Page 22 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

It came from that cocky baker, so it might as well have.

He glared some more. Then drummed his fingers.

Fuck it.

He rose, crossed the room, and lifted the box’s lid.

“Pathetic.”

The supposed ‘pink and blue’ frosted cupcakes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the box was filled with an assortment of very dull-looking muffins. Grievance supposed that was for the best; he didn’t care for the sugary mini-cakes but knew Milo would be disappointed.

“Can’t even keep his stupid cakes straight,” Grievance said, plucking one from the box and taking a bite.

It was, to his dismay, a perfect balance of sweet with a sharp berry tang. He peered at it. Blueberry.

Fuck you for making my favorite.

Cursing the baker, he finished the muffin and, to his horror, found himself craving a second one. But before he could commit such blasphemy, Milo opened the door, his big pink sweater hanging off one shoulder as he toweled off his damp hair.

“It’s all yours,” he said. “Oh, you started without me! How was it?” Milo asked, eyeing the box of goodies.

Grievance set his jaw. Milo smirked.

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was perfectly average,” Grievance grumbled. “And the fool gave us the wrong ones. Those were muffins.”

“Aww, I was really looking forward to cupcakes,” Milo said sadly.

Grievance knew he would be disappointed. Fuck Rowen.

“I’ll go back tomorrow and demand a refund.”

Milo rolled his eyes.

“Grievance, he gave us these for free. It’s not a big deal; muffins are good too. But I’ll save mine for morning coffee tomorrow,” Milo said, closing the box. “I already brushed my teeth anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” Grievance said, turning to the bathroom.

“Wait, what flavor was it?” Milo asked.

Grievance paused, hand on the doorknob. He said nothing, but his clever mate could read him like a book even when he stayed silent. Maybe especially then.

“It was blueberry, wasn’t it? Your favorite. I bet you really liked it,” he teased.

“Average pastry from a below-average baker,” Grievance huffed and slammed the door. Milo laughed at him from the other side. Then he shouted. “Hey, I think those were made by Sadie!”

“If they were made by Sadie, they were good. If they were made by Rowen, they’re trash. Now stop talking about the damn muffins,” Grievance shouted through the door, turning on the shower so he couldn’t hear his mate continue to laugh at him.

The warm spray melted the edge from Grievance’s nerves. It was one of his favorite Folk inventions, made even better by his own tinkering. Now, the water pressure was hard enough to gently massage the back of his neck.

Grievance leaned his head back, letting his long hair fall into the spray. He thought back to the first time he was in this shower. Bruised. Bloodied. On the verge of giving up. But Milo had found him. Washed his hair. Taken him in, clothed him, cared for him in a way no other living thing in this world ever had.

My sweet, perfect mate.

Grievance rolled his neck into the stream, sighing as every bit of rigid tension washed from his body as easily as caked-on sweat.

When Milo showered with him, he had this way of finding all of Grievance’s sore spots. The places where his body felt on edge. He soothed Grievance’s hurts. All of them. Even the ones Grievance couldn’t see.