes darken as he turned back to Mark. “Like it?”

  Mark swallowed. “Big bed.”

  “Yeah. Well, I need a bit of room for all my conquests—” He broke off laughing. “God, your face. Trust me, the number of blokes I’ve had in here is a lot lower than you think. I don’t invite just anyone back here. Mum reckons I’m overcautious. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re just cautious enough.” Mark unbuttoned his shirt, desperate to get skin-on-skin with Patrick.

  Patrick was way ahead of him, already stripping off his trousers. Unable to resist touching him long enough to get his own clothes off, Mark pulled him close. Patrick felt amazing, all lean muscle and hot, hot skin. If I licked him, would he sizzle? Mark thought deliriously, hardly knowing where to touch first. Patrick’s hands were at Mark’s belt buckle, a frustrating obstacle to Mark’s goal of pressing them so close together, they’d merge into one.

  “Hey, gimme a bit of space here,” Patrick muttered, getting Mark’s trousers open even as he said it. They fell to the floor, leaving only their underwear between them. “That’s better. You wanna fuck me?”

  Oh God. He just threw it out there, like it was no big deal… Mark couldn’t catch his breath for a moment.

  “Or not, you know,” Patrick carried on, mistaking his hesitation. “However you wan
na do this. I’m versatile, yeah?”

  “No. I mean…” Mark closed his eyes for a moment, most of his higher thought processes entirely off-lined by the way his erection felt pressing against Patrick’s matching hardness. “I mean, yes, I’d like that.”

  “Cool.” Patrick broke away and sprawled on the bed to grab a couple of foil packets from the bedside drawer. Lube and a condom. He tossed the condom over to Mark, then quickly stripped off his boxer briefs and lay there on the bed, knees up, fully naked.

  God. Mark’s hands shook as he stripped off his boxer shorts, and it took him a couple of goes to get the condom on properly. He knelt on the bed, hoping nothing was sagging too obviously in comparison to the golden young man laid out before him, and watched, dry-mouthed as Patrick ripped open the lube and started fingering himself.

  By some kind of miracle, he found his voice. “Let me do that,” he begged.

  “No problem.” With a wicked smile, Patrick handed over the lube and wiped his greasy fingers on Mark’s condom-clad dick, sending electric jolts right through Mark’s body and up to his brain to kill off any remaining thought processes. It was all he could do not to just throw himself down on Patrick and rut to completion there and then, but he somehow managed to restrain himself and even to lube up his fingers without making too much of a mess on the sheets. Then he reached down to touch Patrick’s most intimate area, circling his hole with one shaky finger, then slipping gently inside.

  Had he thought Patrick’s skin was hot? Inside, he was an inferno. Mark groaned, moving his finger in and out.

  “Go on, gimme another,” Patrick urged. “I can take it.”

  As Mark did so, there was a loud bang from somewhere in the house. Mark froze. “What was that?”