“She said something about fixing the disposal. Apparently you’re the only one of us she trusts with whatever it is a disposal needs for fixing.” Sionn harrumphed as Connor reached for the bag of chicharrónes. “Those you can leave. I’ll be wanting them along with the stout and the boyfriend.”
The foreboding gray above them rumbled the moment Connor went through the door, and a large water drop splattered the cement next to Sionn’s sneaker. He walked Damien a few steps and brought them under the tarp as the sky peeled back and began dumping sheets of cold water from its heavy clouds.
“Fuck, I’m getting sick of this rain,” Damien grumbled back at the thunder. “I could use less cold too. It makes my chest hurt.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Sionn laughed, pulling his lover down onto the beanbag with him. The bright orange fabric poofed out under their weight, catching them in its cradle. “You’re the Tin Man, and I’m… hell, I don’t know who I’d be.”
“The Porcelain Shepherdess. She broke her leg when they scared the crap out of her climbing over the wall. Miki’s one too.” He shrugged at Sionn’s skeptical look. “It’s in the book. I read a lot as a kid. Lots of time between auditions and shit.”
Rocking Damien in the curve of his arms, Sionn kissed the side of his lover’s mouth. “Connor didn’t freak you out?”
“What? When he stomped up here like he was going to grind my bones to make his bread?” Damien bit Sionn’s lower lip, tugging on it lightly before letting go. “Nah, he was good. Dude, he brought chicharrónes.”
“No, not about the pork rinds.” He snorted at Damien’s snarl. “About him calling you… boyfriend.”
“Kinda what you are.” Damie snuggled in closer, not liking the cold whiff of mist hitting his face. “You know, if we were in junior high or something, but what the fuck else word do we got?”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“Yeah, I think so. We gotta talk about the whole living spaces thing.” There was no way he was ever going back to Sionn’s place, not with its connection to his mother. “The estate lawyer called… the one with the funny mustache—”
“Ole’ walrus breath,” Sionn muttered into Damien’s hair. “I’m telling you, the man smelled like tuna fish.”
“Why do you call it tuna fish? That’s like saying bacon pig or beef cow.” A finger tap on his forehead brought Damien back around to the point. “The warehouse’s sale can be voided out if he can find someplace better for them to move. I told him I didn’t care what it costs. I want my place back.”
“And Kane?” he reminded his lover. “His workshop’s there.”
“That can stay. I already promised Miki it can, and it’s not like I’ll need that bay, and it’s separate, you know. He won’t even bug me. I just want my life back. Some part of it, and I can’t keep living here forever.” Damien shivered.
“My place is out,” Sionn murmured. “Besides, even if it weren’t, it’s not soundproofed. They okay with you being here while everything’s being taken care of?”
“Miki said they’d talked about it. Kane’s good with us both staying if you want.” Damien leaned back so he could look Sionn square in the face. “We don’t have to. You don’t, I mean. I know shit’s been moving fast. And it’s okay to slow stuff down a bit. It’s not that I don’t want you. ’Cause I do.”
“Yeah?” Sionn studied Damien’s open expression as if doubting the guitarist’s sincerity. “I want you too. How about if we build on what we have, and if you need some space, I can spend a couple nights a week at my place, because I’m telling you, Damie boy, this place might be big, but four of us in here is a bit tight. Lot of ego and personality under one roof.”
“As bad as the Morgans’?” Damien said as Brigid’s voice floated up the roof stairwell, politely demanding they get their sorry asses downstairs to eat. “Speaking of the banshee….”
“Oh, don’t be calling her that, or one day I’ll slip and she’ll gullet me. And no, nothing can be bad as a house of warring Morgans.” He laughed, letting Damien go so the man could retrieve his instrument and amp. “Next door’s going to take some time to get going, right?”
“Yeah, a few months at least. Maybe even a year.”
“Tell you what, I’ve got other property. I can find someplace else for us to live, and we can hole up there. Might take a couple of weeks, but maybe they’ll have caught that asshole by then.” Sionn took the guitar from Damien’s hand and began to settle it into its case. “Someplace big and quiet enough for you to make as much noise as you like. It’s time for me to get my lazy ass into doing something. Leigh’s got the pub covered, but that brewery thing… now that sounds like something I’d want to do. How about it? You and me?”