Epilogue Benji
The store is packed.
The store is packed and my boyfriend is nowhere to be found.
Typical.
Ever since Dad convinced our arch nemesis to give us both jobs, then strong-arming her into resigning from her post at the illustrious Build-A-Bear Workshop, smack-dab in the heart of Tallulah, Texas, Bennet’s let me down time after time. Take last week, for example. While I was helping a delightful Daddy named Bryce pick out the perfect teddy for his boy, seven other Daddies walked in, and I had to stuff every single bear by myself. Where was Bennet during all of this? In the back office taking pictures of his penis to send to Dad. Now, we’re as busy as we’ve ever been, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it all on my own.
It’s not that I don’t love helping an endless swarm of twinks pick their new forever-and-ever Build-A-Bear BFF, because I do. It’s the high point of my day. There’s just so much mess once they leave. Teddy outfits strewn about on the floor. Unstuffed bears shoved into the incorrect cubbyholes. It’s like a tornado’s gone through the store, and it’s going to take me at least an hour to put everything back where it goes.
As I watch a twenty-something twink pick a teddy up by the scruff of his unsewn neck, my blood boils beneath my skin. It’s like he doesn’t even care that these are going to be someone’s stuffy one day. A tiny twink’s precious new pal. Now, the guy has casually tossed him on the rack beside him, labeled The Bear Accessories—yes, the name was my idea, thank you very much—which houses bear gloves, scarves, and hats, because as the old saying goes: a bear can never have enough hats, gloves, and shoes. It’s not even remotely close to where he originally found the bear.
Some people don’t deserve the Build-A-Bear experience, and this jerk is one of them.
I march over, my feet slamming loudly against the wooden floors. When the twink looks up at me, he gives me a warm smile, but he can save it for someone who cares. No one disrespects Build-A-Bear.
I grab the bear off the rack and hold it mere inches from his face. “Is this where you found him? Huh? Is this where Mr. Snuggle McDougle goes?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Snuggle McDougle?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Are you hard of hearing? Are you doubly differently-abled?”
“Huh?”
I point at the cubbies where the bears are supposed to go. “I mean, you must be blind, because that clearly isn’t where you found him.” The twink blushes, and he darts his eyes around the room like he’s looking for someone. Maybe it’s his Daddy. I hope it is, because if so, I’m going to tattle. I’m going to drag his Daddy to the side and tell him what a bad boy his boyfriend has been. “Now, I want you to apologize, and I want you to put this back where you found it.”
To my horror, he takes Mr. Snuggle, as well as a small koala stuffie, and starts smashing their non-stuffed neither regions against each other, simulating anal sex. I have half a mind to call the police. Then he tosses the stuffies over his shoulder, making my blood boil.
“Pick those up and put them where they go.”
“Isn’t that your job? What are you, a salesclerk?”
I gape at him. “A salesclerk? I’ll have you know, I’m your trusty Build-A-Bear Pal.” I point at the magnetic name tag clipped to my shirt that says, BENJI – YOUR BUILD-A-BeAR PAL. Did I mean to draw a lowercase E on the festive, personalizable name plate our manager gave us? No, but what’s done is done and I can’t spend any more time beating myself up for it than I already have. After seeing how bad I felt about it, Dad made me promise I wouldn’t let it eat me up inside.
The man sighs. “Whatever. Listen, I was interested in getting a?—”
I growl at him, probably sounding like a feral beast if the frightened look on his face is any indication. “You’re not getting a goddamn thing until you?—”
“Language!”
Dad’s voice makes me jump, and my body goes cold, because he’s gonna be so mad at me for cussing at a customer. Maybe he’ll hear me out and realize I’m not the one in the wrong. Dad’s always been super understanding like that.
Tears are welling in my eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s just the stress of the situation with the unruly twink, or if it’s down to my worry over what punishment Dad might give me. Either way, I know I have to face him like a man, so that’s what I do. I turn around, and I look my dad in the eyes.
He doesn’t seem angry, but he certainly doesn’t look happy about the situation. That’s okay, I’m kind of mad at him too, a little. Aside from one tiny little issue I’ve tried overlooking, our life has been perfect. It’s been a year of domestic bliss, but the issue refuses to settle in my soul. Maybe that’s why some of these customers irritate me so much. Maybe it’s just misplaced aggravation at my father for swearing to adopt us, only to drop the issue and never discuss it again.
“Benjamin. Why are you swearing at a customer?”
“Because he was being a jerk.” I point a finger at the guy, because I don’t care if Dad’s here or not, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. “You should be ashamed of yourself. This is Build-A-Bear, it isn’t Sodom and Gomorrah.”
The twink scowls at me before whirling around and walking to the other side of the store to find his Daddy. He cuddles up close to a bald bear of a man with a big fluffy brown beard, sporadically looking over his shoulder to see if I’m still staring.
Dad’s hand touches my cheek, and he tugs until I’m looking him in the eyes.
“I want you to go over there and apologize, son.”
“But he?—”
Dad shakes his head, cutting me off. “I didn’t raise you to be rude, Benjamin.”
I want to remind him that he didn’t actually raise me at all, but his words play into the pseudocest dynamic we share that I love so much. I kind of hope he’s willing to say stuff like that when I let him fuck me tonight.
“You’re not the boss of me here,” I whisper. His jaw is clenched, working left to right, then right to left. I’m pretty sure that’s the sound of his teeth grinding that I hear.
“What did you just say to me, young man?”
I’d be lying if I said his stern tone didn’t just send my cock to half-mast. I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t reach down and give it a subtle stroke. Thankfully, there are no kids present, and the customers are all congregated around our newest stuffie, a pink, white, and blue unicorn I’ve named Mr. Transtastic. Bennet told me it was silly to give the stuffy a male prefix, because we don’t know if they’re a boy unicorn or a girl unicorn. I simply pointed at the small patch of fluff masquerading as a goatee on the stuffie’s chin and told Bennet the adorable little tyke is obviously a trans man, and judging by the small rainbow heart stitched on his chest, he’s also gay. Eventually, Bennet saw the error of his ways and relented, kissing Mr. Transtastic’s tummy and telling him he’s a good boy.
“I said, you don’t get to boss me around when I’m at work. I’m a trusty Build-A-Bear Pal. Jesus, Dad. How do you think that looks to my customers? Do you think they’re ever going to have any faith in me or my ability to provide them with a wholesome family experience if they see my dad scolding me? Do I come to your office and tell you how to do your job?”
“You barged in on Pastor Brooks’ session yesterday,” he reminds me. “You called him a predator and told me to criminally trespass him from my office.”
“Yes, well . . .” I turn and place the bear back in his proper cubby. With warm cheeks I pretend to straighten the already tidy cubbyholes. “The man is a deviant, hellbent on ruining that poor gay guy’s life by preaching his conversion therapy, yet you continuously indulge him.”
“How do you know anything about my client, son?”
I blush. “You forgot to turn off the body cam we got you for Christmas. I had to listen to him complain about his wife while rambling about the gay guy he’s obviously in love with.” I look over my shoulder in time to see Dad’s mouth fall open. “I watched the whole thing. Wanted to know who the hell he thought he was for visually molesting you every time I see him leave your office.”
“Why in the world didn’t you turn the video off? Those meetings are confidential, Benjamin.”
I shrug. “Have to keep the spark alive somehow.”
“At the expense of my career? I could lose my license for that, son.”
I smirk at him. “Too bad, so sad.”
The corner of his lip curls. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?” He looks around the store, his eyes narrowing as he glares at the twink I yelled at a few minutes ago. The guy’s got a miniature bear in his hand, and he’s sliding it into his pocket. “You put that down this instant, young man.”
The twink’s bald-headed boyfriend looks up from a display rack, clearly none the wiser to his boyfriend’s descent into kleptomania. “What’d you just say to my boy?”
The guy’s super cute, I have to admit. He’s got the same bald head Dad does. Same big brown eyes. They’ve even got the same short auburn beard, now that Dad’s grown his out at my request.
“Your boy was caught red-handed, stealing inventory from my boy’s store.”
The other man closes his eyes and sighs like this doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. “Dammit, Brent. How many times are we going to do this? This is the sixth time this week.” He shakes his head. “I can’t do this with you anymore. I try and try to keep you happy, but you just take-take-take.”
Done with the exchange, I step closer toward Dad, resting my face against his chest. The moment his arms tangle around me, it’s like everyone else fades away.
“Love you, Dad,” I whisper. “Don’t be mad. ’Kay?”
He kisses my scalp. “How could I ever stay mad at you, baby?” He rocks me for a while, and I stay here, drunk on Dad, until another set of arms wrap around me from behind.
“Bennet,” I whine. I swear, as many times as they do this, it never gets old. There’s just something about being crushed by pure, unfiltered love to lift one’s spirits. “Where were you? Missed you so bad.”
“Tummy issues,” he whispers.
I cringe. “Please don’t talk about number twos. You know I don’t like acknowledging that either of you do that.” They snicker at my words, because they know about my aversion to all things poo. The longer we stand here, wrapped up in each other, the more at peace I feel. I don’t know how long we stay like this, but eventually, Dad pulls away.
“I have a surprise, boys. A big one.”
“You’ve got a big everything, Daddy,” Bennet teases.
And, as if his words are the kiss of life, Dad’s dick swells to life, and all I can do is hold Bennet’s hand and try to prepare for whatever hand Dad’s about to deal us. Looking over his shoulder, Dad searches the store—for what, I’m not entirely sure. To my surprise, it’s empty now; I guess our cuddle session weirded the customers out. Oh well. Like I told Dad earlier, too bad, so sad.
Dad turns and walks toward the entrance, leaving Bennet and me with a sense of utter confusion, and a delightful view of his ass. When he reaches the entrance, he grabs the metal grate and pulls it down to keep anyone from wandering in. When he turns around, his cheeks are red and his hands are shaking. Slowly, he takes a step forward as Celine Dion’s “The Power of Love” begins to play behind us. I turn and look over my shoulder, but there’s no one there.
As he approaches, Dad reaches into his pocket and pulls out two small black boxes.
I can’t move. I can’t even think. I’m too overwhelmed with hope that I can barely see straight.
“Boys,” Dad starts as Celine sings about holding on to someone’s body. “I’ve got a question to ask, and I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”
When I look over at Bennet, there are tears in his eyes. I lift my hand to wipe one away, but another just takes its place. “Daddy?”
“Yeah, Bennet. Daddy’s here. I’m always going to be here.” He clears his throat, pulling my attention off Bennet and back to him. To my surprise, he kneels in front of us, holding a box out for each of us. They’re flipped open, and inside, two small silver bands rest in each. “I wanted all of us to have two. One for all three of us.”
As Celine belts out that she’s someone’s lady, I want to shout that I’m Dad’s man, because I am. We both are.
It’s funny, really. Before we met Dad, we always worried we’d never find a Daddy to love us both the same amount. Nate’s not just our daddy, though. He’s our dad, and dads aren’t supposed to have favorites. Nate would never choose a favorite, because he loves us both the same.
He lifts his left hand, showing us the two silver rings he has on his finger. Back to back. Side by side. No space separating them. Just like his Bens.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sons,” he says to Bennet, then to me, “I swear to God, I’m going to make you both so happy. I’ll make sure you never have to question if you’re loved again.”
Celine’s on the next verse now, but this feels like more of a chorus moment, so I shoot Bennet a pleading glance, begging him to wait it out. Dad’s triplet powers mustn’t be working right, because he doesn’t seem to understand what we’re doing. I hate to see him look so worried.
“Hold on,” I whisper. “We need the song to get to the big part, so it feels more—” Celine cuts me off when she hits the chorus, and Bennet and I both lunge forward, wrapping ourselves around Dad, screaming, “Yes,” repeatedly, at the top of our lungs. Customers are waiting at the entrance, unable to enter thanks to the metal gate, but I don’t care. Let them wait. If the world was ending and this was the only safe place left on Earth, I’d let every one of them burn instead of removing myself from Dad’s embrace.
Bennet’s weeping softly into Dad’s chest, so I rub my hand up and down his back, telling him I love him, reminding him he’s ours. There are footsteps behind us, but I don’t pull back. Don’t care who’s back there, just want Dad.
We stay locked like this for another few minutes, none of us speaking. Dad’s the first to pull away, and when he does, he holds a hand out, over our heads. I look back and spot Tatum resting on Kincaid’s hip behind us, smiling warmly as his husband fingers his asshole. Tatum’s holding a stack of papers, and he hands them over to Dad. Has he been hiding in the back? Who cares? Doesn’t matter.
“Congratulations, Dad,” he says. “I’m happy for you. Truly.” He stares down at us with a genuine smile. “I’m still not calling either of you Dad.”
My heart flutters. I still can’t believe he’s so supportive of our relationship. It’s been nine months since our big revelation, and while it took him a bit of time to get used to, he couldn’t be happier for us. He calls to check on us every day. We message him throughout the day to discuss Real Housewives. It really feels like we’ve forged a family of sorts.
I reach up and squeeze his leg, because it’s the only thing I can reach. “We’ll see, son. We’ll see.”
As Tatum groans, Dad chuckles. “Boys?” He waits for us to turn around and look at Dad with a wide, sexy little smile. I kind of want to slip my dick between those pretty pink lips. I probably will tonight.
He licks his lips.
Yes. I’ll definitely be doing that tonight.
“The papers came in last week. I thought of telling you the day they arrived, but then I thought . . . no. My boys deserve better than that.” He hands a stack of papers to each of us. The moment I see the word Adoption , I lose it. I fall to the floor, hurting my butt a little, the papers scattering every which way. Bennet’s at my side in an instant, petting my hair, telling me it’s okay, swearing that this is real and not some horrible fever dream. Then Dad’s right beside me, kissing my face, telling me how much he loves us, promising to never let us go. As soon as Tatum and Kincaid join the fold, my tears stop, and I’m crushed by the levels of love circling around us, warding off the rest of the world.
Before we met Dad—back when it was still just me and Bennet—I used to pray for this. I used to sit in my bed at night and dream of having a family of my own. Now I’ve got one. Now we all do.
Dad brings his mouth to our ears and whispers, “All or nothing. Beginning to end. Forever and ever. That’s us. That’s me and my Bens.”
The End