Andrew walked as fast as he could with Peter on his back and as the slippery pavement allowed. It didn’t take long before they had reached the man from before and he flashed a sincere smile in his direction before continuing back home. Maybe it was due to all the people that had stopped them on the way to the market, but the trip back to Peter’s had felt shorter than the trip to the market.
He’d been taking off his shoes by the front door when he saw Peter dash upstairs, probably to find something warm to change into. Andrew could only be happy that he’d had the sense to do so right away before he could actually catch a cold. Sickness was one thing they hadn’t been looking for here in Portland.
Once sure that he wasn’t going to be tracking mud onto Mrs. Devaux’s pristine carpet he padded his way into the kitchen and leaned against the countertop - just watching Angelique for a moment. As he watched her he couldn’t help but compare similarities with the middle of the Devaux’s children. It made his heart feel two times larger with how incredibly fond he was. “You’re son is way too kind for his own good,” he starts up conversation telling her about the incident that had occurred with the homeless man.
Their conversation turns into Andrew helping her make dinner as he tries to follow her instructions down to the smallest detail. The task at hand had served to put his mind at ease and he didn’t pay much attention to how long Peter had been upstairs getting that change of clothes.
Peter took a long, hot shower, just enjoying the feeling of having time for such a luxury. In LA, even taking time to clean himself was added stress and he wondered how he let things get to where they were.
He wasn’t a particularly talented medical professional. He was good with people, though, and it seemed that was just as important at times. He wanted to help people, take care of them, but it was beginning to become too much. Between school and work and his other activities, he was drowning. He didn’t feel like himself anymore and he knew those around him had noticed. Andrew called him out on it on a nearly daily basis.
But what could he do? He was in this. He knew running away wasn’t the best idea, but it was at least an idea. At the risk of losing himself if he stayed, it only seemed right.
He stepped out of the shower after about thirty minutes and tugged on one of Andrew’s sweaters, sorting through his own luggage until he found sweatpants, and then he returned downstairs.
The sight of Andrew hard at work chopping peppers with his mother made his heart ache with fondness and he stayed out of view for a moment. His boyfriend and his mother had always gotten on; she’d had no problems stepping into that role in his life and he knew Andrew was grateful for her. He had always been family. He always would be.
Finally, he stepped into the aromatic room and hugged Andrew from behind, resting his cheek against his solid back and shutting his eyes. He didn’t say anything, just allowed them to continue their conversation and their chopping.
