The Cardmaker and the Caretaker - 5. Chapter 5 Coming out with the truth

The kiss following Peter’s last statement was deep and prolonged. Patrick wanted this incredible dream to last forever. The one where he'd just had the most amazing weekend of his life, and finally being subtly proposed to by the man he loved. A little voice in his head said 'you're gonna have to breathe at some point you know', but he ignored it. Having his partner’s lips on his, arms holding each other tight, their hearts beating at the same speed was making him dizzy with joy. He couldn't get enough.

But when Peter's tongue worked its way into his mouth and a firm hand cupped one ass cheek, he broke the connection with a shuddering gasp. His lover was instantly contrite.

“I'm sorry; I got carried away for a bit there.” Peter grinned. “I forgot we're not quite married yet.”

Then he turned serious. He kept hold of Patrick's hands and looked into his eyes. “I guess we'll need to talk about this, and please don't be embarrassed.” The blue eyes hadn't missed the blush rising on the innocent man's face.

Patrick felt torn in two directions; the earnest expression of his lover calmed him but the prospect of discussing his utter lack of experience dismayed him. The supportive angel in his head tried to tell him Peter loved the idea his Valentine was pure.

But the imp soon got the upper hand. 'Yeah, I'm sure he'll love popping your cherry and knowing no other guy has tapped that tight ass. But when he finds out you've got no practice sucking a cock, no clue in spite of all the porn you've watched, your stud won't be so pleased. And he'll soon be tired of you playing untouched, nervous and reluctant, and of waiting for you to be ready.'

He wanted to reach into his own head and strangle the offensive little bastard. How dared he sully Patrick's longing for the physical lovemaking he wanted with Peter with such crude words! And they weren’t even true either. He wasn’t at all reluctant, and it was more anticipation than nerves which made his gut clench. But Peter’s voice cut off the wicked impish laughter which followed the nasty tirade.

“I know you've never been with anyone. I’m proud to be your first, and in one way you’ll be mine too, if you know what I mean,” he finished with a low chuckle.

An imp and an angel did separate dances of victory, but ended up high-fiving each other in Patrick’s head shouting ‘two cherries to pop.’

Peter waited for his boyfriend’s nod of understanding, before he went on. “But no matter how much I want us to make love we'll have to wait with actual sex. Not because of you, but because of me. I hope you can forgive me.”

The anxiety which was apparent in his voice instantly focused Patrick's attention. What did his lover mean by that?

“I want to go to a clinic and have tests to be sure I haven't got any sexually transmitted diseases. I know I don't have any of the bad ones, but I want to be certain of everything. Even though I’ve used condoms for both kinds of intercourse ever since Vibeke – and always with guys, I haven't been safe with oral sex. Now, don’t get me wrong, I haven’t been with lots of people, but still…”

He seemed determined to be brutally honest, and Patrick didn't mind. Actually, he was relieved to be handed the perfect excuse to wait, even if he longed for them to have sex.

“I don't mind, Peter. But kissing and touching is OK, isn't it?”

The man next to him smiled and nodded, and reached out for them to have another hug. However, his cell phone went off, and with an apologetic glance at Patrick, he picked it up and answered.

While Peter spoke in Danish with whoever was on the phone, Patrick decided to tidy up the tea things and get ready for bed. Even though it was only nine-thirty, he was tired. Peter was probably worn out too, and the cardmaker needed to be at the shop early tomorrow.

When he returned to the living room he heard Peter say his name. He couldn't help glancing over and the blue eyes caught him. Patrick wanted to leave, because he knew he'd be annoyed by not knowing what was said. But when his lover came over and held out his hand, he took it.

“What do you want to know, sister dear?”

Uh oh, his voice was playful but with a sharp bite. He'd only talked sparingly about his younger sister, calling her a bossy bitch and a nosy matchmaker. In spite of the harsh words he had the feeling Peter was fond of Annika, and he'd praised her for being a continuous support with Michael.

“Yes, my partner is in the room, and I'm not talking about him in Danish. Even if it means I can't be completely honest.” He grinned at Patrick, when he started to frown.

“Well, he seems to be unaware how gorgeous he is. And even though I think he's cute when he blushes, I'm not going into detail about him being handsome and kind and clever and hot.”

Another smirk, “Mainly 'cause I'm not taking the risk he'll get mad. I want to sleep in his bed tonight.”

Lots of high-pitched squeaking in the phone as Patrick went beet red.

“Well, I'm afraid it's too late. Michael is already sleeping in the middle of the bed and he expects both of us to be there when he wakes up.”

A long silence followed during which Peter bit his lip, probably to prevent himself from laughing out loud. He squeezed Patrick's hand and winked at him. His sister seemed to say something, and now the blond Viking laughed.

“It's not my fault you jump to conclusions. I distinctly recall saying sleep in his bed.” His blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he listened to a long tirade, but suddenly became intense.

“Oh yes, I'm completely serious. Patrick is the man I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with. The three days Michael and I have spent in his company are happiest I've ever had. I'm still pinching myself occasionally to be sure this wonderful guy has really agreed to marry me.”

This time the excited screams at the other end were so loud Peter winced and removed the phone from his ear. Patrick just stood there with his mouth open and the weirdest feeling in his guts. The little angel in his head was running around whooping with joy 'yes, yes, I knew it, the hunk has fallen hard, and he's yours forever'. Even the sarcastic imp seemed to find the situation funny, but for once he was able to ignore the niggling voice telling him Peter's family might not be as welcoming as he supposed.

Once it got quieter, the handsome Dane gingerly brought the phone back to his ear. He listened and replied patiently, but rolled his eyes now and then.

“I don't know when you'll meet Patrick.” A pause, “No, I can't just bring him back with me. He has a shop to take care of.” Peter again squeezed the hand he was holding.

“In any case, I'll be busy packing and sorting out everything for moving over here… Yes, I know you'll help and I'm grateful. I want to go back home as soon as possible.” A small smirk, “You know Michael will miss me, and I think Patrick will too. I'll miss them more though.”

The penny seemed to drop for him and Annika simultaneously, and Peter's voice turned smug. “Yes, that's right. Our home is here with Patrick now… No, I don't have to ask Michael, he already told me so.”

Finally, Peter managed to end the phone call with a few more assurances that he knew what he was doing and was insanely happy. He pulled Patrick in for a long hug and both men clung to each other. The silence was soothing and the closeness strengthened their bond and reduced the tension.

With a sound that was half sighing and half chuckle Peter nuzzled into his neck. “I love my sister, and she means well, but she drives me crazy sometimes. She's almost worse than my mum.”

The embrace tightened. “I love you so much. And don't worry; my family will love you too, once they see how happy you make me.”

His lover seemed to be developing an uncanny ability to work out what Patrick's devil of doubt plagued him about. But he wasn't going to complain if it shut the silly bastard in his head up. However, there was an even more intriguing matter.

“Peter, when did you and Michael talk about having your home with me?”

His hunky Viking pulled back slightly and looked at Patrick who rushed on to reassure him.

“I want that too. I'm over the moon you're staying with me. I love you both, and my home will be wherever you are.” He relished the way Peter's eyes lit up with joy at the heartfelt words.

“Well, it's not that I've told Michael about us directly. But when the hospital agreed to treat him, he knew we'd stay in London for several months. After I brushed his teeth tonight, he told me he didn't hate the idea anymore.” Peter sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“He said: 'I'm okay with doing all the nasty hospital stuff as long as I get to come home to you and Patrick in between.' He likes your house and he adores you almost as much as I do. I think he instinctively knows you're the kindest person in the whole world, and he feels safe here.”

This time Patrick initiated the hug and held his lover tight as the larger man shuddered with suppressed sobs. Just as in his vision on Valentine's Day he kissed Peter's cheek and neck, whispering comforting words in the ear hidden below soft golden hair.

Once Peter had calmed down, they sat on the sofa, and he poured out all of his worries and hopes and fears about Michael. Even if it was emotionally draining Patrick felt pleased and proud his man shared the burden weighing on his mind and heart. Wasn't this what being a partner in love and marriage meant? And the fact Peter needed his support and not just the other way round showed their relationship would be equal.

Of course this was the moment the two voices in his head joined forces again and giggled. 'It's all about giving and taking. Why don't you ask him what he wants to do first?'

Luckily, at the same time Peter shook his head and chuckled at himself, saying his sister would've been clucking and worrying about him at this stage.

“She's the only one I've had until now to confide in. But it feels so much better with you. You listen and sympathize and you understand I need you to be strong and calm. And once it's over, you don't want to go on and on, discuss every little point to bits. I don't know if it's because you're a man or just because you're you.”

“What about friends? Don’t you have a best friend you could talk to?” Surely, a nice guy like Peter would have plenty of friends, and at least a few close ones.

“I do have friends, but I didn’t want to burden them with my troubles. When I saw them, I preferred to relax and forget about my worries over Michael. And I haven’t had the energy to spend time with them in the past year, so we’ve sort of drifted apart. I’m fairly close to my cousin Kim, but he’s been abroad for a while now.”

Patrick could feel the same longing for friendship which he had had all his life. It was one of the things which had drawn him to Peter from the very beginning.

“I hope we can be best friends as well as lovers. And perhaps we can find more friends together. I don’t really have any, you know.” Interesting how easy it was to confess these secrets to Peter.

“Patrick, we became friends on the day we met, and I’m sure we’ll be best friends forever, as well as partners. Like you said, we instinctively trusted each other, and that’s the best foundation for love.”

From that point their talk developed into intimate whispers which made Patrick grow hot and turned his insides to mush, and probably did the same for Peter. But the cardmaker was smart enough to realize he craved this. He felt like an almost wilted plant which unexpectedly received a soft shower of revitalizing water and nutrients from an observant caretaker. The rain of compliments and kisses and touches and loving whispers in his ear made him unfold and recharged the part of him which had been stunted by the death of his parents.

Patrick knew he needed the love and honest approval from people he cared about in order to be fulfilled and happy as a human being. His parents had given him that every day, the unconditional love and affection, the guidance and rules and approval a child and youngster needs, and most of all acceptance and obvious pride in the man he'd become.

When he had started to read the many heart-wrenching coming out stories on the internet, he appreciated his parents even more. He'd never worried about being gay or what his parents' reaction would be. In fact, his coming out at the age of fifteen had been undramatic and quite funny, when he looked back years later.

His mother had been reading a movie review in the Sunday paper and was gushing a bit about the actor whose portrait filled a whole page. He was bare-chested and looked sexy as hell. When his mum had giggled about how hot he was, Patrick had blurted out his agreement. Her only reaction had been a stern look and the admonishment, “I think he's too old for you, dear. You should go for a guy your own age or a few years older, since you’re mature for your age.”

The next thing he knew they were having a great time discussing the merits and looks of actors, sports stars, guys in his school and the neighbourhood. His father had fled the breakfast table for his workroom, but when Patrick went up there later, nothing was different. Oh, his dad had insisted on having the safe sex talk, which was awkward and embarrassing, but he knew it was done out of caring and protectiveness. Dad had even managed to joke, “I'm glad I don't have to worry about you getting a girl pregnant by accident.”

They'd laughed, but the comment had a serious background. Just two months earlier he'd overheard his parents discuss one of his unknown cousins. At the time his dad had been furious with his sister, who according to him had neglected her responsibilities as a mother. Patrick had never heard his dad be so vicious and loudly condemning, which may have been the reason he'd stopped outside the kitchen door and eavesdropped.

“She didn't get her sixteen-year-old daughter on the pill when Fiona got a boyfriend. She didn't even bother to buy her condoms and tell her to insist her boyfriend use them if they had sex. She just told her 'not to do anything naughty before she was married'. Fucking Hell, my sister is an even bigger idiot than I thought.” He could hear the quotation marks in his dad's voice, and he wasn't surprised when the next part of the talk was about his cousin getting pregnant.

He left at that point, not wanting to spy on his parents when they discussed private things that were none of his business. He was curious of course, but it was more like idle gossip because he'd never met this unfortunate cousin. And later on he realized the distress and anger he sensed from his dad upset him to the point of nausea, making him flee the situation.

Apart from the safe sex talk a couple of months later, the knowledge stayed buried and forgotten until his parents died. After all, the fact his dad was fine with his son being attracted to guys and treated him no differently was a much more important memory. At his parents’ funeral the titbit about Fiona surfaced again, and it was actually one of the few pleasant memories Patrick had from those awful days.

He'd been introduced to a mind-numbing gaggle of relatives, most of which seemed to frown or fawn at him. Now he thought about it, he'd mostly been confronted by his parents' generation and he only had vague recollections of their various offspring. But one pretty young woman had approached him and given him a hug before he could prevent it. Afterwards he was actually glad, because the contact made him realize she was sincere.

“I'm Fiona, your cousin on your father's side. I'm very sorry about your loss. Your parents were the most generous and kind-hearted people I knew, and they helped me ten years ago, when I needed it. If you ever...” At that moment they were interrupted by the haughtiest of his aunts and he soon worked out this was Fiona's mother.

He retreated back into his shell of grief and rejection and nothing more came of the brief contact. Except he observed Fiona didn't have a child with her, so the problem of her pregnancy must have been solved one way or another.

All of these ponderings managed to keep him occupied and slightly absentminded as he agreed with Peter's suggestion of going to bed. They collected the duvet and pillow from his room, and the Dane also grabbed sets of clean clothes for himself and Michael. They took turns in the bathroom, with Patrick being last, and it was while brushing his teeth he had an epiphany.

Why had he assumed his cousins were as bad as their parents? OK, some of them had regarded him with disdain or indifference, but Fiona had been nice and he could recall younger faces looking shy and sad. They stayed in the distance, but Patrick's attitude and grief-stricken state probably hadn't encouraged them to talk to him.

Maybe, just maybe, he could get in touch with Fiona and see if she felt like meeting. If that went well, he could consider approaching a few other cousins. With Peter by his side it wouldn’t matter if some of them rejected him. He would be able to ignore disapproval from haughty aunts, and shrug off subtle – and blatant – hints of envy over his inheritance. But maybe not everyone in his estranged family felt that way? It would be satisfying if Peter wasn’t the only one in their relationship to have nice relatives.

The focus could be on finding out whether any of his cousins were worth befriending. Fiona was the most likely prospect, but hadn’t his mum spoken about one of her nephews with approval? Something about him being unusually sensitive and clever? On his father’s side there were a larger number of relatives. Fiona might know who were nice and would accept him no matter the money issues which marred his relations with their parents. Or the fact he was in a relationship with a man. A wonderful guy who made Patrick smile every time he thought of him.