Top and Tail [boyxboy] [slash]

Chapter 3: A Cup of Tea

We slurped our tea in silence. Well, Jay sipped his quietly, while I had no hesitation when it came to tilting my cup upside down and guzzling the scalding liquid. I was a bit of a tea addict. Ok, I was a huge tea addict. I drank about four cups, one in the morning, one when I came home from school, one before I went to sleep, and another thrown in there somewhere. What can I say? I love tea. I'm very British.

"Mm," I muttered appreciatively as I drained the last sweet droplets. "That's some damn good tea."

Jay, typically, said nothing.                          

"So... Fancy a tour?" I asked, adopting a false toff accent, holding my arm out as if to take his coat. He nodded.

"Ok. Um, as you can see, this marvellous room is where all the good stuff happens. You know, food, the telly..."

And the tour went on. I explained each room with a healthy dosage of sarcastic comments, and somehow managing to hold a conversation with myself due to Jay's inexplicable silence. I explained how the kitchen needed a painting, how spiders always managed to worm their way into the bathroom. To his credit, despite being silent, Jay seemed unfazed.

We finished the tour climbing down our shaky loft ladders, a rather risky feat.

"Ta da," I finished lamely. "That's it. The whole shebang. Whoop-de-doop."

By this point it was approaching midnight, but I had a nagging feeling that nobody in this house would sleep tonight. I was normally a complete insomniac, a trait inherited from my dad, and my mum seemed far too upset to even think about sleeping. And Jay... well he was most likely worried out of his mind.

Mum seemed to share my thoughts, as when she passed by us she was still fully clothed in a smart black skirt and blouse from earlier that evening. Well, last night if you want to be specific.

"Fancy something to eat boys?" she asked her voice still thick with grief. Blushing, Jay nodded.

"Are you actually offering something to me as well, or are you referring to Jay as a plural?" I enquired keeping my tone polite and steady.

"Both of you," she mumbled, and had the decency to at least look bashful. "Cheese toastie sound good?"

Shrugging, I glanced at Jay. "Yeah, whatever."

Jay smiled meekly. "Thank you."

Mum gave him a soft smile in return, and squeezed his shoulder in sympathy on her way by, igniting a spark of jealousy inside me. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought. Why should I be jealous? Just because my parents never looked at me like that...

For the second time that day, Jay and I were left by ourselves completely tongue-tied. I didn't even bother to try and hold a conversation with him. He just stood there, glassy eyed, putting on the 'sad-houseguest' act. For some reason, his silence was irritating.

Thankfully my mum called us down five minutes later. I dashed down the stairs, tripping over some stray odd socks as I did so and fell to the floor with an almighty crash. Mum simply rolled her eyes.

"Here you are Jay," she said fondly, handing him a whopping three slices of grilled cheese and bread. Jay nodded gratefully and took the plate.

"Thanks, Mrs Jamieson."

"Call me Tracey," mum laughed, and ruffled his ashen hair. "Ash, have a slice off Jay's plate, ok?"

"Yeah, whatever," I grumbled, still sprawled on the floor. Mum went back into the kitchen singing to herself. I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes at her back, electing a small snicker from Jay. I stared up at him in shock. Blushing furiously, he looked away and held out his hand.