Eight Acts

Friday, 28 July 1967 Percy crashed through the door to the flat and chucked his briefcase on the floor by the door. “Bloody hell!” he grumbled at Leslie. “I swear if that boy cheeks me one more time, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions!” He threw himself into the armchair closest to the table and put his hands over his face. “The Styles boy?” Leslie asked, from his position at the table. He looked like he was already getting on with his marking. In a wild burst of impulse that Percy wouldn’t have considered without Les driving him on, they had decided to finance a summer holiday in London by getting jobs at a language school in the city. Their teaching posts at a boarding school in Oxfordshire were very different from working with adults who needed to learn English quickly, although Percy was enjoying the change. They’d rented the tiny, slightly grotty flat in Notting Hill until September and were taking in as much culture as possible in their off hours. “Yeah, him. Little s**t. He followed me up the stairs and started banging on about my shoes. What business is it of his if my shoes need mending?” He turned his foot up and looked sadly at the sole. “And how did the little bastard even see?” “He’s not quite right,” Leslie said. “Just speak to his mother. Or was she out again?” “Well, he was sat on the step, so either she’d kicked him out for a bit or she’s not home yet.” He sighed. “I’ll go down a bit later.” He collapsed back in the chair and put his arm over his eyes. “I hate children. Why did I think teaching would be a good career?” “Steady pay, long holidays, rugby, possibility of accommodation with the job so no pressure to get married.” Leslie ticked off on his fingers. Percy removed his arm from across his eyes for long enough to glare at him. “I hate you.” “I know,” Leslie replied placidly. “There’s still tea in the pot. We’re out of sugar though.” “Thanks.” He hauled himself to his feet and through the arch into the tiny kitchen. “Want another one?” “If there’s enough, yes please.” He busied himself with the milk and managed to find the end of a packet of biscuits in the cupboard. He brought it through with the tea and put it on the table. “We need to go shopping.” “I know. And it’s my turn. Tomorrow, I promise.” “Did you get the tickets for tonight?” This week’s culture included the Promenade Concerts. Leslie looked shifty. “I did. And we might have a date.” “A date?” “I met a chap…” He waved his hand vaguely. “A chap?” “At the box office.” He coughed. “We got chatting and we’re meeting at the Albert Hall tonight. We got talking about Elgar…” He trailed off, clearly already running The Dream of Gerontius through his head. Percy raised an eyebrow at him and he came back to earth. “He and his friend are going. I said we’d meet them.” “His friend?” “Well, yes. But he asked me, honestly. Suggested supper somewhere afterward.” “Bloody hell, Les! You’re going to end up in the clink if you’re not careful!” “Ha! Not anymore!” Leslie chimed back at him. “Not since the beginning of the month!” “Still! You need to be careful. We don’t want it getting back to school.” Percy was quite cross with him. “And it’s not like everything is suddenly fine and out in the open. The Act only means they can’t bang you up for messing around with someone at home, not that they won’t try and nab you if you’re out for a quickie somewhere.” “Nothing quick about this chap!” Leslie smiled lasciviously. “I’m going to take my time with him.” He looked over at Percy again. “He’s a stockbroker, he said. Nice looking. Bit older than you, I should think. Late thirties? Good suit.” “Oh, well, that’s all right then. You can be in the dock with him in the morning and know he’s well turned out, at least!” Leslie grimaced at him. “Anyway. He seemed really nice. It was a classy kind of pick-up. Very subtle.” “Well, I suppose that’s something.” “Gerontius, Perce! This is the point of this summer. We’re supposed to be expanding our horizons as well as earning a bit more dosh.” Percy sighed. “I’ll go and get changed. Is there enough bread for toast?” “I’ll put some in. We’ve got an hour before we need to leave.” * * * * The mill and press of the crowd of promenaders entering the Albert Hall wasn’t as bad as Percy had expected. Leslie dragged him through the throng with determination, toward an extremely well-turned-out couple, standing outside the Kensington Grove entrance and from a distance having what looked like an argument. Leslie slowed down his drive as they approached and Percy caught the last words of the taller one in a very nicely cut jacket “You’re going to get us hauled up before the beak, Phil. He could be anyone!” And that mirrored Percy’s conversation with Les so precisely that Percy found himself grinning. “Phil!” Leslie greeted them. “I’m sorry we’re a bit late. The tube…” He tailed off. “Not a problem,” the older chap replied. “I’m very pleased you could make it at all.” He smiled and Percy could see what had drawn Les to him. He turned to his companion. “This is Adrian, I tend to drag him along to these things, under sufferance.” Adrian held out his hand for Leslie to shake. “That’s a lie,” he said. “I don’t need much persuading! Very pleased to meet you.” He turned to Percy. “Adrian Framlingham,” he said. “Percy Wright,” he replied. Adrian’s hand was warm and his grip was firm but not aggressive. “Pleased to meet you.” “Shall we go in?” Phil suggested. “I think all our seats are together, aren’t they?” “Yes, I think so.” Les was digging their tickets out of his wallet. “They issued them sequentially.” He peered at the numbers. He’d left his glasses at home, then. Definitely out to pull, Percy thought. He was a vain little sod about his vision. Too much time staring at music scores was making him short-sighted. Tactfully he kept pace with Adrian and left Les to walk ahead in the crowd, beside Phil. They were chattering about the Elgar. Percy liked music, he was looking forward to the concerts they were planning to see, but he didn’t love it with the passion Les did. He taught music and maths at their little private school and Percy taught science. “Les said he’d been subtle,” he said, aloud, without thinking, watching the two of them talk animatedly in the slow-moving crowd going through the doors. Adrian snorted beside him. “Phil’s never subtle about music. What about you? Are you subtle?” he asked. He didn’t look at Percy, but it was definitely a loaded question. Percy shot him a sideways glance. He was a nice-looking man. “I try,” he said, eventually. And then, “I don’t think Les was actually trolling for trade, earlier. He’s a fool about music.” He saw the other man grin. “He’ll get on with Phil, then.” He gestured at them in front of him. “He’s the same.” The press of the crowd going up the stairs meant their conversation was naturally constrained and, in the shuffle and buzz of settling down, they didn’t resume chatting until they were all seated. Somehow, Phil and Les were together and Percy was next to Adrian, on the end of the row. The other man stretched his long legs out in front of him as he settled into his seat. He was wearing some sort of pleasant, orange-smelling aftershave that didn’t revolt Percy as much as the Aramis Les insisted on splashing on liberally each time he left the house. “Are you planning on coming to many of the concerts?” Percy asked, groping for conversation. Adrian looked over at him. “Phil tries to come to as many as he can manage. I tag along if I have time. What about you?” “We’re only in town until the end of August. Les wants to come to as many as he can and I suppose I’ll get dragged along too, unless he has a better offer.” He nodded along the row toward Phil. “I’m more inclined to stage musicals myself. I’ve got a yen to see cabaret. And Canterbury Tales, if I can get a ticket.” Then the overture began and blessedly he didn’t have to make any more small talk. Surprisingly, the after-concert supper was unconstrained and easy. They chatted about the music, the new Bond film they had all seen, shows Les and Percy planned to see over the summer. A bit about the riots in Detroit. Nothing personal, nothing about where they worked or their lives. It felt untethered somehow to Percy, an evening unmoored in time. Slightly surreal, but nevertheless pleasant. As they split the bill and stood to leave, it was very obvious Les was going home with Phil. Percy and Adrian were left on the pavement outside the little restaurant, watching as the taxi pulled away. “Well, that’s that,” Adrian said, turning to Percy. He had his hands shoved in the pockets of his open raincoat. “I feel a bit like we should be throwing confetti after them.” He tilted his head to one side, looking at Percy diffidently. “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” “Home and bed, for me,” Percy said. “I’m not really a night bird.” He wasn’t. This London summer was Les’ idea. He was in his mid-twenties, not that long out of university and teaching college, and desperate to kick over the staid, term-time traces of a boarding school housemaster. Percy liked him a lot, but already the two week’s freedom seemed to have gone to his head. Percy had passed thirty, three years ago. He wasn’t a chicken any longer and didn’t had the inclination or stamina for all night partying or unwise liaisons. Although this didn’t seem as unwise as it could have been, having spent the evening talking to the two older men. “You could come back to mine for a drink?” Adrian offered. “It’s not far.” “A drink?” Percy lifted an eyebrow. Adrian smiled and raised an eyebrow in his turn. “Let’s start with a drink, shall we? And see where we go from there?” Percy thought for a moment. Adrian was inviting Percy into his home. It was extremely unlikely that he and his friend were anything other than they appeared—well off gents who worked in the city. In fact it was an act of trust on Adrian’s part to invite Percy home with him. And Phil’s to take Les back to his flat. Percy sighed. “A drink sounds lovely,” he said. “Thank you.” It was a fifteen minute walk from the Albert Hall to the quiet street near Russell Square where Adrian had his flat. They walked in silence for a while, the July evening dark and intimate. “We could have shared the taxi, got them to drop us off,” Adrian said, as they set out. “It’s what we usually do after concerts. But it felt like it would be cramping their style.” Percy could hear the smile in his voice and gave a quiet chuckle. “There was nothing stylish about that, it was most undignified.” Although it hadn’t been, really. If you hadn’t known why they were going home together you’d have just thought they were two chaps sharing a taxi. * * * * Adrian’s Flat Adrian’s flat was in a street of glorious Georgian townhouses. The entrance hall was all marble and gilding. “I’m on the top floor,” Adrian said, and led the way up the wide, sweeping staircase. “This is beautiful,” Percy said, gazing at the architecture as they passed the first and second floor flats. “Have you lived here long?” “I bought it when I was made a partner in the firm,” Adrian said. “Three years ago now.” He unlocked the door at the top of the stairs. “It’s not too far from work, but it’s far enough that I can walk home and switch off on the way. I’d like a garden though. I miss sitting outside.” He took his raincoat off and hung it on one of the hooks beside the door, then turned to Percy. “Let me take your jacket?” he asked. Percy began to slide his velvet jacket down off his shoulders. It was an indulgence he’d allowed himself from Carnaby Street when they’d first started exploring a couple of weeks ago. It had felt ridiculous when he’d put it on over his shirt and tie and slacks this evening to go out, but as the evening had gone on and he’d relaxed, he’d felt more and more comfortable in it. Now, as Adrian stepped behind him and helped him ease his arms out of the sleeves, it made him feel like new, trendy, exciting Percy, instead of old, stuffed-shirt Mr Wright the science teacher. Adrian was matter-of-fact about it, just turned and hung it beside his own on the rack. “Come on through,” he said. He ushered Percy down the short hall, past an ajar bedroom door and into a large, high-ceilinged living room with bookshelves all along one wall. “What’s your poison?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and turning to a drinks cabinet set near the door. Percy stepped forward to look at the books. “Brandy, if you have it?” he asked. Adrian made a noise in the affirmative. Percy ran a finger along the spines, absorbed. It was an eclectic collection. Law books…perhaps he was a solicitor, then, or a barrister?…side by side with Ovid and Herodotus and a good sprinkling of science fiction. Heinlein, Ballard, even the latest Le Guin. “You read?” Adrian came up beside him quietly and passed him his brandy in a crystal cut tumbler. Percy took a moment to inhale the scent. It was good stuff. “When I’ve got time. I haven’t read this one yet,” he said, gently easing Planet of Exile off the shelf. “It’s my favourite of hers so far,” Adrian said. “There’s a new one in the series coming out this year, but I’ve lost track of whether it’s been released yet.” Percy turned it over and over in his hands. It had been well-read for a book that had only appeared last year. “What do you like about it?” he asked, turning it over to read the back cover. Adrian hesitated. “I like the way she captures loss, I think,” he said, finally. “Fear, being in a strange place, not knowing quite what’s happening. But making the best of things despite that. About humanity, really.” Percy glanced up at him sharply. He hadn’t expected such a frank answer. “You’ve got it shelved next to Heinlein?” he said. “Stranger in a Strange Land…I read that when it came out. People make a huge fuss about it, but I can’t get into his writing.” Adrian nodded. “I know what you mean. I think he’s an acquired taste. I like stuff that explores different ways of living and why people might want to do that. Stories that explore people and ideas rather than just big spaceships and adventure. Le Guin is fantastic.” He turned to make his way over to the large, comfortable looking settee and sat down. “So what do you do, Percy? You said you were only in London for the summer?” Percy took the armchair at right angles to the settee and settled in it, mirroring Adrian’s relaxed pose, legs stretched out in front of him and brandy glass cupped against his stomach. “I’m a teacher. Science, actually.” He smiled. “Hence the interest in your books. Les and I are housemasters and live in. Les persuaded me that we could earn some extra money and see a bit of London life if we took a job at an English language school over the summer. We’ve been up here a fortnight now.” There was a pause. He watched Adrian swirling his brandy in his glass. “Let me guess,” he said, finally, when Adrian didn’t offer anything about his own background. “You’re a solicitor.” He gestured to the shelf taken up with weighty tomes that had titles like A Treatise on the Conflict of Laws. “Good guess.” Adrian smiled at him. “I’m a criminal defence solicitor. Where do you teach?” “Baddersham. It’s a little place, outside Oxford. I’ve been there forever now. Science. And maths, when they need someone to fill in. Les does music and maths. He’s brilliant at both. Inspiring. I only putter along.” Adrian nodded. “Do you like it?” he asked. “It’s not what I expected, I don’t think,” Percy said. “I wanted to teach boys who needed extra help, when I started out. Inner city, that kind of thing. But my mother had a bad case of polio when I was looking for my first position…and it’s very close to home. So I took the job when it came up. It has its advantages. Full board, for one.” He grinned. “And long holidays, obviously.” Adrian grinned back. “Perpetual student,” he said, without malice. “Something like that. Have you been here long? This is a lovely flat.” He looked around, embarrassed as he realised he’d repeated himself. He was more nervous than he was letting on, even to himself. He reminded himself that they were not breaking the law. To start with they were simply two new acquaintances sitting having a drink at the end of a pleasant evening. And secondly, even if they were naked wrestling on the carpet, they’d no longer be breaking the law. He laughed. “Sorry, I’ve already asked you that. I don’t usually do this. Although I expect everyone says that, don’t they?” Adrian looked at him solemnly. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t usually do this either. It’s…strange. Not that I’m comfortable with people knowing my proclivities, regardless. But bringing someone home? I never do that. Never.” “It’s just a drink,” Percy said, uncomfortably. “And you and I both know that we’re sizing each other up to see whether we want more than a drink,” Adrian said, matter-of-factly. Percy choked on the last of his brandy. “I do try not to lie to myself about these things,” Adrian said. “Know thyself and all that.” He stood and took Percy’s glass. “Do you want another?” he asked, turning to the drinks cabinet. “Or…?” He trailed off. Percy took a deep breath and stood. “Or?” Adrian put the glasses down and turned back toward him. “Or…” He reached out and took Percy’s hand, stepping closer. “Do you kiss? Can I kiss you?” Percy didn’t know whether he kissed. He hadn’t had much opportunity although he’d liked it when he had. Most of his encounters were short and relatively furtive. Unsafe. This…wasn’t unsafe. It was a strangely inhibiting feeling, that everything could be so out in the open, here in this protective, private space. He experienced a wave of vulnerability, aware that his soft underbelly was on show for Adrian to see. But then. Adrian’s soft underbelly was on show, as well. He gripped Adrian’s hand and tugged a little. “Let’s see, shall we?” he said. Neither of them was very practiced it was obvious, initially. Adrian’s mouth was soft against his, a tentative brush and press that mirrored his own exploratory motions. They exchanged gentle, tentative kisses, standing there on the shag pile rug in the middle of the room, fingers entwined. But, it seemed that Percy did kiss. He stepped closer, so they were pressed together, and lifted a hand to cup Adrian’s jaw. He was still smooth-shaven. He must have shaved after work, before they went out. Percy angled Adrian’s head a little to the side and Adrian responded with a tiny noise of pleasure and slid an arm around Percy’s waist, tugging them closer together still. After that, he lost track of things for a while. Tongues became involved and he was absorbed by the hot, wet, velvety thrust and retreat of the dance. Eventually, Adrian pulled back and rested his forehead on Percy’s shoulder. He was very slightly shorter than Percy and he fitted there perfectly. Percy ran his hands up and down his back, gathering his breath and enjoying the feel of Adrian’s hard-on pressed against his own. “That’s a yes to the kissing, then,” Adrian said, a bit muffled against Percy’s shirt. “Definitely,” Percy almost giggled. He traced a tiny line of kisses under Adrian’s ear, down the exposed part of his neck above his collar and Adrian shuddered. “Do you want to…” Percy left it hanging. He didn’t know the form, exactly. Would Adrian want more? If so, would he want more here in the living room? Or would he invite Percy into his bedroom? “Bed?” Adrian asked, still muffled. His hand was working Percy’s shirt out of the back of his trousers. His fingers were very warm against the thin skin of Percy’s lower back. “Bed,” Percy agreed. Neither of them moved and Percy changed his delicate kisses to nuzzling, which made Adrian laugh aloud and move away. “Come on,” he said, taking Percy’s hand again and tugging him toward the hall. “Let’s get comfortable. I’m too old for the settee these days.” Percy huffed and followed him, hampered by the fact that Adrian had managed to undo the button of his trousers without him noticing. They paused in the hallway outside the bedroom and Percy pressed Adrian against the wall by the telephone table, both hands cupping his face, sharing deep, piercing, drugging kisses that had both of them shuddering. Percy drew back first this time and rested against Adrian’s shoulder, fighting to get his breathing under control. “And I’m too old to come in my trousers,” he said, finally. Adrian snickered. He’d got Percy’s shirt all the way out this time and his hand were running up and down the length of his back and down into his pants, caressing his buttocks. He slid his hands down and gripped firmly, pulling Percy’s erection flush against his own. “You’re not the only one,” he said. “But it’s rather nice, all the same.” He nipped at Percy’s shoulder through his shirt and Percy gasped. In short order they ended up on the bed. Adrian pulled the blankets back and lay down, drawing Percy down beside him. They kissed again, lying on their sides, long, languorous, drugging kisses that thrummed through Percy and made him forget everything but the man beside him. The urgency he had expected to feel was gone. Perhaps this was what it was always like when you had the time and it was safe. When you didn’t have to have half an ear out wondering whether you’d be interrupted. With that thought, he drew back and began to undo Adrian’s shirt. “Let me see you,” he said. Adrian laughed. “Turnabout is fair play,” he said, reaching for Percy’s buttons at the same time. “And these?” he said, after a moment, sliding down Percy’s zip. It was a question, Percy realised. He nodded and then saw Adrian was watching his own hands, not his face. “Yes,” he said aloud. “Let’s get rid of them.” His own hands went to Adrian’s flies, taking the opportunity to feel him up very thoroughly as he did so. He slid his hand inside and found a sizable bulge wrapped in damp pants. Adrian made a muffled groaning noise. “I’ll come if you keep on doing that,” he said. “And I’d really rather like you to f**k me, before that happens. If you’d like to?” Percy paused in his explorations. It hadn’t occurred to him, actually. He’d not really thought this far ahead. He shook his head. “I think…not tonight?” He paused. “It’s not that I don’t. I do…either way, actually. I just…not tonight.” It all felt too new. Adrian nodded. “Get these off,” he said, pulling at Percy’s trousers, “and let’s see where we get to.” There was a brief, fumbling break to divest themselves of every stitch of clothing. So new. Such a new thing, to be in a place where we can do this, he thought, sitting up to take off his socks. He finished before Adrian, who appeared to be wearing sock suspenders, and laid back on the sheets on his elbows, watching the line of his partner’s back as he bent forward to grapple with his trousers around his feet. He was a beautiful man, Percy thought. Lovely to look at. Adrian turned round and smiled at him, eyes alight with humour, and threw himself down on the bed again, reaching out a hand and stroking through Percy’s sparse chest hair then circling his n*****s with a light finger. They were tight, hard points already and Percy shuddered, collapsing flat on his back. “What would you like?” Adrian asked. “Tell me?” Percy swallowed and threw his head back, revelling in the sensation. “Suck me,” he said. “I’d like you to suck me. Then I want to suck you.” Adrian hummed and dropped his lips to where his finger was still stroking Percy’s n****e. Percy’s tit was suddenly engulfed in the hot, wet pull of his mouth and Percy gasped. “God,” he said. “Don’t stop.” Adrian mumbled something into his chest and swapped to the other side. Percy moaned. Adrian’s palm was flat on his stomach, steadying himself as he worked with his mouth, but now he slid his hand down and for a moment, Percy thought he was going to use it on his c**k. But no, Adrian was just balancing himself as he moved down the bed and arranged Percy so that he lay between his legs. Then his mouth was warm velvet on Percy’s c**k and God, that was amazing. He was soon arching off the bed, trying to be a gentleman and not thrust up into Adrian’s mouth as Adrian worked him with the back of his throat and mostly failing. Adrian was moaning too, and the humming vibrations were what finally sent Percy over the edge, biting his lip and panting to keep himself quiet. He tried to pull out, but Adrian followed him down and swallowed around him, over and over. Percy threw his arm over his face and lay there, breathing heavily as Adrian collapsed across his stomach, laughing. “God,” Adrian said after a moment. “That was good. Are you okay?” Percy barked a laugh, too. “More than okay,” he said. “Give me a moment and I’ll reciprocate.” Adrian laughed again. “No need,” he said. “Maybe later.” Percy took his arm away from his eyes and looked down at the other man where he was grinning up at him mischievously, chin resting on folded arms across Percy’s belly. “You…?” he asked. “Yes. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself!” He was laughing again. Laughing in bed. That was new, too. “Come up here,” Percy commanded, grabbing him by the elbows. “Kiss me some more.” * * * * “I’d better go,” Percy said, reluctantly. “I’ve got a class in the morning.” The clock beside the bed said it was getting on for two A.M., luminous numbers and hands lit by the streetlights below the window. Adrian’s bare arm tightened around him and he muttered something soft and dissenting, face pressed against Percy’s ear, burrowing his nose into Percy’s hair. Percy laughed. “No, I do. I can’t rock up in a velvet jacket, smelling of someone else’s come.” Adrian snorted into his ear and as Percy rolled on to his back, Adrian went up on an elbow beside him. His face was shadowed in the street light coming through the bedroom window, but Percy could see he was smiling. He reached out a hand and ran his fingers through Percy’s hair. “This has been extremely nice,” Adrian said. “Very nice indeed.” Percy smiled back. “Yes. I don’t, usually, you know, like I said.” He waved his arm vaguely. “Any of it. It seems…unwise…in my position.” Adrian made an assenting noise. “Same for me. I’ve defended a couple of chaps. I don’t want to be in that situation myself.” “Well, I’ll know who to come to, now, if I ever get caught cottaging,” Percy said. Adrian barked out a surprised laugh. “I’d rather you didn’t. Get caught, I mean,” he said. “I can introduce you around a bit, if you’d like?” He paused, as if he’d surprised himself by the offer. “There’s the William, up in Hampstead. And the Spartan Club, if you like that sort of thing. A nice crowd. Much safer than looking for people in a public toilet.” Percy bit his lip. It was easy to exchange confidences in the dim light of the bedroom, with Adrian’s bare legs tangled with his. “I’ve never done it in a bed,” he said, softly. “I’m thirty-three and I’ve never had s*x lying in a bed.” Adrian’s hand was steady and gentle, brushing through his hair. “It’s a strange feeling,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen yet. Leo…Abse…you know, he pushed the bill through…we go to some of the same legal things…he seems to think there’ll be an uptick in prosecutions for illegal behaviour, to balance out the fact they can’t get us for this anymore. So, be careful. Is all I’m saying.” “Can I…could we…” Percy trailed off. He wanted to ask if they could meet again. Could they do it again, meet and talk and then end up in this comfortable, graceful flat and take their time? But he didn’t quite have the courage and Adrian didn’t help him. Instead, his dark, shadowed eyes seemed filled with boundless compassion as he let Percy flounder. Percy bit his lip and turned his head to one side, away from that all-seeing gaze. “Never mind,” he said. “No,” Adrian dropped his eyes from Percy’s face and Percy couldn’t make out his expression. He put his hand on Percy’s chest. “It’s not…you’re very sweet. I just…I don’t know what I’m doing, either.” “I am not sweet,” Percy said, somewhat fiercely. He softened it with a grin, turning back to face Adrian. “You are, you know.” There was an answering grin in Adrian’s voice. “Let me take you up to the William. On Sunday? We can have a drink and go on to the Spartan afterwards if you like. It’s a nice crowd, like I said.” Percy nodded. Adrian’s hand was warm on his breastbone. “I really have to go,” he said. “I’ve got a class at ten and I’m going to be hanging on by my fingernails as it is.” “I’ll walk you back,” Adrian said. “No need, really,” Percy rebuffed. “I know my way.” “I want to, though,” Adrian said, getting out of his own side of the bed. “Don’t argue.” Percy could hear the smile in his voice.