“I know. I wanted to.” Ollie met his gaze steadily. He considered how much to share with Finn. On the one hand, he had a right to know what was going on as her father, but on the other, Brooklyn had trusted Ollie enough to open up to him. He didn’t want to betray that trust. He wanted to be someone she knew she could come to when she wasn’t ready to burden her dad. “She’s smart, Finn. And she needs something that’s hers. I’d been putting off suggesting to my parents that we hire someone after our part-timer left in August for college because of the money situation, but we need to get someone else in there. It seemed like a good fit.”
Finn studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nodded once, his hand finding Ollie’s wrist and squeezing briefly. “Thank you.”
The simple words carried more weight than either of them acknowledged. As they moved back to their seats, Ollie caught Brooklyn watching them, her expression thoughtful.
During the second movie, the space between them shrank. Brooklyn sat at one end of the couch, with Finn in the middle and Ollie on the other side. She leaned forward occasionally, passing candy across her dad to Ollie without prompting. Finn settled deeper into the cushions, his shoulder warm against Ollie’s, their knees occasionally bumping when he reached for the popcorn bowl.
“This part’s the best,” Brooklyn whispered, eyes fixed on the screen. She glanced at Ollie, making sure he was paying attention, including him in the moment.
“It’s pretty good,” Ollie agreed. The smile they shared felt like a promise—tentative but real. For the first time all evening, he let himself believe he might actually fit here—not just as Finn’s boyfriend, but as someone Brooklyn could trust, even if it was just one movie night at a time.
When Brooklyn dozed off during the third movie, her head resting against Finn’s shoulder with her feet curled under her, Ollie felt a strange sense of belonging wash over him. The soft blue glow of the television illuminated their faces in the darkened living room, and as Finn’s eyes met his, Ollie realized he didn’t feel like an intruder anymore.
“Stay,” Finn mouthed silently, the word both a question and an invitation.
Ollie nodded, something warm unfurling in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered back.
And for once, the promise felt easy to keep.
Later, after Finn had gently woken Brooklyn and sent her to bed, they stood in the kitchen, the house quiet around them. Finn leaned against the counter, watching as Ollie rinsed out the popcorn bowls.
“You didn’t have to clean up,” Finn said, but there was a softness in his voice that belied the protest.
Ollie shrugged, setting the last bowl in the dish rack. “Force of habit. My mom would disown me if I left a mess in someone else’s kitchen.”
Finn moved closer, his presence a warm weight at Ollie’s back. “Thank you. For tonight. For everything with Brooklyn.”
Ollie turned, finding himself caught between the sink and Finn’s body. “I didn’t do anything special.”
“You did,” Finn insisted, his voice low. “You saw her. Not just as my daughter, but as herself.”
The simple observation made Ollie’s chest tighten. “She’s a lot like you, you know.”
Finn’s eyebrows rose. “God help us all.”
Ollie laughed, the sound soft in the quiet kitchen. “I mean it. She’s thoughtful. Observant. Doesn’t waste words.” He reached up, adjusting his glasses. “And she cares. Deeply. Even when she pretends not to.”
Something shifted in Finn’s expression—a vulnerability that made him look younger somehow. He stepped closer, one handcoming up to cup Ollie’s cheek. “You’re something else, Oliver Jennings.”
“Is that a good thing?” Ollie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The best thing,” Finn murmured, leaning in to kiss him. Ollie’s hands found Finn’s waist, anchoring himself as he melted into the kiss.
When they pulled apart, Finn’s forehead rested against Ollie’s, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. “I could get used to this. Family movie nights, taking you to bed, waking up next to you in the morning.”
Ollie nodded, something settling in his chest—a certainty he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember. “Sounds pretty perfect to me.”
Ollie followed Finn down the dimly lit hallway, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. He stepped inside, his breath hitching as Finn closed the door behind them, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet room.
Finn turned to face him, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of uncertainty. Ollie reached up, cupping Finn’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the rough stubble.
“We’re going to have to be quiet,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. “Don’t want to traumatize Brooklyn if she overhears us. What did you have in mind for tonight?”
Finn’s hand covered Ollie’s, pressing it closer to his face. “I want more, Ollie. I want you.” His breath hitched, a nervous edge tohis words. “I want to know what it feels like to bury my cock inside of you.”
Ollie smiled softly, his other hand coming up to mirror the first, framing Finn’s face. He could feel the slight tremble in Finn’s jaw, the warmth of his breath. “I like the sound of that. It’s been a while, and you’re not exactly small, so you’ll have to get me ready.”
He leaned in, pressing his lips to Finn’s in a slow, deep kiss. Finn’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, their bodies aligning in a way that felt both new and familiar. Ollie felt the heat of Finn’s skin through his shirt, the solid strength of his body, and the hard press of his arousal against his own. Finn’s desire was palpable, a desperate need that made his breath come quick and sharp.
