by E M Lindsey
“It’s okay to be selfish right now,” Ronan had whispered, then kissed him.
They didn’t make love the night Jonas got there. They didn’t make love for a while, actually. Jonas was still trying to find his footing after losing everything he’d ever known, and though he knew he’d be happier, he wasn’t there yet.
So, they were careful with him and patient with him, and after a week, Jonas was waiting at home in their bed with his clothes off. Parker made good that night on every promise he’d ever made over Skype—and then a few more. Ronan’s body was still struggling, but he made good use of his mouth and hands, and whispered promises and praises and vows of forever as he made both men cry and come.
It was perfect. It was everything.
And tonight, Ronan had the ring ready.
Parker was nervous, which was ridiculous. Jonas had his own room in their house, but he hadn’t used it. He’d integrated himself into the very fabric of their lives, weaving himself in the knots in their threads until it was like he’d always been there. There was no place they started, which meant no place they would stop, and it was the one thing that brought Parker comfort at the end of every night.
And yet, these steps, they were always terrifying. Parker wasn’t going to have to talk Jonas into marrying him. It wasn’t like with Ronan. He didn’t need to beg for him not to leave. But Jonas had a piece of his heart, one he could live without, but only if he was forced to do it.
He pulled into the driveway and saw smoke coming from the chimney and the bright lights on the tree twinkling in the window. He was home, in more ways than one.
Stepping in, he smelled something sweet baking and something savory behind it. He found Jonas in the kitchen stirring what looked like a stew, and he took a deep breath before kissing the back of his neck.
“All finished?”
“For a whole week,” Parker said. And yes, he was trading on-call with Sabrina, but no appointments, no late nights—no nothing. Not unless he had to. “I’m going to shower the office smell off me. How long till dinner?”
“Twenty minutes,” Jonas said. “Ronan’s back there doing exercises. You might want to share water. You know, conservation.”
Parker grinned wolfishly before walking into the room to find Ronan on his back with one leg stretched toward his chest. He saw Ronan’s smile in spite of his closed eyes, and Ronan didn’t startle when Parker knelt between his feet and leaned in to press his chest against Ronan’s.
“I love you like this.”
“You love me all my ways,” Ronan countered. He raised his head, and Parker lowered his, and their lips met. “You ready for tonight?”
Parker let out a trembling breath, but he nodded. “Shower with me?”
Ronan grinned, then let Parker pull him to his feet.
Parker felt better—relaxed and easy with an orgasm out of the way. They were in thick fleece pajamas and full from the heavy dinner and the rich cake Jonas had prepared. The lights were off save for the tree, and the three of them had curled around each other on the sofa.
Christmas was days away, but Parker knew neither of them could last any longer. His hand crept behind Jonas’ back until he reached Ronan’s, and he poked him in the side. Ronan grunted, then sighed before leaning forward and scooting toward the tree branch that was brushing the arm of the sofa.
“Leave it alone. It’s symmetrical enough,” Jonas said sleepily.
Ronan rolled his eyes. “I’m not the priss when it comes to tree décor. That is someone else.”
In any other circumstances, Parker would have launched into a rant about how being a priss over holiday décor was not only a right, but a privilege that they got to take part in with his impeccable design skills, but then he saw the little box in Ronan’s fist, and he couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit about anything except Jonas’ answer.
“What is that?” Jonas asked, his voice tense.
Ronan laughed quietly and pushed the box at their lover. “Parker and I disagreed on how to do this. He wanted to offer it on his arm, and I wanted to give it over breakfast. We compromised—because we realized we didn’t want to wake up on Christmas without this on your finger.”
“And we didn’t want to kiss you at midnight on New Years without seeing physical proof that you’re ours,” Parker added.
Jonas’ fingers trembled as he pried the top off and stared down at the band nestled in black velvet. “I…what…”
“The world sucks,” Parker said, “because we can’t make this legal, but we want you to be as ours the same way we’re each other’s.”
Ronan reached out and traced his finger over a stray curl that had gotten caught on the arm of his glasses. “We love you.”
Jonas sniffed, then smiled. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Parker pressed.
“Yes,” Jonas said, then elbowed him. “Oh, because there are no fucking words for what I’m feeling right now. It’s just…big. And it’s perfect.”
Parker’s fingers hovered over the ring. “May I?”
Both Jonas and Ronan nodded, so Parker plucked it from the box and slid it on Jonas’ waiting hand. It was a good fit—a better fit than the one Birdie had given him. It looked right on his hand. It looked like everything.
“I was yours before this, you know,” Jonas said quietly. He set the box down and let them push in close. “Before the ring, before the gesture, before you invited me here—I was yours.”
“I’m a possessive bastard. I like to see it when I look at you, Sparky,” Parker said.
Jonas laughed and turned his head, capturing his mouth in a sudden fierce kiss. “I know. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
“And me?” Ronan asked.
“Yes, Ronan. And you.” Jonas’ eyes were light and soft and reflected all the things Parker knew how to feel without knowing how to say. He knew of the two of them, Ronan was easier to love, but Jonas had the will for both. He put his hand to Ronan’s cheek, then drew him in. Their kiss was different—as it was meant to be. When he pulled back, he held his hand out in front of him to look at it, and Parker felt it in his bones.
This was it.
They were his. This was everything.
The End
Epilogue
One Year Later
Jonas’ low, hissing whisper shook as he clutched the phone to his ear hard enough it was almost painful. “There’s something. Here.”
“Hey,” came the soft rumble of Ronan’s easy, calming tones, “just breathe. Okay, Sparky?”
Jonas did, but it wasn’t helping. There was something vicious, with small claws and probably fucking rabies, and it had managed to get into the crawl-space. He could hear it fucking around with the AC unit. “I’m going to die. Of rabies, Ronan. Do you know what it’s like to die of rabies?”
Ronan chuckled and Jonas tried to bite back visceral rage. “Parker is skilled with rabies shots, as much as they hurt.”
“Tell me you don’t know from experience,” Jonas begged.
“Not me, no. Anyway, listen, it’s probably just a raccoon, and Fitz is on his way right now with Ruiz. They’re going to take care of it, and you are not going to be bitten, and you will not die of rabies. Just stay on with me.”
Jonas closed his eyes. “Can I go outside?”
“Yes,” Ronan said, and laughed again. “Go out back and sit on the porch swing.”
Jonas shook his head. “Oh, hell no. That’s how that little bastard got inside. He scaled the swing and broke into that little vent.”
“Then go out front,” Ronan urged. “You’ll be able to see Fitz when he pulls up.”
Jonas hated being this way. He was not someone easily frightened most of the time. He generally considered himself hardened by the desert wildlife, but Colorado was like an entirely new planet some days, and one of those days was today. After finding a goddamn raccoon in the crawlspace. Possibly rabid, definitely destructive, and maybe even blood-thirsty.
“Sparky?�
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Ronan’s voice brought him back to earth, and he slammed the front door behind him. “We’re going to have a lot of shit to repair.”
“It’s just money,” Ronan reminded him. “You and Parker both have a lot of it.”
Jonas snorted, some of the tension easing from his body as he walked over to his car and propped his hip against the hood. “You enjoy being a kept man.”
“You bet your ass I do,” Ronan said, and Jonas could hear the grin on his face. It was such a far cry from the grumpy, frustrated man Jonas had met a years before. Of course, Ronan was still all of those things—grumpy, frustrated, often tired, and no patience for anyone or anything. But behind these walls, he was sweet, and he was overwhelmingly kind and giving, and Jonas still couldn’t believe some days that Ronan was his. Being loved by Parker was like being loved by a supernova, but being loved by Ronan was like being submerged in a fast moving, stream, with no way to the top and no way to the bottom. He was overwhelmed, surrounded, propelled into a future with someone holding him so tight, he’d never feel pain again.
And of course that wasn’t literally true. They fought like any other couple. Parker had very sharp edges when he wanted to. And Ronan knew where to hit where it hurt. But they were quick to say sorry, and quick to kiss all his metaphorical wounds better.
“I think I hear Fitz,” Jonas said. There was no siren, but the familiar crunch of the SUV tires led the two firemen up the drive.
“I’ll let you go. Parker’s been texting, and I’ll keep him posted.”
“Don’t,” Jonas started, but the line went dead before he could get the rest of his words out. If Ronan told Parker, he was likely to show up at home with a flame thrower and full knight’s armor to protect him from all the rabies and shit.
“Heard you have a trash panda problem,” Fitz said as he climbed out of the SUV.
Diego grinned at his partner. “I thought Parker had office hours today.”
Jonas scowled at them both. “I’d appreciate you not talking shit about my trash panda. He’s not this destructive, or possibly rabid.”
“The rabies is debatable,” Fitz said, dropping a hand on Jonas’ shoulder. Diego appeared beside him a second later holding a long metal cage. “Give us ten minutes.”
It took forty, and by the time Fitz emerged looking slightly worse for the wear with fluffs of insulation in his hair, and a red mark on his cheek, Parker was home and sitting cross-legged on the hood of Jonas’ car.
“Who needs rabies shots?” Parker demanded, staring at the ugly, hissing thing in the cage.
“We weren’t bit,” Fitz told him, scratching at his neck. “Evan’s just a little starved.”
Parker grimaced, but Jonas took a step forward and stared at the little beast. “Evan?”
“After my ex. He was an absolute tool,” Diego said with a shrug. “Like honestly the world’s biggest, weediest asshole.”
“Two pump chump too,” Fitz said, and when Parker raised a brow, Fitz grinned and shrugged. “We ran his ass out of town. Anyway, this little guy kind of looks like him.”
Jonas would have laughed if he hadn’t been so stressed. “You look like you need a shower.”
Fitz sighed heavily. “I do. I have insulation up the back of my shirt and I kind of want to peel all my skin off.”
“So stay,” Parker said. “You don’t need him for this, right?”
Diego rolled his eyes. “And listen to him bitch about his harrowing insulation itching? No. I’ve got this.”
Fitz opened his mouth to argue, but Parker turned him by the waist and frog-marched him toward the front door. “You know where everything is. Go shower and change, and I’ll order pizza.”
Jonas followed his lover back into the house and sagged against the counter as Parker crowded into him and reached into his pocket for his phone. He somehow managed to order the pizza while also feasting on Jonas’ neck, and by the time he hung up, Jonas was half-hard, and half-desperate, and a little annoyed they had a guest.
“He’s not sleeping over, right?” Jonas murmured.
“Antoine would kill me,” came a voice from the doorway. “Besides, I’ve seen enough of Parker’s accidental ass for a lifetime.”
Parker grinned into Jonas’ neck and kissed him one last time before pulling away. “I’m going to change. Ro said he’d be home in like twenty.”
He disappeared, and Jonas followed Fitz into the living room, collapsing on the sofa with his feet up. “Sorry I was being such a wimp about that.”
Fitz gave him a deep frown. “Are you kidding? They actually can be rabid, and it did a lot of damage up there. I mean, they’re not Tasmanian Devils or anything, but they’re dangerous when they’re cornered.”
Jonas dropped his head back and sighed. “I should not be this scared of a forest creature, though. I mean, I’ve had it so much worse. I got stung by a scorpion in the dick once.”
Fitz choked on his own tongue. “Sorry, what now?”
“Yep.” Jonas shot him a grimace. “I was at home sitting on the floor with some Chinese take-out, and I was in basketball shorts. One of them crawled up my thigh, and I just sort of panicked on instinct. It got me in the right testicle and right on the base of my dick.”
Fitz pressed his hand over his crotch and whimpered. “I don’t…really know what to say. I mean, nothing fell off, right?”
Jonas laughed. “Nothing fell off. It hurt for like three days, and it swelled up, but it all went back to normal eventually.”
Fitz shuddered again. “Okay, you win.”
“Not trying to compete,” Jonas said with a laugh. “I just think it’s ridiculous that I lived in a place where scorpions are a real threat, but I had a full-on melt-down over a raccoon in my crawlspace.”
Fitz leaned over and gave him knee a pat. “You did the right thing.”
“Crying to my boyfriend?” Jonas asked.
Before Fitz could answer, the door opened and said boyfriend walked in. He was clutching his crutches tight by the handles, and there was strain on his face as he made his way over. Jonas shifted to give him the closer space, and Ronan collapsed into him, letting his crutches fall off the side as he curled his hands into Jonas’ shirt.
“Bad day?” Jonas asked.
Ronan shook his head, his face smashing into Jonas’ shoulder. “No. Worried about you, legs are being assholes.” His legs were stiff and heavy from his orthotics, and if Fitz hadn’t been there, Jonas would have arranged him on the sofa, taken them off, and started a massage.
But Ronan was weird about Fitz seeing him like that—and he didn’t entirely understand, but he never pressed Ronan to open up in ways he wasn’t comfortable. And neither did Fitz.
“What are you two talking about?” Ronan asked after he shifted onto his side and laid his cheek against Jonas’ chest.
“Scorpions,” Jonas said, and Fitz laughed.
“I was about to tell him about the real reason why Parker’s banned from the fire station,” Fitz added. “And why we call him trash panda.”
Jonas perked up while Ronan groaned. “The real reason?”
“The mug shot.” Fitz offered. “We gave the situation a more palatable story—but it all started one night when Ronan and Parker got drunk…”
“Oh,” Parker said from the doorway. He walked in wearing jogging pants and a t-shirt, and he shoved at Ronan and Jonas until they moved. He seemed to have no qualms about lifting up the legs of Ronan’s work trousers and peeling away the orthotics, and Ronan didn’t fight him.
Jonas knew it had everything to do with them having been married for so damn long, and in each other’s orbit for almost their entire lives. He wondered if he’d ever feel familiar like that—and he liked to think he would. He knew it took time, and patience, and effort, all of which he was willing to give. But small moments like this, he felt the envy.
It was hard to wallow though, not when Ronan put his arms around Jonas’ waist and tucked his legs in Parker’s lap. The
y were twisted into new, perfect shapes that made him feel like they were a whole, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.
Silence settled, then Ronan huffed. “Are you going to tell it?”
Fitz chuckled. “Parker always takes over when I do.”
Parker waved his hand dismissively before putting his fingers to work on Ronan’s right leg. “You can have the spotlight for a bit.”
“He just doesn’t want to deal with his own abject humiliation in front of you, Sparky,” Ronan muttered.
Fitz laughed again. “We all know that Parker loves hard.”
“Mm,” Jonas agreed, and Parker looked over at him, grinned, and winked making his heart flutter.
“Well, I think we all by now know he fights just as hard. He and Ronan were arguing about something pointless and stupid…”
“He thinks Channing Tatum is attractive,” Parker said through clenched teeth. “He thinks he’s hotter than the Skarsgaards… and he broke my heart and betrayed me…”
“Anyway,” Ronan interrupted.
“He was wine-drunk and he said he thought I kind of looked like Channing Tatum even though no one in this town will ever agree,” Fitz said, rolling his eyes. “And Ronan stormed off, so Parker convinced himself he moved into the station to start a family with me there because he’s a drunk idiot and forgot I have an actual house. Where Ronan had actually gone.”
Parker’s cheeks were faintly pink, and Jonas had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.
“So, he shows up, but Birdie was out on a call, so the doors were locked. He climbs up the ladder on the side of the building, busts open a vent, crawls inside…”
“Oh no,” Jonas whispered.
“Like a fucking raccoon,” Fitz said.
Jonas looked at his lover who was still staring at his hand. “You didn’t.”
“You see where this is going,” Fitz asked. “He got stuck for a while, and eventually Birdie got back just in time for the vent to give way, and Parker landed on the kitchen counter covered in dust and spiders and shit, and he dislocated his shoulder.”
