by Kilby Blades
“I made lasagna last night if you’re hungry,” Dalton said, knowing Orrie loved his lasagna.
“I grabbed a sandwich when I got back. Before I called you.”
Dalton slumped a little in the seat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got home.”
“Babe, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I thought it would be a good idea, but I obviously didn’t think about weather delays in February.”
Dalton cursed under his breath, and he felt his cheeks get hot. He exited the freeway and took the several turns toward their house. He pulled in the driveway just as Clapton woke up, talking loudly, and scared the shit out of both of them.
“And I gonna put the buhd feeduh in the twee outside my window so I can wake up to see the buhdies.”
Dalton and Orrie laughed together, holding their chests to keep their startled hearts from leaping free of their ribs.
“Let’s get you maniacs to bed.”
They carried the boys up to their beds and helped them change into their jammies and brush their teeth in the en suite bathroom. Dalton had insisted on making them their own room, complete with bunk beds, rock posters, and lava lamps, so they’d love coming to stay with them. He’d even had custom constellations painted on the ceiling that showed the sky as it looked the nights they were born.
At the same time, he’d had the constellations from the night he and Orrie first met painted on their bedroom ceiling.
Orrie often told him he missed those stars something fierce when he was away from home. He said he fantasized about the day he’d made enough of a name for himself that he could take longer breaks from the road. He’d been on tour almost constantly for the past two years and he was exhausted. Dalton knew that their relationship made it better and worse; better because Orrie had something to look forward to when he came home, and worse because he had to be away from Dalton.
Dalton struggled when Orrie was gone, too, but at least he had a schedule. His work kept him busy, his brothers drove him crazy, and when he was home alone, he tried not to pine for Orrie. Sleeping in their empty bed was the hardest part. Waking up without Orrie made it a little harder to get out of bed, and it was a damn lonely existence.
The boys needed baths, which Orrie handled with ease, even getting the sticky mess out of Clapton’s hair. Then they wanted a story and a song before they’d settle down. Dalton told them a story about a frog in a creek waiting for his true love to come and find him and give him a smooch, and Orrie sang to them until they drifted off with smiles on their faces.
Dalton stood from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the lower bunk next to Clapton and stretched his back. He smiled at Orrie and gestured with his head toward the hall and their bedroom at the other end.
Orrie followed, still oozing tension from all his pores. Dalton felt it bearing down on him as he shut the door. He prayed they weren’t about to have a fight. He was emotionally raw after the night they’d spent with the boys. He suddenly wanted things he said he’d never want, and it frightened him as much as Orrie’s melancholy mood.
“You need a shower?” Dalton asked. “Want anything from the kitchen?”
Orrie shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, which had completely fallen in his face by this time of night. Dalton had noticed he’d left out his industrial-strength product. Dalton had wanted to run his fingers through it all night and feel it against his skin—
“Are we okay?” Orrie blurted out.
“God, why would you need to ask that? What’s wrong?” Dalton approached him, but he didn’t touch Orrie. Orrie’s body language was hard to read and Dalton didn’t know how to comfort him, or whether he should even try.
Orrie lifted his hand and examined a hangnail. He was bleeding more than he should from just that small wound, but Dalton thought he’d probably been worrying it all night.
“Fuck,” Orrie said, his voice hoarse. “Give me a second.”
He stormed into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Dalton usually gave him his space, but something told him he shouldn’t give Orrie too much space right now, especially if Orrie was worried about them.
Dalton opened the door without knocking. A first.
Orrie stood at the sink washing his hands a little rougher than usual under the faucet, scrubbing the blood off with soap until he was squeaky clean.
“Stings like a bitch,” he said.
“Is it because of me?” Dalton crossed his arms to keep himself from touching Orrie, partly to give him space, but mostly to keep from getting hurt if Orrie pulled away. Dalton couldn’t handle that right now.
“No! Fuck, I’m just… Do you still want to get married?”
Dalton’s eyes bugged out. “What? How could you even ask me that?”
“Because!” Orrie tried to wrap his finger with a Band-Aid but the sticky parts stuck together and then he made the cut bleed again when he pulled it off. “Dammit.”
“Here,” Dalton said, his voice soft and soothing. Dalton wanted to pull him in and hold him until everything was okay, but first he grabbed a new Band-Aid and got Orrie wrapped up. He didn’t let go of Orrie’s hand.
“Of course I still want to get married, babe. I love you. Why would you think that?”
Orrie blew out a breath and pulled his hand away. “We haven’t set a date.”
Dalton tried to speak, but Orrie cut him off. “The last couple of times I’ve asked you, you said don’t worry, we’d plan everything when the tour was over.”
“Because I was trying not to put more pressure on you! You’ve been so overwhelmed lately, and I thought it would be better if we just waited, you know, until the tour was over.”
Orrie stood with his hands on his hips. “Makes sense. You always make sense. Listen, forget it. You’re tired. You worked hard tonight. I just haven’t been able to think straight lately. I needed to see you to know we were okay.”
Dalton stood up a little straighter, his eyes wet with tears. “I had fun tonight.”
Orrie frowned. “I’m glad…?”
Dalton sucked in a shaky breath, his lower lip trembling. “I want to have kids, Orrie.”
Orrie stumbled a bit. “What?”
“I want to be a father.”
“But you always said—”
“I love those boys, Orrie. I love spending time with them.” He couldn’t believe he’d just put those feelings out there. He hadn’t even been able to admit it so bluntly to himself.
“They’re pretty great,” Orrie said, moving closer. “I love watching you with them. But baby, you always said you didn’t want to, that you—”
“I always said I’d never have kids, never subject them to my parents, never even take the chance that I might do to my kids what my parents did to me.”
Dalton’s admission took the wind out of his sails. He left the bathroom and plopped down on the bench at the foot of their bed with his head in his hands.
Orrie sat next to Dalton and rubbed his back. “You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want kids, if you don’t want kids. I just want you.”
Dalton rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t want to be like my father or grandfather.”
Orrie blew out a breath. “I didn’t exactly have good role models, either.” He turned to Dalton and caressed his jaw, eventually turning Dalton to face him. “But I would do anything for you. I’ll read books, take parenting classes, whatever will make you happy. I love you.”
Dalton turned those bright blue eyes on Orrie, his face full of hope. “I love you, and I love your crazy little nephews. I thought we made a great team tonight.”
Orrie kissed his hair. “We always make a great team.”
Dalton grinned and slid his hand up the inside of Orrie’s thigh. “I’d love to do a bit more teamwork. You know, since you came all this way.” He finished that statement with a lingering kiss, the kind that begged for an answer.
Orrie ran his fingers through Dalton’s hair and tugged his head back. “You
did look pretty damn adorable with those littles on your lap. Competent, too. I think you’ll be a phenomenal father.”
“So will you.”
Dalton moved to the floor in front of Orrie and ran his hands up Orrie’s quads, letting his thumbs graze the sensitive spots along the way.
Orrie jumped under his touch and placed his hands over Dalton’s. Orrie’s tattooed hands covered Dalton’s freckled ones completely, his long fingers tracing the pale blue lines under the surface. Dalton loved Orrie all the way down to the blood that gave him life.
“Orrie, I want to get married. I want it more than ever. We can pull out our calendars right now and pick a date…”
“Once more it occurs to me that I must have done something right in this fucked-up life to deserve a man like you. Whatever it was, I’m going to continue being grateful every damn day.”
“I’m serious,” Dalton said, feeling terrible that Orrie had been away the whole time feeling less than secure in their relationship. “We can fly to Vegas right now and do it.”
Orrie snorted. “What will we do with the boys?”
“Take them with us! I don’t care. Or we can go to city hall tomorrow. I don’t care. Whatever will make you feel better.”
Orrie’s chin trembled. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I can’t wait until this tour is over.” He linked his fingers with Dalton’s. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”
It wasn’t quite the Valentine’s Day Orrie had imagined they might have when he’d snuck home. There was no Claremont, no room with a view, no sparkling cider or chocolate-covered strawberries. Instead, he and Dalton made love in the bed they’d shared for over a year and a half, reconnecting after Orrie’s tour schedule had caused him to feel off-balance where their future was concerned. He’d come home to pamper the man he loved and make sure they were still solid and headed for the altar. He intended to follow through with the plan.
“So, let’s be clear,” Dalton panted as they came up for air. “We’re going to city hall when you get back from your European tour at the end of May.”
“If you want,” Orrie said. He flipped Dalton over onto his stomach and straddled his thighs so he could massage his back. “Or we could go to Hawaii.” He took a couple of nibbles out of Dalton’s backside until Dalton was quivering beneath him.
“Okay, Hawaii.” Dalton moaned. “Wherever you want.”
“Or the desert,” Orrie said, using his thumbs to work the stress out of Dalton’s neck. “Do you want a big reception afterwards?” He hit a particularly tender spot, and Dalton arched his back.
“I just want you.” Dalton’s face was smashed into the pillow, making his voice sound even more adorable.
“We’ll have to have at least two witnesses,” Orrie reminded him. He worked his way down Dalton’s spine and felt his lover relax into a puddle.
“No family. I don’t want any fights.”
“Good point,” Orrie said. “You bring Sanjay and I’ll bring Joshua.”
“Perfect.” Dalton rolled over and wrapped himself around Orrie. “They’re our best friends. That way there’s no drama. Let’s not tell anyone until it’s done. Then we can deal with the drama, while we’re still on a high from our wedding.”
“Then there’s the honeymoon,” Orrie said close to Dalton’s ear. He sat back, grinning to himself as goose bumps appeared on Dalton’s chest.
“I don’t think I can handle talk of a honeymoon right now.” Dalton bit Orrie’s lower lip and sucked on it just enough to make Orrie moan. “I don’t think I can form any more words.”
Orrie gazed down at Dalton and saw exactly what he’d needed to see when he’d decided to come home. Love. Determination. Lust. Hope. The time away from each other had only made those feelings grow stronger.
Orrie could leave knowing that things were solid between them and the next time they were together, they’d be getting married. They’d done all the talking they needed.
“Who needs words?”
Dalton woke before his alarm the next morning. He turned it off and rolled over to watch Orrie sleep. He was so grateful that Orrie had come home. They had an incredible night and an important conversation that made them both feel more secure and content.
They’d not only decided to get married as soon as possible, but to research the necessary steps to becoming fathers. Orrie promised Dalton as soon as the ink dried on their marriage license, they’d go see an attorney about their options to adopt. The idea scared them both, as they had a lot of baggage to deal with when it came to family. They agreed they’d see a therapist together to talk about their concerns before moving forward with adoption.
It was a good plan. A solid one.
Thinking about the boys kissing their cheeks as they’d kissed each other hello, Hendrix’s theory on true love, and the stern voice Orrie took on when they got feisty, made his joy at thinking about parenting grow to ridiculous levels.
He was going to be a dad. With the man he loved. They would give a child a home and create their own little family, different than the ones they’d been born into.
Dalton smiled. He would definitely be the good cop in their partnership—it was difficult not to give in to Hendrix and Clapton. What would it be like with their own little bundle of joy? Orrie would be the perfect partner to take this journey with, and Dalton was grateful he’d been open to the idea.
Dalton couldn’t resist tracing lightly over the stark black tattoos on Orrie’s shoulder. He slept on his stomach with one hand touching Dalton’s side. Orrie always maintained contact when they slept together, whether it was a hand, a leg, or even the ball of his foot resting on Dalton’s calf.
He heard the pitter-patter of little feet outside their door as the boys tried to sneak up on them. Dalton feigned sleep, waiting for them to pounce. He should warn Orrie, but then he wanted to see how Orrie would react. At least they’d both remembered to slip into their boxers before falling asleep.
The door creaked open and the giggles grew louder. Dalton cracked open one eye to see if Orrie’d heard them. Orrie watched him from underneath his dark hair. He rolled over onto his back with a big yawn and rested an arm over his eyes, smacking his lips for effect.
The boys froze for a moment, and then they whispered to each other before counting, “One…two…three!”
The two beasts pounced on Orrie and Dalton. They squealed in delight when Orrie greeted them with a loud roar. He picked up Clapton with one hand and held him over his head while pinning Hendrix to the mattress with the other so Dalton could tickle him until he begged for mercy.
“Unkie Oh-wee down down! I want to hug you.”
Orrie slowly lowered Clapton to the mattress with another roar, and then wrapped the little monster in his arms. He squeezed him tight, burying his face in the little boy’s curls.
“I’m so glad we found these delicious creatures to eat for breakfast.” Orrie winked at Dalton.
“Oh, yes,” Dalton said in the fiercest voice he could manage. “I’m so hungry I could eat both of them!”
“No unkie, no eat me pweeze!”
“Don’t you know, little man, that if you disturb a sleeping giant, he’ll eat you for breakfast?”
“You’re not a giant,” Hendrix said with an eyeroll as he moved to the end of the bed. “Daddy is taller than you. And I’m starving. My belly is so empty. See?” Hendrix held up his shirt and sucked in his tummy.
“Hmmm,” Dalton said. “I see. That’s terrible. I should take a closer look.” Dalton pulled Hendrix to him with a serious expression, but once the little guy was in his grasp, he made obnoxiously loud raspberries on his bared torso. Orrie followed his lead, and pretty soon both boys hiccuped with laughter and went running back to their room.
Orrie and Dalton shared a satisfied smile.
“I’ll take this over the Claremont any day,” Dalton said as he leaned over for a kiss.
“I can’t wait until this is our life every morning,” Orrie said
against Dalton’s lips. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you back.”
Dalton drove them to meet Olive on the other side of the bridge at Baldie’s Cafe for breakfast and to make the child exchange. Orrie’s plane didn’t leave until late afternoon and he wanted to see Olive and the baby. Olive was over-the-moon excited to see her brother, and Orrie immediately grabbed Janis and cuddled her the entire meal.
Dalton made eye contact with him, and Orrie’s hopeful smile was a huge improvement from his dour expression the day before.
Dalton’s own expression was probably as dreamy and dopey as he felt. Olive asked them questions about the night before, but they’d agreed to keep their plans under wraps. Dalton was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Terrence.
Thanks again for coming last night.
“Terrence texted to say thank you.”
Orrie stared at him with a frown, while Hendrix and Clapton pulled on his ears and used his gauges as peepholes.
“That’s…interesting. Maybe he’s changed?”
Can you send me a Lyft?
“Hold that thought,” Dalton said. He dialed Terrence’s number and stepped outside.
“I didn’t end up home. Tasha wanted…”
“Tasha wanted?”
“You going to make me say it?”
Dalton couldn’t hold in the snicker.
“Fine. We came out to some park. She said she wanted to look at the stars.”
“Okay.”
“So we looked at the stars! Then she wanted…you know, and I wanted to, and we did, and then we were cuddling, and I said I was hungry. That was it! She got pissed and she left me here! I slept on a fucking bench. Well, actually, I lay on that bench all night watching the fucking bats fly around and listening to noises. I didn’t really sleep until the sun came up and it got quiet.”
“She left because you said you were hungry?”
Terrence cursed. “I might have said I wanted a steak.”