by Sean Michael
"Picky picky picky.” Rig chuckled, though. Actually, laughed a little. “I talked to them and told them definitely not before the New Year and then half-time at first, but that's two months off."
That hit him low and deep, that Rig—his Rig—felt bad enough to willingly take two months off.
"I bet you'll be feeling great by New Year's. We'll go out and watch fireworks and shit. We'll have something to celebrate.” And by fucking god, if they didn't, he was breaking legs.
Dick nodded, smiled. “Sounds like a plan."
"Mmhmm. And Christmas.” Rig started dozing a little, shake half-gone. “A nice simple Christmas here at home."
"Yeah, we already told your brood we were doing that."
Dick lifted Rig's hand and got the straw back in Rig's mouth. “Suck, Rig.” Soon as the words were out of his mouth, the kid started chuckling, and Rock grinned.
Rig grinned, took another drink. “Asshole."
Dick just nodded happily. “And cock. And nipples. Fuck. All those great words we couldn't say in the hospital."
"Yep. So good to be home.” Rig took another, small sip, then leaned back. “So fucking good."
Leaning in, Dick took a sip of the drink. “Okay, I helped you—you need to finish the rest."
"Pushy.” Rig finished the last bit, groaning softly. “Enough. Really. No more."
"You did great! And you can have another after your nap.” Dick took the cup and put it on the bedside table.
Rock grinned. “We'll have you fattened up in no time."
"Uh-huh. Bed. Y'all promised."
Rock nodded. “Let's get everyone naked."
"You sure?” Dick asked.
"If we're home,” he growled. “Then we're going to act like it."
"Naked is good.” Rig nodded, shifting over toward the main bed. “In our bed?"
He growled a little. “We got you this bed so you'd be more comfortable."
"Yeah. Yeah, and when y'all aren't in bed with me, it will be. I just need y'all holding me for awhile, ‘kay?"
"I don't want you ripping your scars open shifting over or anything, so no moving.” He held up his hand, knowing Rig wanted to interrupt. “You let me and Dick move you. Hell, I fucking bench press more than you weight right now."
Dick nodded, pushing the covers down to the end of the bed. He watched as Dick gathered Rig up in his arms, lifting him into the middle of the bed.
"Okay, Blue. Okay.” Rig nodded, eyes blood-shot, the grey too pale.
Dick laid Rig down on their bed, and Rock had to clench his teeth against the noise that tried to claw its way out of his throat. He started undressing with stiff movements as Dick carefully—so fucking carefully—stripped Rig.
"Oh. Oh, our bed.” Rig just seemed to melt into the sheets. “Oh, I can start getting better now."
Look at that motherfucking smile.
He crawled up onto his side, almost scared to wrap around Rig like he wanted to—he didn't want to pull that scar or hurt anything. Rig cuddled right in, though, pushing close with a happy, happy sound. He groaned, arm going across Rig, his hand cupping the bony hip, right it belonged. Dick grabbed the covers and pulled them up, cuddling in on the other side. Rock closed his eyes as their hands twined together, and he breathed through his nose, teeth clenched again.
Rig's lips brushed his jaw, soft, gentle. “I'm home, Jim. I'm gonna be fine."
"I'm holding you to that.” He opened his eyes and stared into grey. “I'm fucking holding you to that."
"You do that. I won't leave you. I can't. I take care of y'all."
"You know it.” He kissed Rig, hard and quick. “You fucking know it."
"Yeah. Stay here with me, y'all. I just need to feel my men."
"Not going anywhere,” murmured Dick.
Rock grunted his agreement and squeezed Rig's hip.
Rig nodded and just fell asleep, that smile still on Rig's face.
"He's gonna be okay,” whispered Dick.
Rock nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.” He closed his eyes, realizing he was fucking tired. He hadn't slept on a bed since they found out Rig was in the hospital. Three and a half weeks.
"Get some sleep."
He nodded and let himself let go.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Home.
Home home home.
Rig slowly raised up the head of the hospital bed, helping himself up so he could get up. He headed to the bathroom and showered, soaping himself up, washing his hair, carefully cleaning the stitches.
Oh.
Better.
Much better.
He took a bit to get out of the tub, then headed to the kitchen in his towel. There was bound to be clean laundry there. Maybe he could even get a bite or start the guys some supper. And turn the damned TV on. It was quiet when the boys were at the gym.
Oh. He needed to start planning Thanksgiving.
The front door opened as he came down the hall, Rock's eyes finding him and going wide. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?"
"I took a shower. I think I'm hungry. Hey, Blue.” He smiled over at the big guy, moving nice and slow.
"Hungry's good. But you wait for me or Dick next time you want to take a shower."
Dick came up behind Rock, saw him and grinned. “Hey! You're up. You're looking good."
"Hey, Pretty. Thanks. I smell better. I want a cup of coffee and an apple or ... can I have apples?"
"I'll make you special applesauce.” Dick gave him a kiss and preceded him into the kitchen.
"You can have a shake with it,” growled Rock. “No coffee."
"I like applesauce. Are we out of coffee, man? Is there something besides chocolate? It won't go with applesauce.” He headed for the dryer, hoping for a pair of sweats inside.
"I can make it with apple juice and ice. Maybe a bit of cinnamon to help disguise the flavor of the powder.” Dick started pulling stuff out of cupboards and the fridge, putting the food together for him, the protein powder going into the applesauce and the blender.
He was about to bend for the dryer when Rock stopped him. “What are you doing?"
"I'm cold, Blue. I need a pair of sweats.” It was November.
"I'll get ‘em for you.” Rock crouched and pulled out a pair of his sweats, socks, and one of Rock's old sweatshirts, the material worn and soft.
"Mmm.” He let Rock help him, holding the broad shoulders as the pants came up. “Oh. Better. How're y'all?"
"Good. I like this home by five deal.” Rock went to the fridge and pulled out some steaks. “On the stove or grill ‘em on the deck?"
"I like ‘em on the grill, Rock.” Dick brought him a bowl of applesauce and what looked like an apple juice snow cone.
He took the slushie-smoothie-thing. “We sitting outside, then?"
"You gonna be warm enough?” Rock asked.
"If not, I'll come in.” He took a drink of the smoothie, the flavor not great, not coffee, but not bad.
Rock brought out the steaks and his grilling tools, starting up the gas.
Dick followed a few minutes later, dropping a blanket around his shoulders and laying the table with plates, utensils and cups. “Did you get some sleep today, Rig?"
"Yeah. Too much. I didn't do anything but that and shower.” He took another sip, then set the drink down, full. He was always full.
"That's good though, right? You need to sleep to heal?” Dick sat next to him and offered him a spoonful of the applesauce.
"Yeah. Yeah, lots of rest. I'm feeling better every day.” He took half a bite, then shook his head. “I'm full, Dick. I'll have to wait a minute."
"Okay. It'll keep. Besides, Rock'll have the steaks ready in a minute. And there's leftover mashed potatoes."
He was going to explode. “Don't make me a whole steak, guys. I can't eat but a bite or two."
Rock growled. “You need protein. You need to put on weight."
"I'll eat some, Rock, but there's not much room in there."
/> "We can take our time eating."
Dick's hand grabbed his, squeezed. “We're just worried and don't want you back in the hospital, you know?"
"You think I want to back in? Shit. I just want to feel normal again.” He growled a little, shifted.
Rock growled right back. “Then you've got to eat."
Okay. Enough of this. “How long are you going to be pissed at me, Rock?"
"I'm not pissed at you—I'm pissed that you're sick."
"Yeah. Me too.” At Rock's look, he nodded. “You think I liked it, man? I thought I was going to have to come home and tell y'all I was dying. That's a living hell.” That had been worse than the worry, the pain, the puking.
"We would have been there for you. I would have held your fucking hand and rubbed your back and—” Rock's mouth shut closed and he turned back to the grill, turning the steaks.
"I know. I was going to tell y'all, as soon as I had an answer."
"Nine fucking months, Rig. That's not as soon as anything."
Dick squeezed his hand, quiet.
"You trying to tell me that in nine months of puking, damn near fifty pounds of weight loss, you didn't notice?” He could feel the anger start to build, just climbing up his spine. Yeah, he hadn't said anything, but neither had Rock.
Rock whirled slammed his flipper down on the table. “Every single fucking time I mentioned how fucking skinny you'd gotten you laughed it off."
"What the fuck was I supposed to do? Tell you that me and the guys at the clinic had tried everything? Sit here and tell you that I don't know why, but I'm starving to death and the fucking paperwork is piling up and Dick's got tests and..."
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
"Dick. Your schooling. Tell me I didn't fuck up your schooling."
"Nothing's fucked up.” Dick looked out over the beach. “And yeah, you could have told us. I hate thinking of you going through the last year and us not there to help you."
"See! Even Dick thinks you should have told us.” Rock went back to flipping the steaks, turning them over and over again, shoulders bunched tight.
"Yeah. Okay.” He stood up, chewing his bottom lip as his stomach turned. He'd fucked things up here and, right now, his head wasn't on straight enough to fix them. “I'm fixin’ to go lay down a minute."
"Don't go.” Dick looked up at him. “You should have told us, but you didn't and it's done now. We don't need to fight about this. Do we, Rock?"
"I don't want to fight,” growled Rock. “I don't."
"I don't either.” Rig looked at Rock, dead-on. “I couldn't look at you and tell you I might be dying, Rock. I wasn't going to do that until there wasn't a choice."
"I would have been there for you, Rabbit."
"I know, but God damn it, I wanted to know what it was, to give you answers.” His heart was just pounding in his chest. “I was so fucking scared, man. I kept remembering Momma at the end."
Rock came around the table and pulled him up against that solid body. “It's my fucking job to be there when you're scared. I stand between you and the Goddamned monsters."
"What am I supposed to do when the monster's inside me, Jim?” He reached out, held on tight. “I couldn't figure out what to do, none of us could, and by the end, I couldn't think anymore."
Rock's arms were like bands, holding him tight, and yet so carefully. “I don't care where the fucking monster is, Rig. I'm not letting you go."
"Good.” He let Rock hold him, just let the whole fucking broken and wrong and hurt go and let Rock have it a while. “I need this."
"Could have had it from the fucking start."
"Rock.” Dick joined them, holding them both.
He got tickled, shook his head. “You always have to have the last word, don't you?"
Rock puffed up a little. “I do not. I was just saying, was all."
"I hear you. I got it, Rock. I fucked up and I'm sorry. I had good fucking inten...” He sniffed. “Somebody rescue supper."
"I got it.” Dick hightailed it over to the grill, making the dogs bark and fuss.
Those muscled arms stayed firmly around him. He looked at Rock, staring. “Hey.” Christ, Rock was warm.
Rock grunted, held him a little closer. Finally he just leaned in, cheek on Rock's shoulder, lips on the strong throat. Better. This was better. They stood there for awhile, Rock's chest rising and falling against him, the big hands on his ass, holding him close.
Dick came and went, getting supper out on the table.
He might have dozed a little, but Rig really thought it was more just basking. Just letting Rock hold him.
"Dick's got supper on the table and you need to eat.” Rock kissed his forehead. “You manage to get some of it down and we can go watch a movie altogether in bed."
"I could so do that.” He inhaled, nodded. “It smells great."
"Nah, that's me.” Rock winked, hand squeezing his ass cheek.
"Mmhmm. We could just go snuggle...” He might not be able to suck Rock off yet, but he could jack the man off.
"A few bites first."
Damn, Rock was like a dog with a bone.
"Okay. Yeah.” He grabbed his smoothie, took a sip. “Come on, Dickie-boy. Let's have supper."
Dick dished up the steaks, giving him the smallest of the three and a dollop of mashed potatoes. “Seems like we're always either trying to convince you to sleep, or we're feeding you."
"Yeah. I'm sorry.” Of course, he was always trying to get Rock to take his vitamins and Dick to ... Man, this thinking shit made his head hurt.
"You don't have to apologize for being sick."
"Nope. Just eat, Rig.” Rock grinned. “You want me to cut your steak for you?"
"No. I'm not an invalid, asshole.” He whacked Rock's hand with his fork.
Hard.
"Ow!” Rock rubbed his hand as Dick laughed.
He cut his steak up, ate a bite of potatoes and a couple bites of applesauce. Christ, he was tired.
Dick took his fork and speared a piece of meat. “You have to actually put it in your mouth to count it as eating."
"Fuck off, Pretty.” He winked, grinned, and managed a couple of bites, the flavor making him hum. Nobody did steaks like his Rocketman.
Dick and Rock both beamed at him as he ate. It was like feeding time at the zoo.
"Y'all. Come on. I'm not starving myself, huh? I'm all about getting healthy and feeling better."
"You just want to get to the snuggling,” Rock accused, grinning at him.
"Yeah. Yeah, and I want normal life back, you know? I want a cup of coffee. A beer. I want to be able to get it up again!” He was going to have a temper tantrum.
"I want you to be able to get it up again, too,” murmured Dick, hand sliding on his thigh.
Rock snorted. “That's a given."
"Well, how fucking long? How long ‘til things are right?” His hands were shaking a little, blood pressure through the roof. He dropped his fork, trying to reach for his glass.
"Hey.” Dick wrapped around him. “It'll happen when it happens, right? You can't expect things to just snap back into place."
"I know. I just. I'm done. I need to relax a minute.” His heart was just racing. They'd told him he'd have that, a little arrhythmia. Nothing to panic over. Nothing.
"Let me take you back to bed.” Dick stood and reached for him.
"I don't. Don't. Let me.” Shit. Shit. Okay. Fuck. His arms jerked, glasses tumping over.
Rock came around and leaned over him, pressing their foreheads together. Those blue eyes stared into his. “Breathe, Rabbit. Just fucking breathe."
Dick's hand rubbed slowly up and down his back.
Breathe.
Okay. Okay, he could do that.
He did too, in and out, in and out, holding Rock's gaze until the panic stopped.
When he'd caught his breath, Rock smiled and kissed him softly. “Good."
He nodded, squeezing Rock's hand. “Yeah. Sorry. Thank you."
He got another kiss and then Rock stood and picked him up like he was as light as a feather. They headed into the house, Rock taking him back into their room, the lights dim, the bed inviting. He was placed in the center of the bed like he was made of glass, Rock's fingers carefully working off his sweats.
"I miss feeling good.” He cuddled back into the pillows, though, the scents of them heady.
"Yeah.” Rock just nodded, sliding in next to him, Dick climbing in on the other side.
They sandwiched him between them, petting and soothing.
The sun was fading, and so was he, so he dozed. They could nap, then watch explosions in the dark.
Chapter Forty
Dick knocked on the office door, letting himself in at Rock's grunt.
"Hey.” He threw himself into the chair in front of the desk.
"Hey.” Rock looked up from the equipment catalogue he'd been poring over. “What's up?"
He decided to just cut right to the chase. “It's Thanksgiving in like two days."
Rock nodded. “I know."
"Rig's gonna want to do it right."
"I thought with him being sick, we'd just get one of those stuffed turkey breasts and shit at the store on Wednesday."
He gave Rock a horrifed look.
"What?” Rock sounded defensive. “Rig's not up to putting on a fucking spread."
"No, but if we don't, he's sure as hell going to try."
"We. As in you and me."
Dick made a show of looking around. “Yes, Rock. We as in you and me."
"I wouldn't know where to even fucking start."
"We start at the store. Come on, let's go shopping. The place'll survive without us for a couple of hours."
"I might have appointments."
Dick shook his head, grinning. “Nope, I checked the board before coming to talk to you. And I've arranged for us both to have Wednesday off so we can do all the cooking."
Rock shook his head. “No way Rig's going to let that happen."
"Sure he is. He can supervise and anytime he tries to do more, you can feed him a shake and put him to bed.” Dick had it all planned out.
Rock shook his head again, but he was standing, coming around the desk. “This is crazy. How do we know what to buy?"
"I have my secret weapon.” Dick pulled out his cell phone, waving it at Rock.
