For Elio

[latermaybe]

With the end of the year closing in, I found myself anxious to close out the semester. I was distracted. I knew my colleagues could sense it, my students restless in classes that had lost focus. My writing had suffered, but it had never been something I was particularly proud of anyway. My heart wasn't in it. I wanted to be home.

I was afraid to go home.

I was compelled to be with Elio whenever possible, but his grief was consuming. I'd watched it whittle away at him, the cracks that Purge Night had left in him shattering the day that Jamie left, leaving behind the raw nerves beneath. Old wounds opened by the loss of his parents. The loss of me, over and over. I wanted to help him, but neither of us knew how I was meant to do that.

I stayed out for a few hours with some friends from the university, playing poker in the basement of their campus housing. I'd left early, guiltily, even though I'd told Elio where I'd be. I brought home a bottle of expensive wine and felt foolish. I loved him so much, and had never been so helpless.

Key in the door, I blew out a breath, braced myself, and stepped inside.

Comments

[speakordie]

“I don’t know what you mean,” I murmur with a smile, tucking my nose behind his ear. He smells like books, like sunshine, and I sigh contentedly before pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“I’m just standing here,” I add, pulling him tighter against me. Warmth flares in my belly and it’s almost a surprise. I haven’t felt it in weeks, too consumed by guilt and grief, and I squeeze Oliver’s hand, sliding our joined fingers up under his sweater. “You’re just very handsome when you feed me.”

[latermaybe]

"I'll have to keep that in mind," I teased him, as if I hadn't already known the power cooking for someone you loved. Both for him, and for me. There was little in the world that made me feel more useful.

Reaching for the tongs, I turned the steaks, glad that I was familiar enough with this process to be able to do it one-handed with ease.

While the second side seared, I twisted in his arms to kiss him, mouth smudging clumsily against his.

[speakordie]

I’m probably getting in the way but if I am, he isn’t saying so. He works around me, flipping the steaks with one hand while I sniff at his hair like a creep.

He turns to kiss me and I smile into it, shifting from behind him so I can cup his face in my hand and kiss him properly, deepening the kiss and licking at the inside of his bottom lip. The warmth in my belly grows, bright but unhurried, and I pull back to nudge our noses together as the meat hisses in the pan.

“Don’t let them burn, pesca,” I tease in a low voice, kissing him again before pulling away entirely and picking up my wine, smiling against the rim of my glass.

[latermaybe]

"Brat," I said affectionately, leaving the steaks on for a few more moments before transferring them to a plate to rest.

Grabbing a potholder, I took out the vegetables, setting the pan on a trivet and turning off the oven. My eyes met his, and another knot of tension in my chest unlocked. He looked, for the moment, content. It wouldn't last– couldn't, with everything that had happened, but it was enough to remind me that eventually, everything would be okay.

"Bring me your plate?"

[speakordie]

Oliver looks at me with something like relief in his eyes, and I smile back at him. It’s a good moment. It’s hard not to have a good moment with him, and I tell myself to take it one moment at a time. I want to linger here, to bask in it for as long as I can.

Nodding, I finish off my wine and then bring him both plates from the table. While he fills them, I refill our wine glasses and bring them over, and also get us two glasses of water. I push my chair closer to his before sitting down, so that we’re side by side instead of across from each other, and smile up at him as he sets the plates down.

“Grazie, pesca,” I tell him, tipping my head back to rest against his hip for a moment. “This looks amazing.”

[latermaybe]

"You're welcome," I answered back in Italian, bending to press a kiss to his forehead. Slipping my hand through his hair, I let the moment linger, before pulling away and sliding into my seat.

"We were both due for a decent meal," I said, taking his hand and giving it a brief squeeze.

[speakordie]

“Definitely,” I breathe out, feeling a rush of hunger as I look down at the plate. Oliver is such a good cook, always casually setting restaurant style meals in front of me, and I am so, so lucky.

I lift our joined hands and press a kiss to his knuckles before letting go to pick up my fork. Once I start eating, I realize just how hungry I am and set upon my meal with gusto, humming my compliments as I scarf it down. Eventually I pause to take a breath, cheeks flushing as I look over at him with a bashful smile.

“You and Mafalda would have made magic together,” I tell him, which is perhaps the highest compliment that I could give his food.

[latermaybe]

Warmed to see him eating with such passion, I picked up my own cutlery and dug in, the two of us hunched over our plates like ravenous wolves.

"I would've driven her crazy, and gotten kicked out of the kitchen in record time," I countered once I'd come up for air, despite taking the compliment for what it was. I missed Mafalda's expertise, which could only mean that he was desperate for it. I tried, now and then, to give him little tastes of home, but I was far from a matronly Italian cook.

[speakordie]

“She had a soft spot for you. She was so much nicer to you than she was to me,” I say fondly, and there’s a small ache in my chest because I can so easily picture them in the kitchen together. He would have been a worthy pupil for all the knowledge she had to give.

“Trust me. I know how good I’ve got it,” I tell him, pointing my fork at my nearly cleared plate before setting it down so I can lift the wine bottle. I finish it off between our glasses and then turn in until our knees are pressed together under the table. “In so many ways.”

[latermaybe]

"I think that was only because she expected me to be gone soon," I pointed out, my smile briefly regretful. Lifting my wine glass to my lips, I set a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently.

"Both of us do," I said, gently clinking my glass against his. I knew it wouldn't take away the hurt he felt, or the horror of what we'd gone through, but it was good to remind ourselves of it, as often as we could.

[speakordie]

“No, she usually had even less patience for our annual guests than she did for me,” I say with a wry smile. I drove Mafalda up the wall, but I know she loved me as if I were her own. I should have treated her better, looking back.

Oliver taps our glasses together and I smile at him, taking a long sip and leaning in closer, reaching out to brush a stray piece of piece of hair away from his forehead.

“What are you thinking for dessert?” I ask in a low voice, one that might be a little suggestive if he’d like to take it that way. I think I’d like very much to curl up on the sofa and be kissed by him. There are few things in life better, if anything at all.

[latermaybe]

Sitting back from my plate, I slipped an arm around his shoulders as I nursed my wine, smiling softly as his fingertips brushed my forehead.

"I'm sure we have some fruit in the crisper," I teased him, reading the warm, playful look on his face for what it was. Finishing off my wine, I reached for him, my touch delicate at the curve of his jaw, and pulled him into a kiss.

[speakordie]

“Wrong season for stone fruit,” I joke back, smirking a little and nuzzling into his palm as he guides me closer. Our mouths meet and I let my eyes fall shut as I relax against him.

Grief has clouded so much of my thoughts that I had almost forgotten just how good it feels to kiss him, to let his sunshine chase away the gray.

My fingers curl in the front of his shirt and I deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth like that day on the berm, like I’m discovering just how good it feels all over again.

[latermaybe]

"We could always branch out," I suggested, murmured against his mouth, my lips parting as his tongue swept out to taste my own.

Fingers slipping into his hair, I pulled him closer, my other hand gentle at the slight dip of his waist. After a moment, I pushed my chair back with a creak and urge him to his feet without breaking our kiss.

[speakordie]

I’ve been holding myself so rigid and now I can feel myself loosening, crackling like thawing ice, and I let out an almost startled whimper as Oliver guides me to my feet. He holds me and everything feels okay.

It isn’t. I know it isn’t and maybe it won’t be for a long time, but there’s a relief in knowing that there will be good moments. I can let the man I love chase it all away for a little bit. I can still feel good things.

I grab at his waist, hands sliding to the small of his back as I pull him in closer, one hand lifting to his jaw as we kiss each other like nothing else matters.

Because for right now, nothing else does.

[latermaybe]

I guided him back towards the sofa, navigating blindly around furniture, bare feet on the new rug. Sitting down, I pulled him with me, half into my lap, gentle but firm. Like this, the last month felt far away. It felt like something manageable. Together, we could make it through anything.

Right here, right now, was all that mattered.

I kissed him long and slow, cradling his jaw between my palms, taking in all the soft, needy sounds he made and holding them, keeping them, like they were something fragile and alive and precious.

[speakordie]

Oliver pulls me down on top of him, guides me into place in a way that’s more helpful than demanding, and I let out another whimper as he cradles my face in his big, warm hands. It feels so good that I could cry, but I’ve done enough of that lately. There will be no tears tonight.

I crawl fully into his lap, twisting at the waist so my backside is cradled between his thighs, my legs sprawled out to the side. My arms go around his neck and I lean back, urging him down on top of me as my back sinks into the sofa. I want him on top of me, covering me and keeping me safe.

“I missed you,” I murmur in Italian, wrapping my legs around his thighs and sliding one hand up the back of his shirt to feel his soft skin against my fingertips. “God, you’re so warm.”

[latermaybe]

Murmuring wordlessly, soothingly, I crawled on top of him, settling between his legs, pushing his shirt up until it was gathered beneath his arms, our chests pressed together.

I'd been right here, I nearly reminded him, but I knew exactly what he meant. Our lives had been turned upside down, and being together like this hadn't felt possible. But now, it all rushed back, the warmth of him, the comfort of it.

"I'm here," I promised, murmured against his lips, touching him like I could brand him with my fingertips.

[speakordie]

Oliver settles on top of me and I drag his sweater up, letting out a soft moan as our bodies press together, skin to skin, soothing like a balm and so, so warm. I wriggle out of my shirt and I tug his sweater over his head, mussing up his soft hair, and I sweep it away from his face, cupping his cheeks in my hands and kissing him again.

"I know," I breathe out, arching up into his firm touch and kissing him again, wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. His heart beats against mine, a perfect duet, each thump a declaration.

"I love you. I love you so much," I say into his mouth, licking the lingering taste of wine from the backs of his teeth. "You make me feel so good."

[latermaybe]

"I love you, too. So much," I echoed, opening up to his kiss, my hips settling in the cradle of his thighs. I made no move to strip him of the rest of his clothes, content to kiss him like this a little longer.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured, sweeping his hair back from his face, my chest aching with love for him. I wanted so badly to make everything alright for him, if only for a little while.

[speakordie]

A part of me feels the urge to argue, because I certainly don’t feel beautiful. I look like I haven’t seen the sun in days, and haven’t slept even longer. But I know Oliver isn’t just saying it to be kind. He says it like he really means in and I can’t help but to smile back at him.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” I murmur in a playful, singsongy voice as I touch his face, fingertips trailing across his brow and down to his jaw as I kiss him. There is truth to the lullaby, and my arms go around him to pull him close, finding his mouth with mine between each line. “You make me happy, when skies are gray.”

[latermaybe]

"Hush, you goose," I laughed, kissing his cheek sloppily, fingertips dancing over his ribs, playful and exhilarated.

Humming a bit of the tune along with him, I buried my face in his neck, wrapping him up in a long-limbed hug, the two of us tangled up and nearly wrestling in a way we hadn't allowed ourselves in weeks.

[speakordie]

"Stop," I laugh out as he tickles my ribs, squirming and tipping my head back. His arms go around me and I hug him back, sliding one hand into his hair and kissing the side of his face.

"Actually don't," I add after a moment, hooking my knees over his hips and rolling us right off of the sofa. Oliver lands on his back and I fall on top of him, straddling his hips and planting my palms into the carpet on either side of his head. "Ha."

[latermaybe]

"Oof," I grunted, wheezing out a laugh as he landed on top of me, heavier than he looked, and bony to boot.

"You've won," I pointed out, a sly smile tugging at my lips as my fingertips crawled up towards his ribs. "What's your prize?"

[speakordie]

“Damn right,” I say with a smile, and I’m so relieved to find that this is as easy as it’s always been. I spend time with Oliver and pain just melts away.

“I’m looking at him.” Winking, I take his hands in mine and press kisses to his knuckles while watching his face. I kiss his fingertips, then take the tip of his thumb between my lips and suckle briefly at it before letting his hands fall so I can drop mine to his zipper, scooting back a little to make more room. “But if you’re asking for specificity, I do have a few ideas.”