Chapter Twelve #4
“A sleepover, huh?” Robbie asked, giving himself a moment to process the barrage of emotions: relief that Sawyer was willing to spend the night away, pride that the kid trusted Robbie to say yes and not be hurt to be abandoned so soon after his triumph, and dawning, thrilling anticipation at the thought of Finn, his empty house, and something to celebrate.
“Yes! So, I can go, right?”
“Well….”
“Robbie,” Sawyer whined.
Robbie laughed, unable to keep up the charade.
He couldn’t let the kid go without checking logistics, but Sawyer and Gail were used to Robbie’s mother-henning by now.
He waved them off cheerfully and then shut the door behind them and turned to see Finn looking at him with an expression that was half hope, half something Robbie couldn’t put his finger on.
Robbie cleared his throat. “So it turns out I’ve got an empty house tonight.”
Finn swallowed visibly. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” And Robbie was ready to top this roller coaster of a week. Figuratively speaking. “What do you say? Want to celebrate our victory in private?”
Finn didn’t remember most of the drive to Robbie’s. Honestly, he’d already forgotten most of the night, focused solely on what would happen next.
After he followed Robbie home.
It wouldn’t be any different, he told himself. It couldn’t be, really, other than the location. Robbie had been clear about what he could offer right now and Finn wouldn’t leave that on the table. The bed. Whatever flat surface Robbie wanted to bend him over.
So of course Robbie proved him wrong almost immediately.
As soon as Finn got out of the car, Robbie was kissing him—not rough, but handsy, cupping Finn’s face, drawing him into the house like he had his own gravitational pull. Finn followed helplessly, desperate for more of Robbie’s touch, his lips, his tongue in Finn’s mouth.
He blinked and they were upstairs, peeling each other’s clothes off in the warm light of Robbie’s bedside lamp.
Robbie wasn’t talking, which would’ve been strange, except how could he talk when his mouth was busy exploring Finn’s, or kissing down the side of Finn’s neck, or sucking Finn’s nipple?
Finn couldn’t string two brain cells together into a word that wasn’t Robbie’s name if his life depended on it, so he could hardly complain. Not when Robbie made him feel so good.
Not when Robbie wrapped his lips around Finn’s cock and fingered him open, slow and deliberate.
“Baby. Sweetheart.” Oh, now he was talking—honey-sticky, low, like he wasn’t speaking for Finn’s benefit but couldn’t help himself. “You’re so beautiful. I want to make you feel so good.”
Sweat broke out all over Finn’s body, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. He let his legs fall open, arched his back. His limbs trembled. His breath caught.
Robbie caught him behind the knee with one broad palm, stretched his leg carefully back, baring Finn to him, making room.
When he finally pushed inside, Finn felt out of his body.
He clutched blindly at Robbie’s shoulders, his back, his ass, burning with the stretch of well-used muscles.
But he couldn’t hold the position, not with his leg pinned nearly to his chest, so he had to relax into the mattress. Had to let Robbie take him.
Only, Robbie followed him down, chased Finn’s mouth with his own.
His free hand tangled with Finn’s against the mattress.
Trapped between their stomachs, Finn’s cock leaked, fluid smearing over his skin, in the line of hair that led down from Robbie’s navel.
Just enough stimulation to render him senseless.
His orgasm sneaked up on him; he was riding a slowly building wave of pleasure, settling in, until suddenly his whole body tensed, and a soft, high, broken sigh fell from his lips into Robbie’s mouth.
Robbie licked it away, kept thrusting, and Finn kept coming, numb with pleasure, until Robbie’s rhythm faltered and he bit Finn’s lip as he came.
Finn’s brain went suddenly, blissfully quiet. He vaguely registered Robbie dealing with the condom before flopping down next to him, sweat-sticky, and curling an arm over his stomach.
Which was sticky with a lot more than just sweat, but fuck it. It was all Finn could do right now to breathe and keep his heart beating and not fall apart.
And then Robbie’s nose brushed his and his hand traced a gentle line over Finn’s eyebrow and down the side of his jaw, as achingly tender as anything Finn had ever felt.
Robbie kissed him, and Finn had to close his eyes. How could Robbie be this sweet with him, take care of him this way, make Finn feel like this, and expect Finn not to fall in love with him? That was crazy, right?
Just like it was crazy to stay here in Robbie’s bed, wrapped up against him, and pretend there’d be no consequences, but Finn could have that crisis later.
Finally Robbie broke the kiss only to peck Finn on the nose. “Much as it pains me to say this, we should probably clean up.”
Translation: Time for Finn to go.
He swallowed back a useless upswell of emotion and nodded, swung his feet over the side of the bed.
But Robbie continued to be the king of mixed signals. He kept kissing Finn’s cheeks and nose and shoulders in the bathroom, while they were wiping the fluids from their bodies, and then he fished around in a drawer and came up with a toothbrush for Finn, as though he expected him to stay the night.
So maybe he wasn’t getting kicked out after all. Maybe Robbie was just allergic to dried jizz. Which was fair.
Finn brushed his teeth. He put on the boxers and threadbare Beavers T-shirt Robbie offered him and let Robbie coax him back into bed.
Finn should probably ask what was going on here. But it had been a hell of a week—work upheaval, personal upheaval—and the adrenaline comedown was a bitch. Robbie turned out the light and curled an arm around him, and Finn sank into his stupidly plush bed that smelled like Robbie and fell asleep.
Finn woke to an empty bed, but the sheets beside him were still warm.
He could hear Robbie talking in the hallway; the urgency in his voice carried even through the closed door.
Finn didn’t think this was another mixed signal.
This was Robbie trying not to wake him up with whatever shitshow was happening on the other end of the phone line.
“—can’t just do that. Can they?” he asked. “I mean, like—Sawyer’s settled here, he’s happy here, he has a bedroom here. Why would CAS consider a petition from his grandparents?”
And that explained the tone.
Finn grimaced, shoved down his own anxieties, and met Robbie’s eye when he turned around, mid-pace of the hallway.
Robbie offered him a pained look.
“You want coffee?” Finn mouthed.
Robbie’s dark eyes went pleading and he mouthed back, “Thank you.”
They’d kind of breezed past the kitchen the night before, but it didn’t take a genius to find the coffee maker (on the counter) or the coffee (in the jar sitting next to the coffee maker) or the mugs (in the cupboard above the coffee maker).
Finn figured he’d better make a whole pot and stared intently at it as it brewed, willing it to fill faster.
He was just reaching for the milk when the front door slammed. Finn jerked and spun toward the hallway. He was positive he hadn’t heard Robbie come down the stairs, so—
Sawyer stood in the kitchen doorway, pale and staring at Finn with wide eyes. “Finn?” He took in Finn’s outfit—or lack thereof—then seemed to push thoughts of Finn away, because the next words out of his trembling mouth were, “Where—Robbie—I need—”
Finn didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. “Robbie! He’s upstairs. Robbie!”
“Wha—” Robbie came barreling into the kitchen from the other end. “Finn, are you—Sawyer? What?”
“Robbie,” Sawyer whined and reached, and Robbie loped across the kitchen to pull Sawyer into his arms.
“What is it? What happened?”
Sawyer sobbed.
“You’re trembling. Are you hurt? Baby, talk to me.”
Frozen, Finn stayed where he was, watching the drama unfold. He felt like a creep, an outsider, but he couldn’t make his feet move. Worry kept him pinned to the spot.
What if they needed him?
“They— They— What do they mean?”
Robbie froze, then pulled back and gripped Sawyer by the shoulders to catch his gaze. “What happened?” He spoke softly but clearly, a gentle command that had Sawyer popping to attention.
“DM on TikTok. Deborah said—she sent—there was a petition to adopt!” Sawyer all but wailed the last part, and Robbie pulled him against his chest.
Deborah? That must be Robbie’s mother.
“Never! They’ve asked for you, but they can’t have you.”
“I can’t go to them.” Sawyer buried his face in Robbie’s chest. Finn wanted to cry too.
“They called me—me—” The last word was garbled against Robbie’s chest, but Finn could make out the name he hadn’t been able to remember all those months ago.
Those bastards. They deadnamed their grandchild when asking to adopt him?
“You’re mine, okay? Eugene called and we are gonna fight ’em tooth and nail, because you belong here.
You are my kid, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you, you hear me?
” Sawyer sniffled and clutched at Robbie, who rubbed his back and cradled his head.
“Eugene and I will drown them in paperwork and lawyers’ fees and keep them tied up for four years if we have to. ”
Sawyer hiccupped.
“But we probably won’t, because the judge is gonna care what you think. They’ll care that you want to be here.”
“But what if they don’t?”
“Then Eugene is going to exercise his filing muscles so he can appeal and get you home to me. And if that fails, then I’ll kidnap you and we can run away to… to… fuck, I don’t know, wherever we can go so no one can take you away from me.”
Sawyer snorted wetly. “That’s so dumb, Robbie. You’d be stuck on the run forever.”
“What, don’t think I can survive life on the lam?”
“Robbie.” Sawyer pulled back just enough to peer up at his uncle.
His cheeks were red and his eyes wet, but he looked steadier already.
A kid who knew everything would be all right because his dad said so.
“Only reason you never got left behind in LA or ended up in Yellowknife instead of Edmonton is because the NHL babysat your road trips.”
With a dramatic gasp, Robbie squished his kid and cried, “Slander! Outrage!”
Another hiccupping laugh. Sawyer snuggled his face into Robbie’s chest, definitely wiping tears and probably snot on his T-shirt, but Robbie didn’t seem to notice.
Finn was starting to think he should make his escape. Clearly neither Robbie nor Sawyer needed him right now. Crisis averted. Maybe if Finn was fast enough, Sawyer would forget he ever saw him there.
“Hey, Robbie?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“Why is Finn standing in your kitchen before eight a.m. in your underwear?”
The hand Robbie was rubbing up and down Sawyer’s back froze. “Uh.”
Finn’s heart skipped a beat. Jesus, why had he stayed in the kitchen? Maybe if he’d left…. Sawyer was the very reason they were keeping things on the down-low, and Finn had just stood here in borrowed underwear like it was no big deal for Sawyer to catch him.
“Right now? He’s making coffee.”
“Robbie.” Sawyer peeked up at Robbie from under his bangs, clearly laughing at him.
“Sawyer.”
“I can think of one reason, Robbie—”
“Okay, yes, fine, Finn and I were celebrating last night’s win in private and you don’t need to hear any more details about our friendship, kid.”
Friendship. The word slipped between Finn’s ribs, cut right to the heart.
“Gross.” He wrinkled his nose.
“Yes, yes, you’re so smart. Go wash your face, get cleaned up, and then come down for some breakfast. Pancakes?”
“Yes.” Sawyer gave Robbie one last squeeze, sent a cheeky wave at Finn, and headed out of the room. “Maybe you should also get dressed while I’m at it,” he called back and then was out of sight.
Robbie rubbed his face and laughed into his hands. “Shit. Not how I wanted to start our day.”
“Right?” Finn managed to get out through wobbly lips.
“Thank you, for—shit, for everything you did and didn’t do that made this morning suck a little bit less.” He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “God, that coffee smells heavenly and I need it.”
He retrieved the milk and turned back to Finn, who still stood rooted to the floor.
“Finn?”
“I should—” He paused, cleared his throat. “I should go.”
Robbie frowned. “You’re not sticking around for breakfast? I’m making pancakes.”
That got a smile out of him; he couldn’t help it. “So I hear. But I better get going. I’d be in the way—”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“—and I’ve got things that need doing.” Like hiding under his duvet and freaking out about being caught by his friend-with-benefits’ kid the morning after said casual encounter blew his mind with the sort of sex Finn would usually only ever call lovemaking. Yeah. Busy day, all right.
“Oh, well, if you have to…”
“Yup. I’m just going to go change.” He scuttled up the stairs and wriggled back into last night’s clothes, a step he considered skipping except he couldn’t get far without his wallet or phone or keys.
Once attired, he made a break for the front door.
Sawyer had already caught him and that was bad enough; he didn’t need to see the actual walk of shame on top of the morning after.
Finn could text a goodbye to Robbie from the car.
Once he was far away from here.