Chapter 12

Bryan had never been more confident or scared out of his mind, and dealing with both at the same time was a mind-fuck of epic proportions. When he began helping Angelo with the sponge bath, his intention hadn't been to seduce the man. Sure, it had been in the back of his mind, because Angelo was sexy as hell, and Bryan was attracted to the man in ways he'd never experienced before. But he'd first responded to the helpless way Angelo had been attempting the bath. Bryan had wanted to help.

No, he'd needed to help. To make this easier for Angelo. To take care of him the way Angelo needed to be taken care of—ways no one had been around to help with for a long time. Intimate ways far beyond the capabilities of someone's platonic best friend.

Getting kicked in the chest had both surprised and delighted him. Angelo might want to submit at times, but the man was not submissive. He fought back and held his own. He challenged, and Bryan responded to that challenge. And he challenged right back. The absolute trust Angelo showed by closing his eyes next to a metal rail as thin as their wrists and that only came to hip-height was erotic as hell. Bryan had seen men shoved over railings like this from three stories up. The wrong fall from even this short distance could break a man's neck.

Take the trust and give it back to him tenfold.

When Angelo began to dance to the music in his head, Bryan grinned and moved with him. Then he closed his own eyes and pictured the same fantasy he'd built for Angelo with his words. "Can you see them, Angelo? They're all here to see you. To listen to you. To worship you."

Angelo hissed out a long breath. "Yes. They all want me."

"That turns you on, doesn't it? Being wanted? Desired? Seen for your sexual prowess and hot, tight body?"

"Yes." His right hand came around and gripped Bryan's hip, fingers splayed possessively across the top of Bryan's ass. "They want me but can't have me."

"Why not?"

"Don't want them."

Bryan rubbed his nose along the back of Angelo's neck, just below the soft ends of his hair. "Who do you want?"

Angelo leaned his head back to rest on Bryan's shoulder, exposing the line of his throat, his body still swaying to a silent, sensual beat. He didn't answer with words and that was okay.

Bryan's fingers dipped lower on his belly, resting along the elastic band of his briefs. "Your fans want to see you," Bryan said, voice raspy with lust, unfamiliar to his own ears. "Should we give them the show they paid for?"

He shivered. Bryan studied Angelo's profile, curious if he'd pushed too far, but Angelo's eyes remained closed, his expression lust-drunk, and his dancing hadn't stopped. While they were in the privacy of their own home, the downstairs had several large picture windows, and anyone who looked in the front door had a view of the balcony. Someone could be watching, which heightened the naughtiness of the fantasy, lifting it a tiny bit closer to reality.

"Fuck, yes, please," Angelo panted.

Bryan nipped the exposed muscle of Angelo's neck, then closed his eyes again and licked the skin as he pushed Angelo's underwear down. Slowly, an inch at a time, teasing their imaginary audience with small flashes of bare skin. His thumbs brushed over the top of Angelo's pubes and he paused to massage that sensitive spot, dipping closer to where thigh met groin. Bryan wanted to look, to see the tease he was creating for an imaginary audience, but he wouldn't cheat again. They were both all-in with the game now.

"Are you hard for them?" Bryan asked.

"Hard for you."

Bryan swallowed a possessive growl. "Good. Let's show them how hard I make you." He shoved the underwear down and was rewarded with the slap of skin on skin that could only be Angelo's cock hitting his lower belly. Hard and bobbing and likely dripping precome. The briefs slipped from his grasp. Angelo kicked them away. Bryan pressed his sweats-covered erection against Angelo's hot crease, wishing he was bare, too, and glad he wasn't. It would have been too easy to skip the rest of the foreplay and go straight to rutting for his orgasm.

"They're screaming for you, Angelo. Begging you to fuck them. Do you hear them? Crying for your cock?"

"Yeeees." Angelo was far enough under that he was turning single-syllable words into at least three. "Don't wanna fuck ‘em."

"No?" He nuzzled the shell of Angelo's ear, tasting the clean skin and slight bitterness of new sweat drawn out by Bryan's seduction. He bit his earlobe and Angelo hissed. "You're dancing for them. You're showing off your cock. Teasing them. They're your fans. Here for you. What will you give them?"

"Not here for them. Here for you, Bryan. Fuck me."

Spurred on by the demand, Bryan grabbed Angelo's cock and held him in a tight grip, impressed by his girth and length, the steel beneath silky skin. He opened his eyes but still didn't peek at his prize, only watched Angelo's blissed-out profile for any sign he was going too far. "So this is all for me?"

"Yes."

"You'd let me fuck you on the club balcony for all your adoring fans to see? You'd let me use you in public?"

"Fuck yes." Angelo spread his hands farther apart on the rail and bent over, pushing his ass against Bryan's groin in a clear invitation. Bryan's own cock was thick and straining for release. It would be so easy to shove his sweats down, spit on his palm, and push deep inside of Angelo's hot, willing hole. To fuck until sated and come deep inside his ass.

This is for him, not you. For him.

Maybe they'd talk about fucking bare at a later date, but Bryan wasn't that guy anymore. He didn't take those risks. He'd left that guy in prison a long time ago.

Bryan pressed the tip of his finger against Angelo's hole just to hear him gasp. "This for me too?"

"Yes. God yes, please."

"Good. Remember that." Bryan pushed his sweats down and let them fall wherever, uncaring now. He used his feet to cage Angelo's legs in, trapping him between Bryan's body and the rail. Spat to ease his way and pushed his wet dick into the tight space between Angelo's thighs, right below his ass cheeks. His cockhead slammed into the back of Angelo's balls, and Angelo cried out.

Bryan loosened his grip on Angelo's cock enough to create a sleeve of friction for him. Angelo's cock slid in his palm with every sharp thrust of Bryan's hips against his ass, giving Angelo the dual sensations of fucking and being fucked. He used his free hand to pinch Angelo's nipples, teasing each in turn, drawing out more moans and hisses from deep in Angelo's throat.

Bryan was so wound up his orgasm winked at him too fast, but he didn't want to wear Angelo out or hurt his ribs with a long fuck. This was about pleasure and letting go, not regret. He tightened his grip on Angelo's cock. "Come for us, baby," Bryan snapped. "Come!"

"Fuck!" His thighs clenched and twitched, and Bryan watched him coat the metal rails with his semen. Some missed and went over the balcony; Bryan would hunt that down to clean later. The jerky motions triggered Bryan's own release, and he coated the back of Angelo's balls, hips stuttering to a stop. He wrapped his arms around Angelo's waist and held him while they both panted and shivered. The fantasy of the scene broke apart, and Bryan felt himself crashing.

"I've got you," Bryan whispered. "You're safe."

"Goddamn, man. Holy shit."

Bryan stepped back and kicked away his sweatpants. Angelo still gripped the rail with white knuckles. Curious and concerned, he carefully massaged Angelo's left hand until his fingers loosened and finally released the hard metal. He did the same with Angelo's right hand, then led him over to the bedroom. Sat him down and kept massaging his hands, watching and waiting, a little nervous he might have done the wrong thing.

"You can open your eyes," Bryan said. "We're done for tonight."

Angelo blinked blearily at him, those dark brown depths shining with exhaustion, trust, and so many other positive things Bryan couldn't name. Things that scared him on a deep-down level he didn't recognize. Hadn't realized existed. "What was…epic," Angelo said.

"I'll take that as a high compliment. Wasn't always sure I was doing the right thing."

"If you didn't know it was right, then I like your idea of what's wrong." He cracked a wide yawn that had Bryan yawning, too. "I'm ready to sleep for a few days."

"Same. Let's clean up first, hold on."

Bryan wiped down in the bathroom, and then brought a wet washcloth and a dry towel into the bedroom. Angelo had flopped onto his back, dangling legs spread, and he snored lightly. Bryan chuckled before cleaning him up as best he could. It took a bit of wrangling to get Angelo under the covers properly and in a somewhat comfortable position on his back. After making sure his alarm was set for work the next day, Bryan slipped in on the other side of the bed.

Perfectly sated and more relaxed than he'd been in years, Bryan closed his eyes and fell asleep to the soft, comforting sound of Angelo snoring beside him.

Angelo didn't usually remember his dreams, but as he drifted out of a deep sleep and toward waking, the vaguest thoughts of a screaming crowd, loud music, and making out with the hot lead guitarist followed him. He recognized Bryan's room immediately and unlike yesterday morning, he woke today with Bryan still sleeping on the other side of the bed.

Last night's…encounter flooded back to him in a rush of positive feelings and arousal that perked this morning's half-wood right up. Bryan was on his stomach, head turned in Angelo's direction, lips parted slightly so he breathed through his mouth. Even breaths suggested he was still deeply asleep, and Angelo held still when his limbs demanded he stretch. He wanted to look for a while, study Bryan in a moment when Bryan wasn't staring right back with a hint of challenge in his eyes.

Challenge Angelo couldn't help but respond to. What was it about Bryan that made Angelo want to sit down, listen and obey? To give someone else control over his spiraling life and steer their way through choppy waters to calmer moments? Angelo prided himself on being in control, on top of things, and in managing his own life. Was he living through some sort of fucked-up version of the Serenity Prayer where he was accepting he couldn't control everything? Did he really have the wisdom to make the right choices for himself anymore?

Yes, fucking yes, he did.

But maybe he didn't have to (nor could he) control everything. It was a hard habit to unlearn, though, after living with that uncompromising grip over his life since he was fifteen.

A phone alarm chimed on Bryan's bedside table, and he startled awake, lifting up off the bed with his forearms. He blinked dumbly at Angelo a few times before smiling and absently reaching for his phone to silence it. He curled his arms back under the pillow and continued to grin at him. "Morning."

"Morning back," Angelo replied. "Glad you thought to set an alarm, because my brain was complete mush last night."

"Hope so. It's a hell of an ego boost that I can make someone come so hard they're delirious afterward."

"What we did was intense. I've never…I don't really play like that."

"Don't really play?"

"I mean, I've played around a little but just small games to get us off where I give the orders. Nothing that was…I don't know, meaningful?" Angelo's face heated but he didn't look away. "I don't usually let other people tell me what to do. Not like that."

"Then I'm grateful you trusted me. It was intensely hot. No regrets?"

"None." Okay, so he had a few small regrets over the things he hadn't gotten to do last night (namely seeing and touching certain body parts of Bryan's) but the things they had done? Zero regrets. "I mean, there is something I wish we'd done."

Bryan quirked one eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Angelo slid across the bed, ignoring the twinge in his side, and rolled Bryan onto his back. Their naked bodies slid together, and Bryan parted his legs, allowing Angelo to settle between them, their dicks pressing together. He stared up at Angelo with that familiar expression of bland watchfulness and slight challenge.

Challenge accepted.

Angelo rubbed his nose against Bryan's a few times, their warm breaths gusting together, their hearts rapidly beating. Bryan grabbed his hips and gently kneaded the muscle and bone there, encouraging without taking. It was the permission Angelo needed to press his mouth to Bryan's. To take that first sip he knew would lead to a lifelong addiction.

Bryan kissed him back with a ferocity Angelo did not expect, and he allowed the kiss to consume him. The slide of lips and thrust of tongues. The unique taste of Bryan's mouth. The way he gently nipped with his teeth. The sharp thrust of hips upward, crushing their hard cocks together, creating a whirlwind of sensation and pleasure that threatened to carry him away to Oz. Or at least, to coming again with this man his body responded to like a match to kerosene.

The endless kiss drew him closer to orgasm and he rutted harder—until a sharp knife in his side left him gasping and rolling away, onto his back. Panting at the ceiling while a few color dots danced in his vision.

"Too much?" Bryan asked. "Your stitches?"

"Yeah. Ow. Totally worth it for that kiss, though."

Bryan leaned up on his right elbow and rested his left hand over Angelo's heart. "You need to heal, Voltini. I forgot and that's on me."

"Nah, it's totally on me. I'm a big boy, Bryan. Trust me, I'm not trying to pop any stitches for you but if I do, it's because I'm a horny idiot who's really attracted to you." They both glanced down the bed to where Angelo's erection tented the bedsheet and laughed. The entire moment was fun and funny and also sweet. Three things Angelo wasn't used to on the morning after. He'd kind of had similar things with Nat, but not quite.

Nothing like what he had with Bryan, which was new and exciting and addictive.

"You are definitely a big boy," Bryan teased. "Can the big boy take care of his big problem this morning? I need to shower and get to work early. I'm doing some extra hours today so I only have to work three hours tomorrow morning. Gives me the afternoon off for Robbie's birthday party."

Angelo dismissed a slight niggle of disappointment. "Go, get to work. I can jerk off by myself. Been doing it for years."

"Want me to bring your morning pills upstairs when I'm done?"

That disappointment curled into a spark of joy at Bryan's thoughtfulness. "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty."

A little early if he was remembering his dosage right. "No, I think I can get downstairs on my own this morning and manage them. But thanks for asking."

"No problem." Bryan traced his finger over Angelo's bare skin in a nonsensical shape before sitting up. He seemed poised to say something else. Then he threw the sheet back and climbed out of bed. Angelo stared at his departing backside until it was gone, a little sad he hadn't gotten to ogle Bryan's front-side.

With time to spare before his own day needed to begin, Angelo relaxed against his pillow, closed his eyes, and took the problem in-hand to the memory of that spine-curling kiss.

Bryan spent his entire time showering swamped with guilt over last night. Not the sex. That had been incredible and far beyond anything he'd expected to discover with Angelo, and he had no regrets. He was thrilled Angelo didn't, either, and that nothing about this morning had been awkward. Their kiss had been…he had no words for how that kiss had made him feel.

No, his guilt was over not reaching out to Patrick at all last night. Russell said Patrick needed to get up in his feelings when he was upset, but how long did that last? Bryan and Patrick hadn't fought since he got out of prison; Bryan didn't know this version of his brother very well, and he hated them being on the outs, even temporarily. If Bryan had any sense, he'd have at least sent Patrick a text last night, so Patrick knew Bryan was thinking about him.

Angelo was asleep again when Bryan went to collect his clothes and phone. After dressing, he did send Patrick a text that took him the entire time his coffee brewed to compose and feel comfortable sending: My lunch is at noon, I get off at six. I hope we can talk today. I need to apologize.

Spotting Russell at the school bus stop with Robbie hurt—was Patrick avoiding him this studiously that he wouldn't walk his son to the bus?—so he didn't approach them on his walk to the regular bus line. Bryan had created this mess, and he had to live with it until Patrick was ready to confront him.

Work kept him busy and distracted, and when he sat down to eat lunch at noon, he had three texts. Two flirtatious ones from Angelo and a coveted response from Patrick: Come to the house at seven. We're blowing up balloons for the party.

Nothing about Bryan keeping a secret or them discussing it, and that was fine. The invitation to help blow up rubber balloons was everything, and he typed back that he'd be there. Once the bus home dropped him off on a busy Friday night, he'd have just enough time to change out of his work clothes.

Unsure if Angelo was part of the balloon-blowing party, he texted Angelo where he'd be spending his evening. The last thing he wanted to do was blow Angelo off, but they couldn't spend all their free time together. Or should they? To Russell and Patrick, Bryan and Angelo were simply fake-dating. They had no idea they were also fucking.

Unless Angelo spilled to Russell. Did Angelo usually brag about his conquests to Russell? Had they talked about it over lunch? Bryan hadn't asked Angelo to keep anything secret, but what they'd done last night had been incredibly personal. Not for discussing over sushi or tacos or whatever else. Not for Bryan, anyway. Maybe Angelo didn't feel the same.

Maybe last night wasn't as special for Angelo as it had been for Bryan. Not just the intense orgasms but what they'd shared. The scene they'd created and explored together. The trust they'd built between them in a few short hours.

The confusion and dour thoughts haunted Bryan through the rest of his workday, and he was glad to clock out at six. Angelo had texted back that he'd been wrangled into balloon duty, too. Bryan waited until he was on the bus before asking: Did you tell Russ what we did last night?

Angelo: No, why? Should I?

No. It's private.

I agree.

Okay.

A few minutes passed, and then Angelo wrote: So I guess I shouldn't shove you against the wall and kiss you stupid when I see you later?

Bryan laughed, which got him a curious look from an older gentleman sitting beside him. Save it for later. In private.

Deal.

Angelo's car was parked by the carriage house when Bryan walked up but he wasn't home. Probably a good thing. Bryan was able to rinse the day off his skin and change into clean jeans and a sweatshirt, and get up to the main house by seven. His stomach growled for food, and when he entered the kitchen through the patio door, the spicy scent of chili drew him to a slow cooker on the island counter. Bowls and spoons had been laid out.

Robbie's laughter belted from the living room. Bryan followed the sound into chaos. Several large bags from a discount party store had overtaken the coffee table, and the contents were strewn around the other available furniture. Patrick was overseeing some semblance of organization, Russell was reading sheets of what might be assembly instructions, and Angelo leaned against the wall by the fireplace, arms crossed, silently observing, a familiar smirk twisting his lips.

"Looks like I found the party," Bryan said. "Where's Robbie?"

"I think we misplaced him in the mess," Russell replied. "I hope you exercised your lungs today, because we've got about a thousand balloons to blow up."

"I'm here and ready to blow."

Angelo's eyebrows shot up and the smirk sharpened. "Then I wouldn't overeat your dinner. But Big Bear's chili is hard to resist."

"I'll watch my portions."

Patrick mumbled something and disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen. Bryan watched him go, unsure how to feel about being ignored. Then Robbie raced into the room from the foyer with Bruno attached to the front of his shirt. He skidded to a stop by Bryan and hugged his hip. "Hey, Uncle Bryan."

"Hey, yourself, Almost Birthday Boy. Is Bruno eating dinner with us?"

"No, we ate mac and cheese earlier. I don't like chili. The beans taste like dirt and frogs don't eat dirt."

"Frogs sometimes eat earthworms and earthworms eat dirt."

"They don't eat the dirt. They eat the good stuff in the dirt and then poop it back out." Robbie spoke like a biology professor schooling a student.

Bryan smiled. "I stand corrected. Is it okay if I go eat some of the dirt chili? Lunch was a long time ago."

"If you gotta, we're gonna play!" With a hoot that seemed to begin some sort of game in Robbie's head, he sprinted off again, and a moment later, small feet thundered up the front stairs.

"Does he ever run out of energy?" Angelo asked, "or do you just plug him into the wall at night to recharge his batteries?"

"He's eight," Russell replied. "At that age, they come with their own power pack."

"Delightful."

"And exactly why you work with paint samples and not small children."

"Also, with cranky contractors. Except Otis. I love the man because he wouldn't know a bad mood if it kicked him in the balls."

"Sounds about right," Bryan said. "Chili now?"

By the time their trio entered the kitchen, Patrick had set out a bag of Fritos, shredded Mexican blend cheese, sour cream, and a jar of red pepper flakes for Russell. Bryan thought the chili was spicy enough, but Russell was a fan of hot food. Bryan loaded up a bowl. When their quartet converged on the breakfast nook, Bryan slid onto one bench next to Angelo, since Patrick was already in the opposite corner with Russell beside him.

Russell and Angelo did most of the talking, and no one brought up the fake relationship discussion from last night. Bryan wanted to say something, just to point out the elephant in the room, but he also didn't want to start another fight with Patrick. Still, it irritated Bryan that Patrick had invited him over and was now basically ignoring him.

Robbie came in, asked for a handful of Fritos, and then promptly left for his next adventure. It amazed Bryan how well Robbie was able to entertain himself with only his imagination and a bearded dragon. He didn't seem to have a best friend who came over for regular playdates, and yet he also never seemed bored or lonely. Probably a side effect of growing up an only child. The lack of playmates didn't bother Patrick (that he ever mentioned) so it wasn't Bryan's place to bring it up.

They were all scraping the bottoms of their bowls and sipping their drinks when Patrick blurted out, "I'm not mad at you, Bryan."

Bryan fumbled his spoon, and it clattered to the tabletop. "Thank you. I didn't mean to keep it from you, not really. It was just something I didn't tell you, if that makes sense."

"It does. And thank you for giving me space to think and process it. We're both too good at knee-jerk responses when we're upset, and I learned pretty early with Frog that I need to take deep breaths, count to twenty, and think things through."

"That was a harder lesson for me to learn."

"I know. For all we talked every other week while you were in prison, we're still getting to know each other. You didn't owe me your sexuality, and I'm sorry I got butthurt about it."

"No, I'm sorry. You have a right to your feelings, and I don't want to diminish them. Me telling you I'm bi and that I'm doing this huge favor for Angelo was a lot for one conversation."

"Yeah, it was. And what you said before about you hurting me? I do not lump you into the same group as my high school bullies, not even close. They never changed or apologized, but you did, and you have made huge amends. You are not the same as them." Patrick's lips twitched, not quite smiling. "And I'll admit, I'm a little impressed you're going along with this crazy plan of Angelo's."

Bryan bit the tip of his tongue. "It's not so bad. It's not like we have to get married or anything. It's a show for his lawyer and a few public appearances to sell it."

"So are you appearing at the party tomorrow as a couple?" Russell asked.

"Uh…we hadn't really talked about it." He glanced at Angelo, who shrugged and seemed to defer the question back to Bryan.

"It would be a good test run. Some of the parents are staying for the party, so you can mingle and do whatever you agreed to as far as PDA."

"So use the party as practice?" Angelo replied with a chuckle. "I like how your mind works, Big Bear. I'm up for a practice run at the party. Bry-bry?" He batted his thick eyelashes.

"I'm in as long as you never call me that again," Bryan shot back.

"So I can pick another nickname? Honey Bunch? Cinnamon Roll? Sweetcakes?"

"How about nothing related to food? In fact, I'm pretty fond of Bryan."

Angelo stuck his tongue out, and the gesture was too fucking adorable for words. Bryan hid his approval with a fake sniffle and reached for his napkin. Chili did make his nose run sometimes.

"Fine, Bryan," Angelo said. "Test run of coupledom tomorrow. I've never actually attended a birthday party for an eight-year-old before. Should my clothes be waterproof?"

"It's February and we aren't having a pool party," Russell replied. "You never went to a kid's party as a kid?"

"I was never invited, no. Don't forget, I was the immigrant kid who spoke terrible English and didn't have a father. Add in Catholic school and you have the perfect recipe for elementary school pariah."

Bryan flinched, unnerved by the cold way Angelo said those harsh truths. He and Patrick had grown up in a friendly, kid-filled neighborhood and had never lacked for others to run around with, ride bikes, climb trees, or chase after the ice cream truck on a hot summer day. Their father had been emotionally distant and borderline abusive, but Mom made sure they always had ice cream and cake on their birthdays. The conversation reminded Bryan how little he knew about Angelo's past.

"You immigrated?" Bryan asked.

Angelo nodded and began wiping the table in front of him with a napkin, despite there not being a crumb of visible food. "When I was eight my mother brought us here from Italy. We moved in with my aunt and cousins, so it was crowded and noisy. My aunt spoke some Italian, but my cousins only knew a few basic phrases, and I knew a little English from watching cartoons, so for a while we communicated through hand gestures and drawing pictures. Which was good in a way, because I discovered my love of drawing and art during those first few years here."

"Communicating through art."

"Exactly. Which did not endear me to Aunt Rita. Her in-laws were in the restaurant business, so she and her now-late-husband were in it, too, and she expected her sons to follow in their footsteps. I proved very early that I am hopeless in the kitchen if it involves sharp knives or hot oil, and I broke so many plates as a dishwasher that she eventually stopped hounding me to work in the restaurant."

"I thought your aunt has a food truck."

Angelo grimaced. "She does. That's another long story that could be coaxed out of me over a nice bottle of Bordeaux."

"Noted."

"Shit, I didn't mean to hijack the conversation." He flashed a charming smile at their companions across the table. "Sorry, gentlemen."

"It's okay," Patrick said. "This is stuff friends talk about. Even friends who are fake dating." He still said the words "fake dating" with a hint of a question, as if he didn't quite believe Bryan was going through with it, and that was okay. Bryan wasn't sure himself how much of the fake was actually real.

"Just dress down for the party," Russell said to Angelo. "I'd say jeans and a t-shirt but I don't think I've seen you wear jeans since junior year."

"I'll figure it out," Angelo replied. "I suppose if this party is to happen, we should get to blowing the balloons?"

"Blowing up the balloons, perv."

Angelo waggled his eyebrows at Russell. "Says you."

"Please, try to behave," Patrick said. "My kid will be running around until about eight-thirty."

"Shouldn't he be in bed at eight-thirty?"

"Normally, yes, but he's so excited about tomorrow's party that we negotiated for nine."

"Negotiating bedtimes at a young age. I like this kid."

"Well, it's not every year that your birthday actually falls on a Saturday, so I let him win this one."

"You know, since tomorrow is his actual birthday, he should have negotiated for staying up later tomorrow night."

Patrick pointed his spoon at Angelo. "If you say anything to Frog, I'll make sure you end up with birthday cake on your clothes tomorrow."

Angelo raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, then mimicked locking his mouth with a key. Russell slid out and got everyone drink refills before their quartet converged on the living room's chaos of decorations. Patrick had a list and a plan, and with a newly relaxed air in the room, they began to decorate for tomorrow's big birthday bash.