A Boy and His Dragon by R. Cooper

you?
    Is that why you’re picking fights with hulking brutes?”
    “I wasn’t picking a fight,” Arthur argued before he could think better of it, though he felt a small part of his tension leave him to hear Drew described as a “hulking brute.” “I didn’t like the way he was looking around, and then he lied. I bet there’s no rule saying he has to come in.”
    “No, I don’t believe there is,” Bertie answered, inclining his head toward Arthur so carefully that Arthur abruptly realized how A Boy and His Dragon
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    crazy he must sound. As if a dragon needed his protection. Bertie might seem helpless sometimes, but he wasn’t. He was sharper than most people and came with his own weapons built right in.
    “I’m sorry,” Arthur apologized instantly. “Of course you could have handled that…,” he started but trailed off at the return of a familiar grin. He gulped when Bertie added a wink.
    “You didn’t like the look of him. I didn’t care for the smell of him. We all have our instincts, Arthur. Let’s just call it even. Not that it wasn’t gallant of you. I’m still picturing you with a sword, or perhaps on a white charger, bedecked in my colors.” Arthur forced his hands to relax and open up, and forcefully redirected his thoughts away from imagining what Bertie was describing.
    “Just consider pest removal another service I offer,” he joked quietly but waited until Bertie grinned again before he went on.
    “And anything else you might need me to do.” Bertie’s smile disappeared so suddenly that Arthur almost looked around for another spider.
    “You are bored, aren’t you?” Arthur hadn’t thought Bertie would look so upset over someone asking for more work.
    “No, no, I just… after the other night, and thank you, by the way, your spaghetti was delicious. We loved it.”
    “We?” Bertie only looked more upset, frowning and putting his hands firmly down on the island.
    “I have your Tupperware.” Arthur did his best to stay on topic anyway. Bertie frowned and shook his head.
    “Tupperware?” He clearly didn’t care about his dishes. His frown became a full glare.
    “My sister had some.” Arthur didn’t want to relate all of it, how the two of them had been so grateful for real food that they’d practically licked their bowls clean. It was too embarrassing.
    Bertie let out a loud breath, but Arthur didn’t want to be interrupted yet. He still had to get his apology out. “It was nice what you did for me, but I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that. It wasn’t R. Cooper
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    what a good assistant would have done.” He stopped to swallow and make sure his voice was even. “I’d understand if you wanted to go with one of the other applicants. Someone with more education.” Or someone who had just the one job so he wouldn’t fall asleep at his other one.
    “Arthur, you puzzling little human.” Bertie put down the vegetables and rolled an apple toward him. Arthur stepped forward to catch it before it fell off the edge of the island, but he didn’t eat it.
    He didn’t know what it meant, or if he liked being called a little human, even if he was.
    “The first applicant ran away when she saw me. The second was qualified, but he couldn’t stop telling me how qualified, and his favorite period in history was the American War for Independence.” Bertie’s expression was disdainful of either the applicant or his taste in historical subjects, maybe both. “I chose you because you didn’t run, and because you were also qualified, and because your interests ran alongside mine. You also wanted it the most. You were the best choice.”
    “Really?” The apple was smooth and perfect against his fingertips. “I thought….” Arthur remembered Bertie’s sense of smell, and his tongue, and his burning stare. “You didn’t do it because I… interested you?” He wasn’t asking about the flirting. He wasn’t. It was bad enough that he was asking why he’d been hired