FQWL: Choices and changes

[moonshadows]

The youths seem surprised to see me at Sunday-evening karaoke, but pleased. Joseph is less surprised and less pleased, although he hides it. I've developed this nasty habit of having deep, philosophical discussions with some of the youths, discussions that leave the Church-approved messages. I'm particularly proud of the "is homosexuality wrong" talk where I pointed out that nearly every species of animal has a percentage of homosexual individuals, that Leviticus also said eating shrimp and lobster is an abomination, and that in the New Testament, Jesus established the New Covenant, which stated that the old Mosaic laws about unclean things were invalid. From there, it spiraled into one part accepting yourself for who you are because God made you like that, and one part deconstructing the Old Testament for things that are no longer 'abomination'.

I thought Joseph was going to have a stroke. Robert and Mary laughed until both of them were crying and complaining about it hurting to smile.

But karaoke - that seems harmless enough. I smile sheepishly at Joseph, apologize for getting seasick, and idly note that he's wearing the blue sweater again.

The evening progresses the way you'd expect: salty snacks and soft drinks, teenagers singing pop songs badly, and good-natured dares and teasing. Joseph gets up a few times, and he's not bad, but he's clearly hamming it up for the youths. They try to get me to sing 'Single Ladies' but I protest I can only do the dance, not sing the song. That gets them determined to see me stand up and sing something, anything, and finally I scroll through the available songs looking for something I'm vaguely confident I can sound decent singing.

I find Hallelujah.

It's playing almost before I realized I've decided to sing it, and I close my eyes because I don't care which verses the program wants me to sing, I'm going to sing the ones I've always sung. Also because I don't want to see anyone's expressions, or I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord. But you don't really care for music, do ya?
My father's disgruntled face leaps to mind; it's him I'm singing to.
It goes like this: the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah!
Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah.

I did my best; it wasn't much. I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch. I've told the truth: I didn't come to fool ya.
And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah!
Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah.

The youths join in on the chorus. It makes me smile a little past the memory of my baby sister's funeral.

Now, maybe there's a god above, but all I've ever learned from love is how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!
Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah.

Surprisingly, it's not my father's face that comes up at that verse. Its Joseph's. That makes me smile, just a little, during the chorus because of the words that are coming next.

You say I took the Name in vain; well, I don't even know the Name. But if I did, well really, what's it to ya?
There's a blaze of light in every word - it doesn't matter which you heard, the holy or the broken Hallelujah.
Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah.
Hallelujah, hallelujah. Hallelujah, hallelujah.

There's complete silence when the song ends and with more than a hint of trepidation, I open my eyes. That song always gets me pouring my heart out - but the teens are staring at me in awe and then they burst into cheering and applause with one of them repeatedly exclaiming, "Mr. Mom can SING!" Eventually, someone's bound to comment about my non-standard lyrics, and it's not a surprise when it's Joseph. I apologize and explain that with my father's sudden death, I never had a chance to express certain things to him, and that I use the song to try to work through my own feelings.

Naturally, the youths want to know more. Karaoke is forgotten in favor of Mr. Mom talking about the struggle of loving a family member while rejecting their hurtful behavior, and the hard truth that sometimes, someone you love is just a bad person and that there's no shame in letting go and not letting them drag you down with them. There's a brief segue into "the holy or the broken Hallelujah", which I explain as it not making a difference where you found comfort or inspiration, so long as you did. I also take the opportunity to address alcohol and alcoholism and how getting drunk doesn't actually make you cool, it just makes you not care that you're acting like a moron.

Joseph seems a little put out that I turned a light and fun evening into deep and somber thoughts, so I suggest a last group song before the parents start arriving, and as a rowdy band we collectively belt out I'm A Believer, Shrek version, complete with the infectious part where we just clap and shout I! BELIEVE! I! BELIEVE! for a while. Then the first parents show up to claim their teenagers, and I excuse myself for my usual 'previous engagement' before Joseph can try to make small talk. Or before he can go outside and see Robert's pickup truck, because with him staying sober, he can pick me up and drive us to Jim and Kim's.

Mary meets us there, as she usually does, but she hasn't started drinking yet. She sits there, playing with her wine glass, until Robert and I are settled with our Cokes. Then she leans forward eagerly and practically demands, "Is it true you barfed on him?"

Robert nearly chokes on his Coke, laughing, and I give Mary a detail-free account of my ill-fated yacht adventure. Mary is sadistically delighted in her husband's thwarted attempt to seduce me, while Robert's arm slides around my waist. Then I tell them how the Youth Activity went, complete with my impromptu preaching session and skipping out before Joseph could get a minute alone with me.

"Are you sure you don't want to be a Youth Minister?" Mary asks when I'm done. "It sounds like you're a natural."

I shake my head. "Pretty sure you have to be religious to be a minister. Who ever heard of an agnostic priest?"

"We could start our own church," Robert suggests with a straight face. "Church of the Dover Ghost."

Mary toasts him with her wine glass. "Church of the Blood of Christ."

They both look at me.

"I'm trying to think of something clever and nothing's coming to mind," I tell them.

We spend the evening joking about parody churches and 'holy' rituals, and when we walk her home, she tells Robert to 'be strong'. I assume she's referring to the fact that the last barbecue of the season is this Saturday, and being around Joseph tests Robert's willpower.

Sure enough, Robert's tense the whole week. Coincidentally, or maybe not, Joseph keeps wearing that same blue sweater around his shoulders, and I'm starting to get a bad feeling about that article of clothing. Thursday - pizza night - is still rough. I make the last two slices a no-man's land between Robert's toppings and mine, but it still reminds me that both of my families are...not here. Robert suggests movies at his house, but I can't concentrate on them or his commentary. Eventually, he just brings out sheets and pillows and I spend the night curled up on one couch while he stretches out on the other. Friday night, we sit on the bench in the backyard for two hours while Robert smokes clove after clove and eventually takes a shot of Nyquil just to get some rest, and I put him to bed on my couch.

He's so tense, I'm getting anxious about tomorrow.

===

With the weather being just a bit nippy the first Saturday in September - and the last cookout of the season - I've made a hearty vegetarian chili in my crock pot, and Robert helps me shape bread dough onto the bottoms of mini muffin cups before we bake them. He brings over the towel-lined, towel-covered bowl of two-bite breadbowls, I carry the crock pot, and my no-spoon-needed chili is welcome indeed. The barbecue is almost nerve-wracking, Robert playing with Craig's girls as if trying to keep himself as far from the alcohol as possible, and he gratefully accepts my offer of bringing him any food or drink he wants. Joseph, weirdly, seems to almost ignore him completely.

That night, Robert calls me at close to midnight and we talk for over an hour about inconsequential things. He asks if I think it's better to chase after dead dreams or let them go; I tell him if there's still a chance, then it's not dead. He asks me if I'd still respect him for taking the chance and failing. I answer that I'd bake consolation cookies and be a willing conspirator for working out a better strategy.

"You're a good man, Jack," he sighs after a long minute. "I'm not sure I deserve that."

"Too bad," I tell him in my best Dad voice. "Just for that, I'm throwing in hot cocoa and blanket cuddles."

Robert laughs, and in the darkness of my room, I smile. "Thank you," he says quietly, warm affection that makes my heart leap. "Good night, Jack."

"Good night, Rob," I murmur, and he hangs up.

He doesn't come by for breakfast or lunch, and he doesn't answer my texts about dinner. For once, there's no Youth Activity, so I'm about climbing the walls in attempts to not succumb to my grey purgatory. Amanda's sympathetic when I call her, and she urges me to stay strong and wait up for him. I make sure my phone is charged and curl up on the couch for a nap.

Somewhere around 11:30, there's a knock on my door which startles me awake and fills me with dread because Robert has a key and no one else should be knocking on my door this late at night. Cautiously, I open it, and there's Mary. Surprisingly, she's mostly sober and her arms are crossed in anger or irritation or both as she glares at me.

"Rob needs you," she spits as soon as the door opens, but I get the feeling it's not...actually...me she's angry at.

"What happened?" I ask, trying not to imagine the worst.

"He fell off the wagon. He's at Jim and Kim's, too drunk to walk. I can't carry him back myself, or I would have."

I'm already grabbing keys, phone, and wallet. As I move to push past her, she puts a hand on my chest to stop me.

"Hey. Are you mad at him?"

"What?" I look at her in confusion. "Why would I be mad at him?"

Her eyes narrow. "For going back to your namesake. For what might have led to him going back to your namesake."

She's trying to get my goat. It won't work; I don't care what hurt Rob so badly, only that he's hurt.

"He's going to be angry enough at himself," I tell her quietly. "Whatever happened, he needs my support and he's got it. Am I giving you a lift back?"

For a long minute, she weighs me with her eyes, but in the end she shrugs. "Why not. You know, for someone who claims he's not religious, you sure embody that whole love-thy-neighbor, turn-the-other-cheek shtick."

I lock the front door and lead the way to my car. "I'd argue that if you need religion to tell you how to be a good person, you're not very good of a person."

The drive to Jim and Kim's is quiet.

"He's in the back booth," Mary says as we climb out. "Or he was when I left. You go get him, I'll stay with the car."

Robert is, indeed, in the back booth. Neil flags me down as I start to head there.

"As much as I like the business," he says quietly, "this isn't healthy. There's something wrong. Get him out of here and take care of him, okay?"

I give him a small, tight smile. "That's why I'm here."

Robert's upright in the booth, but just barely. His eyes flicker over to me as I stop next to him, but he doesn't say anything and he turns his head slightly away from me.

"Come on, Rob," I urge gently. "Let's get you back home. We've got cookies and planning on the schedule tomorrow, if I'm not mistaken."

He shudders, but he doesn't object as I slide my arm around him, and when I get him on his feet I can see he's crying.

"It's okay," I murmur, resisting the urge to kiss the tears away. "I've got you. I'll take care of you. It's okay, we'll work it out together."

He doesn't respond, even to nod, but when I take a step he takes one with me. Or, at least, he tries. He's trashed. Slowly, half-carrying him, I get him out of the bar. Mary opens the back door for me and climbs in to help get Robert's mostly-limp body inside. She's even found a pair of plastic shopping bags which she's put one inside the other in case he gets sick, and when I give her a look of surprised gratitude, she flashes me a wry smile and strokes Robert's hair briefly. The drive back from Jim and Kim's is equally quiet.

Working together, Mary and I get Robert set up on the couch. He's barely lucid enough to get some water into, slightly more so after he vomits into the big mixing bowl, but he doesn't talk and he won't look at either of us. She sits with him, urging him to sip the glass of water while I rinse out the bowl and then fetch the pillow and blanket from the linen closet. Robert curls up sullenly under the blanket as soon as I spread it over him, and Mary strokes his hair one last time before turning to me with a sigh.

"Call me if you need anything," she says shortly. Then she stalks out, furious for no reason I can identify.

I take my shoes back off, empty my pockets, and get settled into the recliner. My thought had been that once Mary left, Robert might talk to me, but either he's still sulking or he's drifted off. Eventually, I drift off as well.

Quiet cursing wakes me, but I keep my eyes closed and my breathing slow and even. It's been a while since Robert woke up hung over, but I remember he's never happy about it. I can hear him take the painkillers and drink the water before flopping back with a groan.

"Damn it, Jack," he mutters, but it's resigned instead of angry. Then he sighs. "I know you're awake."

For a second, I consider pretending to still be asleep or playing dead, but I open my eyes instead. Robert looks like hell.

"You should have left me to rot," he says darkly.

"Not going to happen. You know me better than that."

He looks pained. "Jack..." A sigh, and he averts his eyes. "You don't even know what I did."

"Am I going to have to worry about the cops breaking my door down?"

That makes him choke back a laugh. "No."

"Then it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're hurting, and I'll do everything I can to make it better."

Robert sighs. "Fine. You can start with coffee."

"You got it." I stand and stretch, and as I head towards the kitchen he says my name. I stop.

"Thanks," he says softly.

I smile at him over my shoulder, and a little bit of the tension in his face evaporates.

While the coffee is brewing, I fetch a pair of pajamas for Robert and leave them in the bathroom. If past hangovers are anything to go by, he's going to want toast and eggs over easy with apple juice, so I get that started. I can hear him visit the bathroom, and then he comes in to sit at the table and sip coffee while I cook. He mutters thanks again as I set the loaded plate in front of him, and I let him eat at his slow, hung over pace while I make French toast for myself. We finish eating about the same time, and he looks more human by the time he puts his fork down.

My phone chirps from the living room. Unsurprisingly, it's a text from Amanda.

IS KNIFE DAD OKAY??

I send her a quick text back.

WE JUST FINISHED BREAKFAST. HE HAD A BAD NIGHT.

That's putting it mildly, but I'm not going to say anything else until I know what happened. A moment later, her reply comes in.

OK. TELL HIM I LOVE HIM AND HUG HIM FOR ME.

An amused snort just over my shoulder makes me jump, and Robert snatches my phone away, grinning.

LUV U 2 U LITTLE DELINQUENT.

While I watch, they exchange a sequence of emojis including a heart, a ghost with its tongue stuck out, a skull, and two different knives. Finally, Robert hands me my phone and smirks.

"Well?" he mock-demands. "Where's my hug?"

I hug Robert. He melts against me, head on my shoulder, and I can feel him tremble a little. I rub his back soothingly, and his arms tighten around me.

"Jack..."

"It's okay, Rob. You don't have to tell me."

His fingernails scrape my back through the fabric of my shirt as his hands tighten into fists. "I'm giving up," he whispers, sounding close to tears. "I keep trying, and all I get is hurt. It's not worth it."

I want to kiss him almost more than anything in the world. But I don't. I just hug him tighter.

"If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"This is helping," he says quietly. He lets the moment stand before I feel him grinning against my neck. "A hot shower will help more. So will your cookies."

I give him a quick squeeze before letting go. "You know where the bathroom is," I tell him, smiling. "And I did promise you cookies."

"And hot cocoa," he points out.

"And blanket cuddles."

Robert smiles shyly. "Yeah. But you need a shower, too."

Before I can stop myself, I'm imagining us taking a shower together, and now I'm blushing. But it's worth it to hear him laugh, open and warm.

"I'll go first," he says, looking at me with tender affection that makes my heart pound even as I feel like I'm melting.

"O-okay."

Robert goes into the bathroom. I go to the kitchen to get the cookie dough mixed up and chilling. I wait until I hear the shower stop to wash the breakfast dishes, and a few minutes later he comes in dressed in some of the clean clothes I keep here for him.

"Why did you come and get me?" he asks as I'm rinsing the last dish. "Wait, I don't mean it like that. I know why you came and got me. How did you know you needed to come and get me?"

"Mary told me," I say slowly, drying my hands.

Robert looks away, staring at the floor.

"She seemed...angry."

For a second, the look turns into a glare, but then Robert sighs and just looks...tired. "Yeah. I guess she would be. So she ratted me out, huh?"

"Robert..." I cross the kitchen to hug him again. "I was worried about you."

"I know," he says quietly. "I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about that again, I promise."

"If it's something important to you...maybe we can find another way?"

He's considering it, I can tell. He steps back to look at me somberly from arm's length, hands on my shoulders.

"Maybe," he says. "I'm sure you'll guess eventually, and when you do...if you can think of a way to make it happen, go for it. Don't ask my opinion before you do it. Don't listen to anything I say. Just do it." He pauses for a beat. "Assuming your plan doesn't involve murder. Don't go to jail for me, Jack. I don't want to have to tell Amanda that I busted her old man out of prison and now we're on the lam."

"I won't go to prison," I tell him solemnly. "You'll lie me an alibi and we'll kill any witnesses."

"I've taught you well," he says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. "Now go shower."

I grin, wanting so badly to kiss the tip of his nose, but I resist. "Don't burn the house down."

Robert laughs. "I make no promises."

===

Aside from the promise of six months without the monthly minefield that is Joseph's cookouts, September brings cooler weather, the scent of autumn, and apples. Specifically, from Hugo, who got an entire bag from one or more of his students. Robert and I spend a very domestic day peeling and slicing apples, and then I bake mini apple pies for Hugo to distribute as he sees fit. That sets off a round of baking requests from the rest of the cul-de-sac, and for a week and a half my house smells like apples and cinnamon. Robert and I feast on scraps and leftovers, eating apple-cinnamon breakfast foods including oatmeal, pancakes, muffins, and bread pudding. Brian and Daisy join us for Sunday breakfast with Craig and his girls, that week. She's taken an interest in cooking - at least, with apples - and the twins are close to her age so with Amanda at college, she can get some socialization in.

Mary joins us for pizza night, which is a relief for me but apparently a bigger relief for her. I don't keep liquor in the house, of course, and we sprang the invitation on her at the last minute, so she left the house quick enough that she didn't grab a bottle on the way. Spending time with her sober is...revealing. It's like the entirety of her home life is a job she despises, and she takes it out on the rest of the world - her friends mostly excluded - because she's forgotten how non-hostile social interaction goes.

Cautiously, I mention the idea that she might be happier...not being part of that family. She tells us tiredly that she'd thought about it, a lot, but she doesn't have the resources to live on her own much less provide child support because it's either that or custody, and she knows that if she's left in charge of even one of the kids, it's going to end in jail time. That evening, we pull out our laptops and Robert shows her the things he does with stocks while I show her the things I'm doing for Craig. Mary confesses that she basically does all the books for the animal shelter, and Robert asks if she's got a resume. Turns out Mary does not have a resume, and Sunday night gets penciled in as 'byob and meet at Jack's'.

Sunday afternoon is an all-things-apple church bake sale. I get my own table, which starts out heaped with oatmeal cookies, mini pies, caramel crumb cake, some little turnovers, and improvised cinnamon rolls. By this time, the congregation knows that I know what I'm doing in a kitchen even though I'm not part of the flock, and between that and the youths bringing their parents by to meet Mr. Mom, I'm the first table sold out. Mary congratulates me as she tallies my cash box, and tells me in a low voice that Joseph's just given up baking for these things. Then she gives me an envelope of money - either reimbursement for materials or seed money for the next bake sale - and I hand over the goodies I'd set aside for her. I drift between the tables for a bit, buying something here and there and swapping baking tips. Sure enough, Joseph's doing the supervisor thing instead of manning his own table. He looks...well, no more disgruntled than usual.

When I pick Robert up for dinner, the directions he gives me are to a little Mexican place. We feast on fresh, hot tacos and some lime-based variant on lemonade with sopapillas for dessert, honey and spiced chocolate to dip or drizzle over them.

"Val called me," he says quietly as I drive us home, crisp air swirling in through the half-open window while he smokes a clove. "Actually called. Texted me beforehand to tell me to pick up."

I shoot a quick glance at him, but he only seems pensive. "How'd it go?"

"Had to tell her about my fuckup." He takes a long drag and blows the smoke thoughtfully out the window. "That was...hard. Explaining why I did it. But she understood. For the first time in probably a decade, I heard positive words from my daughter. I'm making progress, Jack," he finished in a tone of soft wonder.

"Yes, you are," I tell him warmly. "I'm proud of you, Rob. I know that couldn't have been easy at all."

"I'm un-fucking my life up." He grinds the clove out on the sole of one boot and drops the butt into the pack before tucking it away in his jacket. "Some day, I might even be worthy of the time and effort you've spent on me."

"Robert!"

The word leaves my mouth with all the parental command I've ever used on my daughter, and beside me, I can see him flinch.

"If I didn't think you were worth it," I say firmly, "I wouldn't spend that time and effort."

"I don't feel worthy of it." The words are quiet, tired, dark.

"Feelings aren't facts."

"Fine," he says shortly. "Some day, I might feel worthy of the time and effort you've spent on me."

I pull into my driveway and turn the car off. "Robert..."

He's already climbing out. "Bench."

By the time I get to the bench under the cherry tree, he's smoking another clove. I sit and pull him into a hug, and after a few seconds he sighs and relaxes against me.

"I'm sorry, Jack. I'm not used to people having a higher opinion of me than I have of myself."

I lay my cheek against his hair. "You're too hard on yourself, Rob. Give yourself some credit."

He laughs softly. "Maybe I should get one of those W-W-J-D bracelets, only I'll be asking myself What would Jack do?"

"Whatever helps you stop the negative thoughts," I say, hugging him a bit tighter.

Robert holds out the hand with the tattoo I've never asked about because whenever he sees me looking at it, he hides that hand or tugs the sleeve down to cover the design. "Maybe I could do something with this."

Slowly, I cover his hand with one of mine. "It's your body, Rob. No one can tell you what to do with it. If you want to change your tattoo, then do it."

He makes a fist, then opens his hand and tangles his fingers awkwardly with mine. "Good advice," he sighs. "How come you're so good at this?"

"I've got a head start on un-fucking my head," I tease. "I started at the age of eighteen or nineteen."

Robert moves his hand to cover mine, taking my arm with him so that I'm hugging him again. "Thanks for being patient with me. That's a new thing my therapist has me doing," he adds. "Instead of apologizing for something negative about myself, thanking someone for doing a positive thing."

"You're doing great," I assure him.

"I don't feel like I am, but I think we've established that my judgment isn't the best." He sits up to smile hesitantly at me, leaving me a melting puddle. "So now that you got my head out of my ass, we help Mary un-fuck her life?"

Fighting the usual feeling of being a teenager with a crush, I smile back. "You got it."

=

Neither of us are very confident in our mastery of sounding like people a company would want to hire, even with the aid of google and several resume-builder sites. So when Mary comes over at nine with a bottle of wine, she finds Hugo there with us ready to turn her work experience into something coherent. Between the four of us, we get a decent-looking resume hammered out by the time eleven rolls around. Hugo thanks Mary for sharing the wine and takes his leave. Mary is still pretty steady and there's actually wine left in the bottle, which I find heartening.

"Now what?" she asks, looking between me and Robert.

"Next step," I tell her, "is to figure out what times you can potentially work."

"Don't worry about transportation," Robert adds. "Jack or I can drop you off and pick you up."

I nod. "Any time, day or night. But once we've got that figured out, we can start shopping around for jobs and see what they're looking for."

Mary looks at the printout of her resume and shudders. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

Robert leans over to hug her. "You don't have to be. But when you are, we'll make sure your resume is, too."

===

Between all our usual activities and trying to get Robert's yard into something that can be raked by the time the leaves start to fall, the days fly by. Mary arranges for the rich couple to meet with Robert so he can teach them about Betsy - and so that he doesn't feel that he's losing her. She gets the surgery she needs, and the couple promises that if they ever need a sitter, they'll call him.

To everyone's complete surprise, Lucien starts showing up at youth activities. Turns out he's friends with a few of them, and their stories of Mr. Mom who subverts church teachings while still being cool intrigued him. He's surprised to discover it's me, but not for long. Joseph looks frustrated and baffled that he's been neighbors with Lucien for years and never got him to come to a youth activity, but stories of me got him showing up. Sunday nights with Mary are at my house as often as they are at the bar, with discussions of job skills and responsibilities alternating with the usual gossip and joking. When the three of us have tea with Damien, he adds his professional experience to the mix - particularly with regards to interviewing. Turns out Lucien did some office work for Brian over the summer. Not enough to afford a used car, but enough to start a resume of his own. Although he's still abrasive in person, he apparently has a smooth and elegant phone persona which he credits entirely to his father, something that makes Damien blush.

Robert and I are mostly dealing with our lifestyle changes well. Amanda still calls every Saturday morning and usually texts me late at night to tell me something interesting that happened or just to exchange 'I love you', and everything else keeps me busy enough that I don't feel adrift most of the time. Sometimes the grey purgatory pulls at me, and I try to text Robert before it sucks me in. I don't always make it, but those incidents are few and far between. Usually I can get a text off, even if it's just a single letter, and Robert comes to wrap me in leather and cloves and bring me out of myself. He's dealing with sobriety the same way, mostly okay but sometimes in sudden need of support. I've dashed down the street in a towel, met him in the backyard in pajamas with an afghan, and once I bailed on the youths when he texted to let me know that he needed help fighting the call of the bottle. But he stays strong, even if he needs help sometimes, and I get Val's number so I can take up Amanda's torch and let her know what her father's doing.

The youth group has definitely taken a shine to me, especially after the talks about homosexuality and shitty family members. The week after I bailed to help Robert, we talked about addiction and the importance of a support network and somehow got off on a tangent about how easy it is to go along with the crowd and kick someone when they're down, but how much strength it takes to stop and help them back up. Someone used the phrase "it's cool to be kind", and the entire group adopted that as their motto - Lucien included. Then Joseph brought out the "turn the other cheek" thing, which led to a bunch of teens using their phones to google the meaning when I pointed out that the phrase isn't an expression of accepting violence, it's a direction to stand up for yourself. The ancient equivalent of daring the other guy to hit you so you can file assault charges.

I can almost see Joseph questioning his faith every time I talk with the teens. Any time the subject of me being non-religious comes up, it just gets worse. Why am I so knowledgeable? Well, I was raised with the traditional teachings but didn't accept them blindly. I questioned, and when I got no answers, I went looking for them. Anything that falls apart under scrutiny should be discarded, and someone who pushes blind faith should likewise be questioned. Am I encouraging them to be non-religious? Of course not, that's a personal choice. I'm only encouraging them to look carefully at what they're told, accept the parts that make sense and reject what seems hurtful. To demand kindness and respect from the world, but also show the world kindness and respect in turn.

A few of the youths hesitantly admit to shitty family situations, and are tearfully surprised by hugs and support from the others. That leads to more admissions - problems with schoolwork, interests brushed off for one reason or another, and confessions of gender identity and sexuality. All are met with kindness and support, the mob focused on love instead of hate, the herd closing ranks to protect the injured. I'm so proud of them I could burst.

October turns into more of the same, but with pumpkin spice and raking leaves. Robert and I take the opportunity to pull, trim, or do our best to kill unwanted elements in his yard, and Brian helps. The youths spontaneously decide that what they really want to do for Halloween is construct and run a kid-friendly Haunted Maze And Activity Evening, and it's such a wholesome community event that Joseph grins and bows to the inevitable. Robert and I hand out flyers for the event when we walk the dogs and discuss costume ideas with Mary. Eventually, Mary compares me to Captain America and Robert jokingly suggests she go with me - since I'll be chaperoning, of course - as Peggy Carter. Three seconds later, we're all seriously considering it because a badass and sharp-tempered woman suits Mary very well. Then Robert asks me if I'd forgive him shaving for a part and offers to accompany us as Howard Stark.

Assembling costumes very neatly occupies what might otherwise have been free time, with Robert somehow managing to get his hands on period-appropriate clothing for himself and Mary. When the big night arrives, the Saturday before Halloween, Robert is in character from the moment we walk up and a cat-costumed youth informs us it's a $5 entry fee per adult, $3 for 12-18, and kids 11 and under free. Carelessly, but with feigned annoyance, Robert checks his wallet and hands a hundred-dollar bill to the youth with an apology that it's the smallest bill he has and a dismissive command to keep the change. Then he offers "Peggy" his arm and I salute the youth before following them inside. We call each other by costume name all night, refusing to break character. It drives a sailor-suited Joseph crazy that we keep insisting we're Howard, Peggy, and Steve, and even more when I act as Mary's chivalrous protector and kiss her on the cheek.

The night is a blast. I pose for pictures with probably three dozen kids. Aside from the maze, there's a coloring station, a candy-apple-decorating station, a "reach into the box and touch these gross-feeling objects while I tell you they're body parts but really they're things like peeled grapes" station, a quarter-a-spin Trick Or Treat Wheel, and $1 grab bags. The kids love everything, the adults seem amused, Joseph has to tell me in disappointment that he's the Cracker Jack sailor, and the youths have a blast. They cheerfully call me Cap all night, and when the doors close behind the last kids, "Howard" directs them all to group up around me and "Peggy" and then casually hands Joseph his phone and instructs him to take a group photo on his "new-fangled flat camera". Robert sends it to me and Mary, Mary sends it to Joseph, and Joseph puts it on the church website where all the youths promptly download a copy for themselves. Then "Howard" announces that he, Captain America, and Agent Carter all need to head out for an important meeting in Washington, and offers us each an arm before we stroll proudly out to cheering and applause.

I send a copy of the picture to Amanda. She sends back an entire row of broadly-smiling faces, some with tears of mirth coming from their eyes. Robert forwards it to Val and refuses to show us what she said, but Val texts me a thumbs-up and a blown kiss, so I guess she approves.

The official Trick Or Treat night (really afternoon and early evening, for safety) is on the Sunday before Halloween, and I put the costume back on to hand out candy. Robert declines to decorate his house, instead keeping me company and encouraging kids to go straight across the cul-de-sac to Damien's spectacularly spooky house, bypassing Joseph with his bizarre Christian-themed Jack-o-lantern stickers. Mary is the one taking Chris and the twins trick-or-treating out of a rare show of sympathy because if she doesn't, they won't get their "fair share" of the "haul". Lucien goes with her, being a bit old for it himself. Brian's herding Craig's girls - who have pressured Daisy into going - so he and River can spend a night relaxing and handing out candy. Hugo's taking Carmensita along with Ernest and Duchess Cordelia, who's been dressed as some kind of devil-dog Pokemon. It's a nice, domestic night. Robert seems to enjoy himself, and after a hearty dinner and a movie, spends the night on my couch.

I make pumpkin pancakes in the morning.

Halloween itself is a Tuesday, and remarkably anticlimactic after the youth's event. Robert and Damien and I go for one last picnic in the cemetery before it gets too cold, and in the evening Robert and I build a fire in the newly-reclaimed fire pit in his backyard and roast frankfurters and toast hot dogs and drink hot apple cider and just...revel in the quiet comfort of cold air, woodsmoke, and each other. That night, I spend the night on his couch.

===

November dawns depressingly, cold and rainy with dark grey clouds that fill the sky and blot out the sun. Robert urges me to not go home yet, and it doesn't really take much urging to convince me. It's a 'stay inside and be domestic' sort of day. We clean a little, and then he offers me the use of his bathroom with the confession that he kept the clothes I lent him the first time he showered at my place. It's...surprisingly intimate, using his shampoo, his soap, his razor. Makes me realize what it must have been like for him when he showered at my house. Once we've both showered - he's let the stubble grow back down to the jawline but shaved his neck and I want to kiss it, oh god I want to bury my face in his neck and smell his skin - we collect the towels and my dirty clothes and do his laundry.

I make a hearty soup for lunch. We sit side by side on his couch, drinking soup from mugs and watching the rain with a quilt spread over our laps. Amanda texts me asking how Halloween was, since hers was some crazy picture-taking, candy-collecting adventure. I tell her it was low-key and send her a selfie of us with our mugs.

DAD, STOP, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO BE THIS CUTE, she texts. Then, moments later, another one comes in. DON'T LISTEN TO ME, KEEP BEING CUTE, I LOVE YOU BOTH.

"Hey," Robert says softly. "When's Thanksgiving Break?"

That's a good question. Amanda answers pretty quickly when I ask, assuring us that she's coming back to spend the holiday with her dads. Then she asks if Val is coming, too. Robert makes a reluctant sound and faceplants into my shoulder.

"Tell her I'm asking," he mumbles, digging his phone out.

I send the message off quickly, then look over at Robert's phone.

HEY VAL. I'LL BE AT JACK'S FOR THANKSGIVING IF YOU DON'T HAVE PLANS.

I send her the soup selfie while we wait for a response.

EGG NOG?

It makes no sense to me, but Robert looks unhappy with himself. FROM THE STORE, he texts back. AND NOTHING IN THE WHIPPED CREAM.

"Rob?"

I get a shoulder full of face again. "I know you won't use any alcohol in anything," he says quietly. "Val's making sure there's no temptations. No way for me to screw up."

That gets him hugged. "You have my full support, Rob. You know that."

He sighs. "I know. But that doesn't make owning up to what an asshole I've been any easier. She's right to be suspicious. Even if it was just a tablespoon of rum in the whipped cream, I'd be drinking from the bottle before or after."

Robert's phone buzzes, reminding him he missed a text. GIRLFRIEND'S GOING TO BE WITH HER FAMILY, SO SURE. CALL IT A TEST RUN FOR CHRISTMAS.

For a long minute, he stares at the message as if unable to believe that he's reading it correctly. Then slowly, gingerly, he hands it to me. I don't bother to ask why; his hands are shaking. I wait to see if he's going to tell me what to type, but he buries his face in his hands and he sounds close to tears.

HI VAL, IT'S JACK, LOOKING FORWARD TO HAVING YOU AND YOUR DAD OVER. I KNOW THIS MEANS A LOT TO HIM. THANKS FOR GIVING HIM A CHANCE.

I hug Robert to my chest and rub his back while waiting for Val's response. It comes in on my phone.

IS HE NERVOUS? BECAUSE I'M SHAKING.

TERRIFIED, I text back.

GOOD. THAT MAKES TWO OF US. I'LL RENDEZVOUS WITH AMANDA.

Belatedly, I remember Amanda's still waiting for word. VAL SAYS YES AND SHE'LL RENDEZVOUS WITH YOU, I tell her. A minute later she sends me a bunch of smileys, hearts, and...bells with confetti? LOVE YOU, PANDA, I send her.

LOVE YOU TOO, DAD, she sends back. HUG KNIFE DAD FOR ME AND TELL HIM I LOVE HIM.

I hug Robert a bit tighter. "Manda says she loves you," I murmur.

He sits up and takes his phone back. LOVE YOU, VAL. Then he sends one to Amanda. LUV U 2 (PANDA).

The temptation is so strong to just lean over and kiss him.

"So," I start slowly, "what do you want to do with the rest of the day?"

Robert gives me a look that speaks eloquently of blankets but no clothes. Then he looks away. "Movie?"

I settle back in next to him and pull the blanket up. "Sounds good to me."

The smile I get makes me feel like I'm melting.

===

We meet up early for trivia night - the group has long since stopped competing for the prize, whether we're one team or two or three - and trade Halloween stories before discussing Thanksgiving. Ernest's going to be at his other dad's for Thanksgiving, but Brian invites him (and Mat, and Carmensita) to join him and Daisy. The more, the merrier, he says. Craig, surprisingly, is going with his girls to their mom's. Something about a clause in custody of River. Damien and Lucien are volunteering at a soup kitchen for the holiday. Joseph and his family are the only ones with a full family, of course. The news that not only is Amanda coming home for the holiday but she's bringing Val with her gets cheers and excitement from the whole team.

We compete as a single team this week, answering questions almost absently and discussing Thanksgiving traditions and recipes. Brian says Robert and I are welcome to join him, but he understands if we want to just spend the day with our daughters. Robert brushes it off with a joke, but under the table his fingers are trying to strangle mine and I know that saying he's still anxious is an understatement. After trivia, we sit on the backyard bench with the afghan while he crushes my hand and smokes a clove.

"I'm terrified I'll fuck up," he confesses once he's ground the butt out. "Not that you needed me to tell you that, but I needed to say it out loud. I'm so goddamn scared I'll screw up and lose my daughter again. I want to go get blitzed enough that I can't think, just run away from the whole thing, but that's an instant fail."

"If you want to over-indulge and feel like crap in the morning," I tease, "we could order a pizza and see how much we can eat."

He chuckles. "Not with pizza night tomorrow. But I did see a new two-liter in your fridge. I bet I could make myself pretty miserable with that."

"You'll never sleep with all that caffeine in your system, Rob."

"Good point. Let's order Chinese. We can get a two-liter of Sprite or something, and we'll have cold Chinese food for tomorrow's breakfast."

I clutch my chest in mock-horror. "Heresy!"

"Fine," he teases, "we'll nuke it first." 

"You...you fiend!" I gasp, recoiling dramatically. "How could you!"

"Well, first you dump it into a bowl..then you put the bowl in the microwave..."

We both crack up laughing.

"Seriously, though," he says once we've caught our breath, "I'm crashing on your couch tonight."

I hug him. "You know you're always welcome, Rob."

Slowly, he leans against me and rests his head on my shoulder. "You're a saint, Jack."

With a heroic application of willpower, I do not turn my head and kiss Robert's hair. "You say that like I'm not a barely-functional wreck with no idea what to do if I'm not being a caretaker," I say softly, my cheek nestled against his head.

Although I can't see or feel his mouth, I know Robert is frowning.

"You know I'm right." My voice trembles slightly.

Slowly, Robert sits up and looks at me as if I were a clue to the Dover Ghost or a hundred-dollar bill that might be counterfeit.

"Jack," he says slowly, "if you're worried that I'm somehow going to lose interest in you once I'm more stable..."

The thought hadn't consciously crossed my mind, but now that he's said it...yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of. I look away, borrowing his body language, trusting that he'll know what I can't squeeze past the lump in my throat. He crushes me to his chest, arms trembling, stubble catching in my hair.

"Damn it, Jack..." He takes a pair of shaky breaths. "All that means is that when I don't need to see my therapist anymore, it's your turn. And I'll be next to you every step of the way as we both figure out what we're doing with our lives. When you gave back your key..."

It takes me a moment to remember that: the wrenching terror of the security chain, Amanda reassuring me over cherry pie that Robert would come back because I'd fed him, the indescribable relief when he did.

Robert laughs shakily. "When you gave back your key, fuck, I was so fucking scared I'd pushed you away hard enough that you wouldn't give me a second chance. You are like a goddamn angel sent from heaven and if you're secretly mortal and imperfect like the rest of us then that just gives me a chance to help you the way you're helping me. We're blood bound," he says, suddenly sounding prim and lofty. "You die, I die. I don't make the rules. Talk to Queensbury."

The switch from intense emotion to casual bullshit is so smooth and sudden that I find myself laughing.

"I'm serious," he murmurs into my hair. "If you want to talk to my therapist once I'm better, I'll support you all the way. You had a shit upbringing, but you did amazingly with Amanda and she's off on her own now so it's time to take care of yourself."

"I can't argue with that," I murmur back.

"Good." He hugs me tighter before releasing me. "It's getting nippy out here. Let's go in and bundle up."

"Hot chocolate?" I suggest, smiling at him.

Slowly, he smiles back.

===

Maybe it's the impending visit from Val, but Robert starts lending more of an active hand in the kitchen. Especially for Italian Night with Mat and Carmensita. Mary compares Thanksgiving plans with us; she's not looking forward to the holiday and all the emphasis on Family and Togetherness and being thankful. The only thing she's thankful for, she tells us bitterly, is that her in-laws are dead. The youth group spontaneously (or maybe not so spontaneously, given Lucien's presence) decides that collecting donations for the soup kitchen is going to be their focus all through November and December. After all, there's Christmas dinner to think about after Thanksgiving is over.

Christmas...I need to start thinking about gifts.

There's a little bit of worry about where Val will sleep, but Amanda assures me that they'll be fine sharing her room the night before and that Val had already planned to get a hotel room. A little finagling turns into travel plans: my daughter will be flying into New York, where Val will pick her up and drive them both here. That means she'll have the whole week to visit rather than losing half of it to driving. Robert's increasingly nervous as the day approaches, and we spend a lot of time channeling that nervous energy into cleaning his house. This has the dual benefits of not only keeping him from more destructive activities, but boosting his confidence as he sees his cluttered bachelor pad transform into a chic living area.

Of course, that doesn't stop him from being a nervous wreck the night before our daughters are due to arrive, and when three cloves don't calm his nerves enough for the urge to punch my cherry tree to disperse, I put him to bed on the couch with a shot of Nyquil and hold his hand until it kicks in. He wakes before me, for once, and we take a morning job together even though Craig's already packed up and gone to Ashley's with the girls. For further distraction, we spend the morning baking pumpkin pies and slicing apples for apple pie. Lunch is sandwiches, and then he helps me get really fancy with my pie crusts for the apple pies. As we put them in the oven, the sound of a car door slamming makes us both freeze.

The front door opens.

"Yo pops! What smells like pie in here?" Amanda shouts.

"That would be the pie," I shout back, and then we're dashing for each other and meet somewhere near the doorway, hugging fiercely.

It's such an emotionally intense moment that when our hug ends and Amanda launches herself at Robert for an equally-tight hug, I'm about ten or twenty seconds into hugging Val before I realize what I've done. But hey, she hugs back before we separate, and then it's me and Amanda standing off to the side, watching Val and Robert stare uncertainly at each other.

"Hey," Robert says, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Hey," Val returns, looking like she's going to bolt if he moves too fast.

Robert blinks away tears. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "God, Val, I'm sorry for everything."

Val glances at Amanda, who gives her two enthusiastic thumbs up. Three steps and she sweeps her startled father into a hug. He freezes, then slowly hugs her back, and I'm not sure if they're both crying but I know he is. Only for a minute, but that's enough. As they step away I hear Val tell him he better not do anything because she's let herself get her hopes up, and he says something about hara-kiri with a switchblade in the backyard if he fucks up.

I'm pretty sure he's joking. Still...

"Hey, none of that," I tell him firmly. "We're blood bound, remember? You die, I die. Don't argue with me, take it up with Queensbury."

Robert looks startled, then briefly amused, and then that fades into thoughtfulness. "We are, aren't we?" he murmurs. "Okay, I take it back, no hara-kiri," he tells Val. "I can't die, or it will send Jack into a state of comatose despair."

Val starts to smile, but glancing at Amanda wipes the expression off her face. "He's not joking?"

"Nope, he's telling the truth," Amanda says briskly. "Dad'll go into a withdrawn state until a strong enough outside stimulus brings him back out of himself. The day Knife Dad decided to go cold turkey, he yelled at Dad and I found him in the bathroom just sitting on the floor holding his phone. I'd texted him, but he was too deep to text back."

"She read me the riot act." Robert's voice is quiet. "That's when I knew I had to stop. Completely."

Val looks at me, a little wild-eyed, silently asking me to refute what they're saying.

"He found a bottle of whiskey I'd bought about two months previous and forgotten about. Got pissed and started pouring it out, then threw it into the bathtub and stormed out. I...don't remember most of that day," I admit sheepishly. "I cleaned up the glass, then there was a text from Amanda, and then I was sitting on the couch eating a burrito."

Eyebrows arched as high as they'll go, Val turns back to her father. "You better invite me to the wedding," she says threateningly.

"We're not-" Robert breaks off as I blush. "I'm too much of a mess still. We're...not."

Undeterred, she crosses her arms. "I have eyes," she points out. "There better be a wedding, and I better be invited."

Robert blushes.

===

There's a lot of visiting crammed into the first half of the week. Amanda reconnects with The Emmas for an afternoon, then spends the evening chattering about what everyone's been up to in their different colleges. She's disappointed that Craig and his girls are gone, but that passes when she gets to spend an entire morning introducing Val to Daisy and Carmansita. Robert and I do some last-minute shopping, making sure we have everything we need to make every dish and have every traditional offering, from green bean casserole to bowls of sweet gherkins for Robert and black olives for me.

Val and Robert tentatively reconnect while Amanda's out. At first, I offer to leave the room, but both of them shoot that idea down. They'd rather have me there as a buffer, so I stay. Or, more accurately, they follow me around as I dig out the fancy dishes and do some meal planning. That leads to the twin revelations that my table just isn't big enough for all the dishes, and that Val would like to have their fancy dishes brought out of the proverbial mothballs. That makes Robert choke up, although whether from the association with his late wife or just Val wanting that emotional connection, I don't ask. Probably both. But we go over to Robert's, and give Val the tour. My house is small and cozy, without a separate dining room. Robert's, for all that it only has one bedroom, was built for entertaining and there's a dining room with an antique buffet, matching china cabinet, and a solid wooden table with enough leaves that it can expand from seating six to twelve.

We are so having Thanksgiving in this dining room.

When Amanda gets back from reconnecting with The Emmas, we collectively decide what foods are going to go in which serving dishes and mock-set the table to make sure there's enough room for everything. There's a bit of debate over who's going to sit where, but our daughters double-team us and declare that they're going to sit on one side of the table and we're going to sit on the other, across from them. Amanda cheerfully tells us it's so we can more easily talk to our offspring. Val says it's so they don't have to watch us giving each other mushy looks the entire meal. Robert and I both blush.

Having two kitchens at my disposal makes meal-planning easier in some ways - I can actually brine the turkey properly in Robert's fridge, for example - and more complex in others, because foods will need to be transported to Robert's house if they're prepared in mine. Wednesday night, I camp on Robert's couch so I can get the turkey in the oven nice and early. Then it's setting the table - for teal this time - and herding Robert over to my house for breakfast. I leave him there with Amanda, entrusting the potatoes to him and the green bean casserole to her while I take Val back with me to set out nibbles and prepare the stuffing. When he comes back with the potatoes (Amanda getting the doors for him) I leave them on an electric burner set to 'warm' and he helps me get our fifteen-pound turkey out of the oven. Then the stuffing goes in and I prepare the gravy. Robert carves the bird, the rolls go in the oven, Amanda's back with the casserole, Val's got the pies out on the buffet, foods go into or onto serving dishes, Robert and I duck into his bedroom one after the other to change into to something less 'sweaty T-shirt', egg nog and sparkling grape juice are being poured, pitcher of ice water on the buffet, dishes on the table with trivets underneath and serving spoons alongside, and then everything is done.

As we all take a moment to admire the picture-perfect table, Amanda takes a picture. Two families' worth of tradition sits in blended splendor, and all I can think is...this is my future. My mother's gravy boat and turkey platter, the china plates Robert inherited from his father. Well, claimed when his father got rid of 90% of his belongings and moved to a tropical condo. The green bean casserole Amanda grew up with, the stuffing Val's mother made. The rolls I learned desperately at my mother's side, directions scrawled in pencil on lined paper in my childish handwriting because I would never get another chance to learn the recipe. Mashed potatoes in a hand-painted bowl inherited from Robert's mother's mother. This is what Thanksgiving will be from now on, the merging of my broken family and Robert's, a new whole forged from the pieces left behind.

And I'm okay with that.

I sneak a glance at Robert and find him looking at the table about the same way I'm sure I've been looking at it. He sneaks a glance at me, and for a heartbeat it seems inevitable that we kiss, but instead we hug and I breathe in the scent of his skin, my cheek pressed against his neck, feeling the scratch of stubble under my ear as Robert tucks his chin against my shoulder.

Amanda takes another picture.

"I want a copy," Robert growls without moving.

"Five bucks," she retorts. "Photo paper's expensive."

Then she directs us to stand against the wall and fiddles with camera and tripod for a moment. Val moves into the shot at her gesture, another second of fiddling, and she joins us with a command to smile.

I think of spending Christmas with Robert and Val, and smile. The camera goes off.

Amanda darts over to check the shot and grins. "Perfect. I'm gonna get this framed before I leave," she declares.

Robert and I exchange another melting almost-kiss look. But Val's looking a little misty herself at the idea of a framed picture of our new blended family, even though we're not...really...official yet.

Well, I suppose it's sort of inevitable, isn't it? I mean, Robert and I don't talk about it but we both know...

Stop it, Jack. There will be plenty of time to think about it later. Right now, it's time to make Robert blush by holding the chair out for him and revel in how happy your daughters are and stuff yourself silly on good food and family feels.

Smiling, I make my way around the table and pull out a chair. "We should dig in before it gets cold," I say, getting everyone's attention. "Rob?"

He blushes at the broad grins our daughters are giving him, but he comes around the table and sits. Like a gentleman, I push his chair in and then seat myself. Hands are held out, mine to Amanda's across the table, Robert and Val looking vulnerable but pleased as they squeeze each other's hands gently, and I nod to her.

"We give thanks for this delicious food," she says almost shyly, "and for the friends and family both present and absent. May we have even more to be thankful for next year."

"A-men," Amanda announces, grinning at me and then Robert. "Like, say, a wedding."

Now we're both blushing. Again.

"Dig in, everyone," I say despite my face being on fire, and we all scramble to load our plates.

=

Afternoon is lazy, couch-cuddling and napping with a movie in the background while everyone digests. Then it's putting leftovers away and the girls insisting that Robert and I relax while they do the dishes - I suspect they just want to see us cuddle some more - and they bring us pie and egg nog when they're done. The subject of Christmas comes up: if Val can visit and for how long, who wants what as a gift, family traditions for stockings and under-tree presents, what to have for breakfast and dinner, and whose house it should be at considering space for the tree. Dinner is mostly snacking, deviled eggs and pickles, olives and little turkey-on-a-roll sandwiches washed down with the remnants of the sparkling grape juice. And, of course, more pie. Amanda puts on another movie, but Robert falls asleep halfway through and snores gently on my shoulder.

"Gonna crash in Val's hotel room," Amanda says quietly, muting the TV as the credits roll. "Tell Knife Dad I love him. Will text when I'm awake. Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Panda," I tell her just as quietly. "Have a good night, you two. Love you, Val."

Val looks startled to be included in the ritual. "Thanks, Jack. Tell my dad I love him. We'll see you tomorrow."

Gingerly, they leave the house and close the door gently. I adjust Robert to be leaning more comfortably against me and settle in to nap with him.

=

An unhappy grumble wakes me, and I grumble unhappily back.

"Jack?" Robert asks sleepily.

"Mmm?"

The warm weight that had been pressed against me shifts, and I open my eyes. Robert is rubbing his eyes. Night has fallen. The TV is playing the DVD's menu clip silently. "Val and Manda say they love you," I tell him muzzily. "They're spending the night in the hotel."

"I fell asleep on you," he replies eloquently.

That makes me smile softly. "Yeah, you did. 'S okay, I don't mind. Was cute."

Robert blushes slightly. "Today was good," he says, changing the subject. "First time I haven't spent Thanksgiving drunk in...years. Happiest I've ever seen Val on the day."

I lean over and cuddle against his shoulder the way he was slumped against mine. "Just think," I murmur, "we get to do that again next year."

An arm slides around me. "We should both go to bed," he murmurs back, "but I think it should be in different houses tonight."

That makes me frown sleepily. "Why?"

The arm tightens. "Because I want to do things that will make me happy right now but feel bad in the morning, and I want to do them very badly. I need the temptation out of my reach because I'll mess this up, Jack, and I can't let that happen."

I know what he means, because the desire to kiss his neck is nearly overwhelming. "Okay. Separate houses." Reluctantly, I sit up and stretch. Then I smile shyly at him. "I'm a temptation?"

The flush that spreads over Robert's cheeks is all the answer I need. I stand up and move away from the couch before turning back. Grinning with delight, I make a heart out of my hands and hold it over my chest.

"Sleep well, Rob. I'll see you in the morning."

The look Robert gives me is molten, but he mirrors my gesture. "Sleep well, Jack. See you in the morning."

The brief walk home feels like I'm floating through the night sky.