As Kieran went about his morning routine of opening curtains and deciding what to wear, Jack took in bits of the bedroom he hadn't noticed before. A small collection of pencil drawings were framed and hanging on the wall above the large dresser. The subjects all looked similar, and Jack squinted at one of the men who looked suspiciously like Kiearn. The eyes were a perfect match, but the nose was all wrong. Family members of some sort, but no sign of Kieran.

A soft curse came from the bedside as Kieran looked at his phone.

Jack glanced over. "You okay?"

"I'd forgotten a delivery is scheduled for today," Kieran replied with a sigh.

"No lazy day?"

"Not for myself, no. Benoit saw to that when she shared my contact information with a few others." Kieran grimaced as he met Jack's eyes. "It was a welcome distraction, but I find it is no longer needed."

Jack bit back an apology.

"Are you able to designate owners and a percentage owed in that database of yours?" Kieran asked as he set his phone on the nightstand.

"Yeah, I can add a couple more fields for sorting and stuff."

"Wonderful. I would be grateful. Especially if you were to remain out of the shop until two."

"For reasons?" Jack couldn't decide whether or not the request for avoiding the shop made him want to be down there even more. "I mean, I can smell like a creamsicle if you want."

Kieran's nose scrunched up. "Moira's harmless, but she can be…"

Jack's mind happily filled in the blank Kieran was struggling to fill. He was having his own trouble coming up with polite variations for his growing list. "Pushy? Bratty?"

"Tiresome. I'm thinking she'll get on well with Lindsey, but I don't believe either have earned a conversational partner as yet." Kieran held Jack's hand and ran his thumb over the knuckles. "If you wish to meet her, you needn't change your scent."

There was something in the way Kieran spoke that had Jack wondering about the true meaning of Kieran's warning. "You said until two. When's she getting here?"

"Ten."

"You seriously think this lady's gonna talk your ear off for four fucking hours?" He couldn't imagine anyone having that much to say. Then again, he'd overheard enough conversations at the library and various coffee shops to know that some people were lonely enough to unload everything on some unsuspecting worker.

"If only it were one-sided. That, I've perfected," Kieran said with a rueful smile. "No, she expects a proper conversation. And tea."

It sounded like teatime with Benoit. He couldn't see something like that lasting for hours. Unless it was with Kieran and books were involved. "Yeah, I'll skip that."

Kieran laughed softly and nodded. He got up and left the bedroom, scoffing as he crossed the threshold. "Oh, do go lurk elsewhere. I haven't bled him dry, you stupid ghost."

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"Please don't jump me," Jack called out before slumping back into Kieran's bed. He should get up and be productive. If Kieran was stuck with entertaining someone, then it would be kind of shitty of him to just hang out in bed. He grabbed his phone and sighed at the time. It was barely past seven, and he was fully rested and awake. He had an entire day to be productive.

He didn't want to stare at lines of code for hours on end. Or sort through paperwork. Maybe there was something else he could do. Like being helpful. He wasn't a great cook, so making breakfast or lunch was out of the question. He could make the bed. He might not do a great job, but at least it would be something.

He got up and began tugging and pulling at the sheets. The bedspread ended up covering most of Jack's lack of talent, and he fluffed up the pillows in an attempt to pull the whole thing together. He stepped back to survey the damage.

It was the thought that counted. He caught a whiff of bacon, and his attempt at helpfulness couldn't possibly compare to breakfast.

What else could he do? What was normal and appreciated? If he asked Kieran, then it wouldn't be much of a thoughtful surprise. If only Kieran had a cat, then he could do the litter box. That was always a good and easy option.

Sam. Sam would be the safe and sane voice of reason that might even tell him it wasn't needed. He tapped the grumpy pig on his phone and waited.

"Fairchild."

"Hey… Question."

"Forty-five?" Sam asked.

Jack frowned in confusion at the response. What was forty-five? The familiar edge of nausea slowly crept up his throat. "I'm thirty," he said defensively.

"Twenty-nine."

"Close enough. When he's eighty-five, I'll be seventy." This wasn't the conversation he wanted.

"Right. I can't wait to hear all about your silver fox in ten years."

His silver fox would still look the same. For many, many, many years to come. Too bad he couldn't use it as an argument. The voice of reason was proving to be too reasonable, and he had yet to ask any questions.

He dropped onto the bed, rumpling the bedspread. He closed his eyes and sighed. "So anyway, what's a good way to help out?"

"With planning a Christmas party? Planning to come this year?" There was a hint of disbelief in Sam's voice. "The invitation extends to the boyfriend," he grudgingly added.

Jack had already opted out several times over, but now his best excuse for ditching had been invited. "I'll let him know, but that's not… I mean help around the house kinda stuff. Here. In return for staying."

"Cleaning is usually helpful. Dusting, scrubbing, vacuuming. The usual."

He made his way into the study and eyed the waste basket that had somehow edged closer to his pile of discarded boxes and crumpled up papers. They were already in their own containment zone in the form of a shopping bag, so that had to count for something in the cleanliness department. The empty ramen cups in the bag probably counted against it. His crappy lifestyle was infecting Kieran's pristine environment.

And Kieran's lack of confrontational ability was coming off as passive aggressive. Unless Kieran thought he was just being polite.

The wastebasket taunted Jack.

"Like taking out the trash?" he asked, looking from the basket to his makeshift trash bag.

"Exactly."

The fleeting moment of coming up with something to do was quickly dashed by uncertainty. "And everything in a trash can is good to throw?"

"For normal people, yes," Sam replied without judgment.

"Okay. I can do that."

"If you ever need practice, we have about five, plus recycling." The understanding tone had quickly changed to teasing.

"You're so funny. And yes, forty-five," Jack said as he stooped to move the bag into the wastebasket. "I can hear the jealousy."

"And I can hear my mom correcting you. Have fun with the trash."

"Sure."

Jack sighed as he hung up. He would have breakfast, take out the trash, and maybe dust something. If he saw dust.

image [https://i.imgur.com/eZY0YUq.png]