Page 61 of Untouchable

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A little while later,Harp disappears upstairs to take a shower. Parker doesn’t feel like checking his phone—he knows Mindy will probably have quite a bit of commentary about where Parker is waiting out the storm, and there’s something peaceful about not constantly checking his phone. He can’t sit still for long, though. When he hears the water in the shower turn on one floor up, Parker jumps into action, clearing their plates and piling the various knives and pots and pans Harp had used to make dinner by the sink.

He feels better once he’s elbow-deep in suds, he realizes. He feels like he’s giving something back to Harp instead of continually taking: taking his food, his time, his energy, his attention.

And maybe he won’t ever cook Harp an incredible meal from scratch. Maybe he won’t ever host Harp when Harp is stranded somewhere by the snow. But he can at least do the dishes. And he can be brave enough to say to Harp, yes, I do want you in my life.

He falls into the rhythm of washing and drying, singing to himself as he goes about his chores.

* * *

Harp isthankful to have a few minutes of privacy, even though he feels incredibly odd about leaving Parker alone in his kitchen.

He's starting to get bone-cold from sitting still too much, and a little exhausted from having to be around someone non-stop. It's not even that it's Parker. It's just being seen by anyone for that long makes him start to feel ragged around the edges. He always tries to stand up straighter, to suck in his gut more—and worse, to filter everything that comes out of his mouth.

He needed a break and he needed a shower. Now that the hot water is pounding down between his shoulder blades, he knows he made the right decision to request a break, even if it meant leaving a stranger in his house.

Hey, he reminds himself with a smile he can’t quite bite back. Not a stranger. A friend. You said so.

* * *

The water continuesto thunder upstairs, and Parker can’t help smiling as he thinks about their first session together, when Harp had showered, thinking Parker would leave.

Parker had thought he’d made a mistake by staying but now he’s not so sure. If he hadn’t stayed, maybe Harp wouldn’t have asked for a second session. He wouldn’t have had brisket with Harp, or helped him find Bo, or ended up standing in the snow, cheeks red from the cold, admitting just how amazing he thought Harp was.

He runs out of dishes to wash, so once they are lined up neatly on the drying rack, he moves on to wiping down the counters. Under the sink, he finds more cleaning supplies, and it isn’t long before Parker apparently makes it his mission to clean Harp’s already tidy kitchen from top to bottom.

* * *

Just a few minutesinto the shower, Harp finds that he is completely relaxed. He's actually eager to go back down and talk to Parker, as bizarre as that seems to him when he takes a step back from the moment. But they've shared something—a few somethings—and Parker has given him the gift of being completely unambiguous in his intentions.

Don't rush back down,Harp tells himself. You'll just tell him the first two or three things on your mind and then you'll be out of things to talk about again.

Instead, he plans.

There's homemade ice cream in the freezer and he wonders if Parker would be interested in the weird flavor combinations he has left. And then what?

If Harp were alone—which is how Parker kept posing it to him when they were talking about dinner—then Harp would keep drinking and settle down on the couch, either with a book in his hands or a laptop on his belly. He could always watch a movie with Parker.

Parker had been so amused by the idea that Harp had grown up in Florida… Maybe he'd like "Stranger Than Paradise."

Harp doesn't linger any longer. Once he's dried off, he puts on clean pajamas, following the lead that Parker had set. He pulls on an old flannel and some ancient sweatpants that had seen better days. Harp has mended them in half a dozen different places, but they’re soft and clean.

He snags his laptop and a DVD and heads back downstairs, telling himself that he won’t be at all disappointed if Parker has decided to go to sleep instead.

Parker’s embroiled in what appears to be an exhaustive reorganization mission in Harp’s spice rack when Harp comes back downstairs.

“Sorry,” Parker says, looking up and smiling a little sheepishly. “I, uh… started doing the dishes and… got carried away.”

Harp snorts. "I see that."

He doesn't love the idea of Parker snooping through his kitchen. Who knows what sort of eight-year-old spices he found, or deceased insects, or stupid things Harp had misplaced while he was drunk.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about that now.

Harp shifts the laptop to the front of his body like a shield. "Thanks for doing the dishes. I hate doing dishes."

Parker smiles and Harp breathes a little easier.

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