Page 28 of Inferno

Not wanting to make things awkward, Nerik used the time to go and fetch a dry pair of pants for himself. Yorin had helpfully hung up his wet clothes from last night over the backs of the chairs in the kitchen, but they were firstly still damp, and secondly caked in mud. Nerik was going to have to get them laundered. That, thankfully, was a service he could buy from any number of willing washers in town. If he’d had to wash his own clothes on a regular basis, he’d have spent half his life drying himself out again.

Yorin came back and it appeared that he’d washed his face in the water barrel outside and made a cursory attempt at taming his hair. It was slightly damp and patterned as though he’d been running his fingers through it.

“How was the trip up the mountain?” he asked. He puttered about the kitchen for a moment, then, when he saw that Nerik already had everything under control, took a tentative seat at the table instead.

“Uneventful,” Nerik said, a convenient lie, given that he couldn’t tell Yorin anything about what had actually happened. “Mr Totser was very glad to have his horse back. And I reminded him again about getting his gate fixed, but the gods know if he’ll ever manage to get one of his neighbours to help him. Not because they’re not willing to help,” he added, “but just because he’s a forgetful old git and never gets around to asking them.”

The stew was starting to bubble and Nerik had two slices of toast ready for himself, so he set the breakfast things on the table and while they ate, he told Yorin about the man with the cart that he’d helped on the way back down the mountain – the only part of the day that he could be honest about. Then they both exchanged exclamations about how bad the storm had been last night, along with Nerik making some token noises about seeking shelter earlier, next time he saw one coming. It was cosy and comfortable, sharing minor details about their lives and neither of them in any hurry to go anywhere. Yorin would have to open his shop later, but since they’d both woken more or less at the crack of dawn, there was plenty of time before he needed to leave.

Finally, they’d both finished eating and Yorin was sipping the last of his tea out of his cup, and it occurred to Nerik that he didn’t want this to end yet. He’d originally asked Yorin over impulsively, but two days of anticipation had solidified the idea that … well, that he really liked Yorin. Their evening at the pub had shown him a more relaxed version of the serious tailor, and his efforts to help Nerik last night had proven that he was kind and caring and willing to get himself drenched in a storm to help out a friend. What wasn’t to like?

But what more could he offer Yorin to get him to stay a little longer? He could show him around his garden, perhaps? They could take a short walk down the lane and see if the storm had brought any trees down, or clear some of the branches off the pathway perhaps?

None of it sounded terribly interesting, and he considered how to rescue what remained of their ‘date’. In the version in his mind, he’d been going to roast some vegetables and fry some eggs and maybe even bake some cookies for dessert – one of the few desserts Nerik would be able to eat, given that humans tended to like their desserts to be quite wet. Fruit pie with custard, for example, or baked apples, or cheesecake. And then he’d have offered Yorin a glass of the good whisky he kept on the top shelf of his pantry and they’d have sat on the sofa and talked, until Nerik had finally worked up the courage to put a hand on Yorin’s leg…

To be honest, Nerik was a bit surprised that Yorin hadn’t already made his excuses and scurried off home. Perhaps his shy tailor was actually bolder than Nerik had assumed? Or perhaps he wanted what Nerik wanted, and was trying to find an excuse to ask for it?

Or maybe he was just still worried about Nerik being cold from the storm and wanted to make sure he was okay this morning. It wasn’t abadreason for him to be lingering, but it was also a touch disappointing.

But as Nerik watched Yorin out of the corner of his eye, Yorin was fidgeting with his cup, glancing around the cottage, and seemed to be searching for something to say. And it suddenly occurred to Nerik that his body language was very similar to the way it had been the other night, right before he hadnotkissed Nerik, and then bade him goodnight.

And then Nerik realised that in his haste to make breakfast, he’d neglected to put a shirt on.

And furthermore, he realised that Yorin was doing his very best to pretend he wasn’t staring at Nerik’s chest.

Yorin’s right hand was resting on the table, while his left hand continued to play with his cup, spinning it slowly in circles, and Nerik vividly remembered the exact same scenario in the pub, when he’d wanted to put his hand on Yorin’s, and hadn’t worked up the courage to do so. Was it his imagination, or was Yorin’s breathing a little quicker than it had been a few minutes ago?

In the midst of all the wondering, some little spark of intelligence finally made a connection in Nerik’s mind. Yorin hadn’t just gone to dinner in a pub and then saved him from a storm. Yorin had gone on adatewith him. And then agreed to aseconddate, right off the back of the first. So that meant that he liked Nerik in return. And that meant that…

Feeling bold off the back of that seemingly banal realisation, Nerik reached out and gently covered Yorin’s hand with his own.

An instant later, he realised he had absolutely no idea what to do next. Yorin jumped at the contact, his head snapping around to stare at Nerik, and it was only the lingering thought that Yorin had come here knowingly and willingly that prevented Nerik from taking his hand back and apologising. Gods, the pair of them were both as hopeless as each other.

“So, um… I was hoping, given that this was our second date, that… well… may I kiss you?” Nerik was flying blind, acting on pure impulse. He’d never dated anyone before, never tried to express any emotional attachment beyond pure physical desire.

“Gods, yes.” Yorin’s reply came out faint and breathy. But the look of longing on his face was unmistakable.

Nerik hadn’t quite anticipated doing this with a table in the way, albeit just the corner, as they sat at right angles to each other. But he was here now, and he wasn’t about to back down, so he leaned closer, Yorin coming in to meet him halfway. He hesitated just before their lips met, not sure whether he was trying to draw out the anticipation, or just gathering his courage…

A loud THUMP shook the cabin, and they both jumped, their gazes snapping around to look out the window. “Heck, it’s probably a tree coming down. Or a branch, at least,” Nerik said, jumping to his feet and rushing to the door. An interruption was the last thing he wanted right now, but at the same time, he didn’t need a hole in his roof, either.

He tugged on his boots, not bothering with socks, grateful that Yorin had thought to dry them by the fire last night. Yorin was close behind him, and they both hurried out the door and around the side of the house.

And then they both stopped in their tracks, staring at the garden. “Well,” Yorin said, sounding rather impressed. “There it is, then.” He turned to Nerik with a grin. “Looks like your luck is holding; rescued last night, and this, this morning.”

It was indeed a sight to behold. A huge branch had come down, and peering up at the tree overhead, Nerik could see the broken stump it had come from. But somehow, the thing had fallen in a clean, straight line, landing inches from Nerik’s fence, missing the trellis in his vegetable garden and doing no damage to his apple tree aside from shaving a few leaves off the near side of it. The gnarled and twisted limb lay neatly on the ground, miraculously curving around a bed of beets, brushing the very edge of the outhouse and fitting into the garden as a whole like a giant puzzle piece.

“Cut that up and you’ll have enough firewood for three months,” Yorin said, a grin on his face.

“It’s notthatbig,” Nerik said, though he could see that it was going to take a solid day of hard work to cut the thing up. In the end, it might be easier to cut it into manageable pieces and drag them off into the forest. There was no shortage of fallen wood to gather around these parts, after all.

“Do you want a hand with it?” Yorin asked, but Nerik shook his head.

“It didn’t damage anything so it can stay where it is for now.” After missing a day’s work, he was going to need to spend the day earning money, rather than fussing about a fallen log. He led the way back around to the house, stopping in front of the door. He turned to face Yorin, finding the man standing right behind him. Was he going to leave, now that he had his boots on? Should Nerik have asked him to help with the branch, just for an excuse to get him to stay?

He looked up, realising once again how much taller than himself Yorin was… and froze, as he realised just how close they were standing. And suddenly, his skin was thrumming, awareness of his own body vivid and surreal. Infernals didn’t have skin, and yet his was vibrating with the need for…

Yorin stepped closer, his shirt brushing against Nerik’s chest in a gentle scrape that he could feel right through to the core of his fire. Gods above, that was some powerful magic the witch had used in creating his human form.