Morning Reports
[Takes place the morning after this and this, co-written by the muns]
Lawrence has just finished frying up the last of the bacon - he'd made enough for everyone, even though he's pretty damn sure that no one's gonna see hide nor hair of Kitten or Dapper until much later - when the front doorbell rings. "The hell?" he mutters to himself and frowns, wiping his hands on a towel as he walks into the foyer and opens the door.
A sharply dressed kid - can't be more than 15 - salutes Lawrence and hands him a sealed envelope. "Morning reports for Mr. Bloom, sir."
"Yeah, thanks, kid," Lawrence replies absently, slapping a few bills into the kid's outstretched hand before closing the door and heading back into the kitchen. At least he'll have something to read over breakfast.
Moe looks up from the cup of coffee he's pouring as Lawrence comes back into the kitchen. "Bit early for visitors, ain't it?" He grabs another cup and pours some coffee for Lawrence, sliding it across the counter.
"Last night's reports," Lawrence explains, and raises the cup in thanks before taking a bracing sip and opening the envelope. "Let's see how rich we all are."
Moe snags a chair and straddles it, sipping at his coffee as he watches Lawrence. When Lawrence's eyebrows shoot up, Moe leans forward. "Trouble?"
Lawrence just slides the paper across the counter. "Fourth item down."
Moe starts to skim over the lines, then stops and goes back to the beginning. Slowly, he reads it, eyes widening more with each word. Then he looks up at Lawrence...and bursts out laughing.
Lawrence's lips twitch in response, eyes twinkling. "I bet not even Kitten could top that one, huh." Of all the brazen fucking things, man... Ah well, at least he hadn't been there to witness it.
"No, definitely not," Moe wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "He's usually more...discreet." Still laughing, he reads the item again and shakes his head. "Glad it's not me that's gotta tell 'em about it."
Lawrence snorts and snags a piece of bacon from the tray. "I ain't telling Orlando about it. Kid can read well as I can," he grins. "Mark, of all fucking people..."
Moe shakes his head again and grins. "If I didn't know he'd spent the night with Kitten, I'd've never pegged him for it. But Jake...I swear, that kid could talk a saint into all sorts of debauchery."
"Girls at Tartine's would agree with you," Lawrence replies, and looks up, coughing on his bite of bacon as Orlando and Joaquin both appear in the doorway, wearing only pajama bottoms and smiles. Lawrence supposes he should be thankful they're wearing clothes at all.
"Morning," Orlando yawns, voice scratchy with sleep.
"I still say that's debatable," Joaquin mutters, rubbing his eyes. Then he looks at the coffee pot. "Ah, coffee, blessed drink..."
Moe watches, eyes bright with supressed laughter, as Joaquin pours himself a cup and wraps both hands around it. "Up late, boys?"
Orlando exchanges a small smile with Joaquin before joining him at the coffee pot, hips brushing together. "I didn't know you were wanting details these days, Moe."
"Now you oughta know better than that," Moe says, hiding his grin behind his cup. He watches them, still smiling as Joaquin moves closer to Orlando, one arm sliding around his waist.
Orlando takes a moment to nuzzle the bit of skin just under Joaquin's jaw as he snuggles in close, both of them leaning against the counter. The first sip of coffee is hot, bracing, and Orlando sighs a little in appreciation. "Thought I smelled bacon."
"On the table," Lawrence answers with a grin. "And I ain't fetching it for you, neither."
"Didn't ask now, did I?" Fuck it, moving's too much effort at the moment.
Joaquin pulls Orlando closer and makes a face at the bodyguards. "Greedy bastards."
"Ain't greedy, boss. Bacon's right here," Moe says, tipping the platter up so they can see it.
"Insubordinate," Joaquin mutters in Orlando's ear. "Should fire the lot of 'em."
"Monday," Orlando promises, and yawns again. "That last night's report?" he asks, motioning at the piece of paper still on the table.
"Uh..."
"May as well look at it."
Lawrence exchanges an indescribable look with Moe before handing Orlando the paper. "Your funeral," Lawrence comments.
"Can't have been that bad," Orlando scoffs, and starts to skim the figures and notes. When he gets to the fourth item, he blinks, stops, and re-reads. "This is a joke, right?"
Standing behind Orlando, Joaquin rests his chin on Orlando's shoulder and reads. Then he blinks, and his eyes fly to Lawrence and Moe. "This...they..."
"What the report says," Lawrence replies, spreading his hands open. "Didn't know Mark had it in him."
"In the lobby?" Orlando reads the short missive again, trying to make sense of the words. Yeah, alright, Jake, possibly, maybe (even though he'd thought of Jake as being more circumspect), but Mark?
"And apparently in the elevator as well, according to one of the operators," Joaquin says, pointing to another line in the item. He can barely contain his amusement. Of all the things, man. He'd certainly never expected this out of either one of them.
"And we're sure this is them?"
"You ever known Roberts to lie?" Lawrence retorts.
"No, it's just..." Orlando can feel his lips twitching as he looks down at the report. He can't look at Joaquin. He can't. "I don't even know what to say."
"Didn't know Mark had it in him," Joaquin murmurs, eyes sparkling. "Though, based on that report, it sounds more like Jake had it in him." A snicker escapes him at his own juvenile humor, and he presses his face against Orlando's shoulder.
"That's bad, boss," Moe says, laughing as he waves a piece of bacon at them.
"You're not helping," Orlando replies, chuckling. "I don't even know how to respond to this, man."
"Send 'em a bottle of champagne," Joaquin suggests, grinning against Orlando's shoulder, body shaking with supressed laughter. "And have the hotel send 'em up a big breakfast. Sounds like they might need it."
"I doubt any of the staff'll go near them after their stunts last night." Shaking his head, still trying not to laugh, Orlando pulls Joaquin to him.
Joaquin grins and wraps himself around Orlando as best as he can without both of them falling over. "Oh, someone'll go up," he says, and grins. "For the sake of curiosity if nothing else."
"Send the champagne," Orlando tells Lawrence with a wide grin. "But make sure the note is very clear that they're to keep the escapades in the room for the duration."
Joaquin winks at the bodyguards. "And charge a full breakfast to the room. I'm good for it." He laughs and reaches for his coffee again. "Might have to call 'em later. Congratulate them."
"Perhaps." Orlando reaches across the table for two slices of bacon, handing one to Joaquin. "Actually, tell 'em they've got a few days in the room, on us, if they want it."
"Anything else?" Lawrence asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Tell Roberts if there are any other incidents, I'll personally settle it."
"Oh, he'd love that," Lawrence snorts. "He won't even talk to you directly he's so scared of you."
"Scaring the help, baby?" Joaquin grins around his piece of bacon. "What'd you do to the poor man?"
"That poor man is probably scandalized by the two of you," Moe says, and shakes his head as he picks up his cup and moves to the coffee pot. "And now along come Mark and Jake...you're lucky he don't up and quit."
"Oh, this was long before you goons rolled into town," Lawrence grins.
"Few years back there was...an incident with one of our Canadian reps," Orlando continues. "Roberts had a gun pointed at him, and I took care of it."
"Took the guy out as the guy's all waving his gun and has his arm around Roberts' throat," Lawrence says with something like pride. "Helluva shot."
"I had a good teacher," Orlando shrugs.
"Can't imagine why that would scare him," Moe says, perfectly deadpan.
Joaquin almost chokes on his bacon as he laughs. "Bet it's not every day he has a bullet whiz by his head. You really are lucky he didn't quit."
"Consensus is he's too scared to," Lawrence says, and tops off his coffee.
Orlando just shrugs around his mouthful of bacon. He doesn't care much one way or the other why Roberts stuck around.
Reaching for another piece of bacon, Joaquin grins. "Don't suppose there are any eggs to go with this, yeah?"
Lawrence just laughs as he drains his coffee cup. "You know where everything is," he says, and sets the cup in the sink. "Me, I gotta get down to Chinatown, collect the week's pay."
"Shouldn't have given Nick the week off," Orlando laments.
Moe gives his mug a mournful look. "Just gonna leave us with bacon, man? That's hard."
"You act like I can't cook," Joaquin says, flicking a few bacon crumbles in Moe's direction. A quick kiss on Orlando's cheek, then Joaquin moves to get the eggs. "I'll fix the eggs if someone else does biscuits. Where're George and Lou?"
"George ain't outta bed yet," Moe says, visibly brightening at the offer of eggs and biscuits to go with his bacon.
"And Lou didn't come home last night." Lawrence gives Orlando a quick look as he says it, even though he's pretty sure that Orlando's genuinely happy for Lou and Cate.
"Doubtful we'll see him today, then," Orlando replies, and gives Lawrence a small wink to let him know it's alright. He gives Joaquin's arm a fleeting caress on his way to the pantry for the flour.
"Moe, you gonna be alright keeping an eye on these two clowns on your own?" Lawrence asks.
"That's an easy job today." Moe smirks a little, kicking back in his chair as he watches Orlando and Joaquin move around the kitchen. "Way I figure it, they'll vanish back into the bedroom once breakfast is done, and I'll be stuck washing dishes."
"Little hard work never hurt you," Joaquin says, pulling mushrooms and basil out to add to the eggs.
"Says the man who whined about having to go help out on the docks," Moe snorts.
"That was before he met Mark," Orlando teases, deftly mixing the milk and baking powder with the flour and adding a sprinkle of cheese. "Now he'd be happy if we put him to work at the docks for the next month."
"The way he's carrying on with Jake," Joaquin says, grinning as he starts to chop the mushrooms, "he ain't gonna be looking at me much."
"Way you two was carrying on last night, I'm surprised you'd notice," Moe replies.
Lawrence laughs as he takes his leave, waving to the rest of the small group. Orlando just shrugs and scoots by Joaquin to put the biscuits in the oven.
"We were celebrating."
"And we were quiet," Joaquin adds, giving Moe an indignant look as he transfers the mushrooms to a bowl and starts chopping basil.
"I meant in the restaurant." Moe returns Joaquin's look with a bland one. "I put the quietness here down to the fact the house is bigger than the suite was."
"We weren't that loud in the suite." Orlando leans against the counter and gives Joaquin a puzzled look. "Were we?"
"I didn't think we were." Joaquin shrugs and starts cracking eggs into another bowl. "Well, except when we were fighting."
Moe just continues to give them a bland look as the smell of baking biscuits fills the kitchen. "Let's just say that there were a few times you were a little loud, and leave it at that."
"He's gotta mean you and your other guests," Orlando nods.
"You, too," Moe says, and grins wide when Orlando looks at him.
Joaquin laughs, whisking the eggs. "He's got you there, baby."
"Am I really loud?" Certainly, Orlando's never denied enjoying himself in bed, but he doesn't even remember Josh telling him he was loud.
"Enthusiastic," Joaquin teases as he pours the eggs into the waiting skillet and adds the basil and mushrooms.
"Loud," Moe counters. He grins at Orlando's expression.
Orlando frowns at both of them for another minute before shrugging. "You two are fucking with my head."
Reaching out, Joaquin snags Orlando's wrist and pulls him close. "You are enthusiastic," he murmurs, nuzzling Orlando's jaw. "But not very loud. Would it matter if you were?"
"Not really," Orlando replies, wrapping his arms around Joaquin's waist. "Like that you know I'm enjoying myself."
"I know you enjoy it." Joaquin smiles, brushes a soft kiss across Orlando's lips. Then, one arm around Orlando's waist, he goes back to stirring the eggs so they don't stick.
"Dunno that the rest of the world needs to know, though," Orlando says, dropping his head on Joaquin's shoulder.
"Don't pay attention to Moe," Joaquin murmurs, kissing Orlando's temple.
"Just having a bit of fun," Moe says, clearly delighted with Orlando's reaction to the teasing.
"Least I don't fall asleep during sex," Orlando replies, turning slightly to give Moe a wicked grin. "Or have you forgotten about Alice Rocklin?"
"Now that wasn't my fault," Moe protests, and laughs. "I'd been up for three days straight keeping an eye on Kitten, and she'd been bringing me beer all night."
"Always an excuse," Joaquin says, and shakes his head. He disentangles himself from Orlando just long enough to grab a bowl for the eggs.
"I remember that she wouldn't let you make it up to her, either," Orlando grins, snagging a pot holder so he can take the biscuits out of the oven.
"She did eventually." Moe manages to look forlorn as he watches them finish with breakfast. "Cost me a pretty penny for that shiny necklace, though."
"So that's what happened," Joaquin laughs, setting the bowl of eggs on the table. He grabs plates and silverware and passes them to Moe before pulling butter from the icebox. "She did act like the cat who'd been in the cream for a while."
"Dames do like their baubles," Orlando adds, placing the basket of biscuits on the table. He wonders what the old neighborhood is like now, how much has changed, who's living in the house where he'd grown up.
Moe waits exactly five seconds before he dives into the basket. Juggling a piping hot biscuit, he grins at Orlando. "She was right appreciative about it, too."
"Of course she was," Joaquin says, spooning out some eggs. "She'd been trying to get someone to buy her that necklace for months."
Orlando just laughs, and joins the other two. He'd forgotten how much he missed this - easy banter over a meal, looking across the table into the eyes of someone that loves him, fighting over the last biscuit and the last of the bacon. Little things, family things, and he knows he'll never take it for granted again. He's been given a second chance.
When he's done, Joaquin pushes his plate away and sits back, one hand curled around his half-empty coffee cup. Then he grins. "Dishes are yours, Moe."
"Yeah, somehow I figured as much," Moe grumbles, but he's smiling as he stands and starts collecting plates.
"Well, now, you did volunteer," Orlando adds with a smile. He looks at Joaquin again, tousle-haired, bright-eyed and his, and reaches to snag Joaquin's hand, rubbing his thumb across callused knuckles. "I'm glad you're here."
"So'm I." Joaquin smiles, loving the way Orlando looks right now -- hair still sleep-mussed, jaw shadowed with stubble. He looks healthy and happy. A gentle tug has Orlando out of his chair and in Joaquin's lap. "I'm glad we're both here," he says, nuzzling Orlando's throat just below his ear.
"Hey, now, none of that in the kitchen," Moe says, shaking a spoon at them. "You've got a room."
"He is right." Orlando lopes his arms across Joaquin's shoulders, giving him an exaggerated lift of eyebrows. "Feel like ditching the lug?"
"Be happy to," Joaquin grins. He's still grinning when he leans in to kiss Orlando, delighted with Moe's groan of disgust.
"A man don't need to be seeing that. Out, both of you."
Orlando's still laughing when he tugs Joaquin up and out of the kitchen, leading him up the stairs. "You'd think he'd be used to it by now," Orlando remarks. "You've never exactly hidden anything."
"He's used to it," Joaquin says, smiling as he laces his fingers with Orlando's. "He just likes to pretend he isn't. It's a sort of game we play. I flaunt it in front of him, and he rolls his eyes, tells me I'm unnatural, and starts quoting the good Father O'Malley at me."
"You'd think the Father would be used to it, too," Orlando laughs, and tugs Joaquin back to the bed and the sun-warmed sheets. Staying up here, locked away from the world, sounds like the perfect way to spend the day.
"The Father is," Joaquin chuckles. He curls around Orlando, snuggling in close, breathing in the warm, familiar, beloved scent. "I get far less sermons from him than I do my own men."
Orlando wraps tight arms around Joaquin's back, legs tangled together, nuzzling warm skin. "He's probably still trying to save you."
"Most likely." Shifting a little, Joaquin nuzzles back, lips trailing lightly over a stubbled jaw. "At this point, I think he's just happy I attend Mass."
"I stopped going after Josh died. Just...after River, then Josh...I couldn't see the point."
Joaquin nods. "The last year...it's been hard," he admits, in a soft voice. "And you out here, alone...I can't imagine...I should've been here."
"Neither of us were ready," and it's easy to admit it now, with Joaquin wrapped around him, warm and real. If he had to go through the hell of the last year to get to this point, then maybe it had all been worth it. "We'd have tried to kill each other, and might have succeeded."
"I know." As much as he hates to admit it, Joaquin knows Orlando is right. Hell, he came to Chicago prepared to kill Orlando. And now look at them. Joaquin smiles. "Well, when you come home, the good Father will expect to see you there every Sunday, front and center."
"We'll see," Orlando says with a sad smile. "I gotta lot of sins he'll need to hear before we get that far."
"He hears mine every week," Joaquin replies softly, brushing a light kiss across Orlando's lips. "Who better to hear them than the man who heard your first one?"
"Does he know about..." Orlando snuggles closer, practically whispering the words across Joaquin's lips. "How you feel about me?"
Joaquin takes a deep breath, then nods. "He does," he says, and smiles, arms tightening around Orlando. "He's known for years."
"Years..." Orlando lets out a short laugh. "Part of me wishes I'd known, man."
"Why?" Joaquin searches dark brown eyes, fingers trailing along Orlando's spine. "It wouldn't have changed anything. You and Josh were together, and I wasn't coming between you."
"I know, but maybe...maybe the feud wouldn't have happened. If I'd known how you felt." So many years wasted, hating each other...even though Orlando knows the love had always been there, buried and waiting.
"And it would have changed you and Josh." One hand cups Orlando's jaw. "Can you imagine how things would have played if you'd known? Hell, baby...I think Josh knew, even though he never said anything."
"He certainly never hinted at it to me," Orlando replies, turning his head to kiss Joaquin's fingers. "Although, after the first few months, he knew better than to bring you up in conversation. He might've talked with Lou and Lawrence, I don't know."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out for myself." Joaquin flashes Orlando a wry smile, then shakes his head. "He stopped mentioning you during our dinners, too."
"We really did put him in a fucked up place." Orlando lays his head back on Joaquin's shoulder, looks down where their joined hands are resting on Joaquin's chest. "Wish..." He doesn't finish the thought. He knows he doesn't need to.
"So do I, baby," Joaquin murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to dark curls. "So do I."
After a few long minutes of just holding each other, Orlando turns and nuzzles Joaquin's neck. Time to lighten the mood a little, give the ghosts a chance to rest. "So...Jake and Mark..."
"Jake and Mark..." Joaquin looks at the ceiling, lips twitching as he fights to keep from laughing again. "Can't imagine what got into 'em. Thought they were sober when they left."
"They seemed to be," Orlando replies. "Don't think it's news to say that Mark's...well, he's never brought attention to himself, let alone in such a high-profile way. Doesn't sound like Jake, either. You'd think they could have waited until they got in that big bed of yours instead of some cramped chair."
A soft snort escapes before Joaquin can get it under control again. He continues to look at the ceiling. "Oh, I'm sure they made use of the bed," he says, voice a little strangled. "Last thing I'd've expected of Mark, though."
Orlando elbows Joaquin softly. "And you expected it out of Jake?"
"Well, not to that degree," Joaquin admits. He doesn't dare look at Orlando.
"Stop laughing." Not that Orlando thinks Joaquin's going to stop. "You need to help me figure out what to say to 'em."
"Slap 'em on the wrist and tell 'em not to do it again?" The urge is too much. Joaquin looks at Orlando from the corner of his eye, and the laughter spills forth, curling him into a ball beside Orlando.
The urge is strong to roll Joaquin off the damn bed and onto the floor, but Orlando settles for elbowing Joaquin again, this time not so gently. "Oh, hush, you would think it's funny that I've got to explain to Al why my best man at the docks and the head of our newest premiere house were fucking like rabbits in the lobby of our best hotel."
Still curled up, Joaquin tries his best to stop laughing. It's a hopeless cause at the moment. "Maybe," he says, breathless as he waves a hand in the air, "you can blame it on me. Tell him I'm a bad influence."
"You've never been that bad and you know it. We'd have heard about it," Orlando says, shaking his head as he sits up. Ignoring Joaquin is a much better idea than being annoyed at him.
"Well, the whole world believes I'm far worse." Joaquin grins and twists around as he manages to stop laughing. He rests his head on Orlando's thigh and looks up at him. "You could still blame it on me, yeah? I did give Mark the key to the room..."
"With my blessing," Orlando points out, stroking Joaquin's hair. "And I don't remember you telling them to use the lobby as their own private romper room."
Joaquin presses a soft kiss to Orlando's stomach just above his pajama bottoms. "Well, you could leave out the part about giving your blessing."
"I'm not letting you take the fall for their bad behavior. They'll both just have to apologize to Al personally."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've taken the fall for family," Joaquin says, and smiles up at Orlando. One arm comes up to curl around Orlando's hips. "You know Jake's scared spitless of Al, right?"
"Mmhmm." Orlando smiles as he continues petting Joaquin's hair, dark curls sifting through his fingers. "So this should be a lesson to him to behave more discreetly. I'll be there to take the worst of it, but he's gonna own up to his part."
"Wonder which one of 'em started it," Joaquin murmurs. As Orlando's hand moves through his hair, Joaquin lets his eyes drift closed, and he shifts a little, making a soft, humming sound deep in his throat.
"I don't even want to think about it," Orlando laughs, smiling inwardly at how Joaquin nudges against his hand. "You're really alright with the two of them?"
Another nudge to Orlando's hand, and the noise stops as Joaquin's lashes flicker. He opens his eyes, then lets them close again. "Why shouldn't I be? Mark'll be good for Jake. And Jake, well...seems like he can...I dunno. Be something for Mark that I wasn't."
"I think you needed more than he could give you," Orlando replies softly. He knows and loves the both of them - in different ways, of course - and while he would have been happy if they'd made a go of it, he can't help but be happy that he's got Joaquin more to himself.
"He wouldn't have put up with me for long," Joaquin says, and shrugs. Hell, he doesn't expect Orlando to put up with him for too long. Not with the way he is most of the time. Then he opens his eyes and smiles. "Love you, baby."
"Always," Orlando replies, returning the smile. "No matter what you do or where you go. Stuck with me." Not that he thinks Joaquin'll mind.
"Like the sound of that," Joaquin murmurs, and slides his hand up Orlando's spine. "Why're you way up there, hmm?"
"Haven't been invited down yet." But Orlando scoots down as he says it, until he and Joaquin are perfectly aligned again, legs tangled, chests pressed against each other, foreheads touching. "Mean it, you know," Orlando murmurs. "Never getting rid of me."
"Good." Joaquin smiles and shifts in just enough to brush his lips over Orlando's before pulling back a little. "Gonna have to kill me to get rid of me."
"Thought we agreed we were done with that part of our lives." Orlando knows, as long as he lives, he'll always mourn the lost years he could have had. Heaven help whoever had set them up - because Orlando will be sending them straight to Hell.
Joaquin smiles and traces a fingertip along one dark eyebrow. "You just remember that next time I piss you off," he murmurs. Then he shifts his weight and rolls Orlando to his back, pinning him to the mattress. "Now, though..."
Orlando moves his hands to Joaquin's hips, holding him in place. "Something you wanted?"
"You..." Joaquin bends his head to catch Orlando's lips. The kiss is soft and slow, and he's smiling when he lifts his head. "Always."
"Good," Orlando replies, tugging on the back of Joaquin's head until their lips are mere inches apart. "Because always is exactly what I plan on giving you."
"Marry you if I could," Joaquin whispers, with a soft laugh. He knows that neither one of them needs the rings or the priest, but he wants it out there.
"I doubt even you could make a respectable man out of me," Orlando smiles, brushing a stray curl behind Joaquin's ear.
"When'd I say anything about respectable?" Another laugh, and Joaquin nuzzles Orlando's palm. "Hell, I'd marry you just to show the world you're mine."
"I don't think we need a ceremony or rings for that - certainly don't need a dress." Orlando lifts his head to brush a kiss across Joaquin's lips. "Always be yours, 'Quin. I swear to you, with everything I am." He looks deep into jade green eyes, heart and soul light for the first time in over a year, and means the vow with all he is.
Smiling, Joaquin curls his hand over Orlando's and moves so their clasped hands are trapped between their chests. "I swear the same," he says, eyes not wavering. "Everything I am is yours, baby."
"That's all I want." Somewhere, he knows, Josh is looking down at the two of them and smiling.
"Been yours since the day you were born," Joaquin murmurs, bending his head to softly kiss Orlando. It's taken them a long to get here, but Joaquin can't regret a single second of the time. Not with the way his future looks now.
***
Lawrence has just finished frying up the last of the bacon - he'd made enough for everyone, even though he's pretty damn sure that no one's gonna see hide nor hair of Kitten or Dapper until much later - when the front doorbell rings. "The hell?" he mutters to himself and frowns, wiping his hands on a towel as he walks into the foyer and opens the door.
A sharply dressed kid - can't be more than 15 - salutes Lawrence and hands him a sealed envelope. "Morning reports for Mr. Bloom, sir."
"Yeah, thanks, kid," Lawrence replies absently, slapping a few bills into the kid's outstretched hand before closing the door and heading back into the kitchen. At least he'll have something to read over breakfast.
Moe looks up from the cup of coffee he's pouring as Lawrence comes back into the kitchen. "Bit early for visitors, ain't it?" He grabs another cup and pours some coffee for Lawrence, sliding it across the counter.
"Last night's reports," Lawrence explains, and raises the cup in thanks before taking a bracing sip and opening the envelope. "Let's see how rich we all are."
Moe snags a chair and straddles it, sipping at his coffee as he watches Lawrence. When Lawrence's eyebrows shoot up, Moe leans forward. "Trouble?"
Lawrence just slides the paper across the counter. "Fourth item down."
Moe starts to skim over the lines, then stops and goes back to the beginning. Slowly, he reads it, eyes widening more with each word. Then he looks up at Lawrence...and bursts out laughing.
Lawrence's lips twitch in response, eyes twinkling. "I bet not even Kitten could top that one, huh." Of all the brazen fucking things, man... Ah well, at least he hadn't been there to witness it.
"No, definitely not," Moe wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "He's usually more...discreet." Still laughing, he reads the item again and shakes his head. "Glad it's not me that's gotta tell 'em about it."
Lawrence snorts and snags a piece of bacon from the tray. "I ain't telling Orlando about it. Kid can read well as I can," he grins. "Mark, of all fucking people..."
Moe shakes his head again and grins. "If I didn't know he'd spent the night with Kitten, I'd've never pegged him for it. But Jake...I swear, that kid could talk a saint into all sorts of debauchery."
"Girls at Tartine's would agree with you," Lawrence replies, and looks up, coughing on his bite of bacon as Orlando and Joaquin both appear in the doorway, wearing only pajama bottoms and smiles. Lawrence supposes he should be thankful they're wearing clothes at all.
"Morning," Orlando yawns, voice scratchy with sleep.
"I still say that's debatable," Joaquin mutters, rubbing his eyes. Then he looks at the coffee pot. "Ah, coffee, blessed drink..."
Moe watches, eyes bright with supressed laughter, as Joaquin pours himself a cup and wraps both hands around it. "Up late, boys?"
Orlando exchanges a small smile with Joaquin before joining him at the coffee pot, hips brushing together. "I didn't know you were wanting details these days, Moe."
"Now you oughta know better than that," Moe says, hiding his grin behind his cup. He watches them, still smiling as Joaquin moves closer to Orlando, one arm sliding around his waist.
Orlando takes a moment to nuzzle the bit of skin just under Joaquin's jaw as he snuggles in close, both of them leaning against the counter. The first sip of coffee is hot, bracing, and Orlando sighs a little in appreciation. "Thought I smelled bacon."
"On the table," Lawrence answers with a grin. "And I ain't fetching it for you, neither."
"Didn't ask now, did I?" Fuck it, moving's too much effort at the moment.
Joaquin pulls Orlando closer and makes a face at the bodyguards. "Greedy bastards."
"Ain't greedy, boss. Bacon's right here," Moe says, tipping the platter up so they can see it.
"Insubordinate," Joaquin mutters in Orlando's ear. "Should fire the lot of 'em."
"Monday," Orlando promises, and yawns again. "That last night's report?" he asks, motioning at the piece of paper still on the table.
"Uh..."
"May as well look at it."
Lawrence exchanges an indescribable look with Moe before handing Orlando the paper. "Your funeral," Lawrence comments.
"Can't have been that bad," Orlando scoffs, and starts to skim the figures and notes. When he gets to the fourth item, he blinks, stops, and re-reads. "This is a joke, right?"
Standing behind Orlando, Joaquin rests his chin on Orlando's shoulder and reads. Then he blinks, and his eyes fly to Lawrence and Moe. "This...they..."
"What the report says," Lawrence replies, spreading his hands open. "Didn't know Mark had it in him."
"In the lobby?" Orlando reads the short missive again, trying to make sense of the words. Yeah, alright, Jake, possibly, maybe (even though he'd thought of Jake as being more circumspect), but Mark?
"And apparently in the elevator as well, according to one of the operators," Joaquin says, pointing to another line in the item. He can barely contain his amusement. Of all the things, man. He'd certainly never expected this out of either one of them.
"And we're sure this is them?"
"You ever known Roberts to lie?" Lawrence retorts.
"No, it's just..." Orlando can feel his lips twitching as he looks down at the report. He can't look at Joaquin. He can't. "I don't even know what to say."
"Didn't know Mark had it in him," Joaquin murmurs, eyes sparkling. "Though, based on that report, it sounds more like Jake had it in him." A snicker escapes him at his own juvenile humor, and he presses his face against Orlando's shoulder.
"That's bad, boss," Moe says, laughing as he waves a piece of bacon at them.
"You're not helping," Orlando replies, chuckling. "I don't even know how to respond to this, man."
"Send 'em a bottle of champagne," Joaquin suggests, grinning against Orlando's shoulder, body shaking with supressed laughter. "And have the hotel send 'em up a big breakfast. Sounds like they might need it."
"I doubt any of the staff'll go near them after their stunts last night." Shaking his head, still trying not to laugh, Orlando pulls Joaquin to him.
Joaquin grins and wraps himself around Orlando as best as he can without both of them falling over. "Oh, someone'll go up," he says, and grins. "For the sake of curiosity if nothing else."
"Send the champagne," Orlando tells Lawrence with a wide grin. "But make sure the note is very clear that they're to keep the escapades in the room for the duration."
Joaquin winks at the bodyguards. "And charge a full breakfast to the room. I'm good for it." He laughs and reaches for his coffee again. "Might have to call 'em later. Congratulate them."
"Perhaps." Orlando reaches across the table for two slices of bacon, handing one to Joaquin. "Actually, tell 'em they've got a few days in the room, on us, if they want it."
"Anything else?" Lawrence asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Tell Roberts if there are any other incidents, I'll personally settle it."
"Oh, he'd love that," Lawrence snorts. "He won't even talk to you directly he's so scared of you."
"Scaring the help, baby?" Joaquin grins around his piece of bacon. "What'd you do to the poor man?"
"That poor man is probably scandalized by the two of you," Moe says, and shakes his head as he picks up his cup and moves to the coffee pot. "And now along come Mark and Jake...you're lucky he don't up and quit."
"Oh, this was long before you goons rolled into town," Lawrence grins.
"Few years back there was...an incident with one of our Canadian reps," Orlando continues. "Roberts had a gun pointed at him, and I took care of it."
"Took the guy out as the guy's all waving his gun and has his arm around Roberts' throat," Lawrence says with something like pride. "Helluva shot."
"I had a good teacher," Orlando shrugs.
"Can't imagine why that would scare him," Moe says, perfectly deadpan.
Joaquin almost chokes on his bacon as he laughs. "Bet it's not every day he has a bullet whiz by his head. You really are lucky he didn't quit."
"Consensus is he's too scared to," Lawrence says, and tops off his coffee.
Orlando just shrugs around his mouthful of bacon. He doesn't care much one way or the other why Roberts stuck around.
Reaching for another piece of bacon, Joaquin grins. "Don't suppose there are any eggs to go with this, yeah?"
Lawrence just laughs as he drains his coffee cup. "You know where everything is," he says, and sets the cup in the sink. "Me, I gotta get down to Chinatown, collect the week's pay."
"Shouldn't have given Nick the week off," Orlando laments.
Moe gives his mug a mournful look. "Just gonna leave us with bacon, man? That's hard."
"You act like I can't cook," Joaquin says, flicking a few bacon crumbles in Moe's direction. A quick kiss on Orlando's cheek, then Joaquin moves to get the eggs. "I'll fix the eggs if someone else does biscuits. Where're George and Lou?"
"George ain't outta bed yet," Moe says, visibly brightening at the offer of eggs and biscuits to go with his bacon.
"And Lou didn't come home last night." Lawrence gives Orlando a quick look as he says it, even though he's pretty sure that Orlando's genuinely happy for Lou and Cate.
"Doubtful we'll see him today, then," Orlando replies, and gives Lawrence a small wink to let him know it's alright. He gives Joaquin's arm a fleeting caress on his way to the pantry for the flour.
"Moe, you gonna be alright keeping an eye on these two clowns on your own?" Lawrence asks.
"That's an easy job today." Moe smirks a little, kicking back in his chair as he watches Orlando and Joaquin move around the kitchen. "Way I figure it, they'll vanish back into the bedroom once breakfast is done, and I'll be stuck washing dishes."
"Little hard work never hurt you," Joaquin says, pulling mushrooms and basil out to add to the eggs.
"Says the man who whined about having to go help out on the docks," Moe snorts.
"That was before he met Mark," Orlando teases, deftly mixing the milk and baking powder with the flour and adding a sprinkle of cheese. "Now he'd be happy if we put him to work at the docks for the next month."
"The way he's carrying on with Jake," Joaquin says, grinning as he starts to chop the mushrooms, "he ain't gonna be looking at me much."
"Way you two was carrying on last night, I'm surprised you'd notice," Moe replies.
Lawrence laughs as he takes his leave, waving to the rest of the small group. Orlando just shrugs and scoots by Joaquin to put the biscuits in the oven.
"We were celebrating."
"And we were quiet," Joaquin adds, giving Moe an indignant look as he transfers the mushrooms to a bowl and starts chopping basil.
"I meant in the restaurant." Moe returns Joaquin's look with a bland one. "I put the quietness here down to the fact the house is bigger than the suite was."
"We weren't that loud in the suite." Orlando leans against the counter and gives Joaquin a puzzled look. "Were we?"
"I didn't think we were." Joaquin shrugs and starts cracking eggs into another bowl. "Well, except when we were fighting."
Moe just continues to give them a bland look as the smell of baking biscuits fills the kitchen. "Let's just say that there were a few times you were a little loud, and leave it at that."
"He's gotta mean you and your other guests," Orlando nods.
"You, too," Moe says, and grins wide when Orlando looks at him.
Joaquin laughs, whisking the eggs. "He's got you there, baby."
"Am I really loud?" Certainly, Orlando's never denied enjoying himself in bed, but he doesn't even remember Josh telling him he was loud.
"Enthusiastic," Joaquin teases as he pours the eggs into the waiting skillet and adds the basil and mushrooms.
"Loud," Moe counters. He grins at Orlando's expression.
Orlando frowns at both of them for another minute before shrugging. "You two are fucking with my head."
Reaching out, Joaquin snags Orlando's wrist and pulls him close. "You are enthusiastic," he murmurs, nuzzling Orlando's jaw. "But not very loud. Would it matter if you were?"
"Not really," Orlando replies, wrapping his arms around Joaquin's waist. "Like that you know I'm enjoying myself."
"I know you enjoy it." Joaquin smiles, brushes a soft kiss across Orlando's lips. Then, one arm around Orlando's waist, he goes back to stirring the eggs so they don't stick.
"Dunno that the rest of the world needs to know, though," Orlando says, dropping his head on Joaquin's shoulder.
"Don't pay attention to Moe," Joaquin murmurs, kissing Orlando's temple.
"Just having a bit of fun," Moe says, clearly delighted with Orlando's reaction to the teasing.
"Least I don't fall asleep during sex," Orlando replies, turning slightly to give Moe a wicked grin. "Or have you forgotten about Alice Rocklin?"
"Now that wasn't my fault," Moe protests, and laughs. "I'd been up for three days straight keeping an eye on Kitten, and she'd been bringing me beer all night."
"Always an excuse," Joaquin says, and shakes his head. He disentangles himself from Orlando just long enough to grab a bowl for the eggs.
"I remember that she wouldn't let you make it up to her, either," Orlando grins, snagging a pot holder so he can take the biscuits out of the oven.
"She did eventually." Moe manages to look forlorn as he watches them finish with breakfast. "Cost me a pretty penny for that shiny necklace, though."
"So that's what happened," Joaquin laughs, setting the bowl of eggs on the table. He grabs plates and silverware and passes them to Moe before pulling butter from the icebox. "She did act like the cat who'd been in the cream for a while."
"Dames do like their baubles," Orlando adds, placing the basket of biscuits on the table. He wonders what the old neighborhood is like now, how much has changed, who's living in the house where he'd grown up.
Moe waits exactly five seconds before he dives into the basket. Juggling a piping hot biscuit, he grins at Orlando. "She was right appreciative about it, too."
"Of course she was," Joaquin says, spooning out some eggs. "She'd been trying to get someone to buy her that necklace for months."
Orlando just laughs, and joins the other two. He'd forgotten how much he missed this - easy banter over a meal, looking across the table into the eyes of someone that loves him, fighting over the last biscuit and the last of the bacon. Little things, family things, and he knows he'll never take it for granted again. He's been given a second chance.
When he's done, Joaquin pushes his plate away and sits back, one hand curled around his half-empty coffee cup. Then he grins. "Dishes are yours, Moe."
"Yeah, somehow I figured as much," Moe grumbles, but he's smiling as he stands and starts collecting plates.
"Well, now, you did volunteer," Orlando adds with a smile. He looks at Joaquin again, tousle-haired, bright-eyed and his, and reaches to snag Joaquin's hand, rubbing his thumb across callused knuckles. "I'm glad you're here."
"So'm I." Joaquin smiles, loving the way Orlando looks right now -- hair still sleep-mussed, jaw shadowed with stubble. He looks healthy and happy. A gentle tug has Orlando out of his chair and in Joaquin's lap. "I'm glad we're both here," he says, nuzzling Orlando's throat just below his ear.
"Hey, now, none of that in the kitchen," Moe says, shaking a spoon at them. "You've got a room."
"He is right." Orlando lopes his arms across Joaquin's shoulders, giving him an exaggerated lift of eyebrows. "Feel like ditching the lug?"
"Be happy to," Joaquin grins. He's still grinning when he leans in to kiss Orlando, delighted with Moe's groan of disgust.
"A man don't need to be seeing that. Out, both of you."
Orlando's still laughing when he tugs Joaquin up and out of the kitchen, leading him up the stairs. "You'd think he'd be used to it by now," Orlando remarks. "You've never exactly hidden anything."
"He's used to it," Joaquin says, smiling as he laces his fingers with Orlando's. "He just likes to pretend he isn't. It's a sort of game we play. I flaunt it in front of him, and he rolls his eyes, tells me I'm unnatural, and starts quoting the good Father O'Malley at me."
"You'd think the Father would be used to it, too," Orlando laughs, and tugs Joaquin back to the bed and the sun-warmed sheets. Staying up here, locked away from the world, sounds like the perfect way to spend the day.
"The Father is," Joaquin chuckles. He curls around Orlando, snuggling in close, breathing in the warm, familiar, beloved scent. "I get far less sermons from him than I do my own men."
Orlando wraps tight arms around Joaquin's back, legs tangled together, nuzzling warm skin. "He's probably still trying to save you."
"Most likely." Shifting a little, Joaquin nuzzles back, lips trailing lightly over a stubbled jaw. "At this point, I think he's just happy I attend Mass."
"I stopped going after Josh died. Just...after River, then Josh...I couldn't see the point."
Joaquin nods. "The last year...it's been hard," he admits, in a soft voice. "And you out here, alone...I can't imagine...I should've been here."
"Neither of us were ready," and it's easy to admit it now, with Joaquin wrapped around him, warm and real. If he had to go through the hell of the last year to get to this point, then maybe it had all been worth it. "We'd have tried to kill each other, and might have succeeded."
"I know." As much as he hates to admit it, Joaquin knows Orlando is right. Hell, he came to Chicago prepared to kill Orlando. And now look at them. Joaquin smiles. "Well, when you come home, the good Father will expect to see you there every Sunday, front and center."
"We'll see," Orlando says with a sad smile. "I gotta lot of sins he'll need to hear before we get that far."
"He hears mine every week," Joaquin replies softly, brushing a light kiss across Orlando's lips. "Who better to hear them than the man who heard your first one?"
"Does he know about..." Orlando snuggles closer, practically whispering the words across Joaquin's lips. "How you feel about me?"
Joaquin takes a deep breath, then nods. "He does," he says, and smiles, arms tightening around Orlando. "He's known for years."
"Years..." Orlando lets out a short laugh. "Part of me wishes I'd known, man."
"Why?" Joaquin searches dark brown eyes, fingers trailing along Orlando's spine. "It wouldn't have changed anything. You and Josh were together, and I wasn't coming between you."
"I know, but maybe...maybe the feud wouldn't have happened. If I'd known how you felt." So many years wasted, hating each other...even though Orlando knows the love had always been there, buried and waiting.
"And it would have changed you and Josh." One hand cups Orlando's jaw. "Can you imagine how things would have played if you'd known? Hell, baby...I think Josh knew, even though he never said anything."
"He certainly never hinted at it to me," Orlando replies, turning his head to kiss Joaquin's fingers. "Although, after the first few months, he knew better than to bring you up in conversation. He might've talked with Lou and Lawrence, I don't know."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out for myself." Joaquin flashes Orlando a wry smile, then shakes his head. "He stopped mentioning you during our dinners, too."
"We really did put him in a fucked up place." Orlando lays his head back on Joaquin's shoulder, looks down where their joined hands are resting on Joaquin's chest. "Wish..." He doesn't finish the thought. He knows he doesn't need to.
"So do I, baby," Joaquin murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to dark curls. "So do I."
After a few long minutes of just holding each other, Orlando turns and nuzzles Joaquin's neck. Time to lighten the mood a little, give the ghosts a chance to rest. "So...Jake and Mark..."
"Jake and Mark..." Joaquin looks at the ceiling, lips twitching as he fights to keep from laughing again. "Can't imagine what got into 'em. Thought they were sober when they left."
"They seemed to be," Orlando replies. "Don't think it's news to say that Mark's...well, he's never brought attention to himself, let alone in such a high-profile way. Doesn't sound like Jake, either. You'd think they could have waited until they got in that big bed of yours instead of some cramped chair."
A soft snort escapes before Joaquin can get it under control again. He continues to look at the ceiling. "Oh, I'm sure they made use of the bed," he says, voice a little strangled. "Last thing I'd've expected of Mark, though."
Orlando elbows Joaquin softly. "And you expected it out of Jake?"
"Well, not to that degree," Joaquin admits. He doesn't dare look at Orlando.
"Stop laughing." Not that Orlando thinks Joaquin's going to stop. "You need to help me figure out what to say to 'em."
"Slap 'em on the wrist and tell 'em not to do it again?" The urge is too much. Joaquin looks at Orlando from the corner of his eye, and the laughter spills forth, curling him into a ball beside Orlando.
The urge is strong to roll Joaquin off the damn bed and onto the floor, but Orlando settles for elbowing Joaquin again, this time not so gently. "Oh, hush, you would think it's funny that I've got to explain to Al why my best man at the docks and the head of our newest premiere house were fucking like rabbits in the lobby of our best hotel."
Still curled up, Joaquin tries his best to stop laughing. It's a hopeless cause at the moment. "Maybe," he says, breathless as he waves a hand in the air, "you can blame it on me. Tell him I'm a bad influence."
"You've never been that bad and you know it. We'd have heard about it," Orlando says, shaking his head as he sits up. Ignoring Joaquin is a much better idea than being annoyed at him.
"Well, the whole world believes I'm far worse." Joaquin grins and twists around as he manages to stop laughing. He rests his head on Orlando's thigh and looks up at him. "You could still blame it on me, yeah? I did give Mark the key to the room..."
"With my blessing," Orlando points out, stroking Joaquin's hair. "And I don't remember you telling them to use the lobby as their own private romper room."
Joaquin presses a soft kiss to Orlando's stomach just above his pajama bottoms. "Well, you could leave out the part about giving your blessing."
"I'm not letting you take the fall for their bad behavior. They'll both just have to apologize to Al personally."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've taken the fall for family," Joaquin says, and smiles up at Orlando. One arm comes up to curl around Orlando's hips. "You know Jake's scared spitless of Al, right?"
"Mmhmm." Orlando smiles as he continues petting Joaquin's hair, dark curls sifting through his fingers. "So this should be a lesson to him to behave more discreetly. I'll be there to take the worst of it, but he's gonna own up to his part."
"Wonder which one of 'em started it," Joaquin murmurs. As Orlando's hand moves through his hair, Joaquin lets his eyes drift closed, and he shifts a little, making a soft, humming sound deep in his throat.
"I don't even want to think about it," Orlando laughs, smiling inwardly at how Joaquin nudges against his hand. "You're really alright with the two of them?"
Another nudge to Orlando's hand, and the noise stops as Joaquin's lashes flicker. He opens his eyes, then lets them close again. "Why shouldn't I be? Mark'll be good for Jake. And Jake, well...seems like he can...I dunno. Be something for Mark that I wasn't."
"I think you needed more than he could give you," Orlando replies softly. He knows and loves the both of them - in different ways, of course - and while he would have been happy if they'd made a go of it, he can't help but be happy that he's got Joaquin more to himself.
"He wouldn't have put up with me for long," Joaquin says, and shrugs. Hell, he doesn't expect Orlando to put up with him for too long. Not with the way he is most of the time. Then he opens his eyes and smiles. "Love you, baby."
"Always," Orlando replies, returning the smile. "No matter what you do or where you go. Stuck with me." Not that he thinks Joaquin'll mind.
"Like the sound of that," Joaquin murmurs, and slides his hand up Orlando's spine. "Why're you way up there, hmm?"
"Haven't been invited down yet." But Orlando scoots down as he says it, until he and Joaquin are perfectly aligned again, legs tangled, chests pressed against each other, foreheads touching. "Mean it, you know," Orlando murmurs. "Never getting rid of me."
"Good." Joaquin smiles and shifts in just enough to brush his lips over Orlando's before pulling back a little. "Gonna have to kill me to get rid of me."
"Thought we agreed we were done with that part of our lives." Orlando knows, as long as he lives, he'll always mourn the lost years he could have had. Heaven help whoever had set them up - because Orlando will be sending them straight to Hell.
Joaquin smiles and traces a fingertip along one dark eyebrow. "You just remember that next time I piss you off," he murmurs. Then he shifts his weight and rolls Orlando to his back, pinning him to the mattress. "Now, though..."
Orlando moves his hands to Joaquin's hips, holding him in place. "Something you wanted?"
"You..." Joaquin bends his head to catch Orlando's lips. The kiss is soft and slow, and he's smiling when he lifts his head. "Always."
"Good," Orlando replies, tugging on the back of Joaquin's head until their lips are mere inches apart. "Because always is exactly what I plan on giving you."
"Marry you if I could," Joaquin whispers, with a soft laugh. He knows that neither one of them needs the rings or the priest, but he wants it out there.
"I doubt even you could make a respectable man out of me," Orlando smiles, brushing a stray curl behind Joaquin's ear.
"When'd I say anything about respectable?" Another laugh, and Joaquin nuzzles Orlando's palm. "Hell, I'd marry you just to show the world you're mine."
"I don't think we need a ceremony or rings for that - certainly don't need a dress." Orlando lifts his head to brush a kiss across Joaquin's lips. "Always be yours, 'Quin. I swear to you, with everything I am." He looks deep into jade green eyes, heart and soul light for the first time in over a year, and means the vow with all he is.
Smiling, Joaquin curls his hand over Orlando's and moves so their clasped hands are trapped between their chests. "I swear the same," he says, eyes not wavering. "Everything I am is yours, baby."
"That's all I want." Somewhere, he knows, Josh is looking down at the two of them and smiling.
"Been yours since the day you were born," Joaquin murmurs, bending his head to softly kiss Orlando. It's taken them a long to get here, but Joaquin can't regret a single second of the time. Not with the way his future looks now.
***