Jack felt like there was some wonderful thing, like he was some wonderful thing, nursing a secret inside his body that was impossible to see, but which hung about him and made him feel like glowing. Glowing like Avery, really, who had a secret tucked into his back. That was how Jack felt.
Jake felt different, too. He was aware of everything he did and he felt more careful, and he’d sit for long periods of time, thinking, although he couldn’t say about what. His relationship with Jack would be a little different forever after, that had been decided weeks ago, but the next months would be something unique. Before, they’d lived together, loved each other, whatever, it wasn’t the same. Now Jake was aware of Jack’s movements consciously and imagined that he could feel tenseness any time Jack stood up.
Jack was standing up now, and Jake looked up from the book he’d been staring at without reading. He was too comfortable to read, too sleepy. Jack didn’t say anything, but left the television on and went into the kitchen. Jake listened until he heard a shriek and a laugh and a heavy noise that must have been Avery throwing a dishtowel. The phone rang, the laughter stopped, and the refrigerator opened. Jake went upstairs.
He was going to have nine months to think too much. Not to regret anything, but to think. To wait. Jake hated waiting. He took off his shirt, but wasn’t really tired, so he sat in the window, pulling a pillow into his lap. This was the part where he admitted he was scared again, wasn’t it? God, he had done this already. It would be okay. It would be wonderful! But if it wasn’t—well, it would be. It would! Jake had trouble accepting that things were okay at the best of times. With so much that could go wrong, so much to worry about, so much to lose or see harmed—Jack, the baby, Avery even, if something happened—he was doubly, no, triply afraid of everything. He didn’t want anything bad to happen. And no matter how much he was assure that he wouldn’t, he still felt that it would. He couldn’t help it.
Jack came in smiling, and Jake looked up. He didn’t say anything, but dropped the pillow to the floor. “Did you eat?”
“Yeah, and talked to Claire. Do you want to?”
“It’s okay.” Jake didn’t look away, and Jack sat in his lap. “How do you feel?”
“Fine!” Jake could never tell when Jack was lying, now. He eyed Jack, but Jack had found something new to do.
Jake didn’t know how to react when Jack touched his chest. He liked the touches, of course, but he held still anyway. It was practically guaranteed that Jack’s sudden and single-minded devotion to touching him was a hormonal upswing. Of course it was normal, but Jake wasn’t sure that he could respond the same way. Jack scooted closer, sat closer, and mmmed as he ran his fingers down Jake’s stomach and back up again, his hand flat to feel the definition that Jack himself had lost. Jack’s breath changed, slightly, and Jake made a noise. “Jack?”
Jack didn’t look away from Jake’s arms, which were the next thing he’d touched. “Right here.”
“I know. Jack, stop.” Jack stopped. Jake freed his arms and reached for Jack’s shirt, which Jack removed after a hesitation. Jake looked.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh.” If Jack couldn’t help being horny, Jake couldn’t help being curious. He touched Jack’s waist, which was near gone. His hips, which Jake had loved, were no wider than the rest of his body now. And Jack’s stomach—in one size up, it would be impossible to tell. But Jake touched too much to not feel the difference, the firmness, the definite something that was there. “Can you only have boys?” Jake asked, amused. He’d wondered at the gender the other day, but Jack had already been sure.
“Don’t try me.”
“We’ll have enough, Jack.”
“Hmm.” Alarmed, Jake watched him. “I’m kidding! Right now, I do not want extra hurts.”
“It hurts?”
“No, Jacob.”
They sat quietly, both thinking about each other.
Jake knows that he thinks too much, but there’s just so much that needs to be thought of. He keeps a mental list, of ways to make Avery smile and a daily reminder to keep Jack healthy. He thinks during the quiet parts of the day and he thinks at night when he’s the last one awake, and he’s thinking right now, with Jack falling asleep against his chest. He’s not sad, though, because he thinks he knows how Jack feels. Things have changed between them, and Jake imagines that he knows.
Jack feels like an angel.