Probably—she seemed to need the sleep these days, but then, so did he. Not right now, though. Carefully, using his good hand, he set his earbuds back in place and turned on the MP3 player. He didn’t always get Dickens, but right now he was thinking that Oliver Twist had been a good choice for his boy to download.
An Essay on Home
“I S THAT about it?” Craw asked.
Aiden looked around the little apartment. “Yeah—we even took down Ari’s valances to put up in the kitchen.” He looked at the big steel pain in his ass they had stowed against the wall to keep it out of the way. “Only one more thing to move.”
Craw looked at the thing and scowled just as Ben trotted in, shivering.
“It’s colder than a monkey’s nuts out there!” he complained, but then, he was still city soft, and moving at the end of January in Granby was not for the weak. Aiden fully expected Craw to swat him on the back of the head and call him a dumbass for forgetting his scarf and his work gloves.
“Of course it’s cold,” Craw said, his voice indulgent. He reached into his pocket for the work gloves and slid them on Ben’s long, pale hands while Ben smiled adoringly into his eyes. “You gotta take care of yourself, City. You remembered your hat”—he touched the turquoise-and-rust hat Aiden had designed an entire colorway toward—“now where’s your scarf?”
Ben’s flush probably warmed him up a little. “Well, it’s special, you know. I didn’t want to get it dirty, since we were going to be moving and all.”
Craw shrugged one vast shoulder with negligible effort. “I can make another one!” He pulled the sturdy fisherman’s scarf from around his own neck and wrapped it around Ben, smiling through his beard as Ben’s shivers stopped.
“But it’s really nice—” Ben said, smiling coyly, and Aiden glanced at the safe on the floor and couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Wear the fucking scarf, Ben,” he growled. “Wear it.” He strode to the safe and squatted to heft it off the ground.
Craw stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Aiden!”
If he’d been mad, it would have been one thing, but he sounded hurt and disappointed. God. Jeremy had been in the hospital for two months. He was coming home next week, but he’d been in the hospital for as long as he and Aiden had slept together in the bed they’d just disassembled.
Aiden hadn’t slept right since Jeremy had gone away. Not once. He woke up in the middle of the night hearing Jeremy’s voice calling his name.
And here was Ben, saving Craw’s love for Sunday best, and he couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t let him do that, Craw,” Aiden snapped. “Don’t let him save it for best. Don’t let him put off any good thing between you until tomorrow.”
He got to his knees and started turning the dial on the damned lock, making the same surefire stab in the dark he’d made when they’d come home after Christmas.
“They’re real nice, boy. But I’ve got the fingerless ones you gave me here. You know what to do with ’em.”
“But Jer — I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”
“Just ’til I’m on my feet, okay?”
So Aiden had come back to this empty apartment and put the one Christmas gift he thought Jeremy would keep into this last, most hated remnant of Jeremy’s past.
“You know his combination?” Ben asked, a sort of wonder in his voice.
“It’s my birthday,” Aiden snarled. “What other number would he use?”
“True,” Craw said softly, and the safe popped open.
Aiden hadn’t opened the door since Christmas, but he knew how many were in there. For one thing, Aiden had made Jeremy about twenty pairs before he figured out what he was doing—saving the mittens for later. Saving them for the day his ship came in. Saving them for the day he ran and the mittens were all he had left of the one person who had ever really loved him.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Craw swore, and Aiden didn’t even want to see
An Essay on Home
“I S THAT about it?” Craw asked.
Aiden looked around the little apartment. “Yeah—we even took down Ari’s valances to put up in the kitchen.” He looked at the big steel pain in his ass they had stowed against the wall to keep it out of the way. “Only one more thing to move.”
Craw looked at the thing and scowled just as Ben trotted in, shivering.
“It’s colder than a monkey’s nuts out there!” he complained, but then, he was still city soft, and moving at the end of January in Granby was not for the weak. Aiden fully expected Craw to swat him on the back of the head and call him a dumbass for forgetting his scarf and his work gloves.
“Of course it’s cold,” Craw said, his voice indulgent. He reached into his pocket for the work gloves and slid them on Ben’s long, pale hands while Ben smiled adoringly into his eyes. “You gotta take care of yourself, City. You remembered your hat”—he touched the turquoise-and-rust hat Aiden had designed an entire colorway toward—“now where’s your scarf?”
Ben’s flush probably warmed him up a little. “Well, it’s special, you know. I didn’t want to get it dirty, since we were going to be moving and all.”
Craw shrugged one vast shoulder with negligible effort. “I can make another one!” He pulled the sturdy fisherman’s scarf from around his own neck and wrapped it around Ben, smiling through his beard as Ben’s shivers stopped.
“But it’s really nice—” Ben said, smiling coyly, and Aiden glanced at the safe on the floor and couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Wear the fucking scarf, Ben,” he growled. “Wear it.” He strode to the safe and squatted to heft it off the ground.
Craw stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Aiden!”
If he’d been mad, it would have been one thing, but he sounded hurt and disappointed. God. Jeremy had been in the hospital for two months. He was coming home next week, but he’d been in the hospital for as long as he and Aiden had slept together in the bed they’d just disassembled.
Aiden hadn’t slept right since Jeremy had gone away. Not once. He woke up in the middle of the night hearing Jeremy’s voice calling his name.
And here was Ben, saving Craw’s love for Sunday best, and he couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t let him do that, Craw,” Aiden snapped. “Don’t let him save it for best. Don’t let him put off any good thing between you until tomorrow.”
He got to his knees and started turning the dial on the damned lock, making the same surefire stab in the dark he’d made when they’d come home after Christmas.
“They’re real nice, boy. But I’ve got the fingerless ones you gave me here. You know what to do with ’em.”
“But Jer — I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”
“Just ’til I’m on my feet, okay?”
So Aiden had come back to this empty apartment and put the one Christmas gift he thought Jeremy would keep into this last, most hated remnant of Jeremy’s past.
“You know his combination?” Ben asked, a sort of wonder in his voice.
“It’s my birthday,” Aiden snarled. “What other number would he use?”
“True,” Craw said softly, and the safe popped open.
Aiden hadn’t opened the door since Christmas, but he knew how many were in there. For one thing, Aiden had made Jeremy about twenty pairs before he figured out what he was doing—saving the mittens for later. Saving them for the day his ship came in. Saving them for the day he ran and the mittens were all he had left of the one person who had ever really loved him.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Craw swore, and Aiden didn’t even want to see
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