Linden Gardens, Notting Hill

by jtrue

The lives of Greg, the BBC producer and Viktor, the footballer, and their friends and family living in London. There will be some heartache, suspense and political intrigue. No magic. Names are the only similarity to Harry Potter. SLASH LEMONS MA

16. Chapter 16: London

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Where does the time go? I don't know. I pledge to get posting more frequently. I posted chapter 55 of AS a bit back as well. That one is nearly done! Liz posted the much anticipated chapter 74 of Errors & Omissions also. I hope everyone caught that. Check her out if not. Details are below-

James' story is nearly finished. An original about Tony and Dane is also nearly done. And if anyone would be interested in Milan and his fellow hunky waiters as they encounter a pair of thirsty zombies, that short is finished and available now on Amazon ~dot~ com. Search for Spunk Craving Zombies, or for me, John T. Liz has also included a link on her blog.

Huge giant smooch to my brilliant little twin sister for all her help.

Big hugs to all my girls, Maureen, Rebecca, Kate and Miss Pauline.

The FF witch hunt may or may not be over. I will continue to post here and move to AO3 as and when I have to. When/if I am forced to complete the relocation you can find me at - archiveofourown ~dot~ org. Then just do a search for Jtrue.

Anyone who has not read the incredible Equal & Opposite, or is not now reading the brilliance that is Errors & Omissions, or Enticements & Obstructions, all by OhJasperMyJasper, should go do so right now. Here is how you find them since the FF witch hunt removed Liz from this site - ohjaspermyjasper ~dot~ blogspot ~dot~ com.

WARNING:

This story is intended for an adult audience! There is crude speech, hate speech and adult sexual subject matter of a homosexual nature. If you are under 18 stop reading now!

AU/AH/OC

All character names from Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer. All Character names from Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. The similarities end there.

---

Chapter 16: London

The Arsenal Football Club megastore, second only to the flagship store at the Armory, was located at the south end of Finsbury Park in North London. It was sandwiched beneath the Finsbury Railway Station above, and the Finsbury Tube Station on the Piccadilly and Victoria Lines below. Just one tube stop north of Emirates Stadium on the Piccadilly Line, the neighborhood was far from blighted, but slightly on the gritty side. While some flats were above a coffee shop, pizzeria, kebab shop or Tesco Express, some were above pawnbrokers.

Viktor Krum certainly had no fear of his safety, even emerging as he was from the tube station onto the street, right in front of the club store. Of course, the store wouldn't open yet for another several hours.

Viktor had taken the Central Line from Notting Hill Gate and changed to the Piccadilly Line at Holborn. He wore snug jeans and a tight tee shirt that stretched across his broad chest. With his build and musculature, every shirt and pair of jeans he owned were tight. A fact his husband had never complained about even once.

Seven blocks up Stroud Green Road, the Rosicky family lived on quiet and quaint Upper Tollington Park. Viktor spotted Tomas in his black Porsche Cayenne S waiting in the pick up/drop off zone at the railway station entrance. As soon as Tomas spotted him, he pulled out, zoomed up to Viktor and the Bulgarian jumped in.

"Dobrỳ den," Viktor greeted his friend and teammate in Czech.

"Dobro utro, Viktor," Tomas did the same in Bulgarian. "You talk to Andrey?" he asked. The Czech wore a muscle shirt entirely open on the sides, trackies and trainers.

"Ne," Viktor denied. And the way Tomas asked the question, made him wary.

"You not going to like it," Tomas shook his head as he turned out of the station onto Stroud Green.

It was a forty five minute drive in good weather out to leafy Shenleybury in Hertfordshire where the Arsenal Training Facility was located. Tomas took Tollington Road down past the stadium and turned right onto Holloway Road. This main, multi-laned, boulevard was also the A1 and became Archway Road at the historic Archway Tavern in Highgate Hill.

A1 took them out of the city and they merged onto the M1 motorway north, away from London. Tomas took the M1 all the way out to the M25, and took that east, eight kilometers, to the exit for Colney. On the south side of the freeway, in the gently rolling and wooded hills between Colney and Shenley, was the training grounds.

The facility had no fewer than ten pitches, all built to the exact specifications of the playing surface at Emirates Stadium, renowned as one of the best in the world. Three of these pitches were reserved for the exclusive use of the First Team. Inside, the state of the art facility included six changing rooms, one of which was again reserved for the exclusive use of the First Team, a steam room, swimming pool, gymnasium, treatment rooms, massage baths and even a restaurant. All of which operated under the ever exacting eye of Arséne Wenger.

Tomas steered them down the narrow, tree lined lane to the center and parked. It was just eight in the morning when the two footballers got out of the Porsche SUV.

And got no further than the front doors.

"Viktor, Arséne wants to see you," the short, bald, Ben Kingsley looking Assistant Manager was waiting for them.

"I want see him," Viktor made no attempt to hide his anger. "Where is he?"

"His office," Ben cocked a thumb toward the stairs.

"I see you in locker room," Tomas put a hand on Viktor's shoulder.

"Da," Viktor nodded and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor.

The steel gray haired Club Manager wore a red Arsenal polo shirt with his gym shorts and looked up as Viktor charged into his office.

"Ah, good. Close the door, please," Arséne bid from his comfortable, high backed leather chair.

The Manager's office was in the corner of the building with a view onto all of the outdoor pitches. Arséne had a long desk and table in a blonde wood, in one curious, long, J shaped piece of furniture.

Viktor swung around and caught the door, and shut it much too hard. "What you do?" he demanded.

"Sit down, please," Arséne bid. The Bulgarian and Frenchman could only communicate with each other in their broken English.

"Where Cesc? Where Andrey and Samir and Robin and Marouane?" Viktor loomed over the boss' desk.

"Sit down, please," Arséne repeated.

Viktor roughly jerked a chair back and perched himself on the edge of the seat. "Now you answer?"

"Not that I need to explain this to you, but there have been some deals finalized on the last day of the Transfer Window," Arséne explained.

"You sell half the team?!" Viktor was incredulous.

"Transfers both in and out have taken place," Arséne stated.

"Cesc? He is our Captain!" Viktor spread his arms.

"He was our Captain and he will be missed," Arséne nodded. "Cesc is a world class player and that is why his price was so high."

"He should not be for sale!" Viktor was outraged. "How I know you not sell me next?!"

"Viktor, Cesc wanted to go home," Arséne remained calm. "So did Andrey. The situation is different for you. London is your home. I doubt you would agree to go."

"I would have choice?" Viktor was guarded.

"The club has no plans to sell you," Arséne deftly sidestepped the question.

"It damage club to lose so many good player! Why you do that?!" Viktor demanded.

"In a moment we will go meet the new players who have arrived to join us just today," Arséne held up a hand. "You will see there is some good talent among them. Some of them are young with excellent potential. We will shape and develop them."

"Season open match tomorrow!" Viktor exclaimed. "How we be ready with half new team?"

"We will train and integrate today and play all of the new players in the match tomorrow. I think they will acquit themselves well. We will all see," Arséne gave a shrug, "but I need your help."

"What you want me to do?" Viktor asked.

"I need you to be Captain, Viktor. The team needs you," Arséne stated. "They are your team now."

"Why me?" Viktor wasn't sure he was ready for such a role.

"The new players are new. Theo, Aaron and Jack are young. Kieran is young and though an excellent player, is somewhat timid. You, Tomas and Lukasz have the experience and maturity to lead the team. Lukasz cannot do it from the net. You are a natural leader and the strongest player on the team. You are as good as Cesc, Viktor."

"That why I worried you sell me!" Viktor expressed.

"The team is in an excellent position financially," Arséne informed. "The sale of Cesc more than covered the combined purchases of all nine of the new players."

"Then why for you sell whole team?!" Viktor was only more exasperated.

"It was time. Many have gone home and are happier," Arséne rose from his chair and came out from behind his desk. "Besides, I could never do without both you and Cesc. He wanted to go and you do not," the Manager put his arm around the muscular Bulgarian shoulders. "Let's go meet everyone," Arséne steered Viktor out of his office.

---

Greg did not have to go back to work until Monday. Helena had gone over to her little friend Emily's to play again, which gave Greg time to get to the market. Viktor had left a very specific shopping list for the meal he wanted to prepare that evening when they had their close friends over for dinner. Greg's partner had not seen any of them in over a month and would finally get to meet Ashok.

Greg stood outside on the steps of their building while Emily's mother Claire did the same two doors down. This was the parental routine when one of the girls went to the other's house to play. Greg and Claire waved at each other and both watched for the short time it took Helena to skip the distance down the sidewalk. Once he saw his daughter was safely inside, he went back inside himself. He would have time to do the shopping, make sure the house was ready for entertaining, and later this afternoon, he might even get a promised errand run.

There was far too much shopping done for Greg to carry it home himself. Fortunately, the shops all had a service that would deliver. Greg cleaned the house while he waited for the delivery. He was downstairs in the master bedroom, folding laundry, when the bell sounded. Greg dashed for the stairs and up to the main floor. He went around to the front door and pushed the button by the speaker to open the building door. He knew who it was. Greg opened his own door and stepped out into the common hall to see the familiar face of the man propping the building door open.

"Hi, Ojoré," Greg called.

"Mr. Greg. Big delivery for you!" the smiling Ugandan waved back.

"I did do a bit of shopping this morning," Greg admitted. He stepped back when the usual delivery man made his way down the hall, laden with boxes. "Just there in the kitchen, Ojoré," Greg bid.

"Right here?" Ojoré asked as he set his boxes on the big kitchen table. The muscular black man wore snug jeans and a tight, white, uniform polo shirt that contrasted with his dark skin beautifully. He kept his hair shaved so short that it was little more than a darker shadow on his head. He had a list of regular customers to whom he delivered, and these two homosexuals were among his favorites. In his culture gay people were not understood, most certainly not tolerated, and even feared. But these men had always treated him very well and never given him any reason to be uncomfortable. Greg set about unpacking his boxes while Ojoré went out to his truck for another load. A case of wine, two cases of beer, a big heavy bucket of oysters on ice and more boxes of food later, all the groceries were in the house.

"Thank you, Ojoré," Greg folded up two twenty pound notes and handed it to the efficient and kind delivery man.

"Thank you, Mr. Greg. See you next time," Ojoré gave a big, white smile and a wave.

"Right. Cheers," Greg shut the door behind Ojoré and finished putting things away. "Now then, I think I have just enough time," Greg talked to himself as he made his way to the living room and the small antique desk in the bay window. In the right drawer he found what he was looking for. "There you are. Time to keep a promise," Greg headed for the door, plucked his keys from their hook and walked out.

Greg took the Central line from the Notting Hill Gate tube station into Soho. He might have changed to the Bakerloo line at Oxford Circus to get off at the Piccadilly Circus tube station, as that would have made for a shorter walk, but Greg figured the time it would take to wait for the next train he might as well spend walking. It was, after all, a very nice day. He got off at Tottenham Court Road station and walked down Charing Cross Road. Greg wore jeans, trainers, and a button down shirt with sleeves rolled up as he enjoyed the fresh air of the late afternoon summer day. He turned right just in front of the very door of Molly Moggs, which stood on the corner, onto Old Compton Street.

The entire front of Admiral Duncan was open to the street. Greg walked in to find a few patrons enjoying an after work libation. The front bar was the only one open at this hour and there were a few more men partaking of a boisterous game of darts in the game room. Greg found a striking man behind the bar that very much matched Rick's description. Rich, dark hair and intense eyes highlighted his very handsome face. The man wore the very snug uniform tee shirt of the Admiral that conformed to the curves of his muscles most alluringly.

"Welcome to the Admiral. What can I get for you?" the barman asked with a pleasant smile.

"I'll have a quick pint, my good man," Greg took a seat at the bar.

"Boddies good?" the barman grabbed a big glass.

"Brilliant," Greg agreed. "And you look like you might be Drake."

"That I am," Drake confirmed as he served Greg his glass of ale.

"Rick said you were a handsome chap," Greg complimented with a smile.

A man with a shaved head, darkly shaded from the five o'clock shadow of his dark hair, sat a few stools down from Greg. He was a somewhat rough looking man, who seemed like he could easily have a poor attitude, and visibly bristled at Greg's compliment. He too was an attractive man, though not in the pretty boy way that Drake was. The shaved headed man had thick, dark eyebrows, one of which had been cut in a fight long ago, and a trim black goatee. He sat to a pint of what could only be stout by its color. He wore snug jeans, a tee shirt that looked like it might have once been white, and a cigarette stuck behind his right ear.

"Do I know Rick?" Drake asked.

"You met him anyway," Greg took a healthy gulp of his cold ale. "You helped look after him Thursday last, until one of our mates came round to collect him."

"Did I?" Drake did not recall any particular individual. He did that nearly every night.

"You did. He handed you his phone and I spoke with you. I was in Austria at the time or I would have collected him myself. I promised you tickets to the Arsenal season opening match tomorrow at Emirates Stadium and I'm a man of my word," Greg produced them from his pocket and set them on the bar.

"Oh!" realization was plain on Drake's face. "I know who you are now! Johnny, this is the bloke I told you about," he gestured to Greg as he called to the shaved headed man who sat watching their exchange closely and without amusement. "I wasn't sure if you were having me on or not," Drake added.

"Not at all. Greg Goyle," he offered his hand.

"Very pleased to meet you, Greg. Drake Milton," he shook Greg's hand. "And this is my boyfriend, Johnny," he gestured to the shaved headed man who was moving himself to the stool beside Greg even as they spoke.

"Johnny O'Brennan," he spoke in a thick Irish brogue and offered his hand to Greg. His attitude was clearly much improved.

"Johnny is it?" Greg asked as they shook. He had never met an Irishman with an English name before.

"Johnny it is," Johnny confirmed.

"Tickets to the Gunners tomorrow, Johnny," Drake smiled and gestured.

"You're a right good yoke, Greg Goyle," Johnny stated. "Know one of the Gunners, do ya?"

"Intimately," Greg smiled.

"Oh, now, how intimately?" Johnny leaned closer to Greg.

"I know him inside and out, if you take my meaning," Greg was sly.

"Ohh!" Johnny liked that answer.

"Isn't your partner one of the Gunners?" Drake recalled.

"Viktor Krum," Greg revealed.

"Number nine, Viktor Krum, the star Bulgarian center midfielder?" Johnny asked.

"That's the one," Greg confirmed.

"Never heard of him," Johnny deadpanned.

"Well, you might get to meet him. Perhaps that will jog your memory. These are really good seats. I'll be there with my mates as well, of course, including Rick," Greg informed. "One of my friend's family has an executive box that we can use if his father's not there. You chaps are welcome to join us. Otherwise we'll all be sitting here," he patted the tickets, "together."

Johnny picked up the tickets. "These are club seats!"

"Of course," Greg gave a shrug.

"This is feckin fantastic o'ya, Greg. I love the feckin Gunners. Best team in football. I could kiss ya!" Johnny exclaimed. He grabbed Greg's head and planted a quick peck on the surprised Brit's lips. Drake only chuckled. No one knew his Irish boyfriend's exuberance better than he did.

"Happy to do it, mate," Greg smiled. "Well, you chaps, I hate to gulp," he picked up his beer and did so, "and run, but my mates are coming round for dinner. We'll see you at the match tomorrow then, right?" Greg slid off his stool and placed a five pound note on the bar.

"That you will, Greg. Thanks," Drake confirmed and picked up the fiver.

"Nice to meet both of you," Greg offered them his hand again.

"You too, Greg," Drake smiled. "Hang on, hand me your mobile."

Greg did so and watched as Drake used it to call himself.

"There. Now we can find each other," Drake handed Greg's phone back to him.

"I'll take your picture so I know whose number it is," Greg held up his phone. "Oh, can you come round? I'll get both of you."

Drake did not hesitate as he walked to the end of the bar and came around to join Greg and Johnny on their side of the bar. Drake stepped up to Johnny's stool and leaned into him as he put one arm around the seated man's neck. Johnny slipped his arm around Drake's waist and smiled at him just as Greg snapped the picture.

"Oh, perfect," Greg nodded. "There, now I have both of you," he stored the picture with the number in his contacts.

Johnny kissed Drake on the side of his neck and gave him a swat on his butt as Drake pulled away to return to work. "Vitamin G's on me tomorrow, Greg," Johnny shook Greg's hand enthusiastically. "Or whatever piss it is you West Brit's drink," he gestured to Greg's half drunk glass of much paler beer than his stout.

"It's a deal," Greg laughed. "Till tomorrow, then. Cheers," he walked out of the bar with a final wave and headed back toward the underground.

---

The kilometers melted away behind them and stretched on ahead seemingly without end as they travelled west on the M4. Of course, it didn't help that his kids were full of energy. H had the wheel of his Moonlight blue Audi A7 Sportback. He wore a collared, short sleeve, button shirt and jeans that were just a little too snug for his comfort. The first time he put them on it occurred to him that Rick wore jeans that fit like this, as did most gay men, but Ginny had bought them for him, so he wore them without complaint. His wife sat beside him in a thin short sleeved top and similar jeans. The children who refused to give them a moment of peace were strapped into the back. Their sons both loved Toy Story 3, which played for them on the monitors on the back of both front seat headrests. Usually they couldn't get enough of it. Until today, evidently.

"Daddy, are we almost there yet?" James asked in a disinterested tone from his booster seat directly behind his father.

"No, James," H answered for the fifteenth time.

"Mummy, I'm hungry!" Albus declared from his car seat beside his brother.

"How about some fruit strips, boys?" Ginny asked as she dug into the big bag she had with her on the floor of the front seat.

"Yeah!" James was all for that.

"Must they eat in the car?" H scowled at his wife.

"Because dealing with hungry, whiny children would be so much better," Ginny gave her husband a flat stare as she handed the unwrapped fruit strips back to their kids.

"No, you're right. Sticky fingers are just what we want," H was sarcastic.

"My fingers aren't sticky yet, Daddy," James assured his father.

"Brilliant," H shook his head. They all knew it was only a matter of seconds. He took a deep breath and just watched the road. They had been on the M4 out of London for over two hours. It seemed like an eternity. H reflected, as the countryside gave way to the suburbia of Bristol, that this trip was painful in more ways than one. He had taken the day off of work, as his wife had dictated, to make this trip. His job was dull to the point of mind numbing and he loved every minute of it. It sure beat the alternative of being at home. Sure he loved his kids, some moments more than others. Some days they were a handful. His worst pain was what had happened with Rick. That bastard Greg had managed to poison Rick against him. He had sure worked hard enough at it for long enough. And what was worse was that bloody little wog they had imported for Rick's bed. How terribly convenient that had been. If H had only known there had been a chance. He gripped the steering wheel tighter in his anger and frustration. Of course he wouldn't have rather been with the Scottish kid. H had really needed to bolster himself for this very trip. That was the only reason he had called Seamus and asked him to the Grimmauld house. Of course he would much rather have been with the man he loved. Of course he would, but he didn't think he had that choice. When Rick walked in on him and Seamus his heart sank, not for the obvious betrayal, but for this last opportunity to salvage what he and Rick had, that was now lost forever.

A roadsign caught his attention. "I think this might be the carriageway we want," H gestured with his chin.

"What does the satellite say?" Ginny asked as she flipped the page of her magazine.

"Could you at least navigate? Could you at least do that?" H demanded with disdain. His wife gave him an icy cold stare as she touched the navi screen to call up their route. H considered, for the briefest moment, driving them into an oncoming lorry.

They took the M5 on the north side of Bristol, northbound toward Gloucester. At this point the most of their trip was behind them. Not half way from Bristol to Gloucester, they took the Michaelwood exit and followed Damery Lane the few kilometers into Woodford. There they turned north again on the A38. This was but a two lane road and took them through the quaint and quintessentially English, little villages of Newport and Alkington.

"Here it is, Har. This is it. Alkington Lane," Ginny announced as they approached the small road. H found he had to bite his tongue to keep from sniping at his wife. She was, after all, just doing what he had asked her to do. As they drove down the narrow road, ever upward toward the town of Berkeley, they could see across the fields in the distance, the red and gray stone of the twelfth century Norman fortress. Berkeley castle was imposing, even at a distance.

"Oh, Har, there it is!" Ginny enthused as she pointed.

"There it is," the prospect gave H no pleasure whatever.

"Look, boys. That's going to be our new home one day quite soon," Ginny looked back at their children.

"Where?" Albus had no idea what his mother was looking at.

"Are we moving?" James was more concerned about this than his brother was.

"We talked about this, Jimmy. Daddy has a special castle that will be yours one day when you become the Earl. Mummy is going to make it even more special and then we can come and live here," Ginny smiled as she spoke sweetly and reassuringly to her kids.

Alkington Lane dead ended at Cannonbury Street. H turned left and drove his family the last kilometer into the center of the medieval town of Berkeley, his ancestral home. And he couldn't have been less happy about it.

Located in the historic town center, a sixteenth century coaching inn, the Berkeley Arms was waiting for them with great anticipation. H held both his son's hands as they made their way through the very old, but well preserved, wooden revolving door and into the historic building behind their wife and mother. They found themselves in a reasonably sized lobby for such an old building, off of which branched a cozy lounge and a little restaurant and bar. The thick wood beams of the low ceiling matched the floor. Their children were uncharacteristically quiet as they looked around and took in their surroundings. The desk had a large sign that brought a smile to Ginny's face even as it made her husband's spirits sink even lower.

The Berkeley Arms
welcomes
Lord and Lady Berkeley

"Hello, we're the Potters," Ginny smiled at the man old enough to be her father behind the desk.

"M'Lady, m'Lord, and the little ones! Welcome to the Berkeley Arms. We're delighted to have you," the older man slid off the stool on which he perched behind his tall, little desk.

"We're delighted to be here," Ginny ate it up.

"Please, call me H, or Mr. Potter if you absolutely must," H bid. "And where shall I park the car?"

"I'll just fetch Nigel to help you with your bags," the desk clerk turned away.

"I can get our bags. Really I just need to know where to park the car," H called after the man.

"He'll park the car for you as well," the older man called back as he disappeared deeper into the inn.

"I can park my own car," H spoke quietly to the low ceiling in his exasperation.

"Let the man park the car, Har," Ginny spoke in a soothing voice, but she could not bring herself to touch him. H looked at his wife and said nothing as he gestured to the sign that stood prominently on the small desk.

"You're a bit of a celebrity here, and your family with you. Might as well get used to it," Ginny advised.

"Brilliant," H looked away.

Nigel was clearly the man's grandson, for he was no more than a sprig of a boy. The prospect of turning over the keys of his beloved Audi became even less appealing when H wasn't sure the driver was even old enough to shave. The young man smiled from ear to ear and followed H out to the curb. H opened the fifth door and pulled out their two small bags. No sooner did he set them on the sidewalk than Nigel rushed them into the lobby. H retrieved the final bag that Ginny had left in the front seat and turned to the smiling boy.

"Nigel," H pulled a hundred pound note from his wallet. "Take extra good care with her," he handed the keys over with the very generous tip.

"Oh, I will, Sir. I mean, m'Lord. Thank you, Sir," Nigel gushed. He had never been tipped like this before in his short life.

"Go on now," H bid and carried the last bag into the lobby to join his family.

Ginny had obtained the key to the lone family accommodation in the eleven room inn. H picked up their bags, but didn't manage to take a step. Keith Palmer, Mayor and Chairman of the Parish Council of Berkeley, who had been tipped off to their arrival by Nigel's grandfather, charged into the hotel to officially welcome them to the town.

In truth, H checked out inside his own head. He sat down with his family and the mayor to chat for a few minutes, but he didn't hear the words. He smiled and nodded when he was supposed to. He exchanged pleasantries on queue. But it was all automatic. His ever more restless children didn't bother him. H no longer sniped at his wife. He just didn't care. There was no use fighting it. This was his life.

Nigel took their bags upstairs for them. The Mayor only excused himself when their designer and head contractor walked in through the front door. H had never met these men before, but his wife knew them well. The Berkeley Arms was only too happy to let them use the cozy lounge to sit down with these two and their extensive plans. H didn't pay attention to this either and was actually grateful for the distraction his kids provided by climbing on him.

A good hour and a half after they arrived, the Potters were finally free to head up to their room. They headed for the stairs and then realized they had no idea where they were going.

"I'm sorry, where is our room?" H asked.

"Oh, it's room thirteen, just round the corner at the head of the stairs and down at the end, Mr. Potter," the older man smiled and pointed from his stool behind the desk.

"Thank you. C'mon, boys," H took them both by the hand and followed his wife up the stairs. Ginny still had the key and let them into their room. The family accommodation had a tiny little sitting room with two chairs and a settee. A desk sat in a corner and a flat screen television was mounted on the wall. There were two bedrooms, one with a queen bed and the second with two twins. And here the inn lost all of it's historic charm. The rooms had been modernized and no effort was made to make them feel period or authentic. The furniture was of simple pale wood. The walls where a plain white. A stencil ran along the wall where wainscoting would have been and this was the only attempt at decor. Their bags were all on the settee as the boy had no idea what went where. Ginny closed her eyes a brief moment and took a deep breath to steel herself for the caustic barb from her husband that never came. H was still on autopilot an didn't even notice that their accommodations were far below the level to which they were accustomed.

"I could do with a piss," H announced.

"Charming," Ginny chided.

"Me too, Daddy," James agreed.

"Me too!" Albus enthused. He was not about to be left out.

"C'mon then, men," H went in search of a bathroom. There was only the one, in the form of a Jack and Jill between the two bedrooms. Just as he imagined there would be, there was a small stool in the bathroom to help little ones reach the sink and stand up to the toilet if needs be. H pushed it to one side of the toilet with his foot and his younger son enthusiastically stepped up onto it. James was tall enough that he didn't need it. H stepped to the head of the toilet, unzipped himself and pulled out his cock. His sons did the same at the sides of the bowl. James opened his pants completely and pulled down his underwear. Albus lowered both his pants and underwear as small boys were want to do. H didn't bother to correct him. The boy would grow out of it like his brother did.

"Pull your foreskin back," H instructed his sons. "Watch daddy. We don't want to be messy," he advised as he began to pee. James and Albus mimicked their father and added their smaller streams to his. It brought a smile to his face for the first time that day as H watched his grown up little men. The giggle behind him made H, while still peeing, look over his shoulder. Ginny stood with her phone in hand and it was clear that she had just taken their picture.

"Oh, you didn't," H chastised.

"My men," Ginny admired her picture. "I can't wait to show this one to mum," she slipped her phone into her pocket.

"Molly'll have a good laugh over that one," H turned his attention back to the matter in hand. Both his boys were finished by now, but H continued.

"Daddy, you pee so much!" Albus was impressed.

"Daddy's grown up bladder is bigger than yours," H informed.

His sons stood with their little dicks yet in hand while they watched their father finish.

"Make sure to get the last drops," H continued to teach. "Do like daddy does," he milked himself of his last drops of piss and carefully gave a final shake. He watched his sons do likewise. "Gently, Albie. There, flush for us, Jimmy," H tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped up. James flushed the toilet and both he and his brother did their pants back up.

"Right, you men, out," Ginny dictated from the doorway of the bathroom behind them. "Mummy's turn in the bathroom."

"C'mon, boys. Let's give Mum some privacy," H knew full well that his wife was not about to anything in that bathroom with the door open like they just had. H, James, and Albus marched out of the bathroom, in that order, and Ginny shut the door behind them.

---

Viktor and Helena were both home when Greg got back to the flat. The unmistakable smell of livers gently sautéing met his nose as soon as he was through the door.

"You naughty boy, you started without me," Greg walked into the kitchen to find his partner at the stove in only boxers. Viktor looked to him with a smile and was only too happy to receive his lover's kiss.

"You give extra tickets?" Viktor asked.

"I did," Greg confirmed.

"They come?" Viktor queried further.

"I am quite sure they will. Seem like nice chaps too. Here," Greg fished out his phone and called up the picture he took of them. "The barman is the chap on the left and I also met his boyfriend Johnny today."

Viktor examined the picture in which Drake looked at the camera with a warm smile and the shaved headed man looked not at the camera, but at Drake. The Irishman's emotions were as plain as day.

"There is love in this man eyes," Viktor astutely observed.

"I rather thought that too," Greg looked at the picture again himself before he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "How was practice?" he asked as he pulled the bacon out of the fridge. "You missed Armand, I imagine."

"Not Armand only," Viktor shook his head. "So many gone. Andrey go home to Zenit. Chamakh go to Crystal Palace. Nasri bought by Manchester City."

"Oh, dear," Greg didn't like the sound of that.

"That not all. Cesc gone too! He go home to Barcelona," Viktor revealed further.

"You know, I wish I could say that surprises me," Greg nodded.

"Why you say that?" Viktor challenged.

"There have been whispers of that in the press for months. We knew he was talking with his old team. He made no attempt to keep that a secret," Greg reasoned. "But who is going to Captain the team now?"

"Me," Viktor gave a shrug.

"Vik, really?! Congratulations!" Greg threw his arms around his Gunner's neck and kissed the side of his face. "That's bloody fantastic! Of course you are. Who better?" he pulled back enough to smile in his lover's face.

"Tomas?" Viktor suggested.

"Tomas is delightful and a really good chap, but he's not as good as you are," Greg stated. "And before you say that I am biased," he stepped back and held up a hand, "let me just say, this is not me talking. This comes from the sports experts at the BBC. You're a world class player, Vik, really you are. Plus, all the players on the team look up to you. You're the obvious choice. I'd even go so far as to say that there was no choice really."

"That kind of what Arséne say," Viktor nodded to himself.

"There, you see? You're worth every penny they pay you and more," Greg gave a firm nod.

"I worth have around?" Viktor gave a small smirk as he fished for a compliment.

"You silly man," Greg shook his head. "Her Majesty the Queen could march in here right now and offer me the Crown Jewels for you, and I'd tell her to put them in her arse," he leaned in and gave his partner a loving kiss on his lips. "Especially with you dressed like this," he added as he gave Viktor's boxer clad form a once over.

"You say that to Queen?" Viktor gave a grin.

"But ever so politely," Greg confirmed. "Oh, goodness! What about Lukasz and Kieran? Nothing's happened to them, right?"

"Ne, ne," Viktor waved a hand.

"How was their trip to Poland? Did they say? Did you get the chance to talk?" Greg enquired as he peeled the bacon strips and flattened them out further with the back of a knife.

"They both have good time over all. Some rough spot," Viktor informed. He shut off the gas burner under the livers as they were done and poured the contents of the pan out onto a plate.

"Oh, dear. Not too awfully bad, I hope," Greg expressed.

"They tell you all about when get here," Viktor assured.

"Perhaps my sexy Gunner should go put something on. Lune will be here any minute," Greg advised.

"So?" Viktor smiled.

"So, we can all see that big thing move in your underwear when you walk," Greg stated. He watched Viktor peel open the lid of a big tin of pitted prunes. "I'll finish these."

"I think she know I have huia," Viktor countered.

"I'm quite confidently sure she is aware of that fact. The details of which, however, are my business, thank you very much," Greg laid down the law. Viktor put a hand behind Greg's head to pull it down. He gave his lover a soft kiss on an eyebrow and let him go. Viktor plucked up a prune from the tin and popped it in his mouth as he turned to head for the stairs.

"Thank you," Greg spoke to his back. "Another moment and I'd have to pull those underwear down and stick my tongue up that beautiful arse."

Viktor turned on his heel and marched right back into the kitchen. He said nothing as he continued to suck on his prune, slipped his boxers down to his thighs, and leaned over the kitchen counter on his elbows beside Greg.

"Get going!" Greg laughed and pulled Viktor's boxer's back up and let the elastic snap. Viktor stood up and walked out of the kitchen again, sucking on his prune as he went. Greg shook his head and chuckled to himself as he began to stuff the livers into the prunes. Viktor could be so cute and playful sometimes. If their daughter were still at her little friend's house and Luna not about to come through the door at any moment, there was no doubt that Viktor's boxers would be about his ankles right now and Greg's tongue would be as far inside his lover's body as he could get it. Greg's cock stirred in his pants at that thought. The soft rap that came at their door, even as Greg heard the key in the lock, settled his manhood down.

"Hello, boys," came the call of Luna's sweet voice.

"In here, Lunes," Greg called. Luna slung her handbag on the banister post as was her habit in the Goyle/Krum household and proceeded into the kitchen. She wore a pretty pink blouse and a dark skirt with a moon and stars motif.

"Welcome home," Luna stretched up to give Greg a kiss on his cheek. "How was your trip?"

Greg turned to kiss her as well. "Very nice. Best trip ever, truth be told. It was great fun to join Viktor and the team in Austria, and I dearly love Viktor's family. It is good to be home though," he confessed.

"Can I help?" Luna asked.

"Get yourself a glass of wine first, and then if you wouldn't mind terribly, wrap each prune in a piece of bacon and skewer it with a toothpick," Greg instructed.

"Right. What's open?" Luna asked as she opened the fridge and peered inside.

"Oh, sorry. There's nothing open. Pull out what you like and we'll open it," Greg washed his hands and dried them.

"I think a nice buttery chardonnay would be lovely," Luna pulled out a bottle and shut the fridge. They heard a set of big feet and a set of little feet rush up the stairs at that moment.

"Mummy!" Helena rushed into the kitchen. She wore a short little skirt with tights and a cute blue top. Viktor was now clad in snug jeans and a very tight white tee shirt that displayed his nipples. Luna handed the bottle to Greg and squatted down to embrace the child she bore.

"Hello, my angel," Luna held the little girl tightly a moment. She would never, ever be able to thank Greg and Viktor enough for giving this precious life a wonderful and loving home at a time when she herself was not able. Luna let the child go with a kiss on her forehead and stood up, right into Viktor's arms.

"Sdrawei, Luna," Viktor gave the very special woman, without whom they would not have their most precious gift, a warm and heartfelt hug.

"My," Luna gave the strong Bulgarian a kiss on the side of his mouth. "Your man gives the best hugs, Greg."

"Don't I know it," Greg pulled the cork from the bottle. "And that is just the beginning of his many talents."

Viktor just smiled at his lover's appreciation of him.

"Did you want a glass of wine, Vik?" Greg asked.

"Ne. I like have beer, Slunchitze," Viktor answered.

"That sounds like a corking idea," Greg put the wine back in the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Oh, will you shuck the oysters, Vik?"

"Da," Viktor took his opened beer from Greg and took a hearty swig before he picked up the bucket of oysters. The ice was on the side of slushy at this point, but the shellfish were still plenty cold enough. Viktor set the bucket on the kitchen table and laid out a towel.

"Can I help?!" Helena wanted to be included.

"You can, actually," Greg pulled a stool over to the counter. "Hop up here and you can help mummy. Mummy is going to roll up a prune inside the bacon. You can stick them with a toothpick and line them up on this plate," he instructed. "I'll keep stuffing the prunes. Vik, please use that glove thingy. I don't fancy having to call 999 whilst I search round for your thumb."

"I not cut off thumb," Viktor was macho. He used the small, very sharp oyster knife to open the shells and passed them to Greg who stuffed more prunes with them. Viktor, Greg, Luna and Helena formed a production line and soon quite a few were ready for the grill.

"Connie will be very glad to have you back," Luna commented. "You know she doesn't trust anyone else to run the studio."

"It'll be good to get back," Greg nodded. "I do love my studio. Diva presenters and all."

"I wish I could be there when you get back on Monday, but I'll be off in the field," Luna informed.

"Oh?" Greg queried.

"That piece on green farming that I've been researching. We're going out to Norfolk. There's a firm there that specializes in some very high tech farming techniques. I have to finish my research onsite, prepare the piece and do the pre-interview. Get everything ready for missy to come get in front of the camera," Luna explained.

"That'll be interesting," Greg nodded.

"I talked to the bloke on the phone yesterday to confirm our appointment. He seems quite nice," Luna commented casually.

"Oh?" Greg wasn't really interested. It was not like he would ever meet the man.

"Greg said he had a good time. How was the trip for you, Viktor?" Luna enquired.

"Was good," Viktor stated. "My little brat man now. I never think of him as man before. He good man. I proud of him."

"Kliment is a right good chap," Greg agreed. "He's plenty cute and likes older women, Lunes, just so you know."

"And does he now?" Luna raised her eyebrows.

"Da," Viktor confirmed with a smirking nod.

"Just wanted to put that out there. Kliment has other Krum attributes as well that I'm quite sure you'd like. The details of which, propriety forbids me to go into at the moment," Greg was mindful of small ears that listened far too attentively.

"I hesitate to ask how you know that," Luna took a sip of her wine.

"My brat not shy," Viktor chuckled.

"So, he looks a lot like this, but younger, likes older girls, and doesn't mind showing off?" Luna summed up as she looked Viktor up and down.

"You have it exactly," Greg confirmed.

"When does his plane land?" Luna batted her eyes.

"Not till next summer, I'm afraid," Greg laughed and Viktor joined him.

"My brat love you," Viktor stated.

"Just one big family we'll be," Luna considered.

"We already are," Greg pulled her to him and kissed her forehead.

"I take out trash," Viktor gathered up the empty prune tin and oyster shells into his bucket and headed for the door.

"Oh, Vik, prop the front door open, will you?" Greg called. He wanted people to be able to just come in.

"Da," Viktor called from outside in the common hall.

"Help me put out the prawns, Lunes," Greg pulled them out of the fridge. Luna knew precisely where Greg kept the big serving plate he would want to use and which bowl he would want for the spicy cocktail sauce he favored.

"Thank you," Greg began to arrange the prawns on the platter. Luna also got the sauce out of the fridge and poured it into the bowl.

"I go light grill," Viktor walked in the door and headed right down the stairs.

"Good idea, Vik," Greg called after him.

Inside the flat, they didn't see the tall, lanky Englishman smile at the shorter and slighter Indian at his side, as they walked down the sidewalk hand in hand. They didn't see the joy that painted the darker skinned man's face as the taller man led him up the steps to a building they had been to together several times. They found the building door propped open and the door to the ground floor flat unlocked.

"Hello," Rick called as he opened Greg and Viktor's door. He and Ashok wore matching snug jeans and henleys, his in dark gray and Ashok's in white to show off his beautiful skin tone. They both wore their sleeves scrunched up and around their wrists were matching bangle bracelets that did not escape Greg's notice.

"Rick, come in, mate," Greg called.

"Uncle Rick! Is Ashok with you?!" Helena tore out of the kitchen.

"Hi, Tink!" Ashok bent down as the child rushed into his arms.

"Ashok, I missed you so much!" Helena gushed.

"I missed you too!" Ashok enthused. "When can we go to the park and play?"

"Tomorrow!" Helena was all for that prospect.

"Not tomorrow, I'm afraid," Greg walked up behind his daughter and ran his hand down the back of her head. "The grown ups have to go see Tatee play tomorrow."

"Oh!" she stomped her little foot. "Sunday! Daddy, pleeeease!"

"If Ashok has the time on Sunday, we do too," Greg agreed.

"Do we, Rick?" Ashok looked up from where he still squatted with his playmate.

"Absolutely," Rick smiled.

"It's a date, my Tink!" Ashok snuggled her.

"Come, did you miss Uncle Rick too?" Greg prompted.

"Oh. A little," Helena was brutally honest as she held onto Ashok and looked up at them.

"Lovely," Greg shook his head. "Well, I missed you," Greg gave his closest friend a kiss.

"I missed you madly. But I managed to accomplish quite a bit while you were gone," Rick have Greg a tight hug.

"Let's make some time to talk. We haven't in days. I feel like I need to catch up," Greg confessed, staring pointedly at Rick's bracelet.

"We very much need to catch you up," Rick agreed as he let Greg go.

"Very good to see you, Ashok," Greg grabbed the younger man as his daughter finally released him.

"You too, Greg! Welcome home," Ashok kissed Greg's cheek.

"There," Rick put his arm around Ashok. "You see how much you are one of us?" he looked to Greg. "Fancy Ashok welcoming you back to London."

"Oh," Ashok became self conscious and looked up at Rick. "Did I speak out of place?"

"Not at all," Greg assured. "And that's the beauty of it."

"Hi, Luna," Rick gave the platinum blonde woman a hug.

"Hello, Ced," Luna decided to use the other part of his name to be different. She had no idea she would hit a raw nerve.

"Heavens, please don't call me that. H used to call me that," Rick informed. "I should like it if I never heard it again."

"Sorry. How about I call you Rick like I always have done, then?" Luna offered.

"Please," Rick confirmed and hugged her again.

"Hello, Ashok. Nice to see you again," it was far easier for Luna to give the slight Indian man a hug as they were the same stature.

"And you," Ashok smiled sweetly.

"Ah, here's Vik," Greg heard him climbing the stairs. "Vik, Rick and Ashok are here," he called. Viktor took the remaining steps up to the ground floor two at a time with an expectant look on his face.

"My partner, Viktor," Greg introduced with a gesture. "Ashok."

"Ashok, so nice meet you at last," Viktor took the slightly intimidated smaller man in his arms. "I hear only good thing."

"Hi, Viktor," Ashok hugged the bigger and stronger man. "I hear only good things about you too, from everyone," he confessed. Ashok had to admit that he was a little less intimidated now that he had met the Bulgarian. Now that he had seen his smiling face and felt his warm and welcoming hug. Ashok knew that Viktor's acceptance of him was the final entrance exam into Rick's inner circle of friends. And in Viktor's arms it felt like it would not be hard to win, if he hadn't won it already. Greg noticed the proud, beaming smile on Rick's face as they watched the two men meet and embrace for the first time. Viktor let Ashok go with a gentle pat on the back and turned to Rick.

"Come here," Viktor pulled Rick to his chest. He put a hand to the side of Rick's head to hold him as he kissed Rick on the other side of his head, near his ear. "Grigor right. Is nice see you smile," and with that Viktor let Rick go with a much harder clap on the back.

Rick just smiled at Viktor. He had no words, but was very grateful for Viktor's kindness.

"Now I grill," Viktor announced and headed into the kitchen.

"Oh?" Ashok's ears picked right up. "What are we having?"

"In keeping with the manner of our household, we have some rather traditional British starters and then a Bulgarian dish for dinner," Greg informed.

"Can I see?" Ashok asked.

"Of course you can," Greg motioned him into the kitchen.

Ashok was keenly interested in what was going on in the kitchen.

"Ashok, glass of wine?" Greg asked as he pulled a beer out of the fridge, popped the top and handed it to Rick.

"Oh, yes, please," Ashok smiled.

Viktor piled up an eggplant and red peppers atop the stuffed bacon wrapped prunes and picked up the two very full platters.

"Is that bacon?" Ashok pointed.

"Da," Viktor confirmed.

"Oh, you do eat pork, right?" Greg furrowed his brow.

"He does," Rick confirmed.

"I only just discovered bacon. There was never pork of any kind in the Al Qasimi house. I had never seen it, or smelled it, or tasted it until a few weeks ago," Ashok explained. "I love it!"

"I do too!" Helena heartily agreed.

"Can I help?" Ashok asked.

"No need for that, Ashok," Greg answered. "We've got it under control. You just relax," he picked up his own beer and took a swig. Ashok was visibly disappointed and no one saw that faster than Rick did.

"Let him help, Greg. You know he loves to cook. We're looking into culinary schools for him to attend," Rick informed.

"Oh, right. How could I forget? In that case...," Greg began.

"Come to garden. We grill now," Viktor motioned with his elbow. "Grab beer."

"I promise I won't get in the way. I can just watch, though I would like to help if I can," Ashok picked up his glass of wine and Viktor's beer.

"You will grill. I watch you," Viktor announced. "Come," he headed for the stairs.

"Oh, I would like that!" Ashok enthused as he followed.

"I'll help too!" Helena skipped after them.

"We'll all go down," Greg gestured. At the bottom of the stairs on the garden level of their home, was an open area in front of Helena's bedroom. In this mini sitting area were French doors that opened onto one of the two patios. These doors stood open and outside the gas grill was well heated. Viktor placed the platters on the patio table and lifted the lid of the grill.

"What do we do first?" Ashok was more hungry for knowledge than the food.

"Here tong," Viktor handed them over. "Put first eggplant there," he pointed. Rick stood back with Greg and smiled from ear to ear as he watched Viktor teach Ashok. The younger man was so open and genuine in his desire to learn. It never ceased to amaze Rick and touch his heart at the same time.

"You come with me," Greg pulled at Rick's shirt sleeve. "I'm just going to take Rick for a natter," he announced.

"Da," Viktor gave a wave. Helena jumped and danced around the men as they set about to work at the grill.

"Come sit with mummy, Helena," Luna bid as she took a seat at the patio table. Helena bounced over to her mother and climbed into the chair with her.

Greg led Rick down the hall to the master bedroom and to the end where there was a door that led out into another garden. This one was even more private, outside the bay windows of the master bedroom. "Now then, tell me every single thing that has happened since we last spoke," Greg instructed as he sat down in one of two matching wrought iron, cushioned arm chairs.

"First," Rick took the matching chair, "let me just state unequivocally, for the official record, that H and I are through. I know you've heard that before," Rick held up a hand, "but let me tell you how I know this time it's for good. The other times I was hurt and upset, and while my brain was telling me breaking up was the right thing to do, my body and soul still longed for him. Not this time. I was very, very upset Tuesday, and to a much lesser degree yesterday, and I'll get to why in a minute, but last night and today I just feel an overwhelming sense of triumph and relief. I'm not tethered to him anymore. When I looked into Ashok's face yesterday afternoon, I had an epiphany. It's like a great and terrible burden has been lifted from me. I'm in love with him, Greg, and so happy."

"Rick, mate. I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear that," Greg took Rick's hand and gave it a squeeze. "It's clear he feels the same way about you. And now I'd love to hear how you got there. Tell me everything."

"After we talked Sunday I did some serious thinking, and I made two decisions. First, Ashok makes me happy. I realized I had feelings for him and that I was not willing to give him up, not even if H demanded it as a condition of staying with him. There is no reason I should, as H was not about to give up his wife," Rick stated.

"Too right," Greg touched the neck of his bottle to Rick's.

"Second, I needed to talk to H. I could not do it in the bedroom. I could not do it at his house. I could not wait until Thursday. I called him on Monday and told him that we needed to meet, that day or the next at latest," Rick informed.

"Good. And did you?" Greg asked.

"We met at Hampstead Heath," Rick answered.

"Bloody hell. I suppose that's well out of the bedroom," Greg observed.

"He came up with the location. The only place in London he could think of where he wouldn't run the risk of running into someone who might recognize him," Rick added.

"Oh, of course," Greg rolled his eyes, shook his head and took a gulp of his beer.

"He was late, as usual, with some excuse about an appointment Ginny made without consulting him," Rick went on. "We walked from the overground station to the heath and there, in that wooded setting, my eyes were really opened, maybe for the first time. We started talking and he was typically cross and mean, and in my head, in that moment, I realized that I didn't as much need to tell him about Ashok, as I needed to tell him that I could not, and would not, live like this any more."

"Good for you, mate," Greg endorsed.

"Somehow, in a moment of perfect clarity, I realized that he didn't love me at all. I was just a service provider, a physical and emotional pressure release valve. I was really done and told him so. As ever, his solution to shut me up and fix the problem was to try to get me into bed. I see now that he had always manipulated events in such a way that he could, and did, do that," Rick explained.

"I'm glad you can see that," Greg nodded his approval, "but where did he expect to find a bed on the heath?"

"He didn't. He wanted us to go back to Grimmauld. He kissed me and tried to sweep me off my feet, like he always had before, but having been with Ashok, I was not so desperate as he imagined me to be. I was able to tell him no and mean it. I told him that wouldn't work this time, that I needed more than that. And he immediately became suspicious," Rick continued.

"I'll just bet he did," Greg raised his eyebrows.

"I had never been able to resist him before, you see. He was acutely aware of that fact, and began his accusations. So there we were, and I told him. I explained that I didn't plan it, that I felt awful about it at the time, and that it would never have happened if he had treated me in a way that made me feel valued, loved and secure. But he didn't bother to treat me that way, so what happened with Ashok happened. You should have heard him then, Greg. He became as ugly and hateful as ever. He said the most dreadful things. Only when he could see that his anger and hate were getting him nowhere, did he change his tune," Rick informed.

"He knew he'd lost you," Greg got it.

"He took my hand and we sat down. He was actually sweet for a moment," Rick relayed. "Now here's the funny part. He told me that he knew I wasn't to blame for any of this. You and Dré had masterminded the whole thing to get me to leave him, you see."

"Wring our hands and plot, we do. And cackle while we do it," Greg went with it.

"I know you do, you dodgy old witches," Rick teased. "Anyway, then H spun me this story about Ginny converting his family's castle into a luxury hotel and moving the family out to Berkeley. But when that happens, H won't move with them. He'll stay in London and then we can be together the way we've always wanted, at least during the week."

"I see. In the meantime however, you must send Ashok away and go right back to being his ruddy doormat, at his beck and call, and be satisfied with a couple hours a week. If you're lucky, that is," Greg summed up.

"Exactly. So I told him I would not live like that any longer. I told him he could still have me Thursday afternoons, but the rest of the time I'd be with Ashok, like he was with Ginny. And when he told me he would not accept that, I said it was time to go our separate ways," Rick stated. "He told me that my professions of love for him must have all been lies, which just made me furious. He said that Ashok would leave me, just as soon as he found another man with more money, and that I would come crawling back to him. At that point it was impossible not to see him for the man he is. I told him goodbye and walked away."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that, mate. You deserve so much more and you always have," Greg took Rick's hand again. "I wish you would have called me."

"I interrupted your family's holiday with my drama quite enough," Rick was firm.

"Still. I should have called you to check up. I feel bad about that," Greg expressed.

"Don't," Rick squeezed Greg's hand. "All is well. Besides, I wasn't really ready to talk about it all. No one else besides Ashok knows, and I didn't even tell him until yesterday."

"You mentioned something about that. What happened?" Greg enquired.

"You'll just bloody love this," Rick started. "Out of habit, I left work early yesterday. With nowhere to go, I first went to Prowler and picked up a couple of things for Ashok."

"Like these matching bracelets, perhaps?" Greg asked, reaching for Rick's wrist to examine the metal cuff. "That's a nice touch, mate. I like them. They make a statement."

"Exactly the statement I want to make, and never could with H. Ashok likes them," Rick gazed at his wrist with a smile. "We kept them on last night when we made love, and even when we slept."

"I'm not surprised. The boy is positively glowing with happiness today. You hit the bulls eye with these. But I distracted you. What happened after Prowler?" Greg asked.

"It was still early and I realized that I still had my key to Grimmauld," Rick continued. "I decided to go to the house for a last look round and to drop off the key."

"I would have advised against that," Greg mused aloud.

"And you would have been right," Rick confirmed. "But you would have been wrong, too. In the end, it was a good thing I went."

"That house holds so many memories for you. If he had been there, he would have undoubtedly tried to suck you back in," Greg voiced his concern.

"I never considered that he might be there, though I probably should have. But that's not why you would have been right," Rick said pointedly. "I let myself in, like I always have done, expecting the house to be empty. But there was his briefcase, in the front hall. The Armani I bought him as an anniversary gift," Rick reminded.

"I remember," Greg said, recalling how Rick had agonized over which briefcase to buy, and how happy he had been when H approved of his choice. It was one of the few times H had made Rick happy, simply by graciously accepting a gift. That, however, had been several years ago. Greg knew Rick hadn't been that happy since then.

"There sat the briefcase, but no sign of him. I briefly wondered if he was upstairs, naked and waiting in bed, longing for me as I had always longed for him?" Rick puzzled for Greg.

"I have a dreadful feeling," Greg confessed.

"You needn't have. As soon as that thought came, I became furious. If he had been there waiting for me, it would have been on the assumption that I was too weak to stick to my word and away from him. It would have been an insult. As it turned out, however, H was neither in bed, nor naked," Rick paused before he dropped his bomb. "Nor was he waiting. Trousers about their ankles, H was bollocks deep in some Scottish kid he had bent over the footboard."

"Bloody hell!" Greg expressed.

"Now, you might say that I ended it two days before, so he could hardly be blamed for replacing me," Rick supposed.

"I wouldn't say that," Greg shook his head.

"I might have been bothered by the fact that I could be replaced so quickly and easily," Rick was calm and collected. "But then I smelled it, you see."

"Smelled what?" Greg asked.

"The cologne. Now, to be honest, I could not at first be sure whose cologne it was," Rick was objective, "but the moment I smelled it, doubt entered my mind."

"What does cologne have to do with anything?" Greg furrowed his brow.

"I'm quite sure I never mentioned it, because until the moment I walked into that bedroom and found them, it was meaningless," Rick explained. "The night after we brought Ashok home, you remember me telling you that H was waiting outside my flat?"

"Yes, I do remember," Greg confirmed.

"H kissed me in the garden that night, but when he did, I detected a scent I'd never smelled on him before," Rick elaborated. "It's a distinct and I must say, singularly unpleasant fragrance, like Drakkar or something like that. I mentioned it that night and H said that Ginny had gotten it for him. One of her friends' husband had worn it and she liked it, or some such thing. I told him I didn't like it and he said he would never wear it again."

"Of all the lies he's told, that's actually a pretty small one," Greg tried to be generous.

"But wait until you hear what the lie actually was," Rick held up a finger. "They had their backs to me and didn't even know I was there at first. Their shirts were on the floor and H noticed me when I bent to pick them up. He pulled out of the kid and they both scrambled stupidly to pull up their trousers. H said something, I think they both did, but I didn't even hear it. I smelled what I knew to be H's shirt and there was no hint of that cologne. Then I smelled the kid's shirt."

"Oh my God," Greg got it.

"The kid's shirt reeked of it," Rick confirmed. "H came to me that night, over a month ago, professing his undying love, with the stink of another man all over him. I know now that he was really there just to make sure I was still under his thumb, to tell me whatever I needed to hear to toe the line, and to make sure I wasn't really sleeping with Ashok. And of course, at that time, I wasn't. I had no intention of it."

"Bloody, Rick. What did you do?" Greg asked.

"I bloody well screamed at him. I don't even know what I said. H grabbed their shirts from me and I watched agape as they both started to put them on. I knew I had to have the truth," Rick confessed. "I grabbed the kid, who was no bigger than H, by his open shirt and slammed him up against the wall."

"Rick, it wasn't his fault," Greg pointed out.

"No, I agree, it wasn't. This was all on H. I was understandably furious at the time, however, and I knew I would never get the truth from H," Rick explained. "I demanded to know who he was, which in hindsight was a really daft question. He told me to lay off and let him go. That's when I learned he was a Scot. I asked him how many times he had been there, shouted it in his face. H pulled on my arm and pleaded with me to stop, but with that kid in my face and his reeking cologne in my nose, I was mad with fury."

"I would have been too," Greg agreed, "but it wasn't that kid's fault. I hope you didn't hurt him."

"I didn't. Not really. It took another, admittedly harder, slam against the wall for him to tell me," Rick paused for emphasis, "two or three times."

"Two, or three, times," Greg repeated.

"It was like I had been punched in my heart, Greg. I think I actually staggered backwards. The kid was a regular. I might have even told him that," Rick thought back. "Suddenly, I had no idea what I was even doing there. The whole thing was so impossibly absurd. I gave H the most contempt filled look I could muster and walked out."

"Good," Greg endorsed.

"H chased me down the stairs and pulled on my arm, and begged me not to go. Don't go, stay and talk, we can work it out," Rick relayed.

"How are you supposed to believe a word that comes out of his bloody mouth?" Greg asked.

"Well, precisely," Rick agreed. "I let him watch me place my key on the table by the door and I walked out of that house for the last time, Greg. Not one thing he ever said to me could have been true. I mean, not since we were kids. The man I fell in love with no longer exists, and has not for quite some time. I just couldn't see it. I bloody well know it now. I got back on the tube and went home. Obviously I got home quite early that day. Ashok wasn't there. He was still at Vince and Dré's. So I just sat down in the stillness and quiet to collect my thoughts, and I realized how wrong my life had been for so long. I let my blind and completely misplaced love and devotion, for a man I couldn't have, prevent me from living my life."

"I'm sorry, mate. Really I am, but it is true," Greg patted Rick's hand.

"I know it is, Greg. I just sat there and lost track of the time, I suppose. Ashok came home, laden with bags from the market, and of a sudden, I could not wait to see him. I ran to the door as quick as it opened. He was surprised that I was already home and smiled at me so sweetly. You know how he does," Rick gave a wave.

"I do," Greg confirmed.

"Just as soon as I looked at his face, I knew. It was my epiphany, Greg," Rick mused. "This boy, that we rescued from the Middle East, who I haven't really known that long, but who has shown me so much love and kindness in that short time, was just one of the best things that has ever happened to me. This boy, who I had so callously told would have to be second in my life and in my heart."

"Rick, you didn't," Greg hated to hear that.

"I did. I wish I hadn't, but I did. And Ashok is so selfless that he said he could share me, but I don't want to be shared. And I don't want to share anymore, not ever again," Rick made a fist in his conviction.

"No man, or woman for that matter, ever should have to do that," Greg took a swig.

"Right. I so agree. I just grabbed him. I caused him to drop all his bags, but I didn't care, even though one landed right on my foot, and I kissed him so hard," Rick relayed. "He tastes and feels so good, Greg. I'll admit that now. He clung to me and I loved it. We both got the horn for each other so fast. When I kiss him such that I make him whimper, Greg, I can't even tell you, mate."

"You don't have to," Greg smiled. "I can see it all over your face right now."

"I told him that I didn't want him to be second in my life. I think he misunderstood at first because he looked so crestfallen and wouldn't look up at me. I took his chin and made him look up at me as I told him that I wanted him to be the only one in my life," Rick revealed. "And you should have seen his face then."

"That's beautiful, Rick," Greg endorsed.

"I picked him up and carried him to our bedroom. I stripped us both naked and we made love like it was the first time. Really, it was the first time. The first time the spectre of H wasn't hanging over us, making me hate myself for something that felt so right and perfect," Rick confessed. "And really it is right and perfect, Greg. I just feel so good when I'm with him, even just being around him. I can't tell you how wonderful it made me feel to hold his hand as I walked up your street just now. And as wonderful as it makes me feel, when I do something as simple as hold his hand, it makes him so happy. And that just makes it even more special. This is what love is supposed to feel like."

"Yes, mate. Yes it is. There you have it exactly," Greg confirmed the lesson he had been trying to teach his best friend for the better part of their lives.

"This is what it's like, isn't it, for you and Viktor? For Dré and Vince too I suppose," Rick wondered.

"Now you know," Greg smiled and took Rick's hand again.

"Well, it's a pretty nice feeling," Rick mused aloud. "I had something like it with Jasper once, but somehow it's even better with Ashok. Couldn't precisely tell you why. It just is somehow."

In the other garden, Ashok took the last of the bacon wrapped stuffed prunes off the grill and piled them on the platter.

"There, you do good job," Viktor put his arm around Ashok's shoulders.

"Did I?" Ashok looked up at Viktor with a beaming smile while Viktor turned off the grill.

"Da," Viktor confirmed. He gave the young Indian a pat on his back. "Take upstairs. I go get Grigor and Rick," Viktor instructed. Ashok picked up the platters and headed into the house. Viktor headed toward the master bedroom while Ashok, Luna and Helena climbed the stairs.

Once they were in the kitchen, Ashok turned to Luna, "What does 'da' mean?"

"Oh," Luna chuckled. "It's 'yes' in Bulgarian. You'll get used to him. Some things he says in English, some in Bulgarian."

"Like 'Grigor'? Is that Greg in Bulgarian?" Ashok asked.

"Yes, it is," Helena gave the answer. "I wonder how to say your name in daddy's language?"

"I doubt Ashok's name would translate, sweetheart," Luna advised.

"But, why?" Helena was distressed that her dear friend was excluded in this way.

"Many names have roots in common languages, like Greek or Latin," Luna explained, "but Ashok is from very far away. His language is completely different."

"Oh," Helena accepted this answer, though she clearly didn't like it.

"But we love him just the same, don't we?" Luna prompted.

"Yes!" Helena threw her arms around Ashok's waist.

Down in the master garden, Viktor appeared in the doorway with his empty beer bottle in hand. "Starter ready. You still talk? Want I bring more beer?"

"I think we're done," Greg rose and Rick stood with him.

"Thank you for letting me monopolize your partner, Viktor," Rick offered.

"Is okay," Viktor nodded. "You our friend."

"I'm not sure what Rick is prepared to tell, or to whom, but suffice it to say, H drama is a thing of the past, permanently," Greg informed. Viktor stepped forward and pulled Rick into a tight hug. He didn't need to say anything and the taller man felt the message fully in the warm, strong embrace.

"It zagovezni for us today. We drink and eat!" Viktor let Rick go with a hard clap on the back. "Come."

"Have you thought about what you want to tell the others?" Greg asked as they followed Viktor back into the house.

"I have no reason to keep any secrets. Everyone would learn soon enough anyway," Rick gave a shrug.

"I hope Dré can keep a civil tongue," Greg expressed.

"I put his tongue back in mouth, if no," Viktor assured as he led the way up the stairs.

"Rick, look! I grilled all these," Ashok announced as the men walked into the kitchen. He was very proud of himself.

"He do good job," Viktor stated.

"I don't know what the peppers and eggplant are for, though," Ashok admitted.

"They for make kyopolou," Viktor informed.

"What's that?!" Ashok was wide eyed.

"We put food processor. Make relish with garlic and olive oil. You will do it," Viktor informed.

"May I?" Ashok was thrilled.

"Da," Viktor nodded confirmation.

"This is great fun, Rick!" Ashok threw his arms around his tall lover's neck. Rick smiled and slipped an arm around the small of the slighter man's back to pull Ashok's body to his.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, Ashy," Rick gave Ashok a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Just getting started guys, and ladies," Greg pulled fresh beers from the fridge and poured Luna and Ashok another glass of wine. "How about you, little lady? Fancy an orangina?"

"Yes, please," Helena confirmed.

"Hello, boys. Anyone home?" came Dré's voice from the front door.

"Hi, Uncle Dré," Helena skipped her way out of the kitchen.

"Well, hello, little miss," Dré squatted down to receive a kiss from Helena. "Is it possible that you get prettier every time I see you?"

"Yes," Helena answered simply. Dré laughed and hugged her. Hers was an attitude he could relate to.

"C'mere, little doll," Vince picked Helena up in a tight hug. "Rrrr," he growled into her neck. Helena laughed and squealed at her uncle Vince's exuberance. It always pleased her fathers when people showed genuine affection for their child. Greg and Viktor were right behind their daughter in the line to greet their guests. Dré wore a dove gray tux shirt with tight, skinny jeans that only Ashok could have come close to getting into, and Vince loved on him. Vince wore a short sleeved henley and snug jeans.

"Dré, welcome," Greg gave the thin man a hug.

"Brought your wayward man home, did you?" Dré asked.

"That I did," Greg chuckled.

"We're looking quite forward to the match tomorrow, footballer," Dré said as Viktor took him in his strong arms. "High time you lazy bastards got your arses back on the pitch."

Viktor said nothing, but gave the slight man a good whack on his butt when he let him go.

"Christ! I'll not be abused by your man, Goyle!" Dré protested.

"You'll take it and like it. Hello, Vince," Greg gave the beefy man a hug.

"Good to see you, Greg. And you too, Viktor," Vince moved from Greg's embrace to Viktor's. Viktor gave Vince a tighter hug than anyone else as he knew the man could take it.

"Don't just stand there, Goyle. Pour the wine," Dré demanded. "It's been a bugger of a day. Hello, everyone," he smiled as he walked into the kitchen.

"Hi, Dré!" Ashok hugged the taller man and stretched to kiss his cheek. Although he spent most days at Dré and Vince's building, he was usually gone before Dré got home.

"Hello there, extraordinary little chef," Dré hugged him back. Greg pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack in the kitchen and set about to pull the cork.

"Vince, beer or wine?" Viktor asked.

"I'll have a glass of wine," Vince answered.

"Coming right up," Greg pulled the cork free with a pop.

"Hello, Diggory," Dré gave the one man taller than he was a hug. "How are things in your world? Vince mentioned you and Ashok might be sporting some new jewelry," he pulled back and lifted Rick's wrist to examine the cuff with an approving expression.

"Never better, Dré. This is the last time you will ever hear the name H pass my lips," Rick assured.

"I've heard that before. I can only hope you bloody well mean it this time," Dré stated, dropping Rick's wrist. "How are you, Luna?"

"Good, Dré. Nice to see you," Luna said sweetly as she gave him a quick hug.

"Always nice to be seen," Dré joked.

"Hi, Vince. And thanks again for the other night," Rick gave the bigger man a hug.

"Forget all about it, mate," Vince patted the taller man on the back.

"Vince, angel devil?" Ashok picked up the platter.

"Oh, look, Duck," Vince picked up a stuffed, bacon wrapped prune and popped the whole thing in his mouth.

"What did you say these were called?" Dré asked with amusement.

"Angel devils," Ashok answered with a completely innocent face.

"And let me just guess who told you they were called that," Dré cocked a grin at Viktor.

"What they called again?" Viktor asked as he opened himself a fresh beer.

"The ones stuffed with the livers are devils on horseback and the ones with the oysters are angels on horseback," Greg set a glass of wine each before Dré and Vince.

"I like devil horseback," Viktor stated and plucked one up.

"My mum made them one year and Viktor has been quite keen on them ever since," Greg informed.

"Angels are my favorite," Dré stated. Vince picked one up and gently fed it to his lover.

"Mmm," Dré chewed. "Thank you, Peach."

"Let's take all this to the lounge and sit down, shall we?" Greg bid. Vince was quick to pick up the platter of angels and devils, and led the way. Luna took the platter of shrimp.

"Can I help do anything, Greg?" Ashok asked.

"Well, you can, actually. Grab that plate there and put some of those crackers round," Greg pointed. "I'll just get out the lovely Stilton and the duck paté I picked up today," he pulled them both from the fridge, removed them from their containers and placed them in the center of the big plate. "There," Greg put a cheese knife by the Stilton and a spreading knife beside the paté. "If you would just carry my beer for me," he and Ashok followed the others out into the living room. The plates of nibbles were placed on the low coffee tables. Vince and Dré took matching chairs, side by side. Rick and Ashok sat together on a small settee. Luna took a chair while Helena wedged herself in between her fathers where they sat together on the sofa.

"So tell me, Diggory," Dré began. "Do you have startling culinary skills you've kept hidden from us all these years? Are you teaching Ashok these tricks, or is he just a natural talent?"

"It's all Ashok. I can't take any credit," Rick put his arm around his young lover.

"I came home to a multi course gourmet meal the other day," Dré stated.

"It was slow 'round the building and Ashok said he had been watching some cooking shows, and was dying to try the recipes out himself," Vince explained. "It all sounded bloody good to me, so I took Ashok round the market and we spent all afternoon cooking. I should say, he was cooking, I was watching."

"Well, it was bloody marvelous, I can tell you," Dré took a sip of his wine. "Though, I was particularly distracted by the server, who had on only an apron."

"What?!" Ashok laughed. "He had clothes on when I left!"

"You'd be surprised the things people get up to after you leave, little mate," Vince wore a sly smile.

"We got up to it alright," Dré added.

"Tell them what happened at the museum today," Vince bid.

"Oh, bloody," Dré shook his head. "A bunch of us were called to Sir Neil's office and he kept us waiting forever."

"Who Sir Neil?" Viktor asked.

"Only the Director of the whole bloody British Museum. Have I not mentioned him before?" Dré queried. "Anyway, he and Paul Collins, Paul's one of the Lead Curators, had handpicked us for a very special assignment. Sir Neil has appointed Paul Managing Curator for the Zayed National Museum Project."

"Zayed?" Ashok knew that name. He had looked at the man's portrait every day for six years.

"Thought you'd notice that," Dré gave Ashok a nod. "The British Museum has agreed to help develop the Sheikh Zayed National Museum in Abu Dhabi. Sir Neil and Paul picked five of us from various departments to serve on this project. Sir Neil was impressed with my work on Alexander and the Hellenistic Civilization, and thought I would be uniquely suited in helping to develop the Sheikh Zayed Life and Times Gallery. And Paul knew I had just been to Dubai. So I shall inevitably be forced to go back to that ruddy scorching country," Dré complained.

"It's an excellent opportunity, Duck," Vince pointed out. And just like that, Dré's entire attitude was adjusted.

"It really is. We'll receive the Emirati delegation here at the museum first and start from there. I've no idea when they're coming, but I got the impression that it's soon rather," Dré informed.

"That will look nice on your resumé, Dré," Greg agreed.

"I hold Nasir to blame," Dré took a sip of his wine. "Oh, speaking of, are you chaps going to his wedding?"

"Vik has two matches that weekend and a signing. We'd love to go, but there's no way we can," Greg shook his head. Viktor gave a resigned shrug.

"I wish we could go," Ashok spoke longingly.

"You can't leave the UK," Rick pulled Ashok closer. "I've never even met Nasir, but I sure would like to go too."

"Well, we're not going if you lot aren't. We won't know anyone," Dré concluded. "We'll send along a gift."

"I wonder if Nasir's sister will be able to make it?" Greg wondered aloud. "I know Emmett and Nasir would both love it, but I don't see how she can."

"She was thrilled to get the invitation," Luna spoke up. "I gained admission by telling the man at the door that I was with the Council Ladies Committee. He didn't ask any questions and just like that I was escorted in to see the lady of the house. We were immediately left alone. No one suspected a thing. Very nice, she is. Her husband won't let her have any contact with her family at all. Nasir is the one she misses the most."

"If she can't have contact with any of her family, I imagine Nasir has the least chance of all," Dré reasoned.

"It's a shame," Greg shook his head.

"A woman should be able to go where she wants and see who she wants. And I told her so," Luna stated.

"That's just not her reality, Lunes," Greg reached to put a hand on her arm.

"Now she have invitation. Now she know at least," Viktor had hope. "If there any way, she can try."

"Oh, I just saw a yellow Porsche go by," Greg commented.

"Good. They here," Viktor stated.

"Who drives a yellow Porsche?" Dré asked.

"Lukasz," Viktor informed.

"That's right. You footballers are highly compensated, aren't you?" Dré thought out loud. "The good ones, anyway. Still and all, you're worth every pence, I'd say."

Viktor rose as he saw Lukasz and Kieran come down the sidewalk. He paused to lean over the thin blonde and pat his cheek lightly. "Nice to know we have loyal fans."

"Smack my arse one more time and you can look for us at Stamford Bridge!" Dré threatened with the name of the stadium in Chelsea.

And with that, everyone looked to Vince. The man of few words, needed none. He just slowly shook his head. The day Vincent Crabbe let himself or his partner become Chelsea fans, would be a cold day in hell.

Everyone rose when Viktor opened the door to greet his teammates.

"Lukasz," Viktor hugged the strong Keeper. Lukasz wore a loose tee shirt with Polish writing on it and snug jeans to match his partner.

"Viktor," Lukasz traded rough claps on the back with the muscular Bulgarian.

"Kieran," Viktor was just instinctively more gentle with the timid, shorter Englishman, even though Kieran was very well built and his painted on lycra tee shirt made that fact plain for all to see.

"Hi, Viktor," Kieran tucked his head into Viktor's shoulder as he hugged him and it never failed to touch the bigger man's heart.

"Grzegorz!" Lukasz grabbed his Brit host and hugged him tightly. "How was trip to Varna?"

"Hi, Lukasz, Kieran. Very nice. The best trip ever, actually. How was your trip to Poland?" Greg asked as he hugged them both. Lukasz did not answer, but looked to his partner.

"It didn't start out very well," Kieran spoke quietly with downcast eyes and a shake of his head.

"Let's get you boys something to drink and you can tell us all about it," Greg shut the door behind them.

"Beer for us," Lukasz stated and put an arm around his lover.

"Coming right up," Greg headed for the kitchen.

"Lukasz, Kieran, you remember our friends Dré and Vince," Viktor began.

"Sure they do," Dré was full of himself. "Nice to see you again," he was all smiles as he shook their hands.

"Chaps," Vince smiled as he greeted them as well.

"Luna, Helena's mother," Viktor continued.

"Oh, yes," Lukasz remembered her as well and gave her a warm hug.

"Hi, Kieran," Helena presented herself to the freshly arrived men.

"Oh, here is big girl!" Lukasz smiled down on her.

"Hi, Helena!" Kieran squatted down to hug the child. He was a completely different person with kids than he was with other adults.

"Viktor's teammates," Rick whispered to Ashok as he steered the smaller man toward the door with an arm around him.

"You know also Rick. And this is Ashok," Viktor finished his introductions.

"Oh! The boy from Emirate! So nice to meet you," Lukasz in his enthusiasm pulled Ashok right out from under Rick's arm into a tight, almost rough embrace. "Viktor and Greg tell us in Austria about how they go get you. You like it live here in England?"

"It's a whole different world. I can't even compare it," Ashok answered honestly. He moved back under Rick's arm without even thinking about it when the Pole let him go.

"This my boy Kieran," Lukasz introduced.

"Hi, Kieran," Ashok smiled.

"Hi," Kieran, in his shyness of a new person, did not even offer his hand.

"And you," Lukasz put his hand on Rick's shoulder. "You take good care of him, yes?"

"He absolutely does," Ashok looked up at Rick with adoration clear on his face.

"Ashok takes right good care of me too," Rick smiled down on his new lover.

"Here we are, then," Greg returned with frosty cold beer bottles.

"Na zdrowie," Lukasz raised his bottle.

"Nazdrave," Viktor echoed in Bulgarian.

"Right. Cheers, everyone," Greg agreed.

"It's like the bloody UN in this house," Dré commented.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Greg bid. "I want to hear all about Poland."

"If I had to do over, I not take Kieran home," Lukasz stated as he settled into a settee.

"Don't say that, Wu. I'm glad I got to meet your family. I wanted to see where you come from," Kieran sat close beside his partner and leaned back on him. Lukasz draped his arm down across Kieran's chest.

"Even though start out so bad?" Lukasz asked.

"I can face anything as long as I'm with you," Kieran rubbed the arm that lay over him.

"But what happened?" Dré pressed.

"My father," Lukasz shook his head. He took a gulp of his beer.

"He didn't like me," Kieran spoke softly.

"He not like idea of you," Lukasz corrected. "They not happy have gay son. They proud of me become footballer, but they don't never want talk about me be gay. They no ever ask is someone in my life. I know they don't want know, so I never tell them. This time I say, I come home and bring my partner with me. My mother say I should do this, but my father no want to think about it. So now here is my partner in his face, in his house."

"He wouldn't look at me or talk to me," Kieran added.

"That not worst part. He say we will not sleep together in same bed in his house," Lukasz went on.

"Bloody hell," Dré swore. "I wouldn't have slept in that house at all."

"Wu got really angry," Kieran thought back. "I didn't even know why at the time. It was all in Polish."

"I tell them we not stay in their house. We not even stay in country. We go home. I tell them my Kieran is my family. We not welcome together, we go and never come back!" Lukasz relayed.

"Too right. Good for you," Dré encouraged with a firm nod.

"It would have been okay to just go to a hotel. I would have felt bad if we had to leave because of me," Kieran turned his head to look up at his partner.

"It not be because of you, Slodki," Lukasz pulled Kieran more tightly to his chest. "Anyway, we not go because my mother so upset that I say we leave. She say we have room and sleep together, is okay. My father say not okay and my mother tell him to go if he no like it. So he go out drinking and not come back until next afternoon. I feel so bad subject Kieran to this."

"Don't feel bad, Wu. It started off pretty bad, but it got better. Your brothers liked me," Kieran smiled for the first time since beginning this story.

"Maciej and Jarek like you very much. What not to like?" Lukasz smiled as well.

"They went with us everywhere. I was glad of it too. When we came out of that one pub that night, I took Wu's hand. I shouldn't have done that there. I wasn't thinking. It's just an automatic thing for me," Kieran relayed.

"I not think about it either. Is just natural for me hold your hand," Lukasz agreed.

"Then a beer bottle whizzed by my head and somebody shouted something," Kieran filled in.

"Oh, how dreadful. I hope no one was hurt," Greg was concerned.

"Not one of us, anyway. Wu's brothers chased the guys all the way down the street and when they came back, Maciej's knuckles were bloody. He wouldn't say what happened, but it was pretty obvious," Kieran finished. "After that, it was pretty uneventful. I got to see Wu's old neighborhood. The bakery, the butcher, the little market. The field where he played football with his friends growing up. That I could very much relate to. Everyone around there recognized him. And it must be more than him being a local boy who made the national team and went on to great things. They must follow his Arsenal career, because most people recognized me too," Kieran laughed. "One of the most fun things we did was take a ball to that park, Wu's brothers and us, and kids just flocked to us to play. Not one of them spoke English, but it didn't even matter."

"That was fun," Lukasz agreed. He rubbed Kieran's well developed pecs. "It make me so happy that you have good memories of trip home with me."

"I do. I'm sorry if I made it sound like I don't," Kieran leaned his head back on his bigger partner. "I liked when you and your brothers took me to Poznan and, what's the other place?"

"Gniezno," Lukasz answered.

"Yeah, I loved it there. So beautiful and so much history. I really liked the brewery tour in Poznan too," Kieran chuckled. "I think that was your brothers' favorite stop."

"Brewery tour?" Viktor's ears perked up at this.

"Lech beer. Very good Polish beer," Lukasz stated.

"Oh, I have had Lech. Is very good," Viktor nodded. "Not so good as MM Varna though," he amended.

"MM Varna piss," Lukasz made a face.

"Here they go," Kieran shook his head.

"I was just going to say that, Kieran," Greg agreed.

"I need go cook anyway," Viktor rose. "Ashok, you can cut up lamb and sear?"

"May I?" Ashok was all for learning and doing anything in the kitchen.

"Da. Come," Viktor gestured. Ashok paused to give Rick a gentle kiss on his lips before rising to follow.

"What are we having anyway?" Dré asked. Just as quickly he dismissed himself. "Oh, never mind. It's not like we've ever had a bad meal in this house. It hardly matters if I don't know, or care, what it's called."

And then the door opened again.

"Good evening," a male voice called.

"Come. Come," Viktor greeted the latest and final arrivals. Most people rose, as Greg did, to greet them. Dré alone remained seated, comfortably sipping his wine. The man at the door had dirty blonde hair. He was especially sexy in a loose tee shirt that hung on his tall frame and the dress pants of the suit he had worn that day. His wife had a great mane of wavy raven hair and was dressed smartly in an obviously expensive blouse and pencil skirt. Their daughter was the image of her mother.

"Emily!" Helena all but shrieked and ran to her playmate. The two little girls clasped hands and dashed for the stairs. The adults watched them go with amused smiles.

"Hello, Viktor. Welcome home," the woman kissed the Bulgarian on his cheek.

"Is good to be home. Claire, Dylan, this Ashok," Viktor introduced the man at his side.

"Oh, Ashok, how lovely to meet you. Emily has told us all about you," Claire offered her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Claire," Ashok was polite.

"Ashok," Dylan offered his hand.

"Sir," Ashok just responded naturally to the man's bearing as they shook.

"None of that. Call me Dylan," he corrected with a warm smile. "And if you ever have trouble with your immigration status, I can recommend a very good solicitor," the tall man had a soft and kind voice.

"Thank you, Dylan," Ashok smiled.

"Hi, Dylan, Claire," Greg reached to pat the man's arm while he kissed Claire.

"Hi, Greg," Dylan clasped Greg's shoulder.

"Hello, Gregory," Claire kissed her neighbor back.

"Now it's a party, everyone. The lone straight man has arrived!" Greg called.

"Am I?" Dylan looked around. "With all the sports figures in this house, it doesn't much feel that way!"

"The barrister is straight and all the footballers are gay. I suppose stranger things have happened," Greg mused.

"Greg introduce you. We go cooking now," Viktor put his arm around Ashok and steered him away toward the kitchen.

"Right. Let's start with the footballers. Dylan and Claire, this is Lukasz and Kieran," Greg began.

"Certainly we recognize you," Dylan offered his hand first. "Very nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you both," Lukasz echoed.

"Hi," Kieran was his usual shy self at Lukasz's side.

"My old mates, Rick and Vince. And the bloke over there who can't be bothered to get up is Dré. Of course you know Luna," Greg finished. Dylan immediately liked Rick. It wasn't every day he met a man who matched his stature and he could look Rick right in the eye.

The aloof platinum blonde man tipped his wine glass at them in greeting.

"What can I get you both to drink?" Greg asked.

"A glass of wine would be lovely," Claire answered.

"We have a cabernet and a chardonnay open," Greg offered.

"Chardonnay I think," Claire gave a nod.

"Cabernet for me, please, Greg," Dylan patted his neighbor on the back.

"Good choice," Dré tipped his glass again.

"Coming right up," Greg headed to the kitchen to fill their order.

"So, are you chaps looking forward to the match tomorrow?" Dylan asked as everyone took seats.

"Very much," Lukasz confirmed. "We see how new team do."

"New team?" Dré raised his eyebrows.

"Viktor not tell you?" Lukasz asked.

"Tell us what?" Dré pressed.

"It didn't have occasion to come up," Greg stated as he brought Dylan and Claire their wine. "Rather a few new faces in the locker room, I gather."

"I only care about the old faces," Dré gave a dismissive wave.

"What few of us left," Lukasz nodded.

"What?" Dré was flat.

"What do you mean by that, mate?" Vince was keenly interested and not just a little concerned.

"Andrey, Samir, Marouane, Robin, Armand, Emmanuel, Bacary, all gone," Lukasz listed. "Even Cesc."

"Christ!" Dré exclaimed. "Even Cesc?! How the hell did that happen?!"

"They go," Lukasz gave a shrug. "Some want to go. Andrey and Cesc go home."

"Emmanuel went to Galatasaray," Kieran added.

"That's in Turkey, isn't it?" Dylan recalled.

"Tell your father to look after him," Dré gestured to Rick.

"I will!" Rick laughed. "My father is the Ambassador to Turkey," he added for the confused faces in the room who didn't get Dré's reference.

"Oh, really, the Ambassador?" Dylan was impressed.

"Let's get back to the team," Dré waved a hand. "Why does everyone want to leave? What's going on?"

"Not all want leave," Lukasz held Kieran to him.

"Me either," Kieran agreed. "Arsenal is my home."

"Vik seemed to think it was more financial than anything else," Greg stated. "Some of the players sold fetched rather a great deal."

"What the hell is Wenger doing?!" Dré demanded of no one in particular. "Is money his only motivation?"

"I'm sure it was the president and the owners of the club more so than the manager," Greg pointed out.

"Bloody hell," Dré complained. "Who are these new ones then? Any good?"

"Some of them are quite good and well known," Kieran asserted.

"Oh?" Dylan leaned forward.

"David Smith from Portmore United in Jamaica," Kieran began.

"I can't say I've followed Jamaican football very much," Dylan hadn't heard of him.

"I've seen him play. He is good," Vince evaluated.

"He like lion," Lukasz described. "Great mane of long, twisty, curly string of hair."

"Dreads, Wu," Kieran informed.

"That what they called? I like my boy head smooth," Lukasz ran a hand over Kieran's smoothly shaved head. He pulled him close and kissed the top of Kieran's head.

"Who else?" Dré prompted.

"Eduardo Cortez from Real Madrid. I think he's originally from Mexico," Kieran continued.

"That's a good choice," Vince nodded.

"Santino Conti from Internazionale Milan," Kieran went on.

"Didn't you just play against him in the training camp friendly?" Greg queried.

"He only one in match to score against me," Lukasz took it personally every time a goal was scored in his net and clearly had respect for the man.

"If he can score against you, he can score against anyone," Dré was unusually complimentary. "A good addition, I'd say. Who else?"

"Jacinto's really good," Kieran nodded with raised eyebrows.

"Jacinto?" Greg prompted.

"Jacinto Araujo from Santos," Lukasz filled in.

"Oh, I've seen him," Dylan recalled. "He's on the Brazilian national team and quite good."

"You should have seen him sinking balls into the little practice hole. Never missed," Kieran relayed.

"Then Lars Jakobsen from Copenhagen. Think he can replace me!" Lukasz scoffed.

"We need someone good to back you up," Kieran pointed out. "He's the only one I really talked to so far. He seems nice."

"He too nice maybe," Lukasz didn't like his jealous streak, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. "I not like way he smile at you."

"Wu," Kieran turned to be able to look his partner in the eye and put a hand to the side of his face. "I love you."

"I love you too, Slodki," Lukasz gave his lover a soft kiss on his lips. "And you mine. I kick arse if he think take you from me."

"Drama on the pitch!" Dré laughed. "I bloody love it! We shan't miss a match."

"The last known player is Wambua Mwangi from Kenya," Kieran got back on track. "And I don't like him one bit."

"You talk to him?" Lukasz asked.

"No! I don't need to," Kieran asserted. "I don't like how he looks at me," Kieran dropped his gaze. He was very intimidated by the big African.

"How he look at you?" Lukasz demanded.

"I'm sure he knows about us. The whole team does. It's not like we try to hide it. He has such contempt in his eyes. He doesn't look that way at you?" Kieran asked.

"I don't notice," Lukasz have a shrug. "I see he stomp around like big, angry bull. Hung like one too."

"And I'm so very glad to know that," Dylan nodded.

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled that you noticed that," Kieran was sarcastic. "I just try to stay away from him."

"Right, that's the famous and hung. Are there more?" Dré enquired.

"There are three new young players," Kieran answered.

"Kids," Lukasz commented.

"Yeah, Jack's not the baby anymore!" Kieran laughed. "Mykelti is from Cameroon, Denbe is from Uganda and Angus is from Scotland. And only Denbe speaks English!"

"Angus from Scotland?" Dré seized. "With an arse so pale it could light up the whole stadium no doubt."

"Lovely," Vince gave his partner a leer. "I do like a pale arse," he grabbed Dré and hauled the slight man into his lap.

Dré didn't at all mind being manhandled when it was Vince doing it. He settled comfortably and smiled into his lover's warm brown eyes.

"I'm sure you two are as ready to get back to it as Vik is," Greg kept the conversation going.

"We very ready to play," Lukasz confirmed.

"Yeah," Kieran nodded his agreement.

"The rest of us are very ready to watch you do it," Dré stated. "Is this a Premier League match?"

"It is," Lukasz confirmed. "You all coming?"

"We'll be watching Emily and Helena. You could go if you like, Dylan. Have a day with the boys. Gay boys, but boys just the same," Claire offered.

"I might just," Dylan rubbed his hands together while he looked around the room with a smile.

"Here, just a minute," Dré remembered another very important point. "Who is our Captain now?"

"Viktor," Kieran answered simply while Lukasz nodded and Greg smiled. Kieran's shrug made it clear that he thought the answer should have been obvious. It was certainly obvious to the team.

"Oh," Dré's anger and concern instantly evaporated and he relaxed in his partner's lap. "That's alright then."

Rick tipped his beer bottle up and drained what remained. "Who needs another beer?" he held up his empty.

Lukasz and Kieran both did the same.

"Claire, more wine?" Greg noticed her glass had but a sip in it.

"Oh, please," Claire handed over her glass.

"We need another round of beer out there," Rick announced as he walked into the kitchen with his, Lukasz and Kieran's empties.

"Hand me out the chardonnay whilst you're in there," Greg bid.

"Here you go," Rick passed over the bottle and pulled three fresh beers from the fridge.

"There we are," Greg poured Claire's wine and put the bottle back in the fridge while Rick popped the tops off the beers. Then both men paused to watch their men cook together.

"Da, is perfect. Pan hot now," Viktor instructed.

"I'll use these tongs," Ashok began to transfer the pieces of lamb he had cubed into the skillet.

"I chop onions," Viktor stated. "Then we make the kyopolou."

Rick stepped up behind Ashok and leaned his head down on Ashok's shoulder as he put his arms around the slight man. "Are you having fun?" he asked softly.

"I really am, Rick. Is it okay? I don't mean to neglect you," Ashok was suddenly concerned.

"Shh. Don't think that at all. I'm just gabbing away with everyone out there. I want you to have fun, Ashy," Rick gave Ashok a soft kiss on his lips.

Greg wrapped his arms around his partner from behind, much the same as Rick did with Ashok. "This is very sweet of you," Greg whispered to his lover.

"He sweet boy. I like cook with him," Viktor stated. Greg gave his lover a kiss on the side of his neck and let him go. He and Rick walked out of the kitchen together with hands full of drinks and paused to look back at their men.

"He's one of us," Rick spoke quietly.

"He really is," Greg agreed. They turned and headed back out to the living room.