Closing the apartment door behind him, Ryo toed his shoes off and hung up his coat. Work had been brutal, which wasn’t exactly a surprise; being a detective in New York was never going to be anything close to a cushy nine-to-five desk job. Even so, today had been a bit much. He and Dee had visited two crime scenes, chased and captured a suspected armed robber, canvassed for witnesses to a brutal assault, and then been involved in a car chase. All that on top of paperwork and running down leads on their current caseload. It was never just one thing at a time when you were a cop.

All he wanted to do now was collapse onto the sofa, put his feet up, and relax for the evening, but he couldn’t. There was laundry and ironing needing to be done, the apartment could do with cleaning, and he and Bikky were going to starve if he didn’t cook dinner. Okay, that last bit wasn’t true; he could phone for takeout and save having to cook. He knew Bikky would be happy with pizza or a burger, but he couldn’t leave the housework, especially the laundry. Not if he wanted something decent to wear tomorrow.

With a weary sigh, he went to gather the dirty laundry, bitterly regretting living in a building with no elevator. He’d just walked up three flights of stairs to get home, and now he’d have to walk all the way back down them with a load of laundry, down another flight to the basement laundry room, and all the way back up, then do the same in a couple of hours to move the laundry into the dryers…

His feet and legs already throbbed from all the running around, his head was starting to ache, and he’d pulled a muscle in his back when he’d tackled the suspect.

“Ryo? Are you okay?”

Ryo blinked, turning to look at his foster son, suddenly realising he’d been standing just inside the door, clutching the loaded laundry basket, and staring into space, for several minutes.

“I’m fine, Biks, just trying to summon enough energy to take this lot down to the laundry room.” He managed a tired smile. “It’s been a tough day.”

“I can put the laundry on. I know what to do; you’ve shown me often enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! I know to sort the lights from the darks and put them in separate machines, and I know how much detergent to use. It won’t take me long, and I’ve almost finished my homework anyway. You look beat, you should sit down and rest.”

“Rest. Now that’s a welcome thought.”

“So sit. I’ll get the laundry on; you won’t have to do a thing.”

“That’s not entirely true, there are other things besides the laundry that I ought to get on with, but…” Ryo smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Bikky.”

“No problem. You’ve done so much for me. I should probably help out more than I do.”

“You have school, homework, and basketball practice, and you already do chores.”

“I know, but you work all day, then have to come home and do other stuff.”

“That’s what it means to be an adult.” Ryo handed the laundry basket to his foster son. “Are you sure you can manage?”

“I’m sixteen, and almost as tall as you,” Bikky pointed out. “My book bag is heavier than this!” That was an exaggeration, and they both knew it, but Bikky was fit and healthy, full of energy, and Ryo suddenly felt old, even though he was only thirty-three. He opened the door for Bikky.

“Okay, just be careful going down the stairs.

“I will. You sit down and relax.” Then Bikky was gone, off along the landing towards the stairs. Ryo left the door on the latch and looked around the apartment; maybe it would be okay to leave the cleaning for one more day. Really, the laundry was the most important thing; everything else was just him being picky. When Bikky came back upstairs, Ryo would ask him whether he wanted pizza or burgers for dinner, and then he’d phone their order through.

Mind made up, he went into his bedroom, changed into sweatpants and a baggy old sweater, and flopped onto the sofa, smiling to himself. Dee would approve; he always said, “If there’s no time to rest, make time; there’s no point workin’ yourself into the ground, and there’s not much that’s so urgent it can’t wait until later, or tomorrow.” Perhaps his lover’s relaxed attitude towards work, and life in general, was finally starting to rub off on him.


The End