Part Six
Ollis wasn’t in the mood to play cards. She was in her warm, cozy night things despite their guest, and had wrapped herself in a quilt while she filed her nails and squinted at some book propped up under a candle.
It only occurred to Dorrimin after he’d chosen a spot on the smaller settee opposite her that she might have dressed that way to make Tommick feel less self-conscious about being so underdressed around them, and by then, Tommick had sat down next to him, leaving Dorrimin to dither over whether it was better to leave him alone with his family for a few minutes to go change into his night things, or to simply stay with him as he was.
Then it also occurred to him that Ollis was rarely that thoughtful and this was likely more that she didn’t think of Tommick as worth putting on airs for. Like family.
It had been over a year of visits from Tommick, including his longer visits to the workshop. Even out training in her field of study every day, Ollis had noticed.
His parents had taken the two seats by the fire. His father was back to reading, having first hauled Bemmi up to his lap. His mother had a notepad and a pencil before her but she was watching Dorrimin get Tommick settled, not making lists, though she might have been making plans.
“Feeling better?” she asked Tommick kindly, interrupting his bemused staring at Dorrimin as Dorrimin arranged and then rearranged the blanket over Tommick’s lap.
“Warmer, certainly. Thank you.” Tommick was ever-polite. “I didn’t mean to be trouble.”
“Shush.” Dorrimin was aware it was not a nice thing to say. It came out anyway. Tommick looked startled again.
“Nonsense, dear.” His mother ignored all of that, from Dorrimin’s fussing and rudeness to Tommick’s repeated apologies. “Though I do feel sorry for your parents. They’re going to worry.”
Quickly, where he hoped Tommick wouldn’t see, Dorrimin met his mother’s eyes and shook his head. She frowned.
“I’m sure they’d expect any child of theirs to do the sensible thing,” Tommick said, a statement that could have meant anything to anyone who didn’t know that he thought his parents wouldn’t care. Dorrimin wondered if it was true, if they might not even notice that Tommick was missing.
“Millia will worry,” Dorrimin reminded him softly. “I would have worried. I’ll bet Bartin is going to be sick about it too.”
Tommick stared at him, unblinking. Then he exhaled, long and sweet, and bowed his head. “It’s all right, Dorri.”
Dorrimin didn’t think it was, but hopefully, he’d made it better.
“Ah, the brandy,” his mother suddenly remembered, or seemed to suddenly remember, and swept up from her chair and out of the room.
“A tradition of spirits to brighten the soul and warm the toes while a storm rages outside,” Dorrimin explained to Tommick just before his mother returned with a tray with the bottle and glasses for everyone.
“Plum brandy.” Dorrimin had only been offered full glasses about three years now, although he’d been given sips when he’d been younger than that.
Tommick sniffed his glass before taking a small drink. He immediately coughed, then cleared his throat. “Strong,” he offered when he could, while Ollis barely hid her cackling.
“There’s little to do in the dark,” she explained. “It mostly puts us to sleep.”
“Lies,” his father murmured, not as deep into his book as he appeared. “It gives me indigestion. I have to take some of the Peptic Cures for it.”
“Then don’t drink any?” Dorrimin suggested, and got an affronted look for it before his father deliberately swallowed about half the contents of his glass.
Dorrimin turned to Tommick, prepared to apologize to Tommick or tell him he didn’t have to have more, but Tommick was smiling and attempting another sip.
“So, Tommick,” his mother began after plopping herself back into her chair and propping her feet up on the other half of the footstool his father was using. She loosened her tie. “Have you ever been beyond the walls? The city walls?”
“I… no. Not yet. There was some talk, but then my brother went instead.” Tommick frowned at his glass. “No. I haven’t.”
“Neither has Dorrimin,” his mother carried on, enjoying her first swallow. “But his father is going to take him with him on his next trip out, to show him how things are done. Aren’t you, my darling?” She gave Dorrimin’s father’s foot a nudge.
His father raised his head to peer at her. Slowly, he nodded, then turned to Dorrimin. “I thought I had already. I hadn’t? Then yes. It’s time you went with me. Though it will be difficult in the shop without us.”
“I’ll manage,” his mother cut in dryly, before giving Dorrimin a smile. “So you’ve never been out there either, Tommick dear?”
“Outside the city?” Tommick licked the rim of the glass, apparently learning to enjoy the taste of plum brandy. “I suppose I could go on my own, but it’s never been suggested by my family that I ought to. At least not for their business.”
Their business. Not our business. Dorrimin had some thoughts about that, but took a sip of his brandy before glancing to his mother, and then, when she nodded, to Tommick. “You could come with us, if you want. Come with me. I think you’d be useful, and perhaps we’ll have fun.”
“With you? Dorri—I mean, Dorrimin, with you?” Tommick lowered the hand holding his glass, tipping the brandy to one side but not spilling any.
He regarded Dorrimin with confusion, but also, possibly, excitement.
Maybe even amazement. Dorrimin felt ten feet tall and yet the least storkish he’d ever been.
Tommick finally righted his glass. “Yes, of course. But why? That is, it’s for your business, isn’t it? You’d want me there?”
Dorrimin’s father also seemed somewhat confused by this, but he took a good look at Dorrimin and grumbled something before agreeing.
“You’re a smart lad,” he offered, nudging Dorrimin’s mother’s foot, probably because she had nudged his foot only moments before. “You both are.”
“Yes,” Dorrimin’s mother chimed in, smug. “Dorrimin also mentioned your interest in the display windows, and now that you’re here, perhaps you’ll have time to discuss it more. If the snow traps us inside, you’ll certainly need something to do tomorrow anyway.”
Ollis snorted but didn’t otherwise join in the conversation.
Tommick looked to Dorrimin, all questions. Dorrimin looked back at him and smiled in a way he hoped was encouraging.
“I told her about your thoughts for holiday decorations and she thought it was a good idea. Like I did. Because it was.” He wasn’t only saying that because Tommick was starting to slip down and now their legs were almost touching.
Ollis might have said so, but he wasn’t.
That was why he’d told his mother all of this earlier.
“Oh.” Tommick stared at him for another moment, something soft in it, before growing worried. “You’ve barely touched your brandy.”
Dorrimin had a bigger swallow, used to the burn enough not to choke.
Tommick watched his throat move, then jumped and turned to face Dorrimin’s mother, who was going to pretend she hadn’t seen that, but she had.
Dorrimin had certainly seen it. He was decidedly drunk for a sober person.
Tommick was pressed close, and his getting closer would have done that to anyone…
except maybe Ollis, who preferred daintier men.
Tommick flashed that especially friendly, bright smile of his. “I’ve heard people say that decorations put people in the mood to spend money, that’s all.”
“It was a good idea,” Dorrimin said firmly. “And it won’t hurt anything to try. People will still need toilet scrubbers even if they don’t see them in the window.”
Ollis snorted again. “Sorry. That was just a very Dorri thing to say.”
“He’s marvelous,” Tommick sighed, then glared down at the glass in his hand. “I mean, it’s nice.” He cleared his throat. “How you support him. And take in his friends. And give them brandy. You don’t have to.”
“I don’t think he ate enough today.” Dorrimin didn’t mean to voice his suspicion, but he’d had some brandy too.
Tommick swung a glare his way.
“Not that I believe you aren’t capable of buying yourself food,” Dorrimin added, a bit more hesitant. “Although, would you like to learn to cook? I could show you.”
“I’ve been studying hard and wanted a break. That’s not immature. That’s what people do,” Tommick defended himself quietly. “I was planning to eat supper at home.”
“He’s just worrying again.” Ollis jumped in to embarrass him, and Dorrimin was going to remember that with the next beau she brought home.
“I can get you something else,” he offered Tommick sincerely, although Tommick had sunk down even lower and now their thighs were touching.
They were also touching in other ways. Dorrimin realized with some surprise that he kept reaching over to brush hair from Tommick’s forehead. Tommick kept letting him.
“Oh. No, thank you. I don’t want to be trouble and anyway, I’m strangely tired.” Tommick’s glass was only half empty, so it couldn’t be that.
“You were trying to walk up a mountain with the wind pushing against you,” Dorrimin’s father chimed in still staring at his book. “You will likely be sore tomorrow. Use the…”
“…Soothing Liniment for Strains and Aches,” everyone but Tommick finished for him. He responded with a harrumph and a twitch of his mustache.
“We make it for ourselves, which is allowed, provided we don’t sell it to anyone,” Dorrimin explained to Tommick in a whisper. “Ours doesn’t feel nearly as greasy as some others. I could… I could help you with that too, if you need.”
He scowled in Ollis’ direction after that but his sister was now apparently pretending she couldn’t hear.
Tommick gazed at Dorrimin as if he couldn’t believe what was before him.
“We are friends, aren’t we?” Dorrimin wondered sincerely. “Of course I would help you. And you’re… you’re, if not family, then something like it. Are you sore now?”
“No.” Tommick’s voice was faint. He stared at Dorrimin for another moment, then jolted and looked around the room with a small self-conscious grin.
“At least my yawning won’t be rude,” he offered pleasantly, although now that he’d mentioned it, exhaustion did explain why he kept slipping down and inching closer to Dorrimin.
“Do you want to sleep?” Dorrimin studied him intently, uncertain why Tommick gave him a quick, offended glance.
“Yes,” he admitted, “but this is nice. I don’t mind staying.”
“But you’ll…”
Dorrimin's protest was cut off by his mother. “Why don’t you make him more comfortable, Dorri?”
“Yeah, use Dorri as a pillow,” Ollis remarked, looking up from her nails and smirking. She could hear again, suddenly. Dorrimin was definitely going to remember this.
Once he got over his mortification, that was, and the feverishly hot blush that surely Tommick would feel in a moment or two.
Fortunately, Tommick was too busy glancing from Ollis to Dorrimin’s mother to notice. He finally blinked rapidly several times before slowly turning to Dorrimin.
Dorrimin nodded, perhaps too eagerly.
Tommick drained the last of his brandy. He put the glass on the side table with an unsteady hand. “If you’re certain,” he said at last, and shuddered all through his body when Dorrimin slid an arm behind his back to pull him against his side.
It was like touching Tommick outside the bath to make sure he was warm again, but a thousand times better, even with his mother there, no doubt gloating, and his sister there, no doubt laughing to herself.
Tommick was stiff, his head turned as if he felt he had to look everywhere but at Dorrimin. His slightly damp hair brushed Dorrimin’s neck. Then Tommick shuddered again, and slowly, slowly the tremors eased away to nothing but a long sigh.
Dorrimin’s cheek or jaw on the top of Tommick’s head would probably be too much, presumptuous. But Dorrimin kept his arm around Tommick, throat tight with nerves and pleasure that this was allowed.
When he finally raised his head, Ollis was intent on her fingernails and his mother was jotting down notes. The only one in the room watching them was Bemmi, but that was really her sleepy interest in the settee she wasn’t allowed on.
Dorrimin exhaled slowly too, as Tommick had done, and carefully moved his arm so he could drag his fingertips through the edge of Tommick’s hair at the back of his neck. Tommick shivered.
“Dorri?” he whispered, just for Dorrimin to hear.
“Do you mind?” Dorrimin whispered in return, although he didn’t want to stop.
Tommick hiccupped, the sound almost like a laugh, but much gentler. “Not even a little. You have no idea.”
Dorrimin reflected on that some awe and a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with a few sips of brandy. Because he was starting to have some idea, actually, and it warmed him all the way through.
He bent his head to get his cheek to Tommick’s hair and closed his eyes to listen to Tommick’s soft, even breaths as Tommick fell asleep.