Raph would pick up a new skill for Wyatt’s daughter, just because she asked. If that wasn’t generous of him, Wyatt didn’t know what it was. And his heart answered with an intense flutter. Was this a different sort of love?
He busied himself with the rest of the tables, taking some of the load off his other servers. Time dragged.
It was only when Raph came up to him, Hazel by his side, her backpack on her shoulders, that the crawling minutes began to fly again. Wyatt left a table of newly-settled patrons, meeting them by the glass doors.
“I’ll pick up my violin after I’ve dropped Hazel off,” Raph said, hands in his pockets.
Wyatt’s breath caught. “It’s a two-hour trip to and from Highton.”
“Not like I’ve got anything else to do.”
Wyatt’s breath caught. Raph would grab his violin and play again, just because Wyatt asked. And maybe he really did love this man, whatever sort of love that was. “Oh,” he said. “I’ll look forward to that.”
“Try not to miss us too much,” Hazel said, nudging Raph with her elbow. She grinned; Wyatt realized he hadn’t been looking at her at all. Shame on him as a dad.
“You’re getting sassy on me, aren’t you?” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Night, hon. See you in the morning.”
“I’m always sassy.” Hazel’s arms tightened around him, small but firm. “Night, Dad. Love you.”
“See you later,” Raph said. His gaze dropped to Wyatt’s lips, then drifted back to his eyes. Wyatt wished they weren’t in the middle of a crowded diner, so he could lean into Raph, breathe his scent off his skin.
“See you,” he said instead.
Hazel led the way out. Raph glanced at Wyatt a last time. Despite his weariness, Wyatt’s body hummed. He wanted to be home with his family, with Raph. But the drive-in was short-staffed tonight—all he had to do was get through the next few hours.
He watched until they rounded the corner, out of sight. Then he turned, wishing the remaining hours would speed by somehow.
By 2 AM, the fatigue had drained most of the strength from Wyatt’s limbs. With a momentous effort, he hauled himself out of his car. Then he staggered up the stairs, dragging his arm up to press the doorbell. It felt like he was lifting a boulder.
In moments, the door opened. Raph frowned, stepping out to gather Wyatt into his arms. “You don’t look okay.”
“‘M so tired,” Wyatt mumbled, leaning into Raph’s chest.
Raph had changed out of his button-down shirt and pants, into a loose T-shirt and shorts. Wyatt nosed into his shoulder, breathing in soap and teak. Raph smelled like home, like comfort, and Wyatt sagged against his chest, letting his exhaustion take over. He was home now.
“Fuck, I was gonna ask if you could leave early.”
Raph shut the door. He bent, swept Wyatt’s knees out from under him, and carried him to his bedroom. Wyatt closed his eyes, barely aware of anything else, save for Raph, and Raph’s warmth soaking through his clothes.
“I could’ve gone and picked you up.”
“You don’t have to bother,” Wyatt said.
Raph set him gently on the bed, flicked the lights on, and fitted himself against Wyatt’s side. He pulled off Wyatt’s shoes, then started on his shirt. “You can’t even stand, Wy. Can’t you take a few days off work?”
Wyatt snuggled into him, his shirt now gaping open. “The drive-in needs me.”
“You’ve got good staff there.” Raph started on Wyatt’s belt, tugging it open, then unzipping his pants. “Trust them to take over for a few days.”
Wyatt sighed. Right now, it seemed like a good idea to succumb to sleep, and let everything else fall into place. Raph eased the shirt off Wyatt’s shoulders, then laid him back on the bed. He pulled off Wyatt’s socks, then his pants and underwear. Wyatt let him. He’d slept with Raph a few times by now; he trusted Raph with his body.
From his crouch, Raph pressed a kiss to Wyatt’s belly. He left the bed for a bit; Wyatt closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, Raph was cradling him in the bathroom, and the shower was running, water vapor clinging heavy on his skin.
“I fell asleep?” Wyatt mumbled.
“Yeah, no sex for you tonight.” Raph knelt, then sat Wyatt in the tub, leaning him against a folded towel. “No need to stay awake. I’m gonna get you clean, and we’ll go to sleep.”
“Mm.” Sleep sounded good.
“This hot enough?” Raph angled the shower stream on Wyatt’s foot, a warm, soothing patter of water.
“Gods, yeah.” The heat seeped into his body, warmer than the cold tub, and Wyatt shivered.
Raph shrugged out of his shirt and shorts, climbing into the tub. He closed the shower curtain, sealing them into dim light and humid air. Wyatt watched him muzzily, admiring Raph’s expanse of tanned, smooth skin.
In silence, Raph knelt in front of Wyatt. He leaned Wyatt forward, wetting Wyatt’s hair with the gentle spray. Then the water shut off, and a bottle cap snapped open. Raph lathered his hands, then began to work the shampoo into Wyatt’s hair, strong fingers massaging his scalp. Wyatt moaned.
The pressure smoothed from his hairline up his head, then down the back, swirling up the sides. And Wyatt couldn’t remember the last time anyone had washed him. It felt good in Raph’s arms, safe.
“You don’t have to,” he mumbled.
“I want to,” Raph said.
The shower started up again. Raph pressed the edge of his hand against Wyatt’s forehead, shielding Wyatt’s face as he rinsed his hair. Then he wet Wyatt’s body again, and Wyatt relaxed further, running his fingers along Raph’s thigh, savoring the hard muscles of his body.
Raph leaned him back against the wall. “Close your eyes. Gonna wash your face.”
Wyatt closed his eyes. Raph’s hands settled on his cheeks first, warm and firm, brushing down his nose, his mouth. His thumbs swept over Wyatt’s forehead, feathered over his eyes, and swirled across his lips,
