No-one said a word for several awkward seconds. Mention of a bed pan will tend to do that to a conversation.
“I suppose a date is out of the question now?” asked Tate breaking the silence. My fairy and I both immediately snapped out of our mutual huffs to look his way.
“A date? Tonight?” squeaked Tink.
Tate blushed – how cute!
“I was trying to be spontaneous. I’ve been running around all afternoon to set it up for us.”
Tink didn’t know what to say. He kept opening his mouth and closing it over and over again.
Tate bowed his head and pulled imaginary lint from his jeans.
I reached over and patted his leg for reassurance. “Of course Cinderella shall go to the ball!” I confirmed weakly. Tate looked up with a relieved, beaming smile.
Tink shook his head. “Wil, I can’t go, I have to stay with you for forty-eight hours remember, doctor’s orders. And the date can wait, right, Pookie?”
‘Pookie’ lost his smile. “Of course, that was selfish. Forgive me, Tash?”
A cough interrupted the conversation.
Tudor.
I had, for most of the conversation, been struggling to breathe at the fact that Tudor was still on his knees in front of me, rubbing my thighs. His long fingers suddenly stopped their stroking at everyone’s pulled attention and I allowed myself to take a deep breath, now that his fingers weren't glancing ever-so-close to my intimate areas. I mean, come on, there is only so much titillation a girl can take before she spontaneously combusts!
“I could stay with Tash,” he suggested – well, kind of directed.
Three sets of eyes bugged further in his direction. “What?” we said in unison.
“I said,” he drawled, exaggerating the words. “I can stay with Tash and look after her. You two go on your date.”
“Well, dip me in honey and throw me to the lesbians!” screeched my bestie.
Tudor looked at Tink and arched a single eyebrow.
Tink stared back, and then started shaking his head profusely. “No, she is my best friend, and my responsibility and I will stay and look after her,” he stated quite aggressively. Well, in a camp sergeant aggressive kind of way. He grabbed my hand, kissed the back of it and harrumphed loudly. I felt that if he had just cocked his leg and pissed on me, then he would have asserted his ownership rights with more clarity.
Tudor ran a hand over his stubbly chin. “I don’t mind. I’ll feel better doing it anyway, so I know she is alright. I kinda feel responsible for her.”
Really? Why?
“She’ll be fine with me,” roared Tink in full on diva-strop mode.
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m simply saying that you and… ‘Pookie’ could have your date and I would be here to tend to all of Tash’s needs.”
All my needs – I feel faint again – I have needs, I have needs!
“I said n-”
“Tink!” I groaned, dizziness returning with all of the unnecessary squabbling. “You go out, chuck. I’ll be fine,” I implored, squeezing his fingers.
I then turned to Tudor. “You don’t owe me anything, Tudor. I’ll be fine on my own. What happened today was my fault, not yours. You don’t need to feel guilty, and you certainly do not need to be here to babysit from some misplaced need to make it up to me.”
“No,” Tink and Tudor asserted simultaneously.
I flinched and looked to Tate for back up, but he just smiled sympathetically and shook his head in agreement with the two arguing brutes next to me.
“Fine! You decide what’s happening. I’m going to lie down. Tink, can you help me to my bedroom?” I asked in a pissy manner, trying to get up from the low couch.
“It’s okay, Tink, I-”
“No you won’t,” the fairy snapped as Tudor started to pull me up by my hands. “For f**k’s sake, I can do this! You need to back the hell off.”
“Hey, sorry,” said Tudor, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender, causing me to stumble into Tink’s waiting arms.
Tink looked appeased. “Well good, at least you can follow instructions. Come on, Wil.”
Tink walked me to my room, leaving Tudor watching us go and Tate still sitting on the couch, unmoving and clearly regretting his surprise date idea.
Once inside and settled on the bed, Tink began to pace. “Do you see what I mean?” he stopped and gesticulated wildly towards the closed and thankfully soundproof bedroom door.
“Tink, he was just trying to make your date happen. Which I still think you should go on by the way.”
He looked so torn, bless him.
“I do want to go but I won’t leave you alone. I fancy Tate… a lot… but I obviously care for you more. You're my priority; I’ve only just met the little lovely in a bow tie.”
“Well Tudor has offered to stay–”
“Oh no, Wil, we have discussed this! After all you went through with Nathan, how bad of a friend would I be to green-light you getting all hot and steamy with Mr. Fort Knox out there? I can see how you look at him, your sex-deprived Fu-Fu is gagging for him, don't bother denying it. He’ll break your heart if you let him, Wil.”
I sank into the pillows. “He would simply be watching out for me until you get back. I don’t think getting me glasses of water and bags of frozen peas constitutes ‘getting hot and steamy’, do you?” I laughed, but was slightly taken back by his words.
Was it blatantly obvious that I liked him? I didn’t think I’d even made that decision yet myself.
Tink began pacing once more, glancing my way every now and again. His defences were crumbling.
“Tink, go be wined and dined by your new boy. He looked absolutely devastated when you refused before, and quite frankly I think you’re a fool if you don’t take him up on his offer,” I tried to persuade him.
Tink sat on the edge of the bed and stared at me. “I think he planned to stay with you all along.”
I gave him my ‘as if’ face. “Tink, he came to check if I was okay, not to bully you into a date, which you want to go on, with his assistant, who just so happens to fancy the pants off you, in a grand plan to get me alone and have his nefarious way with me,” I wiggled my fingers in a witch-like manner and cackled to emphasise the point.
Tink cracked a cheeky smile and went silent for a few seconds, indecision written in his expression, tongue between his lips. “Fine, you win. I’ll go out and leave Mr. Dark-and-Brooding here with you,” he submitted. “But know that I’m on to him,” he added, pointing a perfectly manicured figure at my face and then my nether regions. “He wants a slice of your pastrami pie, Wilbur.”