Page 42 of Love Language

He almost shot back an equally flirty you, but then groaned. It’s my parents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary and I’m driving down to see them. I’ll be gone all weekend. Ugh. Terrible timing.

Marco weighed his head to the left, then the right, thoughtfully. How long is the drive?

Maybe four hours?

Would you like some company? I mean, I don’t want to impose on your family event, but we could drive together and then get a hotel for the night.

Oh, God. That was the sweetest thing Greg had ever heard. And it reinforced how much he’d been treating their friendship like some sort of… contract or business transaction or something. Even though he hadn’t meant to. Shit.

Sorry, Marco signed quickly. That was way out of line.

No, no! Greg cut in. That would be amazing. That’s really sweet. I’ll probably be hanging out with my family on both days, and I think they’d love to meet you.

Marco’s eyes practically popped out of his head. Apparently, both of them had driven recklessly into this conversation with some unintended consequences.

Good consequences, though, Greg hoped.

You know that they’ll think we’re dating, right? Marco looked hesitant, but Greg wasn’t sure why.

What did Marco want him to say? His family knew how torn up he’d been about Richard, and it would probably be a relief to them to think he was seeing someone. Probably, he finally agreed. Is it OK if they think that?

Marco looked… well, Greg wasn’t quite sure what it was, but like something wasn’t quite right. Sure. It’s fine if they think that, he finally answered.

Greg kept watching Marco, trying to figure out if he’d said the right thing. But he didn’t give any more clues.

Tell me about your family, Marco said, instead.

Alright, he could do that.

The ride down felt like a road trip. Well, it technically was a road trip. But it felt like a TV depiction of a road trip.

They’d each, separately, brought more snacks than they could possibly eat together in the four hours there and four hours back, and then they’d stopped anyway at a tiny little diner off the highway for some mediocre fries and surprisingly good burgers.

They’d talked about where they’d traveled and where they wanted to go. They’d played stupid car games, like competing to find letters and license plates from different states while they drove.

Greg had brought his pack of car trip CDs, the only purpose he still had for CDs, really, and had fun singing and signing them to Marco while he sat in the passenger seat. There was an art to ASL poetry, combining distinct words into new hybrids that better expressed the emotions and intentions of a song, and Greg hadn’t gotten to do it in a while.

He definitely wouldn’t be performing anywhere, but it was fun, and Marco appreciated it. Especially when the songs were really corny or repeated the same lyrics so he looked like a dufus trying to sign the same few words in increasingly elaborate and meaningful ways.

And then, between one bit of conversation and another, Marco had casually told him to take out his dick.

Like, right there in the car where anyone driving by could see them.

To be fair, Marco was driving in the right lane so someone would probably have to drive onto the shoulder to see into Greg’s window, but still.

He’d been helpless to resist.

And Marco just kept chattering on about the scenery and the plight of small farms in America while interspersing casual commands like pinch your nipples and circle just the tip.

Greg could barely walk when Marco had taken the exit for an uninhabited scenic overlook, guided him just far enough away from the small parking lot that they couldn’t (probably) be observed, and then sucked him off with his back against a boulder.

So… quintessential road trip stuff.

When they’d finally arrived at Greg’s parents’ house, Greg was happy and sleepy and flushed and, well, having a lot more feelings about Marco than he probably should have been.

Greg’s family, of course, adored Marco. He helped out in the kitchen with Greg’s brother and sister-in-law. He sat with Greg on the couch and listened to his mother’s stories. He discussed marketing with Greg’s other brother. And he handled the inquisition from Greg’s sister with graceful aplomb.

The younger kids clambered all over him, and somehow Marco and Greg ended up walking around the house with little nieces and nephews clinging to their ankles in some sort of ad hoc swamp monster game.