Chapter 23
Matt
I take a moment to let my ardor cool before turning back to Colt. “Sit down,”
I order him, pointing to the seat Deejay occupied until I pulled him out of it. I sit down in my chair staring at Colt’s stubborn refusal to sit until he gives up and flings himself into the chair.
“What the fuck are you doing to my dad?”
he demands angrily.
“Kissing him. I thought that was pretty obvious. He’s not my dad, I can kiss him if I want,”
I reply levelly. Colt never wakes up early, especially on a Saturday. The only thing that would drag him out of bed is a future dream, but clearly catching me kissing Deejay has distracted him from that. “What’s going on? I thought your crush on him was a joke. Was I wrong? Am I stepping on your feelings here?”
I’ll clear the air with him and try to get him back on track.
Colt glowers at me. “I don’t have a fucking crush on him. He’s my dad.”
I shrug. “What’s your problem, then?”
“You. You are my problem!”
he accuses me. “Papa deserves better than a ham-handed meathead!”
I arch a brow at him, surprised by his insult. Colt hasn’t been overly welcoming, but he’s never been particularly disrespectful. This turn of his attitude bothers the shit out of me. So does the violent red streaking through his dark blue aura, and the black menace starting to tinge the edges. “Calling names isn’t the way to have a conversation. You want to convince me to step off, you’ll need to do better than that. Not that I would allow a kid to tell me what’s right for me and neither would Deejay. Sometimes you just have to accept that life is full of shit you don’t get a say in.”
“You’re less than five years older than me,”
he responds trying for menace in his voice, though it fails when his voice cracks at the end.
“When I was your age, I was months away from being considered an adult by non-human law. When do you reach adulthood, Diviner? Something less than three years, right? I’ll tell you what, when you reach adulthood, we can sit down and revisit your reasons for not wanting Deejay to have romance in his life. Until then, you can choose to make a menace of yourself concerning this, or you can choose to grow up a bit and let your dad have some private happiness to add to the happiness he has with you.”
I hold up my hands weighing them like a scale: “Be a brat; be a man. Brat; man. It’s your choice.”
He glares at me, the blackness in his midnight blue aura spreading further.
I’ve done a great job of pushing his buttons, but in my defense, I haven’t raised a teenager yet. I’m annoyed that this kid is so full of attitude and started slinging mud without bothering to try for a civil conversation, and if I’m really honest, I’m a little pissed that he interrupted me and Deejay, and I know that isn’t fair to Colt because he can’t help the dreams he has.
When he doesn’t say anything, I take the opportunity to ask. “Did you have a dream we should be aware of?”
Violent red streaks through his aura. “Fuck off,”
he snipes.
Surprised, I decide that there’s no getting through that aura, so I get up, unwilling to antagonize him further. I put my cup in the dishwasher, and take my leave, not bothering to look back at the kid who needs some time to cool off and process this turn of events.
Hopefully, whatever dream he had can work itself out, or he gets his shit under control in time to deal with whatever is coming.
I climb the stairs to my room and grab my shower stuff before heading to the bathroom on the third floor rather than the ones near the bedrooms. It’s a bit bigger and nicer, and everyone else usually heads downstairs rather than up if they need the toilet while the second-floor bathrooms are occupied. This is the floor that the master suite and nursery are on, but Deejay only uses his en suite bathroom, so I don’t concern myself with anyone needing or occupying the one I like. Given a choice, I might remodel it a bit. The shower isn’t tall enough for me, but that’s been true for me since I was thirteen, so I’m used to stooping to wash and rinse my hair.
With the memory of Deejay’s taste on my tongue, it doesn’t take long for my body to remember what it wanted before Colt interrupted us. I take my cock in hand, quickly rubbing myself to completion at the memory of Deejay cumming in my arms.
So fucking hot.
I’d do that every fucking day just to hear him moan. Cute as hell; hot as fuck.
When I’m clean and less tense, I step out of the shower and shave, wondering if I gave Deejay beard burn. The thought of seeing him marked by me stirs my libido again, but I manage to keep it to a low simmer and only nick myself twice because my dick keeps jumping in hopes of something a bit more substantial than a quick rub out.
When I finish, I head back out, wrapped in my towel. As I pass the nursery to get to the stairs, I hear one of the babies gurgling in his crib. I poke my head in to see Eren playing with his feet. The moment he notices me, he turns over and warbles happily at me, yellow aura shining brightly at seeing me. I smile at him as I walk to his crib. “Good morning, Little Bit,”
I coo quietly as I pick him up. “You look happy this morning.”
Eren burbles at me, smacking my face excitedly. I take him to the changing table and check his diaper. “Someone made a mess,”
I grunt, wrinkling my nose at him to make a funny face of disgust at him.
He giggles at me, so I continue making funny faces at him while I clean him up and get him in a fresh diaper. By the time I'm done with him, Alex is also awake, so I put Eren on the floor with a rattle and change Alex as well. When I’m done, I grab a rattle for Alex and pick Eren up off the floor. I take them down to my room, setting them on the floor there so I can pull on a pair of jeans. I hang my towel on a hook on the back of my door, and then pick both babies back up. I take them to the kitchen where I put them into their respective highchairs.
Colt disappeared from the kitchen while I showered, which is a relief. I’d rather not deal with him until he cools off and decides how he wants to play this. It’s nice that the littles never look at me with their auras burning for violence. They might get mad, but a streak of barely red baby anger isn’t the same as the dark red, violent streaks I saw in Colt’s aura.
I grab rice cereal from the pantry, the container of formula, two bottles, and one cereal bowl from the cabinet, then prepare the twins’ breakfast. When I have it ready, I pull their highchairs towards my chair at the breakfast nook so that I can feed them both.
They get most of the way through the cereal before becoming more interested in their bottles. I toss the rest of it into the trash and rinse the bowl, putting it in the dishwasher. I buckle the twins into their bouncers, which I grab from the living room, so they aren’t stuck in their highchairs. While they drink their bottles down, I pull out the makings for a pancake breakfast with bacon and eggs. I can’t make a lot of dishes, but I can make all of Cary’s favorites, and that boy loves bacon-anything. In fact, his favorite way to have his pancakes is with bacon crumbles mixed into the batter, which sounds like a good birthday breakfast. I haven’t made it for him since we arrived here, and I figure buttering up the rest of the family couldn’t hurt if Colt’s animosity is indicative of a looming problem.
The smell of cooking bacon draws the kids to the kitchen one at a time beginning with Cary, who runs in excitedly. “Are we having bacon pancakes?”
he demands eagerly.
I scoop him up into my arms, holding him away from the grease splatter of the pan-fried bacon. “That’s my plan,”
I confirm, kissing his cheek and blowing a raspberry to make him laugh.
He squirms away, giggling, then whoops loudly, startling the twins. “Woohoo! Bacon pancakes!”
He squeezes me around the neck and kisses me all over my face. “I wuv you! I wuv you! I wuv you!”
he repeats, making me laugh.
“You only love me when I feed you bacon, eh?” I tease.
“I wuv you all the time, especially when you feed me bacon,”
he corrects seriously.
I exaggerate nodding. “I see. Of course. How could I get that wrong?”
I tickle his ribs, making him laugh before setting him back on his feet. “Go brush your teeth and get dressed, you’re going shopping after breakfast.”
“For what?”
he asks, backing toward the doorway.
“My birthday present,”
I whisper conspiratorially. “Make sure to get me new shoes. Size twenty-one yellow boots.”
I absolutely do not expect him to get me boots, but I do need to replace my steel toes.
Cary brightens up happily and nods. “I will!”
he announces before running off to get dressed. He’ll probably come back wearing something ridiculous, but I’m down with him expressing his own style.
Jasper comes in then, already dressed and I open my arms to him too. “I’m making Cary’s favorite: bacon pancakes,”
I tell him as I scoop him into a hug. “You ever had that, Jazz?”
He shakes his head, as he cuddles into me, hugging me lazily. “Smells good.”
“Bacon smells good no matter what,”
I agree before flipping the cooked bacon onto a platter and draining the fat into a jar Deejay keeps for run off. I set Jasper on his feet when I’m done. “Want to help make the pancake batter?” I offer.
He smiles up at me. “Sure.”
“Go get your step stool.”
The step stool Deejay bought immediately after Jasper broke the glass the day we arrived.
It suddenly hits me like a sledgehammer how quickly I’ve adjusted to this life. Changing diapers, feeding babies, cooking breakfast—I’ve done that since Cary was born, but now I’m doing for someone else’s kids and I am completely comfortable doing it. I could do this for as long as Deejay does—I know that in my bones. I like doing this. Kids are fun. Even when they’re brats, I still like them. Just like that, my heart has grown big enough to encompass this whole family; they’re mine now and I won’t be leaving them. Deejay may not know it, but I’ve just now realized: that man is stuck with me.
When breakfast is ready, I send Jasper to let everyone know, put the twins back in their highchairs, and set the table. I serve the littles first and then let everyone else fill their own plates.
Colt deliberately avoids anything to do with me at all, and Deejay seems to be avoiding eye contact, though he does thank me for taking care of the twins and breakfast. Kendall arches a brow at me, looking between Deejay and Colt questioningly, a look Robbie catches and then he, too, notices the awkwardness.
“What happened?”
Kendall asks the table, pointedly avoiding looking at any one person. “Why does the atmosphere feel awkward?”
“Because I caught—”
“Nothing,”
Deejay interrupts Colt’s outburst.
Nothing? I mean, it’s not a big deal, but it isn’t nothing. “I kissed Deejay, and Colt saw it,”
I reply, ignoring Deejay’s scowl at me the way he ignored me just now. Turnabout’s fair play, right?
“Really?!”
Jasper exclaims with exaggerated shock on his face.
“I see,”
Kendall hums while Robbie ogles me, wide-eyed. “And did you ask before kissing him or was this one-sided?”
“I asked about consent,”
I answer. It’s not untrue, but if Deejay didn’t want to be kissed, he could have stopped me with a single word.
No means no.
“If Papa is fine with it, then there’s no problem,”
he concludes before turning to Colt. “Right?”
Colt glares at his breakfast without answering until Kendall pops him in the back of the head. “Don’t be an idiot,” he snaps.
Colt rubs the back of his head before pushing his plate away. “I’m done. May I be excused?”
Deejay sighs. “Don’t be an idiot,”
he repeats. “We have to go shopping after this and you’re going to get hungry while we’re out if you don’t eat now.”
Colt’s anger flushes over his aura, it’s not the violent red it was before, but he’s still furious. He starts shoveling all the food into his mouth, choking it down in about three bites, followed by his cup of milk. Without another word, he stands up, takes his plate to the sink, and storms out of the room.
“I’ll talk to him,”
Kendall announces, sighing as he too stands up. “Don’t throw my plate away. It’s too delicious to waste.”
He too walks out, chasing after his brother.
Cary smiles up at me. “Are you going to marry my new papa?”
he asks innocently.
I grin at him and poke his nose. “Maybe. But we won’t know for a while if that’s going to happen.”
Cary sighs. “Then you can be my daddy too.”
My heart fucking wrenches in my chest as cobalt sadness and sky-blue hope mix over his usually sunny aura. He’s never said anything like that before, but I know he’s aware that our father didn’t want him, which is why the old man left Cary’s care to me. When Deejay and I explained the adoption to him, he was excited to have Deejay as his adoptive parent, but… “Cary, did you want me to adopt you?”
I ask, trying not to let my emotions project too much—Cary is sensitive to that kind of thing.
Cary sighs again. “I do, but I think you don’t want me like my other dad don’ted.”
I pull him out of his seat and hug him to my chest, careful not to crush him, but tight enough so he knows I am serious. “I want you. You’re my little buddy, I am not going anywhere and if you want me to adopt you, I will. Is that what you want?”
“I want that,”
he nods, holding me tightly. “I want you to be my Daddy, and I want Deejay to be my Papa.”
“Then we will figure it out so I can adopt you too,”
I promise.
He gives me a serious frown as the sky blue overcomes the cobalt. “You’ll be my daddy for real?”
As if I would ever deny him something so simple. “Of course I will. Haven’t I always taken care of you?”
His beautiful blue eyes narrow at me. “You won’t be my brother anymore. Is that what you want?”
he asks, mimicking my question back at me.
I smile, amused as my aww-reflex explodes with love for this kid. “I want whatever you want, buddy.”
“I have lots of brothers now. I want you to be my dad.”
“Then I will be,”
I assure him, committed to this promise no matter what.
Excitement and joy explode over him as he kisses my cheek and blows a raspberry. “I wuv you, Daddy!”
“I love you too,”
I rumble, squeezing my eyes shut against the tears wanting to surface.