Alpha Assignment (BL) Chapter 30 (Early Access) (Patreon)

A week of ‘cooling off time’ didn’t do much to take the edge off Quinn’s anger. The sparking of injustice was frying him from the inside. He wanted to make it right, make everything right, and by the force of his own hands. Remi was a sweet distraction, and Quinn hadn’t yet decided if it was deliberate. Strokes of petal-soft finger-pads along his arms, round eyes pleading for constant attention, cat-like curls into Quinn’s lap whenever he dared to lounge. How much of the skin-ship was an attempt to curb Quinn’s frustration at wanting to know everything? Wanting revenge for actions he wasn’t aware of yet.

Jordan had noticed, and he could only hope he didn’t think it was because of their awkward conversation the previous Tuesday. Quinn was doing his best to act like nothing had changed… but he was just so damn angry. All the time. At least, all the time he didn’t have Remi placating him.

For the first time, he dreaded their painting class. Remi lead them in, pulling Quinn behind him by the finger. He left Quinn to sulk by his empty easel, and when he returned from the racks of half-finished works, he placed his lake in front of Quinn and Quinn’s wild pack lands in front of himself. Quinn didn’t ask, and Remi didn’t explain.

There was nothing to be added to Remi’s painting, it was already lovely, but Remi dove straight into the edits of Quinn’s. It became ordered, lines of flowerbeds sprinkled brown through the hills, as that dried, an orchard was popping up in the distance, with Remi bringing his nose in close to inspect the tiny fluffy additions. It was already becoming… prettier. Definitely more organised.

Hesitant, Quinn dotted white highlights along the ripples of Remi’s lake. There was nothing else needed… even that felt like an intrusion… He dragged it out to fill the time, a dot here, a thin tear drop shape there…

Over the lush soil, Remi peppered plants and petals and the occasional straying vine. When the new trees had dried, he speckled them with red apples. The paintbrush in his hand twirled like a baton, easy and fluid. Quinn’s tight, uncomfortable memory, spattered across a canvas, had been transformed into an idyllic country estate. A dreamlike place that Quinn could only imagine living in.

When the class ended, Quinn liked both paintings. Loved them, even. Carla gave them both loud and exaggerated compliments, and some of their classmates even cooed and quietly praised them on their way past to scrub their brushes. It felt very undeserved to Quinn, Remi had done all of the heavy-lifting.

They carefully laid them in the trunk of his car, still sticky with fresh paint. They would have to leave them on the dining table for a day before choosing where to hang them. Stood side-by-side at the head of the table, they admired the collaboration of their creative efforts.

“Would you like our garden to look like that?” Quinn asked, nodding to the manicured flower beds and thriving vegetable patch.

Remi shrugged against Quinn’s arm, it prompted a loop around his little shoulders.

“Wasn’t that our deal? That the garden would be your project?” A deal made a fortnight ago, deep in the heart of Sanctuary, on a moss-covered log. Somehow, with the excitement of Remi coming home, Quinn had forgotten all about his promise.

“The grass could do with cutting,” Remi admitted quietly.

“That’s no fun.” Quinn laughed. “What about this?” He pointed at the painting again. “If you could do anything with the space, what would you do?”

“I’m not fussy-”

“I know you’re not.” Quinn pulled a notebook from his stationery drawer. “But I’m even less fussy.” Remi gave him a raised eyebrow, forcing him to add, “At least, when it comes to the garden. I’m fussy about lots of other things.” They both laughed. “So, why don’t you draw what you’d like?” He held out the paper.

“Okay.” Remi accepted it with a shy smile, along with a pencil, and slid out from under Quinn’s arm and into the nearest chair that had the space to work in front of it. “I’ve got some ideas…” He began with a rectangle.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Quinn grabbed his elbows and stretched them up above his head. “I’m gonna do a work-out in the living room.”

It was hard to tell in the yellow light of the ceiling lamp, but Remi seemed to turn a little pink. “Okay.”

Quinn collected some free weights from under the stairs and laid them out beside his yoga mat. 20s, 40s and 50s. First, he rolled out his body, feeling pulls and push-back deep in his muscles as he prepared himself. Next, he worked through his lightest weights with arm raises, curls, lunges, squats and then laying them over his feet for a core blast. As he swapped out the smaller dumbbells for the next size up, he caught dark eyes watching.

Quinn paused, hunched over with unequal weights hanging from his hands. “You okay?”

Remi made a squeaking noise that sounded affirmative.

“Want to try?”

This squeak sounded negative, but he climbed free of his seat and approached with soft, padded steps. He dropped into a squat by the end of the mat. “That looks heavy,” he said, nodding to the heftiest weights in the line. Hunks of metal that could feasibly weigh as much as he did, each.

“Give this one a go,” Quinn offered, holding out the smallest of today’s selection.

Remi eyed it suspiciously for a few moments before reaching for the handle with both hands.

“Oh no-” The weight hit the carpet immediately as though Remi’s fingers hadn’t been there at all. It snapped him down forward with it, tumbling face-first into Quinn’s lap, limp.

“O-okay-” Quinn brushed back Remi’s bangs with a wince. The freshly exposed forehead was flushed. “That was my mistake.”

Remi pouted up at him and rocked back onto his butt, fingers still curled around the dumbbell.

“You don’t have to-”

With a heave, puffed cheeks, and scrunched eyes, the weight rose in Remi’s hands.

“Careful on your back,” Quinn murmured, tapping the slight curve of Remi’s spine. “A little straighter, and bend your knees.” The dumbbell reached belly-button-level.

Remi huffed and brought it back to the ground, flopping forward into Quinn’s lap again.

“Uuuugh,” muffled by Quinn’s shorts.

“I don’t know if lifting heavy things is in your skill set,” Quinn said softly, running his fingers through the flicked ends of hair that ran a ring around Remi’s head.

Remi’s face turned up, and a button-like ear pressed against Quinn’s bare knee. “What is in my skill set?” he asked, so quiet it could be a secret between them.

“Um, sleeping like a log?”

Remi sat up with a sulky pout. “A log?”

“Beautiful painting,” Quinn added hurriedly. “And being too cute.”

“Hmmm.”

Quinn laughed and Remi smiled at the carpet. He dragged himself up and loped to the dining table, retreating to his sketching without another word. Quinn took his next set of weights to continue his own project.

When Quinn had completed his work-out, and a shower, and gotten into his PJs, Remi was still designing his fantasy garden.

“Still working on your masterpiece?” Quinn whispered over his shoulder. He was surrounded by sketches, drafts that became more detailed the closer they sat in proximity to Remi’s hurried pencil. Scribbles bursting free of the rectangle they were set over.

“Just…” An almost-silent yawn cut his off. “A little longer, please.”

“Don’t stay up all night,” Quinn grumbled, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll check you’re in bed in half an hour.”

Remi hummed his agreement. Remi fell asleep at the dining table. Remi was carried to bed by Quinn with no idea how many kisses he received all over his face on the way.