The Boy Who Came in From the Cold by B. G. Thomas

big breakfast, one bigger than he’d planned. But everything had just been so damned good. “I-I’m sorry about using your treadmill.”
Now he’ll tease me about my underwear.
     
Gabe didn’t. Instead he shrugged. “Why?” He took a bite. “You’re my guest. Mi casa es su casa .”
    “I-I…. And your shirt….” Todd played with his food. “All you had was your sweater. You couldn’t run in that. You could have gotten a clean one, though. Sorry you felt you had to use one of my dirty ones.”
    “It-It’s okay,” Todd mumbled. “I didn’t want to go through your stuff.” Besides, wearing Gabe’s shirt had made him feel…. What? Kind of what it felt like to have the man hug him.
    Todd reached out, picked up the sandwich, and took a bite. The flavor exploded over his tongue and it was all he could do not to moan. When was the last time he’d had something so good? Once more he had to stop himself from shoving the food down. What would Gabe think? That he had no table manners at all?
“Let me see if I have anything you can wear,” Gabe said.
    “Yeah, right,” Todd said and gave a laugh. “I’ll swim in your clothes, and your pants will fall down around my feet.”
“I don’t know,” Gabe replied. “They might be a little long, but you can cuff them up. I bet our waists aren’t all that different.” He stood up. “You want the rest of my sandwich?”
    Todd eyed the remains of Gabe’s lunch, looked up into his eyes and then back down. He did. But he also wanted to save room for the dinner he had planned. “Later?” he asked. “That is, if you really don’t want it.”
    Gabe shook his head. “I don’t. Wrap it up.” He turned and left the room and came back a few minutes later with a couple of pairs of old jeans, a few shirts, and God, underwear. Was the man lending him underwear? “Here,” he said, handing the clothes to Todd. “Go try these on. It’ll give you something for the next few days.”
    Next few days? Todd wondered. Next few days here or on the street? Could he really stay here any longer?
Well, maybe at least one more night?
He reached for the sandwich, started to wrap it, and Gabe offered to take care of it instead. “You go change.”
    Todd sighed, grabbed the clothes, and headed back down the hall to the bathroom. To his surprise, he found the jeans did indeed fit almost perfectly. A little loose maybe, and of course, the legs were too long. But after cuffing them up a few turns, they actually worked. He pulled on a shirt that said, “The Other Team” (whatever that meant), and headed back to show Gabe. Interesting , he thought. A great advantage for gay couples. They could wear each other’s clothes. Joan had worn a few of his shirts, but he’d never—of course—worn anything of hers and had no interest in doing so.
“Well, you are swimming in the shirt, but the pants aren’t bad at all.”
     
Todd noticed Gabe staring at his feet and he shrugged. “I don’t think your shoes will fit me,” he said. Gabe’s feet looked huge.
    “No. Probably not. But we’ll figure that out.”
“My shoes are okay,” Todd said.
“No, they aren’t. They’re falling apart.”
The comment stung for some reason. “Why do you care?” he snapped.
     
Gabe looked him in the face. “It’s a pair of shoes, Todd. Not a Mercedes. You’ll need new shoes.”
    When I’m back on the street , Todd thought. That’s what you’re not saying.
“There’s a thrift store near here. Or we can go to the Mall.”
    Todd shook his head. No. No more trouble. With all the food and the couch and showers and not teasing him about being in his underwear, Gabe had done more than enough. “Shouldn’t you be
    heading back to work?” he asked. He needed to be alone for a bit. This guy… he was just too… present. He couldn’t think with the big (beautiful) man here.
    “Yeah. Yeah, I should. Look, go into my bedroom and you’ll find a dish full of change. Take some and go downstairs