The first thing he's aware of as consciousness seeps into his system the next morning is how loose and relaxed he feels. Like all his muscles have turned to liquid and leaked a lifetime of tension out into...wherever tension goes when it's released. The manual could probably tell him, but he's feeling too good to muster up the energy to care.

When he shifts a bit, letting out a satisfied sound, his pillow sighs and an index finger traces Tom's spine all the way down to the base before a warm palm settles on his lower back. He opens his eyes to find the hand's owner watching him with wary concern. He leans over to nuzzle Carl's shoulder. Mumbling "definitely worth the wait" earns him a laugh. The finger retraces its route, languidly mapping Tom's collar bone and then down his arm till he turns his hand over to catch the fingers with his.

He thinks he could get used to waking up like this.

When Mike and Adriana come back Carl has already left for work, leaving Tom wearing the other man's Yankees t-shirt and a goofy grin. Mike collects money from Adriana this time, and Tom is mortified to learn that his and Carl's statuses in the manual were "indisposed" for most of the night.

It doesn't do anything to erase the goofy grin.

One week before Thanksgiving he's walking home from his last class when he sees Carl's father waiting for him at the corner by their apartment. He waves in greeting, which the other man returns, but with such a serious look that Tom feels his stomach do a slow roll.

It does it again when he reaches the corner. The older man asks him to take a walk with him because they need to talk. He nods, and they walk in silence, past the apartment and down the sidewalk for almost half a block before the older Romeo stops and turns to him.

"I know about you and my son."

Tom feels the blood drain away from his face, his knees threaten to buckle under him. He wills them steady and turns to face Carl's father. He has no desire to know what his expression is like as he stares into grey eyes so like the ones he knows best.

"I..." he begins, but is stopped. The older man turns and sits down on the nearest stoop, motioning for Tom to join him.

"I've known he was," a pause, a gesture, "since he was a senior in high school. I was getting a glass of water late one night and saw him kissing another boy in the front hallway. He didn't know I saw him, and I never said anything." A shrug of the shoulders. "I thought it must be a phase, that he'd grow out of it. I can't explain why, except maybe that the church tells me that such things are a sin. But I look at my Carl and I know he's a good person, not what the clergy tell me someone like that is."

He pauses for a second.

"But he never did grow out of it. Every so often I'd see him with some guy and they'd be looking at each other in a certain way, or he'd get this look talking about someone and I'd know. And then lately there's been you."

He turns to Tom again, a hesitant smile on his lips.

"I think my son's in love with you."

"Good, because I'm in love with him."

The words are out of his mouth before he even has time to think about them, but as soon as they leave his lips he knows that they're probably the truest ones he's ever spoken.

Carl's father nods, satisfied. "If it was anybody else but you, I'm not….I don't think I'd be this calm about it. But you're a good boy, and I'd trust you with one of my daughters. All things considered, I think I could get used to the idea of trusting you with my son."

He doesn't have anything to say to that at first, and for another moment they sit there on the stoop in companionable silence, watching the traffic go by.

"Thank you," he says, finally. "That means a lot to me."

Tom turns to face the other man. "You should probably tell Carl all of this. He hates having to keep things like this from you."

Carl's father breathes a sigh, and stands up, shaking his head.

"I will, someday. When I'm absolutely sure I'm comfortable with this, when I know we can speak frankly about it, then we'll talk. But until then, I'm going to ask that you to keep this conversation to yourself. Who knows, maybe it won't be for that long. "

Tom nods. The older man smiles, and reaches down a hand to help him up. They shake, and then Carl's father puts his hands in his pockets and turns to go. After a few steps, though, he stops and turns back.

"Welcome to the family."

In the spring Tom takes Carl to visit his great aunt Sofia, who is the only other practicing wizard in the family. She is also the one who helped his father look after him and his sisters when their mother died.

Carl moves through the rooms with the easy grace of someone who's practically lived there every summer for most of his life. The house is so inviting, Sofia so open, that Tom soon finds himself doing almost the same thing. He isn't sure what to make of the cryptic koi or the parrot who seems to know more then she's telling and likes to perch on his shoulder.

At the end of the week Tom is sitting on the back steps watching the koi burble in their pond when Carl comes to sit beside him, one step lower so that his long legs are stretched out and his ankles are crossed on the grass.

"Aunt Sofia wants to give me the house."

It's said without preamble. Tom looks over at his partner, who doesn't return the look.

"We talked about it last night. She wants to move down to Kentucky so she can be there when my cousin Alice has her baby. And since she knows I won't sell the house and because I need a place to Practice without bumping into anyone, I seem like the logical choice."

Tom can see the line of tension in Carl's shoulders, and wants to reach out and soothe it away. Except he doesn't know why it's there, or what he could do to solve it, and so he keeps his hands to himself and let's Carl get out everything he needs to.

"She also thought it'd be a great place for me to eventually settle down and live the picket fence life with a wife and 2.5 kids, but I think we've kind of established that's not going to happen."

This time he does look at Tom.

"She really likes you, you know. Seems to think you're good for me. She wouldn't mind if you….. "

He breaks off and turns his eyes to stare at the back lawn. Tom thinks he hears a groan of disappointment coming from the fish pond.

"How do you get .5 of a child?"

That isn't quite what Tom means to say, but it's the first safe thing that he can make come off of his tongue. Carl's shoulders shrug. The fish groan again.

"I don't know. Maybe it's really small."

"Then maybe we could get dogs instead. Two normal sized ones and a really small one."

The look that Carl gives him this time is so wide eyed, so hopeful, and is worth every ounce of control it takes for Tom to keep his voice casual (isteady/i).

"Is that a yes?"

A grin starts to spread across his face. "Depends. Ask me properly."

Carl turns slowly, moving so they're facing one another, his knees on the bottom step. Tom tries to smoother the grin, because this is apparently serious business, but when Carl takes his hands he finds he can't.

"I don't want you to go back to California. I want you to stay here with me, in this house. We'd keep on being partners and you can write without having to worry about stupid neighbors and yes, if you want we can get dogs. Just stay. Please."

And then they're falling, because Tom has thrown his arms around Carl's neck and knocked him off balance and sent them tumbling into the grass.

Neither is noticing though, because Tom is saying yes. /lj-cut