Black Velvet (75) (Patreon)

(A/N: I’m splitting everything up.  The next chapter to be posted, (chapter 76)  is entirely NSFW and remains skippable to those who don’t want to read NSFW content!  Warnings for very mildly mature discussions about what’s to come in this chapter.  These chapters are large and mostly entirely new content, as I’m trying to stay true to character, so please remain patient with the editing process.

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Tobias' pajamas are more than loose, but I wear them with my hoodie draped over the blankets across my stomach.  My phone is on his charger, and I lay closest to the wall on the bed, with my own pillow, just as promised.

A movie and a half later, and onto the Russian revolution, and we don't fall asleep.  Tobias' voice is worn from the amount of talking he's done tonight, and I've been so wrapped up in his quiet interest and opinions as the movies play that I realize that....

This is contentment.

Knowing him.

Dawn is cracking in slivers through Tobias' bedroom window, pale blue light across his hand that's folded over mine. He's turned off the television, but it doesn't help to darken the room completely.

"... Expected a nation that would tolerate all religious views, and they opposed the uncontrolled dynastic rules."

Wow, okay.

This is — attractive.

"I feel my brain getting bigger.  Actually, it's massive now.  I don't think I can lift my head anymore."

I wonder if this side of him is something I'll grow used to, something that will become normal — or something that won't strike every nerve in my body like a lit match stick.

Tobias' shown affection is simple, small movements, and he touches me when he talks, a stroke of his thumb over my forearm during an explanation, a squeeze after one of my jokes.

They all mean the world to me.

".... do you still want me to show you how to make those snowballs for your work?"

"Yeah.  I bought everything.  Tomorrow?"  Tobias hums.  His thumb presses over my knuckles.  "I feel like I'm asking you for Ms. Martin's trade secrets."

"No way.  We haven't made them in two years."  I wrinkle my nose,  "Consider me a bakery spy.  I'm your mole.  I'll bring you whatever retired recipe you need to impress your boss."

Tobias huffs,

"Lucky me."

"We need to sleep then."  I yawn, "We're going to be so tired if we don't, and I'm definitely going to suck at teaching you anything that you could probably learn from Yooble instead," I mumble, blinking lazily in the low light.

Tobias hums, eyes still on the ceiling above us. He runs his index finger over my wrist.  I try to ignore it, but he presses harder, the edge of his fingertip skirting my hip,

"... Sleep, huh?" His voice is husky from his neglected drowsiness, and it lulls me a bit, "You suck at showing people how to bake in general."

Weariness forgotten with the insult, I turn a bit against the pillow, and the movement sounds louder in the quiet room, bringing us closer together in the dim light.

My heart leaps.

"Hey, very ungrateful. I am your mentor; I taught you everything you know.  Even now, I'm still teaching you."

"Mhm, just an Oliver-sized handful of flour, just stick your finger in and see if it's warm," He scoffs, smirking as I swat his arm, aim skewed from how we're laying. "I helped do line-work at Randy's before you even started at The Sweet Spot, mentor."

"Cooking is an art, and baking is a science.  I taught you science."

"Mm."

"... Anyway, I brought an actual recipe this time." I frown, petulant, and Tobias nods, closing his eyes.  I stare at a faint pink line from Poppy's little claws that peeks from the collar of his shirt.  "With precise measurements."

Tobias' arm lifts a little, the back of his hand delivering a humored stroke over my stomach like he's soothing me, or it's an excuse to touch.  It runs over the hoody strewn across my lap.

And — like all things unfortunate, Nic's gifted condom makes a crinkling sound from the corner of its pocket. I suck a breath through my teeth as Tobias pats the area inquisitively.

"That the recipe?  Or do you have candy wrappers in your pockets?"  He chuckles.

And before I can really process it all, he's snatching the condom by the corner of its wrapping and lifting it above us.  If I were a lesser man, I might have shrieked, but I settle for pulling the sheets directly over my head in a very dignified way.

Tobias inhales sharply.

It was all going so well.

It was, then Nic...

Is this a familial curse?  Should I be researching how to get away with fratricide?

"...Strawberry, huh?"

I burrow further, mortified.

It almost feels surreal that I'm here now, that we're wading out of a mess, that Tobias wants to be with me, and quite possibly believes that we can make it through the rest of whatever else is out there waiting for us or that he thinks of me in his future, even though he's my first relationship, and my first everything —

And it looks like I brought a condom. I did, for all intents and purposes, being a condom into his house!

Tobias turns towards me and yanks the blanket from my face, leaving staticky curls in his wake.

"Nic.  Nic gave it to me at the door — you know him,"  I stare at the ceiling instead of him.  My face feels hot.  My ears feel hot.  "I didn't ask for it."

"So," I can't see Tobias' expression.  I'm too busy trying to find anywhere else to look, but under my palms seems like a fantastic refuge.  "You don't want to?"

Oh.  My brows gather, gaze meeting his unintentionally.  He's turned on his side, his elbow keeping him propped up to face me.  He raises an eyebrow, the condom between his index finger and thumb, and he waves it slowly,

"Nic just — you know him."  I mumble,  "He got the wrong idea.  He had this backward misconception about, like, his wingman duties and assumed you wanted to and I was totally blindsided, and then I didn't know what to do with it, and um,"  I shrug, helpless.

"Yeah?"  Tobias mimics my shrug, a coy smirk growing,  "but I do want to."

Oh.

Oh.

I think about that.  But this, or... If it were to happen — this is... The first.

"Well.  Not to sound really insecure, but..." I trail off, wanting to pull back the spontaneity of the words, but Tobias' interest is piqued. He waits for as long as he's able but then presses his hip up against mine impatiently,

"What reason do you have to be insecure?" He sounds honestly peeved at the notion, fingers of his free hand intertwining with mine, and he drops the condom.

"Well... Does,"  I wave the words away casually, trying to make myself feel less stupid, "...Does it bother you..."

I quiet, suddenly too aware of the man next to me and his eyes that track the trail of his thumb down the back of my own,

"Well.  Obviously, you were my first, in the car — you were... Uh.  And the kiss.  I haven't dated, which you know.  Everyone knows."  I inhale.  "So... Does it bother you?  That — you were...?"

"Or like, that night at Edmunds... Did I know what...?"  I blush.  "Um.  I don't know exactly what I'm asking."

I instantly regret my word vomit, the ramble incoherent, even to me. I feel the ill splotching of pink start to travel my neck, a mild self-consciousness creeping in now that we're lying side by side, and the jittery excitement has passed into new territory.

Tobias shifts further up onto his forearm to stare down at me, undoes his fingers from mine to push a stray curl from my forehead,

"Hey.  I haven't dated, either."  He tucks one behind my ear, and I want to close my eyes.  My nerves take over, and I nod awkwardly.  "And what about Edmunds?  You didn't seem insecure."

He grins, slow and teasing, tries to lighten the mood, and I look away.

"But you — I mean.  Dude.  I saw you kiss..."

"Don't call me dude."  Tobias sighs and taps his fingers against the bed, thinking.  Finally, he shrugs.

"I kissed him, yeah.  But I haven't dated.  I haven't wanted to be... Or for you.  To be with anyone else,"

He's quieter, so quiet that his voice is hard to hear, and I lean in,

"Me?"  My eyes widen, "since when?"

"Yeah, you.  I didn't like thinking that you might, you know.  End up with someone, who wasn't me—even growing up.  It made me angry, or sad.  I don't know."

Tobias laughs softly when I smile.  His dark eyes shift to where he's reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear. I can tell this vulnerability is an attempt to calm me, and I appreciate it.

"So you're happy... that I haven't dated?"

"It's not that."  He huffs, and then in a whisper, he says,  "maybe a little."

"So.  You're happy — happy about the firsts?"

"Mm.  I guess it got to the point where I didn't care if I was your first.  I wouldn't have cared if ten people were before me, as long as I got to be the last.  But I didn't feel like dating.  So I didn't.  Haven't.  So why are you worried?"

"You're so,"  I feel hot, trying to deflect my earlier mortification and the new seriousness of our conversation,  "You waited for me?  I didn't expect you to be like — a romantic."

"Oliver," He sits up more, "I know I'm not the best at this.  I don't express myself how I want to.  Or say things the way I mean them to come out."

"Well, me neither,"  I huff,  "obviously."

"Alright.  Well.  I don't want you to feel insecure."

"I don't want you to either." I feel my chest constrict with something warm and glance away.

"So, if you're not ready, it's fine."

He moves the condom onto the nightstand, hands up, like a truce.  I soften with his sincerity,

"No, wait." I blurt,

Tobias' gaze meets mine again,

"Uh — so.  Well.  We've had firsts — and.  Like you said.  No reason to be insecure," I pick at the fabric of my nightshirt that peaks from under my hoody— a nightshirt that happens to be his,  "We can just do our best."

"I think we've done a pretty good job so far." He trails off without intention.

"Yeah," I mumble. I glance to meet his playful, dark gaze, then avert my eyes, feeling my ears heat.

"I like practice,"  he grins.  "You like studying, right?"

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