“Hey.” Oliver greeted him with a smile that quickly turned into a frown. “Did I wake you up?” His gaze travelled slowly down the length of Ed’s body, eyebrows raising slightly, and his expression seemed to go from surprised, to disappointed, to embarrassed. Or that’s what it looked like to Ed, but his observation skills weren’t exactly reliable at that moment, so he could have it entirely wrong. Before Ed could answer, Oliver ran a hand through his hair, pink staining his cheeks. “Shit, sorry.” He darted a look over Ed’s shoulder in the direction of the bedrooms. “I’ll leave you to... um...” He took a step back. “Just let me know if you still want help later.”
It took a moment for it all to coalesce in Ed’s muddled brain, then he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the hall mirror and realisation dawned. “Wait.” Bed hair, knackered-looking, and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs—Oh God.Oliver probably thought he had a bloke stashed in his bed. “I had friends and family over last night. I’m just a bit hungover.”
Something that looked a lot like relief passed over Oliver’s face before his smile reappeared. “Ahh.”
A cold breeze snuck in through the open door, and Ed shivered. “I’m really sorry to mess you about like this. I had big plans of being up early and getting a head start on preparing everything, but...” He gestured to the state he was in, not missing the way Oliver’s gaze lingered on his stomach and crotch before snapping back up.
If he wasn’t so hungover, he’d be flattered. And maybe a little turned on. As it was, all he wanted was some water, coffee, ibuprofen, and food.
In that order.
“You might as well go enjoy your Saturday,” Ed offered. “Not sure I’ll be much use at anything today.” Which sucked because he’d been looking forward to this. Spending the day with Oliver was fun. Flirting was fun. And the house got decorated. Wins all around.
But today he doubted he’d be able to stomach the smell of paint, let alone get any of it on the walls. “I’m really sorry.”
Instead of heading back to Betty’s, Oliver rocked back on his heels a bit, bottom lip between his teeth, obviously thinking about something. “You look like shit,” he said, smile wide.
Ed barked out a laugh. “Thanks. And I feel like it too.” He rubbed his temple again, the pounding not having lessened at all. Red wine hangovers were the worst. A shiver ran through him, and he rubbed at the goose bumps on his arms.
Seeming to come to some sort of decision, Oliver ushered him backwards. “Why don’t you go get some clothes on before you freeze, and I’ll make you a drink and some breakfast.”
“You don’t have to do that.” But Ed was already backing away towards his bedroom, relief and gratitude filling him up inside.
Oliver laughed. “I see you’re protesting vehemently.”
“Seriously, though.” Ed forced himself to stop and be as sincere as he could manage. “Thanks for offering, but it’s fine. You must have better things to do.”
Oliver stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “I’d planned to spend the better part of my day helping you anyway.” He kicked off his shoes, then faced Ed again. “And really, you look like you could do with a bit of help right now.”
Ed should probably be embarrassed, but he couldn’t find the will to care. Or to put up any more of a fight, so he didn’t bother. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.”
“Will do.” He put his hands on Ed’s shoulders, palms cool against his skin, and Ed fought the urge to sigh and sink back into his touch, then steered him towards his room. “Go get dressed.”
“I’m going... jeez.”
Oliver chuckled, the sound washing over Ed and making him smile despite his headache. “Tea or coffee.”
Normally he’d drink tea with breakfast but today called for drastic measures. “Coffee, please. There’s a cafetière in the cupboard next to the sink.”
“Got it.” Oliver shooed him into his room, and Ed went, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.
Closing his eyes, he took a slow breath in and out, trying to catalogue the state of his body. Christ, he felt bad.
Hopefully nothing that pain killers, food, and a shower wouldn’t fix.
But first things first.
After throwing on some joggers and a T-shirt, Ed wandered into the kitchen to the wonderful smell of coffee and bacon. His stomach both grumbled and roiled a little at the prospect of fatty food. He took a seat at the breakfast bar and rested his head in his hands, watching Oliver move about the place like he belonged. Having someone else make breakfast—well, more like brunch now—wasn’t something he thought he’d missed all that much. But this was nice, comforting, and surprisingly not as weird as it probably should’ve been.
Oliver caught him staring as he set a cup of steaming coffee on the table in front of him. “Is it weird seeing me in Elise’s kitchen?”
Ed shook his head. Elise hadn’t lived in the bungalow for over a year now, and with all her things moved out and the kitchen refurbished, it no longer felt like hers. He’d loved his aunt and missed her in his life—as did all his family. But she’d been more than ready to go, as she’d told him on many occasions, and had enjoyed life to the full.
“A little,” he answered. But not in the way Oliver probably thought. It might not feel like Elise’s home anymore, but it didn’t feel like his either. Not really.
Maybe that’s because it wasn’t. He might be living there for now, but it belonged to him and his sisters, and although some of his things were dotted about the place, there were a lot that weren’t. Like his...What the hell?
Ed stopped, coffee mug halfway to his lips as he spied fairy lights in the kitchen window, artfully displayed in two frosted jars. The last time he’d seen them was when he put them in storage. Giving his sisters access to his storage facility had seemed like the sensible thing to do at the time—just in case—but now he wondered what on earth had possessed him.
