“Okay, Eric, that’s enough,” Patrick snaps before he takes a deep breath and bites back the urge to yell. “Go to the sink and wash your hands. You’re done helping.”
“But Dad-” Eric says, his voice rising. “It’s not fair! You always take his side.” He glares at Bryan, who sticks his tongue out before darting a glance at Patrick.
“Eric Timothy Toews, get down from that stool, wash your hands and go in the living room. One more word, and you’re not going to get any pie on Thanksgiving.”
“But-” Eric growls angrily when Patrick just levels a stern look at him, but he stomps silently over to the sink.
Patrick turns to Bryan once Eric’s left the room. Bryan’s diligently stirring the pie filling, not meeting Patrick’s eyes. Patrick closes his own eyes for a moment and counts to three.
“Bryan, you know you’re not allowed to stick your tongue out at your brother. It’s rude and disrespectful. Go wash your hands and join your brother in the living room,” Patrick says when he's sure he's not going to cry or shout at again.
Bryan’s shoulders slump and he climbs down without any protests, every step to the sink emanating reluctance and guilt.
When the boys are both gone, Patrick lets head drop between his shoulders and rubs his eyes. They have twenty-five people coming for Thanksgiving dinner in two days, and Eric just ruined Patrick’s third attempt at a sugar cream pie. He’s not sure if he wants to shout at him, cry or laugh at himself for ever thinking that he could pull this off.
“Okay in here?” Jonny asks just as Patrick is taking a shuddering breath, walking in with Charlotte on his shoulder and Amelie trailing behind with her doll. “Bryan said you were upset.”
“Ugh,” Patrick says, grimacing at Jonny before making grabby hands for Charlotte. Once Jonny passes her over, Patrick buries his nose in her hair, breathing deeply and letting some of the tension seep out of him. When he looks up, Jonny’s watching him, his expression a mixture of fond and concerned. Sadly, that’s a look he sees all too often around this time of year. “Shut up, Jon.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Jonny protests, but the smile playing around his lips makes Patrick feel a little better. Jonny rubs Patrick’s shoulder and picks up Amelie, who’s forcing a bottle into her baby’s mouth with determination. “Hey, coccinelle, that’s not gonna go in.”
Amelie glares at Jonny and Patrick barks out a laugh at the fierce - and familiar - expression on her face. When their gazes swing towards Patrick, it’s almost eerie how much they look like each other.
Patrick shakes head when Jonny raises an eyebrow. “No, really. What?”
“Just, she’s so much like you,” Patrick says, smiling helplessly. “And I love it. But sometimes it’s a little scary.”
“Daddy scared?” Amelie asks, brow wrinkled. “Want some baba?” She holds out the bottle and Patrick leans forward and sucks a couple of times on the plastic.
“Thanks, Ammy,” Patrick says, winking at her. “All better.”
“Good,” Amelie says, her gaze serious before she smiles sweetly up at Jonny. “I make Dada all better, Papa.”
“What a good girl you are, Ammy.” Jonny kisses her temple and puts her down. “Do you want a snack?”
Jonny busies himself cutting up and serving an apple to Amelie, before turning around and extracting Charlotte from Patrick’s arms so he can put her in her swing.
Patrick sighs and starts cleaning the mess from the aborted pie making, dumping the sugar cream pie mixture down the sink. “Jonny, Thanksgiving is in two days and I haven't got anything for dessert,” Patrick says, his voice cracking, watching the thick, white batter disappear down the drain, and when he turns around, Jonny pulls him into a hug, rocking him a little. Patrick can feel the prickle of tears. “What am I going to do? What are we going to do?”
“Shh, baby, you’re okay,” Jonny soothes. “How about you let me worry about the pies, and you concentrate on the rest of the meal?”
“You don’t know how to bake any more than I do,” Patrick scoffs, burrowing deeper into Jonny’s arms. “God. Why didn’t I just let you buy them? What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you wanted to make them for your family, because you’re a good son and brother and husband and father who wants things to be perfect.” Jonny pushes back a little and tilts Patrick’s chin up. “Luckily for you, I’m also a good son and brother and husband and father.” He kisses Patrick softly, pulling him back into his arms gently. “Because I bought the pies anyway.”
“What?” Patrick pulls back, his mouth dropping open. “You. What?”
“I had to go to South Bend yesterday and made a stop at that Amish store with the pies.”
“The Blue Gate? You got pies from the Blue Gate?” Patrick closes his mouth. “I - that’s amazing, Jonny, I couldn’t imagine trying to make another pie and - “
“I know, babe, I know,” Jonny soothes, pulling Patrick close again. “I figured we’d have them as back-up and if we didn’t need them, we could take them down to the community center.” He kisses Patrick’s forehead. “Hell, we’ll probably still have enough to take some over. I might have gone a little overboard.”
“How many pies?” Patrick asks, amused at how Jonny’s ears pink and he ducks his head.
“Ten?” Jonny admits sheepishly. “But - “
“You bought ten pies. For 25 people, including three children under age of eight.”
“Yes? I wanted to make sure we had enough!” Jonny’s eyes narrow when Patrick starts to giggle. “Some gratitude. See if I buy pies for you again.”
“Aw, Jonny, don’t front. You’ll always buy pies for me.”
“Hmph,” Jonny says, but his eyes are smiling despite his scowl.
“Oh, don’t be mad, baby.You’re my hero. My handsome, wonderful, thoughtful husband who has no confidence in my baking skills,” Patrick says, just to give him a little shit.
“That’s not - “ Jonny breaks off when Patrick snickers. “I should take all those pies to the community center, making fun of me for buying enough for our family.”
This asshole, Patrick thinks. How did he get so lucky? He squeezes Jonny tightly before tilting his face up and capturing Jonny’s lips.
The kiss starts out sweet, but as usual with them, it doesn’t take long before Patrick is panting and half-hard, wishing it was after bedtime so he could blow Jonny in the kitchen. As though she knows what Patrick’s thinking, Charlotte wakes up with a loud wail, and Amelie joins in on the noise, banging on her high chair and cackling.
Patrick pulls back and rests his head on Jonny’s shoulder for a moment before he straightens.
“I’ll get Charlotte and Amelie - “ Patrick starts but Jonny shakes his head at him.
“You take the twins - they’re easier, and you’re exhausted. I’ll give Charlotte her bottle while I read to Ammy.”
“If you’re sure?” Patrick says, kissing Jonny again when he nods. “But we’re picking this -” he gestures down at his erection “-up later.”
“Count on it,” Jonny says, grabbing Patrick’s ass and grinding into him for a brief moment before letting him go.
“Can you grab the bottle? I’m gonna change Char’s diaper,” Jonny says. Charlotte quiets as soon as Jonny picks her up, hiccuping little sighs as Jonny gets her changed and into footie pajamas.
“Best decision we ever made, to put a changing station in here,” Patrick says, getting out a bottle and puts it in a pan to warm.
“Pays to be married to a brilliant architect with excellent design skills, doesn’t it,” Jonny says smugly.
“Pays to be married to a brilliant father who remembers his husband almost braining himself running into the other room with a son whose diaper was overflowing, doesn’t it?” He laughs when Jonny sticks his tongue out at him.
“Well, let’s just say that we make a great team,” Jonny says, kissing Charlotte and lifting her onto his shoulder. Her head bobs up and down a few times and Jonny puts his hand behind it to steady her, kissing her cheek sweetly before handing her to Patrick so he can wash his hands.
Charlotte smiles widely at Patrick as he holds her up in front of him. “Gonna sleep through the night for Dada, Char?” Patrick coos and Charlotte screams out a laugh, her hands pinwheeling wildly as she tries to grab his face. “God, I love that laugh.” He leans down to bite at her neck, making her laugh even more. “I could just eat you up, ma reine.”
When he hands Charlotte off to Jonny, he’s looking at Patrick intently, his eyes dark. “God, I love it when you speak French,” Jonny says, kissing Patrick until he’s breathless, before whispering in his ear. “I want you to speak French tonight when you tell me how much you love the way I’m fucking you.”
Patrick gasps into Jonny’s mouth and nods wordlessly, trying to cling to Jonny around Charlotte, whose squeaks and chirps are not as big of a damper on his rising need as they probably should be. Then again, not much has ever been able to put a damper on how Jonny makes Patrick feel.
Jonny squeezes him tightly once more before letting him go, his chest heaving. Patrick blushes when Jonny adjusts himself, his hard cock visible against his hip, and can’t help licking his lips.
“Ammy kisses?” Amelie says from her high chair, breaking the tension of the moment, and they smile at each other ruefully.
Patrick releases Amelie from her high chair and kisses her over and over until she’s giggling madly. “Be good for Papa?”
“Ouai, Dada.” Amelie kisses him one more time and pats his cheek. Jonny puts her on his hip, Charlotte cradled in his other arm. HIs bicep bulges under Amelie’s weight, and Patrick swallows, his mouth dry. He watches Jonny climb the stairs before turning his attention back to the kitchen, his gaze lingering on his glorious ass.
“Boys! Bedtime in fifteen minutes!” Patrick calls when Jonny's gone. They protest loudly but Patrick tunes them out and turns back to the mess.
There’s sugar spilled on the countertop from the last attempt at the cream pie, and he finds a cracked egg under a dish towel. He quickly mops up the remnants of his pie baking bonanza and puts the dirty dishes in the sink to deal with later.
When the kitchen is set to rights, he takes a moment to look around. There are pink fingerprints on the wall next to the powder room. Only the right side of the hallway upstairs is painted. The new hardwood floors they’d had put in are already scratched up. The door to the garage sticks, and their doorbell only works on occasion.
And Patrick loves every imperfect bit of it.
Because this house, for all that they’ve only lived there a few months, feels more like home than anywhere they’ve lived since before the twins were born.
Yeah, Patrick has a lot to be thankful for.
Amish Sugar Cream Pie recipe
3/4 cup white sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 cups half-and-half cream
1/2 cup whipping cream
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup margarine or 1/2 cup real butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
In sauce pan combine, white sugar, salt, half-and-half and whipping cream.
Bring to a boil.
In another sauce pan, combine Br.sugar & cornstarch.
Gradually whisk in hot mixture into br.sugar mixture.
Add margarine/or butter (to me this makes it even better.).
Cook over med. heat, whisk constantly, 5 min or until thick.
Simmer 1 minute and stir in van.
Pour into uncooked pie shell and sprinkle w/cinnamon and nutmeg.
Bake at 375°F for 25 minutes.