Page 102 of Give Me What You Will

Just like I plan on takin’ care of you.

Frankie got to his feet, a slow grin dancing on his lips, sweat beading his forehead and slicking his arms from working in the garage for the last two hours. Had he known Sam was coming, he would’ve at least showered and brushed his teeth.

“You’re a day early, Sammy,” he chided mockingly.

Sam slid his sunglasses off, giving a slight shrug. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He hummed, wiping his oily hands on the rag in his back pocket. “Yeah? What couldn’t you wait for, baby?”

“Fuck—that,” he said with a long sigh. “I flew thousands of miles just to hear you call me that.”

“Come here,” he murmured, and they both moved, coming together like nervous, fluttering teenagers, both excited and thrumming with energy.

Sam’s fingers were at the back of his neck, drawing him in for a deep, thorough kiss.

“Fuck,” Frankie breathed against his lips. “Yeah?”

“I missed kissing you,” Sam sighed against his lips, as though he somehow couldn’t believe this was happening—that they were at it again and it was a mutual longing. Frankie hoped that with everything he had in place this weekend, Sam would finally realize he was in this for the long run, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ve missed you kissing me,” he replied.

Sam smiled, pulling back, but not before playfully nipping at his lower lip. Looking uncharacteristically nervous, he unzipped his backpack and opened it.

“Traveling light, I see,” Frankie commented.

“I didn’t plan on wearing much this weekend… as requested.”

His heart flopped over and his stomach tightened, loving that Sam had not only listened to him the morning he had left, but also wanted the same thing. Them—in bed—all weekend with nothing but time and each other.

“I got you something,” Sam said, surprising him.

“Ain’t it your birthday?”

He blinked as an identical black Audioslave sweater emerged from the backpack. The same sweater they had fought over for years. The same one he had wrapped Nona in and…

“What’s this?” he asked, throat tightening.

“You said that you gave this to Nona… That you buried her with it. I know I can’t ever make it up to you for not being there for her,” He glanced up from the sweater, “or for you. It’s taken me five months to find this, and I’ve developed an ulcer from having to deal with the seller…”

“Sam,” Frankie touched the sweater, feeling the soft black cotton. An unexpected wave of emotion burned behind his eyes.

He was transported back to the last time they were all together.

Nona was strewn out in Frankie’s arms on his couch, cuddling as she always insisted on doing, despite weighing almost sixty pounds. Sam was sitting beside them, his large hand drifting over her face as she nuzzled into Frankie’s chest. Sam had come over after his shift at the hospital to watch the fight and have dinner, and... everything inside him stilled.

That was love.

That was what their friendship had been for years, but he hadn’t seen it. He never saw how simple it had always been and would always be.

Because love wasn’t complicated.

It was easy.

Natural. Like this.

“You didn’t have to do this,” his voice strained, and his vision burned with tears.

“You shouldn’t have said goodbye to her alone.” Sam kissed his temple, affectionately raking his fingers through his hair. “I should’ve been here with you.”