Daughter on his Doorstep (HC #2)

20: Parent Embarrassment Choice

Vincent woke with the warmth of sun on his bare back and a happy ache in his body that seemed to emanate from somewhere deeper than his bones. He stretched out an arm, checking for Thomas despite himself. Logically, he knew the man would not be there – some bleary part of his memory even recalled him leaving in the early hours – but that did not stop the sting of disappointment.

A light knock at the door had him quickly alighting from bed, pulling on his trousers and wrapping a housecoat securely around his chest.

He opened his door to find Lupe, her eyes fixed on the floor as she clutched Isabela securely to her chest. There was an awkwardness still, since that night she'd offered herself to Thomas, the clung to the air between them. Vincent did not want it there – he was hardly holding a grudge against the poor, traumatised girl – but alleviating it was well beyond his skillset.

"Buenos días, Vicente. Isabela te ha estado buscando toda la mañana." She squirmed in place, the hip Isabela sat on jutting out slightly. "Isabela want," she explained, chucking her chin at him.

Vincent nodded, clearing his throat, and accepting the child into his arms. Isabela gurgled happily, oblivious to the tension in the air, and gnawed determinedly on one of her fists. Before the babe's weight had even settled in his arms, Lupe dropped into a quick, messy curtsey and tried to hurry out of sight.

Vincent stopped her with a wave, his hand hovering above her should but never making contact. "Lupe..." He didn't know what to say – in Spanish or English – to explain, to make her comfortable again. He wished, not for the last time, for some of the charisma that Thomas had that would allow him to smooth this situation over. "You're... The..." He winced, irritated with himself, and when he opened his eyes again, Lupe was staring at him, looking like she might shatter into a million pieces with the gentlest of breezes. "You're safe here," he said softly, hoping he sounded as genuine as he felt, "Segura."

Tears welled in her eyes.

Vincent could have kicked himself. He set about finding new words of comfort when she spoke.

"Muchas gracias Vicente. Eso significa mucho para mí."

Although he wasn't quite sure what she was saying, her tone was ... happy? She smiled softly.

"I am... safe."

.

In the dining room, Matt sat at the table with a pile of food and the newspaper laid out in front of him. Thomas sat adjacent to him, largely ignoring his breakfast as he pointed out something in the print and shook his head at whatever Matt's reply was. Only one of them looked up when Vincent and Isabela entered.

Thomas rose, meeting them at the table where the staff had laid out breakfast, and grabbing a plate before Vincent could shift Isabela to his other arm. He spoke as he filled it.

"Good morning, and good morning to you." The first was delivered traditionally, the second with a higher pitch and delivered to Isabela who gurgled a greeting in return.

Vincent heard none of it.

Instead he felt his heart thump in his chest, and snippets of last evening played in his head. He saw Thomas' eyes on his, felt his hand slide across his hip, breathed in the scent of him, and heard his name on Thomas' exhale.

In the present, Thomas stepped around him, adding a few slices of ham to the plate.

"Are you hungry?" he asked in a low voice.

Whatever part of Vincent that had not been blushing were now aflame. The blush worsened further when, shielded by the way he was positioned, Thomas' spare hand rose to settle on the small of Vincent's back. They were unreasonably close, even under the pretence of Thomas arranging Vincent's food, but neither pulled away. Thomas because he had decided he did not have to. Vincent because all reason had fled him.