Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

A few days before Leo's parents' fancy dinner thing, Tristan wandered home from the bus stop, taking his time so he didn't miss the cat at number six who liked to demand all the pets. From where he was crouched on the footpath at number six, the cat weaving around him happily, he could see Jack's ute parked up in front of their house, and a couple of other utes too, which suggested there were tradies of some sort on the scene. He wondered if there was an official start date yet. A ‘We're knocking this whole wall down, so you have to go and live with your boyfriend for as long as it takes, Tristan' date. He couldn't wait. He and Leo didn't work at all on paper, but in practice? Somehow, their opposing edges fit together exactly right.

The cat mrowp ed at him impatiently and butted his head at his hand in a clear demand for more scritches, and Tristan obliged. He couldn't wait till Harry got a kitten. Although, would he be here to see it? Or would he just…stay at Leo's once he'd moved in? It was a bit presumptuous to assume he'd be welcome—but then, Tristan always had been a bit presumptuous. Wallflowers didn't ge t laid.

He stood and stretched, then meandered the rest of the way home. The house still had all its walls, so he guessed he wasn't moving quite yet. Maybe he'd ask Leo if he wanted him to bring his stuff over this weekend. That way they could leave for the fundraiser together. Tristan still hadn't perfected his outfit for the evening. It was proving harder than he'd thought to pin down a look that would get him in the door of a political dinner but still be shocking enough to scandalise Leo's parents. The more Tristan heard about them, the more he disliked them. Leo was awesome and smart and funny and gorgeous, and Tristan would fight anyone who tried to make him feel like he was anything other than amazing. He couldn't imagine what it must be like, having to fit into someone else's blueprint to win their approval. At the same time, he admired Leo for finally taking a stand against his parents, their outdated ideas of decency, and their definition of what made the right kind of gay. He was looking forward to fucking them over, honestly.

"If we were all expected to be the same, we wouldn't need an entire fucking rainbow," he told the wheelie bin. He liked to think the cloud of flies buzzing around it agreed.

"Talking to yourself, mate?" a bloke in a high-vis vest and faded blue shorts asked as he hauled a ladder out the front door.

"I'm the only person who listens to me, Davo Two," Tristan said, pulling his mouth down in an exaggerated sad mask.

Davo Two laughed as he headed for his ute. "Only one crazy enough!"

Tristan clutched his heart. "Davo Two! I thought we were BFFs forever!"

"I'm Davo One!" Davo Two yelled back, still laughing. "And my name's Darren . "

"I never was any good with names!" Tristan called back, heading inside.

The small kitchen was crowded, with Jack, Harry, Ambrose and Liam all squeezed around the tiny table, helping themselves out of the parcel of hot chips sitting in the centre. "Ooh, chips!" He wedged himself onto Liam's lap.

Ambrose side-eyed him.

"It's okay. I have a boyfriend now," Tristan assured him, and helped himself to a chip.

"I think that's one of the signs of the apocalypse," Ambrose said.

"Fuck you," Tristan said. "How are you, anyway, you salty bitch?"

"Fine," Ambrose said. "So's Liam."

Tristan squirmed. "Yeah, I can feel that. Fiiiine ."

"Oh, god," Liam muttered in his ear, and shoved him off his lap.

"You have a parcel, Tristan," Harry said, wide eyed. "I had to sign for it and everything. It's marked fragile."

Tristan furrowed his brow. "I don't think I ordered anything."

Harry darted into the living room and came back with a large box. Sure enough, there were orange stickers all over it proclaiming this way up and fragile. Tristan reached out and grabbed it and shoved the chips aside to make a space. It wasn't from Bad Dragon or Adultshop, so he really had no idea what it could be. He ripped open the box—well, he tried to rip open the box, then Liam handed him a bread knife, which got it started well enough to tear.

The pristine white box inside it gave it away.

"Is that the newest MacBook Pro?" Harry asked, his jaw dropping. And no wonder. Whenever he started up his cheap ten-year-old laptop, it complained so loudly Tristan could hear it from his bedroom.

"Hmm," Tristan said. "Looks like it, yeah." He poked around in the wrappings and found an envelope with a card wedged inside the outer box. He flipped it open. "Oh! It's just from Mum. She sent it as a ‘well done' for getting HDs in all my mid-years."

The silence was deafening. Tris looked up to see all eyes on him. "Your mum sent you a new Mac, just…out of the blue?" Jack asked slowly.

"Um, yeah? They like to give me things." Tristan shrugged. He turned to Harry. "Hey, you want my old laptop? It's a couple of years old, but it's hardly worth the effort of selling it."

Harry gasped like a scandalised Victorian maiden. "You can't just give away a laptop."

Tristan shrugged again. He didn't see what the big deal was. "Okay, fine. How about you pay me by helping me find something to wear to this big dinner on Friday night? I need to be the worst boyfriend ever, but I also need to get in the door of the Point Seymour Yacht Club. So slutty, but slutty formal ."

"But—"

Tristan leaned forward and placed a finger across Harry's lips. "Shhh. Stop arguing and think of something fabulously decadent for me to wear, preferably with sequins."

Harry huffed a breath against Tristan's finger. "Yeah, I was never really decadent. I was more dole bludger."

"Same," Ambrose said, his eyes alight with mischief. "But I have ideas. "

Once all the chips had been consumed and Liam and Ambrose had gone home, Tristan called his mum. She picked up on the first ring. "Darling! Did you get my present?"

"Yeah, it was great!" Tristan said. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it, sweetheart. You know your father and I are so proud of how well you're doing at uni. I can't believe you're almost qualified."

"Me either. Six more months and no more uni. I'll have to work like an actual adult."

"You're a perfectly fine adult, Tristan, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Now I've been meaning to ask, are you busy on Saturday night?"

"Actually, I'm going on a date," Tristan said, "with my boyfriend."

There was a moment's silence. "Tristan Montague, are you telling me you're actually dating?"

"Yeah," Tristan said. "Nobody's more shocked than me, but Leo's special. I really like him, Mum, and he likes me back." He got a warm glow just thinking about it.

"Oh darling, that's wonderful! I can't wait to meet him. When can you bring him for dinner?"

Tristan didn't know why he was surprised at his mother's enthusiasm. Half the reason he'd moved out of home in the first place was that his mother had kept insisting on feeding his hook-ups breakfast then asking to add them on Facebook, which had gotten awkward really fast when most of the time Tristan didn't even remember their names. But in this case, he wanted his parents to meet Leo, just so they could see how amazing he was.

"We have this thing on Saturday night, but I'll check with Leo and get back to you. We could do Sunday lunch?"

"I can't wait. How did you meet? How long have you been dating? I want to know everything. "

Tristan laughed. "Slow down, Mum. It's pretty new. Don't start sending out invitations to the Fisher-Montague nuptials just yet!"

"Fisher-Montague or Montague-Fisher?"

"Maybe I'll just take his name."

"Or keep your own, darling. That's what I did. Be a strong independent woman like me," his mother teased.

"Strong independent woman, got it." Tristan laughed. "I have to go, Mum. I'm taking dinner over to Leo's."

"Look at you, being all considerate. I hope this boy knows what a catch you are."

"If he doesn't, I'll make sure to remind him. Bye, Mum!"

Tristan ended the call and took a moment to smile over how much he genuinely liked his parents. He was still smiling over it as he ordered their dinner—Indian, because it was Leo's favourite.

His mum was right. He was a catch.

When Leo opened the door of his flat, he looked distinctly frazzled. His expression brightened when he saw Tristan, and his smile widened even further when he saw the bag of Indian takeaway Tristan was carrying. "Food! Tris!" He stood aside so Tristan could come in.

"Wait! Why am I second on that list?" Tristan complained, setting the bags down on the table.

Leo gave him a sheepish look. "I promise you're my favourite, but I'm also really hungry. I've been looking at figures from the shop all afternoon, and I forgot to eat."

Tristan took the time to give Leo a quick kiss before he pulled out two plates and started dishing up the takeaway. "Does that mean you finally talked to Jimmy's accountant?"

"Not exactly. We keep playing phone tag. But he emailed me the figures for the past few months. There's so much money in sex!"

Tristan laughed. "Of course there is!"

"Pretty sure my parents haven't figured out just how lucrative the shop is."

Tristan raised his eyebrows. "Would it make a difference if they knew?"

"I honestly don't know," Leo said. He shrugged. "And you know what? I don't want them to know how well the shop does. If they have a change of heart, I don't want it to be about the money. So as far as I'm concerned, it's none of their business."

Tristan didn't like how Leo looked so tired when he said that, as though he couldn't even summon up the energy to be angry at his parents anymore. And Tristan got it—at least in theory. Sometimes all a person could do was step back from a messy situation.

He ignored the plates for a moment and tugged Leo into an embrace. He hugged him until he felt his shoulders slump and the tension leave him. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day, Leo."

"It's better now you're here," Leo said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Well, of course it is," Tristan agreed, releasing him at last. "I bring joy and happiness wherever I go. It's my superpower."

Leo's eyes sparkled. "Don't forget your modesty."

"Also a superpower," Tristan said with a grin.

Leo was much chattier, and much happier, by the time they sat down to eat, and Tristan felt a swell of pride at having contributed to the lift in his mood. And something more than pride too—protectiveness? He was having a Spider-Man moment, realising that with the great power of influencing how Leo felt came the great responsibility of not fucking it up.

"So, tell me everything about yourself," he said around a mouthful of naan.

Leo blinked at him. "What?"

"Leo Fisher one-oh-one."

"I think you already know everything."

Tristan hummed. "I know some things. But I want to know all the things. I want to know who your favourite teacher was. I want to know your first dog's name. Your favourite colour. I want to know exactly where you grew up. All the little things that came together to make you you , I want to know."

"Really? Because it sounds like you're trying to crack the security questions on my internet banking."

"I'm trying to get to know you better!" Tristan narrowed his eyes. "I'd make an excellent conman, by the way."

"Oh, I wasn't disparaging your conman skills," Leo said, putting his fork down to show Tristan his palms. His mouth twitched. "Much."

"If I were a cold war spy, I'd totally be a honeypot," Tristan said. "I'd be so good at pillow talk. You'd spill your guts on those nuclear codes in minutes, because I am amazing at sex."

"You—" Leo snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, no, you're totally right. I would fold in a heartbeat."

"Worth it, though," Tristan said, "since you get to tap this."

"Oh, I would have no regrets at all, even if the world exploded."

"I'd keep you warm in the ensuing nuclear winter, baby."

Leo wrinkled his nose. "To be clear, you're a bad spy in this scenario, right? You not only took my nuclear codes, but you used them, too?"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "You can't give me something and tell me not to use it, Leo. It's like that marshmallow experiment with toddlers. The marshmallow is right there. What are they supposed to do? There is literally no point in having a marshmallow if you can't eat it."

"Is that really the same as having nuclear codes and not using them?"

"I don't know," Tristan said. "Nobody's ever given me nuclear codes. And it's been way too long since I had any marshmallows, too, come to think of it."

Leo laughed. Tristan loved the little wrinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he did.

He couldn't remember ever having so much fun with anyone before. Well, fun without sex. Because sex was great, but so were moments like these. Moments where there was no heat, where a conversation wasn't leading straight to the bedroom, but instead there was warmth and joy in each other's company. If tonight ended up with them in bed? Fantastic! But if it didn't? Also genuinely fantastic, because Tristan loved just spending time with Leo and making him laugh by talking shit.

"So, Ambrose and Harry helped me with my outfit for this dinner thing," he said.

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Is it amazing?"

"I think I can do better," Tristan said frankly. "I never thought I'd say it, but maybe my wardrobe isn't up to the job. Because it has to be something good enough to get me past the doorman, but also totally shocking, you know? But I'll think of something, and it'll knock their respectable little socks off."

"Do I get a preview of this outfit?" Leo asked, biting his lip.

Tristan suddenly thought back to his mum's earlier teasing about weddings, and that weird custom of the groom not getting to look at his bride first, which was weird. Not just the custom, but the idea that some part of his brain was subconsciously making connections between ‘Leo' and ‘outfit' and ‘wedding', and he wasn't running screaming for the hills. The fact he was casting himself as the bride was a whole other level of weird that he wasn't looking at right now.

"No," he said. "I want to surprise you. But if you biting your lip there was an attempt at a sexy-times seduction, sign me the fuck up, and I'll wear whatever you want."

"How did you ever get laid when you call it a ‘sexy-times seduction', though?" Leo laughed.

"It's because my mouth does more than make silly words."

Leo blinked. "That's valid."

"I'm also really hot."

"And modest."

"Yes, we talked about how modest I am before. It's my superpower, remember?"

"I'm surprised you aren't classing your dick as a superpower," Leo grinned.

"Oh, no. No radioactive spiders are getting anywhere near my junk, thanks. What if it doesn't give me super stamina and makes it shrivel up and fall off instead? It would be a loss to humanity. I'm not prepared to take that risk."

Leo threw back his head and laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"You like me anyway."

Leo's smile faded. "I really do." His smile wavered. "These last few weeks have been crazy, but you've been there for me in ways I don't think you even know are really important. It felt like coming out all over again, almost— figuring out who I am, and who I want to be. And it turns out there's a whole community out there, and—" He shook his head and swallowed. "Thanks for being the rude hot guy at my great-uncle's funeral, Tris. Because I wouldn't be here tonight with you if you hadn't asked me if I was Uncle Jimmy's sugar baby. And I wouldn't have known what I was missing."

"The sugar baby thing was a genuine foot-in-mouth moment," Tristan said. "Just so you know, I'm not always a total dick at funerals. But I'm glad my mouth got ahead of my brain that day, too, because meeting you and being with you is the best thing that's happened to me."

Leo reached out across the small table and caught his hand. "You're the best thing that's happened to me, too."