Deserted - Auctioned

“Good morning.” Gray snuck over to him and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Morning. Just in time for breakfast.”

Gray gave the kitchen a sweeping glance, wondering if there was anything he could do. “Where did the eggs come from?” The bread was ready; it rested under a towel on the kitchen island. The butter was next to it, in an actual tin container. Who did that anymore? Wait. That wasn’t the butter he’d seen in the fridge yesterday. He gave it a closer look and frowned. The butter was weirdly yellow and looked whipped. “What kind of butter is that? It’s yellow.”

“Butter is supposed to be yellow, you margarine-raised child.” Darius set the eggs aside and joined Gray at the island. “I stepped out earlier. A friend of my pop has a small-scale farm near the bridge. I buy eggs, butter, sausage, and beef from him.”

“Cool.” Gray’s stomach growled with hunger. “By the way, I can still feel your cock in my ass from two rounds of fucking, so maybe you don’t call me child. Also, fuck you. I know what butter looks like.”

Darius grinned faintly and leaned in for a quick kiss. “I like fucking with you almost as much as I like fucking you.”

“Hmpf.” Gray pretended to be annoyed, though it wasn’t working very well. He liked this too much. He liked waking up in Darius’s cabin, being here, spending time with him during somewhat normal circumstances.

“How did you sleep? I didn’t hear you last night. I usually do.” Darius bent over to get something out of the oven.

Gray shrugged slightly and rubbed his neck, feeling the slight bumps of the barcode tattoo he had there. “It wasn’t too bad, I guess.” He eyed the counter and wondered where the coffee smell came from. There was no coffeemaker. “I dreamed about Jonas. I was trying to find him to tell him about Jayden, but I was just wandering around in darkness.”

Darius hummed and set a skillet on the stove. The one that had been in the oven. It was packed with sausage smothered in white beans and tomato sauce.

Gray spotted a kettle on the stove. He wouldn’t…would he? Did he make coffee in that?

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a regular coffeemaker.”

“Okay. I won’t tell you that.” Darius offered him a look of confusion before he grabbed two plates from a cupboard.

“No, but seriously,” Gray pressed. “I don’t expect you to be the type to have an espresso machine or anything from this century, but a freaking coffeemaker?”

Darius let out a laugh. “Wait till you try it, knucklehead. Best coffee you’ll ever have.”

Bullshit. Making coffee like that, pouring the coffee straight into a pot of water, was only okay when you went camping.

“Willow gave me two of them for my birthday,” Darius said. “It has a built-in strainer and everythin’.”

“Why two—never mind.” Gray already knew the answer. If one broke… Fucking preppers. “Good thing you’re gorgeous.”

Darius shook his head in amusement and brought two plates full of food to the living room table. There was no dining table, even though there was space for it right outside the kitchen.

Gray pitched in and brought a few slices of bread and the butter to the couch, and Darius joined him once he’d gotten their coffee.

“Can you drive me to my mom’s later?” Gray asked. “I think Gage’s truck is parked there. I need to borrow it so I can get around.”

Darius furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong with mine? You can take the Wagoneer. I have my truck.” He took a quick sip of his coffee. “We’ll go together today, though. I can drop you and Jayden off at the store before I see Willow. I want an update.”

Gray didn’t want to miss that. “That’s…thank you, but can I go too? Or maybe that will be difficult for her,” he backtracked, remembering Willow’s anxiety issues. She didn’t speak to many people outside of her immediate family.

Darius waved that off. “Nah, she’ll just switch to sign language. It’ll be good for you to meet each other in person.”

Gray sank into a cushion of contentment and tucked into his breakfast. And everything hit him at once. The fresh bread dipped in tomato sauce and the rich taste of salted butter, the snow falling outside, the fire spreading warmth in the room, the smell of pine, and the generations of history breathing through the old blankets that covered the couch. A couple were knitted, one was patchwork, some were woven.

He pulled up a knee on the couch and sat more sideways so he could inspect the pictures above the couch, and they were as mismatched as everything else in the cabin. Or the frames were, rather. Yet, they fit perfectly. One picture was of Elise and presumably Willow. Two slight, raven-haired girls with big grins and pale arms around each other. Another was of who he assumed were Darius’s parents. An older man sat in a lawn chair under an umbrella, and he had a woman standing at his side. Both were smiling and squinting, maybe for the sun. Apple trees in the background.