Gage chuckled softly as he played with Fallon’s hand. “There are some greatFnames, but I think doing something just for Mango would be nice.”
Fallon’s brow dipped in thought. He’d never in his life thought he’d have to come up with baby names. He’d never bothered to try.
“My very first D&D character was called Zoa,” Gage said after a few moments of silence. “She was a tiefling bard.”
Fallon tried to remember what a tiefling looked like. Horns, he was pretty sure. And claws.
“She had really long braids and wore a flower crown and played the lute,” Gage said quietly. “I stopped playing her when people made fun of me for picking a girl.”
“People are terrible.”
“Yeah,” Gage murmured. “They are. It took me a long time to realize that the people who were my friends were kind of shitty. I retired Zoa. I had a figurine of her made, and I painted her, and then I put her on my shelf.”
Fallon bit his lip. “What was your favorite character?”
Gage laughed and flushed. “Um. His name was Asher. I got made fun of for that, too, because it wasn’t enough of a fantasy name. But yeah, I was obsessed with him.”
“Tell me about him.”
Gage looked over at him. “You seriously want to know?”
“I want to know everything about you,” Fallon said with a frown.
He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Okay. Uh. Well, he’s a druid and a half-elf. He was an orphan—adopted by the Emerald Enclave and raised by them. And they loved him a lot, but he never felt like he belonged until one day, an elf walked in, looking for sanctuary, and they had the same birthmark.”
Fallon was quiet for a moment. “That was a campaign you wrote?”
Gage snorted. “No. That was pages and pages of backstory I wrote and was never brave enough to write into a campaign.”
“And he was you.”
Gage was quiet for a beat, and then he nodded. “He was me.”
Fallon picked up his hand and kissed his palm. “But you never did get the brother, did you?”
“No.” Gage tilted Fallon’s head up and kissed him. “In the end, I didn’t need him. I had my family, and it was enough.”
Gage was napping when Fallon found himself staring at the envelope on the table. It still wasn’t open, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to resist. For now, he set it aside. He grabbed a pen and paper and began to scribble down a list of names, over and over, until he found the ones that made sense.
The ones he could see himself calling his little one.
He gathered that with the envelope, then went into the kitchen and threw together a couple of sandwiches before making his way to the bedroom. He paused on the way, peering into the second bedroom to stare around at the nursery.
Everyone was gone by the time he and Gage got back, but there was a little note left on the baby’s changing table saying to let them know when they could come back over. Fallon hadn’t texted them yet, but he was going to.
He needed to see his family. All of his family. The ones by blood and the ones Gage had brought into his life.
The room itself was soft earth tones, a wood crib in the corner, matching dresser, changing table, and a rocking chair for sleepless nights. It was simple and careful and easy. It wasn’t overwhelming and wouldn’t make it worse when the baby was triggering every one of his senses to overload.
It meant something that they understood him. It meant something that they cared enough to try this much.
Fallon shut the door behind him, then went into the bedroom, where Gage was just starting to stir. He yawned as Fallon walked over, sitting up on his elbows with a smile.
“Did you make food?”
“Fluffernutter sandwiches.”
Gage groaned. “God, I love you.” He sat up and made grabby hands as Fallon passed the plate over. “I was craving this.”
