It had been a thing, ever since that first morning when Dylan had taught Avery the basics of omelet making. When Avery moved in, the lessons began in earnest. He was quite the student, going as far as perfecting Dylan’s own eggplant parmesan recipe by adding capers. Dylan still marveled at that. He would have never thought of that.
“Welcome home.” Avery leered at Dylan’s bare chest as Dylan ambled from the bathroom pulling a T-shirt over his head. Avery stood leaning against the door….
“Shouldn’t I be welcoming you home?” Dylan padded over to give him a kiss.
Avery ran his hands over Dylan’s chest. “If this is the greeting I get, maybe I should come home early more often.”
“Not cute.” Dylan dropped another kiss on his nose and went to put on his boots. “And maybe you should.”
Avery sighed but didn’t apologize. Dylan didn’t want an apology.
“I made contact with Travis today.”
Dylan whipped around. “And?”
“And he’s the biggest douche bag in all the land.” Avery plopped down on the mattress beside him. “But he doesn’t know much. Nothing that’ll help anyway. He hasn’t been asked to deliver since November.”
“November?”
Avery nodded, worrying his bottom lip. “What if they have someone else out there doing their pickup and deliveries? How will I be able to start at the beginning all over again? It’s taken me months to get here.”
“Hey,” Dylan soothed, reaching out and taking his hand. He waited for Avery to meet his eyes. “This is not your fault. You can’t take it all on yourself.”
“But—”
“No buts. Did you get anything recorded?”
The look Avery gave him said he was dense.
Dylan grinned. “Okay. Then maybe you should think about getting it to Heath. At least let him take care of this part.”
With another look, Avery pulled his hand from Dylan’s. “You obviously don’t think much of my intelligence.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just making a suggestion. There are—”
“I dropped the info off at the station on my way home. It’s why you beat me here.” Twisting from his seat next to Dylan, Avery leaned up and kissed his cheek. “It’s okay. This time. I know you worry.”
“I do.” Dylan ran a towel over his head and tossed it back into the bathroom.
Avery quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to leave that there?”
He shrugged and pulled on his boots.
“Seriously?” Avery gasped melodramatically, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth. “You shit kittens when I leave a sock on the floor, but you’re okay with a wet towel?”
Dylan dropped a kiss on his pursed lips then stood. “The difference is I intend to pick it up when we get home. You never pick up your socks. I’m pretty sure there’s an army gathering under the bed.” Winking, he left Avery sputtering behind him in the room.
He was already to the front door when he heard Avery’s sputtering cease. “There is not!” Avery came stomping down the hall like a giant looking for beanstalks. Dylan wasn’t so sure Avery hadn’t gone to check under the bed for his sock army—which was scarily accurate—before leaving the room. He lost it, laughing so hard he was bent over holding his midsection.
Avery huffed and smacked the back of Dylan’s head. “You’re being an ass.”
Righting himself, Dylan caught Avery around the waist and pulled him close. “You love it,” he told Avery before taking his mouth in a playful kiss.
Avery pushed uselessly at Dylan’s chest and turned his head away. “I love you,” he responded, stretching his neck when Dylan trailed kisses downward. “And I love your ass. But your propensity to be a jerk?” He snorted. “Not so much.”
Chuckling against Avery’s neck, Dylan was delighted when Avery shivered beneath his touch. With a moan, Avery went boneless, melting into him. Dylan bit down on the pliant flesh, dragging another groan from Avery, then stepped back and retracted himself from Avery’s grasp.
Avery swayed on his feet before blinking away the daze. Then his glare fell on Dylan. “An ass,” he reasoned, his voice breathless. “An ass and a tease.” He held his shoulders back and adjusted the hard-on outlined in his jeans. Then he shoved past Dylan and walked out the door.
Dylan couldn’t help the laugh that overwhelmed him when Avery mumbled “ass” under his breath again as he led the way to the car.
SHOPPING WITH
Avery often involved a lesson of sorts. When Avery had lived alone, his mealtimes frequently consisted of takeout. After his parents cut him off, he’d survived on sandwiches and chips. Dylan didn’t even like to think about what Avery’s cupboards had looked like back then. He was convinced Avery thought Pop-Tarts was a basic food group.
Everything Dylan picked up came with an inquiry.
“What are you planning on doing with that?” Avery asked again. It was his go-to question of choice.
Dylan looked down at the cornstarch in his hand, then to Avery. “I sift some in with the flour—makes the breading crispier.”
“Oh,” he answered, sounding distracted.
When Dylan flicked his gaze to Avery, it was to find him with his brows drawn into a scrunched up V. Dylan followed the look to find two men shopping the produce section with a toddler swinging between them, the kid clutching at both men’s hands.
It was cute, but Dylan couldn’t figure out what had Avery so pensive. When Dylan turned back, there was something soft and melty in Avery’s gaze. Because of the kid? The dads? The family? Did Avery want that? With Dylan? The curious look on Avery’s face alone was enough to have Dylan needing to get away as fast as possible.
“Okay,” Dylan squeaked—actually goddamned squeaked—then cleared his throat. “I think we’ve got everything.”
Avery’s eyes flew to his. “What about a salad?”
“We have salad at home.” He shoved the shopping cart toward the front of the store. It was time to get out. Kids were not on the agenda for tonight or next week or next year. Maybe when they were in their forties.
An hour later, the wood of their countertops were dusted with flour, as was Avery—all of him. If Dylan hadn’t been there, he’d have thought the bag had blown up, but no, nothing that simple. At least now Avery knew that throwing a chicken anything into flour would cause the flour to fly back in his face. He was adorable. Dylan grinned like a goof and couldn’t bring himself to care how silly he looked.
They worked in sync, Avery gently placing each piece of chicken in the cast-iron skillet while Dylan talked him through gauging temperatures, how many pieces to add to the pan at one time, and when to turn the chicken. Once Avery got the hang of it, Dylan went about preparing the salad.
“Hey, Dylan?” Avery asked, his voice so soft Dylan almost missed it.
Unsure he heard anything at all, Dylan shifted so he could see Avery while he worked. “Did you say something, babe?”
The look in Avery’s eyes when he lifted his head was hesitant. “Yeah,” he answered, only marginally louder than before. Dylan dropped the knife he’d been using to slice a cucumber and stepped nearer to his mate. Avery looked away, then spoke. “Have you… um… have you ever thought of having kids?” He rushed the words out so fast it took Dylan a few seconds to decipher them.
When he did, he had to swallow around the lump in his throat. Hadn’t he been good enough to avoid this very question in the market?
Before Avery, Dylan hadn’t thought about settling down. Kids weren’t even on his radar. As far as he was concerned, they were nothing but miniature drool factories, but he wasn’t opposed to the thought of children. He needed time. And alcohol—lots of alcohol before they broached the subject seriously. Still, he didn’t want to screw this up.
After Dylan recovered and caught his breath, he opened his mouth, but all that came out was “Um.”
Avery snorted and resumed his work at the stovetop. “You’re a man of many words, Dylan Green.”
“What do you expect me to say?” he groused, moving back to the vegetables in need of slicing and chopping. At least Avery was making jokes.
“It’s not like I’m asking you to have kids with me today.” There was a hint of a grin in Avery’s voice, but he still sounded hesitant.
Dylan glanced over at him, finding those hazel eyes he adored so much gazing back at him questioningly. “Is that what you want, Av?” Instead of working his salad duties, Dylan reached out and cupped Avery’s jaw, swiping his thumb over a spot of white powder on his cheek. “Do you want kids?”
The look in Avery’s eyes was all caged animal and panic. “What?” Avery all but screamed. He dropped the spatula and turned fully to face Dylan. “No! Why would I? Do you? Oh my God, Dylan, don’t do this to me. You can’t paint me as a father. Not right now. We’ve barely just figured out each other. There’s still more I have to learn about you. You change every fucking day. How in the hell do you expect me to take care of a kid?”
Abject horror was written all over his face in the way his eyes rounded to the size of golf balls and the way he gasped for air. It might have been funny if Dylan hadn’t seen such honest-to-God fear filling his eyes. Tension drained from Dylan’s body, his discomfort fleeing in order to see to his mate’s needs.
“Hey.” He pulled Avery close and combed his hand through Avery’s wild hair. Avery blinked wide, scared eyes up at him. “Shh, it’s okay.” He dropped a kiss on his nose. “Now, tell me what brought this on?”
Avery’s eyes went liquid, and he shrugged before looking away.
“Huh-uh,” Dylan whispered, tugging on his hair. “Look at me. Say it.”
With a huff, Avery glared at him but stayed silent.
There’s my hedgehog, stubborn and prickly to the end.
The thought had him grinning.
“I’m glad you think my panic attack was so entertaining. Maybe for an encore I could pass out on the floor.” Avery shoved at his chest, but Dylan only pulled him in closer.
It was a close thing that he didn’t roll his eyes at Avery’s drama-queen action. “Your discomfort is not funny. It’s you.”
If looks could kill. Dylan held back a laugh for his own sake.
“You’re not funny, babe. That’s not what I meant.” He brushed a kiss over Avery’s nose, his eyes, his lips. “You’re fucking adorable.”
“I don’t want to be adorable,” Avery grumbled, his glare turning to petulance.
“Poor baby,” Dylan teased, pushing his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “What is it you want? To be sexy? Irresistible?” Dylan dropped the act, putting every bit of his heart into what he said next. “To be everything I never knew I wanted and exactly what I needed? To surprise me with who you are and what you can do every day of our lives? You are a brilliant man, Av, but you make me a better one just by allowing me to sit in the rays of your glow. You’re more than adorable. You are mine.”
Dylan watched Avery’s eyes brim with tears, though they didn’t spill over. Those watery hazel depths told Dylan all he needed to know.
“Now,” Dylan cleared his throat, “what brought all this on, brat?” Dylan dropped in the endearment to ground Avery and was satisfied to see the tilt at the corner of Avery’s lips that said he’d hit his mark.
“Wolves have families,” Avery said flatly and rather unnecessarily.
“Okay, hedgehogs have families as well. I’ve met yours, though our definition of families probably differ.”
Rolling his eyes in true diva fashion, Avery huffed out, “Don’t be an idiot. It’s just…. Wolves have families. That’s the reason you have packs, right? Why you stay in a pack? To teach your kids what being a family means. Closeness. Trust. Community. Right?”
“Sure. But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Don’t you want that?”
“What do you mean?”
“A family? Don’t you want a family?”
Dylan’s confusion dissipated. He slid his hand out of Avery’s hair and cupped his jaw, tracing his flawless cheekbone. “Brat, I have a family.”
A flash of disappointment shadowed Avery’s face, and Dylan knew he had to fix it. “I know, but—”
“You, Avery,” Dylan interrupted and smiled at Avery’s gasp. “You’re my family. Now and forever.”
“Oh,” he breathed, then swallowed hard.
“Yeah, oh.” Dylan winked. “And if you get the crazy idea that I need more, I have a whole shop full of guys I have to babysit on a daily basis.”
Avery’s face lit up. “You’re right. Your friends
are
a bunch of children.”
Dylan chuckled, then leaned down and kissed him, parting Avery’s lips with his tongue and telling him as much as showing him that he was all Dylan needed. When he pulled back, Dylan’s heart filled at the drunk look in Avery’s eyes and the way he chased Dylan.
“But,” Dylan said, dropping a kiss on his nose before clicking off the burner without looking away from Avery, “if you ever decide you want kids, we can revisit the subject.”
With that he scooted around his mate to retrieve the slightly overcooked batch of fried chicken from the oil, but not before catching Avery’s stunned expression. Dylan snorted. The kid talk was more fun than he’d expected. They might have to do it again someday.
THERE WAS
a pub in the Pearl District down the street from Avery’s old loft that had a black bean burger he adored. On Monday when he found himself nearby while running errands for Reid, he decided to stop in for a quick lunch. He’d planned to order and take his food back to the office, but as he stood at the bar waiting for the server to notice him, he heard a familiar voice call his name.
Avery glanced around to see Sven waving at him from a booth on the other side of the bar. He lifted a hand in response, and Sven gestured him over.
“How’s it going?” Avery asked when he reached the table. He wasn’t particularly surprised to see Sven there. Sven worked at a yoga studio in the area, and they’d often met at the pub for lunch when Avery still lived in the loft. It was, in fact, the same place Sven had asked Avery to meet him the day he set Avery up for Victor last September.
Avery pushed that unpleasant thought away. He’d chosen to forgive Sven. Water under the bridge.
“Great.” Sven grinned. “Were you going to order takeout? Why don’t you join us instead?”
“Us?” Avery noticed the tall glass of beer sitting across from Sven. “Who are you here with?”