Dance of Desire

A gay story: Dance of Desire Advance notice. There may be some corniness and slushiness ahead. (I mean, look at the title — right!) But who doesn’t enjoy a good love story?

So this story had an unusual start. I had an anonymous email from someone who had enjoyed Broadway Break and noticed a hidden little dig, realized what it was about (me being annoyed by some stupid reactions to a recently finished UK TV programme), and asked for some fan-fiction.

Sorry, just no. Weird!

To clarify, these characters are not (as none of my characters are) based on real people. They are more inspired by the potential of a performance that never happened. I don’t know how else to explain it.

Somehow, and it’s strange how these things happen, the email triggered my imagination and in came charging these two characters, bouncing around in my head demanding I wrote their story. This what happened with my manor series. I had to start writing it because they were bugging me so much, and I learned my lesson. This time I’ve just gone with it, as I know I won’t be able to concentrate until they are done.

I hope you enjoy meeting Frankie and Cam. I think they are pretty amazing. It is a one off story, so longer than some. The story is set in the fictional world of competitive ballroom dancing, which I would assume bears no resemblance whatsoever to reality.

Warning: If you are of a sensitive disposition, then please be aware of the following potential triggers. Suicide attempt, homophobia, emotional abuse, physical violence, racism.

Yes, it’s pretty slushy, but there is also a storyline.

I’ll also take this opportunity to wish everyone only the very best for 2024. Happy New Year Ya’ll x

Tess O’Meter — Green/Amber.

-X

The room whirled around them. Cam concentrated hard not to stumble as they spun around and around.

Beth’s dark gold gown flowed around both their legs as he held her. She felt like air in his arms. She moved with him, every step, every breath totally in sync.

Only three couples remained on the dance floor.

As he changed their direction, his eyes caught those of his main rival. Francis Vega-Caro. With his dark brown eyes always seeming amused, and his smile always superior.

Cam had to force himself not to tense. He gritted his teeth behind his lips. Keeping his face impassive as he allowed his gaze to drift naturally past his nemesis. As if he wasn’t even there.

Then Beth did tense and he instinctively moved her to block her, but it was too late. The judges had seen.

“Mr Camillo Russo and Ms Beth Kato.”

They were done.

Cam moved them in a final spin to the edge of the room, and then supported Beth as she leaned and drew in deep breaths.

“Okay?”

“Oh, Cam. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?”

“I just felt so sick all of a sudden.”

“Let’s go, get some air.”

They shouldn’t have left, but he explained quietly to the official on the door and he let them pass to the large patio and bar area.

Even as he took some iced ginger ale from the barman with thanks, he heard the final couple be eliminated and the announced winners.

“Mr Francis Vega-Caro and Ms Mia-Rosa Sanna.” He wrinkled his nose as he sat and handed the drink to Beth.

“I’m sorry, Cam.”

“It’s fine, Beth. It’s not your fault. Why did it have to be him though?”

Beth sipped and sighed. “Mia’s one of my closest friends. And Frankie’s adorable.” She tutted when Cam snorted. “He is. Why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t HATE him. I don’t even care that much. I just hate the way he looks down his nose at me.”

“He doesn’t, Cam. He wouldn’t.”

“He’s practically royalty you know.”

“Cam. He was raised in England because his mother’s family didn’t approve of her choice of partner. A musician from Cuba, so shocking! She’s very loosely related to someone who is about fifty-eighth in line to the Spanish throne. That’s nothing to do with Frankie.”

“He went to Eton.”

“For five minutes. Mainly because he could walk there from home.”

Cam merely raised his glass as if she had proven his point and Beth growled, then laughed. “You. What you do to my blood pressure.”

“Don’t say that.” Cam leaned forward, concerned. “You are feeling better?”

“I’m fine, Cam. But I can’t believe it’s over. For a whole year. You really should find another partner. I would understand.”

“I don’t want another partner. The circuit can wait until your selfish husband lets you come back and dance with me again.” He grinned when she laughed. “I’ll be busy with the Paris competition.”

“It’s a risk, Cam. Isn’t the circuit safer?” Beth knew that Cam was trying to save to send his younger brother to veterinary school. But he was running out of time, so he was using all his money to enter the prestigious Paris competition, run once every five years, where your partner was a name pulled out of a hat, so to speak. The prize money would change your life, but it was pure luck.

“You don’t have faith in me?”

“I believe in you completely. But what if your partner is no good?”

Cam started to answer, but then rose when Mia rushed over. “Mia. Congratulations.”

She hugged him exuberantly, whispering a quick stream of rapid Italian in his ear. When he answered she finished with “Hai bisogno di un taglio di capelli,” pushed his dark blonde hair back out of his eyes, and rushed around to the chair next to Beth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Cam merely nodded and re-seated himself as Frankie wandered over. Irritated by everything from his superiorly shiny shoes to his tight cornrows pulled back to a small bun.

Frankie flashed him a blinding smile, but then crouched down by Beth with what Cam couldn’t deny, was genuine concern.

He took Beth’s hand, his skin shades lighter than her glowing ebony. “Are you alright? What happened? They said you were unwell.”

“I just got really sick.”

“Ah.” Frankie turned to Cam now and pouted at him. “You terrible man. You made the baby seasick.”

“Stop it. He’s already nervous about the baby.”

“Maybe we should have stopped competing sooner,” Cam mused.

“See!” Beth slapped Frankie’s arm. “Go sit down and stop causing trouble.”

Still smirking at Cam, Frankie wound his way around the table and slid into the chair next to him. Arranging himself with, what Cam considered to be, unnecessary elegance.

“Are you wearing mascara?” Cam asked him artlessly.

“Yes. We don’t all have natural lashes as long as my forearm,” Frankie returned. Peering closely at Cam with undisguised admiration.

Cam folded his arms across his chest and sank into his seat. He knew better than to tangle with Frankie. He would leave the conversation to the girls.

And sulk.

-X

Two weeks later, Cam was waiting with a small group as the names were pulled for the Paris competition.

He had congratulated Mia, who had been matched with Robert Armstrong, known as Robbie. He was close with Frankie, so she already knew him well. Robbie’s usual dance partner, Collette, had been matched with an American lady who was new to the circuit but very talented, he thought they would do well.

When Frankie had come over to speak with Mia and Robbie, Cam had excused himself as politely as he could.

The man simply irritated him. His enthusiast overconfidence just rubbed Cam the wrong way. It was easy to be confident when you had never had to work a day in your life. When rose petals just fell beneath your feet as you walked.

Cam had tried to be polite when Frankie had arrived. Mia hugging her usual dance partner happily and rubbing her hand with familiarity over his head, “Your cornrows have gone. Oh, I like this.”

Frankie had laughed and rubbed his own hand over his closely cropped hair, “Thanks. Time for a change.”

Mia had then turned to answer the question that Cam had just asked. Informing him that Frankie had funded her entry fee for the competition, as well as his own, because he thought it would be fun.

Fun?

Cam wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to make rent and eat over the summer, and Frankie could just do this for fun.

He had needed to excuse himself. He hadn’t wanted to lose his temper in front of Mia. But fun? Fucking hell.

He had attached himself to a group on the other side of the room, where he could maintain a vague conversation and try to calm down. When he heard, “Mr Camillo Russo.” His eyes locked on to the podium. His name out of the hat. Who would he be matched with?

“I hope it’s me,” Susan, a friend of his from the UK, linked her arm with his. He smiled and squeezed her hand. But his entire body went numb at the next words from the podium.

“Matched with, Mr Francis Vega-Caro.”

The small group all turned and looked at him. In fact, Cam suspected the entire room was staring at him. It was no secret that he and Frankie couldn’t abide each other.

“Excuse me,” Cam managed, and turned on his heel, heading out of the closest door.

He made it to some picnic tables and shakily sat down, his head sinking onto his arms. What the hell had he done? He had gambled everything, his brother’s future on this competition, and now it was over before it had even begun. He wanted to weep. It would take years. Years, to re-earn what he had lost.

He sat, panicking and regretful for some time. Jumping slightly when a hand brushed his shoulder.

“Here, drink this.”

Cam’s head shot up as Frankie sat opposite him. He looked at the tall, sweating glass, “I. I don’t really drink.”

Frankie smirked, “It’s water.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Cam took the glass and drank thirstily. He put the glass down and looked everywhere but at Frankie.

“Is it really so terrible?” Frankie asked.

“What?” Now Cam did look at him. Frankie regarded him with sad dark eyes. Cam thought whimsically of baby seals.

“Is it really so bad to be matched with me? We can win. We’re both very talented.” Frankie smiled a little now, “Me more so, of course.”

Cam was too confused to bite. “You would dance with me?”

“Why not?”

“I just thought,” He broke off and frowned. Feeling unsure.

Frankie rapped the table with his knuckles to regain Cam’s attention. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to win?”

“I need to win,” Cam admitted slightly desperately.

The question came and went in Frankie’s eyes but he didn’t ask. Instead he said softly, “So let’s win.”

Feeling like it was some sort of reprieve, Cam held his hand out. “Yes. Okay, let’s win.”

“Oh good, you found him,” Robbie appeared as they were shaking hands, and Cam pulled back quickly, weirdly embarrassed. “You alright, kid?” he asked, looking at Cam, who nodded.

“Good. So Mia and I will be using her space to rehearse. That leaves mine free for you two.”

Frankie frowned, “What about Collette?”

“She’s going to be staying in Paris. That’s where, um, shit I’ve forgotten her name already.”

“Carin,” Frankie supplied. Of course he knew everyone.

“Right. Carin. She lives in Paris. Her boyfriend is French. They will stay here and save on travel.” He looked seriously at Frankie and Cam. “Come on, guys. This won’t be easy. My studio is close to both your apartments. You can do your thing and go separate ways at the end of the day. No one has a home ground advantage.”

Cam caught Frankie’s eye. “I think it’s a good idea,” he suggested hesitantly.

Frankie nodded, “It is.” He gave Robbie a quick sideways hug. “Thanks, man.”

Robbie grinned. “I’ll get a spare set of keys to Frankie for you, Cam. I’ve got to run. Good luck. We’re gonna kick your arses!”

He hurried off leaving Frankie grinning. “Give me your phone,” he said to Cam. “I’ll put my number in. The first dance will be sent by text on Friday night. Shall we plan to start Monday? I’ll bring the spare keys with me then.”

“Eight am? I’ll bring breakfast.”

“Perfect, I’ll bring coffee,” Frankie handed Cam’s phone back and caught his look. “Would you prefer tea?”

“Tea. Yes please. That’s very kind.”

Frankie smiled and rose, lifting Cam’s empty glass. “I’ll pop this back to the bar. See you Monday morning.”

Cam mumbled a goodbye and then sank, exhausted back on the chair, as the sun turned red in the sky. Maybe, just maybe everything wasn’t over.

-X

Frankie wasn’t surprised to find Cam waiting at five minutes to eight on Monday morning. He gave him a cheery hello, handed him the drinks, and unlocked the door before taking the drinks back.

“I love this space,” he admitted as he sat at in the small kitchen area and pushed a cup towards Cam, taking a grateful sip of his own. “I love the way the patio doors there lead out to the little private garden. It’s such a lovely space. Here’s your keys.” He handed the spare keys to Cam.

“Thanks. I have breakfast, if you want. I just need to reheat it.”

“Please,” Frankie watched the microwave with interest and made grabby hands as Cam brought the container back over. “What have we got?”

Cam smiled slightly as he passed the container over and a fork. Laughing when Frankie lifted the lid and ‘Ohhhhhh’d’ with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Is spicy sweet potato and tomatoes, with ham and some other vegetables. It’s something you make with the leftover food.”

“You made this?”

“Si.”

“Thank you, Cam.”

“Ah, you are welcome.” Cam tucked in. He had always avoided Frankie in the past, and it was a little disconcerting to be the main focus of his attention.

They ate in a surprisingly easy silence. Then when they were finished Frankie opened with, “So, Viennese Waltz!”

Cam made a ‘me first’ motion and brought out a coin, tapping it gently on the counter, trying not to seem too agitated. “I had an idea. It’s good, I think.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“We will have four dances. I think we should take turns. One leads and choreographs the first dance, then we swap, then again and again. I think if we don’t have a clear lead, we will argue.”

Frankie made his face overly shocked, “Who us?”

Cam snorted a little, but then tapped the coin again. “I think we should throw, um, flip the coin to see who goes first. Who leads first. Is fair,” he insisted when Frankie shook his head.

Frankie gently took the coin from Cam’s grip and placed it on the counter, holding it with one finger. For some reason, Cam’s face flushed when he realized Frankie’s gold nail polish matched the coin perfectly.

“I think your idea of swapping is very good,” Frankie told him. “But we don’t need to toss a coin. Viennese Waltz is your dance, Cam. It’s one you excel at. You should lead first.” He smiled when Cam’s mouth dropped open. “I see I’ve surprised you.”

Cam could only stare. He was, if he was honest, totally shocked.

“We can both have input though,” Frankie asked, pleased when Cam nodded. “But the final say is the lead. Yes, it’s good.” He leaned forward and placed a hand gently on Cam’s arm. “Cam, will you do me a favour and try to remember that you don’t know me very well?”

“Okay,” Cam managed.

“Thank you.” Frankie stood, holding his arms out. “Now we start. I’m all yours.”

-X

Several days passed in harmony and some excitement as they shared ideas and learned each other’s abilities.

They couldn’t, of course, spin for seven or eight hours a day, so practiced other dances, did yoga and shared meals as they planned and learned.

However, the closer the first dance came, the more tempers started to fray and tensions rose. After nearly two weeks, rehearsals were stretching later in to the day and night as they strove for perfection.

The Friday before the competition, which was on Monday, Cam stumbled and broke off from a spin, pressing his fists to his eyes and letting out a cry of frustration.

Frankie just stood, sweat soaked, his hands on his hips, and waited. He had given up trying to soothe Cam. He just got his head bitten off. Nothing had gone right today. They were both tired, bitchy and pissed off.

Obviously Cam was bitchier, Frankie thought to himself, as he stood and panted.

Cam cursed and paced, then strode back to Frankie, his blue eyes cold, dark, and hard.

“You wanna take a break?” Frankie offered.

“No.”

“Okaayyyy.” Frankie rolled his eyes as he was yanked impolitely back into hold. Trying and mostly failing to relax his shoulders. He was going to have to call someone, anyone, and beg for a massage tonight.

Possibly his regular Uber Eats guy, given it was already well past 10pm. Have hands, will massage. Be better than nothing, right?

Before they even started moving again, Cam threw Frankie’s arms away in disgust and demanded, “What is this? What are these ape arms?”

He staggered back in shock, nearly falling on his ass, when Frankie’s palms slammed into his chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Nothing but a grunt came out when Frankie slammed him again and he crashed back against the mirror. Cam automatically lifted a hand to protect his chest. He wasn’t sure his heart could take another blow like that, it was thundering so hard.

“What did you say to me?” Frankie’s eyes were molten fury. Cam realized with shock he couldn’t find his English through a sense of panic. “I!”

“Do you speak to Beth like that?” Frankie practically growled as he saw the answer in Cam’s expression. “She should kick you in the balls,” he hissed, and turned away. But not before Cam saw the anger flicker into hurt and disappointment.

“Frankie, wait,” Cam rubbed his chest, getting no more than a dismissive gesture from Frankie as he walked straight out the door. “Fuck!”

He stood for a moment, breathing hard. Still rubbing his chest and shaking. He didn’t fully understand why Frankie had been so mad, but was starting to get an idea from his asking about Beth.

He rubbed the back of his neck and his gaze landed on Frankie’s jacket. “Oh, shit.” Picking it up, he found as he expected Frankie’s phone and keys. He had walked out wearing nothing but sweat soaked leggings and tank, and wouldn’t even be able to get into his flat.

Sighing, Cam pulled on his sweatshirt and shoved Frankie’s light jacket into his backpack. He quickly found a notepad in the kitchen and scribbled. ‘Heading to your place with your keys.’ Tucking the note into the door handle once he had locked up. Then he headed out, following the fastest route to Frankie’s apartment.

His mind whirled as he half jogged along. It wasn’t cold, but he was worried Frankie would catch a chill, or turn back and they would miss each other.

He hurried by an alleyway. A shortcut he knew, but it was pitch dark and probably full of broken glass and supermarket trolleys. He paused at a familiar noise. Laughing and scuffles, followed by the unmistakable sound of a fist slamming into a gut and the grunt/groan that followed.

Cam moved into the shadows and headed into the alleyway. Silently shrugging off his backpack and tucking it behind a bin as his eyes adjusted.

He could hear the laughing clearer now, and under it the gasp sobbing of someone in pain. At least four people, and someone was getting the shit kicked out of them.

He crept closer and could make out shapes. Four guys and someone on the ground.

‘Fuck you,’ he thought to himself. He knew how to fight. Two years running wild around the docks in Naples, before the nuns had plucked him out of there, had honed his survival skills. Time to even the fucking odds.

With his natural grace he ran silently into the fight. Nearly losing the advantage when he recognized, with a flash of shock, the pink and orange pattern of Frankie’s vest top curled on the ground.

He slammed into the group and sent two men flying. Letting pure fury rule, he delivered a vicious kick to the first guy’s crotch and another kick to the second man’s mouth. Satisfied at seeing blood spurt. A yell and running feet behind him, he turned and blocked the fist that was heading for his face, sending the man to his knees with a blow to his stomach.

The first two were already scrambling away. Fucking cowards.

Another yell and he turned to see the fourth man heading for him. Crying out with the effort, Frankie kicked out a strong leg and swept the man right off his feet.

Cam was there in an instant, grabbing the man’s jacket and heaving him to his feet and against the wall. He didn’t even turn around as he heard the third set of footsteps running away.

“I think I should kill you now. I can think of no reason not to, you piece of shit.”

“Please,” the man begged, snivelling as Cam dragged him up, his head bouncing none too lightly off the wall.

“Four against one is good, but you don’t like it when someone fights back, No?”

The man’s knees started to buckle again so Cam just shoved him away with a sound of disgust. “Fuck off,” he demanded and turned his attention to Frankie.

Frankie had dragged himself up to his hands and knees. He may not be a brawler, but he knew the ground was not a good place to be in a fight. He was hovering there now. One hand pressing against his crotch. Blood dripping from his nose and flooding down one side of his face.

Cam skidded to his knees beside him. “How bad? Frankie, tell me how bad?”

“Ribs, maybe. Kicks. Shit, give me a minute,” Frankie gasped through gritted teeth, shaking his head to try and clear the blood.

“Wait, I need my phone,” Cam scrambled away and was back a moment later, digging his phone out of his bag.

“No ambulance.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

“No!”

“Okay, wait,” Cam pulled his phone out. “I need to see.” He switched on the light and examined Frankie closely. Relieved to see the head wound was actually a lot of blood from a small cut.

Frankie had sat back on his heels now, his hand pressed lightly against his stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your keys, your phone. Here put your jacket on.” When Frankie shook his head, Cam draped the jacket over his shoulders.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“My mother died when I was twelve. I spent the next two years mostly living on the streets in Naples. Running errands for one of the local gangs.” He saw Frankie’s eyes widen in horror.

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Cam.”

“Is okay.”

“No it’s not!”

Cam sighed. “I think we should have this discussion another time? This alleyway smells bad. What made them attack you?”

“Too gay. Too black.” Frankie shrugged then winced. “Pick one,” he finished, painfully.

Cam didn’t know what to say. “Shall I lift you?” he asked instead.

“No, no, no. Just let me,” Frankie shuddered as he reached for Cam’s arm. “Let me get myself up.”

It took a full five minutes, and at one point Cam thought Frankie was going to throw up, but finally he was unsteadily on his feet.

“Can I support your waist?” Cam asked.

Frankie considered for a moment. “Other side. I’m not sure about my ribs here.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

Cam carefully pulled Frankie close, giving him as much support as he could. “My place is closer,” he said as they limped from the alleyway. Frankie just nodded.

The five minute walk took twenty, and Cam apologized for the lack of a lift, but Frankie made it painfully up the three floors. His legs gave out as they entered the flat. Cam swept him up and quickly crossed the small room depositing him gently on the couch.

It hadn’t escaped Cam’s notice that Frankie had been uncharacteristically quiet on the walk over. Silent, in fact. Other than the jagged breathing. And silent was concerning.

He knelt now, pulling Frankie’s blood splattered jacket free and chucking it on the floor. Frankie just sat. Awkward and breathing carefully through gritted teeth. His eyes closed.

“Frankie?”

Nothing. Only an sense of withdrawal.

“Okay, I need to get you cleaned up.”

Cam quickly gathered all he needed and hurried back to Frankie. Starting with the cut on his head, which was starting to clot, he cleaned and dried the wound and carefully placed a small bandage. “It’s not so bad. Do you feel sick, dizzy? Frankie?” He got the slightest head shake in response.

“Okay, we clean this up,” he continued to murmur as he repeatedly rinsed and wrung the cloth. Going back for clean warm water and gently wiping off the blood. “I don’t think your nose is broken. Is your breathing okay?” A slight nod. Cam sighed and fetched more clean water.

“Come on, let’s get this off,” he winced in sympathy with Frankie as he slowly peeled off the tight tank, soaked with blood down one side. Frankie moaned slightly and Cam glanced up, concerned by his drawn face.

He murmured nonsense, along with a description of what he was doing, as he cleaned the blood from Frankie’s chest and torso, where bruising was already coming out. Finally his hands and wrists, where Frankie had tried to wipe the blood away.

He considered as he gently patted the last of the moisture from Frankie’s skin. He was still sat, so quiet and still. Like breathing hurt, but also like a deer caught in headlights. Like he was afraid to be seen.

Thinking of how vulnerable Frankie must feel, Cam reached over to a clean pile of laundry on the chair behind him and grabbed a soft, worn T-shirt. “Let’s put this on, it’ll be a little big,” he murmured, as he carefully tugged the shirt over Frankie’s head and guided his arms in. “That’s better now? Si! That’s better now.”

At a total loss, as to what to do next, Cam swallowed down a lump in his throat. Still half kneeling on the couch, from where he had helped with the T-shirt, Cam leaned over and placed his lips gently to Frankie’s hair.

Frankie shattered.

With a wheezing keening sound he dragged air painfully into his lungs and loosened it in a heart wrenching cry. Before collapsing into Cam’s arms. Sobbing out his pain, and terror, and grief.

All Cam could do was hold on.

-X

The next morning, Cam opened the door with some relief to Robbie. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Where is he?” Robbie interrupted.

“Asleep,” Cam said and showed Robbie to the bedroom. Watching nervously as he stood and considered for a few moments before coming back out and closing the door.

“I won’t wake him yet. Was he sick?”

“No, he was really upset and it seemed like he might be sick, but I think that was from the shock and because he was so upset. He,” Cam broke off and gathered himself. “Um, he was crying so hard he was choking. It was like he was choking. It scared me. But then suddenly he just went limp, like he was exhausted.”

“Did he pass out?”

“No. It was another hour before he finally went to sleep. He just lay there. I was holding him and he just lay there staring for an hour. Then he whispered, ‘thank you’ and went to sleep. I should have called you last night. I called you this morning because I wanted him to feel safe and have a friend here, but I should have called you last night.”

“Hush,” Robbie rubbed his arm. “He knows he’s safe with you. It’s fine. Did you give him any pain relief?”

“Paracetamol. About 1am. But four pills. He wanted four. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. That’s okay. He hates taking medication so he must have felt bad.” Robbie gripped Cam’s arms. “Hey, don’t look so worried. He’ll be alright.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Don’t be silly, Cam. How could a gang of thugs be your fault.”

“We had a fight. I said something. Bad, I think. Frankie walked out. He was upset, he must have walked right into them. It was my fault.”

Robbie turned Cam now and perched him on a bar stool. Sitting opposite and smiling reassuringly. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Cam’s English was not as fluent as it usually was. “It’s not your fault, Cam, What did you say?”

“I don’t know. I complain, when I get upset. When it’s not going right. I complain. I said, about his arms. I shouldn’t have because it was me not him. Frankie was dancing well, it was me that was fucking up.”

“What did you say about his arms?” Robbie asked patiently.

“That they were like ape arms.” He looked worried at Robbie’s jerk of shock. “Is bad?”

Robbie huffed out a sigh and ran his hand over his own short, springy dreds. “It’s not great, Cam. Why would you say that?”

“I say to Beth. Frankie said she should kick me in the balls. It’s rude, I know, but it hurt him and I don’t understand why. And then he ran away because he was angry and got hurt. It’s my fault.”

Robbie rubbed a hand over his face now, before raising it to halt Cam’s rising excitement. “Cam. Please. This is not your fault. But, Beth, where was she raised?”

“She is from Ethiopia, but moved to India when she was twelve. Then Europe when seventeen. Beth is for Bethlehem. Her parents are very religious.”

Robbie’s smile bloomed. “Short for Bethlehem? I didn’t know that.” He considered. “I guess she has different experiences. Has she ever kicked you in the balls?”

“On purpose? No. I don’t think.” Cam look slightly unsure and Robbie snorted, amused.

“Cam. As a black guy who was a black kid growing up in the UK, I can tell you. None of us get through school without dickheads in the playground making monkey noises at us.”

He waited for Cam to catch up. “Monkey like the ape? Why?”

“Because they’re dickheads. It’s a common racist taunt.”

“Is stupid.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“Good.” Robbie said simply and then took Cam’s arms again as horror dawned on his face, “Cam.”

“He thinks?”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Frankie thinks I am a racist.”

“No he doesn’t. I promise you he doesn’t. You’d had a long day and you pushed a button, that’s all.”

Cam subsided back onto the stool. “I was careless with him,” he said sadly. Robbie nodded. “And because of that, he got hurt.”

“Stop it,” Robbie gave him a quick shake. “You are not responsible for Frankie getting hurt. Any more than Frankie is responsible for not concentrating and taking a short cut when he should have known better. Am I being clear?” He addressed the last part over Cam’s shoulder, and he turned to see Frankie standing in the doorway.

“Clear,” Frankie said, in answer to Robbie’s question and even managed to smile a little when Cam rushed over.

“Frankie, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I.”

“Cam,” Frankie painfully took Cam’s face. Cam gently took his hands and lowered them to a more comfortable position. “You’re such a sweetie. You don’t even really understand what you said.”

Cam frowned and looked at the floor. “I think I understand. I think,” he raised his eyes. “I think I should talk to Beth?”

Frankie squeezed his fingers, a real smile blooming. “Yes. At some point you should. She’s a classy lady, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry.”

Cam nodded, still sad. “I will, talk with her. I’m sorry this happened. I had lots of fun, I think we would have had more. Maybe we can talk more, be friends, when we meet on the circuit?”

Frankie gave him a gentle tap on the chest and a glare. “You’re talking like I’m not dancing on Monday. Trust me, I’m dancing.” He started to strut towards Robbie but then staggered slightly. “Whoops. Thank you,” as Cam steadied him.

Robbie caught Cam’s eye and shook his head. “Sit,” he instructed Frankie. “You’re going to tell me what happened, have some food, a thorough examination and then a nap. Later on we’ll try some yoga and if you are moving okay, we’ll talk about whether it’s sensible for you to even attempt to dance on Monday. Which is a decision Cam and I will make together.”

“We have to rehearse.”

“Not today.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” Frankie included Cam in the fiery glare.

“We are today,” Robbie glowered.

“I’m not stripping just so you can get a load of my junk, so you can forget that, Doctor Armstrong.”

Robbie leaned forward and caged Frankie in. “I’m not interested in your junk, Mister Vega-Caro. But you will be stripping off and getting checked over, or you can forget Paris.” He stepped back. “David is on his way. What do you want to eat?”

Frankie subsided, “I don’t think I can eat.”

“Scrambled eggs then.”

“I’ll make them,” Cam offered. “Robbie, are you a doctor? Really?”

“Yes, although I only do enough to stay qualified at the moment. My brother, David, is a private GP in London. He’ll be going back to our dad’s practice in the Cotswolds in a few months.”

“He’s had enough of London?” Frankie asked.

“More than. He’s ready to go back. I need a couple more years. By which time the kids will be ready for school, and Collette will be ready to start a family and stop dancing competitively. It will work well.”

“You could find another partner,” Frankie suggested. Patiently allowing Robbie to shine a light in his eyes.

“No, the plan was always to join the family practice. And Mandy wants the kids in school there.” He shook some pills out of a pot. “Take those and don’t argue.”

Frankie grimaced but took the water Cam passed to him and the pills.

“Thank you,” he said, somewhat grudgingly.

“Here,” Cam passed over some eggs and Frankie thanked him again before taking a cautious bite.

His eyes lit up. “This is good. You put cheese in here?”

“A little. It’s good for you. Just a little.”

“I like it.”

There was a tap on the door and Robbie went to let his brother in. They conferred briefly and then David came over as Frankie finished the eggs.

“Hi, David. I’m sorry you got dragged over.”

“No problem. You want Cam or Robbie to chaperone?”

Frankie rolled his eyes and slipped gingerly from the stool. “No. Thanks for the eggs, Cam.”

“It was only two. You can have some more later.”

David and Frankie disappeared back into the bedroom, leaving Cam staring at the door, chewing his lip.

“I’ll have toast with my eggs,” Robbie told him.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t have any bread,” Cam admitted.

“In the bag there, I’ll make coffee.”

They bustled around and companionly shared breakfast. Robbie gave up trying to distract Cam, so they discussed the dance and potential work arounds instead. It was nearly an hour later that David emerged.

“What’s the verdict?” Robbie asked immediately.

“Well, he’s in a lot of pain, but you already knew that. Cam, can I get some coffee?”

“Of course. Er, I haven’t got any milk left.”

“Black’s fine. Thanks,” he added gratefully as he took the mug. “His head is okay, and his nose. I think they just caught him. He doesn’t even have a bruise, and no swelling with the cut on his head. You did a good job with that, Cam.”

He sipped, and leaned against the counter. “There’s a lot of bruising around his lower abdomen and groin. That seems to be where they were aiming the kicks. He’s got a couple of beauties on his right hip and chest. Stomach’s pretty sore. Frankie said they held him at first, he took some punches in the gut before he went down. Took two of the bastards to hold him though.” David smiled grimly in satisfaction as he took another sip.

“He’s very strong,” Cam said quietly. “He looks slender, but it’s deceiving.”

“He said no to the police. I assume you tried?”

Cam just nodded in answer.

“Your main problem is going to be his ribs. Some bruising, but I think two cracked, on the left.”

“Shit,” Robbie mumbled.

“You are sure not broken?” Cam asked.

“I’m sure. It may in fact just be bad bruising, but I would stake my reputation on cracked. You’re going to need to freeze pretty much his entire torso before strapping on Monday. Then get the strapping off sharpish, because he likely won’t breathe properly with it in place. Don’t worry,” he added at Cam’s worried frown. “I’ll be there.”

“In Paris?”

David nodded and finished his coffee. “He won’t take no, in regards to dancing, so we will just have to keep him as comfortable as possible. I’ll check the rules as to what I can give him. He’s sleeping now though. I helped him in the shower.” He grinned. “Honestly, Robbie. I thought he was going to cry when I passed over a toothbrush!”

He shrugged on his coat, “I need to arrange cover at work, and my transport. I’ll pop by this evening. Robbie will give you my number, Cam. Er, I had a dig through your closet to borrow some fresh clothes, sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. You’re coming to Paris?” Cam was still stuck on that.

David grinned, “Robbie will explain. I’ll see you later.” The door closed behind him.

“David and I. We would do anything for Frankie. He saved our sister’s life.” He paused when Cam’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t tell you the details, I’m sorry, it’s private. But we owe him. We will owe him for the rest of our lives.”

Cam digested this when Robbie also left to get some supplies, having given Cam a critical study as he passed, “You need a haircut, laddie.”

He wandered into the room where Frankie was supposedly sleeping. Wondering if Frankie’s actions had been heroic and action packed, or quiet and thoughtful. The man was much more complex than he had ever guessed, that was for sure.

“Hey,” Frankie said quietly.

Cam sat on the bed, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I close my eyes, I get scared. Will you stay with me awhile?”

Cam lay down opposite. Hesitatingly reaching his hand towards Frankie, but pausing. Frankie reached out a little and linked their fingers. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“Here. Like this. I was worried in case you got sick. You should sleep. Are you comfortable?”

“I’m all floaty. Can’t feel a thing. David gave me an injection. I don’t really like needles, but I was brave.”

“You are brave, Frankie.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Cam pulled the pillow down and linked their fingers a little more firmly. “I’ll stay.”

-X

Cam’s heart was breaking.

Sunday had passed in a blur of travel. Robbie, David and Mia had all travelled with him and Frankie. Robbie and Mia taking care of the luggage, while David and Cam had tried to keep Frankie as comfortable as possible.

Thankfully there had been no delays on the Eurostar, and once Frankie had done some very gentle yoga, and been practically drugged into sleep by David. Cam and Robbie had reviewed their dance and stripped it to the bare minimum.

An early start that morning and Frankie had quickly adapted to the new version of their dance, with a very careful walk through. Understanding that it would be dependent on flow and technical perfection, as all the flair and showy parts had been pulled out.

Cam was putting his faith in the reputation of the Paris judges for a love of old fashioned, high quality dance. But he had been concerned by the look of fear in Frankie’s eyes.

Now his heart was breaking as he watched Frankie grit his teeth and hiss through the strapping of his ribs.

When Frankie impatiently wiped away a tear, Cam gave in.

“No. We are not doing this. Frankie, you can’t dance.”

“I can and I will.”

“Frankie,” David moved aside as Cam took Frankie’s face in his hands. Catching another wayward tear with this thumb. “You are in too much pain, this is crazy.”

Frankie’s eyes were huge and damp as he took Cam’s wrists, but his face was determined. “Cam. I can’t let those bastards win.”

Cam sighed. Then nodded. He stepped back to let David finish.

“But if you need to stop, we stop. I’m serious, Frankie.”

“Okay.”

“I’m done,” David confirmed. “Worst part over. You must be going numb by now, surely?”

“It’s better. Thanks, David.”

Mia and Robbie had already danced, finishing with an score of 9.3, which guaranteed them another dance and put them in the top ten.

Mia came forward now with Frankie’s costume and helped him dress. “Don’t bend, I’ve got it.”

“I’ll do the shoes,” Cam offered. Kneeling and checking the fit once Frankie had pushed his feet in.

“Wow, this is like having staff,” he quipped. Then smiled when Cam flicked a concerned glance up at him. “It’s getting better. The freeze is kicking in.”

“I can give you something stronger once you’ve danced,” David promised.

“For once I won’t argue,” Frankie confirmed, wincing as Mia helped him with his top.

She smoothed him down gently then stepped back. “It looks good.”

Cam, who was all in black with some copper trim, could only agree. They had left the costumes to Mia, and she had created a wonder. Frankie was in dark copper, with black details, to complement Cam’s outfit. Where Cam had traditional tails, Frankie had a silky flowing dream that was neither masculine nor feminine, but something all of its own.

“Now your shield, sweetheart.” Frankie lowered his eyes as Mia patted his face with compact powder, camouflaging the sheen created by pain. Then she played around his eyes. Cam wasn’t sure what she was up to, but when she stepped back, with a soft, “All done,” and Frankie opened his eyes, Cam’s breath caught.

Frankie looked like something the ancient Egyptians would have fallen to the ground and worshiped.

Mia smiled and finally pushed a thick copper bracelet over Frankie’s wrist. “You look beautiful. You want to see? No?” She was surprised when Frankie shook his head. “Then I’ll take a picture of the two of you and you can see later.”

Cam moved as instructed and smiled as she took a quick shot, then touched Frankie’s back gently. “It’s time to go.”

Frankie took a deep breath, winced, and then nodded.

They were just in time, walking onto the floor as they were announced.

“We stop if you need to,” Cam whispered again, and Frankie nodded. Then the music started and they moved into hold.

It wasn’t flawless, but it was beautiful. Cam didn’t know how Frankie could even bear to hold his arms up, and after a couple of minutes Cam was doing most of the work there. But they moved like a dream and somehow got through.

Frankie was trembling from head to foot at the finish, and Cam slipped an arm around his hip to subtly hold him steady.

The judges took a long time to confer, but finally the marks came through with a final mark of 8.7. Neither of them had ever had an average mark lower than 9, and it didn’t guarantee them a place in the second stage.

Frankie whispered, “Shit,” under his breath, but Cam smiled and nodded his thanks to the judges. He turned to help Frankie from the dancefloor, but paused when one of the judges held up a hand.

“Mr Camillo, Mr Vega-Caro. Those scores are dependent on Mr Vega-Caro passing a medical. Please report to the medical room straight away.”

Cam tapped Frankie’s hip gently to stop him speaking, and merely nodded again. Looking to an official to point him in the right direction.

“Fuck, Cam?” Frankie muttered.

“It’s okay. David checked the rules. You don’t have anything prohibited in your system.”

“I can’t get my breath.”

“Nearly there,” Cam was relieved to see David waiting, talking to a woman who Cam assumed was the doctor.

“He can’t get enough air in,” Cam said as they approached.

“Let’s get the strapping off then,” David helped Frankie inside. “I’ve already explained the situation to Dr Chazel.”

They worked quickly, and Cam was reassured when the strapping came off, and after a heartfelt “Fuck!” Frankie took a breath and gave him a big smile. “Much better.”

Dr Chazel performed a thorough examination, and took some bloods. “I don’t have any reason to suspect that Dr Armstrong has given you anything he shouldn’t have, but I have to cover myself. There’s no rule against dancing with broken bones, so why don’t we see exactly what we have here?”

She took Frankie through a series of questions, then spoke quietly to David before turning back. “Let’s make you more comfortable shall we? You may feel a little sleepy.”

Frankie gave David a questioning look.

“Dr Chazel can give you stronger stuff than I can bring across from the UK. You’ve danced now and she has her samples. Say yes, thank you. Doctor.”

“Thank you, Dr Chazel. I am quite sore,” Frankie gave her his best smile. Which wobbled when he saw another syringe.

“Faster this way,” she told him, and slipped the needle in as David distracted him. Then she threw David and Cam out of the room so she could take a quick X-Ray.

When they were allowed back in, Frankie was still stood, his trousers around his ankles, top off, holding on to the handles of the X-Ray machine.

“I told him not to let go,” Dr Chazel grinned. “The drug’s kicking in fast, can you give me a hand?”

They helped a smiling Frankie to the examination couch and lay him down, leaving his trousers loose around his hips as Dr Chazel had a careful look with an ultrasound scanner.

“What are you looking for?” Cam asked, as he slipped the bracelet he had found on the floor over his own wrist. “I thought you did an X-Ray.”

“The X-Ray will show us the true state of his ribs,” David confirmed. “Dr Chazel is just making sure there is no internal bleeding. She was concerned from the nature of the beating.” He turned his attention back to the screen and Cam looked down at Frankie to find him smiling sloppily up at him.

“I can’t feel my ribs,” Frankie whispered, like it was the most amazing secret.

“That’s an improvement, I would think,” Cam said, crouching next to him.

“It’s great,” Frankie said and started to giggle.

Dr Chazel and David finished. “The drugs make people silly,” she explained. “You will need to keep him calm travelling back, in case he hurts himself.”

“Can you go get him changed?” David asked. “Mia and Robbie will help you.”

In fact, Cam found Mia and Robbie waiting outside, and between them they managed to get Frankie changed without him actually bouncing off the walls.

He laughed, yelled and loved everyone, all the way to the late train back, and then crashed slumped into Cam’s shoulder as soon as the train hit the tunnel.

Mia watched him fondly as he snored quietly. “You can see why he doesn’t drink very often. It has the same effect,” she told Cam. “He’ll be okay,” she added.

Cam nodded miserably. They had just scraped through, but he knew it was more luck than anything. He should be happy, but he couldn’t get out of his head the look in Frankie’s eyes when he had insisted on dancing. ‘I can’t let the bastards win.’ It had made him so sad.

David returned from the bathroom. “X-Ray’s came through. Bit hard to see on my phone but there’s only one cracked rib. The rest is just severe bruising. He’ll heal up quickly enough,” he told Cam.

“Will you take him with you?” Cam asked Robbie. “I think he may need to talk to someone.”

Robbie leaned over and tousled Cam’s hair, he assumed a sign of affection or approval. “Aye, I’ll take him back with me. Don’t you worry.”

-X

Cam didn’t see Frankie until the Thursday.

He had refused to attend rehearsals before then, so Frankie had been forced to rest.

Cam had received a text from Frankie on Wednesday admitting that the rest had done him good, and thanking him. Cam suggested that they meet at his flat for breakfast on Thursday morning and take it from there.

He opened the door at 9am to a beaming Frankie, who leaned in and kissed his cheek before he could protest.

“What was that for?”

“For taking care of me, and asking Robbie to take care of me. I feel much better.”

“You must still be sore?” Cam queried.

“Very, but it’s so much better already. Not going to be able to do much this week, but I have a plan.”

So saying, Frankie took out a roll of paper and spread it on the counter, Cam moving forward to help him. “Ta Da,” he declared with almost full Frankie enthusiasm. “One Argentine Tango.”

“This is how you plan your dances,” Cam breathed in wonder. The large sheet was covered in a series of sketches. Fluid movements, which in only a few lines, demonstrated the dance from start to finish.

“It’ll end up covered in notes,” Frankie admitted, lowering his pencil to the paper as if to start.

“No!” Cam gently gripped his wrist and moved it away. “Take the pencil, make coffee, I will be back.”

Frankie watched in confusion as Cam lifted the paper and moved to the door, “Where are you going?”

“I will be back soon. Food is there, you can find it.” The door closed behind him leaving Frankie alone in the flat.

“Weird,” Frankie muttered to himself, but then found his favourite Cam-made breakfast in the microwave and happily zapped it.

Ten minutes later, he was almost done when Cam returned and handed him a photocopy of his plan. Giving him a challenging look and taking the original into his bedroom.

Frankie just raised his hands in question when Cam came back in and grabbed his own breakfast.

“I will keep the original,” Cam told him.

“Yea, I got that, but why? And where did you go?”

“My neighbour is an architect, he has a large copy machine. I will frame it and put it in the hall there,” he motioned towards the wall leading to the bathroom.

He chuckled at Frankie’s obvious bemusement. “It’s so beautiful, Frankie. It is art. These lines are so simple, but the story they tell, the movement. And you usually scribble all over these plans and what? Throw them away?”

“Wow. Thanks. But I don’t know what happens to them. Mia usually takes them, I’ve never asked why.” He sat and blinked as Cam grabbed his phone and quickly called Mia. They had a fast conversation and he laughed in triumph when he hung up.

“Mia has a scrapbook. She says you are a fantastic artist. And she wants this one, once you have finished scribbling on it.”

Frankie was surprised. “I never even thought that she kept them,” he laughed a little. “You know when you two talk, it’s so fast I can’t keep up.”

Cam frowned, “Was I speaking Italian?”

“You always do when you speak with Mia,” Frankie laughed again at Cam’s shocked look. “I have to renege slightly on our deal though, I’m so sorry.”

Cam just shook his head, like a question.

“Cam, I can’t lead this dance. I’ll be fine to dance it, but in just under three weeks, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to do the lifts. I’m sorry, but will you lead?”

Cam just shrugged and smiled, looking from Frankie to the drawings and back again. “Frankie, this is beautiful and exciting. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Once they were ready, after Cam took Frankie through a very light yoga routine and then insisted on another rest, they started to walk through the kicks, flicks and boleo movements that Frankie had created. Even though Cam’s flat was small, they had enough room for a very quiet walk through.

They both agreed, as Frankie wanted a complicated, fast and highly dangerous sequence which would shift the whole tone of the dance from what was more like a fight, to a conquest with a sudden change of pace and the sensual glide of Frankie’s caressing foot down the entire inside of Cam’s leg, from groin to ankle. That it was a good place to start as they could walk through very slowly and gradually pick up speed.

As Frankie still had a lot of pain, they could learn the most complicated part of the dance, without adding to his discomfort. Even so, he was starting to struggle when Mia arrived with lunch. This hadn’t been helped by Cam suggesting he should wear a cup for protection, which made Frankie laugh so hard he nearly cried.

“Sit, sit,” she told him and glared at Cam.

“Right, because I’m sure you’re always successful when you try to stop him working too hard,” Cam grumbled, and then stopped when he realized he had spoken in Italian. He looked at Frankie in apology.

“It’s alright. I got it that time,” Frankie admitted.

Mia passed the food to Frankie and looked at Cam. “Did you find the jeans?” She had asked him for a pair of old jeans that he didn’t need anymore.

“Yea, hold on.” Cam went to his bedroom and pulled out the old, soft Levi’s that felt like a dream to wear, but were about to disintegrate. He stopped before leaving his room, as he realized what he had said to Mia about Frankie working hard. He had always assumed that Frankie had an easy life, but saw now that it was not the case. He wasn’t even sure when his mind had been changed.

Thoughtfully he went back. “I’m not sure, Mia. I think these could last a bit longer.”

Mia took the jeans, putting her food aside as she examined them. “They’re perfect. I’ll move and strengthen the seams so your movement is not restricted. I’ll put Cam in a black top to go with this faded blue. Slightly sheer, so we can all see that gorgeous twelve pack.” She grinned when Frankie snorted.

“Frankie gave me black jeans which are faded to grey at the stress points,” she told Cam as he tucked into his food. “I think I’ll go with burnt orange for your top,” she added, looking back at Frankie.

“You’ll have to skip the sheer,” Frankie told her seriously. “I don’t want to show Cam up.”

Frankie’s plan for the dance was quite radical for the Paris competition, but he had argued that they needed to make their mark fast, after only just scraping through the first round.

He had two men, tough, rough looking guys in jeans and tight vest tops. Rival gang members who would see each other and immediately launch into a kind of attack from which neither would back down.

It would be fast and dangerous looking. Cam thought if they could create what Frankie had imagined on his plan, that people would be holding their breath for the whole three plus minutes.

Especially when the dance became some sort of violent seduction.

There were just a few pauses, or slower movements, and one moment where Cam would lower Frankie in slow motion until the beat kicked back in and he was pulled into a lift before spinning fast, fast, fast.

Cam didn’t think they would be doing more than walking through that one for at least another week, if not longer.

The hardest thing was going to be the fact that they wouldn’t lose contact once they first made it, so although they would move around the floor, they would be in each other’s space the whole time.

Cam was starting to think that being that close to Frankie for nearly four minutes was going to be hard in more ways than one. Especially given his provocative chorography.

It would be danced to ‘It’s my life’, another risky choice. Cam teased Frankie that he had chosen it because his name came up repeatedly.

When Frankie left, wearily admitting defeat at 4pm, Cam had still been smiling half an hour later.

-X

By the time they reached the Wednesday prior to their return to Paris, Frankie was doing almost 100% of the dance. There were a couple of lifts that Cam limited to a few practice runs at the end of the day, but otherwise he was back to full power.

And fast. So fucking fast.

As before, the tension was rising, the closer they got to the weekend. But Frankie figured it was a tense dance anyway. It would just add to it, and reinforce the characters.

However, by mid-afternoon they were losing the edge and mistakes were creeping in. Tangled legs, and a bruise on his shin that Cam could have lived without.

Frankie apologized again as Cam cursed and rubbed his leg.

“Sorry, my bad.” He didn’t get why Cam was so grumpy today. He had plenty of bruises as well. And possible whiplash from the speed at which Cam yanked him from horizontal to airborne at one point.

Not that he could complain. Not really, it was his choreography. It’s totally okay to complain in your head, Frankie told himself. Giving Cam an apologetic smile.

Christ, he got intense sometimes.

Cam just grunted and took a hold of Frankie again, demonstrating where they would re-start.

Two minutes later the timing missed again and Cam had to grasp clumsily for Frankie to stop him crashing to the floor.

Frankie let out a surprised “Oommpppffff,” as he collided with Cam’s hard body. Then a muffled “Hmmmmffff,” as Cam’s lips unexpectedly crashed down on his.

He froze for a split second, then linked his arms around Cam’s neck, one hand gripping his thick hair, as he was hauled closer. Pelvis to pelvis and Frankie had time to think that Cam was hard everywhere, before they tumbled to the floor, still kissing frantically, Frankie landing in Cam’s lap.

Instinctively thrusting himself against Cam’s groin, Frankie started to talk. Because of course he did. Muttering gasped nonsense in between kisses.

He wasn’t sure who laughed first, but one of them did. And within seconds they were clinging to each other, out of control.

Frankie rolled himself to the side and they both lay sprawled flat on the floor, just their fingertips brushing, as gut deep laughter echoed around the room. But when Frankie finally managed to calm himself slightly, a hand on his aching abs. He realized that Cam was silent, and tension was once again seeping in.

“Cam?” Frankie deliberately touched his finger to Cam’s. Who quickly sat up and moved with easy grace to his knees. Where he halted. His head bowed, hands clasped between his knees. He looked like a wicked angel, praying for absolution.

Cautiously, Frankie also rose to his knees. He slid a little closer to better see, but was careful not to touch. “Are you okay, Cam?” Cam was shaking, his breathing appeared fractured.

Frankie swallowed hard, forcing his voice out. “Was it a mistake?”

Cam’s head whipped up, his eyes hard. “No. It was not a mistake.”

“Okay, okay,” Frankie held his hand up as if for peace. When Cam’s head sank back down, he took a chance and slid his knees closer, his torso coming to rest against Cam’s left arm.

Cam shut his eyes and shuddered from head to foot. Frankie hoped to hell it wasn’t in disgust.

“Cam, please help me out here. I don’t understand,” Frankie kept his voice soft and reassuring. “Are you gay?”

Cam shook his head slightly. “But,” Frankie broke off when Cam sighed and wearily brushed his hair back out of his eyes. It immediately fell back, making Frankie want to smile and weep at the same time.

“I am,” Cam fumbled, cleared his throat and started again, his eyes still cast down. “I am demi-sexual.” Then he appeared to go still. As if holding his breath.

“Demi?” Frankie whispered in astonishment. “You’re demi?” he couldn’t stop the smile now. “And you kissed me. So you must like me a little.” He flinched slightly as Cam’s head whipped up again. His hand shooting out, palm resting flat on his chest, where Frankie’s heart thundered.

“I do not LIKE you, Frankie. I have fallen in love with you. I love you,” Cam’s voice broke and he shut his eyes.

Frankie grabbed Cam’s hand from his chest and kissed it, before pressing it back to his heart. “Look at me, Cam. Look at me.” Cam’s eyes opened, warily.

“I’ve fallen for you so hard, Cam. It’s been hell. I’ve been falling and my heart’s been turning to dust. It’s been killing me.” His grin was huge and his cheeks were wet.

Cam’s eyes were also suspiciously bright as he smiled hesitatingly. “Really?”

“Fucking hell, Cam. I thought you were straight. I thought you had a problem with who I was.”

“No,” Cam shook his head in denial.

“Okay,” Frankie scrubbed at his cheeks with his free hand, but he couldn’t wipe the smile away. “Here’s what we’re going to do. This rehearsal is done. We’ll pick it back up in the morning.”

Cam nodded cautiously.

“You are going to go over to that big lounge chair, overlooking the garden. I’m going to go and make us coffee. Then I’m going to come and join you in that chair.” Giving in to temptation, he reached out and brushed Cam’s hair back. His smile turning delighted when it fell back over his eyes again.

“We are going to sit snuggled in that chair, and drink our coffee and hold hands. I’m going to hold hands with you and watch the garden as the sun goes down.” When Cam frowned, Frankie held up a finger. “And I want a kiss. Well, several ideally, but I’ll accept one.”

Cam cocked his head to one side. “I am not the first demi-sexual person you have known?” he asked.

“No, but not what you think. One of my best friends is demi. When she met her wife. Oh, my God the drama!” he made a flamboyant gesture in demonstration and made Cam laugh.

Frankie reached for Cam’s other hand now and held tight. “Cam. If at any time in this relationship I make you uncomfortable, you tell me. Promise me.”

“Are we in a relationship?”

“Yes, Cam. We are in a relationship.”

“That’s quite scary,” Cam admitted.

“But does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Cam looked over at the easy chair. “You want to sit next to each other and hold hands?”

“No, I want to snuggle in together and hold hands. And don’t forget my kiss.”

Cam’s smile grew now. “Okay,” he nodded.

Frankie grinned and rose to his feet, pulling Cam up with him. Still grinning when he came back with the coffee (tea for Cam), and made Cam shift position until he could arrange himself how he wanted. Their hips side by side, but Frankie’s legs draped over Cam’s lap.

Frankie entwined his right arm with Cam’s left and linked their fingers. Taking a sip of his coffee and then then sighing and leaning his head on Cam’s shoulder. “See now, that’s just exactly right.”

Cam smiled and tipped his head to Frankie’s. Rubbing his cheek on his cropped hair. “I have a question.”

“Hit me.”

Cam startled and looked with shock with Frankie.

“I mean. Hit me with your question. Lay it on me. Ask,” Frankie clarified with a grin.

“I hate English,” Cam complained, and Frankie sniggered.

“If your heart has been turning to dust, with pining for me. Why did you choreograph the dance so our hands are never off each other?”

Frankie snorted. “Figured it was my only chance to get your hands on me,” he grinned. “Honestly, I’ve always thought you were straight, and a little homophobic.”

Cam shook his head. “No. I have only been in two relationships. Both were with men. But I didn’t, I mean with one, yes, but, I didn’t,” he stopped and blushed.

“Didn’t go all the way?” Frankie suggested, and made a helpful little gesture with his pelvis to demonstrate.

Cam rolled his eyes and flushed a deeper red. “I don’t know if I am gay,” he admitted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Frankie told him, his dark eyes earnest. “It’s you and me now. We don’t need labels. It’s you and me now, and we are just sitting, holding hands, and that’s fantastic.”

Cam smiled and shifted in the chair so he could lay his head on Frankie’s shoulder. “Yes it is.”

-X

Frankie had left a, clearly relieved and slightly overwhelmed, Cam that evening, saying he had arranged to meet a friend.

He had claimed his kiss, which was sweet and shy and beautiful, when they parted ways, and then dashed to his friend’s house to throw himself on her mercy and beg for advice on how not to completely fuck this up.

Both Carrie, and her wife had been delighted with how he had handled things, and reassured him that it was a case of giving Cam plenty of time and space. Not pushing.

Although it was Tina who had given him the starkest warning.

“Be aware. Not everyone is comfortable with intimacy. Cam may never want a fully physical relationship with you. Is that something you could live with?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie admitted. Thinking that sounded horrible.

“Just keep talking,” Carrie had said. “You’ll be fine, just keep talking.”

At rehearsal the next morning they had agreed to concentrate on the dance and have a proper talk about them, once they had cleared another round.

Both unsure whether they were more distracted, or less by this decision.

And then, suddenly, they were back in Paris.

-X

Cam had been slightly fascinated by Frankie on the trip over.

He had only ever seen him clean shaven before, and the dark stubble was doing something unnerving to his insides.

Now, after thirty-six hours without a shave, Frankie looked devastating and dangerous.

He pretended he hadn’t been staring when Frankie came over, resting his chin on Cam’s shoulder. “You look really hot,” he complained.

“I thought that’s what you wanted?” Cam replied, trying to hide his pleased grin.

“And you look really dangerous,” He traced the temporary fake gang tattoo on Cam’s bicep.

This time Cam laughed, it so closely matched his own thoughts.

One of the assistants, who dealt with the music, came over to them. “Hi, I’m sorry but did you give me the right music?” he held up the music file Frankie had provided him with.

“Yes, but I have a spare, if it’s not working,” Frankie offered.

“Oh, it’s working,” the young man confirmed. “But are you really dancing to Bon Jovi?”

Cam and Frankie just grinned at him.

“Cool,” he said and turned to go. “You’ll be up in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, we’re ready.”

“Nice and loud please,” Cam added.

The normally jaded assistant ran his eyes over both men, in their worn jeans and his grin spread. “This should be interesting,” he muttered in French as he left.

Just over ten minutes later, there was muttering and some shocked gasps, as Frankie walked onto the dance floor. Followed a short distance behind, by Cam.

The first loud guitar cord echoed across the room and Frankie turned, his eyes narrowing, face hardening as he saw Cam and immediately strode forward.

Cam sneered and danced back, further enraging him. They circled, testing each other. Competing complicated steps mirroring each other and increasing in difficulty until, in a sudden move, they were locked.

Everything disappeared, apart from each other and the challenge in their eyes.

It was relentless. Heat, sweat and speed. Their breath merging as they tangled and moved. Graceful and controlled despite the suggestion of aggression.

Cam had said that he thought Frankie’s character changed the mood to seduction because he was going to lose the fight. Frankie had patted Cam’s back pocket and joked, “Damn right,” saying he thought a bad boy like Cam was probably armed.

Frankie’s hand on his ass had led to a ten minute kissing break before they had re-gained control. Yea, pretty distracted!

Cam allowed himself a smirk now, as Frankie’s foot moved down his leg. (Frankie had cheekily timed it to a lyric about things getting harder!) Seeing an answering flare in Frankie’s eyes, and suddenly they were even more in each other’s space. Moving together closer than they had ever rehearsed.

Muscles tensed and flexed with the repeated change of direction and lifts. Sweat flew. Until suddenly they spun apart as if propelled, their eyes still locked, now full of confusion, questions and desire.

No happy endings for Frankie’s characters? When Cam had asked him, “What do you think happens after the dance?” Frankie had snorted slightly and told him, “Think West Side Story.”

Cam had disagreed. “The song is about living your best life.” So they had compromised and left it more open to interpretation.

Now Cam stood sweating and gasping, adrenaline coursing through him. Watching the judges as they conferred, disagreed and scribbled.

Armenia Franklin, an American ex-dancer (only due to a knee injury), and head judge leaned forward to the microphone.

“Mr Vega-Caro,” he said sternly.

Cam turned his head to glance at Frankie and felt his knees weaken in shock.

Frankie was stood, loose limbed, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, eyeing the judges with an expression that suggested he was deciding who to take out first.

He lifted his chin in an attitude that suggested, ‘Yea, What?’ or even, ‘Fuck you’. Cam literally couldn’t breathe.

Mr Franklin stared him down for another moment and then grinned, “Behave yourself.”

Frankie laughed and his whole demeanour lightened. He stood up straight, took his hands out of his pockets and gave the judges a small bow. Most of them smiled. Frankie gave Cam a cheeky wink and he shook his head slightly. Jesus. Way to give him a heart attack.

They stood as the scores were read out. Two of the more conservative judges had marked down slightly for costume, but they averaged 9.8. They were through, and had just shot up the leader board.

Cam let out a shaky breath and they both nodded respectfully at the judges before leaving the floor.

The small audience and fellow competitors applauding them off. More than a few still singing the chorus.

“You bastard,” Cam complained as soon as they were in the corridor. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Frankie laughed as Cam fake shook him gently. “I was enjoying the character so much.”

“I thought they were going to disqualify us.”

“No way. Cam!” Frankie gripped his arms intently. “Nine point eight. Nine point fucking eight.” They both whooped and hugged, breaking apart when a voice said, “Excuse me, Mr Vega-Caro. Frankie?”

They turned to see Dr Chazel. “May I have a word? The judges asked me to speak with you.”

Frankie smiled, but it was concerned. “Hi, sorry they didn’t ask me to report to you.”

“No, no. Off the record. They wanted me to check you are well and if you needed anything.”

“I’m good,” Frankie smiled easily now. “I still had some pulling on the lifts a few days ago, but there’s been nothing the past couple of days. All healed.”

“Good. I’m pleased to hear it. And Mrs Bassett, you know her?” They both nodded, she was a judge. “She asked if you had someone to talk to, if you had received or needed counselling?”

“Really?”

Dr Chazel looked around and stepped closer. “I believe her son has very similar circumstances to yours, and has attracted unwanted attention in the past. She is concerned that you have all the support you need, and wanted you to know that if you do need more support, once the competition is over, you may contact her directly and she would be happy to help.”

“Oh, wow,” Frankie leaned into Cam when his arm slipped around his waist. “That’s so sweet. You can tell her I have amazing family and friends and Cam,” he flashed Cam a smile. “I’m okay, I promise, but will you thank her? I’ll thank her myself after the competition, but I really appreciate her concern.”

“I’ll tell her. You don’t need anything from me?” Frankie shook his head. “Good, then I’ll see you in three weeks. Good luck.” She smiled and kissed both of them on the cheeks before walking quickly away.

“You okay” Cam asked quietly.

“I may be a tad emotional,” Frankie admitted, squeezing a little closer to Cam.

“Then let’s find a tissue, dry you up and get back out there to watch Robbie and Mia.”

Frankie sniffed, “Okay.”

-X

Robbie and Mia’s Jive gained them 9.4, and everyone was in high spirits on the late train home. Although flagging by the time they arrived at Waterloo.

Cam was seeing Mia home before going on to his flat, and Frankie was sharing with Robbie as they were close. So they said goodnight at the taxi rank.

“So, that was awesome,” Frankie told Cam.

“Yes it was.”

Frankie looked a little nervous. “I have an appointment with the lovely Guiseppe in the morning, but I’ll be done by ten. Shall we meet for breakfast?”

“Who is Guiseppe?”

“The best wet shave in London,” Frankie claimed, rubbing a ruefully hand over his chin. “If I try and deal with this myself I’ll tear up my shaver and probably my face with it!”

Cam sniggered sleepily, cupping Frankie’s face and tipping it to the light, as if to see better. “I’m going out of town tomorrow, seeing a friend.” If he hadn’t been watching closely he would have missed the flash of disappointment and more worrying, uncertainty, in Frankie’s eyes.

“Take a rest. Maybe you can bring Spanish omelettes for breakfast on Wednesday?” he gave Frankie a winsome smile. “And maybe you can take a before and after picture tomorrow morning? For the shave.”

Frankie wrinkled his nose, “Really? Why?”

“Really,” Cam confirmed, running his thumb along the line of Frankie’s jaw. “I’m interested.”

“Are you?” Frankie asked quietly, his heart leaping into his eyes.

“Yes.” Cam kissed Frankie’s cheek. “Go get some sleep.”

“Okay, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Cam slid into the cab and turned to find Mia smirking at him.

They lapsed immediately into Italian.

“You and Frankie? What’s going on?”

“What do you think is going on, Mia?”

Mia gripped his arm lightly, leaning forward to see his face in the low light. “I didn’t know you liked men. I’m surprised.”

“Are you upset?” Cam asked, feeling nervous.

“No,” she kissed his cheek. “No, it’s exciting, I’m just surprised.”

Cam frowned, but then said quietly. “I don’t know if I just like men, but I do know he’s it for me, it’s Frankie. There’s no one else for me.” He laughed slightly. “I’m done now.” Mia made a soppy noise and he laughed louder. “Oh, stop it.”

“It’s so beautiful. I always found it so frustrating that you didn’t really see him, I wanted you to be friends. But this? This is amazing.”

“I was wrong,” Cam said simply.

“Cam,” Mia moved closer. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“Why would I hurt him?”

“I just mean,” she sighed and bit her lip. “He’s had some bad experiences. Last year,” she paused and changed tack. “He’s so open, he gives himself so freely, but he’s been hurt. He’s quite sensitive. Just be careful with him.”

“I’m bound to make mistakes, Mia. You can’t be together and not make mistakes, but I’ll be as careful as I can.”

Mia’s eyes widened. She asked the driver for a moment as the car pulled up at her apartment. “Oh my God. You’re planning on keeping him!”

“I hope so.”

“Have I just lost my dance partner,” she asked, pouting.

“Ha! No. You can have him back after Paris. He’s working me too hard.”

They said goodnight, but Cam was left pondering. He hadn’t missed that she has cut herself off while talking about something last year. What had happened last year?

-X

“Good morning,” Frankie called, as he entered the studio on Wednesday morning, eight sharp, and found Cam already stretching.

“Morning.” Cam’s voice was a still sleep roughened.

“Ohhh. You got a cold?”

“No,” Cam stood and wandered over, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just sleepy.”

“Tea,” Frankie said, handing over a take-out cup and watching Cam warily. Cam took the cup and sipped.

“Did you miss me yesterday?” Frankie asked, overbrightly. Cam merely shrugged and sipped again.

Frankie frowned a little and nodded to himself, “Okay. Well good, I guess.”

“Idiot. Come here,” Cam put the cup to one side and pulled Frankie in for a hug. “Of course I missed you. Even though I got about fifteen texts!”

Frankie linked his arms around Cam’s waist, super tight. “You evil man. I thought you were like, whatever.”

Cam pulled back after kissing Frankie’s cheek. “No one could ever be whatever around you, Frankie.” He lent against the counter and picked his drink back up, but delighted Frankie by leaving their hands linked.

“Awwwwww. You say the sweetest things,” Frankie teased, and Cam snorted. “Have you checked your texts this morning?”

“Not since I got here. What did we get allocated?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie admitted. “I ran my battery down texting you yesterday, I need to charge my phone.” So saying, he pulled out his phone and charger and walked over to a socket to plug it in.

Cam wandered over to his bag and dug his phone out. Switching it on, which made Frankie groan with frustration, and bringing up the texts.

“We have a Salsa,” Cam advised and pulled a face.

“You don’t like Salsa?” Frankie asked in shock.

“Hmmmm,” Cam wrinkled his nose and waggled his hand in the air. Like, so-so.

Frankie Salsa’d over to him, hips threatening to trigger a hurricane in the Midlands. “But you Salsa with me?”

“I guess,” Cam said with minimal enthusiasm.

“Hey!” Frankie pouted and gave him a nudge. Then brightened. “Let me lead. I’m half Cuban.”

“No, is my turn,” Cam reminded him, turning to chuck his phone in the general direction of his bag.

“But I’m half Cuban,” Frankie wailed in mock despair. Coming up short and letting out a squeak when Cam turned suddenly and grabbed him. Yanking them pelvis to pelvis.

“And I will create a dance of such desire, such passion,” Cam said as he brought his lips close to Frankie’s. “Terrible longing and teasing,” he bent Frankie backward. “And I shall leave everybody unfulfilled.”

“Urghh,” Frankie complained and went limp. Hanging in an upside down U shape. “You’re horrible.”

He stayed relaxed as Cam lowered him over his knee, and ran a hand over his taut torso. “Am I?” he asked, before dancing his fingers over Frankie’s vulnerable ribs.

“Ahhh, ooofffphh.” Frankie jack-knifed and they both collapsed in an ungainly heap. Cam’s elbow whacking on the floor.

“Ah, shit,” he complained, as he rubbed it, but he was laughing.

“Serves you right,” Frankie scowled and rubbed his head. “I can’t believe you dropped me.”

“That wasn’t a drop,” Cam grinned. “It’s a new lift. The tickle lift.”

Frankie laughed and pounced, pinning Cam to the floor and straddling him. “A dance of unfulfilled need, huh! You gonna turn everyone on and send them away wanting more?”

“I think, yes. It’s a good plan?”

“It’s a great plan. Except it might kill me.” Frankie lowered his head so their lips were almost touching again, “Are we allowed to kiss on the dance floor?”

“No,” Cam rasped.

“Can I kiss you, Cam?”

“Yes.” It came out more like a blunt command, and Frankie smiled slightly as he brought their lips together. Then he laughed as the door crashed open and he heard Robbie’s joyous, “I do hope we’re not interrupting.”

Mia skipped across the room with a happy, “Frankieeeeee,” and fell on his back. Crushing Cam under both of them. Laughing at Cam’s muttered curses.

Frankie managed to lift himself up and dumped Mia on her butt before turning for a hug. “I only saw you two days ago.”

“I just miss you,” Mia admitted. “We got Cha Cha. Dance with me.” She bent over and gave Cam a kiss on the cheek and a gentle pat on his tummy, “Scusa!”

Frankie was already on his feet, tapping something into the music player. As music poured out, he grabbed Mia and they spun into the dance.

“Holy shit, that’s fast,” Robbie commented, as he sat next to Cam.

Cam had pulled himself to sit cross legged. “They’re amazing,” he said as Frankie and Mia moved around the room.

After two hours of showing Robbie what Mia could do with a Cha Cha, and some sexy tricks. They broke for shared brunch and moved to discussing Frankie and Cam’s Salsa.

“What music will you use?” Mia asked.

Cam whirled his finger in the air, like ‘wait’ while he swallowed. “I thought I would get help from Frankie’s Cuban half for that.”

Frankie sat up straight, looking interested. “You want my advice on the music?”

“No. I wondered if there was something that your dad has recorded that we could use.”

Frankie and Mia both let out identical little gasps and cupped their hands over their faces, eyes welling.

Robbie chuckled. “These two spend way too much time together.”

“That’s so lovely,” Mia whispered. Frankie was too overwhelmed to speak, he just reached out and gripped Cam’s hand.

“Good idea?” Cam checked.

Frankie just nodded and gripped harder.

After food, having sent Mia and Robbie packing, Cam and Frankie started to play with their Salsa. Improvising moves and jotting down ideas.

They were still finding that their ideas mostly complimented each other, rather than clash. So were both relaxed and in a good mood when they headed back to Frankie’s for dinner.

-X

Cam wandered with interest around Frankie’s apartment. He had a spare bedroom and an office. What did he need an office for? A large lounge and minimal junk, which surprised Cam a little. There was a lot of artwork, but not much furniture.

When Cam commented on this, Frankie advised him to look in his bedroom. Sure enough, there was the junk. Shelves and shelves of it.

“I use the lounge like a studio a lot, so I don’t want clutter in here,” Frankie admitted, as he brought drinks out.

Cam thought that made sense. He was a little jealous of all the space Frankie had though. His whole flat could have fitted in the lounge and had space to spare.

He studied a moody black and white photograph. A handsome dark skinned man playing saxophone in a dimly lit club. “Is this your dad?”

“Yea,” Frankie grinned and moved up behind him. “I look more like my mum really, here.” He grabbed a framed picture from his office and passed it over. Cam studied the same man, with what was definitely Frankie’s smile, and the pretty petite woman with dark hair and eyes. Everything about her was slender and elegant, but also friendly.

“I can see both,” Cam said, ignoring the sharp pang. “Your mother looks like an advert for ‘come and live in Spain, where everything is beautiful.'”

Frankie laughed in delight. “Yea, she sure is pretty.”

“I’ve seen your mother at competitions sometimes, but never your dad?”

“Well he’s mostly in Cuba, or on tour. Mum splits her time mainly between the UK and Spain. I think in an average year they get about four months together in total.”

“That’s tough. On their marriage.”

“Oh, they’re not married,” Frankie told him. “It’s part of the reason Mum raised me here. Deliberately made me British, which I am, by the way. Her family are quite toxic. My parent’s relationship is unusual, but it works for them.”

Cam noticed something, something in Frankie’s eyes, quickly shuttered. Before he could ask, Frankie took the picture back to his office and then walked slowly back over to Cam. “Does that bother you. Knowing I’m illegitimate?”

“Frankie, I don’t even know who my father was.”

Frankie took Cam’s arm and led him to the couch. “That’s hard. I’m sorry. I only know that your mum passed when you were young. It sounds like it was tough for you.”

Cam looked at his drink, frowning. “I think, probably, my brother and me have different fathers. But no one knows who. Where we lived was very rough, no one had money, apart from the gangs who sold the drugs.” He glanced at Frankie awkwardly, but Frankie just gave him an understanding smile.

“Cam. My mum is worth a fortune, yes. But my dad came from nothing. And nothing in Cuba, is nothing. Trust me, you won’t shock me. You would be surprised what I’ve seen.”

“You surprise me all the time,” Cam said with a soft smile, briefly cupping Frankie’s cheek.

“My mother died when she had my brother. I was twelve. I don’t really remember her well, we didn’t spend much time together. We were passed to her brother, my uncle, to raise.” Cam pushed a hand through his hair. “He is no good. All he does is drink. I started to do jobs for people, to earn money and pay a neighbour to watch the baby. I worked for bad people, and did bad things. I was small and skinny, it was useful to them.”

Frankie moved closer and took his hand. “I’m sorry you had so much responsibility so young. I hope you don’t blame yourself for decisions you made when you were a kid.”

“I don’t. I would do anything for Tonio. Anything.” He drank a little then continued. “One day, I was just fourteen. I got caught delivering fake money by a rival gang. They beat me. Not badly, I was a child after all, but I was scared and hurt and limped home feeling like it wasn’t possible to continue.”

Frankie pressed a kiss to his arm.

“But when I staggered through the door, of course the first thing I saw was my uncle, passed out as usual.” He surprised Frankie by smiling. “The second thing was my brother, sleeping in the arms of an angel.”

His smile widened now. “I thought she was an angel at first. But as my eyes adjusted, helped by my neighbour hitting my head to remind me of my manners, I realized she was a nun.”

“A nun?”

“Si,” Cam smiled and moved his hands over his head. “The old fashioned head dress, and clothing you know. Like in a film. The Blessed Sister’s. They are very strict.”

“A nun!” Frankie exclaimed again. He was fascinated.

“I genuflected. Probably badly, I had never been to mass in my life, and fell to my knees. She said, in so soft a voice. ‘Can you follow me?’ I could only nod, and she just smiled and walked out. My neighbour lifted me and told me to go with her. Not to look back. I thanked her and followed the nun and my brother.”

“Where to?”

“To the convent. A hand guided me that day. When we walked in, I told the nun that I did not know what I should do. How to enter a house of God correctly. She smiled and told me tomorrow was soon enough for that. We went to a small room, there was a bed and a cot. My brother was still sleeping. Sister Maria, that is her name. She fetched me water and tended me. I wasn’t badly hurt,” he reassured Frankie quickly.

“I slept that night, knowing we were safe. I just knew. The next morning I met Sister Maria’s sister. Bella is a lovely lady. They knew about us, you see. Me and Tonio. About my uncle. My neighbour had confessed to her priest and begged him for help. He sent us help. Bella fostered Tonio. I stayed with the nuns and did chores, and went to school. Mostly!” he added with a wicked and charming grin.

“I took my evening meal with Bella and her family. I saw my brother every day. In return I did the chores and did what the nuns asked of me. Which included, to my horror, helping at the ballroom classes which were run in the youth centre. They never had enough boys.”

“I have the same problem,” Frankie sighed dramatically and made Cam laugh. “Did you hate it?”

Cam shook his head, his blue eyes bright with passion. “For the first hour, maybe. But no. I was dancing in competitions within six months.”

“It all happened from there? How long did you stay with the nuns?”

“Until I was sixteen. After that it was decided not appropriate, so I moved to Bella’s, until I had what I needed to come to the UK.”

“How come everyone doesn’t know this story? It’s amazing. Sad, but amazing. And a happy ending, right?”

“I hope. Tonio wants to go to vet school. That’s why I have to win this competition.”

Frankie opened his mouth to blurt that he could pay for vet school. Would be happy to. But common sense intervened. “Then we will win,” he said simply. After all, if they didn’t he could still pay. He would just need to work around Cam’s pride.

Cam smiled. “People do know. That I come from the streets of Naples. I know people talk about it.”

Frankie shrugged. “I never knew if it was true, so I never paid much attention. What?” he asked as Cam burst out laughing.

“I always thought you were looking down your nose at me.”

“No. I never did,” Frankie was horrified. “I just thought you were surly”

“Surly?”

“Grumpy.”

Cam laughed again. “Perhaps I am a little grumpy.”

“Do you have a picture? Of Tonio?”

Cam’s eyes crinkled with his smile, “Yes, of course.” He retrieved his phone, switched it on (ignoring Frankie rolling his eyes) and passed over a picture of himself, with a pretty middle aged lady in between him and a beautiful young man with large dark Italian eyes and perfect thick dark brown floppy hair. Next to the young man was a gorgeous girl, about the same age, with equally captivating dark eyes and a sunny smile.

Frankie looked at Cam, with his dark blonde hair and blue eyes. (Which had a tendency to darken depending on his mood.) Then back at the picture, “Ah.”

“We don’t look alike.”

“Actually, you do a bit, around the jaw. Is this Bella?” He pointed at the lady with her head tipped to Cam’s shoulder.

“Si. Yes, I mean.”

“And this beautiful girl?”

“Our sister. Tonio’s sister. Um,” Cam frowned and made a frustrated gesture. “Bella’s daughter. Lucia. She was one year old when Bella took Tonio. They grew up together.”

Frankie took Cam’s hand to get his full attention, and smiled softly. His eyes shining with emotion. “I never knew you had a sister, Cam.”

Cam’s smile lit his whole face, and he waved his hand at the phone. “My family.”

“You’re lucky.”

“Si.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I totally get it. How old is Tonio?”

“He is nineteen.”

“So you’re thirty-one?” Frankie fluttered his lashes. “Older men are hot.”

“I thought you were older,” Cam deadpanned, then cracked up at Frankie’s offended gasp.

“Shut up, I’m twenty-eight.” He looked back at the picture, “I would love to meet them all.”

“Well, if you come to Naples you will have to help at the youth centre. To teach. But that would be good because they always need more boys.”

Frankie stared at him with astonishment.

“I cannot go to Naples without helping out a day or two at the classes. I think they would refuse to let me back into the country. I have a UK passport now, I do not take for granted my ability to return to Italy.”

“But. Italy? Would they not be offended by us? I mean. Nun’s right?”

“Oh, I see. Well, it’s the only way you would get to meet Sister Maria. The order is semi-closed so it’s only when they are helping the community that they can meet people. Bella only gets one visit per year.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s hard. But if you came I would be friends. I mean, we would be friends. I wouldn’t make it clear about us. Not that I am ashamed, but I wouldn’t want to upset them. It’s up to you.”

“That would be fine. I would love to help out. And meet your family.”

“Sister Maria would know. She knew about one of my boyfriends. I was upset one day and talked with her, because it felt wrong. I felt that I was wrong. She was kind, but it’s hard for her, you understand?”

“Sure,” Frankie nodded. “But what do you mean about it being wrong. With your boyfriend?”

Cam huffed and thought for a moment. “I liked him, and being with him, but some things. Like kissing. It felt rivoltante.” He stopped frustrated.

“Rivo-what now? Too fast!”

“I don’t know how to say!”

“So describe it.”

Cam thought for a moment, and then inspired, “It’s like you are having a dream. You are dreaming that there is a giant oyster that is kissing you. Your mouth is open and all the slimy fleshy bits of the oyster are in your mouth, and then when you wake up and realize it is a dream, but your pet octopus has crawled onto your face and your mouth is open and…”

“Please. God. Stop,” Frankie cried. “Oh my God, that’s repulsive.”

“Repulsive. Yes, like that.” Cam was laughing at Frankie’s reaction now.

“Wait,” Frankie stopped fake gagging and turned to him in shock. “You find kissing boys repulsive.”

“Yes.”

He laughed again at Frankie’s horrified expression, cupping his cheeks and kissing him softly. “Not with you, never with you.”

“You scared me,” Frankie complained.

Cam studied him seriously. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this before. I didn’t know it was possible.”

Frankie gave him a pleased and slightly shy smile and rubbed Cam’s wrist. “I’m glad. That makes me really happy.”

They both sank more comfortably onto the sofa, fingers linked.

“So I saw Beth yesterday,” Cam offered.

“She okay?”

“Yea, she’s doing really well. And she has this little bump, it’s so cute.” Cam took a breath, looking back at Frankie who just watched him patiently. “I told her about our fight. About what I said and what happened. I asked her if I had ever upset or offended her.”

Frankie just waited.

“She got why you were upset. She and Lewis are a little worried about the baby and stuff he or she might have to deal with, being raised in the UK. But Beth said it wasn’t a trigger for her, and I guess she knows me pretty well. She reminded me that it all started with a joke with us. We were messing around one day in rehearsal and just being crazy. Then it became like a shortcut between us. Sometimes in frustration, like a complaint, or sometimes in fun, but we have a very lot of animal curses we use. We usually end up laughing like crazy people. What?” he asked when Frankie flashed a grin.

Frankie, who had been charmed by Cam’s phrasing, decided to be discreet and said instead, “Laughing like loons?”

“What’s a loon?”

“A bird. It’s call sounds like a laugh, I think.”

“Ha! Yes, like that.” He smiled, but then grew more serious again. “She said I need to be more aware, and remember that I’m working in a second language so to also be cautious. She also reminded me of the time she and Dee had a fight, but they’re good friends now, so that worked out okay.”

“They had a fight?” What about?”

“It was our first season dancing together, and we went over for some of the West Coast circuit. Beth’s first time in the States. Dee overheard Beth referring to herself as coloured and got so upset. Really, really angry. I didn’t understand what was going on, it was Robbie who broke them up.”

“Robbie stepped between Dee and Beth. Holy shit. That was either insane or brave. How did he survive?”

“He was really calm, but very firm. I mean Dee is twice Beth’s size! He tucked Beth under his arm and told them both ‘stop’. Then he explained to Beth that the term coloured wasn’t used in the States. It was considered offensive. Actually, she knew. She just forgot in her excitement to be there. Then he told Dee off for not showing more respect, that Beth had the right to refer to herself in whatever way was comfortable for her and that Dee should remember she was new to the circuit, new to the States.”

Cam ran his hand through his hair, doing nothing to tidy it. “He was just so in control they both calmed down and apologized. They were both so upset that they had upset each other. They have been friends ever since. And Beth is more careful generally, as it’s the same here in the UK, really.”

Frankie considered him for a moment, then nudged his knee against Cam’s. “And? Because I can see you have a question.”

Cam shrugged. “I don’t really understand.” He looked at Frankie carefully. ” I don’t want to upset you,” he added.

“You won’t upset me.”

Cam screwed his face up, but then admitted. “I’ve heard Dee say she is a woman of colour.”

“Ah!”

“But she is angry to be called coloured.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Is the same word?”

“Yes. It is the same word. Would you like me to explain?” he asked, chuckling as Cam muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘fucking stupid English’.

“Yes. Please,” Cam said louder and slightly desperately.

Frankie sat up a little straighter, and thought for a moment. “It’s the difference between a choice that is made for you, and a choice that you make.” He looked to see if this had helped and laughed out loud when Cam just looked confused and let out a little whine.

“Okay. A more direct example. The term ‘coloured’ was used, very widely in the States and quite a lot here in the UK, to control what people could do, how they could live. Like, you can’t stay at that hotel, ‘no coloured’. Or you can’t use that water fountain ‘whites only’, you use that one, ‘coloured’. You see?”

Cam nodded. “It is like a way to control and make people feel less.”

“Exactly,” Frankie beamed at him. “But more recently, the term ‘woman or women of colour’ has become a popular way of celebrating your heritage. It’s kinda like a girl power thing. Like we are women of colour and we can totally do anything we want.”

“Like people from our community reclaiming ‘queer’?”

“Yes. Exactly like that.”

“So it’s like all the other English words that sound the same but have different meanings?”

“Does that make sense to you?” Frankie wondered. Thinking that technically colour and coloured have pretty much the same meaning.

Cam nodded.

“Yes, it’s exactly like that,” Frankie agreed and then slumped back on the sofa. Dragging his wrist over his forehead. “Phew. Tough questions!”

“I have another.”

“Oh shit!”

“Because you are so good at explaining.”

Frankie merely rolled his eyes and waited.

“Beth taught me about the hair thing. That I’m not allowed to say nice things about black ladies hair, unless it’s her.” He said this with a frown, as if he didn’t really understand and Frankie cracked up with how absolutely adorable Cam was being right now.

“Horror,” he joked. “I’m so relieved that Beth has been training you properly.”

“But what about black men? I mean, am I allowed to tell you how much better I like you hair now that it’s short, and not in those little plaits?”

“Cornrows. Not plaits. You didn’t like them?”

“They look so painful,” Cam admitted.

Frankie laughed again, “They’re not painful.”

“I like it now. Am I allowed to touch it? Am I upsetting you?”

“I’m not upset, and you can touch my hair, Cam.”

Cam shifted closer on the couch. Lightly gripping the front of Frankie’s shirt with his right hand, while reaching up with his left and sinking his fingers into Frankie’s dark short curls. “It’s so soft,” he whispered.

“What do you expect. Barbed wire?” Frankie’s eyes closed and he moaned as Cam caressed. Smiling slightly as he felt Cam lean over him and lips press against his hairline.

“What about your skin, Frankie. Am I allowed to talk about the colour of your skin, or will you be offended?”

“That would probably depend on what you say,” Frankie told him, then gasped as his shirt fell open, exposing his torso.

Cam spread his large hand across Frankie’s abs. Smirking when the muscles trembled under his touch. When Frankie let out the gasp in a shaky breath.

“I would say you are beautiful. You are flawless,” Cam told him. “And your skin is like dark honey.”

“Not offended so far,” Frankie managed.

“I wonder if you taste like honey,” Cam mused and dipped his head. His hands gliding up the sides of Frankie’s waist, as he pressed a wet open mouthed kiss to his navel. Licking the skin and flicking his tongue into the little dip.

“Urrgggghh,” Frankie groaned. His hips jerking, even as the rest of him went completely limp.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Cam rumbled as he kissed, licked and nipped at Frankie’s skin. Grinning and raising his head when he hit a sensitive spot and Frankie jerked again.

“Cam?”

“Shhh.” Cam spread his left hand up over Frankie’s chest to hold him still, as his right hand glided down and cupped him firmly. Frankie’s eyes opened wide. “I want to see you. I want to know if all of you is this beautiful. I want to know if you taste of honey.” He gave Frankie a gentle squeeze to reinforce his meaning.

Frankie jolted as if electrocuted. “You mean?” He moaned loudly when Cam lowered his head and nuzzled at his crotch. “But, wait. What? Arrghhh.” He laced his fingers through Cam’s hair. “Jesus, now I can’t speak English! Cam wait.”

Cam lifted his head. “Why?”

“I just feel like you’ve gone from zero to five hundred miles an hour.”

Cam grinned. “I am Italian. I am like a Ferrari.”

“Ferrari’s don’t go five hundred miles per hour.”

“They do when I drive them!” His eyes softened at Frankie’s slightly panicked look. “Frankie, it is not so fast for me. We have been together almost every day. Dancing and touching and talking. We see more of each other than most people who are married. I want to look at you. All of you. And touch you, and taste you. It is not so fast. Is it too fast for you?”

“I’m not promiscuous,” Frankie said. Reassured when Cam muttered acknowledgment. “But no, it’s not too fast for me.” He sat himself up and leaned forward for a kiss. “Can I just be clear though. I’m getting a blow job?”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes. Am I allowed to return the favour?”

“I would be offended if you didn’t,” Cam told him and Frankie laughed slightly, before standing.

“Let’s go to my room.”

-X

Frankie felt like a teenager when Cam pushed the bedroom door closed and then took him in his arms. Pulling their bodies close in a deep kiss.

He was relieved that Cam had more confidence, but it felt almost like as Cam’s confidence grew, his slipped away.

His shirt fell away and Cam tipped his head back to gain access to his neck. Licking and kissing and nipping.

Frankie knew that much of his concern was based round not pushing Cam faster than he was comfortable with, so he decided to let Cam have the lead and just enjoy.

Cam felt Frankie’s surrender and took full advantage. Lowering him to the bed and reaching immediately for the button on his jeans.

Frankie laughed out loud, “Zero to five hundred!”

“Five thousand,” Cam mumbled as he tugged the jeans down.

Frankie just grinned and raised his hips to help, before propping himself up slightly and watching Cam with interest.

Cam pulled the jeans free and then, with a cheeky, “Very sexy.” He tugged Frankie’s socks off and threw them over his shoulder. Frankie laughed again, as one flipped and landed on Cam’s head. He flicked it away and shook out his hair like a wannabe Loreal advert.

Then he gripped Frankie’s hips gently, to hold him still, while he took a good long look. So long, Frankie suspected he was actually blushing.

“Like what you see?” he asked hoarsely.

Cam blinked slightly, and then smiled. Spreading a hand over Frankie’s centre while the other cupped his balls. “It’s different here. Darker? You are so beautiful.”

“Have you never seen a naked black man before?” Frankie asked.

Cam shook his head, still staring, still stroking. “No, I have not been with a black man.”

“I meant more like porn?” Frankie ended on a moan as Cam gave him a gentle tug.

“Porn would be a waste of time for me,” Cam pointed out.

Frankie’s eyes widened, “Shit, yea. I never thought of that.”

Cam moved onto the bed and crawled over Frankie. Letting his jeans brush Frankie’s erection and lowering his head, almost to a kiss.

“If you made porn it would be good, I think.”

Frankie cracked up and then reached to push his fingers into Cam’s hair. “Maybe we can watch together some time. You might enjoy it if you watched with me?”

Cam eyes flickered with interest. “Is a good idea. Can we take notes and try things out?” He grinned when Frankie laughed again. Then stopped the laugh with a hard kiss. He felt Frankie’s legs wrap around his waist as he ground down gently.

“It is exciting,” he muttered, when he broke the kiss. Looking into Frankie’s wide eyes. “Being clothed when you are not.”

Frankie’s eyes crinkled in a delighted smile. “I suspect your jeans are getting a bit mucky though,” he thrust up slightly in demonstration. “Cam, will you take your top off?”

Cam pushed himself up, straddling Frankie’s waist. “Just my top,” he said teasingly, as he pulled his shirt up and off. Moaning when Frankie’s fingers immediately grazed his abs.

“God, you’re cut,” Frankie breathed.

“I know that one. You mean my muscles, not that I am bleeding!”

Frankie laughed so hard he fell back limp to the bed. “I fucking adore you, Cam.”

“Good,” Cam grinned as he slid back down Frankie’s body, hovering once again over his crotch. Frankie found the strength to prop himself back up as Cam gently lifted one of legs and hooked it over his back, exposing Frankie to him.

He watched as Cam nuzzled at him, then gently kissed up and down his shaft. Sweet little open mouthed, wet kisses on his skin, sending sharp currents through his body.

Bit his lip when Cam licked him long and slow, before flicking at his leaking tip. Moaned when his balls were gently squeezed and tugged, and collapsed back on the bed with a strangled cry when Cam finally took him in his mouth.

He reached down blindly and felt his fingers gripped in Cam’s hand. Teasing over, Cam just sucked at him, like he was trying to suck his soul out of his dick. It was fast, hard, and quite naïve, but Frankie didn’t care because he was on the edge in less than two minutes.

“Cam. Need to, shit gonna,” he dragged in a breath and forced himself to speak coherently. “You need to stop if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth.” He half yelled it, but Cam just squeezed his hand and sucked harder. With something close to a scream, Frankie flooded into his mouth.

“Oh God. Christ, Cam.” He gasped a few times. “I’m so sorry.”

Cam wiped his mouth and then kissed his way up Frankie’s body until their lips met. Once he had made sure Frankie had the taste of himself thoroughly, he lifted his head. “Why sorry?”

Frankie stared at him in astonishment. “I didn’t expect you to be so filthy.”

Cam grinned and flopped to one side, his fingers still casually playing with Frankie’s skin. “It was nice, not like honey, but nice.” His expression turned a little solemn, “I never expected to do that. You are changing me, I think.”

“Wait. That wasn’t your first time?” He was speechless when Cam nodded. For all of three seconds, “But you just totally blew my mind.”

The lay side by side and curled towards each other. “Because it is you,” Cam confirmed.

Frankie smiled and reached out a still trembling hand, to touch Cam’s cheek. “I’m falling so hard and fast for you.”

“Why does that scare you?”

This time Frankie really was speechless.

“I can see the fear sometimes when you look at me,” Cam confirmed.

“I guess I’m a little weirded out at how intense this feels,” Frankie admitted, smiling when Cam moved forward and kissed him gently. He could still taste himself.

“Anyway,” Frankie continued, brightly. “I have my second wind. It’s your turn now.”

“Oh, no. Is okay, Frankie. You don’t have to.”

Frankie frowned down at where Cam’s cock was trying to bust out of his jeans. “You’re hard as a rock, Cam.”

“It will go. I’m so happy already, it’s okay. I don’t think I could be any happier than I am right now.”

Frankie’s eyes lit up and he pointed a finger, “Ha! Challenge accepted.”

With a wicked smile, Frankie lowered his eyes and his head. The air turning blue with Italian curses as he blew Cam, body and mind. Proving there could always be more happy.

-X

The following afternoon, Cam and Frankie were taking a break when Frankie’s phone started to vibrate. Frankie pulled it over without much interest, but sat up straighter when he saw who was calling.

He accepted the FaceTime request quickly, “Papá?”

Cam watched with interest as Frankie chatted with his dad. Frankie seemed surprised and happy about something. After a couple of minutes he switched to English and moved to Cam’s side, propping the phone against a glass to include them both.

“Papá, this is Cam. Cam my dad.”

Cam smiled and waved at the screen. “It’s good to meet you.”

“And you, yes. I’m sorry we chat so fast, we don’t speak often enough. Did you understand much?”

Cam shook his head, “Not very much actually. It was very fast!”

Frankie’s dad laughed. “Frankie. When he go to Spain they say, ‘your Spanish is strange!’ and when he come to Cuba they say ‘Frankie, your Spanish is strange!’ He has learned only bad habits.”

Frankie was nodding sadly, “It’s true. Everyone laughs at me. I’m completely fluent in this strange hybrid of Spanish-Spanish and Caribbean-Spanish and Cuban-Spanish that only six people in the world speak.” He said it with such a sorrowful expression that Cam cracked up.

Frankie laughed as well and indicated the phone. “Cam, my wonderful, amazing dad has been up half the night editing the music we chose for us.”

His dad nodded. “Frankie said you needed around three and a half minutes. I have it to three minutes and thirty four seconds. Will that work for your dance?”

“That’s perfect. You didn’t need to work so fast.”

“It’s better you can rehearse to the correct music. We just finished this morning recording a new ending. Rather than fade out there is now a short saxophone solo to allow you to finish the dance properly. If it doesn’t work for you, I can try again.”

Frankie was staring at the phone, his face shocked. “You recorded a new ending for us?”

His dad’s faced turned serious. “Frankie, you are my son. I know I have been a long way from you for too much of your life, but that doesn’t mean that you are not in my heart every second of every day. A little thing like this, it is nothing. I would give you the world, except my son is more than capable taking the world for himself.”

Cam just reached for the kitchen roll and handed it over without saying a word.

After a minute and a good snotty nose blow, Frankie managed, “I love you, Papá.”

“Good. Maybe when you have won this competition you will come and visit?”

“Si, Papá.”

“Bring that handsome young man, so I can ask him many questions and make him, er, the word, joder, oh, to squirm,” he winked at Cam.

“How do you even know?” Frankie asked, with amazement.

“Because, I am your father,” he intoned like a Cuban Darth Vader, but then more seriously. “Because I love you, also.”

Frankie was now trying to laugh and cry at the same time.

“I have it here, shall I play it?” Frankie’s dad asked. Cam agreed and listened carefully to the music as Frankie composed himself.

It was perfect. Cheeky and fun, with lots of life and a hint of romance. The new sax ending merged seamlessly with the tune and added a hint of longing.

“It’s fantastic,” Cam told him. “You have amazing talent.”

When the call was finished, with many more thanks, Cam just pulled a still emotional Frankie into a tight hug.

Frankie was too quiet when they broke apart, so Cam suggested, as an opening, “It must have been hard growing up. Your parents often in two places. You are lucky to know that they love you so much, but it must have been hard.”

Frankie was staring at the floor. “I have to tell you something, but it might scare you off.”

“It won’t scare me off.”

“I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than three months. Ever. All but one ended for the same reason, and usually a lot faster.”

“What reason.”

“I’m needy, Cam.”

“Okay.”

Frankie frowned at him. “Not just okay. I’m tactile and require regular reassurance, or I start to chase it, and people say they start to feel overwhelmed and suffocated. I always drive people away.”

“Perhaps your previous relationships were merely a way to explore and learn about yourself, and the reason you overwhelmed them is because they were not right for you.”

Cam continued when Frankie just looked confused. “I had no security in my life until I was fourteen. I have family now, and friends, but there is always this feeling of being like an buoy adrift at sea.” He gently tangled his fingers with Frankie’s. “Untethered. I have the feeling that you are my anchor,” he admitted quietly.

Frankie’s eyes opened wide and he gripped Cam’s hand. “But if I am your anchor, then?”

“I am also yours.”

“Can we do that?”

Cam laughed and released Frankie’s hand, only to grip his face and kiss him. “We can do whatever we want.”

-X

Three days after they got the new music, halfway through the morning, Cam stopped the rehearsal and said they needed to discuss a possible change.

“Can you do a backflip?” he asked Frankie.

“Sure?”

” I need a back pike then a layout. Only a couple of steps to get momentum. Can you show me?”

“Okay.” Cam walked to one side as Frankie thought for a moment, then stepped into a fast backwards flip without tucking his legs, and used the energy to follow up with a slow elegant loop through the air, where his body seemed to bend, defying gravity, before his legs circled over and he landed graceful and light as a cat.

He looked at Cam and raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always finish that way. Right leg back?”

Frankie thought. “Yes.”

“Show me again.”

Frankie repeated the flips and asked, “What is this for?”

“I’m changing the double shimmy. We are going to do a fast trick and lift, that will look effortless and beautiful and be back in the shimmy before anyone realizes what we have done.” He walked forwards using his hands to demonstrate.

“You are going to do the flips, but when you land you will not stop. You will allow your body to continue backwards. I will catch you and lower you to the floor, lower myself on top of you, almost a kiss, we will roll to swap places,” he smiled slightly as Frankie’s mouth had already dropped open. “I will run my hands down to your hips and push you up, you will run your hands down my arms and pull me up after you, then we are back to what was the second shimmy. Very fast, but it work. And it will look amazing.”

He turned Frankie so he was looking at the room, “Imagine it before you say anything.”

Frankie thought for a moment, visualizing the idea, before he turned back to Cam. “You want me to not stop?”

Cam gave a short, satisfied nod. “I knew that was the bit you would not like.” He pushed Frankie away slightly, “Just try.”

Frankie gave him an uncertain glance, “We don’t even have crash mats.”

“I will catch you.”

“You better,” Frankie mumbled. He took a couple of deep breaths then flipped, flipped again and found himself crashing, albeit slowly – ish, to the floor in Cam’s lap.

“What happened?”

Cam gave him a squeeze and kissed the back of his neck. “You put on the brakes.” He laughed and stood, lifting Frankie with a hand under each arm and setting him back on his feet.

“I braked? I’m sorry.”

Cam laughed. “Don’t be silly, it’s fine. I expected it. I am asking you to go against your training and experience, and also your instincts. I didn’t expect it to be perfect first time.”

“It’s really scary,” Frankie admitted.

“Are you willing to try again?”

“Of course. I’m not giving up,” Frankie grumbled, offended and stalked back to his starting position.

Cam chuckled and then called out, “Frankie?” Frankie turned and scowled at him. “Remember I caught you.”

Frankie smiled. “Yea, you did.” Then he turned back and took a few deep breaths. Cam could hear him muttering, “No braking. No braking.” Then, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” Cam confirmed, and braced as Frankie moved. The first fast flip, the second seeming to hang in the air, before his feet hit the ground and the backwards movement continued.

There was a moment of ringing silence, as Cam looked at Frankie lying on the floor. Then he asked gently, “Okay?”

Frankie let out a harsh breath. “That was really fucking fast.”

“Yes it was. Would you like to open your eyes?”

“Oh! Are they closed?” Frankie cautiously peered up at Cam. “I’m on the floor.”

“You are,” Cam cupped his face and stroked his fingers gently over Frankie’s cheekbone. “Are you okay? You look a little pale,” he teased.

“Dickhead. Fuck off,” Frankie swatted his hand away, but was laughing as Cam pulled him up. “Whoa!”

Cam scuffed Frankie’s hands between his. He was actually shaking a little, and Cam knew, despite him not complaining, that Frankie’s ribs were still sore by the end of the day. “Let’s take a break. Go sit, I’ll make you a coffee.”

“Thanks,” Frankie went to the smaller slouchy seat and sat cross-legged in the centre. Taking the mug gratefully in both hands when Cam brought it over. “Thanks,” he said again.

“You’re welcome,” Cam said, placing his mug on the low table before flinging his arms out and falling backwards into the larger chair, while letting out a blood-curdling scream.

Frankie was laughing so much he had to put his mug down, or spill it everywhere. “Oh my god, shut up. Don’t be so mean.” He grabbed a cushion and lobbed it at Cam, who was rolling about in the chair, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Cam grabbed the cushion and clutched it to his stomach. “That was like something from a horror movie!”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Frankie chuckled. “You do it then.”

“I would if I thought you could catch me. Do you think you could catch me?”

“No,” Frankie admitted, still smirking as he reached for his coffee. “You’re too heavy.”

Cam grinned and used the cushion like he was doing bicep curls, with exaggerated effort, “It’s all muscle,” he gasped.

“I know,” Frankie glowered at him. Hiding his grin behind the mug.

Cam reached for his mug as well. “Honestly, Frankie. I can’t believe you did that on the second attempt. We should keep the scream in the dance,” he suggested with a grin.

“It’s really hard,” Frankie admitted, ignoring the sarcasm.

Cam nodded. “We will practice.” He sipped his tea, adding, “We have company.”

Frankie glanced at him, then at the open patio door, expecting to see the little black cat that sometimes watched them or borrowed one of the chairs for a snooze. Instead he saw a small shape and two solemn brown eyes watching them.

He grinned and placed his mug on the table, moving forwards slightly, “Hey Josh.”

He just got a wide eyed blink, the young boy gazing back at them. Then another boy, with very similar features, but this time dark eyes full of mischief appeared behind him, lighting up when he saw Frankie.

“Wanky!” he yelled and raced forwards, flinging himself into the air at around Frankie’s knee height.

Frankie grabbed him on the fly and dangled him upside down. Ticking his belly, exposed where his shirt fell away, causing loud belly laughs, giggles and hiccups to echo around the room.

“Fffffffrankie. You lost your F’s again. Where’d they go. Are they here?” he tickled mercilessly, and the boy wriggled and giggled. “Pphhhhwankie.”

Grinning, Frankie held his hand down. The boy grabbed it and allowed himself to be pulled upright onto Frankie’s hip. Frankie knelt down so the boy’s feet reached the floor.

Frankie turned and grinned at Cam, who slowly walked around the table and sat on the floor cross-legged, thinking he would look less threatening.

“Cam, this ruffian here is Daniel, and the polite one over there is Josh. They’re Robbie’s boys.”

Daniel wriggled free and marched over to Cam. “We are three, but I’m the eldest coz Josh was slower than me.” He proceeded to clamber into Cam’s lap, nearly castrating him in the process, and reached up to tangle his hands in Cam’s hair.

“Owwww, shi..shoot,” Cam winced.

“Yea, he’s kinda obsessed with white people’s hair. Danny, be gentle. You’re like the hairdresser from hell!”

Danny loosened his grip, but continued playing, his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Don’t I get a hello hug?” Frankie asked Josh, who smiled shyly and finally came in. Still giving Cam a wary look, but snuggling into Frankie and giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Awww, I missed you guys,” Frankie said, giving him a squeeze. “Josh, this is my friend, Cam.”

Cam smiled as Josh buried his face in Frankie’s chest.

“He’s fine once he gets to know you,” Frankie told him. “Just as confident as his brother.”

“And just as much trouble,” came a voice from the doorway. Cam looked up to see Robbie’s wife, Mandy. “Didn’t I tell you not to barge in here?”

Frankie stood up with Josh in his arms. “We were on a break,” he said as he hugged Mandy, Josh getting himself transferred in the process.

“Humph,” she pouted, then smiled at Cam. “Hey Cam, how are you?”

“I think I will have a new hairstyle,” he smiled, the little (and likely sticky) hands still busy in his hair.

“Don’t worry, we keep him well away from scissors!”

“Danny has lost his F’s again?” Frankie asked.

“Yea, I’m sorry. It’s so hard without the speech therapist’s guidance, but we’ll be back there next week. He’ll get it back.” She turned to look at Danny. “It’s Fffffffrankie, isn’t it?”

“Pphhhhwankie,” Danny managed. Blowing a raspberry and probably spit into Cam’s hair.

“How’s Robbie’s nan?” Frankie asked. “I thought you were going to be in Scotland another couple of weeks.”

“She’s brilliant. The physio’s are so pleased with her.” She put Josh down when he wriggled and he ran over to join his brother. With Josh having suddenly found his confidence, Cam had two pairs of hands in hair. He lent on his knees so they could reach and relaxed. It was actually quite pleasant.

“Robbie’s nan just had a hip replacement,” Frankie told him, his eyes laughing at his predicament.

“Oh I see. And she is doing well?”

“Really well. We have her shopping on order and a neighbour keeping an eye. She really didn’t need us underfoot anymore. But she’ll be down in a couple of weeks for her eightieth birthday. Once she feels she can cope with being cooped up on the train for several hours.”

“Robbie’s nan tried to teach me Scottish dancing,” Frankie said, laughing. “It was pretty disastrous!”

“I suspect she plans to try again at the party,” Mandy warned him.

“Am I invited?”

“You both are. Robbie didn’t say? Typical, I’ll text you the date.” She then pulled Frankie into a better hug. “And how are you? Robbie told me what happened.”

“I’m good. Everyone looked after me so well.”

Mandy pulled back and peered at him for a moment, then apparently satisfied gave him a soft kiss and patted his cheek.

“Come on then,” she called the boys. “Cam and Frankie’s break is over, and we need to go and chop vegetables because Uncle David’s coming for tea.”