Archive of Our Own

The problem is, Ben has never lived alone.

Growing up, he was used to a house bursting at the seams with family as various members of Mitchell clan moved in and out - from prison, from doomed love affairs, from financial ruin.  He’d shared a cell in prison and a room at his dad’s house with Jay.  Even when he and Jay had eventually moved out into their own house share, it was always noisy and chaotic, full of laughter and arguments and petty squabbles about the cleaning rota.

When it came right down to it, Ben just wasn’t used to eating many meals alone.  He never had.  And right now he was eating all his meals alone.

He’d moved three hundred miles away from home because Lola had made it clear that there was no way she was ever moving back to London, so if he wanted any kind of relationship with his daughter it would have to be on her terms and in her city.  And at least to start with that meant carefully supervised short visits once a week while Lola watched Lexi like a hawk, ready to leap in at any signs of distress.

It would be worth it in the end, Ben had kept reminding himself, staring at the blank walls of his depressing little one-bedroom flat.  He’d had his own reasons for getting out of London anyway, with ghosts round every corner.  But his colleagues at the garage where he’d found work were all painfully heterosexual and unable to talk about anything but football, and for the first month or two he’d found himself missing everyone back home with an ache that was painful.  If it hadn’t been for Lexi’s smiling, trusting face, and her cheery questions about whether he was coming back next week, he would have long since packed up and gone home.

Then he’d found the unassuming little gay pub just a ten-minute walk away.  He hadn’t been looking for one but an online hook up had requested to meet there and Ben had instantly taken to the place with its tacky floors and ancient playlist.  The main event of the evening had turned out to be a bit of a dud, but he’d found himself returning to the pub itself again and again until it became a regular routine most days.  Anything was better than sitting alone in an empty flat.

The pub reminded Ben of the Vic, which probably meant he was more homesick than he was admitting to himself. They didn’t exactly have a lot in common on the surface.  But it did food – of a sort – and decent beer, and had a low-key, local vibe with a small stage at one end for karaoke and drag nights.  If it wasn’t for the rainbow flags outside and the clientele inside, he could easily have believed it was his old local and Jay or his dad could walk in at any moment.

The landlady was even of the formidable, pink stilettoed, bottle blonde ilk, very much in a Peggy Mitchell or Linda Carter mould.  He’s not sure which of them would be the more insulted – or elated – by the comparison to a drag queen, but he and Magna get on like a house on fire, both recognising a certain spikiness in the other.

It’s Magna who draws his attention to the newcomer on a quiet Wednesday evening, letting out a low wolf whistle as she passes Ben’s end of the bar where he’s nursing a solitary pint.  She catches his eye and nods towards the door.

The tall, dark and handsome sight is well worth looking at and Ben perks up a bit, sliding his phone back into his pocket from where he’d been idly swiping through Grindr, feeling uninspired.  The stranger doesn’t move though, still frozen in place in the doorway with slightly terrified eyes darting round as though he’s never been in a pub before, the nerves radiating off him even from here.

“First time?” murmurs Ben so only Magna can hear him.  She’s leaning forward on the bar with unabashed curiosity, her eyes fixed on the stranger.

Magna snorts.  “First date.  I think he’s ironed his jeans.”

The man in the doorway seems to come to a sudden decision, stumbling forward to the bar.  He slots in place next to Ben who eyes him with interest while Magna turns on the full force of her 100 kilowatt smile and asks what he’d like to drink.

“Um...a beer please.”

“Want to narrow it down at all, love?” says Magna, waving a manicured hand over the bar to encompass the beer pumps and the rows of bottles behind her.

The stranger flushes red and manages to order an IPA.  He throws Ben a sheepish look as Magna’s heels clack away towards the till.

Ben responds in kind, raising his eyebrows as he exchanges glances with the newcomer.  He continues looking even as the stranger looks away when his beer arrives because why not – he’s fit and Ben’s bored.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen...?” the tall man starts to ask as he swipes his card in payment for the drink.  Magna pauses where she’s holding out the card payment machine and waits for more.  The stranger blushes again and apparently changes his mind.  “Actually, never mind.  Thanks.”

“You can’t have been stood up already, surely,” says Ben as Magna clacks away again to the other end of the bar.  “You’ve only just arrived.”

The stranger looks at him, startled, before breaking into a sudden smile, all dimples and sunshine.  “I’m early, actually, he probably won’t even be here yet.  Just, you know, nerves.”

So Magna had been spot on – first date or blind date, one or the other.  Ben swallows the little stab of disappointment.  Before the stranger had walked in with his casual stubble and blue eyes, Ben wasn’t even sure if he was in the mood for a hook up tonight or not.  But none of the options he’d been looking at on the apps were half as fit as the man in front of him, which feels a bit like a sign from the universe that maybe he should just write tonight off, go home and stick the TV on, or maybe call his mother – she’s been nagging again.  The stranger has a strong London accent, adding to the homesick feeling Ben’s been fending off all day.

“Are you, um, waiting for anyone?” asks the tall man before taking a swig of his beer.  He looks in no hurry to move.

“Yep,” Ben lies.  The alternative is admitting that he’s there for the company because he’s so bored and lonely sitting alone in an empty flat that he’s on the verge of adopting a cat.  And he hates cats.

“Don’t know what he looks like,” Ben goes on, selling the lie and maybe entertaining himself a little with his favourite pastime of winding people up.  “There was no face pic.  Great body though.  Not you, is it?”

“Um, no...?  I definitely have a profile pic. I think.”  There’s something kind of endearing about the way the stranger has taken him completely seriously, and Ben hides a smile.

“You’re okay, I’m just messing with you.  Shame, though,” he adds, pointedly running his eyes up and down the stranger’s body, wanting to make him blush and maybe see those dimples again.  A little thrill runs through him when he’s successful.  “So what about you?  You waiting for Mr Right or Mr He’ll Do For Tonight?”

“Oh, um...” The stranger blinks, clearly surprised at the question.  “Neither?  My brother’s girlfriend set this up for me.  Made the account on the app and filled out all the details and everything.  Said it was about time I got out there--” he waves a vague hand “--you know.”

“Is that what you want?” asks Ben, surprising himself with the question.  There was a dubious note in the stranger’s voice that pricked his curiosity.

“I dunno, really.  Guess I have to start somewhere, right?  I, um...” He grips his beer bottle tighter and makes a face.  “I only came out a few months ago.  Still working things out.”

“Congratulations.  Sorry, I know that sounded sarcastic, but that’s just how my voice comes out.  I did mean it.  Good for you.”

“Thanks.  I’m Callum, by the way.”

“Ben.”  He shakes the large hand that Callum holds out to him, warm against his own.  Callum’s eyes are crinkled up at the corners, dimples flashing and smile so wide that Ben can’t help returning it; a pale imitation of the blazing warmth radiating down on him.  Stupid, ridiculous thoughts enter his head about maybe telling his new acquaintance to ditch the blind date and come back to his place instead.

But he’s got no further than opening his mouth and saying “So...” before he’s cockblocked – or maybe saved from embarrassment – by Callum’s attention sliding away from him, face turned towards the door.  The tall man puts his beer bottle down with a clumsy motion, half of it splashing over and onto the bar, before smoothing down his shirt, looking nervous again.

“I think he’s here.”

Ben’s already looking, and of course the person who just walked through the door is Callum’s date.  He looks exactly like the kind of person that should be Callum’s date; all perfect hair and a clean shaven, chiselled jaw, like he should be modelling knitwear in a catalogue somewhere.

Ben drains the last of his pint to save replying, swallowing against the bitter taste in his throat.  The relief he didn’t make a fool of himself is overwhelming, tinged by only the tiniest hint of regret.

Mr Perfect Hair looks a little shy and awkward as he approaches them, smiling in relief.  “Callum, is it?”

“Um, you must be Simon?” says Callum, smiling nervously back as they do an odd little dance around whether they shake hands or not before deciding against it with a laugh.  It’s dorky and endearing and more than a little bit cute.

Ben wants to stick his head in a blender.

Simon then turns to Ben and looks expectant, as though waiting for Ben to give him a name.  Ben is in no mood to be helpful however.  He raises his glass and flashes a sarcastic smile instead.

Callum comes to the rescue.  “Uh, this is Ben.”

“Oh, okay. Friend for back up, is it, in case I turn out to be a murderer?”

His annoyingly perfect face and perfect hair and flash of perfect teeth when he laughs at his own joke are too much for Ben, who can’t stop himself from saying; “Nope, I think you’ll find that’s me.”

There’s a beat while both of them look at him in confusion; though for Simon it’s a polite, distant confusion like he’s not in on the joke, while Callum looks mildly curious, as though there’s a follow up question on the tip of his tongue.

After the silence drags out just a little too long, Simon laughs awkwardly and suggests they find a table.

“It was nice to meet you, Ben,” says Callum, lingering for a moment before following his date to a table at the other end of the pub.

Ben nods but doesn’t reply.

“Did I just hear you tell that sweet boy you were a murderer?” says Magna, appearing out of nowhere in the way she sometimes does.

“Yep.”  Ben doesn’t expand, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing busily on it.  He’s making a shopping list on his notes app for the next time he’s in Tesco, but hopefully to anyone with blue eyes and a sunshine smile maybe looking over in his direction it would look like he’s merrily messaging one of the many attractive men in his phone who want to hook up with him.

“Is it true?”

“Nope.”  Ben drains the rest of his beer and hops off the bar stool.  “Brief got it reduced to manslaughter.”  He winks at the landlady before exiting, pointedly not glancing over in any particular direction as he leaves.

Since there’s a shopping list on his phone now, he goes home via the small Tesco where he buys ice cream and booze.  At home, he indulges a little bit too much in both while watching Dirty Dancing again.  He doesn’t call his mother.

*

Ben doesn’t expect to ever see the tall, dorky, ridiculously fit Callum again, which is why he’s not even the tiniest bit disappointed when he doesn’t.  Not when he pops in the pub for a quick one after work on Friday, not at the drag night on Saturday, nor at the traditional Monday night karaoke where he bats away all of Magna’s attempts to get him to sing.  He also ignores her questions about why he’s all of a sudden taken to haunting her pub every evening and leaves with a sore head.

By Wednesday, he’s feeling increasingly twitchy, out of sorts and unfathomably horny.  He fixes a hook up for the evening but pops into the pub first to fuel himself up since it’s Pie and a Pint Night.

He’s halfway through his steak and kidney when a shadow falls over his table.  Ben looks up, mouth bulging with chips, to find someone he absolutely had not thought about at all in the last week standing opposite him smiling shyly.

“Hello again.”

Ben swallows down the chips, narrowly avoids choking, and doesn’t return the smile, choosing instead to treat Callum to a cool, distant nod.

“Hey.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Ben lets him stew for a moment, because that’s who he is, before pushing out the chair opposite with his foot and indicating Callum should sit down.  “Go ahead.”

He’s probably imagining the way Callum’s face lights up, taking the offered seat with a “Cheers!”  He nods towards Ben’s plate and adds, “That looks good.  Didn’t know they did food here.”

Ben pushes the plate towards him.  “Go on then, I can take a hint.  Have a chip.”

“Oh, no…I’ll get my own.”  But he makes no effort to move, reaching over and taking one of the offered chips instead.

Ben observes him for a moment, thoughtful.  “So you’re back again then.  Second date?”

“Oh, er…no.” Callum pauses in the act of sneaking a second chip, looking sheepish.  “First date didn’t exactly work out.”

“You’re kidding,” says Ben, and Callum looks slightly taken aback at the surprise in his voice.  Ben doesn’t even know himself why he’s surprised.  He just got perfect match vibes from the pair of them.  Two sweet, kind, handsome people who’d probably get married, adopt some cute kids and live perfect, flawless lives together.

He is aware this is maybe a slightly over the top reaction to meeting two people for less than five minutes, and of course it’s not like he spent any time in the last week thinking about them, but sometimes you can just tell, you know?

Moving past the awkward moment, Ben nods, looks sympathetic and asks, “Tiny dick?”

Callum nearly chokes on the stolen chip.  “No!  I mean, we didn’t…you know, get that far.  Not that I would.  Not on the first date.”

“Really?”  Ben raises his eyebrows.  “I think you and I might be on very different apps, sweetheart.  Go on then, what was wrong with him?”

“Nothing!  He was really nice.  Sweet.  He’s a paramedic.  Talked about his sister.  Said he was looking for his ‘last first date’.”

Ben fakes a yawn, stretching out in his seat.  “Sounds riveting.”

“Yeah,” says Callum, breaking out into a grin.  “It was awful.  I was so bored I nearly faked an emergency after half an hour.”

“Nearly?”

Callum shrugs.  “He’d come all this way into town, it didn’t feel right.”

“You should have just shagged him.  Best way to shut up a boring date.”

“That’s a bit drastic, ain’t it?” But he’s amused, not offended and it makes Ben smile despite himself.

“Nah, not at all.  See, if he’s good, the evening ain’t a total bust.  And if he’s bad, well, what does it matter, you’d already decided you weren’t going to see him again, right?”

Ben’s phone buzzes in his pocket, distracting him from the endearing sight of Callum sneaking another of his chips while shaking his head and smiling fondly.

“Ooh, speaking of…”

“Oh, you, um, meeting someone?”

“Yep,” says Ben happily, not really looking as he types out a reply to say he’s on his way.  “Guy I hooked up with a while back, wants a repeat performance.  I don’t usually do returns, too messy, but hey,” he looks up and winks, “always room for an exception.”

“Ah.” For some reason Callum seems a little uncomfortable, making Ben pause.  “You’re strictly the one night only, love them and leave them type then?”

“Usually, yeah.  Not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not,” says Callum.  He’s smiling again, but Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s his imagination or not that the smile isn’t quite reaching his eyes.  “Well, er…have fun.”

“That’s the idea.”  Ben gets to his feet, grabbing a last couple of chips on the way.  “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

*

To his surprise, he does, in fact, see Callum around.  After that evening, Callum seems to adopt the pub as his local in much the same way Ben had and probably for much the same reason.  He admits to Ben one evening over a pint that he’d chosen a city completely at random when he fled London and didn’t know a soul here. Apparently it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

“And now?” Ben had asked, genuinely curious.  Unusual for him.

Callum had shrugged, half-smiling.  “Got to give it a go at least now I’m here, ain’t I?”

He tells Ben all about his years buried deep in the closet, the girlfriend who wanted to move in together and was dropping hints about engagement rings before Callum had finally blurted it out to her in panic one day.  His family had apparently been less than supportive, even if his brother had come around eventually, and the people he thought were his friends had all sided with his girlfriend in the aftermath of their painful breakup.  So, in his own words, he’d run away.

Ben’s cold, jaded heart is oddly pricked by the story and the hint of shame and fear still lurking in Callum’s eyes, and he ends up telling his own coming out horror stories until the sadness is gone and there’s nothing but smiles and laughter left.  It suits Callum far better than the shame did.

Ben wouldn’t admit it to anyone under threat of torture of course, but it was nice to have made a friend here in the city.  There’s Lola of course, and her useless bloke, but she’s technically family.  Besides, she continues to view him with deep suspicion as though expecting him to abscond or possibly violently snap any second, and he supposes he can’t really blame her for that.

She is slowly thawing though.  Ben’s allowed to have Lexi unsupervised for a trip to the park or the cinema by himself now, which is both joyous and completely terrifying.  Luckily Lexi seems to have been born with Mitchell confidence and is more than happy to take charge of their outings with very firm opinions about how they’ll be spending the day.  He trails in her wake full of awe and overwhelmed with love.

He tells Callum about Lexi over a drink one night, bursting with pride, and about Lola, though he glosses over some of the details of why he’d had no involvement in the first few years of Lexi’s life.  Callum doesn’t pry, but does a very good job of acting like he’s fascinated by Ben’s endless stories about his daughter.  Either that or he is simply the genuine and lovely human being he appears to be.  A bruised and battered part of Ben’s heart refuses to believe it.  No one’s that nice.

It's much easier since Ben got over his initial attraction and Callum seemed to get past whatever slightly judgemental awkwardness he had going on.  They’re something close to proper mates now, relaxed and easy in each other’s company, no hint of anything else.  Whatever Ben might have felt that first night had only ever been a moment of madness anyway.  Ben’s priority is Lexi right now and Callum is obviously looking for something else that very definitely isn’t Ben, judging by the parade of clean-cut, handsome men he keeps producing from his dating app.

None of them ever seem to get much further than a first date though, which leaves Ben baffled.  It couldn’t be Callum himself putting them off – Ben might be a little biased in favour of a mate, but the man is literally perfect – so it must be Callum being weirdly picky for some reason.

“Go on then, what was wrong with this one?” Ben asks one night following yet another rejection of a perfect specimen with model good looks looking for his last first date.

Callum seems to think hard before answering with a shrug.  “There was just…no spark, you know?”

Ben hasn’t got the first clue what he means.  Wordlessly he appeals to Magna for help, both hands in the air.  She’s lurking by their end of the bar polishing some glasses and barely bothering to hide the fact she’s eavesdropping shamelessly.

“You know,” Callum says, “that feeling you get in the pit of the stomach, like…oh.  There you are.  You’re what I’ve been looking for.”

Ben stares at him for a long moment. “Nah. I’m sorry, mate, that’s bollocks.”

Magna snorts and Callum rolls his eyes but still smiles, preparing for the rant.

“You’re talking about like…soulmates, love at first sight, Hollywood shit.  It’s not real.  Like, maybe very rarely, once in a blue moon it happens for someone, but for everyone else you just need to keep plugging away until you can find someone you can tolerate enough not to murder them for leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor.  Something no one in my family’s ever managed by the way.  Or, better still,” Ben adds, warming to his theme with one finger in the air, “stay free and single like me.”

“Do me a favour,” Magna interjects. “Never take dating advice from Mr Romantic over here.  You keep looking, pet, you’ll find him.”  She leans over to pat Callum’s hand before leaving them alone, Callum grinning after her.

“I didn’t mean like that,” he says, turning his attention back to Ben. “I don’t mean like soulmates or anything, I just meant…like that feeling when you don’t want the evening to end because you don’t want to stop talking to someone, or when you’re so excited about seeing them again it’s all you can think about.  You know?”

Trouble is, Ben does know.  “Yeah.”  He clears his throat.  “Look, you’re overthinking it.  You don’t need to marry any of these blokes, but at least give them a chance.  Maybe they’ll grow on you.  Like mould.”

For once, Callum doesn’t laugh at his bad joke, still looking thoughtful.  “Have you ever been in love?”

“Course,” says Ben, in a tone that should indicate to anyone paying attention that it was time for this conversation to end.  Callum doesn’t seem to notice however.

“I think I was, once.  But I was too scared to do anything about it and he never knew.  Then there was this other bloke…well, I guess he wasn’t interested.  But that feeling…”  He shakes his head as if clearing it and gives Ben a weak smile.  “I dunno.  Maybe I’m just doomed to be alone.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

“Look, you spent all those years in the closet, right?  You missed out on all the normal stuff like…teenage crushes and bad dates and ill-advised one night stands with a mate because you’re both drunk and you’re both gay and everyone expects you to get together anyway so you think how bad can it be? And the answer is very, very bad…”

“Speaking from experience?”

“My point is, you don’t need to rush straight into searching for the love of your life.  Just…have some fun for a bit.  Sow some oats.  Find out what you like, who you are.”

There’s a long pause before Callum picks up his pint again and says, “Maybe.”

*

Ben doesn’t know if Callum takes his advice after that conversation, but Callum stops mentioning his disastrous dates quite so often and Ben doesn’t ask.

It’s been a few months now since they met, and their regular weekly routine is so well established that Ben is oddly thrown when he sits alone in the pub one Wednesday evening with Callum’s pint in front of him, never claimed by its owner.

He can’t text him to ask where he is.  They don’t have that kind of friendship.  And besides, Ben doesn’t have his number.  He’s never asked for it.  It’s always seemed a step too far, like admitting this might be something more than just casual drinking buddies who visit the same local.  He’s always thought Callum would ask to swap numbers first so Ben could reluctantly agree but for some reason he never has.

Ben’s a bit grumpy and pissed off at his absence but not actually worried until a few evenings have passed and there’s still no sign of Callum, walking through the pub’s front door with that familiar grin on his face.  Once it gets to a week, worry lurking at the pit of his stomach like a stone, Ben finally swallows his pride and asks Dave if he’s seen him.

Dave is Magna’s alter-ego, out of drag for once as he does the books at one end of the bar, glaring at his laptop as though it’s personally offended him.

“What was that?”  He glances up at Ben over his reading glasses as though only just noticing him.  “Hey, you used to run a garage, right?  Did you use Quickbooks?”

“Uh…no, sorry.  Callum?” Ben asks again, trying to sound as though the question is a minor matter of no importance.  “Just wondered if you’d seen him around lately?”

“Bloody thing won’t let me submit my VAT return,” says Dave, still glaring at the screen.  “Callum?  Um, last week I think?  Maybe?”

“Yes,” says Ben through gritted teeth, his always thin patience beginning to fray, “that’s when I last saw him. I meant since then.”

This finally gets Dave’s full attention, taking his glasses off and turning to face Ben.  “Oh dear, you lost your better half?  Why don’t you just text him?  Or is that breaking some weird rule of the scene these days I’m too old and boring to know about?”

“I don’t have his number,” Ben has to admit.  He isn’t a fan of the way Dave’s face breaks into a delighted grin on hearing it.

“So let me get this straight.  All those months of pining and flirting, and you never got his digits?  I despair of your generation.”

“It’s not like that, we’re just mates,” Ben forces out, resisting the itch to threaten violence on a man three times his age just for being deeply irritating.  He doesn’t do that sort of thing any more.  He’d promised Lola.  “You haven’t seen him, that’s all I needed to know.”

Dave observes him for a long moment before speaking again, his voice softer.  “Look, it’s only been a few days, I wouldn’t start phoning the hospitals yet.  He’s probably finally met someone on that app of his and has spent the last week in a cocoon of shagged-out bliss.  He’ll be back when the novelty’s worn off and his dick’s getting sore.”  Then he adds, head on one side and grin breaking out again.  “Unless of course you’d rather he was dead in a ditch somewhere…”

“Thank you for your input, Dave, knew I could rely on you.”

He manages to avoid the pub and the teasing that would come with it for one evening, but by the following night he’s already cracked, unable to stop himself popping in.  Mainly out of defiance, he tells himself, refusing to be pushed out of his own local by idiotic insinuations from the landlady.  Nothing to do with his increasing worry about what’s happened to Callum.

At night though, unable to sleep, his mind starts whirring out of control with angry thoughts that Dave was right, Callum’s clearly met someone, and how incredibly selfish of him not to tell anyone but just let his friends worry…and then at two in the morning the fear creeps in, memories of Paul, dead on a slab with Ben walking home none the wiser.  He sleeps poorly, broken by vivid dreams of Paul and Callum, their faces merging together into one.

When Callum finally reappears nearly a week later, pale and wan and worryingly thin, Ben absolutely does not nearly faint off his bar stool in relief, nor does he have to suppress any kind of urge to throw himself on his missing friend in the biggest ever bear hug known to man.

Instead he stays where he is and only acknowledges the return with a nod, a raise of his glass and a dry, “Still alive, then?”

“Just about.”  Callum gingerly lowers himself onto the next bar stool, giving Ben a weak smile.

“You okay?”  Ben asks, unable to stop the concern from slipping out this time.  Callum looks dreadful, like he should be tucked up under a cosy blanket somewhere with someone bringing him soup, not forcing himself out to a tacky backstreet pub.

Magna thankfully appears before Callum can reply.  “Hello, stranger!  What happened to you, then?  This one was going out of his mind with worry.”

Callum’s face lights up, an odd note in his voice as he asks, “Yeah?”

“Something of an exaggeration,” says Ben, glaring at Magna.  “We did wonder where you’d got to though.  Thought maybe you’d pulled.”

“Er, no, definitely not.  Flu.  Or some kind of virus or something, I dunno.  Had a horrible fever and I was in bed for a week, today’s the first day I feel human enough to leave the flat.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” coos Magna, leaning over the bar. “Tell me you had someone to look after you.”

Ben’s never been more grateful for the landlady sticking her nose into their conversation, asking exactly the question he wants to ask.

“Um, no, not really,” says Callum, and there’s an odd note of relief that dings in Ben’s head along with the sadness on hearing it.  “Had my brother on the phone.  He kept threatening to come up and take care of me but I managed to stop him.  Thank goodness for takeaways and online groceries, eh?”  He throws Ben another wobbly smile.

“That’s not right, pet, being all alone when you’re not well like that.  Shame on your friends.”  Magna gives Ben a pointed look which he ignores.  “Whiskey?  On the house?  Or your usual?”

They have to wait for Callum to stop a coughing fit before he admits that he’d really love a cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble.

“You don’t have teabags at home?” Ben asks once Magna’s clacked away.

“I missed the sparkling atmosphere,” says Callum dryly, glancing round at the all but empty pub.  “Nah, I needed to get out, been cooped up too long.  I won’t lie to you, the flat stinks a bit.”

“Lovely.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while.  Callum’s taken a couple of sips of tea before he finally asks, “Were you really worried about me?”

“Not really worried,” says Ben, absolutely not thinking about sleepless nights or nightmares of Paul.  “A very mild curiosity about where you were maybe.”  He pulls his phone out of his pocket and pushes it over, not meeting Callum’s eyes.  “Look, stick your number in there and next time you get sick, text me, all right?  I ain’t saying I’m much of a Florence Nightingale or anything, but I could at least bring you some soup or something, I dunno.”

Callum looks annoyingly pleased with himself as he types his number into the phone, cheeks flushed faintly pink. “Home made?”

“Don’t push it.”

*

The exchange of numbers does inevitably lead to a change in their relationship.  It’s harder for Ben to pretend like they aren’t proper friends any more; not least when he realises that every time he has a thought, he usually wants to text Callum about it over anyone else in his phone.

They start messaging each other.  It starts small and impersonal, just the occasional message letting each other know if they’ll be at the pub tonight or not.  Within a few weeks though – and Ben is never sure which of them started it – it’s turned into daily correspondence, both of them texting each other random thoughts or news or memes or complaints about their colleagues day and night.  Ben, possibly, is the first to cross another line when he sends Callum a video of Lexi at her dance recital, too full of pride and love to keep it to himself.  There’s no going back from that.

It's early December when Callum casually mentions in the chat that there’s a new superhero film out in cinemas he’d really like to see, but isn’t a big fan of going to the cinema by himself.  Somehow this ends up with them going to see it together, the first time ever they’ve met up outside of the pub.  Ben’s not sure how it happened.  And since it’s a weeknight and they both need to eat, they end up getting a burger together before the film as well. Ben’s not entirely sure how that’s happened, either.

He’s very glad he got over his initial attraction to Callum months ago because otherwise it would feel weirdly like a date. But instead it’s casual and easy.  He wears his regular clothes and deliberately doesn’t get dressed up, and they gossip about everything and anything the way they always do.  The film itself is deeply boring and pointless in Ben’s view - he’d much rather have gone to see the vintage showing of White Christmas - but Callum seems to enjoy it and all in all it’s a pretty successful evening.

As they wander back towards the tram stop together, Ben has the strangest feeling like he doesn’t really want to go home.  Not by himself anyway.  He’s unusually quiet as they walk, wondering if Callum might take it the wrong way if he invited him back for a nightcap.  Not for that, obviously, it just feels like a shame to cut the evening short.

Callum doesn’t seem to share Ben’s slight disquiet and asks cheerfully, nodding at the Christmas lights twinkling above them, “So, you going back home for Christmas?”

“No,” Ben says shortly before deciding Callum probably deserves a bit more of an explanation than that.  “It’s my first Christmas with Lexi, I’m going round to theirs on Christmas Day.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice!  I bet she’s really excited.”

Ben snorts to himself, having seen Lexi at the weekend.  She was pretty much bouncing off the walls already and there were still three weeks to go.  “Yeah.  You could say that.”

They reach the busy tram stop and find a wall to lean against and wait.

“What about you?  Going to your brother’s?”

“Nah,” says Callum, his face unusually unreadable.  “I’ve got to work Boxing Day, I’d never get back in time.”

“So wait, what are you doing for Christmas?”

He shrugs.  “I’ll watch some films.  Might treat myself to a takeaway, there’s always somewhere open.”

“Why don’t you come to us?”

It slips out before he can help himself, and the effect on Callum is astonishing.  He stands frozen in the street, eyes slowly widening with warm emotion that Ben can’t look at too closely.

“I mean, I’d need to ask Lola of course,” Ben adds hastily.  “She might say no.  And she’s a terrible cook, just to warn you, and her fella is the most boring bloke you’ll ever meet, hands down, so you might be better off with your takeaway and your films.”

“I could live with that.  But I wouldn’t want to impose,” says Callum, and Ben’s never seen a man more clearly desperate to impose while trying to be polite about it.

He’d said it without thinking, but the more Ben thinks about it, the more it feels like a good idea.  It’s not an invitation he’d extend to everyone, but Callum is good, easy company and no one should be alone at Christmas. “You wouldn’t be imposing!  It’s Christmas, no one should be on their own.  Anyway, I could do with an ally in the enemy camp.  I’ll ask her, I’m sure she’ll say the more the merrier.”

*

It never occurs to him that Lola would say no, being the kind-hearted soul she is, which is why he stands still in confusion for a minute or two when that exact word falls from her lips.

She seems to interpret his confusion as silent judgement, rolling her eyes and sighing.

“Look, I’m sorry, but that’s my decision, yeah?  I don’t want Lexi confused.”

“What do you mean, confuse Lexi?” Ben honestly has no idea what she’s talking about.  “Look, he’s all on his own, he doesn’t know a soul else up here and he can’t get back home.  You invited me because you didn’t want me sitting all alone in an empty flat at Christmas, I can’t do the same for him?”

“No, I invited you because Lexi didn’t want you being alone at Christmas and that’s the point.  Look, you’re becoming a big part of her life.  And that’s great.  I’m pleased, I am.  She’s getting really attached to you and we’re working this whole thing out, all of us.  So I don’t want her getting confused by you introducing her to your latest hook up so she can get attached and then get hurt when there’s another one next week, all right?  You’ve got to put Lexi first.”

Every part of Ben wants to point out the hypocrisy of this and count out exactly how many boyfriends Lola has introduced to Lexi in her short life so far, but with considerable effort he holds his tongue. “Callum ain’t a hook up, he’s a mate.  We drink together in the same pub, that’s all.  We haven’t even slept together!”

“Really?”  Lola looks sceptical.  “You swear?”

“What do you want me to do, ring him and get him to swear on his mum’s life?  Sign a statement in front of witnesses?”

“All right, no need for all that.  You promise me he’s just a mate?”

“Yes!”  It’s weird.  He feels almost like he’s lying when he says it, even though it’s the absolute truth.

“All right.  He can come.”

The awkward conversation with Lola turns out to be worth it when he gets to tell Callum he’s welcome for Christmas and see his friend’s face light up at the news.  That wide beaming smile does something strange to Ben’s insides which churn pleasantly in a way he’s not used to.  But maybe that’s just what real friendship is.  He hasn’t had a lot of genuine friends in his life, and Callum’s open-hearted joy couldn’t be more of a contrast to Jay’s world-weary cynicism.  Or Ben’s, for that matter.

Callum buys the next round and halfway through his pint for some reason the delighted smile vanishes, worry creeping in its place.  Ben is oddly relieved when this turns out to be just about gifts rather than cancelling the whole thing.

“I need to get everyone something.  What does Lola like?  And her bloke, you’ve never told me his name?”

Ben waves an airy hand.  “Box of chocolates.  Don’t go overboard, I doubt they’ll get you anything.”

“And what on earth do I get Lexi?  I don’t know a lot about kids.”

“She don’t need spoiling any more than she already is,” says Ben, but Callum looks at him with panicky, pleading eyes and he sighs and gives in.  “Anything pink or colourful or sparkly.  Or Disney.  You can’t go wrong.”

“Sounds like my Christmas list,” says Magna, floating past with a tray of empties.  They both acknowledge her with a raised glass before returning to the subject of Callum’s panic.

“I don’t suppose…?  I’m free this weekend, I don’t suppose you’d maybe come shopping with me, help me get something they’d like?  I can’t turn up empty handed.”

It would take a stronger man than Ben to resist that hopeful, embarrassed face, with big eyes that would rival Lexi’s when she wants something.  So they end up taking the train out to the Metro Centre for the day, which is exactly as horribly crowded and horrendous as you’d expect on a Saturday less than a fortnight before Christmas.

And yet…the day is lovely anyway.  Really lovely.  Too lovely.  They find some small gifts for Lexi, Lola and her other half, plus the inevitable box of chocolates, then they just…don’t go home.  They find a coffee shop and spend several hours in it chatting and laughing, swapping terrible tales of Christmas Past.  Ben wins that round, but mainly because his Christmases were varied and chaotic whilst most of Callum’s memories seem to be much the same; few presents, lots of alcohol, occasional violence.  Callum’s best Christmases seemed to be the ones where his dad was comatose and snoring by lunchtime so he could at least escape to a mate’s house for the afternoon and eat their leftovers.

It makes Ben’s stories of family murders, paternity reveals, blackmail, car crashes and that year his dad got a new liver for Christmas seem almost wholesome, really.  At least they were mostly tales of a large, loving, chaotic family who cared for each other deep down.  Mostly.

He tells Callum of his hopes and plans that Lexi will never know a Christmas as miserable or chaotic as theirs were, and that her childhood memories will be of nothing but festive fun, love and laughter.  Callum seems to get it, soft understanding on his face as he meets Ben’s eyes in a way that makes Ben cough and excuse himself for a loo visit immediately after.

*

It’s a complete coincidence that he doesn’t see Callum for more than a week after that day.  He’s not avoiding him, it’s just that December is busy as it always is.  There’s long hours at work, some shopping still to do, and panto with Lexi where he can focus on spoiling his little girl with glowsticks and ice cream and not think about anything else.

He can’t avoid the pub forever though – not that he is – and he ends up having a drink together with Callum on Christmas Eve, the first opportunity they’ve had.  The pub is packed in a way it rarely is and they end up squeezed in one corner, practically shouting to be heard above the crowd.  Even Magna doesn’t have time to greet them properly, passing their drinks across the bar and moving on without so much as an innuendo or snarky comment.

“Do you know…” Callum begins.  Ben has to lean his good ear towards him to hear it, ignoring the way he can feel Callum’s warm breath on his neck as he speaks.  “This time last year, I was in the pub with my girlfriend and her family. Surrounded by people, big family Christmas to look forward to…and I was so, so lonely.  Absolutely dying inside and no one noticed.”

“That your way of saying you’re glad you came out?”

“Yeah.  I might be single, and I might be living alone, and maybe moving to a city three hundred miles away where I don’t know anyone was a really stupid idea, but…I don’t feel so lonely any more.”  His smile is shy and his eyes soft as he meets Ben’s.  “Thank you.”

Ben backs away a little at that, suddenly needing some air, and he clears his throat.  “Well, I’ll drink to that.”  He raises his glass in a toast.  “Here’s to finding your Mr Right next year.”

It seemed the natural thing to say after Callum himself had mentioned being single, but Callum makes the oddest face on hearing it.

“You still doing the online dating?”

“Not recently.  Weren’t really working, was it?  If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.  How ‘bout you, you still…” Callum coughs awkwardly, “you know, enjoying the single life?

Not recently, Ben wants to say in turn.  Because it’s the truth.  It’s been a dry spell for a couple of months now that he thinks about it.  Or maybe more, it’s not like he’s counted.  Something stops him from admitting that to Callum though, so instead he shrugs and says, “Can’t complain.”

The conversation is still playing on his mind when he goes back to the bar to buy the next round, because it has been a while, hasn’t it?  When did he stop going on the apps?  And there’s the other question of why of course, but that’s a door he doesn’t want to open right now.

Magna’s serving as he steps up, the queue finally died down enough for her to wish him a Merry Christmas which he returns before ordering their drinks.

“Friend of yours?” she says, nodding at a lone man nursing a pint at the other end of the bar and looking intently at Ben.  “He’s been staring since he arrived.  At you, I think – no accounting for taste, I’d be looking at your other half personally.  Have you seen his arse in those jeans?  Shouldn’t be allowed out the house.”

“Cheers, Mags,” says Ben absently, checking the guy out and ignoring most of that.  His lips curve upwards as he recognises the man, if not his name – did it begin with an R? Richard or Robert? – as someone he’d hooked up with months ago, not long after arriving in the city.  If he remembers rightly, it had been a rather fun evening.  Their eyes meet and Ben raises his eyebrows deliberately, treating the man to a slow smile which Richard or Robert or Rudy returns before moving down the bar towards him.

Magna makes a disapproving noise, god knows why, before stomping away.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

Whatever-his-name-is makes a face, leaning against the bar.  “Honestly?  Shit.  Christmas, families, all that, won’t bore you with the details.  Could do with a distraction.”  He’s not being subtle, the tone and the look making it very clear exactly what kind of distraction he’s looking for.

And there’s no reason in the world why Ben should turn him down, right?  He’s had a dry spell, he’s free and single, there’s absolutely no reason why he shouldn’t have a bit of consensual adult fun tonight.

So Ben ignores the tiny little nagging voice in the back of his head, widens his smile, and says, “I guess I could maybe help with that.”

“So…”

But he doesn’t get much further as Callum appears from nowhere, tucking himself in next to Ben and throwing a curious if not slightly hostile glance at the newcomer.

“All right?  You were taking an age, thought I’d come give you a hand.”

“This is Callum,” says Ben, waving a hand as he does the introductions.  “Cal, this is…” Moment of truth.  “Richard.”

“Robert.  But call me Rob,” says Rob, holding out a hand to Callum with a grin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re all right.  I can admit now I’ve completely forgotten yours.”

Ben laughs.  “Clearly a memorable night for both of us then, eh?  It’s Ben.”

A flash of realisation crosses Callum’s face, and he nods as if to say he gets it now.

“So…me and Ben were just talking about maybe getting out of here in a bit and going somewhere quieter,” says Rob, running his eyes up and down Callum’s body in a way that makes Ben’s hands curl into fists for no real reason.  “You know…you’d be welcome to join us.”

“What for?” says Callum, and a warm burst of affection blooms in Ben’s chest, even as he has to cough to prevent himself from laughing.

He gives Callum a long, pointed look until it sinks in.

“Oh.  Oh.”

Ben bites his lip to hide his smile before preparing to leap in and make an excuse for a clearly uncomfortable Callum, before his friend opens his mouth again. His response makes Ben choke on his own saliva.

“Yeah…why not?”

The world stops for a moment.  Except no, it doesn’t, because the buzz of the bar is still all around them, and Mariah’s warbling about all she wants for Christmas at full volume, and Rob is smiling suggestively at Callum and it’s wrong, all of it.  Ben’s head is swimming and he’s not even sure why.

“Sounds good to me,” says Rob, and Ben doesn’t know when that smile stopped looking sexy and started looking sleazy to him.  “Your place is just round the corner, right, Ben?”

“Can we have a minute?” Ben finally manages to choke out, meaning him and Callum.  Rob seems unfazed, still looking pleased with himself as he waits at the bar while Ben drags Callum off to the nearest corner.

Then Ben stops, having absolutely no idea what to say.  All he can do is stare in bafflement at a defensive looking Callum.

“What?”  He sounds defensive as well, eyes not meeting Ben’s.

There is so much Ben wants to say in response to that – you don’t do one night stands, you don’t do casual, and even if you did, the thought of that particular guy putting his hands on you makes me want to shove his face through a brick wall for reasons I can’t think about right now.

He doesn’t say any of that of course.  In the end, he settles for “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.  Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.  It’s Christmas, let’s have some fun.  Unless you don’t want me to…?” asks Callum, more hesitant now if not looking a little hurt by the idea he wasn’t welcome.

The thing is…Ben would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t turned on by the thought of it.  Because his attraction to Callum that he’d convinced himself had gone away hadn’t really gone anywhere, had it.  It had been there all along, just under the surface.  He’d lied to himself about it every single day, and pointlessly at that because part of him knew he was lying.  And this version of Callum, chin raised, all bravado and determination, was unfairly hot.  How was he meant to say no to that?

In the end, he shrugs and says, “Come on then”, because what else can he say?

*

They do end up going to Ben’s flat as it’s the nearest.  Ben has an odd feeling of shame as they approach, which is new – he’s taken many an anonymous hook up back to his flat without a flicker of embarrassment about the unmade bed or the bare walls and bare shelves or the lack of Christmas decorations Lexi had taken him to task for the last time she was there.  But Callum’s never seen it and that’s different somehow.

He wonders what Callum’s flat would be like.  It would probably be full of pictures of loved ones, posters on the walls, West Ham mugs in the cupboards and cooking utensils in the kitchen he probably even uses.  Part of Ben wishes he’d asked to see it weeks ago, before this weird evening and wherever it might lead them.

They troop up the stairs one after the other to Ben’s tiny one-bed flat, carved out of a larger Victorian house.  He can hear every move the neighbours make and the plumbing gurgles loudly at odd hours of the night, but it’s cheap and central and it will do for now.  If he’s sticking around for good, he might try and find a two-bed where Lexi can stay over more often, but that’s still to be decided.

“So…would anyone like a drink?” Ben asks, mouth dry and oddly nervous, once they’re inside the cramped hall/kitchen/diner/sitting room that is his entire living space outside of bedroom and bathroom.  It suddenly feels way too small for three grown adults.  Callum’s lurking by the door, hanging back from the other two but still somehow dominating the room as though he’s too big for it.

“Just had one,” Rob points out.  He throws his jacket onto the sofa and advances on Ben with intent.

He pulls Ben towards him with one hand on his waist and kisses him.  And it’s fine.  It’s fine.  It’s just sex.  Ben’s good at sex, he enjoys it, he knows what he’s doing.  There is no reason at all why this should feel weird.  So he kisses Rob back with all the enthusiasm he’s pretending to feel right now.

They pull apart and Rob turns towards Callum, still hovering awkwardly by the front door with his coat on.  But before Rob’s taken one step towards him, with that stupid annoying smirk still on his lips, Ben gets in there first, suddenly unable to bear the thought of it.  He doesn’t even know why, he just has a sudden, desperate need for it not to be this guy that kisses Callum before he’s had a chance to.  So with one hand hooked around his friend’s neck, he pulls a surprised Callum down towards him and their lips finally meet.

It's hesitant at first, Callum clearly taken aback; but then he opens his mouth and pulls Ben towards him with a sigh, one arm around his waist and one hand sliding up into his hair, and oh.

Huh.

What was it Callum had said all those months ago?  Oh.  There you are.  You’re what I’ve been looking for.

With sudden, dazzling insight, it’s at that precise moment that Ben realises he’s been in love with Callum all along, hasn’t he?  God, he’s an idiot.

Damn, Magna’s going to be insufferable once she knows.

“Ahem.”

They break apart at the sound of Rob’s polite, amused cough and Ben can see his own dazed state of mind reflected in Callum’s eyes, if not the revelations that have just hit Ben like a tonne of bricks.  Instead, there’s something very like panic rapidly growing on his face as he meets Ben’s gaze, eyes slowly widening in horror.

“Hot,” says Rob simply.  He is, somehow, still smiling as though he hasn’t noticed anything wrong.  “Bedroom’s this way, right?”

He clearly hasn’t noticed Callum’s very obvious, silent terror, but Ben has.  Plus he maybe has a few things he needs to process himself right now, so he grabs Callum’s arm and manages to squawk out, “You know what, I’ve just remembered I left it in a right state when I went out, weren’t expecting company.  Why don’t you stay here, help yourself to a drink, and me and Cal will clear it up, won’t take us two secs.”

He pulls a confused Callum with him into the next room while an even more confused Rob calls after them, “Or we could just stay here?”

“Oh,” says Callum as they enter the bedroom, looking around with a puzzled frown.  “It’s not that messy…”

“Forget that!” Ben slams the door firmly shut behind them with his foot and pushes Callum down onto the bed with both hands.  “Do you want to go through with this?”

Callum looks around wildly as though the answer to the question might be written on the walls of Ben’s tiny bedroom.  Then his shoulders slump.  He shakes his head.

“Okay.”  Ben exhales and sits himself down next to his friend, wondering how the hell they ended up here.  “Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“At this point?”  Callum snorts, eyes downcast at the floor. “Can hardly say no, can I?”

“Have you ever done this before?  I don’t mean a threesome, I mean any of it.  Like, have you ever had a one night stand with a random?”

Silence ticks by for a minute as Callum takes a deep breath, before admitting, colour high on his cheeks, “I’ve, uh, only ever slept with one person my whole life.  And I nearly married her.”

It’s a massive revelation but…maybe not a total surprise.  Ben tucks it all to one side to unpack later though, more urgent things on his mind right now.  “Right.  Well, if you don’t mind me asking, why…?”  He waves one hand towards the bedroom door and the random man probably waiting less than patiently outside it.

Callum winces.  “Don’t.  It was really stupid, weren’t it.”

“But why?”

“Because…I thought maybe I could do it.  The casual thing.  I thought maybe I could just sleep with you, and then I’d get all these stupid feelings out of my system, and because that other bloke was there it would all be casual and fun and you wouldn’t realise how I really felt about you, and I’m aware as I’m saying this that I’ve ballsed that up too, and that’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen because I really don’t want to lose you as a friend, and it’s fine, I know you don’t see me like that and I’ll get over it, I’ll make sure it’s not awkward.”

Ben blinks.

The bedroom door opens.

“Seriously, guys, are we doing this or what?”

It’s a valid question and absolutely doesn’t deserve the wave of murderous rage Ben feels towards the man, but in that moment Ben doesn’t think he’s ever hated anyone more.  He smacks his fist into the bed instead of into the guy’s face though, manages to stop himself from swearing, and gets up instead.

One insane problem at a time.

He ushers Bob or whatever his name is out of the bedroom and in the direction of the front door with a gentle but firm hand.  “Sorry, mate.  It’s not going to happen.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”  His anger is understandable, and Ben would be exactly the same if he was in his shoes – though frankly, if he hadn’t picked up by now that this evening wasn’t exactly going brilliantly, that was kind of on him.

Also, Callum is at this moment sitting in Ben’s bedroom looking on the verge of tears while having apparently got very much the wrong end of several sticks, and there were no words for how little Ben cared about some bloke’s hurt feelings right now.

“It’s still early, you could go back to the bar?”

Bob shakes his head, still looking pissed but not furious, deflating even as he speaks.  “Take it I’ve got in the middle of something here.  You should have just said it was like that.”

“It’s not…” Ben begins, denying it on pure autopilot, then he stops himself.  What’s the point? “Honestly, mate?  I didn’t know it was like that.  Not until about ten minutes ago.”

He glances towards the bedroom and has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling as Callum’s head slowly creeps round the edge of the doorframe like a new moon rising.  He appears to immediately realise he can be seen and ducks away quickly, banging the back of his head on the door as he goes.

Ben swears his heart grows three sizes with fondness at the sight, and oh he is so screwed.

“Sounds complicated,” says Bob, collecting his jacket from where he’d flung it on the sofa.  “Good luck with that.”  He didn’t sound as though he meant it.

“Sorry, mate,” says Ben, equally insincere as he closes the front door behind him.

He stops and breathes for a minute before returning to the bedroom, collecting himself and preparing to be calm and cool when he tries to get to the bottom of what Callum meant without giving too much of himself away.

Which is why it’s a bit of a surprise when he enters the room and the first words out of his mouth are, “But you left with Simon.”

Callum stares, looking equally baffled.  “Who?”

Oh, well, it was out there now.  “Simon.”  Ben takes his seat on the bed next to Callum again, careful to leave a few inches between them.  “Your date, the night we met.”

“Well, yeah.  He’d come there to meet me, I couldn’t just abandon him.  What’s he got to do with anything?”

“If you’re saying you have…feelings, why didn’t you tell me?  You kept dating all them blokes, I thought…” Ben swallows, feeling horribly exposed but needing the answers anyway.  “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“What?  No, you said you were only looking for casual, one night stands and that. Which is fine, I ain’t judging – but that’s not me, Ben.  As you know,” Callum adds with a nervous laugh, flicking his eyes over to the door.  “So I kept looking elsewhere until I realised I was comparing them all to you in my head, and that’s when I realised I was a bit screwed, really.”

He smiles sadly and Ben has absolutely no idea what to say.

“But I knew you weren’t interested like that and I really don’t want to lose you as a friend, so like I said, I’ll make sure it’s not awkward, I promise.  I’ll get over it.”

“Just shut up a minute.”  Ben stands up, unsure what to do with himself and starts pacing the small scrap of free carpet by the side of the bed.  “I’m thinking.”

“Okay.”

Unable to bear Callum’s sad eyes on him, Ben turns away, staring at the wall and trying to pick his way through the storm of thoughts swirling round his head.

A voice comes from behind him.  “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“I ain’t got that wrong, have I?” Callum says slowly.  “You weren’t interested?”

“That’s not really the point,” Ben tells the wall.

“Um, I think it is.”  There’s a hand on Ben’s shoulder, making him turn round, and then Callum is there, looking intently into Ben’s eyes.  The earlier nerves seem have vanished and determined Callum is back instead.  It’s very unfair.  “Ben.  Were you interested?”

“It don’t matter.”  Callum starts to protest at that but Ben cuts him off.  “No, it really don’t matter.  You don’t know anything about me, Callum.”

“I know enough,” says Callum, placing two soft hands on Ben’s shoulders.

He looks so hopeful and it would be so, so easy to give in, but Ben swallows and pushes Callum off as gently as he can, backing away.  “I’m a mess, all right?  I’ve got a stupid temper, I make the worst decisions.  I ruin people’s lives.  My whole family thinks I’m a waste of space, and I ain’t saying they’re wrong.  I’ve been in prison twice.  I’ve hurt people…”

“Ben.”  Callum reaches out again, cupping Ben’s face between his hands and this time Ben lets him. “I don’t care.  Are you interested?”

Finally run out of words, Ben nods. 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Their faces are so close together that Ben can feel Callum’s breath on his lips, smell the beer he drank earlier.  He barely has to lean forward to press his lips to Ben’s again, warm and gentle.  For a moment Ben gives into it, indulges in the feeling of the goosebumps on the back of his neck.  Then he pulls back.

“Can we, um…put this on pause until after Christmas, maybe?” says Ben, pushing away the immediate impulse to take it straight back at the sight of Callum’s puppy eyes, surprised and a little hurt.  “Give you a chance to come to your senses.”

“Ben, I’m not going…”

“Plus I promised Lola we were just friends,” Ben ploughs on, “and she’d chop me into little bits if she thinks I lied to her.”

Callum sighs but steps back, his hands dropping to his sides.  Ben tries not to too obviously mourn the loss.

“All right.  On hold until Boxing Day.  But I ain’t changing my mind, Ben,” he adds firmly, staring Ben down as if daring him to argue.  “If you’re in...I’m all in.”

Once again, Ben reflects on the fact that he is so very screwed.

*

He expects Christmas Day to be awkward after that.  God knows he’s in a foul enough temper when he meets Callum as they’d previously arranged, having not slept a wink the night before, his mind running at a hundred miles an hour and refusing to slow down.

But Callum seems to have taken the ‘oh hold’ principle seriously, not even mentioning it as he greets Ben cheerfully if nervously.  He’s too busy worrying about meeting Lexi and Lola and Lola’s other half.

He needn’t have worried.  Lexi is happy to make friends with anyone who brings her a present – Ben half wonders if they should be concerned about that – and Callum is more than capable of charming the adults just by being his own lovely self.

Actually, it’s a bit of a problem.  Ben keeps finding himself staring too fondly as the day goes on and Callum rushes around helping make gravy or clearing plates or fetching brandy butter.  He can’t help it.  It’s as though now his heart’s worked out what’s really going on, he can’t stop it from spilling over.  Then every time he does, Callum catches his eye and smiles back and Ben has to quickly look away again, often meeting Lola’s suspicious gaze on the other side of the table.

She finally snaps after lunch is over, finding an excuse to haul Ben into the kitchen with her while Lexi shows off the Christmas presents she unwrapped earlier to Callum, who’s sitting on the floor with her and doing a very good job of seeming like he’s hanging on her every word.  Ben can’t help but linger slightly in the doorway to watch with a smile on his lips before Lola pulls him away, fingers digging into his arm.

“Ouch!  What’s wrong with you?”

“You lied to me,” she hisses out, shutting the door behind them and slamming a plate down on the table with a little too much force.  “Only friends, my arse.  You think I can’t see the way you’re looking at each other?”

“We are only friends,” he protests, it sounding weak even to him.

“Oh, come on.”

“I swear!  It’s just…okay, something maybe happened last night.”

“Ben, I said…!”

“We ain’t slept together, you muppet.  Not yet anyway.  And he definitely ain’t a hook up, here one minute and gone the next.  That’s the problem,” he adds in a quieter voice, and it seems to take some steam out of Lola’s anger.

Head on one side, she asks, “What do you mean?”

“He wants something…real.  Proper.”

“And you don’t?”

“Well, look at him,” says Ben, a little wild as he waves a hand in the vague direction of Lola’s sitting room.  “He’s gorgeous, ain’t he?  Sweet, kind, lovely…dopey as hell.  Adorable.”  Aware of the look Lola’s giving him, he finally manages to stop rambling.  The third glass of wine at lunch may have been a mistake.  He coughs and moves on. “Point is, he deserves so much better than me, Lo.  He deserves someone amazing.”

“Ain’t that his decision?”

“Yeah, well, he’s got great big heart eyes going on at the moment, hasn’t he, he ain’t thinking straight.  And he don’t know me.  Not really.”

There’s silence for a moment.  Or near silence, anyway, as they hear a high-pitched giggle filter through from the other room and a low rumble of voices in response.

“No,” says Lola slowly.  “Maybe he don’t.  I know you though.  And I haven’t heard you talk like that about anyone, not since Paul.  Not even Paul, to be honest.”

He frowns at her for the unnecessary addition and she shrugs.

“Look, I know you, okay?  You ain’t got no secrets from me, Ben Mitchell.  So believe me when I say you ain’t a bad person, and you deserve to be happy just like everyone else.”

He has to laugh at that.  It’s not a viewpoint he’s come across before.

“You think I’d let you hang around Lexi otherwise?  It pains me to say this, trust me,” she says, hand on her neon-yellow-covered heart, “but…you’re great with her.  I trust you with her completely.”

“You didn’t always,” he points out, throat oddly tight.

“Damn right.  You had to earn it.  Which is why you know I’m not flannelling you, telling you what you want to hear.”

Lola fills a couple of glasses with water, the flimsy pretext they’d gone back into the kitchen for, and hands one to Ben.

“Look, do what you want, but he seems nice.  You should go for it.”

He follows her back into the living room slowly, mind whirring.  Then he bursts out laughing as his brain registers the sight of Callum looking very sheepish in a tiara, glitter on his brow, while Lexi carefully applies a temporary unicorn tattoo to his cheek.

“Your turn next, Dad!” she pipes up happily, never wavering from her task.  Ben turns to mock glare at Lola as she cackles.

“You just had to get her the stickers.”

“Not from me!  They’re from Santa, aren’t they, Lex?”

“Santa’s got good taste.  Who don’t love a unicorn, eh?” says Callum cheerfully, meeting Ben’s eyes and holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, cheeks dusted with pink under Lexi’s careful ministrations.  And, well, if there’s a rosiness to Ben’s own cheeks and a bit of a warm glow in his stomach, maybe it isn’t totally down to the wine.

They head off late afternoon so Lola has a chance of winding Lexi back down before bedtime, leaving in a flurry of hugs and good wishes and thank yous – mostly from Callum, anyway, Ben taking the opportunity to have a dig at Lexi’s dry turkey instead.  But she knows him of old and only rolls her eyes, pulling him down into a hug and whispering, “You’ll regret it if you don’t” into his good ear.

They’re both quiet as they set off on the long-ish walk home, but they’d agreed beforehand neither of them wanted to waste money getting a taxi on Christmas Day.

“So…” Ben begins after a few minutes, right as Callum starts to say, “That was…”

They both laugh before Ben lets Callum go first, breath hanging in the frosty air as they stroll along.

“That was really lovely, thank you for inviting me.”

“Not regretting not sticking with your films and takeaway then?”

He laughs, the joy of it ringing out.  “Definitely not.”  After a pause, he adds, “Lexi’s amazing.  You must be so proud.”

“Not a lot to do with me, I think you’ll find.  All Lola.  But she’s not bad, is she?”

Callum agrees that she’s not bad at all and they walk in silence for a few more minutes.

“So…”  Ben clears his throat.  “I was wondering.  Do you maybe want to come back to mine tonight?  For a nightcap, and, well…maybe we could talk?”

After a second he finds he’s walking by himself, Callum having stopped dead in the middle of the pavement.  He turns back to face him, and for a moment they just look at each other, the street eerily quiet.

“What happened to parking it until Boxing Day?” Callum asks eventually.

Ben shrugs, keeping his face straight.  “It’s the unicorn tattoo.  It’s really doing it for me.”

Callum full on snort laughs in response.  They’re still gazing at each other, wide smiles growing on both of their faces.  Ben remembers how when he first met Callum he’d thought of that smile as sunshine, almost too bright to look at.  This time though he doesn’t want to look away.

“Okay,” says Callum, soft and shy.  “Sounds good.”

“Okay then,” says Ben, biting his lip to try and get his face under control.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They both start laughing at the absurdity of it all, then Callum knocks his shoulder into Ben’s and they walk on again and it’s kind of perfect.  Then a little further down the road Ben slips his hand into Callum’s and that’s a little bit perfect too.

*

They fully intend to go to the pub on Boxing Day, but what with one thing and another they get a bit…distracted.  It’s nearly a week later, New Year’s Eve, when they finally emerge back into the world and walk the ten minutes from Ben’s flat back to their local, holding hands all the way.

They drop hands outside and enter one after the other, careful not to walk too close together or do anything else that might give them away and lead to the inevitable gloating.

When they finally fight their way through the New Year’s crowd to the bar – Ben with elbows out and a scowl, Callum with polite ‘excuse me’s and ‘thank you’s – Magna takes one look at them, up and down, raises one eyebrow and says,

“Well, it’s about bloody time.  Usual?”