Angels To Fly

Who Am I?

"It's so nice to have you home so soon after the holidays." A mother's voice said warmly, an arm coming to embrace a tall, lanky brunet.

The brunet sighed heavily, sweaty palms very hard to hide. "Not for long, Mom. Classes start back up the end of January and I don't want to overstay my welcome here or at John's place. I just really need to tell you something - in person - and after Christmas." The brunet licked his lips in preparation for his little speech if it was even going to be a speech. Or more, a declaration. "Is dad home yet?"

The mother nodded her head, shouting the older male's name. The older man smiled at the sight of his son, almost coming tightly in an embrace. "What do we owe this twice-a-month appearance too?"

The lanky brunet did not say a thing at first. Instead, he gestured for them both to take a seat before he took his own as well. "I-I have to tell you both something and I have to do it in person."

The mother's brows furrowed, "Are you alright, honey?"

The brunet waved her concern away, "Yeah, yeah. More than alright. I just - I don't know how you will react to this. I mean, I know you love me. But I also know we go to church. And Dad has joked around about it and I-"

The mother reached a hand to silence her boy, "You can say it."

"I'm gay."

"Fuck," Joe announced to an empty room. Another dream (or nightmare?) could only mean one thing - another round of headaches. Indeed, when he pulled himself up to sit, his head began to pound again. The brunet searched his dresser for some aspirin but was met with nothing but office supplies and . . . an opened condom foil case. Joe turned to the other side of the bed and was met with nothing but empty space. Except for . . . the impression on the bed. Joe dipped down to see if there was a scent. And there was. A scent that had become so familiar to Joe in the last few weeks. A scent that also brought on several different . . . bodily reactions. Joe felt his cock twitch for a moment before settling down. Had Ben spent the night? Had the two had sex? Joe's memory was so foggy from these damn visions and mind-boggling headaches that he honestly didn't know.

But the blond wasn't here now. Did he go home, after they did (might've) had sex? The thought made Joe frown but it was understandable. Joe was complicated. Maybe Ben needed the release as much as Joe did, but did not want to bother with all of this fuckery that was Joseph Mazzello after finding out how shit the brunet is in bed.

Rubbing his temple, he pulled himself up with one hand on a mission to go to the kitchen in hopes of finding something to stop the raging headache. "Ma . . . do you have any aspirin? I thought I had some in my nightstand but it's just crap."

"Morning, Joe." A voice that wasn't his mother's said. A voice octaves lower with a British tint to it. Joe raised his pupils to make contact with Ben's piercing green iris. He was sitting at the coffee table, across from his mother as they sipped on their mugs. "Ben . . . you are-"

"Still here? What? You think I'd leave you after the condition you were in last night." Ben lifted from his seat to go over to the coffee maker on the kitchen island as if he lived here. He got a cup from the cupboard, filling it up and giving it to the brunet easily, "Coffee is so easy to find in the states. I'd kill for some English breakfast tea around here."