Here is Home • The Pack

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Preston's laughing, but he presses his lips together and drops quiet when he hears the kids snoring, shaking against Lachlan's side with the effort of keeping silent. He just grins. Preston's barely even tipsy but he always gets giggly after a couple of beers; Lachlan used to find it annoying, but these days he knows it's just hilarious, and kind of adorable, even if that's not a word Lachlan likes to throw around. Preston just seems - happy. They've only been drinking together in front of the TV downstairs, hardly anything special, but Preston's acting like it's been the best fucking night of his life. In his head, he's probably decided it was a date. Lachlan had just really wanted to watch Ice Road Truckers.

Rob's foot is hanging off the edge of his mattress, and Ruby's little chest is rising and falling under her Spider-Man sheets. The whole upstairs of the house is quiet and still in that way it only can be in the middle of the night, and Preston feels a little bad for disturbing it, when he knows any peace this house can get is a rare and needed blessing. Lachlan clearly doesn't share the same concern, though, just giggles into Preston's side for a moment longer before taking a deep breath, tugging off his pants, and falling face first onto his bed. The mattress squeaks loudly when he falls onto it. He turns his head to look at Preston, who's still standing in the middle of the room, grinning.

Lachlan knows he must look like an idiot. He just doesn't especially care. He's used to being stupid for Preston, by now.

After a second of staring at Preston, grinning, Lachlan remembers that he's bone tired and actually just wants to go to bed. He pulls off his shirt, which is actually Preston's shirt and smells really good, so he's left in just his sweatpants. Preston's makeshift bed is still on the floor, just like it has been for the last six nights - as long as he's been staying at the house again. He plonks himself down onto the floor and pulls the tangle of blankets up over his body, stares up at the slither of Preston he can see over the edge of the bed.

"Goodnight," he says quietly, feeling odd for sending his words out into the silence.

Without meaning to, Preston lifts his hand, the one closest to Lachlan's bed, and fists his hand in his sheets where they're dangling over the edge of the mattress. He knows Lachlan can't see what he's doing, but he still blushes a little.

But - as soon as he's connected to Lachlan in any way, he just feels calm. When they're kissing it's like everything else in the world disappears and Preston's heart almost stops altogether; when they're just touching, casually, wrestling or leaning a hand on the other's arm, Preston feels like all the tension in his body drains away from the point where they're joined. When they fuck Preston's brain short circuits, he goes crazy and soft and pliant and forgets about everything else in the universe, lets Lachlan do whatever he wants. And even with things like this, just holding onto his sheets, just touching something of his, or wearing his clothes, or hearing his name - it slows Preston's frantic heart, lets his breath come a little easier. He closes his eyes, surrounded by Lachlan, and feels like he could drop to sleep in a second.

He's heard people compare love to mania before, say that it's like a hurricane or a storm or something chaotic, say that if it doesn't set every inch of you on fire you're doing it wrong. But that's not how it is, for Preston. Preston's spent his whole life tense, his whole life frantic, his whole life with his mind whirring and his chest itching and his entire body ready to fight or flight at any given moment. If that's what love is supposed to be like, Preston doesn't want it - he's sick of that more than he can even comprehend. Love, for Preston, is Lachlan, who makes him forget the bad things, who makes him feel calm and quiet and safe, like he's wrapped up inside a fuckin' fuzzy blanket or something, being fed soup.