Tim chewed on a piece of toast, waving hello to Mrs McNeely as he picked his way across the lawn to the letterbox and muttering a litany of reminders under his breath, "Car service, grading, pick up jacket, car service, grading, pick up jacket." So much for the weekend of idleness he had planned.
It was hot already and it was not even 9am. And, he noted as he flipped up the lid to letterbox, neither of them had remembered to check yesterday and the snails had started to dine on their post. Bloody things. He added snail bait to the list.
Juggling sheaves of junk mail that could go straight in the recycling bin and a half dozen envelopes, quite bedraggled, Tim hooked his thumb under the edge of one and tore it open.
"Fuck", he mumbled. Kicking open the screen door, he called out to Rob as he
walked down hallway into the old kitchen. "Mail!"
Rob grunted from his position atop the bar stool as he tried to persuade the
light globe into the somewhat warped coupling.
"Get off that bloody stool!" Tim said, grabbing Rob by the hips and helping him down. "You have a step ladder and you never use the damn thing. Leave the light globe and look at this."
Rob grinned. "I never fall, you know?"
Tim shook his head, "Yes, I know, but it is the principle of the thing: you are stepping into my role as resident brat. Try acting like a Top for once, okay? Anyways", he said, handing Rob the letter, "we have other problems: I forgot the credit card minimum."
Rob sat on the stool and read it through, whilst Tim shuffled his feet. He
always, always stuffed these things up! It was a wonder Rob let him out without a keeper-
"Stop."
Tim looked away, face hot. The man could always read his thoughts.
"Aren't you going to..?"
Rob looked up and shook his head.
"No. That's what penalty fees are for, mate."
"But I ALWAYS do this! Why can't I get it through my thick head-"
"Hey!" Rob said, cutting Tim off mid-accusation and standing to pull him into a hug. "Go easy. You missed a payment, you didn't kill anyone."
Tim blushed again, as much for his need as for his over-reaction. He willed
himself to take a deep breath and calm down, knowing if there was one thing Rob really would come down hard on it would be harsh self-criticism. Be nice to you, be nice to you. God, he'd heard that often enough.
Looking at the time, Rob handed Tim the letter and gave him another quick kiss before releasing him.
"I have to dash and get those materials before the yard gets too busy. Please don't stress yourself over this- we can deal with it, I promise. And", he said, shoving his feet into his work boots, "If your conscience is bothering you, you can always contemplate the affect on your credit. That should be penance enough."
Straightening up, Rob looked at his partner. Tim was twisting the statement in his hands, biting his lip.
Rob brushed his dark hair back from his downturned face.
"Spanking is not a panacea, and you know it. I can't and won't rule your life, and you are still subject to the same cause and effect as the rest of us. Plus", he said, shouldering into a favourite T-shirt, "I forgot the gas bill. You going to bend me over the chair and stripe my arse for me?"
Tim let out a shaky laugh and dashed his hands over his eyes.
"Bastard."
Rob grinned, snagging the last piece of toast from their shared plate and
pulling Tim in close to clap a hard hand over the bum of his well worn jeans, making Tim yelp. "Yep. But I'm your bastard. We both need to get on top of the bills. We'll go through the payment schedule and budget tonight and get it sorted, okay? "
Tim nodded and with a sigh stuck the offending item to the fridge.
"Tell you what, though, if you are intent on beating yourself up, you can file all the paperwork in the spare room before Monday, okay?"
"It's YOUR paperwork!"
Rob smiled broadly and dodged Tim's swipe as his theatrically irate partner
lunged across the kitchen, "Yeah, but I'm the Top!"
The End
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