The Mansion of Men

Why not?

Pol didn't leave Arm. Through two surgeries and several days dosed on painkillers, Arm woke up to find Pol at his side. Sometimes asleep, sometimes watching TV, other times staring right at Arm.

But the day before Arm's discharge, Pol was missing when he woke. They hadn't spoken about The Incident In The Metal Shop, for obvious reasons, but Arm was hoping Pol would bring it up, at some point. With him gone, Arm knew there was a surprise waiting for him.

Pol wouldn't leave for any other reason.

So when they left the hospital, and Pol arrived to wheel him back to his room, Arm's heart beat in anticipation. Because even though Pol was tongue-tied and shy, his mind was a gallery of romance and grand gestures. Arm had read the things Pol could think up when he put his mind to it.

As they got to his room, Pol smiled at him, opening the door before he wheeled Arm in.

"Tada!" he said, running before Arm to spread his arms to the room.

The anticipation simmered into disappointment as Arm took in the pristine, freshened room with new sheets and clean floors and hampered clothes.

Arm and his roommate weren't the most organised people so their room was almost always a mess. To think that Pol's big surprise was taking out the trash was... disappointing.

"Awesome," he said, smiling and looking around. "This is great." and so not what Arm had been expecting. "Thanks."

Pol frowned, looking from Arm to the room.

"You don't like it."

"Of course I do. Are you kidding?"

"You hate it." Pol shook his head and sat on the bed. "I was going to draw you a bath, or put petals around the room or some shit. But I thought you'd... fuck," he fell back on the bed.

Laughing, Arm got up from the wheel chair and crawled beside Pol, where he'd fallen on Arm's bed.

"I don't care about the room," he said, lying beside him. "But thank you."

"I had a whole speech."

"I don't need a speech."

He turned his head to look at Arm.

"I feel like I should say someth-"

Arm kissed him on the mouth.
Satisfied with it, he leaned back, resting his head on his hand as Pol stared at him, lips parted in surprised.

"OK," Pol gulped as his eyes scanned Arm's face.

"You were wasting too much time."

"I was working up to it."

"Six years, Pol."

"Well," he hesitated. "You wanted to kiss me too. Why didn't you do it sooner?"

Arm shrugged.

"I always imagined that you'd sweep me off my feet in some fucking extravagant way."

"Like a princess?"

"Fuck yeah," he smiled at Pol. "Why didn't you?"

"Well," Pol sat up. "I wrote it down in my journal." He shifted to the side-cupboard that belonged to Arm's roommate and opened it, pulling out Pol's journal.

"Why's your journal in Turred's cupboard?"

As he asked the question, Arm recognised the bed cover on Turred's bed. That wasn't Turred's bed cover. It was Pol's. And the harness hanging on Turred's desk chair was Pol's. And the shoes on the rack un the corner... Pol's sneakers and flip flops and...

"Where's Turred's stuff?"

"He's staying in my room. We switched."

"Oh my god," Arm said, getting up and pouncing over to Turred's- Pol's bed as he tackled Pol down, wanting to kiss him. But the movement hurt Arm in the stomach.

"Ow!"

"Arm," Pol said, worriedly. Grabbing Arm by the back of his neck and his waist, he gently turned them around, placing Arm on his back.

"You're my roommate," Arm said, happy even though he was in pain.

"That was the surprise."

"I thought the clean room was the surprise."

Pol pondered.

"Yeah, I can see how you'd think that given that you and Turred have horrid hygiene habits."

Arm laughed, but had to stop because movement was suddenly painful.

"I should call Dr. Top."

He tried to get up but Arm pulled him down again.

"Kiss me," he said. "No roommate's coming to stop us for a bit."

Laughing, enjoying the moment as much as Arm was, Pol kissed him one more time.