Eighteen: I'd Prefer My Neck Unwrung

Facts of life: the sun would always rise in the east, and Emery would always cook dinner. Long gone were Josh's takeout days, of differently-shaped boxes that piled up in the garbage. It wasn't that Emery had an innate talent for the art of cooking; it certainly wasn't that he'd discovered a hidden cache of patience. It was only that he wanted to, was willing to take the time to do it, and that something in Josh would always melt at sitting down to taste whatever he'd ventured into making that day, regardless of it being dubbed a success or a failure.

The line had been drawn at coffee, popcorn, and, today, hot chocolate. Josh had to have something he could still do in the house, after all. He'd become proficient at reading Emery's myriad expressions, and today it was clear Emery had a topic he needed to discuss with him. He'd also become an expert on how to act around him, which meant he knew it was better to wait Emery out than to attempt to coax anything out of him.

Emery sat at the counter, laptop in its perpetual spot, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Josh made his stovetop hot chocolate. It wasn't their usual comfortable silence, this thing between them. It was weighed down by whatever Emery wanted to say, and Josh didn't quite have the hang of irrelevant conversation when it was forced, so he did nothing to dispel it.

He was turning off the stove when Emery closed the lid on his laptop.

"Josh..."

"Yes?" Damn it, he'd been too quick to reply. Now Emery knew that he knew there was something to be talked about, and everything was doubly awkward.

"As someone who's been financing my stay here without complaint, I feel like there's something I ought to ask your permission for."

Money. Of course it was about money. Emery couldn't even breathe without feeling indebted to him, and Josh hated it, hated the perceived loss of power that came with it for Emery.

"You don't have to ask my permission for a damn thing." His eyes were fierce. "Not a damn thing. Whatever it is you need just let me know how much. You don't have to justify anything."

Emery looked stricken. "Of course I do. I—"

"How much?" Josh had unlocked his phone and opened his banking app, prepared to transfer whatever money — Emma's money — Emery needed.

"I'm not asking you for money, Josh," Emery said, exasperated, "Just that you listen to me!"

Oh. Damn, this part would never not be awkward, would it? Josh busied himself with pouring chocolate in two mugs and adding the marshmallows in to hide his discomfort.

"I'm sorry for assuming. It seemed like you were, and I didn't want it to be weird and, well. Then I went and made it weird. What is it you want to talk to me about?"

"I feel that I should spend the majority of my time pursuing work that will be financially compensated," Emery began, stilted. "And yet I find myself wishing to spend a few hours a week on work that isn't. But, then, if you're the one making that possible, it stands to reason that I'd be volunteering your work instead of mine, by proxy. It doesn't seem fair."

It didn't come as a surprise anymore, how Emery kept finding new and creative ways of breaking Josh's heart. Josh placed a finished mug of hot chocolate in front of Emery and moved to the couch, hoping he'd follow. Emery didn't disappoint.

"So you're saying," Josh began, blowing on his hot chocolate so it would get to drinking temperature faster, "that you want to do volunteer work and decided you'd need my permission?"

Emery seemed to find no flaw in that logic, his inner code aligning perfectly with it. "Certainly. If I were spending that time seeking other paying clients I could be making larger strides towards not being a burden on you."

"I can keep telling you you're not a burden until I'm blue in the face and you're going to keep assuming I'm lying, aren't you?"

Emery's features softened. "Not lying, no. But we've already established you've no concept of your best interests."

"No we didn't," Josh replied belligerently. "The only thing we've established is that, of the two of us, I'm the only one qualified to know what my best interests are. Maybe I enjoy having a cook in the house."

That elicited a fond snort out of Emery. "A cook. Evidently. The delight on your face when you tasted last night's burnt offering spoke volumes. As did the speed with which you ordered pizza in its wake."

Josh smiled, gaze fixed on the endearing crinkles around Emery's eyes. "Okay, so that wasn't your best dinner yet. But you hit more than you miss, and I really do like it a lot, having you here."

He didn't have the energy for obfuscation. He liked having Emery there, full stop. He could try and put that statement through all the smoke and mirrors he'd find, and it would still be the unvarnished truth, so why bother?

Emery's smile didn't waver. "Thank you, Josh. I know I'm not the best at expressing myself, but you've made me feel nothing but welcome. It's... Not as unbearable as I assumed it would be, being in your debt."

Josh was torn between laughter and frustration. "Honestly, I don't know whether to call that high praise or to just wring your neck because you keep looking at it like that."

"If I have a say in the matter, I'd prefer my neck unwrung."

This time Josh did laugh, Emery's dignified response making it impossible to keep a straight face. "Fine, have it unwrung. By all means, do all the volunteer work you want. Just... please. Stop imagining you need permission. Once and for all."

His words would have had more weight, he imagined, had he not burnt his tongue on the hot chocolate immediately afterwards.

#

Josh had no clue what sort of volunteer work Emery was involved with, but it functioned like clockwork — Mondays and Wednesdays, shortly after lunch, he'd be off and only come back just before dinner time. Josh would have gladly cooked on those nights, but he knew Emery well enough to know Emery would take it as a personal blow.

Whatever the work was, Emery often came home with shadowed eyes. Josh hadn't asked, hadn't wanted to pry, but he sometimes wondered if Emery wouldn't prefer to talk about it. He was glad it didn't fall on Thursdays — he felt Emery was grateful for the company, and skipping game night at Mark's would have, again, led to Emery seeing right through him.

Tonight Emery looked particularly exhausted as he set down his plate, dark bags under his eyes. Josh wanted to do something, and he'd just about had it with second guessing himself. He got up from the couch. "I'm going to give you a shoulder rub, and you don't get to say no, so deal with it. Shirt off while I go get some cream."

Emery startled out of his exhaustion. He opened his mouth, closed it again and — much to Josh's delight — didn't put up a fight.

Minutes later, fingers kneading the stress knots in Emery's muscles, Josh had to ask himself how big a masochistic streak he had, that he'd offered to do this. Not to mention Emery kept himself so fully clothed all the time that seeing an inviting expanse of back like this, was... Well.

But then — gradually — Emery started to unwind, and all Josh could feel was satisfaction that he was somehow helping. He wasn't wondering what would happen if he kissed the juncture between Emery's neck and shoulder. Not even a little bit.

#

Josh had his most brilliant epiphanies over breakfast. He didn't have to outright ask Emery anything to make himself available to hear. Why he hadn't realized it before was anyone's guess. "Emery, I... Just because I won't ask doesn't mean I'm not interested. You know that, right?"

Emery froze, brown eyes wide. Josh replayed his words in his mind and fought the urge to bang his forehead on the counter.

"About the work you're doing," he hastened to add. "I don't want to pry, especially not with your tendency to think you have to justify it, but sometimes it looks like you'd want to talk about it when you come home. I'm always here to listen, if you want to talk."

There was something almost disappointed in the depth of Emery's eyes. "Oh. Of course. I... Yes. There are times when I would like to talk. But I have no wish to... It may be a difficult subject for you."

That was unexpected. "For me? Now I'm really curious to know what you've been doing."

"I have been offering my services as a math tutor."

It didn't sound like a joke, but Josh pretended that's what it was regardless. "Math? How did you know that was a difficult subject for me? Downright traumatizing, let me tell you."

Emery joined in, tension dispelled. "I'll be more than happy to tutor you as well, should you require it."

"I haven't even finished breakfast and already you want to torture me? There's no need, I confess." He held his hands above his head as if in surrender. "Whatever it is I'm accused of, I did it. It was me, I confess, you hear me? I confess! The body's in the lake, the diamonds are in the cupboard and the murder weapon is under my bed. Please, no more!"

"If my standard detective work yields results this quickly I'd be well served to rethink that lucrative career as a pet detective," Emery deadpanned.

Josh loved to see the weight being lifted from his shoulders, and humor was an easy tool to get through to him. He couldn't help the smile that lingered even after the laughter had died out. "I'm kidding. I haven't forgotten how much you love numbers; any kid will be lucky to have you pass that on to them."

He'd just decided not to press the subject — Emery would talk about it if and when he was ready — when Emery spoke again, his tone serious. "It was your story... What you told me of your parents, on my first night here. Our experiences are so different in that arena that I'd never considered... I'd just never considered how devastating it must be. I knew, of course, but only theoretically. All my experiences were tinted by privilege. Knowing about yours made it different. Personal."

Emery's gaze was fixed on his coffee cup, in a clear attempt not to make eye contact with Josh. "And, with my time on the streets, I learned that there are specific places that take some of these teenagers in, when their parents are derelict in their duties." There was a lost look in his eyes. "I'm not someone who they can confide in, or someone appropriate to help deal with emotional wounds, but math... Math is a useful skill to have, and I like to think I'm making a difference, if small."

Always self-effacing. How all anyone ever saw in him was his pride, Josh couldn't fathom. His heart stuttered under the wave of uncompromising love that washed through him as Emery continued.

"There are so many of them... I never imagined, Josh. And I only see the ones who make it to that shelter. Some of them are barely more than children..."

Josh smiled through the knot in his throat, eyes wet. He placed a hand on Emery's arm, fingers tightening. Now he was the one who couldn't look at Emery's face. The warmth of Emery's skin underneath his shirt kept Josh grounded, despite the tremor in his voice.

"You are. Making a difference. There's absolutely no doubt in my mind that you are. And this... Out of all things, not that you ever needed to ask no matter what, but out of all things, this was what you felt you needed permission for?" He heard Emery's exhale, felt the slight release of tension in his muscles.

"Like I said, it felt as if I'd be volunteering your work instead of mine. It's the fact that I haven't had to worry about where my next meal comes from that has made it possible."

"You have a twisted sense of logic. Are you sure you're good at math?"

And there was the sound of Emery's laughter again, signaling that they'd made it through to the other side of that conversation unscathed. They finished their breakfast amid lighter banter, Emery looking less burdened than he had before. It never ceased to warm Josh inside, that he had the ability to make Emery's hurts ache a little less.