Page 45 of How Not to Date a Griffin

No one had ever paid such close attention to him before, taken such care with him.

Fuck, it sounded kind of sad when he put it like that. Or maybe it made Nolan all that more special.

He blinked slowly when the water finally shut off, and accepted the towel Nolan handed him.

“Come on, then, I still have to feed you.”

Oh yeah. Room service.

As if summoned, his stomach growled and Nolan chuckled, turning to head into the bedroom.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep on me this time, are you?” he asked.

Reid flushed, skin still warm from the shower, disguising the color on his cheeks. “No. S’not my fault you were taking forever.”

“Mm, you’re right. I shouldn’t have left you here to fend for yourself.”

“Damn right.” Reid let himself fall onto the cushy mattress. “In this huge bed? What else was I supposed to do?”

Nolan hummed as he shuffled through the closet.

“So you’re one of those,” Reid mused before letting his head flop back down to the pillows.

“And what is one of those?” Nolan asked.

“You unpack and hang everything up instead of living out of your suitcase like a normal person.”

“Excuse me?” Nolan’s voice rose in pitch in his disbelief. “I’m not a heathen.”

Reid snorted again, stretching, until a piece of fabric hit him in the face. He uncovered a grin when he pulled it away, a pair of boxers held between his fingers.

“I’ll have you know, I wear a lot of suits, and you can’t leave those folded. You’ll get creases,” he hissed, in a way that Reid thought vampires might hiss towards a crucifix.

“And creases are… bad,” he guessed, lips twitching as Nolan stared at Reid like he’d lost his mind.

“Creases are very bad. Unprofessional!”

“Did your dad teach you that?” he asked, tugging the borrowed boxers up his legs.

It was silent for a moment, and Reid glanced over at him once he was appropriate. As if they hadn’t spent the last thirty minutes being inappropriate as hell.

“Sorry if that’s a touchy subject…” he added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Nolan had his own pair of boxers on and paused with a shirt in hand, gaze darting to Reid as he was jolted out of his thoughts. “Ah, no, no, nothing like that. I was just thinking about your question. I… don’t think he did teach me that,” he said, smoothing a hand over the fabric. “I think that’s all me,” he announced. He held the shirt out to Reid as he continued talking. “Maybe I started it as a way to impress him or something, but I’m afraid it stuck. Pretty sure my therapist would tell me it’s a control thing.”

“Ouch,” Reid winced on his behalf.

“Yeah, I know.” Nolan chuckled and donned his own shirt before grabbing his phone and laying back on the bed. “So. Food.”

“Right. You still intend to feed me.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, flicking through his phone. He paused suddenly, lifting his gaze and winking. “Gotta keep up your energy, because that,” he tilted his head to the bathroom, “was just an appetizer.”

Reid’s eyes widened. “Jesus christ, Nolan.”

Eventually, he ended up with his head on Nolan’s shoulder as they browsed the virtual menu for the hotel’s room service on Nolan’s phone.

It was different, because he wasn’t usually a cuddler after sex. Or maybe he was, because he’d most certainly never enjoyed it this much.