by K-lee Klein
“Scott.” He could hear the frustration in her voice and history told him she was also pinching her nose too. It was totally a family thing. “You're dating your nephew's idol. Stop being greedy.”
“What…what does greedy have to do with anything? I’m sure Devon doesn't have time—”
“Devon doesn't have time for what?”
And with that, Scott was terminally screwed. He shifted the phone again, squinting as Devon slipped from the kitchen. Scott shoved his glasses back on and all the breath left his body when he saw the full extent of his man's attire.
“Wow,” he muttered. “I mean, hi. I didn't…didn't hear you knock.”
“You told me to use these.” Devon jangled his keys with a wide grin. His other hand was occupied with a small tub of Mint Chocolate Chip and there was already a telltale dollop on the corner of his mouth. It took everything Scott had to not vault off the coach to lick it away. “Did you know you left the ice cream out?” Devon stage-whispered.
“Right. Yes.” Scott forced out. His brain felt like a ball of mush while at the same time he was internally kicking himself for not sorting out all the negative possibilities of giving Devon twenty-four-seven access. He wasn’t sure he liked being surprised.
“Hey,” Devon said quietly. “I can go?” It was more question than statement and asked around the spoon sticking out of his mouth. Despite the bad manners, he looked absolutely amazing; black tux cut to perfection with a silver stripe running the length of his pants, making his legs stretch to the sky. His typically messy mane was smoothed into a perfect knot at his nape, and in some weird Devon DuCaine style, a rainbow bowtie sparkled with silver glitter.
“No!” Scott hastily shouted. Devon didn't seem to notice, simply smiled wide and leaned a hip against the doorframe. He dipped his spoon into the tub again like it was the most natural thing in the world. Scott held up a finger. “Dee? I have to go. Can we talk about this later?”
“Ahhh,” she cooed. “He's there, isn't he? Hayyy Devon!”
“Yes. Okay. Thanks for calling. Talk soon. Okay. Bye.” Scott hung up before his sister could protest. He set the phone on the coffee table then turned his attention to Devon. “Um, hi. Again. Did I know you were coming over tonight?”
“Surprise! “Devon replied, popping the P as he walked over and threw himself onto the sofa beside Scott. “You never invite me on Tuesdays and my curiosity got the better of me.” He leaned in to kiss Scott; a cold, minty press of lips.
Scott cringed. “Yuck,” he blurted. He wiped his mouth, noticing Devon's pout. “I didn't mean—”
“I'll have you know my kisses are highly sought after. How dare you wipe off my sloppy goodness.”
“Jeez,” Scott replied, shaking his head. “Drama queen much?” Nonetheless, he kissed Devon all on his own, ice cream be damned.
Devon smirked, offering his dirty spoon to Scott. “Mmm. My favorite.”
“That's the reason I bought it in the first place.” Scott avoided being hand-fed, instead he tugged on Devon's bowtie. It was pretty and so shiny and so not Devon. “What's with the fancy clothes? You moonlighting as a waiter at Il Guardino’s.”
Devon squinted at him. “You been to Il Guardino’s?”
Scott snorted a dry laugh. “No. Not in my price range, but I know things. Sometimes. Maybe I could afford it now with my boyfriend working there.”
“Hate to disappoint but I was at a charity event, not serving expensive food in tiny portions.” Devon scraped the bottom of the ice cream container. “But you say the word and I’ll make the reservations.”
Of course, that’s what he’d say. Scott’s boyfriend was nothing if not generous…and sneaky. “No. It's not my style. You look, um, really nice.” Scott silently wondered if he’d ever not blush when he talked to Devon.
But as usual Devon didn’t seem to notice or was gallant enough not to mention it. He dumped the empty container on the coffee table, along with the spoon, then jumped off the sofa. He stretched his arms to his sides before spinning a slow circle. “You like?” he teased with a cocky smirk and a couple of gratuitous butt wiggles. “You too could look this magnificent if you join me at one of these events. You know I keep asking.”
“And I keep telling you I'd be a horrible date,” Scott answered rising from the couch. Devon hadn't lowered his arms so Scott stepped into them. “I hope your date was as pretty as you.” Devon embraced him, and Scott let himself melt against his strong chest.
“Naw, my favorite was at home making a mess of his kitchen.”
Scott pulled away. “Oh no.” He ignored Devon's confused look and hurried into the kitchen with Devon trailing behind.
“Is that why it's so disorganized? Never seen your kitchen so out of order.”
“It's Tuesday,” Scott asserted before thinking it through. He always kept his Tuesdays to himself but neither of them had ever talked about it before.
“Is this why you're always busy on Tuesdays?” Obviously, Devon hadn’t gotten the memo about their secret agreement of not talking about it. Scott didn't answer, only pursed his lips and busied himself wringing out a fresh cleaning cloth. “Okay. Subject not on the table. How about telling me who you were talking to?”
“My sister.” Scott sighed distractedly. He'd already finished the main part of the refrigerator, but the frozen goods were melting rapidly. “I guess I have to throw all this away. What a waste. I shouldn't have answered the phone.”
Devon pressed against Scott's back, one arm wound around his waist, hand flattened over Scott's chest as he pressed him against the sink. “None of this is defrosted,” Devon commented, unhelpfully. “Let's load it back in and it'll be fine.”
“Load it back—I have to finish cleaning the freezer, Dev. This stuff might be full of salmonella.” Scott shook his head with a huff. Devon made it sound so easy, so decisive. Who was he to judge? He probably hadn't cleaned a fridge in his life.
“I sure have,” Devon interrupted Scott’s internal musings. Devon let go of him, elbowed him out of the way and opened the freezer.
“I didn't mean to say that out loud.”
“Obviously.” Devon swept his hand over the cleaning supplies on the counter while at the same time shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket. “Which one do you use for this?”
It seemed a redundant question to Scott. “All of them of course.”
Devon looked wholly smug when he ushered Scott into a kitchen chair with a cold bottle of water. “Sit and watch my mad cleaning skills.”
“Dev, you can't do that while you're all dressed- up.” But Scott's warning fell on deaf ears.
It took far less time than Scott's usual routine, but he dutifully kept his mouth shut. Of course, Devon DuCaine didn't do anything the normal way, singing and dancing while he scrubbed the inside of the freezer. He seemed not the least bit concerned about his formal attire as he moved on to organize the frozen goods exactly the way Scott liked. It wasn't perfect, but Scott was working on being more chill—or any kind of chill—and he could always do it again when Devon wasn't around.
When he was done, Devon tucked the supplies into Scott's special cleaning cupboard then folded himself into the chair beside Scott.
“Very impressive,” Scott commented when Devon reached for his hand. “My sister says hi, by the way.”
“I think it was more like, Hayyy,” Devon drawled in a disturbingly high voice. “I think she likes me.”
“She doesn't even know you,” Scott snapped. “Sorry. I didn't mean—long day.”
“Maybe she should get to know me then.”
“What?” Scott gaped. “You want to meet her?”
Devon suddenly sulked dramatically. “Kind of chilly in here, huh?”
Scott could barely keep up with his random questions. “Pretty sure it's the same as usual,” he chided. Devon waggled his eyebrows with a leer, the complete opposite of his former expression. “Oh! That was some odd kind of hint?”
Devon was in Scott's l
ap before he finished. “Bingo!” he blurted. “You're much warmer.” He slid his arms around Scott's neck, rubbing his prickly chin over Scott's forehead.
Scott couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know you're kind of big for a lapdog.”
“What can I say? I'm an equal opportunity cuddler.” He grinned cheekily until Scott pinched his fancily dressed bottom. Devon practically purred. “You looking to get lucky, Mr. Weston?”
“What? No.” But he couldn't stay offended while Devon wiggled on top of him. “You're ridiculous. Do you know that?” Scott kissed him. Just because he could.
“But you love me anyhow,” Devon teased.
Scott feigned a grimace. “The verdict's still out on that.”
Devon laughed. “Cheeky tonight. I like it. I need to make Tuesdays a habit now.” It was like Scott said, ridiculous.
“Not unless you want me to put you to work?”
“I'm a rockstar. Not afraid of a little work, you know? Now tell me why you were talking about me to your sister?”
“I wasn't,” Scott denied, loudly. When Devon looked at him with knowing doubt, Scott caved. “Okay. She might have mentioned you.”
“Protective of her little brother? That's sweet.” Devon rubbed his nose against Scott's.
“Not exactly.” Scott knew he was opening a can of worms that might prove difficult to close again. But Devon was…well, Devon. “Ugh,” he finally groaned, unable to avoid Devon's warm puppy-eyed encouragement. “Eddie's birthday is coming up. My nephew, Eddie. You remember him?”
“Of course, I do. Excited kid at the concert, right? He's turning what, fourteen?”
Impressive. Scott had no idea how Devon would remember that when he barely did himself. “Good memory.”
Devon puffed up like a preening peacock. God, he was beautiful. “So, he's having a party? I imagine he wants his favorite uncle there?”
“Not exactly.” Was there a good way to approach the subject, or at least one to not make Scott’s family seem like celebrity stalkers? “He has a special gift request.”
“That's what uncles are for, right?”
“Not when my boyfriend is the gift.”
Devon tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Say what?” he chuckled. “Are you planning on wrapping me up with a big sparkly bow?”
Scott sighed wholeheartedly. “Can you move? My butt's falling asleep.”
Devon snorted but complied slowly. “Well, we can't have that. Couch? Bedroom? Mind if I grab a glass of wine?”
With a groan, Scott stood and rubbed his tingling ass cheeks. “I meant to pick up a bottle today. Sorry.”
“Then it's good that I brought my own. “ Devon opened the bottle Scott had been too distracted to notice due to his rapidly defrosting food. He watched Devon grab glasses then pour them each a healthy measure. “It was a long, damn day at the shop. How was your day, sweetheart?”
Scott took the proffered wine glass, noticing it was his favorite brand. Well, of course it was, Devon was nothing if not a gracious—and sexy—guest. He took a sip. “Thank you. It was a very trying day. I needed this.”
“And me?” Devon hinted.
Scott gripped Devon's collar to pull him closer. “So full of yourself.”
They kissed quickly before walking hand-in-hand to the living room, leaning against each other when they fell onto the couch as one crashing unit. Unbelievably, not a drop of wine was spilled. Scott had just closed his eyes when Devon hijacked the moment. “You know,” Devon began, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I would like to meet your family.”
“My family?” Scott repeated like a dork.
Devon shrugged a shoulder against Scott’s. “I mean, yeah. When you're ready.” He ruffled Scott's hair. “I wouldn't want to take away from Eddie's day but maybe another time?”
“Dinner?” Scott suggested, surprising himself. “I mean, I'm not sure if he's having a big party or whatever, but we could do something small. Maybe here?”
Shifting so he was sideways on the sofa, Devon eyed Scott with curiosity. “I've never heard you talk about having dinner parties.”
“Because I don’t. And I wouldn't call it a party anyhow.”
“First time for everything. I could cook,“ Devon offered hastily.
“What?” Scott was definitely abusing that particular word this evening.
“You know I love to cook.” Devon gulped his wine and Scott tamped down his opinion on his manners. “I cook for the guys all the time. Sicilian mama who taught me everything she knew, remember?”
Scott was hesitant to fully comprehend Devon’s meaning. “Well yes but—”
“No buts, sweetheart. I'm offering. Your choice. And Eddie's, of course.”
“I don’t even know what to serve,” Scott worried, thinking out loud. “Aren't teenagers fussy eaters?”
Devon smirked and rubbed Scott’s thigh. Scott squeezed Devon’s fingers. “I think you have them confused with toddlers. I've never had anyone turn down my Spaghetti Alla Norma.” Devon bulldozed ahead, barely taking a breath. Scott had never seen him so vibrant, at least not when he wasn’t talking about his mom. “I can leave the eggplant out if he doesn't like that. I can even drag out my mom's secret dressing recipe for chopped salad and who doesn’t love homemade garlic bread.”
“Wow,” Scott commented, incredulously. “You seem pretty excited about this.”
Devon squirmed on the couch cushion then slapped Scott's thigh this time. “Well yeah. Does your sister have a plus one? What about your parents?”
“No! I mean, I don't think she's seeing anyone. But definitely no to my parents.”
“Okay. That's cool. I guess you should call her back.”
Scott was flabbergasted and Devon was so adorable in his enthusiasm; face cracked into an impossible grin, his body practically vibrating the couch. “You sure you want to do this?”
“When do I ever say anything I don't mean?” Devon eyed him with honest adoration. “Let me do this. For you. For the kid if he's down with it.”
Then in a flurry of feelings and love, Scott said, “Okay.”
* * * *
The week seemed to speed past and before Scott knew it, it was double D-Day—Devon
Dinner-Day. Devon was unbelievably excited to the point of annoyance, constantly bouncing ideas off Scott until Scott seriously considered ignoring his texts and calls. Truth was, Scott was nervous, which in itself wasn't unusual, except he had also latched onto Devon's enthusiasm along the way. He had worried whether either one of them would make it until the actual day.
Deanna's eagerness was as apparent in the massive number of texts and calls Scott also had to field from her. He could barely concentrate on his work and even his cubicle-mate had mentioned the irregular and constant buzzing of Scott's phone. Eventually, he stowed it away in his messenger bag and concentrated on ignoring it instead.
He felt like he was surrounded by idiots on all sides, except for Eddie, but they'd purposely left him in the dark as a surprise. Perhaps Scott wished he'd been given the same opportunity. Or not.
The day arrived in a flurry of rain showers and a dreary gray sky. Not all that unusual for March in Vancouver but Scott had hoped for a little bit of sun to deflect his unsunny mood. He started the day with a panic attack and though Devon usually slept over on Friday nights, or they went to his castle, as Scott liked to refer to it, Scott had asked him not to come over. He regretted it as soon as he opened his eyes and instantly experienced the dark spots and flashes of intense light associated with his anxiety instead of Devon's ugly mug.
But he survived the morning by the skin of his writhing nerves, a long hot shower, and a handful of anti-anxiety meds.
The house was spotless, even more so than usual, every pillow, throw blanket, and knick-knack in its place or stowed away. He spent Friday night cleaning the oven and fridge, despite those things not being on his usual Friday schedule.
Devon arrived in a fluster of grocery bags, pots and pans�
��because apparently Scott's weren't up to snuff—and too much new-puppy excitement. With the amount of wiggling he was doing, Scott finally asked if he had to use the washroom.
“Just happy and ready to party,” Devon boasted. He managed to slip his boots off without using his hands before planting a messy kiss on Scott's mouth.
Scott swiped at the left-over slobber. “There won’t be any partying, at least nothing suited to a rockstar.”
“Don’t be a negative Nelly,” Devon growled half-heartedly but then broke into a laugh.
“How much coffee have you had today?” Scott asked him, his tone not disguising his obvious discomfort and negative Nelly-ness.
Much to Scott's horror, Devon dumped the entirety of his load onto the couch, but before Scott could chastise him, he was scooped into strong arms.
“Didn't sleep well, did you? Missed your DuCaine-shaped pillow?” Devon joked. Scott didn’t tell him he was exactly right. Devon kissed the side of Scott's head and squeezed him tight.
As embarrassing as it was, Scott had to admit it was exactly what he needed to calm his raging nerves. Apparently, he'd turned into that guy who needed his boyfriend like a fish needs water. Perhaps not all the time, but a lot.
“I'm fine,” he assured, purposely ignoring Devon's questions. “Did you buy out the store?”
Devon released him with a muffled chuckle. His eyes were bright with mischief, and not for the first time, Scott wondered if this family dinner was a good idea.
“It's a great idea and I take full credit.”
Scott peered at Devon with confusion. He was positive he hadn't spoken his thoughts aloud. “Who said—”
“You think I can't read your mind by now? “ Devon asked smugly. “You have very obvious tells.”
“Tells?” Scott returned.
Devon touched Scott's face, slowly tracing his cheekbone. Scott leaned into the contact, content to stay there as long as he could. “Like in poker. You're gorgeous, but you have a terrible poker-face.”
“Good to know I suppose.” Scott eyed the mess on his sofa. “What can I do to help?”