Right now, as they’d just entered the buzzing diner, Henry waving at them from the other end of the room, it was hard to remember that there had been a time when he’d been able to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone. Because it was becoming frighteningly clear to him that there were more and more times during the day that he needed Hank. When he would make up excuses to run the few yards over to the shop to ask Hank some made-up bullshit question. And Hank didn’t seem to mind, his eyes always lighting up when he saw him, those delicious crow’s feet crinkling at the corners as he patiently answered Finn’s question like it was the sole purpose of his existence.
“There you are,” Henry beamed, flanked by a scowling Colton, who was doing a poor attempt at folding napkins into… swans? Or turkeys, maybe. It was, after all, Thanksgiving.
“Henry,” Hank nodded, heading straight for his nephew, placing his right hand—the very same hand that had gotten Finn off this morning in the shower in a record-breaking one minute and then some—on Colton’s shoulder, squeezing it fondly. Hank’s face lit up as he took in his nephew, his hazel eyes growing just a tad more golden. An irrational feeling of jealousy flashed through Finn’s chest before it transformed into shame. Hank wasn’t his. Never would be.
“Now, what the heck did she get you up to now?” Hank nodded at the line-up of crippled paper birds on the counter.
“Don’t ask,” Colton groaned, adjusting a paper wing that kept flapping to the side.
“Swans?” Hank nodded at the sad collection of birds.
“More like dodos,” Henry chuckled, blowing a kiss at the now mean-looking ex-soldier.
“They’re turkeys,” Colton mumbled. “Til insisted.” So, theywereturkeys. Neat. “Besides, where the hell’ve you been?” He looked straight at Hank. “You’re late. Vernon’s been askin’ about you. Youare,after all, his designated gravy taster.“ Now, why did that sound fucking filthy? Then again, everything seemed to have an underlying sexual meaning these days.
Perhaps Hank thought so, too, because a faint blush spread across his cheeks, disappearing behind his scruffy beard, and a phantom itchy sensation exploded across Finn’s thighs. The skin was all fucked up. In a good way, though. A map of rosy rivers and violet valleys. Scratches left behind by Hank’s beard intermingled with bite marks and hickeys. He doubted that the sensitive skin on his inner thighs would ever be normal-looking again. Fuck, he hoped it wouldn’t. He preferred it like this; a landscape forever changed by a devastating storm passing through.
“Something came up,” Finn blurted. Henry sent him a curious grin before walking in his direction, linking his arm with Finn’s like they were two schoolgirls.
“Things come up all the time.” Henry winked at him. A few inches shorter than Finn, there was still a presence about the younger man that invaded the entire room whenever he was near. He’d noticed around town, too. At the shops or in the streets, people naturally gravitated toward Henry. He could see why. He was all fucking sunshine and roses, wasn’t he? This small-town wholesomeness just oozing from him. “I’m just gonna steal this one.” Henry gave Hank a knowing look. Oh God, if he was going to be subjected to the Nebraskan version ofThe Joker’s Wild,he needed a drink first. Or two. He was nowhere near ready for the dreaded question that he knew—just fucking knew—was coming his way in a few minutes.So, what’s up with you and Hank?Yes, what was indeed up with him and Hank?
“I’ll head to the kitchen, then,” Hank murmured with a neutral nod, a silent, ‘you gonna be okay with this lot?’directed at Finn.
“See ya, Hank,” Henry said and waved his fingers as he headed for the door to the kitchen reluctantly. “Let’s help Tilly set the table.” Henry nodded to the center of the large room, his right arm still linked with Finn’s. All the smaller tables had been rearranged into one long table, stretching down the diner. There was room for at least twenty people, if not more. Burnt orange tablecloths had replaced the standard red and white checkered ones, and stacks of white dinner plates were placed at the end of the table.
“Okay.” Finn swallowed around the lump in his throat. For a minute he felt like an intruder, like someone who’d snuck in on someone else’s Thanksgiving and was bound to be discovered and thrown out at any minute. Then he felt Henry’s hand on his shoulder.
“I know. It’s a lot. But it’s Tilly. Just embrace it and go with it. The love.” Finn found himself relaxing, the tightening sensation in his chest loosening a little. “Her kids aren’t home from college this year. So, we’re all gonna feel the proxy mamma love tonight,” he laughed.
“Okay. Thanks, man.”
“Sure. If you put out the plates, I’ll go grab some of those dodos.” Turning around, Henry headed for the counter where Colton was diligently counting his bird battalion. Squeezing his fiancé from behind, the younger guy murmured something into Colton’s ear and a rosy blush spread across the giant’s cheeks. For a second, a dull pain swept through Finn’s chest, and he longed to go find Hank in the kitchen and just… They wouldn’t have to touch. He just wanted to be near him, to feel the solid warmth emanating from Hank’s body. That would be enough.
“Here we go.” Henry unloaded an armful of paper birds on the table. “No, my man has many talents, but folding paper birds ain’t one of them,” he mused.
“They’re… unique,” Finn smiled.
“They’re butt ugly, that’s what they are.” Henry shook his head, staring besotted at a deranged paper turkey. Finn grabbed a stack of plates and started placing them at small intervals in front of each chair. Moss-green candles were placed in the middle of the table in brass candle holders, twigs of holly with red berries serving as decoration too. A kind of meditative state took over as he carefully made his way down along the table to the soft voice of Crystal Gayle in the background. ‘Don’t it make my brown eyes blue.’He’d always wondered about that when he was a child. If he could somehow, someway, make his dull, muddy-brown eyes a perfect bright blue like the rest of his family. It had seemed so important back then to look the same as Cara and their parents. That no one would be able to tell that Finn was an imposter, stealing a part of a life that had never been his to take.
Just when Finn thought he was home safe, Henry preoccupied with inspecting the wine glasses, the dreaded words breached the silence. “So, what’s thedealiowith you and Grumpy Senior?”Fuck.
“What?” That’s it, Finn. You can do it. Play ignorant.
“Hank. What’s up with you and Hank?” Henry insisted, his clear blue eyes lingering on Finn.
“Um… nothing. Just… you know…” Grabbing a couple of water glasses, Finn started placing them in front of each plate.
“Oh. Okay,” Henry hummed, turning a glass in his hand.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Henry trailed after him, placing a paper dodo on top of each plate and cutlery at the sides. “It’s just… I haven’t seen Hank this happy in a long time and I just figured… youknow?” He shrugged, stopping next to Finn. Swallowing, Finn adjusted a plate, sucking in a breath before replying.
“We’ve become friends, I guess. He’s a nice man.”Nice.Hank was a lot of things and the wordniceseemed lame and insufficient. Hank was fucking hot and ruthless when he fucked Finn, whether it was with his fat fingers, thick tongue, or his fucking glorious cock. He was all fleshy and soft, that woodsy smell enough to make Finn come in his pants. He loved how Hank was all quiet when they fucked, that focused, concentrated frown between his gray brows, like he was solving some age-old mathematical problem. Like he was trying to measure out how he could hit Finn’s prostate with the perfect amount of force at the exact right angle. But it wasn’t just about the sex. It was more than that. Hank was this ever-present calm that swept over him when they lay on the couch at night. With his deep hums and his absentminded fingers trailing up and down Finn’s back in soothing, circular movements as they watched another WWI documentary, losing themselves in the monotonous voice of the British narrator. Losing themselves in the company of the other, the light from the TV flashing across their content faces in the dark.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Saved Colton when he came back from the war. Wouldn’t let him fall apart. I’ll never forget that,” Henry nodded, a moist sheen to his eyes, turning the blue watery.
He saved me, too,Finn wanted to add. And it almost looked like Henry, too, was waiting for Finn to say those exact words, a curious smile tugging at his lips.
