Trevor forcefully pushed away his lingering sluggishness from his late night and his embarrassed thoughts about coffee by spending the morning hours in the garden. It was the right month, with the right weather, for planting certain herbs and vegetables, and the flowers needed tending as well.
His grandmother joined him for an hour, then got a call from her sister and disappeared into the house. Trevor kept on working. He left his phone on the table after putting on a podcast and bringing some seedlings out from the garage. Some of the veggies had been planted from seeds a while ago, but anything that was helped by a bit of coaxing had been sprouted in the garage under lamps and controlled conditions.
When his podcast ended, he didn’t start a new one. He stayed over by the collection of metal tubs and the large square patch of the yard dedicated to edible growing things. Ellie got bored after a while, as she usually did, and gave up chasing butterflies to flop down under the plum tree to watch for squirrels.
She perked up abruptly about the time Trevor had started to think about lunch, then bolted to the fence and the gate with the loose latch that could be reached from either side. Since a squirrel was not atop the fence and Ellie rarely reacted that dramatically to anything else, Trevor stood up and went to peer over the top, batting aside a few morning glory vine tendrils that always tried to grow over the gate.
G.G. was on the sidewalk, clearly walking toward Trevor’s grandma’s house, holding a casserole dish that was probably empty. He had put on jeans instead of sweatpants. Trevor tried not to think about the effort that must have taken, even if they weren’t the tightest jeans. G.G. had even put a long-sleeved plaid button-up on over his t-shirt, although the cuff was unbuttoned for his injured hand.
Trevor’s grandmother wouldn’t appreciate how long it must have taken G.G. to get dressed even though G.G. had likely done it for her, but Trevor smiled to himself like a loser before calling out, “Just bring it over here!”
It startled poor G.G., but he did cross the grass to make his way to the fence once he realized where Trevor was.
Trevor snapped his fingers for Ellie to sit before he opened the gate, and then, instead of accepting the dish, exchanging normal adult pleasantries, and letting G.G. go back to the shelter of his house, said, “Come on in.”
Trevor’s pants had dirt on the knees and he probably had dirt under his fingernails even with the gardening gloves he’d had on, but after the coffee incident—if there had been a coffee incident—he didn’t think his appearance mattered much in terms of forming a good impression.
However, G.G. stepped through the gate after another brief study of Trevor’s Mothman hat. He gave Trevor the casserole dish. Trevor took it. Then they stared at each other until Ellie started to yip to get Trevor’s attention.
“Sorry.” He closed the gate without using the latch and Ellie jumped in relief, ran three circles around G.G., then sat next to him to gaze brightly up at him. “Sorry,” Trevor said again, going over to the table to put the dish down and silently encourage G.G. to come deeper into the garden. “She’s behaving but she’s excited.”
He turned back to find G.G. had followed him for a few steps, then stopped, apparently to stare at the yard around them.
Trevor considered the yard with pride. A path led from the sliding doors into the house to the table and chairs, which at the moment was bare of an umbrella because Trevor had taken it down for the winter and hadn’t put it back up yet. The path then continued through short grass and clover to the side gate. The third fork in the path led toward the vegetable garden, and then carried on around the back of the house toward the garage.
Along the house were shrubs and bushes of flowers, some blooming now, others that would come to life in summer or early fall, so that there were almost always flowers. Trevor found the flowers easier than the vegetables, but that might have been because he didn’t have to keep bugs and squirrels away from them, and most of the flowers were perennials anyway.
The vegetable and herb garden and the plum tree occupied the farthest corner of the large yard, leaving enough short grass for the niblings and other younger relatives to play. They knew better than to go near the vegetable garden without permission, but Trevor and his grandmother had been considering a low decorative fence around it, with an arched trellis at the entrance. His grandmother had apparently always wanted a trellis overgrown with flowers. It did sound appealing.
Right now, the yard mostly smelled like tilled earth and sunshine on grass, but when the weather warmed, the scents of various flowers would add to the atmosphere of fertility and life.
Trevor had helped his grandparents with their yard once or twice as a kid, but he wouldn’t have expected that he’d take to gardening like this. Going back to an apartment and relying on small pots of violets or basil wouldn’t be the same.
“It’s not a big house but the yard space makes up for it,” Trevor remarked when G.G. didn’t speak. The builders had probably expected the original owners to expand on the house themselves.
“You can smell the flowers from your front yard halfway down the court,” G.G. said. “I should have expected the backyard to be like this.”
Trevor pulled off his gloves and left them on the table with the dish and his phone. Through an opened window, he could hear the TV and his grandmother talking quietly with her sister, or maybe someone else by now.
G.G. looked better, cleaned up and more rested. Hopefully, he’d actually eaten the food.
He took his eyes off the garden and caught Trevor staring at him.
The tension on Trevor’s end was real and he didn’t think he was imagining the interest from G.G. But how many times had Trevor looked on every location-based hookup app to see a ping from next door and never found even a hint of one? If he had, he would have been down for anything, even just trading pictures.
He opened his mouth and Ellie dropped her rubber bone chew toy on his feet and barked, sparing him from whatever he might have said. He bent down to grab it.
“This is Ellie,” he introduced them again. “Ellie, this is G.G.” He wasn’t going to force anyone to interact with his dog, but he had to acknowledge her or she would pout. And also, he wanted G.G. to like her.
“Ellie,” G.G. greeted her, voice as husky as ever, but warmer than usual. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
Ellie barked in agreement as her tail kicked into overdrive. Trevor tossed the chew toy over toward the plum tree and Ellie took off after it, probably to gnaw on it and growl softly to herself while also glancing toward G.G. in hopes of more praise.
“If you flatter her more, she’s going to try to climb onto your lap when you sit down,” Trevor warned.
G.G. smiled a little. “It’s nice to see a happy dog and I’m… I’d like to think I’m durable. Enough to handle a poodle, anyway.”
Trevor wanted to kiss the life out of him.
Inside the house, his grandmother chatted away. Mr. Tammy jumped up into the window to give G.G. a beady-eyed stare. Trevor exhaled.
G.G. met Trevor’s gaze, bit his bottom lip, then abruptly turned to look over the garden again. “I saw a history documentary that said in some ancient cultures, a garden was meant to be a piece of paradise on earth.”
“Paradise?” Trevor absently brushed a lazy bee away from his elbow. “Well-organized chaos.” He said it fondly. “We plan and we prepare, maybe like you do before your projects, but ultimately, nature does its thing regardless of any plans. Plants you don’t expect to crossbreed will, bugs pop up, the weather turns before it’s supposed to, or after it’s supposed to, or it never rains enough in the first place.” But he exhaled in satisfaction only seconds after complaining. “But it is nice, isn’t it? My grandmother has always had the veggie garden and some flowers in the front yard and now I get why.”
“The front yard didn’t always look like it does now,” G.G. objected quietly. “And I bet this yard has changed too, in the past two years. I’d never say it was better, or worse, even if I’d seen the garden before, but the yard has changed, hasn’t it? It’s definitely more than what it was.”
If G.G. wasn’t careful, Trevor’s urge to kiss G.G. was going to become the urge to fuck G.G. where Trevor’s grandmother might find them. Trevor genuinely didn’t know what to do about it.
“Ah. Well.” Trevor scratched the back of his neck and glanced up to find G.G. watching him. “I might have talked about plants to encourage certain pollinators and helped her look things up online that she might want to try. And… well I can physically do some things she can’t.” Like put the flagstones in the backyard path or install the trellis and fence when they got them.
Ellie returned to drop her toy at G.G.’s feet, her tail still wagging.
“You don’t have to pet her, but if you want to, she’s not a biter or lunger.” Trevor hadn’t even finished the warning before G.G. bent down to gently scratch the top of Ellie’s head and behind her ears. “Also,” Trevor knew he was smiling a shamefully dorky smile but did nothing about it, “if you tell her ‘down’ or ‘sit,’ she’ll obey. You just can’t laugh as you say it. She knows laughter and thinks it means you find her charming.”
“Because she is charming,” G.G. replied to Ellie, tone incredibly serious.
Trevor was going to throw him down and fuck him right there in the grass and clover. He’d have to take a moment to lock his grandmother in her bedroom first, but oh well.
He swallowed. “Could I get you something?” he asked in a strained but fair approximation of an adult with hidden motives and an agenda. “Water? Iced tea? …Coffee?”
He wondered if they had any honey in the house.
Disappointingly, G.G. didn’t look up from exchanging adoring looks with Ellie. “I’m all right, thank you.”
Maybe G.G. just had excellent manners and had offered Trevor coffee because it was the thing to do. Fuck, G.G. had impeccable manners even when bleeding into a dishtowel. Maybe he had one of those WASPy families who were all about appearances and breeding but didn’t know how to show affection. That would explain some things. Although Trevor’s limited direct experience of WASP types did not make him think many of them worked in construction, unless they owned the companies.
“It’s interesting to see where the vegetables come from,” G.G. remarked out of nowhere. Or not, because he was there to return a dish and Trevor was thinking of irrelevant things.
“Vegetables?”
It at least got G.G.’s attention back on Trevor, as well as his Mothman hat, which G.G.’s gaze went to again.
“When I first moved in, and the year after that, Margaret would leave bags of vegetables on my porch. I think she did it for Mrs. Wheaton too, although I’m not sure she took them. Your grandmother stopped after that. I figured that she didn’t feel up to gardening anymore, or that she had less to spare with someone else in the house.”
“We also gave some to the local food pantry. With people out of work because of the plague, they had a bigger demand. I’ve discovered I like growing things, maybe too much, and am too invested into planning to maximize our output,” Trevor revealed. “Because there’s only so much eggplant or zucchini that we can eat ourselves.” His grandmother could have mentioned that she had these quiet relationships with her neighbors. Trevor would have delivered vegetables to G.G. no problem. “I didn’t realize she used to share with you guys. Was there something you especially liked? We plant in stages depending on grow times and the season, so not everything is in the ground yet. If you were looking for something in particular, I can probably grow some for you.”
G.G.’s eyes widened with alarm. “I wasn’t hinting.”
“Yeah,” Trevor said, slow, fighting the urge to beam at G.G. fondly while also reckoning with the offer he’d just made because he now fervently wanted to provide vegetables for G.G. “I didn’t think you were. I’m offering. You like tomatoes? We’ll have a ton. I keep thinking we should get more fruit trees, but even this one plum tree is like inviting squirrels to a buffet, and Ellie and squirrels have a contentious relationship.”
G.G. bent down to pick up Ellie’s toy at last and toss it toward the tree in question. Ellie dashed after it. “Fruit trees? For pies?”
Trevor didn’t know how to make pies. But crusts could be purchased premade, so they must mostly be a matter of the filling. Was baking like cooking? He’d need more lessons. Then Redwall feasts for everyone.
Oh. No wonder Sky had been so taken aback. He’d guessed. Trevor was that predictable.
“Ideally,” Trevor answered G.G. lightly despite his embarrassed inner turmoil. His grandma might have questions if he asked about pies too suddenly. “And take them to family events, once those start happening again. Or for my grandma or… whoever. Whoever might ask for them.” Sky had once fallen in love with mini lemon meringue pies they’d been served at a wedding, as much for the size and adorable look as the taste. That was another argument in favor of getting a lemon tree.
“You don’t like pie?” G.G. studied Trevor without a hint of judgment, but perhaps some doubt and concern. “Not a sweets person?”
“Sweets are good,” Trevor assured him. “I just can’t bake them.”
“I can…” G.G. started to say, then gave a small, firm shake of his head and changed the subject. “This yard is more restful than the front yard. It looks careless, but the design underneath it all speaks of intent. Margaret laid a good foundation here. I’m glad you’re helping her build on it.”
Never in his life had Trevor been given such a compliment. His art regularly aroused people who weren’t shy about telling him so, and he had some casual fans and regular patrons. He had not once considered his small role in helping to create paradise on earth as something important enough to mention.
His sister sure didn’t. Trevor got the feeling Amanda thought he was having some sort of vacation by being here, and not that life and the nightmare that was 2020 had demanded it.
“You could grow some native plants in your yard,” Trevor suggested, as close to breathless as he got when not jogging or jacking off. “They’re almost no fuss, since they want to be here. I could help, if you needed.” He really couldn’t stop himself. “Obviously,” he continued before G.G. could comment, “I have some time. But I do like it. I’ve learned that. The digging in the dirt but also the stuff that needs to be done before that can happen.”
G.G.’s eyebrows went up. “You mean you didn’t grow up gardening? You learned how to do this recently?”
Trevor had no idea what he was feeling. Insane levels of pride and pleasure to have impressed G.G. and also slightly, secretly humiliated that he apparently hadn’t impressed anyone in his family because they’d never reacted like that. “It’s a hobby,” he answered at last. “I… like to plan things. Turns out gardens like that.”
“Mrs. Wheaton gardens as a hobby. This is something else,” G.G. said, insisted really, for all that his voice was low and soft. Trevor belatedly remembered the faded Wheaton on Nancy’s mailbox. “I got the impression she took it up mostly for something to do, but also maybe to keep an eye on your grandmother.” G.G. lowered his voice even more after a glance toward the window. “Even with how often your family visited, I think Margaret struggled with being alone. I didn’t really know her when I moved in, but she seemed… lost. As anyone would be in her situation. Being alone is an adjustment.”
“So, to give them something in common, Nancy keeps trying to grow flowers around her porch?” Trevor was so glad he’d done Nancy’s gutters for her, gross though the entire chore had been.
G.G. gave him a slight, crooked smile. “She used to take Margaret’s newspaper—back when Margaret still got the paper—up from the curb to the porch for her. And once Alyssa, who at the time wasn’t… is the term goth or emo? Or is it scene now?” G.G. scrunched his nose at the last word and it was either the nose scrunching or the awkward way he said ‘scene’ but Trevor understood even more intensely what a ravenous beast like a dragon might feel upon meeting a quiet, tasty warrior.
“Whichever it is,” G.G. continued when Trevor got himself together enough to shrug, “Alyssa was selling cookies, with her mother in your grandmother’s driveway to observe while chatting with Margaret, and Alyssa told me that her mom was concerned about your grandmother tripping on those bricks in your front yard.”
“That’s so touching.” Trevor put a hand to his chest. “I knew Nancy was a worrier, but I didn’t think it was that personal. Some people are just worriers.”
G.G. studied Trevor intently, but looked away before Trevor could speak. “And some are prone to fussing,” he remarked, possibly with amusement. But he was serious when he added, “She has to handle everything herself, I think. The kids and the house.”
Trevor nodded in agreement with what G.G. hadn’t said. “Thank God I’m not the only one judging her husband. Or ex-husband.”
G.G.’s gaze came to Trevor again and stayed there. “They aren’t divorced. I don’t even think they’re officially separated.” How he knew that much was a mystery Trevor was going to have to pry out of either G.G. or his grandmother. “But they don’t seem to be together in the way partners should be. I don’t think she knows who to trust now. It can be like that, with or without a divorce.”
“Because she can’t rely on her husband?” Trevor guessed, feeling a tad guilty for gossiping about Nancy, but also as though he should be taking her meals in 1980s dishware too.
G.G. shrugged. “When a split happens, friends pick sides, and they tend to choose the one who hosts dinner parties or has the summer home.”
Since Covid had screwed over everyone, that hadn’t happened with Trevor and Sky’s mutual friends. But he suspected more of their friends and definitely the gaming group would have gone with Sky. Which hurt but made sense. To them, Trevor was a nice guy who made party dip, but Sky was their DM, and special even outside of that.
But losing a romantic relationship and then many friends would make for a lonely existence. Lonelier even than this. Lonely before this, in G.G.’s case, since he’d moved here alone and stayed alone that whole time, and he was clearly speaking from experience.
Ellie, done chewing her toy, sighed loudly and dramatically in the distance. G.G. glanced to her, then jolted in surprise when he looked back and found Trevor watching him. Why, Trevor had no idea. Trevor had been watching him as much as he could without going full weirdo.
“So you helped Nancy,” Trevor explained the covetous, Smaug-like glint in his eyes as gently as he could manage, “with that tree in January.”
G.G. looked like Trevor had caught him at something naughty, as though he hadn’t realized Trevor had seen him head over to Nancy’s with his chainsaw and gone out onto the porch to observe the whole affair.
“I had the time and the tools.” G.G. tried another shrug but Trevor wasn’t buying it this time.
“It was still sweet of you—nice, nice of you.” Trevor chose a more neutral word although he thought sweet was exactly right. “Neighborly, I suppose. Which is not something I used to think about aside from occasionally moving up someone’s garbage bins for them on trash day at my old apartment building.”
“Sweet?” G.G. echoed despite Trevor’s correction, his voice high.
“Yeah, sweet. Demonstrating that you care. Is sweet.” Trevor needed something to spoil and quick. “Ellie, babygirl, come here.”
Ellie huffed but trotted over, toy once again in her mouth. Trevor gave her head a good rub and then tossed the chew toy to her shady, squirrel-watching spot. He took a second before turning back to G.G., who, unlike Trevor, apparently was the sort to blush.
“Why a poodle?” G.G. asked in an especially husky voice when he noticed Trevor watching him. “No offense. But you don’t get a poodle by accident. You must have wanted one.”
“Ha! My family asked the same question, with a certain baffled disapproval in their voices. You know the kind.” Trevor paused for a moment to let G.G. object if he wanted to, or express confusion, but apparently, G.G. knew subtle But why so fruity? questions when he heard them. Trevor smiled. “But really, I don’t know. I met one once as a kid and loved it, and ever since, I’ve always sort of liked meeting new ones. Then a friend who is good friends with a breeder mentioned it to them and put us in contact. But a poodle would need space, so I was about to say no, when… well, the family was already discussing someone coming to live with my grandmother even before the plague hit. She needed help. I needed a place to stay. My grandmother thought a dog would give me something to do…. She was startled by the poodle thing too, but once Ellie and Mr. Tammy Tams figured their shit out, it was fine. Meant to be, possibly, if you think of things that way. Poodles were originally hunting dogs, you know. But they look born to be spoiled, and I happen to enjoy spoiling her. And I…” Sky was always right, “I need something to spoil. It’s my nature.”
G.G. took an audible breath like someone trying to steady himself. “So you… moved in with your grandmother to help care for her, and adopted a poodle to take care of that as well, and then masterminded this garden?”
Trevor raised his head to frown. “I didn’t mastermind it as much as… well, even with the foam knee pads to help, Grandma can’t really kneel for long to plant or weed. And she tells me what she wants, so I wasn’t taking over.”
G.G. didn’t say anything, but he regarded Trevor in silence for a few seconds before arching one eyebrow.
Trevor crossed his arms. “Normally, I would make a joke about adapting too well to the grandma lifestyle but not once has anyone thought it was funny.”
“But don’t you want to go out? Date, or…? Never mind. Sorry. It’s not my business.” G.G. did genuinely seem sorry, waving his hand to dismiss the question with just enough of a limp wrist for plausible deniability.
Trevor had no idea what G.G. had been through to make him so careful, but he wanted to help him relax so much. A thought he did his best to shove aside for now.
He decided to answer the unspoken question. “Growing up, unsurprisingly, I was dorky and awkward. I daydreamed a lot, and read the sort of books that are cool now but weren’t then. Then I grew up and moved to a medium-sized city where some gays were into that, so it was fine. I did date. I fell in…. I dated. Things happened.” Trevor happened. The world and a pandemic happened. “We’re more like best friends with benefits now. Anyway… in a town the size of Rosemont, options are limited. Other queers are around, of course, but there is my grandma to think of. I can’t just bring strangers home.”
G.G. again did not openly respond to the opening Trevor left him, but he did give Trevor a sideways look. “You seem young to be giving up.”
“I’m not giving up.” Trevor probably should have been more offended, but he suspected Sky would have called G.G.’s remark projection. “I’m…” He really didn’t want to call himself a loser in front of G.G. “I’m trying to get things going, so I have something to offer. You know.”
“Something to offer,” G.G. echoed him again, putting some weight into it. Asking, but not asking. Subtle. Trevor should think about the warrior’s fighting style. More elegance, less hack-and-slash.
Trevor gestured at himself, the dirt, the nerdy, old clothes, the moderate amount of muscle, before removing his hat to fan himself with it and also reveal his buzzed, balding head. “Anyway, things have kind of prevented a lot. I’ve cancelled two tattoo appointments out of concerns for her.”
He would have said the conversation was too personal for how little they knew about each other, but like with so many things these days, certain rules felt ridiculous now. G.G. didn’t seem to know what to make of Trevor. Trevor was already weird to him. G.G. was still there with him, asking questions.
“You’re getting another one or adding more to what you have?” G.G.’s gaze dropped to Trevor’s forearms, which Trevor turned toward him after plopping his hat back on his head.
“Adding to this one.” Trevor gestured to his left arm and the mostly naked Wolverine with the well-placed, pointed blue tail curled around and going up his thigh almost like the feather in that Donatello statue of David from the Renaissance. “A blue silhouette behind him to better imply shenanigans. Sneaky, safe for public viewing, but… shenanigans. Queer ones,” he elaborated in case G.G. didn’t know comic book stuff.
The other tattoo was entirely different in style because Trevor had been mimicking the advertisements of the 1950s and ‘60s. It read Lembas! More pleasant than cram! With midcentury colors and font choices. It was an extremely geeky reference he didn’t bother to explain.
“But I’ll probably get more later on, when things are calmer… whenever that is. But using my own… my grandmother told you I’m an artist? I want to get some of my own characters. Whichever ones end up being my favorites. You know, if I ever start what I want to do.”
At this attempt at self-deprecation, G.G. turned toward him. “And that’s why you’ll need a new desk? For a big art project?” He nodded. “Okay.”
He was very calm about the ginormous favor Trevor’s grandmother had asked of him.
Trevor goggled for a moment, then drew in a deep breath so he could let it out and speak evenly. “It seems like a lot of work and expense. Don’t you think? All I did was feed your cat and bring in your mail.” Which Trevor had actually shoved at him. “That’s like… maybe a cake or something. Which still isn’t necessary,” Trevor assured him quickly. “I don’t expect anything.” Certainly not a whole desk.
“According to my family, I can’t offer you any food in return unless I buy it.” G.G. said that, gaze across the yard and away from Trevor. “But I should get you something. You shouldn’t have had to help me.”
“Really.” Trevor didn’t understand how this was still an issue. “It wasn’t tit for tat. You don’t need to get me anything. Sorry,” he added, fast and breathless. G.G.’s gaze didn’t return to him. “I bet you cook or bake just fine, and your family is being, like, how families can be. I get it. I mean, I’m eternally the gay cousin. The ‘too artistic’ one and yet the one they come to when they need a website or a logo on a card. My granddad was the one who told them they had to pay me to make things for them because otherwise they wouldn’t take my work, take me, seriously. Families can be care and support, but they can also be continual undermining of your confidence because everyone is stuck in their….” He coughed. “I wouldn’t take me seriously either with a poodle, the flowers, and the nerd tats. Not at first glance anyway. You’re different though.”
Finally, G.G.’s eyes came back to him, his gaze soft and eager.
Trevor gentled his voice and would let Sky judge him for it later. “You’re a contractor. And all the things you’ve done for your house look good, as far as I can see from over here. Your family must demand that from you, even if they get weird about other things?”
“My family are all contractors or in construction,” G.G. revealed, easy in a way that didn’t match his expression. “It’s the family business.”
But he didn’t leave his house all that much and had said he didn’t do that work anymore. Trevor frowned but kept his questions about that inside.
G.G. gave him a look, somehow knowing, almost bright, though that made no sense.
Trevor asked a different question. “You did make that tree, though, right? The cat tree?”
“That was for fun,” G.G. said it as though anyone could have made something like that, but then, maybe anyone in his family could have. He waved his creation off as well, with more of a limp wrist this time. “No brick on the paths back here,” he offered thoughtfully once he finally looked away from Trevor. “But still a step up to get back into the house through the sliding door. Not too much trouble with a cane, but if Margaret needs her walker, does she just not come out here?”
Later, Trevor was going to map the way G.G. changed subjects to see if there was a pattern. But for the moment, he rolled with it. “So far, she’s managed. It’s a shallow step, which helps.”
G.G. considered the step, very possibly thinking about building a ramp for it, a ramp Trevor really couldn’t say no to. But when he raised his head, G.G. said, “Let me know when you want me to take measurements for the desk.”
If G.G. stepped foot into Trevor’s bedroom at this point in time, there was no telling what might come out of Trevor’s mouth.
On the other hand, maybe G.G. was using the desk as a pretext to get into Trevor’s bedroom.
On the other hand, he’d gotten Trevor into his house already and nothing had come of that.
“I was thinking I’d get something build-it-yourself when this desk finally gives out,” Trevor responded after a silence long enough to steal the careful interest from G.G.’s expression. “But you like building things?” Trevor prompted. He was pretty sure that most contractors did not build cat trees and catios, or desks for that matter. “It would be like… a fun project for you?”
At least G.G. hadn’t turned away or left yet.
“I could…” Trevor absolutely could not afford to pay for a custom-built desk. “I could pay you for materials?” he suggested. “Or offer meals?” Not that his cooking was all that great. “Or beer? Or wine? Whatever you like. My grandmother’s food is amazing but it wouldn’t equal the cost of the wood, I bet, or the labor involved. And I didn’t do anything there except bring the food to you.”
“It’s something to do,” G.G. answered in a tone Trevor couldn’t read. “I have a lot of free time. If you don’t want it, tell me what you do need, or what she needs.” He glanced to the step again, a frown already on his face. Then he shrugged. “Or I can just make—get you a cake.”
“We could pay you in garden time,” Trevor offered too fast. He didn’t know what he was doing but G.G. liked the garden and Trevor had to give him something. “You could think of it like a park. Just stop by and enjoy it. Bring a book. You have a lot of books. I didn’t look at the titles but I read too.” Reading only technically. “Okay, mostly I listen to audiobooks. But sometimes a person needs to get out of the house.”
Nobody with any manners, much less manners like G.G. had, would waltz into someone else’s yard to start reading without express permission or without the property owner there with them. Trevor was being weird.
“I sat out here even in the winter when it wasn’t wet,” Trevor revealed anyway, calming down as he went on and G.G. hadn’t stormed off. Trevor hadn’t offered something G.G. wanted yet, but he must have been closer to it. “I’ve been thinking we need lights for the evenings. But probably solar-powered since there is no electrical out here. Not that I’m asking for that from you, either. That’s obviously too much. Something smaller for me, if you really feel you must. But I also think, if you don’t have a piece of paradise in your yard, you could be welcome here.”
That was too much. Too pushy. Too forward, if Trevor were reading a fanfic Regency AU of something.
Not that G.G. was a shy miss, or even Keira Knightley.
G.G. was something else entirely, alone, and careful, and lonely. He had a distant family and firsthand knowledge of what divorce was like. He was someone else inclined to spoil those he cared about except he had none of them around. Someone with love to give and only cats to give it to.
One cat, now. He was probably overflowing with the need to share parts of himself.
“A desk from G.G.,” Trevor said, slowly and deliberately, catching G.G.’s gaze. “But I don’t want you to overwork yourself on something complicated for just me. And work starts only once your hand is completely healed. Will that do?”
Dusky color rushed into G.G.’s face.
The structure of the story did not pop fully formed into Trevor’s mind, but parts of the outline clicked into place.
He realized his heart was racing.
“Trevor?” Trevor’s grandmother called through the window. “Did you want lu—oh, hello, G.G. Are you staying for lunch?”
“No.” G.G. tore his gaze away from Trevor while simultaneously nodding at him, well, in his direction. “Thank you, Margaret, but I should get back.”
He didn’t actually say why he should get back, but was already heading—scuttling—toward the gate, and then back onto the grass. He closed the gate behind him before Ellie could get close enough to slip out, raising his eyes to find Trevor’s again for the second before he was out of sight.
Trevor absently fell into one of the chairs around the table.
“Shame,” his grandmother said, still through the window, “it would have been nice to have company, even mostly silent company.”
“Yeah,” Trevor agreed faintly, reaching out to scratch Ellie’s butt when she stopped next to him, his thoughts faraway, “I’ll work on it.”