Don't Try This at Home

by Ellee Hill

  “Oh, Basil’s all right,” the owner of the name agreed. “It’s the whole thing that’s a problem.” His voice dropped to a mumble, and he flushed an interesting shade of purple as he expanded on this observation. “Basil Caraway Watkins.”

  Tom blinked. “I’m sorry; what?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Did you say—”

  “‘Caraway’,” Basil affirmed miserably. “Yes. My middle name is also an herb.”

  “Wow, your mom liked to cook, huh?” Tom guessed as their entrées were delivered.

  Basil nodded. “You said it. I, on the other hand….” He shuddered. “I live off takeout and restaurants. It’s safer that way. There’s only so many times you can light your microwave on fire before you become convinced it’s out to get you.”

  Tom couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess that would put anyone off cooking. And added to the name….”

  Basil chuckled too. “My sister got off lightly with ‘Rosemary Anise’—that sounds pretty normal, right? But in school, when people found out my middle name is ‘Caraway’….”

  “Oh, sugar, that’s nothing,” Tom reassured him. “You know how in lists and stuff they do surname, comma, first name? My whole life I’ve been written down as ‘John, Thomas’—which sounds perfectly innocuous until someone in your class with an English cousin spreads the word that ‘John Thomas’ is British slang for cock. Not even the three Richards in the class had to go through high school being called every euphemism for ‘dick’ people could think of.”

  “Okay, okay, you win!” Basil grinned. “I guess that is worse.”

  He reached for his wine glass, giving a surprised yelp as the stem broke off in his hand. Blood dripped over his fingers, staining the white tablecloth with scarlet drops in the split second before Basil reflexively dropped the ruined glass, snatching up his napkin to press against the open wound. Red wine flowed out of the glass to add to the mess as half the waitstaff came running.

  Afterward, when Basil was safely sitting on his date’s couch with a fresh white bandage wrapped around the six stitches in his hand, Tom would make a mental note to choose a restaurant with dark tablecloths next time. At the moment, he was more concerned with getting the check as quickly as possible and rushing a white-faced Basil to the emergency room (again!) after reassuring the staff that they wouldn’t be suing; this kind of thing happened all the time. It was simply inevitable that the one glass in the restaurant with an unnoticed flaw had ended up in Basil’s hand.

  BASIL had to confess he was somewhat surprised to walk back into the hospital waiting room and find Tom still sitting there patiently. He had thought the date was going well, but in spite of that he’d also expected the other man to have lost patience with his string of constant mishaps by now. Tom was handsome, charming, and considerate, and Basil had never known a guy like that to stick around beyond the first minor accident. Yet here Tom was, face full of concern as he got up to greet Basil, asking anxiously how he was. Basil smiled wryly.

  “I’ll live. As always.” He flushed slightly, looking down. “I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

  Gentle fingers came up under his chin, raising it until he was forced to look Tom in the eye, and then Tom’s hand shifted so that it was cupping Basil’s cheek. Standing like that, their noses were almost brushing, and Basil felt his heartbeat speed up.

  “Hey, who said you ruined anything?” Tom asked gently; and then his lips were on Basil’s and it was perfect. For one blissful, brief moment; and then Basil stepped closer into the kiss and brought his (not inconsiderable) weight to bear on Tom’s foot. The kiss morphed instantly into a lip-locked yelp of pain and surprise, and Basil leaped back, flushing scarlet.

  “Sorry! Oh God, I’m so sorry! Shit. Um, I’ll just, um, go,” he mumbled, mortified. Christ, he couldn’t even get a kiss right!

  “Do you have to?”

  Was it Basil’s imagination, or did Tom sound… disappointed? His suspicions were confirmed as the other man continued speaking.

  “I was hoping for a second chance.”

  A smile slowly grew on Basil’s lips, and he stepped forward again, taking Tom’s hands in his.

  “Am I really worth a second chance?”

  Tom smiled back, leaning in to rub his nose gently against Basil’s in an Eskimo kiss which sent an unexpected shiver up Basil’s spine.

  “I think so. A second chance and a second date. Now, do you think I could have a second try at kissing you?”

  “I think I’d like that,” Basil murmured, releasing Tom’s hands and running his own up the taller man’s arms to wrap around his neck, starting off close so there was no chance of a misstep ruining the moment again.

  Tom grinned, settling his hands on Basil’s waist.

  “Good,” he whispered before leaning down the couple of inches required to press his lips tenderly to the shorter man’s in a gentle exploratory kiss.

  And this time, they got it right.

  HENRIETTA CLARKE is a highly individual Yorkshire lass who grew up with her nose in a book and is therefore lucky to have only fallen down the stairs once in twenty-one years. Ironically, this had nothing to do with reading and resulted in “traumatic golfer’s elbow.” No, she’s never figured that one out either, but it genuinely was the medical diagnosis. Her parents have long accused her of being “away with the fairies,” so perhaps she was always destined to write in the gay romance genre. She’s had enough imaginary friends to fill the Titanic and set her course toward being a published writer at the age of six. Having achieved that dream, her next goal is to get through two years of postgraduate law study with her sanity intact. She thinks she might just be able to do it with a little help from her family, friends, vodka, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and of course her trusty bookshelves.

  You can contact Henrietta by emailing heclarke@hotmail.co.uk—she’s currently too techno-illiterate to have a blog, but may start one soon.

  MIDNIGHT CALLER

  Anna Birmingham

  AARON slumped forward until his head banged down on the table. He groaned in frustration. Damn all these short deadlines. He wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed him to become a legal advisor. Nice, safe, and respectable, for sure. Three good reasons and he couldn’t think of a bad one—except that he was as bored as hell. Aaron sat back up and scrubbed his face with his palms; bored or not, he needed to get these reports done. People depended on him. Lives depended on him.

  He wiggled the mouse to reactivate his sleeping computer and jumped when the doorbell to his apartment buzzed loudly. He flicked a glance at the clock in the corner of his screen. 12:20 a.m. Who the hell would be dropping by at this time on a work night? He leaned back in his chair and peeked through the gap in his curtains, down to the security gate three stories below. He blinked in recognition as the dark-haired figure saw him looking and raised a hand in an awkward greeting. Oh, it was the new kid. Daniel something. That was just fucking perfect.

  Aaron had first met Daniel a few nights ago. Although “met” wasn’t quite the right word. Daniel had lit a cigarette down in the courtyard and Aaron had seen the red glow out of his window. He had bellowed at Daniel that smoking wasn’t allowed in communal areas and hadn’t he read the goddamned tenancy agreement—assuming he could actually read? Daniel had replied by flipping him the finger, but he had stamped out his cigarette and shuffled back inside. Aaron had only seen him once or twice since then, and they hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

  It looked like that was about to change.

  Aaron frowned and pushed up from his chair to make his way over to the intercom, wondering what the hell Daniel was up to. “Hello?”

  “Hey. Sorry to bother you, but I locked my keys in my car. I saw your light on and figured if you buzzed me through the security gate, I could maybe get into my apartment?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, sorry. Yeah, it’s Daniel.” Aaron saw the shivering figure wave toward the apartment below his own. “I l
ive at number three. I moved in just last week,” Daniel added.

  “Yes, I know,” Aaron said without enthusiasm.

  “Will you buzz me in? I’m pretty sure I left a window open in my bedroom. Figure I could climb in, find my spare car keys.” Daniel cleared his throat. “That’s if the police don’t get me.”

  Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night, Aaron thought, but even though Daniel was turning out to be a pain in the ass, he figured he couldn’t leave him out in the cold. “Okay,” he said flatly.

  He buzzed the gate and was about to move away from the intercom when Daniel’s voice crackled through again. “Would you come down and help me? I might need a leg up. Sorry.”

  THE second he had slammed the trunk shut, Daniel had known what he’d done. He had felt something fall out of his jacket pocket and into the car when he’d grabbed his duffle bag. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d kicked the tire with frustration and dragged his fingers through his hair. Fuck. He knew it was late and breaking into his dad’s car to retrieve the keys was a big no-no.

  Glancing up at the apartment block, he could see just one light still on. Aaron. The English guy. Daniel had met a few of the neighbors, and Aaron was the one he least wanted to meet again. Guy was a dork, not to mention a complete prick, and had busted his ass over one measly cigarette.

  Following the awkward conversation over the intercom, Daniel heard a door click and Aaron appeared in the moonlit courtyard. He was casually dressed in pants and a hooded sweatshirt, and Daniel had to wonder what kept him up so late.

  “Did I wake you?” Daniel asked. “I saw your light on and figured you were still up.”

  “I was.”

  “Oh, good! Well, I don’t mean good that you were up late, more like good that I didn’t wake you. Not that it’s bad to be up late, if that’s what you normally do. Not that I do, normally, but it’s okay if you do. Stay up late, I mean.” Daniel realized he was sounding like an idiot and clamped his mouth shut. Aaron’s stern dark eyes weren’t doing much to settle his nerves.

  “So where’s your bedroom?” Aaron turned to look up at the row of windows.

  “That one.” Daniel pointed up to a second floor window. The top was open about an inch. “Reckon I could pull it down far enough to climb through, if we can get me up there?”

  Aaron turned back to face him, hands on hips, and looked Daniel’s lean frame up and down as if assessing his weight. He sighed again. “Okay. Let’s try.”

  They dragged a wooden bench under the window and Aaron hopped up on it, clasping his hands together. “Come on, then.”

  Daniel stood up on the bench next to Aaron and put his foot in Aaron’s cupped hands. He stretched for the top of his window and tugged hard. The wooden frame was a bit stiff and Daniel wobbled off balance. Immediately he felt a warm, steadying hand on his ass. Oh hell. He closed his eyes and to tried to ignore the unwelcome heat spreading through his body.

  “You got it?” Aaron’s voice sounded a little rough.

  “Almost,” Daniel croaked, “give me a sec.” He tugged the window again, and this time it slid down enough for Daniel to take his full weight on the frame and wriggle up. “Okay, push me in.”

  He felt Aaron’s hand leave his ass and grip around his calves, lifting him up. Daniel managed to scrabble through the half-open window with only minor scrapes to his arms and legs and landed headfirst on his bed. He let out a relieved huff of breath. Well, thank fuck for that. He rolled onto his feet and quickly grabbed his spare car keys from the hall. Letting himself out of the apartment, he ran down the stairs and back to the courtyard to find Aaron still standing on the wooden bench, gazing up at his window.

  “Mission accomplished!” Daniel waved his spare keys at Aaron in triumph and hurried off to rescue the other set of keys held captive in the trunk of his car.

  Aaron picked up Daniel’s bag and handed it to him after he jogged back. “Are we done?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I really thought I’d be sleeping out on the street tonight.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Must be your lucky night,” he said dryly.

  “I guess so.” Daniel turned to leave. “Thanks again.”

  AARON watched Daniel disappear back inside the building and shook his head in disbelief. Some things you just couldn’t make up.

  Walking back up to his own apartment, he was slightly disturbed by the fact that his hand still tingled where he had grasped Daniel’s ass. Aaron flexed his fingers and rubbed his palm on his jeans, but the feeling continued to linger.

  BOOM, boom, boom.

  Aaron held his hands over his ears and leaned his elbows on the table, trying hard to focus on the numbers in the report. Not that it was easy with the damn racket going on beneath him, vibrations coming up through the floor.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  Fuck it. There was no way he could concentrate. He shoved his chair back and stomped out the front door and down the stairs to the apartment below.

  “Daniel!” He hammered on the front door. “Daniel! You in there?” He hoped to God someone would hear him over the chatter and squeals coming from inside.

  He thumped again and pressed his ear to the door, almost falling over when it suddenly swung inward.

  “Yeah?”

  Aaron caught himself on the doorframe and looked up into the slightly unfocused blue eyes of his neighbor. Daniel was clearly dressed for a party, complete with tight leather pants and numerous silver hoops decorating each ear. Aaron straightened himself up and sighed in annoyance. “Daniel, can you turn that goddamn noise down? I can’t hear myself think.”

  “Aaron!” Daniel swayed slightly and reached out to grab onto his bicep. “Did I invite you? I don’t remember….”

  Aaron shook Daniel’s hand off and sighed again. “No, you didn’t. I don’t want to come in, Daniel. Just turn the fucking stereo down. “

  “Aw, pfft,” Daniel made a snorting noise, “it’s Friday night. Come in and have a drink. Or two. Or three.”

  “I’m working.” Aaron narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the puppy dog look Daniel was giving him.

  “Working?” Daniel held his wrist up to about an inch from eyes and squinted at his watch. “What, at midnight? It’s the weekend, man! Hang loose.”

  “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Aaron stepped backward and ran a hand over his short brown hair. “Can you just turn it down a bit? Please?”

  “What’s it worth?” Daniel swayed again and propped a hip against the wall, posing seductively.

  Aaron was torn between the desire to either punch him or press himself against that lean body so obviously on display. But he couldn’t go there. “My job, for one thing. Plus, your reputation as a tenant.”

  Daniel pouted and opened his mouth to respond when the sound of clacking heels announced the arrival of a pretty blonde girl. He looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Hey, doll. Be right there.”

  The blonde trailed her nails over Daniel’s shoulder and leaned forward to check out Aaron. “Oh my. He’s cute, Daniel! One of yours?”

  “Nuh uh. Neighbor,” Daniel shook his head, pushing the girl back gently. “Go get me a drink; I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Okay, sugar.” The blonde leaned over Daniel’s shoulder and blew Aaron a kiss before clacking back down the hall and into the party.

  “Uh, sorry. About her, I mean.”

  Aaron blinked at him. “You’ll turn it down? The music?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Daniel bit his lip and his eyes roamed Aaron’s face. “You won’t complain about me, will you? I really don’t want to have to move again.”

  “Not if you keep your word.”

  Daniel nodded. “Cool.”

  DANIEL groaned as he rolled over and sunlight hit his eyes. He dragged a pillow over his face and moaned again into it. Fuck, his head hurt. He should’ve learned by now that whiskey and red wine really didn’t mix well.

  It had been a damn good party, though.
Just the right way to celebrate his first month at work. Copious amount of alcohol, music, and good times. He just hoped the neighbors weren’t too pissed off with the mountain of beer bottles left outside. Neighbors. Oh crap. Aaron had complained about the noise. Daniel moaned again and figured he owed Aaron an apology. Either that or risk being kicked out of his home. Again.

  IT was just before midnight when Aaron heard the soft rapping on his door. Squinting at his computer, he sighed heavily and pushed up from his chair. He had a feeling who the late-night caller would be.

  “Daniel.” Aaron swung the door open and propped his forearm on the frame. “What do you want now?”

  Daniel looked down a little bashfully and stubbed his toe on the floor. His dark hair swung to cover his face. “I just wanted to say sorry, you know, for last night. The noise and everything.”

  “Fine. Apology accepted. Can I get back to work now?” Aaron said patiently.

  “No! Wait! I mean, I have something for you. Here.” He thrust a brown bag into Aaron’s hands. “Thought you could use it after you finish your work. Help you relax.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You think I need to relax? What do you know about me?”

  “Nothing! It’s just that you always seem so tense. Stressed. Thought it might help a little.” He chewed on a finger and looked straight into Aaron’s eyes.

  Aaron pushed off the doorframe and took a peek into the bag. A bottle of whiskey, and it looked to be pretty decent stuff too. He ignored Daniel’s comment about him being stressed. He did have a stressful job, after all; what did people expect? He nodded and looked back at Daniel. “Thanks.”

  Daniel smiled and backed away. “Enjoy. See you around.” He turned a little too quickly and managed to knock over the potted palm Aaron had outside his apartment door. The pot fell over with a crash and split into a million pieces, stones spilling out everywhere.