As if things were already hectic, Andrew’s work schedule abruptly changed, which threw off his entire day with Sally. He went from working the breakfast shift to working the dinner shift, which meant that he didn’t start work until seven pm - about the time he went home with Sally, usually - and meant that he didn’t get home until nearly six in the morning, when Sally would be waking up.
So now the day started at six am as Andrew came home from work and would clean up Mr. Dawson, who would almost always be passed out, face down or curled up, on the kitchen floor by the sink. Andrew would help him up and walk him to the living room to help the still intoxicated man drink his smoothie, one he no longer made with vodka because upon reading online about the best hangover cures, apparently that wasn’t a great help. When Mr. Dawson was done with his drink, Andrew would help bring him upstairs to wash him up with a washcloth and then put him to bed, where the older man would almost always pass right back out. He’d neaten up Mr. Dawson’s room, make sure there was nothing obstructing his pathway to the bathroom, and then leave the other man to sleep.
After that, Andrew would go and take a shower with Sally, having sex with her before or during the shower, and then after making and eating breakfast with Sally, he’d see her off to work before he himself went to bed.
Around one pm he’d get up and fix himself and a by then awake Mr. Dawson lunch, the two eating in separate rooms with Mr. Dawson almost always up in his bedroom while Andrew was down in the living room. He’d then make sure the other man didn’t need anything, always getting a weak glare as a response, and then he’d take the bus to the college. Afterward he’d walk to work and everything would repeat.
It wasn’t awful, really.
It just meant that his quality time with Sally was in the morning, which he was okay with. Because Mr. Dawson was passed out, he didn’t feel so anxious having sex with Sally, so they were back to a more comfortable routine between the two of them. Every day it seemed they had had sex usually once in the morning and once at night - usually once right after class, and Sally seemed to genuinely be enjoying the new arrangement, which was a relief for Andrew. There had been a stretch of time when Sally had been acting off, and it had felt like something more than just her husband’s reemergence. But now she seemed excited again, and that made Andrew immensely happy.
The new schedule meant that Andrew didn’t get to make sure Mr. Dawson got to bed at night, which he felt really bad about. He had taken to leaving a pillow downstairs on the couch before he went to school in the afternoon, but every night he came home to Mr. Dawson passed out on the kitchen floor.
He and Mr. Dawson...had cooled, he thinks. Or maybe it was warmed? Either way, their relationship seemed to have really been improving.
Because they were spending pretty much all their time without Sally in the house, the older man was far less volatile. In the two weeks after Andrew’s schedule change, the older man had even come downstairs a handful of times as Andrew was making lunch to watch him from the living room, staying with Andrew while they silently ate together in front of the tv. In the mornings while Andrew would carefully clean Mr. Dawson up, the older man would often stare at Andrew while Andrew filled the silence with polite conversation. His gaze wasn’t so mean either, anymore. It was dark, and a bit heady from the booze, but it didn’t hold the malice. He seemed...sad, maybe, wistful, but that was better than the tense ball of fury waiting to explode that he had been when he first arrived home.
Things were pretty consistent, and Andrew deeply needed the consistency. He’d lived in nothing but a mad storm of chaos his entire childhood, so the dull consistency of a routine was what Andrew craved and felt comfortable in.
Which was why Andrew was surprised when he came home and found that Mr. Dawson wasn’t passed out on the kitchen floor. He turned on the light to make sure, and when he turned to look into the living room, he didn’t see him there either. He lifted his eyebrows at that in surprise, slowly taking off his shoes as he looked around at the empty first floor, half expecting to see any sign of the older man passed out anywhere else.
He carried his shoes around the first floor, looking for Mr. Dawson, but didn’t see him anywhere.
He smiled a little to himself as he went to the front door and set his shoes down there, working on unbuttoning his shirt as he quietly went up the stairs.
While Andrew loved consistency, this was a nice change. If Mr. Dawson had been able to bring himself up to his bedroom, that would be a good thing! He very much wanted Mr. Dawson to feel better, because there was a lot of pain in the other man, a lot of conflict. If he was able to take a tiny step in the right direction, then Andrew would be a very happy camper.
Andrew went straight to Mr. Dawson’s room to make sure he was settled, but found it empty. He stood the doorway and quietly called out for Mr. Dawson before he crept toward the bathroom, peeking in to make sure he wasn’t passed out in the tub or something, but saw it was empty as well. He grew worried and decided to ask Sally, since she’d be up any minute.
He grew anxious that something might have happened to the other man - without Andrew here to keep an eye on him, he might have gone off and gotten drunk somewhere else and be passed out somewhere on the streets. Maybe he had gotten into a fight with Sally. Andrew had figured they would be fighting when he wasn’t around. Sally had assured him she was staying later at work since Andrew had taken the night shift, but that still left plenty of time at night for her and her husband to bump into each other and start going at it.
He came into Sally’s room and was halfway to the bed before he realized that something was different.
Sally was laying there in bed, face down and naked, the bed sheet covering her below her hips, which wasn’t unusual.
But next to her was a naked Mr. Dawson, who was laying on his back with a groggy look on his face, the hard rising and falling of his naked, muscular chest suggesting they they must have had sex not to long ago. He was holding a cigarette between his fingers and lazily lifted it to his lips, taking a long drag as he held Andrew’s gaze, his other hand resting on his naked flesh right above where the sheet was low on his hips.
Andrew stared at him in shock as Sally rolled onto her bed and yawned, giving Andrew a sleepy ‘good morning’ before Andrew looked between them, turned abruptly and then started back downstairs.
Seeing Mr. Dawson smoke made him suddenly realize that there had been a faint smell of cigarettes that had in fact been lingering in the house, he just hadn’t really noticed it enough to put his finger on there having been any big difference, probably because he had been so used to the smell. Cigarette smoke, after all, was the perfume that soaked his childhood memories.
He wondered what else he had missed.
There must have been something, since the Mr. and Mrs. had apparently made up right under his nose.
As he was pulling out two golden pieces of toasted bread from the toaster and setting them on a plate to start buttering them, Sally came up to embrace him from behind.
“Why didn’t you come to bed?” She cooed against his back, reaching under his untucked shirt to run her hands over his undershirt, her fingers reaching into his pants to start pulling it loose so she could scratch at his stomach.
“Well, someone was already in there,” Andrew said with an uneasy laugh, because he had no idea how else to respond. He just continued on with what he was doing, buttering his toast and waiting for the next set to pop out.
He felt...numb.
“You know you’re always welcomed in my bed, baby, no matter who's in there.” She teased as she dragged her manicured nail over the taunt muscles of his stomach, the sensation something he usually took pleasure in.
“I-I don’t think that would be such a good idea.” Andrew said flatly. “I don’t think your husband would have liked that.” He said lowly as Sally unwound her arms from around him and grabbed him firmly by his hips.
She turned him around to face him, but Andrew refused to meet her gaze, instead keeping his eyes down to stare blankly at her naked, manicured toenails. “Well...let’s find out.” She purred as she slowly got down on her knees, finally meeting his gaze. She deftly undid the button and zipper of his pants to pull it down along with his boxer shorts.
Andrew stiffened with an uneasy feeling as he watched her smile coyly at him before she slowly licked the tip of his soft cock, his member twitching at the attention. It was very, very rare that Sally would give him a blow job - she always insisted that they grossed her out, but you wouldn’t have guessed that by the way she moaned and worked her mouth over his cock.
Andrew had no freaking idea what was going on. His brain was still chewing on the idea that the love of his life had just freaking had sex with someone else, who was her husband, and who she might not be divorcing after all - but those thoughts were being tossed around with the wild, pleasurable sensation of Sally’s tongue and lips on his cock.
After a few minutes of her moaning, all he could think about was her mouth and he leaned back against the counter, his hands clinging to the edge as he dropped his head back and moaned quietly, gasping as she took him entirely in her mouth to bob her head on his stiff erection. He let out a gaspy moan and opened his eyes a little to look down at Sally-
But caught sight of her husband walking into the kitchen.
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