Page 18 of Cover Up

“I can tell you’re exhausted. Let me sit here with you while you take a nap, and later, let me make you some dinner.”

“That’s not a favor for you,” Felix pointed out with a frown.

Dei chuckled under his breath. “You have no idea, do you? Let’s just say it’ll help me feel better knowin’ you’re safe and taken care of. So what do you say?”

Felix wanted to dig his heels in and refuse because he was just as stubborn, but his exhaustion was overwhelming, and he found it impossible to do anything except slowly nod his head, settle back into his pillows, and let himself drift.

* * *

Felix woke later feeling a lot more revitalized and with a gnawing hunger in his gut. His house was filled with the smell of something cooking—like rich spices and something fresh and citrusy. He tested himself for vertigo, but his eyes were steady, and his legs didn’t buckle as he stood.

After making his way to the bathroom to take a piss, he splashed water on his face to chase away the last bit of sleep. Seizures—even small ones—always made him feel loopy for the rest of the day, but the nap had helped.

And so had knowing Dei was just a few inches away from him on the couch. Felix wished more than anything he could close his eyes and picture Dei’s face, but his imagination had gone almost entirely blank since the Incident. Now, all he was left with were odd impressions of what used to be and memories full of holes like swiss cheese.

When Felix got to the kitchen, he found Dei standing with his back to Felix, his body massive and broad. He was wearing a white T-shirt and shorts, a robotic-looking prosthetic extending from somewhere above his mid-thigh. Felix took in Dei’s short, dark curls, and the ink on the back of his neck, and the place where his arm ended in a very short, very scarred stump.

Felix knew a little bit about what had happened to Dei, but he hadn’t ever pressed him for more details. In reality, it didn’t matter. Dei existed in this body, and he seemed at ease with himself. Felix could only be so lucky. He was still coping with the way his brain had changed, and he’d lost hope that it would ever get better.

“Hey,” he said, startled at how raspy he sounded.

Dei spun and grinned. “Hey there, sunshine. How you feeling?”

Felix shrugged, rubbing away a bit more sleep from his eyes. “I’ve been a lot worse. Thanks for staying.”

“Sugar, you couldn’t have paid me to keep away,” Dei told him, winking before jerking his chin toward the small kitchen table in the corner. “Get yourself a seat. I made street tacos.”

Felix tried to peer over his shoulder, but the bigger man waved the spatula at him, so he held up his hands in surrender and took a seat. He could barely see over the counter from the low chair, but he had a great view of Dei bobbing around the stove, humming to himself in his low, low baritone.

It was goddamn delicious.

“Were you in a choir?”

Dei glanced up, his blush only just visible under his dark beard. “Yeah. I, uh…I was in chamber choir in high school.”

Felix smiled, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’m an uncultured fuck who grew up on DIY punk music. I don’t even know what a chamber choir is.”

Dei laughed softly as he stooped low, and when he stood back up again, he had one plate balanced on his forearm, the other ten inches below on his palm. He set them both down on the table with a little shimmy, and Felix was impressed by the look of the food.

“God, it’s no wonder Jeremiah said he’d sell his soul to keep you in his kitchen.”

Dei blinked at him. “That fucker. He could do a lot better than some washed-up, one-armed geezer like me.”

“Washed-up geezer?” Felix scoffed as Dei went to the fridge and came back with a couple of bottles of sparkling lemonade. Felix tried not to stare, but it was impossible to look away as Dei sat, holding the bottles between his impressive thighs so he could twist off the caps. His mouth felt oddly dry, and he took a long drink before speaking again. “You and I both know you’re young and amazing. False humility is boring.”

Dei studied him for a beat. “Humility, huh? You sayin’ you’re willing to brag up your talent as an artist?”

Felix took a big bite of the first taco, the carne asada all but melting in his mouth. He was pretty sure none of that had come from his kitchen, but he was too afraid to ask how Dei had just made magic in his home. “I’m saying that I have more money than I know what to do with, and it all comes from my hands putting my art on people’s skin. So…yeah. Maybe I am.”

Dei’s eyes gleamed as he pulled his plate close and swept one taco into his massive grip. It was dwarfed by his palm, and Felix found himself getting lost in a new sort of hunger. “I like you, darlin’. You’re somethin’ special.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m really not,” Felix muttered.

Dei just shook his head and took down the taco in two bites before taking a long drink. “Honey, do not get me started. I might never stop, and then where would we be?”

Felix had no idea what to say to that, so he busied himself with his lunch. The food was amazing, and it settled his uneasy stomach, so by the time he was finished, he felt full and lazy and happy. He couldn’t stop his smile, which Dei caught and gave him a crooked grin right back.

“Did I see a bit of metal in your mouth?”

---