Vincent's Thanksgiving Date by R. Cooper

something. He dropped down to the couch again.
    “Vin, did you want some?” Cory sounded closer, and also like he was speaking with his mouth full.
    “Better grab it soon,” Ricky warned, almost in the same moment.
    Vincent opened his mouth to say yes, but he’d only been going to make the pie for something to do today.  Now that he had something to do, he could wait. “You guys eat first,” he said at last. “I’ve got more at home.”
    “Ugh. The sweetheart .” Ricky wasn’t quiet with his envy.
    “I know,” Cory answered his friend, sweetly as anything, and then came back to sit next to Vincent without looking at him. “The third or fourth time I saw Vincent, he was in the parking lot, trying to explain to a little girl with a box of kittens that the building didn’t allow pets. He was holding one anyway, clutching this ball of fur to his chest, clearly reluctant to hand it over, and I think he gave the girl directions to a no-kill shelter.” Cory made this statement effortlessly, without appearing to notice how Vincent froze or flushed with embarrassed heat. He had a new plate, with two new pieces of pie, and two forks. “Running out of dishes,” he confessed when Vincent shot him a glance. Vincent believed him, even if Cory hadn’t suggested anyone else share a plate.
    Ricky coughed. “If you feed each other, I’m out of here.”
    Vincent had thought his blushes were over, but they had just been gathering strength. His face felt so hot it stung. Cory reached down, to a glass of wine that was probably one of the ones Vincent had forgotten along the way, and handed it to him.
    Vincent asked himself how this was happening but wisely kept his mouth shut. He would do that for as long as this lasted. This was the best Thanksgiving he’d had in a long time. No, it was the best day he’d had in a long time.
    “So, you’re okay? Everything was good?” Cory ignored his friends and kept his voice low. “I mean, judging from that look on your face.”
    Vincent was almost afraid to ask. “What look?”
    Cory put his mouth next to Vincent’s ear. “Relaxed,” he revealed, with relish. “Happy. Did I take care of you okay?”
    “Did you… do you want to take care of me?” Vincent slowly turned his head, his breath catching at how close they were now, how he could have leaned forward to kiss Cory, put his mouth on his mouth and moan at how soft his lips were. He raised his eyes.
    The room was abruptly, tensely still, as if they had an audience, which of course they did.
    Vincent ducked down over the plate and grabbed a fork. He shoved a piece of apple in his mouth, noting moments later that it was pretty good. There was too much cinnamon, but he kept his mouth full so he couldn’t apologize for that.
    Cory was still for another moment. Then he took his fork and began to eat the slice of pumpkin without saying anything
    Rhonda pushed her empty plate away and then burped. “Well, why don’t we help you clean the kitchen?” she suggested much too brightly, as though she wasn’t swaying on her feet whenever she got up.
    Laci pushed her back down when she tried to stand. “I’ll do it. Ricky will help me, won’t you, Ricky?”
    Ricky made a startled noise from the kitchen. Vincent imagined him with pie in his mouth, but didn’t look up to see for himself.
    “There’s no need, guys. Sarah is going to pick through it anyway.” Cory protested, but didn’t actually get to his feet to stop them. Vincent focused on finishing his pie for a few minutes while listening to the sound of running water and clinking dishes. Then Laci asked Cory something about containers and foil, which made Cory finally get up too.
    Rhonda began putting away the puzzle. Vincent twitched a little at that, since he’d thought they were going to stay all afternoon, but she was yawning. She probably had to work the next day. Ricky and Laci might as well. He didn’t know if Cory did, not that he thought Cory was going to want