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Lattes of Tomorrow.
It's a funny name, alright, but Ray has to admit this coffee shop made a good impression on him.
He should have tried it way sooner, he thinks as he heads out with a giant cup of black coffee. The girls who work here are really nice and even though their average customer is not exactly the middle-aged businessman Ray is used to, he thinks he's going to come back. He didn't even know this place existed before the café just next to his office shut down. This one is smaller, but it's just around the corner, and a stroll can't hurt, after so many hours sitting behind a desk.
The new Palmer Tech phone has just been launched and it already sold out twice. It makes Ray proud, but it's been a couple of intense weeks and now he just wants to relax and take it easy. He's so sick of parties and public events that all he wants is lots of video games and Star Wars marathons.
He's so absorbed in his thoughts that he completely misses the person walking in as he exits, and before he knows his coffee is exploding against the innocent passer-by's coat. And on his baby's wrap.
“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” Ray babbles, mortified. He steps back, hands dripping. “Are you okay?”
“We're fine, don't worry.” A pair of blue-green eyes set on him. The stranger smiles reassuringly, and Ray's knees turn to mush.
Oh no, he's hot, his brain screams before he has even processed the guy's very attractive features.
He blushes, ashamed of himself. “I wasn't looking where I was going,” he mumbles, picking up the empty cup from the ground. “Is the baby okay?”
The man looks down upon the sleeping child, who hasn't even noticed the fuss around him. Her, actually, according to the name embroidered on the wrap: Emily. “She's fine,” he says amicably. “There's a lot of layers, under here.” His look falls on the empty cup in Ray's hand. “First time at the Lattes of Tomorrow?”
Ray casts a distracted glance down. “Is it so obvious?”
“I come here often.”
Very intersting piece of information, Ray's brain purrs, and, again, he doesn't know what is wrong with him. He literally just met this man.
“My coffee shop closed down,” he explains. “And I've been told the stuff here is to die for.”
“It is,” the stranger confirms. “I know the owners,” he adds with a nod towards the door. “I'm sure I can get you a free replacement, if you want.”
“I'm all willing to pay for it, if it's that good.” There's an idea dancing at the edge of Ray's mind. It's stupid, but worth a try. “Can I buy you something to apologise?”
The man considers Ray's proposal and after a moment his mouth curls. “I was just going to get my daily cappuccino, so... why not?”
Ray opens the door for him and follows him inside.
He has no idea what just happened, but he's glad it happened.
*
His name is Nate. Nate Heywood.
Handsome, sweet, sunny Nate Heywood.
He's a single dad living just one block down the street and, apprently, he spends a lot of his time in this café. He's friends with the two girls who run the place and they welcome him with big, bright smiles and a lot of delighted cooing around the baby girl.
The taller one, Ava, takes Nate's coat and puts it to dry over a heater, while the shorter one, Sara, takes their oders and insists to seat them at the nicest table, just by the fireplace, which has already been properly decorated for Halloween.
“Easy, Sara,” Nate laughs at the girl's enthusiasm. She has a pretty face scattered with freckles and stunning bright blue eyes. “Maybe Mr Palmer doesn't have time to-”
“It's okay, really,” Ray assures quickly. “My working schedule is quite flexible. And call me Ray, please.”
“Ray.” Nate grins, causing a flutter of sparkles in the nape of Ray's neck.
The situation is escalating very quickly. Ray gives himself fifteen minutes tops before this instinctive liking towards the man turns into a crush.
“Is she always so peaceful?” he asks to break the ice, with a nod towards the baby, who is still fast asleep against her father's chest.
Nate looks down at her with a fond smile. “I wish. She's pretty fussy around midnight, which means that, if I'm lucky, I usually get to go to bed around one. Until she wakes up again at five.”
Ray can't help noticing, not without a hint of satisfaction, that he hasn't mentioned any partner.
“So you're a single parent.”
“Yeah.” Nate doesn't sound uncomfortable nor sad. “My ex girlfriend didn't want her. She was going to get an abortion and wouldn't change her mind, even if I promised she would never hear from me and the baby again after the birth. When I offered to cover all the pregnancy expenses, she suddenly became much more malleable.”
Ray feels a wave of sympathy and admiration for this incredible guy. “She took advantage of you.”
“I let her.” says Nate with a light shrug. The baby bounces in her wrap but doesn't complain. “She knew I wouldn't give up on this little one.”
He loves his child, that much is obvious. Ray tries to imagine himself in this situation and realises, with a bit of shame, that he probably woundn't have been as selfless as Nate.
“Do you have debts?” he asks impulsively, but it's very rude to ask such a personal thing and he immediately regrets it. “I'm sorry. It's none of my-”
“No, it's okay.” Nate thanks the waitress – a pretty girl with pearl black eyes and cappuccino skin – who brought them their orders, then turns to Ray again: “I don't have any debts, but... Let's just say Emmie and I are having a bit of a rough time making ends meet, as of now.” He strokes the baby's back with his thumbs. He has beautiful hands, large and strong, an elegant pattern of veins and tendons well visible under the smooth skin. “But we're trying to stay positive, aren't we, Pumpkin? There's people not half as lucky as we are, out there.” He pauses to drop a gentle kiss on the baby's head, then adds: “I don't care about money. As long as Em is warm and well fed, I'm good.”
Fifteen minutes? Scratch that. Ray is already crushing hard on the guy.
He's mermerised by this man and his unconditional love for his daughter: Nate sacrificed everything for Emmie without a single regret, and he's staying strong and determined despite the hardship he's constantly facing. And he's happy, and grateful, because, despite not having everything he wants, he has everything he needs.
The exact opposite of Ray.
He thinks of his billions, of his huge, empty penthouse full of useless stuff, and instead of feeling sorry for a man who is raising a daughter alone with limited finances, he feels sorry for himself. Because he's disgustingly rich, and owns a lot of things, but at the end of the day, when he goes home and no one's waiting for him, no one missed him, he has nothing.
“What do you do for a living?”
Nate puts two sugars in his cappuccino and stirs a couple of times. “I'm a historian. I work for a museum. Mostly research and paperwork. Which is a blessing, because most of my work can be done from home. Or from here.”
“And you're taking care of her on your own?”
“Yeah.” Nate takes a long sip from his cup. He sounds casual, but a shadow has darkened his face. “I don't really talk to my family, and I don't know many people, here, apart from Sara and Ava and few others.”
“You are very brave,” Ray remarks with absolute honesty, but Nate dismisses the comment with a modest shake of his head.
“Nah. Just a goner for this little warrior here.”
“Warrior?” Ray's eyes widen. He looks at the baby. “Is she-”
“She's good, now,” Nate explains. “But she spent her first three weeks in the NICU, and it wasn't fun for either of us. I almost lost her twice.” He seems to zone out for a moment. His fingers dip into the baby's back like he's afraid she might slip away from his arms, then he slowly regains his smile. “She's nearly two months, now, and doing great.”
Ray is vaguely aware of the fact that, if this conversation continues at this rate, he's going to end up on one knee before their cappuccinos are over.
He clears his throat. “I must insist you let me pay for the damage I caused.”
Nate's chest is shaken by light laugh. “It's very nice of you, but we're not doing that bad.”
“But it was my fault...”
“You wanna do some good?” Nate nods towards the counter, where the two blondes are chatting with a couple of customers. “The girls are collecting money for an animal shelter in their neighbourhood. Give whatever you feel like to their cause, and we're square.”
“Very well, then.”
Ray feels a warm tingle in his heart. There are chances he might be in love. Which kinda sucks, because he's not sure he's ever going to see Nate again. Unless he starts frequenting this coffee shop. Which he should, since his old one has shut down.
After Nate leaves, thanking him for the cappuccino and the nice chat, Ray pays for the drinks and inquires about the charity.
“Nate told me you're raising funds for a shelter?”
Sara nods vigurously. “Yup. You looking for a four-legged blessing for your home? Or three-legged. We have a couple of those, too.”
“Not really, but... I'd like to help. How much do you need?”
“We're aiming for ten thousand. You know, to repair the roof and fix the heating.”
“How much have you raised, so far?”
“About two K,” Ava says. It doesn't sound like much to Ray, but she seems rather proud.
“Alright, then.” He fishes his cheque book and a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and fills the blank with a five figure sum. “I believe this should do.” he smiles, handing the cheque to the girls. “Have a good day.”
The two women return the smile, then they look at the cheque and pale, until a broad, disbelieving grin appears on their faces.
“Y-you, too, sir!” they exclaim, but Ray's already gone.
He's out in the street, whistling with his hands in his pockets. His phone rings twice, but he ignores it.
He can't even hear it.
His mind is too busy trying do decide if Nate Heywood's eyes are green or blue.
*
It's almost ten when Nate finally enters the café the day after. He's a little disappointed when he makes it inside without any tall, charming stranger running into him.
He's late because Emily wouldn't stop crying and it took him an hour to get her to calm down and ready to go out. He wishes he knew what he's doing. He loves this kid, but most of her behaviours are still a mystery to him and he needs to perfection his ability to recognise a hungry cry from a cranky one.
All he wants is to drown his frustration in coffee.
When he orders his usual, Ava gives him a weird look.
“What?”
“You know that total hunk that poured his coffee on you yesterday?”
“Yeah?”
“He gave us a fucking cheque for the shelter.”
Nate smiles. Tall, charming, and golden-hearted stranger. “He wanted to pay for the cleaner's bill,” he explains. “I told him to give the money to you, instead.”
Sara smirks. “Was he going to buy you the whole business?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. He really seemed like a good guy.”
“He did, didn't he?”
“He also seemed very interested in you.”
Nate nearly chokes on his cappuccino. “Very funny.”
“Come on, man!” Sara elbows him encouragingly. “He's a real gentleman, you should give him a chance!”
“You can't give a chance to someone who hasn't asked for any,” Nate argues, but Ava winks: “Yet.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“We gave him your number.”
“You did what?”
Ava makes an innocent face: “He called this morning to ask if we thought your coat was salvageable, so we decided it would be easier if he asked you directly. Even if he's straight – and he's not, trust me – it can't hurt to meet new people. He said he's a bit of a loner himself... you could both use a new friend.”
“A wealthy one,” Sara interjects, wiggling her brows meaningfully.
Nate doesn't know about wealthy, but he could definitely use a friend.
A tall, charming, golden-hearted one, incidentally, with kind dark eyes – Deep brown? Black? - and a smile that could easily light up Star City.
“What do you say, Em?” he whispers to his daugther while he waits for his order. “Do you think Ray really likes us?”
Emily burbles, suckling onto Nate's finger. He giggles. “I'll take that as a yes.”
*
Ray spends way too long in front of the mirror trying to make his attire appear as casual as possible. It's just a coffee, after all, and he doesn't want Nate to think he's trying to impress him.
Which he is, but that's not the point.
It's cold, outside, and the jacket he picked is probaby a little too light. He wraps the scarf tighter around his nack and speeds up his pace. He's grinning like an idiot, but who cares? He's too happy Nate accepted his invitation.
Just a coffee, he reminds himself yet again. Just a mere coffee.
“'Morning, Mr Palmer!” greets Sara as soon as he steps inside the café. She has her hair done in intricated braids, and looks very good.
“Ray, please,” he greets back. He smells cinnamon and vanilla in the air, something that reminds him of Christmas, even though there's still a month and a half to go.
“We can't possibly thank you enough for your generosity, Ray.” Ava has appeared from the back, carrying a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. “You should visit the shelter, some time. You'd be able to see for yourself that your money was well spent.”
“I'll make sure to pay a visit as soon as possible, then.”
The girls thank him once more, then the bell above the door rings, and there is Nate, face red from the icy wind. Little Emily is buried beneath the folds of his coat, which, Ray notes with relief, has been washed pristine clean.
“Hey!” The way Nate's face lights up makes Ray's knees go weak. They stay weak for the whole time, even after they've been chatting for a while.
Ray tells Nate about his job (omitting a few trivial details, like the fact that the company he works for is his own), about his interests and how he never seems to click with people and prefers books and movies, instead.
Nate talks about his life before Emily, reminiscing without regret his days as a carefree womanizer. He says Emily made him a better person, and he's proud of it.
“You should be,” Ray says, and he means it. “You have more guts than most people I know.”
“Which is not many, according to Sara and Ava?” Nate teases, and, oh, Ray is absolutely smitten.
“Touché.”
“Thanks for the invitation, by the way. You didn't have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Nate smiles, and something inside Ray topples. He never felt like this with anyone before.
“Cappuccino on Monday, coffee on Thursday...” Nate tilts his head to one side and his smile turns into a smirk. “Should I get my hopes up?”
Ray gulps. This is flirting, isn't it? He's not just imagining it. The choice of words, the tone, the non verbal cues... It's a quite unmistakable ensemble, right?
“There's nothing better than dinner to get one's hopes up,” he suggest, surprised by his own boldness.
Nate's smirk falters, and so does Ray's courage. What a fool. It was too soon: Nate doesn't even know him. He ruined everything before it was even a possibility.
“I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. I shouldn't have-”
“No, it's-” Nate shakes his head. “I'd love to. The dinner, I mean. I was just thinking about Em.”
“What about her?”
“There's no one I can leave her with. Sare and Aves are busy until late, here, and I'm not sure I can trust a baby sitter to-”
“Why would you leave her? Just bring her along!”
Nate scrutinises him with a glint in his eyes that causes Ray's heart to skip a beat. “Are you sure? She can be quite noisy at times.”
“If they kick us out of the restaurant, I'll just buy it and kick them out.”
Nate bursts out laughing. It wasn't a joke, but he doesn't need to know.
So it's happening.
The mere thought makes Ray grin like an idiot.
He's taking cute Nate Heywood out for dinner.
*
Ray's not taking cute Nate Heywood anywhere.
Nate calls the afteroon of their date to cancel because Emily has a light cold and he doesn't want it to risk getting worse. Ray, of course, tells him not to worry: Emily comes first.
He's not mad. He understands. He's just a bit disappointed.
He mopes around his office for a long while before an idea tickles his mind. It's not like a fancy restaurant, but...
One hour later he's knocking on Nate's door, still not entirely sure this is going to be a welcome suprise. He crosses his fingers, just in case.
There's a sound of locks being unlocked, then the door opens and Nate appears, wearing just sweatpants and a plain gray shirt that is very flattering for his figure: with all those layers of clothing, Ray never noticed he's in such remarkable shape.
“What are you doing here?” Much to Ray's relief, Nate doesn't sound annoyed, but actually quite pleased. He glances at the bags full of groceries in Ray's hands and then at Ray again.
“Since we couldn't go to dinner, I brought dinner to you.” Ray enthusastically raises the bags. “Did I mention I'm a superb cook?”
Nate steps aside and invites him in. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asks, patting his back with a familiarity Ray didn't realise they had. Not that he minds. “Because you should know it's totally working.”
Flirting? Again?
Ray must be dreaming.
“Where's baby Heywood?”
“Sleeping, finally. Took me forever to soothe her.”
The apartment is small: a livingroom, a kitchen and two other doors which presumably lead to the bedroom and bathroom. Ray could fit all of it into his wardrobe and there would still be room left.
Nate observes curiously as Ray unpacks his purchases and spreads them over the counter.
“Penne, basil, onion, tomato sauce, mozzarella...” Nate arches his brows. “Are we eating Italian?”
“Are you familiar with pasta al forno? It loosely translates to-”
“Baked pasta.”
Ray turnes to Nate with an impressed look. Nate chuckles. “I speak a lot of languages.”
Is that so?, Ray thinks, admiredly. “You are an endless source of interesting surprises.”
“I know, right?” Nate puts his hands on his hips and shrugs in false modesty. “I put the Nate in fasci-nate-ing.”
Ray is staring. Staring with hazy eyes and an idiotic smile tugging at his lips. “You absolutely do,” he agress. He's pretty sure he is in love.
They look at each other for a long while. There's something there, Ray can sense it. He feels the electricity between them, the heat of Nate's body standing so close to him. It feels like something could happen.
But it shouldn't. Not yet. There's no need to rush things.
“Do you have a casserole?”
Nate blinks. His shoulders relax, like he's been holding his breath. “Yeah, sure.”
Ray spends one hour making dinner, teaching Nate the recipe in the meantime. It's nice to do it in this warm, tiny kitchen, with Nate hanging around, alone at first, then with Emily propped against his shoulder while he bounces her gently to lull her back to sleep.
It feels pleasantly domestic, this whole thing, and Ray and Nate are suprisingly at ease around each other – they chat, they joke, they flirt – as if they've been doing this since forever. To Ray, it feels like they have.
When they finally sit down to eat, the whole apartment is filled with the mouth-watering smell of pasta al forno.
Ray and Nate sit down in front of each other at the table, a bottle of red wine and a bowl of salad to accompany their dish.
It's not a fancy restaurant.
Ray never wants to see a fancy restaurant again.
He likes this.
It's simple.
It's cosy.
It feels like home.
*
After pasta al forno, Ray makes Nate ravioli alla zucca, risotto alla milanese and spaghetti allo scoglio. Every Friday night, they try a new recipe. Every Friday night, Ray shows up with fresh, prime quality ingredients for his and Nate's dinner. It's their thing, and he wouldn't skip it for anything in the world.
They're always at Nate's because it would be stressful for Emily to be moved around so late, especially after she falls asleep. There is also the fact that Ray likes the warmth of Nate's small apartment, and the sweet, soapy baby scent that fills it. He feels much happier here than in his own home.
“We should at least split the costs for all this stuff,” Nate says the night of melanzane alla parmigiana. He's washing and slicing down the eggplants while Ray prepares the sauce.
“Sure,” says Ray. “As soon as you let me pay you back for letting me mess around in your kitchen every Friday.”
Nate barely stifles a tocuhed grin. Ray sees him out of the corner of his eye, turning away to conceal his moved expression. Nate can't afford this stuff, and Ray won't accept money in exchange for something he takes such pleasure in doing.
“Besides,” he continues, nudging Nate with an elbow. “I would be all alone at home eating take out, if it wasn't for you guys. Cooking for yourself isn't fun.”
Nate interrupts the cutting. His expression is soft, full of affection.
“I'm glad I met you,” he mutters. “Not because you bring me expensive food and spoil me and Em rotten. I'm just glad you're in our life.”
“And I'm glad you are in mine. Both of you,” he stresses, casting a glance at Emily, who is slumbering in her seat right next to Nate.
Nate's look flickers all over Ray's face. “Both of us, huh?”
“Okay, busted.” Ray rolls his eyes playfully. “I'm only here because you have the cutest baby in the world.”
Nate snorts. “If you saw her during one of her late night wailings, you'd take it all back. Sometimes I think she's possesed.”
He says this with such love that Ray forgets for a moment what he's doing. Forgets even his own name. How blessed he would be, if he deserved even one minuscule shard of this man's love. “She's very lucky to have you.”
There's a pause.
All amusement on Nate's face vanishes. He drops his head, focusing his attention on the slices of eggplant before him. “Sometimes I wonder if it was selfish of me to keep her,” he mumbles. There's a sadness in his voice that hurts Ray in a way he didn't believe possible. “I can barely provide for her basic needs. I'll never be able to give her what she deserves.”
“What a child deserves is love, and she has plenty of that,” Ray protests. It angers him that Nate feels inadequate. “She lacks nothing, with you. And, who knows, tables may turn, one day.”
He doesn't say he wants to be the one to turn Nate and Emily's tables. If he confesses this, he has to confess something else. Something he's not quite ready to admit and Nate is probably not ready to hear.
“Yeah,” Nate replies flatly. Emily starts fussing, so he picks her up and holds her against his chest. “Maybe I win the lottery.”
Ray wants to comfort him, to tell him it's gonna be alright for him and Emmie, but then Nate turns to him with glossy eyes and he loses all power of speech.
“My dad is loaded,” Nate blurts – spits, almost. “But I won't take a single cent from him. I don't want to owe him anything. Unless things get desperate.”
Ray nods sympathetically. He knows nothing about babies, so he can't really comprehend the difficulties of being a single parent. However, he can't help wondering if he would be a good father, if he would be willing to sacrifice his personal time and space to look after someone else or if he would just pay someone to do that for him.
Would he be capable of loving a child of his own like Nate loves this little one?
“I had no idea babies were so high maintenance,” he comments, bewilderedly.
“Neither did I, honestly,” Nate confesses sheepishly. “Diapers, clothes, food... The formula is riduculously expensive. You'd think there's gold and diamonds in it. But it's okay.” His hand goes to Emily's head, which barely fills his palm. “With a few sacrifices, we're pulling through. Aren't we, Pumpkin?”
“What brand do you use?” Ray asks without thinking. An insistent thought has been twirling in his mind since the conversation started.
“Of formula? Enfamil. Why?”
“I- I have a connection who may be able to get you free samples,” he lies.
“Oh.” Nate's face fills with genuine gratitude. He pats Ray's shoulder. “That would be awesome! Thanks, buddy!”
Later, at the pharmacy, Ray learns that one pound of the best formula can cost over twenty dollars. Which doesn't sound unreasonable, to him, but he has probably unrealistic standards.
“First child?” the pharmacist asks with a smile when he requests six packs of Enfamil.
Ray smiles back but doesn't answer. He hands his credit card to the woman with an odd buzzing in his ears.
He's never considered himself a fatherly man. To be honest, he never thought about it at all. But suddenly, for some reason, the thought of himself with a child in his arms doesn't seem so alien.
*
Nate doesn't know what this thing with Ray really is.
Since the incident with the coffee, they've been seeing each other a lot, sometimes for their regular not dates, sometimes coming up with riduculous excuses to justify such a strong desire to spend so much time together.
There's something about Ray Palmer that feels absurdly right, to Nate: he's cultured and very smart (and Nate's sapiosexuality is very attracted to this), sensible and sensitive and extremely patient; he's kind and polite to everyone, even when people don't really deserve it, and can always handle things with absolute diplomacy.
He's a decent guy. So decent that Nate has started wondering if he isn't growing so fond of him a little too quickly. After all, they still haven't discussed the nature of this mutual interest they are experiecing. As far as he knows, Ray might be just looking for a friend. A friend to flirt with. A lot.
Nate is quite positive they are dating, but they are taking it easy, for obvious reasons. He trusts Ray, but he wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to start a real relationship. He understands: it can be intimidating and most people would hesitate to commit to a single father.
And yet Ray is always very thoughtful when it comes to Emily: he brings free samples of formula whenever he gets any (which is quite often); if they go out for drinks, they always go early and he chooses quiet pubs where she won't be disturbed by heavy noise; if they go for a stroll, he always offers his scarf to grant her extra warmth, and Nate always accepts, even if it's not truly necessary. Ray has even bought an infant seat for his car, because Nate once mentioned most taxis don't have it and carrying grocery bags up and down the subway with Emily strapped to his chest is a nightmare. So now for the past three weeks Ray has been picking up Nate with his car (a very elegant SUV) every Saturday afternoon to go grocery shopping together and he appears very happy to push the cart as Nate picks what he needs from the shelves while trying his best to stick to his weekly budget.
They decided to try a cart with an integrated baby carrier, today. Nate sprays disinfectant all over it twice before he agrees to put Emily in it. It makes Ray laugh, to which Nate replies with a point of his finger: “You try having kids, see how funny it is to see germs everywhere.”
A shadow darkens Ray's features for a split second. He gets wistful, looks at Nate intently, then at Emily. A corner of his mouth curls. He leans down to mutter into Emmie's ear: “Your dad is a little OCD, isn't he?”
Emmie gifts him with a toothless grin, which makes Ray beam even brighter. “I know, right?”
“What are you two conspiring behind my back?” Nate interjects, trying to put on a frown that, despite his efforts, ends up turning into a grin.
“Uh oh, I think he caught us,” Ray whispers to Emily, but his look is fixed on Nate, and it's sweet, and loving.
Nate's heart quivers.
His mind starts building a scenery where he's not afraid of the future, because he and his little girl are not alone anymore.
*
If Friday nights are for cooking at Nate's and watching nerdy movies, Sunday mornings are for breakfast at the Lattes of Tomorrow.
It's very croweded during the weekends, but Sara and Ava always have a table reserved for them and as soon as they can they leave the counter to steal Emily and walk her around so that she can admire the Christmas decorations shimmering all over the café.
It's a busy morning, today, and it's been five minutes since Nate went to ask for some warm water for Emmie's formula, leaving Ray in charge.
Ray is nervous: Em is hungry and she's getting impatient. He's trying his best to soothe her in her pram, but it's not working.
“Come on, man, where are you?” he groans. Emmie's crying her lungs out, now. Several people are staring at him, probably wondering why he's doing nothing. He can't see the counter from here, so he has no idea if Nate has noticed.
“Alright, Ms Heywood,” he says in a whisper. “I guess you leave me no choice.”
He stands up and bends over the pram a bit uncertainly: he has no idea how to do this. He tries to mimic Nate's movements, sliding one hand under Emily's head and the other behind her back. She feels fragile and weightless, squirming restlessly as he tries to adjust her over his shoulder like Nate always does.
The crying stops.
“Oh.” Ray frowns perplexedly. He tires to draw his head back to check if Em is okay and sees she is, in fact, quite fine. She's making bubbly noises in his ear, apparently pretty content with the new situation.
Nate arrives one second later, rushing to them all worried and flustered. He stops a few steps from the table, eyes widening. “What did you do to my daugther?”
“I... Uh...” Ray blushes. He didn't think Nate would mind.
“Did you drug her? Did you replace her with a doll? Tell me your secret, wizard!”
Nate's playful tone makes Ray relax. He adjusts his hand over Emmie's head and grins awkwardly. “I just... I just picked her up.”
Nate looks as disbelieving as Ray is. “I heard her crying and then it stopped so abruptly...” He eyes his daughter like he can't quite recognise her. “I thought she had passed out or something. She never calms down so quickly.”
Ray feels very proud: Emily likes him; Nate is impressed. Day made.
“We're good friends, huh?” he says, turning over his shoulder towards the baby. “Aren't we, Em? Tell Daddy we're besties.”
Nate is staring with his arms crossed and big smile on his lips. “You're good with kids.”
“Really?” Ray lights up. “She's the first baby I've ever dealed with”
Nate fires a finger gun at him with a wink: “You're hired. From now, no matter what day or time it is, you have to show up whenever she's having a crying fit. Sorry, I don't make the rules.”
There is a number of implications in this statement, however humorous, and Ray wants to sign up for all of them.
Wants Nate to call him in the middle of the night because he knows he can.
Wants Emily to feel safe and sound in his arms when nothing else will pacify her.
Wants both of them to count on him, always, no matter what.
“You have my number.”
“And don't think for one second I'm not gonna use it,” Nate replies, and Ray hopes it's a promise.
“Please, do.”
He's ready, he suddenly realises, lost in Nate's eyes with a throb in his heart.
He wants this.
All of this.
He wants this to be his life.
*
Nate is feeding Emily her last bottle before sleep. The Empire Strikes Back is droning on the TV, but neither he nor Ray are really paying attention. They're too enraptured by the funny noises Emily is making while suckling her milk.
Ray seems hypnotised: he observes every movement Emmie makes, marvels whenever she does something unexpected – a yawn or a whine – and compliments her with a heartful laugh when she burps loudly.
“She's a good little eater, huh?”
Nate puts the empty bottle down and snorts. “Euphemism.”
They're sitting very close. Nate is painfully aware of this, because Ray's body irradiates heat like a furnace and he can feel it all over himself, burning against his thigh, his arm, his side. Ray's arm is casually slung along the backrest behind Nate's head. It's innocent, and he surprises himself when he realises he doesn't want it to be innocent. He doesn't ask for much: just a few inches lower, and Ray's arm would be around his shoulders...
“Hey, look!”
Nate looks in the direction Ray is pointing to: beyond the windows, fat snowflakes are falling copiously in the black night sky.
“Whoa! Look at that, Em: your first snow!” He takes her by the window and sits her on the sill. He knows she can't understand what's going on, but he still wants her to see.
He feels Ray's warmth behind him. He smiles at his reflection in the glass. Ray smiles back.
It's perfect, Nate thinks, or very close to perfect.
No, truly perfect, he corrects, when Ray's hand comes to rest on the small of his back.
They look at each other, and for a split second Ray's fingers twitch, like he's not sure he should do what he's doing, but Nate nudges him with his shoulder and leans back against him. Ray immediately relaxes and slips his arm around Nate's waist.
Whatever is happening, they let it happen. They stand like this for a long while, watching the snowflakes drift upon the city until a thin veil of white covers everything. Nate would happily stay like this all night.
He sighs blissfully when Ray's chin brushes the side of his head. He feels Ray's lips move as he sighs: “I should get going.”
“I don't think it's wise to get out there in this weather,” Nate objects, but what he really means is: don't leave. “I don't have a guestroom, but-”
Ray parts from him to give him a scolding scowl: “You shouldn't do this.”
“Do what?”
“Invite people to stay over. It's not safe.”
“Bro,” Nate nearly laughs. “We've known each other for nearly two months, now. You're not people. You're Ray. I've seen enough of you to know Em is more dangerous than you.”
Temptation dances in Ray's eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. You can have my bed and I can-”
“No, absolutley not. The couch or nothing.”
“You're way too tall for that, man,” huffs Nate. “You might as well sleep in Emmie's crib.”
His heart flutters when Ray reaches around his waist to tickle Emily's foot.
“Did you hear that, little lady? Your dad wants me to put you in a basket to sleep.”
At this point, Nate is absolutely positive he's in love. Which is awesome, but it's also quite scary: he hasn't been in love with anyone for ages. College, probably. And back in college he didn't have a little one to take care of.
“Ray.” He steps back and gazes at him. He's pathetically nervous. “I'm sorry if this is gonna sound blunt, but I- I really need to ask. Where is this going? You and I, all of this. I don't wanna pressure you,” he clarifies quickly. Ray seems dismayed. “It's just... my life is already messy enough without me falling for a man who doesn't feel the same.”
Ray's expression stays blank for so long Nate fears he's lost him. Then his lips start stretching upward. “Well, this is awkward,” he says. “Because I didn't want to pressure you...”
Nate forbids himself to feel too elated. “I need you to be honest with me, man. I mean, most people wouldn't want to date a man with a baby. I get it.”
“What are you talking about?” Ray's face darkens. He looks offended. Hurt, even. “I knew from the beginning you and Em were a package deal. I'm not here for a man with a baby. I'm here for Nathaniel and Emily Heywood. I care for you both. I love you both.”
Nate's eyes go wide. He holds onto Emily more tightly. “You what?”
Ray's face falls. “Did I say that out loud?” he babbles embarrassedly, but Nate just really wants to hug him.
“Please, say it again.”
“I love you,” Ray repeats softly, a stunned smile on his face, then runs a finger over Emily's nose. “I love you,” he whispers to her.
Nate feels something warm and wet roll down his face. “Did you hear that, Pumpkin?” he sniffles. He cups Emily's small head in his palm and rubs his thumb over the impalpable hair in a loving caress. “This guy loves us. Isn't that the coolest thing you've ever heard?” He bends to place a delicate peck on her forehead, then looks up at Ray, lips twitching into a hint of a smile. There's a question in his eyes.
And as if he can read this question, Ray slowly reaches out and Nate finds himself mirroring the movement. Nate's hand is still on Emily's head when their lips meet above her in a light, tentative kiss. It's chaste, just lips meeting lips experimentally, but it's more than Nate dared to hope for.
When they part, his heart his racing and he has a weird knot in the back of his throat. “We love you, too,” he whispers. He reaches out for another kiss, but Ray gently pushes his back.
“Wait.” His voice is low and deadly serious. “Before you say that, there's something you should know about me.”
Nate feigns an outraged face: “You're not really into Star Wars.”
“No.”
“You killed someone?”
“What? No!”
“You're secretly a time traveller?”
“Nate, I'm serious, I-”
“I already know, Ray.”
There's a moment of silence. Ray's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he manages to stutter: “What?”
Nate shurgs. “It took me a while to figure out why you kinda looked familiar. Then a couple of weeks ago there was a picture this big in the newspaper: Palmer Technologies CEO R.C. Palmer. I felt stupid for not realising it sooner.”
Ray swallows. His eyes fill with fear. “I didn't want to lie to you. Please, believe me, I wanted to tell you but-”
“You must be sick and tired of gold diggers.”
“No! I mean, yes, but... the reason why I didn't tell you was that I was afraid it would ruin everything. That you'd think I just wanted to fool around with you.”
“I could never think that of you,” says Nate softly as he raises a hand to pat Ray's arm.
“So it's... it's alright?” Ray asks uncertainly. “You're not mad?”
Nate chuckles: “Believe me, bro: there are worse things in life than finding out your boyfriend is a billionaire.”
“Oh my god, this is such a relief. You have no idea how nervous I was to-” Ray's head snaps up. “Did you just say boyfriend?”
Nate adjusts Emily in his arms and addresses him a sultry look: “Don't get all worked up, big man. Em and I only want you for your money.”
“Great,” Ray breathes hoarsely, staring into Nate's eyes like he's drowning in them. “It's all yours.”
And then Nate hooks an arm around his neck a pulls him down to kiss him again, this time more passionately, more intimately. Ray kisses back, wrapping his arms around Nate and Emily to bring them closer to him.
The snow keeps falling outside.
With a warm flutter in his chest, Nate muses that, after all, there is no need for anyone to sleep on the couch.
*
Ray has never spent a Christmas among strangers, and never in an animal shelter.
There's a lot of people, many of which he's seen at the Lattes of Tomorrow, and everyone has brought something to eat or to drink. Some of the dogs and cats have been let out of their spaces to share the celebrations with the humans who contributed to make their refuge a better place.
Nate has a cup of punch in his hand and is chatting with Ava across the room, right next to the giant Christmas tree that a mysterious donor sent a few days ago. He winks when he notices Ray is looking at him.
Ray grins.
“It's nice, isn't it, Em?” he says. Comfortable ensconced in the crook of his arm, Emily stirs sleepily. He walks her along the cages of the least fortunate animals – the ones who aren't healthy enough or tolerant enough to join the party – and stops before a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from behind the bars.
“Hey, there,” he greets. The cat purrs.
The tag says it's an eight-year-old female who was run over by a car and left in the street to bleed to death. She's missing a hind leg and half her tail.
A three-legged blessing.
“I know that look,” an amused voice says behind his back. Ray turns around: Nate is smirking at him. “That's the look you had when you met Emmie and me.”
Ray pretends not to get what he means. “So?”
Nate doesn't buy it for a second. “So,” he replies, scratching the cat's neck with a finger. “She's a keeper. You're already in love with her.”
“You always say my apartment is cold and sad.”
“It is.”
“This sweet little lady will warm it up. You will, won't you?” he coos at the cat, who's rubbing herself against the bars to allow him to scratch her better. Yes, he's definitely in love.
Nate crosses his arms and shakes his head with a fond smile. “You're such a dork.”
“But I'm your dork,” says Ray, holding out his hand. Nate takes it, kisses his knuckles.
“Yes, you are,” he says. “All ours.”
They share a meaningful look. Ray coudn't agree more.
He smiles to himself.
All yours.