Page 39 of Trevor Takes Care

Trevor frowned. “What? They can paddle you but not bring you a pie? Or let you bring them a pie? I mean.” He stopped. “I mean, I don’t know if paddling is your thing or not. Consider that a joke if you want.”

G.G. sighed deeply at Trevoragain. But also was again careful with his answer. “No. No pies, or meatloaf… or cleaning blood from my kitchen so I wouldn’t have to.”

“Ah.” Trevor briefly looked down. “The Brian Trevor brand of concern can be less than sexy, I know.” He stepped backwards off the porch and swung his umbrella up at the same time. “You can ignore that part like my bad jokes, and I’ll work on the rest, if you still want that. When your hand is better, or whenever. Or not.”

“Trevor,” G.G. gave him his frown back, “they’re both nice. Both…” he looked like he was deciding on the right word, “warm.”

Warm.

Trevor, in just a t-shirt and jeans on a cloudy, rainy day, got heated at the word. “I want things to be good for people. I want that, even if that means hurting them how they want… how I want too, sometimes. To give them what they need and keep them safe.”

“And well-fed?” G.G. wondered. It could have been a reference to his dinner, but for a moment, G.G. looked as hungry as Sky had said he must be.

Trevor’s hand went slack on the umbrella handle. Rain hit his face before he brought the umbrella up again.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yeah. Yes. I know you’ve done this, or something like this, before. But think about what you want before we talk. If you want to be taken care of, or if you also want us to fuck, or…”

“Yes.”

Trevor didn’t move. Neither did G.G. Then Trevor pulled in a breath.

He was trying to do this right. He was trying to be better and deliberate, not like how he’d started with Sky. So he did not sweep back onto the porch to take G.G.’s mouth in a ravenous kiss. He said, “Good. That’s good. Thank you for your honesty. I would like that too. When the time comes.”

G.G. shivered.

“In the meantime,” Trevor lowered his voice, “be careful with your hand tonight.”

“I will,” G.G. promised, red at the thought, or maybe at how much he’d decided to give away today.

“Would a ‘good boy’ be out of line?” Trevor wondered. If he wasn’t going to kiss G.G., he should at least get that.

G.G. closed his eyes and was slow to reopen them. He shook his head.

Trevor gave it to him. “Good boy.”

He waited until G.G.’s flush had deepened before he turned to go back home, his steps light despite his headache.

Across the street, the Lexus was in Nancy’s driveway, along with Nancy, the kids and some man who was probably the husband. The husband glared when he saw Trevor watching them.

Trevor wiggled his fingers in a swishy wave. Bobert enthusiastically waved back. It only made the husband glare more.

Nancy bobbed her head in a nervous greeting. Trevor gave her a wave too, and then Alyssa, Princess of Darkness, before swirling his rainbow umbrella at the husband.

Alyssa laughed.

Trevor headed up his driveway with his headache still there, but less of an annoyance than it had been half an hour ago.

Chapter Fifteen

His headache lingered through most of the TV series marathon, but his grandma’s weed took a lot of the tension from his neck and shoulders. The box-mix cupcakes of yellow cake with chocolate frosting also helped. His grandma decided she didn’t want to make dinner, so Trevor had ordered a pizza despite knowing she’d get through one piece and then only want to eat the crusts from his slices.

He didn’t mind, focusing on his food and her goofy show as much as he could, eventually slinking down on the couch with Mr. Tams on his lap and Ellie either by his feet or running around on her own outside.

The show had standalone episodes and didn’t really have complex stories, so Trevor nodded along while his grandma discussed the character she’d thought was so handsome when she was younger, and smiled at all the silly gadgets. He couldn’t decide if the show was mocking spy cliches or reveling in them, but it was fun either way.

But his grandma got tired and went to bed, telling Trevor to keep watching if he wanted since she could always go back to where she’d left off. Trevor decided he would work, then didn’t, slouched on the couch while espionage antics went on in front of him.

He left the sliding door open with the screen shut to help clear out the weed smell and let Ellie up onto the couch since his grandma didn’t care. Pinned between dog and cat, he admired 1960s fashion choices for a while before picking up his sketchbook again.

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