Alpha Assignment (BL) Chapter 48 (Early Access) (Patreon)

"I think that's the actress," Quinn mumbled, staring up at the gargantuan billboard atop a three-storey handbag emporium. A petite, wide-eyed woman gazed down at something glowing in her palms while a sparkling forest-like arena seemed to be in mid-motion around her. She was ethereal, draped in leaf-like pieces of material that didn't resemble anything Quinn had ever seen someone wear in real life, with translucent white skin that offset dark eyes and hair. The fluffy, floaty top-knot was more familiar to Quinn than his own hair.

This woman, this actress, was a Remi-look-alike. And, amazingly for this unknown woman, she was almost half as beautiful as him. Quinn understood from his company’s marketing team the amount of make-up and editing that went into photoshoots… Remi didn’t need any of that.

“She does have my hair,” Remi whispered.

“Not just your hair.” Quinn dug his phone out of his jeans. “ Turn this way so I can take a picture, I have to show Jordan.”

He would know the actress, he seemed to have a connection in his brain for every celebrity that entered office chat. Even if he had never watched a movie they were in, or didn't listen to their music, somehow all kinds of other lifestyle details found their way out among the non-famous. Diets, dating, delusional behaviour.

Remi smiled awkwardly, overly-aware of the humans milling around them. One or two paused to nod between Remi and the billboard, quietly asking their friends, "Is it her?"

Ending the unwanted attention, Quinn turned the camera off and joined Remi a few steps away to show him the photos. Remi nodded at each one, eyes scanning every inch of the screen.

"Do you like them?"

"You were right," he said softly. "Not just the hair."

Quinn chuckled. "You could be siblings. Is it okay for me to show these to Jordan?"

"Of course!" Remi brightened. "Do you think he'll like them?"

"Definitely."

Putting the phone away, his hand was free to take Remi's and lead them away. They'd enjoyed a lovely Italian lunch already, sharing an enormous pizza covered in vegetables and sausage slices. Remi ate slowly, carefully, peeking out at the other diners for cues on whether he should be using the knife and fork the staff had provided, when they had also cut the pizza into hand-held slices. The after-lunch mints they'd been gifted with the bill were tucked into Remi's pocket, wrappers crinkling a little as they continued their wander down the high street.

The shiny, brightly-lit shops were of little interest to Remi, they had waddled around for at least half an hour, peering into windows and peeking through doors but never lingering long.

That was, until they reached the quieter half of the street, where the buildings became historical, the paving became uneven, and the store contents were no longer brand new. A handful of charity shops supporting different causes were crowded at the very end, just before a roundabout that preceded the public library. The clientèle milling around this section were significantly older, and slower.

Remi was suddenly full of inquisitive energy. From the first charity shop, his interest was snatched - scanning the window and taking his time to appraise every knick-knack displayed there, dragging Quinn into the smell of moth balls and dust, tenderly turning over mismatched tea sets and reading out the blurbs of dog-eared books.

Although Quinn hadn't taken himself into a charity shop before, the contents felt familiar - it was the kind of crap that would be brought into packs from the human world, along with petrol station magazines, bootleg DVDs, and plastic toys abandoned on the sides of roads. If there was one thing alphas hated, it was giving humans their money. And even more so to pay that money to bring human-made media or entertainment into their homes.

Digging through the racks, organised by colour rather than sizing, Remi found some clothing he wanted to alter or use for layering over those that actually fit him: a beige cotton shirt, a dark green cashmere sweater, and a tasselled shawl of brown and black wool.

For each item, he pressed into Quinn's side and asked in a whisper if the price was expensive. No, Quinn assured him, two pounds and fifty pence for a shirt was not expensive. Anyway, he didn't need to worry about cost, he could have whatever he liked.

The checks gave Quinn an idea, though.

"Can you wait here for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'm going to the ATM we passed further up."

Remi blinked, clutching his clothes, and a ceramic elephant, to his chest. After a glance around the tiny shop, manned by a single elderly lady balanced on a stool behind the checkout counter, he nodded.

On his return, Quinn presented Remi with a thin stack of notes. "This is your money, you can spend it how you like. Or save it and we can shop another day."

Remi accepted the cash, but held it out in front of him instead of pocketing it. "I think... I should save it then." He carefully popped the elephant back onto the nearest shelf.

"Are you sure?"

Remi nodded. "I've never had money before,” he admitted. “I don't think I know enough about it to spend it."

While it made sense that Remi would never have had his own money… hearing the words out loud almost knocked Quinn back a step. In a pack, Remi would never have a need to touch real paper money. It also meant he could never truly be independent.

"What would you be saving it for?" If there was a big, special item Remi wanted, maybe that would make a better Christmas present.

"I don't know." Remi shuffled to the clothing racks, the money still held up in his hand like a dowsing rod. "But I think saving is the safest option."

"That's very wise, but you don't need to worry about paying for anything serious, Remi. I will always pay for the essentials - this is fun money, and you'll get more of it."

Remi was quiet, and thoughtful, for a few moments.

"And... I'd be happy to put an envelope aside with enough to get you anywhere you want to go, should you decide you want to leave."

Remi's face snapped up, top-knot bouncing. "Leave?" he repeated.

"if you didn't want to live with me anymore,” Quinn hurried to explain. “I wouldn't want you to feel trapped, and I'm sorry for not thinking of it sooner, but I know some people keep an emergency fund for things like that. I can sort that out for you, stick it in the bread bin-"

"Quinn!" Remi gasped. "I don't want to go anywhere!"

"But if you di-"

"I don't!" Remi interrupted, full of offence.

"If you did, you-"

"I would tell you."

"But you might be scared to."

"I am not scared of you." Remi’s indignation strangely filled Quinn’s heart with warmth.

He sighed through a weary smile. "I'm glad to hear it."

Remi wasn't finished. "Even when you’re upset with me, when you don't like the... choices I make." He knew they were both thinking of Wes. "I know you wouldn’t hurt me. You don't even raise your voice at me." And Quinn would never do either of those things. Ever. "I could tell you if I wasn't happy."

"You would?" A final check, always wary of the sway his position would have on Remi's secondary gender.

"I am very happy, Quinn."

"And I am very happy... with you," Quinn replied.

Remi snorted. "Maybe I should find him a little gift..."

"Remi, I swear if you do any more for that man-"

"I am teasing you," Remi giggled.

Quinn let himself laugh, too.

"Well, I did want to ask you about gifts, actually..."

The top-knot tilted. "Is it your birthday?"

"No, but Christmas is coming and I thought it would be nice for us to... do Christmas?"

Remi's face lit up. "I've never done Christmas." He whispered the admission full of childish excitement - it was contagious.

Quinn grinned. "Me neither."

"Will Jordan help us do it?"

"Definitely, he's a Christmas expert."

"Wow!"

"But I brought it up because I thought we could buy presents for each other."

"What kind of presents? Are the food and decorations presents? In cartoons they always get bikes - do we need to get bikes?"

Quinn chuckled in the face of his own questions being asked of him. How much faith Remi had in him to educate on the human world! "I think I need to ask Jordan these things," he confessed. Remi giggled excitedly. "We can plan it properly once I have a clearer understanding. But no bikes." He doubted Remi knew how to ride one, Quinn certainly didn't - who needed two wheels that could be outrun by four legs?

"Then... I will save my money for Christmas."

Quinn reached out, tickling the tips of Remi's hair. He nestled into his palm with pink cheeks and half-lidded eyes. Accidentally sweet and sultry at the same time.

"Spend your money on what you like today," Quinn murmured. "I will give you more for a Christmas budget."

The hideous elephant ornament ended up leaving with them. Quinn soothed himself with the promise that he would ensure it ended up in the spare room with Wes. In the next shop Remi found a collection of metal moulds for desserts, the copper colour wouldn't suit the all-white kitchen, but it was Remi's money to spend... In another he bought himself a crocheted bag in all manner of green shades. It followed no discernible colour pattern, but for Remi it was love at first sight. A stack of Reader's Digest informational books on seasonal gardening had his arms shaking all the way to the till in the penultimate shop. In the final, a store dedicated to raising money for a heart health charity, Remi found a stone-looking mug with tan paint dribbled all over it haphazardly. The gentleman at the counter wrapped it in a few rounds of tissue paper and charged him a pound for it.

"I like these shops better than the busy ones," Remi said, staring into his mismatched plastic bags of clutter.

Quinn helped him dodge lamp posts as they wandered back towards the end of the high street they had parked at. "Less people?"

"Less things, too." He was smiling at his purchases, and Quinn smiled, too, before lurching them out of the way of a bollard he had been too distracted to notice.

Ah, yes. The overwhelming world of advertising and marketing - everyone trying to catch your attention and drive you to buy their special shiny thing. Quinn could admit, mooching around charity shops manned by volunteers with no incentive to pressure you into a purchase was a slightly more peaceful shopping experience.

True peace, Quinn learned, was observing Remi pottering around the house with his new things. Cleaning them, lining them up, testing out places for them. The urge to bring his mate more things if only to enjoy the display of his nesting was almost overpowering. Quinn hated the thought of bric-a-brac everywhere… but the behaviour it brought out in Remi, and the quiet homeliness it brought to the house… Maybe he could let a little more stuff slide…

There was plenty of money left over, and Remi had plopped it in the centre of the dining table after getting home. Quinn made a note to get him a money box. In cartoons, humans had pig-shaped containers, but he’d never seen one like that in real life. One look too long at the cash from Wes and Quinn scooped it up to go in Remi’s bedside drawer. Quinn gave him a firm look, and Wes kept walking into the kitchen, no doubt intending to raid his cupboards for every grain of rice available. Remi couldn’t worry about the man being malnourished much longer, he was eating them out of house and home.

Quinn choked on an unexpected laugh. That phrase… he’d picked it up from the mothers in the office talking about their teenage sons. When had he and Remi become this grown man’s parents? He shook his head and stood, he needed to clear his thoughts for a bit.

While he stretched in the frosty garden and then fulfilled a few sets of lunges, squats, and planter laps, Remi started dinner. Wes was with him, but Quinn highly doubted he was being of any help. Back inside, Quinn took over chopping the thicker vegetables. Remi gave Wes a spoon to stir the risotto, and he accepted it with a cautious glance to Quinn. It was made very clear in the look he returned that if Wes didn’t follow the task given to him by his mate, the spoon would be entering his body, forcibly.

For the first time since he arrived on their doorstep, they ate at the same table. Conversation was disjointed and awkward and the relief that hit once they were all free to hide in their own rooms, their private dens, was staggering.