Pie and a Movie
Drew turned around in the middle of the small neat bedroom. “Did your mom really just put us in the same room? A room with one bed?”
Ewan tossed his bag on the dark green bedspread. “Yeah. It’s either this or one of us sleeps on the couch in the living room. Bright sun through the picture windows first thing in the morning.” He laughed and rubbed at the back of his head, messing up his fiery red hair. “I’m an adult, and she trusts me to make my own choices.”
Drew suppressed the urge to step forward and smooth Ewan’s hair back into place. “It’s just… I’m not used to parents who are so…” He waved a hand aimlessly. “…accepting.”
Ewan’s gaze softened, and he closed the distance between them, sliding his arms around Drew’s middle. “I’m sorry.”
Wrapping his arms around Ewan’s shoulders, Drew closed his eyes and rested his cheek on soft red hair. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
Burying his face in Drew’s shoulder, Ewan sighed. His voice was muffled when he replied, “I just feel… guilty. It’s not fair.”
“But it’s not your fault.” Drew ran one hand slowly up Ewan’s spine, then back down, enjoying the feel of Ewan’s body in his arms. “Does that door lock?”
Ewan’s head came up on a breathless laugh. “No, it doesn’t.” His eyes sparkled like the sun on water, and Drew couldn’t resist bending to brush their lips together. Laughter faded into a sigh and Ewan’s fingers tightened in the fabric at the back of Drew’s shirt.
“Hey, you two. Get a room.”
Drew’s head came up, alarmed. One of Ewan’s sisters stood in the doorway — shit, they hadn’t even closed the door — grinning at them. Heat rushed into Drew’s face.
Ewan lifted one hand to give her the finger without looking at her. “We do have a room, Amber. This is a room.”
“Yeah, well.” She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “You left the door open.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Ewan finally turned around, sliding under Drew’s arm and tucking himself against his side. “We defiled your unspoiled eyes with a kiss.”
“Yes, you did. It’s bad enough I have to see Raven sucking face with that goober of hers. It’s gross.”
“‘Goober’?” Ewan cracked up laughing, leaning into Drew even more. “How old are you, Amber? Five?”
Drawing herself up to her full height — which wasn’t all that impressive, to be honest — Amber replied with dignity, “I will be sixteen in a month and a half.”
“Oh, Good Lord, I feel old.” Ewan sighed. Drew tightened his arm around Ewan, rubbing his thumb over Ewan’s shoulder.
“You are old,” Amber shot back. “Anyway, Mom says for you both to get your butts into the kitchen. We’re having pie and ice cream.”
“You could have led with that,” Drew pointed out reasonably.
She grinned at him. “I could have. But what’s the fun in that?” Tossing him a wink, she turned and flounced away.
Ewan groaned. “I apologize for my siblings. For that — ” He fluttered a hand in the direction Amber had gone. “— and for anything else they might do or say.”
Laughing, Drew pressed a kiss to Ewan’s temple. “I like her. And I’m sure I’ll like the other…” He leaned back, frowning. “How many again?”
“Seven. Eight with me.” Slipping out from under Drew’s arm, Ewan caught his hand and tugged him toward the hallway. “Come on. My mom makes the best pie. We don’t want to miss it.”
Ewan was right — his mom’s homemade apple pie was amazing, especially with vanilla ice cream melting over each slice. Drew sighed as he pushed away his plate, wishing he wasn’t too polite to lick it clean. “That was delicious, Mrs Sparrow. Thank you.”
“Mom makes the best pies.” Ewan grinned at his mom. “You should try her peach pie. It’s to die for.”
“Oh, you.” Ewan’s mom shook her head, smiling at him. “Such a charmer.”
“Hah.” Ewan got up to rinse his plate in the sink. “You’re good at baking and you know it. Aren’t you always telling me to accept compliments with grace?”
A preteen girl — Drew couldn’t remember her name — snorted a laugh. “He’s got you there, Mom!” Ewan grinned in triumph as he sat back down next to Drew.
Mrs Sparrow narrowed her eyes at both of them. “So you do listen to me. Sometimes I wonder.” She grabbed a washcloth, ran it under the tap, then handed it to Amber. “Help your little brothers and sisters wipe their hands and faces.”
“Aw, Mom,” Amber whined, but she did as she was asked.
“Can we watch Frozen?” the youngest asked as Amber scrubbed the sticky off her cheeks. A chorus of excited agreement from the other two younger girls greeted her request.
“Oh, God,” Carl — the second oldest, and the only one of Ewan’s brothers whose name Drew remembered — groaned. “Anything but that.”
“Carl! We don’t take the Lord’s name in vain this house.” Mrs Sparrow glared at him. “Do I need to wash out your mouth with soap?”
Raising both hands in surrender, Carl backed away. “Sorry. Sorry.”
Laughing, Ewan stood up and tugged on Drew’s hand. “Just for that, Carl, I vote we do watch it.” Ignoring Carl’s sputtered accusations of betrayal, Ewan led Drew into the living room where two of his little sisters already had the DVD in the player ready to go. “Quick: grab a spot on the couch while you still can.” He pulled Drew down onto the couch with him to join a younger teen boy curled up with his nose in a book. “Harry Potter again, Mason? How many times have you read that?”
Peering over the edge of his book, Mason said, “Not as many times as you have.”
“Fair enough.” Ewan snuggled into Drew’s side. He tilted his head up to stage whisper in Drew’s ear. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it.”
Laughing, Drew wrapped an arm around Ewan, and stage whispered back, “I’ve read it a few times myself. Also, I like Frozen.”
Mason looked at them over his book, his gaze distinctly unimpressed. “Boys don’t like Frozen.”
Drew raised both eyebrows at Mason. “Boys can like anything they want to.”
Mason grunted and went back to his book. Drew grinned, turning his attention to the TV as the movie started.
By the end credits, Ewan was nearly asleep, slumped against Drew. As everyone got up and raced each other to the bathrooms, Ewan lifted his head and covered a yawn with his hand. “I guess I should brush my teeth. I really don’t want to move though.” He smiled sleepily up at Drew. “Can I just sleep here tonight? You make a great pillow.”
Drew felt like he might burst from the emotion that welled up within him. “Sure.” He was proud of how steady his voice was.
“You’ll get a crick in your neck,” Mason announced, putting his book down and getting up.
Ewan sighed deeply. “He’s got a point. My bed is a lot more comfortable than the couch. But to get there, I’d have to get up.”
“I see your point.” Drew ran a hand slowly up Ewan’s arm then back down. “You might regret it in the morning if you stay here, though.”
“Yeah.” Ewan grudgingly pushed himself up and, with a heavy sigh, stood up. “I’ll see if I can find a bathroom that isn’t occupied.”
Drew used the bathroom after Ewan, as he had no interest in the fights over the other two bathrooms in the house. He didn’t know how so many people lived in one house without killing each other.
He came back into Ewan’s room and closed the door quietly behind him, smiling at the sight that greeted him. Ewan was curled on his side in the bed, his red hair striking against the light blue pillowcase, fast asleep. Switching off the light, Drew slid between the sheets and gently laid an arm over Ewan. With a sigh, Ewan tucked himself into Drew’s chest.
It was some time before Drew fell asleep. He didn’t want to close his eyes, wanted to watch Ewan’s lashes flutter on his cheeks, and listen to his soft almost-snores.
