A Case of You

by Tymber Dalton

  Brandon stumbled into the bathroom to await his turn, also softly snorting. “I guess that Xanax really did knock him on his ass.”

  “Well, he doesn’t even drink. Look what happens if he has a beer, not that he has lately because of his meds. It puts him out like a light.”

  “True.”

  Stuart finished without dribbling anywhere and stepped aside to wash his hands while Brandon had his turn.

  “I don’t smell coffee,” Brandon said. “I take it Emma didn’t have swimming this morning?”

  “I don’t honestly know, Master. I forgot to look at the calendar last night.” Stuart grabbed his robe and headed out to the kitchen to get the coffee started. And yes, Emma’s car still sat parked in the driveway when he peeked out the front blinds.

  He hit the button on the coffeemaker, then he verified with the calendar that Emma didn’t have swimming that morning.

  But when he checked the time, he realized Emma still should have been up by then, getting ready for school and to go pick up Grace, since she was Grace’s ride.

  He’d just reached her bedroom door to knock when it flew open and Emma smacked right into him, scaring the crap out of both of them.

  “Sorry! Crap, I overslept!” She and Stuart did a back-and-forth dodgy dance before she finally grabbed his arms to hold him still, darted around him, and bolted for her bathroom across the hall.

  Down at the end of the hall, the bedroom door opened and Brandon stuck his head out. “What’s going on?”

  “Emma overslept.”

  “Ah.” He smirked. “Is that why I don’t yet have coffee?”

  Delaying the man’s morning coffee wasn’t just a cardinal sin, it was like ignoring a survival tactic. Stuart resisted the urge to shoot him a playful bird that morning. Definitely not the time for it.

  Especially before coffee.

  And with Emma home, he couldn’t give Brandon a snarky, “Yes, Master,” answer, either.

  “It’s brewing now.”

  “Thank you.” Brandon disappeared into their room again, the door closing behind him.

  This was already starting out to be an interesting morning, and it was only Thursday.

  He fixed Brandon’s mug, and his own, and carried them down the hall, barely managing to get out of the way when Emma’s bathroom door flew open and she bolted out, heading toward her bedroom, where her phone was ringing.

  “I know, I know!” she muttered. “I’m late!”

  Stuart suspected that was Grace calling.

  Somehow, he made it to the bedroom, coffee unspilled. He carried the mugs into the bathroom and stuck Brandon’s through the shower curtain.

  “Thank you, boy.” He took a long sip and then handed it back to Stuart. Stuart set it on the counter, along with his own, so he could jump into the shower with Brandon real fast. All he needed to do was shave, but the morning wake-up was worth it.

  Especially since it gave him a couple of minutes alone with Brandon. For forty-two, the man was still in great shape. Any time he fixed those blue eyes of his on Stuart, he was a goner for him.

  His Master.

  His husband. Maybe not “legally,” but that didn’t matter. All three of them wore wedding bands, even though Stuart had to wear his on his necklace while working to keep it and his finger safe.

  Brandon’s next question caught him by surprise. “Do you really want to go to your sister’s wedding?”

  He had to think about his answer. “I want to go for her. Not because I want to go see everyone else. She specifically asked me to come. Maybe I’m asking for trouble for wanting to go, but she made an effort.”

  “Okay.” Brandon leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll put in for the time off today. We’ll fly out late that Thursday, fly home Monday morning. We’ll book the flights, rental car, and hotel room tonight.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Brandon cocked his head. “Why do you sound shocked?”

  “Yesterday, you didn’t seem…thrilled when I talked to you about it.”

  “I’m still not thrilled, but you’re not going alone, and I’m not telling you that you can’t go.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “No, this is a Brandon and Stuart thing.” He palmed Stuart’s cheek. “I love you, and I want to support you.” He grinned. “Just remember this at Thanksgiving when we have to deal with my family.”

  “Thanksgiving?”

  “Jeff’s mumblings this morning reminded me I need to talk to my family. I’d already told them a couple of months ago that we’d have Thanksgiving here, when they were here for the wedding. I need to confirm they’re still coming.”

  “I didn’t think they’d want to come here. Because of me and Jeff.”

  He shrugged. “Emma and Tracey will be here. And they showed up for the wedding, so they can’t claim they’re totally boycotting us without sounding like assholes. If they want to see their granddaughter on Thanksgiving, I guess they’ll have to show up, won’t they?” He smiled.

  It was the playful smile of the Master Stuart knew and loved and respected.

  And feared, just a wee tiny bit.

  They heard a muffled shout from Emma and what sounded like the front door slamming shut.

  They stared at each other and burst out laughing again. They were just getting themselves under control when they heard the bathroom door open.

  Stuart stuck his head through the shower curtain and saw Jeff staggering toward the toilet alcove. “Hey, buddy. Hurricane Emma wake you up?”

  “Was that what it was?”

  “Yeah. She overslept. Come join us.” He’d have to get out shortly, but it would be good to spend at least a minute or two with Jeff and Brandon.

  Lately, getting all three of them alone, vertical, and conscious at the same time was difficult.

  When Jeff finished his business, he stepped into the shower with them. They shifted position so Jeff stood between them, their arms around him, his head resting against Brandon’s shoulder as Jeff stood under the water.

  “Good morning, buddy,” Brandon said.

  “Good morning, Master.”

  “How you feeling?”

  “Groggy as hell. Do I have to take the Xanax again?”

  “Just for a couple of days, please?”

  “I don’t like feeling like this.”

  “How’s your pain level this morning?”

  He seemed to be taking inventory. “Not as bad as yesterday.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal. You promise to make and eat a good breakfast. Then take your meds—including a Xanax—and spend the day on the couch or in bed. If you do that, we’ll talk tomorrow morning about you not taking one, depending on how your pain levels are.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Wow,” Stuart said. “He’s not arguing. Now I know he still feels like crap.”

  * * * *

  Brandon could tell from the deep lines at the edges of Jeff’s eyes that he felt like crap.

  But if he was improving a little, that meant Brandon was doing the right thing to force him to stay still for another day, at least. Jeff might hate the Xanax, but if it knocked him out and made him sleep, that would help his body heal.

  “Later this afternoon, start working on the Thanksgiving Day menu, please?” Brandon asked him. “If you feel up to it.”

  Jeff looked up at him. “That’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “I was dreaming about Thanksgiving just before I woke up.”

  Brandon couldn’t help it. He and Stuart both burst out laughing, made even funnier by Jeff’s confusion.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  Brandon told him.

  “Ah. Well, okay, then. I guess I’m planning Thanksgiving.”

  “The past several years, Em and I went to my brother Edwin’s house, when Em was with me. He usually hosted for all of us, and our parents would fly in. I’m really looking forward to having Thanksgiving in our home this year.”
r />   “Our first Thanksgiving together,” Stuart said, resting his chin on Jeff’s shoulder. “The first Thanksgiving I haven’t been with…” He didn’t finish.

  “With who?” Brandon asked.

  “I was going to say with my family, except you are my family. I mean my parents and my sister and brothers and everyone. Everyone always goes to my parents’ house. All the aunts and uncles and cousins and kids. Thirty or forty people.”

  “Well, we won’t have that many here,” Brandon said. “I don’t think I want that many here. But we’ll have a cozy crowd. And speaking of crowds…” He told Jeff about them flying up to the wedding in a few weeks, carefully watching his expression for his reaction.

  Jeff turned to hold Stuart against him. “You sure you want to put yourself through that?”

  “No, but Eileen asked me to come. If I don’t go, I’ll regret it. I know I will.”

  “I could go, too. Tracey could stay here with Em and—”

  “No,” Brandon said. “The stress of flying and traveling and whatever happens there is not worth putting you through. I’d rather have you here taking care of the girls.” Brandon slipped his arms around Jeff’s waist. “Call me a big meanie if you want, but I have plans for Christmas. That means I’d like you as healthy as possible before then.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  Brandon gently nipped the nape of Jeff’s neck. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  * * * *

  Jeff stayed in the shower for a few minutes after Brandon and Stuart got out and started getting dressed. The hot water did help, and as he slowly and carefully started moving around and stretching, he could tell he definitely felt better that morning than he had the past couple of mornings.

  When he got out, Stuart had Jeff’s coffee ready and waiting and offered to make him a bowl of oatmeal before he left for work.

  Jeff let him, which earned him a smile and kiss from Brandon, who had to leave.

  Stuart had to pick up the pace or he’d be running late. So after getting the bowl of oatmeal made and bringing Jeff’s meds to him, he leaned in for a kiss. “Sorry I have to leave.”

  “No apologies necessary. Thank you for taking care of me.”

  Stuart’s bright smile as he headed out of the kitchen went a long way toward helping Jeff get over his own mood.

  Okay, not get over it. That was being too generous.

  Something along the lines of making peace with it fell closer to the mark.

  At least for that morning.

  The longer he was vertical, yes, he was definitely feeling “better” as opposed to the other day when he could barely move and the pain made him nauseous.

  The oatmeal, however, tasted delicious. Stuart had nuked frozen blueberries to put in it, along with adding cinnamon and honey.

  Their boy was becoming quite a cook. Stuart had never really had to cook before moving in with them. Not beyond boiling water or nuking a hot dog or something. Living at his cousin’s house, his cousin’s wife had always cooked and he’d eaten with them.

  Jeff had enjoyed watching Emma and Grace teaching him basics, like how to sauté vegetables and how to bake.

  In those moments, beyond all the kinky stuff the three of them had done together, beyond the sexy times in bed, he saw his true family. Vanilla snapshots of life that when he quit kvetching about his health, he could easily see were what mattered most to him.

  Family.

  His family.

  After finishing his oatmeal, he stared at the group of pills. Not only prescription meds, but also some supplements.

  He hated taking them.

  Ironic that he had no trouble deep-throating one of his guy’s cocks, but swallowing a pill or capsule filled him with dread and nearly made him gag.

  I’m stalling.

  Once he got started taking them, one at a time, it was a little easier.

  Leaving the Xanax for last.

  He picked up the tiny pill and stared at it, delaying.

  He’d slept really good last night.

  Damn good.

  Best night’s sleep he’d had in weeks, especially with his high pain levels the past several days.

  Except he hated the way they made him feel. Hell, he didn’t even drink very often, because it didn’t take much to knock him out.

  “Don’t get too used to being here,” he mumbled at the pill before dropping it into his mouth and washing it down.

  That done, he rinsed his bowl and spoon, put them in the dishwasher, and headed for the bedroom to lie down. He didn’t want to be on his feet and out and about until he got used to the kick these damn things had.

  In bed would be safest.

  If nothing else, I can sleep through my pain.

  Chapter Seven

  “I am not riding in that damn thing, so forget it.”

  Jeff stared at the two determined girls, who insisted he should use the motorized cart at Publix for their grocery shopping trip for Thanksgiving dinner ingredients.

  “Dad told us to keep an eye on you,” Emma said.

  “He did not say to make me use something that I don’t need to use.”

  “You’d totally rock it,” Grace said.

  He glared at her.

  She held up her hands. “I’m just sayin’.”

  “Come on. Don’t make me pull dad-rank on you two. That thing is for people who can’t walk around at all. I can walk pushing a regular grocery cart.” Late that Monday afternoon, a week after his massive flare hit, and Jeff was feeling worlds better than he had that same time the week prior.

  He wasn’t feeling “well,” and certainly not “healthy,” but currently hovered at a functional level of pain and mobility that might as well be either or both of those adjectives, all things considered.

  Grace lightly backhanded Emma’s shoulder with a playful grin. “Told you. That’s five bucks you owe me.”

  “You didn’t try very hard to help me convince him.”

  “I told you to go for guilt and puppy-dog eyes right from the start, and you didn’t. Not my fault you wasted an opportunity like that.”

  He held up a hand. “Hold on. You bet each other on whether or not you could get me to use the electric cart?”

  Emma blushed. “It was Grace’s idea.”

  Grace grinned. Showing lots of teeth.

  He pointed at her. “You, girl, are a menace.”

  “But you love me. I’m the bonus daughter.” Her grin widened. It looked all the more playful—and was thereby all the more deceptively dangerous—because of her diminutive stature, which housed a borderline demented and definitely genius-level mind.

  Laughing, Jeff grabbed a regular cart and headed for the first aisle, his phone out and displaying his grocery list. “Come on, Frick and Frack. Let’s get this done.”

  Emma had driven him to the store after they’d arrived home from school, mostly because while the Xanax didn’t totally knock him out anymore, unless he took one right before bed, he didn’t like the way they made him feel. Fuzzy-headed, responses slow, and admittedly less than safe to drive. When Brandon had suggested the girls go with him to the store, Jeff had been happy to take the suggestion.

  Especially since they wanted to help.

  They were going to pick up the bulk of their Thanksgiving dinner needs now, saving a few perishables for closer to the date next week. This way, they were beating the rush and had time to discover if they’d forgotten anything.

  He wouldn’t refuse the girls’ help schlepping the groceries inside the house and putting them away, either.

  In fact, Brandon had forbidden Jeff from doing that part.

  “What about dinner?” Jeff asked halfway through their shopping, realizing that was one thing he hadn’t nailed down yet.

  “Ooh, can we grill hamburgers?” Grace asked. “Please? I’m sick of chicken.”

  “Your dad still trying to perfect that recipe?” Grace’s father was an amateur barbecue competitor. Man could grill lik
e crazy, and had won several contests for his ribs and briskets. Now he was determined to win medals in poultry.

  “He swears he’s going to get this chicken rub recipe down, even if it kills all of us. I haven’t had red meat in about four weeks. I’m probably getting anemic. I keep wanting to take bites out of people.”

  Emma snorted. “No, that’s just you on a normal day.”

  Grace playfully nudged her.

  “Sure, go get what we need. And the good buns, not the cheapo ones.”

  The girls rushed ahead to get what they needed as he paused and consulted his shopping list.

  A year ago, he’d been living alone and puttering around with his old Edsel.

  Now he was a…dad.

  Okay, on this side of the worst of his pain, he could appreciate how lucky he was, that he had not one but two husbands who had jobs which could provide for them.

  And that he had both Emma and Grace to help him out during times like this.

  They were going to have family over for Thanksgiving. Including Brandon’s parents, two brothers, and their families.

  Brandon had a slightly strained relationship with his family. They had not been happy with him when he’d come out and divorced Tracey, and Brandon suspected had it not been for Emma, they might have disowned him. To their credit, they hadn’t acted like full-on assholes—yet—since Brandon had become involved with Jeff and Stuart.

  Especially since they doted on Emma, and Emma flat-out told them how much she loved Jeff and Stuart, referring to them as her bonus dads.

  Jeff’s family would also be in attendance. Grace and her parents were coming, too, and would bring a second turkey with them.

  Smoked, natch.

  It would be a full house, for sure. Jeff had felt so nervous during their wedding, and had felt so crappy physically, that he really hadn’t spent much time talking with Brandon’s family. Jeff wasn’t very close to either of Brandon’s brothers, or with Brandon’s parents. A month ago, they’d met for dinner at a restaurant with Brandon’s younger brother, Steven, and the man’s family, to celebrate Steven’s wife’s birthday.