Chapter 4 Gingerbread Justice League #2
Jericho smiled at him, leaning his forearms on the counter. “Hey, kid. Rough day at school?”
He nodded. “We made other daddy sigh again…a lot.”
“Yeah? Do you know why other daddy was sighing a lot?” Jericho asked.
“Because the mean lady in her cheap hooker heels said that we showed dis-dis—I don’t remember the word but it meant we’d grow up to be bad people and might have to leave school.”
Jericho bit his lip, partially to keep from laughing, but also partially because he wanted to find this woman and beat her ass for putting that look on his baby’s face. “Cheap hooker heels?” he finally echoed.
Jett nodded, looking very serious. “Daddy said he refused to take parenting advice from a lady in cheap hooker heels and last season’s Prada.”
Jericho snorted out a laugh, that he turned into a cough so his child didn’t think he condoned that type of behavior. If Atticus had resorted to quoting Legally Blonde, that woman had been real close to turning her case files into Jesus Christ himself.
His husband was, in most ways, one of the most patient, docile men that had ever lived. It’s what Jericho loved about his prickly mate. But when it came to their children, Atticus had no problems taking the low road, even if it meant backpacking through hell.
“Are we bad, daddy?” Jett asked, his tiny brow furrowed.
Jericho physically flinched. It was like someone had just curb stomped his heart. “Of course, not. You are two of the sweetest, kindest, gentlest boys I know. That lady just doesn’t understand our family.”
Boots hopped up onto the counter to lick her own butt like she was showing off that she did not, in fact, need their help. Jett giggled. Boots sneezed, then left as quickly as she came. She was probably reminding them that she required her fancy overpriced gourmet cat food. Spoiled brat.
He didn’t look convinced, his pale skin pinkening just like Atticus’s, blue eyes anxious. “Will we have to leave school?”
“No, baby. She’ll leave that school—” And possibly that plane of existence— “before you do. That’s a promise,” Atticus said, carrying Jagger from the bathroom, even though he was getting far too big to carry.
He plopped the boy onto the stool beside his brother then walked behind the counter to drape himself over his husband’s back.
“Are we in trouble?” Jagger asked, staring up at Jericho with those big, brown boba eyes.
He hated the anxious expressions on their faces.
It wasn’t fair. They hadn’t done anything wrong.
If anything, it was Atticus and Jericho’s fault for not being thorough enough, not stressing enough, the importance of avoiding suspicion.
The two boys blamed themselves for everything.
No matter how much they reassured them, they always acted like they were just visiting, like a day would come when they’d be told they couldn’t stay anymore. That they had to leave.
Jericho and Atticus had sat them down both separately and together, explaining that they’d adopted them legally. That this was their home forever. They would always smile and nod, but it was clear they still didn’t quite believe it.
“You’re not in trouble,” Jericho assured them. “But why did you make these?”
Jett shrugged. “Cause Ms. Kelly said that we could give them as presents. We wanted to wrap each one up for the uncles cause you guys say they’re hard to shop for.”
That was so cute it made Jericho want to squeeze them until they popped. “That’s very sweet. But why exactly are they holding weapons?” Jericho asked patiently.
“Not just weapons, daddy,” Jagger said excitedly. “They’re holding their favorite weapon. Cause it’s their favorite.” His face fell suddenly. “I wanted to do uncle Noah with his favorite thing too but Jett couldn’t figure out how to make a dog.”
“Which of you…uh, decorated these? Was it both of you?” Atticus asked, hooking his chin over Jericho’s shoulder, strong arms wrapping tight around his waist.
Jett’s eyes lit up. “Jagger did the frosting but I made the shapes. Not the man. That was a metal thing that made everyone’s cookies look the same shape. But I used the leftover dough to make the little weapons.”
Jericho could feel Atticus’s smile in his words. “And you guys did such a really good job. But do you remember what we talked about at the Fourth of July party a year or so ago?”
“And again at Halloween?” Jericho added.
“And a couple of weeks ago, at Thanksgiving when Arabella’s Bratz doll drowned under suspicious circumstances in grandpa’s pool?” They both blinked at him. “How we don’t talk about the family secrets? Do you remember that?”
They both nodded, expressions serious. “We didn’t, daddy. We swear. We didn’t talk to anyone about it at all.”
Jericho chuckled as Atticus pressed his forehead to his shoulder with a soft groan. “To be fair, Freckles. It’s our fault for not being way more specific.”
He felt him nod against his shoulder. For a moment, silence fell over the four of them.
Jericho’s gaze floated back to their Christmas tree.
This was the first year the kids had helped decorate.
Their house was cozy, lived in. Like a family lived there.
Jericho wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with said family and watch something.
They just had to get through this slight bump in their day.
“Its true. We weren’t clear enough with you.
So, in the future, we need you to promise that you won’t say or do anything that might let people know about our family secret.
No weapons. No drawings of blood or knifes or torture devices,” Atticus said.
“Just happy pictures of Boots and flowers and suns. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” they said in unison.
Jericho reached out and squeezed each of their little hands. “Most people don’t understand that we’re helping the world. And if they find out what we do, we can’t keep people safe. We don’t want to make anyone unsafe, right?”
They shook their heads.
“Good,” Jericho said. “Why don’t you guys go get your pillows and blankets and we’ll watch The Grinch before bed. I’m sure daddy won’t mind ordering pizza while I’m in the shower.”
“Yay! Pizza,” Jagger cried.
He loved pizza. He’d eat it for every meal if he could. They wiggled off their stools and ran to do as they were told. Jericho knew they’d get distracted and give him a few minutes to talk alone to his husband.
The moment they were alone, Jericho snorted, rounding on his husband. “Cheap hooker heels? That’s not very nice. Freckles.”
Atticus scoffed. “She’s lucky I didn’t say anything about that wig of hers. She looked like she’d skinned a golden retriever and wore it on her head like a trophy.”
Jericho laughed, his hands sliding down to the swell of Atticus’s rounded ass. “I swear, sometimes you’re cattier than Felix.”
Atticus let Jericho draw him closer, letting him grind their hips together gently, making both of them groan softly. “I am not.”
“Are too,” Jericho taunted.
“You would be, too. She said our children showed signs of deviant and disturbing behavior. That we should have them evaluated. In front of them, Jer. She said it right to their faces.”
“What a twat,” Jericho muttered.
Atticus nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. I could have called her way worse.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Jericho crooned against his ear.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Atticus muttered.
“Actually, yeah, I would. You know how much I love it when you talk dirty to me, princess. Almost as much as you love when I do it to you, too.”
Atticus made a tiny half-bitten sound, then reluctantly pushed him away. “Go shower. I’ll order dinner and then we can get them into bed and have a little alone time,” Atticus said, drawing him in for a kiss.
“Yeah, Freckles?” he asked, voice dropping low. “What did you have in mind?”
Atticus ran his top teeth across his full bottom lip, gaze scorching as he looked his husband up and down. “Well, first, I was thinking of taking these clothes off, then snuggling into our big, comfy bed…”
“Go on…”
“Then I’m gonna put that big, big—” Jericho could feel his dick taking an interest— “television of ours to good use. I’m talking the trashiest trash tv. I might even open a bottle of wine and dissociate for an hour or three.”
Jericho grinned. “Sexy, can I join in?”
“Maybe,” Atticus said, prissily. “If you promise to be quiet…and keep your hands to yourself.”
Jericho knew for a fact that the second one was bullshit.
Freckles loved making him work for it. He wanted Jericho to tease and taunt and beg him just a little, before finally just taking what he wanted.
All the while, his little pillow princess would huff and puff and act like he was doing Jericho the favor. It was so fucking sexy.
“If you don’t want me to talk then don’t put on Real Lives of Mormon Wives,” he added. “How do you expect me to stay silent when we watch that? They’re Mormon swingers, Freckles. Mormon swingers. Two years ago I thought that was an oxymoron…but now it's…a thing that lives rent free in my head.”
Atticus snorted, tugging him forward to fuck his tongue past his lips, exploring lazily. When he pulled back, he said, “You talked through every season of 90 Day Fiancé. And Love is Blind. And The Circle. You talked through Love Island. You even talked through Selling Sunset.”
Jericho bit at Atticus’s bottom lip, tugging it before freeing it with a pop. “I talk through them cause you get mad when I fall asleep.”
“It is possible to watch a show and stay silent while also staying awake,” Atticus pouted.
“Not if you’re me. Besides, I let you talk through my favorite movies all the time.
Hell, the first time we watched a movie together, by the end of it, you’d practically given me a powerpoint presentation about the exploitation of children and the numerous child labor violations happening within The Goblin Kingdom. ”
“I still maintain that using literal babies to run your kingdom is not only illegal and immoral but just bad business. Especially when you turn them into puppets. Also, his bulge alone should be grounds for a hostile work environment at least and a sexual harassment claim if nothing else.”
Jericho cut him off with a debauched moan right in his ear. “Yeah, that’s it, Freckles, talk to me about David Bowie’s huge bulge.”
Atticus snorted, shoving him away. “Go shower. You smell like motor oil.”
“You love the scent of motor oil,” Jericho reminded him. “It gets you all hot and bothered.”
“I do now,” Atticus said. “You’ve ruined me.”
“Not yet, but I will later if you let me,” Jericho said, giving him a grin filled with promise.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Consider me turned on. Go shower so we can spend time with our children.”
“What are you going to do with the Gingerbread Justice League over there,” he asked, nodding towards the cookies.
“I mean, they worked so hard on them. I figured we’d let them wrap them up and give them to their uncles.
They’ll get a huge laugh out of it if nothing else.
I was-I was also thinking maybe we should bake some more over the weekend as a family.
That way they can finish making the cookies they wanted. ”
Jericho loved him so much sometimes it felt like his heart might burst out of his chest and sear itself to his husbands.
He briefly closed the distance between them one more time, grabbing his face and pressing quick little kisses over whatever skin he could reach.
Lips, cheeks, nose, jaw, nothing was safe.
Finally Atticus pushed him away for a second time, with more force, skin adorably pink and ears burning red. “Go. Shower,” he demanded, breathing a little heavier.
“Okay. Okay,” Jericho said, sullenly. “But only if you tell me you love me.”
Atticus rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched upwards. “I love you.”
“And that you’re mine,” he murmured.
Atticus’s eyes roamed Jericho’s face as he said, “Don’t be stupid. You know I’m yours. Only yours.”
Jericho leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Tell me how much you love my huge di—”
“Daddy!” Jagger shouted, cutting him off.
Jericho huffed. “I love our kids, but they’re such cockblocks.”
“You weren’t gonna get laid anyway. Go shower, Go,” he said with a laugh when Jericho still hesitated. “I’ll go see what the kids need, then I’ll order the pizza.”
Jericho groped Atticus’s ass one more time. “Promise me you’ll at least let me get you off later, as an apology?”
“Fine,” Atticus said like he was doing Jericho another favor. “Now go or I’ll change my mind and blue ball you for a month.”
“As if you could stay off this that long,” he said, palming himself through his pants.
“Daddy!” Jett shrieked.
“Duty calls,” Atticus muttered.
“Be right back,” Jericho promised, giving him an encouraging slap on the ass. “Love you, princess.”
Atticus glowered at him, but still mumbled. “I love you, too.”
“I know,” he said with a grin, backing out of the kitchen before Atticus could throw something at him.
He headed into their bathroom whistling a Christmas carol, once more feeling like the luckiest man to be alive.