Monster [m/m]

Chapter Four

"420 Shermount Drive. Apartment 506."

He can practically hear Clark's grin. "Fantastic. I'll see you soon." And then he hangs up.

"New fuckbuddy?"

Aiden jumps, realising that Angelique stopped singing. He looks at her, nose wrinkled. "No. Just some...guy." He doesn't want to mention the whole editor thing just yet.

"Some guy," she repeats, nodding with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, okay."

"He's not my type."

"You have a type? I thought cock was your type." Yeah, there's that grin again, that mix of teasing and knowing.

"Ha ha ha, you're fuckin' hilarious." He props his foot on the dashboard, because he knows she hates it. "And what about you? Get with that chick from the art thing?"

Angelique reaches out to punch him in the leg. She's got hard knuckles. "Get your skanky ass foot off my dash. And, yes, I did. We're going on a date tonight."

Aiden rubs at his leg, and says, "A date, huh? You two a thing?"

She shrugs, but she's smiling. "We'll see."

"Must be a good lay."

"Fuck off."

There's a strange car sitting in the parking lot of Aiden's apartment building when they arrive. Silver, sleek...a Porsche, maybe? Aiden knows jackshit about cars. But he knows who's inside before the door even opens.

He ignores Angelique's questions as he slides out of her car, giving her a wave and walking to the back door. Clark follows, his presence setting Aiden on edge. He rarely lets people near his home.

"Just get off work?" Clark asks, following Aiden into the building and to the elevators.

"Yeah," Aiden replies, wondering how long he's gonna stay. He doesn't look at him much as they ride the elevator to his floor. It takes a couple pushes of the button to get the doors to slide open. Piece of shit.

"You live by yourself?"

Nodding, Aiden unlocks his door and flicks on the light. At a glance, nothing appears any different. He tosses his keys onto the rickety table in the entranceway and toes off his shoes. He starts to offer Clark something to drink (he knows some manners, at least), but Clark's already heading down the apartment's hallway. Aiden rolls his eyes and follows.

"Workshop's at the end," he says, flicking on lights as they go. The light makes it hard to be scared, and Aiden needs to concentrate right now. "Door's open."

Clark walks in and turns the light on, leaving Aiden to trail after him and lean against the wall as his eyes track Clark's movements. He's already wandering around the small room, picking up a birdhouse to turn around in his hands, before setting it down and moving to a half-assembled clock.

"How long have you been woodworking?"

Aiden shrugs, watching Clark glide his hand along the back of a small rocking chair. It wasn't Aiden's first attempt to build one, but it was definitely his best. He might even attempt to sell this one—simple, but sturdy. "Awhile."

"Did anyone teach you?"

"My dad."

"No classes?"

Aiden really doesn't like questions. "No."

Clark suddenly turns and gives him a wide grin, leaning back against Aiden's worktable. "I don't mean to interrogate you. Just interested in your...background."