As You Wish

This little fluff story was inspired by a Gillette for men commercial I saw a few weeks back. If you ignore the fact that the actors are supposed to be father and son, it could have some homoerotic subtext. I took advantage of that, and used it as inspiration for this stupid-cute story.

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"How do you use this thing?" Walter grumbled, staring at the blank, dark screen of the shiny new computer. He was sitting cross legged on the floor of his living room next to his Christmas tree, the new computer plugged into the power cable Henry had bought the month before.

"Honestly, Walter, it's not like you haven't seen a computer before," Henry commented, leaning over his lover's shoulder. He kissed his temple gently. "So why did Gretchen send you a Christmas gift? I didn't quite understand that."

"Don't ask me to explain my ex-wife," Walter said, poking at the screen before Henry swatted his hand away. "I believe she said something about 'curing' my technophobia."

"By giving you an Apple, with all their DRM and stupid proprietary software? Great." Henry reached past him and pushed the power button. "I will say that it is a very beautiful machine, though."

"The mouse only has one button!" Walter exclaimed, fiddling with the mouse. "How does that work? How are you supposed to do anything with only one button?"

"Stop messing with the mouse, and I don't know. I have a Linux box." Henry frowned at the Mac's screen. "I guess we have to set it up."

"Can't it wait? I have the gift from my kids too."

"Oh, right." Henry reached behind him and pulled out the small square present wrapped in green paper. "Here you go."

Walter ripped open the paper without any further ado, and stared at the box in his hands.

"An ipod? What do they think I'm going to do with an ipod?" he demanded.

"Listen to music on it?" Henry suggested, taking the box from his hands. "They got you the top of the line, too. An eighty gigabyte video! Well, we have that USB turntable – we can put all our records onto your computer. Actually, they're already on mine. I'll just transfer them."

"I have no idea what you just said, but okay." Walter turned around and put his arms around the younger man. "I remember the day you seduced me – you came in to fix my computer for me."

"That's your own fault," Henry sniffed. "You kept staring at me in class."

"It's not my fault that you're loud and gorgeous and easily the most intelligent person of your age that I know," Walter protested, running a hand down the side of Henry's face before reaching back to tangle his hand in Henry's blond locks. "I can't help it if I noticed." He pulled Henry's face to his and kissed him hard, passionately, the way he had when they first fell in love.

Henry made an indistinct noise before raising his own hands to the silver-streaked black hair of his lover. Walter's free hand ran up under Henry's black sweater to meet his soft skin before pressing him down to the floor.

"Walter…" Henry gasped when they tore apart. "We haven't finished opening our gifts yet."

"Ah, yes," Walter agreed, not moving. "We do."

"Are you going to get off of me?"

"No."

"Fine." Henry's hand snaked down to the junction between Walter's legs and squeezed. "Then I get to do this." He took a perverse pleasure in seeing Walter's eyes widen.

"Henry!" Walter exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "People can see into the window!"

"Then get off of me and we'll finish opening presents before we engage in debauchery."

"All right." Walter rolled off of him and sat up. He pulled Henry into sitting position before asking, "What's next?"

"Um…my present from my parents." Henry picked up the box and shook it, bringing it up to his ear to listen. "Sounds like…a DVD."

He ripped it open and raised his eyebrows. Walter leaned forward and began to laugh.

Sitting in Henry's lap was a copy of Brokeback Mountain.

"I'm not sure whether or not my parents have completely come to terms with our relationship," he commented dryly. "At least they didn't get us gay porn."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they had," Walter told him, laughing. "What did you get me?"

"It's over there." Henry pointed to a small box to Walter's left. Walter reached over and opened it slowly.

"Razors?" he asked in surprise, looking up at Henry. "You bought me razors?'

"Sorry, wrong box." Henry leaned forward and brought out an even tinier box. "That one was from your brother. Here." He handed it to him.

Walter opened it up and was confronted by a velvet jewelry box. Feeling a sense of foreboding, he opened it up.

Sitting on the white silk cushion was a beautiful silver ring, inscribed with flowing script. Walter lifted it out reverently before placing it on the fourth finger of his left hand. "It's beautiful, Henry."

"It took me forever to decide what I wanted it to say," Henry confessed. "I got Kevin to do it for me. He did it for not much either. I figured since you gave me one, I should give you one." He pointed at the ring he wore on his own left hand. "I thought I'd –"

Walter cut of Henry's stream of babble by leaning forward to kiss him chastely. "Thank you. I love it." He leaned back and admired the way it looked on his hand. "What does it say?"

"It says, 'Nothing can stop true love – not even death.'" He smiled sweetly. "Do you like it, Buttercup?"

"Don't you dare call me Buttercup," Walter growled.

Henry chuckled. "But to me, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Walter's. "If you really don't want me to call you Buttercup…all I have to say is 'As you wish'."

"I love you too," Walter told him before leaning back and picking up a box. "But I'm afraid that my present pales in comparison to yours."

"I doubt it," Henry assured him. "Let me judge for myself." He took the flat box from him and opened it up.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

"You like it?"

"How can you ask such a question?" He lifted the framed drawing out of the box and stared at it in awe. "Who drew this?"

"I did. I found a picture of us from when you were just out of high school. I think Emily took it."

"Ah, yes. Emily. Do you know what she's up to?"

"I'm not sure. From her annual newsletters, I know she's still single. I think she still misses Jeremy, honestly."

"Death couldn't stop her love," Henry commented. "But this is beautiful, Walt. You captured the moment so perfectly. I don't see how my present makes this look stale. You say you drew this?"

"Yes."

"I never knew you could draw. How long have we've been together?" he asked.

"Going on ten years, about. I'm not surprised you didn't know, though. I never really show anyone – not since Gretchen got angry with one of my sketches."

"Well, I'll get angry if you don't keep drawing," Henry exclaimed. "You're very talented artist. You shouldn't have stopped just because Gretchen told you to."

"She didn't exactly tell me to, she just told me that she couldn't stand my drawing of her – she said I made her look too…sour."

"Gretchen did look kind of sour back then," Henry admitted. "She's lightened up a bit since she remarried that French guy. Jean-Pierre, wasn't it?"

"Jean-Baptiste. And your accent is atrocious."

"I took Spanish, querido."

"I know, and sometimes you mutter things in Spanish under your breath and I think you're muttering things about me."

"Usually what I'm planning on doing to you at night," Henry said in a sultry voice. "Do you want to know what I say?"

"I'm not sure if I can take it without just pinning you down and making passionate love to you."

"Why don't we try?" Henry suggested. "Come on, old man. Surely you're not that virile."

"Old man?" Walter cried indignantly. "I'm not that much older than you."

"Fifteen years!"

"Ten."

"No way. At least eleven."

"I can't believe you can't remember how much older than you I am!" Walter exclaimed. "There was a shit storm when we came out as a couple because of our age difference!"

"No, it was because you were my teacher," Henry contradicted.

"But this isn't the point. We've gotten off-topic. What we were discussing was whether you have more stamina than I."

"I am definitely at least equal to you," Henry said. "If anything, I have more – younger, you know. The time is long gone for when you could have sex five times a night."

"We never had sex five times a night. It was usually six."

"You're exaggerating," Henry scoffed. "Besides. Nowadays it's about three or four."

"Not every night. Sometimes it's just twice."

"Yes, when we're very tired."

They both paused and looked at each other. Finally, Henry remarked, "We're very randy, aren't we?"

"I'd say so. Isn't that why we got kicked out of our apartment building?"

"Too much noise."

"Can I help it if you're a screamer?"

"Me? It's not like you don't make a fair amount of noise yourself!"

"Really? Let's set up a tape recorder and see who makes the most noise!"

"Kinky."

"You want to do it? We can," he told him.

"Let's do it."

"As you wish."

"I love you too."

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A/N: Sickeningly sweet.

By the way, I love The Princess Bride. You should too.