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"What you drinking?"
"Nothing, I was just gonna say I'm off now."
"Alright. Your mum took Dory home ages ago, she couldn't find you to say bye
but she-"
"I ain't going home, I'm going with Lindsay."
"Oh." Something seems to pass between them, not in words or looks or gestures
or anything, it's just there. Phil's face is expressionless and he drinks half his beer before
he speaks again. "Have you got anything?"
"Any what?"
"Christ Almighty, Philip, do you need a diagram?"
Pip's not sure whether to laugh or be sick when he realises. "Oh. Fucking hell. I
ain't talking details with you, don't think it's none of your business, is it?"
"Well yeah I think it is, actually, unless he can give me a list of everywhere he's
put his dick the last four years."
"DAD!" he yelps, laughing at the same time but only because he's horrified. Phil
doesn't even crack a smile, he seems deadly serious, and that only makes it funnier and
more awful.
"I ain't kidding around. Here..." He digs in his pocket for change and holds the
pile of coins out. "Three quid, go in the gents' and buy a pack."
"Oh my god." Pip does as he's told, though, laughing and blushing all the way
over to the toilets and giving Lindsay a helpless shrug and a 'just one minute' gesture
where he's waiting by the door. It's years since he had to buy johnnies from a vending
machine in a bar. There's something horrific about it, it feels disgustingly sleazy. He can't
even look at the machine on the wall while there are still other people in the room. As
soon as he's alone in there he drops the coins in and turns the handle so quickly he almost
sprains his wrist and goes back to report to his dad. "Happy now?" he says, showing him
the little box hidden in his palm so nobody else can see.
"Not really."
"I'm twenty-six. I'm old enough to choose what goes down my throat and up my
bum, you know."
"Ain't even that." He's not really looking at Pip any more, he's scanning the room
and ends up with his eyes fixed on Lindsay, smoking and chatting with someone just
outside the door now. "Don't care if it's a bloke or what, you shouldn't be copping off
with no one. You should be playing your Lego and riding that twatty bike you had with
ribbons on the handlebars."
"I ain't a kid no more."
"You're my kid." Pip hugs him then, for the first time in about a decade. He
doesn't know he's going to until he gets the sudden overwhelming urge and can't stop
himself. Phil seems surprised and like he's got no idea what to do. He finally manages an
awkward couple of pats on the back and doesn't want to make eye contact when it's
finished. "Fuck off then," he says brusquely. "And don't forget you owe me three quid,
you little poof."
***
The taxi seems to take forever, even though the roads aren't particularly busy.
They don't talk the whole way. They're not even touching this time, they're sitting at
opposite sides of the back seat looking through opposite windows. Pip watches Lindsay's
ghostlike reflection for movements, trying to work out what he's thinking. Sometimes it's
so obvious, even when he thinks he's hiding it. Sometimes it's impossible, like now.
Lindsay's house is dark. There must be a lamp on somewhere, dimly glowing
around the corner of the stairs and bleeding into the downstairs hallway, plenty to see by
but not enough to make this feel like anything more substantial than a dream. It's the sort
of faint light that makes things look strange and crooked, like a fairground hall of mirrors
or The Cabinet of Dr Caligari. Pip unzips his jacket and hangs it up on the coatstand by
the door, but he goes in the pocket for something before he steps back. "What's that?"
"Remember it?"
Pip shows him the orange plastic ring on his finger and Lindsay's eyebrows shoot
up, then he looks like he's trying not to smile.
"I can't believe you've still got that piece of tat."
"I told you before I'll stop wearing it soon as you buy me something big and
diamondy."
Lindsay's hands are huge. He holds Pip's in both of his and it almost disappears;
he feels silly and small like a child, but then Lindsay kisses over his knuckles and
everything's okay.
"I don't know. You'd look stupid in diamonds. You suit plastic kiddy jewellery."
"Thanks?"
Lindsay drops his hand to take his own jacket off, then they stand there by the
door for a while, shuffling and embarrassed and not doing anything, not wanting to be the
one to make the move. "Do you want a drink?" Lindsay says, and Pip shakes his head and
takes a breath and steps closer.
"No," he says, and he slips his arms up around Lindsay's neck and kisses him.
Nothing like the hesitant terrified kisses on the face and neck yesterday, but a proper kiss
on the lips, frantic and hungry like he can't get enough. Lindsay makes a strange happy
sound through his nose and brings his hands up Pip's back to clutch at him and hold him
closer. It's rushed and clumsy and not very good, their noses feel like they're getting in
the way and it's too wet and their teeth clack together. Pip pulls away after a moment,
laughing and wiping his sloppy mouth on the back of his hand. "This ain't gonna happen
if we can't do no better than this."
"Come upstairs."
He can't help the prickling, thrilling rush he gets from that, being told what to do,
being led upstairs by the hand. Lindsay kisses him again as soon as they're in the
bedroom and this time it's so so much better. Pip falls back against the closing door and
Lindsay moves with him, pressing him there and pinning his wrists above his shoulders.
He's been wondering for ages what it'd be like, whether it'd be strange or easy kissing
Lindsay again after all these years without. It's the most natural thing in the world falling
back into it, feeling all the old ways rushing back. He makes a quiet, helpless noise into
Lindsay's mouth and tries to move his hands, just to see what happens, but Lindsay slams
them back against the door and bites his lip and Pip submits happily with another shaking
little sigh, not moving at all, just letting himself be kissed. He's got his eyes open and he
can see the bed. Tingles dance up his spine and into his brain, chasing the thought: This
time it's actually going to happen.
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