---
Scott woke first — just barely.
He felt Brian's breath against his shoulder, warm and steady, his arm slung possessively around Scott's waist like even in sleep he was afraid to let go.
The room smelled faintly like rain, sweat, and the ghost of last night — the music had stopped long ago, but Scott could still hear it in his head, every note wrapped around the way Brian had whispered I love you into his skin.
---
But morning brought reality with it.
Scott's heart skipped when he heard faint clinks from the kitchen downstairs — the hiss of a coffee maker, the low hum of Mr. Drake moving around.
Brian stirred, eyes blinking open.
For one fragile second, they just looked at each other — no walls, no pretending.
Then the panic hit.
"Shit," Brian breathed, voice hoarse. "My dad's up. He's probably gonna—"
Scott sat up, tugging on his jeans. "It's okay, I'll sneak out. I'll— we can—"
But they both knew they didn't want another scandal, not now, not yet. They just wanted to hold this — this quiet safety — for one more minute.
Brian pressed a quick kiss to Scott's mouth, fingers brushing his cheek like he couldn't help himself. "Go out the back. He won't see you."
---
They crept down the hallway, giggling like idiots, clothes half-wrinkled, hair a mess.
Scott's heart thumped so loud it drowned out every floorboard squeak.
They rounded the corner toward the back door — and froze.
Mr. Drake was standing in the kitchen, big hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee.
He looked… calm. Tired, maybe. But not angry.
The smell of fresh grounds and rain still drifting in made the moment feel dreamlike — like Scott wasn't really here, half-hiding behind Brian with his shirt rumpled and his neck flushed raw from all the things they'd done in the dark.
---
Brian's mouth opened — something between a croak and a laugh. "Dad, I — I can explain—"
Mr. Drake raised a palm. "You don't have to. Sit down."
Scott blinked. Brian stiffened. But they moved to the little kitchen island anyway, eyes locked on the floor like kids caught sneaking cookies at midnight.
Mr. Drake set down his mug, eyes flicking between them.
And then — he smiled. Small, weary, but real.
"I saw you last night," he said, voice soft but steady. "I saw you two outside. In the rain. And yes — I know what happened after, too."
Scott's face burned scarlet. Brian's jaw dropped.
For a heartbeat, no one said anything.
Then Mr. Drake chuckled — the sound so normal, so fatherly, it almost made Brian's knees buckle.
"Son," he said, reaching out and squeezing Brian's shoulder. "If you're happy — if he makes you happy — then I'm happy. That's all I've ever wanted."
---
Brian's eyes shimmered — that same amber Scott had fallen into a thousand times. But this time there was no fear clouding them.
"You mean… you're okay with it? With me? With him?" Brian's voice cracked.
Mr. Drake looked at Scott — really looked — and gave him a nod so warm it made Scott's throat ache.
"I'd have liked you to trust me sooner," he said gently. "But I get it. Sometimes dads don't make it easy to say the things that scare you most."
His eyes softened. "You don't have to sneak anymore, okay? Not here."
---
It was so ordinary, so easy — so impossible — that Scott almost laughed.
Brian did, too. He let out a strangled, relieved laugh and leaned into his dad's side, like he was thirteen again, like he'd never doubted that love could be simple.
Scott stood awkwardly, rain-damp sneakers squeaking on the floor.
But then Mr. Drake looked at him — really looked — and opened his arm, tugging him into the hug, too.
It smelled like fresh coffee and aftershave.
It felt like home.
---
For a second, Scott wondered if he'd wake up back in his bed, the rain still pounding outside, his phone buzzing with another half-hearted apology from Brian.
But this was real.
The warmth, the forgiveness, the promise that they didn't have to be secrets anymore.
And for the first time in forever, Scott believed it.