Rowan #3
“Oh, with his head and shoulders? Sort of like headbanging to rock music?” Milo asked, letting their legs fall open into a relaxed diamond shape.
“He was doing that earlier, too! I was going to ask you what kind of music he prefers, and if Ruben ever plays music for him, or you, and if not, he totally should. I bet that would be cute, because your hawk is so cute.”
Rowan’s hawk shrieked proudly, unfurling his wings so fast, a few feathers fell out.
It was the start of spring molting season, and Rowan was actually surprised there hadn’t been any feathers left as evidence in the living room.
That would have clued him in earlier, but maybe it was better this way.
If he hadn’t felt the fated mate bond himself, it was possible their conversation at breakfast wouldn’t have gone this well.
Now, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Milo was his fated mate.
Maybe that was why he could still feel the imprint of Milo’s fingers under his. It made his skin buzz, but not in the usual itching, creepy-crawly way it did after unwanted touch. It was almost like he wanted to touch Milo again.
Rowan carefully lowered his hand until his pinky was just a hairsbreadth away from Milo’s.
“My hawk says thank you,” Rowan murmured.
Milo beamed at him. “Well, he’s very welcome. While it was a bit surprising to meet him, it was also amazing, and I would totally hold you—er, your hawk, again.”
Rowan’s pinky twitched, brushing the side of Milo’s finger.
“I mean, I’d also totally hold you, or let you hold me, literally anytime, but there’s no pressure,” Milo said, flapping their free hand in the air. “Or if you like pressure, but not touch, I could always wear a parka or something in bed. Or on the couch. Wherever.”
Rowan pressed the small section of his pinky between the fingertip and first knuckle against Milo’s finger. “Sometimes I do like pressure, through clothes or a blanket. You definitely don’t have to wear a parka, though.”
Milo nodded, covering a yawn with one hand while they kept their other arm and hand locked in place, not pressing against or pulling away from Rowan.
“We can talk about that later, though,” Rowan said, not pulling away either.
“Over breakfast? And strawberries? And then at my place?” Milo asked, their eyes gleaming from under their flagging eyelids.
“Yeah…yeah, let’s do that.”
Keeping his hand in place, Rowan slid down the headboard, coming to rest with his cheek pressed into his pillow, facing Milo.
Milo tried to do the same but ended up toppling over sideways.
Rowan pulled his hand back from the now empty pillow and used it to pull the blanket up and over them. Milo shifted around, grabbing the top of the blanket in their hand, fisting it so that when they placed their hand on the pillow again, it was protected by fabric.
His hawk chirped and bobbed his head as he nestled into his nest.
Using the last of his remaining strength, Rowan stared into Milo’s eyes and placed his hand over Milo’s covered one.
Fortunately, crying wasn’t what woke Rowan up in the morning.
Unfortunately, it was a loud crash from his kitchen.
Rowan’s hawk squawked at him, like their fated mate was his problem this early in the morning.
Holy gods, he had a fated mate…who was apparently causing chaos in the kitchen if the second, quieter crash was anything to go by.
“Milo?” Rowan called out, his voice cracking in the middle, making it nearly unintelligible. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Milo, baby?”
Rowan’s hawk gave a pleased sounding kee-aww at his little addition, and Rowan wondered if he could suffocate himself with his own pillow.
Milo skidded into the room, their socks slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor. Rowan’s t-shirt was tucked into the front of their jean shorts from the night before, and Rowan blinked his sleep-heavy eyes several times to fully take in the gorgeous sight.
Because Milo was gorgeous, even in Rowan’s wrinkled shirt.
“Good morning,” Milo chirped, a wide grin on their face that could mean absolutely nothing but trouble.
“Should I assume you calling me ‘baby’ means I have the go ahead to keep calling you ‘sweetheart’? Because I have to be honest, my pony has already adopted the term, and when that happens, it’s a bit of a losing battle, but for you, I would fight the good fight and try to win. ”
Rowan’s hawk shook his tail feathers so hard his entire butt shimmied. It was quite an embarrassing display. So much so, Rowan gripped the edges of his pillow and flipped it over on top of his face.
“I’m going to take that as a strong maybe. Do you have a dustbin somewhere?”
“Why?” Rowan asked into the cool side of his pillow.
“No reason whatsoever. I just thought I would get better acquainted with the contents of your apartment.”
Rowan’s hawk was quite amused by this. While Rowan wasn’t usually one to sleep in, this particular morning he felt like he could probably do with another six, maybe seven hours of sleep.
“Find it myself, got it!” Milo said, their soft, rapid footfalls leading away from the bedroom.
It was probably too late to blame Ruben and his mother for this, wasn’t it. He was just as much to blame now.
Speaking of Ruben, Rowan rolled over and reached for his phone, only to realize it was probably out in the living room with the rest of his clothes.
Because he’d shifted in front of his friend-turned-fated-mate, made their lap into a nest, and then flashed them.
Gods, his siblings were going to get a kick out of this.
He should probably talk to Milo about it all first, though, which meant he needed to do the adult thing and get up, take a shower, and face the music.
Given Milo’s attire, he assumed they hadn’t taken a shower that morning.
Rowan didn’t have much in the way of pants to offer them, but he could probably find them another clean shirt if he dug around his closet.
With a herculean level of effort, Rowan rolled out of bed and poked his head out of the bedroom. From there, he could see the whole living room and part of the kitchen, which is where he found Milo on their knees sweeping up what looked like an entire bag's worth of tea with their hands.
“The dustbin and broom are in the front hall closet,” Rowan said.
Milo jerked their head up, a blush mottling their cheeks. “Oh. Okay, thanks. And just so you know, I have this same apple tea at home, so I’ll totally replace your box later. I can even buy you a fresh one—or two fresh ones!”
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What was…” He wasn’t really sure he wanted to finish that sentence, but it was probably better to know. “The, uh, second crash?”
Milo grimaced. “I owe you a new mug as well. Slipped right out of my hand, which made me panic and swipe the tea off the counter.”
Rowan’s hawk jumped to his feet, but Rowan was already on it. He rushed across the room and knelt down in front of Milo. “You’re not scooping up a broken mug with your hands, are you?”
Milo leaned forward, as if drawn towards Rowan by a magnet. Before they touched him, they caught themself and rocked back onto their heels. Rowan felt the same pull he’d always felt, but now he finally had the words to explain it. Milo was his dear, sweet, slightly chaotic fated mate.
“I used a wet rag to pick up the small bits that broke,” Milo said, staring down at the pile of spilled tea. “I’m being careful, I promise. Or, I mean, now I’m being careful.”
“What were you trying to do? You could have woken me up if you needed something.”
Milo’s wide grin was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped line. “I wanted to surprise you with tea in bed.”
“Oh,” Rowan said, rather at a loss. No one had ever woken him up with anything in bed, other than frustrated words or demands he couldn’t meet. “That’s real sweet, baby, but I think we’ve probably had enough surprises for one weekend.”
With the shirt tucked in, it wasn’t as easy for Milo to shrink into it, but they did their best impression of a turtle as Rowan’s hawk shrieked in displeasure.
“I just meant, there were a lot of surprises yesterday,” Rowan tried again, but that only made Milo shrink even further back.
Rowan took a sharp breath in and let it out through his nose. If last night had taught him anything, it was that inaction was just as bad as taking the wrong action. That probably meant saying nothing was just as bad as saying the wrong thing, so he might as well keep trying until he got it right.
His hawk fluttered his wings in agreement.
“They weren’t all bad surprises, though,” Rowan said, and Milo looked up at him. “The best surprise, quite possibly of my entire life, was finding out we were fated to meet, and to be…whatever it is we’re going to be. I don’t need any surprise tea after that, baby. Just you.”