Henry turns 31 on Friday and Martin turns 34 on Sunday. They agree to go to Henry’s home in Dartmoor for the weekend and just relax. No MJN and no removals for Martin and no pushy clients for Henry.
So they find themselves lying flat on their backs in Henry’s massive bed, shoulders barely touching, after a lie-in that became more than just a lie-in. Martin’s chest is still flushed bright red and Henry’s skin is sticky. Henry scrapes the back of his knuckles along the outside of Martin’s wrist. Henry’s staring at the ceiling, but Martin’s looking through the skylight above the bed. If there’s a patch of visible sky, Martin will always find it.
Henry’s suddenly struck nearly dizzy with an idea. “Let me build you a skylight.” It comes out faster, louder, and higher pitched than Henry had planned.
Martin rolls his head to the side to face Henry. “What? In my attic?”
“No,” Henry rolls on his side and places the flat of his hand against Martin’s chest. “Let me build you a house. Build us a house in Fitton. I’ll fill it full of skylights and glass walls and you’ll be able to see the sky from every room.”
The hand on his chest is the only thing that keeps Martin from bolting. “You can’t build me a house!”
Henry laughs. “Why not? It’ll be your birthday gift.”
Martin immediately jumps to the most ridiculous response that pops into his head. “But what would I get you? We said no gifts!” He’s starting to panic and babbling is only a few seconds away. Henry kisses him to bring his heart rate back down to normal.
Henry pulls back and is still smiling. “You could marry me.”
Martin squawks and flails but Henry holds him in check. “You can’t ask me that! You’re not supposed to ask me that!”
“I’m older so I’m the one that’s supposed to ask.”
Henry laughs again. “Only by two years and 363 days.”
And then Martin's kissing him and Henry’s sure he’ll start the design for their new home first thing on Monday morning.