More (Boyxboy)

Epilogue

A number of years later

Michael had been sitting on the couch for nearly an hour grading papers when his husband returned home from work. "Hello," he greeted, not bothering to look up, since if they were playing out their typical evening routine, Ian would be sprawling across the couch on his lap in about three seconds.

Two.

One.

There he went, stretching out and being careful to place his head on Michael's left thigh were he didn't have any papers. "How was your day?" Michael asked, using the back of his red pen to push Ian's hair off his forehead. "Did dad have something going on? You're later than usual".

"Your mother is having people over for breakfast tomorrow and she likes my pancake recipe better that Sarah's so she asked me to make some tonight for her to use in the morning," Ian answered, closing his eyes. "I have off the next two days at least so I can sleep in until noon, but then your father has a house party with possible investors on Sunday so Sarah and I are both in and we have to make about three hundered little sandwiches. You know, my job got much harder when you and your brothers moved out and your dad started having bigger meetings from home".

Frowning, Michael dropped his pen down onto the stack of papers on his right leg, giving Ian his full attention. "You know that we're not tight on money at all. Have you considered looking for other jobs?" he asked, and Ian's eyes cracked open just slightly to look up at him, but he didn't respond. "So you have then? I'm not going to be disappointed or anything because you don't want to work for my father anymore".

"That's not the problem," Ian admitted, voice low. Sighing, he sat up– that broke routine, since usually he would rest like that for at least a half an hour– swinging his legs over the side of the couch and leaning forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this, actually".

"Um, okay?" Michael asked. His nervousness must have shown in his voice because Ian looked over his shoulder at him and then huffed out a little laugh, leaning back against the couch cushions and taking one of his hands between both of his smaller ones.

"Don't look so scared, Michael. It's nothing bad. I just..." Ian trailed off, his eyes shifting away from Michael's face, and then he huffed. "Let me just grab my laptop real quick, okay? It'll be easier to show you".

"Sure," Michael agreed, but Ian had already left his side to go to the dining room table where he had left his laptop the night before, along with a stack of recipes he had been transferring into a word document lately. Leaning back against the couch, Michael watched him carefully as Ian flipped open the screen of his laptop and crouched forward to pull something up that Michael couldn't see clearly from the angle he was at.

"Don't get the wrong idea or anything, okay?" Ian asked him, carrying his open laptop over but then stopping at the end of the couch to just look at him. "I was just looking but I found things that might be interesting and I just want to know what you think, okay?"

"We're talking about job openings, right?" Michael asked, and Ian nodded, digging his teeth into his lower lip. "In the culinary field?"

Confusion took over the other man's features then. "What else would they be for?"

"I don't know, but you're acting super weird, and I just wanted to make sure you weren't about to ask me if I'd be okay with you becoming a stripper or something," Michael explained, and Ian huffed out a little laugh before moving forward some more.

"No. I only want to do that for you, Michael. Here". He thrust the laptop out towards him, and Michael lowered his eyes from his husband's face to look at the screen. Slowly, he reached out his hands and took the computer from him. "There are other ones I've been looking at in tabs along the top".