by Cooper, R.
It was another thing to thank Cory for, but as Vincent was about to, the door opened, startling everyone, and Vincent tensed up at the unexpected arrival of a new person. A young man, in his early twenties and loaded down with a heavy backpack, came in, then stopped to consider all of them. He started at seeing Vincent. Vincent stared blankly at him until he was distracted by Cory leaning in to whisper into his ear.
“That’s Jase. He lives with roommates downstairs, but they went home for the weekend and he didn’t have the money to visit his family. He’s here for the food.” Cory raised his voice for Jase, “It’s all in the kitchen. Help yourself,” then lowered it again when Jase ducked his head in greeting and popped into the kitchen. “He’ll probably fall asleep on a textbook. He usually does when he’s here.”
“Sleep sounds amazing,” Ricky remarked. “Am I old now? I feel old.”
“You know what sounds amazing to me?” Cory’s every word was sending shivers along Vincent’s skin. Whatever was happening, Vincent wasn’t going to ruin it by talking, so he shook his head. Cory took his plate and stood up, leaving Vincent unhappily surprised and cold. But when he turned, probably with a sad, hurt expression on his face, Cory was a big, contented cat. “Pie,” Cory reminded the room at large, and like that, everyone was awake and sitting up again.
Vincent had forgotten the pie. “If it’s not good, please let me know. I have ice cream.”
“Gluttony is good at this moment,” Laci sighed. “A day off, a glass of wine, good food, and friends.”
“Sometimes I love you stupid,” Rhonda told her matter-of-factly, then planted a slightly drunk, smacking kiss on Laci’s forehead before taking their dishes into the kitchen. She came back wobbly yet triumphantly carrying plates of pie. Each plate had two slices and a fork.
Vincent got up in alarm, either to help her or in preparation to apologize if the pie was terrible, but she made it her chair without incident.
“Pumpkin and apple?” Laci wiggled her fingers in delight before she picked up the fork. “I’ll explode.”
Ricky scrambled up to get his own. Vincent turned to see Jase standing over the counter, reading while eating, and Cory taking a bite of a slice of pumpkin pie
Vincent glanced away, then over again, clasping his hands with nervous energy to see Cory take another piece. Even if the pie wasn’t great, it wasn’t awful. Vincent had managed edible. That was something. He dropped down to the couch again.
“Vin, did you want some?” Cory sounded closer, and also like he was speaking with his mouth full.
“Better grab it soon,” Ricky warned, almost in the same moment.
Vincent opened his mouth to say yes, but he’d only been going to make the pie for something to do today. Now that he had something to do, he could wait. “You guys eat first,” he said at last. “I’ve got more at home.”
“Ugh. The sweetheart.” Ricky wasn’t quiet with his envy.
“I know,” Cory answered his friend, sweetly as anything, and then came back to sit next to Vincent without looking at him. “The third or fourth time I saw Vincent, he was in the parking lot, trying to explain to a little girl with a box of kittens that the building didn’t allow pets. He was holding one anyway, clutching this ball of fur to his chest, clearly reluctant to hand it over, and I think he gave the girl directions to a no-kill shelter.” Cory made this statement effortlessly, without appearing to notice how Vincent froze or flushed with embarrassed heat. He had a new plate, with two new pieces of pie, and two forks. “Running out of dishes,” he confessed when Vincent shot him a glance. Vincent believed him, even if Cory hadn’t suggested anyone else share a plate.
Ricky coughed. “If you feed each other, I’m out of here.”
Vincent had thought his blushes were over, but they had just been gathering strength. His face felt so hot it stung. Cory reached down, to a glass of wine that was probably one of the ones Vincent had forgotten along the way, and handed it to him.
Vincent asked himself how this was happening but wisely kept his mouth shut. He would do that for as long as this lasted. This was the best Thanksgiving he’d had in a long time. No, it was the best day he’d had in a long time.
“So, you’re okay? Everything was good?” Cory ignored his friends and kept his voice low. “I mean, judging from that look on your face.”
Vincent was almost afraid to ask. “What look?”
Cory put his mouth next to Vincent’s ear. “Relaxed,” he revealed, with relish. “Happy. Did I take care of you okay?”
“Did you… do you want to take care of me?” Vincent slowly turned his head, his breath catching at how close they were now, how he could have leaned forward to kiss Cory, put his mouth on his mouth and moan at how soft his lips were. He raised his eyes.
The room was abruptly, tensely still, as if they had an audience, which of course they did.
Vincent ducked down over the plate and grabbed a fork. He shoved a piece of apple in his mouth, noting moments later that it was pretty good. There was too much cinnamon, but he kept his mouth full so he couldn’t apologize for that.
Cory was still for another moment. Then he took his fork and began to eat the slice of pumpkin without saying anything
Rhonda pushed her empty plate away and then burped. “Well, why don’t we help you clean the kitchen?” she suggested much too brightly, as though she wasn’t swaying on her feet whenever she got up.
Laci pushed her back down when she tried to stand. “I’ll do it. Ricky will help me, won’t you, Ricky?”
Ricky made a startled noise from the kitchen. Vincent imagined him with pie in his mouth, but didn’t look up to see for himself.
“There’s no need, guys. Sarah is going to pick through it anyway.” Cory protested, but didn’t actually get to his feet to stop them. Vincent focused on finishing his pie for a few minutes while listening to the sound of running water and clinking dishes. Then Laci asked Cory something about containers and foil, which made Cory finally get up too.
Rhonda began putting away the puzzle. Vincent twitched a little at that, since he’d thought they were going to stay all afternoon, but she was yawning. She probably had to work the next day. Ricky and Laci might as well. He didn’t know if Cory did, not that he thought Cory was going to want to hang out after this. Cory was likely ready to crash on the nearest comfortable surface.
Vincent finished the pie and held onto the plate until Rhonda swept over to take it from him, and the wine glass as well. She carried both into the kitchen and Vincent became abruptly aware that people were saying their goodbyes.
He rose to his feet as Rhonda came back over, putting on her jacket while struggling with another. He held the second one for her as she bundled up and received a pleased grin. “They’re right, you know,” she remarked. “You are a sweetheart. Don’t be a stranger, for his sake, I think, but also for ours. There’s never enough spice in my apple pies.”
Vincent started. She’d sounded like she meant that. He gaped, but had absolutely no words.
“I literally cannot give you more sweet potatoes,” Cory was telling someone in the other room, “Ricky ate them all.”
“Leave the tofu for Sarah,” Laci instructed. “Picture her face.” They were bickering, but Vincent didn’t feel anxious about the sounds of it. They were kidding, like Judith would kid with him. They were lovely people.
“The pie wasn’t perfect.” Vincent admitted at last. “You don’t have to say that when….” He trailed off when Rhonda arched a pierced eyebrow at him.
“Babe! I’m going to fall asleep right here.” Rhonda directed this at Laci, then winked at Vincent. “She’ll be in there talking to Ricky all night otherwise. She argues with him, but deep down they are two peas in a pod.” Rhonda cleared her throat and got louder again. “And bring Ricky! He can help us carry everything to the car before he drives home.”
“Hey!” Ricky objected distantly.
Rhonda patted Vincent’s arm. “That will get him out of you
r way too. You’re welcome.”
“I…” Vincent was at a loss. “Ricky has a car?” If Ricky had been available, Cory could have asked his friend for a ride to the store instead of Vincent. Rhonda gave Vincent a bemused look, clearly wondering why he’d ask that, but Vincent didn’t explain. He spent a stunned moment staring into space before he twisted to study the people in the kitchen.
He thought of the last chapters of every single one of his mysteries as it occurred to him that Cory quite possibly could have planned all of this from the second he’d overheard Vincent lamenting his lonely Thanksgiving. That was ludicrous of course; Cory had already invited his friends to his house for Thanksgiving long before he’d heard Vincent on the phone.
But Vincent couldn’t discount it either, no matter how much he knew it was wishful thinking. There wasn’t going to be a denouement where Cory announced that he had turned the situation to his advantage in order to get to know Vincent, or that he had planned to give Vincent this warm, comfortable holiday in an attempt to… to… woo him. Cory wasn’t going to lean in and whisper that he admired Vincent’s softness the way that Vincent loved his competence and strength. Vincent wouldn’t even know what to do if he did.
Feed him pie, his mind helpfully suggested. Ask him to stay. Kiss him. Pull Cory on top of him and wrap his legs around him. Bundle up with him on Vincent’s eminently comfortable couch and fall asleep after begging to suck Cory’s cock.
Vincent faced Rhonda with his hands on his cheeks. A date on Thanksgiving. He would never have dared.
Laci came up while Vincent was internally flailing, carrying bags of foil-wrapped goodness. She handed them to Rhonda while she put on her coat, then nodded at Vincent. “Nice to meet you. Hope the rest of your night goes well.”
Rhonda smacked her arm when she waggled her eyebrows, but then they both were gone, kissing Cory goodbye and dragging an equally weighed-down with leftovers Ricky with them. Ricky pointed at Vincent as they closed the door after him. “I want details about Lando! Email me!”
Vincent could probably track him down through Cory, although, he and Cory hadn’t exchanged information. He anxiously considered the reason for that when it was only him, Cory, and the half-asleep Jase left in the apartment.
“It was a good dinner. The food, the decorations, everything.” Vincent held his hands in front of his stomach. “Thank you.”
Cory’s lips curved up, but then he glanced to his other guest. He jerked his head to the side. “We wrapped up some stuff for you too. You need help carrying it over?”
Vincent doubted he’d need help carrying a single bag of leftovers down the hall. “You remember me holding a kitten?” he answered stupidly, then cringed.
Cory’s expression shifted to something cagier, probably because he was exactly the plotting kind of schemer Vincent had imagined him to be. Then he lifted his chin. “It was cute. You were cute. You’re always cute, until you aren’t anymore. When you’re the most unconsciously sexy man and I don’t know what to do about it.” He glanced briefly at Jase again, now staring at both of them in vague alarm. “Come on. Don’t worry about him. He’ll be snoring in no time.”
Grabbing the bag of leftovers in one hand, Cory came over to take Vincent’s hand with his other and then led him to the door, ignoring how flabbergasted and stuttering Vincent was. He broke contact to get his keys and stick them in his pocket, then pull off his apron. Vincent curled his fingers into his palm but let Cory take his hand again when he was through.
“But you’re sexy,” Vincent told him, eliciting a groan from the kitchen and a startled glance from Cory. “Your skin and your mouth and your hands—” Vincent cut himself off with a choked cry. He was such an idiot. “You know how you are,” he finished instead, fully aware that he had ogled Cory for over a year and Cory had to know it too.
Once outside, Cory shivered since he hadn’t brought a coat of any kind, and led them straight to Vincent’s door. “I once stopped to watch you eat an ice cream cone,” he revealed, almost casually, while Vincent stared at him and fumbled to get his key in the lock. He tripped inside his own apartment, then blindly took the bag of food and walked into the kitchen to shove it into the refrigerator.
He’d left the TV on because he’d thought he wouldn’t be at Cory’s for long. In retrospect, that showed some serious denial. He’d already learned that he would at least try to do what Cory wanted, and Cory had wanted him there. Cory had wanted him.
“Sometimes you come outside with your shirt unbuttoned,” Cory went on, as though he didn’t want any more misunderstandings. “I like your chest.”
Vincent thought of his body, pale, hairy, chubby, and studied Cory without raising his head. He liked Cory’s everything, but that made sense. Cory was beautiful.
“You’re so nervous but you’re gentle with everything. On the phone, with the people you meet, with that kitten.” The pleased sound Cory made was more of a purr than a hum. “I want to make you calm. I want a lot of things.” He exhaled. “You really had a good day?” he asked, after a while of Vincent not saying anything. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.
“Yes.” Vincent had to say more, even with his chest constricted and his tongue thick. Both of them were speaking softly. “I don’t want it to end.” That addition sharpened Cory’s attention. Vincent dragged in a long breath. It was very important that he keep going. Cory had said all of those things. Vincent should say something too. “Would you,” stay, stay and sit on my couch and kiss me, that’s what a bold man would say. Vincent did his best. “Would you like a night cap?”
He had absolutely no idea where that question had come from. He had never had a night cap in his life. As far as he knew, they only existed in old movies. He didn’t even know what to offer.
“A night cap?” Cory echoed in astonishment. “No one has ever asked me that before.” He waited to agree until Vincent lifted his gaze. “All right. That sounds good. Let’s try it.”
Vincent was full and slow already, exhausted with the day’s nerves and too much wine, but a night cap felt like a kind of event, something for the two of them after a long day. Cory might have felt the same; he went to the living room area and sank onto the couch. He glanced at the TV and then touched the discarded sweater vest on the end of the cushions.
He was staying. In a rush, Vincent spun around to tear through his cabinets. He nearly beaned himself on a corner in his desperation to find something that could be used as a night cap, and let out a wheezy noise when he found bottle of the almond liqueur his sister liked.
He unscrewed the lid and then dug in the back of the cabinet of glassware until he found something nice to put the drink in. He remembered the liqueur burning a little, with a hot, sweet taste, and considered offering it in coffee.
Of course, asking someone for coffee was asking them in, was asking them for sex, and Cory was already in, was already sitting on Vincent’s couch and looking back at him. Vincent took two glasses of somewhat elegant amber-colored booze and carried them over, handing one to Cory before he sat down beside him.
He took a sip. The almond liqueur was exactly as he remembered, leaving his mouth buzzing and warm. He licked his lips and caught Cory watching him. Vincent wet the corners of his mouth again, then darted a look to Cory’s lips, which might be just as numb.
“Thank you for today. For planning it.” He forced those words out instead of making a similarly courageous statement. He could have said anything, how he’d been in his car once as Cory had come home. It had been a scorching day, and Cory had been on his bike. He’d taken off everything but a thin shirt and some shorts, and his exposed skin had glistened with sweat. He could have mentioned listening to Cory laugh on his phone as he walked past Vincent’s door, or the beautiful wreath Cory had hung up outside last Christmas that Vincent now realized had been Cory’s own creation.
Cory wasn’t put off by the strained silence. He took another taste of the almond liqueur, then slid his glass to the
coffee table.
Vincent held tightly to his and shut his eyes. “You’ve ruined me for other Thanksgivings.”
God, he was an idiot. But a gentle sound of amusement made him ignore his every instinct for self-preservation and open his eyes.
“I like that,” Cory murmured. “I like that a lot. That sounds like the right answer to me, since that’s what I was trying for.”
He was so smart and brave, and here he was with Vincent anyway. “The right answer?” Vincent asked breathlessly. “It is. For me. It is for me too,” he blurted, nearly losing control of his hand—and the glass. He jerked it upright again in time to avoid a spill, then moved forward clumsily.
Cory slid a hand to the back of Vincent’s head before their mouths touched. He smiled for a brief moment against Vincent’s lips, and then Vincent got a taste of him, almonds and alcohol, and everything was warm, and he made a rough sound that was going to haunt him later. He did it again when Cory pulled him close to kiss him deep, and again when he felt Cory’s other hand over his heart.
Vincent let his eyelids fall closed and left his hands in the air, the glass stranded between them. His glasses were pushed against his face, but he shivered when Cory pulled away and was slow to reopen his eyes.
Cory took the glass of liqueur and set it on the coffee table. That meant Vincent now had both of his hands free, and after a flickering moment of hesitation, he put them on Cory’s shoulders, then slid them down Cory’s sides. It must have been the right answer again, because Cory smiled and leaned in to lick the edge of Vincent’s mouth. Maybe he was chasing the taste of almonds too.
“Honey,” Cory whispered, rough-voiced, and showed his teeth in a grin when Vincent nodded in eager agreement with whatever it was Cory was about to say.
“Is this what you were going to ask me?” Vincent was capable of using his brain, at certain moments, sometimes, when wine and liqueur and Cory’s mouth left him too flushed and burning to overthink anything. He drifted closer, fascinated with the dip in Cory’s upper lip, the plush curve of the lower, the line of his teeth.