Page 79 of Brad & Finn
“Mmm…yeah, I think so. All Chloe’s summer clothes are in the back right corner, and mine are in the back left. As you know, Christian doesn’t believe in ‘seasons,’” he said, deploying air quotes on the crests of Brad’s hipbones, where his hands were resting. “We still need to get yours from downstairs, and I know Chloe wants some of the extra craft supplies to go up there, too.”
Brad kissed him again before burying his nose in his hair. He smelled a bit dusty but also warm from a hard day’s work, and his buttery, oaky scent was always there, right below the surface.
It had taken a lot of searching, but Brad and Finn had finally closed on a house about forty minutes southwest of Chicago. Part of the reason it had taken so long was that they needed a four-bedroom, with one room for Brad and Finn, one for Chloe and Christian, the third for Chloe’s mom, and the fourth for the ever-rotating cast of guests they hosted. This included Brad’s mom, who was currently using it as a command center for their move, as well as Atlas and Miles, and Naomi and Mariana. All of the rooms, except Chloe’s mom’s room, had to be big enough to hold king-sized beds because apparently Chloe hadn’t been joking, and she really did take up a lot of space, as did Atlas, and they also wanted to be accommodating in case Kendall ever decided to bring her brood of children with her. Needless to say,finding something big enough with the right room sizes that all five of them could agree on was a herculean task, but they’d managed it.
“Where’s the painters' tape?” Christian shouted from down the hall.
“Are you painting something, dear? I thought we weren’t going to paint until next week?” Mrs. Abernathy shouted from farther down the hall.
The first three or so months after the reunion, Brad and Finn had done a pretty good job splitting their weekends between Chicago and Indianapolis. After the football season started, however, they both grew tired of only seeing each other on the few weekends when Brad wasn’t away for games. By Thanksgiving, Finn had all but moved in with Brad. They went back to Indianapolis for Christmas and put Finn’s place on the market, and it was snatched up surprisingly fast.
Finn lasted about two months of being away from Chloe and Christian before he crashed. He stopped showering, ate almost nothing except frozen waffles and maple syrup, and they finally had to call in the big guns. Chloe moved in with them for three weeks, long enough to get Finn back on his feet, and they had a family meeting that Christian and Chloe’s mom drove up for. They unanimously decided they were all miserable with the constant commuting, and they began to draw up a plan.
“I just wanted to do a little touching up in the corner!” Christian said. “I promise, it won’t take long.”
“That is literally never the case!” Chloe called at the same time Brad’s mom shouted, “I don’t think now’s a good time, hon!”
Finn laughed and squeezed Brad one more time before shoving him towards the door. Brad looked at their bed, then waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Finn.
“Tonight, my love,” Finn promised. “When everyone stops shouting, we can break in our new bed.” He cocked a hip against the closet door frame and ran his hand back through his hair in a way that should be illegal.
Brad almost walked back to his side, but then he heard a crash.
“Uhhhhh, don’t need the painter’s tape anymore!” Christian’s lovely voice called.
“What was that?” Brad asked, rushing out of the room.
He found Christian’s tall, lanky form kneeling in the corner of his room, frantically wiping up spilled paint with some of his fabric.
“Oh, honey,” Brad said, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.
Paint had somehow gotten all over Christian’s shirt, pants, and tousled hair, adding a streak of slate blue next to his natural streak of white. Brad had learned, probably not the first but maybe the second or third time he met Christian, that it was a condition called poliosis that caused a patch of hair to lose all pigmentation. Chloe called it his skunk streak, but Brad liked to call it his old man hair.
Taking care to avoid the splatter, Brad kneeled down next to Christian and tried to gauge how much paint was now sinking into the carpet. Christian seemed to be doing a phenomenal job of spreading it around.
Since the first time they’d hung out, Brad and Christian had gotten along like a house on fire. While they’d instantly connected over football and coaching, their bond was forged and sealed by their love for the other two members of the QPR. It had only taken a few months for them to become best friends and “platonic soulmates,” as Christian liked to call it.
Brad hadn’t really understood the difference between the two until the first time Christian had a panic attack when theothers weren’t around. Someone at work had said something transphobic while simultaneously threatening Christian’s job. From what Christian managed to explain to Brad through shuddering sobs, he thought he’d handled it well in the moment. He’d stood up for himself, reported it to HR, and got himself home safely, but then he’d fallen apart on the kitchen floor. Brad had sort of manhandled him to the couch and held him through an almost two-hour-long panic attack. The entire time, all he could think was how he would fight for this incredible, strong, wonderful man until his dying breath. He had felt the exact moment a part of his heart opened up, making space to hold Christian alongside Chloe and Finn.
“I’m sorry,” Christian whispered, scrubbing a little harder at the carpet, that muscle in his neck ticking a familiar, anxious pattern. “I just wanted to help.”
Brad caught his wrist and gently eased the fabric out of his hand. “It’s absolutely not a problem. We were going to paint the walls anyway. I also know for a fact that Chloe hates this carpet, so we’re probably going to get it replaced in a few months after we rip out the family room carpet downstairs.”
Christian nodded, but Brad could feel Christian’s pulse thundering in his wrist. Brad gently soothed his thumb over it, his hand easily closing around Christian’s bony arm.
At the family meeting, Christian had been the one to suggest they look for a house together, somewhere that was a little closer to Indy, but still a reasonable commute for Brad into work. Chloe had an easy time finding a new job, and Finn’s job was apparently one hundred percent remote—which would have been useful information for Brad to know back at the reunion when he was stressing over it, but alas. Christian had enough political capital with his organization to negotiate coming into the office three days a month. He consolidated that into one week a month and used that time to do maintenance on theircondo. They were hoping to begin subleasing it in the next year or so, when Christian was hoping to reduce his in-office presence to one week every other month.
“Hey, sweetie, did you find your tape—oh, wow!” Chloe exclaimed as she came into the room. “You were right; that’s a really pretty color! Let me grab a wet rag?—”
“I got one when I heard the crash,” Finn said, coming into the room behind Chloe.
He wasted no time in walking over to kneel at Brad’s side, gently taking Christian’s other hand. He got to work, wiping the paint off his arm with soft strokes of the cloth, while Chloe began discussing, basically with herself, the different accent colors she wanted to incorporate into the room to play off the slate blue. Brad kept his hand where it was, continuing to stroke soft circles into Christian’s wrist.
Chloe hadn’t been joking about Christian being an expert cuddler. It had taken Brad a little while to suss out the dynamics of the already-established members of the QPR, but as the months passed, and Brad was slowly absorbed like osmosis, he found himself cuddling with Chloe and Christian almost as much as Finn.
“You know, love, your hair is making me think black and white might go well with it as well,” Chloe said as she began wiping paint off Christian’s forehead.
His pulse had finally settled, and his neck was relaxed as he gazed around the room. “I’m happy with whatever colors you want. I think I might need to take a shower, though.”
