Page 212 of Untouchable

Harp just wishes that he could've been there to fight the battle along with Parker, to shut the conversation down before it even began.

"And for the record?" Harp says, remembering the words Parker had repeated to him. "You're not dumb and I'm certainly not going to get tired of you for being naive and young. It's wonderful to see the world through your eyes."

* * *

Parker doesn’t trusthimself to speak yet, and he finds there’s nothing he wants to say. For now, it’s enough to be held, to feel the warmth of the truck’s heater blasting, to feel Harp’s hand on his back, rubbing gentle slow circles through Parker’s scrub top, to feel himself being emptied and wrung out like a dishcloth as he cries.

And finally, when he feels utterly blank, he sits up, blinking and looking around as though he’s awaking from a long coma.

"Technically, we’re really late for our appointment. Let me take you home."

Parker sighs.

"Are you sure?" he asks, and Harp nods. "Okay. That sounds good."

"I really wanted to call Mindy and do that without your permission," Harp adds. "Just so you know. I'm trying. I'm getting better!"

Parker smiles faintly and presses a kiss to Harp’s cheek.

“Thanks,” he says. “And… sorry. You didn’t get your appointment last week because of my car… and now this—I’m really fucking up your recovery—”

“Parker,” Harp says firmly, cutting him off. “If I felt like it were that important, I’d reschedule with a different therapist. Let me take care of you right now, okay? I’ll worry about this stuff so you don’t have to.”

Parker nods, and he lets Harp fuss over him as Parker settles into his seat and buckles his seatbelt. It feels good to trust Harp—it feels warm and safe and kind and secure. He leans his head against the window, his eyelids suddenly so, so heavy.

* * *

Parker seems suddenly exhaustedand Harp is glad that he's not fighting the plan to go home. They zip through Mink Creek and to Parker's apartment complex. Harp is out of the truck and around to Parker's side before he can protest, slipping the jacket on his shoulders and then taking his hand until they're through the front door.

Harp guides them back towards Parker's bedroom.

"Are you, like, literally tucking me in right now?"

"Yeah. Unless you don't want me to."

“Fiiine,” Parker says with mock exasperation, but he’s smiling as he lifts his arms over his head, allowing Harp to pull his scrub top off of him.

Harp finds Parker's clean laundry. It feels good to go through the motions of helping someone get undressed, get dressed. Harp kicks off his shoes, and once Parker is in between the sheets, Harp lies on top of the comforter and faces him.

"Do you want me to stay a while? The dogs don't expect me home until later."

“Yeah,” Parker says with a smile. “I mean… if you don’t mind. I’d—yeah. That—that would mean a lot to me.”

"Mhm," Harp says, stroking his hair. "Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

Parker drifts off eventually after tossing and turning for twenty minutes, his breaths finally going even and slow.

* * *

A few hours later,Harp wakes Parker with a gentle kiss on his forehead and a hand run through his hair.

"Hey," Harp says gently. "You've gotta wake up."

Parker smiles in his sleep and sighs. Harp kisses him on the lips.

"Hey," Parker says, his voice thick and strange but happy, at least.

"Hey. Wake up."

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