Bikes and Blokes

Bikes and Blokes

“Doug, this is a kitchen, not a repair shop,” Andrew Brown said, kneeling down to untie his snow covered boots before going further into the warm kitchen. He brushed a light dusting of snow off his short hair, now more gray than black.

“I never knew a bike had this many pieces.” Doug held up a sackful of bolts. “I don’t even know where these damn things go. I’ll be at this all night at this rate.”

“Don’t wake Milton,” Andrew warned, still shedding layers of clothes. “I’ll work on the bike; you can try thawing the water. It’s colder than I ever remember.” Andrew blew on his hands.

“I’ll gladly do the water. This contraption is driving me batty.”

“Put on plenty of clothes. No exposed skin.”

“Yes, Andrew, I do know how to dress. I have been a farmer for almost as many years as you.”

“Watch yourself, young man. It’s Christmas Eve. I’d hate to have to spank you.”

“And the water to the barn is frozen, and Milton’s present is in pieces all over the kitchen floor. I’m not feeling very merry or cheery. There’s no law against being a realist.”

“Grouchy, boy,” Andrew ruffled Doug’s still brown hair. “Will a spanking cheer you up?” 

“No,” Doug muttered, pulling a second heavy sweater over his broad shoulders.

“Go check the warming lights on the pipes. If you’re a good boy, maybe Santa will have a surprise for you when you get back.”

“I’m a little too old for Santa.”

“Shoo, boy. No one is ever too old for Santa, especially naughty brats.”

Doug stomped back in the house, shaking snow, hay, straw, and manure across the floor. “You could freeze your balls off out there.”

“Doug, we have a child.”

“He’s fast asleep dreaming of sugar plums and shiny bicycles with a herd of elves to assemble the moving parts.”

“I managed to do it with only one elf, the head elf,” Andrew said with a grin. “He left you something, but I don’t know if I should give it to a cranky brat?

“Andrew, don’t tease. I’m cold and tired.”

“Come in by the fire.” Andrew rubbed his partner’s icy hands between his own. “You are cold.”

“No, kidding! The line was frozen behind the barn.”

Andrew drew his partner near the fire. “Sit. Rest.”

“What do you have planned?” Doug asked suspiciously. “You’re not acting like your usual crusty self.”

“Patience, my boy.”

 Andrew opened a bottle of champagne and poured it into two of the fluted wine glasses that usually lived unused and dusty on the highest shelf in the kitchen. “To us,” he said and almost shyly handed Doug a slim, flat package wrapped in gold foil. “Open it, please.”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Doug protested, fingering the sheer ribbon.

“This is only for us,” Andrew said softly. “Please.”

Doug’s thick fingers stumbled over the delicate wrapping. Underneath was a slim black box. He snapped the lid open. On the velvet, lay a flat chain of intertwined gold and silver.

“Do you like it?” Andrew asked in a hushed voice.

“It’s beautiful.” Doug stroked the intricate links. “But we don’t tell anyone.”

“It’s measured to tuck under your shirt. No one ever needs to see it but me. Will you wear it?”

“You want to collar me?” 

“You don’t want it?” Andrew said, not hiding the hurt in his voice.

“No, please, put it on me.” Doug wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I never thought you would. You’re not a demonstrative man,” Doug said softly.

“I’m very private,” Andrew said, resting his hand on his partner’s knee. “I love you, my boy.” He bent forward and captured Doug’s lips in a soft kiss. “My boy, forever.”

“Thank you.” Doug dropped to his knees. “Collar me.”

“My pleasure.”

The slim chain lay flat against his lover’s neck. Andrew stroked it once before tucking it out of sight under Doug’s shirt collar and sweater. The floor above them creaked, and they both looked up to see a pajama clad boy peering down from the head of the stairs.

“I’m cold.”

“Milton, back to bed with you,” Andrew said, trying to sound firm.

“Has Santa been here yet?”

“Good boys find out in the morning. I’ll bring you another blanket,” Doug said.

“OK.” Milton turned and headed back to his bedroom.

“I thought you didn’t believe in Santa?” Andrew asked with a half smile.

“I changed my mind. He put the bike together and brought me all I ever wished for.” Doug picked up the flute of champagne. “Merry Christmas!”