mitsubishievo | (no subject)

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The start of the sixth year, for both of them, seemed like a weird benchmark but it was what it was. Here they were, having made it this far: older than they ever thought either of them would be, further along, more themselves. A house and home, a little family of the two of them and their ward who didn't need to stay at home anymore but still did until he got his feet under himself, the cats, the memories of those they'd lost a constant presence in their lives. Six years starting wasn't the same as six years ending, but sometimes it felt like it.

Holidays were always a slightly strange time, but at least with Charlie at home, it was a bit more like knowing what he was doing. Thanksgiving wasn't quite as big a deal to Kavinsky as Christmas was, but it was still a big deal, especially when it meant an excuse to drag people into his home, to make them suffer his presence and familiarity, the closeness of built family.

He'd come a long way in the last five years, and the sixth with another year of it.

So, it wasn't Thanksgiving yet, but making food for Thanksgiving meant getting ready for it. It meant planning. And it was unseasonably warm, so right now that meant looking at recipes on his phone in the backyard with Newt nearby contemplating how to winterize or whatever when the weather seemed to have missed the memo that it was November and they needed to think about getting ready for winter already.

"Do you think I'd get my American card revoked if I refused to do turkey?"

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"Well, I'm not any kind of shucking American," says Newt, glancing up from the bulbs he's planting, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So maybe you ought to take it up with Charlie? He's the one who might miss it..."

"Well, that wasn't the fucking question, was it?" Kavinsky smiled about it, lazy and happy. He dropped his phone into the grass and rolled over onto his back, sprawling languidly toward Newt.

"Anyway, you're my favorite un-American, so there."

"I just don't shucking care about turkey. And you know what every you make will be good." Newt glances up, his fair hair tumbled into his eyes. "How much do you care about your American card, anyway?"

Kavinsky didn't say anything for a moment, lost in just looking at Newt. Good thing he'd gotten over, a long time ago now, being embarrassed about how much he adored just staring at him, admiring the angles of his face and the softness of his hair tumbling across his forehead.

"Not that much," he admitted with a laugh after a second.

Over the years, Newt's got used to Kavinsky looking at him like that and, for a moment, he just basks in it.

"Then fuck it," he says. "Make what you want to eat."

"Dangerous," Kavinsky said with a grin and a laugh. He shuffled through the grass closer to Newt and leaned up, kissing his shoulder. "With that sort of precedence, I might end up making some really weird stoner shit. Bulgarian shit. Stoner Bulgarian shit."

"Oh, shucking hell," says Newt, softly, bending his head to take a proper kiss, soft, lingering. "Maybe I ought to book a table somewhere and take Charlie out."

"Spoil sport," Kavinsky chastened, good humor and broad smile as he lingered in the kiss as well. Who cared if he was being distracting? Certainly not his husband, at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah," says Newt, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one hand. "You knew what you were shucking getting when you married me, sweetheart."

"I did, I signed up for this and have to live with it for the rest of forever. And you knew what you were signing up for too. Guess we're two for two, huh?"

Kavinsky was all smiles. "We should do something for our anniversary. What do you want?"

"Bed for days," says Newt, smirking. "And take out. And also, for the record, you've changed more than I have. Over the years."

"Yeah, weird how finding people that don't let me get away with the same old bullshit was actually, like, good for me or whatever." He leaned up to kiss that smirk, sighing softly. "So, bed and take out. Kicking Charlie out to Rosie or Brina's. Sounds like a plan."

"House completely to ourselves," he says, grinning. "We'll be able to shucking wild."

"Better change the locks so he can't come home early, otherwise we might scar him for life," Kavinsky said mildly, and then couldn't help grinning too.

"He's made it this far," says Newt, a smirk on his face, settling back onto the grass beside Kavinsky, pillowing his arm under his head. "I think he's made of pretty tough stuff."

"Yeah, but we're also mostly on good behavior." Mostly was the operative word, and it wasn't like that good behavior lasted when their bedroom door was shut. It was a good thing Kavinsky had long ago soundproofed their room, even before the discussion of a ward had come up.

"Yeah, mostly," says Newt, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Except for...when was that. Last sunday?"

"Wow, I try to suck dick in the kitchen like a good husband one time while our kid is apparently out for the weekend, and suddenly it's my fault that he walked in on it." Kavinsky was smirking about it too.

"Or the number of times he's come back to us in the hot tub. But I'm pretty sure that makes up to the number of times I've walked out on him and Brina in the hot tub, so we'll call that even."

"It's probably bad parenting that I found the look on his face shucking hilarious, right?" Says Newt, shaking his head. Both of his eyebrows raise.

"Hot tub sounds like a good idea, though."

"The hot tub always sounds like a good idea because the hot tub is always a good idea," Kavinsky pointed out with that same lazy smile he's had on this whole time. "That's why we have one."

"He's got class until this evening," says Newt, pushing up onto his elbows. "Plenty of time to enjoy the hot tub."

"Mmn, this is why I love you." He leaned over and kissed his husband sweetly, smiling, slow to get up himself as he simply lingered in the moment. Sure, nothing was settled for the inevitable Thanksgiving, but at least he was suitably distracted from worrying about it, and they both knew that was a worthwhile cause in and of itself.

He finally pulled back and hauled himself to his feet, heading to the deck. When he got there, he turned on the jets in the hot tub, and just stripped off, sliding into it.

Newt hangs back a little, watching, enjoying the view as Kavinsky strips down and sinks into the hot water. Newt shrugs out of his sweater and shirt, starting to unbuckle his belt.

Kavinsky grinned, leaning against the edge of the hot tub and admiring Newt heading towards him with that same leisurely deliberateness that Kavinsky had had making his own way over. He could admire Newt doing just about anything, but he was never going to turn down a good opportunity to watch his husband get naked.

Part of the way that Newt grew up, one of the things that the Glade gave him, is that he's utterly comfortable in his skin, not even the slightest bit self conscious. He strips and then he eases into the hot water.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Always," Kavinsky said, low and adoring, waiting for Newt to sink into the warmth before he slid over to him. He slid his hands over Newt's arms, rubbing away the dirt from his fingers and the tension from his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss him gently.

Newt relaxes almost instantly in the warm water, his arms curled around Kavinsky's neck as they kiss. He makes a soft sound against is husband's mouth.

Kavinsky purred and leaned against Newt as they sank in the water, as Newt wrapped his arms around him. It wasn't hard to tangle up in the water and let the heat and the bubbles curl around them too.

He dropped a hand under the water and grabbed Newt's ass.

Newt grins at the groping touch, squirming his hips back into Kavinsky's hands.

"Oh, that's how it is, is it?"

"What, I can't just wanna manhandle my husband a little bit?" It was maybe on the rarer side, but even when he did it rarely meant that he was going to be getting his. Still, stranger things had been known to happen. Right now, Kavinsky just liked his hands full and his lips kissed, their bodies tangled neatly together.

"Didn't say I was complaining, did I, clunkhead?" says Newt, pressing into a deeper kiss, enjoying the swirl of the warm water around his hips and belly as he gets as close to his husband as he can get.

Kavinsky purred against the kiss as he shifted back to the edge of the hot tub, taking Newt with him, until he had a lap-full of his husband, comfortable weight buoyed by the water and the general warmth keeping away the slight chill of the air around them.

Newt settles his weight into Kavinsky's lap, his half-hard cock brushing against his belly as he curls his arms lightly around his shoulders, bends his head to take another kiss.

It wasn't hard at all to turn a little handsiness into something more when he felt Newt settle on him like that, and how responsive he was already. Even if it was still just kissing and holding, it got more heady, more deep, and Kavinsky leaned back in the warm water as he enjoyed the whole moment with a relishing sigh.

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