ourselves.”
“I am not a hobbit. For one, I’m not short,” Damien mumbled around his fingers, sucking them clean of crab and butter. “And between the two of us, I’d like to remind you, my foot was not the one Ryan’s hamster mistook for a sex doll.”
THEY’D TAKEN off their shoes and buried their toes in the sand, sitting down on the beach’s gentle slope. The stairwell down the cliff was lit well enough to see, but not so bright as to intrude upon the milky darkness of a romantic evening. The ocean kept them company, murmuring of far-off lands and midnight swims, but neither one of them felt inclined to put any part of their bodies into cold water.
Sionn sat as close to Damien as he could, wrapping his arm around his lover’s waist. It took Damien a minute before he finally relaxed enough to lean into Sionn’s embrace. The tiny sigh from the musician’s parted lips was as sweet as the bit of chocolate they’d been given at the end of their meal.
“Do you think people wonder about how the two of us get on?” Damien murmured. “I was at the studio the other day and I saw a guy I used to know back before—before Sinner’s got big—and he asked me if I would hook up with him. I told him I was with you, and he kinda laughed at me. I’m not sure what that says about me or maybe the two of us.”
“I think that says more about him than it says about you,” Sionn remarked. “In a lot of ways, you’re just as private as Miki. You just have a different kind of face you wear. You’re more sociable, but it’s kind of a front, that rock star thing you play at. Your partner in crime just doesn’t know how to people as well as you do.”
“Miki is about as sociable as a rabid wolverine with sea urchins caught up its ass.” Damien snorted. “I just wanted you to know that… you and I? I don’t ever want to see my life without you in it. I love you so fucking much, it hurts sometimes to look at you. And I know I don’t say that a lot. Fuck, maybe I don’t say it at all, but you mean as much to me as Miki does. Maybe… okay, in some ways even more. Because I don’t have to share you with anybody, and I feel like you get everything that I am.”
“Yeah, I get you.” Sionn tangled his fingers into Damien’s hair, pulling his head back with a tug. Capturing Damien’s mouth in a fierce kiss, Sionn drank from his lover’s lips until he left Damien breathless. “I love you, D. I love the quiet you that nobody knows. And I love this fierce, argumentative warrior who will stand in front of a rushing horde to protect his broken brother. But most of all, I love the man who shares my bed and my heart and sometimes even lets me eat my own bacon. So, just so we’re clear, I will always be in your life, just like you’ll always be in my soul.”
Fried Rice and Wisdom
“SO YOU just stand here. And wait?” Miki resisted the urge to poke at the rice in the skillet. “How do you know when it’s done?”
“Ye’ve worked in Chinese restaurants, son. Didn’t ye pay attention when they were making fried rice?” Donal worked his knife through a slice of carrot, turning it into slivers.
“Dad, the only view I got from the kitchen was from the sink and the table they put in the back where you sat and made wonton.” Miki gestured at the pan with his wooden spatula. “This shit is actually cooking. Do you honestly think they would let me near anybody’s food? I like burnt grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“Honestly, who doesn’t?” Donal tsked at him, gesturing with the knife for Miki to step away from the stove. “Leave off of that and come help me. Do me a favor and chop up that chicken and all of the leftover bacon. About the size of a dime for the chicken and a little bit smaller than that for the bacon.”
It was one of the things he loved about Donal—one of the many things. His adopted father knew Miki needed reference points, especially when faced with things he’d never done before. As stupid as it sounded, the kitchen was a waystation of sorts for him, and to enter it