Nathan was exhausted in the morning, but his eyes still snapped awake at seven am like clockwork. They'd done so every day since he'd been pulled out of school and tossed in jail. He didn't have school, but his body still wanted him to go. Why couldn't he just sleep in? Groaning, he turned around in bed to find Ian's empty. He sat up and looked at the clock on Ian's stand to read six forty-five off the red-lit numbers. Where was the guy this early in the morning?

Grimy from the day before and desperate for a shower, he grabbed some clothes out of the dresser and rushed to the bathroom. Ian had been nice to him the night before when he'd been genuinely frightened, but he didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him if he was naked and vulnerable.

It took some of the relaxation out of it, but Nathan cranked the water until it steamed and soaked until it washed the tension out of his muscles. Last night was a jumble of feelings that he couldn't quite make sense of, but he had the day to figure things out. Without school, a job, or anything to do really, he had all day to himself. The freedom was nice, but also a bit overwhelming.

After showering and throwing on some clothes, he crawled out of his room. An aroma wafted up the stairs that made his mouth water, and he warily tiptoed down the stairs, expecting Ian at every turn. It wasn't until he entered the kitchen that he found him, though he heard him first, whistling as he flipped some food in a pan with a spatula.

"Morning, Nat. Hope you were warm." Ian flicked him a smirk, and Nathan glared. "Relax, sit down. I know you're away from home and that you've never had to make your own food before, so I'm putting together breakfast."

"Really?" Nathan plopped on a stool at the counter and watched Ian as he turned the burner off and filled three plates. "Thank you," Nathan said as Ian set one in front of him. It was some weird breakfast dish that Nathan couldn't make heads or tails of.

"It's paella, though I tweaked the recipe. It's a European dish. Rice, meat, beans, and I like to put potatoes, onions, and eggs in it. It's some American bastardization of what my mother used to make for me when I was younger."

"You cook?" Nathan asked as Ian lifted a paper to read while he ate.

No one read the paper anymore. Nathan half expected to find a pair of eye holes in it so that Ian could stare at him, but the paper seemed whole.

"I am so hungry."

At the sound of Rick's gruff voice, Nathan turned into a brick on his stool and further whitened when the man parked himself right next to him. With an ice pack on his head, Rick leaned on the counter and pushed down Ian's paper so that he could see him across the counter.

"I had the weirdest dream last night that you mail ordered yourself a boy on Amazon and that Donovan clocked me over the head with one of my empty beers," Rick said seriously before glancing down to Nathan.

Unable to move, Nathan remained still in front of his food as the man's peculiar grey-blue eyes ran over him. Hammering against his chest, his heart had not decided to remain as calm as the rest of him.

"Morning, fag," Rick said to him, the words sharp.

Rick snickered, and Nathan broke eye contact to look at the floor. Glaring at the man would start a fight, and there was nothing Nathan could really say here.

"No reason to be ashamed," Rick continued. "At least you're getting some. I imagine a kid like you is pretty tight. Must have been a good ride for him. Tell me, did you suck him first, or did he just go in dry?"

"Some of us are trying to eat, Rick. Do you want to eat?" Ian lifted the third plate and hovered it over a garbage can at the end of the counter. Tilting it, he let some of the food hit the inside of the bag, and Rick whined.

"All right, all right, I'm sorry." Rick changed his tune and clapped his hands together to bow toward Nathan. "I wasn't trying to rustle your jimmies. I just haven't fucked a bitch in so long that I'm prone to fantasize." Rick extended his hand out for the plate.

Ian rolled his eyes before dropping it in front of him so hard that pieces of rice jumped off onto the counter. With the ear ringing clack, Nathan was surprised it hadn't broken. Tough plates for tough guys, he guessed.

"You fairies are all so sensitive," Rick said, pulling the plate to himself. Shoving a forkful of food into his mouth was the only thing that kept him from spitting more vulgarity and slurs.

It took Nathan a moment to pick up his fork, and when he did, he poked his food a bit. Ian had dropped his paper and was watching him closely, probably wondering if he was going to panic like he had last night. Nathan didn't want to be that sort of person, so he pulled himself together. He took a bite, and his mouth watered. The even taste of the potatoes spiced with something obscure he couldn't name went really well with the flavor snap of the onions and the chicken.

"This is really good," Nathan said aloud, unable to stop himself.

"Fucking fag's good at some things," Rick said while chewing his food. "But don't let him lure you with his charms or he'll bend you over this counter and fuck you the moment he has you alone. I'd do it too, if you didn't have a dick." Rick cackled, but noticed Nathan's glare. "What, you don't know?"

"Know what?" Nathan walked face first into the brick wall.

"That your breakfast cook is not only a fucking faggot, but a rapist as well. We didn't have anything lying around LCP that was vulnerable before, so I'd watch your backside, and I mean literally your ass. He'll plug his dick in it before you can cry mercy, kid."

"Rick!" Ian whipped his plate at Rick, and food flew all over him.

Nathan stood up and backed away from the counter as Rick wiped the food from his face.

"Thanks. I was still hungry," Rick said as he licked it off his hand. "Now I need a shower though." Rick stood, and Nathan took another step toward the wall. "Watch yourself around him, kid." Rick's eyes grazed him, but the man turned and went out the back of the kitchen.

Alone with Ian, Nathan couldn't lift his eyes to him. He was a rapist? They'd slept in the same room together and Ian hadn't done more than touch his hair, but he'd also been distraught. If he hadn't been, would Ian have tried to do something? Before he could lift his head to say anything, Ian walked past him and the swing door opened and closed.

Left with his food, and a kitchen that was an utter mess, Nathan held onto the counter to keep it from spinning. It took a moment, but he calmed and rubbed his face as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. He was hungry, so he ate his food, surrounded by debris that reminded him constantly of what Rick had said. It was a buzzing hum of thought as he finished his food, and then he found some paper towels to clean up the counter and floor with.

Rice was impossible to get off of tile with a broom, so he made sure the towel was wet enough and picked up the rice handful by handful. It poorly distracted him, and he stopped what he was doing to sit on the floor and just process everything. Yesterday, he'd gotten a lot of mixed feelings about Ian. The man could be kind and gentle just as easily as menacing and pushy, but not once had he snapped at him like Tanner had. By the time he'd fallen asleep, buried in all of the man's blankets, Conny had felt more dangerous.

Had he pissed Ian off with how he'd frozen in fear? The man had jumped ship as soon as Rick had labeled him a rapist, so there was no doubt it was true. If that was the case, what could Nathan even do about it? They shared a room, and Maggie knew that. Bringing it up to her likely wouldn't get him anywhere, and he wasn't exactly sure he could stomach sharing a room with someone else anyway.

That left only the option of fixing up his own room, but what did he do in the meantime?

There was no choice but to talk to Ian, and despite all the time he spent eating, cleaning the kitchen, and pacing on the second floor outside of Ian's room, he wasn't prepared. How did he broach that sort of subject? No amount of thinking had helped, and he'd burn a hole through the floor if he paced any more.

Stiff as a board, he turned the door knob and kept his eyes firmly on the floor as he took a step into the room. Ian had intimidating, light eyes, and even though it was rude to not look at him, he didn't know if he could maintain eye contact without panicking. He gripped his pants to keep from trembling as he raised his gaze, but the tension eased away just as fast.

No one was there.

Taking a few steps in, he surveyed the room. The bathroom door was open and no one was in it. The bed was empty and Nathan turned back to the hallway, wondering if there was somewhere else that people could go. He wasn't about to go knock on other people's doors. Heading back to the end of the hall, he looked at the door to what would be his room. It wasn't like it hurt to check. He opened the door halfway, expecting to find the room empty, but Ian was there.

With his back to him, Ian ran a metal blade down the wall, leaving a trail of mud in the junction between the drywall. Nathan wasn't savvy with home repair, but his mother had fixed a hole or two in the apartment when they'd hit a wall too hard with a door handle or table corner.

The door had made an obvious click when he'd opened it, but Ian ignored him, dipping the spatula into the mud and repeating the stroke a little lower. It was a few more smooth swipes, but when Ian finished with the current junction in the wall boards, he turned only a fraction of a degree toward him. Avoiding his eyes, Ian saved Nathan from the awkward situation he'd been fearing.

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Word count: 1851