Chapter 6 #5
It promised to be a warm morning. He didn’t bother putting on a T-shirt when he left his bedroom, taking care to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake Leo and Nate.
Remembering why they’d stayed the night prompted the thought that Joshua would have to go through another round of interview preparations today.
He’d sucked yesterday; there was no way around it.
If he didn’t gain a sudden burst of inspiration…
God, how was he supposed to pull this off? Could he?
He found the kitchen empty and poured himself a glass of milk before he stepped out onto the terrace—and spotted Leo perched on the sofa bed, sipping from a cup of tea as he stared at the large tree shading the house.
He jolted at Joshua’s approach, then stilled, his slow gaze dragging down Joshua’s body and back up.
Was he—he was checking Joshua out. Wasn’t he?
Lashes, Joshua thought, a little nonsensically.
Lashes, cheekbones, blue blue eyes. Fuck, Leo was gorgeous, all sharp angles and soft curves, a synthesis of contradictions.
Did that even make sense? Joshua didn’t know.
There were a lot of things he didn’t know, and as if to illustrate, Leo snatched his attention away and pressed his lips together.
Irritation was written into the stiff set of his shoulders, and Joshua couldn’t tell who was the target—Joshua, Leo himself, Monday mornings, or the world in general?
Leo’s voice was quiet and airy, blending in with the serenity of the early hour, with a city only just beginning to wake. “Morning. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake for at least another couple of hours.”
“Me neither.” Joshua approached carefully and settled on the very edge of the mattress. “Sorry if I startled you.”
“You didn’t. Also,” Leo snorted, “it’s your bloody flat, mate. Hope it’s okay I helped myself to some tea.”
“You know it is.” Sliding fully onto the sofa bed, Joshua took a sip of milk and glanced at Leo’s profile, its precise cut, the way his unstyled hair swooped down over his ear, a little tangled from sleep.
He was bundled up in Joshua’s T-shirt, its hem falling well below the waistband of Leo’s boxer shorts.
The way he was sitting, reclined against the wall of the building with his knees pulled up to his chest, drew attention to the thick muscles in his thighs.
Joshua wanted to smooth the palm of his hand down Leo’s spine as he drew him into a kiss, Leo falling into it without hesitation.
He might.
Joshua wrestled his gaze away. He was sharply aware that he was wearing only a clinging pair of boxer briefs, and while he wasn’t shy about his body, he was growing chilly with the breeze that stirred the leaves of the tree.
Grabbing a crumpled afghan off the floor, he wrapped it around his chest, leaving only his shoulders bare.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, softly so as not to disturb the tranquillity that surrounded them.
“Not particularly used to sharing my sleeping space. Got some things on my mind as well.”
“Anything in particular?” Joshua strove to make it sound unobtrusive, an invitation rather than a request.
Over the rim of the cup, Leo gave him a long look.
His lashes trembled when he took a sip, throat moving as he swallowed.
When he spoke, his words were as translucent as the steam rising from the tea.
“Family things, mainly. I had a look at your books—was a little amused by picturing your mum reading you Ronia, the Robber’s Daughter as a bedtime story. ”
“Hey, Ronia’s the daughter of the chief, so technically, it’s about a ruler’s child. I consider it perfectly appropriate.” Grinning, Joshua tugged the slipping afghan back up. “And my mum and Emmy took turns, actually. At least for the easier books, the ones Emma could already read.”
Again, Leo was silent for a moment. His smile was soft around the edges, distinctly wistful. “That’s a nice thought, you know?”
This was the point when Joshua had come to expect that Leo would close off. Right now, with the day still hazy and gentle around them, Joshua wondered whether just this once, it would be different. He kept his tone light. “Did you not get bedtime stories as a kid?”
Leo’s sharp look conveyed that he was perfectly aware of what Joshua was doing. Joshua countered it with an innocent smile, hoping it would be rendered even more harmless by how he probably sported a milk moustache. His efforts earned him a snort from Leo.
Focusing on his tea, Leo tucked his naked feet under one corner of the afghan.
“Only got them if I read them myself, or if the babysitter girl was there.” He paused, and when he continued, his voice was so quiet it was hard to understand him.
“Did read some of the classics to my sisters, though, that’s how I got to know them.
Like the Rainbow Fish, I saw that on your shelf as well.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Matilda. ”
Joshua shifted closer, enough so as to provide Leo with better access to the blanket.
With a little smile, Leo wrapped it around his calves.
It was clear he wouldn’t elaborate further on reading to his sisters, so Joshua went with, “First time my mum read me The Witches, I was so scared. She did all the voices, and her Grand High Witch was quite terrifying.” He raised a brow.
“You don’t want to mess with my mum, trust me. ”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Leo deadpanned. His eyes were amused, bright, and that was what prompted Joshua to push for just a tiny bit more information.
“So your parents, they didn’t read you things?”
“They weren’t that type of parents.” It was a wry statement, very matter-of-fact, one corner of Leo’s mouth quirking. “In fact, they were more the type of parents who host fancy dinner parties and show off their kids like pieces in an art exhibition.”
No love lost, was there?
Joshua thought back to Leo with those street kids, the way he’d fitted right in and had seemed to naturally adapt to their manner of speech. They’d treated him like someone they respected—but not with the kind of respect one would bestow upon an outsider.
How long had Leo been with James? How had he ended up there?
What had come between his parents’ fancy dinner parties and working for James?
Come to think of it, just how fancy had those dinner parties been?
And why did Leo know so much about royal protocol when it was the kind of knowledge one would expect from a noble rather than a commoner? How, why, what, where?
“Do you miss them? Your family?” Joshua watched Leo from the corner of his eye. “I mean, I take it you don’t really talk to them very often. Or do you?”
Several seconds dragged by before Leo replied. “I miss my sisters sometimes. It’s been a while, though.” While gentle, his tone didn’t invite further questions. Nudging his toes against Joshua’s ankle, he moved right on to ask, “What about you? What’s got you out and about at this hour?”
Chapter closed. All right, Joshua would take this at Leo’s pace.
“Woke up to a mouthful of Mo’s hair. Which was followed by Tristan’s flailing limbs hitting me in the face.” Joshua smiled into his milk, then eyed Leo’s cup with sudden interest.
“Poor baby.” Leo sounded supremely unsympathetic, and just for that, Joshua did indeed set down his milk, then pried the teacup from Leo’s fingers.
Leo made a disgruntled noise and tried to scuttle away, but the wall limited his movement, and the element of surprise was on Joshua’s side.
With a triumphant grin, Joshua took a huge gulp, nearly burning his tongue, then handed the cup back.
Leo accepted it with a narrow-eyed glare and a quick squeeze of his fingers around Joshua’s wrist.
“Thief,” he muttered. “Robbing your subjects, honestly, I can’t believe you, Princeling. Where’s Robin Hood when you need him?”
“That’s my cup, my water, and my tea,” Joshua said.
“I put in all the work, and this cup has been annexed. It is mine now. Customary law.”
So Leo did consider himself the rightful owner of that cup.
Joshua had suspected as much after Leo had slapped away Nate’s hand when Nate had tried to pick it up at some point yesterday.
Tristan had bought it from a charity shop in Maidenhead, shortly after Joshua’s initial breakdown over his sexuality.
The list of insults was faded by now, contours washed out with years of being in Joshua’s possession, and the rim showed a chip.
Still Joshua didn’t think he could ever bring himself to discard it.
If Leo wanted to fool himself into believing Joshua would give it up, well. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t even think about trying to squirrel it away,” Joshua told him. “I’d have to send the Secret Service after you.”
“Over a tired old teacup?” The left corner of Leo’s mouth hitched up. “Talk about an overreaction, love.”
Love. It was the third time Leo had directed it at Joshua, and it had come with a teasing note twice, once in an attempt to comfort Joshua.
Around the street kids, Leo had used it frequently, and he’d also let it slip that very first time on the phone when he’d mistaken Joshua for—oh.
When he’d mistaken Joshua for a kid calling for advice, obviously. That made a lot more sense now.
Either way, Leo used the term quite casually, so it didn’t justify the bright spark of hope shivering in Joshua’s belly. But it was a sign that Leo’s walls were thinning, gathering cracks.
“That cup means a lot to me.” Joshua hoped that the slight delay hadn’t been obvious. “I don’t share it with just anyone.”
“Did you imply that I am ‘just anyone’?” Leo moulded it into a show of affront, and Joshua absolutely couldn’t resist drawing him into an impulsive, one-armed hug, snickering.
“You’re the most anyone I’ve ever met.”