It was too fucking early for this shit. “Ineed you to just… like, calm down,” he said, aware thathe was the one shrieking.
“Calm down? You turn down a meeting with the biggest director in Hollywood, and I need to calm down? I swear, Elijah, it’s like youwantto sabotage your career just to spite me. I’m telling Mark to call his office back and tell them you’ve reconsidered.”
His pulse spiked, a metallic taste flooding his mouth. “And I’ll call him back and tell him I didn’t, and if he doesn’t listen, I’ll fire him. You know why I turned down that meeting. Why would you think for a second I’d take it after…”?
She cut him off, her head jerking towards his open bedroom door. “Let it go, Eli. Do you think you’re special? This is just how things work here. You won’t get infinite opportunities handed to you. Don’t let one small piece of your past ruin your life.”
Elijah stared at the woman, slack-jawed,wondering if the agonizing throbbing in his head was an artery about to rupture. Was it possible to die from exasperation? “My life? We both know you don’t give a fuck about my life. If you did, you wouldn’t have dragged me back here. This is about you and your career. Let’s not forget why we’re both here. I’m willing to swallow a lot… but not that. Never that.”
Her whole demeanor changed, her expression softening, her voice saccharine sweet. “Eli— ”
He held up a hand. “No. I’m going to take a shower. Don’t be here when I get out. I mean it.”
He made his way into the bathroom, not bothering to see if she listened or not. He stripped quickly and washed beneath scalding water, fighting off bouts of nausea as memories beat against the wall he’d painstakingly erected around them.Leonard fucking Medford.Just the name made him want to puke. He belted out a song, loudly and off-key, hoping the words would chase the name from his head. Thinking about Leonard only led to thinking abouthimand Elijah couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. That name was a sledgehammer and it would destroy his defenses, it would destroy him. He slammed his fist into the tile before laying his head against cool porcelain, wanting to scream and cry and vomit and sleep but knowing he could do none of that.
By the time he shoved his legs into black boxer briefs and a pair of black joggers, he was no longer shaking, but still nauseated. He pulled a pale blue hooded sweatshirt over his head and pushed his feet into black Adidas sandals, determined to pretend the morning had never happened.
He shuffled his way into the kitchen to find Shepherd leaning against the counter. His heart did a little flip. Had he heard them fighting? Had he heard him singing? Did Elijah even care? Shepherd examined himwitha blank expression that made Elijah feel uncertain. He’d been sharing space with Shepherd for almost two weeks now, but it felt more like two months. He just wasn’t sure how to behave around the older man. He was good at reading people, figuring out what they wanted so he could give it to them, make them like him. But Shepherd gave him nothing.
Still, he was nice to look at, Elijah supposed. The best kind of distraction after a super shitty morning. With his auburn hair pulled back off his face, his red beard and those golden eyes framed by long black lashes, it was like some Norse god had stumbled into Elijah’s kitchen. How did anybody look that good before dawn?
Elijah took in Shepherd’s vintage hobo look, which the man somehow made look cool. It made sense, Elijah supposed. Shepherd was vintage too—probably twice Elijah’s age—but he exuded a strange warmth that Elijah just wanted to bathe in. Not that he’d ever tell Shepherd that. “What is this look you’re going for? Are you in a garage band?” he asked, tone full of mock innocence, hoping Shepherd wouldn’t ask about the fight with Lucifer.
The corner of Shepherd’s mouth hitched up as he glanced down at his jeans and white Nirvana t-shirt like he’d never seen them before. He’d also tied a red and black checkered flannel shirt around his waist, which only seemed to emphasize his broad shoulders and tapered torso.
Elijah floated closer, telling himself it was only because Shepherd stood in front of the coffee. Elijah hoped he’d step aside when he approached, but Shepherd never budged, leaving Elijah standing too close, having to tilt his head back to make eye contact.
The way Shepherd looked at him now wasn’t cryptic, it punched the breath from his lungs, like every atom in Elijah’s body acknowledged his presence. They weren’t touching, but Elijah could feel the heat of him, could smell coffee and soap, and he wanted to move closer, to bury his face in Shepherd’s scent until he felt better. Elijah held his gaze, certain Shepherd would be the one to crack in this early morning game of chicken.
“Did you want something, rabbit?” he asked, clearly amused.
Everything.The thought came from nowhere, leaving Elijah feeling off-balance. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “Coffee, obviously.”
“Oh, this coffee?” Shepherd lifted his mug from the counter, taking a big sip. “This is all mine. It’s delicious though.”
Elijah lived for head games, reveled in them, but he was sick and cranky and wildly out of his element, which never happened, especially on his own turf. “I don’t have time for games today, Shepherd,” Elijah muttered.
“Shep. Call me Shep. And you seemed to have plenty of time for games last night. You should make better use of your off time, rabbit. You need your sleep.”
Elijah blinked at Shep. It was the most he’d said to him in at least a week. “Shep’s a stupid name,” he grumbled, his brain failing him once again.
Shep laughed, his golden eyes lighting up in a way that Elijah could only describe as… dazzling. “Oh, somebody’s cranky. No more late nights unless it’s necessary. That’s non-negotiable.”
Elijah’s cock twitched at Shep’s stern warning. “Who decides what’s necessary?” Elijah asked, just to keep the conversation going.
“I do. You are far too eager to please. It’s not healthy.”
Elijah flushed, ears burning at Shep’s assessment. He wasn’t wrong, but it irritated him just the same. How dare Shep read him so easilywhile giving Elijah nothing in return? He hated this feeling like he couldn’t find his balance, like he was missing something. He tried to regain the upper hand. “What happens if I break the rules?” He asked, his voice breathy, needing to rattle Shep as much as Shep rattled him.
The older man leaned down close enough for Elijah to feel his beard scrape his bare cheek. He wanted to lean into it, feel the scratch and burn against his skin. “Then you can’t have any of my coffee.”
The amusement in his voice might as well have been another glass of ice water. Disappointment and humiliation just added to the other emotions swirling around him. He was a wreck. It had to be Lucifer’s fault, bringing up the past after she forced him to bury it all those years ago.
He turned to leave but Shep caught his upper arm, gently turning him around, all traces of amusement gone. “Hey, I was just teasing. Here.” Elijah stared at Shep’s mug. “Go on. I don’t have cooties.”
Elijah didn’t even want the coffee, but he took what Shep offered, tilting it to his lips. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
The bitter liquid burned its way down. Shep watched him drink with an odd expression that Elijah could only describe as... primal. A satisfied almost possessive look as if he’d provided Elijah with sustenance and was getting off on watching him enjoy it. Warmth spread through Elijah’s chest and it wasn’t just the coffee. He tried not to imagine all the other things Shep might like watching him do.
