Birthday Trip

© Clare London

Lee’s voice was small and hushed in the pitch-black bedroom. “It’s very dark here on the site, isn’t it?”

“Hm?” Patrick was still trying to find a comfortable position on the narrow—very narrow—single bed in the holiday caravan. He’d never been a thin man, even in his youth. And he kept stubbing his toe on the low-hanging cupboard over the foot of the bed.

“I suppose I’m just not used to being away from central London.” Lee gave a grunt that probably meant “thank god”. He turned over again in his bed; Patrick heard the squeak of the mattress and the muffled thump as Lee’s elbow hit the plywood wall.

Lee’s eyes gleamed wide in the darkness. “Patrick? Are you awake?”

“I am now.” Patrick sighed, knowing there was still a smile in his tone.

Lee sighed too. “I’m sorry, It seemed such a good idea at the time. A long weekend away for your birthday, just us, on a seaside holiday, without work or home or anyone else to bother about.”

“It was a good idea. Is. I appreciate it.”

“It’s just, I had to pay out for my new laptop last month, and then I’d agreed to lend Phiz a few quid—”


“—which he’s paid back now, he has! But it meant I didn’t have much money at the time, when I booked this weekend, and this caravan site was the only place had a berth left because it’s the school holidays, and it looked really nice regardless—”

“It is,” Patrick hurried to reassure Lee. “Ouch.” He’d forgotten again about the low-hanging cupboard. “It’s just… rather small.”



“Fucking miniscule.” Lee snorted and they both started to laugh.

Patrick carefully pulled his leg out from under the bedroom fittings and sat up on the edge of his bed. “Pity there were only twin beds.” He could see Lee nodding vigorously, even though the only light in the room was from the moon.

Lee’s voice had sobered. “That was a disaster, wasn’t it? Last night. When we tried to have sex.”

“You mean, when I fell out of bed? Yes. It wasn’t far to fall, but I caught my head on the edge of your bed.”

“And your reading glasses—”

“Um. Yeah. I’ll get new lenses on Monday, when we go back to With A Kick.”

“Must have hurt. The broken glass in your arse.”

Patrick was glad of the darkness then, because of his humiliated blushes. But Lee had obviously just realised the rhyme, and was laughing again.

“Sorry about dropping your phone in the toilet,” Patrick said. “The children shouting at the seagulls outside the window startled me.”

“And their mother shrieking at them. All five of them. By individual name. For ten minutes.”

Patrick sighed again.

“’S okay,” Lee said bravely. “It’ll dry out. Eventually.” He reached out a hand in the dark and Patrick clasped it.

“Well, we might as well get up,” Patrick said. “Neither of us can sleep at the moment, right?”

“We could stream and watch a movie—”

“—if we could get a decent internet signal. Yeah, I know.”

Their combined breath was a fine mist in the chilly air.

“I brought sachets of hot chocolate,” Lee said eagerly. “Maybe the power cut is over by now, and I can boil a kettle.”

“And it’s stopped raining at last. Another day, and our shoes should dry out.”

They both stumbled for the door, jamming up together in the narrow doorway. Despite both of them losing their duvets onto the floor every half hour, Lee was still very warm against Patrick’s body. Patrick’s body liked that. A lot. Things stirred down below. He paused, turned his head and nuzzled Lee’s neck.

“Love you,” he whispered. He really didn’t say it enough. “Thank you for the birthday gift.”

Lee had stopped too. He arched back, making a purring sound. “I brought ice cream,” he murmured back into Patrick’s ear. “Our Double Scoop flavour.”

Patrick stilled. His taste buds perked up. “Yeah?”

“It’s in that tiny freezer compartment in the kitchen. Though it may have started melting when the power went out.”

“And you can’t re-freeze ice cream, can you?” Patrick mused.

Lee chuckled. “No way. We’ll have to eat up the whole damn lot. Better start now.”

“The whole damn lot,” Patrick said happily. It was his birthday, wasn’t it? Ice cream was obligatory.

“And there’s wine,” Lee continued. “And cake.”

Patrick caught Lee’s slim waist as he tried to wriggle first out of the bedroom doorway. “And blankets. And sofa cushions we can put on the floor. They’re wider than these beds.”

“You’re a dirty bugger,” Lee said happily. “Love you too. Happy birthday.” He shuffled awkwardly until he was chest to chest with Patrick. Patrick was pleased to feel Lee’s arousal as satisfyingly thick as his own. Patrick loved Lee in pyjamas; he could feel every movement, every shift between Lee’s legs. Even in the fleece pyjamas, which were pretty strong mood killers.

As they felt their way along the narrow corridor to the living room area, Patrick decided to open the curtains on some of the more judiciously placed windows, and let the moonlight spill in.

Because that was pretty damn appropriate, wasn’t it?