At the End of the Day

"I CAN HEAR you thinking," Val murmured. "Go back to sleep."

"Would it be dumb to say I'm excited?" Rory asked, scanning the now-familiar interior of their room, the edge of the gold-and-blue blackout curtains where the early morning sun of June was starting to peek through. It had been a week and a half since Anthony had packed up his shit and dumped him off on Val's doorstep, and Rory hadn't regretted his son's bossiness once.

Rory had worked a gig in the past week, and the commute hadn't been much longer from Val's than it had been from the little house that he'd shared with Anthony. And between his truck and Anthony's, they'd moved most of his clothes and possessions into Val's place a little at a time.

Some stuff—a lot of it, actually—got to stay in the little house outside the city limits, but Rory and Anthony had kept the place nice and pretty current, so it was a young man's home as well as a… well, not so young man's home too. And Rory got to see Val almost every day.

In fact, the day after Rory had arrived, Val had needed to go on a two-day haul. Rory had come with him, and the road, the company, even the sex in the sleeper unit, hadn't palled one damned bit.

Just that easy, Rory could see himself simply… staying. Just staying here. Being with this one man, waking up next to him, loving him… oh yes.

Most assuredly loving him.

Loving him for the rest of his days.

But Anthony's impatience had jumped the gun a little. Rory was supposed to meet the family first, but Val assured him that the big family picnic at his folks' house would be the place to do it. When Val had extended the invite to Anthony, the boy's response had been, well, predictably whimsical.

"One of those big family reunion things?" he'd asked. "Like you see in the movies? Dad said this was a pretty big deal—are you sure your folks wouldn't mind?"

Val's snort was starting to sound as familiar as Rory's own breathing. "My folks?" He rolled his eyes. "Anthony, you don't understand. My mom had seven kids the regular way and spent my formative years trying to adopt the neighborhood. She's got five grandchildren by birth, and she'll swear you're the—" He paused to count on his fingers. "—I don't know, the twelfth? I lose track after Vinnie's girls, but Laure's best friend has kids, and Sal's bestie from the sixth grade too. There's kids everywhere. It's terrifying."

"What about your dad?" Anthony asked, and Rory listened closely because while Val obviously thought the world of him, he seemed to be a little quieter than Val's mom.

"Dad'll love you," Val reassured him. "The thing about Dad is he just sort of assumes Mom'll be adopting the world. So, like, the first time I brought Vinnie home, Vinnie was having a fight with his parents, and, well, his own dad had a temper. So I'm about to quietly ask Dad if I can invite Vinnie to stay the night, and Dad goes, ‘I gotcha set up in the basement, Vin. You can stay there as long as you need to.' And I didn't know this until later, but Dad apparently visited Vinnie's mom the next morning and helped get Vinnie's dad out of the picture. All quiet. No big deal. Just my father being a hero, you know?"

"I get grandparents?" Anthony asked excitedly. "At twenty-five? That is amazing . Thanks, stepdaddy Val—you give the best presents!"

Val had grimaced. "You're welcome to them, as long as you never call me stepdaddy again."

Anthony thought about it and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. Dad's boyfriend is better. You do give good presents, though. I'm almost as excited as Dad!"

So excited, in fact, that he'd spent the night in Val's guest bedroom, the better to get an early start on Val's portion of the picnic prep. Apparently Val's specialty was potato salad—five pounds of it—and snickerdoodles, which Anthony had baked the day before.

It was fun to watch his son get so invested—so excited —about the new family in Rory's life, but Rory… well, there were things he just couldn't do with his adult son in the room next door.

"No," Val admitted now, in the dark. "It's not dumb to be excited. I'll be real. We all still gather during Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for other families or kids or what have you, although Mom still has a sort of open-house-slash-brunch. But Christmas Eve is fried chicken and potatoes and green beans, and we all bring our favorite stuff to add to it. Prock's wife makes the most amazing German cabbage. It's absolutely filthy for you, but we all love it so."

Rory chuckled lightly. "So you're… I don't know. A family." He paused. "And I didn't know that about Vinnie and your dad." He thought about how Vinnie hadn't said a word. "Does Vinnie ever come to the summer picnic?"

"Every other year—the off years like this one, they have a similar thing with Sam's family, but the girls swear they like my parents better." He sounded smug—but then, he really did have the goods there. "So it's okay to be excited. But don't be worried. They're going to love you."

"I'm… I don't know. Kind of old," Rory admitted, because yeah. Almost fifty. It was a little old to be "Hey Mom, here's my boyfriend!"

"Shh…," Val whispered. "Don't tell my parents this, but I'm going to be forty-one this year. And I am not a virgin."

Rory shook his head. "Shut up," he muttered.

"Sure I will. But my boyfriend has to close his eyes and go to sleep, since he says we can't have sex."

Rory shuddered, just thinking about Anthony in the room next door. "No sex," he confirmed.

Val laughed softly. "I love you, Rory. It'll be fine."

"I love you too, Val. It had better be."

His eyelids finally felt heavy, and he managed another two hours of sleep.

THE DRIVE to Val's parents' was only about half an hour, with Anthony in the back of Val's extra cab, asking questions the whole way. Val seemed… bemused, and a little flattered, Rory thought, as though he'd never realized his family could be such a big deal to other people. But to Rory and his son, they were, and that made him happy.

When they finally pulled up to the stretch of property, Rory was impressed. The backyard was a solid acre or two, and there was a wide strip of stubble field next to it where it appeared everybody else had parked. The ranch-style house itself was smaller than Rory had assumed—seven kids was a lot—but it couldn't have more than five bedrooms, tops, and that was if one of the rooms was closet sized, like a den or something. But it was a cheery yellow with white trim, and the front yard was ablaze with planted irises and tended rose bushes, rock follies and glorious stained glass lawn ornaments that welcomed people with a whole rainbow of whimsy.

Val led them around the side of the house to the back, where, on a concrete apron that extended from the porch, two big picnic tables sat, laden with food and about to become heavier, given what Rory and Anthony were carrying. Between the two tables an older woman, likely in her midsixties, was fussing with the covers on the food. She had a ponytail of blond-gray hair and wore a batik sundress over what was probably a swimsuit, and when she caught the movement at the corner of the house, she glanced up and smiled, waving wildly at Val, who waved back, a fond expression on his face.

"Ed!" she called. "Eddie, they're here! Val brought them. Hot damn, the old one's cute. Come meet the new boyfriend!"

Anthony's snort of amusement only made Rory blush harder.

"Are you ready?" Val asked softly. "She's going to hug. You ready, Anthony—"

But the warning was too late. Julie Royal, all five feet, five inches of her, was running across the grass in a tornado of rainbow batik excitement.

Val got the hug first, of course, because his mother loved him, but in a moment it was Rory's turn. Val Royal's mother was wiry and strong, and she hugged him harder than he ever thought possible, and just when she let go, Val's father, who was not much bigger than she was, stood there with a hearty handshake and an ear-to-ear grin. His ears stuck out the teeniest bit, and he had a bare, bony face that made his expression of joy seem ever so important.

And the look on Val's face as he introduced them was so proud.

There was a whole group of people there: a pretty, strong-faced woman with a lustrous fall of dark brown hair that Rory assumed was Laure; a thin, angular version of Val with a wicked glint in his eye and a determined swish that must be Sal. He already knew Prock and Dean, but he could spot the youngest Royal, tan and lithe and permanently bemused, and knew he was Chance. At Chance's elbow was a slender young man wearing a pair of wire-framed glasses, blonder than the others but still with the unmistakable Royal chin and jaw, who was probably Reg.

Like that, Rory fell in, through the invisible barrier of newcomer into the giant pool of family with Val Royal at his side, and the last of his lone wolf fell away, leaving him with a new pack.

The siblings gathered around and introduced themselves—Rory felt pretty smug to realize he'd been correct, but he was still surprised when Dean came to sort of corral him from the herd to take him aside.

"Your eyes are glazing over," Dean said dryly.

"Your family," Rory said, shaking his head. His eyes searched out his son, who was standing with Chance, Reg, and a couple of young men with the unfinished look of teenagers whom he seemed to remember as Laure's sons, Russell and Shaw. Anthony was embattled in a fierce game of horseshoes in a flat area to the side of the pool, and Rory noted a sideways look he gave toward Reg.

He knew that look. It was almost predatory, although Anthony was usually the one being chased.

"Hmm…," Dean murmured. "You saw that too?"

"Think your parents will mind?" Rory asked, wondering if he'd have to go have a very awkward conversation.

"No." Dean shrugged. "He's not hitting on Chance—who always gets the attention. It's nice to see somebody notice Reg. I didn't realize he was gay, though. That's a surprise."

Rory realized how much he and Dean hadn't spoken about themselves. Val was different. He'd known it from the first moment the man had gone off talking about the importance of bull jizz.

"Bi," he replied mildly. "I shall be… very interested… to see what happens next."

Dean Royal gave a sudden, brilliant grin. "See? Family watching—it's our favorite sport. You'll fit right in. I'm going to go play the winner in that game. If I don't beat Chance into the ground, that kid's gonna get a big head."

He wandered off, and Val pulled up beside him. "Taste this," he said, and shoved a morsel of chicken into Rory's mouth.

Rory almost swooned. "Holy God," he muttered. "I've never been horny for chicken before."

"Laure's new recipe for marinade," Val confirmed. He handed Rory a drink of water from a bottle on the table next to him and then pulled another morsel from the small paper plate in his hand. "Now taste this."

This was pork, and if it came closer to giving Rory a taste orgasm, that might have been because the chicken was foreplay.

"You're going to ruin me for other food!" he complained when the spots had cleared from his eyes.

"Sure, sure," Val said. "Now which one did you think was better?"

"That's asking me to choose between testicles," Rory complained, and Val's shout of laughter made heads turn their way. Then Rory realized that Sal—who was tall and angular and arrestingly pretty, was standing next to Laure looking fierce and competitive. "Oh no," he added, getting it.

"Oh yes," Val told him, scowling back at his siblings.

"They're having a contest."

"I'm supposed to be the deciding vote."

Rory looked at Val's plate, which was empty, only two small, discrete saucy spots left. "I need more samples to help you decide."

Val gave him a look of triumph. "And now it's on you !" he crowed. "Sal! Laure! Rory says he can decide if he can get a bigger sample."

Val disappeared, and Laure and Sal advanced, each of them with a full piece of meat on a plate, and Rory wanted to laugh because of all the problems he could have imagined having this day, this moment was not one of them.

He had to declare a draw, but after asking both the siblings about their recipes, he hoped he managed not to wound any feelings. And he did get a sense of Sal's bitchy humor and Laure's hard-nosed, practical mothering. By the time Sal got called to the horseshoe pit and Laure went to help her mother chop tomatoes for yet another salad, Rory was completely caught up in Val's quest to find both of his siblings a good man.

He watched Dean surreptitiously check his phone, his back turned toward Marcus, his work partner, who seemed to know all the siblings well. Maybe Dean had already found someone, Rory thought, and as he watched Marcus pointedly not look at Chance, he suspected that perhaps both partners were gazing their future in the eye.

At that moment, Prock walked up, with a lovely woman on one arm—and a car seat carrier on the other. Their two daughters were down in the pool, and Laure's sons were keeping an eye on them—and tormenting them as only older cousins could.

"Prock!" Rory said, extending a hand. "Good to see you again."

Prock made introductions, and Faith, his wife, shook his hand as well. "Prock told me about your adventure," she said on a laugh. "I'm awfully grateful to you for getting him out of that."

Rory had to laugh. "And we're grateful to Prock for keeping that refrigerator running. Gotta tell you, the whole thing would have crashed down around our heads if your husband hadn't known what he was doing."

Prock—who had set the carrier with the sleeping baby on the picnic table next to him—held his arms up like a victorious boxer gloating in the ring as he sang, "HVAC hero! He's got smart home supplies!" to the tune of an old rock song.

Faith smacked his arm and told him to stop it, but she was laughing so hard she almost couldn't stand.

Rory asked to look at baby Charlie, and he was charmed by the sleeping four-month-old, who had a head of frothy black curls and dusky skin from his mother and—according to Faith—his father's sweet, unruffled disposition.

The day progressed. There was swimming, laughter, deep conversations, verbal dogpiles, kids shrieking, and a couple of giant dogs who had to be shooed away from both hamburgers and ice cream. Before Rory knew it, the sun was slanting through the trees that shaded the far end of the yard. Rory found himself in this shady corner, watching as Val wrestled with his nieces in the pool. Anthony had quit the horseshoe game to swim, and now he'd hopped out and was standing at his side, wrapped in a towel, surveying the chaos, and Rory eyed him speculatively.

"So," he said. "You ready to have extended family?" He didn't mention the quiet attention his son had been paying to Reg Royal. Like his and Val's relationship, maybe it was better if there wasn't too much meddling.

"Absolutely," Anthony told him. "You ready to put a ring on it?" because apparently meddling be damned.

Rory almost choked on his hamburger. "I," he managed, "am too damned old—"

Anthony chortled. "Yeah, but Dad, you were too damned old to settle down just a couple months ago. Imagine what you won't be too old for tomorrow!"

Rory grinned at him and glanced back to Val, who was making his way toward them with a determined smile on his face but who kept getting waylaid by people—or animals—who absolutely needed his attention. He was probably the grimmest Royal, Rory realized, perpetually sober, listening to his younger siblings with the absolute attention of the kid who had to help the parents muster the troops. These things apparently didn't go away when the oldest grew up, they simply helped shape the man he became.

But the smile he shot Rory was pure, unforced, and dazzling.

Rory gazed at him, at the man who had become his present and his future, and felt his heart swell. Val would get to him in a minute, he knew. He wouldn't let family keep them apart for long because Rory was family. He got that now.

And while it had been a wait to find somebody Rory could really feel like this for, the wait had been worth it— so worth it. Rory understood now what letting someone into your heart could mean.

"Sorry about that," Val said, drawing near finally, this time with a full plate. "Here," he said, dumping a chicken breast onto Rory's plate with deft fingers. "These just came off the barbecue, and it's Sal's sauce. He forgave you for—his words—‘being a wishy-washy ball-less wonder' and made sure you got the best piece."

"Thanks," Rory said roughly, his heart suddenly too full to find a retort to Val's brother—or even to speak.

"Well, it took longer than I thought to get here," Val told him, grimacing at his family. They seemed to have subsided for the moment, but Rory could sense a card game brewing at the table in the shade and wondered what this family liked to play.

"Me too," Rory said, laughing softly to himself. "But damn, son, we were worth the wait."

Val turned to him, grinning, obviously getting the other meaning, and leaned in for a kiss. "We are, aren't we," he said as Rory closed the gap between them to touch lips. Rory smelled sunscreen and cold water and fresh air, the heat and dust of the valley and the food on Val's plate, and ever so faintly, wet dog.

Their mouths met, and he was home, where he should be and planned to stay, whether they were in Val's house, his parents' backyard, or the moving comfort of Val's rig.

As he'd never known another human could be, Val Royal was his home.