Page 89 of Make the Play
“But what?” Jason prompts when Emerson trails off abruptly.
“I don’t want you to think it’s stupid.”
“Nothing about you is stupid. I’ve told you that.”
“It’saplush,” Emerson gets out in a jumbled rush. Before Jason can really comprehend what he’s said, Emerson continues. “My mom got it for me when I was a kid and it’s all I have left.”
“Emmy.”
“It’s my favorite. It’s a stuffed shark because I was obsessed with them when I was a kid, even though I’d never seen one in person. I had so many books, and I watched all the documentaries about them, so when I turned five my mom got me Sharky. After she died, and my aunt and uncle took me in, well, they didn’t want our stuff. They said it was pointless to spend money moving our things when they had a house that was furnished so they just…got rid of it all. My bed, my favorite blanket, all my toys. They said they’d buy me new ones, but I didn’t want new. I snuck it in my backpack because it fit in there for the plane ride. But Landon always stole it, so I had to hide him a lot, and then when I got older, he called me a baby for still having it. Maybe I shouldn’t get it. That’s probably not the kind of thing you bring to stay over with a man the first time, is it?”
A deep awareness of what it must have taken for Emerson to admit that hits Jason, and he pulls Emerson into a tight hug, needing to hold him close. Emerson melts into the embrace.
“Emmy,” Jason holds him close. “Do you want to go get your plush?”
When Emerson speaks, his words ghost across the side of Jason’s neck where he’s tucked his face. “Yes, please.”
Twenty-five minutes later, they’re pulling into Jason’s driveway. Jason’s hand is on Emerson’s knee while Emerson’s hands are curled protectively around his plush shark. Whether for comfort or from anxiety, Jason’s not sure.
“We’re here,” Jason tells him, giving his knee a gentle squeeze.
“Right.” Emerson undoes his seatbelt, holding Sharky close. Before he can get out of the truck, Jason’s all but flung himself out of his side and raced around to get the door, opening it up and offering his hand. Emerson’s lips twitch at the corner. “That was fast.”
“I’m a fast man,” Jason grins, chest fluttering when Emerson’s fingers make contact with his own. Their hands stay connected when Jason shuts the truck door, and locks it and on the walk to the front door. “Fair warning, the dogs are gonna wake up and be noisy shits, but I can put them in the garage if it’s too much.”
“I thought they usually slept in the bed with you,” Emerson says.
“They do. Sort of. Stella likes her dog bed in the corner and gets in bed when she wakes up. Freddie is a clingy little shit and sleeps on my legs or sometimes my head. But if that’s too much you can tell me.”
“We can try it out,” Emerson offers, which is probably about as bold as he’s likely to get. Jason will take it.
“You ready to be attacked by Stella?” Jason laughs, turning the lock in the door. As if they’ve been waiting on the other side, no sooner is he turning the doorknob then Stella barks loudly, followed by Freddie yapping. “I’m home, kids.”
Careful not to let Stella slip out the open door, Jason lets go of Emerson’s hands so he can hold her collar, leading her backwards to make room for Emerson to come inside. He drops to his knees so she can crowd into his personal space, licking and barking like she hasn’t seen Jason in a year.
“Did you miss Daddy?” Jason laughs, giving her a kiss on the top of head along with a few firm fur pets before turning to look for Freddie, who usually fights his way to Jason for attention when he’s been gone longer than normal. To his surprise, Freddie isn’t wailing beside them but over with Emerson who is also down on his knees. Freddie butts his head into Emerson’s chest as Emerson pets him, murmuring something too low to be heard that has Freddie’s paws doing their happy pitter patter.
Tucked under one arm is Sharky, under the other is Freddie. If Jason hadn’t already suspected he was falling hard for Emerson, the sight of his massive, scared-of-his-own-shadow pittie rescue being happily babied by him would be all it took. As it is, Jason is pretty sure he falls just a little bit more, and his heart definitely grows, its current size not nearly big enough for all the love he wants to give Emerson.
“What?” Emerson asks when he catches Jason staring.
It would be so easy to say nothing. All too easy to pretend he’s not falling hard and fast for Emerson. It would be the easiest thing in the world to play it cool, so he doesn’t get himself hurt. Luckily for Jason, he’s never once taken the easy way out and he doesn’t plan to start now.
“I like you here.”
“In the entryway?” Emerson asks, grinning like he knows he’s said something funny, and he’s proud of himself.
“Well sure, you look handsome everywhere.” Jason crawls towards Emerson on his knees, feeling a bit ridiculous but wanting to be closer. Stella follows suit, clearly unsure why Jason is practically crawling, barking when she mistakes it for some kind of game. Only Jason isn’t playing, not about this. “I meant here in my home, with my dogs. You look like you belong.”
“Jason.”
“I like you with me,” Jason continues, physically unable to stop. “Wherever I am is where I want you. I know that’s probably a little too fast, so you don’t need to feel pressured to say anything back but?—”
Emerson tackles him, and while Jason might have six inches and a hundred pounds on Emerson what he lacks in size he makes up for in speed. The tackle sends Jason crashing to the floor with a lap full of Emerson followed by two dogs, who take that as a permission to try and pile on too. His head thunks against the hardwood floor, which smarts, and he groans, rubbing the back of his head.
“Sorry,” Emerson mumbles above him, hair falling into his eyes and his beloved plush crushed between their chests. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jason assures him, unable to hold back his smile despite the slight twinge in his head. “By the way, full permission to tackle me any time, in any room. Bonus points if it happens on a bed sometime.”
