Home Is...: G, Romance
When I got back to the apartment after the plane landed Danny was already in bed, lying with the covers wrapped tight around his body, pulled up to his chin and just barely revealing the bare skin of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around a pillow. I’d already checked on Tommy on my way in-sitting on his bed talking in a hushed whisper into his phone, ‘studying’, or so he told me with a guilty look as he covered the speaker, unable to stifle his giddy smile so I knew it was a girl-and he told me that Danny’s physical therapy that day had gone well. There were only a couple more weeks left in the season and while I knew I would miss it, I also looked forward to being able to spend more time with Danny-to being able to go with him to the hospital and hold his hand as he worked on strengthening the muscles and testing the tendons in his other; to be able to be there to cook him dinner so he wouldn’t have to order something or put up with Tommy’s dismal attempts at making food. (He tried, he really did, but the boy could burn water if left to his own devices and we generally took pity on him and took control of the kitchen while he studied for his classes, though he did have to clean the dishes.) Danny is so very strong, stronger than anyone I know, stronger than me-but he was still hurt, and he didn’t have to do this alone. Tommy was there for him as much as he could be, but he was in college and he was back playing hockey for OSU now, so he was almost as absent as I was. It made for quite a few empty nights with no one home except for Danny, and the thought of him-his smiling, vivacious, gregarious, gentle self-having to be alone made my heart hurt in ways unimaginable.
I slipped out of my suit in the dim quietness of the bedroom, letting my clothes fall in a messy pile on the floor, too tired and weary and wanting to slide into bed with him to try and find the hamper. Danny hated when I did that-for a hockey player he’s a surprising neat freak, which I attribute completely to his mother, a very kind woman who makes an incredibly delicious apple pie and accepted me without question-and I’d probably get up in the morning a little early to either put them away or toe them under the bed, but for now I let them lie.
Danny really was ensconced in the blankets. I stood at the side of the bed for a moment, contemplating the mound of sheets under which somewhere the love of my life was buried. All of the edges were under his body and after a moment I rolled my eyes, tolerantly. I’d been with him long enough to know his sleeping habits; he wasn’t comfortable until he’d pulled every last scrap of material from over me and wrapped it around himself. Lucky I was from Norway and the cold didn’t bother me so much. (Besides, he did apologize deliciously if I pouted enough the following morning.)
I slid carefully onto the mattress beside him, throwing my arm over him, nestling against his back as close as I could with layers of blankets between us. He seemed to sense my presence; as I nuzzled the soft hair at the back of his neck he mumbled a little, shifting, rolling over so he could bury his face against my chest. As he did the sheets pulled back a little, so I could see the splint and bandaging still wrapped around his wrist. His fingers curled adorably in my shirt, nose wrinkling a little, and I smiled; planting a kiss on the top of his head and pulling him closer to me protectively. I’d wake up tomorrow morning and make him breakfast in bed-pancakes with maple syrup and blueberries, eggs and toast and good rich coffee to try and make up for my constant absence in the past weeks. Tomorrow the Jackets had the day off between practices and games, and Tommy would be playing a game at Miami University in Oxford and thus be gone until late. We had the whole day to ourselves and I intended to spend all of it catching up with Danny, giving him all of my attention, all of my affection. All of my love.
But for now I just rested my chin on his head and listened to the sound of his quiet breathing as he slept, lulling me into a slumber deeper than I had gotten in any of the soft hotel beds on the roadtrip.
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I slipped out of my suit in the dim quietness of the bedroom, letting my clothes fall in a messy pile on the floor, too tired and weary and wanting to slide into bed with him to try and find the hamper. Danny hated when I did that-for a hockey player he’s a surprising neat freak, which I attribute completely to his mother, a very kind woman who makes an incredibly delicious apple pie and accepted me without question-and I’d probably get up in the morning a little early to either put them away or toe them under the bed, but for now I let them lie.
Danny really was ensconced in the blankets. I stood at the side of the bed for a moment, contemplating the mound of sheets under which somewhere the love of my life was buried. All of the edges were under his body and after a moment I rolled my eyes, tolerantly. I’d been with him long enough to know his sleeping habits; he wasn’t comfortable until he’d pulled every last scrap of material from over me and wrapped it around himself. Lucky I was from Norway and the cold didn’t bother me so much. (Besides, he did apologize deliciously if I pouted enough the following morning.)
I slid carefully onto the mattress beside him, throwing my arm over him, nestling against his back as close as I could with layers of blankets between us. He seemed to sense my presence; as I nuzzled the soft hair at the back of his neck he mumbled a little, shifting, rolling over so he could bury his face against my chest. As he did the sheets pulled back a little, so I could see the splint and bandaging still wrapped around his wrist. His fingers curled adorably in my shirt, nose wrinkling a little, and I smiled; planting a kiss on the top of his head and pulling him closer to me protectively. I’d wake up tomorrow morning and make him breakfast in bed-pancakes with maple syrup and blueberries, eggs and toast and good rich coffee to try and make up for my constant absence in the past weeks. Tomorrow the Jackets had the day off between practices and games, and Tommy would be playing a game at Miami University in Oxford and thus be gone until late. We had the whole day to ourselves and I intended to spend all of it catching up with Danny, giving him all of my attention, all of my affection. All of my love.
But for now I just rested my chin on his head and listened to the sound of his quiet breathing as he slept, lulling me into a slumber deeper than I had gotten in any of the soft hotel beds on the roadtrip.
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