Page 118 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

The idea choked him up, but rather than say anything, he turned onto his side again and pulled Gavin as close as he could, wrapped himself around Gavin and tugged the blankets higher. He kissed Gavin’s temple, held him tight, and hoped Gavin could settle down enough to get some sleep.

“You can turn the light off now if you want.”

Right. Ben wanted to stay exactly where he was, but he thought Gavin wouldn’t have mentioned it if he hadn’t wanted it dark and quiet, so he shifted a little, turned off the lamp, and made himself comfortable again.

Gavin wiggled against him, reminding Ben of a cat trying to find the right spot on its favorite chair. When he was done, Gavin had somehow burrowed nearly under Ben’s side, Ben’s arm and leg wrapped around, Gavin tucked comfortably against him. Ben lived alone, but he thought if anyone were to walk in, they wouldn’t even see Gavin there, hidden away from the world, Ben his shelter. He liked that idea way too much.

After a long, silent few moments, when Ben thought Gavin had actually fallen asleep, Gavin asked, “Hey, Ben?” Ben didn’t respond beyond tightening his arms around Gavin and kissing the top of his head. Gavin must have taken it for an invitation to go on. “Earlier, when… uh, when you said… I mean, was that, like, thanks for the orgasm, or…?”

Ben didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “It was or. But, thanks for the orgasm.”

He could feel Gavin’s little rush of breath against his skin and—Ben was almost sure—Gavin’s lips turning up in a smile.

“I love you too.”

Maybe Gavin fell asleep after that. It took Ben a lot longer, though. He lay awake for another hour or so, thinking how complicated his life just got. He felt like a fool for being happy about it, but his father had told him once that love thrived in complication, in the messiest parts of the soul. The best parts.

Gavin

Gavin had the day off, but Ben didn’t. They’d both slept late, Gavin only stirring when Ben got up to take a shower. He thought about joining Ben but changed his mind and decided to make some breakfast for them both. Lunch? The clock said it was well after noon. Brunch, he decided as he made his way to the kitchen, feeling aches and twinges with every step.

Poking around the cupboards and refrigerator was an eye-opening experience for Gavin. Canned soup, frozen dinners, every kind of condiment known to man, and half a dozen eggs were the only things Ben had on hand. The recycle bin was full of takeout boxes, so it was obvious Ben did eat, but Jesus. The man seriously needed to step up his game in the cooking department.

Upon further inspection, he found some cheese in the back of the refrigerator and two apples that looked lonely and forgotten in the vegetable crisper. Gavin rolled his eyes and got to work, scraping the mold off the cheese and whipping the eggs.

By the time Ben shuffled into the kitchen, Gavin had plated the omelets and was about to pull the baked apples from the oven. Ben didn’t say anything, but Gavin knew he was standing there, watching.

“What kind of man has six different kinds of gourmet coffee but lives off canned soup?”

Ben laughed and stepped up behind him as Gavin set the baking dish on the stovetop and closed the oven door.

“The kind who eats out every night.”

When Ben slipped his arms around Gavin’s waist, Gavin turned to face him. “You could probably go to Europe on what you spend eating out every day for a year.” He smiled as he lifted up on his toes and brushed a light kiss over Ben’s lips. “I’m just sayin’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ben kissed him again before he pulled back. “Smells good in here.” He stepped to the counter and picked up a bit of cheese from a paper towel. Gavin didn’t think anything of it at first, still focused on the task at hand.

When he caught Ben munching on the cheese, Gavin suddenly remembered why that was a bad idea. “That’s the cheese mold.” He couldn’t help laughing as Ben made a face and spit it out into the sink.

“The garbage disposal works, ya know.” Ben dumped the rest of the shaved cheese into the sink and turned the water on before he flipped the switch. When he was finished, Gavin was still laughing. “I’m not as hungry as I was a minute ago.”

“It’s not my fault half the stuff in here is old enough to kill you.” Gavin set the food on the small table by the sliding glass door that led out to Ben’s deck.

Ben let the comment go with a laugh as he got himself a cup of coffee. He added two spoons of sugar to it but no cream. Gavin watched and made a mental note of how Ben took his coffee, wondering if he didn’t bother with cream because he didn’t like it or because there wasn’t so much as a drop in the fridge.

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Ben asked. The two of them sat down at the table across from each other. It felt very domestic and very right to Gavin, even though the thought embarrassed him.

Ben

Ben knew he should focus on eating his breakfast and getting out the door for work. All he wanted to do was look at Gavin, though. He’d been disappointed when he’d gotten out of the shower and found his bed empty, but it was probably for the best. He didn’t think he could’ve resisted climbing back in if Gavin had been there, and he was going to be late already.

“We all took turns cooking and cleaning at home. I picked up a few things, watched cooking shows and stuff.” Gavin shrugged and looked almost sad, but not quite.

Ben knew the stories of Gavin’s home life. Gavin’s mother had always treated him distantly. She treated all seven of her kids distantly. Being a mother was one of her burdens, a cross to bear, a duty to God. His father wasn’t much different. He reared Gavin and his brothers and sisters with a Bible in one hand and belt in the other.

Not that religion was what made shitty parents. Ben’s own mother was pretty devout too. She had taught them their prayers when they were little, dressed them up nice and took them to church. When Ben’s brother died, she had prayed. She lit a candle for him every Sunday, even decades later. But she believed in the power of love. His father summed it up with a simple “don’t be an asshole,” but his mother believed that every problem in life, every confrontation, every worry, could be healed with love because God was love.

He wished Gavin had been so lucky.

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