“You do?”
“Yeah, Benito. I do. And I know you love me too because you told me so.”
Benito leaned forward, spent, but so drawn to Mickey he couldn’t contemplate doing anything else. “I thought I’d dreamed that. But I meant it. I don’t know how I got to this place, but I love you, so fucking much.”
There was so much more they needed to say, but Benito had run out of spoons. Perhaps they both had.
Mickey coaxed him into bed and fed him pizza and water. Then he let Benito doze for a while before he shook him awake sometime later. “There’s something else.”
“What?” Benito started to sit up, but Mickey eased him back down.
“Relax. It’s not bad.” He held up his phone. “The money bloke at the housing association called while I was waiting for the pizza. They’ve cleared your mum’s debt with the council.”
“Cleared? What does that mean?”
“It’s paid. Gone. As in, it doesn’t exist anymore, so you don’t have to drive yourself into an early grave to pay for it.”
A rush Benito couldn’t explain swept over him. “The payment plan?”
Mickey grinned. “What payment plan?”
“Fuck.” Benito sank back on the pillows. “That’s crazy. Did you ask them to do that?”
Mickey loomed over Benito. At some point, he’d shed his shirt, and his chest was the best pillow in the world. “I would have if I thought it was something they’d do, but... no. My bosses made the decision and actioned it without talking to me about it—and that’s kind of a thing now, as far as your mum’s concerned. They know about us—or they suspect it, at least—so they assigned Rosetta to someone else.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. But it’s for the best. If we’re going to be together, your mum doesn’t need me up in her shit all the time. It’s not fair.”
“She likes you.”
“Does she?”
“Yeah.” Benito laid his palm over Mickey’s heart, grounding himself in the steady beat. “I told her I fucked it all up, though, so she’s probably not holding out much hope of you sticking around.”
“I can fix that.”
Benito let Mickey’s softened gaze seep into him. “You really want this? With me? I’m out of the game, but I’m still a fucking loser.”
“Shh.” Mickey pressed a hand over Benito’s mouth. “I don’t want to hear that shit. I’m here because I want to be. If you turn out to be a prick after all, that’s on me.”
Benito licked Mickey’s palm.
Mickey’s eyes flashed. “Don’t do that either. Unless you’re suddenly recovered enough for me to fuck you into this mattress.”
Benito’s heart sped up, and for the first time in what felt like a year, it feltgood. He pulled Mickey’s hand from his mouth.
Mickey didn’t fight him, even as Benito tugged him down and down and down until their faces were inches apart.
Benito pressed their foreheads together. “I think I’d die right now if you fucked me, but... will you stay with me? Tonight, I mean, to sleep... in my bed with me?”
Mickey stole a quick, blood-warming kiss from Benito’s lips before he answered with a smile. “Motherfucker, I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”