Page 251 of Untouchable

"We'll fast forward through that part," Harp offers.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Parker says, blushing. If they were alone, Harp’s offer would have meant the world to him, but he sees the look Gil shoots at Harp, and he’s just embarrassed for being so sensitive. He waves his hand. “It’s not a big deal. That sounds good. Let’s watch that one.”

Harp gets them set up on the couch, and even though it's big enough for three people, Gil slumps to the floor with a blanket and a throw pillow when it comes time to make themselves comfortable. Harp pulls Parker in under his arm as the movie starts.

Parker feels a little awkward at first cuddling up to Harp with Gil in the room, but Gil doesn’t seem to notice or care, so he gives in, laying his head on Harp’s lap and curling up on the couch. Almost immediately, though, he finds himself falling asleep once more, lulled by the slow start of the movie, by the several glasses of wine he’s managed to drink, and by Harp’s hand gently stroking his hair. He fights valiantly to stay awake, but he finds himself drifting in and out of sleep.

* * *

By the timethe plot kicks off—which admittedly takes a while, since it is a Jarmusch movie, after all—Parker is already fully asleep. Harp knows that the plot is about to get noisy...

"Hey," he says quietly, waking Parker with a kiss. "You want me to take you upstairs? It's okay if you're not into the movie."

“No, ’m awake,” Parker mumbles, clearly still asleep.

"C'mon," Harp says, laughing gently. "'Scuse me, Gil. I'm gonna get him upstairs."

Gil glances up from his place on the floor, looking every bit like a disturbed house cat. He doesn't understand what Harp is doing until Harp has already stood up and looped his arms under Parker's knees and back.

"You're carrying him? Seriously?" Gil asks.

Harp ignores the question and his dubious tone of voice. "Would you pause the movie? This might take a minute."

“Jesus Christ,” Gil mutters as he hits pause.

Parker rouses as Harp lifts him, murmuring and nuzzling into Harp’s neck. So, so gently, Harp carries him up the stairs and lays him in the large bed, pulling the cool sheets up over him.

“Thanks,” Parker mumbles. “G’night.”

"Good night, baby. Merry Christmas."

Harp can’t believe that against all odds, at the age of 44, he has had the most perfect Christmas of a lifetime. Even with Gil intruding, even with the odd tension and Gil’s attitude, the day has turned out okay.

With Parker sleeping soundly in his bed, how could everything not turn out okay?

He loves me,Harp thinks, stooping to kiss Parker’s forehead one last time before he heads downstairs. Someone loves me, and he’s the best, most important person I know.

He realizes he's lost track of how long he's been sitting there, trying to remember how to be okay with being happy and content, and Harp heads back down immediately.

"Sorry," he says at the bottom of the stairs. "Do you want another drink or something before we turn it back on? You hungry?"

“Uh, yeah, I definitely need a drink after witnessing that display of marital bliss,” Gil says. He’s moved to the couch and is sprawled across it now, looking down at his phone.

"I waited my whole life to be cute with somebody," Harp says, smugly, realizing that he's not at all embarrassed by the display of affection, even if Gil wants to belittle it. "I'm not turning it off just because you're here."

Gil snorts and Harp goes to the kitchen to pour them both a nice cognac. He can't remember if Gil actually likes the drink or not, but he knows his brother well enough to know that he'll pretend to enjoy whatever Harp serves him. He comes back with two snifters and frowns at Gil until he finally draws his feet up enough to make room for Harp on the couch.

Gil accepts the drink and grunts a thank you. They sit for a moment.

“So, you’re, like… really into him, aren’t you?” Gil says.

"Yeah," Harp says, taking a sip and letting the taste of the spirit blossom on his lips. "He was the one I was waiting for without knowing it, I guess."

Gil makes a dramatic retching sound and Harp shoots him a sharp look.

“Oh, come on,” Gil says, raising his eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to not give you shit when you say something that cliched. You sound like you’ve been memorizing anniversary cards at Walgreens.”

"Oh, I'm just getting started. If you want me to wax poetic about him a little longer, I'm sure I could really turn your stomach," Harp offers with a smile.

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