The last couple weeks had been strange.
The Hawthorne mansion, usually buzzing with the constant chaos of twins, staff, and Theo’s own nervous energy, had gone still under the weight of illness.
Theodore Hawthorne Senior had caught the flu first, a particularly nasty strain that turned the formidable man into a bedridden heap of expensive silk pajamas and muttered complaints about the weakness of modern immune systems.
His business meetings, including the all important one where Kota was supposed to meet him in person and discuss the terms of his college funding and his “role” in the Hawthorne family machine, had been postponed time and time again.
Not only that, Beckett had come down with the same bug.
The robot himself, as Kota affectionately called him, had been reduced to a sniffling, feverish mess in his basement apartment, his usually precise monotone replaced by congested rambling about the vibrational frequencies of influenza and whether crystals could cure viral infections.
The Arch-Anal Coalition of Seminal Indulgence had been delayed indefinitely, which meant Kota had been spared from any ritual obligations for the foreseeable future.
It was a silver lining, even if it came wrapped in the misery of everyone around him getting sick.
Theo had caught the bug too, of course.
He always caught everything.
His immune system, despite the money and the organic food and the rich medicine, was apparently made of tissue paper.
He had spent nearly a week in bed, feverish and pouty, texting Kota at all hours with dramatic updates about his suffering.
But he had pulled through the day before Valentine’s Day, emerging from his illness with the same bright, needy energy he always had, plus a new determination to spend as much time with Kota as possible.
Since the Hawthorne mansion had become a biohazard, Theo had decided to visit Kota’s house for the first time.
It was a big step.
Kota had been nervous about it.
His apartment was small and plain, a two bedroom with cracked linoleum in the kitchen and a chain-link balcony t.
There was no garage, no butler, no marble floors or floor-to-ceiling windows.
Just the worn couch, the old TV, and the lingering smell of his dad’s work boots by the door.
But Theo had been absolutely enchanted.
He had walked through the front door with wide, sparkling eyes, his gaze darting around the cramped living room like he was touring a museum.
“Darling, this is your home,” he had breathed, pressing a hand to his chest.
“This is where you sleep.
This is where you eat.
This is where you became the man I love.
I can feel the history in these walls.”
“Theo, it’s a two bedroom apartment.
The walls are mostly drywall and lead paint.”
“It’s perfect.
It’s so cozy.
So intimate.
So real.” Theo had wandered into the kitchen and run his fingers along the counter, his expression full of genuine wonder.
“You have a refrigerator that makes ice cubes.
I’ve never seen one of those in person.
We have a separate ice machine.
This is so charming.”
They had spent the day together, playing old board games that Khalil had kept from before the Vanishing.
Theo had been hilariously competitive, his posh accent sharpening every time he lost, which was often.
They had played Monopoly, which Theo had never played before and which he took far too seriously.
“You can’t just buy Boardwalk, darling, that’s practically cheating.
What do you mean you landed on it fair and square?
There’s no such thing as fair in Monopoly.
This game is rigged.
I’m calling my father.”
They had aggressively cuddled on the couch afterward, unable to keep their hands off each other, their bodies tangled together under a thin blanket while some old movie played in the background.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day, and love was in the air, thick and sweet and impossible to ignore.
They had kissed and groped and whispered stupid promises to each other until the sun went down, and Kota had never felt more content in his entire life.
Unfortunately, the real world had a way of intruding.
Theodore Hawthorne Senior had decided that today, the day before Valentine’s Day, was the perfect day for their long delayed meeting.
Kota had protested, but Theo had just sighed and said his father was nothing if not stubborn.
The meeting would be conducted over Zoom, a small mercy that meant Kota didn’t have to leave the apartment.
But it also meant separating from his darling Theo, who had been draped over him like a particularly affectionate octopus for the past hour.
“Don’t be nervous, darling,” Theo had said, kissing the corner of Kota’s mouth.
“You’ll do wonderfully.
My father’s bark is worse than his bite.
Mostly.
Sometimes.
Okay, his bite is pretty bad.
But you handled Kevin Henders.
You can handle him.”
So Kota had retreated to his bedroom, set up his laptop on the desk, and logged into the Zoom call.
Theodore Hawthorne Senior appeared on the screen, his face still slightly pale from his recent illness but his eyes as sharp as ever.
His massive hips were hidden behind his desk, but his presence was no less imposing for the distance.
He had grilled Kota for thirty minutes straight, asking questions about his academic record, his work ethic, his understanding of basic business principles.
It was intense.
It was exhausting.
It was exactly what Kota had expected.
“Now, Kota,” Theo Senior said, his gruff voice carrying the weight of decades of corporate dominance.
“I’m not exactly sold on you dating my son.
You’re a common student with no family connections and no appreciable assets.
You have no business background.
You have no political capital.
By every metric that matters, you are a liability.”
Kota’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral.
He had expected this.
The man was a shark, and sharks bit.
“However,” Theo Senior continued, his expression shifting slightly, “you are at least semi competent in the intricacies of business.
Your answers were adequate.
Your reasoning was sound.
You didn’t embarrass yourself or waste my time.
So I’ll keep in touch when you graduate.
Perhaps there’s something salvageable here after all.”
Kota let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Thank you, Mr.
Hawthorne.
I appreciate the opportunity.”
“Don’t thank me yet.
This is a probationary assessment, not an acceptance.
You still have to prove yourself.
My son may be infatuated with you, but I am not so easily impressed.” He paused, reaching for a glass of water off screen.
“Now, about your college enrollment.
I’ll have my assistant send over the necessary paperwork.
You’ll need to sign several documents, including a non-disclosure agreement and a preliminary employment contract.
I trust you can handle that without supervision.”
“Of course.”
“Good.
Then this meeting is—”
The bedroom door swung open.
Theo stood in the doorway, fresh from the shower, his skin still damp and flushed from the heat.
A towel was slung loosely around his waist, hanging dangerously low on his hips, barely covering the top of his massive ass.
His blond hair was wet and messy, water droplets glistening on his bare chest.
He was smiling that particular smile, the one that meant he was up to no good, and his voice came out in a haughty, moaning drawl.
“Oooh, darling,” Theo purred, leaning against the doorframe with theatrical seduction.
“Hang up that computer call and come kiss me on my hot mouth.
I’m feeling romantical.”
The room went very, very still.
Kota stared at Theo.
Theo stared at Kota.
On the laptop screen, Theodore Hawthorne Senior stared at both of them, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and fury.
“Romantical?” Kota repeated, his voice strangled.
“Romantical,” Theo confirmed, completely unbothered, his smile widening.
“I just showered.
I’m very clean.
Very smooth.
Very ready for whatever my darling boyfriend wants to do to me.”
“Your father is on the call, Theo.”
Theo’s smile didn’t waver for a full three seconds.
Then it did.
Slowly, like a sunset in reverse, his expression shifted from seductive confidence to dawning, horrified comprehension.
His eyes went wide.
His mouth fell open.
The towel slipped another inch down his hips.
“Father?” Theo squeaked.
“Theodore,” Theo Senior said, his voice like dry ice.
“You are half naked.
On a video call.
In front of your boyfriend.
While I am trying to conduct a professional evaluation.”
“It’s not what it looks like—”
“It looks like you’re about to offer yourself as a Valentine’s gift.”
Theo’s face went bright red.
The towel finally gave up entirely, sliding down his thighs and pooling at his feet.
He stood there completely naked, his tiny cocklet on full display, his blond hair dripping water onto the floor.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only a faint, mortified whimper came out.
Kota closed his eyes and prayed for the floor to swallow him whole.
WEEE ARE SOOOO BACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR BARING WITH ME, BUT YA BOY FEMBOY SMASHER IS BACKKKKKKKKKKKK!