Life was good. No, scratch that. Life was fucking awesome.

Life was about being able to enjoy a simple bus ride home from work, sitting next to your boyfriend that you spent a lot of the day staring at from inside your office, when you should have been concentrating on project deadlines.

It should all be pretty familiar and boring by now. They'd done this from Patrick's flat when Kevin had been living there, but it still felt different now to Kevin, to set off for work together, and to plan on coming home together. And to have lunch together knowing that they'd also be having dinner together later. It should be claustrophobic, but it wasn't. Not even a little bit. It was some blessed normality after the fucking turmoil they'd gone through, so he wasn't taking a minute of it for granted. He loved all the boring details of what it took to just get into the routine of sharing their new home. Who showered when (current preference was in the morning, together), preparing breakfast (Kevin some cereal, Patrick trying to stick to fruit, and stealing Kevin's cereal), then after work shopping for food (Patrick insisting on organic and Fair Trade, Kevin not really giving a shit but liking the cool self scanning check outs), picking a movie (still had to persuade Patrick to watch Field of Dreams), sex...

Kevin turned his head to stare at an uncharacteristically quiet Patrick. He was looking out of the window, apparently daydreaming about something, which seemed to explain the silence. Kevin grinned. This meant he could just look at Patrick, uninterrupted. Fuck, he was pretty. Even with the buzzcut, he still looked all WASPy and wholesome. It would be nice to see his hair grow. Maybe long. So he could run his hand through it and really grab fistfuls. He'd probably look around 15 years old with long floppy hair. Kevin grinned at the thought. No chance of facial hair. His shaving habits were pathetic and he never grew any stubble. Just wispy soft little straggly things. Eddie had been right to call him a seal pup. He must have been adorable as a geeky, curious, shy awkward, fresh little gay boy at college. Kevin wished he'd known him.

Though he probably wouldn't have looked at him twice back then. Kevin had gone for the muscular, well built, health fanatics since he had been old enough to choose. He'd identified with them, understood them and found them fucking hot. Straining muscles, defined abs, washboard stomachs. That had totally been his thing.

Patrick had been like a bolt of lightning. Completely different from any of his previous relationships. But no one had made him laugh as much, or roll his eyes as much, or made him feel as protective or as challenged. And no one had turned him on as much with just a look or a smile.

The highs with Patrick were fantastic. The lows...well, they were the bloody worst ever. And the normal every day stuff was simply...great. Sure, it was still officially the honeymoon phase, but that couldn't explain away the giddiness Kevin felt, because the honeymoon bliss was balanced by the tinge of uncertainty that hung over them. The 'huge conversation' that was still to be had. Kevin had persuaded Patrick to wait a week before broaching the subjects that had caused the disaster on move in day, but the clock was ticking. He should probably think about what he wanted to say and how he would say it, but...really, what was there to plan and strategize? The basic principle was simple, obviously. He would do whatever Patrick wanted him to.

And rather than be resentful of the power that seemed to give Patrick, Kevin felt a real sense of peace. Of purpose almost. Being the best project manager at MDG gave him focus. Gave him a feeling of accomplishment and of pride. And the money didn't suck either. But being the man that Patrick Murray loved...well, that gave him something entirely different. A sense of well-being. A sense of responsibility and of excitement about the future. Jesus...why did contemplating Patrick always make him so 'fluffy'.

'Why are you rolling your eyes?' Patrick interrupted Kevin's reverie.

'Thinking about how you've made me into a one of those annoying cunts that I've always despised.'

Patrick raised an eyebrow.

'You know. Those people that end every sentence with 'dear' and 'sweetie'. That leave little notes for each other on the fridge and stuff.' Kevin explained.

'When the fuck have you ever done that?'

'I'm just saying...that's the sort of person I am now. Even if I don't actually do those things.'

Patrick stared at Kevin, eventually shaking his head and rolling his own eyes.

'Well now, why are you rolling YOUR eyes?' Kevin asked indignantly.

'Is this one of those weird cross-cultural Britishy things where you think you make sense but actually don't?'

'You know what I mean.' Kevin said smugly.

'We don't need to write notes. We're so in tune we can read each other's minds.' Patrick smiled sweetly.

'Wanker.'

'What? Why?' Patrick protested. 'I bet you can tell what I'm thinking about right now!'

'Well it's either food or sex, and since it's been at least four hours since your last meal I'm imagining it's food.'

'It's been more than four hours since we had sex. Even if you count the morning blow job I gave YOU in the shower, which you really shouldn't since I seem to remember you swore there was no time to get me off too, it's been ten hours since at least one of us had an orgasm.'

'Yeah, but...you're a sex camel. You went for years without getting it regularly so ten hours means nothing. And you sublimated all those sexual desires into eating, because, let's face it, you love having something in your mouth, so for you, eating is equivalent to sex. Thus, I conclude, you are thinking about food. Which is the same as sex.' Kevin explained patiently.

'You're so annoying.'

'Annoying and wrong, or, annoying and right?'

'You know we still need to get chairs to go with the sofa and table we ordered. We should go shopping tonight. I think they're having a sale at Room and Board which you would probably like because it's all sleek lines and totally uncomfortable, just like the sofa, which, god willing, is supposed to be delivered tomorrow. Halle-fucking-luyah.'

'Should we go before dinner, or after dinner? What would you like for dinner? Should we order food in, or are you going to cook food for us? Would you like Thai, Chinese, Mexican, Italian...'

'All right! Yes! I was thinking about food. I'm hungry. Happy now?'

'You being happy is what makes me happy, darling.' Kevin cooed softly.

'You being run over a bus right about now would make me the happiest.' Patrick cooed right back.

Kevin laughed.

'Oh god. The honeymoon is definitely over when you start fantasizing about my demise. All right. Dinner first, then shopping. And we can go to any shop you like for the chairs. As long as they're new. I don't want any second-hand crap even if it is vintage or antique. That's just code words for old and shabby.'

'And I don't care where we get the furniture from, as long as it can be delivered quickly. I have plans for our furniture. We're finally in a place where we won't be walked in on by Eddie or Agustin but we've had nothing but the one bed and then a bunch of hard surfaces to fuck on. I've got bruises on my back and on my knees from all the hardwood. And come to think of it, how come you don't? How come I only get to fuck you in the bed or over the kitchen counter?'

'Shhhh. Shhhh.' Kevin soothed the frowning Patrick. 'Don't worry your pretty head about it. We'll have a sofa and some nice comfy chairs and some plush rugs before you know it. Then you'll just have rug burn to worry about. We should definitely get the furniture scotch guarded though. You're really very messy.'

'Have I told you how annoying I find you?'

'That's cos you're suffering from hypoglycemic shock. As soon as we get some food into the belly of my sweet little fat fat frog, you'll forget all about how much you hate me.'

Patrick turned his back on Kevin and looked out of the bus window. But he moved his hand onto Kevin's thigh, palm up, and Kevin grinned as he tangled his fingers with Patrick's. He fully expected Patrick to come up with a new line of attack but instead, Patrick frowned as he pulled out his buzzing phone.

Kevin listened to Patrick's monosyllabic conversation, and then decided to wait patiently for Patrick to clue him in.

Fuck patience.

'Why did you tell Dom we were busy tonight? We could have met them for drinks if you'd wanted.'

Patrick chewed his lip and avoided Kevin's eyes. Great. That wasn't a cause for concern. Kevin sighed.

'Patrick...'

'I'm just...tired. That's all.' Patrick jumped in. 'I really just want us to have dinner and go shopping. We're seeing them in a couple of days anyway, on Christmas Eve, right?'

'Patrick...'

'No. There's no big 'thing' or 'problem' with Dom. I promise. I just..I just still want to spend time with you. Alone. That's all.' Patrick continued. 'We're surrounded by people at work all day and I want to have some you and me time. We've got so much still to do for the apartment, and I really want to have it all set up and ready for Christmas which we won't be able to do if we don't get some more furniture delivered in like, two days or something ridiculous like that...so...I don't want to spend an evening with other people. Unless...you do. Do you?'

'I'm fine with it being just the two of us. You know that. It's just I don't want you to think you can't be with your friends now that...well...now that we're together. I know what they think of us...of me...but...they're your friends and you love them so if you want to see them, I'm fine with that too.' Kevin said gently.

'We'll see them in a couple of days. That's soon enough.' Patrick persisted, and Kevin knew it was time to back off. He'd been deliberately ignoring his friends invitations to hang out, and even at work, they were having lunch together every day when Kevin was free, or else Patrick was eating at his desk alone. He seemed to have frozen Owen out. Which felt wrong because Patrick and Owen not standing together gossiping and sniping at each other was surely one of the signs of the coming apocalypse. Patrick collected people and clung on to them. When you were his friend you pretty much had front row seats to every drama and every event in his life. He held nothing back. Well...except for those days when they'd been having the affair. Then Patrick had managed some discretion, but knowing Patrick now as well as Kevin did, it was almost inconceivable that Patrick had managed to keep quiet for as long as he did. Patrick didn't DO quiet. He didn't DO discrete. He talked about every facet, every nuance, every angle of his life to all his friends. So why wasn't he talking now? Why wasn't he out analyzing every moment of the past few days with Agustin and Dom? Why wasn't he giving Owen a play-by-play of the last few months over lunch every day?

Maybe he shouldn't back off quite so quickly, Kevin thought. Maybe he should push this a bit more. But jesus f'ing christ. Did they really need another thing to agonize over? If Patrick wanted some distance from his friends then...well..so be it. Kevin would let it go. For now.

'Okay. Dinner, shopping for more fucking furniture, then more fucking on the one piece of furniture we already have.' Kevin nodded decisively.

'And working on the app. Don't forget that.'

Shit. Patrick wanted them to work on some upgrades to OneUpHim. Kevin had tried putting that off too until after the holidays, feeling somewhat exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster and the physical reality of moving, but Patrick was less yielding on that front. They'd been getting some positive feedback and requests for features, and Patrick kept using statements like 'striking while the iron is still hot' and 'capitalizing on the good will' and other such crap, and frankly Kevin didn't have the heart to turn him down. Was Patrick just finding ways to avoid dealing with whatever the fuck was going on with his friends? Maybe. Probably. But who could blame him. Patrick's avoidance strategies weren't really any threat to them as a couple, and if anything, just meant that they got to spend more time working on something they both usually enjoyed and that frankly he was fucking good at, so Patrick got to see Kevin in his element, which was pretty much a turn on for them both and led to some extremely satisfying sex. Win win.

Fuck. Avoidance strategies. He was one to talk. At least Patrick wasn't hiding anything from Kevin in his effort to shield them from the outside world. Kevin on the other hand...

Fuck fuck fuck. He should talk to Patrick about it, he knew, but...who would that really help? What could Patrick actually do about it except worry and spin out of control.

Jon kept calling and leaving messages.

And sending short, curt texts. It was fucking frustrating. Kevin didn't know what to do. There was nothing more to say to him about what happened, nothing that he didn't already know, especially with the whole Megan connection. Kevin had tried texting him back, tried to be brief while apologetic, encouraging Jon to get on with his life. Showing he still cared about what happened to Jon, still wanted him to be happy, was concerned about him, but all Jon wanted was for them to meet. To discuss. To analyze and recap. Kevin knew what Jon really wanted and seeing Kevin wasn't going to help Jon move on. Why he wasn't already back in Seattle was a fucking mystery.

Nope. There really was no upside to telling Patrick about any of that. That was about looking back, and Kevin just wanted them to look forward.

He had done the necessary things to show the world that he, Kevin Matheson, was now the partner of Patrick Murray, and there was no need to dwell on the past.

Kevin had spoken to HR, they were out at work, all of Patrick's friends knew, all of the people Kevin considered important in his life knew. He could not have made a more public statement of intent.

Kevin had even called his dad to tell him about Patrick. Well, if saying 'Jon's out of the picture, I'm seeing someone new, his name is Patrick' could be classified as 'telling him about Patrick'. Patrick had rolled his eyes during the entire two minute exchange. Kevin was a quick learner so he called his mum from work where Patrick couldn't listen in. That conversation was only a fraction more detailed. She was trying to make up for lost time by being supportive and 'interested' but though his own thoughts had become decidedly more poetic since hooking up with Patrick, outwardly he still was keeping himself to himself. She asked him what Patrick was like, and he said 'yeah...he's...alright'. At the end of the conversation all she knew about Patrick was that he was American, about 30, and into computers.

What else was he supposed to say? Hey mum, let me tell you about Patrick, the man I love. The man I fuck. He has lips that make me hard in seconds when he bites the lower one. They're not too plump not too thin and hard. They're perfect and when he licks them I'm fully done for. And when he puts them around my cock I feel like I died and went to heaven. And he has fingers that are all grabby and pointy and he moves his hands around when he talks and I'm mesmerized by how they bend and grip, and when he clutches me with them as I'm fucking him I know he's leaving marks on my body that I can't wait to see in the mirror because they show just how much he loves having me inside him and how he can't help but hold on to me and keep me close. And his hair...his beautiful beautiful hair that I love to grab onto so I can move his head to the exact spot I want it when I'm kissing him or when he's fucking me, which he does so fucking well. He's so good at hitting that exact spot inside me that makes me feel like I'm losing my fucking mind, and all he has to do is wrap his hand around my dick and stroke me once and I'm coming like a fucking freight train when he's so deep inside of me that I can feel him all through my body...

'What are you doing?' Patrick hissed, moving his backpack onto Kevin's lap.

Oh. Shit.

'Erm...I got a woody.' Kevin said sheepishly.

'No shit, Sherlock.'

'I was thinking about the conversation I had with my mum. About you.'

Patrick's eyes widened to an almost comic size. Kevin grinned.

'Relax. The conversation was strictly PG. I was just thinking about all the things we do that I DIDN'T tell her. And I was thinking that maybe we should do some of those things. When we get home. Before dinner. Because as you pointed out, you didn't get to come this morning and that seems like a very dangerous state to be in.'

'More dangerous than a hypoglycemic coma?' Patrick asked, not skipping a beat.

'Definitely. I'm actually worried that if you try to hold in all the sperm you've been producing since last night's epic fuck for any length of time beyond the next hour we may have an acute case of blue balls on our hands.'

'Hmm. I see your point. Can we at least wait till we get home before you make me come or should we just fine the nearest Starbucks...' Patrick trailed off. 'What? What is it?' He asked as Kevin's smile grew broader and broader.

'It is home, right? Our place? It's our home?'

Kevin waited for Patrick's reply.

'I totally get that cunty thing you were saying earlier. Jesus Kevin, could you could please grow a pair?'

Kevin laughed. And leaned in to kiss Patrick. Thank fuck this was San Francisco and no one would bat an eyelid cos there was no way he could keep away from this ridiculous, beautiful man that was his lover.

If every bus ride home was like today's, they were going to have a very good life.