8
Neil had taken Alain grocery shopping and let him buy all the things he needed to put on a feed for all of them—boudin and shrimps, grits and andouille, celery and rice and peppers and onions, and corn and good bread.
Now he had maque choux and jambalaya cooking, bread pudding in the oven, and the world smelled just right in his nose.
Chou was watching and helping and loving on him some, and Alain felt like he was fixin’ to buzz apart, in the best possible way.
When he finally sat down with his third cup of coffee, Neil settled across from him at the kitchen counter, reaching out to touch his wrist, which had his heart beating hard in his chest.
“So, I guess we need to talk some, huh?”
“I reckon, yeah. What you want from me, Chou? Like, I ain’t askin’ for a wedding, but…an intention, huh?” He knew this was new, but was it a new game? A new relationship? A new life? Just a fuck? What?
“An intention. I like that, Alain.” Neil’s eyes crinkled up with his smile. “I want to get to know you. I want to touch you. I want to spank you. Now, Isaac has made a rule that we can’t get off when he’s not here, but there’s so much we can do…”
Oh, ho! So that was how it was. That sure seemed to mean a lot of teasing, but a lot of attention, a lot of fun. “I can do that, yes, Sir. I like having someones to cook for and play with.”
Someones. Listen to him.
“I like that idea too. And I swear, your food smells like heaven.” Neil’s thumb rubbed back and forth across his wrist. Over and over.
“It smells like home.” Alain’s eyes crossed, that touch sensitizing him, bone-deep. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but lord, didn’t this feel nice?
“Hello, boys. Lisa got me a half day and—oh my god.” Mister Doctor’s voice came from down the hall. “Something smells amazing!”
“Supper’s all started, but there’s stuff for muffulettas. Chou found me a place with olive salad and the right bread.” He hadn’t had a real muffuletta—mortadella, ham, salami, good old white cheese—in an age. Uhn.
“I don’t know what that is, but yes, please. Hello, you.” Isaac went right to Neil as he came into the kitchen and kissed him on the lips, so pretty. “And you.” He got a kiss too, on the temple.
“Master Doctor Sir. You lookin’ happy today.” He set to making food, whistling as he worked. Cheese. Meat. Heating. Olive salad. Bread. Life was good in this kitchen.
“Did you get laid at work?” Neil gave Isaac a wicked grin.
“No, I got to come home early to get some from you,” Doc shot right back. “And I have the rest of the week off. I don’t even feel guilty about it. But I wasn’t expecting it to smell this good. Wow.”
“Jambalaya, bread pudding, something with corn that smells so good.” Neil waggled his eyebrows, and wasn’t that cute?
“Living like kings. Is there tea?” Doc sat with Neil at the table. “Guess who came in today. First thing?”
“I have no idea.” Neil made the Doc a cup of tea, the little electric kettle one of those things he should have known about years ago for boiled water.
“Brandon. He hurt his wrist, and I told him to rest it for three days. Poor Peter. Brandon’s going to begrumpy. I hope for his boy’s sake the imaging comes back clear.”
Oh, he’d have to call and check on Peter, although Alain knew his friend. He was probably enjoying the hell out of taking care.
“Oh, man.” Neil sat across from him again, shaking his head. “Did you tell him to holler if he needs anything?”
“I didn’t, but he knows he can. I thought we could drop by later in the week. Make a house call and let Alain and Peter hang out.” Doc looked over at him. “If you want to see Peter, of course.”
“Bien sur, he’s my good friend, hmm? I like to see him happy, me.” Why wouldn’t he want to see Peter? Brandon was harder, because Alain had been at his worst when they’d met.
“I’m glad to hear it. The last time I spent any time with you, you didn’t, so—I’m glad that’s changed. A lot has changed. It’s good to see you happier too.”
He shrugged, because he didn’t want to dwell too much on that.
Neil nodded, though, touching him as he went by to get the sandwiches out of the oven, perfectly toasted. Neil understood, he thought. He knew what badness lurked in thinking too much.
Wallowing didn’t help anything. He had a whole life left to live, and if some nights were filled with the Rougarou, so be it.