Saturday and he should be sleeping in, but every saturday morning for--hell, years now--has been spent this way. This is what he gets for having a partner who takes his job Too Seriously. James is clutching a water-bottle in one hand and trotting along beside Len, who’s hip shouldn’t be able to handle this, and has been shot down for a jog past Starbucks twice now. If he asks again, the old man just might trip him. 

James almost wants Len to trip him so he has an excuse to just go home and not have to jog any more. It’s so early that there aren’t even kids out to play yet and he should just be in bed with his husband, not trying to keep up with his slave-driving best friend’s exercise routine.

“Don’t tell me you’re goin’ for another lap--?”

There’s a muffled laugh behind him, and James makes the widest u-turn he can to join Len in the driveway he’s stopped in. James’s own driveway, of course. That he jogged right past because he was complaining internally and he wants to punch Len right in his smug grin. 

“One of these days you’re going to have to do this by yourself.” The blonde downs the rest of his water bottle in one go and tosses the empty plastic right at the older man. Take that. Len’s just grinning and shaking his head. Red in the face and leaned against the most conspicuous D.A.R.E. vehicle in the world. The rest of the force probably gave it to him as a joke, but Len loves it. Because of course he does. 

“Go cool off before you stroke out, kid.” Len’s fumbling around in his fanny pack for his car keys, the car unlocks with a loud chirp once he finds them. “We still on for this afternoon?”

“You bet we are!” What was this afternoon again? Oh yeah, June. A saturday. Of course they have plans. Before he can ask Len to jog his memory on the details, James is watching his partner climb into the car and roll down the driver’s window after he starts the hideous thing up. 

A tilt of Len’s head, the younger blonde is getting that dad look from over a pair of way too big sunglasses. “Don’t forget.”

“I wont!” James scrunches his face up for good measure. What, like he has a bad memory? It’s not like he’s been shot in the head or anything. Yeah, right. Just an overactive mind and a preoccupied personality. “Get home and shower before you stink the whole car up, old man!”

An air of mock-offense and James turns on his heel to stroll into the house. Doesn’t need to hear Len’s laugh over the car to know it’s there. The guy sure does smile and laugh a lot more these past few years than he ever did when James first started as his partner. The family life seemed to really suit the guy.

James makes his way through the front door, starting to feel a bit of grit on his skin as his sweat starts to dry. Right, that familiar ‘I need to shower right now or else’ feeling. Can’t mistake that. The door clicks shut behind him and there’s a familiar sound from the kitchen before he’s even out of the entryway. The blonde leaves his keys and empty water bottle (that he’d recovered from the sad attempt at assaulting his best friend) on the bench of the closest and largest piano in sight, only to creep into the kitchen in the most stealthy way.

Humming the pink panther theme the whole time, of course. The most stealthy.

A few moments later, a still sweaty and gross James has latched onto his chosen victim. The ginger laughs as James hugs him from behind, covering his husband in vaguely gritty kisses along a freckled neck.

“Nooo--” Hart’s attempt at dissuading his husband is weak, and punctured with a brief snort of giggles. There’s now a stubbled chin being rubbed against his neck and shoulder and he tries to scrunch up to get away from it because that tickles. “Please go shower and shave off that sandpaper.”

“But what if I want to sport a grungy dad look? It’s all the rage.” Oops, his hand seems to be wandering up under the edge of a green tanktop. Hart stops squirming as much and leans against James, with a hint of laughter still lingering in his chest. 

“I’d rather not have to deal with a smelly husband, thanks.” Not that James was too bad now but--well, later. Especially considering the rest of the day’s plans would be outside. Deodorant and sunscreen for everyone. Especially the latter for a ginger. 

James sighs as though Hart has placed the world upon his shoulders. A wholly theatrical sigh, and he rests his chin on a mostly bare shoulder. It seems he’s interrupted Hart packing a cooler for the day. Drinks, snacks and black bean burger patties since as much as the ginger appreciates Mick trying to grill for multiple diets, he never seems to get bean patties quite right. This way, he’ll just have to heat them up on the grill. It works better.

“Fine, but when I get out, I’m slathering you with sunscreen.” Another peppering of kisses to Hart’s cheek, and James trots off to the shower. 

It’s not as hot as it could be for a Saturday in June. Low 80s and a breeze, with scattered cloud cover. Not to mention that the park has a fair amount of tall trees for shade. Definitely could do worse.

They pull up to a parking lot marked as “staff and volunteers only”. Hart’s already fishing their parking pass out of the glovebox--it’s not the first year they’ve done this, after all. Getting close to a decade now, at least in being here “officially”. There’s a staff member at the parking lot entrance, a pair of shorts so short they beat out James’s--which is almost hard to do--and a tanktop that matches that of every other staff member. The guy looks over their parking pass, glances from it to James in the driver’s seat, to James’s obvious shirt, and then back to the parking pass.

“Central High, right?” The staffer hands the pass back to James, who in turn hands it to Hart again. It’s not a completely odd question, but he’s pretty sure Central’s the only school in the Twin Cities with a still-functioning D.A.R.E. program. He should know, they do have visit all the other high schools themselves, after all. 

“Yep! Good ol’ home base.” James squints against the sunlight to look up at this kid. Couldn’t be older than 19, short hair and dark bangs that he keeps having to push out of his eyesight. Looks familiar. 

“Cool. Someone from your group’s already here.” The kid gestures to a corner of the parking lot that’s not completely full, at least. But there is a bright red pickup truck with a visible grill in the back of it and James pulls his car in right next to it. The duo have barely been parked long enough to get out of the car when a square-shouldered bald sort in a shirt with “CCFD” in big, bright letters across the front--”Captain Rory” on the back--trots up to them. Hart’s caught in a strong hug first, grinning like mad. James tries to come around for a hug of his own, nearly gets bowled over by a belgian shepherd in a red and black CCFD harness. 

“You two mind giving me a hand with the booth?” Mick manages to reach out and scoop James into the hug with one arm, squishing the married couple in the comforting embrace of a firefighter Captain. The belgian shepherd, Cinder, keeps bumping her damp nose against James’s bare legs. A snoof against the sunscreen and she repeats the motion with Hart, who scratches between her ears and gets a heck of a tail wag in thanks.

“Only if you don’t try to make me carry that grill of yours.” Hart looks up at Mick with an apologetic smile, but the firefighter just laughs, shaking his head. He knows better than to try to make a small sea of freckles manhandle the grilling monstrosity. 

“Nah, ‘course not.” Mick claps the duo on the shoulders. “I’ll unload the cars if you two’ll set up the tent?”

James tosses him the keys of his own vehicle--DARE cruiser the elder, who doesn’t get to roll through many parades now that Len has the gaudy monstrosity--and gives a nod. “Aye-aye, Capt’n!”

By the time they’re finished setting everything up, the parade is starting to roll by the park. They’ve got two pop-up tents tied together, facing the main walkway leading from park entrance to the amphitheater where the main event will be centered around. One black, with the DARE logo in bright red, and the other red with CCFD’s lettering in white. Because nothing says ‘please assume we’re married’ other than lashing your respective tents together. Tables at the front of both, covered in pamphlets and goodies that you normally see at an event like this. Not to mention cookies that James spent most of the weekend baking. 

Mick’s grilling station, as well as everyone’s camping chairs and coolers, are set up a bit further back from the tents. Fire safety first. Not to mention this was their food, and they’re allowed to enjoy pride on their own as much as any visitor was. Cinder’s watching the tables, wagging tail welcoming the few who would rather get a head start on booths instead of watching the parade.

The grill’s warming up by the time the parade is done circling the park and begins to funnel into it. Master of ceremonies is leading guests down the walkway to the amphitheater--and James catches a glimpse of the blue machine pulling into staff parking. Can almost count like clockwork how long it takes from the car pulling in to park to the sight of a german shepherd--clad in a rainbow bandanna with his usual service dog vest--bowling towards them. Commodore Boomerang barely stops to sniff hello to the group before tucking in obediently at Cinder’s side, tail about to wag off its hinges. If not for Charlie, those two pups would be inseparable.

Finally, a detective and his adopted son come into view. Both in shirts that match James’s own, and the kid immediately gets swept into hair ruffles by his ‘Uncle James’ as soon as he’s reached the tents. Granted, glitter fluffs out of that dirty blonde mop, and James cannot be more proud. Conscripts the kid into helping him with dousing the dogs in color powder. Gotta get into the spirit, after all.

You’d think that Len and Mick hadn’t seen each other in a week, the way they greet one another in a hug that lasts far too long, and soft kisses. A pair of gruff dads that James interrupts by assaulting them with packs of blue and red color powder. Len narrows a look at him, grumbling as he detaches from Mick and tries to ignore Hart and Charlie laughing at them. Mick’s laughing, too, as a matter of fact. Len’s brief frown doesn’t stay for more than a moment.

The day goes, well, about as well as any Pride could. A hot summer day, loud music and friendly faces. It’s a “private” event, so any protestors are forced to the sidewalks on the opposite side of the road from the park, and any hateful words are drowned out by joy and love. The way that Pride should be, and has been for the last few years. The upside of charging even the barest of admission. Worth it, in a bible belt state.

Despite slathering Hart in so many layers of sunscreen, he still manages to end up pink. Then again, it’d be a damn miracle if that wasn’t the case. Poor guy’s used to it by now. Mick makes sure he spends most of his time in the shade of the tent and always packs aloe in the first aid kit. A good fireman.

By the time the food is ready, despite the grill being back from the tents and the wandering patrons, they still end up with “extra” mouths to feed. A small teen with a mohawk striped in color today dragging around a lanky young adult ginger who’s starting to even out from puberty growth spurts. A long-limbed librarian and a slightly round scottish accent. A dark gal with the most perfect afro, arm-in-arm with a blonde southern belle. 

As if they couldn’t expect some former DARE students to show up uninvited. 

Not to mention that Charlie’s little crew gathers around with gifts of soda, chips and brats. Len appreciates this company far more than his former students. They all have their own DARE shirts with “DEPUTY” haphazardly spray-stenciled in bright pink by none other than Officer Jesse himself. Charlie doesn’t even need the Commodore at his side more than a couple of times throughout the day--which is a welcome sight that the adults notice and breathe not a word about. Let the kid be a kid for once.

Eventually the sun sets and the lights of the park kick on. Fireworks always signal the after-party, but Len and Mick usually take that time to pack up and head for home. Anders stays longer than any of the other kids and young adults, wrangling the dogs and packing up leftovers. Len treats him like he used to treat James, before “junior” officer became just “Officer Jesse”. James always has to hide a grin when he notices. 

Some things never change and it’s an utter relief.

After the rest of their group is gone, Hart and James find themselves with a couple of drinks in the middle of a dancing crowd. They’re not sure who the queen on the stage is right now and it doesn’t really matter. Just that things are normal and the drag show is loud and happy and they get to be just--this.

James has an arm slung around Hart’s waist. Carefully kisses at the parts of his husband’s neck that aren’t quite so pink with sun. Years ago, neither of them would have dreamed themselves so lucky. Married, together. Out in public and able to enjoy life for what it is. There’s applause around them for the end of someone’s performance, but Hart’s leaned down to kiss his husband long and slow.