“Oh, my God, tell me!”
“Well…he used to have blue eyes,” Jayden said. “And he was…kind of a fat baby actually. Like, pudgy. Dumpling mix in a bag…”
* * * *
For once, work had gone Darren’s way. He’d been on the eight-to- four training shift on district, and it had been so quiet there hadn’t been any point. He’d spent most of his day in the central nick with the current CSIs playing various card games with dead radio batteries.
Rachel had texted at four questioning his parentage and demanding he pick up the takeaway she’d ordered from the chippie at the end of the road. He called her a lazy cow for refusing to walk, but did as he was told anyway, and pulled up in front of the house with an unnecessarily enormous takeaway bag at quarter past five.
He was tired, but…all right, for once. He’d woken up okay, and he’d stayed okay, and it was a pleasant change from the dogged lethargy of the last week. He had to tread carefully, though, because Darren wasn’t stupid enough to have missed how much worse he’d been since Christmas, and it wouldn’t take much. So tonight would be for the little things: switch his phone off, talk Rachel into a film that wasn’t a bloody romantic comedy, eat cheap takeaway, and put his feet up. No work, no revision for the end-of-training exam, no arguing with Jayden. Just a bloody night off.
“Rach!” he yelled, kicking her door as he reached the top landing and fumbling for his keys. “Come and get your food! Lazy bitch.”
“Shut your fucking face,” Rachel said, opening the door to seize the bag and retreat again. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to shower and wank and whatever it is you do after work before I start eating your share of food.”
“Where do you put it?” he asked, eyeing her scrawny frame, and stuck his key in the lock. The door opened without the turning of his wrist. “And seriously, stay out of my flat.”
“I borrowed some Coke,” she said blithely, padding back into her own flat and leaving the door wide open. “I’ll pay you back!” she added loudly.
“Like hell you will,” Darren muttered, shutting the door and rubbing a hand over his eyes as he turned into his flat. His face felt gritty and…
“Hi.”
He jumped, almost dropping his bag, but the startled instinct was stubbed out by the familiar voice, and he blinked. Jayden was sitting on his sofa, feet tucked up under himself in a sort of lotus position, giving him a small smile. Jayden. On his sofa. Here.
“…What the fuck,” Darren said.
Jayden flushed a little. “Um, I came straight from St. Pancras. You didn’t get my text?”
“Honestly? I haven’t been reading them,” Darren said flatly.
Jayden bit his lip. “Well…I’m sorry for bailing on you at the weekend, so…I’m here now instead. I missed you, and I have a week until classes start again, so…” He shrugged a little.
Darren stared. His brain couldn’t quite function: he was tired, and Jayden had showed up out of the blue when he was supposedly in Paris, and he might be here until Sunday night, even though Darren had work, and…
“I can’t think,” he said and rubbed his hands over his face again. “Er. Can we…come back to this? I need a shower. And food.”
“Okay,” Jayden said, rising off the sofa. He was wearing a polo shirt. A fancy one he’d probably been bought by one of the stuck-up pricks at Cambridge, but at least it wasn’t a full-on shirt. And fitted jeans that were…all right. “Um, Rachel let me in. This morning.”
“You talked to Rachel?”
“Mhmm.”
“I’m fucked,” Darren groaned, hiding his face in his hands, and he heard Jayden laugh a little before there was a warm, familiar pressure around his arms and back, and a kiss was pressed to the back of his hands. He dropped them to Jayden’s shoulders and eyed him. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know,” Jayden said softly and kissed him lightly on the mouth. The shape of his lips was achingly familiar, and Darren pushed forward into it until Jayden opened his mouth and deepened it, a hand tangling in Darren’s hair to hold him still.
“Still mad,” Darren mumbled when he had to pause to breathe.
“S’okay,” Jayden whispered and tugged his hair lightly. “Shower?”
“Come with me.”
The shower wasn’t really big enough, but Darren didn’t have anything acrobatic in mind anyway: he wanted this, to stand under scalding hot spray and just hang on. Jayden hugged him like he’d never let go, and swayed them to imaginary music, and Darren was content to go with the flow, stroking water off Jayden’s neck and shoulders and pressing lingering, open-mouthed kisses into wet skin as Jayden played with his hair. Eventually, Jayden found his mouth again and stole what little air remained in the tiny bathroom, letting Darren relearn the shape of his tongue and teeth and jaw, massaging both hands briefly into Darren’s soaked curls before dropping one hand between them and pushing him back into the tiles.
“Just let me,” he murmured, his voice little more than a breath, and Darren had no intent of stopping him, those smooth, cultured fingers stroking him with easy familiarity, like they’d never been apart and there’d never been Paris.
The hot water gave out eventually, and then they relocated to Darren’s bed, wrapped in his two biggest towels and ruining the pillows with their wet hair. Darren felt boneless and content, perfectly relaxed, tracing patterns over Jayden’s shoulder. The irritation was ebbing. Now that Jayden was here, even if there’d been no warning and Darren had work tomorrow, he felt…calmer. Easier.
“Seems ages since Christmas,” Jayden murmured, pressing his nose under Darren’s jaw and humming contentedly when Darren scratched at his scalp. “What about the food?”
“Rachel’ll reheat it,” Darren said. Jayden draped an arm over his waist and squeezed. “How was your trip?”
“It was okay,” Jayden said. “Paris is nice.”
“Still smells of piss?”
Jayden chuckled. “Yeah, it does a bit,” he confessed and shifted closer. “Would have been nicer if you’d been there, though. It’s kind of weird going to city of the romance without your boyfriend.”
“That’s okay,” Darren said. “Most of Italy is more romantic.”
“You’ll have to start saving up.”
“Why?”
“Well, my twentieth is before second year starts, so…”
“Jesus,” Darren muttered and twisted to turn himself onto his front, dislodging Jayden.
“Noooo, we have to eat,” Jayden wheedled.
“I can’t afford to eat if you want a birthday trip to Italy.”
“Not all of Italy.”
“Oh, much better.”
“Darren,” Jayden coaxed, and then he was working his arms under Darren’s chest and levering him out again. “We need to eat. I’m hungry, and you haven’t had anything since you got back from work.”
“And I skipped lunch.”
“Oh, you arse,” Jayden mumbled, kissing the back of his head, and then he shoved. Darren was, however, used to this treatment, and slid out of bed gracefully instead of falling. He dumped the spare towel on Jayden’s head and crossed to his dresser to find fresh pyjamas. “I’ve missed your naked wanderings too,” Jayden said thoughtfully, and Darren laughed.
“Well, not for eating with Rachel.”
“Definitely not,” Jayden agreed, and then suddenly Darren was being hugged from behind by the blond ninja, and a kiss hit his damaged shoulder. “I’m sorry about bailing.”
“Well,” Darren squeezed his forearm, “you’re here now.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
Darren hummed. “How long are you staying?”
“Until Sunday morning.”
That only gave them Saturday together really, but…he’d be able to come home from work to Jayden every night until Friday, and wake up with him. And they could have Saturday. He was still a bit sore about the wasted leave, but…
“I suppose I can forgive you.”
> Jayden squeezed again. “The shower doesn’t give me points?”
“That’s with the shower.”
Jayden pulled him around by the shoulders and kissed him again—and this time sharp, short, and full of promise. “I’ll have to do it again after tea, then,” he promised lowly.
Darren grinned, slid his arms around Jayden’s waist, and the last of the irritation washed away. Even as he knew that this reprieve, this relief, was only temporary.
Chapter 22
The thing was, not having classes didn’t mean that Jayden didn’t have work to do. It was nearing the end of the academic year, and there were not only exams, but half of his modules had long essays due by the end of next month. In a small way, Darren being at work was a blessing.
That first morning had been amazing and weird at the same time. The alarm time was fairly similar to Jayden’s routine at Cambridge, but having Darren there wasn’t, and seeing him stumble into a uniform was really weird, and kissing him goodbye at the door felt…it felt weirdly like being grown-up and working and not…not a student, living a hundred and whatever miles away. Like they lived together.
It had been…nice.
Jayden had gone back to bed for an hour before setting himself up on the sofa with his laptop. Ella had sent him a message on Facebook, but he ignored it in favour of work and texting Darren on his phone. Rachel had gone out to work an hour after Darren had, so the house was near-silent, creaking and settling around him as the rain lashed down outside.
It was productive, really. Darren couldn’t text much (or at all) for most of his shift, and lunch seemed to last half an hour before he was back in again and went quiet. Jayden streaked through his American literature essay, finished his notes for Women in Victorian Literature, and was halfway through his Postmodern Poetry before his phone lit up with a text from Ella.
You at the boyfriend’s then?
Yep, he replied. He’s at work so I’m doing the last of my coursework before the exams :)
He didn’t get leave? :-/
Jayden raised his eyebrows. Really? Well, it was a bit last-minute for that and he’s in training, so he couldn’t. Especially after taking leave for the weekend anyway; apparently he and Rachel had had a marathon of Supernatural, which surprised Jayden as Darren generally had never been all that interested in vampires and demons and things like that, but apparently there were a bunch of hot people in it.
Seems a bit harsh to leave you on your own in the flat :-/ Still getting work done! :-) I’m supposed to be studying for my exam on Wednesday but I can’t be bothered!!!
I know the feeling, Jayden replied and glanced at his watch. Ten past three. Rachel would be back soon. Darren had warned him she had a tendency to wander in after work to steal his food. Have to go, Els, only got half an hour or so to finish this :) Talk to you later x. He got no reply; she was probably upset with him for coming to Southampton and giving in to his totally unreasonable boyfriend, but Jayden didn’t really care. He was in Darren’s flat, surrounded by Darren’s things, and wearing one of Darren’s T-shirts that smelled just like the unreasonable boyfriend in question, and Jayden’s clothes from Paris were in the wash and they’d smell like Darren’s laundry powder, and he just didn’t care.
* * * *
Rachel and Darren returned within half an hour of each other. Rachel had only just settled onto the sofa with a folder of marking to keep Jayden company in his workload before the grumble of the car engine and high-pitched squeak of the handbrake signalled Darren’s return. He appeared looking tired and ruffled, slammed the flat door, dropped his bag, and locked himself in the bathroom.
“Um…” Jayden said.
“He’s always like that,” Rachel said.
“Well…” Jayden hesitated. “He wasn’t.”
“Yeah, but he’s working now, and one of his instructors is an arsehole, and he’s been tired a lot lately.”
Jayden frowned. “Tired?”
“Yeah, he’s sleeping ten hours a night if he can,” Rachel said, tucking a sheet of scrawled spelling back into her folder and extracted another.
“…Ten…” Jayden glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit his lip. “Is he…you know, quiet? Or, um, moody, or…?”
“He’s always moody,” Rachel said and rolled her eyes. “He’s a man.”
Jayden chewed on the edge of his lip uncertainly. The shower had come on. Darren had said when he’d first started training that the gear they had to wear to keep the crime scene clean made you sweat like mad, so…maybe he just felt a bit manky? He’d always been like that; he didn’t like to be touched when he felt sweaty. He’d been like that since Jayden had met him, so if it was that, then that was okay, right? That was normal.
“Is he…” He fidgeted. “Quiet? Like…unusually?”
Rachel stared at him, one eye pinched in a scrutinising manner. “Quiet how?” she asked.
“Just…quiet. Um, like…like not interested in…in doing things, er..”
“Jayden.” She pushed aside her folder. “What are you really asking?”
Jayden glanced at the door, chewing on his lip. Would Darren like Rachel to know? Probably not, he hated people knowing about it. He’d been upset when he realised Jayden’s parents knew. He had vetoed the idea of telling his own parents outright to get some help before Jayden had even finished the sentence. He’d hate Rachel to know. And Jayden had managed not to tell her so far, but now she looked suspicious, and…
And Jayden wasn’t here all the time, and if Darren was sleeping ten hours a day every day…nobody could be that tired, right? And the way he’d slammed the bathroom door…
“He…he has bad days, sometimes,” he said finally, and Rachel tilted her head.
“Bad days like how?”
“Like…” Jayden lowered his voice. “Like he’s lethargic and apathetic, he sleeps all the time, he starts on this little self-loathing cycle…”
“He’s depressed?”
“Sometimes,” Jayden hedged.
Rachel pursed her lips and sighed. “I…kind of guessed. He seems the type.” Jayden didn’t know what that meant. “I won’t say anything,” she added. “But I’ll keep an eye on him, if you want.”
“Please.”
“But for the record, he’s been doing that since he moved in,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Apparently the dusting powder they use for prints feels rank, so he comes home and tries to prune himself before anything else.”
Jayden stared at the door, opened his mouth—and snapped it shut again when the lock clicked and Darren emerged in a cloud of steam, completely naked aside from his boxers, and a towel round his hair.
“Better?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “On-the-job training sucks.”
“What’d you do?” Rachel asked, while Jayden watched the progress of Darren’s naked, wet torso cross the room and rummage in his chest-of-drawers.
“Instructor had us doing fingertip searches to find bomb fragments in a bloody dumping ground,” Darren said. “Set up,” he added, when Jayden’s jaw dropped. “It wasn’t a real bomb or anything.”
“Bloody good!” Jayden burst out.
“Productive day?” Darren asked, rubbing off his hair and draping the towel over a radiator. His damp curls were enthusiastically springy, and Jayden itched to touch them. Instead, he simply nodded and shifted his laptop to the coffee table when Darren dropped into the gap between him and Rachel.
“C’mere,” Jayden said, dragging Darren into a hug. He was overheated and humid from the shower, his fresh T-shirt slightly damp, and he smelled sharply clean.
“Oh, disgusting,” Rachel said loudly and shut her folder. “I’ll see you lovebirds later.”
“Still on for curry at seven?” Darren called after her.
“Yeah, but no macking in my flat!”
“Bitch,” Darren said affectionately as she slammed the door behind her, a fine spray of plaster dust shaking itself free from t
he open eaves above their heads. “What’d you do all day?”
“Essays.”
Darren wrinkled his nose, so Jayden pinched him.
“They don’t just hand me a degree, I have to work for it.”
“Yeah, but it’s English.”
“I like English!”
“And that’s great, but you have to get a job someday too.”
Jayden scowled. “Don’t you start. Dad already rants at me for doing a useless subject. I enjoy it!”
“Do you?” Darren asked flatly.
Jayden blinked, brought up short. Part of his brain twitched instantly towards a vehement ‘yes!’ but the other half paused. And it was the pause that he didn’t like—and the pause that Darren had obviously been waiting for.
“Right,” he said, and untangled himself. “Tea?”
“Since when do you drink tea?” Jayden blurted out.
“Since I started work,” Darren said. “Instructor’s banned me from more than six cups of coffee a day. Says it scares him how I don’t have a heart attack.”
“You used to manage twelve before you even got the shakes,” Jayden pointed out dryly.
“Mm,” Darren rummaged for cups. “If you drink wine now, I drink tea. Deal with it. You want one or not?”
“Okay,” Jayden said, pushing away the hurt irritation at the shot at his degree. And his wine. At least he was getting a degree, getting some life experience. Darren had just gone straight from school to work, and okay, he wouldn’t have liked a degree anyway because of the stuck-in-a-classroom thing, but he’d not even taken a gap year. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to, he was always squeezing money out of his parents.
Jayden eyed the laptop with the nearly finished essay, and closed it. Suddenly, there was a distance in the room, like the flat was thirty miles long instead of thirty feet tops. Darren seemed like he was an age away, and someone different from the boy Jayden had met in the theatre storeroom at the beginning of Year Eleven. He was taller, stockier, a little more age and hurt ground into the lines on his face and the scars on his shoulder. He was more cynical, and less open, and…and different, somehow.
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