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Travis frowns. Carter brought it up, not him.
“Carter-”
“So, those are the subs?” Carter asks Hunter, pointing at where Carlos had come from and where Judd’s sub is sitting. Jax has taken a seat too.
“Yes.” Hunter studies them both, taking in who knows what from Travis, and probably noticing the anger coming off Carter in fucking waves now. “Would you like me to introduce you to them?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Carter gives him a tight smile. “If that’s okay?”
Hunter lifts his chin. “Of course.”
Carter starts to look over at Travis, but he doesn’t follow through. Then he walks away.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter says after an awkward few moments have passed.
Travis doesn’t look away from Carter. “For?”
“I just gave your sub permission. I should have deferred to you.”
“It’s your house.” Travis shrugs, watching as Carter introduces himself to all of the subs. He’s smiling wide now, eyes bright. “And it’s your friends that he was approaching without you. I feel like it was okay.”
“That’s what I thought, but then I second guessed myself.” Hunter smiles ruefully. “Another lesson for you, newbie. Doms second guess. All the fucking time.”
Travis laughs softly. “Oh, I’m fully acquainted with that one already, trust me.”
“Can I ask what exactly you two brought with you tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean clearly whatever happened in that hall earlier has not been resolved.”
Travis sighs, finally looking away from Carter where he’s found a spot between Jax and Judd’s sub, and looking at Hunter instead. “I-”
“Actually, on second thought, come inside. Those subs have big ears.”
“Good idea.” Travis pauses, feeling like maybe he should say something to Carter. But he looks so happy as he chats away and Travis doesn’t want to take the smile off his face, so he decides against it.
When they get inside, it’s only Booker and Wells in the kitchen. Booker has moved on from tomatoes to cucumbers. Wells is sitting on a stool with a glass of wine and a smirk. He looks up at them when he enters, his smirk widening. “Hunter, newbie, hello. Are you here to help?”
Travis is about to say he’d love to - even if it’s weird that Wells isn’t helping but wants them to - but Hunter speaks before he can. “Oh, has Booker changed his rules in the kitchen?”
“Fuck no.” Booker sets a glare on Hunter. “You’re a fucking god with shibari my friend, but you can’t pour a bowl of cereal without fucking it up.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“Wait, I didn’t get a compliment to make me feel better about my shitty cooking.” Wells forces a pout that looks ridiculous on the man. “What about me, Bookie?”
“Don’t call me that,” Booker grumbles. “Or no compliment for you.”
“What about me, Booker?” Wells asks, correcting himself.
“You’re a fucking god at making that pet of yours cry.”
Wells sighs like it’s the best compliment possible, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. And it’s so damn pretty, isn’t it?”
His friends roll their eyes at him, but there’s a lot of fondness in the eye rolls. They also don’t argue. Travis has a feeling it’s because the boy actually does cry pretty.
Hunter hops up on the counter, earning a dirty look from Booker. “Oh shut up. It’s my fucking kitchen, Bookie.”
