plots. We talked about it sometimes, but in the end it was another one of those things we never got around to."
"Don't start," Stuart said sternly. "That man is out of your life."
"I'm just saying," said Leo, "cremation is not an option for everyone. Since Malcolm wanted a proper burial, he's getting one. And I'm helping Jack choose the coffin."
Stuart put the book down. "Don't you ever get tired of being strong for everyone?"
Leo blinked at him. "I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, you're taking care of the funeral for Jack, you're taking care of Dune through this depression of his, you'd take care of the Micah-child if he'd let you, you'd handle Frances and Ocean's move if they asked you to, and the only reason you're not looking after Ben and Jamie is because Ben growls at anyone who comes too close. Stop and take a breath, Leo."
"Ben has never growled at me," Leo began.
"You know what I mean. I'm here to look after you. Let me, for God's sake."
"I am letting you."
"You sent me to bed early because you're worried I have jet lag."
"You didn't protest," Leo pointed out.
"The only reason I'm being so blunt with you is because I'm too tired to be otherwise, that's true. I've been awake over twenty-four hours and sleep is going to hit me any minute. Meantime, I'm laying down the law. You're to rest while I'm here, Leo. I'll go with Jack."
"You barely knew Malcolm."
"He asked me once if I'd ever seen a production in the new Globe, and I was sorry to tell him I had not. I think I can extrapolate from there. And when he was with Jack, I could see they were besotted with each other. They were true minds."
"True minds?" Leo said.
"The sonnet?" Leo must have looked blank because Stuart sighed heavily. "Your education is disgracefully spotty. You've acted Shakespeare -- you should have at least some idea of his poetry. It's the marriage sonnet." He quoted, in a voice meant to carry to the back row, "'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.'"
"Oh," Leo said, "I know what you mean now. I suppose they were. And my education was just fine, even if it was UC San Francisco instead of Cambridge or wherever you went."
"The Sorbonne," Stuart replied and ducked when Leo got onto his knees and swatted him with a pillow. Leo lost his balance and fell onto him heavily, feeling solid muscle and Stuart's big hands wrapping easily around his waist to hold him. They looked at each other, still laughing quietly.
It was pure impulse, to lean forward and press his lips to Stuart's forehead. Stuart swallowed hard and his hands shifted to grip Leo's waist more tightly. Leo kissed across Stuart's forehead and down the side of his face, hands braced on the headboard, and when Stuart tilted back his head, Leo kissed his throat. He rubbed his lips on the pulse point throbbing beneath Stuart's skin, and then with a sigh leaned his head on Stuart's shoulder.
"Leo?" Stuart whispered, broad hands rubbing over his back.
"Sorry," Leo said and climbed off the bed. "I don't want you to be a rebound fling."
"No," Stuart said, studying him. "There hasn't been anyone since Adam?"
Leo shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm fifty-one years old. And I'm not like you," he went on when Stuart started to protest. "I can't walk into a room and be the one everyone wants. I wasn't when I was young and I'm certainly not now."
Stuart said, "Everyone doesn't have to want you, you know. Just one person."
"That one person is out of my life, as everyone keeps reminding me."
Stuart said, words slow and deliberate, "Somebody new, Leo."
Leo swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't want somebody new. Don't worry, I won't kiss you again. Good night, Stuart." He went to his room, afraid his emotions would spill over into something regrettable.
Chapter Four
The funeral parlor played a minor-keyed and melancholy piano piece over their PA
"Don't start," Stuart said sternly. "That man is out of your life."
"I'm just saying," said Leo, "cremation is not an option for everyone. Since Malcolm wanted a proper burial, he's getting one. And I'm helping Jack choose the coffin."
Stuart put the book down. "Don't you ever get tired of being strong for everyone?"
Leo blinked at him. "I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, you're taking care of the funeral for Jack, you're taking care of Dune through this depression of his, you'd take care of the Micah-child if he'd let you, you'd handle Frances and Ocean's move if they asked you to, and the only reason you're not looking after Ben and Jamie is because Ben growls at anyone who comes too close. Stop and take a breath, Leo."
"Ben has never growled at me," Leo began.
"You know what I mean. I'm here to look after you. Let me, for God's sake."
"I am letting you."
"You sent me to bed early because you're worried I have jet lag."
"You didn't protest," Leo pointed out.
"The only reason I'm being so blunt with you is because I'm too tired to be otherwise, that's true. I've been awake over twenty-four hours and sleep is going to hit me any minute. Meantime, I'm laying down the law. You're to rest while I'm here, Leo. I'll go with Jack."
"You barely knew Malcolm."
"He asked me once if I'd ever seen a production in the new Globe, and I was sorry to tell him I had not. I think I can extrapolate from there. And when he was with Jack, I could see they were besotted with each other. They were true minds."
"True minds?" Leo said.
"The sonnet?" Leo must have looked blank because Stuart sighed heavily. "Your education is disgracefully spotty. You've acted Shakespeare -- you should have at least some idea of his poetry. It's the marriage sonnet." He quoted, in a voice meant to carry to the back row, "'Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments. Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.'"
"Oh," Leo said, "I know what you mean now. I suppose they were. And my education was just fine, even if it was UC San Francisco instead of Cambridge or wherever you went."
"The Sorbonne," Stuart replied and ducked when Leo got onto his knees and swatted him with a pillow. Leo lost his balance and fell onto him heavily, feeling solid muscle and Stuart's big hands wrapping easily around his waist to hold him. They looked at each other, still laughing quietly.
It was pure impulse, to lean forward and press his lips to Stuart's forehead. Stuart swallowed hard and his hands shifted to grip Leo's waist more tightly. Leo kissed across Stuart's forehead and down the side of his face, hands braced on the headboard, and when Stuart tilted back his head, Leo kissed his throat. He rubbed his lips on the pulse point throbbing beneath Stuart's skin, and then with a sigh leaned his head on Stuart's shoulder.
"Leo?" Stuart whispered, broad hands rubbing over his back.
"Sorry," Leo said and climbed off the bed. "I don't want you to be a rebound fling."
"No," Stuart said, studying him. "There hasn't been anyone since Adam?"
Leo shook his head. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm fifty-one years old. And I'm not like you," he went on when Stuart started to protest. "I can't walk into a room and be the one everyone wants. I wasn't when I was young and I'm certainly not now."
Stuart said, "Everyone doesn't have to want you, you know. Just one person."
"That one person is out of my life, as everyone keeps reminding me."
Stuart said, words slow and deliberate, "Somebody new, Leo."
Leo swallowed hard and shook his head. "I don't want somebody new. Don't worry, I won't kiss you again. Good night, Stuart." He went to his room, afraid his emotions would spill over into something regrettable.
Chapter Four
The funeral parlor played a minor-keyed and melancholy piano piece over their PA
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