Just Like This (Albin Academy)

by Cole McCade

  And they’d pretended not to notice they had an audience, dozens of curious eyes peeking out through dorm room windows, as they’d thrown woven crowns of flowers into the pond and wished to Isabella of the Lake for a dozen, a hundred, an eternity’s years of perfect love.

  As Damon looked into Rian’s eyes now, and saw the raw emotion running through him reflected in liquid depths of tawny gold...

  He thought, perhaps, Isabella had granted their wish.

  He tore away from the captivating depths of Rian’s gaze, though, as a little hand latched onto his shirt and pulled. Damon looked down, into wide brown eyes set into a round, heart-shaped face.

  “Lift me up, Daddy!” Nanette lisped, letting go of Rian’s hand and holding both her arms up, rising up on her toes and straining to reach him with little insistent nnh-nhh-nhh sounds. “I can’t see!”

  Her sister echoed; they tended to do that twin thing, mirroring each other’s actions and wants, and Nina raised her arms with a little cry of, “Me too!”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He bent to scoop Nanette up in one arm, her ruffled skirt flaring around her as he hefted her up to perch on his shoulder. She barely weighed as much as one of the flower petals printed on her skirt, and he held her clamped easily in place with his forearm while he bent again to gather up her sister and settle her on the opposite shoulder. Both girls grasped onto his neck and his head with tiny giggles; he got a couple of fingers in one eye, another up his nose, a few more tangled in his hair, but he held still until they wiggled themselves into place, tucking themselves into the crooks of his neck and shoulders and using the top of his head like a pillow.

  “Better?” he asked dryly—and got another spate of giggles in response.

  Followed by a soft, hesitant, “What about me?”

  Anton looked up at them shyly, with that certain reticence that said he was accustomed to asking for things and being told no—no, there wasn’t enough; no, he wasn’t enough. It had taken almost a month to impress on him that it was okay to ask for anything, and he was still so hesitant about it, so tense; once children learned negative programming it was often hardwired in their brains, and it took constant reinforcement to overcome.

  But Damon’s arms were full, and he didn’t want to tell Anton no.

  Rian didn’t miss a beat, bending to wrap his long, slender arms around Anton’s waist, dipping down like a flower stem bending gracefully under the weight of its own head. “Daddy’s out of shoulders, so...” With a playful little sound, he lifted Anton up, pretending to strain with an exaggerated sound as he stood. “Up you go with Papa, little one.”

  With a startled squeal that turned into a laugh, Anton clung on tight while Rian maneuvered him up onto his shoulders, settling Anton so that his legs dangled down to either side of Rian’s neck. Anton held on tight to both of Rian’s hands, but then pouted, looking over at Damon and the twins with his lower lip thrust out.

  “... Nina and Nan are higher up.”

  Rian let out a patient chuckle. “Unfortunately I can’t get quite as tall as Daddy. But if you hold on tight...”

  With a little deft maneuvering, Rian caught Anton around the waist and lifted him up in both hands; for a moment Anton kicked his feet nervously, then braced them against Rian’s shoulders. He wobbled—but Rian held him firm until he found his legs and straightened, clutching at Rian’s wrists and forearms before his entire face lit up in a broad grin.

  “There we go,” Rian soothed, and Anton laughed, raising his arms and stretching toward the sky.

  “I’m tall!” he said, and Rian let out an indulgent laugh warm with so much affection, so much love.

  “Yes, you are, little man.”

  Damon watched them fondly, his ribs binding up with every breath with the force of the emotion threatening to break him open. “He’s going to fall,” he murmured teasingly, and Rian threw him an arch look.

  “He’s not going to fall,” he said, but firmed his grip on Anton nonetheless. “I’ve got him. Mind your two, they’re squirmers.”

  Damon snorted and turned his head to blow a raspberry against Nina’s upper arm. “Daddy’s little wiggle worms.”

  “I’m not a worm!” Nanette protested, while Nina snickered.

  “I am!” she said, and wriggled her bottom against Damon’s shoulder.

  “Hey,” Damon said, tightening his grip. “Keep it still, or you go back down.”

  She pouted but settled against him, just a small ball of warmth that still carried a little baby smell even though she and her sister often reminded him that they were almost seven, little girls grown, and Anton was almost five.

  He often told the twins they were six going on sixty, but really...

  He was glad they were only six.

  Because that meant an entire lifetime ahead of them.

  An entire lifetime to love his little family, and hold them close as their children grew up and he and Rian grew together.

  He’d never imagined his life would turn out like this.

  A little lie. A massively overblown argument.

  And the man who used to make him want to tear his own hair out at the roots...wearing his ring, with his roots grown so deep into Damon’s heart—while they watched the boy who had brought them together graduate, with a smile that lit up his face like sunlight.

  Maybe it wasn’t everyone’s idea of a happy ending.

  But Damon wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  By the time the graduation ceremony was over, though, he was ready to sit down. Those little petal-weight girls on his shoulders had somehow grown by a few dozen pounds each, and he was glad to put them down and let them walk on their own to give his back a break, as the formal graduation ceremony broke up to let people mingle and talk. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of handshakes; a few surprising hugs from graduating students for both himself and Rian, the kids putting on their best puppy eyes so everyone they met would tickle and hug and spoil them, even a few of the less aloof parents stopping to shake hands.

  Except for Mrs. Northcote.

  She hugged both Damon and Rian so close they both nearly tumbled over, crashing into them with each of her arms looped around both of their shoulders while she let out choked sounds that eventually translated into murmured thank yous.

  Followed by Mr. Northcote clapping their backs, adding his own gruff gratitude.

  Damon didn’t really know what to do, what to say. Rian looked equally stunned, but before either of them had to muster up a reply, the Northcote whirlwind swirled away to close in on their son and smother him in their embraces. Damon and Rian stood side by side, watching...and over his parents’ heads, Chris caught their eyes.

  He didn’t say anything.

  He just smiled.

  And Damon smiled back, while at his side Rian reached for his hand and clasped tight.

  “Daddy?” Anton asked, hooking his little fingers in the belt loops of Damon’s jeans. “Who’s that?”

  “Someone I’m very proud of, little man,” Damon said softly. “Almost as proud as I am of you.”

  It was almost another hour before they managed to extricate from the crowd—obligatory chit-chat, faculty hanging around and keeping an eye on everything, but by the time they made the walk up the hill back to the school they had three very tired children on their hands. Nina and Nanette were still on their own two feet, tottering along sleepily and hand in hand with Rian, but Damon ended up with Anton riding piggyback, drowsing with his head pillowed between Damon’s shoulder blades and his yawns making little rushes of air through his shirt.

  Anton was almost fully asleep by the time they made it back to their suite, and Rian managed to get a hand free to unlock the door and let them in. The family suites at school weren’t much bigger than the doubles, but they still had enough space for Anton to have his own little bedr
oom, and for the twins to share a larger one. Anton didn’t even stir as Damon settled him in his little train-engine twin bed and tugged his shoes off, before tucking him in under a thin summer blanket. By the time he was done, Rian had gotten the girls down for a nap in their room—and Damon found him still there, settled on the edge of Nina’s bed and smoothing her wispy, dark brown hair back from her brow while her eyelids rose and fell again and again as she fought sleep.

  She always did.

  That was one place she differed from her twin.

  Nanette fell into sleep like it was waiting for her with open arms, dropping off in a heartbeat and already gone right now, clutching tight at a cartoon-patterned blanket covered with her inexplicable obsession: Jiminy Cricket. Nina always took a little more soothing, but as Damon leaned his shoulder in the doorway, she let out a soft sigh—and the next time her eyes slipped closed, they didn’t rise again, her breaths settling into the steady sweet cadence of slumber. Rian’s soft strokes stopped, his thin bony hands resting against the top of her head, and he watched her with a small, sweet smile for several moments.

  That smile lingered, heart-stopping and lighting his face, as he lifted his head to look up at Damon, then gingerly lifted himself from the bedside and crept toward the doorway. Neither of them spoke, though, until they’d stepped out into the hall and eased the door closed behind them.

  “That was easier than I expected,” Rian whispered, looking over his shoulder and peering through the last crack in the door. “Normally we have to practically fight them about nap time.”

  “I have a feeling the sitter knows tricks we don’t, and this is one of them,” Damon murmured, slipping his arm around his husband’s waist and drawing him close—until he could feel every inch of slim, supple warmth that Rian concealed in the flow of his loosely swirling clothing. “Now I know how she always gets them to go down without a fuss. She wears them out.”

  “We can always keep them busy over the summer. Are we still taking them up to Cape Cod?”

  “I just need to check the dates for the pow-wow.” Damon settled to lean against the wall with Rian draped against him.

  “Are you certain you’re okay with that...?” Rian settled a worried hand to Damon’s chest. “How long has it been since you last went?”

  “Almost ten years. But I don’t want them to grow up like me, babe. I don’t want them to grow up not knowing where they came from, or what it means. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I have a place there...but they should.”

  Because maybe he could never get that past back; that lost history, that lost life.

  But he could make sure it was always within his children’s grasp.

  “As long as you’re sure.” Rian pressed his lips to the corner of Damon’s mouth.

  “I’m sure. I promise.” He grinned. “We could make a vacation out of it. Come back before it’s time to send them off to school.”

  “Mm. With the girls starting kindergarten late, I do wonder if we should try to get them on a more standard schedule before the school year starts.” Rian sounded troubled as he rested his head to Damon’s shoulder, his brow creasing. “I know it’s because they’ve been in the system for so long, but I’m worried about them, Damon. Starting school years behind their peers.”

  “It’ll be all right. They’re smart girls, and they’ll catch up. We’ll work with them.” Damon pressed a kiss to the top of Rian’s head, into the soft ripples of his hair. “As long as we’re patient with them and give them what they need, they’ll be fine.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Rian nestled into him in that way Damon loved—as if Rian just needed to be as close to him as possible, even if it meant burrowing in like a little silky-pale ermine. “I feel like all I do is worry about them lately. Is that normal?”

  “It is when you love your kids.” Damon smiled against Rian’s scalp. “I worry, too. It’s pretty standard for new parents. We love them enough that we’re terrified of breaking them by doing something wrong.”

  “He says as if he has any more experience with parenting than I do.” With a snort, Rian poked his side. “No one told me it was this exhausting. I think I need an afternoon nap.”

  “Yeah?” Damon turned his head to catch the upper curve of Rian’s ear in his teeth, tugging back gently and scraping his teeth along the soft flesh. “...you sure about that? We haven’t actually had a minute of quiet in a while.”

  ...especially when at night, more often than not the kids still woke with nightmares. The social workers said that, too, was normal and it would calm down with time, but until then...

  Sleep was a little restless for everyone, when they were tense and waiting to snap awake to handle an emergency.

  And it felt like forever since it had been safe for them to fall into each other without getting interrupted.

  Rian inhaled softly, his body going tense against Damon’s with that particular tightness that whispered of heat shivering through pale flesh. “Ah... Damon...mmnnh. It’s...it’s been...it feels like forever.”

  The husky note of longing in Rian’s voice made Damon smile to himself, flicking his tongue out against the flesh he’d just nipped before rumbling against Rian’s ear. “You miss me, Ri?”

  “So much,” Rian whispered with a ragged sound, curling his hands against Damon’s chest and knotting up handfuls of his shirt. “I just...want one night with you...”

  “Not sure we’ll get that unless we convince Fox and Summer to take the kids for an overnight trial run before they decide to adopt their own. But they might be willing, if it means letting us have a date night.” Damon chuckled, slipping his other arm around Rian, gathering him close until there wasn’t room or breath or even the slightest longing, loss-filled space between them. “But we’re alone now, and as long as you don’t make too much noise...”

  “With what you do to me?” Rian let out a choked sound that was half groan, half laugh...before his slim figure twisted deftly out of Damon’s arms. He took a few steps backward, his fingers trailing along Damon’s arm, then lacing their fingertips together in a gentle tug; hazel eyes sparked wickedly, soft depths the color of amber and brimming with enticement, need. “Race you to the bedroom?”

  Damon grinned. “...if that’s how you want to play it,” he said, “you’d better start running.”

  He gave Rian half a second to realize what he’d challenged Damon to—half a second to widen his eyes, half a second to gasp, half a second to turn and bolt down the hall with a tiny suppressed shriek of breathless laughter.

  Before Damon was after him, hot on his heels.

  Just hot, period—when all it took was one look from his husband to ignite him all over again. Rian had always left him heated—with anger, with frustration, with passion.

  With love.

  And once he started to burn...

  There was nothing that could calm him down but Rian’s kiss. His touch.

  His love, and the promise reinforced every time their bodies crashed together in a tangle of flesh and need and wild, burning heat.

  Damon couldn’t get enough.

  And if this might be his only chance for the next—who knew how long?

  He wasn’t going to waste it.

  * * *

  Rian barely made it through the bedroom door before Damon’s heavy weight hit him—and he wasn’t sure if Damon fell into him or he fell into Damon but suddenly they were crashing, tangling, the bed slamming into his back as Rian fell to the mattress with his entire body nearly vibrating with the force of impact.

  The force of impact, and the force of his need for Damon.

  Two years.

  Two years of marriage, two years of crashing together and then apart, finding where their edges fit and where they stabbed and where they needed sanding and where sometimes the pain was the pleasure of it, when they ripped at each other and some
how that frustration turned into passion and fire and everything wonderful that burned between them.

  Two years where Rian’s desire hadn’t abated in the slightest.

  Two years of falling more and more in love.

  With his husband—and with the life they had built together.

  In some ways, nothing had changed.

  They still taught their classes, still had little overlap in their disciplines, still...still sometimes fought like cats and dogs.

  But bit by bit, day by day, they had created this world that was just for them; this home that was just for them, filled with furniture they’d argued over at IKEA and the kitschy things Rian picked up at the antique shops down in town and the ugly things Damon had found at the same shops and bought because he thought they were weird and quirky and something Rian would love. And Rian did love them, just because they were all wrong and so hideous and he absolutely adored that his husband tried so hard and still hadn’t quite figured out Rian’s tastes, until it had become a running joke that Damon had absolutely zero sense of style, fashion, or aesthetic balance.

  I must have some kind of eye, Damon had teased, as he’d put some kind of bizarre rhinestone-encrusted pepper grinder up on one of the wall-mounted decorative kitchen shelves. I picked you.

  Ridiculous man.

  Ridiculous man, with that overly blunt way of talking that just made Rian blush again and again and again.

  That way of looking at Rian as if there was nothing in Damon’s world but him.

  That way of touching him as if Rian was something fragile and cherished that Damon couldn’t bear to break.

  That way of kissing him as if Damon would devour him with his hunger—as Damon kissed him now, that hot mouth descending on Rian’s and consuming him with a heat that burst through him as if he’d plunged into the heart of a star, incinerated in an instant. Every time they came together was always like that: Rian hit his flashpoint in less time than it took to breathe, his entire body coming alight, internal combustion flaring to the point of overload. He felt the crush of Damon’s lips with every sense, from the velvet-wet texture of their mouths sliding together to the prickling sting of pressure to the scour of rough heat and silky caresses; from the heady golden-wine taste of the slick inside of Damon’s mouth to the steaming scent of his breaths to the gasping, liquid sounds they made as they moved together, mated, broke apart, met again in a frenzy.