For The Love Of Talent

He’d only been gone for three days, but they had felt like ten.

His absence should have lasted longer, yet he managed to finalize the agreements fourteen hours ahead of schedule and, thanks to Anthea’s diligence, had been able to catch the first available flight. 

When he entered the apartment, the hallway was quiet, but he immediately saw light coming from the kitchen. He had told Greg he’d be back early and, knowing Greg, he was probably preparing dinner to welcome him home. The thought alone made Mycroft feel warm inside.

He set down his umbrella, overcoat, and briefcase, then kicked off his shoes in a haphazard manner that spoke volumes about his state of mind. When he reached the living room in silence, as if shedding his armor, he took off his jacket and blazer, draping them over the back of a chair. His tie soon met the same fate. 

Guided by the enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

As a master of discretion, a trait that made him a formidable predator in his line of work, he silently reached the kitchen doorway and paused to take in the sight before him.

He sighed with relief upon seeing the familiar figure bustling about at the counter with his back turned to him.

His Greg. 

His lover was humming an unrecognizable pop tune and singing off-key with an enthusiasm that brought an immediate smile to Mycroft’s face. 

Seeing Greg like this, in the safe privacy of their home and far from police reports and crime scenes, instantly soothed the turmoil in Mycroft's mind and the tension of the past few days. Watching this deeply authentic human being was ultimately what made Mycroft feel at home.  

He realized with Greg that being at home is ultimately defined not by the place, but by the person you're with.

That was when he realized that merely looking at his beloved was no longer enough. The physical distance forced upon them by the three days they had been apart was no longer bearable now that Greg was within reach.

Mycroft took another step forward, slipped his arms around Greg’s waist without a sound, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Greg jumped so violently that he nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was holding. He let out a loud curse and set the spoon down on the countertop with a trembling hand.

“Damn it, Mycroft!” he growled, turning his head, still out of breath from the surprise. "You know, for such a brilliant guy, you could learn that startling a detective is the best way to get a reflexive punch in the ribs." 

Mycroft gave a soft smile, the rare kind he reserved only for his lover, and whispered in Greg's ear, "I can defend myself, Detective. However, please accept my sincerest apologies for this undiplomatic assault.”

He buried his face in Greg’s neck and took a deep breath, the unique scent of his lover mingled with his cedar-scented aftershave, acting as a soothing balm. Mycroft closed his eyes and felt the throb of Greg’s pulse against his lips. He whispered against his lover's skin, his voice slightly choked with emotion: “No one knows how much I miss you.” 

Greg froze, his reproaches instantly dying on his lips. He turned fully into Mycroft’s arms, resting his hands naturally on the back of Mycroft’s neck and tangling his fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

He whispered in turn, "And no one knows how much I miss you when you’re away from me."

He drew Mycroft’s face toward his own and captured his lips in a long, slow kiss, filled with all the frustration of the days they’d spent apart. There was no urgency, only the need to reconnect and erase the loneliness caused by Mycroft's absence. 

When they pulled apart, out of breath, Greg gently traced Mycroft’s cheek with his thumb. His eyes intently studied the other’s face.

"It's hard," Greg admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "It's hard when we're apart. But if we miss each other this much, it must mean that what we have is real and strong, right?”

Mycroft immediately sensed the underlying uncertainty in the question. The need for reassurance that they were both equally committed to this relationship.

Mycroft’s heart tightened at the vulnerability his lover was showing. He took Greg’s hand, which was resting on his cheek, turned it over, and pressed a long kiss into the palm. Then he placed Greg’s hand on his own chest, right where his heart was.

"It is, Greg. It’s real, my love. Never, ever doubt it,” Mycroft whispered, his gaze fixed directly into his lover’s eyes. "You've made a home there in my heart. You’ve put down roots. When I’m away from you, the void you leave there is almost unbearable.”

Greg chuckled softly, his eyes shining with emotion he didn’t hide. Mycroft cupped Greg’s face with reverence and pressed his lips against his lover’s.

It was no longer just a kiss of reunion. It was a vow, a silent confession that spoke to the depth of their love more than any eloquent words ever could. 

_________

Still not beta'd

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Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

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Mystrade one shots here

Asa leaned against the balcony railing, enjoying the mild summer evening.

"Quoting your classics, my angel?"

He turned to Anthony, who had just joined him.

"Not really one of my classics, but fitting since I'm standing on a balcony."

Anthony leaned against the railing next to Asa and replied, "I enjoy Shakespeare, but I only like his comedies."

Asa chuckled softly. "That doesn't surprise me."

With a teasing smile, Anthony replied, “I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.”

Much Ado About Nothing, I see. I liked the movie, too—I mean, Kenneth Branagh... hmm.”

Anthony grumbled, "I should have known."

Asa chuckled, kissed him on the cheek, and said in a coaxing tone, "Don't be jealous. Othello met a bad end because of that."

Anthony harrumphed.

Asa placed his hand on top of Anthony’s on the railing, intertwining their fingers. He added gently, "Besides, you have no reason to be jealous, my love. You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love you."

"Another one of your classics?"

Asa nodded. "Much closer to me than Shakespeare. Much closer to how I feel.”

Anthony turned toward Asa, wrapped his arms around his waist, and pulled him closer. Their faces were so close that Asa could feel Anthony's breath on his face.

With a playful smile, Anthony whispered, "I could die right now. I'm just happy." "I've never felt this way before. I'm exactly where I want to be." 

He kissed Asa on the forehead and continued, "To me, you are perfect."

He gave Asa another kiss, this time on the nose. "I wish I had done everything on earth with you."

Brushing his lips against his lover’s cheek, he added, "You want the moon? Just say the word, and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

Anthony kissed Asa on the other cheek and said, "I could quote you plenty more sappy lines from romantic movies, but it all boils down to three words."

He brought his lips closer to Asa’s and whispered, "I love you."

Asa laughed softly, his breath brushing Anthony’s lips. Then he murmured, "Then let me quote one last movie: Kiss me. Kiss me as if it were the last time.”

Anthony closed the tiny gap between their mouths and captured his lover’s lips in a long, tender kiss.

Sometimes there was nothing better than the classics.

“I love you.”

“Kiss me.”

It’s jus a few words, but they speak volumes.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

Harold looked up at the waiter and nodded, then went back to reading his book.

A few moments later, the waiter placed a plate of Eggs Benedict and a glass of orange juice in front of Harold.

"Is your friend joining you today?"

"My friend? What—"

"Yes, the one you stood up. Twice."

Realizing that the waiter was talking about John, Harold thought that, from the outside, it might have looked that way, especially the first time.

"What’s good here?" John asked Harold after sitting down across from him at the Lyric Diner.

Harold replied sternly, "That won't work, Mr. Reese."

John asked in a genuine-sounding tone, "What won’t?"

"Your interrogation technique."

Harold knew his interlocutor was well-versed in those techniques, so it was only natural for him to be suspicious, even setting aside his paranoia.

John almost pouted as he retorted, "What’s good here? It’s an innocent question."

Harold found that hard to believe, though, and countered, "No question is ever innocent coming from you. You’re trying to figure out whether I come here often."

Harold thought he saw a hint of hurt in John's eyes as he continued, "Armed with that knowledge, you'll try to figure out where I live."

"You’re paranoid, Finch."

The hurt in his voice was real this time, but Harold didn’t deny it. He replied, "With good reason."

He then took some bills out of his pocket as John insisted, still wearing his half-smile. "Maybe I just don’t know what’s good here, so I’m asking the regular."

Harold didn’t let himself be swayed. He replied coldly and tapped the menu twice before pushing it toward John. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Reese," then got up and left.

Harold realised he had actually been a real prick.

Of course, John wanted to know more.

But not for any ulterior motive; he just wanted to learn more about the man who employed him, who probably knew more about him than anyone else did.

Now that he knew the man better, Harold understood that. It was all the more admirable that John had stayed and continued to work with him.

"Anyway..." The voice of the waiter, who hadn't left yet, snapped Harold out of his thoughts. The waiter continued in a confidential tone: "I don't know what you told him the second time before you left, but in any case, he looked absolutely delighted after opening the menu. He had a smile to die for."

Fortunately, the waiter was called away by other customers, sparing Harold from having to reply. He frowned, recalling the conversation he’d had with John.

John joined him after speaking with the judge, and the two exchanged theories about whether he would be an ally in the future. Just as Harold was about to stand up and leave, John said to him in a low voice, "Thank you."

He was looking to the side, which was extremely rare for him.

Harold paused and looked at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

John blinked and looked at him, saying, "For giving me a job."

After a moment of silence, showing that he knew what John had said was meaningful and that he wasn’t taking it lightly, Harold did something he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He pushed the menu toward John and said, "Try the eggs Benedict, Mr. Reese." 

This time, it was Harold who looked away before adding, "I've had them many times."

He knew John would understand what he meant without him having to say it.

Clearly, that was the case if he believed what the waiter had just described.

Yet, John hadn’t jumped at the chance.

He hadn’t come to disrupt Harold's meal at the diner or try to coax an invitation out of him. That was precisely what had encouraged Harold to trust him. Or, at least, to take the first step in that direction. 

Harold had never doubted John's trustworthiness, but entrusting him with his personal matters was a different story. Even Harold's secrets had secrets. 

Everything changed, however, when John took care of Harold after he’d been drugged. Although they never talked about it, Harold remembered everything, especially how honorable John had been.

Back at the library, John stayed behind to look after Harold while he was still coming down. As John followed Harold into the library, he said softly, "It'll be out of your system in a few hours." 

He walked past Harold and handed him a pack of water bottles. In a gentle voice, he added, "You should really drink this so you don't get dehydrated."

Still under the influence of the drug, Harold asked disappointedly, "You're leaving?"

John replied, "No, I'll stick around and keep an eye on you." Then, draping a blanket over Harold’s arms, John added, "You should really get some sleep."

Harold couldn’t help but ask, "You don't want to talk?"

John grimaced.

"You might regret it in the morning. You’re a very private person, remember?" Even under the influence of the drug, Harold could see that his secretiveness was hurting John, though he didn’t understand why.

He pressed on.

"Come on. Ask me anything."

But John didn’t budge. He rubbed the back of his neck, turned away, and said with a soft smile, "Good night, Harold."

John had him at his mercy when he was at his most vulnerable, and even though Harold probably could have put on a good show, there was no doubt that the other man could have pried whatever he wanted out of him.

Not only had John not tried, but he also hadn’t seized the opportunity when Harold was practically begging him. 

Now, with time and perspective, Harold finally understood. All those times John had asked him questions that seemed innocuous but were really meant to get to know him better, not to use the information against him, gain the upper hand, or even take control. John simply wanted to get to know Harold better.

Harold told himself that maybe it was time for him to turn the tables.

To risk changing the dynamic of their relationship.

He took out his phone, hovered his thumb over John’s number for a moment, and then pressed "Call."

John answered on the first ring.

"Hello, Harold."

"Hello, Mr. Reese."

Mr. Reese. 

What an idiot.

"Do you need me?"

"Can you meet me at the Lyric Diner at my usual table?" Harold replied.

"Did the machine give out a new number?"

John thought Harold was calling him just for that, of course.

But Harold was about to change that.

"No."

"Then why do you want me to come?"

Harold took a deep breath.

"To have lunch with me...please, John."

The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes about John’s surprise. Harold, aware of this, gave John time to respond.

"I'd love to, Harold. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. See you soon."

"See you soon, Mr. ... John."

*********

Fortunately, Harold had his book; otherwise, the fifteen-minute wait would have seemed endless. He immersed himself in his reading and, although he had trouble concentrating at first, it was the waiter’s voice that made him look up from his book twenty minutes later.

"Hey, mister, check out that smile. It's the same one he had last time. I told you, a smile to die for."

"I see..." Harold murmured.

Yes, he could see the smile on John’s lips as he caught Harold's eye and walked over to his table.

Mesmerized, Harold barely heard the waiter murmur, "Lucky guy..." as he walked away.

Yes, he was lucky, but sometimes luck was something you made happen, and as John sat down across from him, Harold thought to himself that he’d love to be able to bring that smile to his face again and again.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

He didn’t even turn his head when Asa arrived, maintaining the same demeanor he’d held for the past two hours. He had been ignoring Asa for two hours with a discipline that commanded admiration. 

Asa let out a soft chuckle before asking in an innocent tone, "So, are you really going to ignore me all afternoon?" 

No answer. 

Not a twitch of his eyebrows, not a change in his breathing rhythm. 

They hadn’t argued, far from it. 

In the end, it was all Derek’s fault.

Well, if Asa was being honest, it was their fault.

Earlier that morning, while Asa and Anthony were waiting for Derek to arrive and relieve Asa, the two lovers—who, as always, couldn’t resist touching each other when they were together—had momentarily forgotten where they were. Derek caught them, not for the first time, locked in an embrace in the back of the bookshop. They were lost in such a deep kiss that it took them several seconds to realize they were no longer alone.

"It's impossible to leave the two of you in the same room for five minutes without you making out!" Derek said with amused irony, adding, "Honestly, I know teenagers who can control themselves better than you two."

Asa, unable to think of anything better to do, shifted the blame onto his partner. "It's Anthony! He won't stop touching me!" 

Anthony, his pride stung, retorted, "What?! You’re the one who can’t stop touching me!"

Derek watched their bickering with undisguised pleasure. After all, he was the one who had set them up, so he could only blame himself. 

Then the older bookseller challenged them, "How about you make a bet? No kissing until tonight. The first one to kiss the other loses, and the loser gets to choose the forfeit.”

Emboldened by Derek’s mischievous smile and challenging gaze, Asa and Anthony accepted.

Now, in his lover’s apartment, Asa realized that while Anthony was willing to sacrifice his inner peace to win, he himself had no intention of ending the game with such a grim victory.

He approached the couch slowly, a teasing smile on his lips, and called softly, “Anthony…”

Still nothing. 

But Asa knew his lover inside and out. He knew that every muscle in Anthony’s body was tense and that every word he whispered echoed within him.

He leaned forward and physically placed himself between Anthony and his book. 

"Professor Crowley..." he whispered, his breath brushing Anthony's skin as he leaned in close. "Please answer me."

Anthony took a deep breath, clearly struggling with himself. He tried to back away, but he had limited room to maneuver, and Asa could see his lover’s resolve beginning to waver. Seizing the opportunity, Asa snatched the book from Anthony’s hands and straddled his lap.

Their faces were now separated by only a few millimeters, and Asa whispered, “No escape.”

Anthony closed his eyes, his face tense with effort. 

It was a tactical mistake. Without sight to rely on, his other senses went into overdrive. He felt the heat radiating from Asa’s body, smelled his familiar scent, and felt his breath brush against his lips.

"Professor Crowley...please..." Asa whispered, a playful smile tinging his voice. "Are you really going to ignore me? It's so lonely.”

Asa’s hands moved slowly and deliberately behind Anthony’s neck, playing with his short strands of hair and heightening their closeness. Finally, at the end of his rope, Anthony blurted out, “You’re cheating!”

Asa gently shook his head, his lips almost brushing against Anthony’s without touching. "The challenge said no kissing until tonight, but it never said we couldn't touch."

He punctuated the sentence with a slight, slow, calculated movement of his hips that made Anthony lose what little self-control he had left. He squirmed, a stifled moan caught in the back of his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Asa asked in a low, provocative voice. "Are you afraid you won't be able to resist? Then don’t resist. I promise you, the forfeit will be enjoyable.”

"We made a bet," Anthony repeated, his resolve growing increasingly fragile.

Asa ran his fingers through his partner’s hair, feeling the shiver that ran down his spine with each touch. "So, would you rather win a bet than give in to temptation? Because me, Anthony, I really want to kiss you…”

It was too much. The whisper of his name, the yearning in his lover's voice, his warm body against his... Anthony gave in. In one fluid motion, he grabbed Asa’s shoulders and pushed him backward onto the sofa cushions, towering over him.

"I admit defeat," he breathed against Asa's lips, his voice hoarse. "But you’d better make sure the wager lives up to my defeat."

Finally, he pressed his lips to Asa’s in a kiss that unleashed the feelings they’d held back for two long hours. It was raw need, a blend of passion and tenderness.

When they finally parted, breathless, Asa wore a victorious smile. Though out of breath, he spoke clearly: "Admit it, love, it's a sweet defeat." 

Anthony grunted and, instead of answering, leaned in again and pressed his lips against Asa’s. Deep down, he knew that no matter the challenge, he hadn’t lost; the real prize was already in his arms.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

The Davies family was attending Sunday Mass, and Anthony had been forced to tag along. It was impossible to say no to Maud when she had her mind set on something. That didn't mean, however, that he was going to pay attention to the priest's sermon.

Lesley replied, "He's your brother's fiancé."

Anthony snickered silently. "You'd think that if Gabe were getting married, he would've announced it in the Times."

"We read the Daily Telegraph."

Anthony whispered.

"So why did he sneak out this morning?"

Muriel replied, "Asa has a job. He works on the Underground, so he has to work on Sundays, too."

Lesley nudged Anthony lightly and asked, "Did you get The London Flower Shop?"

Apparently, Anthony's father had no intention of listening to the sermon either. 

"Yes, we’re their exclusive delivery service."

"The Flower Station?"

"Yes, same thing."

Before handing over his delivery business, his father wanted the business to have exclusive rights to most of the flower shops in Central London.

"What about Bloom & Wild?"

"No, I couldn't get in touch with them."

His father grumbled, "Ah, for Christ's sake, Anthony."

Maud pinched her husband’s thigh in admonishment. "Stop swearing. Let Anthony handle the deliveries. Your son knows what he’s doing."

Anthony took the opportunity to slip his father a few words, "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

Maud shook her head. "Talk about that later, okay?"

Muriel whispered in Anthony’s ear, "Talk about it now. He can’t kill you in church."

Anthony chuckled; Muriel certainly wasn’t wrong.

"Will you please pipe down?"

One of the people standing behind them seemed to have had enough, so the Davises fell silent. Anthony couldn’t wait any longer for the service to en

After a long shift at work, Asa finally returned home to a starving Harry who nearly knocked him over. Harry kept clinging to his feet, so it was difficult for Asa to put a few lettuce leaves in his bowl and fill his water dispenser, which was almost empty. To make it up to Harry, Asa also gave him a treat that the little animal loved.

As Asa straightened up, he saw the yellow envelope the nurse had given him. It was buried under a pile of bills and newspapers. He had completely forgotten about it.

He picked up the envelope, sat down on the couch, and emptied its contents onto the coffee table. A wallet and some keys fell out. 

Asa stared at the wallet for a moment, then slowly opened it and turned it over. After hesitating for a moment, he finally looked inside and pulled out some laminated photos. There was a photo of Gabriel in a hood and graduation gown, Gabriel behind the wheel of a jeep on what appeared to be a safari, Gabriel skiing.. All of the photos were of Gabriel.

Asa snickered and said mockingly, "Looks like Mr. Handsome has a real Narcissus complex."

He spread out the cards. Among them were a bank card, a gym membership card, and another credit card. Beneath those was another photo, unlaminated and slightly worn. In the photo, Gabriel was holding a man around the neck. The man was thinner and more slender than Gabriel. Asa immediately recognized the man as Anthony, Gabriel’s brother, whom he had met that morning.

He turned the photo over and read: Gabriel and Anthony, 19XX. Intrigued, Asa turned the photo over again and examined it more closely. He swallowed hard. He had only seen Anthony for a few moments that morning in dim light. However, in the photo, he could see him more clearly. While Gabriel had an artificial beauty that was almost too perfect, Anthony, in Asa’s opinion, was breathtaking.

He shook his head. There was no way he was going to let his thoughts go down that path. His life was complicated enough as it was.

He put the photo down and continued to examine the contents of the wallet. He found one last photo: Gabriel, this time holding a cat.

A cat?

This meant that the poor animal hadn’t eaten in several days. Asa hoped that Gabriel, being the big spender that he was, would have one of those fancy kibble dispensers.

He stroked Harry, who had jumped up onto the couch next to him. "Sorry, buddy. I’m going to have to go take care of another furball." 

Harry wrinkled his snout disdainfully, jumped off the couch, and hopped toward the kitchen.

Sighing, Asa grabbed Gabriel’s keys and wallet, put on his jacket, and left the apartment. Fortunately, thanks to Gabriel’s papers, Asa knew where his 'fiancé' lived. Since the hospital was on the way, he decided to stop by for his daily visit.

A little later, just as the doors of the elevator leading to Gabriel’s ward were about to close, he was surprised to see Gabriel’s colleague Beatrix step inside. They greeted each other politely, and silence fell until they entered Gabriel’s room.

They sat in silence for a moment, each on one side of the bed, not knowing what to say.

Beatrix looked at Gabriel and said, "He's a great guy, the king of legal loopholes."

Hearing the admiration and fondness in the lawyer's voice, Asa had the feeling that Beatrix saw Gabriel as more than a colleague. He felt bad for them. If that were the case, then Asa was standing in their way.

What a mess.

Unaware of Asa's inner turmoil, Beatrix continued, "He's had a tough year."

Asa looked puzzled.

"I mean, with the accident at the beginning of the year," Beatrix continued, seeing his confusion.

"What accident?"

They looked at Asa in surprise. "He didn't tell you? Well, I guess he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. You didn’t know each other. It happened while we were playing pool with some coworkers. . ." 

Meanwhile, Anthony had parked his car in front of the building where Asa’s apartment was located. When he reached Asa’s floor, he walked up to the door and knocked loudly. No one answered.

Frustrated, he went back downstairs. When he reached the ground floor, a man stepped in front of him and stopped him abruptly.

"Hey, you there!"

"What?"

"I just saw you at Asa's place. What do you want with him?"

Anthony furrowed his brow and asked, "Do you know Asa Fell, who lives at 207?"

The redheaded man smoothed his mustache and replied in a showy tone, "Asa? I’m Brown Junior, the owner of this building. Of course I know him. Besides, he’s my boyfriend."

"Huh?"

"We’re dating. So what do you want with him?"

Furious, Anthony didn’t bother to answer and walked past the man before striding quickly toward his pickup truck. He sped off, ignoring Brown Junior’s calls and gestures.

After spending an hour in Gabriel’s room and having a rather strange conversation with Beatrix, an exhausted Asa arrived at the building where Gabriel lived. 

The doorman—because, of course, "Mr. Handsome" lived in a building with a doorman—looked at him suspiciously, and it wasn’t until Asa explained the situation and showed him Gabriel’s personal belongings that the doorman agreed to let him in.

Standing in front of the elevator doors, Asa checked the floor where Gabriel lived, pressed the up button, and muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I know I’m not Gabriel’s type at all. But let me tell you, he’s not my type either."

Clearly, Asa’s Prince Charming had turned out to be more of a toad the more he discovered about his fake fiancé’s life.

The elevator ding snapped Asa out of his thoughts. Once he reached Gabriel's floor, he spent a few more moments looking for Gabriel’s apartment door. 

He sighed again because he had to try several keys before finding the right one. After solving that problem, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He turned on the light, and his first thought was that Gabriel’s apartment was just as perfect as he looked. However, as he stepped inside, Asa began to feel uncomfortable. Everything felt cold and sterile. It was almost like a hotel room. There were no signs that anyone lived there. 

His own apartment might have been cluttered and small, but at least it was cozy. 

Asa finally stepped into the spacious living room and had to stifle a gasp. There was a floor-to-ceiling window with a breathtaking view of London. 

Suddenly, he felt something brush against his ankles and jumped.

He looked down and saw a cat.

"Ah, there you are."

Asa bent down and scratched the cat’s head. The cat let him do it and began to purr. Encouraged, Asa picked the cat up.

"You're really beautiful."

The cat was a stunning long-haired calico with golden eyes. Now, he looked at Asa curiously.

Asa noticed it had a collar with a small tag attached, and he lifted it slightly to read the cat’s name.

He couldn’t help but chuckle.

"Mr. Cat? He named you that? All right, Mr. Cat. Let’s see if you have enough to eat."

He took the cat into the kitchen and immediately spotted its feeding spot. Asa was relieved to see that the cat had a dry food dispenser, and there was still food in it. That explained why the cat didn’t seem particularly hungry. Asa looked for the dry food supply and, after opening a few cupboards, finally found a bag. He filled the dispenser’s reservoir and the cat’s water bowl.

Mr. Cat wasn't hungry, but he was thirsty, so he rushed over to lap up some water. Asa decided to take a quick look around the apartment.

As he walked through the living room, he spotted a small stereo system. He pressed play, and soft jazz filled the room. At least Gabriel had good taste in music.

Asa walked past the mahogany desk, where yet another framed photo of Gabriel sat prominently. Asa couldn’t help but mock Gabriel out loud: "You really do love to admire yourself."

Asa then stepped forward and looked out the window. It was a magnificent winter sunset, and the city sparkled beneath the freshly fallen snow. Asa gazed at the scene for several long minutes. He was exhausted, and the music couldn’t rouse him from his daze. He continued his tour of the apartment and arrived in Gabriel’s bedroom, which was just as sterile as the rest of the apartment, well, almost, because his gaze was drawn to a bookshelf near the door.

Asa sat down on the bed in front of the bookshelf to examine its contents. 

But his exhaustion was too much and, despite his interest, his eyes began to flutter with sleepiness, and he couldn’t resist collapsing onto the bed, murmuring, "Just a few seconds."

He was so exhausted, however, that he didn’t realize the seconds had turned into minutes. He fell into such a deep sleep that he didn’t notice Mr. Cat had jumped onto the bed and curled up next to him to sleep as well.

Still furious about what he’d learned about Asa and Brown Junior, Anthony walked into Gabriel’s apartment a little while later. His mother had sent him there to pick up toiletries for his brother. When he walked through the door, he froze, first because the lights were on and then because he could hear music. 

He moved forward cautiously and called out softly, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

No answer. Anthony continued moving forward carefully toward the bedroom. When he reached the bedroom door, he felt around in the dark for the light switch. He nearly tripped when his brother’s cat slipped between his legs.

"Hey, Mr. Cat! You stupid cat, watch it!"

Asa woke up with a start. He rolled onto his side and grabbed the first thing he could find on the nightstand, a bottle of perfume, and sprayed it at the shadow above him.

"Aaah!"

Anthony stumbled backward, the perfume stinging his eyes. He landed against the bookshelf, which collapsed on top of him. 

Asa flipped on the bedside lamp and discovered Anthony lying beneath a pile of scattered books.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

He was supposed to meet Asa at the Bookshop, and then they were going to head home together. But, as luck would have it, today was the day his students had the most questions about the class, and it had dragged on. On top of that, he was in a hurry because he’d been feeling uneasy all day about the way he and Asa had parted ways that morning. 

They hadn’t argued, but Asa had asked a question. Caught off guard, Anthony hadn’t answered and, pressed for time, he’d had to leave for university without responding. 

The fact that they hadn’t exchanged any messages all day made him feel even more uneasy. 

He was just a few steps away. He just had to cross the street. But, once again, luck was not on his side. Even though there was never much traffic on Berwick Street, today the cars just kept coming, one after another. 

Anthony’s patience was wearing thin, especially since he could see Asa through the bookshop window. With his eyes fixed on his lover, Anthony started to cross the street. In his haste, he didn’t see the bus coming at full speed from his right.

It wasn’t until he saw the stunned faces of the people on the other side of the street and the frantic gestures of the passersby that he turned his head.

As the bus drew nearer, Anthony froze. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, and images suddenly flashed before him at breakneck speed yet seemed frozen in time. Fragments of the past few months unfolded before his eyes like a kaleidoscope of happiness.

Time stood still for Anthony. 

Forgetting everything around him, he relived the months filled with small joys since meeting Asa.

Months of never having to wake up alone again.

The room was softly lit by the morning light. It was the perfect opportunity for Anthony to take in every detail of Asa’s face. He couldn’t help but be captivated by his lover’s features, his eyelashes casting a light shadow on his pale skin; his slightly flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, from which faint breaths of air escaped intermittently. Everything about Asa was utterly adorable.

That morning, as always, Anthony was fascinated.

"It's not fair to be this gorgeous," he murmured, gently caressing Asa’s cheek with his fingertips. "Sometimes I tell myself I don't deserve you, you know? Really, I don’t deserve you."

He closed his eyes, taking a moment to revel in the sense of wonder that washed over him, as it did every time.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Asa’s gray gaze.

Startled, Anthony pulled his hand away, but Asa grabbed it and brought it back to his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Anthony whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

Asa put a finger to her lips. "Don't apologize, Anthony. It's a pleasant way to wake up. But I don’t like it when people speak ill of someone I love."

"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, puzzled.

Asa replied in a serious tone, "Even though I appreciate you showering me with compliments and praising me..."

He leaned forward and kissed Anthony on the nose, then added with a smile, "I don't want you to do that if it means putting yourself down. » 

Anthony sighed. "I know, but sometimes, when I see you like this, I can’t help but have those thoughts and wonder how I could have been so lucky." It was Asa’s turn to touch Anthony’s cheek. He said softly, "So, I'm going to keep scolding you until it really sinks in that we're both just as lucky, no matter how long it takes."

He kissed Anthony on the forehead and said, "So, let's start the day over." Anthony looked at him, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

Asa smiled with a glimmer of joy in his eyes and said, "Good morning, Anthony," brushing a light kiss against his lips. 

Anthony replied in a soft, slightly hoarse voice, "Good morning, my angel," and kissed him back.

Asa continued to scatter kisses along Anthony’s jawline, slowly moving down toward the crook of his shoulder, as if relishing every inch of skin and rediscovering every part of his body. Then, he gently rolled Anthony onto his back and settled comfortably on top of him.

He cupped his lover’s face in his hands, locked eyes with him, and kissed him deeply. When they pulled apart to catch their breath, Asa framed Anthony’s head with his arms while Anthony reverently traced the outline of Asa’s lips with his fingers. He gently parted his lover’s lower lip and moved back up to capture his mouth in a slow, tender kiss. They preferred to let their desire subside so they could focus on the sweetness of the moment. They both knew the desire was there, but they didn’t need to act on it to be certain of their feelings' depth. 

Besides, it was almost time to get up. They would have to leave their cocoon of happiness and face the day.

Months of touching, kissing, and tender gestures given and received without restraint.

It was one of those evenings when Anthony arrived home late and exhausted after a long day at work.

Asa was sitting on the living room couch, reading by the light of a small lamp. Seeing his profile illuminated by the light always warmed Anthony’s heart. Even though it was Asa’s apartment, it always felt the same, it felt like home.

Anthony took off his shoes and walked over to Asa. He gently touched his shoulder so as not to startle him and said softly, "I’m home."

He would never tire of hearing those words, or of Asa’s soothing voice replying, "Welcome home." 

Asa looked up to meet Anthony’s gaze. Anthony leaned down to kiss his forehead, then walked around the couch and sat down in the spot he’d left open for him. 

He settled in close to Asa, resting his head on his partner’s shoulder while Asa wrapped his arm around him, and sighed with contentment.

Anthony reveled in this moment of peace, lulled by Asa’s gentle, hypnotic touches on his shoulder as he let the last remnants of tension from his day melt away.

He never would have imagined that this would become one of the most soothing things in the world for him, but it had quickly become one of his favorite moments.

"You have no idea how much I love this," he couldn’t help but whisper to Asa.

Asa smiled gently and leaned in to kiss Anthony’s cheek. He didn’t stop there, though. He continued to plant light kisses all over Anthony’s face, kisses that barely lingered, On his eyelids, his forehead, his nose, his chin, and finally, his mouth. 

This time, he lingered there.

The feeling of being home that Anthony had felt earlier blossomed within him once more as Asa rested his chin on Anthony’s chest. Anthony wrapped his arms around Asa and pulled him close. He brought a hand to his cheek, gently brushing the spot where Asa had placed the first kiss of the evening.

Their love was simple, just like that kiss, given freely, warmly, tenderly, and differently each time, yet familiar.

"Hey, Anthony! Watch out! Do you have a death wish or something?"

Anthony felt himself being pulled backward. As he collapsed against the person behind him, he felt the rush of air caused by the speeding bus amid a chorus of deafening honks. Still reeling from the shock of being alive, he got back to his feet and turned around. He saw that the person who had saved him—and onto whom he’d fallen—was none other than Nina.

He helped her up, then ran a hand over his face and sighed, "Man, that's what you call a near-death experience. » 

Nina shook her head and said with a wry smile, "I think you're about to have another one, judging by the look on the guy's face who's coming toward us. » 

Anthony spun around and saw Asa coming out of the bookshop, looking furious.

He felt Nina pat him on the back and whisper, "Well, see you around, Anthony. Good luck!"

This time, Anthony looked carefully both ways before crossing the street to catch up with Asa on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop.

"I'm sorry. I know I should have been more careful. But you see, I..."

His apology was cut short by two strong arms wrapping around him. A voice whispered in the crook of his neck, "Thank goodness you're not hurt. » 

Anthony could do nothing but hug Asa back, feeling the tension of the past few minutes gradually ease away in the warmth of their embrace. 

Asa then stepped back slightly, still holding on to him. "I’m furious with the bus driver, not with you. I’m so relieved you’re okay that I can’t hold it against you for not being careful. But if you weren’t paying attention because of what I said to you this morning, then just forget about it."

"Anthony, wake up, sweetheart..."

Asa gently shook his shoulder, but Anthony buried his face deeper into the pillow and groaned, "It's not time yet."

Asa chuckled softly and said with a playful tone, "That’s not what your alarm has been saying for over fifteen minutes."

nthony felt Asa kiss his hair and then his breath in his ear as Asa asked, "By the way, you don't start until eight, so why did you set the alarm so early?" 

Anthony rolled over and replied in a sleepy voice, "Because I have to stop by my place to change into clean clothes."

Asa brushed Anthony’s hair aside and replied softly, "You know there’s a way to avoid that."

"How?" Anthony asked, looking puzzled.

Asa continued stroking his hair and replied in a low, slightly hesitant voice, "By moving in here...for good."

"Anthony?"

His lover's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Did you hear what I just said?" he continued. "Forget my suggestion. It’s probably too soon, and I… I don’t know what came over me, but it’s okay you know, I can wait, I—"

Anthony cut off Asa’s rambling by cupping his face in his hands, leaning toward him and saying, "Oh, really? Because I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about nothing else since this morning. Tell me when, and I’ll pack up all my boxes and come over."

He watched with delight as a smile spread across Asa’s lips. Asa whispered, as if he couldn’t believe it, "Really?"

Anthony nodded.

"Really."

Then, ignoring everything around them, he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Asa’s in a tender kiss that sealed their decision.

Later that evening, as they lay in each other’s arms after reaffirming their love in a more intimate way and banishing the last traces of fear from the narrowly averted accident, Anthony told Asa about his flashbacks. Once he’d finished, Asa simply said, "And you saw all that after just a few months together. Imagine what it would be like after a whole lifetime." 

Then he leaned in to kiss Anthony, who returned the kiss passionately.

It was a kiss that celebrated the joy of being alive. 

It celebrated the joy of being able to continue sharing and multiplying the fragments of happiness that now made up their lives.

_________

Still not beta'd (because I want it so)

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

Erza, who had been lost in contemplation of the painting by his favorite artist, turned his head toward the man whose voice rose above the crowd gathered in front of the famous painting. What had caught his attention was the perfect English tinged with a Scottish accent with which the sentence had been spoken. Having been in Paris for only a few weeks, he still struggled with the language. 

From where he stood, all he could see was the top of a ginger-haired man’s head, slightly taller than the rest of the crowd. Curious, he weaved his way through the museum visitors to get closer to the owner of that voice.

The man was tall and slender with red hair that seemed to catch the museum’s artificial light. He wore a name tag hanging from a lanyard that read: Anthony Crowley – Guide (English, French, and Italian).

Erza discreetly watched the guide as he continued his explanation. Anthony’s gestures were somewhat theatrical; his long fingers traced shapes in the air as if he were sculpting the story he was telling. To Erza, this demonstrated his passion for the subject. The painter couldn’t deny that the guide exuded a certain magnetism. Erza stayed on the outskirts, following the group at a respectful distance and straining to hear Anthony’s explanations. There was warmth in this man’s voice, a sincere love for the artwork he was trying to convey to the group of tourists he was guiding through the museum’s galleries. There was no doubt that English was his native language, judging by the way he spoke and answered questions from the English tourists. However, Erza had also heard him speak excellent French to his colleague, which made Erza a little jealous as he struggled every day to make himself understood by the workers in his gallery. 

The guided tour ended, and Erza watched the guide walk away with a sense of longing. Making the best of a bad situation, he continued exploring on his own. Three hours later, when he left the museum, he decided to treat himself to a cup of tea and a pastry at a tea room before heading home. 

Sitting on the tea room’s terrace, having just finished his strawberry crêpe, Erza was still thinking about the handsome tour guide. When the waitress came to clear his plate, he ordered a second cup of Earl Grey and took his sketchbook out of his bag.

Very quickly, his pencil began to dance across the page, guided by a sudden, frantic need to capture the redheaded guide’s features before the memory faded. He sketched the sharpness of Anthony’s profile, the intensity of his gaze, and how his hair danced when he moved. He also added a few sketches of the guide’s long fingers.

After an hour of drawing, he wrote “Louvre, May 13, 2026, Anthony” at the bottom of the page, slipped his museum admission ticket inside, closed his sketchbook, and put it away in his bag.

As always after an intense drawing session, he was in a daze as he left the tea room, his mind still inhabited by the subject of his sketch. He was jostled a bit as he made his way through the dense afternoon crowd on the pedestrian street toward his apartment. It wasn’t until he arrived home that he realized his bag had come open and the sketchbook was missing. It had probably fallen out when he had been bumped into, since nothing else was missing. 

After spending an hour retracing his steps, asking the tea room staff if they had seen his sketchbook, and scouring the pedestrian street with no luck, his phone rang in his pocket. Erza grabbed it and, seeing that it was an unknown number, hesitated to answer. By the time he made up his mind, the voicemail had kicked in. He figured that if it were important, the caller would leave a message.

A minute later, he received a notification. He had a new voicemail.

He pressed play on his phone and held it to his ear. "Mr. Fell, this is the reception desk at the Louvre Museum. It’s about your sketchbook. If you could please call us back at this number.”

Erza almost let out a cry of joy and frantically dialed the number.

"Hello, this is Mr. Fell. You called me about my sketchbook.”

"Yes, that's right. We found your sketchbook. It was turned in to Lost and Found thanks to the ticket you left in it. We found information in it that allowed us to identify you.” 

After a brief exchange, fortunately, the person he was speaking with spoke excellent English, Erza was on his way to the museum. His steps were light with anticipation at the thought of retrieving his precious notebook.

When he arrived at the front desk, the receptionist pointed him to a secluded area with a few deserted benches and comfortable armchairs at the end of the day.

"Please wait here, sir. The person in charge will bring you your sketchbook.”

A few moments later, a door set slightly back opened, and Erza gasped softly upon seeing the object of half his thoughts that day, the handsome guide, Anthony Crowley. He was holding Erza's well-worn, leather-bound sketchbook.

"Good evening. Is this your sketchbook, Mr. Fell?” the guide asked, standing before him. He had addressed him in English, and his voice was lower and more natural than the theatrical voice he used as a guide. Erza stood up, nodded quickly, and said, "Yes, that’s it! Thank you! Thank you!” 

Erza was about to grab the notebook that had been extended to him when Anthony moved it out of his reach with a teasing smile and said softly, “You’re really talented, but I have to say, it’s a little unsettling to be the subject of such close scrutiny.”

Erza felt heat rise from the nape of his neck to his hairline, spreading across his cheeks. Of course, the guide had seen those pages; that's where he'd found the ticket that led him to information about Erza.

"I...I'm sorry," Erza stammered. "It's a habit. If I see something that catches the light, I have to draw it.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow and asked, "So I caught the light?"

Erza’s thoughts were racing. He could lie. He could talk about the play of light on Anthony’s chiseled features or the aesthetics of his silhouette. That was the painter’s answer. The safe answer. To leave it at that.

Then, Erza remembered his old drawing teacher's voice when he was stuck in front of a painting he couldn’t seem to finish: “When the situation seems impossible, dig deeper and paint as if you could finish your work.”

Feeling emboldened, Erza replied, "No, that's not why. I lied. I only draw what I find beautiful,” he said, his voice suddenly gaining confidence. “And I found you beautiful. Besides, it's nice to have a fellow countryman in a foreign city that seems so vast. For a while, I didn’t feel alone. Thanks to you, I felt at home at the museum for a few hours. I wanted to sketch that so I could remember it when I look at these drawings of you.”

After a moment of silence, Anthony took half a step forward and replied softly, "That's sweet of you, Erza. I haven’t been in Paris very long either, and I haven’t met many people since I arrived. I know exactly what it’s like to feel alone in this huge city."

The guide held out his hand to Erza. "Nice to meet you. I'm Anthony." Then, he winked and added, "How about we spend some time being alone together?" 

Erza took his hand and said softly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Erza." 

Neither of them pulled their hands away. They stood there, hand in hand, at the reception desk, under the watchful, smiling gaze of the security guards.

"My shift is over," Anthony said gently as he brushed his thumb against the back of Erza's hand. "Would you like to have dinner with me? I know a place that serves tea that doesn't insult English tradition."

Erza laughed, a sincere, spontaneous laugh that surprised even him, and replied softly, "I'd love to, Anthony."

They walked out of the museum side by side and unhurriedly. The conversation flowed easily between them. 

Erza thought of the sketchbook in his pocket. He had the feeling the pages would soon be filled not only with works of art and inspiring subjects, but also with the quiet, intimate beauty of a life beginning to take shape. 

For the first time since packing his bags and leaving home, Erza no longer felt like a stranger. 

Asa had learned that Muriel had turned twenty and that they were the youngest of Lesley and Maud's adopted children. They were curious about everything and had a penchant for all things vintage. Asa, who also had a passion for antiques, had enjoyed a fascinating conversation with them earlier that evening.

Asa watched with amusement as Muriel unwrapped the accompanying vinyl records before setting them down beside the record player. They stood up and walked over to the huge, lit-up, decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room to hand out the gifts placed beneath it. 

Asa sat in an armchair and watched, fascinated, as the gifts were handed out.

He had also met the other younger children, who, according to Derek, were inseparable — especially when it came to getting into mischief. Josh, who was slightly older than Muriel, was also one of Maud and Lesley’s adopted children.

The other two were Adam, who was dating Josh, and Eric, who was dating Muriel. 

Asa had had the opportunity to talk with them and had found them to be quick-witted, cheerful, and kind young people. The dynamics of this little family were rather amusing to witness: Lesley wanted to act like the patriarch, but he was generally ignored; everyone clearly looked to Maud, who seemed to be the true pillar of the household. 

Muriel’s voice brought Asa back to the present. They were standing in front of him with a gift in their hands. "For Asa, from Santa" they said.

Asa looked up abruptly, surprised, and took the gift from Muriel’s hands. Just then, Derek handed him another one, saying kindly, "Merry Christmas, Asa."

Asa took the second gift and placed it on his lap next to the first, pausing for a moment to take in the surprise. It had been so long since he’d received a gift. He looked around. Everyone was unwrapping presents, laughing and exchanging jokes. Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes when he saw a row of Christmas stockings hanging above the fireplace; the one on the far right had his name on it. It was as if he were part of the family.

It had been so long since he’d felt like he belonged to something. He could barely remember the Christmases he’d spent with his parents. After his mother died, he was left with just his father, and eventually he was alone. 

Not knowing what the future held, he decided to enjoy these moments and etch them into his memory for the day he would find himself alone again.

A little while later, the excitement of opening presents had died down, the atmosphere was calmer, and scraps of wrapping paper littered the floor. Lesley, Josh, Éric, and Adam were playing Uno by the fireplace. Judging by Lesley’s expression, he was losing badly. Maud embroidered on the couch, smiling occasionally at the card players' antics. Muriel lay on the floor in front of their new record player and listened with delight to the music coming from the small speaker.

Asa was wearing an admittedly ugly new sweatshirt, like everyone else in the room, and was flipping through an old family photo album. Derek sat on the arm of the chair and commented on each photo with humor and affection. Asa paused at a picture of a little brown-haired boy—undoubtedly Gabriel—posing proudly.

"That was back when he saved a little raccoon." 

Asa, curious, asked, "How so?"

Derek recounted, his voice softening. "He was playing in the forest when he found the raccoon, lost and all alone. It wasn’t even weaned yet, so Gabriel brought it home in his jacket. The vet saved it and released it back into the wild later."

Maud chimed in, "He's a wonderful boy. Look! He gave us this beautiful basket of fruit for Christmas." She pointed to the basket sitting on the dining room table. "He knows I love fruit, especially strawberries. I don't need to tell you how much strawberries cost this time of year."

Lesley looked up from his cards and said, "What a good son."

For the first time, Asa had a genuinely negative thought about Gabriel. If Gabriel were such a wonderful person, he would have come to see his family for Christmas instead of just sending them a fruit basket, especially since Gabriel lived in the same city. And a fruit basket? That's something you give to an acquaintance or a friend, not family. But who was Asa to judge, since he no longer had a family of his own? He decided to put those thoughts aside and focus on the present moment. He continued to flip through the photo album and chat cheerfully with Derek.    

Much later, all the lights were off, and Asa was asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. The photo album was on the coffee table next to him.

Suddenly, the quiet sound of a door opening roused him from his sleep. He stretched and opened his eyes, startled by the noise.

Someone tiptoed past the couch without noticing Asa, who said nothing and stayed still.

Anthony, unaware that Asa was in the living room, hung up his coat and headed toward the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator just as the light came on. A voice whispered, "At forty, are you still sneaking around like Josh and I do when we come home late, brother?" 

He spun around and found himself face-to-face with Muriel, who closed the kitchen door behind them. He merely waved his hand, looking like a child caught red-handed.

With a mocking smile on their lips, Muriel continued, "Don't worry. Everyone’s already asleep. It's a shame you didn't share our belated Christmas dinner, though."

Anthony replied sheepishly,  "I couldn't help it. There are many more deliveries to be made during the holidays. I had to work very late. Besides, Dad would resent me if I came here and half the work wasn't done. I’ll see them all tomorrow at breakfast."

"Anthony, you really should tell him."

"Not now, Muriel. Please."

Muriel whispered, "Gabriel’s in the hospital."

Anthony's expression turned serious again. He replied, "I know. I just got back from there. He seems to be doing fine, even though he’s unconscious." 

Muriel nodded.

"The doctors say he could wake up at any moment."

Nodding toward the upstairs where Lesley and Maud were sleeping, they said, "Who knows? Maybe they’ll be able to make up." 

Anthony shrugged and replied, "They both have quite the temper. Lesley isn’t a very demanding father, but he can be stubborn. He’s still mad at our brother for giving up the family business, so it depends on his mood. But maybe seeing Gabe like that will soften him up a bit."

Muriel nodded and replied kindly, "Just because Lesley and Maud are good parents who took me in doesn't mean I don't see their weaknesses." They winked at him before adding, "Or yours, or whatever you're hiding, big brother." 

Anthony put on an innocent expression, pretending not to catch the hint. He rummaged through his pocket and said, "You'll be the first to get your present. Merry Christmas, sweetie." 

He handed them a tiny package. Muriel tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a bike lock inside.

Muriel frowned and asked, "What’s that for?" 

Anthony replied teasingly, "It's for a bike." 

"But...but I don't have a—" Seeing their brother's expression, Muriel exclaimed without raising their voice, "You got me a bike?!?"

Anthony nodded and smiled as he explained, "I made a special arrangement with the store. They’re holding it for me all winter, and I just pay them a small amount each month. I told them we’d pick it up in the spring." 

He pulled out a magazine page and showed it to them. "This is the one. It's blue, but you can choose whatever color you want. That’s part of the deal."

"Wow! It looks perfect!"

Muriel hugged Anthony tightly and whispered, "Thank you, big brother. I hope that one day Lesley will see just how exceptional you are. You’re a good person."

Embarrassed by his sibling's thanks and compliments, Anthony cleared his throat and said softly, "We'd better go to bed before the cavalry arrives and I have to hand out the rest of the presents."

Muriel chuckled quietly as they left the kitchen.

They were about to cross the living room, but just as Anthony was about to turn on the light, Muriel whispered, "Wait, don’t wake Asa."

He stopped, and Muriel pointed to the bundled-up figure on the couch. Anthony couldn’t make out anything in the darkness.

Puzzled, he asked, "Who’s Asa?" 

Muriel led Anthony toward the stairs, whispering, "Asa is going to marry Gabriel. He’s his fiancé. Your future brother-in-law."

Anthony froze, but Muriel continued to pull him along.

"He's not Gabriel's fiancé."

"You’ve never met him?" Muriel asked.

Anthony shook his head.

"He's amazing. You're going to love him."

"Hm."

They had reached the doorways to their bedrooms when Muriel turned to Anthony and winked. "Don't eat my cereal in the morning."

"Well, listen. It's very special cereal."

"Yeah, but you're always stealing the toy."

"Good night, Muriel."

"Good night, big brother."

Muriel grabbed him just as he was about to enter the guest room. 

"Thanks for my bike," they said, then kissed him on the cheek before going into their room.

As Anthony closed the door, he muttered to himself, "Who on earth is Asa?"

Asa opened his eyes when his phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him to the alarm. Not wanting to disturb the Davis family or Derek so early in the morning, he had ordered a taxi to pick him up.

He sat up on the sofa and stretched, allowing his thoughts to gradually come back into focus. He remembered vaguely hearing someone come home during the night, but he’d been too tired and had quickly fallen back asleep.

He picked up the blanket that had been covering him, folded it neatly, and placed it on the couch next to him.

He stood up, gathered the gifts that the Davies family had given him and tiptoed over to the coat rack. He put the gifts down, put on his coat, slung his bag over his shoulder and, picking up the gifts again, prepared to open the door.

"Good morning."

Asa jumped and spun around so abruptly that he nearly dropped the gifts, which were already precariously balanced in his arms. 

Seeing the man sitting on the stairs with a coffee mug in his hand, he stammered, "Oh, God. Oh. Oh, you scared me."

The stranger with beautiful red hair said sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

After looking at him for a moment, Asa recognized him from the photos in the album he had watched with Derek the night before and said kindly, "Good morning, Anthony."

Anthony raised an eyebrow and replied with an amused smile, "I guess I don’t remember meeting you."

Asa replied matter-of-factly, "Well, it's probably because we've never met."

Anthony took a sip of coffee before answering. Still wearing that same smile, he said, "That might have something to do with it."

A car horn honked outside. Asa pointed toward the door and stammered, "Oh, taxi! I have to go. I’m really late because I have to go."

Securing the packages in his arms, he added, "It was nice to meet you, Anthony. So...bye."

"Asa."

As he was opening the door, Asa stopped short.

"Okay, look, I—I know that I, um..."

Anthony cut him off mid-ramble, raising his hand and saying softly, "Welcome to the family."

Asa replied, his voice tinged with surprise, "Thank you," and stepped through the door. Just as he was closing it, he added, "Bye," and walked away for good toward the taxi.

He let out a deep sigh of relief, but he couldn't help casting several surreptitious glances toward the Davies' house until the taxi pulled away and took him home.

He remembered the words he’d said when he’d saved Gabriel.

"You'd better have a brother, and he'd better be hot!"

Amazed, Asa murmured, "I'm a fortune-teller."

Because Anthony really was hot.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝