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Joel had never had cousins before. Never had aunts or uncles or nieces or nephews. He was rapidly learning how these sorts of relationships worked, how many different ways there were to enjoy the company of people you shared blood with. It was interesting, to say the least. Mink and his sisters were. In the back of his mind he did sometimes wonder why his mother never made any efforts to introduce he and Monica to their family before, but honestly? It didn’t surprise him. Neither of them knew their fathers much and it seemed like Lorena didn’t really talk about her family period, let alone go back for visits.

He got the sense that most of the people who had actually known her mother before she left the islands understood that she was to blame for them not knowing much about who they were aside from raising them in a bilingual home. But Joel was excited to learn, and to connect with these people, some of whom were already turning out to be some of the best friends he’s ever made through the years.

His cousin leans forward and clicks his tongue and tuts and smirks in such a suave and entertaining way, it’s impossible not to shoot back and have a little fun with him.

“Offended, are you? Sorry.” Joel grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “Hardly anyone else in there does. Or if they do, they sure aren’t letting me know.” The premise of everyone choosing to speak Spanish over English if they knew it didn’t upset him, but he couldn’t help not being part of a conversation he didn’t understand. “You can play translator for me if you want me to be part of the talks so bad. I’m sure you’re eager to get back in there, right?” He laughed a little. It did seem like both of them struggled to fit into the cacophony of ladies sometimes.

“Ever actually been?” To Canada, he meant. “Could have fooled me. The accent’s strong but honestly, English sounds even better with Latin flair. As do most things.” He tilted his head back and barked out laughter at the comment about ‘talking shit’. “Fuck, is that what’s going on in there? It’s like the nail salons all over again.” He gave Amilcar a wink then, before shooting him a gentle insult in Portuguese to return the favor. “Thanks for the heads up, escroto.”

“Ohh, no no.” Mink was saying it quietly and shaking his head the moment Joel suggested being his translator. He was only twenty-nine years old and he had already spent a lifetime sitting and listening to hours and hours and hours of gossip. It was maddening. Thinking about it was maddening. He would get Joel a Spanish edition of Rosetta Stone.

It was funny to him that Joel seemed to notice the way he wasn’t quite melding with the ladies tonight. Family gatherings had a tendency to make him anxious. If he could get away with it he preferred talking to a few family members at a time, generally because they asked too many personal questions. “Eh, I’ll go back when they’re less excited and shouty.” He waved a hand dismissively, looking away from Joel and out to the residential building across the road.

Once Joel was finished speaking he hummed, using the sound to fill the pause as he found his words. “I’m not sure of what goes on in your Canadian nail salons but if they question whether or not your hair is weaved because it’s too silky then maybe you will feel at home.” A low chuckle accented his words. “I’ve yet to step foot in the Americas so no, and what did you just call me?” He pulled away from the rail and looked at Joel. “I’ll learn your language faster than you will learn mine don’t mess with me.” There was a dark look in his eyes as he said that, but it was intentional, testing.

Part of Joel still sort of missed the life he’d led back in the Americas. He missed his friends in Toronto, missed the colorful people he’d met in California, and it was nice to still get messages from them all every now and then. Joel smirked to himself as he started typing out a reply to what was essentially Dom trying to find a non-committal way of asking when he would be back in the States next when the door opened and one of his elder cousins stepped out on the porch beside him, mouth a flourish of deep, accusatory Spanish.

Joel took a step to the side, making room for the other while simultaneously tucking his own phone away for privacy and to avoid being rude. He nodded back at the greeting, then smiled bashfully at his cousin’s first words. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to, uh.” The older man jabbed at him a little and Joel scoffed at the insinuation, crossing his arms and giving off a defiant glare. “Wow. If you want to feel it, you can just ask, Amilcar. Don’t be shy.” He said, teasing cheekily and fluffing out his thick tresses a little.

“No, not really. I mean I know a little, but. Not enough.” Joel shrugged. Sometimes the similarities between Spanish and Portuguese were enough for him to make loose inferences, but when it came to following conversation, he was at a loss. After a second to pause, he raised his eyebrows again, then crossed them as he stared at his cousin in bewilderment. “Your English is pretty good though. I didn’t think any of you guys spoke it. Meu Avôdidn’t tell you I’m Canadian?”

The other man was quick to respond equally disrespectfully. Good. Mink was getting tired of all the happy, lovey conversation that had been going on tonight. If the other man was half as funny as the reply he had just given then maybe he would come to like him, maybe even excuse the fact that Joel waited twenty-six years to come and say hello. What kind of person comes around family only in a time of emergency?

As words rolled out of the other man’s mouth, Mink watched him,on the verge of smiling. He turned away and whistled sharply the moment he heard his real name. Reflex. The offer had him laughing deeply regardless. Out of a rough sort of playfulness he had the urge to tell the man he’d cut that hair, but he thought against it. He needed to know more about who Joel was.

Apparently a man in Spain who couldn’t speak Spanish.

He leaned over the railing of the porch, exhaling in unconcealed relief as he looked down and examined one of the rings on his thumb. “What, you don’t think they teach English in the schools here? That’s sort of offensive.” He spoke seriously and yet somehow there was a smile on his lips. “I knew you came from somewhere west. Canada makes sense now.” As if he could somehow tell. “Everyone prefers their mother tongue, and I’m good with English but I’m not fluent.” He turned his hand over, willing his fingers and looking ever at Joel. “Now I know you don’t know it when they talk shit.”

Joel was honestly surprised how quickly he’d been absorbed into the fold. His mother had left the continent before he and his sister were born, but that didn’t really seem to matter to the older members of the Medina clan, and all their smaller branches. Once a Medina, always a Medina, no matter how old or estranged; that seemed to be the motto. His arrival certainly wasn’t all that prodigal. He was closer to a disgraced son, if anything–basically told to get away from city life because he couldn’t be trusted to stay sober. Joel expected his elder sister would have informed at least some of them of his situation before agreeing to ship him out there. But if any of them knew of his former alcoholic status, they sure didn’t show any indication of it.

The first week or so he spent in his grandparents’ home, welcomed with open arms as though they knew anything about him. He ate home-grown meals and got introduced to the real flow of the family, fishing with his uncles, watching his nieces and chatting with everyone else. It seemed like every other day there was some new family come by to meet him. Joel had never really felt anything like it. Growing up, with his mother gone, they’d always done things alone. Now, it was like being alone wasn’t really an option.

And as hectic as that made things…Joel was happy.

After about a month, Joel’s grandmother and he decided to travel, get to know some of the family off the islands and closer to Spain. As with every situation like this, Joel went along with it, until both he and his avó were sat in the living room of a distant aunt, her wife and her children, smiling as they chatted to themselves in Spanish and babying the mug full of hot cocoa in his hands. Eventually Joel excused himself to the front porch just to get some air and to let the ladies catch up, one hand buried in his pocket and the other holding his phone as he swiped through old messages.

The kind of family that Mink grew up in was the kind that held very few secrets, a family that was tight knit and overly welcoming. Thanks to his mothers, he knew just about every cousin, every half-uncle twice removed, every niece and nephew. So of course he knew Joel existed, he had just never met the man. Apparently, word about his ‘long lost cousin’ being dropped into the arms of one of the family’s many pairs of grandparents had everyone buzzing. The story had probably been half-told to him a dozen times and he still didn’t quite understand. Joel had one too many drinks and his mother abandoned him? Flew all the way to Europe to leave him with his abuelos?

Strange.

Strange.

Most of the family at the house had congregated in the living room, loudly reminiscing and making plans for later in the evening. Both mothers and two of his sisters were accounted for, with his older brother being busy who cares where (most likely work). And he himself could be found roaming the house, talking in a hushed tone into his cellphone to God-would-never-know-who.

Eventually as his conversation started to come to a close he passed through the living room, lazily waving at mare and mamá while he made his way out the door. “El blanqueo no requiere lavado real , la pendeja.” He spoke as he walked out onto the porch, doing a double-take at Joel before quieting down again. He only spoke a few more words before disconnecting the call and turning to his cousin completely. “Hey.” He gave a quick nod. “You’re missing the riveting conversation inside, your hair is long enough to go get it styled with them later tonight if you want.” His tone was casual, like he’d known the man more than a few hours. Then a sharp, pointed question. “Do you speak Spanish?”

Joel gets real comfortable there, breathes in the scent of natural musk and hours-old sweat from their first romp the previous night. It’s a delicious combination when met with Dom’s shampoo and soap, the smell of his cotton sheets, and the dry sweetness of the pancake powder. Joel rests his lips on the back of Dom’s shoulder and kisses lightly at him, inching closer to his spine and up his neck, before removing both hands from his boxers and wrapping them around his middle instead.

“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known,” Joel jokes, though his voice is serious, and he lets himself and his arms slip away from Dom as he starts back towards the kitchen table. He stays standing and picks up the reader to test his blood sugar again.

“I meant to ask you this at the start, but, well. You got me all distracted, so I’ll ask now. ‘You ever bottom?” He bit down on his lip with a brief grin as he pricked his finger. “‘You ever bend over and take it, I mean.”

Pieces of bacon are carefully set in the pan until there’s only about half left in the pack. The thin pieces of meat are already fully cooked, only needing about twenty seconds in the microwave, but Dom’s barely thinking about that. He blinks slowly as he slides his fingers across the closure of the resealable bag, relishing the feeling of Joel’s lips on his skin. He smiles when Joel gives him what could be a compliment, assuming by the context that he doesn’t mean it. And when the other man’s arms fall away from his body he doesn’t protest, working on finishing their breakfast instead.

--

“I know what you mean.” The response comes not even a second after Joel’s last sentence. He’s setting Joel’s waffle on the table first, not wanting it to cool down before it’s eaten. As he turns away to grab his own food and some syrup, he laughing lightly at the way the other broached the subject.

He gets to the table and sets down his meal, taking a seat across from the one Joel was at. The waffles on his plate get covered in syrup as he answers. “Yeah I take it,” he doesn’t feel so shy saying it when the two of them just had sex last night. “When I feel like it.” He tacks on, closing the cap on the syrup bottle and looking at Joel with an innocent smile. He hums into his next word. “Why?”

#*seamless timeskip*

Joel has never considered himself particularly funny–charming, definitely, but it’s new to see someone get such a kick out of his response-based humor. It feels good, watching Dom genuinely grin and laugh and enjoy Joel as much as Joel is him. He smiled contentedly at the other man’s midriff. “I’m sure. Don’t worry, it’s totally clear that there will be no snacking off your plate if I change my mind.”

Then Dom ‘remembers’ something and it makes Joel bark out laughter as the other turns, squinting playfully. “Oh please, this doesn’t even make my top ten plays. You said you wouldn’t make any if I woke up early. It’s not early.”

He smiled and paused for a second before standing up. He was only sitting in case he went all hypo and passed out, but honestly, he didn’t feel as weak as he would have been if that was the case. So he strode confidently across the kitchen and up behind Dom’s back, not suffocatingly so, but close enough to slide both hands past the elastic of the other’s brief and rub soothingly at the other’s bony hips, the tops of his legs. And only those areas.

“Don’t forget I still owe you some attention before I leave. As far as I’m concerned you’re just sweetening the pot. Making it easier for me.”

When he turns around he’s cracking two more eggs into the bowl and setting the shells aside to throw away later. He grabs another bowl to put the pancake mix in, guessing the amount of powder to pour in rather than checking the serving size and searching for some measuring cups. Then he grabs a large frying pan, leaning to the side a little to set it on the stove when he feels Joel behind him.

There isn’t much change in his body language, nothing more than his shoulders relaxing and his head tilting slightly to the side. His hand leaves the pan on the stove, not needing to turn on the heat just yet. Joel’s hands slide into his boxers and he’s giving the other man a low hum in approval. “Oh I didn’t forget.” He almost sounds coy as he smirks and gently leans back into Joel. “I trust you to keep your word.” There’s a light chuckle in between his words, happy he’s being touched and trying not to move away from the fingertips tickling his hips.

He continues preparing the food, pretending like he’s not entirely focused on the other man’s hands as he reaches for the bacon. “I swear I’m only making you one waffle. No loopholes.” He jokes smoothly, avoiding giving in.

Squinting, Joel laughs at that, raising a hand incredulously. “Wow, yeah, great idea Dom. That would have been the perfect time. ‘Ungh, yeah, I need carbs, fuck’.” He said with an equal amount of playfulness and sarcasm, smiling to himself as he turned back to the table. “If there was a way to make this sexy I would have found it years ago. ‘Sides, you weren’t allowed to stop.”

Joel raised his empty glass in a mock toast when Dom found some pancake mix. “Probably not. I’ll eat something when I’m sure I’m not gonna go all hypo on you and pass out.” He thought about it for a sec, then leaned on his forearms where they were braced on the table, humming. “Maaaaybe make me one, too ? Just one.”

Dom tries his best not to laugh, not to let Joel possibly think he’s won the argument, but he can’t stop the snort he gives at ‘I need carbs’. And as he sets the pancake mix on the counter he’s leaning forward a bit as he tries to stifle a hearty laugh. For one of the rare occasions that he lets a semi-anonymous hookup stay over, he’s pretty thankful Joel is good company. If he had to be honest he would say it feels like they’re friends, but he takes comfort in the fact that it will probably never come up.

He bends down to pull a waffle iron from a cupboard and plugs it in. “Just one?” He asks, getting everything together to prepare his breakfast and Joel’s single waffle. Part of him feels bad for eating a full breakfast when his company is having so little, but the more familiar part of him says that means more food for himself. He doesn’t know if he feels sorry, or if he’s just being nice. “They’re so good though. I don’t know how you’re gonna eat one and act like you’re satisfied.”

There’s a beat of silence after his last word and then he quickly turns around. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t making you any food?” The question is more for himself than Joel, and he shakes his head as he turns around. “I’ve been played, in my own home.”

Joel bites down on his lip to keep from busting out laughing as Dom goes through 40 years of a life crisis in a single instant over the mention of waffles. He actually does laugh when Dom proclaims Joel has ruined him simply by bringing them up, followed by a faux-panicked bark of protest at the prospect of being booted out for it. “Oh come on, it’s not my fault you were off your A-game at the grocer.”

And then the inevitable line of questioning, to which Joel simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on a sealed back of glucose tablets. “Technically I skipped my breakfast, so my blood sugar is low. I’m diabetic. The juice has a lot of added sugars so I had a cup of that and I’m waiting to retest to see if it helped. ‘Gonna have to watch what I do and don’t eat until my next insulin shot at 1.”

He smiled wide. “This is your fault, you know. I probably wouldn’t have overslept if you weren’t such a damn good lay.”

The moving fingers direct Dom’s gaze to the glucose tablets on the table, and he continues toward the pantry as Joel explains. In the small, dark room his hands briefly search the wall for the light switch and then the search begins. He’s hanging onto most of Joel’s words: ‘blood sugar’, ‘diabetic’, ‘insulin shot at one’. Out of reflex he wants to half-jokingly make a comment about not drinking all of his juice, but he deems it too insensitive. Instead, he replies with a gentle “Ah,” just loud enough to be heard from outside the pantry.

After shuffling around some cereal boxes he finds an unopened box of pancake mix and quietly rejoices. “What?” He asks through an astonished laugh. He turns around and leans on the door frame. “Uh-uh you can’t pin this on me. You shoulda said something between all your moaning, or maybe when I stopped pounding your fine ass for a second to ask ‘you good?”. Might’a been a good time to mention it-- or set an alarm.” The words leave his mouth so smoothly he doesn’t think too much about swearing.

“Found it, by the way.” He holds up the pancake mix as he walks back toward the kitchen, eyeing Joel on the way. “Good news, you can stay. Are you only going to have juice?”

He’s bored already just watching the clock. Then there’s movement across the room and Joel looks over–smiling on instinct at the sight of the other made trudging towards him, or rather, towards the food.

“…what? No, I don’t.” He ogles him a bit, head tracking the older man as he rounded the table and moved behind him, biting his bottom lip cheekily and tapping his fingers on the table in front of him.

“‘Heck’ and ‘crap’?” Joel laughs loudly. “Wow. You’re adorable, you know that?” He tilts his empty glass back to swallow the last few drops, then circles the cup in his hands, occasionally looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the other. “…you’re just gonna eat that, no waffles?” He joked.

Dom doesn’t try to fight the way he scoffs jokingly when Joel claims he doesn’t swear a lot. After he sets the ingredients of his breakfast on the counter, he’s leaning to the side to try and pull a bowl out of a cupboard without having to step away from his spot. He’s successful and as he sets the bowl on the counter in front of him he laughs. “I’m aware now.” The words are light as he cracks an egg and throws the shell aside.

“Ugh.”

He stops almost immediately after the mention of waffles. The holy grail of breakfast foods and maybe just food in general. There’s a few seconds where he blankly stares forward at the wall, rolling an egg on the counter as he thinks. “You’ve ruined me.” He sets the egg back in the carton, turning around and heading to his pantry. “If I don’t have pancake mix I’m kicking you out.”

On his way to the pantry he eyes Joel and the items sitting before him. “What are you doing?” He asks pointedly, mostly worked up about this waffle endeavor.

Even in the midst of a potentially-serious situation, Joel found himself grinning at Dom’s answer from the bedroom. “…you bet I am.” He said after a brief pause, pulling open the correct cupboard and pulling out a medium-sized glass. “Robbing you blind, bitch.”

He left the container of juice on the counter and returned to the granite table with his cup, pulling up one of the chairs behind him and sitting as he chugged it down. It sucked, but he was going to have to wait until the next interval to take his insulin, which meant he was going to have to spend the next few hours painstakingly logging his blood sugar and correcting as needed.

Joel sighed, leaning forward and rubbing at his forehead, pushing his hair back over his ears and finishing off the grape juice. It would be fifteen minutes before he could test again–until then he needed to stay seated. Crossing his arms in front of himself, Joel thought for a second, before smiling wide and calling out to the other man again. “Did you say I ‘curse’ a lot, back then? What’s that about?”

Dom is laughing lightly at Joel’s response and soon sighing deeply as he rolls over to the edge of the bed. As he slides his legs over the edge of the bed his stomach grumbles and he mumbles and ‘I know’ as he stands and stretches. Aware that it might look like he didn’t trust Joel out of sight, he acknowledges to himself that he’s just going to the kitchen because he’s hungry. After opening his underwear drawer he scratches his stomach as he carefully chooses which pair of boxer shorts to put on.

Then he’s quickly brushing his teeth and donning a t-shirt as he leaves the bedroom and makes his way over to the kitchen. “Huh?” He asks, running a hand through his messy hair as he recalls what he said in his half-sleep state. He passes Joel on his way to the fridge, looking down at what’s in front of him on the table and humming as he thinks of how he wants to explain.

“Mm-you just curse a lot. Like swearing? I just thought it was funny.” He’s leaning into the fridge to grab a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. “I wasn’t even allowed to say heck or crap growing up. I don’t know.” He laughs lightly, not having a better explanation for his amusement.

So annoying. So, so annoying. Oversleeping was probably the easiest way to knock him off course, and he underestimated how much good sex and good beds could sedate his internal clock. Joel laid his things out on the granite tabletop–nice, some less-alarmed part of him commented–and started to look around the kitchen. He might just have to take Dom up on his earlier offer to help himself to food.

Quickly, Joel disinfected his space and pricked his finger, holding the small red bead up into the sensor of his blood sugar machine and mumbling crossly at the reading. Setting everything down, he made a beeline for the fridge, pulling open the doors and scanning the contents for anything he could use to up his numbers. His eyes fell on the grape juice immediately and he pulled out the bottle, giving the label a quick scan before turning and searching for glasses.

“Hey Dom?” He shouted towards the bedroom, opening cupboard after cupboard. “Cups?”

When Dom heard his named called from outside the room he opened his eyes again, but the question took a moment to register. He could have easily gotten out of bed to help the other guy out but... why. It wasn’t very hard deciding whether or not to stay in the bed, and he rubbed his eyes as he shouted back and answer. “Cupboard above the sink!” He tilted his head and leaned over a bit, trying to get a view of Joel through the open door. “You’re not robbing me are you?” His tone is lazy, every bit as tired as he is, but the humor is there.

emmaloafus-deactivated20160725

Adam Driver sitting on cardboard boxes? Still hot.

Ordinarily Joel might have given the other man a bit of a warmer good morning, but the longer he was awake, the more he expected to hear what Dom was about to say–10:47. He visibly cringed. “Fuck.”

Rubbing at his face again, Joel sat up and threw his legs over the bed, standing and returning to his things on the floor. His drawers were easy to locate and pull up. The next few minutes had him rummaging through his things again, pulling out more than just his injection case. “‘Have the day off.” He answered, admittedly late, as he opened the bedroom door and slipped into the kitchen. “Give me a sec. Sorry. ‘You got a dining table in here?”

Most of that question was uttered when he was already out the door.

Still half-asleep and not trying to fight it, Dom lowered his head with brief, light laughter. “You curse so much.” He said under his breath, not necessarily expecting Joel to respond. He was fully expecting Joel to have to start packing up and leave, but then the man eventually told him he had the day off. Dom didn’t do much more than grunt in response as he watched the other man exit the room.

“Uh–” He turned over on his back and closed his eyes again, moving one arm to shield his eyes from the incoming sun. “Yeah.” With Joel out of the room he spoke louder so his voice would reach the man. “The granite-topped table just outside the kitchen.” Sleep was pulling him away from worrying about what exactly Joel was doing. “It’s got chairs all around it.” The detail seemed important.

Dom’s mattress was a hell of a lot comfier than his. Probably cost more money. He ruminated on those thoughts until he fell asleep, seduced by poofy cotton. He woke with a sniff in the morning, jaw snapping closed, and he left out a few dazed mumbles as he rubbed at his face and turned his pillow over to escape his own drool stains.

Again, he sniffed, laying flat on his back and blinking upward deliriously into the morning light, letting out a yawn before looking to his side, then around, in search of a clock. “Ohh fuck…what time is it.”

Despite the slightly unsettling awareness that there was another person sleeping in his bed, Dom slept rather well. Over the course of the night he had turned over on his stomach and that’s the position he was in as he was woken up. He’s an incredibly light sleeper, and the small noises Joel had been making had him blinking away a pleasant dream.

The alarm clock was sitting on the night stand on his side and he eyed it with a lazy gaze when Joel asked what time it was. At first he opted for mumbling the answer to his pillow, but it was barely coherent. He lifted his head from the pillow he had been sleeping on and replied with tired tone. “Ten forty-seven.” Then he lifted himself by an elbow and turned around to look at the other man. “Why are you late for a job?”

Before the word ‘okay’ had completely left Dom’s mouth, Joel was grinning again, making small upward pumps of victory with his hands. Then Dom mentioned preparing his own food, and Joel groaned, bursting into a minor fit of self-admonishing laughter. “Believe me, I’d have to double-check everything you made me anyway.” He rolled his eyes at his life, then pushed himself up the bed until his head was resting on the pillows again at Dom’s side.

“Deal. Thanks.” Leaning in, Joel pressed a quick, gentle kiss to Dom’s lips, giving him a quick wink and smile when he pulled back, then turning over on his side and tugging at the sheets.

Dom couldn’t believe it when he saw that small victory dance, considering retracting the permission to stay just for shock value. But there was no going back now. Well there was, but he would stand by his decision and hope was going to wake up to all his valuables missing. He chuckled out a “seriously?” after the implication that he might poison the other man, but he understood better safe than sorry.

The kiss caught him off guard, but he was quickly recovering after catching the wink. “You’re welcome.” he deadpanned before laughing light as the other turned over. Wondering how well he was going to sleep tonight, he looked at the other man a few seconds longer before turning to the other side and sending himself to sleep.

Joel shot Dom a sly look at his reaction to the pinch, then looked back up at the ceiling. “Ah, so you don’t usually talk to your partners.” He pursed his lips, smiling to himself, and tapped at his temple where Dom could see. “Meaning, I’m special. Good to know.”

The question had him humming and he stayed quiet for a short time, faking like he was thinking about it. Reaching up, Joel tucked his hair behind one ear before speaking up again.

“I’d say I wouldn’t blame you and it’s your call. I’m just beat and hope that doesn’t happen.” Another pause, followed by a slightly suggestive look back up at the other man. “But I might be grateful in the morning. Really grateful.”

Dom wanted to disagree that Joel was special, only because of how it sounded on the surface. If he thought about it a little more the man was right though and that was a little scary. What was he supposed to do after sex with a stranger? Well the answer was exactly what he was doing now, but it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t supposed to be, at least.

When he got his answer he was a bit surprised real it was, joking aside and leaving the ball in his court. Surprised didn’t mean disappointed though, Joel was different in an unnervingly, disarmingly good way. Dom wanted to think he didn’t like it and he wanted to tell the guy to hit the road because he was just a one-night hookup.

But then Joel was giving him this look accompanied with a subtle offer his libido wouldn’t let him refuse. He didn’t hold the look for any longer than he needed to and sat up to rub the bridge of his nose as he thought. “Okay but you gotta prepare your own food if you get hungry.”

This guy was a bit of a cheeky ass, but Joel would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little charmed. And it would be hard to chalk it up to afterglow. He shook his head with a smirk and a squint as the other man laughed at him, and pinched his skin a little for revenge.

“Maybe, but I’ve shared worse.” He shrugged, rolling over onto his back and picking one knee up to brace his foot on the bed. He smiled to himself when Dom asked too. Still, he took a moment, breathing evenly and trying not to let the word ‘girlfriend’ sour what was otherwise a pleasant evening.

“Nope. I’m all yours for now.” He reached over, patting Dom’s knee cheekily. “You know, you’re nicer than I expected you to be from our messages. I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me out of this fancy ass flat yet.” After a brief pause, Joel tilted his chin back, raising his eyebrows at the other with a big grin. “’You letting me crash or…?”

“Hey--” Dom jerked when his skin was pinched, mostly because it tickled and less because it was painful. He hummed at the other man’s mysterious answer and looked up to the ceiling again. The interest he held for the story behind it was equal to how much Dom didn’t want to get too personal, so he kept quiet.

The time it took Joel to answer the girlfriend question felt natural to him. And even if something was amiss with the other man he would have been too busy watching a dimming light bulb to really notice. He smiled at the ‘all yours’, immediately considering the phrase’s connotation. The pat on the knee doesn’t help, and it’s not long before he’s chuckling knowingly. “I would have kicked you out by now, coulda been sleeping or catching up on TV.” He made sure to sound like Joel was inconveniencing him despite the growing smile on his face.

“But you’ve been good company so far.” He paused and looked back at Joel. “What if I tell you I don’t like letting strangers spend the night?”

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