Javier must have sensed his gloom. He sighed, put his mug down, took Desmond’s and set it on the table in front of the sofa, too, then shifted to sit snuggled up against Desmond, his arm around Des’s shoulders.
“I’ll tell you what, honey,” he said, reaching for the remote on the table near the mugs. “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, so there has to be some sort of frothy RomCom on the telly. Why don’t we snuggle up under that blanket over there—” he nodded at the blanket draped over the arm of the sofa on Desmond’s side, “—and watch something with Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon or something.”
Desmond smiled, feeling like something warm and beautiful was about to unfurl inside him. “That sounds perfect,” he said, reaching for the blanket.
It was far more than Matthew had ever done with him. Matthew had always been more of a “dinner-and-a-fuck” sort of date. As Desmond snuggled up to Javier while Javier flipped through the channels, not even his still-tender stomach could spoil the ease that spilled through him, loosening all his muscles and making him a little drowsy, even.
If this was what having Javier as a boyfriend was like, then Desmond most definitely wanted more.
five
. . .
It felt like the most natural thing in the world for Javier to fall asleep on the sofa while watching the telly with Desmond. Everything had felt so perfect that Javier’s eyelids began to droop, his breathing slow, and the ball of spikey tension caused by the problems with his agency that never seemed to leave him loosened up and vanished entirely.
Not once through the evening did he worry about his failing business, whether he would be able to book shows for his talent or whether Gordon leaving the agency meant other models would follow. Not once did he worry that Desmond only wanted to be around him because of how he looked, either. Desmond talked to him like a person, like a man with opinions and interests. If he was concerned about anything, it was Desmond’s stomach and whether Matthew’s nasty trick would have lasting consequences.
There were a few additional and minor trips to the loo, but even that worry faded as the first film moved into the second and Javier shifted to lie on the sofa, not even questioning the appropriateness of the adjustment. Best of all, Desmond moved to lie with him. It wasn’t overtly sexual or meant to lead anywhere, it just felt completely natural, after an evening filledwith too much excitement, for Javier to circle his arm around Desmond and occasionally stroke his soft hair.
Javier was only slightly surprised to wake up early the next morning to find he’d slept almost the entire night on the sofa with Desmond snuggled up against him chest to chest. Desmond was responsible for the blanket that covered both of them now, which meant falling asleep like that, with his arm and leg draped over Javier, hadn’t been an accident.
It definitely didn’t feel like an accident. It didn’t feel half bad either. It felt incredibly good. Javier smiled as sleep left him, and although he had to pee so badly there was a chance he would embarrass himself when he tried to stand, the last thing he wanted to do was move and spoil the moment.
He liked Desmond. It didn’t matter that they’d met under the most humiliating circumstances possible only a few days ago, or that the embarrassment just kept coming at them. It didn’t matter that Desmond’s life was wildly different from his own. They came from completely different worlds and circumstances, and yet, if the night before had shown him anything, it was that their lives converged in interesting ways.
It was almost like they really were boyfriends, like they’d been together for months, not like they’d been pretending the night before. As far as Javier was concerned, a little pretend never hurt anyone. To prove that point, he stroked his hand up and down Desmond’s back and leaned closer to his head to breathe in the scent of his hair.
His happy, cozy feelings took a hit when Desmond sucked in a breath and tensed as he woke up. That in itself wouldn’t have been bad, but he somehow managed to bring his elbow down hard near Javier’s over-full bladder.
“Oh, God, baby. I love cuddling with you like this, but if I don’t get up and pee right now, there’s gonna be a lot to cleanup,” he said, clenching a few important muscles and sitting as carefully as he could.
“Hmm?” Desmond blinked himself out of sleep, seemingly confused by their proximity. It hit him a second later, and his bleary eyes went wide. “You’re still here,” he slurred as he rubbed his face.
“Yeah,cariñito, I am, and I promise I’m not leaving, but I seriously need the loo.”
Desmond hummed and grunted and shifted to the side, and Javier jumped up and raced around the sofa to the downstairs bathroom.
Once he took care of the necessities, which also involved rinsing his mouth out, with just water, unfortunately, because he hadn’t brushed his teeth the night before, and scrubbing the dubiously smudged make-up that he shouldn’t have slept in from his face, he took a moment to breathe and take in the situation.
He’d stayed the night at Desmond White’s incredibly elegant Kensington townhouse. He hadn’t felt any of the urgency to get home that he usually felt when he’d gone out for the night, even if he’d accepted his date’s offer to go up to his flat for a little horizontal fun. He and Desmond hadn’t so much as kissed, but Javier felt as comfortable as if he and Desmond had been living together for years.
It wasn’t right. He couldn’t just stick around like a bad smell when Desmond probably had a whole list of weekend activities to tackle. Desmond was probably still feeling queasy from the Great Shrimp Deception. But Javier still didn’t want to leave.
What he wanted was irrelevant, though. He gave himself one last, stern look in the mirror, then left the bathroom to find Desmond, thank him for the lovely time, grab his jacket and shoes, wherever they were, and head home.
“I’ve got plenty of bacon and enough eggs in the pantry,” Desmond called from the kitchen as soon as Javier stepped into the hall. “I can’t promise a full English, but I can provide beans on toast to go with the bacon and eggs, if you’d like.”
Javier’s gut did something squiggly that wasn’t hunger. He glanced down the hall to the lounge, noting that Desmond had straightened the sofa and folded the blanket over its back, then headed on to the kitchen.
“I’ve put the kettle on,” Desmond continued as he rushed around, setting out everything like he was about to cook a feast. “As you saw last night, I’ve got several kinds of tea, but for breakfast, ordinary tea is a must.”
Javier stood in the doorway, drinking in the scene he’d stepped into. Desmond was smiling and busy. He’d put a frilly apron on over his pyjamas and t-shirt. He had just a hint of desperation to his actions, like he wanted to beg Javier not to go. It was early enough that the sun hadn’t even thought of coming up yet, so the windows were all dark. That made Javier feel like he and Desmond were in a cozy, domestic bubble.
Far be it from him to burst that bubble when it felt so good.
“Do you want some?” he asked as he headed over to the counter and pressed the button to get the kettle heating again. “Milk and sugar?”
Desmond seemed to relax by a hair as he said, “Yes milk, one sugar.”
