Patrick's POV
I had almost forgotten everything that had happened last night until I was walking out of my office for the day.
The shadow Jem had assigned me was good at keeping his distance. He stayed camped out in his car all day and with the tented windows it had, I doubt anyone noticed him there.
But the second I walked out of the department and my eyes landed on that car, it all came rushing back.
My spirits fell as I climbed in the passenger seat. Devon didn't even look at me as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove us in silence.
The tension in the air was thick. The usually long was drive was much shorter due to the fact that we were speeding but I valued my life too much to comment on it.
Devon drove down the maze driveway with ease, never even pausing as the winding roads split into two or more and before long the car was parked and Devon was out of the car, the door shutting behind him.
I followed loosely behind him just to keep up but the second we got back to Jem's wing he was disappearing down one of the long halls.
"Did you piss him off or something," a guy with brown hair asked. He sat on the couch with a frown as he stared in the direction his friend went.
"I didn't think I did. I didn't even do anything."
"He's not very good with people," he shot down quickly but his frown stayed as he pushed off the couch before disappearing down the hall as well.
"I hope you had a better day than I did," Andrew sighed. He was in the kitchen but the smells coming from that direction weren't that great. "I don't think I've ever been talked to this much in my life."
"You're a therapist."
"Yea at a camp for troubled kids," he pointed out. "Most of them just glare at me the whole time."
"He couldn't have been that bad," I said, not bothering to stifle a chuckle. He turns to face me, his face becoming deadly serious, only making me laugh harder.
"I can already tell that I will be diagnosing him with 5 different attention and impulse disorders by the end of the week. Anyway, how was your dude? It couldn't have been worse than Barrett."
"We didn't even talk. He stayed in his car in the parking lot all day and when I was ready to leave for the day he sped back here. That was pretty much it."
"He didn't talk to you at all? Can we please switch tomorrow?"
"I don't think that's up to me," I sighed as I shrugged off my jacket. "What exactly are you making over there?"
The smells coming from the kitchen were steadily getting worse while Andrew continued to run around at random.
"It started as oven baked beef tacos but then Barrett said I was making them wrong so it turned into this weird casserole thing and now I'm just trying to make it work."
"You don't usually cook for yourself, do you," I laughed to myself as I eased into the kitchen
"No," he sighed while looking down at the mess he had made. "I make decent breakfast but beyond that, I have nothing."
I shook my head while rolling up my sleeves and taking the spoon Andrew had been using to taste his so called 'casserole'.
The second the food touched my tongue I was spitting it back out, not caring that it landed back in the dish.
The meat was over cooked while and since he didn't drain it before adding the hard shell tortillas they became soggy. That and he couldn't seem to figure out which spices to use so he just piled everything on he could find.
"It's that bad?"
"I don't see how you thought this was eatable." His face fell as he looked back at the ruined food.
I watched wordlessly as his hands wrapped around the handles before walking to the trash and scrapping it away in defeat.
"I don't know what we're going to do for dinner now."
"It's still early," I noted as I begin opening cabinets at random. "You want to give cooking another try?"
"I don't want to mess it up again," he sighed.
"You won't be alone this time though," I promised as I pulled out a box of pasta and tossed it to him. He barely caught it but still didn't look very convinced when his eyes moved up to mine again.
"You sure you want to risk it?"
"Positive. And if it still doesn't taste good, we'll say I was the one who made it while you just watched."
A small smile finally breaks out across his face as he moves to help me.
"Does that mean that if it tastes good I can take all the glory?" I couldn't control my laughter before it was being ripped out of me.
"After that monstrosity you made? Hell no. I'll give you like 30 percent of the credit, and that's only because you will be in the kitchen while I'm doing it."
His frown quickly returned as he grabbed a random pot from a cabinet I hadn't had the chance to open yet.
"You're an asshole," he decided.
"At least I'm an asshole that can cook."
His shoulder rammed into mine playfully before turning back to the pot and filling it with water. His muscles tense as he lifts the full metal bowl up and place it on the first burner.
A smile ghosts over my lips as I watch him while he stares at the water, seemingly expecting it to boil in seconds.
"What are you laughing at," he asked with a small glare.
I forced myself to stop the smile and shake off his question, moving back to the kitchen to finish making everything else.
Jem's POV
Laughter and banter drifted from the kitchen all the way into my office and while it was a foreign, it was much welcomed.
Our wing always seemed so quite in comparison to the rest of the house but after a while we were just forced to get used to it. Now with the new found noise bouncing off the walls, I remembered how much I missed having it.
The sound was enough to make my shoulders loosen as I looked over the sales papers I was being forced to look over.
I sighed to myself as the boredness took over. My eyes tore away from the papers before looking over to the phone on my desk.
It was still early but I had been stuck in the house all day and was ready to do something other than reading over reports, sales, and news about what had been going on in our area but my eyes had gotten bored of scanning across paper all day.
I pushed away from my desk while rubbing the tired feeling from my eyes and heading down the long hallway.
"What's that face for," Andrew asked with a small glare, not bothering to hide the offence in his voice. "Don't look like it tastes that bad!"
"I never said it did," Patrick denied calmly while leaned against the hallway wall, not bothering to hide my amused smile.
"Then why does your face look like that?"
"You may have put a bit too much spice in it," Patrick sighed as he looked through the spice cabinet to find a way to fix it.
"Maybe you're just white boy spicy," Andrew grumbled under his breath.
Patrick immediately paused at his words as his eye brows scrunched up in confusion.
" 'White boy spicy'," he repeated with a prominent frown.
"White boys can't handle spice. That's your problem. I'm sure Barrett would love it."
The edge of lips twitched upwards as I watched this bicker.
"I assure you I can handle plenty of spice but spaghetti sauce shouldn't be spicy at all."
Andrew glared at him before his eyes shifted over to me as if he knew I had been standing there the whole time.
"I bet Jem would love it," he stated boldly. My smile fell from my lips quickly.
Patrick followed his gaze until his eyes landed on me.
The smile that once covered my face now covered him.
"Jem is the whitest of all of us. By your logic he won't be able to swallow this, much less enjoy it."
"We'll let Jem decide." He said with an innocent smile, as if he were already trying to win my favor before the contest even started.
I don't bother saying a word as I pushed off the wall and made my way to the kitchen.
I barely took a step in the room before the smell hit me and heat lit up my senses.
Patrick lifted the spoonful of the sauce with an expecting look on his face while I hyped myself up for it.
My tongue barely touched the food before the spice over took me but I forced myself to show no emotion as I forced it down.
"Well," Andrew asked after a few seconds of me not answering. He smiled up at me as if my torture made him feel better while Patrick raised an eye brow at me, knowing it wasn't as good as Andrew was making it out to be.
My eyes shifted between the two of the, trying to decide the winner of the unsaid contest.
On one hand I knew Patrick was right but he wouldn't gloat about if I admitted it while Andrew would probably sulk and never attempt to cook again.
But if I lied, Andrew seemed like the sore winning type while Patrick would be a sore loser.
At the same time though, I didn't want to have to eat all of this after saying it was worth having.
It was a hard decision.
"It's not bad," I said before I had a chance to stop myself. Andrew's eyes lit up as a smug smile crossed his face while Patrick glared at me, clearly seeing through the lie. "But it's a bit much for me. We might have to tone it down for my sake."
Andrew's light didn't dim as he rushed to the spice drawer to look for a way to fix his mistake while Patrick's glare softened.
"Smooth," he all but scoffed.
"It's hard to keep two people happy but I have my ways," I smiled as my phone went off.
I fought to keep the air light as I read over the simple text.
"I have to go," I sighed while heading to the door.
"Right now," Andrew asked with a frown. "This will be ready soon though. Have you even eaten today?"
"It's important."
My feet lead me blindly to the door. My hand grabs the coat on my usual hanger before reaching for the handle.
"Well, we'll be here when you get I guess," Patrick said with a lazy smile. "We'll make sure to save some of this for you so be careful and don't be stupid."
I didn't bother hiding my smirk as I opened the door.
"You're so sweet for worrying about me," I teased. I could have swore I saw a light blush dust his cheeks. "But don't worry. I'll be back soon. I promise."
Last update December 2, 2021