Mannies Incorporated by Michael, Sean (read this if txt) 📕

'til I came and realized the kids hardly knew me."

"So how did you end up in California?"

"Once Mindy signed up, I wanted to get far away from my father and there were job openings there, so it fit the bill."

"She…uh…she doesn't talk about him much." He knew it had been ugly. He knew.

Drake nodded. "He's not worth talking about. I waited 'til she got out before going, though. I did."

"I'm sorry. You ought to meet my folks some time. They'll be here on the Fourth, to see the kids." His parents adored Mindy, her children.

Drake frowned at him. "Don't you mean to see you?"

Slayde cackled. They loved him, but grandchildren -- and they'd adopted Mindy's broods like they were their own -- were vastly more interesting. "Oh, of course. Right. Me. They want to play with the babies. There's a zoo trip, fireworks. They're stoked."

"But they aren't their grandkids." Drake didn't look like he was being mean, just confused.

"Oh, God. Don't say that to Mindy. Poppy and Nana are well-loved here."

Drake shook his head. "Whatever."

Okay, that was just rude. "They love those kids, they visit twice a year, they send presents."

"But they aren't their grandkids."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not their father."

"I know that." He'd never once suggested he was. Not once.

Drake shrugged. "I just don't get it, but I don't want to get in an argument with you about it."

"Okay." There wasn't anything to argue about, was there? He hadn't decided to have his folks treated like grandparents.

Drake finished up the dishes. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"Same old same old. We'll have to grocery shop at some point and possibly do some crafts."

"Crafts?" Drake managed to make it sound like a dirty word.

"Yeah. Something to mail to Mindy." He looked over, the sneaking suspicion that Drake was really pissed off at him getting stronger, second by second.

"Stuff to send to Mindy… I'm guessing you've got specific stuff in mind and already have everything ready to be magically whipped out."

His cheeks heated and he suddenly, weirdly ashamed, which was stupid, because this was his livelihood, entertaining and caring for and raising these kids.

"We have cards and sand art things. I'm going to check on the kids." He headed into the playroom, watching the kids play what looked like cook the baby in the play kitchen oven.

Drake joined him. "How often do you send stuff to Mindy?"

"Once a month I send a care package." He knew that she got lonely and that there were things she needed. "I send cards once a week."

"That's cool. What kind of stuff do you send?"

"Marshmallows, Reese's. Sunscreen. Toilet paper. Chapstick, Slim Jims, Via from Starbucks. Books. Froot Loops." He had a huge list.

"Huh." Drake watched the kids for a minute. "I guess we'd better craft then."

"We'll do it after lunch. Right now they're…cooking the baby."

"Is that what that is? Shouldn't we like stop them or something?"

"Nah. Who knows what the game is? Maggie would cry if the baby was being hurt."

"Yeah? She's such a serious little girl," Drake noted.

"She is. They thought she had autism." Of course, Mindy would have told Drake that.

Drake nodded. "Tests said it wasn't likely, though. She's pretty sweet once you convince her you're okay."

"She's just shy, but she'll make it." Kindergarten was going to be intense.

"She's got good people in her corner." Drake grunted.

"She does. It's going to change their lives, having Mindy home."

"We've got to make through the next eight months first."

"More like ten." He sighed. "I'm dreading Christmas."

Drake snorted. "Christmas is forever away -- I'm dreading their birthdays. Hell, thinking about next week seems scary."

"Yeah. Poor Mindy. This sucks so hard for her."

"She'll manage. She's strong."

"She is." They headed back toward the kitchen, and Slayde picked up as he went.

Drake's hand slid over his ass as he bent to pick down a toy in the doorway to the kitchen. Oh. Oh, wow. He grinned, tossed the toy into a basket.

"So, what do you want me to do 'til lunch? Laundry or something?" Drake was always offering to help -- he couldn't accuse the man of not pulling his weight, though that had been exactly what he'd thought was going to happen when Drake had first shown up. Luckily he'd been pretty wrong about the man.

"If you can get a load started, I'll strip the kids' beds and remake them." He chuckled, shook his head. "I have to tell you, you make my life easier."

"That's what I've been trying to say since I got here."

"Butthead."

"Am n… okay, maybe I am." Drake gave him a wink.

Slayde found himself laughing. Honestly laughing. Drake stared at him, until he was done laughing, and then quickly got busy opening and closing cupboards.

"What are you looking for?"

"Uh…" Drake mumbled something he didn't catch.

"What?" He came closer, almost touching.

"It's nothing."

"Okay…"

Drake was fascinating. Really. Drake's cheeks had to be burning, the color they were.

"Are you all right?" His hand landed on the small of Drake's back.

It might have been his imagination, but he thought Drake pushed back into his touch. "'m fine."

"Okay. Okay." Oh, damn. Drake was fine.

Drake turned toward him, looking at him. "Yeah. Okay." The man leaned toward him.

"God, I want you." The words slipped out of him, totally surprising him.

The corner of Drake's mouth turned up in to a smile, and their lips met. The kiss was soft, chaste, because damn it, he was at work, but damn, it was good.

Drake groaned and leaned their foreheads together. "Eight-thirty."

"Eight… eight-thirty?"

"When the kids go to bed."

"Oh. Yeah." Oh, damn. "Pizza? Dancing?" Was he doing this?

"There'll be a lot more than just dancing and eating, I hope."

"I hope so." What did this mean?

Drake smiled for him, pressed their lips together again. "Good."

"Uh-huh."

"Uncle Slayde, can we color?"

They jerked apart before Christian came barreling in.

God, he needed to call Joey, so badly.

"Yeah, coloring sounds like a good idea. How about cards for your mommy?" Drake gave him a lingering look.

"Yay! Can there be glue and glitter?"

Slayde groaned. Glitter.

"Uh… Uncle Slayde? Glitter?" Drake looked at him.

"Maybe next time. Let's use