Joe Reaves wasn't a man who dreamed. When he'd been younger and more idealistic, he'd had grand dreams and schemes that involved international stardom and a girl on each arm. Then he'd grown up, gotten married, gotten divorced, 'adopted' half a dozen street wise, smart assed kids, of varying ages and bought a record store. His days of grand dreams and schemes were over, he just didn't have time. Now most days it was just a blessing to have time for a cup of coffee before life intruded.
The morning of Joe's 40th birthday, was when things changed. Joe stretched, feeling warm and rested, more rested than he could remember feeling in a while. He could smell bacon frying and coffee brewing and after a few moments, he could even remember why. Lucas. The one dream he'd never quite been able to let go off, since he first realized he wanted him.
Joe smiled to himself, remembering the previous evening, remembering how Lucas had melted under him, into him, how alive he'd made Joe feel and how he'd cried when Joe said he loved him.
"You look like the cat that ate the canary," Lucas commented lightly, standing over Joe, tray in hand, wearing only his boxers and one of Joe's t-shirts.
"Will you sing a pretty song for me birdy?" Joe asked grinning.
"Joe..." Lucas groaned and blushed, settling the tray over Joe's lap.
"I didn't even know you could cook," Joe said. Remembering the meal Lucas had made for him the night before and now breakfast.
"I took a class..." Lucas admitted.
"I love you, I've loved you for so long and I wanted to prove I could be a responsible adult, that I could look after you just as much as you've looked after me all these years and..." Lucas was silenced by Joe's fingers covering his lips.
"I love you too Lucas, but none of this is necessary," Joe told him softly, letting his fingers slid around the back of Lucas' neck, pulling him close for a kiss that almost had the coffee spilling over Joe's lap.
"I just wanted to make you happy," Lucas said.
"You do Lucas, you do," Joe promised.
Joe Reaves wasn't a man who dreamed. Because what was the point of dreaming, when reality was so much better.