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 readLembas! 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, takeme, 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 theotherhand, 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—getyou 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 himsomething. “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.”Readingonly 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. Tooforward, if Trevor were reading a fanfic Regency AU of something.
