Men of London 06 - Flying Solo (18 page)

Maxwell joined in and once the room was clear of abandoned fashion, he reached out and drew his lover into a hug. “Are you hungry? I can order your favourite pizza if you like. A Mighty Meaty. Like me.” He smirked, hoping the old joke would make Gibson smile.

Jack groaned. “Enough, already. I don’t need to hear your disgusting innuendos about how big your dicks are. I get enough of that from Gibson. Like what he said to me the other night when I threatened to rip his tongue out.” He stopped abruptly as Maxwell grinned. Jack didn’t know him well enough yet or he would never have made the remark.

Maxwell sniggered. “Wow, who knew your friends were so violent, Gibson?” He turned. “I happen to love your tongue. It has so many uses. Like when you wrap it around my—”

Jack made a disgusted noise like ‘Gah’ and fled the room.

“Ice cream cone. I was going to say ice cream cone, you dirty-minded dog.” Maxwell said in an injured tone. He supposed the wide grin on his face didn’t lend credence to his lie.

“God, Max, you are bad.” Gibson’s watery smile was a panacea to Maxwell’s tender heart.

“Yep, I have that badge already. And what did you say to him the other night anyway?”

Gibson grinned fleetingly. “I asked him how I was going to rim guys without my tongue.”

“Oh, God,” Maxwell’s dick gave a sly, happy nod at the thought. It was one of his favourite things to have done to him so a Gibson without his tongue was inconceivable.

Crap. I need to stop thinking about sex. My boyfriend has lost his father, you animal.

“Jack seems like a cool guy. I like him.”

Gibson nodded. “He’s a peach. He and Beth are the best. She’s funny and keeps him in line. I love her to bits.”

How about me? Do you maybe love me a little? God, I’m such a needy bastard.

“Do you need to call your mum back now you’re feeling a little better or do you want to wait until she calls you?”

Gibson’s face shadowed. “I need to get home to help Mum and Ricky with all the arrangements.” His face set stubbornly. “I’m not letting them do everything on their own. I’ll take a look at flights and get up there soon as I can.”

Maxwell shook his head. “Leave it. I’ll do it for you. I used to work in travel. I’ll get you sorted. Maybe I can even reschedule some of my flights and go with you earlier.” He’d call Grant to see what he could do to get whatever shifts he had changed. They’d originally only been due to fly out to Chloe’s birthday next week. Maxwell wished with all his heart fate had given Gibson those extra days to at least see his dad one last time.

Gibson flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that. My head’s all messed up. I want to sleep for a bit. I’m actually not hungry much after all.” He looked longingly at his bed.

“Get in there and wallow for a bit. I’ll go sort stuff out and come check on you in a little while. We’ll get that pizza later then.”

Gibson needed no urging and soon he was naked, his body sliding under his duvet. He clutched the scarf in his hands. His face was still pale, his eyes swollen. Maxwell wanted to undress and lie beside him, cuddle him until all the hurt went away. But he had work to do getting Gibson to what remained of his family.

Gibson stared out of the plane window, seeing little and not in the mood to appreciate the beauty of the clouds and sea below. His brain hadn’t functioned properly since he’d learnt of his father’s death. Well, that, plus Max’s fevered mutterings when he’d been sick. Gibson was still processing that unguarded conversation about the things he’d done on the streets and the words ‘I think I love you.’ He had a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach he knew what Max might tell him what he’d done to survive when he was homeless.

And Gibson wouldn’t judge him if it was what he thought it was.

But the worry had taken a backseat in the face of his dad’s death; he could only manage one momentous event at a time. When he was stronger, he’d ask Max about ‘those things’ and tell him they didn’t matter.

Beside him Max shifted, his longer legs trying to find comfort in the crowded aeroplane. “I’m more used to being out there than in here,” he moaned as he shuffled his backside on the seat and waved a hand at the cabin crew. One of them rolled her eyes and Gibson snorted softly in agreement. The crew had been attentive to them and were a pleasant bunch. One of them had even commiserated with Gibson on landing the ‘Maxwell fish,’ but she’d said it with a gleam in her eye and a fond smile. It appeared everyone loved Max.

Gibson smiled faintly. “Stop complaining. We’re nearly there.” He idly fingered the green and white scarf around his neck. He checked his laptop bag was still under his seat and gave a sigh of relief. He didn’t know whether he’d get in any game development while he was away but he didn’t travel anywhere without his laptop.

Max had pulled in every favour he could to get them on the earliest flight to Edinburgh a day later. Gibson still didn’t know how he’d managed it.

When he’d asked, Max had jokingly told him he’d threatened to release some rather risqué pictures of his boss, Grant, to his wife that Max had taken at a rather drunken stopover one night in Naples. Gibson still wasn’t sure if Max had been serious. Sometimes he couldn’t tell.

There was one thing worrying him. He’d overheard Max agreeing to take unpaid time off to accompany him back to his family. Max could ill afford that.

“Tell me again you didn’t have to sell your soul to come with me this week?” He turned to look at Max who stopped fidgeting and stared back. “I mean, you’d been sick, then this—did you have the leave due?”

Max frowned. “I told you. It’s fine. We get to use my airline discount to save some money. Driving us up wasn’t an option because my decrepit Punto wouldn’t have made it. And hiring one would have cost a small fortune. Stop worrying. It’ll be extra for the taxi fare to your house.”

Gibson sighed. “Sorry. I’m on edge I guess.” He turned to stare out the window again. A warm hand reached out and caressed his cheek. He looked back into his lover’s warm brown eyes.

“Gibson, I know the funeral is only in a couple of weeks but I think I’m more useful to you now as support. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you but I’ll never get the time off.” Max’s face crinkled in a look of guilt.

Gibson leaned over and kissed Max’s lips, not caring who saw it. “I appreciate it, honest. Seeing my mum and brother is going to kill me, and
not
seeing my dad.” He tried to get past the lump in his throat as tears threatened. “I’ll be able to face it better if you’re there with me this time around.”

The intercom crackled and the captain announced they were preparing to land. As Gibson pushed his tray up and handed over the remnants of the food he hadn’t yet eaten—he had no appetite—he was thankful for Max’s reassuring presence beside him. In a short time, the man had become someone special, someone beloved. It scared the crap out of Gibson.

First things first. Dealing with his father’s death was going to be tough enough.

*****

When he stepped up to the front door of the small, honeysuckle-festooned cottage in a lane set back among fields and cows, the impending family reunion was everything Gibson had both dreaded and looked forward to.

His mother’s pale, grief-stricken face set with a brave smile and his brother Richard’s bear hug as he held Gibson tightly and whispered he was glad to see him all conspired to make Gibson a gibbering wreck.

The mongrel greeting Gibson with such excitement had him in tears as he knelt down and buried his face in the thick fur. When he stood up, his face surely a mess, the three family members stood, in a group hug, crying, comforting each other and murmuring words of love and support. It was only when his mother finally released him and he could draw a breath that he realised Max was still standing awkwardly on the doorstep with a dog sniffing at his crotch.

Gibson wiped his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his tee shirt and motioned to a Max who looked ready to turn and run like a hound. He guessed Max wasn’t used to loud, emotional displays of affection or family antics.

“Haggis, leave Max alone. Mum, Ricky, this is my boyfriend, Max Lewis. He’ll be staying a few days with me.”

If Gibson hadn’t been so emotional he might have laughed at the panicked expression on his lover’s face was he was enfolded into Doris Henry’s big arms, his face pressed against a soft bosom.

“Max, lovely to meet you, child, even under the circumstances. I’ve heard nothing about you so I look forward to getting to know you.” Max looked spooked, his eyes widening. He cast a panicked glance at Gibson who took pity on him.

“God, Mum, please let him go, before you kill him with kindness from those boobs of yours.”

His mother tut-tutted but released the man currently looking as if he was being consumed with motherly affection. Doris’s eyes widened when she finally noticed what Gibson wore around his neck. She reached out and touched the scarf with reverence.

“You found it,” she breathed. “I don’t believe it...” She burst into tears again as Gibson took the scarf off and wrapped it around her neck as once again he and his brother comforted their mother.

It was Ricky’s turn to say hello. He held a hand out to Max and nodded, but there was speculation in his blue eyes. The sort that said, ‘You hurt my little brother and I’ll pluck out your eyes and feed them to you.’

If Gibson hadn’t been feeling so raw he might have found it funny. Instead he watched as Max shook hands and murmured pleasantries and consolations. They were all ushered through to a big, warm farmhouse kitchen filled with various plates containing cakes, foil-wrapped secrets and various pastries dotting brightly coloured platters.

Doris gave a shrug. “The neighbours have been around, taking care of us. They’re good souls but the doorbell hasn’t stopped ringing.”

His mother sounded exhausted and Gibson leaned in and gave her another hug. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered as his throat clogged up. “We’ll all get through this. Dad wouldn’t want us falling apart.”

His mum nodded. “I know, Gibson. I miss him so much.”

“Me too,” Gibson managed. She didn’t need to know how much he’d fallen apart since her phone call or how Max had pulled him up from his doldrums more than once. “Maybe when we’re sitting down I can hear the rest of the story and what happened. I know I’ve been putting it off but I want to know the whole story.”

Doris nodded and moved away to pick up the kettle and fill it up. “I’ll make us some tea then we can have a sit down. Go get your stuff out the car, love, and take it up to your room. We can have tea in the drawing room.”

An hour later, curled up on the couch with Haggis and Max on either side of him, Gibson knew everything more he needed to know about his father’s death. It was simple. It hadn’t been a stroke. Cliff Henry had been over working, unwell from a bout of flu, which had debilitated him, and then he suffered a pulmonary embolism. Tragically, nothing could have been done and he was dead by the time the ambulance got him to the hospital.

Gibson noticed Max’s reaction when his mother confirmed it had been an embolism. He’d drawn in a breath, a shadow of pain crossing his face.

That means something to him.

Gibson reached out and touched Max’s hand. Sienna coloured eyes regarded him with darkness in their depths.

“Babe, are you okay?” Gibson asked in concern.

Max nodded jerkily. “Yeah. It’s...” He cleared his throat. “The same thing happened to my mother. An embolism.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that, Max,” Doris Henry said softly. “This must bring back bad memories for you then.”

Max shook his head. “She died in childbirth. With me. I never knew her.” He fidgeted with his hands. Gibson reached out and laid a comforting hand on Max’s arm. Even though Gibson knew this already, his heart still ached for what Max must be going through reliving the circumstances of his birth.

Doris leaned over and clasped Max’s hand in sympathy. “Do you have other family?”

Gibson saw the wariness creeping into Max’s face. He wanted to ask his mother not to go down that road in case it led to well-meaning questions about his past. Max would no doubt be mortified if Gibson’s family found about his street past.

“No. They’re dead too. I have no family.” Max rolled a shoulder as if it was hurting. “It’s only me.” The finality in his tone was a warning to anyone not to pursue the topic.

“And me,” Gibson said, rubbing his thumb over Max’s hand. “Remember? Blond, sexy fabulous cute guy you picked up on a plane?”

Richard snorted and Doris laughed. “That’s how you met? Sounds like a great story.”

Both Max and Gibson flushed. That wasn’t a story they were sharing anytime soon. Gibson had a feeling that to his mother and brother, a blowjob and jack-off in a bathroom stall was not the stuff of true romance.

“But he
is
all of those things,” Max murmured, looking at Gibson with an expression that made him want to run up to his room with Max right now and have his way with him.

Gibson’s mother smiled. “Oh my,” she said softly. “I think you made a good choice here, son. I like him.”