Page 8 of Shelf-Made Man
Although Alfred still looked troubled, he nodded.
After a quick consultation regarding elven dietary preferences—it turned out that Alfred wasn’t picky—Tobias cooked a nice grilled cheese sandwich and heated some tomato soup. But when he carried them into the bedroom, Alfred was already fast asleep, and Tobias didn’t have the heart to wake him. He ate the food himself, figuring he could make more when his guest woke up.
Afterward, a bit at loose ends, Tobias scrubbed the blood off his living room floor and threw away the scraps of Alfred’s clothing. He examined the shoebox from Aunt Virginia, but although he’d kept the fabric and note, they didn’t provide any hints about what to do with Alfred. He now understood the note in a very different way than on his initial reading, however. Olve Lange hadn’t been worried about a damaged Christmas decoration; he’d been concerned about a living elf.
And now Tobias was too.
Eventually he sat in his bedroom armchair, playing on his phone. He must have dozed off, though, because he was startled awake by a crash and a yelp of pain. He found Alfred curled up on the floor, moaning over his leg.
“What are you doing? You’re hurt!” Tobias lifted him back onto the bed. It was the second time he’d hadAlfred in his arms, only this time Alfred was conscious and naked, which made it quite a different experience. Probably for both of them.
Any naughty thoughts were sidetracked, however, when Tobias spied the blood seeping through the bandages. “Oh no,” he moaned. “You need to see a doctor and get that cared for properly.”
“I thought you were a healer.”
“I’m a data engineer.”
That got him a blank look. Then he dithered, because although Alfred certainly needed stitches at the very least—and possibly a lot more—Tobias wasn’t sure how the emergency room staff would react to treating an elf.
Alfred sighed. “I’ll be all right eventually. Have you a needle and thread?”
“You’re not planning to sew it up yourself!”
“I was rather hoping you would.”
Tobiasdidknow how to sew, in fact. He’d taken classes a few years earlier because he couldn’t find shirts he liked in his size. He had actually become pretty good at it, and he had a sewing machine in the bedroom closet. But sewing clothes was a lot different than sewing… flesh. He shuddered.
“I’ll do it if you’re unable,” Alfred said quietly. “And don’t worry. My injuries aren’t mortal and I heal quickly.”
“Hang on.”
Tobias hurried to the kitchen, where he quickly fried up another sandwich and reheated the rest of thesoup. While Alfred ate, Tobias dug into his sewing basket. He wasted a minute or two trying to decide on a thread color before remembering that the first aid kit had suturing supplies—no doubt a better choice than fuchsia-colored cotton. Next he watched a YouTube video on technique. It didn’t look too difficult, but then again, the person in the video was probably well trained.
“That was an excellent meal.” Alfred wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “And this bed is very large and comfortable. You’re being very kind to me.”
“Let’s see if you still think so after I stab you with this.” Tobias held up the sterile needle.
“I believe I could withstand many tortures if they came from your hands.”
Was thatflirting? Tobias was bad at recognizing that kind of thing when it came from regular people; he wasn’t at all equipped to identify an elf’s intentions. He shot Alfred a wan smile, sat on the mattress, and carefully unwrapped the bandages.
Alfred seemed oblivious to his own nudity. That was not true for Tobias, especially as he was tending to Alfred’s upper thigh, but at least it slightly distracted him from the blood. And from the full realization that it was a living body he was sewing and not fabric.
“I’m worried about infection,” he said after he completed the first stitch. “I’ve done what I can to avoid it, but?—”
“It’s not aconcern for me.”
“Do you mean you’re not worried about it, or you don’t get infections?”
Alfred shrugged—and winced, likely due to the bruising. “I heal quickly and I don’t get ill easily.”
“How did this happen to you?”
“Snjokarl.”
“I still don’t know who that is.”
“Consider yourself fortunate.” Alfred closed his eyes for a minute. He was clearly being stoic about the sewing, which had to hurt. Hell, his entire body must be hurting. But evidently this Snjokarl guy was a bigger deal than the pain.
