Devon shrugged, “Well, I usually only put it in the guest bathroom, you know, the powder room downstairs. Nobody uses it.”
“Would you be terribly offended if I asked you to just put that away for me?” Even if they washed it weekly… Ick.
“Fair enough. Like I said, I just kept it down here in the powder room. I don’t think anybody even saw it.”
Devon really needed to get more friends. Honestly, the man was altogether too isolated.
“Not even Raven or the kids?” he asked.
“Well, I have a changing station for Raven’s little ones set up in the guest room on the second floor. So they always just went upstairs. I’m not sure anybody actually knew there was a powder room down here.”
“Maybe we could just get a bow to put on it,” Laird offered.
“That would be fun. We could get a tartan bow.” He was being sarcastic, but Devon lit up like it was the best idea ever. “That way, when your sister or parents come, they’ll know that we’re thinking about them.”
Oh lord. Right there in the crapper. That was exactly where his family needed to see it. He chuckled. “Sure, I’m sure we can get something that comes close to McCallum tartan.”
Devon tilted his head, a strange light came into his eyes. It was a little fanatical, Laird thought. “Do you have a kilt? Do you ever wear a kilt? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a kilt in the closet.”
Laird blinked, a bit surprised. “I do, yeah. It’s in a garment bag in the closet.”
Devon grinned, and it was a huge, happy, almost Grinchy-looking grin— from the cartoon, he meant. “I thought that was a suit.”
“It kind of doubles as one. I have a jacket that goes with it. It’s in the bag too, and I wear it for things like weddings. That kind of thing.”
“And you have the socks? With the weird garter things on them?” Devon just shot questions at him like nothing going.
“Uh-huh. I even have the little dagger that goes into the sock. I don’t wear it all the time, but when I get together with the whole family, it’s the kilt, the sporran, everything.”
Devon started tossing tinsel and things back into the boxes. “Put away anything the cats might eat. Come on. Right now.”
Feeling bemused, Laird did just that, putting the cap on anything that cats could get back into before standing up and popping his back. “What are we doing?”
“You’re going to go put on your kilt.” Devon popped up off the floor and came to grab his hand, yanking him toward the stairs.
“I am? Is this some sort of festive holiday thing with you?” He had a feeling it had nothing to do with holidays, toilet bowl covers, ornaments, and ribbons, but he had to tease.
“No, this is about you putting on a kilt and showing off your amazing legs, and me having easy access and beingable to take pictures and send them to my friends.” Devon towed him right up the stairs, marching him like he was some sort of military guy.
How freakin’ adorable was this side of him? Laird had no idea the guy had a kilt fetish.
“I’m not sure I’m going to let you take pictures, baby.”
“I’ll only take pictures of you fully clothed in your kilt. Maybe with your shirt off. The rest of it is just for me.” The glinting grin Devon threw at him over his shoulder made him laugh.
“I suppose that’s a compromise, but maybe not a good one.” He didn’t dig in and stop though. He followed Devon all the way to the bedroom because who knew what he would get out of this.
As soon as they got to the bedroom, Devon crawled up in the middle of the bed, sitting cross-legged, and grabbed his phone. “Okay, make with the putting on of the kilt.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“You know, baby, I really don’t?—”
“Look, you said you’d do it. I want to see the kilt. I will make it worth your while.”
Laird tilted his head, “Will you now?”
“Yes.” Devon stared at him, so utterly serious. “Yes. In fact, I might make it to where you want to have that kilt on every goddamn second we’re alone. You never know. I can do things with the human body you haven’t discovered yet.”
God, that was adorable. “Well, I am an EMT.”
