Page 55 of Sweet

Chapter twenty-two

Will

“What?” Cas huffs.

He does a great job of acting displeased. But he has tells. And I am finding more and more each time I’m with him. I kinda love it. Both that I can see through him and how much he enjoys himself around me.

“You look so cute right now,” I sigh.

He squints as if I’m a crazy person, and maybe I sorta am, but I can’t help it. I am so fucking in over my head with this man and I would do anything for him.

“I’m only eating pancakes, Will.”

“I know. But you’re so cute while you do it. Especially since I made those pancakes just for you.”

Cas smirks and stabs another piece. “You just like seeing me stuff my mouth with something of yours.” And then he does just that, shoving the fork past his lips.

Fuck. Me.

Perfect man. I’d make him my sugar daddy, only we’ve established he’s younger. He’s clearly better off, though. Mr.Comfortable lives in a half-a-million-dollar home, which is worth six times that when taking into account all the other buildings and property. I know, because I’ve seen his home estimate on real estate websites, and the surrounding houses.

And he has got a nice fucking kitchen but with like nothing in it. Someone is clearly a minimalist and doesn’t cook for shit, either. Likely he can, since he made the popcorn. Yet so much of the house seems barren. Where the fuck are the spices, my dude?

Thankfully, dutifully caring for my man includes impressing him with my abilities. Not that I’m a stellar chef, but when you’re broke as fuck and everything you can afford tastes like shit, you learn really fast how to make it taste as good as possible while still coming in under budget.

Unsurprisingly, Cas has a lot more of one item that I consider humanly necessary. Honey. Very obviously made by him and not only here for storage. He says he mostly uses this area as a test kitchen for the various new products he imagines, so while it’s all technically edible, it’s meant for various purposes.

And then, there’s the honey shrine. I don’t know what else to call it. It’s not a flickering candle with dripping wax and a creepy portrait at the center kind of shrine. I’m not sure what else to call a shelf with rows of perfectly spaced and individually labeled jars. All honey and nothing else.

“Honey never goes bad. Not if you take care of it.”

Cas has caught me staring and the poor guy struggles enough as it is. I don’t want him to think it’s weird. Eccentric? Sure. But I stand by what I said. Anyone who makes someone else feel bad about their interests is an asshole.

“Kinda like relationships.” I catch his eye and he smiles.

“I suppose.” His temporary amusement fades and he starts pushing his food around. “That’s also why I don’t justgivehoney away. Though I do make special ones, sometimes.”

“Like the ones you gave me?”

“No.” He sighs. “Not premium batches. More like intentionally crafted. Each one for a specific person.”

“Someone you care about?”

“Yeah.” And his eyes flick over to his honey shrine, then back to me.

“Where’s my custom honey?”

He chuckles at my wide smile and shakes his head. “None for you.”

“Rude. I earned it.”

“Not yet.” He breathes an even deeper sigh and I can’t tell if he’s irritated with me or what. “Will, where do you think all these hypothetical people are now?”

I shrug.

“They’re not here, are they?”

“Cas,” I say when the realization hits me.

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