Bobby
Bobby opened one eye to find Tom sitting on the edge of the bed with a letter in his hand.
“Troubles?” he asked, a playful note in his voice, but given the tension in Tom’s shoulders, maybe that was a bad idea.
With a glance to Bobby, Tom said, “Just… my fucking father.”
Because of course. Things were going too well lately. Bobby should’ve guessed. He sat up and scooted closer to Tom, ran a hand down his back. “He in jail? Or just fell off the wagon?”
“Neither,” Tom said darkly. And Bobby was sure Cal must be dead. He could only guess at how Tom—not to mention the kids—would react to that.
“When did it happen?”
He shifted to look at Bobby better, brow furrowed. “When did what happen?”
“I…”
“Ha, he ain’t dead. I’m not that lucky.”
Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face to wake up. “Then what’d he do this time?”
“He wants to have dinner with the kids. At his place.”
“Why do you look like that, then?”
Tom stood and paced around, his boxers hanging off his hips. “I don’t even like him coming here for visits. Why the hell would I want the kids over there? In his space. In his mess.”
“Tom,” Bobby said calmly. “How do you know his place is a mess?”
“Because he’s a mess. Have you met him?”
More times than he’d like to think of, if Bobby were being honest. He wasn’t a fan of Cal’s. Hell, Bobby would like to see him dead, just for the shit he’d put Tom through, let alone the rest of his kids. But if he were really pressed, he’d have to admit that Cal had done—was still doing—everything in his power to be a better man, a better father. Even if that ship had long sailed. “I’ve met him. He’s not my favorite person, but he’s trying, Tom.”
That was a mistake, and Bobby knew it before the words were out of his mouth.
“Trying? Fuck that. He shoulda tried a long damn time ago, Bobby.”
“I know.” Because there was no arguing with that statement. “What’s with the letter?” Bobby asked, pointing to the paper Tom had crumpled up.
“Oh, just the schedule for down at the bar. I fucked it up, gotta start over.”
“The schedule made you think of your father’s dinner invitation?”
“What? No, he texted while I was looking at it.”
“Why is it on paper?”
“Helps me to see it printed out. Why all the questions?”
Bobby didn’t even know anymore. “Coffee ready?”
“And breakfast. You’re gonna be late if you don’t get up.”
He didn’t bother to tell Tom that he woke up thinking Tommy’s father had died and that he was still too confused to start the day. Instead, he got out of bed and went straight to the little economy kitchen. “One of these days, we should consider moving into a bigger place.”
Tom pulled on a pair of jeans that were so tight they fit like a second skin. “I like bein’ close to the kids.”
Bobby had known what Tom would say before he’d even mentioned it. “I know. Maybe someplace right around here? Maybe if a house goes up for sale on the block or something.”
“Maybe,” Tom said in that way of his that meant it’s so much easier to just say maybe than to go into all the reasons why that’s not going to happen.
Bobby let it go. “Maybe we could just make this place a little bigger, add on or something.”
“You’re just tired of tripping over me all the time,” Tom said, but he slid his arms around Bobby’s waist from behind, kissed the back of his neck.
Bobby leaned back into the touch, pressed himself against Tom’s bare chest. “Maybe I just want more places to let you fuck me.”
That got his attention and, hopefully, turned his mood around.
“Why didn’t you say that to begin with?” Tom teased, trailing his hand lower on Bobby’s stomach, dipping his fingers into the edge of Bobby’s shorts. “We can move out of state if that’s what you want.” He rolled his hips against Bobby’s ass as if to punctuate his words.
“If I really believed you, I’d know you’d lost your mind.” Bobby laughed, but that didn’t stop him from grinding against Tom just to feel his cock hardening.
And then, the real reason Bobby sometimes thought it would be nice to move.
“Hey, Tommy!” Davey shouted through their door while banging on it with what was either his fist or his foot. “I missed my bus! Can I get a ride?”
“Christ,” Tom muttered before dropping another quick kiss to Bobby’s neck. “We didn’t have time for that anyway,” he said as he stepped away. “Don’t break the goddamn door down,” he shouted to Davey. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”
Bobby poured some cream into his coffee and grabbed the plate Tom had put together for him. “I should start taking him in my cruiser. Maybe he’d remember to catch the bus.”
Tom dragged a T-shirt over his head. “Your mom says he does this because he wants to spend some time with me but doesn’t wanna say.”
“Could be. You’re around, but it’s different for all of them now. You work more, aren’t home as much. There’s a door with a lock between you and them a lot of the time. They’re not used to it.” Even after a handful of years.
“Me neither,” Tom said as he grabbed his keys. “So, no. I’m not ready to move out. I’d rather knock a wall down than add on, if you really wanna know.”
“I already knew,” Bobby said, leaning close to kiss Tom before he darted out the door.
And, really, Bobby wasn’t sure if he’d want it any other way.