Sander's Courage
A Happy Endings Sleepover Novel — No. 2
By
Cade Jay Hathaway
______________________
©2015 BY CADE JAY HATHAWAY
All rights reserved by the author.
Publisher's Note:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, some business establishments, events, or locales
is entirely coincidental. For the most part!
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Hathaway, Cade Jay
Sander's Courage / Cade Jay Hathaway 1991—
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-1515336679 ISBN-10: 1515336670
1. Contemporary Gay Life—Fiction. 2. Life in Denmark—Fiction.
3. CIA / Espionage—Fiction. 4. Contemporary Youth Relationships—Fiction.
I. Title
Published in the United States of America
Set in Palatino Linotype — Book Designed by Wilson Rushbrook
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the
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The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any
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is appreciated.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 THIRD EDITION
Certain characters in this novel speak various European
languages. Whenever a character is heard speaking English
as a second language, the writing reflects whatever
limitations that particular character may have with grammar,
accents, or pronunciations of certain English words and
phrases. However, if the character is thinking any
unexpressed narrative thoughts, those thoughts will reflect
the usage of proper grammar and pronunciation as if the
person is thinking in his or her own native language.
ALSO BY CADE JAY HATHAWAY
________________________________________________
Happy Endings Sleepover
Long Before Morning
Open Secrets
The Prodigal Sparrow
And Nothing But the Truth
Until Forever Dies (Anthology of the First Three Novels)
Book Boy (A Memoir of a Gay Youth)
________________________________________
For Mads, our little Jannik,
with love from his big brothers.
___________________________________________________
TABLE OF CONTENTS
C H A P T E R
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
33
34
35
Preview of Book 3
"Long Before Morning"
About the Author
Part One
Chapter 1
ummer passed and the days turned cool. Our time
spent together was lived in a kind of hyper-color
S bliss that most would call the honeymoon period.
Maybe for us it's the always period. I look forward to each
sunrise as a reboot to a perfect life, and even after that
terrible business in Belgium, I have nothing to complain
about. I thought I might have lost Sander forever when he
took a gunshot to the arm from a Russian agent of the
SVR-RF—their version of the old KGB—now that the
failed Soviet Union had broken up into something they'd
renamed the Russian Federation.
My name is Johnnie Allen and I work for the U.S.
Central Intelligence Agency, posted in the small
Scandinavian kingdom of Denmark. I moved here from
the States a couple years ago and I met the love of my life,
a guy called Sander Lars Hansen. We live together now,
are totally committed to one another, love each other to the
stars and back, and—not that it matters—we're gay.
I was twenty when I met Sander at a party. He was
sixteen at the time, and it took us a little over a year as
friends to each realize that the other one was gay. And lest,
dear friend, you are concerned about Sander's age... In
Denmark, the age of consent is fifteen years, for both gay
and straight. And we didn't share our Happy Endings
Sleepover until Sander was seventeen going on eighteen.
So enough about that.
Sander's whole family loves me as one of their
own. I will soon have an thirteen-year-old brother-in-law
called Jannik; a gorgeous and unbelievably smart sister-in-
law called Ingrid who is twenty-five; and his parents—
Niels and Magda—are more family to me than my own is
back in America.
We set a date for our wedding. It was Sander's
idea, and it's a good one. We'll be getting married on
Christmas morning just about two months from now. He
thought it would be great because all of the extended
Hansen and Nørgård clans could share in our wedding, as
they'd already planned to be there for Christmas anyway.
Clever boy, my Sander.
IT'S JUST AFTER SEVEN ON A RAINY THURSDAY
morning. The fire glows red-orange in the little wood-fired
heating stove in our bedroom. Thunder punctuates the
damp air every now and then, which just makes me want
to stay in this bed, lie against his warm body, and count
his breaths as he gently sleeps. The eiderdown comforter
drapes across him as if he's a model in a photo shoot for
some swank designer cologne, and the last turn his body
made, four thunder rolls ago, revealed his smooth, perfect
ass. Shadows fall upon us, drifting like geometric
performance art borne of the dark and rain-laden clouds.
They move swiftly ashore from an angry Baltic Sea.
This is our home. This is us: Sander and Johnnie
waiting on the onramp to the ribbon of highway that will
become the rest of our lives. I wish that road to be a very
long one indeed.
I stare transfixed at the blustering storm, and I am
excited by the contrast. Outside the punch and fury of the
hard rain is mitigated in this
cozy room by the soft fire and
the piney smell of the varnished wood, and the warmth of
the love that is never far away, and never in short supply.
"Good morning, Johnnie boy," came the melodious
voice. "You're up early."
"Hi, Pokey," I said. "You were hard asleep there."
"Ahhh, I sleeps too much, I think. Time to make
another day, yes?"
"Definitely!"
"But first I piss!" he said, rolling—literally rolling—
out of the bed. "I have to piss so bad I don't even get a
morning's boner," he joked. "What up with that, yeah?"
"Hey, if you want a boner, come see me for an
appointment. Maybe I can work you into my busy
schedule."
"Don't forget we go to the school later to see Jannik
bang the drums in the band," Sander called, over the
splashing stream of last night's soda, beer, and coffee. In
that order. We spent the evening with friends of his, and
besides the awesome meal we all shared, everyone took a
turn at the beverage cart to see who could serve up the
most drinks to their pal and his new life partner.
"All I get every day for the last two weeks is come see me
drum; Johnnie gots to see me drum; drum-drum-drum. So
we can't let him down," he said.
"No way we'd miss it. Your mom said he's really
good," I said.
"Yes, well, it's our mother you know, and it's her
job to say that. But who knows, maybe he is Danish Keith
Moon."
He crossed the room, naked to his socks, his
sensuous form choosing the day's wardrobe from the open
birchwood shelves and the oiled mahogany armoire. I
caught a glimpse of his balls when he bent over to pull his
briefs up over his soft thighs.
"What are you looking at, Mr. Allen? You naughty
man," he smiled.
"What do you think?"
"My cute little nose or my perfect chin maybe?" he
teased.
"Lower!"
"Ah! I know what is all you sexy guys wants.
Maybe if you buy me some chocolates and some nylons
you can have some of this!"
"Nylons, huh? Didn't think we did the pantyhose,"
I chuckled. "But I'm not averse..."
"Okay, knee-highs and chocolate then."
"Come here..." I said. The young man in stocking feet
glided around the bed and landed in my arms.
"I love you, Johnnie."
"I love you back; more than you love me."
"Not is possible." And then he kissed me as I pulled
him closer. I felt his tongue, and then he brushed his
fingertips across the small of my back. The sky took the
cue to rumble its approval. "I think coffee and omelets can
wait, yes?"
I never opened my eyes. Instead, I chose to employ
the senses of smell and sound to experience the magic that
was on tap. I felt the back of my head land softly on the
goose down pillows, and Sander's lips encapsulate my
throbbing erection. He took me to his special place where
the only thing that exists is the intensely pure and
powerful love that defines Sander and me. This was how
our day began.
Chapter 2
nd now, my ladies and gentlemen, klasse five-
A of Marie Jørgensen's Skole presents The
"A Lillebælts Band!" shouted the principal of the
century-old school. (By the way—just an observation—but
why is it that whenever a bureaucrat of any persuasion
speaks into a microphone, it must always be followed by
an ear-splitting squeal?)
Anyway, with a downbeat to rival Lars Ulrich—a
famous Dane, by the way!—Jannik Hansen led his merry
band of fifth-graders into a rousing rendition of Bowie's
Life on Mars and—get this—the little creeps were actually
quite good.
They brought down the house, and after the show,
seeing Jannik and his team, lost in a sea of their classmates
taking turns slapping them on the back and buzzing about
how much they loved their performance, was so very
heartening. Jannik caught our eye and shot us an ear-to-ear
grin.
"Pokey! Johnnie! You come!" the sandy-haired boy
hollered as he trotted over to us. "Where is Mama, Pop,
and Grini?"
"They're way in the back, but we got here early so
we have good seats, see?" Sander smiled. "We are in the
front seats; that means we hear your song before they do
back there!"
"You're crazy," he declared. "Hey, Johnnie!"
"Hey, Jannik! I thought your arms were gonna fall
off!"
"No, no! I am professional."
"You were so good, man! Maybe someday you can
make records and be famous!" I told him. "You have a real
flair, dude."
"Hva' sagde han?" Jannik asked Sander what I had
just said.
"Han sagde, at du har talent." Then Jannik turned to
me and smiled: "Do you wants for to have my autograss?"
We totally cracked up and Jannik just looked confused.
"What I say makes so funny?"
"It's auto graph," Sander laughed heartily, "not
auto grass, du fugl hjernen."
"Nej! Du er en fugl hjerne, Sander, Sander kommer fra
Randers!" Jannik teased. Now it was my turn to ask.
"Okay, Pokes, what are you two on about?"
"I call him bird brains and he says I am the one
with bird brains. So he say I come from Randers, which is
like saying you comes from the trailer park in Alabama.
Now you know," Sander reported. To which I slapped
Jannik a high five.
"That's telling him, Jan! And, yes, I want your
autograss!"
FOLLOWING THE FIFTH GRADE ASSEMBLY, my future
in-laws, Niels and Magda, took us all out to dinner at Den
Gamle Kro, a lovely restaurant in the center of town. The
name of the place translates in English to The Old Tavern.
We were seated by the window, the large oaken table
dressed in white linens and lighted by candles. By now it
was storming fiercely and we found ourselves with
premiere seating for the lightning show that moved in
over the cobblestone streets. The low lighting from the
brass parrafin lamps added to the ambience of the special
evening.
"Now boys," Magda began in her motherly tone,
"Pop and I want to know your plans for your wedding."
Sander shrugged, "Well, we are getting married
and then we live happy ever after."
"And then they kiss and takes off their clothes and
go aaaggghhh, ooohhhh, and oooooo!" Jannik said
cheekily. "You know it be truth I say, Pokey baloney!"
"Jannik Mads Hansen!" Magda scolded.
"Oh! She uses all three names! You're in for it now,
kid!" Sander chuckled. "Glad I'm not you!"
"You apologize immediately, do you hear?" Niels
added.
"I was only making a joke a little bit," Jannik
protested. "They know I only make some fun."
"Jannik!"
"I'm sorry brothers. I only means humor, not to
make you angry wh
it me."
Sander pulled his little brother closer and kissed
him on the head. Personally, I wasn't offended at all. In
fact, I thought it was damned funny. And neither Sander
nor I could deny the fact—even the part about the moans
and the groans!
Jannik's fate was saved by the arrival of our large
platters
of
Danish
potatoes
and
gravy,
and
wienerschnitzels. This family's camraderie was something
I hadn't understood until I became a part of the Hansens
myself. I guess I'd based all of my conceptions on books I
had read, or movies I'd seen depicting somebody's
idealized version of what a functional family is supposed
to be. Now I was actually part of one, and it felt pretty
awesome.
"So, about the wedding," Magda began, "I want it
to be a very special day for both of you. So what can we
do? Have you any ideas?"
I raised my hand and Niels nearly spit out a
mouthful of claret from laughing at my formality.
"We're not in school! Out with it, man!" he
playfully chided me. Ingrid reminded me that the only
way one gets a word in edgewise with the Family Hansen
is to simply jump into the fray. "Ssshhh, ssshhh,
everybody! Our man Johnnie has the floor!"
"Well, Pokey thought around Christmastime would
be good because then your whole family...all the
relatives...could come," I said. "I think it's a good idea,
because I know how much I'd like to meet everybody."
"Even Uncle Ole!" Sander laughed.
"Ugh! Poor Johnnie," Magda said. "I thought you
loved Johnnie!"
"I do! But if he's going to be a Hansen, he has to live
the whole Hansen experience!"
"Including Uncle Ole!" Ingrid added.
"What's wrong with Uncle Ole?" I asked.
It seems that Niels's brother, Ole, is quite the
character. He has been in jail more than he has lived free of
some level of restriction or confinement, and his crimes
have always been knuckleheaded and mischievous efforts
at best. In fact, I learned that many locals have Ole Tales of
their very own. All of the police officers and jailers know
him, and it seems that he is universally liked by all. Ingrid
said that most people just end up eventually dropping the
charges because of his charm. But the story that floored me
was the one that Sander told about Ole and the lady who
lives in a nearby manor house, Bertha Moon.