Page 183 of Untouchable

Parker kicks off his jeans and, when he goes to grab a t-shirt from his bag, he notices a flannel sticking out of the corner of Harp’s bag. It’s a well-worn red and blue one Parker has seen Harp wear before, and so Parker yanks it out and pulls that on instead, luxuriating in the warmth and the softness and the feeling of being surrounded by Harp.

* * *

Harp ordersthem a big spread of the things that sound like the fanciest on the menu—truffle fries and scalloped potatoes, a lobster tail and the mac and cheese, two kinds of salads, marinated olives and herbed cheese. He considers ordering a dessert course, but holds off. The kitchen, after all, is open all night, if they’re still hungry later.

When Harp goes to find Parker in the bedroom, he is sprawled out with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles, dressed in something he’s started to regard superstitiously as The Flannel in his mind. Parker must have snagged it out of Harp's bag. He smiles, watching Harp watch him. Parker looks like a perfectly wrapped present in the flannel and a pair of tiny boxer briefs the exact right shade of red to match the shirt.

“You know, that’s the shirt I was wearing the day I first met you,” Harp says, feeling sheepish even as he says it.

“Aw, Harp,” Parker says, his eyebrows knitting. “That’s so cute that you… Even remember that.”

"Right, so, first you'll come for my dogs and then my meaningful milestone shirts," Harp says, kicking off his shoes and approaching the bed. "I see how it is.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Parker asks, stretching out a little more and giving Harp a lascivious look.

"I think I'll let you continue to take exactly what you want from me," Harp says, flopping down onto the bed gracelessly. "Dinner’s on the way. What movie did you pick out?"

* * *

Parker immediately rolls over,tangling himself up in Harp’s limbs.

“It’s this really bad—but so bad it’s actually fucking amazing—alien invasion movie,” he says. “But I have backups if you don’t like that. There’s a really dumb romantic comedy which is actually pretty cute, even if it is about straight people, and then there’s this action movie about a cop and the main guy is super hot. So, your call.”

"Let's start with the alien invasion," Harp says, stroking a hand through Parker's hair, "and then see where that takes us."

Parker separates long enough to fire up the movie and Harp undoes his belt to shimmy out of his jeans.

"Ooh la la," Parker says with a grin.

Harp rolls his eyes and stops with his jeans and belt halfway down his thighs. "I'll put them back on if you want," he threatens half-heartedly.

“No—” Parker says dramatically, flinging himself towards Harp’s legs. He pulls Harp’s pants off the rest of the way and koalas himself around Harp’s legs, burying his face in the wiry hair of Harp’s muscled thigh.

Harp laughs and tries to haul Parker back up the bed but he holds on tight.

"This is fine," Harp says. He twists at the waist and rakes all the pillows behind himself on the bed. "It just means all the pillows have been forfeited to me."

“Fine by me,” Parker says against Harp’s leg, his voice muffled. He draws a deep breath and blows the biggest raspberry he can on Harp’s thigh.

Parker can tell Harp is trying to keep still, but after a moment, he ends up squirming, prying Parker off his leg in between affectionate "fuck you"s.

“Goddamnit,” Parker says, allowing Harp at last to drag him up the bed. “But if you steal all the pillows, that means you’re my pillow now.”

He curls up against Harp, burying his face in Harp’s armpit and nuzzling into it.

“What are you doing?” Harp asks with a laugh.

“Go away,” Parker says into his armpit. “I’m in my happy place now. I’m standing in my truth.”

* * *

It makesHarp feel at least a little better about practically setting up shop in Parker's pits the other day—an area he probably would've dwelled on longer if it didn't make him feel like such a weirdo—and after a moment, laughing, he's able to pull Parker into a comfortable resting position on the bed, Parker's head on his chest and Harp's arm steadying his shoulders.

I missed having this, he thinks, because the only other person he's had this with is Cherry, and it hadn't been like this with Cherry after the first few years of their marriage.

He's glad he got Parker off earlier, glad he took his time, so that they can have this moment without urgency, without needing to be all over each other. To touch and play with no expectation, Harp realizes, is something he's needed just as much as he needed to be kissed, as he needed skilled hands to begin undoing the damage to his muscles.

* * *

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