“Yeah. I think so. Should be someone there to hang with while you’re all oooh, uuuuuh.” Nick made kissing sounds and rolled his eyes.
“You shit.” He did laugh though, and handed over the rental key. “Thank you. Seriously.”
“Not a problem man. I hope you have a good evening. Have fun, be gross, be sugary sweet and stuff. I will talk to you when it’s time to go back to work.”
“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” He was going to miss Nick when he was half-time, but that was still months away. They’d figure it out.
Laird got in the truck and droveacross to where Devon’s house sat, pulling up in front of the pretty, neat home.
Their house.
Nick was right.
Laird nodded to himself. He needed to consider it their house.
It was a good place, three stories, plenty of room. There was a basement that Devon said he could do whatever he wanted to with. Even a little wood shop in the back.
Pumpkins and mums and a few little fall decorations from some craft store, probably, prettied up the porch.
It was as if all of a sudden he’d been dumped into becoming a grown-up.
He pulled into the driveway, parked, and grabbed the most important things first. His TV and the bag that had his gaming system in it. The rest of it could come in on the second trip. Mostly it was clothes, a few pieces of framed art from his family and some small decorative stuff he’d gotten from the Crapitorium.
When he got to the door, Devon opened it to let him in. “Hi, need any help with anything?”
Look at that smile. That was all for him.
“I brought some clothes and a couple of things. You want to go grab that picture in the cab of the truck? That would be great. Where did you want the TV?”
Devon glanced at it. “I took mine down off of the hanger because yours is much nicer. We can move mine to the bedroom or to the game room if you want. Whatever you’d like, but yours will look better in the family room.”
Devon’s house had a number of little rooms. There was a formal parlor, a family room, a dining room, and a game room—lots of little rooms.
Devon had already cleared him out an office on the second floor.
Devon’s knitting room was on the third floor, and was this kind of terrifying magical place that he was very unsure that he should even look at. Devon insisted it was for both of them to share. He’d even put a trashcan for his wood shavings and a little cabinet for his wood and supplies. There was even a second chair in there, but it was covered in fur.
In fact, the Three Musketeers met him at the door staring at him. They were a set of triplets—one black, one white, one yellow, all three fuzzy, and particularly crazy. One minute they loved him. One they didn’t trust him at all.
Laird wasn’t sure he trusted them either, but he was going to make an effort. He had been for a while, but maybe moving in would warm them up for good.
Maybe the little beasts were just trying to get more catnip mouses.
It certainly seemed to be working on Devon, who he thought looked happier than Laird had ever seen him. Which made him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.
“Boys, be nice to Laird. He is not going to hurt you, and you are not going to hurt him.” Devon talked to them like they could understand. He also talked to them like they cared, neither of which were true.
At least Laird didn’t think so. If those cats could understand human, then he was probably in trouble.
Then again, he’d know, then, why they were so fickle. Hot and cold. Some days they loved him just as much as they hated him now.
His future, though?
It was all sunshine and singing of the praises of the cats—until the baby came. Then, if he caught them stealing his baby’s breath, he was going to lock them in the basement.
“Don’t worry. They’ll get used to you. They’ve never lived with someone else, so they’re alittle worried. They’re good kitties, though. I swear, they’re solid as rocks and funny. Tonight we’ll get the laser light out and let you play with them. That’ll go a long way toward them accepting you.” Devon smiled at him, and winked. “They’re sort of like toddlers—mean apex predator toddlers with claws and attitudes who shit in boxes.”
He blinked at Devon and then started to laugh. Every so often, his lover would say something that was just so damn funny and unexpected. He loved that.
