Ghosts Of The Past
[Takes place a few days after this, co-written by the muns]
"File these with the rest of the Avery account, and create a new one for the McGiles brothers," Orlando instructs, as Sally hastily writes down notes. "Tell Tom I need him to freeze Cox's tab for right now... What else?" There's so much to do before he leaves, before he can even think about moving back home.
He still can't believe he's doing this.
"Got a 2 o'clock with Mr. Gyllenhaal to go over the new plans, and a 3:30 with Mr. Hawke to go over Canada."
"Christ." Orlando drops into his chair, and buries his face in his hands.
"Don't worry, Mr. Bloom, we'll get it sorted."
Orlando lifts his head and offers Sally a small smile. "I'm gonna miss you. Sure you don't wanna move back East with me?"
"I'm flattered, but someone who knows what's what should stick around here," Sally replies, just as a knock sounds at the door to the office.
The door opens a few seconds after the knock, and Joaquin pokes his head in and smiles. "You look like you could use a break," he says. "Feel like playing hooky for a bit?"
"Just in time," Orlando says and stands, crossing to Joaquin. He can see Sally smiling out of the corner of his eye as he gives Joaquin a welcome hug. By the time he's pulled back, she's disappeared, and shut the door behind her. Thank God for an understanding staff.
"Feel like going back to the house for some lunch?" Arms still wrapped loosely around Orlando's waist, Joaquin continues smiling. "Be nice and quiet, and I promise to have you back in time for any afternoon meetings."
"You're an evil man for tempting me this way." Orlando ducks in for a soft meeting of lips. "Think I need the downtime, though. It wasn't even dawn when I crawled out of bed this morning."
"I know," Joaquin grumbles, but his smile doesn't fade. "You woke me up, brat. C'mon, let's get out of here."
"At least you got to go back to sleep," Orlando replies, and grabbing Joaquin's hand, pulls him out of the office. "Sally, I'm being kidnapped for lunch."
"Good for you, sir," she replies with a grin.
"I think so."
"I'll try to return him in one piece," Joaquin promises, flashing her his most charming smile and dipping a tiny bow as they breeze past.
"Promise?" Orlando murmurs, hand drifting to the small of Joaquin's back as they step outside onto the sidewalk.
"Always," Joaquin replies. His smile shifts, turns a little darker, a little edgier, and he lets his eyes trail over Orlando's body.
"Ah, so you kidnapped me because you were lonely, is that it?" Orlando teases, shifting even closer to Joaquin as they near the car. Moe takes one look at them and rolls his eyes.
"Why else?" Smirking at Moe, Joaquin leans in towards Orlando, trying not to laugh when Moe abruptly spins around and snatches open the car door.
"Not a clue," Orlando murmurs, and slides into the car, followed closely by Joaquin.
"Sure you'll think of something," Joaquin says, barely waiting for Moe to close the door behind them before brushing his lips over Orlando's.
Orlando doesn't even know what they're talking about anymore. He's got 'Quin in his arms, lips on his, and everything else just falls away. "Miss me?" he asks, when he lifts his head.
"Terribly," Joaquin says, and ruins it by grinning. He makes no effort to move away, too content to sprawl against Orlando. "Do you realize just how quiet that damn house is when no one else is in it?"
"Why else do you think I've spent the past year avoiding it as much as possible?" Orlando asks, with a small shrug.
"Kinda eerie," Joaquin murmurs, resting his head on Orlando's shoulder. He reaches over, curls his fingers around Orlando's, and smiles.
"Anytime you want to work, I've got plenty for you," Orlando replies, squeezing Joaquin's fingers. "And if I don't, I know Mark does."
Joaquin snorts. "You know I'm not a working man."
"That itty bit of honest work he did at the docks 'bout near killed him," Moe says, flashing a wide grin at them as he turns the corner.
"However," Joaquin says, blithely ignoring Moe, "what've you got I might be interested in?"
"Setting up new bosses, training Frankie and Denz to take my place. Not that they could replace me," Orlando grins, "but someone's gotta keep a firm hand on the South Side. Anything you could do would get me out of here faster..."
"Gimme a list and point me in the right direction," Joaquin says, sitting up straight and tugging his jacket into place. It's all business now. "Should be easy enough."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Orlando smiles, and brushes a light kiss across Joaquin's lips as they pull into the drive.
"Can't rightly refuse." But Joaquin can't help the pleased feeling that spreads through him at Orlando's approval. Acting like a green kid, for God's sake. "C'mon. I told your housekeeper to take the afternoon off after lunch was finished."
"Ordering my staff around?" Orlando teases, and throws an arm around Joaquin's shoulders when they climb out of the car and head into the house.
"I was polite about it," Joaquin protests, laughing. "She was very appreciative. Said she had a few personal errands to run."
"Probably buying more things to send to her son. He's in Europe right now, helping with the rebuilding," Orlando explains, letting them both in and heading down the hall into the kitchen.
"She did mention the post office," Joaquin murmurs, deliberating crowding Orlando as he follows him. Moe's headed towards the stairs, so Joaquin figures they've got some privacy.
Orlando turns, sliding his arms around Joaquin's waist. "Something you wanted?"
"Just you," Joaquin replies, as he leans in to nibble on Orlando's neck just above his collar.
"Mmm...love the way you think," Orlando murmurs, and buries a hand in Joaquin's hair, fingers sifting through dark curls.
"Lunch first," Joaquin smiles, lips trailing up Orlando's throat to his ear. "Then I'm all yours 'til you have to be back in the office."
"You're all mine anyway," Orlando replies, and shivers a little. Forget the fact that he's starving, he'd be happy to let 'Quin do just this all day.
"Well, yes..." Laughing, Joaquin pulls away and flashes Orlando a smile. "But I'll be all yours, so..."
Orlando likes the sound of that even better. "Guess we better see what's for lunch, then." Sooner they eat, the sooner he can take Joaquin upstairs.
"Something good, I imagine." Snagging Orlando's hand, Joaquin pulls him into the kitchen, where lunch is waiting on the small table in the breakfast nook.
"Mmmmm..." Orlando takes a deep, appreciative sniff. Garlic, basil, spices and cheese. "Lasagna. I may not move the rest of the day."
"Guess we'll just have to work it off later, then." Leaning in, Joaquin brushes his lips over Orlando's, then moves to grab plates and silverware. It smells incredible, and he's not at all surprised when his stomach rumbles.
Orlando spoons them each up a heaping serving, and sits at the small table, smiling when Joaquin sits next to him, bringing one of the open bottles of Cabernet. "This is nice," he remarks. "Thanks for kidnapping me."
"My pleasure." Sitting close enough that their thighs brush, Joaquin smiles as he pours the wine. "Figured you could use a bit of a break."
"I feel like I've barely come up for air." Orlando groans his approval at the first rich bite of lasagna. "Heard from Summer and George yet?"
"Had a telegram delivered this morning," Joaquin says between bites. "They got there with no problems, and the family is over the moon about the ring on her finger."
"Bet your mom's already got Summer running ragged," Orlando grins, and clinks his glass against Joaquin's.
"Of course she does," Joaquin says, returning the grin. "What else has she got to do?"
"Get Libby settled," Orlando grins. "Speaking of, she know? That I'm...that Josh and I are coming home?"
"I'm guessing Rain told her." Joaquin shrugs as he takes another big bite and chews. "I haven't spoken to her, but I can't imagine they kept it a secret."
"Maybe Rain's waiting for us to tell her."
Joaquin snorts, then takes a swallow of wine. "How d'you think Mama found out? She knew by the time I called her. My big sister can't keep a secret to save her life."
Orlando frowns a little in confusion as he takes a sip of his wine. "Thought you just said you hadn't spoken to her."
Joaquin gives Orlando a flat look over his glass. "Baby, please. You think I've been here all this time without calling my Mama? Do I look like I have a death wish?" Then he stops and blinks. "Wait...did you mean did Mama know? Or Libby?"
"Both," Orlando laughs, and drops a hand over Joaquin's. He looks downright cute like this.
"Mama knows," Joaquin says, with a weak smile. "And she blessed me out for not calling her first and putting you on the phone. She says you're not allowed to step foot in New York without your mom, though."
"I'm not surprised," Orlando replies softly. "And you can tell her that my mom and Samantha will both be with me. Mama's all excited about moving back home, even if she isn't too happy about finding a new house."
"Uh, about that..." Joaquin looks down at his plate, staring at it as he shoves a bite of lasagna around with his fork. His voice drops. "I own your old house. We, uh...the current residents are already looking for a new place."
"You...you what?" There's no way he heard that correctly.
"I bought it," Joaquin says, quietly, still looking at his plate. "Couple months after you and Josh left. Guess...guess I always hoped you'd come home at some point."
"But you hated me. You wanted me dead." Orlando drops his hand over Joaquin's again, still reeling from the realization that Joaquin had bought the house he and, later on, Josh, had grown up in.
"I know." Joaquin finally looks up, meeting Orlando's dazed look with a small smile. "I didn't really, though. You know that, right?"
"I do," Orlando replies softly, returning the smile with one of his own. "I tried hating you for years, and all it took for it all to come crumbling down was seeing you again."
Joaquin nods, curling his fingers around Orlando's. "It was the same for me," he says, then is interrupted by the shrilling of the telephone in the other room.
"We'll let Moe get it," Orlando says, and leans forward to press his lips to Joaquin's. "Thank you. Mama'll be thrilled."
"I hope so." Smiling, Joaquin tugs Orlando in for another kiss. He only pulls back when he hears Moe clear his throat.
"Uh, boss..."
"Hmm?" Joaquin takes his time turning around, but he straightens up the second he sees Moe's expression. "What is it?"
"It's, uh, your mother. And she, uh..."
Joaquin's out of his chair and through the kitchen door before Moe finishes speaking.
Orlando follows on Joaquin's heels, and glances at Moe when Joaquin snatches up the phone. "What is it?" he asks quietly, keeping an ear out so he can hear Joaquin's side of the conversation.
"Dunno," Moe says, worry clear on his face as he watches Joaquin. "She was a little hysterical."
"Mama...Mama, listen to me!" Joaquin pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong?"
Orlando turns his attention back to Joaquin, heart pounding, and takes a step closer. Then all of the blood drains out of Joaquin's face, and Orlando's by his side in a heartbeat. One of the girls, it's got to be one of the girls...
Please, Lord, we've suffered enough, please...
One hand fumbles for something to grab hold of as Joaquin's knees buckle. Thankfully there's a chair there. "That's...that's impossible," he says, voice faint and close to breaking. "He...he's been dead seven years. No way..."
Moe's eyes go wide, and he takes his own step, not surprised that Orlando beats him to Joaquin's side. Jesus Christ, but he'd give good money to know what Mama Phoenix was saying.
"No," Joaquin says again, swamped by dizziness. "If...if she'd been pregnant, she'd have come to us."
They can only be talking about River and Margaret. Not one of the girls, then, and Orlando gives a sigh of relief as he drops to Joaquin's side, curls tight fingers around his, and tries to decipher what's going on. Something about a child, obviously, but River's been dead a long time.
"No...Mama, no, listen," Joaquin says, clearly frustrated. He grips Orlando's hand tight enough to bruise, but otherwise doesn't move. "If River'd left a baby behind, the kid would be a lot older than three or four...yes, I'm aware that you know what River looked like as a kid, Mama, but I'm telling you, that ain't his kid."
Kid? Orlando turns a confused glance to Moe, who just shrugs. There's a kid running around New York that looks like River?
"Mama, calm down!" Joaquin takes a deep breath, then another. "Would you listen, please? There's no way that little boy is River's son. I know you want it...hell, I do, too! But any kid of his would be older." He stops, mouth open. When he speaks again, his voice is flat. "A little boy with blond hair and green eyes. About three or four years old. What'd the mother look like?"
Orlando listens, keeps hold of Joaquin's hand. Little blond-haired boy with green eyes...if Orlando didn't know better, he'd think Joaquin was describing himself as a kid. His hair'd been much lighter when they'd been children.
"I see." Joaquin keeps a tight grip on Orlando's hand. "I promise you that the little boy you saw is not River's son. No...no...yes, I'm going to find out, and I'm going to do it right now. Yes...yes...I love you, too. Give my love to everyone, alright?"
Orlando barely waits until Joaquin's hung up the phone. Moe's still hovering in the doorway, but Orlando pays no attention. His only focus is Joaquin. "What is it, love? What's going on?"
"My mother says she saw a ghost at the market today," Joaquin says, turning his head to look at Orlando. He can only imagine how he must look. "A little boy, maybe three or four years old, who was the spitting image of my dead brother."
"Must've been quite a shock," Orlando replies gently, rubbing his thumb across Joaquin's knuckles.
"She was hysterical." For a moment, Joaquin just sits there. Then his eyes shift to Moe. "Mama described the woman with him. Tall, long dark hair, blue eyes...favored Liv a little."
"Oh, shit," Moe breathes, eyes wide. "Kitten, you don't think...you do. Rita?"
"Rita?" Orlando looks back and forth between the both of them. "'Quin, who's Rita?"
"Can't be anyone else," Joaquin says, then sighs and rubs his eyes. "Rita is...an old fling. I took up with her because she looked like Liv."
Old fling... And, suddenly, some of the pieces start to fall into place. "You think that's her...that this kid is yours?" Jesus, just the idea...
"Can you give me another reason why there's a child in New York...the right age, mind you...who looks like River?"
"Boss, don't go jumping to conclusions..."
Joaquin's head whips around. "Don't, Moe. You know how I was then. It's possible."
"I'm with Moe, love, that's not like you." Orlando drags Joaquin's gaze back to his. "No matter how fucked up you were after Josh and I left and when Liv left, you'd never abandon a woman who was carrying your child. There's got to be another explanation."
"And if I didn't know?" Joaquin pins Orlando with a steady gaze. He wants a drink right now so bad he can already taste it. "Rita and I had a huge fight, and I didn't see her again. Ridley said he'd seen her, but that she'd left town not long after."
"Then maybe it's not her." Orlando leans forward, trying to give Joaquin whatever he needs, whatever strength he can. "All I'm asking is that you don't go jumping to conclusions without finding out a few things first. Namely, if that was even Rita that Mama Phoenix saw."
"Can't think of any other reason why the woman would've turned white and took off with the kid when Mama tried to talk to her." Joaquin shakes his head again, then reaches for the phone.
"Boss..."
"McGonigill can find her before I can get home," Joaquin says, waiting for the operator. He gives her the number then waits again.
"Bringing out the big guns," Moe says, with a pained grunt, then runs a hand over his head.
"Bruce?" Orlando asks, giving Moe a shocked look. "He's still alive? Jesus, I thought for sure someone woulda taken him out by now."
"You and most of New York," Moe says, resigned as he watches Joaquin. "He got shot a couple years back, and Kitten and Lucky thought it best to not, let's say, correct the notion that he'd been killed. Only me and George know about him, and he answers directly to Kitten."
"Ridley was the last one to see her," Joaquin says, listening to the phone pop as the lines connect. "And...Mac, I need you to do something. Rita. Find her. I don't care what it takes or how you do it."
"You sure setting that bloodhound on her's a good idea?" Orlando asks, as soon as Joaquin hangs up the phone. "I can't imagine he's changed all that much since I've been gone."
"It's him or Ridley. And I don't want Ridley involved." Joaquin sits back in the chair and studies Orlando. "The only person Mac's never found is Liv. But he was able to find out more than Ridley did."
"Why wouldn't you want Ridley involved? He's the last one that saw her, right?"
"Exactly why I don't want him involved. Completely fresh start."
Orlando nods; it's a good idea. He's just not too sure about putting Bruce in charge of finding a girl who'd ended on a bad note with Joaquin. Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. "Let me call Sally, have her rearrange my schedule, get us train tickets. I probably won't be able to get out until tonight, though, there are a couple of things today that I can't cancel."
"Tonight is fine." Joaquin's jaw tightens as he glances at the phone again. "I need to make a few phone calls."
"Take all the time you need," Orlando replies, and brushes his hand across Joaquin's. "I'll get myself back to the office."
"I'll pack for you." With an explosion of motion, Joaquin stands and hauls Orlando to him for a tight hug. He's trembling with suppressed emotion, unsure if he can accept the fact that he might have a son out there somewhere.
"It's alright, love," Orlando murmurs, returning the hug, holding Joaquin tight to him, trying to impart strength and love. "We'll get through this, no matter what it is. Stronger together."
"I don't..." Joaquin shudders hard and buries his face against Orlando's neck. "Leave Lou, yeah? Don't trust myself right now."
"You want Lou or Moe with you?" Orlando asks gently, stroking Joaquin's hair. He doesn't mind admitting, if only to himself, that he's scared of what New York will hold.
"Moe'll let me drink," Joaquin whispers, then laughs. It's strained and weak, and his arms spasm as he grips Orlando.
"Come with me, then," Orlando suggests, and leans back enough so he can look at Joaquin. "Make your calls from my office, you can sit in on my meetings, and we can come back here after to pack." He offers up a small smile. "Once we get on the train, we can stay in our compartment, and I'll order a bottle, if you really think you need it. Just don't want you...come a long way, love. Don't waste it."
"Baby..." Joaquin shudders again, closing his eyes for a second. He needs to regroup, recenter himself, but it's next to impossible right now. "I might have a son," he whispers, voice cracking on the last word.
"And if you do, then we'll deal with it," Orlando replies, cupping Joaquin's cheeks, thumbs rubbing over bristled skin. "And we'll celebrate it for the miracle that it is, and we'll raise him with Danny and any other children we're blessed with. And we'll deal with why she didn't come to you."
"I just...this is so fucked up, baby," Joaquin says, pressing his face into Orlando's palms. His knees threaten to buckle, and he has to grab hold of Orlando to stay upright.
"It happens. Surprised neither of us have more bastards running around," Orlando says, trying to make his voice light. Trying to give Joaquin something to hold on to.
"They all know, though..." With Orlando's help, Joaquin sinks back into the chair. He can only imagine how he looks as he lifts his eyes to meet Orlando's. "Think...going to the office with you...might be a good idea..."
"Good." Orlando leans in, gaze serious. "Because I'm not letting you out of my sight until we get settled one way or another."
"Bully," Joaquin says as Moe heaves a sigh of relief.
"I'll just pack up the rest of the lunch and dessert," Moe offers, already moving back into the kitchen. He doesn't have to ask to know they need a few minutes alone.
The second Moe's footsteps fade, Orlando tugs Joaquin down to the floor with him until Joaquin's straddling his lap. "Love you so much, 'Quin," he murmurs, holding Joaquin close. "We'll get through this, alright?"
"I know," Joaquin nods, burying his face against Orlando's throat again. "I just...s'a shock, yeah?"
"If it's true," Orlando reminds them both. "But if it is...'Quin...a son. He'd be, what, three or so?"
"Around there, yeah," Joaquin replies, after a moment. It takes him that long to settle the dates in his head. "Rita was...I took up with her right after Liv left. A replacement of sorts."
"Understandable." God knows, Orlando had tried to drown himself in women after Josh's death. "You mentioned that you two had a falling out?"
"An ugly one. I was drunk," Joaquin says, with a very faint smile. He doesn't add the 'as usual'. "I don't even remember how the fight got started. Just that it did and it escalated pretty fast."
"They'll do that," Orlando remarks, and pulls Joaquin even closer. "Might explain why she skipped town, then. Especially if she found out she was expecting."
"She had to know she could come to me, though. Family's everything." Joaquin shakes his head, then looks at Orlando. "I'd've taken care of her and the baby."
"I know you would have. But maybe she didn't feel she could trust that. Or maybe she had other reasons. Or maybe it's not even her and you're worrying for nothing."
"The kid's mine," Joaquin says, quietly, knowing to the depths of his soul that he's right. Rita might not be the mother, but he can't doubt the description his mother gave.
"And if it is, then you know you'll do the right thing, whatever that is." And if it means marrying the girl in question, then Orlando will step back and wish him happiness. He has no doubts it'll be the hardest thing he'll ever do, save for when he'd buried Josh, but Joaquin's happiness is worth much more than his own.
One hand comes up to grasp Orlando's chin. "Not giving you up, baby," Joaquin says, voice low and fierce, and his eyes blaze as he looks at Orlando. "I don't give a damn what happens. If he's my son, he's mine, but I'm not giving you up."
"Alright." Orlando offers a small, but genuine smile. He doesn't move out of Joaquin's grasp. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together."
"Family," Joaquin murmurs, then covers Orlando's lips with his in an intense kiss that leaves him shaken.
"Family always," Orlando murmurs, nuzzling Joaquin's neck, inhaling the dark, familiar scent.
"Love you..." Joaquin turns his head just enough to see Moe as he steps back into the living room with a sack in his hand. "Best get going if we're getting on a train tonight."
"Yeah." Orlando reluctantly untangles himself from Joaquin and stands. "C'mon, we can finish eating when we get back to the office. And you'll get to see Jake."
"Good," Joaquin says, with his first real smile as Orlando pulls him from the floor. "I can rib him about Mark."
"Buncha y'all are unnatural," Moe grumbles as he shoos them towards the front door, patting his pockets with his free hand to make sure he has everything he needs.
"Now, Moe, ain't nothing unnatural about being happy," Orlando replies, snagging Joaquin's hand as they follow Moe back out to the car.
"Ain't nothing unnatural about sex," Joaquin says, feeling better for the first time since the phone call.
"The good Father'd disagree with you on that," Moe points out, giving them both a look as he holds the door.
"Well, if God didn't want it to happen, he'd have never given us the ability to think up the idea, now would he?"
"Man's got a point," Orlando grins, when Moe just rolls his eyes. "Unless all you and Salma are doing is holding hands..."
"Ah, but see," Moe says, with a sly grin and a wink before starting the car down the drive, "Salma's all woman. Unlike you two lugs."
"And a damn fine one, too," Orlando agrees. "How's she doing on getting ready for the big move? You know where you'll be putting her up once you get to New York?"
"I got a nice little place in mind," Moe says, and smiles as he concentrates on the road. "And she's doing 'bout well as can be expected."
"Which means she's driving him crazy with her franticness," Joaquin says, trying not to laugh at the pained look that crosses Moe's face.
"Well, now, this is important," Orlando says, grinning at Moe's look. "Girl's never been to New York, she's got a right to know if she's gonna embarrass herself when she entertains."
"Oh, for...she's not gonna embarrass herself," Moe says. He rolls his eyes, refusing to look at either of them. Damned know it all kids.
"You never know," Joaquin says, head resting on Orlando's shoulder, but his smile is wide. "New York's not Chicago, man."
"She knows everyone here," Orlando continues, with a wicked smile. "You're gonna hafta introduce her around in New York until she's got a few good girlfriends she can call on."
"I ain't got a problem with that," Moe says, hunching his shoulders.
Joaquin laughs. "You should introduce her to Gisele."
"Aw, hell no!" Moe says, sitting up straight and jerking the wheel a little. "Get that idea right outta your head, Kitten."
Ahhh, there's a story there. "Who's Gisele?" Orlando asks.
"High society dame," Joaquin says, eyes gleaming with delight as a thought occurs to him. "Runs in some of the same circles I do."
"She's a damn Brazilian hellcat is what she is," Moe mutters.
"Aha, and you would know this how?"
"Wait'll you meet her," Moe says, then bites his lip to keep from laughing. He can already picture how that meeting will go.
"She's, ah, not easily forgotten," Joaquin says, smiling as he toys with the cuff of Orlando's shirt where it pokes out beneath his jacket sleeve. "Bit of a temper on her."
"Not your usual sort, then," Orlando grins. "Hellcats were never your style."
"Oh, I ain't touched her," Joaquin says, quick to protest his innocence. "Even if I wasn't half scared of her, she ain't my type."
"Not busty enough?" Orlando teases. "Or, wait, let me guess, she's blonde?"
"You could say she's blonde," Joaquin says, sitting up and looking out the window in an effort to hide his grin. "Bit homely, if you ask me. The temper doesn't improve her looks, either."
"Can't win 'em all," Orlando says, and pats Joaquin's knee in sympathy.
"Oh, Kitten thought she was attractive enough 'til she chucked that vase at his head," Moe says, chuckling as Joaquin kicks the back of his seat.
"Hey, I can't be blamed for mistaking her for a working girl," Joaquin says, delivering a dark look to the back of Moe's head. "You saw how she was dressed that night."
Orlando'd known there had to be a story. "You mistook a high society dame for a whore?" He can barely keep the glee out of his voice.
"I'm not the only one," Joaquin replies, with another bump to the back of Moe's seat. "I was just the only one who, ah, thought to take advantage."
"Well, then, no wonder you saw her temper if you propositioned the girl," Orlando laughs.
"It was good offer," Joaquin protests, elbowing Orlando in the ribs. "Damn flattering, if you ask me. Woman had no right to start heaving things at me."
"I can't imagine," Orlando replied dryly, as Moe pulls up in front of his building.
Joaquin eyes Orlando as they get out of the car. "I oughta pop you for doubting me," he says, and mimes a jab at Orlando's head. "Impudent brat."
"I am, but you don't wanna brawl with me," Orlando states, and grins again, holding the door open for Joaquin.
"I might," Joaquin says, bumping Orlando as he walks into the building. Moe just rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he follows them, carrying the sack with their lunch in it.
Orlando stops at the elevator, and raises an eyebrow. "You wanna work off some of that energy after we're done here, that's fine, but I gotta better idea on how we can do it."
Joaquin waves a hand and pretends to look bored. "Nah," he says, ignoring Moe's amused look. "Even if you had a decent boxing ring around here, I'd whup your scrawny ass six ways from Sunday."
"Five years is a long time," Orlando states mildly. "And who says I was talking about boxing?"
One eyebrow goes up. Then Joaquin tugs at the bottom of his jacket and gives Orlando a wry look. "I keep forgetting you still fight dirty."
"Always will," Orlando replies, and flashes a warm smile.
Joaquin makes a rude noise and steps into the elevator when it stops. He glances at the sack in Moe's hands. "Hope you brought enough for yourself."
"Of course," Moe says, giving Joaquin a look that says he's not an idiot, thanks. "Figured it might be a while before dinner, so I brought extra."
"Smart man." Orlando steps out of the elevator when it stops on his floor, and motions for Sally as soon as they get into the office. "Something's come up," he says. "Bring your notepad and meet me in my office."
Sally's glance flickers from Orlando to Joaquin and back, but, to her credit, she doesn't ask any questions. "Of course."
Entering Orlando's office, Joaquin immediately walks to the small bar in the corner. "Just one," he says, catching Orlando's look. "A small one."
Moe doesn't say anything. He just starts to remove the dishes from the sack, calmly arranging them on the table before pulling out napkins and silverware.
After a moment, Orlando nods. "Pour me one, too."
Sally walks in the office, notepad in hand. "I'm here, Boss."
"Shut the door, would you?" When she does so, Orlando motions her to a chair. "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. Understood?"
Sally doesn't flinch. "Of course."
"A family emergency's come up, and Joaquin and I'll need to be on a train back to New York tonight. I don't know how long we'll be. So, this afternoon, we're going to try to wrap up as many things as we can, and here's what I need from you..."
Nursing his drink, Joaquin stares out the window as Orlando talks to Sally. Their voice are a drone in the background. All he can think about is a little boy in New York. A little boy with blond hair and green eyes who looks like his brother. A little boy that is, most likely, his son.
***
When Sally pokes her head in the office at 2 sharp, Orlando feels as if he's been buried under a mountain of paperwork for years. "Mr. Gyllenhaal is here."
Orlando tosses the pen down on the desk, and rubs aching eyes. "Send him in."
Joaquin rouses up in his chair with a quiet sound. The papers he's supposed to be looking over for Orlando rustle in his hand as he jerks. "Sorry," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and raking a hand through his hair.
The door opens and Jake peeks in, eyes widening a little when he sees Joaquin sitting there. "I didn't get the day wrong, did I?" he asks, stepping in and closing the door.
"No, it's, uh, it's a long story." Orlando stands and crosses to Jake, pulling him in for a hard, heartfelt hug. Not mixing business and pleasure be damned. "It's good to see you," he murmurs.
Jake automatically returns the hug, startled gaze flying to Joaquin. "What is it?"
"I may be a father," Joaquin says, with a laugh that contains little mirth. His eyes roam over the two of them, and he smiles a little.
"What?" Jake stares at Joaquin, sure that he didn't hear that right. His gaze shifts to Orlando. "Did he just...what?"
"Come on, have a seat, we'll try to explain." Orlando tugs Jake to the sofa, and sits beside him. "C'mon, 'Quin, you too," he says, and points at the space on Jake's other side.
"I need to finish looking over these," Joaquin says, waving the papers. But he moves to sit beside Jake, shoulders hunched as the memory of the phone conversation with his mother comes back like a hammer to the head.
"You can take a few minutes," Orlando says, and reaches across Joaquin to pat his knee. "This is family."
Jake glances between the two of them again, feeling a little lost. "Could someone tell me what's going on?"
"Joaquin got a phone call from his mother a little bit ago."
"And?"
"And she seems to have run into a little boy in the market this morning," Joaquin says.
Jake must look as confused as he feels, because Joaquin pats his knee.
"Thing is, this little boy is the spitting image of...of River," Joaquin finishes, voice dropping with each word.
"Too late for River to be the father," Jake says, mostly to himself, trying to piece together what they're telling him. "So, you think..."
"There was a woman Joaquin was involved with just after Liv," Orlando continues softly. "It...it didn't end well. And, Rita fits the description of the woman Mama Phoenix saw with the little boy."
"I see." Jake turns back to Joaquin. "And you think that this woman might be this woman you broke off with?"
"Only thing that makes sense," Joaquin says, with a small, bitter laugh. "Can't be that many women in New York that resemble Liv...and I can't think of anyone outside my family who could produce a child that looks like that."
"But you're not sure." Jake doesn't need Joaquin to confirm that. He looks at Orlando. "When are you leaving?"
"Tonight," Orlando replies, smiling a little at how fast Jake's caught on to how he and Joaquin operate. "I don't know how long we'll be gone. Until we know for certain one way or another."
"Alright." Jake nods once, then drops his hands over theirs. "What do you need from me?"
"Personally..." Joaquin smiles then, and it's genuine. Regardless of the short time he's known Jake, he's never been able to remain gloomy in the kid's presence. "Think you should keep moving forward on the house. It's in good hands, and that'd be one less thing Orlando would have to worry about."
"That's done," Jake shrugs, then smiles a little, pleased to see Joaquin's smile.
"I already know it's in good hands," Orlando says.
"Jesus," Joaquin groans. He slumps back on the sofa and closes his eyes, wishing like hell that Bruce would call, but knowing it's too soon.
With a quick look at Orlando, Jake sits back and presses against Joaquin's side, curling against him with an ease born of familiarity. "Hey," he says, softly, one hand sliding behind Joaquin's neck to knead tight muscles, "no use getting yourself worked up over this. Not 'til you know for sure."
"Jake's right, you know." Orlando glances fondly at both of them, glad to his bones that Jake's here. "It's gonna be a long trip to New York. Can't be this wound up the entire time."
"Moe'll likely throw you overboard if you are," Jake teases, hoping to coax another smile out of Joaquin.
"Nah, he'll just thrash me," Joaquin says, thinking he should move away, but pleased Jake is curled against him. "He'd have to explain to Lucky if I went missing while in his care."
"Don't think I wouldn't be tempted," Moe says, from his chair in the corner, and damned if Joaquin hadn't thought he was asleep.
"Either way," Jake says, with a snort of amusement, and continues kneading the back of Joaquin's neck. "Not gonna do that little boy any good, either, if you get all bent out of shape over this right now."
"You come in all guns blazing, and you're likely to scare him to death and this woman, whoever she is," Orlando concurs. "And if it is Rita, then you best be putting on your best contrite face, try to figure out how you're going to convince her that you in their lives is a good thing."
When Joaquin opens his eyes to look at Orlando, they're flat and cold. "You really think she can keep me away from him?"
"Kitten..." Jake shakes his head, giving Orlando a frustrated look. "You really want to start out with your son -- if he is your son -- by ripping him away from his mother? Not the way to handle it."
"Remember what you told me when I found out about Danny." Orlando's voice is soft, calm. "If it's her and if she didn't tell you, then she had a good reason. You need to find out what it is, and deal with that first."
Joaquin's jaw tightens. "Dirty tactics," he says, giving Orlando a dark look. "Throwing my own words back at me."
"Whatever works," Jake murmurs, fingers sliding up Joaquin's nape to his hair.
"I love you, you know that, and I want what's best for you." Orlando slides his hand over Joaquin's thigh. "But if this kid is yours, then I'm going to want what's best for him, too. And a kid needs both of his parents."
"Danny'll do just fine," Joaquin says, jaw still set. He's not quite ready to admit defeat.
"Only because he's got the two of you and his mother," Jake points out.
"Don't be stubborn, 'Quin. And don't wait for your mother to tell you the same thing."
Another dark look is cast in Orlando's direction. "That's low."
"Whatever works," Orlando shrugs.
"You know he's right," Jake says softly, as he continues to pet Joaquin's hair.
"Don't have to like it," Joaquin mutters, giving Jake a dark look as well.
Jake just shrugs it off and smiles. "No one's expecting you to like it," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Joaquin's cheek.
"You'll thank me in the long run," Orlando smiles.
"That's debatable," Joaquin says, and closes his eyes again, gently bumping his head against Jake's hand.
"Now you really are being stubborn," Orlando says, watching Joaquin with a small, fond smile. He really is just like a kitten at times.
"Hush," Joaquin says. He butts Jake's hand again. "I'm relaxing."
Jake chuckles and shakes his head. He's happy enough to sit here like this, stroking Kitten's hair. His free hand reaches over to take Orlando's, and Jake smiles at him.
Thank you, Orlando mouths, and leans forward to brush a light kiss across Jake's lips.
"Don't think you can talk about me as if I'm not here, either," Joaquin says. He doesn't move or open his eyes.
"You're supposed to be relaxing," Jake says, injecting a touch of sternness into his voice, even as he returns Orlando's soft smile.
"Yes, dear."
***
"Stop that," Orlando says, putting a hand on Joaquin's knee to stop the tapping. Outside their compartment window, the dark scenery rushes past in a blur. Back to New York for the first time in five long years...
Can’t think about that. His own demons don't matter, only Joaquin.
"Sorry," Joaquin mutters. He drags his eyes from the scenery to give Orlando a tight smile. Seconds later, his hand is tapping his knee again. He looks up when Moe appears with two bottles and three glasses.
"Figured we all needed this," is all Moe says.
Orlando knows he should say something, stop Joaquin from using the alcohol as a crutch. But, he also knows if Joaquin is this wound up the entire time, he's liable to explode before the train even gets to New York. And he also knows he's in no shape to be of much help to Joaquin in his present state.
"Good idea," he says instead, and turns back to the window.
"M'sorry, baby," Joaquin whispers, even as he reaches for the offered drink. He wants to say no, wants to turn it down, but he knows he's not strong enough. But, God, how he hates the look of disappointment that he's sure flashed through Orlando's eyes.
"Don't." Orlando takes his glass, but doesn't drink. He keeps his focus on the window. "Don't apologize."
For a second, Joaquin just sits there, staring at his drink. Then he hands it back to Moe. "Here," he says, voice rough as he stands and brushes past Orlando to head to the back of the car. He needs a cigarette, something to keep his hands occupied.
"Fuck," Orlando swears, and hands his own glass back to Moe. "I'm sorry." He's not sure why he's apologizing, but he doesn't stop to analyze why. He heads out of their compartment to the smoking car, hoping that Joaquin's there and not in the bar.
Joaquin takes a deep drag on his clove, lighting it even before he steps out onto the small landing at the back of the car. The wind tugs at his hair, whipping the smoke away from the glowing end of the cigarette, and he has to rub his eyes. Fuck.
When Orlando steps into the deserted car, his gaze flickers, then stops on the shadowy figure on the landing. He can see the faint red glow from the tip of Joaquin's cigarette, and feels something tugging within him at how vulnerable, how young Joaquin looks.
Not for the first time, he wonders if they're both too lost to make this work.
It takes him a second to get his bearings when he steps outside, swaying with the movement of the train. "I'm sorry," he says, resting his elbows on the railing and glancing at Joaquin's profile.
"No need to apologize," Joaquin replies, voice low and rough with emotion. He silently offers first the pack, then his lighter, to Orlando. Studying the pack for a moment, he slides it back into jacket pocket and takes a deep breath. "Think I can handle anything," he says, gaze roaming over Orlando's form, "except you being disappointed in me."
"Is that what you think this is?" Orlando cups his hand over the end of the clove and lights it, then hands the lighter back to Joaquin. "That's not it at all. I'm disappointed in myself, not you." His laugh is short, without humor. "Here you are, needing me to be here for you, to be a shoulder, and all I can think about is how much I...how scared I am to go back home."
"I..." Joaquin stands there with his mouth open as Orlando's words slam into him. Son of a bitch. "I hadn't even thought about that," he finally says, with a very small smile. "Hell of a pair, ain't we?"
"Yeah," Orlando replies, scooting a little closer. "Yeah, we are. I just...I'm trying, I want you to know that. But if you need more...it's alright."
"Baby...I'm here for you just as much as I need you to be here for me," Joaquin says. To hell with who might be watching. He steps closer, pressing against Orlando's hip. "It's alright to be scared, y'know. Lucky, though...he's real excited about you and the boys coming home."
"I thought I was, too," Orlando confesses, a little ashamed of the tremble in his voice. "I just...thought I'd have more time. But I swear to you," he turns his head, grips one of Joaquin's hands tight, "I swear, 'Quin, I am here for you. I won't let you down."
"You won't. Far more scared about letting you down, y'know," Joaquin says, and twists his hand to lace their fingers together. "And you will have more time. Much as you need. This trip ain't permanent."
"I know. But it could take awhile to get this all sorted." Especially if Joaquin's gut is correct and this child really is his. Orlando takes a last drag from his clove and flicks the butt across the railing. "Stronger together, right?"
"Always." Joaquin smiles as his own butt follows Orlando's. He gives a gentle tug to Orlando's hand. "Look at it this way...you'll get to see Danny again."
"You sure you'll be up for a trip to see him?"
"You think anything could stop me from driving out for the day?" Another smile, then Joaquin pulls Orlando into a tight hug. "Love you so much, baby."
"So much," Orlando whispers, his grip on Joaquin tight, desperate. "Do anything for you."
"I know," Joaquin murmurs, burying his face in dark curls, letting the familiar, beloved scent calm him. "The same, y'know."
"I know."
Orlando loses track of time as he holds onto Joaquin, clings tight to the love, acceptance and brotherhood he finds in Joaquin's arms. Could be minutes or hours later when he lifts his head, searches jade green eyes in the dim light, and smiles a little at the love he sees reflected back at him. "Need to be close to you right now."
"Then how 'bout we go back inside, yeah?" Joaquin leans in and presses a light kiss to Orlando's lips before he pulls back. "We can grab one of those bottles Moe has if you want, and crawl into bed."
"Why don't we save the bottle, see if he's got anything else?" Orlando asks, snagging Joaquin's hand for a brief squeeze before dropping it as they head back inside.
"Sure you don't want me licking whiskey off your skin?" Joaquin murmurs, just loud enough for Orlando to hear. His shoulder brushes Orlando's as they navigate the narrow aisle, and he's not surprised to see Moe still sitting there with their glasses still full in front of him.
"Well, I wouldn't say no," Orlando replies, once he catches his breath. Jesus, but Joaquin knows the fastest way to reduce him to raw need.
"We'll see," Joaquin murmurs. His eyes flick towards Orlando, and he smiles. Taking the extra glasses from Moe, he hands one to Orlando with a steady hand. "Cheers."
Even though he knows he should be annoyed with Joaquin for teasing him on purpose, Orlando still raises his glass, clinks it against Joaquin's. "Cheers," he murmurs, and drinks.
"Gimme that bottle, yeah?" Joaquin murmurs, eyes on Orlando as he holds his hand out to Moe. His fingers curl around cool glass, and he smiles. "We're turning in."
Moe rolls his eyes and cracks open the other bottle. "Just keep it down," he says, pouring himself another two fingers in his glass before settling back in his seat and pulling out a book.
Orlando crowds against Joaquin's back as he grins down at Moe. "That another book without pictures?"
"Go to hell," Moe says, good-naturedly, giving Orlando the finger without ever looking up from his book.
Joaquin laughs. "Think you've just been put in your place, 'Lando," he says, reaching back to curl an arm around Orlando's waist.
"Not quite, but you can help me with that," Orlando replies, and laughs out loud when he hears Moe groan. "Now we can leave," he murmurs in Joaquin's ear, and pushes against him again, hot and insistent.
"Be happy to help," Joaquin says, with a wicked grin. Without releasing Orlando, he starts towards the sleeping area of their compartment, body already heavy and throbbing with need.
***
"File these with the rest of the Avery account, and create a new one for the McGiles brothers," Orlando instructs, as Sally hastily writes down notes. "Tell Tom I need him to freeze Cox's tab for right now... What else?" There's so much to do before he leaves, before he can even think about moving back home.
He still can't believe he's doing this.
"Got a 2 o'clock with Mr. Gyllenhaal to go over the new plans, and a 3:30 with Mr. Hawke to go over Canada."
"Christ." Orlando drops into his chair, and buries his face in his hands.
"Don't worry, Mr. Bloom, we'll get it sorted."
Orlando lifts his head and offers Sally a small smile. "I'm gonna miss you. Sure you don't wanna move back East with me?"
"I'm flattered, but someone who knows what's what should stick around here," Sally replies, just as a knock sounds at the door to the office.
The door opens a few seconds after the knock, and Joaquin pokes his head in and smiles. "You look like you could use a break," he says. "Feel like playing hooky for a bit?"
"Just in time," Orlando says and stands, crossing to Joaquin. He can see Sally smiling out of the corner of his eye as he gives Joaquin a welcome hug. By the time he's pulled back, she's disappeared, and shut the door behind her. Thank God for an understanding staff.
"Feel like going back to the house for some lunch?" Arms still wrapped loosely around Orlando's waist, Joaquin continues smiling. "Be nice and quiet, and I promise to have you back in time for any afternoon meetings."
"You're an evil man for tempting me this way." Orlando ducks in for a soft meeting of lips. "Think I need the downtime, though. It wasn't even dawn when I crawled out of bed this morning."
"I know," Joaquin grumbles, but his smile doesn't fade. "You woke me up, brat. C'mon, let's get out of here."
"At least you got to go back to sleep," Orlando replies, and grabbing Joaquin's hand, pulls him out of the office. "Sally, I'm being kidnapped for lunch."
"Good for you, sir," she replies with a grin.
"I think so."
"I'll try to return him in one piece," Joaquin promises, flashing her his most charming smile and dipping a tiny bow as they breeze past.
"Promise?" Orlando murmurs, hand drifting to the small of Joaquin's back as they step outside onto the sidewalk.
"Always," Joaquin replies. His smile shifts, turns a little darker, a little edgier, and he lets his eyes trail over Orlando's body.
"Ah, so you kidnapped me because you were lonely, is that it?" Orlando teases, shifting even closer to Joaquin as they near the car. Moe takes one look at them and rolls his eyes.
"Why else?" Smirking at Moe, Joaquin leans in towards Orlando, trying not to laugh when Moe abruptly spins around and snatches open the car door.
"Not a clue," Orlando murmurs, and slides into the car, followed closely by Joaquin.
"Sure you'll think of something," Joaquin says, barely waiting for Moe to close the door behind them before brushing his lips over Orlando's.
Orlando doesn't even know what they're talking about anymore. He's got 'Quin in his arms, lips on his, and everything else just falls away. "Miss me?" he asks, when he lifts his head.
"Terribly," Joaquin says, and ruins it by grinning. He makes no effort to move away, too content to sprawl against Orlando. "Do you realize just how quiet that damn house is when no one else is in it?"
"Why else do you think I've spent the past year avoiding it as much as possible?" Orlando asks, with a small shrug.
"Kinda eerie," Joaquin murmurs, resting his head on Orlando's shoulder. He reaches over, curls his fingers around Orlando's, and smiles.
"Anytime you want to work, I've got plenty for you," Orlando replies, squeezing Joaquin's fingers. "And if I don't, I know Mark does."
Joaquin snorts. "You know I'm not a working man."
"That itty bit of honest work he did at the docks 'bout near killed him," Moe says, flashing a wide grin at them as he turns the corner.
"However," Joaquin says, blithely ignoring Moe, "what've you got I might be interested in?"
"Setting up new bosses, training Frankie and Denz to take my place. Not that they could replace me," Orlando grins, "but someone's gotta keep a firm hand on the South Side. Anything you could do would get me out of here faster..."
"Gimme a list and point me in the right direction," Joaquin says, sitting up straight and tugging his jacket into place. It's all business now. "Should be easy enough."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Orlando smiles, and brushes a light kiss across Joaquin's lips as they pull into the drive.
"Can't rightly refuse." But Joaquin can't help the pleased feeling that spreads through him at Orlando's approval. Acting like a green kid, for God's sake. "C'mon. I told your housekeeper to take the afternoon off after lunch was finished."
"Ordering my staff around?" Orlando teases, and throws an arm around Joaquin's shoulders when they climb out of the car and head into the house.
"I was polite about it," Joaquin protests, laughing. "She was very appreciative. Said she had a few personal errands to run."
"Probably buying more things to send to her son. He's in Europe right now, helping with the rebuilding," Orlando explains, letting them both in and heading down the hall into the kitchen.
"She did mention the post office," Joaquin murmurs, deliberating crowding Orlando as he follows him. Moe's headed towards the stairs, so Joaquin figures they've got some privacy.
Orlando turns, sliding his arms around Joaquin's waist. "Something you wanted?"
"Just you," Joaquin replies, as he leans in to nibble on Orlando's neck just above his collar.
"Mmm...love the way you think," Orlando murmurs, and buries a hand in Joaquin's hair, fingers sifting through dark curls.
"Lunch first," Joaquin smiles, lips trailing up Orlando's throat to his ear. "Then I'm all yours 'til you have to be back in the office."
"You're all mine anyway," Orlando replies, and shivers a little. Forget the fact that he's starving, he'd be happy to let 'Quin do just this all day.
"Well, yes..." Laughing, Joaquin pulls away and flashes Orlando a smile. "But I'll be all yours, so..."
Orlando likes the sound of that even better. "Guess we better see what's for lunch, then." Sooner they eat, the sooner he can take Joaquin upstairs.
"Something good, I imagine." Snagging Orlando's hand, Joaquin pulls him into the kitchen, where lunch is waiting on the small table in the breakfast nook.
"Mmmmm..." Orlando takes a deep, appreciative sniff. Garlic, basil, spices and cheese. "Lasagna. I may not move the rest of the day."
"Guess we'll just have to work it off later, then." Leaning in, Joaquin brushes his lips over Orlando's, then moves to grab plates and silverware. It smells incredible, and he's not at all surprised when his stomach rumbles.
Orlando spoons them each up a heaping serving, and sits at the small table, smiling when Joaquin sits next to him, bringing one of the open bottles of Cabernet. "This is nice," he remarks. "Thanks for kidnapping me."
"My pleasure." Sitting close enough that their thighs brush, Joaquin smiles as he pours the wine. "Figured you could use a bit of a break."
"I feel like I've barely come up for air." Orlando groans his approval at the first rich bite of lasagna. "Heard from Summer and George yet?"
"Had a telegram delivered this morning," Joaquin says between bites. "They got there with no problems, and the family is over the moon about the ring on her finger."
"Bet your mom's already got Summer running ragged," Orlando grins, and clinks his glass against Joaquin's.
"Of course she does," Joaquin says, returning the grin. "What else has she got to do?"
"Get Libby settled," Orlando grins. "Speaking of, she know? That I'm...that Josh and I are coming home?"
"I'm guessing Rain told her." Joaquin shrugs as he takes another big bite and chews. "I haven't spoken to her, but I can't imagine they kept it a secret."
"Maybe Rain's waiting for us to tell her."
Joaquin snorts, then takes a swallow of wine. "How d'you think Mama found out? She knew by the time I called her. My big sister can't keep a secret to save her life."
Orlando frowns a little in confusion as he takes a sip of his wine. "Thought you just said you hadn't spoken to her."
Joaquin gives Orlando a flat look over his glass. "Baby, please. You think I've been here all this time without calling my Mama? Do I look like I have a death wish?" Then he stops and blinks. "Wait...did you mean did Mama know? Or Libby?"
"Both," Orlando laughs, and drops a hand over Joaquin's. He looks downright cute like this.
"Mama knows," Joaquin says, with a weak smile. "And she blessed me out for not calling her first and putting you on the phone. She says you're not allowed to step foot in New York without your mom, though."
"I'm not surprised," Orlando replies softly. "And you can tell her that my mom and Samantha will both be with me. Mama's all excited about moving back home, even if she isn't too happy about finding a new house."
"Uh, about that..." Joaquin looks down at his plate, staring at it as he shoves a bite of lasagna around with his fork. His voice drops. "I own your old house. We, uh...the current residents are already looking for a new place."
"You...you what?" There's no way he heard that correctly.
"I bought it," Joaquin says, quietly, still looking at his plate. "Couple months after you and Josh left. Guess...guess I always hoped you'd come home at some point."
"But you hated me. You wanted me dead." Orlando drops his hand over Joaquin's again, still reeling from the realization that Joaquin had bought the house he and, later on, Josh, had grown up in.
"I know." Joaquin finally looks up, meeting Orlando's dazed look with a small smile. "I didn't really, though. You know that, right?"
"I do," Orlando replies softly, returning the smile with one of his own. "I tried hating you for years, and all it took for it all to come crumbling down was seeing you again."
Joaquin nods, curling his fingers around Orlando's. "It was the same for me," he says, then is interrupted by the shrilling of the telephone in the other room.
"We'll let Moe get it," Orlando says, and leans forward to press his lips to Joaquin's. "Thank you. Mama'll be thrilled."
"I hope so." Smiling, Joaquin tugs Orlando in for another kiss. He only pulls back when he hears Moe clear his throat.
"Uh, boss..."
"Hmm?" Joaquin takes his time turning around, but he straightens up the second he sees Moe's expression. "What is it?"
"It's, uh, your mother. And she, uh..."
Joaquin's out of his chair and through the kitchen door before Moe finishes speaking.
Orlando follows on Joaquin's heels, and glances at Moe when Joaquin snatches up the phone. "What is it?" he asks quietly, keeping an ear out so he can hear Joaquin's side of the conversation.
"Dunno," Moe says, worry clear on his face as he watches Joaquin. "She was a little hysterical."
"Mama...Mama, listen to me!" Joaquin pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's wrong?"
Orlando turns his attention back to Joaquin, heart pounding, and takes a step closer. Then all of the blood drains out of Joaquin's face, and Orlando's by his side in a heartbeat. One of the girls, it's got to be one of the girls...
Please, Lord, we've suffered enough, please...
One hand fumbles for something to grab hold of as Joaquin's knees buckle. Thankfully there's a chair there. "That's...that's impossible," he says, voice faint and close to breaking. "He...he's been dead seven years. No way..."
Moe's eyes go wide, and he takes his own step, not surprised that Orlando beats him to Joaquin's side. Jesus Christ, but he'd give good money to know what Mama Phoenix was saying.
"No," Joaquin says again, swamped by dizziness. "If...if she'd been pregnant, she'd have come to us."
They can only be talking about River and Margaret. Not one of the girls, then, and Orlando gives a sigh of relief as he drops to Joaquin's side, curls tight fingers around his, and tries to decipher what's going on. Something about a child, obviously, but River's been dead a long time.
"No...Mama, no, listen," Joaquin says, clearly frustrated. He grips Orlando's hand tight enough to bruise, but otherwise doesn't move. "If River'd left a baby behind, the kid would be a lot older than three or four...yes, I'm aware that you know what River looked like as a kid, Mama, but I'm telling you, that ain't his kid."
Kid? Orlando turns a confused glance to Moe, who just shrugs. There's a kid running around New York that looks like River?
"Mama, calm down!" Joaquin takes a deep breath, then another. "Would you listen, please? There's no way that little boy is River's son. I know you want it...hell, I do, too! But any kid of his would be older." He stops, mouth open. When he speaks again, his voice is flat. "A little boy with blond hair and green eyes. About three or four years old. What'd the mother look like?"
Orlando listens, keeps hold of Joaquin's hand. Little blond-haired boy with green eyes...if Orlando didn't know better, he'd think Joaquin was describing himself as a kid. His hair'd been much lighter when they'd been children.
"I see." Joaquin keeps a tight grip on Orlando's hand. "I promise you that the little boy you saw is not River's son. No...no...yes, I'm going to find out, and I'm going to do it right now. Yes...yes...I love you, too. Give my love to everyone, alright?"
Orlando barely waits until Joaquin's hung up the phone. Moe's still hovering in the doorway, but Orlando pays no attention. His only focus is Joaquin. "What is it, love? What's going on?"
"My mother says she saw a ghost at the market today," Joaquin says, turning his head to look at Orlando. He can only imagine how he must look. "A little boy, maybe three or four years old, who was the spitting image of my dead brother."
"Must've been quite a shock," Orlando replies gently, rubbing his thumb across Joaquin's knuckles.
"She was hysterical." For a moment, Joaquin just sits there. Then his eyes shift to Moe. "Mama described the woman with him. Tall, long dark hair, blue eyes...favored Liv a little."
"Oh, shit," Moe breathes, eyes wide. "Kitten, you don't think...you do. Rita?"
"Rita?" Orlando looks back and forth between the both of them. "'Quin, who's Rita?"
"Can't be anyone else," Joaquin says, then sighs and rubs his eyes. "Rita is...an old fling. I took up with her because she looked like Liv."
Old fling... And, suddenly, some of the pieces start to fall into place. "You think that's her...that this kid is yours?" Jesus, just the idea...
"Can you give me another reason why there's a child in New York...the right age, mind you...who looks like River?"
"Boss, don't go jumping to conclusions..."
Joaquin's head whips around. "Don't, Moe. You know how I was then. It's possible."
"I'm with Moe, love, that's not like you." Orlando drags Joaquin's gaze back to his. "No matter how fucked up you were after Josh and I left and when Liv left, you'd never abandon a woman who was carrying your child. There's got to be another explanation."
"And if I didn't know?" Joaquin pins Orlando with a steady gaze. He wants a drink right now so bad he can already taste it. "Rita and I had a huge fight, and I didn't see her again. Ridley said he'd seen her, but that she'd left town not long after."
"Then maybe it's not her." Orlando leans forward, trying to give Joaquin whatever he needs, whatever strength he can. "All I'm asking is that you don't go jumping to conclusions without finding out a few things first. Namely, if that was even Rita that Mama Phoenix saw."
"Can't think of any other reason why the woman would've turned white and took off with the kid when Mama tried to talk to her." Joaquin shakes his head again, then reaches for the phone.
"Boss..."
"McGonigill can find her before I can get home," Joaquin says, waiting for the operator. He gives her the number then waits again.
"Bringing out the big guns," Moe says, with a pained grunt, then runs a hand over his head.
"Bruce?" Orlando asks, giving Moe a shocked look. "He's still alive? Jesus, I thought for sure someone woulda taken him out by now."
"You and most of New York," Moe says, resigned as he watches Joaquin. "He got shot a couple years back, and Kitten and Lucky thought it best to not, let's say, correct the notion that he'd been killed. Only me and George know about him, and he answers directly to Kitten."
"Ridley was the last one to see her," Joaquin says, listening to the phone pop as the lines connect. "And...Mac, I need you to do something. Rita. Find her. I don't care what it takes or how you do it."
"You sure setting that bloodhound on her's a good idea?" Orlando asks, as soon as Joaquin hangs up the phone. "I can't imagine he's changed all that much since I've been gone."
"It's him or Ridley. And I don't want Ridley involved." Joaquin sits back in the chair and studies Orlando. "The only person Mac's never found is Liv. But he was able to find out more than Ridley did."
"Why wouldn't you want Ridley involved? He's the last one that saw her, right?"
"Exactly why I don't want him involved. Completely fresh start."
Orlando nods; it's a good idea. He's just not too sure about putting Bruce in charge of finding a girl who'd ended on a bad note with Joaquin. Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. "Let me call Sally, have her rearrange my schedule, get us train tickets. I probably won't be able to get out until tonight, though, there are a couple of things today that I can't cancel."
"Tonight is fine." Joaquin's jaw tightens as he glances at the phone again. "I need to make a few phone calls."
"Take all the time you need," Orlando replies, and brushes his hand across Joaquin's. "I'll get myself back to the office."
"I'll pack for you." With an explosion of motion, Joaquin stands and hauls Orlando to him for a tight hug. He's trembling with suppressed emotion, unsure if he can accept the fact that he might have a son out there somewhere.
"It's alright, love," Orlando murmurs, returning the hug, holding Joaquin tight to him, trying to impart strength and love. "We'll get through this, no matter what it is. Stronger together."
"I don't..." Joaquin shudders hard and buries his face against Orlando's neck. "Leave Lou, yeah? Don't trust myself right now."
"You want Lou or Moe with you?" Orlando asks gently, stroking Joaquin's hair. He doesn't mind admitting, if only to himself, that he's scared of what New York will hold.
"Moe'll let me drink," Joaquin whispers, then laughs. It's strained and weak, and his arms spasm as he grips Orlando.
"Come with me, then," Orlando suggests, and leans back enough so he can look at Joaquin. "Make your calls from my office, you can sit in on my meetings, and we can come back here after to pack." He offers up a small smile. "Once we get on the train, we can stay in our compartment, and I'll order a bottle, if you really think you need it. Just don't want you...come a long way, love. Don't waste it."
"Baby..." Joaquin shudders again, closing his eyes for a second. He needs to regroup, recenter himself, but it's next to impossible right now. "I might have a son," he whispers, voice cracking on the last word.
"And if you do, then we'll deal with it," Orlando replies, cupping Joaquin's cheeks, thumbs rubbing over bristled skin. "And we'll celebrate it for the miracle that it is, and we'll raise him with Danny and any other children we're blessed with. And we'll deal with why she didn't come to you."
"I just...this is so fucked up, baby," Joaquin says, pressing his face into Orlando's palms. His knees threaten to buckle, and he has to grab hold of Orlando to stay upright.
"It happens. Surprised neither of us have more bastards running around," Orlando says, trying to make his voice light. Trying to give Joaquin something to hold on to.
"They all know, though..." With Orlando's help, Joaquin sinks back into the chair. He can only imagine how he looks as he lifts his eyes to meet Orlando's. "Think...going to the office with you...might be a good idea..."
"Good." Orlando leans in, gaze serious. "Because I'm not letting you out of my sight until we get settled one way or another."
"Bully," Joaquin says as Moe heaves a sigh of relief.
"I'll just pack up the rest of the lunch and dessert," Moe offers, already moving back into the kitchen. He doesn't have to ask to know they need a few minutes alone.
The second Moe's footsteps fade, Orlando tugs Joaquin down to the floor with him until Joaquin's straddling his lap. "Love you so much, 'Quin," he murmurs, holding Joaquin close. "We'll get through this, alright?"
"I know," Joaquin nods, burying his face against Orlando's throat again. "I just...s'a shock, yeah?"
"If it's true," Orlando reminds them both. "But if it is...'Quin...a son. He'd be, what, three or so?"
"Around there, yeah," Joaquin replies, after a moment. It takes him that long to settle the dates in his head. "Rita was...I took up with her right after Liv left. A replacement of sorts."
"Understandable." God knows, Orlando had tried to drown himself in women after Josh's death. "You mentioned that you two had a falling out?"
"An ugly one. I was drunk," Joaquin says, with a very faint smile. He doesn't add the 'as usual'. "I don't even remember how the fight got started. Just that it did and it escalated pretty fast."
"They'll do that," Orlando remarks, and pulls Joaquin even closer. "Might explain why she skipped town, then. Especially if she found out she was expecting."
"She had to know she could come to me, though. Family's everything." Joaquin shakes his head, then looks at Orlando. "I'd've taken care of her and the baby."
"I know you would have. But maybe she didn't feel she could trust that. Or maybe she had other reasons. Or maybe it's not even her and you're worrying for nothing."
"The kid's mine," Joaquin says, quietly, knowing to the depths of his soul that he's right. Rita might not be the mother, but he can't doubt the description his mother gave.
"And if it is, then you know you'll do the right thing, whatever that is." And if it means marrying the girl in question, then Orlando will step back and wish him happiness. He has no doubts it'll be the hardest thing he'll ever do, save for when he'd buried Josh, but Joaquin's happiness is worth much more than his own.
One hand comes up to grasp Orlando's chin. "Not giving you up, baby," Joaquin says, voice low and fierce, and his eyes blaze as he looks at Orlando. "I don't give a damn what happens. If he's my son, he's mine, but I'm not giving you up."
"Alright." Orlando offers a small, but genuine smile. He doesn't move out of Joaquin's grasp. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together."
"Family," Joaquin murmurs, then covers Orlando's lips with his in an intense kiss that leaves him shaken.
"Family always," Orlando murmurs, nuzzling Joaquin's neck, inhaling the dark, familiar scent.
"Love you..." Joaquin turns his head just enough to see Moe as he steps back into the living room with a sack in his hand. "Best get going if we're getting on a train tonight."
"Yeah." Orlando reluctantly untangles himself from Joaquin and stands. "C'mon, we can finish eating when we get back to the office. And you'll get to see Jake."
"Good," Joaquin says, with his first real smile as Orlando pulls him from the floor. "I can rib him about Mark."
"Buncha y'all are unnatural," Moe grumbles as he shoos them towards the front door, patting his pockets with his free hand to make sure he has everything he needs.
"Now, Moe, ain't nothing unnatural about being happy," Orlando replies, snagging Joaquin's hand as they follow Moe back out to the car.
"Ain't nothing unnatural about sex," Joaquin says, feeling better for the first time since the phone call.
"The good Father'd disagree with you on that," Moe points out, giving them both a look as he holds the door.
"Well, if God didn't want it to happen, he'd have never given us the ability to think up the idea, now would he?"
"Man's got a point," Orlando grins, when Moe just rolls his eyes. "Unless all you and Salma are doing is holding hands..."
"Ah, but see," Moe says, with a sly grin and a wink before starting the car down the drive, "Salma's all woman. Unlike you two lugs."
"And a damn fine one, too," Orlando agrees. "How's she doing on getting ready for the big move? You know where you'll be putting her up once you get to New York?"
"I got a nice little place in mind," Moe says, and smiles as he concentrates on the road. "And she's doing 'bout well as can be expected."
"Which means she's driving him crazy with her franticness," Joaquin says, trying not to laugh at the pained look that crosses Moe's face.
"Well, now, this is important," Orlando says, grinning at Moe's look. "Girl's never been to New York, she's got a right to know if she's gonna embarrass herself when she entertains."
"Oh, for...she's not gonna embarrass herself," Moe says. He rolls his eyes, refusing to look at either of them. Damned know it all kids.
"You never know," Joaquin says, head resting on Orlando's shoulder, but his smile is wide. "New York's not Chicago, man."
"She knows everyone here," Orlando continues, with a wicked smile. "You're gonna hafta introduce her around in New York until she's got a few good girlfriends she can call on."
"I ain't got a problem with that," Moe says, hunching his shoulders.
Joaquin laughs. "You should introduce her to Gisele."
"Aw, hell no!" Moe says, sitting up straight and jerking the wheel a little. "Get that idea right outta your head, Kitten."
Ahhh, there's a story there. "Who's Gisele?" Orlando asks.
"High society dame," Joaquin says, eyes gleaming with delight as a thought occurs to him. "Runs in some of the same circles I do."
"She's a damn Brazilian hellcat is what she is," Moe mutters.
"Aha, and you would know this how?"
"Wait'll you meet her," Moe says, then bites his lip to keep from laughing. He can already picture how that meeting will go.
"She's, ah, not easily forgotten," Joaquin says, smiling as he toys with the cuff of Orlando's shirt where it pokes out beneath his jacket sleeve. "Bit of a temper on her."
"Not your usual sort, then," Orlando grins. "Hellcats were never your style."
"Oh, I ain't touched her," Joaquin says, quick to protest his innocence. "Even if I wasn't half scared of her, she ain't my type."
"Not busty enough?" Orlando teases. "Or, wait, let me guess, she's blonde?"
"You could say she's blonde," Joaquin says, sitting up and looking out the window in an effort to hide his grin. "Bit homely, if you ask me. The temper doesn't improve her looks, either."
"Can't win 'em all," Orlando says, and pats Joaquin's knee in sympathy.
"Oh, Kitten thought she was attractive enough 'til she chucked that vase at his head," Moe says, chuckling as Joaquin kicks the back of his seat.
"Hey, I can't be blamed for mistaking her for a working girl," Joaquin says, delivering a dark look to the back of Moe's head. "You saw how she was dressed that night."
Orlando'd known there had to be a story. "You mistook a high society dame for a whore?" He can barely keep the glee out of his voice.
"I'm not the only one," Joaquin replies, with another bump to the back of Moe's seat. "I was just the only one who, ah, thought to take advantage."
"Well, then, no wonder you saw her temper if you propositioned the girl," Orlando laughs.
"It was good offer," Joaquin protests, elbowing Orlando in the ribs. "Damn flattering, if you ask me. Woman had no right to start heaving things at me."
"I can't imagine," Orlando replied dryly, as Moe pulls up in front of his building.
Joaquin eyes Orlando as they get out of the car. "I oughta pop you for doubting me," he says, and mimes a jab at Orlando's head. "Impudent brat."
"I am, but you don't wanna brawl with me," Orlando states, and grins again, holding the door open for Joaquin.
"I might," Joaquin says, bumping Orlando as he walks into the building. Moe just rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he follows them, carrying the sack with their lunch in it.
Orlando stops at the elevator, and raises an eyebrow. "You wanna work off some of that energy after we're done here, that's fine, but I gotta better idea on how we can do it."
Joaquin waves a hand and pretends to look bored. "Nah," he says, ignoring Moe's amused look. "Even if you had a decent boxing ring around here, I'd whup your scrawny ass six ways from Sunday."
"Five years is a long time," Orlando states mildly. "And who says I was talking about boxing?"
One eyebrow goes up. Then Joaquin tugs at the bottom of his jacket and gives Orlando a wry look. "I keep forgetting you still fight dirty."
"Always will," Orlando replies, and flashes a warm smile.
Joaquin makes a rude noise and steps into the elevator when it stops. He glances at the sack in Moe's hands. "Hope you brought enough for yourself."
"Of course," Moe says, giving Joaquin a look that says he's not an idiot, thanks. "Figured it might be a while before dinner, so I brought extra."
"Smart man." Orlando steps out of the elevator when it stops on his floor, and motions for Sally as soon as they get into the office. "Something's come up," he says. "Bring your notepad and meet me in my office."
Sally's glance flickers from Orlando to Joaquin and back, but, to her credit, she doesn't ask any questions. "Of course."
Entering Orlando's office, Joaquin immediately walks to the small bar in the corner. "Just one," he says, catching Orlando's look. "A small one."
Moe doesn't say anything. He just starts to remove the dishes from the sack, calmly arranging them on the table before pulling out napkins and silverware.
After a moment, Orlando nods. "Pour me one, too."
Sally walks in the office, notepad in hand. "I'm here, Boss."
"Shut the door, would you?" When she does so, Orlando motions her to a chair. "What I'm about to tell you doesn't leave this room. Understood?"
Sally doesn't flinch. "Of course."
"A family emergency's come up, and Joaquin and I'll need to be on a train back to New York tonight. I don't know how long we'll be. So, this afternoon, we're going to try to wrap up as many things as we can, and here's what I need from you..."
Nursing his drink, Joaquin stares out the window as Orlando talks to Sally. Their voice are a drone in the background. All he can think about is a little boy in New York. A little boy with blond hair and green eyes who looks like his brother. A little boy that is, most likely, his son.
***
When Sally pokes her head in the office at 2 sharp, Orlando feels as if he's been buried under a mountain of paperwork for years. "Mr. Gyllenhaal is here."
Orlando tosses the pen down on the desk, and rubs aching eyes. "Send him in."
Joaquin rouses up in his chair with a quiet sound. The papers he's supposed to be looking over for Orlando rustle in his hand as he jerks. "Sorry," he mutters, rubbing his eyes and raking a hand through his hair.
The door opens and Jake peeks in, eyes widening a little when he sees Joaquin sitting there. "I didn't get the day wrong, did I?" he asks, stepping in and closing the door.
"No, it's, uh, it's a long story." Orlando stands and crosses to Jake, pulling him in for a hard, heartfelt hug. Not mixing business and pleasure be damned. "It's good to see you," he murmurs.
Jake automatically returns the hug, startled gaze flying to Joaquin. "What is it?"
"I may be a father," Joaquin says, with a laugh that contains little mirth. His eyes roam over the two of them, and he smiles a little.
"What?" Jake stares at Joaquin, sure that he didn't hear that right. His gaze shifts to Orlando. "Did he just...what?"
"Come on, have a seat, we'll try to explain." Orlando tugs Jake to the sofa, and sits beside him. "C'mon, 'Quin, you too," he says, and points at the space on Jake's other side.
"I need to finish looking over these," Joaquin says, waving the papers. But he moves to sit beside Jake, shoulders hunched as the memory of the phone conversation with his mother comes back like a hammer to the head.
"You can take a few minutes," Orlando says, and reaches across Joaquin to pat his knee. "This is family."
Jake glances between the two of them again, feeling a little lost. "Could someone tell me what's going on?"
"Joaquin got a phone call from his mother a little bit ago."
"And?"
"And she seems to have run into a little boy in the market this morning," Joaquin says.
Jake must look as confused as he feels, because Joaquin pats his knee.
"Thing is, this little boy is the spitting image of...of River," Joaquin finishes, voice dropping with each word.
"Too late for River to be the father," Jake says, mostly to himself, trying to piece together what they're telling him. "So, you think..."
"There was a woman Joaquin was involved with just after Liv," Orlando continues softly. "It...it didn't end well. And, Rita fits the description of the woman Mama Phoenix saw with the little boy."
"I see." Jake turns back to Joaquin. "And you think that this woman might be this woman you broke off with?"
"Only thing that makes sense," Joaquin says, with a small, bitter laugh. "Can't be that many women in New York that resemble Liv...and I can't think of anyone outside my family who could produce a child that looks like that."
"But you're not sure." Jake doesn't need Joaquin to confirm that. He looks at Orlando. "When are you leaving?"
"Tonight," Orlando replies, smiling a little at how fast Jake's caught on to how he and Joaquin operate. "I don't know how long we'll be gone. Until we know for certain one way or another."
"Alright." Jake nods once, then drops his hands over theirs. "What do you need from me?"
"Personally..." Joaquin smiles then, and it's genuine. Regardless of the short time he's known Jake, he's never been able to remain gloomy in the kid's presence. "Think you should keep moving forward on the house. It's in good hands, and that'd be one less thing Orlando would have to worry about."
"That's done," Jake shrugs, then smiles a little, pleased to see Joaquin's smile.
"I already know it's in good hands," Orlando says.
"Jesus," Joaquin groans. He slumps back on the sofa and closes his eyes, wishing like hell that Bruce would call, but knowing it's too soon.
With a quick look at Orlando, Jake sits back and presses against Joaquin's side, curling against him with an ease born of familiarity. "Hey," he says, softly, one hand sliding behind Joaquin's neck to knead tight muscles, "no use getting yourself worked up over this. Not 'til you know for sure."
"Jake's right, you know." Orlando glances fondly at both of them, glad to his bones that Jake's here. "It's gonna be a long trip to New York. Can't be this wound up the entire time."
"Moe'll likely throw you overboard if you are," Jake teases, hoping to coax another smile out of Joaquin.
"Nah, he'll just thrash me," Joaquin says, thinking he should move away, but pleased Jake is curled against him. "He'd have to explain to Lucky if I went missing while in his care."
"Don't think I wouldn't be tempted," Moe says, from his chair in the corner, and damned if Joaquin hadn't thought he was asleep.
"Either way," Jake says, with a snort of amusement, and continues kneading the back of Joaquin's neck. "Not gonna do that little boy any good, either, if you get all bent out of shape over this right now."
"You come in all guns blazing, and you're likely to scare him to death and this woman, whoever she is," Orlando concurs. "And if it is Rita, then you best be putting on your best contrite face, try to figure out how you're going to convince her that you in their lives is a good thing."
When Joaquin opens his eyes to look at Orlando, they're flat and cold. "You really think she can keep me away from him?"
"Kitten..." Jake shakes his head, giving Orlando a frustrated look. "You really want to start out with your son -- if he is your son -- by ripping him away from his mother? Not the way to handle it."
"Remember what you told me when I found out about Danny." Orlando's voice is soft, calm. "If it's her and if she didn't tell you, then she had a good reason. You need to find out what it is, and deal with that first."
Joaquin's jaw tightens. "Dirty tactics," he says, giving Orlando a dark look. "Throwing my own words back at me."
"Whatever works," Jake murmurs, fingers sliding up Joaquin's nape to his hair.
"I love you, you know that, and I want what's best for you." Orlando slides his hand over Joaquin's thigh. "But if this kid is yours, then I'm going to want what's best for him, too. And a kid needs both of his parents."
"Danny'll do just fine," Joaquin says, jaw still set. He's not quite ready to admit defeat.
"Only because he's got the two of you and his mother," Jake points out.
"Don't be stubborn, 'Quin. And don't wait for your mother to tell you the same thing."
Another dark look is cast in Orlando's direction. "That's low."
"Whatever works," Orlando shrugs.
"You know he's right," Jake says softly, as he continues to pet Joaquin's hair.
"Don't have to like it," Joaquin mutters, giving Jake a dark look as well.
Jake just shrugs it off and smiles. "No one's expecting you to like it," he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Joaquin's cheek.
"You'll thank me in the long run," Orlando smiles.
"That's debatable," Joaquin says, and closes his eyes again, gently bumping his head against Jake's hand.
"Now you really are being stubborn," Orlando says, watching Joaquin with a small, fond smile. He really is just like a kitten at times.
"Hush," Joaquin says. He butts Jake's hand again. "I'm relaxing."
Jake chuckles and shakes his head. He's happy enough to sit here like this, stroking Kitten's hair. His free hand reaches over to take Orlando's, and Jake smiles at him.
Thank you, Orlando mouths, and leans forward to brush a light kiss across Jake's lips.
"Don't think you can talk about me as if I'm not here, either," Joaquin says. He doesn't move or open his eyes.
"You're supposed to be relaxing," Jake says, injecting a touch of sternness into his voice, even as he returns Orlando's soft smile.
"Yes, dear."
***
"Stop that," Orlando says, putting a hand on Joaquin's knee to stop the tapping. Outside their compartment window, the dark scenery rushes past in a blur. Back to New York for the first time in five long years...
Can’t think about that. His own demons don't matter, only Joaquin.
"Sorry," Joaquin mutters. He drags his eyes from the scenery to give Orlando a tight smile. Seconds later, his hand is tapping his knee again. He looks up when Moe appears with two bottles and three glasses.
"Figured we all needed this," is all Moe says.
Orlando knows he should say something, stop Joaquin from using the alcohol as a crutch. But, he also knows if Joaquin is this wound up the entire time, he's liable to explode before the train even gets to New York. And he also knows he's in no shape to be of much help to Joaquin in his present state.
"Good idea," he says instead, and turns back to the window.
"M'sorry, baby," Joaquin whispers, even as he reaches for the offered drink. He wants to say no, wants to turn it down, but he knows he's not strong enough. But, God, how he hates the look of disappointment that he's sure flashed through Orlando's eyes.
"Don't." Orlando takes his glass, but doesn't drink. He keeps his focus on the window. "Don't apologize."
For a second, Joaquin just sits there, staring at his drink. Then he hands it back to Moe. "Here," he says, voice rough as he stands and brushes past Orlando to head to the back of the car. He needs a cigarette, something to keep his hands occupied.
"Fuck," Orlando swears, and hands his own glass back to Moe. "I'm sorry." He's not sure why he's apologizing, but he doesn't stop to analyze why. He heads out of their compartment to the smoking car, hoping that Joaquin's there and not in the bar.
Joaquin takes a deep drag on his clove, lighting it even before he steps out onto the small landing at the back of the car. The wind tugs at his hair, whipping the smoke away from the glowing end of the cigarette, and he has to rub his eyes. Fuck.
When Orlando steps into the deserted car, his gaze flickers, then stops on the shadowy figure on the landing. He can see the faint red glow from the tip of Joaquin's cigarette, and feels something tugging within him at how vulnerable, how young Joaquin looks.
Not for the first time, he wonders if they're both too lost to make this work.
It takes him a second to get his bearings when he steps outside, swaying with the movement of the train. "I'm sorry," he says, resting his elbows on the railing and glancing at Joaquin's profile.
"No need to apologize," Joaquin replies, voice low and rough with emotion. He silently offers first the pack, then his lighter, to Orlando. Studying the pack for a moment, he slides it back into jacket pocket and takes a deep breath. "Think I can handle anything," he says, gaze roaming over Orlando's form, "except you being disappointed in me."
"Is that what you think this is?" Orlando cups his hand over the end of the clove and lights it, then hands the lighter back to Joaquin. "That's not it at all. I'm disappointed in myself, not you." His laugh is short, without humor. "Here you are, needing me to be here for you, to be a shoulder, and all I can think about is how much I...how scared I am to go back home."
"I..." Joaquin stands there with his mouth open as Orlando's words slam into him. Son of a bitch. "I hadn't even thought about that," he finally says, with a very small smile. "Hell of a pair, ain't we?"
"Yeah," Orlando replies, scooting a little closer. "Yeah, we are. I just...I'm trying, I want you to know that. But if you need more...it's alright."
"Baby...I'm here for you just as much as I need you to be here for me," Joaquin says. To hell with who might be watching. He steps closer, pressing against Orlando's hip. "It's alright to be scared, y'know. Lucky, though...he's real excited about you and the boys coming home."
"I thought I was, too," Orlando confesses, a little ashamed of the tremble in his voice. "I just...thought I'd have more time. But I swear to you," he turns his head, grips one of Joaquin's hands tight, "I swear, 'Quin, I am here for you. I won't let you down."
"You won't. Far more scared about letting you down, y'know," Joaquin says, and twists his hand to lace their fingers together. "And you will have more time. Much as you need. This trip ain't permanent."
"I know. But it could take awhile to get this all sorted." Especially if Joaquin's gut is correct and this child really is his. Orlando takes a last drag from his clove and flicks the butt across the railing. "Stronger together, right?"
"Always." Joaquin smiles as his own butt follows Orlando's. He gives a gentle tug to Orlando's hand. "Look at it this way...you'll get to see Danny again."
"You sure you'll be up for a trip to see him?"
"You think anything could stop me from driving out for the day?" Another smile, then Joaquin pulls Orlando into a tight hug. "Love you so much, baby."
"So much," Orlando whispers, his grip on Joaquin tight, desperate. "Do anything for you."
"I know," Joaquin murmurs, burying his face in dark curls, letting the familiar, beloved scent calm him. "The same, y'know."
"I know."
Orlando loses track of time as he holds onto Joaquin, clings tight to the love, acceptance and brotherhood he finds in Joaquin's arms. Could be minutes or hours later when he lifts his head, searches jade green eyes in the dim light, and smiles a little at the love he sees reflected back at him. "Need to be close to you right now."
"Then how 'bout we go back inside, yeah?" Joaquin leans in and presses a light kiss to Orlando's lips before he pulls back. "We can grab one of those bottles Moe has if you want, and crawl into bed."
"Why don't we save the bottle, see if he's got anything else?" Orlando asks, snagging Joaquin's hand for a brief squeeze before dropping it as they head back inside.
"Sure you don't want me licking whiskey off your skin?" Joaquin murmurs, just loud enough for Orlando to hear. His shoulder brushes Orlando's as they navigate the narrow aisle, and he's not surprised to see Moe still sitting there with their glasses still full in front of him.
"Well, I wouldn't say no," Orlando replies, once he catches his breath. Jesus, but Joaquin knows the fastest way to reduce him to raw need.
"We'll see," Joaquin murmurs. His eyes flick towards Orlando, and he smiles. Taking the extra glasses from Moe, he hands one to Orlando with a steady hand. "Cheers."
Even though he knows he should be annoyed with Joaquin for teasing him on purpose, Orlando still raises his glass, clinks it against Joaquin's. "Cheers," he murmurs, and drinks.
"Gimme that bottle, yeah?" Joaquin murmurs, eyes on Orlando as he holds his hand out to Moe. His fingers curl around cool glass, and he smiles. "We're turning in."
Moe rolls his eyes and cracks open the other bottle. "Just keep it down," he says, pouring himself another two fingers in his glass before settling back in his seat and pulling out a book.
Orlando crowds against Joaquin's back as he grins down at Moe. "That another book without pictures?"
"Go to hell," Moe says, good-naturedly, giving Orlando the finger without ever looking up from his book.
Joaquin laughs. "Think you've just been put in your place, 'Lando," he says, reaching back to curl an arm around Orlando's waist.
"Not quite, but you can help me with that," Orlando replies, and laughs out loud when he hears Moe groan. "Now we can leave," he murmurs in Joaquin's ear, and pushes against him again, hot and insistent.
"Be happy to help," Joaquin says, with a wicked grin. Without releasing Orlando, he starts towards the sleeping area of their compartment, body already heavy and throbbing with need.
***