walk a mile

“Do we have to walk that far?” His voice is soft, a little childish. He’s complaining just to complain and it’s the third time he’s done it. All I can do is roll my eyes and elbow him lightly to remind him to be quiet.

“Quentin, we walk this far at least once a week, you’ve just never known it was this far. It’s our usual twenty minutes’ walk, so stop complaining or I swear next time I head to the bakery, I only take the breads I like and I leave yours behind.” The mock-threat quiets him down but he pouts as he keeps up with my brisk walking pace. We’ve both walked long distances in the past, this isn’t new. Him on his escape from Siberia, all the way here and mine from just one city down south up here. He’s walked so much more than me.


“No reason to be, I know it just seems a lot longer when you think about it this way, one mile instead of just twenty quiet minutes of still fresh summer morning walk. I don’t mind. I was teasing about the bread.”

He nods but he’s still quiet and I roll my eyes. At times I feel like there are some days where we’re right back to how things were at the very beginning. When he wasn’t sure how to handle my presence and when he was afraid that I might pack back up and leave. Those ideas are complete nonsense, I wouldn’t have left though I suppose he was so unused to company that I couldn’t blame him for it.

“We can stop for ice cream on the way back?” He shrugs and I pinch the bridge of my nose lightly. “Quentin please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“You know exactly what. Now and again you’ll just freeze up, as if you imagine me some deer that might run off if you move too quickly. I’m not going anywhere, I love you, adore you. I’ve fantasized about you before you ever managed to work the guts to tell me how you felt.” Oh dear that shouldn’t have left my mouth.

He stops and I have to stop as well, just a pace or two ahead of him, I turn to face him cheeks somewhat rosy and I can only tilt my head to the side. “We’re almost at the halfway point?”

I’m just trying to get him to move but he’s still looking at me as if I’d just told him that the moon was made of cheese which we all know is a lie, it’s made of dust and more dust. He gets that little grin on his face that usually spells trouble for me later on but he starts moving again and I turn back to keep on going the way we were walking. It’s best not to focus too much on anything else, if I’m in mock-trouble, I’ll be in mock-trouble, there’s nothing else to do about it at this point, really.

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Nearly a mile and a half. We went a little further than I had planned but he spotted a little boutique along the way and we went in as we usually do when he spots something that catches his attention that way. I can’t complain, it seemed to take away whatever edge there might still have been about the threat on the bakery run.

He shrugs and stretches, a soft yawn to his lips as Izar climbs up his pant leg. He pulls the cat up to his arms and then sets him on his shoulder as he drift further inside of our now comfortable home. The worst of the heat has gone by and I am more than a little glad, it was uncomfortable, sleeping was difficult and no amount of time spent in the pool really helped. I know the summers can be bad but this felt like it was worse than usual, I wonder if it’s because I’ve become used to having a roof over my head, that I’m not out there anymore, surviving one day after the other.

“So you’ve fantasized about me?”

I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. I shrug with a soft laugh. “You should know me, Quentin. I told you about the box of stuff under my bed. Some I’ve never used, some I have, my hormones had the better of me when we met, I think. There’s not many other ways of looking at it. I’m not ashamed of how I felt or what I did and I had to keep myself from molesting you while you were still figuring yourself out.”

He blushes at those words and I chuckle again, the sound is low, calm. “All right, I guess you have a point, still, I didn’t think you’d gone as far as fantasizing. I’d ask you about some of those fantasies but we’re expected tonight for the supper and that might delay us.”

It’s my turn to blush, his words strike something deep within me. We haven’t really done anything, at least nothing invasive. We’ve shared pleasure together but haven’t turned to sex yet. It’s not something we’re in any rush for and I can’t complain. When the urge really strikes me, I dip into my box of stuff, that’s all.

He grins at me, as if he knows what seeds he’s planted into my mind and he disappears off towards the cat’s room. I follow him just halfway, stopping in our bedroom to just flop carefully on the bed for a while. I know he’ll drop Izar off and join me. The night was a bit short for both of us, I’m aware so I think a chance at a brief nap before we start in on our daily chores might not be a bad thing.

Of course, I’m not sure if he might not try to see about delaying us altogether for supper. I couldn’t complain. I have plenty of energy, I’m just a little worn, it’s a strange sensation. I shake my head to shake the thought away and I close my eyes, rolling to my side to settle as comfortably as I can.

After a few moments, I feel him settling against me. His arm against my waist, his forehead to my shoulder. I love him with all I am, I don’t know what I would do if he ever decided that what he feels for me is temporary. I’m pretty sure it would tear me apart absolutely. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before and I’ve met a lot of people while I was out in the streets, trying to live and survive, mostly. He’s just different and not just because he’s like me, a gifted soul, a demon.

He murmurs a few words I can’t make out before he’s tightening his arm about my waist a moment and releasing his hold. I roll over to face him and he settles on his back. I don’t really need to be asked or told twice, I’m more than happy with settling against him, legs tangled, my face nestled against his shoulder and my arm to his waist. This is the most comfortable spot in the house and I don’t think I’d live long without it, corny as it sound.

At my back, the bed dips just lightly, barely and I chuckle against Quentin’s shoulder as one of the cat settles up close and personal against my knees. I can’t complain, the room is surprisingly cool enough at this point that having a tiny little furnace against my legs isn’t going to be much of an issue. I don’t roll around much when I sleep either so we’re all nice, safe and cozy for the time being, I’m not budging, Quentin is not budging and whichever of the kitten—too small to be Areli or Lavi—is against my knees is not budging. We’re all set for a good nap.


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