Page 21 of Jamie
He picked them up and covered himself and his distinctive ink behind the clothes. He didn’t need to get recognized.
He could hear noises from downstairs, and he followed them into the kitchen, which was a good size, with an island in the middle. There were three place settings on the island, butter, syrup, and jam on it as well, and Bran was at the stove flipping pancakes, Silas leaning against the counter watching him.
“Hello. Thank you for the clothes. I’ll have them washed as soon as I can.”
They both turned toward him, smiling.
“You’re welcome,” Silas said. “Though I have to admit, you look a bit like an orphan in them.”
“I think you look adorable,” Bran told him. “Where are your dirty clothes? We’ll get them washed.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“It’s no trouble,” Bran assured him.
“Bran likes doing laundry.” Silas grinned and slid a hand along Bran’s arm. “He likes making things clean, and he likes the way the soap smells.”
“Giving away all my secrets…”
“I’ll go get them. I… I’m so sorry for crashing on you guys last night. So embarrassing.”
“Nonsense. You were clearly exhausted.” Bran’s words echoed in his head as he went upstairs again to grab his clothing.
He was lazy, maybe. Tired, for sure. Burned out? Fuck.
He grabbed his clothing off the bathroom floor. He noticed the walls this time as he made his way back downstairs. There was artwork everywhere, modern, old, simple, ornate. Just lots and lots of it.
It was fascinating, the way that the complicated paintings made a singular impression.
Silas met him at the bottom of the stairs. “Let me show you where the laundry room is.” He led the way down the hall, past the kitchen, and through a door at the end of the hall.
The laundry room had the requisite washer and dryer, shelves full of various laundry-type bottles, and a clean counter. It was the most spacious laundry room James had ever seen.
“It’s lovely.” And bigger than his bedroom. He could just sleep on top of one of the counters.
“Bran designed the renovations himself. So we got everything we wanted the place to be.” Silas shrugged. “We’ve both done pretty well for ourselves, but I know we’re spoiled.”
“No. You work hard. You deserve it.” He understood that.
Silas nodded his head. “Thank you, boy. Now, let’s get your clothes washing, eh?” Silas opened the washing machine and grabbed a bottle of clothes-washing liquid.
“Thank you.” It was a tiny load, but Silas didn’t seem to mind. “I really appreciate this.”
“It really is no problem.” Silas turned the machine on, then gave him a grin. “Come on. Bran’s pancakes are not to be missed.”
“I haven’t had homemade pancakes since I was a little boy!” He’d eaten at craft services for breakfast most of his life.
“Seriously? Damn. Well, today is your day.” Silas led him right over to the island and pulled out one of the stools. “Coffee, tea, milk, orange juice, or water?”
“Uh… is it weird to want milk?”
“Nope. It is in fact the only correct answer when it comes to pancakes.”
Bran snorted. “So is coffee or tea. I’m not sure why you would offer orange juice with pancakes in the first place. The sweet just doesn’t go with the acid of the juice.”
“Some people like orange juice on the side with breakfast,” Silas countered.
Bran snorted again.
