by Claire Dobbin
The third time the cell phone vibrated in his pocket in as many minutes clued
Alex in that it was an important call. He interrupted the meeting with an
apology and explained that he had to take an urgent call, then setting aside his
earphones and microphone he left the translator's booth and stepped into the
corridor.
"What's wrong, Walter?" he asked the second his call was answered.
"Relax, Alex, everything's under control," his partner told him in a studiously calm voice. "I got a call from the school, Alexander's running a slight temperature so I picked him up. We're at home; he's tucked up in bed eating ice cream. There's nothing to worry about. I just wanted you to know."
"Oh, okay," Alex told him, trying nonchalantly to ease out of his obsessive parent persona.
"He's fine, maybe a little grumpy with it, but Mrs. Mulso is just being extra careful, what with the performance coming up and all."
"Right," Alex responded, still glowing from the news that their boy had been given the role of Chief Shepherd in the school nativity play, and would be singing the only solo in the entire production. "Well then, I'll see you both tonight."
"Um Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"Mrs Mulso reminded me that we volunteered to help out with the props this year and she has asked if we could provide ten lanterns for the carol singing procession."
"You want me to pick some up on the way home?"
"That'd be great. Oh and better get another quart of chocolate chip ice cream."
"Sure, no problem. See you later, babe. Give Alexander a hug for me?"
"Will do."
He closed up his phone and reluctantly returned to translating Professor Stratkorich's lengthy thoughts on Tolstoy's Masonic connections and their influences on the creation of 'War and Peace'.
Several hours later he pulled into the driveway and lifted the box of purchases out of the trunk, eager to check on his son and to leave behind the long and tedious day at the University.
"How's my baby?" he called nudging the be-wreathed front door closed behind him.
"We're in the family room," Walter answered.
Heading straight there, he set the box down on the hall table, taking from it the carton of ice cream. Alexander, looking very feverish, was wrapped up in his favourite 'Monster Inc' comforter and was surrounded by his 'Little People' figures. Walter took the ice cream from his worried lover in exchange for a quick kiss.
"He's absolutely fine," he reassured, "I called the doctor's office and spoke with Chloe. She says he doesn't need any medication other than Calpol, just to be kept warm, drink lots of fluids, the usual. Now go do your stuff."
"Daddy," came a croaky voice.
"Yes, baby, how you doin'?"
"Feel yucky, Daddy."
"I know, baby, but it'll be all better tomorrow, I promise."
Throwing his coat across the back of the couch he sat down beside the small figure and swept back the damp curls to plant a kiss on the hot forehead.
He reached over and filled up the glass with fresh orange juice from the pitcher.
"Drink this for Daddy," he requested, holding the weight while Alexander guided it to his lips and drank enough to make his father happy.
"Good boy," he praised. "Want to see what I brought you?"
Walter returned in time to hear the latter and having long ago given up on Alex's desperate need to spoil their child, he just sighed deeply as he handed his lover a tray of food.
"We've already eaten, you stay where you are. I'll get whatever it is."
"On the hall table, bring in the whole box."
Walter carried in the large box and put it down on the floor beside his chair. Ignoring the ten identical boxes containing lanterns he took out the blue Fisher Price box.
"This it?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," Alex nodded, enjoying his first spoonful of Walter's finest chili.
Walter brought it over to Alexander and placed it in his lap. The child's bright eyes grew even brighter when he saw the picture on the front.
"Magna Doodle—cool!" he croaked.
"Say thank you to Daddy," Walter coached as he helped the small hands open the box.
"Ta ta, Daddy," Alexander complied, his excitement making him revert to toddler talk.
"Well, this is something we can take off the list for Santa," Walter said gently as he cast a warning glance over at Alex. "Now, let's see how this works—"
A half an hour of funny pictures and excited croaking was all it took to exhaust the sick child. Walter began gathering up the scattered toys as he said, "Time for bed, Alexander, there'll be lots of time tomorrow for this since you won't be at school."
"No, Dada, five more minutes... " he pleaded.
"Uh-uh," his father told him firmly, gently removing the Magna Doodle from his grasp.
"Pleasssse, Daddy," Alexander whined, going for the weak link in the chain of command.
"Dada's right, baby," Alex told him, coming over to scoop him up for a hug. "You need to take your honey and lemon and snuggle up in bed."
"Don't want the honey and lemon," Alexander told him, his voice not only croaky but also uncharacteristically grouchy.
"But it's how we chase away that old frog who's hiding behind your tonsils."
Alexander pushed out of the hug, looking cross. "Don't be silly, Daddy, I don't have a frog in my tonsils, I have an anfection."
Alex smiled up at Walter and decided to go for a distraction. "Want to see what else I got?" he asked pulling over the cardboard box.
Alexander nodded and watched as Alex lifted out one of the boxed lanterns and removed it from its wrapping. He switched on the bulb hidden in the pointed plastic roof and held it up for Alexander to see.
The child's reaction was not what he expected.
"No Daddy!"
"What's wrong, baby?" Alex questioned, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.
"This is what Mrs. Mulso asked us to get, Alexander. Daddy got the exact thing," Walter told him.
"No, no, no," Alexander yelled, then started to cough.
Alex pulled him up into his lap, while Walter rubbed soothing circles on his back. A drink of water and he settled a little.
"Tell us what's wrong," Alex prompted him.
"You didn't make them," the little boy explained patiently. "You have to make them."
"These will be fine, Alexander. They are just what your teacher wants, you'll see."
The distress returned, but not as bad. "Joe's Mom is making the angel wings and Melissa's Mom is making the donkey suit. You have to make them Daddy."
Alex looked into the brimming eyes sharing his son's distress, though in his case it was caused by the use of the word 'Mom'. He shot a warning glance at Walter, letting the older man know that he was going to make a stand on this one, and that reason, good sense and the 'no nonsense' Skinner approach to parenting were not going to apply.
"Okay, baby, we'll make them. I'll pick up the stuff we need tomorrow. We'll start as soon as Dada and I get home."
Alexander hiccoughed and went limp in his arms.
"Now, let's get you to bed."
He hoisted the five-year-old bundle over his shoulder and headed up the stairs, Walter following a few steps behind.
"And we're asleep," Walter announced gently when they reached the landing.
Together they tucked him in between the cool sheets of his bed with the ragged teddy bear his Grandma had given him and in turn gave him his good night kiss. Walter took the baby monitor from the cupboard and plugged it in.
"Just in case," he whispered, turning the lamp down to a faint glow.
Catching hold of Alex's arm he guided the younger man from the nursery towards their bedroom where he found the receiver and turned it on.
"I have a feeling we're going to be on call tonight, so what about an early night?" He wound his arms around Alex's waist and began to nibble on a sensitive ear lobe.
Alex leaned back. "Mmm, sounds good. I'm more than ready for some grown-up time."
"Hold that thought," Walter told him, an anticipatory glint in his eye. "I'll clean up and lock up. Won't be long."
As he went down stairs he heard the shower go on and his anticipation grew. Freshly showered, sweet smelling, eager Alex was as good as it got. With the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and the kitchen counters wiped clean he went to give the family room a quick tidy, but found to his dismay that a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream had managed to get upturned under the comforter making a big brown stain on the couch. Sighing he got a basin of soapy water and the stain remover from the kitchen and knelt down to apply the elbow grease necessary to remove it.
Twenty minutes and a great deal of effort later he was satisfied with the job and left the damp patch to dry while he took the stairs two at a time, anticipating the creation of another, more pleasurable damp patch.
Alex lay naked, stretched out on their bed, his skin glowing from the hot shower. Walter's hand moved of its own accord to caress the beautifully proportioned rump.
"That took longer than I thought," he said softly, climbing onto the bed to lie down beside his lover, "but I'm back." He pressed himself against the yielding body and ran his fingers lightly down from shoulder to thigh. "How's this for grown-up?" he asked in a low growl.
Alex squirmed away from the teasing touch and burrowed deeper into the pillow. Walter halted the seduction and levered himself up to look at his lover's face. Yep, sound asleep. But not for long! He stood up and quickly stripped off his clothes, then returned to what he had been doing, only more gently. He didn't want to wake Alex too quickly. His lover adored being seduced in his sleep and loved how Walter could bring him through wakefulness to orgasm with slow, seamlessly erotic precision.
Alex was just beginning to respond to the coaxing hand on his cock and the press of Walter's erection between his cheeks when the sound of coughing issued from the baby monitor. Walter froze, a moan escaping his lips. He waited, ignoring with difficulty the unconscious backward movements of Alex's body as it tried to recapture the lost stimulation. The coughing continued, if anything, growing more distressed. He flopped onto his back, then looked down in despair at his aroused state. He had a sinking feeling that the night would hold little satisfaction for him, unlike his lover who was developing a meaningful relationship with the pillow Walter had placed between his legs.
Groaning, Walter hauled himself from the bed and dragged on his sweats, but by the time he had crossed the landing to Alexander's room and had taken a look at the unhappy little boy, no other thought remained in his mind. He eased the child up against a stack of pillows and fed him small sips of water until the coughing ceased. Then he fetched a basin of tepid water and sponged the little boy's too warm face and chest, before putting on a pair of fresh pyjamas. With difficulty he got another dose of Calpol into Alexander and held him in his arms until it took effect and he slipped into a deep sleep.
Much like the one he found his lover in when he returned to their room. Having lost the energy and the interest to pick up where he'd left off, he climbed into the bed, wrapped himself around the chilled body of his mate and covered them with the comforter, promising himself a little morning glory.
When Alex arrived home the following evening it was to find that Alexander was well on the road to recovery and that Walter had spent the time waiting for the baby sitter to arrive profitably. A prototype lantern made from a Cheerio's packet and a set of templates were neatly set out on the dining room table, along with a glue gun, several pairs of scissors, a stapler, a ruler and a bundle of pencils. With Walter very much in 'marine mode' dinner was similarly organised and dispensed with, in the manner of a beach assault, so that twenty minutes later the three of them had been issued their allotted tasks on the Skinner Nativity Lantern Assembly Line and were hard at work.
Even allowing for Walter's dark glances over at Alex as he dismantled the perfectly good lanterns to extract the bulb circuitry, it turned out to be a fun evening for them all as they worked away and the number of finished lanterns began to stack up in neat twos at the end of the production line. Alexander's chubby fingers moved carefully but steadily, sticking down a crisscross lattice in each place his Daddy had marked for him, using the snips of sellotape his Dada had cut for him. Although his help was slowing the whole process down, they both considered it a good lesson.
About seven, Alexander slid off his chair and headed for the door.
"Hey," Walter asked, fixing him with the beady-eyed stare of a Gunnery Sergeant, "where are you going, half pint?"
"I gotta go pee, Dada," the almost croak-free voice piped up.
"Permission granted, soldier, but the clock's ticking."
Alex waited until the scurrying feet disappeared into the downstairs bathroom before he remarked quietly, "My, but somebody needs to get laid real bad."
Walter regarded him coolly, refusing to rise to the bait and ignoring the wide smirk that accompanied it.
"It's not my fault that I had a breakfast meeting this morning," Alex continued.
"No," Walter agreed, "but it is your fault we're going to be up half the night making these stupid things." He gestured at the profusion of black card pieces on the table. "You know one of these days you're going to have to let a little reality into his life."
"Not while there's breath in my body and I can do something about it," Alex told him, the light tone of his voice belying the words. "Being bullied until he didn't want to get out of bed in the morning, because of us, is enough reality for any five-year old, in my book. I couldn't protect him from that, but as for anything else—"
The flush of the toilet halted him and a second later Alexander came barrelling out of the bathroom.
"Hold up, soldier," Walter commanded. "Did you wash your hands?"
Alexander looked at the offending appendages and shook his head.
"Hop to it."
He vanished again and the sound of his 'step-up' being trailed from the toilet to the sink could be heard, followed by the gush of water.
"Walter!" Alex said crossly, the frown line set deep across the top of his nose.
"I'm the one cast in the role of 'big, bad wolf', I'm only living up to it," Walter told him defensively, as he headed for the bathroom to supervise the drying of the hands.
Alex listened to the chitchat coming from the bathroom, a smile crossing his face despite his annoyance.
"Good job, soldier," Walter was praising. "Now time for an ice-cream break, I think, then you need to finish your lantern, practise your play words, then it's time to hit the sheets. Tomorrow's the big day."
"You're going to be there aren't you Dada?"
"Sure am, and Daddy and Aunt Elizabeth. And we're going to get a copy of the video to send to Grandma, and Aunt Olga, and Uncle Peter, and Uncle Kenneth and all your cousins."
"I'll be famous," Alexander said, hopping with his feet together into the kitchen.
"That you will," his father agreed, setting him up on the counter top to help dish out the ice cream. "But Daddy and I are going to be keeping you all to ourselves for a little while."
"Uh-huh," Alexander nodded in agreement. "Can I have sprinkles to put on Daddy's ice cream?"
"Here you go."
A minute later he entered the family room, carefully carrying his Daddy's bowl of ice cream.
"This for me?" Alex asked, feigning ignorance.
"Yes, I got you sprinkles." He pointed them out to his father.
"So I see. Chocolate, mmm, my favourite kind. Thank you, Alexander."
"You're welcome." And he hopped off to get his own.
By the time the ice cream was finished and Alexander had attached the final lattice, it was already past his bedtime. Alex moved the coffee table back out of the way and they took their places on the 'stage'.
"Okay," he organised, "so Alexander is Chief Shepherd, Dada is Shepherd 1 and I'm Shepherd 2."
Alexander curled himself up on the floor, clearly asleep.
"Wolf! Wolf!" Walter shouted.
With a dramatic gesture not seen since the days of the silent movies, Alexander jumped up and searched the horizon, his hand cupped over the top of his eyes.
"Where? Where?" he shouted.
Shepherds 1 and 2 pointed at him and laughed.
His hands went on his hips in indignation and he stamped his foot.
"That's not funny, and I'm not afraid of a wolf. I'm a shepherd like David and if a wolf comes near my sheep, I'll take my slingshot and spin it round and round my head, and WHAM! That old wolf will go running into the hills. I'm strong, I could fight ten wolves."
He held up all ten fingers for emphasis.
"Of course you could," Shepherd 1 told him sarcastically.
"I could! Well, six anyway." He stretched hugely and yawned.
"It's late, we'd better get some sleep," Shepherd 2 suggested.
They all lay down on the polished floor. After a few seconds, Alexander stirred as if shaken. He stood up and immediately jumped to face in the opposite direction, his arms sticking out to mimic angel wings.
"Shepherd, don't be afraid," he said in a twinkly, angel voice, "I have good news for you. The Saviour has been born and you will find him in the stable."
He jumped back into his shepherd position and role.
"Thank you, Angel. We'll go right away."
He shook his fathers awake.
"We have to go to Bethlehem," he announced, solemnly.
"Whatever for?" asked Shepherd 1, rolling his eyes at Shepherd 2, who bit down hard on his bottom lip.
"An angel told me that's where we'll find the baby king."
"An angel?" asked Shepherd 1, ever the sceptic.
That was the cue to sing the first verse of 'The First Noel', and since Alexander was still saving his voice, his dads sang it for him, while kneeling down and looking up at 'the sky' with amazed expressions.
"It is an angel," admitted Shepherd 1.
"Hurry we must go. I can't wait to see the baby," the Chief Shepherd said, and they set off on the journey around the family room to Bethlehem, singing the second verse of the carol.
"They looked it up, and saw a star, Shining in the east beyond them far, And to the Earth, it gave great light, And so it continued both day and night.
Noel, noel..."
Alexander took up position at the door of the stable, and his two companions stood on either side.
"May we come in?" he asked, then hopped into the stable to play Joseph's part.
"Come in and welcome."
Back to shepherd. "We have come to see the baby," he explained.
"I have brought him a sheepskin to keep him warm," said Shepherd 1, handing it over.
"I have brought him a baby lamb," said Shepherd 2, following suit.
Alexander thought hard for a moment, then held up his hand. "I have nothing to give him but my slingshot. Do you think he would like that?"
A quick hop back into the stable and Joseph answered, "I think he would like that very much, kind shepherd."
Alexander looked up at his dads as he said, "That's when I sing my song, but I'm not supposed to do it now, right?"
"Better not," Walter told him, "don't want to hurt anything."
"Okay."
Alex bent down to pick him up. "That was just great. Do you know everyone's words, baby?"
"Mmm huh," Alexander told him pensively.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Jesus is a little baby in the manger, Daddy, but I'm not a baby."
Walter looked over at Alex's blank face and he moved to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but the younger man had already recovered.
"Of course you're not, ba—Alexander. You're almost a man."
The curly head nodded up and down vigorously, then plopped down to rest on Alex's shoulder. "I'm a little bit tired now," he told them.
"Bed, then, after your honey and lemon."
"Okay."
Walter let Alex take care of the medication and night time routine while he worked on at the lanterns, and by the time his lover came back downstairs all that remained was the tidy up. They finished it together silently and afterwards Alex flopped down on the couch. Walter was a man who could recognise when a little TLC was required and so he brought a bottle of vodka and two glasses from the kitchen. Removing the fire screen he set light to the fire and pulled the cushions down onto the rug. Turning off the lamps he left them in only the warm glow from the fire and the Christmas tree lights, then he held out his hand in invitation to Alex.
The younger man allowed himself to be settled among the cushions and to have his shirt and prosthesis removed. He arched with relief into Walter's massaging hands and sighed deeply.
"I know it's a good sign," he offered, keeping his eyes firmly shut.
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt though, huh?" Walter questioned.
"Hurts like a bitch," Alex admitted through clenched teeth as Walter worked on a tight knot of muscle.
Succeeding in releasing the tension, he began a more soothing motion. A chuckle escaped his lips.
Alex opened his eyes and looked at him quizzically. "What?"
"I'm remembering the day my dad took me out to celebrate my promotion to AD. He was showing me off to his buddies at the local watering hole back home, and I can tell you it didn't happen often but he certainly tied one on that day."
Alex looked even more bemused.
"Anyhow, I went to the john and when I walked back into the bar, my dad looked up at me, his forty something first born and said, 'Here's my baby'."
Alex sniggered.
"Exactly. I could've killed him on the spot, but tonight, for the first time, I understand what he was feeling. Alexander will always be our baby, Alex, no matter how grown up he gets."
Alex reached up to run his hand across Walter's cheek. Removing the glasses carefully, he reached back up and caught the older man along his broad neck, drawing him down for a loving, intimate kiss. When it ended, he pushed Walter gently away.
"Go check on him and bring back the lube, babe. I want you so much tonight."
Walter didn't need any persuasion. Finding Alexander content and flushed only with sleep, he detoured to their bedroom to pick up the monitor and the bottle of 'Wet'. Back in the family room, he closed the door and turned the key in the lock, his eyes full of the beautiful sight of his naked lover. Taking the monitor from Walter's nerveless hand Alex put it on the end table and began to strip off his clothes, all the while encouraging the older man's arousal with nips and licks and kisses as each area of skin was uncovered.
When he was, at last, as naked as Alex, the younger man pushed him back against the locked door and leaned his full weight on him.
"Get me ready," he whispered huskily into a quivering ear.
Speechless with desire, Walter wrapped his arms around his lover and fumbled the bottle open. Coating two fingers with the liquid he allowed what remained to flow down between his lover's cheeks. When he felt the wetness, Alex reached back and captured some of it to slick Walter's cock and balls, in readiness for the sensuous assault that had him hard and leaking almost instantly.
"Alex—" Walter warned.
"Mmm," Alex murmured, moving his talented hand up to Walter's left nipple and allowing the older man to feel his own hardness matched in full as their lower bodies pressed together.
"Go on, use two fingers," Alex instructed before beginning to bite and suck on Walter's jaw and neck.
They fingers slid in so easily it was almost Walter's undoing. He held still for a minute or two then began a rhythmic pumping that made Alex's hips buck in time to it. Suddenly, knowing he was reaching his own limit of stimulation, Alex straightened up and pulled Walter along with him to the fireside cushions.
"Down you go," Alex told him and Walter obeyed, feeling deliciously wanton as he stretched out in the firelight, his hand working his cock for his own, and his lover's pleasure.
Alex straddled Walter's legs and leaned back on his heels.
"Permission to come aboard sir?" he requested.
"Permission granted."
Immediately, he shuffled forward and lowered himself onto the rampant cock. They both hissed with the sweet, intense pleasure of it and held still for a few panting breaths before beginning to move.
It lasted longer than it should have done considering their joint state of arousal, and Alex sweated as he rode, ignoring his own body's demands in favour of Walter's pleasure. It was only the older man's firm grip on Alex's cock and its irresistible stroking that released them both from the wonderful torment, to rise up and crash down on each other like so much spray on the wave of orgasm.
Walter reached down to comb the soaked hair back from his lover's forehead where it rested on his chest. Alex murmured and moved to roll off him.
"Uh-uh," Walter told him, wrapping a leg tightly across his thighs to hold him in place. "You're staying right where you are."
All too soon, however, nature had its way and Alex slipped free from Walter, much to his annoyance. But they moved into a spooned embrace, facing the fire and Walter poured a measure of vodka into one of the glasses. They took turns sipping from it, enjoying the burn of the alcohol and the illicitness of lying naked and sated together in the glow of the family room hearth. Lovemaking had been strictly confined to the bedroom since Alexander had started crawling. What they had done was self-indulgent and pretty wonderful, and it was clear neither of them wanted to move.
"What do you say I set my watch for four thirty?" Walter suggested.
Alex remained silent.
"We have the monitor and the door is locked," he bargained.
"Mmm, sounds good," Alex agreed, "but too risky. Anyway I need to check on him. Five minutes more and the rest of the vodka, then we go up."
Walter sighed silently and held his love tighter against him. Was there anything as bad as an assassin turned good? He wondered to himself.
Walter felt nervous to the point of nausea as he sat in the darkness of Hillview's auditorium waiting for Alexander's scene. He glanced sideways at Alex to find him in a similar condition, though for a lesser reason; his right knee bouncing up and down in agitation. Then suddenly, he recognised the music that introduced the shepherds and there was Alexander, looking very grown up. He wore an ankle length tunic, covered by a swath of fake sheepskin, tied round his waist with a piece of rope, and on his head was a chequered dish towel held in place by an old striped tie.
"Wolf! Wolf!" The scene began.
Walter glanced again at Alex to find him mouthing the words, a look of complete concentration on his face. It was over in a flash and the music for Alexander's solo began. His clear, sweet voice quavered on the first few notes and Alex's hand found Walter's in a tight grip, but the voice settled and grew in confidence.
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song high above the trees
With a voice as big as the sea,
With a voice as big as the sea."
There was a burst of warm applause when he finished, and Alexander's face split into a wide grin. Elizabeth squeezed Walter's arm and smiled at him, her eyes misty. He could feel Alex relax beside him and he moved slightly in his seat to bring them into closer contact.
The rest of the night was a blur of PTA mulled wine and Alexander as high as a kite. When they finally coaxed him to bed he fell asleep like a light being switched off and they gratefully trailed back downstairs to spend a few hours with Walter's sister who was visiting friends in the city for a few days.
"I can't believe how much he's grown," she told them, "and he's going to be musical."
"Yes," Walter agreed. "His music teacher assessed him. She's recommending specialist music lessons in voice and piano."
"Well, I would be careful with that. Starting too early seems to be the surest way of putting them off. Believe me I know. I cringe thinking about the amount of money I spent on Bobby's clarinet lessons." She laughed. "Of course, having some talent helps, but at least now he has a sense of rhythm."
"That'll come in real handy at agricultural college, sis," Walter chuckled with her.
"Don't knock it, Walt, for a while I thought I was going to be stuck with him permanently."
They both looked over at Alex's serious expression, and it wiped the good humour off their faces.
"I'll get the supper," he volunteered, disappearing out the door.
Elizabeth looked at Walter and frowned. "I've done it again," she said, referring to her up and down relationship with Alex.
"It's not just you, Bethy, about five other people have told him today how grown up Alexander is becoming. Hell, the kid told him himself last night. It's a problem for him. I try to understand, but the intensity of what he feels for Alexander is incredible."
"Are you worried about it, Walter?"
"Yes... and no. Alex loves Alexander too much to do the wrong thing for him. And believe me, Alexander is one independent little guy."
Elizabeth laughed. "Well, the apple doesn't fall far."
"I'm more afraid of Alex getting hurt," Walter told her. "He has no experience of family life, other than rejection, so he's doing the opposite, holding on too tight."
"God, I must seem like Cruella DeVille to him, but you know yourself, once they hit puberty you start marking off the days on the calendar." She laughed out loud. "If I'd known the problem I could have loaned Bobby to you for a couple of months."
"Gee thanks, Bethy."
"But you know, Walt, that's the solution, you should have another one, that would take the pressure off every—" she halted as a familiarly shy expression spread across her brother's face.
"You are?"
He nodded yes, a wide grin appearing.
"Does he—?" she asked, pointing to the kitchen.
He shook his head. "I just got the call five minutes before we left for the play."
"Then why are you telling me?" she asked, happily exasperated as she picked up her coat and purse.
He saw her to the door. "I'll call tomorrow, Walt, and I'll want to hear every detail."
He looked at her askance.
"Of how he takes the news, Walter," she explained patiently, taking out her car keys. "Now go."
She gave him a gentle push and closed the front door herself, leaving him standing in the hall grinning like a fool.
He went back into the family room and found his Santa hat. Putting it on, he slipped into the kitchen.
"Ho, ho, ho! And who have we here?"
Alex looked up at him, then made a drama out of checking the amount of eggnog left in the bowl.
When he looked back at Walter he said, "Well, looks like Santa to me, but if it is, he's a whole twenty-four hours early."
Walter closed the distance between them swiftly and took the dish of cocktail bites from Alex's hand, before wrapping his arms around his lover and saying, "It's never too early for Santa."
Alex pushed him away playfully. "What's got into you, Walter, Elizabeth—"
"Has gone home," he finished the sentence, and began pulling Alex towards the door.
"What?"
"Why?"
"Because I have a very smart sister," Walter explained, leaving the younger man more confused than ever. "Now, let's go upstairs."
Alex squirmed around in the embrace and Walter resisted the movement.
"I need to switch off the stove, okay?" Alex explained irritably, but he was beginning to enjoy Walter's playful mood, and he allowed himself to be guided out of the kitchen.
"So just why is Santa here so early?" he asked when they reached the top of the stairs.
"Because he needs to find out if you've been good."
"Oh, I'm always good, Santa," Alex told him in a register guaranteed to curl Walter's toes.
Walter backed him into the bedroom and together they plopped down on the big, wide bed.
"Don't I know it," he replied, taking a surprisingly quick and chaste kiss before pulling his lover up to sit leaning against him on the edge of the bed.
Alex was again confused by the change in mood. "What is it with you tonight, Walter?"
"Seriously Alex, if you could have anything, what would you like Santa to bring?"
"Mmmm... an Xbox," he said, thoughtfully.
"Waaayy better than an Xbox, Alex."
"Geez, what's better than an X—"
Walter could feel the realisation dawn in the body he held. Alex spun around and pinned him to the bed. "It's happened... she's.... we're going to have a baby?"
"All of the above," Walter told him gleefully. "Sarah says seven weeks. She didn't want us to be disappointed again, so she waited to be absolutely sure."
Alex whooped in triumph and gathered Walter close.
"Merry Christmas, love," Walter said.
"I love you," Alex told him, "and Alexander..."
Walter sensed the hesitancy. "What?" he asked.
"He'll be okay with this, won't he?"
"Of course he will," Walter reassured him. "You told me so yourself, remember?"
Alex nodded. "It's just... things will be different."
"Better. It'll be the best thing that will happen to him until he has one of his own."
"Yeah," Alex agreed. "I want to see that."
"Oh please, we have to raise them first," Walter said, groaning. "So, are you glad Santa came early?"
"Well," Alex said, his excited voice dropping a couple of octaves in pitch, "technically speaking he hasn't come at all. Yet."
"But you're going to make sure he does, aren't you?" Walter matched the deep, rich tone.
"Oh yeah. Probably more than once."
Walter closed his eyes in anticipation and groaned for a very different reason.
Finis—December 2002
