Chapter Eight

Baran

Baran wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked cookies. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of Miss Charlotte standing at the counter rolling out dough and cutting shapes for new cookies while also placing batches of cookies onto cooling racks and decorating others. She worked with practiced ease, her movements quick and efficient. The kitchen was filled with the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar.

“Hello there,” she greeted him, her accent carrying the tones of Scotland. “You must be Baran. I’m Miss Charlotte.”

“Hi,” Baran replied, feeling nervous but comforted by the homey atmosphere. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Thank you,” Miss Charlotte said. “I’m baking Christmas cookies. Would you like some?”

Baran nodded eagerly, and Miss Charlotte gestured for him to sit at the table. She poured him a glass of milk and placed a plate of hot cookies in front of him. The cookies were beautifully decorated, each one a small work of art.

As Baran took a bite and the warmth and sweetness filled him, Miss Charlotte sat down across from him. “I’m here most of the day, so if you need anything, just let me know,” she said.

“Thanks, Miss Charlotte,” Baran replied, appreciating her hospitality.

She studied him for a moment, her expression gentle but curious. “Tell me, Baran, what brought you here? Why aren’t you with your family?”

Baran hesitated, the painful memories surfacing. “It’s a long story,” he began, his voice tinged with sadness. “My father found out I was gay and disowned me. He threw me out with nothing. I had nowhere else to go.”

Miss Charlotte’s eyes softened with sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Baran. But know that you’re safe here. Darien and I will make sure of it.”

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte. That means a lot.”

She nodded. “We’ll take care of you, lad. Now, enjoy those cookies. There’s plenty more where they came from.”

Talking to her made Baran feel a sense of comfort and belonging. Her kindness gave him hope for the days ahead.

Shortly after, Darien walked in with Baran’s suitcase.

“You got my suitcase back. Thanks.”

“I’ll bring it upstairs later for you unless you want to go upstairs now.”

“No, I’m doing some serious cooking eating.” Baran lifted his plate to Darien. “Try some. There’s plenty more where these came from.”

Darien took two from his plate and took a bite of one. “These are perfect!”

“I’m glad you lads like them.”

“Let’s go upstairs and talk about Hawk,” Darien said.

Baran nodded and followed Darien upstairs to the guest room. There were two chairs, so Darien moved the desk chair in front of the armchair, facing each other. Darien sat in the desk chair, leaving Baran in the comfortable one.

“Am I in trouble?” Baran asked.

“No. We’re going to discuss Hawk.”

“Did he say something horrible about me?”

“He tried to defend himself with bullshit. Hawk has been with us for a year, so it wasn’t easy telling him he had to leave. I’m very disappointed in him for attacking you and for stealing your suitcase.”

“He could have stayed.”

“No, he couldn’t. He defended his hate, which told me he wasn’t sorry about it. The shelter has no room for hate, any kind of hate.”

“He thinks I’m a practicing Muslim. That’s why he hates me.”

“I know he thinks that, but it’s not true and if it were, so what?”

“I didn’t want him to get kicked out because of me.”

“He’s kicked out because of his hate, which led to violence. When you go through your case, let me know if anything is missing and I’ll replace it.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, and yes, I’m upset about the situation, but I’m glad you’re here with me. Are you sure you don’t mind celebrating Christmas with me?”

“Can’t you tell I enjoy being with you? I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”

In the morning, Baran woke to the smell of fresh coffee and a knock on his door. He sat up in bed and said, “Come in.”

When the door opened, Darien stood there dressed in jeans and a white shirt and navy tie, carrying two coffees. Whatever he wore, he looked stunning.

“Morning, I brought you coffee.” Darien handed one to Baran and kept the other for himself.

“Thanks. Morning to you.” Baran took a sip of coffee. “This is Turkish coffee!”

“Miss Charlotte went out last night and got this for you.”

“That was kind of her. You can sit on the bed.”

Darien found a spot on the bed and drank his coffee with Baran. He told him he planned to take him out for breakfast, a gesture that warmed Baran’s heart. He took a shower and met Darien downstairs. He peeked into the kitchen and thanked Miss Charlotte for picking up the Turkish coffee.

They left the house and walked to a quaint café nestled on a quiet street nearby. The cozy café was filled with the aroma of fresh baked goods. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and soft music played in the background. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the wooden tables and mismatched chairs. They found a corner table and settled in.

Baran glanced at the menu, then at Darien. “This place is wonderful. I love all these books. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Darien smiled, his eyes softening. “I thought you’d like it. Plus, it’s a place for us to talk.”

As they waited for their food, Darien leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking about us, Baran. About what happened yesterday and how much I’m coming to care about you.”

Baran felt a flutter in his chest, a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I’ve been thinking about it too. I really like being with you, Darien. It feels…right.”

Darien reached across the table, his hand covering Baran’s. “I feel the same way. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with it.”

Baran nodded, feeling a sense of relief and joy. “I’m comfortable with you.”

“The reason lots of guys call me Daddy Darien is because I like Daddy/boy relationships. Do you know what those are?”

“I had a daddy in Turkey, but Daddy Emirhan moved to Germany. He worked in a high government office and his brother Furkan reported him as gay to the Turkish government, so he had to leave the country.” Losing his Daddy Emirhan had created a void.

“When did he move away?” Daddy Darien asked.

“Last year. I’ve been alone since.”

“If we have a relationship, I want to be your daddy. You need one.”

“I want you to be my Daddy Darien. I trust you.”

“After we decorate at the shelter, we’ll have dinner at home and talk more about what you want from a daddy, and I’ll talk about what I would like from my boy.”

“I can tell you one thing right now.”

“And what is that?” Daddy Darien’s eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I want to sleep with you.”

“That can be arranged, but I want you to have your own space for times you want to be alone.”

“I want to be like you. Help people.”

“You can help me anytime you want.”

Breakfast arrived with pancakes stacked high with fresh berries, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon. They ate leisurely, savoring both the food, and the shared understanding blossoming between them.