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

Drake rolled his eyes. "Are we going to eat this frou-frou crap, or what?"

"After I feed the kids and Joey cuts hair."

"Are there snacks?" He was pretty sure Drake wasn't joking.

"There are." Slayde pulled out some chips, some ranch dip.

"Of course there are, you're Martha Steward."

"Stewart." He stuck his tongue out at Drake.

"Huh?" Poor Drake looked lost.

Joey giggled. "Did you make the dip, honey? Yours is so good."

"I did."

"Didn't you know? We aren't allowed to buy anything ready made. It's like junk food prison here." Slayde could hear the tease in Drake's voice.

"Junk food is bad for your skin."

Joey nodded, eager as a puppy. "God, yes. Poison."

"Oh, Lord, there's another one." Drake glanced over at Travis.

Travis rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. Does he make you watch Top Chef? Sheer Genius?"

Drake shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Of course that was only because they'd not spent a lot of time doing anything but fucking in the evenings.

"Oh, you are a lucky man." Travis grinned wide. "He makes me watch every episode."

Joey looked at Slayde. "You're not watching Sheer Genius?"

Slayde's cheeks heated. "iTunes."

"What the fuck is Sheer Genius? I mean. Shit. Damn it!" Drake looked like he was going to explode.

"Three swears, Unca Drake!"

The kids whooped and Drake blushed. "Oh, God."

The man dropped to the floor and started pumping out push-ups. Damn, that was hot.

Joey blinked. "You're so lucky, Slayde."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey!" Travis actually looked offended.

The kids all piled onto Drake for the last few, which might have been the only reason Drake seemed to have totally missed the by-play.

Slayde turned to put on the hot dogs. "Christian, can Joey trim your hair, please?"

"Do I get a lollipop if he does?"

Joey opened his mouth, but then looked at Slayde questioningly

"How about a Popsicle?" He managed to keep a straight face.

Joey nodded happily. "Everyone who gets their hair cut gets a Popsicle. And you have your choice of me or Travis." Joey pointed to himself and stage-whispered, "Pick me!"

Christian pulled his shirt off. "I'll get the chair!"

Then the little boy ran to the backyard. At Drake's confused look, Slayde shrugged. "We can hose him down, after."

Drake chuckled. "So this is a regular thing, huh?"

"Whenever I come down, yeah. I think I'm the only person who's ever cut his hair, huh, honey?"

Slayde pondered that. "I think so."

"So you're both hairdressers?" Drake asked Travis, seeming to be more comfortable with him, despite the multi-colored hair.

"Yeah. Though I usually let Joey do Slayde and the kids -- he gets a bigger kick out of it."

"Travis is more of a three hundred dollar a pop consultant, huh? Joey still loves to do men." Slayde blinked at himself. "Men's hair."

Drake made a noise, but then turned to Travis again. "Three hundred a dollar pop consultant? For cutting hair?"

Travis pinked, and it made Slayde smile. The man put up with crazy shit, was insanely talented, and was a good guy. He deserved success. "It's a good job."

"Yeah, clearly." Drake chuckled. "Nice work if you can get it."

Joey headed out back and Slayde waved. "Drake, can you keep an eye on the girls please, love?"

Drake made this strangled noise, face going dark red. It was Travis who answered. "We've got it covered, guys."

Oh. Oops. Slayde ducked and ran, heading out to the inquisition.

"He's perfect." Joey beamed, taking the towel Christian had found and covering the boy's shoulders.

"Thank you." Christian smiled up at Joey.

"Oh, you're welcome, sweetie -- you're perfect, too." Joey chuckled and opened his kit, grabbing the spritzer and the scissors. "You called him 'love'." Joey murmured, beaming at him.

"Yeah." His cheeks were burning.

"You've got it so bad." Joey spritzed Christian's hair liberally making Christian squeal happily as the water got his skin, too.

"I can't help it." Slayde sat, carefully choosing his words. "At first, it was crazy-making, but he's eager and honest and a genuine good guy."

Joey started cutting Christian's hair. "How's his closet?"

"Pretty big. Huge. I mean, there's the whole…police uniform thing. I don't think his sister's ever even seen it." Which was a shame because Mindy was cool, open-minded. She let him be the kids' legal guardian, for fuck's sake.

Joey gave him a sympathetic look. "I'd tell you to back off for your own sake, but I can see that it's far too late for that."

"Yeah. I mean, she'll come back, he'll go back to work. I'll have to find work. It's doomed." And that sucked, so hard. Drake was…not perfect. but, God, the man made him happy.

"You'll come stay with us, honey. I'm not having you nursing a broken heart all alone."

"Why does Unca Slayde have a broken heart?" Christian asked.

"I don't, Christian. He's just saying that if I do, I can stay with him." Because it was coming. He was going to lose his lover, his family, the kids he'd been taking care of for their whole lives. Slayde teared up, looked away.

"Oh. Okay." Thank God Christian was still at the age where the simple answers worked for him.

Drake and Travis came out with the girls. "These two want to know how long it's going to take before it's their turn?" Drake gave him a funny look.

Joey looked at him, utterly panicked, and Slayde grinned, wishing he had his sunglasses on. "Maybe Uncle Travis can trim your bangs?"

They settled in to getting the girls ready and everyone having their hair cut. Joey gave him a look, though, that made it clear he didn't think the conversation was over yet.

After all three of the kids were trimmed and hosed off, Slayde got them settled with hot dogs at the picnic table. "Drake, you want Joey to trim you up?"

"It's getting long, isn't it?" It wasn't, not really, but for Drake, yeah, long enough. "Sure."

Joey beamed. "Cool. Lose the shirt and sit, big guy."

Drake gave him a look, and Slayde just shrugged. So Drake did as he was told, pulling off his T-shirt and exposing that amazing up body, those abs. Slayde couldn't help but look, eyes dragging over the