Note: this chapter contains very mild depiction of intimacy.

• • •

"So, darling, how did your mother react to you graduating from university?"

Thirteen years later, a much older George looks to his twenty-one-year-old daughter, who is sat eating a bowl of cereal, at the kitchen table with him.

"She bought me a congratulations card." Gemma chuckles a little, her mouth full of food. She holds her hand — which holds a spoon — over her lips as she talks. "It was actually really sweet. Even Kieran's mum bought me a bunch of flowers as a gift. I thought it was a very kind gesture."

"That is lovely," Levi, now sixty-five years of age, chimes in. "Speaking of Kieran — where has he gone? He's been out for hours, now."

"He's with his lady friend," Gemma remarks. "Where else would he be?"

"A valid point," George snickers. "He'll probably drag the poor girl over here with him."

"She's used to his ridiculousness by now," Gemma comments, finishing her food. She heads over to the sink, quickly washing the pots she's used, before joining her fathers back at the table. "I won't pretend — it'll definitely be amusing seeing his little puppy dog eyes once he has to ditch her for uni after the summer."

"At least he has a partner to ditch," Levi quips, already knowing that his teasing will earn him a playful slap to the arm. In quick defence, he raises his arms in surrender. "Kidding! I'm sure Mister or Missus Right will come along for you some day, sweetheart."

"Good save, Dad." Gemma squints her eyes, giving her father a jokey death stare. "You're lucky I love you."

"And we must love you, too," George answers, leaning back in his chair. "Considering you've lived in this place rent-free since two-thousand-and-six."

"It's only twenty-twenty-seven," Gemma reminds him. "And I'm only twenty-one. Some people don't leave home until they're in their forties. But, rest assured, I will not be one of those people."

"Well, with a new degree, I should hope not," Levi hits back. "I expect you gone by next year."

"Whatever, Dad." Gemma sticks her tongue out disparagingly, but is interrupted when the front door opens. "Oh! Is Lover Boy back with his beloved?"

"Kieran?" George calls through the house. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Pops," Kieran shouts back. "I brought Esme back with me, if that's okay."

"Not a problem, mate," George assures him. Moments later, he spots the two young lovers as they enter the room together. "Hello son. Hello, Esme."

"Hi, George," Esme smiles, slipping her hand into Kieran's for comfort. "How are you today?"

"We're good, thank you," George replies. "How's Mum and Dad?"

"Um, Mum is still a psycho — but that's nothing new. And Dad is ... well, he's Dad," Esme jibes. "But he's fine, thank you."

"Anyway, Pops," Kieran intervenes. "We were just going to head upstairs to my room, if that's alright. We already ate dinner out."

"Of course," George responds. As his son and Esme head towards the staircase in the hallway, he can't help but add to his words. "Don't forget to use protection!"

"Shut up!" Kieran calls back, finding amusement in his father, as much as he hates to admit it.

Levi can't help but laugh. "It's like a cliché teen movie, isn't it? Falling in love with your school bully."

"Tell me about it," George agrees, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "But if the boy's happy, the boy's happy. I'm willing to be as supportive to him, as my father was to me since I came out."

"He and your mum are both definitely smiling down on you right now," Levi tells him. "It's madness to me that your mum's been gone thirteen years now; and your dad's been gone four years."

"Time flies, doesn't it?" George questions rhetorically. "A lot has happened in those years, though, hasn't it?"

"You're not kidding." Levi's words serve as a conclusion to the small talk between the men. A brief silence perfectly bridges between the end of the topic, and their daughter speaking up.

"I'm going to go upstairs and call Mum," she announces, rising from her seat at the table. "I'll come back down later on. Love you guys."

"Love you too, darling," Levi responds. As he watches her head out the room, he can't help but comment on her, too. "She's so grown-up, now, isn't she? Where did that little girl disappear to?"

"It blows my mind, sometimes," George sighs. "Twenty-one years old. Freshly graduated from uni. Trying to figure out the next steps in her life. It's lovely that she has such a strong relationship with Jane, now, though."

"We could never deny a mother her child; nor a child their mother. We knew one day the kids would ask about them. Brooke and Kieran get on really well, too," Levi states, toying with his empty tea mug in his hands as a means of fidgeting. "It was sweet that Brooke got Gem some flowers for graduating."

"It was. But then, it's a huge deal — graduating," George evaluates. "That's one kid down, and one more to go. Then they'll both be "proper" adults." He uses his fingers to simulate air quotations at the latter words of his statement.

"They're both intelligent kids," Levi beams, pride in his heart for his offspring. "We did a good job raising them."

"Well, I suppose we didn't do too badly." George gives a small grin, exposing his perfectly straight teeth. "It's been a tough old road ... but we got there — eventually."

"But we did it together, just like we do everything together." Levi leans across the table, to his husband in the next chair over from his own; he plants a soft kiss upon George's lips, to show his adoration. "We've always made the best team. You and I."

"Now that, I can agree on." An uncontrollable, mellow smile settles on George's lips, at the simple loving gesture from his partner. "I love you, Mister Levi Panayiotou-Jones."

"I love you too, Mister Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou-Jones."

The temptation becomes too much for Levi, so he moves in to give George another kiss; starting at the corner of his mouth, but gradually moving directly to the suppleness of his lips with each additional peck he touches upon the skin. Although the kitchen table is admittedly not the most romantic location a couple could utilise for such an intimate moment, the pair find themselves melting deeper into the passion; it's been a long time since they shared in the joy of one another's existence like this. Levi's hand moves up, cupping George's jawline — an action he has done since the very first time they engaged in a kiss. George's perfectly-groomed brows arch, as the familiar sensation of lust builds up in his core.

George messily withdraws from his husband, making a conscious effort to keep their faces close to one another's. "Don't start something you can't finish, darling," he demands, on the brink of giggling like a child.

"And what if I want to finish it?" Levi flirts, leaving another lingering kiss upon George's lips. "What if I want to, huh?"

"Oh, don't tempt me." George bites his lower lip, holding it between his teeth to suppress his subtle, sudden arousal. "Don't you dare tempt me."

"I might have to tempt you. We may be in our sixties — but that won't stop me, let me tell you."

Levi's words bring a halt to the seductive conversation, as he cannot resist George any longer. He stands up from his seat, and tugs harshly at George's shirt collar; forcing him to stand up and bring their bodies to the point of physical contact. Just as they're about to lean their faces in towards each other, the sound of a disgusted young man interrupts.

"My god, man! I swear it should be illegal for kids to have to watch their parents fuck in the kitchen."

"Thank you for your insight, Kieran," George comments flatly, pulling away from Levi to glance over at his son. "And perhaps watch the language, next time."

"You realise I'm twenty now, right?" Kieran asks, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"What are you doing, anyway?" Levi chimes in. "We thought you were hanging out with the missus."

"It's a little thing called being thirsty," Kieran jokes, carrying the cup to the sink to fill it with water. "I guess I wasn't the only thirsty one in the house, after what I just walked in on."

"Don't act like you've never kissed Esme in your lifetime," George retorts. "You realise attraction isn't just limited to the young and pretty people, right?"

"Of course I realise that," Kieran snaps back, with no intention of being confrontational. "But when it's your own parents, it's probably considered a crime against humanity."

"Do you notice that, George?" Levi turns his attention to his lover, pretending to check the time on his mobile phone. "All this time Kieran's wasting down here with his old fathers ... and yet, he could be upstairs with the girlfriend he won't be seeing for weeks, once the summer is over."

"Alright, I can take a hint." Kieran's arms lift up defensively. "You guys want to go back to your little ... moment. I'll leave you to it. But don't forget to use protection."

"I can't even be mad at that one," George chuckles, admiring the smart use of his own words against him. "Off you go, then."

Kieran cackles, satisfied that he played his father at his own game, before hurriedly making a beeline for the staircase once again.

• • •

"The clue is, "to mock or belittle", and the answer is nine letters long."

George grows progressively irate, albeit in a playful way, as his husband struggles to think of the answer to a crossword the pair are attempting to complete together. He taps the pen impatiently against the page of the book, giving Levi a side glance.

"It's a bit of a weird one," Levi says, feebly trying to justify his lack of general knowledge. "I'm not exactly a thesaurus, am I, George?"

"Goodness." George scoffs, rolling his eyes upwards tauntingly. "And I thought you were the smart one in this marriage, as well."

"Hey, usually I am," Levi retorts. "But you seem to have picked up the only crossword puzzle book in history with clues Einstein would have trouble solving."

"Einstein," George repeats under his breath, amused. "Honestly, Levi, all I'm hearing are excuses."

"So Google the answer, if you want to know it," Levi suggests.

Kieran enters the living room unannounced, immediately curious as to what his fathers are bickering about. "What are you guys doing?"

"Trying to solve this crossword problem," George answers, slipping his glasses over his eyes, as though this will help him think more effectively. "We've been stuck on this one clue for ages."

"What is it?" Kieran raises one brow, intrigued.

"I doubt you'd get it, if we can't get it either, son," Levi asserts. "It's a nasty one."

"Try me," Kieran challenges.

"The clue is, "to mock or belittle", and it's nine letters," George repeats, before averting his attention to the young man before him. "Any ideas?"

"Disparage," Kieran blurts, with minimal thought.

"Sorry?" George's eyes snap back down to the page, in disbelief that Kieran could have actually solved it.

"Disparage," Kieran says again. "The answer is disparage."

"Where do you learn this stuff?" Levi questions.

"No idea. I guess I just remember random, pointless shit like that." Kieran reaches down to grab a chocolate digestive biscuit from the packet which is perched on the coffee table, and in one smooth move (granted, a messy one) he pops it into his mouth in its entirety, swallowing it down just as quickly. "I guess I just have the skills."

"Skills in what? Crosswords, or binge-eating?" Levi remarks.

"I'm a growing man," Kieran justifies half-heartedly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to attend to business. Also known as — what I came downstairs for, in the first place."

"Which was?" George demands. "To terrorise us, and humiliate us with your vocabulary?"

"No, actually. I came to grab my laptop to study ahead of starting third year at uni," he corrects. "Call me Mister Productive."

"He's just getting cocky now," Levi laughs.

A knock on the door interrupts the lighthearted exchange between the three of them, so George stands up to go and answer. He can't quite think of who could be visiting at this time in the early evening — but fortunately, his question is soon answered, when he finds a middle-aged woman stood waiting for him.

"Hello," George greets, expecting some sort of context. "Can I help you, love?"

"Hi," the woman returns. "Do you know if anyone named Georgios Panni-Otto lives here or nearby?"

"I do know," George responds. "But why do you ask?"

"Oh, well, my name is Bernice — though, I go by the nickname Birdie, for the most part," Birdie explains. "I was just wanting to talk to Georgios, that's all."

"Well, Georgios Panayiotou would be myself," George explains to her. "So what can I do for you?"

"Oh," Birdie gasps. "You're him."

"Uh ... yes." By this point, George is bewildered by the direction the conversation is headed in. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I never expected to find you." She hurriedly grabs a folded piece of paper from out of her handbag, opening it out to show him a photo. "This is you, right?"

George glances at the photo. It is, in fact, a photo of himself, from when he was much younger. In the image, he is accompanied by a young woman — one of which he recognises, but can't quite put a finger on.

"Yeah, that's me," he finally says. "But why have you got this?"

"You don't realise how long I've waited to show you this," Birdie tells him, a teary-eyed smile forming on her face.

George's confusion persists. "Oh?"

Birdie finally puts George out of his misery — though, she does this in the least expected way that George could possibly have thought of.

"I've been trying to find you for decades. Hi, Dad."

• • •

Bit of a plot twist! Were you expecting that? xx