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Oliver sighed. “I wish I could tell you no, but he’s been on a spiral lately.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Leo spit at Oliver. “M’a fucking delight. Fucking role model. You bas’ard.”
Oliver rolled his eyes as they made it to the main street. He looked up and down, keeping his eye out for cops. The last thing they needed was to get stopped, but when he worried aloud, Gabe swore again his place was close.
And sure enough, it was less than a block from the bar.
There were stairs which Leo stopped to vomit on only once—and only a little—before going rag-doll limp. In spite of his dead weight, they’d hauled him up three flights, and reached the landing. Gabe let Leo go to get the door unlocked, and Oliver immediately demanded to know where the bathroom was.
“Second door on the right,” Gabe called as he threw his keys into a small bowl by the door.
“I’m going to throw him in the tub and let him sleep it off there. Help contain the mess. You’ve a pillow or blankets he can use? Ones you don’t mind getting ruined?” Oliver didn’t wait for a reply, half-dragging Leo to the door, and he kicked it open. The tub was small, but Leo would fit, and he didn’t put up a protest when Oliver shoved him in.
All loose limbs, Leo collapsed against the cold porcelain and his eyes fluttered closed. Coming to a kneel, Oliver reached out, brushing sticky fringe from his sibling’s forehead, checked his pulse, then let out another, pained sigh.
“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” he muttered.
Leo peered one eye open. “Fuck yourself?”
“Theme of the night. Thanks for the cock block, by the way. I almost got some from a fit bloke from East Texas. You owe me.”
Leo let out a huge snore in response, and Oliver rocked back on his heels, looking up when Gabe appeared in the doorway with a small pillow and threadbare blanket.
“It’s the only thing my aunt won’t lose her mind about getting ruined.”
“It’ll do,” Oliver said, and eased Leo into a more comfortable position. He backed up, then flicked off the light and stepped into the hall. “Thanks, mate. Really.”
Gabe gave a shrug as he led the way back into his living room and flicked on a couple lights. The place was illuminated by a soft, yellow glow, and Oliver got a short look around. The place definitely looked like it had been lived in for years, knick-knacks on every shelf, picture frames littering the walls, and an old afghan draped along the back of an old, but comfortable looking sofa. The TV in the corner looked like someone had dropped it right out of the eighties, and by the look of the houseplant hanging low vines on the sides, Oliver assumed it didn’t work.
“Your aunt’s place, you said?” Oliver mused as Gabe went into the kitchen.
“Yeah. She wanted me to come and stay so she could travel for a while,” he called back, voice muffled. “You want some beer or water or something?”
“Have you got tea?”
Gabe’s head poked around the corner, giving Oliver a wide grin. “Christ, you really are British.”
“Was the accent not enough to give it away?” Oliver asked, smiling back. “Honestly why does no one here keep tea? How do you make polite conversation? How do you function?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “By consuming over-large, sugary beverages which are slowly eating away our bones and decaying our teeth. But I actually do have tea.”
“Proper tea?” Oliver challenged.
Gabe gave a sharp flick of his head, asking Oliver to follow him, and he opened a cabinet to reveal several brightly colored boxes. “Any of those proper tea?”
Wrinkling his nose, Oliver rummaged through and let out a sigh. “Well, you have some herbals, so that’ll do. It’s probably too late for caffeine anyway.” He grabbed a box of mint and set it on the counter. “Have you got a kettle, or are we microwaving like heathens?”
“My aunt is equipped.” Reaching into a low cabinet, Gabe produced a maroon electric kettle, and filled it from the tap. Flicking the switch, he leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, head cocked to the side. “So.”
“Right, yeah. So.” Oliver scrubbed his face. “You met Leo before this? Or is this your first introduction? Because I’d like to tell you he’s not always like this, but that would be a lie.”
Gabe’s grin widened, his head shaking. “He and I have known each other a while. We belong to the same trans group.”
Oliver blinked. “Trans group.”
Going a little pale in the cheeks, Gabe cleared his throat. “Yeah. It’s a group for trans people—inclusive of agender and genderfluid. Did he…did you not know that? About him?”
“Oh,” Oliver said, letting out a breath of air. “Christ no, I knew that.”
