Robin realized he was staring and tore his gaze away.
At the other end of the couch, where he must have wandered while Robin had been daydreaming about Lucas petting him, Flint’s mate watched Robin with shiny, knowing eyes.
“Shake well but don’t tell,” the bird uttered in a clear, strange voice.
Robin gave him the finger. But when he returned to his knitting and the bird returned to his perch near Robin’s shoulder, he paused long enough to reach back and scritch that obnoxious little face, half-expecting the bird to draw blood.
But the raven’s feathers were surprisingly soft and he allowed the attention in silence. And when Lucas finally got tired of TV and turned it off to do some reading, and the rain started to come down in buckets, so loud that the sound filled the house, Robin abandoned his project in favor of carefully stroking a raven and furtively observing Lucas.
It felt like his teen years again, but oddly calmer, just the rain and occasional flutter of wings and Lucas turning pages. Robin would like to be touched but he liked this too.
It made him sigh.
“Patience,” a voice whispered into his ear.
Robin turned sharply to look at the bird.
The bird, stubbornly, did not look back.
It was getting much too easy to wander into the kitchen in the morning and find Lucas already there. Lucas might be too nice of a sight for several reasons, not the least of which was the discovery that he’d made coffee this morning, evidently moments before Robin had come downstairs.
Lucas was in the sweater and sweatpants that he must sleep in, meaning the heating vent in the guest room wasn’t working all that well, and standing at the side door, holding a cup of coffee and staring out.
“The rain finally took down some of the fences for the pens,” he remarked, stopping Robin before he could reach the coffee machine.
Robin was going to have to make a decision about the pens. He’d known that for a while. Tear them down for safety reasonsand reuse or sell what he could, or repurpose them, although into what he had no idea, or fill them with sheep again.
Which was a dream.
“Too early in the morning for dreams,” he declared, cranky, and got his coffee while Lucas turned all the way around to look at him. “Don’t worry about the yard.” Robin was marginally less cranky after his first burning sip. “Or the house, for that matter. Like I said before, you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”
“I have my orders.,” Lucas remarked lightly.
“I doubt you take orders,” Robin grumbled into his cup.
An odd, fleeting smile passed over Lucas’ face. He didn’t explain it. He simply said, “There’s no bread for toast but I can make oats again.”
Robin pointed at himself. “Iwill make something.”
He made oats again first, because they had them. And while the water was heating up, he made an omelet for Lucas since Lucas would be doing more physical work than Robin. Robin had no chives or mushrooms, and he wasn’t sure about Lucas and cheese, but eggs, butter, salt, and pepper were enough for a hungry man anyway.
“More eggs,” he commented once as he considered what else to do, secure in the knowledge that Lucas would write it down. If Robin was going to dream of sheep, he should probably also dream of chickens, but Robin certainly wasn’t going to deal with them.
They should buy eggs in bulk while Lucas was here, at least. Flour and oats too. Robin had those added to the list, and more citrus, since it was the season for it, even if the rain was a problem.
He brought the omelet and a bowl of oats to the center island for Lucas, let Lucas sweeten a bowl of oatmeal for him and then make sure he ate it, but now that he was focused on a task, Robin didn’t particularly want to eat.
Lucas made noises about that, so once Robin had bread dough rising, he stopped to finish his cold oatmeal under Lucas’ sharp eye.
“I’ll make scones too,” he assured Lucas, thinking of oranges.
“And eat them?” Lucas returned unhappily, but put the bowls in the sink and left the kitchen while Robin was freezing butter and zesting an orange. Robin had forgotten to get cranberries but even plain orange scones were delicious.
An hour later, he had kneaded the bread dough before another rise, made a batch of scones and more coffee, and cleaned up. He sat down for a while, then decided to sit more, at least until the bread was done proofing. He thought Lucas would appreciate his effort to be sensible.
Lucas, who came in the side door several minutes later and found Robin sitting there, exhausted, didn’t seem to. He grabbed a plate, put two scones on it, and brought it to Robin before getting a scone for himself.
Robin had forgotten to actually eat the things. He sighed and had a bite. Warm and delicious and would go well with coffee—he didn’t mention that last part.
