Thicker Than Bone

23rd January 2015-2

They caught the eleven o’clock train up to Leeds, and Yazid dozed against the window the whole way. He had recovered in huge leaps over the last year since his first all-clear test result, but he wasn’t one hundred percent yet, and not getting his full eight hours still took it out of him. Ali watched him sleep, feeling oddly protective even though usually he wanted to strangle Yazid as much as anyone else did, but…

But f**k it, Tony had nearly killed him. He’d nearly murdered Yazid in their flat, and Ali really, really didn’t like the idea of Yazid walking into the same building as that fucknut.

But then…

It was just today. They’d get the last train home, and then Yazid would look at booking a couple of weeks in a hotel, and everything would be okay then, as long as they didn’t let Tony find out where they were staying. Just like their new house in Nottingham—only Violet knew where they lived now. Just in case, you know?

Ali sighed as the train slowed on the approach. He leaned across the little table. “Yaz,” he coaxed gently, squeezing one of those lax hands on the plastic top. “Yaz, we’re nearly there.”

Yazid stirred, scrubbing a hand over his face before squinting out of the window. “Urgh,” he said. “Can we go via Glasgow? I need more sleep.”

“Sorry,” Ali said, climbing out of his seat to get their backpacks from the overhead rack. As he passed them down, he stooped to kiss the top of Yazid’s head. “We can always stop and pick you up a bacon butty before we head on to Mum’s.”

“Bacon? She’ll have a fit. You can’t feed me bacon.”

Ali rolled his eyes. Six years of being politely told, over and over, and Violet was still convinced Yazid was just too polite to tell her about his dietary requirements. All of which were Islamic, and therefore not rules that Yazid had actually obeyed since he’d been a child. “She means well.”

“That’s why I let her get away with it,” Yazid said, and yawned widely before standing up. Ali pecked him on the cheek, and received an indulgent smile from an elderly lady in the seat across the aisle.

Yazid jumped down from the train first, the windy platform ruffling his hair. He hunched deeper into his jacket as Ali stepped down and slid his hand into Yazid’s elbow. “You wuss,” he said affectionately, and Yazid laughed.

“You said it yourself, I’m down two stone. Cut a guy some slack!”

Ali chuckled as they passed through the barriers, steering Yazid away from the taxi ranks and towards the city centre as they were swallowed by the bustling Saturday crowds. “Alright,” he said. “Coffee and some food. It can be like our first date all over again.”

“You’re not going to throw the coffee on me again, are you?”

“I will if you keep arguing with me,” Ali threatened, and Yazid grinned. Ali wanted to be ruffled and affronted and put on a show to get Yazid to wheedle and be all sweet, but…but the sight of that big, wide smile just softened his heart, and a little pang pinched just behind his ribs.

“Hey,” Yazid stopped, pulling Ali to a halt, too, and dropped a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Stop getting that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re surprised I’m here.”

“It’s not surprise,” Ali said quietly. “It’s…gratitude.”

“That I won?”

Ali shrugged. “That you won, and…honestly? That Tony didn’t scare you away from me.”

“Hey,” Yazid cupped the back of Ali’s neck and pressed their foreheads together lightly. “Stop letting him get you worked up, okay? It was years ago. And if he didn’t scare me off then, before you were such a saint through all the chemo and when I was being a right pathetic bastard—”

“You weren’t—”

“—then he won’t scare me off now either,” Yazid finished before pressing a kiss to Ali’s temple.

“Not in the street, you f*****g queers!” someone shouted.

“Why don’t you f**k off and get your old man to bang you!” Yazid bellowed back, his soft voice suddenly tearing back into the ruthless Bradford accent of his youth.

The shouter, a cabbie smoking in the open doorway of his vehicle, scowled back and made a rude gesture but decided—probably in the wake of Yazid’s volatile reaction—to stay where he was.

“God,” Ali muttered. “And we were making progress with making you not sound like a coal miner’s son.”

Yazid just grinned, and Ali rolled his eyes.

“Come on, you,” he said. “Let’s get you fed and watered—and I won’t throw the coffee on you, promise—and then up to the hospital. Sound good?”

Yazid laughed, dropping his hand to squeeze Ali’s before letting go. “Sounds great.”

Ali wished this was as complicated as his life ever got.