The Kwisling [The Isbjørn book 2]

Thirteen

They had fallen asleep face to face, rather than back to chest as John had intended. Luce had woken first to morning breath and John's hair tickling his nostrils and only secondarily to Mrs. Glass switching the light on. It took the petite woman two long strides to reach the bed containing the two young men.

When Daliah saw them laying together, noses almost touching, she did not even have a thought in how odd it appeared. She had a sense for their unusual relationship the moment she saw the two men interact and she would support her son no matter who he chose to partner with.
So her rude awakening had nothing to do with John's orientation and more to do with the mess of her household and her overbooked schedule.

Her waking call sprouted from her throat as a lion’s roar. John launched himself upwards in the bed, gaping with sleep filled eyes, matted hair, and a nearly bare body. "Ma?"  he mumbled, struggling to make out her form in the waking light. Luce had frozen, unsure what to say, or do under her gaze.

Daliah clapped her hands, a booming clap that should not have been possible from her childlike size. Her waking ramble was entirely in Swaneese and the only one capable of understanding her was rubbing his eyes and cringing away from his mother. He groaned loudly, against her demands letting the tension of the cramped sleep escape him. He uttered a short reply before falling back into his pillow.

She boomed a short question his way. If Luce thought it at all possible he would have not put it past the woman to leap at John and drag him out of bed. It was reasonable to assume it had been done when Daliah was closer to John's age.

John turned his head to the side, bringing his mouth up just far enough to be heard. His counter had an equally sharp bite, but wrung with finitity.

She stared at him a moment longer, then, with one final nod, exited the bedroom, leaving left the door open on her way out.

"What was that all about?" Luce grumbled, peaking open one eye at last.

John rolled to his side and looked at his bed mate. "She wants us to work the store for a few hours."

"What's so bad about that?"

He ran his hands over his face again. "I'm tired."

Returning to Swann had reverted John back to his lazy young twenty self, it seemed. The two days had passed and John was no closer to telling the family his news. The last two days had been lost to roaming the property as he bidded his time with his family.

"Tired from what? Long walks in the pasture?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Make me."

Luce sat up instead when he found the light  banter too intimate laying down. He wanted to draw a line in his relationship with John. While sleeping next to him in nothing but briefs was perfectly acceptable, arguing while half naked felt like a grey area. He changed the subject.

"So when are you telling them?" It was a topic he brought up at least three times a day, he was getting an early start.

"I plan to tell them."

"I'm starting to think you don't know what plan means."

John sat up, feeling dominated in the way Luce was quite literally speaking down to him. "Tomorrow."

"Today."

"Tell you what."

Luce cocked an eyebrow in wait.

"We'll wrestle for it."

"That's the gayest sh-"

John did not wait for an agreement, launching himself at Luce.