His nose wrinkled, and he sighed, Mike cracking up.
“What?He could burn Kraft Dinner in a box like nobody’s business.”No one had ever accused him of being a chef, but at least he could reheat shit without a microwave.
“His neighbor Allison taught him a bunch, and then he took enough culinary courses to get a degree, believe it or not.He’s sort of amazing.He said he couldn’t go out to eat with two little ones, so he’d learn to cook.”
“Huh.That soupwaspretty good.”Looked like more than just the kids had changed in the years he’d been gone.Here at least.He was just the same.Or at least he had been until his leg had gotten screwed up.
“Yeah.He was…bored and lonely and depressed.Cooking made him feel useful again.”
JP didn’t know what to say to that.He was an asshole, but they both already knew that.
“I’ll go grab you food.I—” He got a quick glance.“I don’t think Ian knows how to ask you what you want the kids to call you.”
“I was Dad before I got traded.”He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even checked in for three years.He’d told himself it was too hard, that Ian didn’t want him to.The man had told him if he left to not bother coming back, and he’d taken that at face value.
“Dad.Okay.”Mike met his eyes.“Don’t fuck this up.”
“I don’t know if I can promise that.”So far fucking things up seemed to be what he was best at.Before he would have said it was skating, but he’d surely fucked that big time.
“Try.It’s worth it.”Mike disappeared, and he heard talking, the clinking and clanking of dishes, then Ian was there with a tray.
“Ginger ale and mac and cheese.There’s a couple of cookies too, if you want them.”
He actually wasn’t nauseated at the moment.The first time since he’d been hurt.“Yeah, I’ll take some cookies.”
“They’re chocolate chip and pecan.”Ian smiled at him, the expression nervous.“Did you want salt and pepper?”
“You made the cookies yourself?”JP asked.“Mike told me you learned to cook.”
Ian lips quirked in a half-smile.“I did.I didn’t want the twins to starve.”
“You could have ordered in all the time.”He certainly had.Or at least survived off the prepped meals the team’s chef provided.He’d lost count of how many solitary meals he’d eaten in front of the TV in his apartment.
“That’s no fun, and not healthy for baby bodies.”He got a look.“Or giant bodies.”
“I’m not a giant,” he growled.He took a forkful of the mac ‘n cheese.Just like the soup hadn’t been from a can, this had definitely not come out of a box.“This is good.”He hadn’t meant to sound surprised, but he was.
“Thanks.Does it need salt or pepper?”Ian seemed a little nervous.
“Nah, it’s good just like it is.”He had a few more bites, drank a bit more of his ginger ale.“I appreciate this, you know?You taking me in.”He didn’t care if he owned the house; this was Ian’s place.
Ian opened his hands.“You’re my husband.This is your home.What else would I do?”
He shrugged.He didn’t know.He was hurt and lost, and Ian had taken him in, despite their past.“Well, thank you.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting so badly.It sucks for you.”Ian looked down and then back up.“Would you like to say good night to the kids?”
“Sure.If you think I won’t scare them.”
“They’ll never be comfortable if you don’t see them.”
He took a deep breath.“Then let’s do it.”
“Okay.They’re getting their jammies on, and we’ll be in.Go ahead and eat.”
“Thanks, it’s good.”He knew he’d already said that, but it bore repeating.
Ian went off, and he finished the entire bowl, then nibbled on the cookies.Okay, these were really good.Like really.
