Boxy
Rating: PG-13 for some language and the like
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of them, no matter how much I wish I
did. Watch out for male/male interaction. (oh no! anything but
that!) Imitation is the highest form of compliment.
Notes: Darren's birthday, as usual.
BOXY
“Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“He hasn’t even called?”
“Nope.”
“You’re sure he knows it’s your birthday?”
“Yup.” Darren doodled on a pad with a green pen, cradling the
cordless phone between his shoulder and his ear.
“What a dick,” Ben concluded through the phone, scoffing.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t even send you anything,” Ben said,
sounding a little hopeful. “I mean, at least last year he-”
“He’s recording, remember? With his new band? Time is money, I
guess. Maybe he sent a card, and it got lost in the mail.” Darren
didn’t sound so sure.
“Well, anyway, you can chew him out sufficiently when he comes
home next month.”
Darren groaned. “A whole month! How am I going to last another
month? It’s already been so long.”
“Watch porn? Experiment with vegetables?”
Darren rolled his eyes and sipped his tea quietly. “Look, what you
and Karl do is none of my business.” Ben’s chuckling carried over
the phoneline. “And I feel so old. I didn’t feel this old last year.”
“That’s because you weren’t this old last year. Nor will you be this
young next year,” Ben reasoned.
Darren groaned. “30 years next year! Don’t even remind me. It’s
ancient. No wonder Danny hasn’t called.”
“Darren, he’s only a year younger.”
“He’s going to start looking for a trophy boy soon. Blonde, skinny,
pretty, idiotic...”
“Sounds like you just described yourself.” Ben’s coy smile
transferred over the wires in his voice. Darren was about to make a
snide remark when the doorbell rang.
“Ben, I’ve gotta run, someone’s at the door.”
“Here’s hoping it’s Dan.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
Darren settled the phone in its cradle and advanced upon the
offending bell-ringer. With hope in his heart, he went to the front
door, a grand affair that was actually two doors, ornately decorated
on the outside. He swung them open and was greeted by...
...the Air Mail delivery boy.
“Package for Hayes?” The pimple faced college student held out a
clip board and Darren signed for the package quickly. It was then
that he actually stopped to look at the size of the package. It was
the length of his writing desk, in hight and width as well. It was a
good thing he had double doors, or it might not have fit through.
The delivery boy wheeled it in on his dolly, and Darren shut the
doors behind him.
Now. The package. Darren examined every facet and strip of it.
There was no return address, and no postage, but that didn’t say
much because air mail often delt with secrecy for its clients. It was
obviously weighty by its sheer size. It came a little above Darren’s
waist. He shrugged eventually and padded into the kitchen to
retrieve his tea and a knife to cut the masking tape away.
He tried to stifle the hope that it was from Daniel. His lover had
never been one for sentiments and holidays, especially not birthdays.
He set the tea down on the box and set to cutting away the layer of
shipping tape. He moved his tea to the floor to open it, and inside
he found...
“Another box?!” Darren said outloud, incredulously. A plain white
index card was taped to the outside. He picked it up and read
aloud:
“Darren. For your birthday, and wishing you a blissful many more.
Love Ben and Karl. PS, Lee sends his greetings too, despite his
strep throat.” Darren chuckled to himself, and proceeded to pull the
big white bow on the yellow package inside. It was still only slightly
smaller than the box that it had come in, and Darren lifted the flaps
with some effort.
He peered inside.
“Happy Birthday.”
Darren let out a scream and reeled backwards away from the box.
Daniel’s head peeped out over the edge of the cardboard.
“What, did I scare you?” He flashed his smile.
“You bastard!” Darren accused, pointing violently with the index
card. “I can’t believe this!” He was grinning ear to ear, despite his
words. “You were mailed?”
“Nah. Karl’s brother works at Air Mail, so they packaged me up
about an hour ago and drove me here. Ben made sure you were
home by keeping you on the phone.”
“You’ve been in that box for an hour?” Darren stepped back up to
the cross-legged Daniel.
“Yes. And I think my legs have gone to sleep.” He peered down at
the offending legs contemplatively, then glanced back up at Darren.
“Care to help me up?”
With some difficulty, Daniel was hoisted out of the box, and
promptly attacked by the birthday boy, who ended up straddling the
guitarist on the floor, planting kisses anywhere he could get to.
Daniel laughed kindly, and Darren finally looked him in the eye.
Daniel smiled his thousand watt smile again. “Happy birthday, my
darling Dazza. And you thought I wouldn’t get you anything.”
FIN