“Sounds like you’ve got him pegged.”
I opened my mouth to speak, caught Steven’s eye as I advanced, reluctantly and not reluctantly. For God’s sake, Gary, why did you have to use that word?
“I like to think so,” Steven murmured, nodding his thanks when I handed him a bottle.
I held my breath in anticipation of his fingers brushing mine as he took his drink. Relief and disappointment coursed through me in equal measure when that contact didn’t come and I turned reluctantly away. Gary seemed oblivious to what had just passed between his two housemates.
I wasn’t even sure myself, but my confusion hinted at there being something I’d missed.
Fuck, I thought, throwing back another cooling mouthful of beer. Was Steven sending me an overture?
I held a hand to the back of my neck, must have grimaced, because Gary looked at me in concern. “You getting another migraine?”
“I bloody hope not,” I said, rolling my shoulder muscles. There was definitely tension there, but that could have been down to the six-feet-tall orgasm-in-human-form lounging on my settee. Our settee, now. Boning someone—or, in my case, being boned by someone—I lived with was such a bad idea. So was skulking in the bathroom, whacking off to my latest memory of the way his hair fell across his face, but it was safer that way. Just until I got over this stupid crush. Or my arm fell off and I wanked myself into a coma.
“You get migraines?” Steven winced. “I don’t envy you that. My sister gets them. We have to creep around the house not making a sound for twenty-four hours until she resurfaces.”
“Oh, we don’t have to do that. He drugs himself into unconsciousness and sleeps for around about that length of time.”
“Is that healthy?” Steven asked.
“A lot healthier than rolling around on the floor in agony.”
“But…” Steven’s frown actually made him look genuinely concerned and I prayed that he wouldn’t be that most rare of creatures—a hot, single, caring gay guy. Because if he was, I was well and truly fucked. And not in the way I liked. “What if you’re sick?”
“Rarely happens. I prefer to just take as many drugs as I can handle, climb into bed and wait for it to pass. But no…” I shook my head, wincing, though under my breath. “I’m not getting a migraine. I think. I better not be. Anyway…” I held up the now-empty bottle. “I’m gonna make this my first and last. Get one of those migraine strips out of the bathroom cabinet just in case.”
“Those what?”
“Peel-off strips with gel on them,” Gary said. “He sticks them on the back of his neck and they smell so bloody antiseptic.”
“They work,” I insisted. “They help when my neck goes stiff. Even if they do feel cold.”
“Oh right. I’ll have to let my sister know. Don’t think she’s ever tried them,” Steven said. “You guys gimme your bottles—I’ll take them through to the bin.”
“We can’t have the new guy clearing up on his first day.” But Gary’s protests were as empty as the two bottles he shoved into Steven’s arms. I, the lightweight, only had one to surrender.
“Think I’ll head upstairs myself soon. Get my clothes unpacked, all that settling-in shit. Guess if I’m living here now I need to make myself at home.”
“You don’t want to stay down here and watch a movie or something?” Gary asked.
“Nah, I’m tired,” Steven said from the living room doorway. “Some other time when I haven’t been shifting boxes all day.”
Damn, he had to put that image in my head again. He’d no doubt worn that vest for comfort and convenience, but it was inconveniently making me feel very uncomfortable, especially with front-row seats for a close-up viewing of his ink—Celtic knotting banded around his upper left arm and barbed wire around his upper right. The only thing hotter than tattooed arms was tattooed, perspiring arms, muscles cording with tension.
“Kit?” That concerned frown again, and I got so angry at myself I nearly told him to fuck off.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” I shook my head, but the images remained. It wasn’t a migraine—I hoped—and I didn’t need painkillers. What I needed was a good hard fuck but that hadn’t happened in ages and wasn’t likely to any time soon. I just wasn’t the kind of guy who got lucky with anyone who didn’t just want a one-night stand any more. I wasn’t overly-romantic about these things, but a deep and meaningful overnight affair with a housemate would fuck up the household dynamic more than it would my arse and with my history…
“Well, if you guys don’t mind, I’m gonna stay down here and put all of Kit’s DVDs in the wrong casings just to fuck with his head next time he wants to watch Supernatural.” Gary grinned.
“You—”
“You watch Supernatural?” That made-my-balls-ache grin was back on Steven’s face, like all his birthdays had come at once.
“Oh yeah,” Gary said. “Usually when he’s alone. So if he puts the DVD on, just stay out of his way. He turns into a total girl when Jensen—”
“More of a Jared Padalecki guy myself.” Steven shrugged. “Anyway. I’ll see to the rubbish and head upstairs. I’ve only got tomorrow off, so I want to get all my things straightened out and tidied up. As much as I can.” He backed away into the kitchen and I breathed out, suppressing the groan into silence.
“Right.” This conversation had me tied up in knots more tangled than the one inked on Steven’s arm, and I couldn’t put my finger on why I was so unsettled. “I’m gonna…” I thumbed over my shoulder in the general direction of the stairwell. “Go up…”
“Yeah. You do that,” Gary said, laughing.
“Don’t you dare.” I cast a glance at the DVD cabinet, then back at him.
