Page 12 of The Barn: Frost and Q

Nine

I n the end, Quentin hadn’t been able to sleep in Frost’s room.

He’d been determined to do it. Frost had been wonderful, the consummate Dom, but also his husband. The scene had been… When he thought about it, he wanted to cry.

But he just hadn’t been able to go down the way and sleep.

Frost hadn’t said a word. He’d just climbed in with him, in his tiny bed, and let him have most of the space.

He felt…conflicted.

But he thought he could manage a compromise.

So, he called Carson.

“Hey, buddy. Wanting to play cribbage?”

“I could.” Frost was off ferrying some rich member back to Victoria via plane. So he could totally make his request in person.

“I’ll bring the board up.”

“Can you bring calzones too?”

“I can call for them, sure.” Carson chuckled. “We have people for that.”

He hooted. “All right. See you soon.”

Quentin tidied up a little. Carson was pretty precise about living space. Not that he ever bitched; they all just knew it.

When Carson showed up, Quentin buzzed him in, wheeling across the floor to meet him.

“Hey, Wheels, how are you?” Carson looked him up and down and wrinkled his nose. “You need a damn haircut.”

He rolled his eyes and twirled his braids. “Fuck off, asshole.”

Carson opened his eyes wide, the expression comical. “Wait, aren’t you the sub? Aren’t you supposed to be all subservient and licking my boots and shit?”

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go down there and grab one of your boots, and then we’ll see what happens.” He didn’t play that fucking game, not now and not ever. He was the sub to one single human being on earth, and it wasn’t this asshole.

Carson grinned at him. “Man, this is fun. You don’t even cry or anything.”

“I guarantee you, of the two of us, you would be the one who sobbed first.” He adored Carson, especially when he was downstairs working like he was supposed to. “Did you bring the cribbage board?”

“I did and I ordered calzones because I’m the best.”

“You don’t suck, that’s for sure.”

“Mmmhmm. That’s my sub’s job.”

“Hardy har, hardy har har har.” Quentin rolled his eyes. “It is to laugh. Do you even have a steady anymore?”

“I have lots of steadies. I have at least one a day.” Carson waggled his eyebrows. “Sometimes two.”

“You are a skanky ho dog.”

Carson barked out a wild laugh. “Don’t make me put you over my knee.”

“One, no, ew, and two? Frost would fucking kill you, and we both know it so…”

“Man, how he lets you get away with shit is beyond me.”

Quentin winked at him. “That’s because I’m a stud, and he knows it. And what he and I have is between the two of us. You and me? We’re co-owners of a business.”

“Right on, little man.” Carson plopped the cribbage board down on the end table. “What is it you actually need? Because I know you didn’t call me up here to play cards.”

“I totally want to play cards, though, and I will kick your butt.” Q loved to play with Carson. The man was cutthroat.

“If I win, you have to call me Sir for twenty-four hours.”

“Fair enough. If I win, you have to call me Sir for twenty-four hours.” Q had no problem with either one of those situations.

“Yeah, no, that’s not gonna work for me, and I only have a fifty-fifty shot because, you know, unlike Frost, you pay attention.”

“Yep. So what do I get? It needs to be worth my while.” He waited to see what Carson would offer.

Carson tapped his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Well, I guess that depends on what it is you actually want.”

“I want Frost to be able to sleep up here comfortably. I need your help.” He knew that wasn’t exactly what Carson meant, but it was the truth, and Carson could deal with that.

Carson was exceptional at that.

“Ah. Okay. So, your closet won’t fit a bigger bed. You know that, right?” Carson headed back to his sleeping area.

“I’m not asking you to move time and space. I’m asking for your help thinking of a place to put a bigger bed so that his back doesn’t hurt in case I can’t…you know, in case I need to be here.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. You don’t ever use your dining area at the table?”

He shook his head. There was a big formal dining space, but he didn’t have many guests. When he did, they ate on the sofa.

“Why don’t we just put up a partition here, and use this great big area as a bedroom. We wouldn’t even have to put up a wall. We could just put up a sliding screen. It would be private, it would be big, and you both could be comfortable.”

“I do like the idea of comfortable. I mean, seriously. I can see that; just the two of us making a place.”

Carson shrugged, shot him a look. “Well, you know, he does have quarters…”

“I’m just not quite ready.”

“So don’t go. I don’t care. I think you should go where you’re comfortable. And if he doesn’t like it, we’ll just kick him.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that he’s… I don’t think he’s disappointed. I think he’s trying to be very patient.”

“I think you’re absolutely right. And I think it’s cool that you recognize that.” Carson gave him a real smile, those devil-dark eyes glinting.

Q wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m trying to recognize things.”

“Yeah,” Carson agreed, “but you need to breathe, man. It’s real important to breathe.”

“I’m trying. So, you’ll help me?”

“I can have it done before he gets back here from wherever it is, whatever it is he’s doing. I’m assuming he’ll tell us when he’s heading back out to the job. Is he going back to work?” Carson paced off the area.

“I don’t know. Soon. I think he needs to. It’s good for him.”

Carson gave him the weirdest glance. “Do you think so?”

“I know so. He needs to go do his job, just like the rest of us.”

“Hmmm. Well, I will just say that you two need to talk about it. Okay, so I want to leave you some open concept with the kitchen, so how about like this?” Carson paced it again, and he got the idea.

“This will give you a king and two nightstands. You have plenty of storage space since you’ve been sleeping in the closet, and you can still crawl in there when you need to make the world go away. ”

Some kind of tightness in his chest eased. “You’re a good man, Carson. No matter what they say about you down at the jail.”

“Thanks.” Carson came back to sit, tapping out some numbers on his phone. “Okay. Let’s set up the board.”

“What do I get if I win?” he asked again, grinning some.

“How about I do all of this on my dime?”

“Deal.” He could take that bet, and he was so kicking Carson’s ass. The man had way more expensive tastes than Quentin did, anyway.