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Aisha snuck out while they were celebrating the Petunias' triumphant come-from-behind victory. Jensen didn't even realize she'd gone until Clay told him the next day; he'd been too busy helping Anne and the other parents wrangle a bunch of excited eight-year olds. Shut up, chasing them around the soccer field acting like a t-rex was a brilliant plan to wear them out; it wasn't his fault if it didn't work. At any rate, Clay told Jensen about Aisha the next morning, right before he told everyone that he was leaving, too, following Aisha in her never-ending quest to kill Max.
Jensen was over Max. Aisha had gone on and on (and on) about him before she left, but no one really seemed to care. Well, no one but Clay, who was convinced that they could trust Aisha now that they knew all of her secrets.
Jensen, who doubted anyone would ever know all of that woman's secrets, would trust her about as far as he could throw her.
Although, thinking about it, he really could throw her, at least a short distance. She was strong, but it wasn't like she weighed much; he sometimes worried she was too thin. He was definitely stronger than her--he'd carried Legless Pooch, among other feats of derring-do--and he could certainly throw her. As long as she was cooperating, anyway, and if he were going to throw her, she'd have to be cooperating, or else what good was the metaphor? The point was…he wasn't sure what the point was, but she was gone so it didn't matter. None of it really mattered, including Max.
As an example, no one was blinking an eye at the barely-fake IDs he'd set up--first for Pooch, so he could actually sign his son's birth certificate, thank you very much, Jensen, and then for the rest of them. They were all staying with Anne, for fuck's sake; if anyone were really after them, they wouldn't be hard to find. Max might not be dead, but they'd hit him hard enough to keep him down for a while, no matter what Aisha thought.
Anyway, Jensen was out of the biz. He was home, no one was trying to kill him (that he knew of, anyway), and he no longer had to follow the edicts of the United States Army. He could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to spend some serious time relaxing with his sister and his niece, who still hadn't quite forgiven him for the week or so ("Eleven days, Jake!") they'd thought he was dead. So he didn't give a fuck if Clay chased after some lead with Aisha. He was done.
Pooch and Jolene stuck around for a month or so, carefully considering every option before deciding that the right Poochmobile for their current circumstances was a Volvo. "Nothing but the best for my babies," Pooch had crooned as he buckled the Pup into the car seat with the highest consumer safety rating and took him for a ride around the block. It was probably a good thing Clay was gone; he'd have tried to get them into, like, a minivan from 1993.
That night, they grilled steaks and sat out in the yard until dark, then roasted marshmallows and made s'mores. Jensen watched Pooch, Jolene, and their puppy with more than a little envy. He loved Anne and Emily, but he'd long since accepted the fact that he'd never have what the Pooches had. Or at least he thought he had--that night, glancing wistfully at Cougar off and on, he caught himself wanting. Bad move, Jensen--no biscuit.
He knew Cougar wasn't going to stick around much longer. He had to be missing his family. Jensen had caught him talking to someone in Spanish a few times, but he'd always backed away. Cougar was a private guy. It wasn't any of Jensen's business, even if he wanted it to be.
Anne kept telling him to talk to Cougar, but that was not going to happen. He had Cougar's friendship. More than that, he had his trust. If he said anything, he might lose it, and nothing was worth that risk.
"You're an idiot," Anne said, more than once. "Have you seen the way he looks at you? He let you wear his hat, Jake. A truer declaration of love there has never been."
"Okay, first of all, Carlos Alvarez is straight," Jensen pointed out reasonably. "You have no idea how many women I've seen him pick up over the years, and I've never seen him so much as glance at a guy, no matter how hot he was. Second, did you catch the name? Carlos Alvarez? Because Cougs isn't just straight, he's--and I get that this is stereotyping, but hear me out anyway--he's Catholic, and he's a believer, and he's from a culture that doesn't exactly cotton to the occasional fudge-packer among us. How he can still believe after all the shit we've seen, I don't know, but I do know I'm not gonna do anything to come between a man and his God."
"Fine," Anne said, throwing up her hands. "Go right ahead believing that, Jake. Just let the best thing that could ever happen to you walk on out of your life."
"Cougs would never walk out of my life," Jensen protested, because that was nothing but the truth. "We'll keep in touch. He'll come back to visit."
Anne shook her head and left the room. It didn't occur to him until later that he'd just completely contradicted his reasoning for not telling Cougar, but Anne either didn't catch it or chose not to call him on it.
Cougar stayed a few weeks more than the Pooches did, spending more and more time on the phone with each passing day. Even without listening, Jensen could tell he was getting pressured to come home, and he didn't understand why Cougar was sticking around. The one time he asked, Cougar just looked at him from under his hat.
Jensen was used to being able to read all of Cougar's looks, but this one had him stumped.
The day Cougar finally left, he pulled Jensen into a tight hug, tighter than he'd hugged the Pooches or Anne. He held on for longer, too, even longer than he had with Emily.
Jensen's mouth, as it often did, opened before he could think to stop it. "Love you," he murmured into Cougar's neck, then added a quick, "man," because that covered him, right? Cougar wouldn't realize…it was just a bro thing. No big deal.
He was so busy freaking out about what he'd said that he nearly missed the "I know" Cougar whispered in response. Before he'd had a chance to take that in, Cougar had brushed his lips against Jensen's cheek and pulled away. Jensen could only stand there gaping as Cougar turned and walked into the terminal.
"It's okay, Uncle Jake," Emily said. "Uncle Carlos told us to look after you, so that's what Mom and me are gonna do."
"Thanks, Ems," Jake said, returning her hug and getting back into the car, still unsure exactly what had just happened and what it might mean.
***
Once or twice a week, Jensen would call Cougar, or Cougar would call him, and they would talk. Well, for values of "talk" that included most of the words coming from Jensen, but that was SOP. A lot of times they'd Skype. Jensen would spend those conversations covertly searching Cougar's face for something he couldn't (wouldn't dare) name. He was never sure what he saw in Cougar's expressions--reading them on his laptop was a lot harder than when Cougar was right next to him--but he could tell there was something potentially good happening. It wasn't like Cougar talked much more than usual, but it seemed like his face was more open than it used to be.
It was September when Cougar left; there was already a bite in the air. By the time Jensen had moved into the house he'd purchased with some of Max's ill-gotten gains, it was October, and the leaves were changing. It was the first time he'd been home for the explosion of fall color in years. He hiked some, took a ton of pictures (most of which he sent to Cougar, because there were no maple trees in San Antonio, which was a crying fucking shame if you asked Jensen), and appreciated the new furnace he'd had installed the week after he'd moved.
He dressed up as a pirate for Halloween. His house was very popular, probably more from the amount of candy he gave away (thanks again to those ill-gotten gains) than from the kick-ass decorations he'd put up. Emily dressed as a pirate wench, and she was the best pirate wench that ever wenched. It was a great night in a great month; the only thing that was missing was Cougar.
Thanksgiving was the first one he'd had at home in years, and Jensen went all out. Anne had never been much of a cook, so she was happy to bring Emily over to his place (especially now that the fireplace was no longer belching smoke). Jensen made enough food to feed…well, to feed his team, but that was okay, because they were there in spirit. And on Skype, even Clay and Aisha, holed up somewhere in Manitoba for chrissakes--they didn't even have Thanksgiving on the right day there.
The Pooches were doing well, and the Pooch-pup was at the smiling and giggling stage Jensen had missed with Emily. It was probably for the best, because if he'd been around when she was that adorable, his heart might have exploded.
"Didja hear how he laughed when Pooch bopped his nose, Cougs?" Jensen asked that evening, after establishing that Cougar had, in point of fact, also Skyped with the rest of the team.
"Carlos," Cougar said, the corner of his mouth twitching. He was sitting on the steps of his front porch, wearing a flannel shirt over a henley with his jeans. He looked good.
"Pretty sure his name is Linwood, Cougs," Jensen corrected. "They named him after his daddy, not you, more's the pity. I'm still trying to get them to call him Pup, because, seriously, could there be a better nickname, but so far Jolene refuses, the traitor. I think it has something to do with getting Pooch back for being dead while she was pregnant."
"Not him, me," Cougar said. That's when Jensen realized, holy shit, Cougar's head was naked.
"Cougar…Carlos," Jensen corrected himself when he saw Cougar frown. "Whatever your name is--shit, you haven't been replaced by an alien or a robot, have you? Because that would be a crying shame. The women of this planet would mourn, Cougar. I mean, so would I, but you'd really be letting a lot of women down. And seriously, dude, where is your hat?"
"No alien," Cougar said, the side of his mouth quirking up for real now, an actual Cougar smile, the one where the entire left side of his face got involved. That was a rare thing, and to be celebrated. Good thing Jensen saved the video from all their calls. "Not a soldier; not wearing a soldier's hat. Call me Carlos."
"Carlos," Jensen said after a moment to regroup. "Okay, I can work with that. I mean, I get it. We're not Spec Ops, haven't been for a long time. We're not even a team anymore, are we?"
Cougar--Carlos; shit, that was going to take some getting used to--smiled again. "Still a team. You and me."
"Okay, good," Jensen said, basking in the glow of that smile, directed at him. "Uh, I guess you could call me Jake? If you want, I mean. I'm kinda getting used to it again; no one here calls me Jensen."
"Jake," Carlos acknowledged, nodding, and Jake (because hearing Carlos say it made it more real, somehow, and all of a sudden he could think of himself that way, too, like he hadn't since he enlisted) went on about how he'd missed seeing Emily when she was the Pup's age. And just like that there was a new world order. They were Jake and Carlos now.
A week later, Jake worked up the courage to ask Carlos what brought on all the changes. "What, you go to confessional or something?" he said, shooting for the right tone, where Carlos could take it as a joke, or seriously, depending on what the answer was.
Carlos nodded. "New priest. It's good."
"That's good," Jake said, for once completely sincere. "I'm glad."
Carlos hummed a little, and they once again went on with their conversation, meaning Jake started telling Carlos about some of the other improvements he was working on. Carlos listened, making occasional noises of agreement (fixing the wood stove) and disapproval (getting up on what turned out to be an unreliable ladder to clean out the gutters, but it was only a little sprain, no big deal).
Christmas was a few weeks after that. It didn't feel right to send the kind of gag gift he'd given Cougar in the past, so after some thought Jensen ordered a couple of books by Mexican authors he thought Carlos might like and sent those instead. All he got in response was a card, which might have felt like a disappointment if it hadn't included a picture of Carlos holding his brother's kid, the two of them beaming at each other with the same lop-sided smile. Jake wasn't sure he'd ever seen Carlos smiling like that before--even bigger and more open than the one on Thanksgiving. It was breathtaking.
"Your new year's resolution better be to tell him," Anne said when she caught him staring at the photo. "If you don't, I might have to take matters into my own hands."
"You're not the boss of me," Jake said. It worked about as well as it ever had--Anne rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm.
When he talked to Carlos on Christmas day, he could hear all the happy family noises going on until Carlos went out to the porch step again. Jake caught him up on the latest Emily shenanigans (which, contrary to what Anne said, he had had no part in whatsoever--using some of Jake's left-over purple paint in her room had been all Emily).
"She says hi," he said. "They both do. Ems made me promise to tell you she misses you." He took a quick breath and added, "so do I. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to talk to you, but it'd be nice to be able to show you the house." He grimaced, glad they weren't on Skype this time. Real smooth, Jake.
"I'd like that," Carlos said, and just like that, all was right in Jake's world again.
He didn't push it, though. He wanted to ask for exact dates and times, get a commitment (shut up, not that kind of commitment, although at this rate he was going to end up being committed; he had it so bad), but he didn't want to pressure Carlos. He'd come when he was ready.
Jake mentioned Anne's date for New Year's Eve a few minutes later. "So I'll be ringing in the new year with my favorite girl," he said. "She'll probably want to call you at midnight, if you're gonna be around." And now he was back to being his usual smooth self, Jesus.
There was a noticeable pause before Carlos answered. "I have plans."
"Oh," Jake said, his shoulders slumping. "Got a hot date, huh?"
"Something like that," Carlos said, which was a lot more evasive than he'd been these last few months.
Jake got off the phone as quickly as he could. He thought about calling Carlos every day that week, but he didn't. He knew Anne was right when she said he was acting like a child, but he couldn't help it.
Carlos didn't call him, either.
***
He and Ems were going to have the best New Year's Eve celebration known to man and girl. There would be left-over Christmas cookies, a ton of DVDs to choose from, pizza from La Festa (with bonus beer for Jake; he seriously loved that place), popcorn, and all the sparkling cider an eight year old could possibly drink. They'd carefully discussed the options for watching the ball drop and decided which local channel was the best bet. Emily was going to change into her new Captain America pjs as soon as Anne dropped her off. It was gonna be epic.
And it was epic, right up until they resumed their Babylon 5 marathon and got to Divided Loyalties. Jake hadn't watched the series since it originally aired, and he'd forgotten just how devastating it was when Talia turned out to be the sleeper agent. He would have tried to play it off with a joke, but Emily was her mother's daughter, and he knew she would have seen right through him. He also knew she wouldn't judge him if he got a little sniffly there at the end--and she didn't. She just snuggled up to him on the sofa while the credits ran down and hit the remote to pause before the next episode.
"Let's watch something else," she said. "How about Mythbusters?"
"That sounds great, kiddo," Jake said, making a mental note to look for some Talia/Ivanova fix-it fanfic when he got a chance. "You can find one on my DVR, or we'll order it streaming through Netflix, your pick. I think it's time for that popcorn, what do you say?"
They'd gotten halfway into an episode about duct tape when the doorbell rang.
"Who's that?" Emily asked, as Jake tensed.
"Dunno," Jake answered, trying for reassuring. "Why don't you head upstairs until I see who it is?"
She started to protest, but when he got his gun out of the hiding place by the coat rack, her eyes went wide. She ran up the stairs, nice and quiet, just like he'd taught her.
"Who's there?" he asked loudly, gun at the ready.
"Carlos. Let me in; it's cold."
Jake sagged against the wall, dropping the gun to his side and re-engaging the safety. "Just a sec," he called out.
Once he had the gun stowed away and the alarm disengaged, he opened the door. Carlos was standing there, wearing a bright white parka, the hood up and a scarf practically covering his face. He had his duffle slung over one shoulder, a backpack over the other, and an uncertain look in his eyes.
Jake stepped aside and let him in, watching as he divested himself of assorted pieces of clothing. He was wearing a hat under the hood--a winter hat, possibly hand-knit, with snowflakes. It was the same red as his scarf. When Carlos took it off, his hair frizzed out with static electricity.
"Carlos," Jake said when he could form words again. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, because believe me, I am very happy to see you, but what the hell are you doing here? I thought--you said you had plans for New Year's. Was this the plan? Coming to New Hampshire in the middle of winter, this was your plan?"
Carlos finished hanging his winter accoutrement on various hooks and went to work on his boots. "Yes."
Jake wanted to brush the staticky hair back behind his ear. Jake wanted a lot of things.
"Uncle Carlos!" Emily ran into his arms, no longer making any attempt at stealth.
"You have grown, mija," Carlos said, bussing her cheeks. He was smiling again, and it was doing things to Jake. Things in his pants, among other places. "Can I celebrate the new year with you?"
"With me and Uncle Jake, right?" she asked, glancing pointedly at Jake.
"Yes, mija, with both of you."
"We were just settling down to watch some Mythbusters," Jake said, wishing he were dressed in something better than flannel pants and his Petunias sweatshirt. Carlos was wearing dark jeans that hugged his ass and a soft-looking red sweater that Jake wanted to get his hands on, and maybe under. "There's popcorn. And cookies. We've even got beer--I know you like beer."
Cougar smirked at him and turned back to Emily. "Mija, take me to the kitchen. I have a surprise from my abuelita. You can wait on the couch," he told Jake.
"I…okay. I'll be right back, and then I'll wait on the couch," Jake said, and escaped into the bedroom. What the actual fuck? Was he dreaming? He pinched himself, hard. He definitely felt it--so, not dreaming. Unless that pinching thing was a myth, which, you know, maybe Mythbusters should look into that, but for now Jake was going with the idea that he was awake and this was actually happening. Carlos had traveled two thousand miles to spend New Year's Eve with Jake (and Emily, okay). Carlos, who Jake had never seen with anything more than his backpack and his rifle, had brought luggage.
Jake was an excellent multi-tasker, so while he was determining that he was, in fact, awake, he was also efficiently stripping down to his ratty boxers, and then, in a fit of unheralded optimism that was sure to bite him on the ass, out of those and into the boxer briefs GQ had said were the best for sexy times. He went with the red ones, because go big or go home, right? Except he was already home, and Carlos was in his kitchen with Emily, and he'd better put on some actual clothing before he went back out there.
Once he'd attired himself in his best jeans and the new sweater (royal blue, because it brought out his eyes) that Anne had gotten him for Christmas, he rested his hands on the dresser, head down, and muttered, "Don't even try for smooth, Jake. Just be yourself." Then he shook his head. "Yeah, right."
He took a deep breath and went back out to the living room. Where, it turned out, Carlos and Emily were waiting for him. There was a plate set out with three round pastries on it, two topped with pink swirls of something that wasn't frosting but must be something adjacent to it. The third had a white topping. There was also coffee for Jake and Carlos, and hot chocolate for Emily. He could smell cinnamon in both the coffee and the chocolate, and, seriously, was Carlos a kitchen ninja along with everything else?
"Pan dulce," Carlos said, pointing at the pastries. "Buena suerte for the new year. Special good luck to whoever gets the charm." Although he'd never hidden his heritage, Carlos usually didn't sprinkle Spanish words in his (admittedly limited) statements. Jake liked the way it sounded, soft and liquid. He hoped Carlos would keep doing it.
"What kind of charm?" Emily asked eagerly.
Carlos shrugged. "Abuelita wouldn't tell me. Find out when we eat."
Jake was never one to turn down home-made baked goods, so he immediately picked up a pink one, knowing Emily would take the other, leaving Carlos the white one. He took a bite. The pink stuff was sweet, but also a little crumbly, and what was beneath it was closer to bread than Jake had expected. It had chocolate chips scattered through it, though. Jake suspected those weren't exactly de rigueur (yes, he knew foreign words too), but he appreciated their presence anyway. Hey, he never claimed to be anything other than a gringo. He was from New Hampshire, for chrissakes.
Emily looked a little dubious after her first bite, but she kept going, chewing carefully and peering at the pastry after every bite, looking for the mysterious charm. Carlos encouraged her to dip it in her hot chocolate, but apparently that didn't help a whole lot (although it worked great with Jake's coffee). Fortunately for everyone, she found what she was searching for smack dab in the middle of the pastry, and she managed not to break a tooth or choke or anything else that would have gotten Jake (not Carlos, because Anne had a soft spot for Carlos, not that Jake blamed her for that, because he had an entire galaxy of soft spots for Carlos) in trouble.
The charm turned out to be a small, heart-shaped, ceramic pendant. Emily put the rest of her pastry aside and focused on her prize. "Look, Uncle Jake, you can hang it on a necklace! I'm going to go get one. Wash it off for me, okay?" She ran upstairs, and Jake took the pendant, along with the plate, into the kitchen.
Carlos followed him. "That was great," Jake said. "Make sure you tell your grandma how much we enjoyed it. You, uh, you can leave off the way Ems only cared about the toy suprise."
The low chuckle that Carlos let out hit Jake deep in his gut. He couldn't believe Carlos was standing there, in his kitchen, holding a dishtowel. And he looked so happy.
"It's good she likes it." Carlos' fingers brushed against Jake's when he handed the dishtowel over.
"Of course she likes it," Jake said. "It's from her uncle Carlos; what's not to like? You've always been her favorite." Jake's favorite, too, but Jake was beginning to suspect Carlos already knew that.
Carlos smiled and looked Jake up and down. "You changed." There was a warmth in his expression that Jake liked. He liked it a lot.
"Uh, yeah," he said, flushing. "Sorry?"
"Don't be," Carlos said, shaking his head. "Looks good."
"So do you," Jake answered. He was saved from whatever additional embarrassing remark he might have made (Can I please fondle your sweater was the leading contender, although I am so ridiculously in love with you I can barely stand up straight was a close second) when Emily came barreling into the kitchen, demanding her pendant.
"We studied other cultures' traditions in social studies this year," she informed them once she'd gotten the pendant settled around her neck. "I picked Mexico, Uncle Carlos. I read that you're supposed to write down all the bad things that happened and then burn the list up in the fireplace before midnight. Does your family do that?"
"Sometimes," Carlos said, his expression shifting to the one his face used to wear after Bolivia.
Jake was consumed by the need to make sure Carlos never had to make his face do that again.
"Maybe we could skip that one, Ems," he said, putting a careful arm around Carlos, who leaned into it. Jake liked that, too.
"Okay," Emily said doubtfully. "Did you know you're supposed to wear red underwear if you want to find love? And yellow if you want prosperity. You can light colored candles, too."
Jake choked on some saliva and had to cough for a minute. It was worth it, though, because Carlos rested his hand on the small of Jake's back until he could breathe again.
"It's a good idea," Carlos said when Jake had recovered.
"The red underwear?" Jake said. Jesus fuck, why couldn't he ever just shut up? Also, thinking about what color Carlos had on under those jeans was doing things to him again. He could not be sporting a boner with an eight year old in the house.
"The writing," Carlos said, smirking at him. Jake's stupid mouth had gotten the sad out of Carlos' eyes, at least. "Get rid of it all. Burn it up."
"Are you sure?" Jake asked, studying Carlos.
Carlos nodded, meeting his eyes.
"Okay," Jake said. "Ems, you're in charge of paper and pens. I'll go get some more wood for the fire."
"Come on, Uncle Carlos," Emily said, pulling on his arm until he followed her up the stairs.
Which was how Jake ended up sitting between Carlos and Emily on the sofa, writing things like "Bolivia" and "Roque" and "Getting shot" on pink construction paper with a red pen. It was pretty easy to Carlos-ify his list into short words and phrases instead of the lengthy paragraphs with plentiful digressions he'd probably have gone with if he'd had more time.
He carefully didn't glance at Carlos' list. Emily had given him red paper and a blue pen. His niece had as good a grasp of subtlety as Jake did.
Carlos didn't seem to mind, though.
Emily was making no attempt to keep her list private. "Thinking Uncle Jake was dead" was at the very top, underlined twice. When Jake saw, he pulled her close and kissed her temple. Then he gave her noogies, because noogies. She giggled and smacked her lips against his cheek wetly. It was awesome.
If he were making a list of the good moments of the past year, this would definitely go on it. Especially when Carlos reached a long arm around him to tickle Emily, his side pressed right up against Jake. Jake could smell his shampoo. He wanted to bury his fingers in Carlos' hair, to press his nose into Carlos' neck. For years he'd pushed those kinds of thoughts so deep inside he could barely find them, but he couldn't do it anymore. He didn't want to.
They weren't soldiers anymore.
Emily suddenly jumped up. "Grapes! We need grapes, right?" she asked Carlos. "Do we have grapes, Uncle Jake?" she went on, not waiting for Carlos to answer.
"Uh, yeah, I think so," Jake said. "I bought some a couple days ago; I think most of 'em are still in the fridge."
"We need 36--do you have that many?"
"I don't know," Jake said. "You can look. Why do we need twelve grapes a piece, Ems?"
"To eat at midnight," she called out, already in the kitchen. "Tell him, Uncle Carlos!"
"Tradition," Carlos said. "You eat them, one at a time, the first twelve seconds of the year. Brings more luck. Every grape, make a wish."
"Okay, I'm in," Jake said. "Need any help in there, kiddo?" he called to Emily.
"No, I got it," she yelled back. "It's almost midnight; put the ball on!"
"Putting the ball on now," Jake acknowledged, leaning forward to grab the remote off the table. He found what he was looking for on the onscreen guide and got it set, turning the volume up a bit. If he moved a little closer to Carlos when he sat back down, that was no one's business but his own. Well, and Carlos, but Carlos didn't seem to mind--he even leaned into Jake a little, like he had in the kitchen.
When Jake had asked him if he had a hot date for New Year's, he'd answered, "Something like that." Jake wanted, no, needed, to know what exactly Carlos had meant.
It occurred to him that he hadn't hugged Carlos when he'd first gotten there. He could maybe do that after the grapes. It was normal to hug when you were wishing someone a Happy New Year, right? They must still hug people in Mexico. Certainly they hugged people in Texas. They had to, to make up for being in Texas if for no other reason.
Unless there was some weird Hispanic superstition against New Year's hugs. That would suck. He was just about to ask Carlos about Mexican anti-hugging practices, but he was saved when Emily came back in, carefully balancing three cereal bowls filled with grapes.
"Okay, we're ready with the grapes," she announced. "Uncle Carlos, is it time to burn our bad stuff up?"
Carlos nodded and stood up, offering Jake a hand he didn't need and was very happy to take. They gathered in front of the fireplace. Emily squeezed in between them and gave first Jake, then Carlos, a hug. Jake nudged her towards the front until he could put his arm and around Carlos' waist. Carlos gave him that smile again, the lopsided one that made his left eye a tiny bit smaller than the right, and reached around Jake's back, pulling him closer, his hand just above Jake's hip. Emily looked up at the two of them, carefully considering, and nodded. "Everyone ready?" she asked.
"Absolutely," Jake said. "Never been more ready than I am right now."
Cougar's smile widened, and he nodded. "Uno, dos, tres," he counted, and they all threw their papers into the fire.
When Emily stepped away, Jake and Carlos kept standing there for a minute, watching the fire, arm in arm. Carlos' sweater was just as soft as it looked, and Jake could feel the heat of his skin through it.
"Come on, guys, it's almost time!" Emily declared from the sofa. "We need to get ready to eat our grapes. I have my wishes all picked out."
There was only one thing Jake was wishing for, and he was beginning to think he might actually get it. 2011 hadn't even started yet, but Jake thought it was maybe going to be a good year.
They counted down the last seconds, standing up again at the end, holding their bowls of fruit. Jake forgot to wish for anything once he started eating grapes. He almost choked again, caught up in watching Carlos plucking the grapes out of the bowl with his long fingers and popping them into his mouth. He got behind and started to shove three grapes in at once, but Carlos caught him and gave him the eye. Apparently that wasn't allowed. It all worked out, though, because none of them were really paying any attention to the one-second-per-grape rule.
"Happy New Year!" Emily shouted when she was done. Jake picked her up and swung her around, because he was her uncle, and it was expected (and also because it was fun, and he got to hear her delighted laugh, which he would never, ever get tired of). When he put her back down, she held her arms out to Carlos, who dutifully picked her up and swung her around again, telling her "Feliz Año Nuevo, mija."
When Carlos let Emily down, Jake pulled him into his arms and whispered "Feliz Año Nuevo, Carlos" into his ear, following it up with a kiss that was intended for Carlos' cheek but somehow ended up on his mouth instead. It felt completely natural and right, especially since it was Carlos who had moved to make sure it was their lips meeting. Carlos kissed him back, lean body pressed against his, warm hand on the back of his neck.
It was perfect.
"I love this year," Jake proclaimed when they pulled apart to Emily's dramatic gagging noises. "This is the best year ever. It should be 2011 forever."
Carlos laughed into his neck, and Jake kissed him again, much more circumspectly than he wanted to, mindful of the eight year old in the room.
"I'm gonna call your mom," he said, dragging Carlos towards the sofa. "Wish her a happy new year. Let her know Carlos is here. She's probably gonna want to head right home. You know, so she can see Carlos. And pick you up, munchkin. You must be tired."
"You just want to be alone with Uncle Carlos," Emily accused.
"Guilty as charged," Jake said happily, and Carlos let out another of those completely addictive chuckles. "Where's my phone?"
"Here," Emily said, handing it to him with an exaggerated pout. "I missed Uncle Carlos too, you know. I should get to spend more time with him before he leaves."
"Who said I'm leaving?" Carlos said, reaching out to tickle her belly, and Jake stared at him, embarrassingly close to crying tears of pure sunshine, happiness, and unicorns. He was smiling so wide his cheeks were pushing his glasses up. Maybe Santa was real after all, because he was getting everything he'd ever wished for.
"I am so ridiculously in love with you I can barely stand up straight," he announced.
Carlos' smile got even bigger than the one he'd had in that picture. "Me too," he said.
"Oh my God, you guys are gross!" Emily said. "Give me the phone back. I'll call Mom myself." Despite her words, she was grinning almost as much as they were.
Jake was happy to hand the phone over to Emily and pull Carlos down next to him on the sofa. "I'm not dreaming, right?" he asked. "I mean, I pinched myself earlier, but, seriously, am I in a coma somewhere, and this is the computer simulation made to keep my brain happy and occupied while I'm in cryogenic suspension, or before the aliens dissect me? Because if that's the case, they don't need to wake me up. Especially not if they're going to dissect me, but, seriously, even if I'm in a coma--"
Carlos kissed him. "This is real." And kissed him again.
"Mom, Uncle Carlos is here, and he and Uncle Jake are kissing. You need to come get me. Uncle Jake's all googly-eyed!" Jake registered Emily's voice in the background, but he wasn't really paying that much attention until she elbowed him in the side. "Mom wants to talk to you," she said imperiously.
"Hey, sis," he said, his hand in Carlos' hair, which was just as silky soft as he'd always imagined it would be. "Happy New Year! 2011 is great so far for me--how's it going for you?"
Anne laughed. "Not as good as yours. Please promise me you're keeping it under PG-13 while my daughter's in your house."
"Nothing even PG, I promise," Jake said. "G-rated kisses only."
Carlos chuckled again. That was his new favorite sound, even better than Emily's laugh.
"Lucky for you, my date's a disappointment," Anne said. "I'll be home in fifteen minutes."
"See you soon!" Jake said, thumbing the phone off and tossing it onto the coffee table. "Hey, Carlos, are there any other New Year's traditions we should be taking part in?" When Carlos laughed at him, he said, "No, not--that's not what I meant, buddy, come on! G-rated, remember?"
"There's the one where you take an empty suitcase outside and walk around the block with it," Emily said.
"Not that one," Carlos said, shaking his head. "It's for travel and adventure."
"Yeah, Ems, I think Carlos and I have had more than enough of that," Jake said, suppressing a shudder. "I mean, you said you weren't leaving?" he said to Carlos.
"Staying," Carlos confirmed. "If you want."
"Oh, I want," Jake said. "I absolutely want. Um, I mean I want you to stay," he continued, glancing at Emily. "Here, with me. Us, together." He shut his mouth before he said something about "forever," although he thought Carlos might be on board with that, too.
"Good," Carlos said. "I need to call home, talk to mi abuelita." He pulled out his phone, dialed, and started talking to someone in Spanish. Jake knew some words and phrases--the op in Bolivia had hardly been their only one in Latin America--but he wasn't fluent enough to follow much of the conversation. That was going to change, he decided. Call it a new year's resolution.
"Maybe Carlos can give us Spanish lessons, what do you think?" he asked Emily. The two of them were hip-deep in a discussion of whether and how Emily was going to introduce Carlos to her fourth grade Spanish teacher ("She's not very good," Emily pronounced disdainfully. "They should hire Uncle Carlos instead.") when Anne got home.
Of course Anne had to greet Carlos, had to hug him and coo over how cute he and Jake were together until Jake started calling her "Jenny" in retaliation. It turned out that Carlos had never heard that story, so that took some more time, because Anne had to self-righteously explain that "Jennifer Jensen" was a stupid name that she'd changed legally right after their parents died.
"But I knew her when she was Jenny," Jake said smugly. "'Jenny' was actually my first word, so she has to let me call her that, or she'd lose all big sister privileges. Lucky for her I only do it on certain special occasions."
"Yeah, lucky for me," Anne said. Her voice was all grumpy, but he saw the smile in her eyes. "Come on, munchkin, let's go home and get you to bed."
"I'm not tired, Mom," Emily said, then ruined it by yawning.
It took another ten minutes before they'd finally left, bundled up and carrying leftover cookies. Jake was very patient: he waited until the car was all the way out of the driveway before turning to Carlos again.
There was nothing G-rated about this kiss. It was open-mouthed, wet, and dirty, and it was without a doubt the best kiss in the history of the universe. Jake wasn't even sure when or how Carlos got his sweater off, or when he'd managed to unbuckle Carlos' belt and undo the top button of his jeans, but it was good, it was great.
"Come on, buddy, come with me to the bedroom, and then you can come with me, because we are definitely getting our NC-17 on," Jake said, pulling Carlos away from the wall they'd been plastered against by hooking his fingers through the waistband of his jeans. "We are going to have the best orgasms, you and I, or at least I know I am, and I'll try to make it good for you, too. Jesus, we need to get naked yesterday, come on."
Carlos didn't say anything, just pressed up against him as they went up the stairs, mouthing at the back of his neck and running his hands over Jake's chest and arms. Jake could feel Carlos' dick pressing against him through multiple layers of clothes, and Jake was so hard he felt a little light-headed.
The minute they got into the bedroom, Carlos quickly and methodically pulled his sweater off and his jeans and boxers down--but not so quickly that Jake didn't see the flash of red.
"Carlos, you sly dog, you wore red underpants," he said, pushing his own jeans down. "Were you hoping you might get lucky in love in the new year?"
Carlos smirked, stepping right up to him and snapping the waistband of his sexy GQ-approved boxer-briefs. "You too."
"Hey, I didn't know about the tradition when I put these on," Jake protested, taking his glasses off. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because, believe me, you are every wet dream I've ever had come to life."
"No dream," Carlos said, pushing him back towards the bed.
What happened next had some dream-like qualities, it was true, but it was a little too fast and desperate to be anything other than real. Hearing Carlos say his name in a broken voice when Jake finally got his hand around Carlos' cock beat out all previous contenders for best sound ever. When they finally got both their hands around both their dicks at the same time, it took an embarrassingly small number of strokes before Jake was, as predicted, having the best orgasm of his life. When he heard the sound that Carlos made when he came a couple of strokes later, Jake had to re-order his catalog of best sounds, because absolutely nothing would ever beat that one, and he was maybe going to get to hear it again, and often, and, "Baby, Carlos, next time will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me. Please tell me you'll be down with that. I promise I won't go off like a teenager again."
Carlos made another noise that had to fit somewhere on the list, although Jake wasn't exactly sure where, yet. "Yes, anything," he said, his lips almost touching Jake's neck. "Anything, mi amor, mi corazon."
That right there was like an entire sonnet in Carlos-speak, and Jake felt like his heart was bursting. "Jesus, I love you so much," he said. "Seriously, Carlos. Thank God for those red underpants."
Carlos looked up at him and smiled, and Jake had to run his fingers through his hair, so soft and silky and beautiful. He knew most men might not appreciate hearing that their hair was beautiful, maybe not even Carlos, but it was. Everything about him, about this night, was beautiful, and fuck anyone who wasn't secure enough in their masculinity to see that.
"You're beautiful," he murmured. "Incredibly, mind-blowingly hot, too, don't get me wrong," he added, just in case, but Carlos kept smiling and lay his head against Jake's chest. Jake kept running his fingers through that incredible hair and wondered what he'd ever done in life to get this lucky, because this was a whole lot more luck than any pair of underpants could possibly bring, no matter what color they were.
Carlos had pulled the duvet up, so even though Jake kept the heat in the house pretty low at night, they were nice and toasty. They should get up and clean off better than swiping his Petunias sweatshirt over their bellies, but for now he was content to stay where he was. "Dulce is sweet, right?" he asked after a couple of minutes.
Carlos nodded his head, still resting on Jake's chest.
"Dulce. That's good," Jake murmured, closing his eyes. He fell asleep listening to the soft sounds of Carlos' breaths.
END