Sex in C Major

Yannis came out to pay the driver, to Stefan's surprise, and he was shooed into the house with an eye roll and a hand gesture. But when he scurried into the hall, there was nobody waiting.

And when Yannis locked the front door again, nobody came.

And there was only one pair of shoes in the hall.

"Where's D-Sir?" Stefan asked.

"Birmingham," Yannis said flatly. "Visiting his family."

"Without you?"

"It's not safe for me to go back to Birmingham."

"What do you mean not safe?"

"I mean it's not safe," Yannis repeated blankly.

"So you wanted me?"

"Yes. You're going to help me clear out the loft."

Stefan frowned. "The loft?"

"Yes. Darian is a ridiculous hoarder, and if I leave it to him, we'll never get the conversion done. And we need more space, especially if you're going to be a long-term feature." "Who's Darian?" Stefan asked blankly.

Yannis gave him a look.

"That's that's Daz's name?"

"Really?"

"Well, he's just...Daz. Or Sir."

"That's because he's allergic to names more than one syllable long."

"I kind of...expected something more..."

Yannis smirked. "Foreign?"

Stefan felt his face heating up.

"His dad is Mohammed and his mother is Linda, if that gives you a hint as to the story there," Yannis said evenly, and started to head upstairs. "Come on."

"Will he be back today?"

"No. In theory not until Boxing Day, but he usually has an argument with someone and storms back up here in a huff."

"They row?"

"Yeah."

"About what?"

"Me."

Stefan winced. "Oh."

Yannis said nothing as he got a stepladder out of a cupboard on the landing and they ascended into the loft through the narrow hatch. It was a low, cluttered space, lit only by a bare bulb hanging from the roof and stuffed to the rafters with dust, boxes, old furniture, and moth-eaten rugs.

"Is this all yours?"

"Some of it. Some of it's the previous owner's, too. Generally the further away from the hatch, the more likely it's not ours."

"There could be antiques."

"There could be a body."

Stefan blinked. He hadn't expected-well, this. For Yannis to have a sense of humour, for a start. He was so serious and bookish and...boring.

"Are you really okay with this?" he whispered.

"No. You move out of a house, you take your things with you. You don't leave them in the loft for the next owner to break his back trying to heft them down the stairs and into a skip."

"No-no, I mean...this."

"I just answered that," Yannis said blankly, clearing a space with his feet then sitting down heavily on a pile of rugs. A cloud of dust exploded up around him in a mushroom cloud of grey.

"Me."

Yannis snorted. "Yes."

"But-why?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Sit down and make yourself useful or go home."

Stefan gingerly sat down, and helped peel the tape off one of the boxes.

"Most guys wouldn't be okay with their boyfriend having sex with someone else."

"Well, I am."

"But why?"

"Why not? Whatever Daz feels for you doesn't change what he feels for me. If he tried to leave me for you, then I would have a problem with it. But he's not. So I don't."

It all sounded too simple. Stefan said as much.

"Sometimes it is that simple."

Stefan prised open the box.

"I guess I just...I know I'm crazy for agreeing to this. For liking what he does. But you..."

"If you're crazy for liking it, Darian must be a bastard for liking to do it. And I must be a previous victim. But I'm not. He's not. You're not."

Stefan shrugged, chewing on his lip as he dragged another box over and began to investigate the contents, holding everything up in turn for Yannis to dismiss or tell him to put back.

"So why the uncertainty?"

"Sorry?" Stefan asked.

"We've had this conversation before. I didn't think we needed it again. Why are you so convinced this is crazy?"

"Because it is!"

"But why?"

"Well-"

"Crazy is relative. Where I come from, two men having sex is already crazy without adding anything else into the equation."

Stefan flushed.

"And before you try insisting it's different," Yannis said calmly, "I've seen what you have."

The heat in Stefan's face worsened.

"Yeah, well, that's crazy, too..."

"So you're not from a liberal heartland?"

Stefan swallowed.

"When when I came out, my mum threw me out."

"And your dad?"

"Don't have one."

"Brothers? Sisters?"

"No." Stefan shook his head.

"So it was just you and your mum?"

"And my grandparents."

"That sounds lonely."

"Did you have a big family?"

"Enormous. Darian isn't much better. Only children were unusual round our way."

"Well, I wasn't supposed to exist."

"No?"

"No." Stefan closed his eyes for a moment. "My mum didn't want me. She hated my dad for getting her pregnant."

"Ah."

"She always said my dad was her biggest mistake which made me feel great, I was half pure mistake and then every time I wasn't normal, I wasn't what she wanted, it was his fault and just another way he was screwing up her life, even though he wasn't around. So when I came out..."

"She wasn't happy."

"No."

It had been-hideous. Because she hadn't screamed or cried like every other time he'd been a freak. A reaction-any reaction-would have been fine. He could deal with screaming and shouting. He could cope with being called a freak and a fuck-up. But she'd not done any of that. She'd just...shaken her head. And told him to leave.