Bonded: Book One in the Liminal Space Series

Chapter Twenty-Eight

*Wyl*

Ten minutes later Wyl was dry, dressed, and heading for the fifteenth level of the station, where T's restaurant was located. He was also starving, since they hadn't had time to eat. Residual pleasure and hunger battled in his brain but at least when he got to T's, he managed to say "Good morning," before following it with, "I need food."

"I knew it." T shook his head mock-disparagingly, handing over a pre-made plate and a fork followed by a cup of the thickest, blackest coffee he could brew. "You cost me more in supplies than you earn by helping."

"Be happy you can afford me," Wyl shot back around a mouthful, washing it down with the coffee. "At least I can stand your winning personality. Tell me Leesie will be your hostess; you need someone up front who won't scare the customers away."

"Are you kidding? You think I can pry her away from her work now that she's official again?" He tried to sound annoyed, but the expression on his face was more satisfied than anything else. "She loves it, wouldn't give it up for anything. Plus she's thick as thieves with Jane." Jane Freeman was Robbie's second in command.

"Damn. You're screwed."

"Yeah. Got a good staff lined up, but the opening isn't until five, so none of them are in yet. What I need you to do is get things prepped in the kitchen."

Wyl scooped the last bite of his cayenne-flavored eggs and sausage into his mouth and swallowed fast. "You want me working in the kitchen? Red light, red light, big mistake."

"All I need is for things to be taken out of fridges to thaw, vegetables washed, counters cleaned. There's a list in the back." T reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small round package. "And you need to wear this."

Wyl took the small thing, shook it out, then groaned. "A hairnet? C'mon, T."

"You're working with food, you're working in my kitchen, you're wearing this." He was inexorable. "I don't want to have to explain to a customer how a long black hair got into their jambalaya. And wash your hands."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Yes." He pointed at Wyl's plate. "Wash that too."

"You have an industrial capacity autoclave, and you want me to wash one dish in it?"

T rolled his eyes. "By hand, pretty boy. I want to keep the kitchen clear. Damn, you've gotten spoiled since you've been living here. I remember when you thought it was a holiday if you only worked sixteen hours straight."

"Yeah." A faint tightness came to Wyl's throat, and he looked away. "Bad times."

"Yeah." T shook his head. "Sorry I mentioned it."

"Never mind." Wyl sighed and put on the hairnet, tucking in the loose strands. "To work, I guess."

Actually, Wyl enjoyed working with Taylor that morning. He and T had always gotten along well, and despite his bitching it was kind of nice to be doing something besides welding. He'd just finished washing about a million stalks of celery and was starting in on carrots when T joined him back at the counter.

"Keep going. I'll cut, you wash." They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before T asked, "So, things still good with you and Robbie?"

From anyone other than Taylor or Leesie it would have been an invasive question. Wyl didn't open up very often, but he was all smiles now. "Perfect, thanks."

"Perfect? Well, now." T sliced a celery stick with small, rapid strokes of his knife. "That's good."

"It is..."

"Uh-huh. I knew it."

"Knew what?"

"Knew there was a caveat coming."

"You don't even know what that means," Wyl protested, but he knew T was right. There was something inside of him that couldn't help but feel anxious, a small but constant strain.

"So, what's not perfect about Mr. Perfect?" T kept his eyes down, concentrating on chopping vegetables to keep Wyl more comfortable.

"It's not that anything's wrong. It's that it's so right." It was hard for Wyl to articulate what he was worried about. Even as he said it, it didn't make sense to him. "It's scarily perfect. Part of me keeps waiting for things to fail, you know? It's like everything is going way too well for it to possibly continue. I want to be ready for the letdown, but I can't make myself stop needing him."

"Nor should you." T moved a pile of chopped carrots into an oxygen-tight container and swept them off to the side. "Why borrow trouble when there's plenty for free? Nothing is perfect all the time, not even the best relationship. There are times Leesie makes me want to chew glass, just so I feel a different kind of pain. Those times are rare, though, and I know I give her a hell of a lot more trouble than she gives me."

He shrugged and reached for another stack of veggies. "You stay with them through the good and the bad, because you could never think of being with anyone else. You sacrifice for them, because you know they'd do the same for you. You forgive them because you need their forgiveness. That kind of like how you feel?"

"I...don't know, yet."

"You will eventually. Everyone gets there. You either get over it, or you end it."

Wyl narrowed his eyes. "Have you been drinking?"

"Why?"

"Because I've never heard you wax poetic before." Wyl tried to pass it off as lighthearted, and T took pity on him.

"I have the soul of a poet, I'll have you know."

"And a mind like a dumpster."

"Watch it, boy, or I'll keep you on vegetables all day," T warned.

"What could possibly be more fun than this?"

"Folding napkins."

Wyl blinked. "What?"

"Into the shape of swans."

His jaw dropped. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Not at all." T smiled evilly. "It should only take a couple dozen to get the folds right. Then you can do the next few hundred no problem. In fact, maybe you should get started now."

"Right. Great." Fuck.