A Boy Called Cin (21 page)

"I was just gonna put your name on the deed to the house. And the apartment. So you'd know I was serious about you sticking around. For security. All of that. But you're giving me
you
."

"I want you to have me. Multiple times a day over the holidays. But also forever."

"Forever sounds great." Tom leans in to kiss Cin back. Cin tries to resist climbing into his lap, but it proves too hard and before he knows it he's curled up against him and letting Tom take his weight.

"I hope you like teal, by the way. Poppy already put in a request."

Tom chuckles. "Anything you want."

"Just you. That's all I've got left to want."

"Then you haven't got anything left to want at all."

"I was thinking about an autumn wedding. Maybe. At home, by the sea," Cin muses. He can just imagine them, suited up in front of everyone they know, exchanging promises that they're stuck with each other until one of them dies. A few years ago, the idea would have made him run screaming in the other direction, but he can't imagine anything better now.

Love does strange things to people. Cin just hadn't been aware how strange until he'd really been in love.

Tom hums softly and kisses Cin's jaw. "Really? 'Cause I was mostly thinking about calling that cab."

"So romantic." Cin rolls his eyes, but takes out his phone. "I hope you know the number of a cab company."

*~*~*

"Guess what I've got," Tom sing-songs as he comes into the kitchen, both hands behind his back.

"If they're napkin samples, I might have to murder you." Cin looks up at him. He wants to marry Tom, sure, and he wants the big wedding that Tom has since confessed to always dreaming of. That's what
Tom
wants, and it's only one day, and he can cope. It's turned out to require him to look at a lot of mostly-identical table settings so far, though, and there's only been one cake tasting to make up for it.

"I…" Tom blinks. "Will be more autonomous about the wedding planning. But no, way better." He pulls a huge envelope from behind his back and puts it on the table. Cin peers at the address for a moment, wondering why Tom's so excited over a letter, and then catches the return address out of the corner of his eye.

Cin squeals excitedly and practically tears the envelope open, still being careful not to damage the contents. His new birth certificate falls out onto the table and he catches it before the corner ends up in a drop of coffee he spilled earlier. His old birth certificate is still vivid in his mind, and while this one is crisp and new, all the information was familiar. Except the most important detail, where under 'Sex', there's a bold black 'M' where the 'F' had been.

He reaches out to trace over it, biting down hard on his lip. Tom moves behind him and kisses the back of his head. "So you're
officially
Mr. Allard now."

"Mmmhmm." Cin nods, still distracted by the new certificate. This was the final piece of the puzzle and it feels like an even bigger load off his chest than having his breasts removed. "I want to change my name," he says absently.

"Uh, okay. What do you want me to call you?"

Cin blinks at Tom's confused tone and realizes belatedly what he actually said. "Not my first name. My last name. If that's okay with you."

"Why would it not be okay with me?" Tom rests his hands on Cin's shoulders and squeezes gently.

"Because I'd like to change it to yours." Cin tilts his head back to look up at Tom. "If you'll have me."

Tom smiles slowly, comprehension dawning and lighting his whole face up. "Really? I mean, I know that's ridiculously old-fashioned and you're a modern man, but I would be
honored
if you wanted to do that. Poppy would also be thrilled because if she could legally adopt you, I'm pretty sure she would."

Cin beams up at Tom and grabs hold of his tie to pull him down for a kiss. He tastes of toothpaste and coffee and it's kind of awful, but right now Cin wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Tom?" Cin murmurs, reaching out to trace the line of Tom's brow. It's a quiet moment, intimate, and he's looking forward to thousands more over the rest of their lives.

"Yeah?" Tom's breathless and soft and practically melting into Cin's touch, glowing with adoration. Cin grins wickedly.

"Bed."

Cecil Wilde resides in Australia, accompanied by a cat who takes up most of the bed, a family of possums in the roof space, and more spiders than they’re entirely comfortable with. They write altogether cuter queer romance than their image as a grumpy cynic might suggest.

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