Milo #2
Their pony whinnied softly, and Milo thought back to sitting on that movie theater floor, gazing up at the gentle giant who, seemingly without even trying, would come into Milo’s life and encourage them to be their fullest, wholest self.
Milo’s pony whinnied again, high-pitched and excited. They conjured up an image of curling up next to Rowan’s hawk in their pony form and going for long adventures through the woods together.
“Rowan?” Milo whispered, pressing their leg up against Rowan’s.
Rowan didn’t stir, his breathing slow and even as he continued to sleep. Meanwhile, Milo’s world was splintering into pieces and rebuilding itself around this new truth.
Somehow, someway, it seemed like Rowan was their fated mate.
Milo’s pony let out a loud huff and tossed their mane, like somehow they had known this all along.
Maybe all that stuff people said about betas and fated mates was true. Milo obviously had a connection with Rowan that went well beyond surface level. It had been easy to chalk it up to being a crush, whether that be a platonic one or something more.
Milo glanced at Rowan’s naked chest and quickly looked away again.
Yup, definitely more, but was fate really involved?
Sure, the skin of their leg was now buzzing everywhere they were touching Rowan, but Milo loved physical touch and affection.
It could just be that they were excited to finally get to touch their—
Milo’s pony whinnied again, and Milo squeezed their eyes shut as if maybe they could block out reality that way.
They were excited to touch their Rowan, but he wasn’t theirs. He was asleep and had no idea that fate or the gods or maybe the Tooth Fairy had predestined them to be together.
He was also averse to touch.
“Oh gods,” Milo grunted, frantically trying to get their hands under Rowan’s legs so they could move them off. Milo had no idea where they were going to move them to, but it was all kinds of wrong that the first time they ever touched Rowan was while he was asleep.
Gods, and they’d seen him naked.
“Damnit, eyes,” Milo whispered, as if they could shame their eyes into erasing the image of all that uninterrupted skin.
Milo’s pony grunted, not understanding what the big deal was. They were naked all the time, as was their gods-given right.
“Consent is sexy!” Milo hissed under their breath as they struggled to drop one of Rowan’s legs onto the floor.
He let out a soft huff and shifted, pressing his other leg even harder down on Milo.
Maybe if Milo thought of every naked person they’d ever seen, they could shuffle them all together, and that way, the next time they were more purposefully with a naked Rowan, it would be like their first time?
If they were ever more purposefully with a naked Rowan again.
Ugh, godsdamnit, how was this their life?
They wanted to call Anabelle.
The familiar ache and fog threatened to overtake them, and for one brief moment, they wanted to give in. Maybe if they jumped into the fog, straight into the chasm, they could talk to her one last time.
She would probably tell them to wake Rowan up and have a mature, adult conversation about this.
Rowan would understand Milo hadn’t meant to touch him or see him in this vulnerable state.
His hawk had climbed onto Milo, and Milo had truly done everything they could to not touch the bird.
This was all completely by accident and hopefully wouldn’t affect their future.
If they had a future.
Their pony whinnied, and Milo shoved Rowan’s other leg off their lap. His foot hit the ground with a thud, jarring him awake.
“Wh–what? What happened?” Rowan asked groggily.
He looked around the room, eyes skittering over Milo, and then down his still mostly naked body.
“Did… Why… Where are my clothes?”
“Uh, I think you’re lying on them,” Milo said, rather unhelpfully.
“We came back from the club, and you were really out of it, so I walked you inside, we had some tea, and you shifted into your hawk form. We…sat together for a while, and I accidentally fell asleep. You must have fallen asleep, too, and shifted back, hence the—”
Milo waved their hand up and down Rowan’s body, doing their best to only look at the arm of the couch above his head.
Rowan blinked once and then again, his beautiful brown eyes barely focused. “Oh…okay.”
“Okay,” Milo repeated, the skin on their leg still buzzing.
They missed the solid weight of his legs. It had made them feel grounded, the same way Anabelle’s sleeve grabs and parka-filled hugs used to.
Without warning, tears formed in the corners of Milo’s eyes. They would give many, many years of their life to have just one more talk with Anabelle. She would hug them in her parka, and they would tell her the wild and crazy news, and she would say it was all going to be okay.
Because right now, everything felt so far from okay, Milo wasn’t sure how it would ever be okay again. What if Rowan was upset with them and denied their fated mate bond? That was a thing shifters could do, and though it apparently hurt like heartbreak times a thousand, it was doable.
Hell, Anabelle had done it. Milo didn’t think they were anywhere near as strong as her, but if Rowan really didn’t want them, with all their baggage, unresolved grief, and gender exploration, they would get through it.
Somehow.
They just didn’t think they could take that sort of rejection at two in the morning.
“You should get some sleep,” Milo said, holding themself as still as they could so they didn’t risk touching Rowan again.
While Milo didn’t have the wherewithal to drive home, they could probably sleep in their car. They were going to see Rowan in the morning anyway. Maybe if they discussed this over strawberries it wouldn’t seem quite so daunting.
“Yeah…yeah, you too.” Rowan glanced blearily at the clock. “Gods, it’s so late. Why don’t you just sleep here. The couch is actually quite comfortable.”
He reached down with fumbling fingers and grabbed the blanket, holding it tightly against himself as he swung his legs around and sat up.
“I should probably—”
“Please,” Rowan said. His voice was gruff with sleep, but underneath the rumble, there was something else, something with weight behind it. “You look as wrecked as I feel. Please stay here. You can even sleep in my room, and I can stay on the couch.”
Milo huffed through their nose. “Don’t be silly. I’m not—”
“Milo, please, for me. Please don’t drive home this late. I…I can’t explain it, but I just…I need you to stay,” Rowan said, his eyes appearing nearly black in the dark room. “I’ll make you coffee and breakfast in the morning and then we can drive to strawberries together?”
Milo blinked hard, forcing the tears away even as Rowan described quite possibly the sweetest “morning after” Milo could imagine…even if that’s not really what it was.
They could enjoy one normal morning together before Milo dropped the news that would change everything between them, right?
“Okay,” Milo said, fighting to control the tremor in their voice. “But I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Rowan’s eyes scanned over Milo, stopping in the hollow of their throat as they swallowed hard.
“Okay,” Rowan agreed, standing up, causing the muscles in his sides and back to ripple.
Milo’s pony let out a high-pitched neigh of loss, which Milo ignored.
If Milo allowed their pony to move as much as a finger right now, they weren’t sure they’d be able to avoid throwing themself over the back of the couch to get to Rowan.
He was gorgeous and kind, and he was supposed to be theirs, but—
Milo’s eyes landed on a second blanket on the back of the couch. If they had just grabbed this one instead of the one on their lap, they might never have touched Rowan’s skin in the first place.
Milo tugged the blanket down and wrapped it tightly around themself like a shield. They usually weren’t this pessimistic. It was one of the things Ray claimed to love about them so much. The evening had been hard, though, and to discover their fated mate in the midst of that?
Milo could only hope that fate knew what it was doing.