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Lester closes the door on the last of his departing guests and heaves a silent sigh of relief. Then he realises that he can do that out loud and does so, leaning against the wall heavily for good measure. The moment doesn’t last for too long, and he quickly straightens himself up and heads back through the house. He picks up a few stray napkins and straightens out a creased cushion seat on the sofa – then stuffs the napkins into his back pocket and sets about completely reconstructing the cushion display. It takes a couple of minutes to get the display somewhere in the realms of acceptable.
Tolerable might be a better word.
In the kitchen Ryan has already started washing up the pots and pans, and looks up briefly when Lester retrieves the napkins from his pocket and drops them into the bin.
“You don’t need to do that, darling,” Lester tries, leaning back against a counter top.
“I don’t mind,” Ryan says.
Lester frowns. “It can wait.”
Ryan chuckles. “Only if you want to spend a week battling grease.”
“Hmm. Brandy?”
“Please.”
Lester gets two clean glasses out of the cupboard and pours a generous amount into both. He eyes the soap suds working their way up Ryan’s bare forearms and...oh. Best not get distracted. He puts the glass in Ryan’s eyeline and takes a sip from his own.
It had been a long evening. As much as Lester would never admit it outside of a torture chamber, he adores his sister – her husband and children are all right, he supposes – and what little time they manage to carve out to spend together in person is usually cherished, often with the aid of good food and better wine.
What had started out as the usual sibling get-together had quickly turned into a full blown dinner party, with a handful of mutual friends finding their way onto the invitation list. Not that Lester minded, but he hadn’t quite reckoned on hosting seven very...enthusiastic acquaintances on a Thursday evening.
He misses Annabel already, of course, but the sudden calmness that has descended is just as enjoyable.
“Pass me those plates, would you?”
Oh, right. Lester moves the stack to within Ryan’s reach. As he does so he notices the composting bin is full, so he swaps out the bag for a new one, and takes the full one outside. The cool evening air does wonders for his burgeoning exhaustion and Lester finds himself taking another moment before heading back upstairs.
Ryan’s working through the dinnerware with the kind of determination Lester can appreciate. The draining rack is starting to get a little full though, so Lester finds a tea towel and gets to work himself.
It’s comfortable, the two of them side by side like this. It’s something that Lester notices most when Ryan isn’t here, and has to remind himself to appreciate when he is.
“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Ryan asks after a few minutes of easy silence.
Lester makes a show of considering it. “A shared day off with nothing but wild debauchery and far too many biscuit selection boxes? I would assume so.”
Ryan gives him a sidelong look. “I had us down for a pyjama morning and perhaps a walk through the park.”
Lester musters up the most innocent look in his repertoire. “What’s the difference?”
Ryan laughs out loud. “Not your best come back, there.”
Lester dries off a plate and puts it away. “I’m doing the best I can with limited resources.”
“Of course. Debauchery might have to wait, though.”
“Absolutely not,” Lester says immediately. “Why on Earth would you suggest that?”
Ryan starts holding up soapy fingers. “Bins need to go out.”
“I’ll do that now.”
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “We’re out of milk.”
“We live in London. Everything is open and for sale all the time.”
“My conference call is scheduled for oh nine fifteen.”
“What a stupid time to schedule something like that. You should complain to your boss.”
“I did,” Ryan says dryly. “As I recall he told me to shut up and put my fingers back up his arse.”
Lester tries desperately not to smirk at the memory. “I did warn you about bringing work into the bedroom.”
“Technically it was your office.”
“Semantics. I believe my original point still stands, however.”
“Then be a love and put the bins out,” Ryan retorts.
“Last of the great romantics,” Lester says. He ties off the bin bag and fishes out a new one. “Whatever happened to flowers and moonlit strolls along sandy beaches?”
“Flowers set off your allergies and sand between your toes -”
“Should be classified under the Geneva convention, I know.” Lester sighs. He offers Ryan a crooked smile. “I do love you.”
“I love you too, James,” Ryan tells him. “Now put the bins out.”
“Aye, Captain.” Lester picks the bag up and enjoys an unencumbered view of Ryan’s arse. “Fancy a shag when I come back?”
“Now who’s the last romantic?”
Lester shrugs. “I could do a supermarket run once I’m done with the rubbish. Milk and...what was it, you said?”
“James.” Ryan dries off his hands and steps right into Lester’s space.
“Tom.”
Ryan kisses him, warm and familiar and comfortable in a way not enough things are any more. Lester rests a hand on Ryan’s hip and feels a hand on his neck pulling him in a little further. They break apart after a few seconds and Lester rests his forehead into Ryan’s shoulder. He can’t help smiling. It’s been a long time since he was married but he’s pretty sure this is how -
“Marriage?” Ryan says.
It breaks the spell. Lester leans back a little and closes his eyes briefly. “I said that part out loud, didn’t I?”
Ryan nods. He’s trying not to smile, but it isn’t really working.
Lester sighs. “This isn’t exactly how I planned to bring it up.”
“I’d hope not,” Ryan tells him. “You being a great romantic, and all.”
Lester considers this. “What would you hope for?”
“An actual proposal?” Ryan cocks his head to one side. His hand slides down to Lester’s shoulder. “Nothing much, of course. Something elaborate, really fancy. I want tears and an emotional monologue and -”
Lester puts a hand over his mouth. “Tears, I might – might – be able to manage. But if you expect me to talk piffle then I regret to inform you this whole – dalliance – has been a mistake.”
Ryan smiles widely. “And that, James, is why I love you. Just ask me properly, when you’re ready. I’ll be here.”
Lester realises he’s starting to well up. He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to think of things that annoy him.
It doesn’t work.
Ryan’s hands move down to Lester’s hips. Lester rests his hands on Ryan’s chest, waits for Ryan to nod, then starts unbuttoning his shirt.
The bin bag doesn’t get taken out for a while.