A Daddy for Benito by Joe Satoria

8. HARRY

It went better than expected. He liked the outfit I bought, and he was even less intense than he had been when we first met. Although the true first time we ever met was through Warren. I felt like I was betraying a friendship by going after Benito. It was Warren’s birthday next week, and from what I knew, when Benito was here last time, he’d annoyed him and his boyfriend.

The entire shopping trip was an excuse for me to get out of the flat and clear my head. It scared me slightly to know he was alone, and he could be going through everything. He would, and I didn’t have anything to hide from him. I wanted him to get to know me, but it had been so long that I didn’t know where our play ended and getting to know each other started—perhaps it was one and the same.

Benito was a brat, and he played that late teen age. I’d had guys who played little, but with less complexity. They were taken care of with plush toys and dinosaur-shaped frozen food. Benito was desperately looking for someone to take care of him, and I could do that. He liked to watch anime and from what I saw of him, he liked to dress up.

I arrived home an hour and a half later, I hadn’t even taken account of the drive time, and hoped it didn’t bother him I was late. I had been procrastination shopping, picking something up from each aisle. I was too lost in thought about all of this.

Opening the front door of the flat, I saw bright colours splash everything from the TV. The blinds closed. Darkness meant the colours were more intense.

“Benny?” I called from the front door. I had three bags filled with all sorts of things. Like I’d become a doomsday prepper in the space of an hour.

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me please?”

He groaned. I flicked the light switch by the front door. He groaned even harder at the light. “I was watching TV.” The sound from the surround sound stopped. Benito, dressed in the pink outfit I’d picked out for him. He turned the corner, sheepishly. “What do you want?”

I nodded to the bags. “Help me bring these in, please,” I said. “Did you sort your suitcases out?”

“Of course, and then I learned how to work the TV, and found the password for the Wi-Fi.”

My head nodding along to everything he had done. “Right, of course.”

“I thought you’d been gone a long time, so I was going to watch one episode. It’s where Sailor Moon realises she has this locket that belonged to Tuxedo Mask. Anyway, they like have this relationship and Tuxedo Mask is a secret identity. Oh! Maybe we could watch from the beginning together.”

The excitement on his face. “I’ve heard of it,” I told him. I’d never watched it before, and I only knew about it because it was big when I was a teenager. Everyone was obsessed with it in the late 90’s. “How many episodes are they? I don’t really watch much TV.”

He clicked his tongue. “God, don’t I know it,” he said. “I had to set most of the apps on the TV.”

“Yeah, one of the terms I had in my mind was, Benito should set the TV up,” I said, “so, you’re already doing really well. A good boy.”

“My reward is you watching all of Sailor Moon with me, right?”

“How many episodes?”

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Like—a hundred.”

“Whoa. I—maybe something not quite so much. But we can watch a couple episodes. And I bought you many different types of yoghurt. Strawberry and raspberry only.”

“Mango?” he dipped to the bag on the floor.

“You didn’t say mango,” I told him. “Help bring that bag inside so I can close this door.”

“Oh. I like mango too. But I don’t like it when they have the bits in them. Like the seeds. They make me feel sick. It’s like drinking a cup of tea and then swallowing the little bits of biscuits.”

Nodding and smiling, I looked at him. He pulled the bag in. “Right,” I said, “they don’t have the bits in.” At least, they shouldn’t have them in. I bought them tube-shaped yoghurts and also the small portion ones they advertise for children.

Benito immediately yanked the pack of six yoghurts from the bag. “Phew,” he said. “These are the good ones.” He hugged them to his chest.

“You can have them after dinner,” I said. “I didn’t know what else you’d want, so I bought a selection. Help me bring them through and you can look at everything.”

Benito was excited to see all the things inside the bags. Almost like he hadn’t seen so much food in a while. I didn’t know much more than what he’d posted about himself on the internet, and even then, that could have been a complete lie.

“Do you usually go food shopping?” I asked, hauling each of the bags onto the kitchen counters. “Maybe next time you can come with me.”

He shook his head. “Usually just eat yoghurt and pasta with sauce.”

“Are there any foods you don’t like?”

Shrugging, Benito wasn’t really paying attention. His eyes were fixed on all the food. “If someone else is paying, I’ll eat anything.” He licked at his lips. “I’m not kidding, I would eat anything. Well, like, if it’s food, I will. I’m not going to fall for that one again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told someone I’d eat anything, and they gave me a piece of paper, so, I wouldn’t eat paper, obviously.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Did you buy biscuits too? And what about the pink lemonade? I went through the cupboards, and I noticed you didn’t have any biscuits or like—anything.”

I smacked a hand at my abdomen. “I’ve been trying to cut down,” I told him. “For the last couple of days I’ve stopped eating so many biscuits and things.”

“You don’t look any different,” he said.

Unblinking, I looked to him, wondering if that was the case. “Really?”

“I don’t remember that well, but you look fine.”

I patted a hand at my stomach again. “Just want to lose a bit from here, maybe hit the gym. I think I’ll need to build my stamina to deal with you.”

“Deal with me?” he chuckled. “Maybe you should, actually.” He resumed looking through the bags. “Oh, honey ham. That’s my actual favourite. What kind of bread did you buy?”

“Wholewheat,” I said with hesitation, although I wasn’t the one who needed to be submissive with the hesitation. That needed to be him. He had such a confident voice and demeaner, he wasn’t letting anyone tell him no. “And no, I didn’t buy any biscuits. I got you the yoghurts. Maybe I can buy you biscuits next time.”

He nodded. “I like wholewheat.”

“And we need to talk as well,” I said, “Warren is my best friend, and I should tell him about us.”

Benito’s frame seemed to shrink. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” he said, “he hates me.”

“You two were years ago,” I said, “he’s with Alexi.”

“My friend.”

“So, maybe we can mend that fence,” I said, “I don’t want to ruin my friendship with Warren, and you want to be friends with Alexi. I don’t see why that can’t be the case.”

He nodded; his face flushed. He looked nervous. “All I want is to prove I’ve changed, and I really have, what I did all those years ago wasn’t what I’d do ever again. I wasn’t sure about myself at all, and—” he looked at me, his chin dipped to his chest, he letting out more than I’d ever thought he would.

“I can tell him, and I don’t want it to ruin things between us.”

Benito nodded; his lips butted together. “Us, or you and him?”

“Us,” I gestured with a hand to him. I reached out, pressing the hand against his chest. I felt his beating heart. It was racing like it would combust any minute. “I’ll make us something to eat, we can talk, and then we can watch some Sailor Moon. I want to get to know you better too.”

Benito wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “I like the sound of that.”

“Because I take it you didn’t find anything in the drawers anywhere,” I chuckled back, wrapping my arms tighter around him. He’d dipped slightly so his head rested on my shoulder rather than above my head. “Maybe you want to get cleaned up and help me prepare dinner?”

He pulled away and sighed. “Ok. But I’m not a good chef, and I can only boil pasta. I did once burn a pan because the water disappeared.” He gestured wildly with his hands.

“Evaporated,” I said.

“Ok, Harry Potter, it did that spell, sure.”

“No, I mean, when water and heat—never mind.” I smirked. “And I don’t wear glasses, you can’t call me Harry Potter. And first names are out of bounds for you. Daddy or Sir, remember?”

He bit his bottom lip. “If that’s what you say, Daddy.”

I grabbed at his ass with an open palm before giving it a light tap. “Get cleaned up so we can make pasta.”