Fawned

Chapter 16

Mornings with Gil typically went like this:

First, well, Gil's alarm would go off, and Barnaby would wake up with the sinking realization that he'd fallen asleep on top of him again. He'd be apologizing before the man was completely coherent, so the first thing to come out of Gil's mouth would be "It's fine", "Don't worry about it", or "How did you sleep?"

He'd always slept soundly with Gil.

They'd try to move around only to greet one another with the other's Morning Wood. Normally, they'd laugh it off and get up even faster, but if Barnaby was lucky, Gil would pull him close, kiss him tiredly and jerk him off under the covers.

That morning, Barnaby was lucky.

Next, Gil would get up and go straight to the bathroom. He'd try to be quick, to spare Barnaby from having to run into his next door roommates, but it'd happened more often than not that the boy would have company while brushing his teeth with Gil's toothbrush - or that he'd have to shout "Occupied!" to an opening door while on the toilet.

Returning to Gil's dorm, he'd find an outfit laid out on the bed, usually lounge pants and a hoodie. Barnaby, however, had already sported Gil's hoodie the day before - and though he wouldn't have been opposed to throwing it on again, discovered Gil was kind enough to give him something new and camo-print.

"Isn't this what you wore for Halloween?"

The raven, rolling the sleeves of his grey and black flannel, flashed him a grin. "Might be."

Barnaby smirked back but promptly found his gaze drawn to Gil's wrists. He almost got nervous for him, keeping them exposed, until the man grabbed a few bracelets from his nightstand and put them on strategically.

He'd wait until Barnaby was all dressed to ask him, "Ready to go?"

By the time they stepped outside, Barnaby's stomach would be rumbling. So they'd walk to the nearest building with a coffee counter, order some bagels and a drink, and be on their way. Barnaby would continue to ramble about the Secret Life of American Agriculture between sips of his latte, and Gil would be in control of the bagels, breaking off small pieces and passing them off to the boy at his leisure.

Time and time again, Barnaby would have to remind himself not to eat directly from his master's hand in public.

Gil would always walk Barnaby to his building first. Whether he actually had class as early as Barnaby did- the boy wasn't sure. But, then again, it was a routine he wasn't exactly eager to change.

A head taller on the steps of his building, Barnaby paused to face Gil. "When am I giving your shirt back?"

"What shirt? You're completely topless."

"Gil."

The man smiled wide, squinting up at him against the rising sun, and shrugged. "By Thanksgiving at least? Or don't give it back at all. Either way, it's fine."

Barnaby scoffed, grasping the straps of his backpack and tapping his foot against Gil's leg. "Does that mean you're not in a rush to see me again?"

"Absolutely not. See me with or without a shirt. I don't mind."

Of course he wouldn't.

Barnaby felt himself leaning forward, his lips already puckering. It'd be nice, he thought, to kiss Gil goodbye. They'd done it before.

But he never made contact. Instead, Barnaby rocked back on his heels.

They'd done it before - but never in front of anyone. Never in view of anyone who might have anything to assume. And more and more people were passing them on the steps.