Beautiful Mess by Lucy V. Morgan

full of herbs in plant pots.
    “Feels wrong,” sniffed Tom.
    “We have to make sure that it’s habitable for Bailey. Check for sharp corners, glass ornaments, that kind of thing.”
    “You’re like two gay dads, giving me away,” I grumbled.
    “It’s a good job we don’t actually have homo friends,” Tom mused. “They’d need to be very tolerant.”
    I got the flat door open, finally, and we spilled into the hall. The boys dumped their boxes and gazed about in wonder.
    Olly scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s…it’s…”
    “Normal.” Tom’s upper lip twitched with disgust.
    I poked him in the ribs. “What were you expecting?”
    “I dunno. Bats, a coffin? Women’s shoes in trannie sizes?”
    “I was expecting all sorts of weird super villain shit, like a fish tank floor full of sharks and giant squid.” Olly’s shoe squeaked on the polished floorboards. “I can’t believe he’s this…tidy.”
    “I couldn’t, either.” I grinned.
    “Stop bitching and give me a hand.” Linc appeared in the doorway, cradling the box that I knew to be full of rats. Recently, we’d bought a cute little gray one to join Tarquin and Safety Dance. His name was Desmond.
    I eased the box from Linc’s arms and stood on tip-toe to give him a kiss.
    “Is the cage down in the car?”
    “Yep.” His fingers played on my waist. “I’ll have it up in five.”
    “I still can’t look.” Olly slapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s like watching my sister and brother.”
    I rolled my eyes as I strode past him. “You‘ve had four months to get used to it, you knobhead.”
    “That’s nothing! And don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing here, Missy.” He wagged a finger at me. “Stealing my wing man away. He’ll still be over for work, and--”
    “I’m a wing man!” Tom protested.
    “But you’re shit with a keyboard,” sighed Olly, patting his friend on the back. “You’re meant to be dosing up pensioners anyway, Doctor Tom.”
    It took an hour or so to bring up all my boxes, and I busied myself sorting the rats while the boys stacked them in the hall. I set up the cage in the spare room and made sure they had lots of fancy schmancy cereal.
    Then it was time to say goodbye to Olly and Tom.
    “It’s going to be too weird,” said Tom.
    Olly pouted at me. “I’ll be in your empty bedroom at two in the morning, pounding the walls with my bare fists. You think of that while you’re doing dirty things and making sad little photo collages.”
    “You look after her, Linc. No whipping back the floorboards to reveal any fish tanks, you hear?”
    Linc gave Tom a rather forceful high-five. “I’ll do my best, mate.”
    I suffered choking hugs from the sweaty boys and waved as they started down the hall. The door hadn’t closed when they began singing at the tops of their voices.
    “They are very slutty werewolves with their furry, faggy...rats?”
    “Rats. Were-rats. Woah, were-rats are easy!”
    Linc slammed the door shut and shoved me up against it with a grin. “So.” A slow, barely restrained kiss. “Finally got you all to myself.”
    “You certainly have, Mr. Forester. Do you think they’ll cope without me?”
    He chewed his lip. “Well, we aren’t going back round there until at least nine o’clock.”
    “You’re right. It’ll be touch and go.”
    “But it gives us hours and hours.”
    Soft little licks trailed down my neck, and my nipples rubbed stiffly against his chest. Ow .
    “Hours and hours of montages?” I giggled.
    “Yes. God, yes.”
    I let Linc scoop me up and take me to the bed now bedecked in my velvet comforter. Our spaces, our lives, were mashed together in a shocking, beautiful mess. I didn’t remember ever falling in love with Linc; I woke up one morning and I just kind of was . It was the biggest screw you, Craig! ever--and the one I never dared to expect.
    It was also the best thing that had ever happened to me.
    “You’re wearing too many clothes,”