There Are a Lot of Things to Be Rearranged by Leela Ganey

"I can't believe you bought a house here," Daniel said as he put yet another box on the wooden floor.

"You didn't believe that I would move to New York either. I don't understand how this was so surprising," Darren said, setting down his box beside the one Daniel had just set down. "I remember clearly saying I want to live here. I want to buy a house. Now what, pray tell, gave you any other idea that I was not going to move here?"

Daniel frowned. "Well, you talk all the time about what you are going to do. How am I supposed to sort through the stuff with true intent and the other as just you talking shit?" He looked around the room they were standing in. "But I must admit you have good taste among other things."

"Have you seen the view from the deck?"

"No, but then again I have only seen the rooms from here to the front door." Before he knew it, Darren had a hold on his hand and was dragging him out the french doors to see whatever view Darren thought was so amazing.

"Look." Darren made a sweeping gesture with his hand.

Daniel almost asked 'at what' but then he really took note of everything. The bay. The flowers. The cool breeze that made his hair dance. He reminded himself yet again that Darren's taste in things was always amazing. Daniel looked at Darren and was going to say something but found he couldn't think of anything.

"I know. It's beautiful. I knew when I saw the house that I would be living here."

"And here you are."

"Yep." Darren turned to go back inside. There was stuff do. Things to be rearranged to his liking. God, he loved living in his own house. Talk about an interesting freedom, to know that everything you move about and put in places is all to your own liking.

He stood in the living room. It was all white. He couldn't stand it. It would have to be painted. Yep. Painted. No way it was staying white. And so that is how it came to be on the 8th day of moving in, he and Daniel stood in the soon-to-be living room, covered in paint, with the radio blaring.

"Darren, could you hand me that brush?"

"Which one?"

"The one right there." He pointed at one in a bucket of about a dozen. "The black one."

"Oh, that is helpful. They are all black.." Darren mumbled.

"That small one there." He pointed at it again. "I need to do the trim on the windows."

Darren looked at the brushes again. Hmm.. there were two small ones. Oh well, didn't matter that much. He picked one and handed it to Daniel. "No, Daz, the other one."

"How can you tell?" Darren whined.

"They do have numbers on them. This is a 6, I want the 7."

"Well, then why didn't you just say you wanted the one with the 7 on it?"

"What good would it have done to tell you about the numbers, you didn't even know they were there."

Darren stood there for a moment and pouted, then handed Daniel the brush with the gold number '7' on it. "Are you happy now, Dan, since you have the black brush?"

"For all the irritation it took to get it, I am finally happy you managed to pick it out of the dozen that were sitting there in the bucket." Daniel turned back and was going about his business in painting the trim when he felt cool liquid goo being sloshed onto his neck and then it was dripping down his collar and down his back. He knew he had pissed Darren off with that last statement. He wondered if he should even turn around. But then a more sinister thought crossed his mind. He dipped his paint brush in the paint and ever so quietly turned around.

Darren who was trying his best to act innocent. *Paint the wall. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Paint the wall. Wait, don't glob the paint. Grr... Damn paint.* That's when he felt wet paint drip on his ear, then down the side of his cheek. Darren squeaked and jumped back. That wasn't fair. Before he could even think about what he was doing, boyhood tendencies took over and Daniel was covered head to toe in the paint that Darren had just been carrying in his paint bucket. "You know I think I like you better this way, Daniel. A wonderful shade of magnolia cream."

Daniel smiled sweetly at Darren. And for a moment Darren thought he should run. Then he hit the ground and was effectively pinned down under Daniel in all of his magnolia cream coloured goodness with the stress of everything that had been going on their relationship had suffered. It had been brought down to a mere working, almost vague relationship. Daniel nuzzled his head into Darren's neck under his chin. "Darren?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to be happy here?"

"Which here are we talking about, Jonsey? The I'm-pinned-under-you here or the I-live-in-this-fabulous-house here?"

"Hmm... Whatever makes you happy, I suppose."

"Then I would say I like both. I have missed you, Jonsey. And now with this house it feels like I have a home."

Needless to say the room did not finished getting painted that day. In fact, it took a few more days before any real work was done. But Darren did get his bedroom stuff unpacked quicker than he would have thought possible.