Tarot: the Fool- Paranormal M/M Romance

Chapter Nine

David

I hadn't lived or slept near anyone in years— not since I'd been home for good— so acclimating to living with Zin was... a unique experience. The guy was a clean freak with a capital C, and he spent most of his time arguing with me that he was well enough to start working, at least around the house. I had to compromise after a few days, mostly because the dishes were piling up and I have never been much of a housekeeper.

With my permission granted, I came home that night to a house that smelled of bleach and looked like he had scrubbed it with a toothbrush. After a thorough scolding for overexerting himself, I practically threw him on the bed and wouldn't let him leave it for the rest of the night, even to eat. I brought him his food on a cookie sheet, since I didn't own any TV trays, and he laughed as I set it down and forced him to eat every bite.

"Alright, Papi," he joked, rolling his eyes as he began to pick at his dinner. I laughed and brought mine over to the bed, crossing my legs and sitting on the bed across from him.

He was more alert and awake than he had been since I'd met him, taking less pain killers and being well rested from the days spent sleeping and lounging in bed. He and the kitten, whom he had dubbed Her Majesty, made quite a pair, snuggled up under the blankets on the bed, only their eyes visible as I came home from work each day.

Despite a past that, if I knew the details would probably make me want to track down every person who had ever looked at Zin sideways, Zin blushed like a schoolgirl every few minutes, his thick, dark lashes fluttering as he seemingly unconsciously flirted with me. We talked for hours that night, hashing over the two books he had been reading over the last few days that lay on the bedside table, my obsession with all things Star Trek (I know, I don't look much like a Trekkie, but I've got the ink to prove my die hard status), and the bits of his past he would let me into.

He spoke of his parents, whom he remembered only vaguely, who died just after bringing him to the States from Moldova. He didn't remember how they died, and he said he didn't remember much of what happened after. But the way he said it told me he was lying to keep from having to talk about it.

So I respected his space and didn't push, allowing him to skip over many years until he told me of living in Los Angeles, then New York, then somewhere in Texas... all running from something he refused to go into.

I told him of my upbringing— of Mama Toya and my brothers. A bit about my time in the service. I told him about my friends, and he agreed to meet them— properly this time; fully dressed— soon.

It wasn't until I woke the next morning with Zin's toes digging into my ribs for warmth, his breaths fanning against the hair on my legs while his head rested against my thighs, that I realized we had not only talked so late into the night the sun had begun to rise, but that we had fallen to sleep in a tangle of limbs, bare skin, and exhausted bodies.