Chapter Text
The following Monday arrived faster than expected.
Simon pulled into the school pickup line a few minutes early.
As usual. And as usual, Grace spotted him almost immediately.
The smile appeared.
Instantly.
Simon felt something strange happen in his chest.
Not unpleasant.
Just—
There.
Grace waved.
Simon waved back.
At this point pretending otherwise would have been ridiculous.
When Grace walked over, he looked significantly healthier.
The color had returned to his face.
The cough was mostly gone.
The shadows beneath his eyes had faded. He managed to look even more beautiful than before.
“Look at that.” Simon nodded at Grace. “You’re alive.”
Grace laughed.
“I missed you too.”
Simon stared.
Grace grinned.
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“No.”
For some reason, that made Simon smile.
A real smile.
Brief.
But real.
Grace noticed immediately.
And looked absurdly pleased about it. Which was unfortunate.
Because Simon was beginning to discover that he liked making Ryland Grace smile.
That seemed like the sort of thing that could become a problem.
A very large problem.
Especially because Grace looked at him for a moment and said quietly:
“I’m really looking forward to Saturday.”
The words were simple.
Nothing unusual.
Yet somehow they lingered.
And Simon found himself answering honestly.
“Me too.”
Grace’s smile softened. “Yeah?”
Simon glanced toward the school doors.
Toward the crowd of students beginning to emerge.
Anywhere except directly at Grace.
“Yeah.”
This time when Grace smiled, it wasn’t bright.
It wasn’t teasing.
It wasn’t playful.
It was something gentler.
Something warm.
Something that stayed with Simon long after Sam came running out of the school and launched himself directly into his arms.
———————————————
Saturday evening arrived warm and bright.
The kind of evening at the beginning of summer that seemed reluctant to end.
Golden sunlight spilled across the backyard, catching on leaves and flower petals and making everything glow.
Simon was in the garden when the doorbell rang.
He heard Sam sprint through the house immediately afterward.
Of course he did.
“I GOT IT!”
Simon smiled to himself and continued tying up one of the tomato plants.
The tomatoes had gotten heavy over the last week.
A few branches were starting to sag.
He adjusted the twine carefully.
Checked the leaves.
Pinched off a sucker.
Routine.
Comfortable.
He heard the front door open.
“Mr. Grace!”
“Hi, Sam.”
“Come outside.”
“Can I at least take my shoes off first?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
“…Okay.”
Simon snorted.
A moment later he heard footsteps crossing the patio.
Then silence.
Complete silence.
That got his attention.
Simon looked up.
Grace had stopped walking.
Completely.
The grocery bag in his hand hung forgotten at his side.
His eyes were wide.
“…Holy shit.”
Simon blinked. He has never heard the blonde man swear before.
“Grace, language.”
Grace slowly turned in a circle.
The patio stretched behind him beneath a wooden pergola draped with climbing roses.
Pink blooms spilled over the beams overhead.
Flowerbeds bordered the yard in bursts of color.
Lavender swayed gently in the breeze.
Purple salvia and black-eyed Susans crowded together beneath the fence.
Clusters of daisies nodded in the sunlight.
Bees drifted lazily between blossoms.
Beyond the flowers stood several mature trees and some that looked younger but just as sturdy.
A maple spread its branches over half the yard.
Another shaded a hammock that swayed gently in the afternoon breeze.
Beneath one tree sat two lounge chairs with a small table between them.
A place made specifically for sitting in the shade with a cold drink and absolutely no responsibilities.
And stretching across the far side of the yard were Simon’s vegetable beds.
Rows of tomatoes. Peppers. Beans. Lettuce. Herbs.
Everything green and thriving.
Everything meticulously cared for.
The entire yard looked alive.
Grace stared.
Simon stared back.
“Hello?”
“Simon.”
“Yes?”
“This is ridiculous.”
Simon frowned. He suddenly felt self-conscious.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Grace gestured wildly at the entire backyard.
“THIS!”
His hand swept through the air.
“The flowers!”
Another gesture.
“The trees!”
Another.
“The vegetables!”
Another.
“THE HAMMOCK!?”
Simon looked toward the hammock.
“What about it?”
“It’s a hammock.” Grace said with the best poker face he could manage in that moment.
“…Yeah.”
Grace looked personally offended.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted a hammock?”
Simon blinked. “No? Is that something I should have known beforehand?”
“Years, Simon. YEARS.”
Okay… Ryland completely ignored the last question and Simon felt even more endeared and confused.
“That’s true.” Sam nodded solemnly, his eyes closed.
“How do you know that?” The sudden interjection of his son made Simon wonder if hammocks really were such a common topic of conversation he didn’t know about.
“He talks a lot.”
“I really do.” Grace agreed with a serious look.
Simon wanted to burst out laughing at the two.
Grace slowly wandered farther into the yard.
Like someone exploring a museum.
His fingers brushed over a lavender bloom.
He paused beneath the maple tree.
Looked up through the branches.
Watched sunlight filter through the leaves.
“It’s so quiet.”
The observation came softly.
Almost to himself.
Simon shrugged.
“Usually.”
“No, I mean…”
Grace turned slowly.
Looking around again.
“It feels peaceful.”
His gaze lingered on the flowers.
The trees.
The garden beds.
“It feels like a place people actually live.”
The words made Simon pause.
Grace laughed awkwardly.
“That sounded weird, didn’t it?”
“It didn’t.”
For some reason, that made Grace smile.
He stopped beside one of the raised vegetable beds.
“Oh my god.”
“What.”
“Are those tomatoes?”
Simon stared.
“Yes?” Has Grace always been this easily impressed?
“There are like fifty plants.”
“There are only twelve.”
“TWELVE?”
Sam immediately appeared beside Grace.
“Dad says twelve like that’s normal.”
“It is normal.”
“It is not.”
Grace pointed dramatically at the nearest plant.
“It’s taller than me.”
“It really isn’t.” Simon felt himself smile bigger than before.
“It’s emotionally taller than me.”
Sam laughed so hard he nearly fell over.
Simon shook his head.
Idiots.
Both of them.
Grace crouched beside one of the beds.
Looking closer.
“You really grew all this yourself?”
“Most of it.”
“Most of it?”
Simon pointed toward the herb garden.
“Some of those were already here.”
Grace stared.
“Simon.”
“What.”
“That does not count.”
“It counts.”
“No.”
“It does.”
“No.”
Simon smiled.
Just slightly.
Grace noticed immediately.
His expression softened.
Then he looked around the yard again.
At the flowers.
The trees.
The vegetables.
The patio.
The hammock.
The climbing roses.
Everything.
“You always wanted this, didn’t you?”
The question caught Simon off guard.
“What do you mean?”
Grace looked toward the flowerbeds.
“This.”
His voice was quieter now.
“Not the garden.”
He gestured around them.
“All of it.”
The house.
The yard.
The life built inside it.
For a moment Simon was silent.
Then he looked out across the garden.
The place he’d spent years building.
One weekend at a time.
One flower at a time.
One tree at a time.
“Yeah.”
The answer came easily.
“When Sam was little, I always wanted a garden.”
Grace listened.
“Flowers he could stop and smell.”
Simon nodded toward the flowerbeds.
“He used to do that all the time when he was a baby.”
“Daaaaaaad!”
“You did.”
“I was two.”
“You still do.”
Grace laughed.
Simon smiled.
Then he looked toward the trees.
“Places to sit in the shade.”
The hammock.
The chairs.
The patio.
“Somewhere to spend time outside.”
His gaze settled on the vegetable beds.
“And a vegetable garden.”
Grace smiled.
“Why.”
Simon looked genuinely confused.
“Because good vegetables are expensive?”
Grace barked out a laugh.
“No, I mean—”
He stopped.
Then smiled.
Warm and genuine.
“I like that that’s your answer.”
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The breeze stirred the flowers.
Leaves rustled overhead.
Somewhere nearby a wind chime rang softly.
Grace looked around one last time.
Then back at Simon.
The smile on his face had softened into something fond.
Something quiet.
“You built something really beautiful here.”
Simon opened his mouth.
Probably to argue.
Then stopped.
Because for once, Grace wasn’t talking about the garden.
And they both knew it.
———————————————
The kitchen smelled like garlic, rosemary, butter, and fresh bread.
It was one of those comforting smells that seemed to wrap around a person the second they stepped inside.
The windows above the sink were open, letting in the cool evening air from the backyard. Outside, the garden glowed beneath the setting sun. Golden light filtered through the maple trees, painting long shadows across the lawn. Somewhere near the flower beds, a bee drifted lazily between the lavender blooms.
And from farther out in the yard came the occasional shout from Sam.
“AND THE DINOSAUR ATTACKS!”
Simon didn’t even look up from the stove.
“What dinosaur?”
“The BIG ONE.”
“That narrows it down.”
Grace was already laughing.
A moment later came a dramatic sound effect.
Apparently the dinosaur had exploded.
Simon shook his head.
“Ten bucks says he’s fighting an invisible T-Rex.”
Grace walked over to the window.
Sam was indeed battling absolutely nothing.
“You’re good.”
“I know my kid.”
There was something in Simon’s voice when he said it.
Something warm.
Proud.
The sort of thing Grace had noticed every time Sam came up in conversation.
Grace smiled.
“You really adore him.”
Simon glanced over.
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Without embarrassment.
“Of course I do! He’s my boy.”
The simplicity of it made Grace’s chest ache.
Not because it was surprising.
Because it wasn’t.
Simon loved Sam in every possible way.
You could see it in the way he listened when Sam talked.
The way he always knew where his son was.
The way he smiled when he thought nobody was looking.
The way he’d built an entire life around making sure Sam had somewhere safe and happy to grow up.
Grace found himself looking around the kitchen again.
The house felt lived in.
Not decorated.
Not staged.
Lived in.
A drawing sat on the refrigerator.
There were magnets from places Simon and Sam had visited together.
A pair of muddy soccer cleats sat near the back door.
A cookbook rested open on the counter with handwritten notes in the margins.
The whole house felt warm.
Like Simon.
Even if Simon insisted on pretending otherwise.
“Okay!” Grace clapped his hands together.
Grace set the grocery bag on the counter.
“I brought things!”
Simon immediately looked suspicious.
“You didn’t have to, you’re our guest, Ryland.”
Grace began unpacking the bag, trying to not make it obvious how much Simon saying his name made him blush instantly.
“Cheese.”
A wedge appeared.
“Crackers.”
Another item.
“Strawberries.”
Simon raised an eyebrow.
“Are we opening a grocery store I didn’t know about?”
Grace ignored him.
“And—”
Two wine bottles emerged.
Simon immediately smiled.
A real smile.
Not the tiny ones.
Not the reluctant ones.
A genuine smile.
Grace felt his stomach do a strange little flip.
“You brought wine.”
“I did.” Grace smiled bigger than before.
“That’s dangerous.” The smirk Simon had on his face while saying that gave Grace goosebumps.
“Why?”
“Because I like wine.”
“Oh no.”
“So now I have to drink it.”
Grace laughed.
“What a burden, Simon.”
“Terrible.”
Simon took the bottle.
Turning it over to read the label.
Grace watched him.
The sunlight caught against Simon’s profile.
The curve of his smile.
The tiny lines near his eyes that only appeared when he was genuinely happy.
God. He was so beautiful.
This was unfair.
Simon looked up.
“Hm?”
“You smiled.”
“I do that.”
“You should do it more.”
Simon snorted.
“You sound like Sam.”
“Sam is right about a lot of things.”
“That’s concerning.”
“It should be.”
Simon laughed again.
And Grace thought he could happily spend the rest of his life making that happen.
The thought arrived suddenly.
Unexpectedly.
And stayed.
———————————————
Twenty minutes later they were cooking together.
Or rather—
Simon was cooking.
Grace was being supervised.
“This is ridiculous.”
“What is.”
Grace held up a tiny bowl.
“You’ve assigned me herb duty.”
“Correct.” Simon gave a small nod while preparing the sauce.
“I’m thirty-four!”
“Congratulations.” Another nod.
“I have a master’s degree!”
“Very impressive.” Another one.
“I can chop vegetables, come on, Simon.”
Simon pointed a spoon at him.
“You almost cut your finger opening the cheese. I don’t want you to get hurt, Ryland.”
Grace gasped.
“That was one time.”
“It was ten minutes ago.”
“Details.”
Simon smiled into his wine glass.
God.
That smile.
Grace was beginning to understand why children willingly listened to this man.
Because every time Simon smiled it felt like receiving a reward.
Eventually Grace managed to convince Simon to let him chop something.
The victory lasted approximately forty-five seconds.
“You’re holding the knife wrong.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Grace looked scandalised.
“Simon.”
“What.”
“Do you honestly think I’m incapable of basic survival?”
Simon immediately answered.
“Sometimes. A lot of times actually.” The sincere answer caught him off guard.
Grace laughed so hard he nearly dropped the knife.
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious.”
“No you’re not.”
“I absolutely am.”
“You made soup for me.”
The words slipped out unexpectedly.
The kitchen grew slightly quieter.
Simon looked away first.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“It was.”
“No.”
“It was.”
Grace set the knife down.
His expression softened.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Simon shrugged.
“You were sick.”
“Most people would’ve just said ‘feel better.’”
“Most people are lazy.”
Grace laughed softly.
But his chest felt warm.
Because Simon genuinely didn’t seem to understand what he’d done.
Didn’t understand that someone making homemade soup and carrying it to a school because they were worried about you wasn’t normal.
Not really.
Not unless they cared.
And Simon cared.
So much.
About everyone he loved.
Especially Sam.
And maybe—
Maybe Grace too.
The thought made him smile.
Simon noticed immediately.
“What’s that look?” Being faced with a wooden spoon, Grace moved his head around the spoon so he could look in Simon’s eyes properly again.
“What look?” The blonde man’s voice was laced with fake innocence.
“That one.”
Grace grinned.
“You like taking care of people.”
Simon rolled his eyes.
“I like feeding people.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
Simon opened his mouth.
Stopped.
Thought about it.
“…Maybe”
Grace’s smile softened.
“Yeah.”
For a moment they simply looked at each other.
The house was quiet.
The evening light had deepened outside.
Everything glowed amber.
Then Grace stepped forward.
Without really thinking.
Without planning it.
He slipped his arms around Simon’s waist from behind.
Simon froze instantly.
The wooden spoon stopped moving.
The sauce continued bubbling softly on the stove.
For a second Grace worried he’d overstepped.
Then Simon relaxed.
Just slightly.
And Grace felt himself breathe again.
“Hi.”
His voice came out quieter than usual.
Simon laughed softly.
“Hi.”
Grace rested his cheek against Simon’s shoulder.
Because Simon was shorter.
Not by much.
Just enough.
The position felt strangely natural.
Comfortable.
The warmth of Simon’s back seeped through his shirt.
The scent of rosemary and soap lingered in the air.
Outside, Sam continued yelling about dinosaurs.
Inside, everything felt still.
“I like this.”
Simon’s voice softened.
“The kitchen?”
“The kitchen.”
Grace tightened his arms slightly.
“The garden.”
A pause.
“The house.”
Another pause.
“You.”
Simon went completely silent.
Grace could practically hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt.
Which was adorable.
Infuriatingly adorable.
After several seconds Simon finally managed:
“You’re making it very difficult to concentrate.”
Grace smiled against his shoulder.
“Good, that was my intention all along.”
“That’s not helping.”
“I know.”
Simon laughed helplessly.
And for one dangerous moment—
One very dangerous moment—
He turned his head slightly.
Just enough that Grace could see the expression on his face.
The fondness.
The affection.
The want.
The look of a man fighting every instinct telling him to turn around and kiss someone senseless.
Grace’s heart nearly stopped.
Outside, Sam yelled something about a meteor strike.
Inside, dinner simmered gently on the stove.
The garden glowed beyond the windows.
And neither of them moved.
Because somehow standing there together felt just as perfect as everything else.
For a long moment neither of them moved.
The sauce simmered quietly on the stove.
The open windows let in the scent of roses and lavender from the garden.
Outside, the leaves of the maple trees rustled softly in the breeze.
The whole house felt warm.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Grace could feel Simon breathing.
Slow.
Steady.
Though maybe not quite as steady as before.
“You’re thinking.”
Simon’s laugh vibrated through his chest.
“You’re one to talk.”
“I always talk.”
“I know.”
“Everybody knows.”
“Believe me.”
Simon shook his head slightly.
“Everybody knows.”
Grace grinned.
“Yet you still invited me over.”
“Questionable judgment on my part.”
“You like me.”
The words came far too easily.
Far too confidently.
Simon immediately groaned.
“Oh god.”
Grace laughed.
“You do!”
“You’re impossible.”
“You didn’t deny it!”
Simon finally turned off the burner.
The spoon clattered softly against the edge of the pot.
Still Grace didn’t let go.
Still Simon didn’t ask him to.
The realisation made something warm spread through Grace’s chest.
“You know,” Grace said quietly, “I was really nervous coming here.”
That got Simon’s attention.
“Nervous?”
“Very.”
“You talk to hundreds of people every day.”
“Children.”
“Children are terrifying.”
Grace laughed.
“Fair.”
For a moment he watched the backyard through the kitchen window.
The garden beds.
The flowers.
The hammock beneath the maple tree.
Then he rested his chin on Simon’s shoulder again.
“This felt different.”
“Why.”
Grace was quiet for a second.
Because the answer felt embarrassingly honest.
Because the truth was—
“Because I wanted you to like me.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Outside, Sam screamed something incomprehensible about a dinosaur uprising.
Inside, neither of them spoke.
Grace suddenly became aware of exactly what he’d said.
“…Well.”
Simon laughed softly.
“Well.”
“That wasn’t supposed to come out.”
“I figured.”
Grace groaned and buried his face against Simon’s shoulder.
“This is a disaster.”
“No.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It’s really not.”
Grace peeked up.
Simon was smiling.
Not laughing.
Not teasing.
Just smiling.
The soft kind.
The one Simon never seemed to realise he was doing.
“Ryland.”
“Yeah?”
“I invited you into my house.”
Grace blinked.
“Yeah.
“I made enough food for an army.”
“You definitely did.”
“I spent two days deciding what dessert to make.”
Grace’s eyes widened.
“You spent two days deciding?”
Simon immediately looked annoyed with himself.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
Grace was already grinning.
“Oh my god.”
“Don’t.”
“You spent two days choosing dessert.”
“Grace.”
“You like me.”
Simon covered his face with one hand.
“You are never going to let this go.”
“No.”
“Wonderful.”
“No, seriously.”
Grace laughed.
“I might actually frame this.”
Simon turned around then.
Finally.
Grace’s arms loosened enough for him to pivot.
Now they were standing face-to-face.
Close.
Far closer than either of them had been for most of the evening.
The kitchen suddenly felt much smaller.
Grace looked down slightly.
Simon looked up slightly.
Neither seemed interested in stepping back.
The late evening sunlight poured through the windows.
Golden light caught in Simon’s hair.
Lit the edges of his face.
Made his eyes look warmer somehow.
And god.
Grace thought Simon was beautiful.
Not just attractive.
Not just handsome.
Beautiful.
The kind of beauty built from kindness and patience and years of loving people with his whole heart.
The kind that only became more obvious the longer you knew someone.
Simon’s gaze dropped briefly.
Then returned to Grace’s.
“You know,” Simon said quietly.
“Yea?”
“I was nervous too.”
Grace blinked.
“You were?”
“Yeah.”
“Simon.”
“Hm?”
“You literally made me soup.”
“So?”
“You walked into a school carrying homemade soup.”
“You were sick.”
“That’s adorable.”
“It was practical.”
“It was adorable.”
Grace smiled.
Simon smiled back.
And suddenly neither of them seemed particularly interested in arguing anymore.
Outside, the sky was beginning to turn orange and pink.
The garden glowed beneath the sunset.
The roses climbed higher across the pergola.
The vegetable beds swayed gently in the evening breeze.
Everything Simon had spent years building surrounded them.
And standing in the middle of it all, Grace realised something.
He wasn’t imagining the feeling he’d had all evening.
The warmth.
The comfort.
The sense of belonging.
It wasn’t coming from the house.
Or the garden.
Or even the dinner.
It was Simon.
And judging by the way Simon was looking at him now—
Maybe Simon was starting to realise the same thing.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
There was only Simon and Grace.
Standing far too close.
Looking at each other.
Neither willing to be the first one to step away.
Grace swallowed.
Simon’s eyes were warm.
Softer than Grace had ever seen them.
Not guarded.
Not careful.
Just—
Simon.
Grace wanted to stay right here forever.
The thought startled him.
Because it wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t some grand declaration.
It was simple.
Standing in Simon’s kitchen.
Watching the sunset.
Listening to Sam yell about dinosaurs somewhere in the backyard.
And somehow that felt more precious than anything else.
Simon glanced down briefly at his lips. He saw Grace’s tongue instinctively wet his bottom lip.
Then back up.
Grace’s heart immediately forgot how to function.
“Simon?” he asked softly.
“Yes?”
Grace opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Because he genuinely had no idea what he wanted to say.
There were too many things.
I like you.
Thank you for inviting me.
Your garden is beautiful.
This feels like home.
Instead he just smiled.
And Simon looked at him like he’d understood anyway.
The expression on Simon’s face changed.
Just slightly.
Like he’d made a decision.
Before Grace could ask—
Simon reached up.
One hand settling lightly against Grace’s chest.
Fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Grace immediately stopped breathing.
“Simon?”
And Simon kissed him.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
Just a soft peck.
A brief brush of lips.
Gentle.
Warm.
Gone almost immediately.
But it felt like the entire universe had tilted.
When Simon pulled back, Grace simply stared.
His brain completely empty.
“Oh.”
Simon laughed softly.
The sound low and slightly embarrassed.
“Oh?”
“You kissed me.”
“Yeah, been meaning to do that for awhile.”
Grace blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then all at once the realisation seemed to hit him.
His entire face turned red.
“Oh my god.”
Simon’s smile widened.
“Oh my god?”
“You kissed me.”
“You keep saying that.” Simon chuckled and Grace wanted nothing more than to hear that sound for forever.
“Because you kissed me!”
Grace looked genuinely overwhelmed by the concept.
Like Simon had personally informed him he’d won the lottery.
And then—
To Simon’s complete surprise—
Grace melted.
Actually melted.
A helpless laugh escaped him as Grace stepped forward again.
Immediately burying his face against Simon’s shoulder.
“Oh no…”
“What?” Simon laughed.
Grace groaned.
The sound muffled by Simon’s shoulder.
“I can’t handle this.”
“You can’t handle a kiss?”
“No.”
Simon laughed harder.
Grace’s ears were bright red.
His cheeks were bright red.
Even the tips of his curls somehow looked embarrassed.
“You are ridiculous.”
“I know.”
Grace mumbled.
Then his arms moved.
One settling on either side of Simon.
Braced against the counter behind him.
Trapping Simon neatly between himself and the kitchen island.
The movement was unconscious.
Natural.
Like Grace simply wanted to be closer.
And Simon absolutely noticed.
He looked down.
Found Grace hiding his face against his shoulder.
Still flushed.
Still refusing to make eye contact.
A helpless laugh escaped him.
“What?” Grace muttered.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m aware.”
“It’s impressive, really!”
“Stoooop.”
“You are literally red.”
“Simon.”
The warning only made Simon laugh again.
Because Grace wasn’t usually shy.
Awkward? Sure.
Chaotic? Constantly.
But shy? Never.
Yet here he was.
Completely flustered.
Because of one tiny kiss.
This was so unbelievably endearing that Simon couldn’t stop smiling.
Eventually he reached up.
One hand settling against the back of Grace’s neck.
The other wrapping around his waist.
Drawing him closer.
Grace immediately made a very pleased sound.
“There he is.”
Simon murmured.
Grace groaned.
“Don’t.”
“I like seeing you speechless.”
“You should enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“It’ll never happen again.”
Simon snorted.
“Liar.”
“Probably.”
For a moment neither moved.
Grace’s forehead rested against Simon’s shoulder.
Simon’s arms remained around him.
The kitchen glowed with evening light.
The scent of dinner filled the air.
And for the first time in a very long time—
Grace felt completely, perfectly content.
Then from somewhere down the hallway came Sam’s voice.
“DAAAAAAD?”
Both men froze.
A beat.
Then: “I FOUND THE PIE.”
Simon closed his eyes.
Grace immediately started laughing into his shoulder.
And just like that, the moment was broken.
Though neither of them seemed particularly interested in letting go.
Neither of them let go immediately.
Not after Sam’s announcement.
Not after Grace dissolved into helpless laughter against Simon’s shoulder.
Not even after Simon muttered, “He’s definitely my kid,” with the weary resignation of a man who had long ago accepted that privacy was a myth.
Eventually, though, dinner still needed to happen.
And if Simon didn’t rescue the pie soon, Sam was going to eat dessert before the main course.
Again.
———————————————
By the time they stepped outside, the sun was hanging low over the horizon.
The entire backyard had been painted gold.
The maple trees stretched long shadows across the grass.
The flowerbeds glowed in the evening light.
Pink roses climbed the pergola overhead, weaving between wooden beams Simon had built himself years ago.
The vegetable garden sat beyond the patio, neat rows of tomatoes, peppers, basil, carrots, and lettuce thriving in raised beds.
Tiny lanterns hung from hooks around the patio.
Not lit yet.
Not needed.
The sunset was doing all the work.
Grace stopped for a moment.
Just looked.
Every time he thought he’d fully appreciated this place, he found something new.
The hammock beneath the trees.
The stone path winding through flowerbeds.
The bird feeder hanging near the fence.
The little wooden bench tucked beneath the shade where Simon and Sam probably sat together during summer afternoons.
It didn’t feel like a backyard.
It felt like a life.
A happy one.
“Ryland.”
Simon emerged from the kitchen carrying a large serving bowl.
“Stop staring and help.”
Grace immediately smiled.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
Simon laughed.
“You can take the bread.”
“Got it.”
Sam appeared carrying a stack of napkins.
Or attempting to.
Half of them were upside down.
Several immediately blew away in the breeze
“Sam.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re creating weather.”
“I’M HELPING!”
Grace nearly dropped the bread laughing.
Simon shook his head.
“Go get those.”
Sam sprinted after the runaway napkins.
The three of them spent the next few minutes setting everything out.
Simon moved around the patio with practiced ease.
Plates.
Serving bowls.
Drinks.
Silverware.
Bread.
Salad.
The pasta he’d spent half the evening making.
Grace found himself watching him.
Again.
Simon always seemed busiest when he was taking care of people.
Making sure everyone had enough.
Making sure everything was ready.
Making sure nobody needed anything.
It was strangely beautiful.
“Grace.”
“Hm?”
“You’re staring again.”
Grace blinked.
“Oh.”
Simon smirked.
“Thought so.”
The bastard was getting confident.
“You kissed me.”
Simon nearly dropped the serving spoon.
Sam immediately looked up.
“What???”
“Nothing.”
Simon answered instantly.
“Nothing.”
Grace agreed.
Sam narrowed his eyes.
“You’re both weird.”
“Thank you. Must be genetics, Sam.” Simon sat down calmly.
The table arrangement happened naturally.
Sam immediately claimed the chair beside Simon.
Which left Grace with the chair on Simon’s other side.
Close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed.
Not that Grace noticed.
He absolutely noticed.
The smell of dinner drifted through the air.
Fresh herbs.
Garlic.
Warm bread.
The sweetness of tomatoes.
Everything looked incredible.
Sam looked ready to launch himself across the table.
“Can we eat already?”
“Can we sit down first?”
Simon asked.
“We are sitting down.”
Grace laughed.
“He’s got a point.”
Simon sighed dramatically.
“I’m surrounded.”
“You really are.” Grace said.
“Good.” Sam added.
The meal finally began.
Before Sam could reach for anything, Simon automatically started filling his plate.
A scoop of pasta.
A spoonful of vegetables.
A piece of bread.
The movement was effortless.
Unthinking.
Something he’d clearly done thousands of times.
“There.” Simon said.
“Thanks, Dad.” The smile Sam gave him was immediate.
Bright.
Happy.
And Simon smiled right back.
Just as easily.
Grace watched the exchange.
Something tightened painfully inside his chest.
Not because it hurt.
Because it didn’t.
Because it felt so good.
Too good.
Watching them together.
Watching Simon gently remind Sam to eat vegetables.
Watching Sam immediately ignore him.
Watching Simon steal a tomato from Sam’s plate.
Watching Sam protest.
“THAT WAS MINE.”
“You weren’t eating it.”
“I was thinking about eating it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is in my heart.”
Grace laughed so hard he nearly choked.
Simon looked entirely unimpressed.
“Your heart is wrong.”
“My heart says dessert first.”
“Your heart is stupid.”
“Dad! You can’t just say that!?”
Grace was laughing too hard to help.
The conversation drifted everywhere after that.
School.
Apparently one of Sam’s classmates had attempted to convince everyone that dolphins were secretly government employees.
“To be fair—”
Grace pointed his fork.
“The evidence is compelling.”
“THANK YOU.”
Sam pointed right back.
Simon stared at both of them.
“I’m the only normal one here.”
“Correct!” Grace said.
“Completely alone.”
The evening grew softer as they talked.
The sun disappeared.
The sky shifted from gold to pink to deep blue.
The lanterns flickered on around the patio.
Fireflies appeared beyond the garden.
Still they kept talking.
Sam launched into a detailed explanation of dinosaurs.
Grace contributed facts.
Simon listened with the expression of a man who had heard all of this before.
Multiple times.
“You know.”
Grace said.
“I actually think velociraptors get a bad reputation.”
Sam gasped, turning his head toward Simon so quick that the man was worried he hurt himself in he process.
“DAD. SEE?”
Simon immediately regretted inviting another dinosaur enthusiast into his home.
The conversation continued.
Easy.
Natural.
Comfortable.
And somewhere in the middle of it, Grace came to a conclusion that scared him.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy.
Not excited.
Not entertained.
Happy.
The kind that settled deep in your chest.
The kind that made everything feel right.
Simon laughing beside him.
Sam telling a story across the table.
The garden glowing softly around them.
Dinner stretching long into the evening.
It felt like something he’d been missing for years without knowing it.
And suddenly—
Painfully—
Grace wanted it.
Not tonight.
Not just this dinner.
All of it.
The garden.
The laughter.
The meals.
The conversations.
The terrible dinosaur debates.
Simon.
Sam.
This.
For a wild moment he wanted it forever.
The thought hit him so hard he almost stopped breathing.
Because it was far too soon.
Far too much.
Far too dangerous.
So he kept smiling.
Kept laughing.
Kept listening to Sam explain why a triceratops would beat a tank in a fight.
And said absolutely none of it out loud.
Meanwhile Simon sat beside him, shoulder brushing his every now and then.
Smiling into his glass.
Listening to the people he cared about most.
Completely unaware that Grace was already imagining a future he wasn’t brave enough to name.
———————————————
By the time dessert appeared, Sam was already beginning to fade.
Not that he would ever admit it.
“I’m not tired.”
Simon set a plate in front of him.
“You just yawned so hard I saw your soul leave your body.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Grace took a sip of wine.
“It was pretty dramatic, bud.”
“Traitors.”
Sam pointed his fork at both of them.
Simon smiled.
Easy.
Happy.
God, Grace thought.
He loved that smile.
The dessert turned out to be an apple pie.
Not store-bought.
Of course not.
Simon apparently didn’t believe in doing anything halfway.
The crust was golden.
Flaky.
Perfect.
The filling smelled like cinnamon and brown sugar.
Grace took one bite. Then stared at Simon.
“…Are you kidding me?”
Simon immediately looked suspicious.
“What is it?”
“This is incredible.”
“It’s pie.”
“No.”
Grace pointed his fork.
“This is the pie people write poems about.”
Sam nodded emphatically.
Mouth full.
“See? I told you.”
Simon rolled his eyes.
Though he looked pleased.
“You’re both ridiculous.”
“We’re right.” Grace said.
“We are.” Sam agreed.
And for some reason Simon’s smile lingered.
The rest of dessert disappeared surprisingly quickly.
Mostly because Sam inhaled his slice.
Then attempted to negotiate for a second.
“No.” Simon said immediately.
“Whyyyyy?”
“You’ll explode.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“You absolutely will.”
Grace laughed into his wine glass.
Eventually Sam’s protests became progressively slower.
His eyelids started drooping.
His words became slightly less coherent.
Halfway through a story involving an interstellar spaceship and a submarine he yawned again.
Grace smiled. “There it is.”
“There what is.” Sam asked as he rubbed at his eyes.
“The tired.”
“I’m not tired.” Another yawn.
Simon looked delighted.
“Oh, he’s tired.”
“I am not.”
“Buddy.”
Simon laughed.
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
Sam considered arguing.
Then yawned a third time.
His fate was sealed.
Ten minutes later Simon stood.
“Come on.”
“I’m not—” Yawn. “Tired.”
“Sure.”
Grace watched as Simon gently ruffled Sam’s hair.
The kid immediately leaned into it.
Almost unconsciously.
Simon leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Come on, bud, it’s late, you will be tired tomorrow if you stay up for longer.”
Something soft settled in Grace’s chest.
Again.
Always.
“Night, Mr. Grace.”
“Goodnight, buddy.”
Sam hesitated.
Then unexpectedly wrapped his arms around Grace.
The hug was quick.
Tight.
Then he immediately ran off before anybody could make a big deal about it.
Grace stood there for a second.
Staring after him.
Simon’s expression softened.
“He likes you.”
Grace looked over.
“I like him too.”
The words came out quieter than he’d intended.
Simon smiled.
“I know.”
A few minutes later they heard a bedroom door close upstairs.
Then silence.
The kind of silence that only existed once a child had finally fallen asleep.
The house suddenly felt different.
Not empty.
Just quieter.
More intimate somehow.
———————————————
Grace helped gather plates.
Simon carried serving bowls inside.
The kitchen lights glowed warm against the darkening windows.
Outside, the backyard had slipped fully into evening.
Lanterns twinkled softly along the patio.
Fireflies drifted lazily among the flowers.
The two of them worked together naturally.
Grace rinsed dishes.
Simon loaded the dishwasher.
At one point they both reached for the same plate.
Their hands bumped.
Neither moved immediately.
Grace smiled.
Simon smiled back. “You’re staring again.”
“You keep being so pretty.”
Simon nearly dropped the plate.
Grace laughed immediately.
“That worked.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yet here I am.”
“Unfortunately.”
Grace grinned.
The dishwasher clicked shut.
The counters were wiped down.
The leftovers packed away.
Eventually there was nothing left to do.
The kitchen stood clean.
Quiet.
Finished.
For a moment neither moved.
Then Grace stepped closer.
Simon looked up.
Before he could say anything—
Grace leaned down.
And kissed his cheek.
Soft.
Gentle.
Lingering just long enough to make Simon’s breath catch.
When he pulled away Simon looked momentarily stunned.
Then a faint flush crept into his face.
Grace smiled.
“There.” The blonde man said while slowly coming close enough to hug Simon. “You looked like you needed one.”
Simon laughed and he was close to Grace he felt the hot breath on his neck.
A quiet sound.
“Needed one.”
“Definitely.”
“Good to know.”
The warmth that spread through Simon’s chest felt almost embarrassingly pleasant.
For years his life had been work.
Home.
Sam.
Repeat.
And he’d been happy.
Genuinely happy.
But this—
This felt different.
New.
Like finding something he hadn’t known he’d been missing.
Grace nudged his shoulder.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“You have a beautiful backyard.”
Simon smiled.
“Fair.”
———————————————
A few minutes later they returned to the patio carrying fresh glasses and another bottle of wine.
The night air was cool.
Comfortable.
The lanterns cast soft pools of golden light across the table.
The flowers rustled gently in the breeze.
Crickets sang somewhere beyond the fence.
Grace settled into the chair beside him.
Close enough that their knees occasionally brushed.
Neither commented on it.
The second bottle opened with a quiet pop.
Simon leaned back in his chair.
Glass in hand.
Garden spread before him.
The house behind him.
Sam asleep upstairs.
Grace beside him.
For the first time all day there was absolutely nothing left to do.
Nothing to fix.
Nothing to cook.
Nothing to clean.
Just this.
The cool night.
The scent of roses.
The soft glow of lantern light.
The quiet company of someone he genuinely wanted near him.
Simon took a slow sip of wine.
Looked out across the garden he’d spent years building.
Then glanced at Grace.
Grace was already looking at him.
Smiling.
And something deep inside Simon settled.
Content.
Satisfied.
Peaceful.
Like every important thing in his world was exactly where it belonged.
The patio had grown quieter as the evening deepened.
The lanterns hanging from the pergola cast soft pools of golden light across the stone.
Crickets chirped somewhere beyond the fence.
The air smelled faintly of lavender, rosemary, and the last lingering warmth of the beginning of summer.
Grace tipped the last sip of wine around his glass and glanced toward the far corner of the garden.
Toward the hammock stretched between the two maple trees.
The hammock swayed gently in the breeze.
For a moment he just looked at it.
Then looked at Simon.
Then looked at it again.
“…Can I sit in your hammock?”
Simon stared.
Grace blinked.
“What?” Simon looked genuinely baffled. “You just asked permission to sit in a hammock.”
“…Yes?”
Simon laughed. Actually laughed. The kind that made his shoulders shake.
Grace immediately looked offended.
“It’s your hammock.”
“It’s a hammock, Grace.”
“Still!”
“You think I’m going to say no?”
“I don’t know, I hope not.” That made Simon laugh even harder.
“You absolutely do know.”
Grace grinned into his wine glass.
“Maybe.”
Simon shook his head.
“Unbelievable.”
A few minutes later they carried the wine bottle and their glasses across the garden.
The grass brushed against their ankles as they walked.
The evening air was cool now.
Comfortable.
The hammock sat beneath the maple trees Simon had planted when Sam was little.
Their branches stretched overhead, leaves whispering softly in the breeze.
Moonlight filtered through them in silver patches.
Beside the hammock sat two lounge chairs and a small wooden table.
Grace carefully set the glasses down.
Then immediately climbed into the hammock.
The entire thing dipped sharply to one side.
“Uh oh”
Simon laughed.
“What happened?”
“It’s deeper than I expected.”
“It’s a hammock, Ryland.”
“I know what a hammock is.”
“Evidence suggests otherwise.”
Grace pointed at him. “You’re being mean.”
“I’m being accurate.”
Grace settled more comfortably into the fabric.
Looking entirely too pleased with himself.
The sight made something warm settle in Simon’s chest.
Because Grace looked happy.
Not teacher-happy.
Not polite-happy.
Actually happy.
The kind that softened his entire face.
Grace looked up.
Caught Simon staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe.”
Grace smiled.
The moonlight caught in his curls.
The lantern glow from the patio reached just far enough to illuminate his face.
And suddenly Simon had the overwhelming urge to kiss him.
The realisation hit him so abruptly that he almost laughed.
Because for weeks he’d been trying very hard not to think about things like that.
And now Grace was lying in his hammock.
In his garden.
Smiling up at him.
Making that effort significantly more difficult.
Grace’s smile softened.
“What are you thinking about?”
Simon stepped closer.
“Nothing.”
“That face means it’s definitely something.”
Simon shook his head.
“You analyse children for a living.”
“Correct.”
“You shouldn’t use those powers on adults.”
Grace laughed.
“Too late.”
For a moment neither moved.
Then Simon leaned down.
Grace’s breath caught.
The movement was slow enough that Grace knew what was happening.
Slow enough that he could have pulled away.
He didn’t. He leaned into Simon’s direction more than he already had.
Simon brushed a hand against his shoulder.
Then gently kissed him.
Soft.
Warm.
Unhurried.
The kind of kiss that felt less like a question and more like an answer.
Grace melted immediately.
Completely.
When Simon finally pulled back, Grace looked dazed.
Simon laughed softly.
“You did that.”
“I did.”
“You just kissed me again.”
“Seems that way.”
Grace looked delighted.
Absolutely delighted.
“You are smiling.”
“So are you.”
“I can’t help it, I’m happy!”
For a second they simply looked at each other.
Then Grace reached out.
Caught the front of Simon’s shirt.
“Get in here already, Simon!”
Simon laughed.
“That’s your solution?”
“Yes.”
“Very persuasive argument.”
“I know.”
Simon climbed carefully into the hammock beside him.
The fabric shifted.
The entire thing swayed.
For one alarming second they nearly tipped out.
Grace immediately grabbed Simon.
Simon immediately grabbed Grace.
And then they both started laughing.
“Disaster.”
“Your idea.”
“Worth it.”
Eventually they settled.
Grace ended up tucked securely against Simon’s side.
His head resting beneath Simon’s chin.
One arm draped comfortably across Simon’s waist.
The hammock rocked gently.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Above them, the maple leaves whispered.
Around them, the garden breathed quietly in the night.
Grace could hear Simon’s heartbeat.
Slow.
Steady.
He closed his eyes.
And felt Simon’s arm tighten slightly around him.
Comfortable.
Protective.
Affectionate.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
The house stood warm behind them.
Sam asleep upstairs.
The dishes clean.
Dinner finished.
The garden blooming around them.
And as the hammock swayed beneath the trees, Grace found himself smiling against Simon’s shoulder.
Because for the first time in a very long time—
Everything felt exactly right.
———————————————