“Up. Now. There’s a lot on the agenda today.”
Elijah fought the urge to parrot Shep’s words back at him like a child even though that’s how he felt, childish. Stupid, even. He dragged himself to the bathroom, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong the previous night. He was sure Shep had wanted him. He’d said he watched Elijah all the time. He’d fucking sniffed his hair when he reached for Shep’s coffee. Who did that if they weren’t into the person? Weirdos, a voice echoed in his head. Shep was definitely weird. Sometimes he seemed possessive, other times it was like he was an alien, incapable of anything that required basic human emotions.
Questions barraged him as he brushed his teeth. Had Shep turned off the cameras? Had he not liked Elijah’s… performance? Maybe saying Shep’s name had been too much? Maybe Shep wasn’t into Elijah. Maybe he really was straight like Wyatt said? It seemed absurd. He couldn’t imagine Shep with a woman… or a man, really. Unless that man was Elijah. He had no trouble picturing them together at all. He’d done so in the shower almost every night… in graphic detail.
Elijah shook the thought away, inspecting himself… but he could see nothing wrong. He wouldn’t fake modesty in his own head. Elijah looked good. His trainer had helped him carve out his body with three-hour sessions at the gym, five days a week. He wasn’t all bulky muscle and brawn like Shep, but his body looked the best it ever had. He was movie-star hot. Girls fawned over his black hair and ice-blue eyes. He was a walking romance novel cover. So, what the fuck was Shep’s problem?
Everybody loved Elijah. He made sure of it. He saw what people wanted, and he gave it to them. So how had he gotten this one so wrong? It was obviously Shep’s fault. He was too hard to read, either expressionless or smug, except for those few times he looked at Elijah like he wanted to eat him alive.
His face flushed. No. He refused to allow Shep to make him feel this way. Shep had to have known what Elijah wanted. He hadn’t come right out and said it but… he had to know, even somebody like Shep had to know. If he hadn’t liked the show, well, that was on him, not Elijah. He was Elijah-fucking-Dunne and people would literally give their left nut to see him jerk-off.
He had no idea what he’d been thinking. Shep was everything Elijah hated: he had red hair, freckles, he was way too tall. Like who needed to be that tall? It was a waste really. He even smoked… though Elijah hadn’t seen him smoking in days. Not that it mattered. Shep wasn’t Elijah’s type. Elijah liked guys with dark, soulful eyes and bronze skin, not oversized leprechauns with a constant smoke ring surrounding them.
He raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his face, locking eyes with his reflection whose expression told Elijah he was full of shit. What was the point of lying to himself? Shep was beautiful, his hair was the most perfect shade of deep auburn. His freckles didn’t detract at all. Theyonly made Elijah itch to trace them with his fingers. And Shep’s eyes were stunning, they made Elijah feel raw and exposed. He made a noise of frustration as he shoved his legs into black joggers and a baby blue v-neck t-shirt that made his pale blue eyes look silver in the light.
Fuck this and fuck Jayne Shepherd. Fuck all of it.
Elijah fumed the whole way to the kitchen, his day already ruined. He found Shep in the same place as the day before holding out his half-full cup of coffee like a reward. Elijah scowled, refusing the cup and stepping around Shep. Elijah pulled a mug from the cabinet, ignoring the way Shep’s brows knitted together in confusion. He poured his coffee, setting his cup down and looking Shep in the eye before upending the sugar bowl and pouring an unhealthy amount into his coffee. Elijah was nothing if not petty.
“You’re mad.” It wasn’t a question.
Elijah gave him a pissy look before sipping his coffee… doing his best not to wince as the now too sweet liquid burned his tongue. “Why would I be mad?” he asked, his voice jumping an octave.
He wanted to appear like he didn’t care, but he couldn’t seem to get his face to cooperate. It was infuriating. He could never fake it around Shep. Elijah clutched his cup to his chest like it might provide some adequate barrier to his heart.
Shep frowned harder, eyes narrowed as he studied Elijah like Shep might find the answer scrawled across his forehead. Elijah held his breath as Shep closed the distance between them, plucking the cup from his hands before picking Elijah up and depositing him on the counter.
Elijah gaped at him, not sure what to do with Shep standing between his knees gazing into his eyes as if it was only proximity that had kept him from puzzling out why Elijah was mad at him. It was hard to breathe with Shep taking up so much of his space, his large hands resting just above Elijah’s knees.
“I know you’re mad, rabbit and I know what hurt looks like… but I’m not good at piecing together the why. Help me out here,” Shep said, his voice a harsh whisper.
His earnest expression twisted something in Elijah’s chest.“Are you… are you on the spectrum or something?” he asked, searching for anything that might help him understand why Shep was the way he was.
“The spectrum?”
“You know, autistic? Some autistic people have trouble with social cues. I just thought...” He let whatever he was about to say die.
“No. I don’t think so,” Shep said. “Is this about sex?”
The question caught him so off guard he inhaled and swallowed causing a small coughing fit. “What?” he wheezed.
Shep’s fingers started stroking Elijah through the fabric of his pants. “Last night, on the cameras. When you were touching yourself… you said my name. Twice.”
Elijah’s skin burned at Shep’s matter-of-fact statement. Maybe he really had read this all wrong. He wanted to run, but there was no escaping with his legs bracketing Shep’s hips. He could only shift his gaze. “You were watching?” he mumbled.
Shep tilted his head, studying Elijah.“I told you; I’m always watching. Didn’t you want me to watch?”
He gave a stilted nod. “You-you didn’t like it?” Elijah managed, feeling like he was dying inside, unable to look at Shep while his face was on fire.
Shep hooked his finger under Elijah’s chin. He didn’t fight him, just tried not to do something embarrassing like burst into tears or vomit.For once, Elijah didn’t want Shep studying him. He just wanted his arms around him, not sexually… well, not just sexually. He felt stupid and small, like he’d gotten it all wrong and he needed Shep to touch him, to prove he wasn’t imagining this thing, whatever it was. He craved contact, and it was freaking him out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted somebody to just... hug him. That wasn’t a thing, not for Elijah. He didn’t even like being touched, but the need for Shep to shelter him in hisembrace buried itself under his skin and made a home there.
“If you just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll fix it.”
That stopped Elijah cold. “What?”
“You’re right. I… I don’t always pick up on certain things. I’ve spent half my life learning how to read people’s faces, learning to respond appropriately to their expressions and their words so I didn’t make them uncomfortable. But I can’t do that with you because you are always recalibrating.”
Elijah blinked. “Recalibrating?”
