To The Stars - 6. Easter Special (B)

Good Friday, March 27th 2016 - Lance

The smell of simnel cake baking always made Lance's tummy rumble and his mouth water. He'd know that aroma anywhere. Each Good Friday since before he was born, Sue had baked her grandmother's simnel cake for dessert. He looked forward to it every year and quivered with anticipation as he waited for someone to unlock the door and let him in.

"There he is! What the bloody hell took you so long then?" Sue hooked her arms around him and near dragged him across the threshold into a terrifically tight hug. Lance squeezed her back and rocked them back and forth, breathing in the scent of his home. It was good to be here again.

"Sorry, Mum," Lance pulled away, reaching back to collect his travel bag. "Oh, it's so good to see you! You're looking as ageless as ever, honey. What's your secret? I hope it's in your genes."

"My secret?" She let out a hearty chuckle and lead him through the hallway into the kitchen. "It helps to have a kid who talks a bunch of pork pies, I'll tell you that much."

"Hey, Dad!" Lance left his suitcase in the middle of the floor in his joy, scuttling across the kitchen linoleum to embrace Garth, who laughed and squeezed the boy firmly.

"Kiddo, you're a sight for sore eyes!" The older man exclaimed. "You've been down the shops, I see! Are those new?" Lance looked down and spun his ankle, showing off the black open-toed corset heels he was wearing. He couldn't resist them when he saw them sitting lonely in a display window yesterday. They were gorgeous and most importantly, there was a pair in his size. It was destiny."I was wondering why he looked so tall today!" Sue exclaimed, returning to the saucepan she was stirring on the stovetop.

"Ah," Lance grinned with pride. "I thought I'd treat myself!"

"That's my little boy! You get any funny looks on your way down? Any of those chavs giving you grief?" Garth asked, pulling away and standing with his hands resting on Lance's shoulders. The boy shrugged, tugging at his violet-coloured hair and pointing at his similarly shaded lips with nails coloured to match.

"I always get funny looks!" He chuckled, tweaking the man's nose. "Giving grief is just what chavs do. It's fine, Dad! I'm twenty now. I'm used to it."

"No, it's not fine," Garth rolled his eyes, sitting back down in his chair. "You tell me who's been causing my little boy trouble. I'll break their jaw."

"You will do no such thing!" Lance laughed down at him, giving him an appreciative pat on the back. "Mum needs you here, not getting nicked by the cop shop again because some twat can't handle the true Queen of England!"

"You tell him, love!" Sue pointed an accusing finger at her husband. "He's too long in the bloody tooth to be acting like Rambo. He needs to set a better example for his kids, that's what I reckon!"

"Are Nicky, Lola and Zander going to be here?" Lance asked, his eyes shining behind his violet contact lenses. If Nicky even wanted to see him, of course. Lola certainly wouldn't.

"Of course Zander's here! But Nicky and Lola are spending the weekend with Aunt Jude," Sue replied, hesitantly. "I'm sorry, love. I was hoping they'd have come around by now. I wanted you all to make peace before you set off across the pond."

"Aww well, I'll be heading to the states next week, so they'll have you two all to themselves. I'm sorry you had to choose between them and me," Lance said, full of disappointment. He managed to fake a smile. He had a dazzling smile and was used to displaying it. It was easier than frowning and pouting like he wanted to. It was sweet of them to want to see him, though, even if it meant their other kids wouldn't be home for the special day.

"Go and see Zander," Garth took the spotlight off the intense conversation and pointed towards the bedroom. "He was having a nap last time I looked, but he's been off his trolley for the whole week! He misses his big brother!" Lance gave an excited squeak and clip-clopped across the kitchen before Sue's cockney words caught up with him.

"Boy!" She pointed at him with the wooden spoon. "Don't leave your luggage in here cluttering up the joint, take it into your room! And get those dinks off before you stomp holes in my floor! As a matter of fact, you can leave them behind on my shoe rack. I could use a new pair."

"Honey!" Lance pretended to be offended, putting his violet nails over his violet lips as he leaned down to unlace the stylish stilettos from his feet. "Don't flatter yourself; these babies are wasted on hooves like yours." Garth burst into a fit of giggles, and Sue made sure to clip her cheeky husband on the back of the head with the handle end of the spoon she was holding.

"I've missed having you here, you little tit," she grinned at him. "Go and harass your brother before I give you a slap as well!"

Putting his discarded shoes to the side and leaving his trolley bag in the corner of the hallway rather than his old bedroom, Lance took little time in sneaking into little Zander's room. The boy stirred at the sudden intrusion of light, eyes half-lidded as he looked to the door, and he looked as though someone shocked him with a cattle prod. He squealed and sprung off his Thomas the Tank Engine sheets to spring up and charge at his brother, who lifted him up and squeezed him tight.

"Lance!" Zander exclaimed, pacifier still in his mouth. A bit old to suck on a dummy, but it kept him happy!

"You got so big!" Lance laughed happily, rocking the boy back and forth. "When did you get so big? You're heavy! How much has Mum been feeding you? Blimey!" Zander laughed, loving the attention he was getting. His cheerful brown eyes made Lance feel so at home. He missed his Mum and Dad while he lived in Leeds, but he was especially close with his baby brother. They were kindred spirits - even though Lance was sixteen when Zander was born.

"Do the Lance Dance!" Zander ordered, clinging to the older boy's neck and bracing himself. It was a tradition of theirs.

"The Zander Panda wants to Lance Dance?" Lance laughed and obeyed, holding the four-year-old tight and beginning to move his body, dancing as though the music blared through the tiny room, making Zander laugh as his brother gyrated and pranced around, eventually making their way through to the kitchen with the rhythm coursing through them.

"You're both proper gits," Sue teased, shaking her head. "Two peas in a pod. I suppose you are my kid after all, Lance! I just needed one like you to prove it."

"Was there any question?" Lance retorted over the sound of Zander's thrilled laughing as he clung on for dear life, supported by one of his brother's arms. "It's not like you missed out on my birth!"

"I had a front row seat too," Garth added, beaming in amusement. "They were playing Madonna on the radio when you were born."

"That's never been funny, Dad!" Lance laughed anyway, pausing and kissing his brother on the cheek, leaving a purple mark and making the kid rub his face. "Can we start with simnel cake? Please, please, please? Don't you want the cake, Zander?"

"Yes, Lance honey!" Zander quoted back to him in the campest voice he could manage, and everyone laughed at the youngster.

"He says honey all the time when you're not here," Garth fixed his glasses. "I don't know why we didn't just get a parrot instead. Or your voice on our answering machine. It's a lot cheaper."

"No cake!" Sue sternly pointed at them with a spoon, and Lance exaggerated a flinch, pretending to drop his brother, who cried out in alarm and then laughed in relief. "Not until you boys eat the rest of your lunch. I didn't slave over a stove so you can skip to dessert!"

"But Mum!" They complained in unison, the way they often did when she didn't let them have things their way, and Sue shook her head at them.

After he went to sleep that night, he had no idea what time it was when he woke up, Zander snoring peacefully beside him. He liked to pretend that the little boy was clingy and wanted to spend time with his big brother, but in reality, Lance was the one who talked Zander into sleeping next to him. He missed him so much. If only he could visit more without Lola making a scene, but that relationship had been stabbed in the gut and left to bleed out in the gutter. He regretted drinking the amount of Riesling with his mother that he did, his head pounding and his mouth dry. He hopped out of his bed, careful not to wake Zander, intending to guzzle a glass of water or four. In the hallway, he was distracted by the sounds of talking and crying from his parents' room. Concerned, he crept up and put his ear to the keyhole.

"What do you want me to do, Susan? I can't chain him to his bloody bed!"

"You can't let him go. He has no idea what he's getting into."

"You want me to tell Lance he can't do something? Are you wonky in the head? Has that ever gone well for us before?"

"Wrestling? Our Lance? Wrestling! Garth, it's ridiculous. Our son is going to the States to become a professional wrestler! How can you think this is okay? How can you let him go?"

"Sue, if it's what the boy wants, then we have to let him. What's the problem, anyway? You don't think he can do it?"

"That's not what I'm worried about! He can do anything he wants and I'll always be proud of him. It's... I'm afraid for him, Garthy."

"Don't act like I don't feel the same way! You know how scared I was every time he went out in this part of town like some underage drag queen. I know how hard it is Sue, trust me, I bloody know. But come on. He's always fine. He's always managed to come home again. Sometimes a bit worse for wear, but he's always come home."

"But this is different," Lance heard his mother sob. "This is America! I can't stop thinking about some psychopath taking one look at our little boy and shooting him dead because he's wearing those stupid bloody shoes. I'm so tired of being scared for him. I love that boy so much, but I'm always terrified something horrible is going to happen to him because he's... the way he is."

"Do you think I signed up for this? It's just the hand we got dealt. He's a great kid. We can't tell him not to go, Sue. It's not fair on him. He needs to know that we'll support him the whole way. Let him be happy. That's all we can do for him."

"What if Zander turns out the same way?" Sue asked after a brief pause. "Every day he sounds more like Lance. Every bloody day."

"Then we love him too," Garth answered after a pause of his own. "At least we'll know what to expect this time, right? It'll be a lot easier knowing what we're doing instead of praying every night we were raising him right. Lance turned out fine, didn't he? Better than fine! It's not like we can just keep them apart. They're crazy about each other, Sue. If you want to be happy that Lance is going to the US, be happy for him. It's not fair on him to be relieved that he can't influence Zander while he's gone."

"I can't do it all again, Garth," she wept. "The bullying, the assaults, the interventions. Having my boy treated like some freak. Worrying every single day that someone's kicked his scone in or shanked him in the street. For twenty years I've been waiting for the call that my son's been killed by some gay-hating twat. I can't do that with another kid. It'll kill me."

Lance couldn't bear to hear any more. The tears had begun to drip from his chin onto his bare feet. He lumbered back to his room and looked down at the toenails he'd painted violet only a few days prior, and to his fingernails. It was difficult on all of them, he knew, but he didn't realise how hard it had been for his parents to have a son so... androgynous. So non-conforming. They'd been there for him every step of the way, no matter how challenging it was for them. They loved him unconditionally. Always. Nobody in history had ever had the privilege of better parents. They didn't deserve the heartache of putting up with a son like him, and he didn't want to corrupt his brother more than he already had. Sue's words really hit him hard, and he started to cry again. He'd wondered many times if his family would be happier without him. Nicky and Lola both thought so, at least.

"I love you, Panda," he whispered quietly, taking one more look at the most important person in his life before he stumbled away to call up a taxi to take him home.

~

Good Friday, March 30th

He wasn't sure whose idea it was to purchase the pay per view of the show they'd only just worked at, but it was on the television right now. Everyone was pretty tipsy. He and Rachel were kissing and holding each other's hands on the couch. He'd sandwiched himself between his girlfriend and Gloria, who entertained herself by braiding Sean's long, thick mane of hair. Sean had long since stripped off his shirt and shoes and opted to lay across the three clad only in his tight denim shorts. Every time the boy moved, his hips rubbed against Diego's crotch.

"Gloria, when was the last time you won a match?" Diego pointed out, trying to redirect his attention from the effect the half-naked boy was having on him. On the television, Gloria had lost in an upset to one of the new girls, Priya, and was in the midst of a huge arena-wrecking tantrum. She even went so far as to smack the remaining portion of a mostly-eaten hot dog out of a fan's hand, to a terrific response from the people at the event and the wrestlers on the couch. She was an icon.

"I win at the house shows sometimes, just never on TV," she shrugged. "I guess it was against Irina long before she became the champion. A couple of years?"

"How do you put up with that?" Diego laughed, squeezing his arm around the slender waist of his girlfriend. "You have some pull with Michelle. I'm pretty sure she'd put you back in the main event if you asked."

"Oh, I'm quite happy where I am," Gloria explained, sipping wine from her plastic cup. Gloria wasn't very glass-friendly. She tended to break them when she visited the hotel rooms that other people paid for, so Rachel forced her use something unbreakable instead. "I've had a lot of years in the spotlight already, so I don't mind putting the other girls over. Even if I'm a full-time jobber, I'm still on television nearly every week and I'm getting paid to do what I love."

Wow, Diego thought. That's an excellent point. He could stand to learn something from her if he weren't so greedy for the spotlight. He felt Sean on top of him and felt the guilt eating at him again. Why did I do it? He couldn't help himself. He used his hand to touch, poke and prod at Sean's exposed body in front of him, enjoying the feel of him under the guise of tickling him. Sean squirmed, twitched, then fell off the couch, causing fits of laughter all around.

"You're all so horrible," Sean giggled, playfully slapping Gloria across the face on his way back to the kitchen to fill up on more alcohol. Such a lightweight. He was strangely extroverted when he had a few drinks under his belt.

"Yeah, but you keep coming back to us, so it can't be all bad," Rachel smiled at him, and someone knocked at the door. Diego grimaced. Pearl and Lance. Sean was already on his feet, so he was given the responsibility of opening the door. It was indeed the expected guests - Lance with the salted snacks in his arms and Pearl carrying a huge bottle of rum with one hand and yet more wine in the other.

"Please be good," Gloria whispered to Diego, perhaps sensing the tension that had come up around her friend. "Remember how hard it was for you when you first started. You might have been a stud by the time the others arrived, but I still remember what a frightened little starling you were."

Diego gave a slight nod and his eyes fell to the floor. Lance's valour and commitment tonight had changed Diego's mind about a few things. He still hated Lance - moreso now that the kid had dirt on him - but he was more optimistic about the on-screen pairing between them. Being the victim of a homophobic attack and still finishing his segment with a big smile on his face, even turning the situation into a positive by playing for the crowd's sympathy, was proof of his tenacity. Jimmy, in his final act as locker room leader, gave Lance his official seal of approval and made it clear to the remaining naysayers that Lance was to be accepted as a member of the locker room. He may not be a good wrestler, Jimmy had declared while laughing and holding the redhead's arm high in the air, but he was a damn good shot when he threw something and a quick thinker. Would I have done the same thing for Lance, Diego asked himself. No. Definitely not.

"Damn Lance, you've let yourself go today!" Rachel exclaimed, standing up to greet him with an awkward hug. "Where's the big hair and the makeup?"

"I wasn't in the mood," he answered simply with a shrug. He'd changed from his pretty vest to a simple black tank top and his hair was limp down to his shoulders. "Besides, I know not everyone's comfortable when I wear all that stuff. I didn't want anything to be weird." Diego just knew he was the target of that remark.

"How are you feeling?" Rachel almost forcefully put Lance in the seat she'd had, right next to Diego, who instinctively moved closer to Gloria. "Are you sure you're okay? That was a pretty horrible thing to happen."

"I'm used to rubbish like that," Lance explained, combing his hands through his vibrant red locks. "I came from a rough part of town, so I've been through nearly all of it at some point. That was nothing. I was just surprised - he was old enough to know better."

"I suppose they're all jealous, love," Gloria chuckled. "You strut with far sexier shoes than their girlfriends. It must be difficult for some people to swallow." Diego didn't know if he was reading to much into her comment, but it sounded a lot like she was taking a covert snipe at him. He didn't want to bring attention to it, but it stung. He got up and joined the conversation between Pearl and Sean instead, letting the two and a half girls talk about makeup and shoes and all that stupid girls' stuff.

"Diego, my man!" Pearl squeezed his arms around him, making him wince in pain. He wasn't feeling in top shape. He felt the wear and tear of the gruelling match in every muscle in his body. Medical cleared him as fit to compete the next day, but he was going to be sore in the morning. Oh well, he thought. I only have to work a match tomorrow and the night after. Great.

"Are you sure you're okay Di?" Sean frowned at him, looking suspiciously at him. Diego nodded, but Pearl literally poked holes in his lie by stabbing at his back with her fingers, causing him to hiss and cuss.

"Get a massage tomorrow," she ordered her pudgy brown face stern.

"Lie down on the bed," Sean pointed, and Diego's eyes bugged.

"Ahh... why?"

"Do it," Sean pulled Diego by the arm and pushed him onto the queen bed in the corner of the room. When he and Rachel agreed to share the room tonight, he had planned on her being the one to bring him to the mattress, not Sean, but he wasn't going to complain. A massage is a massage, and they were Sean's hands. Diego lay down on his stomach, looking at the three on the couch together. It was an awkward angle to watch the television from, but he could see well enough. He saw Pearl take a seat at the end of the bed, but Sean straddled his thighs, very close to his butt, and slipped his fingers under the hem of Diego's tanktop, peeling it up and over the new champion's head. Diego alternated between hisses of pain and moans of joy as his friend's nimble fingers kneaded and manipulated the muscles on his tanned back. As Sean got used to what worked and what didn't for the man underneath him, the hisses of pain disappeared and only the gentle moans of ecstasy escaped the Champion's mouth.

"I mean, I am so turned on right now," Gloria gestured to the boys with her hand after a little while. Diego seemed to have almost blacked out from the intense feelings Sean's hands were giving him and mentally returned to the room. Everyone was looking at them now. "How is that not the sexiest thing you've ever seen?"

"It's pretty hot," Lance remarked, and Pearl voiced her agreement.

"I suppose it could be," Rachel merely shrugged. "Being Diego's girlfriend for a couple of years has spoiled the fantasy for me. There is zero sexual chemistry there. He is disappointingly straight."

"Are you so sure about that?" Gloria teased her. "I'm hearing some noises that are leading me to think otherwise. Give our straight boy a few drinks and he's got his shirt off so another shirtless twink can rub him down."

"Mmm," Diego sighed as Sean's hands squeezed at his traps. Pearl was definitely on to something with this massage idea. "Is this you paying me back for dinner a few weeks back? Because I'm so on board with this."

"It was going to be a favour," Sean laughed, taking a short hiatus to sip from his cup. "But if it gets me off the hook, then yes, we're even now."

"If you give him a happy ending, you might even get a second dinner out of the one... favour," Gloria suggested, goading groans and laughs from everyone in the room.

"If it gets Ollie gets a free dinner as well, he'd probably encourage me to take that one for the team," Sean quipped and lay his chest down on Diego's back. The bigger man didn't dare move. He didn't want to take the chances of an involuntary discharge if he brushed against anything in his pants he wrong way.

"Ollie wouldn't be... jealous of what you're doing?" Pearl asked the question Diego badly wanted to know the answer to.

"No," Sean said happily. "You can send him a picture if you like. He'd appreciate it. As long as we aren't actively getting it on without his permission, Oliver doesn't mind. He'd probably just feel left out."

"Ollie likes to watch," Gloria added, seeing the confused looks on the faces of Lance and Pearl, both of whom were newer to the circle and didn't know the sordid details of the gay boys' relationship. Usually, Sean would turn beet red and mumble and get embarrassed, but the alcohol emboldened him.

"Well, good for you guys," Pearl beamed at them. She wasn't drinking her rum with any soda. No, Pearl liked to slam shots down her throat. It was her third in the short time she'd been there. Diego had a feeling it was going to get messy. No doubt someone would complain about their noise sometime soon.

"Hey Laaance," Sean gave Diego an affectionate little peck on his bare shoulder before slithering off him and standing on somewhat shaky feet on the carpet floor. Intoxicated.

"Yes?" Lance suppressed a laugh at the boy's expense, drinking his rum and coke rapidly. He had some catching up to do.

"Ollie fancies you," Sean said, not even bothering to be coy or subtle about it and making the redhead nearly choke on his sip. "No, I mean, he does but, that's not what I'm... um, yeah. I just mean, he has this special request, okay? Can you and I make a video for him?" Gloria, Rachel and Pearl all burst into laughter at the way that came out of the drunk boy's mouth. Lance's eyes bugged, and Diego smirked.

"I'm more of a fourth date kind of boy, honey!" Lance smirked, standing up and weaving his way to the open part of the room where Sean was looking down at his phone. "What kind of video?"

"Can you dirty dance with me? Just dirty dance!" Sean grinned up at Lance, who shrugged. Diego was just confused. The way Sean was speaking to someone he'd actively despised until only a few weeks ago was... odd. And Lance had forgiven him! After the clothes incident... just how could anyone drop a fierce grudge so quickly? Was that normal?

"You want me to dirty dance with you for your boyfriend?" Lance repeated to make sure he lost nothing in translation. "Sure, but I mean... boundaries? And stuff? I only just got Ollie off my back, I don't need him to have a new reason to bust my moneymaker." Lance's white eyes crept over to Diego, who looked away.

"Well, that's up to you," Sean replied. "Only what you're comfortable with. What are you comfortable with?" Lance surveyed all the people watching him and took a few seconds to finish his drink, wiping his mouth and putting it down on the table.

"What the hell! Why don't we go for broke? Let's make it something he'll remember," Lance decided, a cheeky, playful grin on his handsome face as he tore off his shirt to expose the flawless dancer's body he had and knew how to use. "You're alright to totally feel each other up?"

"Oh my god," Diego shook his head. He didn't know how he felt about this. He didn't like Lance, but he liked Sean perhaps more than he should. He didn't want to see them playing around together, but on the other hand, he absolutely did. It was playing havoc with his mixed emotions. Rachel took the opportunity to slip onto the bed next to him and cuddled close, as though she knew he wasn't entirely okay with what was going down. After all, unlearning toxic beliefs wasn't a quick or easy process, but if only she knew the real reason why he wasn't wholly supportive of this activity.

Pearl had the privilege of recording the boys while Gloria played Lance's KADA entrance theme from her phone. It was nice to hear it again. By the time the catchy, repetitive tune managed to win Diego over, Lance started share the Brazilian's music when they would enter together rather than separately. It was a shame, really. For nearly two minutes, Lance and Sean gyrated, ground their hips, ran their hands over each other's bodies and even finished with Lance giving Sean a hard spank on the buttocks. It was hot. The only people who didn't seem full of sexual energy afterwards were Lance and Sean, funnily enough, and the two just fell apart laughing and began mixing themselves more drinks.

"Why didn't we do that when we were younger, Rach?" Gloria asked.

"Because I dance like a ventriloquist doll in the spin cycle," Rachel answered honestly, and Diego laughed. It was true. He and Rachel both had two left feet and had limited interest in moving their bodies to music.

"Well screw that, it's our turn to send a video to Ollie!" Gloria grabbed at Rachel, trying to drag her away from the bed, but Rachel squealed and locked her arms around Diego, anchoring herself to him.

"You chicken! Who needs you then? Pearly, come twerk with me!" Gloria invited the Japanese girl up, and Pearl, who must have downed no less than six shots by now, was in no mood to deny the request. Pearl moved her large body with a lot more grace and rhythm than Diego expected, and while she and Gloria were less sexual than the boys were, it was quite a fun dance. For several hours, everyone got increasingly drunk and happy. They forgot their grudges, they dropped boundaries, and the clip of Lance throwing his discarded shoe at Jimmy Vause's head was replayed at least fifteen times.

Eventually, Lance and Pearl, both barely able to walk or even feel their faces, decided to make the walk of shame to the floor above. The other four managed to fit in the bed together, Gloria, Rachel, Diego and Sean, in that order, and it was in that order that the four drunken friends spooned each other. Diego was used to Rachel being the little spoon - it was strange to have her smaller body wrapped around his instead of the other way around, but it was even stranger to have his arms wrapped around Sean Fox in front of him.

Both boys were very drunk and half-asleep, neither one fully aware of what they were doing. The girls were sleeping, snoring loudly in their alcohol-induced slumber. Diego wasn't sure if it really happened or not - whether it was one of his recurring dreams about Sean. By morning he remembered playing with his friend's chest and nipples, the boy reaching back to slip his warm hand down the front of Diego's underwear, sharing a few quiet, passionate kisses with some tongue before one of the girls shifted, and the boys reluctantly pulled away and went to sleep, but not before Sean rocked his hips a few times against Diego's crotch. Hmm. It must have been a dream. Sean would never do that, and neither would Diego.

Right?

~

Easter Sunday, April 16th 2017 - Sean

So. Many. People. Sean cowered closer to Ollie as they ate together on the bench. His boyfriend's family were loud and numerous. They shouted, they laughed, they fought, they had fun together. Dozens of people from every branch on the whole family tree, all in one area, a playground and park by Tennessee River. He'd never seen so many cousins, aunts, nephews, relations by marriage - it was unreal. Ollie knew them all by name and had managed to introduce all of them to his terrified, shaking boyfriend, but Sean wouldn't be able to name a single one of them by now. Ollie was one of nine children. Nine! And his mother was one of eleven! Twenty-four first cousins. Sixteen nieces and eleven nephews. And that wasn't including their spouses and all their children!

"Hey, Chief!" A teenage boy got his attention from a little further down the table. Sean narrowed his eyes and pouted his lips.

"Please don't ever call me that," he timidly reached back, his fingers touching the beads and feathers he'd woven into his ponytail. How was that funny or charming? Sean doubted it would have been considered funny or charming if he poked fun at the heritage of Oliver's second-cousin. Or nephew? Maybe his first cousin. Sean had no idea.

"Oi Jordan, watch your attitude," Ollie was never slow to leap to his lover's side, and he comforted Sean by running his warm thumb across the boy's hand while he pointed to Jordon. Right. Jordon with the ugly orange cap and the birthmark on his cheek. Jordan = birthmark. Okay.

"Hey I'm just playing, it's cool. I was only wondering how Indian you are," Jordon shrugged, tearing into his slab of beef like it was the last thing he was ever going to eat. If he kept this up, Sean was tempted to make very sure the only way he could eat again was through a straw.

"Does it matter?" Sean snapped, indignantly. "How black are you?"

"What?" A middle-aged woman paused mid-conversation and turned her head. A few nearby people all turned to look at Sean, who suddenly felt a lot less bold. Oliver was quick to come to his aid, as he forever was.

"Don't disrespect my baby," Ollie said threateningly, squeezing Sean's hand under the table. It was a message. I've got you, baby. That's what he was saying. I've always got you.

"Whoa man, he's the one with the mad disrespect!" Jordan retorted, dropping his knife and fork on his plastic plate. "I'm just trying to be friendly, and he's making it into a problem!"

"Boy, just shut your mouth," Ollie spoke mostly with his hands, lending emphasis to what he was saying. "You always smack a white kid down for speaking to you like that, so if Seano thinks you're being insensitive, you're gonna respect that or you're gonna answer to me."

"It's alright Oliver," Sean whispered, but Ollie did not reply. He only squeezed harder. It's not alright, baby, he was saying.

"Damn Ol, Pocahontas here got you whipped as hell," Jordan laughed, but very few other people seemed to think that was funny. If they did, they were wise enough to keep it to themselves.

"What did you just call me?" Sean went to stand up in outrage, but Oliver's grip kept him from making a scene, grounding him to the seat. Pocahontas? Seriously?

"Jordan, I ought to whoop your ass," the same middle-aged woman who spoke earlier was now on their side. Perhaps it was Jordan's mother, or someone with much influence because the boy stopped laughing.

"Nah nah," Oliver's voice went low and solemn, the way it did when he was angry. "Get the hell out of here, Jordan. I don't feel like seeing your ugly mug, and neither does Seano. I'm not kidding man, move your ass and sit somewhere else." With a few more nasty comments, Jordan did just that. The instant he left, Sean found himself overwhelmed with apologies and love from boys, girls, men and women around him. Jordan often got himself in hot water with his thoughtless and callous remarks, the family told him.

"He's much cuter than Pocahontas, anyway," Oliver added, landing a big, sloppy kiss on the side of Sean's cheek, drawing out some loud, obnoxious cheering from the others and turning Sean's warm mahogany skin to a shade of scarlet. Ollie loved him and so he was one of the family now. It wasn't just his lover who had his back. All the Vickerys did - give or take. Although Sean enjoyed the feeling of acceptance, he was still intimidated by how social and extroverted most of the family was.

The afternoon stretched on. A lot of the kids and a few of the adults played some football together - including several of the girls. Everyone in Ollie's family seemed to be broad and sturdy, and the women were more than a match for the men. Ollie wrestled with some of his nephews, but Sean didn't feel much like participating in that. Ollie was tall, muscular and charismatic - he'd as good as been given the job at KADA Wrestling with a pretty bow on top. Sean was different. He was short, slight and socially awkward. No recruiter was interested in hiring someone like him. He got the job because of his heritage. The higher-ups in KADA were interested in utilising him as a one-dimensional caricature of some generic Native American. A prop. When Ollie's well-meaning nephews wanted to play wrestle with Waya, the young Cherokee warrior, Sean's heart filled only with resentment and scorn. The price of retaining his job was to feel like a cheap whore, selling out his family and tribe for the opportunity to wrestle for the cameras. It was little wonder his family was so disappointed in him.

The Easter egg hunt started, and Ollie seemed to be even more excited than any of the younger kids. It was cute, Sean thought. All of the adults were participating. He found himself feeling a little jealous. Sean's family in Oklahoma were very close but terribly austere and very traditional. Especially since he'd moved to live with his boyfriend in Knoxville and exploited his heritage to wrestle with KADA, he'd become an outsider to his friends and family, particularly his grandfather, with whom he'd once had an inseparable bond. Seeing Ollie's entire family so happy, so welcoming... it was hard. He felt lonely. Melancholic. While the horde of children, teenagers and adults who should probably have grown out of the game by now spreading and searching for the hundreds of stashed eggs, hoping no strangers can come by and fleeced them, Sean took advantage of the chaos to slip away and enjoy some quiet.

Beyond the thick treeline was the Tennessee River. It was gorgeous here. Not as quiet as Sean would have liked, the squawking and merriment of the family still somehow loud from half a hundred feet away. He made sure to find a place behind the white pines where he could be alone and hidden and sat down by the river bank. The sounds of the trees whistling and the water lapping at the grass by his feet were calming. Refreshing. They reminded him of home, but the warmth of nostalgia came with a flavour of sadness. What he wouldn't give to spend hours diving from the cliffs into Grand Lake again with his sisters and the other children from his close-knit community. They'd been friendly and polite to him when he visited last, as was expected, but everyone was cold. Even Eliza and Nicole. In front of everybody, his grandfather lectured him sternly about his wrestling career, particularly adorning himself in a traditional headdress he had not earned the right to wear. It felt like he was losing everything that made him Waya.

"C'mon baby," Ollie scared him out of his wits, wrapping his arms around Sean's body from behind. "What's going on?"

"How did you know I was here?" Sean asked, turning his head back.

"Do you have to ask that?" Ollie snickered and scooted around to Sean's side, sitting cross-legged next to him. "It's a river. Of course you'd come here if you weren't feeling so hot. Water is sacred for you and your culture. You call it the Long Man. Where else would you go?" When Sean looked surprised, Ollie laughed. "You think I don't know you? I listen when you tell me things."

"You should be looking for your eggs," Sean's eyes focused on the water in front of him. Mercurial. Revitalizing. Pure. Sacred indeed. Without water, everything dies.

"It's just not a lot of fun without you," Ollie shrugged and put his arm around Sean. As blue as he was, Sean nuzzled close to the big man and let himself be comforted. "You know you can tell me what's bothering you, Seano. Or if you wanna chill here for a bit, that's cool too."

"It's a lot of things, I suppose," Sean admitted, letting Ollie rub his back gently. "I miss my family, Oliver. I like yours, but I miss mine so much. And on top of that, I feel like by being here and being a part of your family's Easter celebration, I'm putting another nail in that coffin. It feels like an insult, after everything I've already done to upset them."

"They'll forgive you," Ollie reassured him. "You don't have to feel guilty for the rest of your life, baby boy. It's your life."

"And I guess I'm just having some trouble fitting in with everyone," Sean gave a nervous laugh, playing with the grass between his legs. "I'm kind of exhausted. I needed a break."

"Hell yeah Seano, my crew is loud and proud, so I get you," Ollie laughed. "Don't worry. They get it too. They were just worried they scared you off."

"I'll be ready to come back soon, I promise," Sean already felt much better. How did Oliver Vickery do that to him? He was the beam of sunlight that shone through the cloudy sky, no matter how bad the weather. He brought love and warmth enough to chase away the dark and cold. "Did you get any eggs, at least?" Sean asked, his eyes twinkling. Ollie grimaced and shook his head.

"I came looking for you instead," he admitted, and Sean felt a rush of affection, bringing his lips to his boyfriend's and kissing him passionately. For longer than they perhaps should have, they canoodled, caressed and kissed together on the semi-privacy of the river bank. Sean eventually reached between his legs and picked up the large chocolate egg he'd found on his way over, and Ollie's eyes lit up.

"Seano, how do you keep getting more and more adorable?" Ollie laughed, taking the egg from his lover's hand. "You know only the kids are supposed to get the big ones, right?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Sean beamed, and Ollie started peeling the foil from his prize. The chocolate was sweet, but it tasted sweeter on Ollie's lips.

Thanks to everyone who reads To The Stars. You guys rock!
The next chapter will be April, 2018. Easter Special was an experiment I wanted to do to.