Drew

In the past six years, Drew’s lived in eleven different places. Eight cities and three small towns. Ten of them didn’t matter. Ten places, ten jobs, ten different groups of people—he drove halfway across the country, baking pies, and not giving a single shit.

Until the eleventh place.

Until fucking Kansas.

Even after a year, some mornings Drew wakes up in bed next to his boyfriend and is absolutely shocked he managed to get stuck in Poplar, Kansas, of all goddamn places. He can’t believe that a guy who blushes at the drop of a hat and can’t bake a pie for the life of him somehow managed to enthrall him so completely that he now has an actual, honest to god permanent mailing address.

It’s rounding up to one year since Drew officially moved into Peter’s apartment and started working as the baker at Amelia’s and even on the mornings when he’s shocked, he’s so goddamn happy it’s disgusting.

He rolls over in bed, patting the left side for Peter.

When his hand hits soft and cold pillow, he frowns and cracks open his eyes.

He’s confused for a half a second before he smells the bacon. Drew grins and thanks his lucky stars that he snagged the one guy who would make him breakfast every goddamn day.

Drew finds his pajama bottoms on the floor and shimmies into them, yawning into his fist as he pads across the apartment to throw himself into the kitchen chair.

“Morning, sunshine,” Peter sets a coffee cup in front of him and runs his hand through Drew’s hair, tailing a curl around his index finger. It wasn’t until Drew mentioned going to get a haircut a few months into their relationship that he realized how insanely attached his boyfriend was to his messy, long hair.

It’s almost too messy and too long now, but if Peter’s going to give him coffee and bacon and a head rub every morning because of it, he’s happy to comply.

Drew smiles up at Peter, eyes crinkling, and Peter watches him softly until Drew’s gurgling stomach interrupts their sweet moment.

Peter laughs and turns around to make a plate. “Someone’s hungry.”

Drew stops himself from pouting, but the blush runs up his chest and neck anyway. “It’s not my fault. You’ve gotten me used to it.”

Peter rolls his eyes and sets two plates on the table, sitting in his own chair across from Drew. “Sure, sure, it’s my fault.”

Drew ignores the jibe in favor of shoving a piece of pancake in his mouth. He’s fucking obsessed with Peter’s pancakes and if they weren’t as good, he thinks their love story would be different.

He rolls his eyes at himself. He used to be a badass; now he’s got the nickname Sunshine and calls his relationship a love story.

His grandma would be proud.

Drew never really thought he’d have this: a home, a stable job, a boyfriend he loves. He expected drifter and driver to be his main descriptors until he maybe died in a car crash from falling asleep after too much sugar. Now he’s here, in Poplar, and he’s so happy it’s really kind of gross.

Something of which, their friends never seem to stop reminding them.

“Do we have to open?” Drew can’t remember who’s on the schedule for Amelia’s.

After Drew jumped ship a year ago and joined Peter at his restaurant, Sal’s all but crumbled. Word got around that the food was frozen and since everyone could get Drew’s baked goods somewhere else, the place didn’t last more than a few months. Allison, with the help of Drew’s gentle nudging and bedroom bribing, managed to get Peter to redecorate and business picked up so astronomically, they actually managed to hire more workers so Peter didn’t have to work seven days a week. Drew apparently had become a soft pushover because one crying conversation with Rita and he was practically begging Peter to hire the entirety of Sal’s crew.

They were pretty good workers and once they actually got to know Peter, they stopped thinking he was such an ass. Besides, Rita’s argument that he didn’t care about people fell a little flat when Drew walked in the room. They were, as Drew was constantly reminded, disgustingly in love.

Peter’s humming breaks into his thoughts. “Nope,” he grins. “Don and Damien are in the kitchen and Allison and Rita have the floor. Rebecca and John are coming in the afternoon, so I’ll take over and close up but we don’t have to be in all day.”

“Hallelujah,” Drew praises. “I’ll help you close.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m aware,” Drew picks up the bacon on his plate and takes a bite. He groans around it. “This is so good.”

“I marinated it,” Peter says. “Better, right?”

“So much,” Drew agrees.

They finish breakfast and Drew’s about to hop in the shower when the phone starts ringing and he has to dig in the cushions while Peter digs in the bed to find the chirping cell phone.

“Why are you so bad with your phone?” Drew groans, throwing one of the couch cushions behind his head. “I swear, this happens twice a week.”

“Please stop judging me,” Peter calls from the bedroom. “Aha! Found it.”

“Thank fuck,” Drew throws himself on the cushion that’s still on the couch and listens faintly to Peter’s side of the conversation.

He’s about to fall back asleep, belly full and head lolling against the top of the couch, when he hears Peter’s voice call out, loudly, “Are you fucking serious?”

Drew’s alert instantly. Outside of a bit of particularly good head, Peter doesn’t really curse. Drew stands up and goes to the bedroom door, leaning against a frame.

Peter’s practically shaking. “Yeah, yeah, no, that’s great. We’ll—we’ll be there at, say, two? Yeah, okay. Awesome. See you there.”

Peter hangs up the phone.

“What was that—oomph!” his question gets punched out of him when Peter flies across the room, wrapping his arms around Drew and kissing him hard. Drew kind of has no idea what’s going on but then Peter swipes his tongue in that really nice way and Drew doesn’t care anymore. He groans into the kiss and winds his fingers into Peter’s hair, tugging on the short blond strands and deepening their kiss. He tastes like coffee and bacon and Drew can’t believe after a year, he’s still so intoxicated by Peter.

When they pull back, Drew’s all ready for round two, but Peter pulls back, grinning.

“Guess who was on the phone?”

He’s practically bouncing. Drew clicks his tongue and blows out from his mouth. “Um, we’ve won the lottery?”

“Nope!”

“Your long lost aunt?”

“Nope!”

“There’s a bunch of dogs and we get to keep them all?”

“Drew,” Peter whines but he’s still grinning. “It was Mark!”

“Mark,” Drew repeats, trying to place the name.

“My business manager.”

“Okay.”

“We’re doing, like, well,” he emphasizes the well, as if Drew needs to hear it in a special way.

Drew smiles. “Yeah, Pete. I know.”

“No, I mean, like, well,” he stresses it the same way and he’s so excited that Drew really doesn’t want to laugh at him.

“Tell me what that means,” he says.

Peter grins. “Someone is interested in funding us.”

Drew stops. “For what?”

“Expansion.” Peter beams. “Like, turning Amelia’s into a franchise!”

Drew’s eyes widen. “Jacobs! That’s fucking incredible!”

“And your desserts. They want to sell them, like, outside of the restaurant.”

Drew freezes. “What?”

“We’ve got a business meeting at two.” Peter kisses him once, soft. “Things are happening.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Looks like they are.”

Peter grins and wraps his arms around Drew’s torso, hugging him. Drew hugs him back, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Think you’re ready for something new?”

Drew looks up, grinning. “Always.”

Peter’s smile is so soft and so nice that Drew can’t think about anything else. He tightens his grip around him.

“I love you,” Peter says.

Drew lets out a breath, a shaky happiness that happens every time he hears those words. “I love you, too.”

“No, like, I really love you.” Peter insists.

Drew laughs. “I know, I really love you, too.”

Peter pulls out of Drew’s grasp and paces across the room, body still jittery and his smile so wide it looks like it hurts. Drew sits on the edge of the bed, just watching him.

After a few minutes, he hears him curse under his breath. Like he did all those months ago outside of the party before they got together, Peter comes up to him. “Fuck it,” he says and kisses him softly.

He pulls away too quickly for Drew’s liking and goes to the dresser, digging in his clothes. Drew has no idea what time it is but they might need to hurry to make it to the meeting. Maybe he and Peter could shower together and, yeah, it might take a little longer but it’ll conserve water and that’s good and then they could celebrate a little before—

Peter spins around, crosses the room in two steps, and falls to his knees.

“Drew,” he says, lips quivering.

Drew’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t look away from the ring box in Peter’s hand.

“Drew, meeting you was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was lost then. I was confused and alone and I didn’t care about anything except surviving. Nothing mattered the way I wanted it to and I thought I was broken.

“Then you came. And, god, from the moment I saw you, all I could do was feel. All I could do was want and feel and it was the loveliest thing I’ve ever felt. It still is. You’re the brightest thing I’ve ever seen and I’m lucky every day for being near you. You couldn’t matter more to me. You mean everything and I would turn down this deal, I’d burn down the restaurant, I’d do anything to make you happy.

“I love you, Drew. I love you and I want to spend every night with you in bed and every morning making breakfast for you. I want you to be in every day for the rest of my life.

“I know you like your freedom and I know staying was never your plan, but, Drew, know I’d go anywhere with you. I’d live in the junker and never stay in one place again, if that’s what you wanted. All I want and all I need, is you.

“You’ve given me so much and it’s selfish to ask for more. But I’m going to ask anyway.

“Drew, will you marry me?”

The world narrows.

Drew spent his whole life getting away. At least, he thought he did. He thought he was running from places and thought he was aimless. But here, with Peter on his knees and an engagement ring in his hand, Drew realizes how terribly, awfully stupid he’s been.

He wasn’t running from something. He was running towards home. And it wasn’t aimless, but a search. Drew found something in Poplar, with Peter, that doesn’t exist outside of them.

They’ve only been together a year and they’re young. They’re obsessive and they’re truly, truly going to get fat if they keep feeding each other the way they do.

Somehow Drew can’t imagine a single thing better than that. He can’t imagine a single place better than sitting inside Amelia’s or a single feeling even close to the feeling of Peter’s arms around him. He’s been crafting sweets his whole life but he’ll never taste anything half as good as his name on Peter’s breath and he’ll never love anyone the way he loves Peter.

“I told you once,” Drew begins, and they both pretend like his breath isn’t shaking, “that to bake something, you had to be purposeful. You had to understand why you were making it, not what you want in the end. And that’s us, isn’t it?” Peter nods, his face frozen in a terrified expression. Drew raises his shaking hand to Peter’s face and strokes his thumb across his cheek. “Every day with you is purposeful. Every day, I understand why I’m here and I learn more about why I love you. Every day with you is worth everything. Our ending will be so, so beautiful because every day, every decision we make, is.

“I love you. Please, let me marry you. Yes.”