Page 9 of Wrecked for the Holidays

“I thought you looked nice in your outfit.” I felt my cheeks heat and knew they were bright red. If I could’ve been swallowed by a sinkhole right in this kitchen, it wouldn’t have been a tragedy.

“Thank you. I think you look nice too.”

We stood there grinning at each other until Reed finally cleared his throat and beckoned me over, unwrapped my fingers, moved them around a bit, and then wrapped my hand again.

“Do you want any help?” I didn’t actually know anything about cooking but not offering felt rude.

“If you want to set the table, that would be great,” he said with a nod at the cupboards farthest from the stove. “Plates are up there and silverware is in the drawer below.”

When I opened the cabinet to get down the plates, I was surprised to find a few plastic divided ones sitting on top of the ceramic dishware we’d used last night. The top one had a sailor theme, and the other had pink unicorns. I pulled them both out and stared at them. I didn’t notice Reed had come to stand next to me until I felt the welcome warmth of his hand on my shoulder.

“Jakob, do you want to use the little plate?”

“That’s for kids, and it would be silly.” I tried hard to keep the longing in myvoice hidden because I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than to use the unicorn plate. It was pretty and was divided so my food wouldn’t touch and get messy.

“I think it’s okay to like kid things if they make us happy and don’t hurt anyone.” Reed laid his hand across mine and gave me a soft squeeze. “I think you should use it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, and if you look in the drawer, you’ll find some other cute stuff.”

At his prompting, I opened the silverware drawer and found matching utensils to the plate, except they were adult-sized.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

With permission granted, I chose the unicorn plate and silverware. When I asked Reed if he wanted a cute plate too, he declined and said he’d rather have a big one.

“Do you need a glass, Reed?”

“I’ll just keep you using my coffee cup. Do you drink coffee?”

“Blech, no. I’ve never liked it unless it’s half milk, half a cup of sugar, and you can’t taste the coffee.”

“Ha. Well, let’s skip it then. How about some chocolate milk instead?”

“Chocolate milk? I can have chocolate milk?”

“Of course you can, love. I’ll mix it up for you.” Reed got the powder from the pantry and the jug of milk from the fridge. He went to the cabinet next to the plates and opened it. There were mugs and regular glasses, along with a clean sippy cup. “You want the sippy cup?”

I wanted that sippy cup so badly, but I was almost afraid to want it too much. The tracks I’d laid only led to being a little, and I knew myself enough to know that wasn’t something I wanted to change. Even without any experience, I knew I was a little as much as I was gay, and I knewthatwithout ever having kissed a guy. “Are you sure you don’t mind? Like a negative twenty-seven on the scale of not minding?”

“Negative one hundred,” Reed answered with that matter-of-fact tone I’d come to recognize from him.

“Are you a Papa?” Shit. I hadn’t meant to ask it yet, but the words flew out of my mouth before I could control them. It was a theme this morning.

“If you mean a Daddy, yes, I am. Are you a little?” There was that even-keeled tone I’d already come to expect from Reed.

“Yeah.”

Reed only nodded and returned to mixing chocolate milk for me.

“Then sippy cups and divided plates are a must.” He handed me the cup with a soft smile, and I accepted it with a matching one. “Can you finish with the table? Breakfast is almost ready. If anything is too bulky or heavy to do one-handed, leave it for me.”

I jumped to it and put everything on the table. It seemed okay to put our spots next to each other, and I remembered to put the syrup and the butter on the table. Reed carried in a plate of pancakes and a bowl of cinnamon-spiced apples. It was all very domestic and maybe not traditionally romantic, but it felt that way to me. Our winter’s low gray clouds and drizzle made the kitchen intimate and private. All homey and warm.

“Are you up for getting a new Christmas tree today?” Reed asked while he put pancakes on my plate, slathered them with butter, and cut them up. He did it automatically, and it felt natural, like it was supposed to be that way. It was the clearest sign that Reed truly did think of himself as a Papa and me as a little, but that didn’t automatically translate to romance, and I wanted all of it.

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