Mixed Doubles

All right, so this is a story I've put off telling, one I've danced around and bent the truth about and mentioned kind of vaguely, because goddamn is this a hard pill for the monogamy superfans to swallow. Even people who are fine with Justin and me not being closed up all nice and tight, they still like the structure and the rules and the reassurances that there's no one out there in the entire whole world for us besides each other and other such Hallmark sentiments.

But I'm a thorough sort of man at heart, and this is an important development, so here we are. Because the truth was, the summer he was twenty-seven, Justin was tired. Even by Justin standards, Justin was tired. Had been for weeks.

“I spent three fucking hours talking to these guys,” he said, sitting slumped over on the side of the bed while I took his clothes off. “Three fucking hours and they didn't even fuck me.”

Look at your hand, I said. You couldn't have fucked anyone after that anyway.

“I know.” He flopped down on his side with a huff. “Three fucking hours of trying to find anything in common with these guys except that none of our ears work. And they didn't fuck me.”

Poor Sunshine.

“God.” He stretched as I pulled his pants off of him. “I haven't had decent sex in weeks.”

Excuse me.

“Besides with you, obviously. But God, when was the last time I brought anything new to the table here? You come home all, look at this new position this trick got me to try, and I'm like cool, let me give you the same blow jobs I've been giving you for ten years.”

I kissed him. They're good blow jobs.

He rested his forehead on mine, massaging his hand. “I'm going to have to go back to fucking hearing guys. This is impossible.”

You hate fucking hearing guys.

“What's the alternative? There are like ten slutty gay Deaf guys in the city and I've fucked them all already. And I don't want to sit around like some fucking housewife while you're out tricking, and I swear to God if you suggest the fucking m-word I'm doubling my antidepressant.”

As if I had some history of proposing monogamy. Justin lives in his own dimension. Mutton? I fingerspelled.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

I laughed and lay back on the bed, tackling him onto my chest and squeezing him until he whined. We'll figure it out, I told him. I'll start shipping in Deaf guys internationally.

Maybe I'll start fucking old guys. Nice, deaf eighty-year-olds.

Sure. It's good practice for our future.

He yawned. Okay, fuck me, but I'm going to fall asleep halfway through.

I think we've figured out why you're having trouble seducing people.

Fuck you, I am not—

I yanked his legs apart and kissed him hard, and after he fell asleep—long after I was finished with him, thank you very much—I thought about how we were going to solve this.

**

It wasn't even two weeks later that Gabriel came along.

The scene: Emily's apartment, her very first all on her own, that she could afford thanks to her new salary and a bonus from a generous benefactor. Her twenty-fifth birthday party, fifty Deaf people and me, showing up with a present—pair of shoes that cost more than she makes in a month, because goddamn does this girl need some decent shoes—and without company.

Emily squealed and wrapped her arms around me. No Justin?

Sorry. He really wanted to be here. I had to practically tie him down. Not true. He did want to come, of course, but he was feeling awful that day and honestly hadn't even considered trying to make it, because he knows his body and his limits and doesn't fuck around. It's just easier with healthy people to keep up this narrative that he'd grind himself into the ground if I didn't stop him. Healthy people like that kind of story, and I don't mind playing the wet blanket to his noble hero.

Only one present from the two of you? I don't know about this.

I kissed her cheek. Yeah, wait 'til you open it. I scanned the crowd. Who here isn't straight?

Most of them, but they're mostly girls.

I popped a couple chips in my mouth. I'll make it work.

I actually knew a fair number of people there from other get togethers, even if I couldn't remember most of their names. Daphne was there, and Derek was drunk—this was before the two of them hooked up—and overconfidently hitting on any number of girls, and it was entertaining as fuck to see him strike out over and over and just not lose hope. Between Derek's confidence, Emily's wit, and Justin's genius, someday I'm going to figure out how to bottle the shit these kids have and sell it and I'll be a billionaire. Give Emily another nice big bonus.

It was kind of funny, when I took a minute to think about it, because I was so comfortable at that point, hadn't even worried about coming to a Deaf party without Justin to babysit me, and God, it had been barely three years since I was a little bitch about going to Gregory's party back in Pittsburgh. And now here I was.

I was talking to a friend of Derek's when I noticed Gabriel. Now, at the time all I noticed was that he was hot and he had scars on his face and he was the only person here who looked like he was safely through puberty, but I'll go ahead and give you a nice intro instead of a first impression because I'm a flexible and benevolent storyteller.

Gabriel Aguero, but Justin exclusively calls him Gabe for reasons we'll get to later. His sign name is a swipe down his cheek, over the worst of his scars. He's right about halfway between me and Justin in age. Smallish and slight, maybe an inch taller than Justin, all lean muscle; he's a boxer. He's a beautifully fluid signer, but he's not chatty. He has green eyes and he watches you.

And that night he was watching me.

I nodded to Derek's friend. Who's that?

No idea, he said. Ask Emily.

She was doing the rounds refilling bowls and fetching drinks, and I snagged her on her way past. Who's small, dark and smoldering?

Uh, he's my cousin's roommate, she said. I've only met him a few times. Gabriel something.

Okay. Thanks, I said, and the next time Gabriel looked my way, I gave him The Stare and made very obvious room next to me on the couch. He played it cool, wandering through the room, making casual conversation to everyone as he went, and finally came and sat down next to me.

People are talking about you, he said to me.

Are they? Wondering if I'm the chaperone?

He laughed. I was worried they'd think I was.

We talked for a while, harmless flirty banter, and I didn't try to label what I was doing at the time, maybe didn't even really know what I was doing at the time, but I was sort of...auditioning him, you might say. He was Deaf, he was hot, he was gay, and he wasn't too closely related to Justin's friends. He was smart and well-spoken, he liked Mexican art and French movies, he was close with his family, and the scars on his face made it clear he'd survived something.

You have to see what I was thinking, here. There's no way you can't.

So how do you know Emily? he asked me eventually.

I'm her biological father.

He smiled, eyes dark and deep.

She works for me, I said. And she and my partner are little peas in a pod.

He tucked his legs underneath himself. A very Justinian move, actually. You have a partner.

I pointed to the ring. Deaf people usually notice it pretty quickly, so I'd figured he knew.

I thought maybe you had it on the wrong hand. You don't seem the marrying type.

I'm not, I said. Three years and counting.

So...what would your partner think of you sitting here flirting with me?

He'd be hideously jealous, because he'd want to fuck you.

He said, Is that right?

Yeah, you're just his type. How about you, have a partner?

I have many partners, he said, with a little toss of his head.

Good sign so far. Sexual? Romantic? Tennis?

He shrugged. Depends on the guy. Some of each, for most of them.

Including the tennis?

Sure, he said. Who doesn't like a little tennis?

Justin and I have never done that, I said. Maybe I was a little buzzed at this point.

Played tennis?

That either, he's got a bad hand, I said. But we don't...there's a one fuck only policy. No repeats.

He nodded a little.

Which was fine, before he stopped sleeping with hearing guys. I stretched, setting my glass on Emily's scratched-up coffee table. Now there's a numbers problem.

Why would anyone sleep with a hearing guy?

I laughed, possibly harder than I should, but hey, I was at a Deaf party and I passed! I'm hearing.

Really. You're an interpreter?

God no. My partner lost his hearing, so...here we are.

When was that?

Two thousand six.

He nodded thoughtfully. Recently.

Doesn't really feel like it.

He gestured towards his face. Same year I got all this.

What happened?

House fire, he said, and he pulled his shirt up and showed me a spiderweb of scars across his stomach. His skin's a lot darker than Justin's, so they were more vivid than his were, even though Justin's were less than a year old at that point. But of course they were familiar.

It was hard to ignore those abs, too. Jesus.

You've got to meet my partner, I said.

Oh yeah? What's he like?

I'd meant, of course, because of the burns, but...I don't know. Brilliant, I said instead. Fucking gorgeous. Normally I throw a 'annoying as hell' in there, but hey, I'm an ad man and I was pitching something. Sad.

He sipped his drink. Why's he sad?

I studied him for a long time, wondering if I was going to chicken the fuck out of this, then finally said, Because he needs a Deaf boyfriend, and he doesn't know how to ask for it.

Gabriel nodded slowly. Interesting.

**

Justin was on top of me the second I got through the door, already half-naked and climbing his way up me. I slid my hands under his ass and lifted him up, his legs around my waist. “Well, hey,” I said.

He nodded, kissing me. I set him on the counter, and I could tell he was frustrated I hadn't brought him straight to the bedroom, but we had talking to do. I put my hands on his waist and leaned in, smelling behind his ear. Lime shampoo and salt and paint, always paint, God this boy is a fucking drug.

“How was the party?” he asked me.

Good. I kissed his cheek. Someone's feeling better.

“Mmmhmm, for about an hour now.”

Are you hungry?

Yeah, I was gonna make like a yogurt and granola thing.

Okay. I went to the fridge and took out one of those peach Greek yogurts he's obsessed with, and he watched me with his head against the wall.

“I love you,” he said.

Yeahyeahyeah, now listen. I met someone tonight.

At a party? No way.

Shut up. I met your soulmate.

You met my soulmate.

I did.

He gave me a look.

Oh, what? I said. Are you sad I'm not your soulmate?

I don't believe in soulmates, he said, all haughty.

I crowded myself into him, dropping kisses on his neck and temple. This wasn't meant to happen, and you know it.

“I know,” he said, but he sounded sad.

I cupped his chin and made him look at me. Imagine if everyone was supposed to have something like this, I said to him, small. Nothing would ever get made. Nothing would ever be invented. No one would even get out of bed.

He nuzzled me.

None of those sad plays you like, I said. No art.

No sad stories.

Everybody still in bed.

He leaned into my hand. So you met the person who would be my soulmate if I were to be a functioning member of society?

I stirred some granola into the yogurt and drizzled some honey on top. I did.

Sounds boring.

Here.

He smiled at me while he ate. So what's his name?

Gabriel. Probably pronounced the Spanish way.

“Gabriel,” Justin tried out, completely butchering the R, as usual. One of my top three favorite things he does with his mouth.

Perfect.

He smiled at me a little. So did you fuck him?

I shook my head, ghosting my fingers over his thighs.

“Mmmm, you want me to fuck him?” he said.

I slid my hands up to his hips and gave him a squeeze. All right. Here we go. I want you to take him out to dinner.

Justin stared at me. What?

**

This is ridiculous, Justin said, flopped across the bed while I undressed.

He loves Frida Kahlo, I said. He calls his mother every week. He teaches elementary school.

Why are you telling me these things? Now I respect him. I can't fuck someone I respect.

You don't respect me?

Please, with the way I completely degrade you with my body? There's no respect.

I threw my shirt at him.

How do you even know he'd want to date me? he said.

I gave him a look. Have you seen you?

Justin groaned. We have rules, he said, sitting up. We're not even supposed to exchange names, now you're saying I should...what, get a boyfriend?

We have rules you came up with spur of the moment when you were eighteen and we were insecure as shit about what we were doing, I said. Are you insecure about us now?

He sighed.

Because personally, I couldn't be insecure about us if I tried, I said. I wish I could be insecure about us. It sounds interesting.

No, he said. I'm not insecure about us.

It makes no fucking sense to keep following those rules because...they're there, I said.

So then what rules do we follow?

I shrugged.

What, no rules?

What the fuck do we need rules for? What are we trying to prevent, here? Are you going somewhere?

“Brian.”

Come here. I crawled onto the bed and tackled him around a little.

He nuzzled my throat. You're not trying to like...hand me off, are you?

What, I'm rehoming you? Like a puppy?

He groaned and rolled around the bed. This is making me very nervous.

Well, you're usually very nervous, dear.

There have to be rules. I like rules.

The rules are kind of offensive, if you think about it, I said.

Offensive.

Yeah.

And so he thought about it. You're right. Like...the idea that we need some fucking code of conduct or we'll trip and fall and end up not together. Like we're that fragile.

I knew he'd get it. I rubbed his scalp. Look, this has always been different for us. I like casual sex because I like taking my cock on a world tour. You like casual sex because you like getting to know people and sex is your best social skill.

Thank you.

Any time.

So, what, I just call him?

I nodded.

He watched me. You promise you'll tell me if you start to freak out? You won't...you know, just get weird and find small, subtle ways to punish me?

See, how are you ever going to leave someone you know so well?

He shoved me, and I grabbed his hands and kissed him.

I promise, I said. Go have fun again.

“How about some fun here first?” Justin said, and he flipped me over on my back.

**

Gabriel and Justin went out after work that Thursday. They left when I was still at work, and by the time I got home from Nova Justin was already back and eating ice cream in his sweatpants. He waved to me with his spoon.

How was it? I sat down next to him and kissed him under his chin, feeling his stubble, always so soft, how was it always so fucking soft, mine could goddamn cut glass—against my lips. You don't smell like you fucked him.

I didn't.

Didn't go well?

No, it did, we're just...I don't know. He shifted around on the couch, tipping me on top of him. It was like an actual date. Like movie, drinks, conversation. He scrunched up his nose, that guilty face he makes. He kissed me.

That's it?

No, I...I mean...I didn't know if you'd be mad.

I put my fingers in his ice cream and licked them off while he batted me away. It was a date. I can't say I'm an expert in these things, but I assumed he'd kiss you.

He studied me for a minute, then dropped his bowl into his lap and covered his face with his hands, peeking at me between his fingers.

I laughed a little. How am I supposed to talk to you if you do that?

“I'm so scared!”

What are you scared of? Me?

He nodded, hands still in place.

Why are you scared of me?

He dropped his hands incredulously. Have you seen you?

I tackled him into my arms. How long have you known me?

I don't know. Forever.

So why do you think that I'm setting you up or something here?

I don't think it's intentional, I'm scared you're just...

Justin.

He made this little “hmmph,” noise, cheek against my shoulder.

Can you stop worrying for like five minutes?

Okay. He shifted around on the couch, cuddling into my side. Five minutes.

Okay. We'll work our way up.

We pawed at each other on the couch for a little while, but he was dripping ice cream on our Italian leather, so I grabbed his bowl and brought it into the kitchen. I was halfway there when he said, “You didn't tell me about the burns.”

I turned around and watched him, leaning against wall. No, I didn't. I didn't tell him about yours, either.

He pulled his legs up to his chest. You knew.

Yeah, I did. I figured... I shrugged. Might be nice. Someone who gets it.

He stared at me for a long time.

“How are you this amazing?” he said, quietly.

Years of trial and error.

I love you, he said. You know I love you?

Yes, I said, with a sigh to show what a great burden I bore. I went to the kitchen and rinsed his bowl out. A minute later I felt him pressed against my back, his arms around my waist. I turned around slowly and put my hands on the base of his skull, drawing them up through his hair. Are you going to call him? I asked.

He nodded, looking up at me.

That's my boy, I said.

Yes.

I kissed him. Tomorrow we'll try not worrying for six minutes.

Don't push your luck.

**

Justin went out with a few other guys near the beginning, I think because this thing with Gabriel seemed so goddamn convenient, but...hey, what can I say, I know Justin's type, and I was right. He'd still share drinks and a backroom fuck with any hot Deaf guy he could find, but gradually, slowly, Justin and Gabriel happened. Or Gabe, as Justin always called him. I told you, we'll get to that.

They went out once or twice a week, and I was still hitting the clubs four or five, so it's not like I was sitting at home waiting for my husband to come back from war, or whatever it is you're envisioning. And Justin was so desperate to show me this hadn't changed anything between us that I was paradoxically getting more surprise-middle-of-the-day blow jobs than I had in years. He calmed down after a few months when he finally got it through his metal skull that I wasn't a ticking time bomb, and things settled back to normal with us, except Justin wasn't so tired anymore.

I spent some time with Gabriel, not a ton. He'd have us both over to dinner, or he'd be hanging at the apartment watching a movie with Justin when I got home from work late. Gabriel wasn't much for clubs, but we'd go to Nova together sometimes, or go out for drinks. He was good to talk to, a great listener, and he and Justin had a lot of philosophical conversations, shit on the meaning of life that bores me to tears, because look, I'll talk to Justin about anything—I probably have talked to Justin about everything—but Sontag's about as abstract as I get, and that's...you know. It's a special circumstance.

Gabe was serious and intense and didn't laugh much, and Justin said once that that was actually the biggest difference between spending time with him and with me, because God, the two of us will crack up just from looking at each other sometimes. And it's funny, because if you'd asked me what it is Justin and I do for each other...I don't know, that wouldn't have been the first thing to come to mind. I never thought I'd be the one bringing fucking levity to someone's life, but here we are. And...well. I don't hate it.

So we all got along, really. Justin and I would continue to queen out and scream at each other once a month, so don't worry that we've evolved too much, and Justin and Gabe would clash sometimes over their very different backgrounds and the different perspectives that gave them on all the esoteric bullshit they liked to discuss. Gabe and I had, fine, some antler-bashing moments when Justin was sick, but the truth is he's a good guy. And he loved Justin, which gets you pretty far where winning points with me is concerned.

And in case you're anxious about what comes next, if violin music is playing in your pretty little head, I'll go ahead and spoil the saga for you; Justin and Gabriel never ran off together, and that big moment of relationship drama you're waiting for never came. They broke up eventually, and that was rough for Justin and a little for me, because I liked him and Justin's a handful without a ringer to take him off my hands a few times a week. Justin's dated many people, some more seriously than others, and you can keep your concern trolling to yourself because we're fine.

You still think we need a list of rules to stay together?

Look, you do whatever it is you want to do in your little bed.

**

We never told the New York friends, exactly, but the Deaf world is tiny and incestuous and word gets out. Does Justin, like, have a boyfriend? Emily asked me one day, when we were having lunch in my office.

They hadn't used the word at that point, though they would later. Yeah, I guess.

She shrugged. Okay.

Derek mentioned it a little while after that, in kind of an eye-roll “I just don't understand you people” sort of way, but that's pretty typical from him. He told Daph, who insisted on meeting Gabriel before she'd give her approval, and she made this big thing out of assuring me that she liked him, he was good to Justin, but don't worry, she still loved me best, and the whole thing was just so...unnecessary.

They accept that I fuck other people, I said to Justin one night, when we were making dinner. That's fine with them. But God forbid you fuck someone you actually like, now we need to stage an intervention to make sure I'm not suicidal.

Little boxes, Justin said.

If Michael ever finds out, we are so screwed.

He will never talk to me again, Justin said.

Of course he would. He loves you.

Not like he loves avenging you.

I thought about what he'd said about Justin at that party years ago, because you don't forget that, you can never forget that.

Let's not tell the Pittsburgh people, I said, and Justin nodded hard.

**

Well, I'm sure you can guess how that held up longterm. In November I went to Pittsburgh for a few days to see Gus and fix one of the problems Theodore always manages to create. I'd also been having issues with my phone, which sounds like a non-sequitur but don't you trust me by now that it's all going to come together? Patience, Iago, as my son would say.

My phone was shutting off without warning every once in a while, like when I was at the Pittsburgh office, for example. I hadn't noticed and turned it back on, because I was busy trying to sort out the absolute mess Ted had seen fit to deliver to Calico Luggage, so Ted came in at one point holding the office phone and said, “Bri? Justin's on the line.”

I stared at the very much not video phone in Ted's hand. “Well, I'm guessing he's got quite the interesting story to tell about spontaneously regaining his hearing.”

“It's, uh, it's an interpreter? But he says he has Justin on the—”

“Yes, I'm familiar with relay services.” I snatched the phone and held it to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, your phone's doing the thing again,” the interpreter said.

“Goddamn it. I gotta replace this thing,” I said, as Ted came around to my side out of the desk to check the progress I'd made. “I'm impressed you correctly guessed I would still be here fixing up this shit at almost seven.”

“I was going to call Woody's next and have them make an announcement that Brian Kinney's husband was looking for him.”

“And then I'd make a counter-announcement that Brian Kinney was no longer married.” It wasn't my first time using a relay service with Justin, but it's always weird speaking to him, and the rhythm of our conversation isn't quite right because we have to wait for the interpreter in the middle. And I couldn't hear his laugh. I like his laugh.

“Worth it.”

“What are you doing sitting around?” I said, slapping Ted's hand away from the mouse. “Don't you have plans?” He'd mentioned he was going to some play with Gabriel.

“Yeah, I'm feeling really seizure-y, though. I cancelled.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Is Gabriel coming over anyway? You shouldn't be alone.”

“Emily's going to come.”

“He's got to deal with this stuff sooner or later, you know.”

“I know, but I figure there's no rush for him to see me foaming at the mouth. And I just want Emily. It's fine, I wanted to keep you updated.”

“Thanks. Have her text me.”

“I will. Wish me luck.”

“Goooood luck.” I hung up and handed the phone back to Ted. “What the fuck did you do?”

He said, “I just changed the wording on—”

“Christ. Move.”

Ted moved around to the other side of the desk. “I thought Justin's female friend was Emily? And Daphne.”

“Hmm?” I looked over the press release, trying to figure out what the fuck else he'd seen fit to mess with.

“You said Gabriel. On the phone.”

“Gabriel's a guy.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “So I thought his guy friend was Derek.”

“Yeah, they're actually different people. That's why they have different names.” I backspaced out a sentence.

“Oh. Well, who's Gabriel?”

I sighed and looked up at him. “Why do you care?”

He squirmed, looking uncomfortable, but you know, it's Ted. “Justin and I have been emailing,” he said. News to me, but all right. “I thought we were...you know, I felt bad last time I saw him and I realized...look, you've been telling us for ages to make an effort, I'm making an effort.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“So I'm taking an interest,” he said. “He talks about Derek, he talks about Emily, he hasn't mentioned a Gabriel.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and studied him. “This doesn't get back to Michael, you understand? God, or Lindsay.”

He mimed zipping his lips, and I resisted the urge to walk out just from that.

Honestly, why the fuck I told Ted is really anyone's guess. I'd been working for hours, I was distracted with this shitty press release and a little bit of worry for Justin, being back in Pittsburgh tends to lead to me making irrational decisions...I don't know. But I said, casually, “He's a guy Justin's seeing.”

Ted blinked at me. “Seeing as in...repeatedly seeing?”

“In different situations and in different levels of undress, yes. Can you bring me the file for the campaign we did for them my last year here?”

Ted gave me a long look and then went over to the filing cabinet. He fished out the file, handed it to me wordlessly, and, after a minute said. “Are you and Justin...okay?”

“Fabulous.”

“Well...when did this happen?”

“Few months ago.”

“Justin just met this guy and...what, now he has a boyfriend? And you're just letting—”

“It was my idea,” I said, maybe a little harshly.

Ted's eyebrows just about disappeared under the remains of his hairline. “It was your...why?”

I turned back to the file. “Just leave it alone, all right?”

“He's your partner, and you—”

“I'm not everything that he needs,” I said.

His eyes did that soupy thing. “Brian, I'm sure you are.”

Christ.

“I'm absolutely not, and he's not everything I need either. Fuck, we're not goddamn robots who were created to fulfill each other's every need. He's a person. He's his own person. Not some...cure for all that ails me.”

Ted paused. “Does Justin love him?”

“Justin loves strangers,” I said. “Of course he loves him.”

“As much as he loves you?”

Well, obviously fucking not—Justin doesn't love oxygen as much as he loves me—but I didn't feel like giving Ted the reassurance he really didn't deserve.

But I looked up at Ted, God, the guy who, anytime he's in a couple, is regularly throwing himself in front of trains that aren't even headed towards them because he thinks he needs to prove something to the guy he's in a relationship with, and I sighed and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. “Sit down.”

He did.

“Justin is not like us,” I said. “Loving people doesn't beat the shit out of him. It fucking...it restores him. Waters him like a nice little plant.”

Ted stared at me. “What the fuck?”

“I know.” I turned back to the press release. “Iiiiit's a mindfuck. Can I go back to fixing your mistakes now?”

**

I came home late one evening in February to Justin and Gabriel lounging on the couch watching some Bollywood thing. I waved to Gabriel and said, Turn it down? to Justin.

He did. Sorry. We're almost done.

How was your day? Gabriel asked me.

Fine. I loosened my tie and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I'm about to lose my assistant, though.

Justin said, Shit, Cynthia's leaving?

I shook my head. I'm making her an executive. She's already managing five accounts on her own. It's long overdue.

Wow, Justin said. That's exciting. Gabe ran his fingers through Justin's hair.

Yeah, except there's going to be some bloodbath over Emily, now. Not looking forward to that. Are you staying for dinner? I asked Gabriel.

No, not tonight. You want to come over on Sunday, though? I'll make lasagna.

Yeah, sure.

I ordered Japanese and had a shower, and when I got out Justin and Gabriel were saying goodbye at the door. I ducked into the kitchen to give them a bit of privacy, and Justin came in a minute later and pressed his nose into my shoulder. “Mmm, wow,” he said.

What?

“Smell good.”

I turned and draped my arms over his shoulders. You good?

“Yeah, why?”

I just like asking you questions.

He got on his toes and kissed me. “I told Gabe about the Italy trip. He said to make sure to go to Siena.”

We can do that. I climbed up on the counter and took a swig from a bottle of water. You know what's funny?

“Hmm?”

You always call him 'Gabe,' when you're talking out loud. You don't say Gabriel. It's cute.

He shrugged. “Well, you know. The R.”

Hey, that's why? I stretched my legs out, caught his waist with my feet, and pulled him into me. You shouldn't be embarrassed. And hey, who the fuck are you even speaking in front of but me? I kissed him. Should I be jealous?

No one.

Good. No. Not good. You're embarrassed in front of me?

He laughed, squirming his way out of my legs. I'm not embarrassed.

Good. Because I like your Rs.

I know you do. That's why.

What's why?

He smiled, blushing a little, God. There's an R in Brian. There's an R in Gabriel. You love my Rs. They're for you.

I took his shoulders and pulled him back towards me and kissed him hard. He stayed there, running his fingers up and down my shoulder blades.

“Say it,” I whispered.

He laughed. “Brrrrrrian.”

I slumped against the wall, eyes closed, and somehow recovered enough strength the hop down, pick him up, and carry him off to bed.