The soiree took place in a lavish mansion. Everything was polished and over the top, the people so put together and pretty and fake. Cal had been expected to make an appearance. It had been the worst part of his day, but it came with a bright side: maybe his parents would never ask him to make an appearance at a society function again since they got into a hushed argument in the coat closet.
It had felt so significant at the time when he emerged from the closet. It had been symbolic to tell his family that he wouldn’t attend another event if his boyfriend couldn’t be there too while literally emerging from a closet.
As he relayed the story to Max now, it just sounded silly.
“Come on, tell me again,” his boyfriend encouraged. Cal groaned and buried his head in Max’s shoulder. They were in Max’s family’s tiny apartment, but Cal felt like he had more space and room to breathe here than he did at the party or among his parents with all their expectations and obligations. Metaphorically, if not physically. Plus, in a physical sense, why did he need space? There was no need to stretch out when he preferred to spend his time as close to Max as possible.
Even if he was being annoying. “You’ve already heard it,” Cal grumbled into the fabric of his dark shirt. He’d been working earlier, Cal could detect motor oil and a hint of sweat, but Max smelled good, like home. He certainly looked comfortable lounging on the couch while Cal felt overly formal in his nice shirt and crisp pants, tie fastened tightly around his neck.
“Well, I wanna hear it again.” Max ran a hand down Cal’s back.
Cal moved his head to stare at Max dubiously. It wasn’t pouting, hopefully, as he said, “You’re making fun of me.
“No, I wanna know all about how my big and tough boyfriend defended my honor.” His voice was warm and affectionate. It was hard to argue with that voice.
Still. Cal was big and tough. Max needed to know. Yes, his dark-haired boyfriend was stronger and more muscled, but Cal had assets too. “I am tough. I know karate.”
Max laughed. “No, you don’t.”
“Well, I took a class in second grade. I’m a yellow belt. Does that count for anything?”
Cal glared at Max for a moment before pecking him on the lips and shrugging off the previous events of the evening. “I don’t want to think about that unpleasantness anyway.”
“It’s not unpleasant. It’s sweet. You sticking up for me.”
Cal studied him, but Max seemed to be serious, his tone sounding gentle while his fingers traced idle patterns on Cal’s chest.
Max was poor. Cal was rich. Cal didn’t care, but his parents did. A lot. They also didn’t understand bisexuality. It didn’t matter if they didn’t get it. Cal got it and he couldn’t just let them say whatever they wanted about the person he… cared about very much.
“You’re my boyfriend. I couldn’t just let them say whatever they wanted.”
“You could have actually, but you didn’t. Its sweet.” Max kissed him softly for a few moments and Cal didn’t protest or make sure the brunette understood that he was worth standing up for. There would be time for that later. Cal didn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.
They lounged together on the couch. Cal wanted to put the matter behind them, but. “You know the weird part? I almost wanted to give them pointers.”
“On how to insult me better? Okay, now I hate you.” He playfully shoved Cal away, but the blonde held on tight.
“No, just, Max, this is the 21rst century. My parents are from this time period. I don’t get why their insults are so dated. They called you a cad, a rouge.”
“A rouge? I kind of like the sound of that.”
“A cur. A scoundrel.”
“Now, that one hurts,” Max joked. “I’m not a scoundrel.”
“Actually, I think that one fits rather well.” Cal laughed at Max’s offended look then grinned. “But you’re my scoundrel.”
I used characters from an existing story to write this prompt. These characters are from What Love Means.