Chapter Twenty-One
After the tenth time of checking his phone for texts from his parents, Robin gave up. They’re not gonna budge on this, are they? Granted, it had been less than twelve hours since Robin’s world had crashed and burned, but he thought there’d be at least one text asking him to come home.
Nothing.
And not all my world crashed and burned. Dean was still there. And Ryan had sent several texts. Some of them weren’t appropriate to the situation, but his heart was in the right place. Robin was sure he and Dean would both get some enjoyment out of them at some point once everything was resolved.
If it ever gets resolved.
Dean came into the living room, carrying two mugs. He set them down, then glanced at Robin’s phone on the coffee table. “Still nothing?”
Robin couldn’t answer. He had the feeling that if he tried to speak, his voice would crack, and the tears that had fallen so freely the previous day would return with a vengeance.
The night had passed with little to no sleep, and although he’d debated getting up and going to Dean’s room, Robin had stayed put.
He had to know for sure.
Dean sat beside him, and Lady got up from her spot by the fireplace and strolled over to them. She jumped up, landing with a soft whump on Robin’s knee. Dean smiled, stroking her behind her ears. “Lady’s come to give you some love.”
Robin snorted. “She’s a cat. I’m pretty sure she’s expecting me to do the loving.”
Dean gave his thigh a gentle squeeze. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Thanks, but no.” Not unless you can give my dad a new heart for Christmas. Because right then the one he had wasn’t working. How could it be, if he couldn’t see the parallels with his own life?
“Do you want me to go talk to him?”
Robin sighed. “He needs time to think. And I need to not think about this.” He’d replayed their conversation over and over in his head.
“I keep asking myself: was there something else I could’ve said that would’ve gotten through to him?
If I hadn’t flown off the handle the way I did, would he have acted the way he did?
” Robin leaned his head back against the seat cushion and closed his eyes.
“Only two days till it’s Christmas.” Except what kind of Christmas was it going to be this year?
“What does your family usually do on the day?”
Robin opened his eyes. “We actually start celebrating on Christmas Eve. Mom makes a special meal. It’s kind of a tradition.
” He smiled. “There was one year when Ryan tried to convince them it was okay to open presents after midnight, but they nixed that idea. And on Christmas Day, we all get up as soon as Ryan does, because… hello, big kid. Then we help Mom make breakfast. She has Christmas carols playing all morning.”
“I like the sound of that,” Dean murmured.
“And in the afternoon we watch Christmas movies, usually our favorites, and that lasts pretty much all day.” He swallowed hard. “Except… it won’t ever be like that again.”
“Hey.” Dean’s voice was soft. “You don’t know that.”
Robin huffed. “Yeah, I do. This feels like the day I discovered Santa wasn’t real.”
Dean gave a gasp of mock horror. “He’s not?” Robin couldn’t help laughing at that. Dean leaned in conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you. You might offend him.”
Robin bit his lip. “You believe in… Santa Claus?” Okay, this was adorable.
Dean smiled. “How else do you think you ended up with me? You think it was by chance I walked into the boatyard?” He kissed Robin lightly on the lips. “You’re everything I ever wanted. You’re beautiful, smart, romantic…”
“Romantic? What gave me away?”
Dean chuckled. “I think it was the candle on the table when you made me dinner that evening. But more than that, it told me something vital.”
“What was that?” Robin wondered how revealing reheated mac and cheese could be.
Dean locked gazes with him. “I wanted to know if there was more to us than sex. I got my answer.”
“I could’ve told you that. You only had to ask.”
“Yes, but I’m a guy. That would have been too easy.” Dean covered Robin’s hand with his. “You said you didn’t want to think about all this. So can I make a suggestion?”
“If it’ll get my mind off my dad, I’ll go for anything.”
Dean squeezed his hand. “Let’s get out of here. You need fresh air, exercise… all good things for breathing life into you.” He smiled. “We were going to go skiing, remember?”
It was on the tip of Robin’s tongue to say he was in no mood to hit the slopes when he realized Dean was right. It was exactly what he needed. Sitting around worrying accomplished nothing.
“I think that’s a great idea.” He gazed into Dean’s eyes. “How? How can you get me the way you do, after knowing me such a short time?”
Dean laughed. “Remember what I said about us being more than chance? Now do you believe me?”
“Santa again, huh?” Robin sighed. A cute idea. Now, if Santa could get his dad to come around, Robin really would believe in miracles.
Dean lay in bed, disturbed now and again by the sound of late-night traffic. Not that he’d been sleeping anyway. His thoughts were of Robin on the other side of the wall.
This is killing him.
Robin had put on a brave face that afternoon, and they’d had a fantastic time. He marveled at Robin’s skill and speed on skis, and they’d both laughed at Robin’s idiotic notion that he could ever pass himself off as a beginner.
Except it had been Ryan’s idiotic notion.
However, once they got back to Dean’s place, Dean could see the strain in Robin’s face. If there had been any way Dean could’ve taken this away from him, he’d have jumped at it.
The door opened, and Dean turned to look. Robin stood in the doorway, back-lit by the lamp on the landing, wearing nothing but his briefs.
“Are you okay?” Dean sat up in bed.
“Yeah. Well… no.” Robin walked over to him. “My bed’s kinda big without you.”
Dean switched on the bedside light. “You wanted to sleep there, remember? You needed space.” And respecting Robin’s wishes had been tough, but Dean had done it.
“And now I need you.”
Dean didn’t hesitate. He threw back the comforter. “Get in.”
Robin climbed into the bed, and Dean drew him close, his arms around Robin’s slim frame. They lay in silence, Dean content to have him there. Where he belongs. He hoped Robin felt the same way.
“You weren’t the only one, you know,” Robin said after a few minutes.
“Hmm?”
“You said earlier today something about wanting to know if there was more to us than sex. I wanted to know too.”
Something clicked into place. “Last night… you sleeping in my guest room… was that some kind of test?”
Robin sighed. “Yeah, but not for you. I was the one who passed with flying colors.”
“I don’t understand.”
Robin stroked Dean’s chest. “I needed a breather, time to think. But I also had to see if I could spend a night without running to you. And before you say anything, I knew you’d be there for me if I asked you. But I needed to see if I could be strong.”
“And now?”
Robin stroked his beard. “I need to be loved.”
“You are,” Dean assured him. “Now let me love you some more.”
There was something magical about making love in the middle of the night, the lamp switched off, and the air filled with soft sighs and low moans.
They clung to each other, rolling beneath the comforter, Robin’s sharp intakes of breath and murmurs of “Oh yeah, there” Dean’s only indication that his fingers and tongue were in the right spots.
Gloving up was a little tricky in the dark, but he got there with a little help from Robin.
And when Dean hooked his arms under Robin’s knees and slowly sank into his warm, inviting body, he couldn’t hold back his heartfelt sigh of sheer joy.
“Love you,” he whispered as he slid into Robin’s ass, until his shaft was sheathed in tight heat.
“Love you too.” Robin’s lips claimed his an instant later, and that set the pattern.
They shared lingering kisses as Dean moved in and out of him, in no hurry to reach a destination, but simply enjoying the journey.
Robin’s hands were on his shoulders, his back, his neck, on his face, a constant connection.
When Dean came, he buried his face in Robin’s neck, breathing in his smell, his heart light at the sounds that fell from Robin’s lips.
Then he cradled Robin while he slid slick fingers into him, a sensual internal massage that brought Robin to orgasm, shaking and breathless in Dean’s arms.
“I’ve got you,” Dean murmured against Robin’s lips, their bodies slick with sweat.
He had no intention of letting Robin go.
Dean brought the hot chocolate into the living room, where Robin sat on the rug, teasing Loki with a piece of tinsel. Loki was having a great time, leaping into the air to try and grasp the shiny silver in his paws. Dean glanced at Robin’s face, and his chest tightened.
Robin looked tired.
Dean knew he’d awoken a few times during the night, and each time Dean had held him close, waiting for him to fall asleep again. But as the day wore on, Dean recognized the pain in those beautiful eyes. And there was nothing he could do to rid Robin of it.
He placed the mugs on the coffee table, then switched on the tree lights. Robin gazed at the tree, a sigh falling from his lips.
“Want me to switch them off?”
Robin jerked his head to stare at him. “What? No. It’s Christmas Eve. They should be on.”
“Not if they make you unhappy.” Dean sat beside him on the rug. “Have you thought about calling your dad? Isn’t it your special family meal this evening? Maybe you should go there.”
“If I thought it would do any good, I’d be there as fast as my bike would take me.”
“If I thought it would do any good, I’d drive you there.” Dean ran his fingers through Robin’s tousled hair. “You need to sleep, baby.”
Robin huffed. “I look that good, huh? Don’t bother lying. I’ve got eyes. And dark circles under them too.”
“Then go upstairs and take a nap. When you’ve had a sleep, I’ll cook us something. Whatever you want.”
Robin kissed him, a fleeting brush of his lips against Dean’s. “You’re trying to make my Christmas Eve special, aren’t you? Sweet man.” Then he nodded. “But you’re right. Maybe a nap is what I need.” He handed Dean the tinsel. “Here. You can take over as Loki’s entertainment.”
“And speaking of Loki… Do you think it’s a good idea to taunt him with tinsel? Seeing as he is definitely the ‘cat most likely to climb the tempting Christmas tree’?”
Robin bit his lip. “Oops?”
Dean laughed. “Loki can curl up in my lap while I watch some TV. Come down when you feel like it.”
Robin kissed the top of Dean’s head, then picked up his mug. “Not gonna waste hot chocolate.” He walked out of the living room.
Dean got up off the rug and sat on the couch, joined by both kitties.
He pointed the remote at the TV and switched it on.
After spending ten minutes or so channel hopping aimlessly, he hadn’t found anything that grabbed his attention.
Lady lay on the cushion beside him, and he stroked her back. Loki lay on the other side.
“How can we fix this, guys?” he murmured. Dean knew it was arrogant to think he could go over to Robin’s house and solve everything. Besides, he respected Robin’s wish to stay away.
When the doorbell rang, it roused him from a light doze. Dean went into the hallway, squinting at the glass in the front door, trying to ascertain who was out there.
He opened the door, and froze at the sight of Robin’s dad.
“Hey.” Mr. Davis shuffled his feet. “Can we talk?”