Part Five
Tommick hadn’t been in dire straights when he’d knocked on their door, not yet, anyway. But it had only been a matter of time. Or so Dorrimin’s father had declared after Dorrimin had assisted Tommick from the last of his clothes and helped him into a warm bath to bring the color back to his cheeks.
Tommick, face very pale then very red, hadn’t looked Dorrimin in the eye for any of that but that was all right because Dorrimin hadn’t known where to look either.
Not once it was clear that Tommick would be fine and yet now he was naked and also Dorrimin had a strange urge to either crush him to a door again or call him a fool loud enough to be heard above the storm.
He was fine enough to dry and dress himself, Tommick had insisted, and Dorrimin could hardly argue that though perhaps he should have. He left Tommick to it and went to go help his father with the dishes.
His father was now the one eyeing him.
Ollis had prepared a hot herbal drink for Tommick to have whenever he emerged from the bathroom and raised both her eyebrows at Dorrimin as she set it on the table.
His mother was readying the parlor for a guest, and not even the electricity flickering and then finally giving out slowed her.
While the family did sometimes gather in the parlor in the evenings, by and large, the parlor was for entertaining company. It was also where Ollis’ beaus sat when she invited them home.
Dorrimin bit his lip and said nothing, not even when candles were lit and Tommick emerged shakily from the bathroom wearing a pair of Dorrimin’s wool pants, meant to be worn beneath a nightshirt on the coldest of nights, and one of Dorrimin’s flannel nightshirts, along with a pair of thick socks.
The pants were too long for him and rolled up. The shirt was too tight, stretched over his shoulders.
Dorrimin’s mother came in, startling Dorrimin from his staring, and gestured for Tommick to follow her to the kitchen. “Come eat, dear. I doubt you remembered to at the pub.”
“One beer,” Dorrimin belatedly remembered, heated and stern as he followed closely behind Tommick to ensure he didn’t fall.
“It wasn’t….” Tommick sighed. “Now you think I’m useless too.”
“I said no such thing,” Dorrimin huffed with his hands on Tommick’s back, relieved to feel warmth in his skin through the nightshirt.
His nightshirt. On Tommick. In front of his family.
Dorrimin would have been embarrassed beyond reason to be caught so in front of Tommick’s family.
But Tommick only seemed confused to have them all around him.
“I didn’t mean to be trouble,” he insisted.
“We did stay for two beers, that much is true. But I promised Dorri I wouldn’t risk myself by staying later, so we left.
” He hadn’t promised anything, but Dorrimin didn’t interrupt him.
“Then Bartin and I encountered someone struggling in the wind and we decided to walk the fellow to the train since we were also going that way, but the train had only gone a little ways up the mountain before the conductor announced it was no good and everyone had to get off. So we saw the fellow home, which took a great deal of time. And then Bartin met a friend of hers who was going to let her stay the night with her. She offered to take me too, but I hoped I could make it home. The winds pushed me back downhill, so I gave up and thought I’d make my way down instead.
I was only going to ask to stay in the store.
I wasn’t going to intrude in your private space. ”
“Don’t be dumb.” Ollis sneered in a friendly way as she set a bowl of broth and dumplings in front of him. “The chicken is long gone, but the broth is still somewhat warm and should help. And don’t mind Dorrimin. You know he’s upset because you scared him, right?”
“Ollis,” their mother scolded lightly, pushing Tommick down into a chair at the table.
Dorrimin spent a bewildered moment worrying if their kitchen was too simple for a topper, then remembered that Tommick regularly visited with Millia and the other servants in the Fortune’s kitchen.
Though the Fortune’s kitchen was undoubtedly much grander; the Fortunes had dinner parties that were the talk of the entire mountain.
Oblivious to that, or unconcerned with the opinions of toppers in general, his mother turned to him. Dorrimin was abruptly aware that he was hovering like a giant anxious bird. “If you need something to do, Dorri, perhaps you might dry his hair as he eats?”
Candlelight did not hide the knowledge in her face.
Tommick jerked his head up, clearly startled. He looked just as he had when Dorrimin had squeezed him tight against the door.
Dorrimin’s throat was locked, so he nodded. Tommick stared at him without blinking, perhaps blushing, perhaps flushed from the attention and the bath, though Dorrimin couldn’t be sure in the dim light.
It let Dorrimin swallow, then speak. “Eat,” he ordered, cranky and breathless, and shooed his sister out of the way to get a clean towel for Tommick’s hair.
The moment Dorrimin’s mother and sister were out of the room, Tommick tried to be stubborn. “I don’t want to be trouble for you.”
Dorrimin stood behind him, looking at the rumpled, wrinkled collar of his nightshirt against the back of Tommick’s neck in the candlelight. He ran his hand, not the towel, through Tommick’s hair, up from his nape to the top of his head.
Just as he’d thought, Tommick’s hair was soft.
Tommick pulled in a breath.
“I did worry, and I’m glad you came here,” Dorrimin informed him, watching Tommick’s skin prickle and grow bumps as Dorrimin petted him again. Dorrimin observed every shiver and thought things he probably shouldn’t. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep.”
“Dorri.”
“I would have been anxious for days.” Dorrimin began to use the towel, squeezing handfuls of hair while reminding himself to be gentle.
“Dorrimin.” Tommick tried to turn around.
Dorrimin didn’t let him. “Eat. You’re going to end up playing cards with Ollis until she gets bored, you know.”
Tommick picked up the spoon but still hesitated. “I’m a fool like my family think, you know,” he answered, almost matching Dorrimin’s tone.
Dorrimin tugged on a handful of hair, probably less gently than he should have, but Tommick shivered again and didn’t protest.
“You stopped to help someone, Tommick. You’re actually rather wonderful.” Dorrimin held still, then twitched back into motion. “But you should have stayed with Bartin’s friend. I would have worried, but you would have been safe.”
Tommick slowly eased back and then exhaled, much of the tension leaving his shoulders. He tipped his head up, allowing their eyes to meet for a moment before he dropped his chin. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
Dorrimin had no response to that. Not a good one anyway. Not one that would be appropriate in his family’s kitchen with his family not far away in the parlor. He skated his fingertips up the back of Tommick’s neck again. It sent a tremor through Tommick.
“Does your family think less of me?” The question was quiet.
Dorrimin brushed another touch along Tommick’s nape, so pleased by the softness and the warmth that he couldn’t seem to stop petting and tracing lines over it, no matter how much Tommick shivered.
“Dorri!” Dorrimin’s mother called at that very moment. “I’ve lit a fire in your room so it won’t be so chilly when you two go to bed!”
Tommick hissed out a breath.
Mothers, Dorrimin thought, embarrassed, but not enough to stop touching Tommick. He would if Tommick asked. There was a quiver in his stomach, uncertainty and some nerves, but also excitement, because Tommick wasn’t saying anything like that.
“The fans for the heating system need electricity, but the fireplaces work without them,” he explained. “You’ll be warmer doubled up with me than in the spare room. But I can make up that bed if you prefer.”
“No!” Tommick objected brightly, twisting to flash a smile at him before twisting away again and choosing that moment to scoop up a dumpling and eat it while also trying to talk. “It’s fine. I don’t want to be trouble.”
Dorrimin didn’t have much experience with adult friends, or any experience with a sweetheart, but he did briefly marvel at Tommick being the nervous, awkward one for once.
“They don’t think less of you,” Dorrimin answered that question at last, quite truthful, for his mother had courtship on her mind and would get his father in agreement with her if he wasn’t already. Whether or not Tommick agreed was another matter.
Dorrimin resumed drying Tommick’s hair, letting Tommick eat while he thought about many things including Tommick in his arms before and in his hands now.
“Do you think less of me?” he wondered after a while, curious. “Anxious stork that I am?”
“Never.” Tommick dropped his spoon into his empty bowl. “I could never.”
The vehemence in his tone warmed and soothed Dorrimin’s insides like the Throat-coating Cough Elixir his cousin in the Medicals made, which Dorrimin had to take with heated honey to disguise the taste. Medicals rarely considered things like taste, more concerned with efficacy.
Later tonight, or tomorrow, but once they were alone, Dorrimin was going to have to ask Tommick about courting. He would have to trust in Tommick’s kindness if the answer was no.
But Tommick had helped a stranger through an approaching blizzard. He had kindness to spare.