One Crossroads Later

Chapter Six

Content Warning: Smexy funtimes.

A part of Flynn wanted to remain hopeful, while another part feared to hope. Robin locked his door once they'd entered his room, but didn't seem in any hurry, removing his coat and hanging it up while doing the same with Flynn's jacket. "Do you want something to drink?" Robin asked, smoothing out the fabric on the rack before turning to face Flynn. "I know I've had a couple already, but I feel like I could use one more."

Flynn nodded, remaining amiable toward anything. "Considering I haven't had any, I think I need to catch up to you," he said. "Make mine a double."

"As the gentleman requests."

While Flynn settled onto the sofa in Robin's sitting room, Robin walked to his liquor cabinet, pouring himself a brandy and Flynn, another much fuller. He brought the glasses back with him, handing Flynn his, and sat beside him on the couch. "What were you doing while I was away?" he asked.

"Nothing important," Flynn said before drinking down a significant swallow. He felt Robin's closeness keenly, as if small bursts of electricity existed in the small space between them. As he reclined against the cushion, he turned his head to look at Robin. "To be honest, I've mostly been avoiding Sabrina."

Robin laughed, pivoting to face Flynn better. "Why have you been doing that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Mostly because I'm still turning that whole mess around in my head. I still don't know why I do what she asks. And it bothers me I don't have a better explanation."

"I know." Robin sobered, but his expression remained soft. "I wish I had a better suggestion for where you might look, but she's crafty enough not to show her hand before she's ready. No doubt why she's been giving you these little assignments one-by-one."

"To keep me from putting together a bigger picture?"

"My guess. Though I'm horribly biased against her right now."

"I know. I understand it, too."

Flynn looked away again. Clutching onto his drink like it'd become a lifeline, he traced the patterns in Robin's rug and replayed his thoughts a dozenth time. "I know I won't ever be able to make any of this up to you," Flynn said. He drank down the rest of his drink, then dared himself to make eye contact with Robin again. "I'm sorry, though. For what little good it does."

Robin nodded. He glanced away as well, but only for a moment. "I know," he said, flashing a small smile. "The things that are happening aren't entirely your fault. I wish I had a more reassuring way of saying that, Sabrina's been hinting for years that she had her sights set on bigger things. Finding you only gave her the means with which to realize them."

The thought depressed Flynn, but he didn't have time to focus on that. Instead, he realized Robin had begun to study him in an unfamiliar way. "You know," Robin said before Flynn could ask. "Your eyes really are enchanting."

His comment kicked Flynn in the stomach. Oh god, if only you knew, he thought, tempted to talk about Demetrius and his odd reaction to his eyes finally. He didn't want to ruin the moment, though. Robin still looked intrigued, sensually.

"You say that like you're noticing them for the first time," Flynn said. "Is there something different about them tonight?"

"I think I'm apt to look at things in a new light. If that doesn't bother you."

Flynn didn't know what to say, and fortunately Robin didn't leave him to flounder for long. He slid closer, making up the distance between them, and reached to touch the side of Flynn's face. As he leaned closer, Flynn felt his throat go dry, and his silent heart almost wanted to kick start.