Blue Dream (Kreuzberg Dragonshifters Book 1) #Wattys2016

Blue Dream Part 8

*****

Paul didn't see Richard again, until later that evening, when the other man was hunched over the living room table, neatly filling in an application form for Lindemann's Luthier's. Beside him, sat another two forms, already neatly filled in; it was obvious that he'd been writing for quite a while, judging by the way that he kept flexing his hand, fingers still clutching awkwardly at his pen.

"All right?" Paul asked, upon entering, as he grinned at Richard. "How did it go?"

Richard returned the grin, nodded and stood, after first setting his pen aside with a relieved sigh. Paul watched, as the other man stretched, the soft lines of his body flexing and contracting with every movement; he only realised he was staring when Flake passed him and dug his fingers into Paul's ribs in a pinching motion. He looked away, awkwardly, yet not before Richard himself caught Paul staring and grinned at him.

"I'm glad you're back; I was getting bored of writing," Richard said, by way of greeting, as he gestured towards the stack of forms. "And in answer to your question, I think it went okay; at least, it seemed to in the luthier's place. Till seemed nice, by the way. It's hard to tell whether he liked me enough though, at least until I get an interview."

Flake snorted rudely, even as Paul grinned at Richard.

"Told ya Till was nice and I'm sure all will go well at the interview, when you get there," he said, and it was his turn to dig Flake roughly in the ribs.

"He said hi, by the way," Richard said, before his eyes flickered towards Flake with a suden grin. "And he said to tell you, Flake, that he loved you and wants to see you tomorrow night."

"Did he, now?" Flake asked, flatly, yet not before a sudden pleased grin passed across his face at the compliment, albeit given by a relative stranger. "Well, I'll call him later."

He shrugged and moved away, conversation apparently over for the time being. Paul sighed and rolled his eyes at Richard, who laughed.

"Don't take no notice of him; he's just naturally grumpy. I'd best get changed and showered, then I'll get the dinner going. Join us?" Paul asked, hopefully.

"Please," Richard nodded, quietly. "I could help, you know. I know my way around the kitchen."

"Yeah, you said at lunch. I would appreciate a bit of help, actually; thanks, Richard," Paul said, accepting the offer graciously. "Flake's a lazy git. He usually leaves it all to me, even the washing up. And then he has the cheek to complain, because the food wasn't exactly to his liking."

"Good job I'm here, then. I'm not scared of that sort of thing, and by that, I meant washing up and all that domestic stuff," Richard said, with a rough chuckle. "I've had years of practice, living on my own."

Paul nodded, uncertain as to what else to say to the other man, and so, he made polite excuses again to leave, to take his shower. Richard was back upon the sofa again when Paul returned, Flake a glowering presence by the telephone. Flake seemed to be in direct conversation with Till, explaining, apparently not for the first time judging by the tone of his voice, that he couldn't go on a date the following night, but would be free at the weekend. Richard seemed to be trying studiously not to listen, scribbling the last few responses upon the application forms before him. Richard seemed glad when he saw Paul loitering in the doorway, and stood, to follow him into the kitchen.

"Awkward," Richard said, as he gestured over his shoulder towards Flake on the phone.

"He doesn't mean anything. Like I said, he's just naturally grumpy; I think he dropped out of his mother grumpy," Paul said, with a long suffering smile. "You'll get used to him, in time."