BACK WHERE HE BELONGS

Last night I slept fitfully on Raine's sofa wishing that I could
get Master Skinner out of my head. The man was bad news
with a capital B for bastard.  I could hear in my half-sleep
Sister-thing and D getting it on and from the other room Aidan
gently snoring.  I shouldn't be here, I did not belong in a family
unit I was a freak!  Then the door sounded,  I went to open the
door but D stopped me.
"I'll check it out, could be a crack-head or something." (Did I tell
you he was deeply paranoid?)
It wasn't-it was Alan, standing there, disheveled but still
gorgeous. D looked at me, then at Alan and decided to retreat.
"Becka I'm so sorry, I'm just a sad git." I ushered him in and
made him a coffee as I could smell whiskey on on.
"What do you want Alan? Really, what do you want of me." The
worst part was I looked like a complete prat, checked shirt and a
hole in my knickers. (You never look devastating when it really
counts.)
"I just want us to stay friends, I can't offer anything else, I'm a
drunk for fucksake!" He said bitterly.
"That's good-I can do friends." After his drink we curled up on the
sofa together, not at all sexual-just out of great need.
"Move in with me? The spare room of course?" He asked as he
stroked my hair.
"I can do that." And I could, at the very least I wouldn't have to
sleep on a sofa again.
Becka Martin