When Rocky's mind finally registered what he'd said, a pang of grief and longing shot briefly through him before panic seized his breath. Had Aiden caught his slip? Would he reject it? Rocky wouldn't be surprised if he did. He also wouldn't blame Aiden a bit. They hadn't discussed a dynamic. Rocky didn't technically have the right to use the honorific. But Aiden didn't say a word and Rocky simply went to work cleaning him up.
As he used the soap to help smooth the way, he tried to work out some of the numerous knots in Aiden's muscles. The men didn't speak beyond the soft moans from Aiden, but it wasn't a bad silence, it was comforting and allowed Rocky to mentally strengthen his resolve. He didn't want to run the younger man off by being too forward or assuming.
The more time Aiden spent in his house, the more Rocky was certain this was where he belonged. Deserving or not, Rocky was being given a gift and this time, he wasn't going to take it for granted.
Chapter Seven
Aiden
The ceiling fan was on and the whoosh of the blades was a constant hum. The walls seemed to creak and the feel of his surroundings was off. The sheets were different and seemed rough on his skin. The blanket on top of them was lighter than his own and he missed the comforting weight of his. Aiden had always had trouble with new places. He didn't like hotels and rarely traveled because he knew he wouldn't sleep well. It might stem from how often he'd been moved around as a child but he didn't think so. Even then, he'd struggled until he got used to the place he was at– if he even got to stay there long enough to get used to it.
Rocky had said he'd be checking in on Aiden throughout the night and Aiden really didn't want to seem needy or like a scaredy-cat by still being awake when Rocky came in, but he couldn't seem to settle. Turning to a new position again, Aiden tried to clear his mind and focus on sleeping but it didn't work. When he'd been a teenager, his foster mom had tried to tell him counting sheep would work but how was he supposed to count sheep when none were there and honestly how would counting them make a difference? He'd never had a truly active imagination. He'd often been told he was too literal and that might be true.
Eventually, he'd found that trying to solve math problems worked sometimes to put him to sleep but that was hit or miss because if he got started, he sometimes made his way to a math problem that was complicated and interesting and he'd be awake all night trying to solve it.
The knob on the door turned and it crept open. He was out of time. When Rocky poked his head in, Aiden couldn't bring himself to pretend he was asleep so it was immediately obvious to Rocky who pushed the door the rest of the way open and rushed in.
"What the matter, sweet boy? Is your head hurting again?"
Now that he'd mentioned it, Aiden noticed his head was indeed in pain, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake.
"Yes, but..." Why couldn't he bring himself to voice his troubles? It frustrated him that he couldn't just say what was in his head in situations like this. Why did he always have to hope people would understand? They rarely understood and Aiden rarely managed to get what he needed.
"Having trouble sleeping in a new environment?" Another question popped into Aiden's head. How was it that Rocky seemed to always understand what Aiden wanted to express?
"Yeah, it's been a problem my whole life."
"It's understandable. New places can be scary. Especially older buildings. They make funny noises that aren't familiar yet, the energy is different, so it's perfectly normal."
Aiden didn't believe him. Even though Rocky had described some of his issues perfectly, Aiden had never been considered normal. It was why he'd never found his forever family as a child. He was too weird, too different.
Rocky let Aiden know he'd be right back and disappeared from the room, returning with liquid Advil a moment later. He measured out the dose, offered it to Aiden, then sat on the edge of the bed as Aiden drank the medicine down.
"Good boy for taking your medicine without complaint." Rocky praised and something inside Aiden warmed at hearing the words. The feeling startled him. Aiden had been called a good boy before but it had never caused such a sensation before. Was it because it was Rocky who'd said it? "Let's see what we can do to help you get some sleep. Would it help to read a story?"
Aiden wasn't sure. He'd never been read a bedtime story before. Since he didn't know how to answer, he simply shrugged his shoulders.
"Would you like to try?" Would he? It was something he'd never experienced and that intrigued him. Maybe it would help.
"Could we?"
"Of course we can, baby. Give me just a minute to get a book. I'll be right back."
Once again, Rocky hurried from the room and Aiden was left to wonder what was happening. Rocky had cared for him so sweetly and carefully and Aiden had found himself soaking up the attention. Rocky hadn't asked for anything in return and had ignored Aiden's obvious attempts to initiate something more. He'd instead focused on helping Aiden relax and recover and Aiden couldn't help but wonder when he'd wake from his dream. It had to be a dream because no one had ever been so much of what Aiden needed and wanted. He wasn't about to assume he'd found it now.
Rocky came back in, carrying a small book with a golden spine. He pulled the covers back and urged Aiden to scoot over a bit, settling into the empty space with his back against the headboard. "Come closer, baby, so you can see the pictures," Rocky urged as he tapped the pretty bedside lamp, turning it on and creating a low soft light in the space.
Hesitantly, Aiden rested his head on Rocky's stomach waiting to be told not to, but Rocky didn't say a word. He simply opened the book saying, "This was a book I read my late husband and Little boy all the time. He loved it."
Rocky stiffened and so did Aiden. Aiden assumed Rocky hadn't meant to share that information but hearing it made Aiden feel special. Like he meant enough to share such personal things. It made Aiden feel like they'd somehow become closer simply from a handful of sentences. A small smile graced Aiden's lips when Rocky relaxed again and began reading, "The Sword in the Stone. Once upon a time..."
Aiden listened to the tale of a child becoming king and the many challenges he faced along the way. The story mixed with Rocky's soft rumbling voice, and the steady beat of the other man's heart lulled Aiden into a deep sleep long before the story was done. In his dreams, he was a powerful and just king, ruling and defending his kingdom, able to protect his people from any and all threats.
When Aiden woke, he found himself warm and cozy, his head resting on a sort of hard pillow. A pillow that moved, he realized. A pillow with a heartbeat and little hairs that tickled Aiden's nose.
"Morning, baby," a deep voice graveled with sleep said, startling Aiden so he shot upright in shock. He'd slept in the same bed as Rocky. He'd slept the best sleep he'd ever had in the same bed as Rocky. Oh, fuck. What had he done?
"M-morning," he finally managed to stutter.
