But it wasn’t black and it wasn’t gray, and Robin wouldn’t mind seeing a sweater in this color worn about the house on frosty mornings.
He got up and took the basket with him, and then set it down by the wheel before collapsing on the couch.
It made a good picture, the wheel and chair before the fireplace. Bessie had been fond of that particular wheel. She’d like to see it used. They all might like to see Robin out of the workroom for a while.
And truthfully, it would be a pleasure to spin there over the days of Yule. Whatever he ended up spinning or if he even used it in what he’d make for Lucas.
The shape by the door at least couldn’t call him out for lying.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he asked.
Flax, who had trailed after him again, flew from the top of the couch back to the wheel, perching on the mother-of-all like before.
“Antique.” Robin pointed at him and made his tone firm. “You’ll be careful.”
“Big baby,” Flax croaked in response.
After staying slumped on the couch for a while longer to nervously contemplate what he was itching to do, Robin went to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. He put what was left of the chicken and dumplings in the oven to heat up, did some more dishes, popped his puffs in the oven too, opened a bottle of wine at random and poured some into a sturdy mug, and then finally carried his puffs and chicken and wine to the living room.
He lit the candles easily enough. The log took a while, though Robin was used to the embarrassment of having to use matches and kindling. He splashed some of his wine on the Yule log first, despite being uncertain if the wine was supposed to be red and not white, or if that mattered. Red would have at least resembled the blood of a more traditional sacrifice, but he didn’t think giving up a bottle would have counted as one anyway since Robin didn’t really care about wine.
He gave an artichoke puff to the fire on the heels of that thought, then ate and drank while curled up on the couch, watching a black and white movie without paying much attention to it, his eyes drawn again and again to the flames.
He played with his phone.
Thank you for the Yule log, seemed straightforward but Robin wanted to see Lucas’ face when he thanked him. That was where Robin would take his joy. Robin had enjoyed flustering Lucas even before Lucas’ revelation last night.
Which was something else to think about, if Robin was going to dwell on the future not yet spun.
Resting meant a lot of time to think.
Lucas had given Robin that oak and he deserved something for it… and he reacted so sweetly to even the littlestthank you.’
The fire snapped, pulling Robin from the memory of his hand under Lucas’ chin.
Too warm and suddenly restless, Robin got up and went to the kitchen to put his plate in the sink and refill his cup.
He would thank Lucas as deeply as he knew how, and burned from top to bottom at the pleasure the idea brought him… and also probably from the wine.
He supposed that meant he ought to ask Lucas more about what he had meant and what exactly he wanted. Not just think about naked Lucas, or petting a naked Lucas for doing what Robin wanted him to do, which was… too much, surely, even as a bedroom pastime, which was what Lucas must have meant. Robin being bossy with Lucas in bed was much different than Robin cooing at him outside the grocery store for a job well done.
At least, Robin thought it was, in his very limited experience. But he had found it satisfying. Heshiveredat the memory of how Lucas had reacted then. Coming would be satisfying too, of course, but this was… something else.
So far between them, there had been nothing but kisses and roving hands. Yet the satisfaction lingered the longer Robin thought of it. Pleasing Lucas was quite a powerful feeling.
On his way back to the living room, he bumped into the doorjamb in his distracted state, then climbed gracelessly onto the couch with his drink.
The surface of the wine shimmered in the candlelight, smoothed to something like glass the longer Robin stared at it.
A glint became flames, warm and giving, and then Robin’s hand sliding over a cheek split by a bright smile.
“Oh,” Robin said softly, then quickly took a drink before the wine would show him more. Hope and expectation were already almost too much to bear without getting impatient.
Moreimpatient.
An outsider might try sending a sexy message. Robin practicallywasan outsider as far as magic was concerned, except for his gift. But he didn’t think he and Lucas were at that stage. And Lucas was with his family; he already been serenaded by Robin’s relatives about the events of last night and didn’t need Greysmiths descending on him if Robin sent something to make him blush.
No, Lucas was having fun and Robin should let him. Just because Robin already worried about how well he would sleep tonight, alone and cold in his room, or if he’d end up down here again, mooning by the fire, didn’t mean he should pester Lucas.
