Jericho’s mouth flattened into a hard line, before he said, “Nope. He’s staying with Arsen. In Arsen’s room. In Arsen’s bed.”
Atticus met Jericho’s gaze. “Oh?”
Jericho gave a little laugh. “Yeah, our boy is down bad.”
Atticus snorted. “Down bad?”
Jericho nodded. “Yeah, you know. Down bad. In love? A smitten kitten? Twitterpated.”
“I know what it means. I just don’t know why you said it. Can’t you just say he’s into him?”
Jericho pinched Atticus’s nose. “What are you implying, Freckles? Are you saying I’m losing my cred? That I’m no longer for the streets?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Atticus said flatly.
Jericho thumped his chest. “I’m still the same badass I was when we met. People fear me. I run these streets.”
“Is that so?” Atticus said, smirking.
“Hell, yeah,” Jericho said. “Just cause I married a fussy billionaire nerd, doesn’t mean they’re going to revoke my bad boy card.”
Atticus snickered. “Your bad boy card?”
“Yeah,” Jericho said, voice just this side of sullen.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you not the one who insists we go across town to the Whole Foods on Bryer Street because they’re the only one that carries that fifteen dollar soy milk you insist on having in your morning latte?”
“That’s—”
“And are you not the one who had a full on hissy fit when I swapped our Egyptian cotton sheets for bamboo?”
“You’re misrepresent?—”
“And did you not insist we change dry cleaners because the girl at the counter at our old place pointed out the gray hair at your temples?”
“Hey, I can still be a badass and enjoy soy milk and nice sheets,” Jericho muttered. “You say my name to anybody in the neighborhood and see what happens.”
Atticus did his best to hide a smile. “Yes, yes. You’re very scary.”
He jumped as fingers suddenly dug into his ribs, a laugh escaping even as he tried to pry Jericho’s hands away. It was impossible. Every time he got rid of one, the other found an even more vulnerable spot.
“What was that?” Jericho teased as he tickled him.
Atticus couldn’t respond, his body convulsing as involuntary giggles left his mouth at an embarrassingly high pitch. “Okay. Okay. I give up. You’re very manly. Super manly. The manliest of men.”
He sagged in relief as Jericho’s hands returned to his head. He hated being tickled. He hated that Jericho knew he was ticklish and deployed it as an attack measure as needed. He hated that he didn’t really hate it at all. It was just so disgustingly domestic of them.
“Should I do something about the Arsen and Ever situation?” Jericho finally asked.
Atticus frowned, looking up at his husband’s handsome face. “Like what?”
“Should I bring the boy here? Should I separate them? That kid has been horribly abused. He needs therapy. Whatever sparks happen between them…it can’t be healthy right?”
“I mean, traumatized people deserve to be loved too, right?”
Jericho sighed. “Yeah, of course. But…is it right to let them fall for each other? They both come from really shitty backgrounds. It just feels like I should step in and be the adult here. That boy needs a dozen therapists and probably inpatient therapy.”
“Is he even speaking?” Atticus asked.
