by Jack Parker
"Dad, can I get a dog?"
"A dog! I say, next thing I know you'll want a baseball glove and a bike and all the other normal sorts of things a young boy wants—good heavens. Spoiled brat."
Emery grinned, clinging to his father's jacket to move closer under the umbrella held high above his head. "Naw, I just want a dog, I think."
"No, no you don't," Jerome sighed. "If I get you a dog, you'll have to walk him on awful days like this. Three, four times a day. You'll catch your death. Hmm, I think it's best to get you a great, big, hairy tarantula. Don't have to walk those. What do you think of that?"
Emery wrinkled his nose. "A spider? Don't you think Mum would hate it?"
"Oh, we'd have to keep your mum away. The poor thing would die of fright."
"No she wouldn't."
"I meant the spider. You ever seen your mother on a bad day? Why I've almost been torn limb from limb by that woman when she's in a mood. I've got to imagine that'd be no picnic for something with eight legs."
"I'm telling her you said that."
Jerome stopped, fixing his son with a glare. "You little traitor…" he pinched his ear roughly and Emery shoved him off, laughing. "See if I get you that spider now."
Emery laughed aloud. He covered his mouth with an arm, blinking back tears where he sat alone on Victor's couch. God, it had been so long since he'd thought about it…about his normal little life. About the happy memories that remained underneath the layers of filth and shame that had built up over the years. Maybe it was just being in an average house again for the first time in ten years that jarred them loose, but it suddenly made him feel pleasantly ordinary. He looked up as Victor wandered into the room, stretching his back. "How is he?"
Victor gave him an assuaging hand wave. "Better. Just changed his bandages."
"Can I look in on him?"
"Sure. Probably not for long, though. That morphine's gonna put him under soon. And uh…be patient with him. It's makin' him sorta loopy."
Emery nodded, standing up and making his way to the other end of the house where Kurt was set up in the back bedroom. He knocked slightly on the door before entering.
Kurt looked up at him drowsily from where he was propped up in on the bed, his right hand picking at the new wrap around his chest. "Emery," he greeted eagerly.
Emery walked in and sat down on the bed, putting a hand on his leg. "How do you feel?"
"Good," said Kurt. He looked woozy and drugged, eyes unfocused as he continuously looked Emery up and down. Emery wasn't quite sure if this was worrying or adorable. "Better now."
"You're not having any pain?"
Kurt shook his head slowly. "No. I don't feel anything."
Emery chuckled. "Did he give you too much? Poor darling, look at you…"
"I'm alright…" Kurt reached up his left hand to rub at his eyes but quickly drew it back, blinking at the bandages covering it. He turned it over and studied the missing finger with captivation.
Emery reached out, gently clasping the injured hand between his palms and bringing the remaining fingertips to his lips. "Yes. You will be."
Kurt smiled wanly. "Emery, I love you…"
Emery laughed quietly. "You're high enough to love anyone, I suspect."
"No. It's got nothing to do with that…I'm sorry…sorry I didn't say it earlier."
"You don't owe me any apologies, Kurt. You saved my life. I'm free now because of you. I…I can't thank you enough." He carefully set Kurt's bandaged hand down on his lap.
Kurt reached forward and Emery complied, sliding into an embrace as cautiously as he could to avoid touching his wounds. Kurt stroked his face with the fingers of his bad hand. "I told you I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
"And you didn't. I know. I never doubted you."
Kurt gave a fuzzy look as he stared down at Emery's right arm where bandages sat. "Your arm, you're hurt…"
Emery shook his head. "No. It's where Victor took my blood. You've got a good bit of it flowing through your veins just now."
Kurt laid a hand over his heart and rubbed the skin there with a mystified expression. "I think I can feel it."
"Mm, I'm fairly certain that's the morphine."
"So you've saved my life as well…" Kurt said. "Several times over in fact."
Emery smirked into his shoulder. "Well, I suppose you've grown on me a bit. I wanted to keep you around."
"You can…" Kurt replied. His words were beginning to slur. "What's…left of me, anyway…"
Emery pulled back, holding a hand to his neck. "You're still perfect. A missing finger and a couple of scars can't change that."
Kurt looked back at him with endless, dreamy affection. "Alright then."
"Do you think you can sleep now?"
"For years," Kurt affirmed.
"I'll be here when you wake up. …Perhaps I'll get my revenge and force you to chug some tomato soup."
"Hm," Kurt grunted as his eyes closed. "I suppose you're my nursemaid now…"
"I'll be kind," Emery said sincerely. He watched with a great sense of relief as Kurt dropped off, sleeping soundly and painlessly. There was so much love swelling up in his chest that he felt like he might burst as he looked at that man. His ally. His lover. His savior. Kurt had gone to such lengths for him, and Emery knew he could never truly repay it, but he would do everything within his power. However long it took. Now that Kurt was at last at peace, Emery's own exhaustion kicked in and he traipsed out of the room, collapsing next to Victor on the couch to watch basketball on the television and was asleep almost immediately.
CHAPTER 23
It took Kurt a long while to start feeling normal again, as there were few things in this world he hated more than being bedridden. His wounds itched, his legs felt cramped, and no position was even remotely comfortable. He spent most of his time sitting up in bed and staring. The pain gradually faded from a dull roar to a consistent ache over the course of the next two weeks, but he'd long since learned to cope with it. Victor had been generous enough to allow them to stay for the time being, but Kurt knew this couldn't last. Even if no trouble had seemed to follow them, it felt too easy. Too convenient. Something surely loomed just beyond this façade of security and he had no intention of waiting around until it made itself known. The sooner they parted ways the better. The moment he was sufficiently ambulatory, he needed to leave.
Kurt made sure to keep up on stretching and working his damaged muscles. His hand was the toughest fix. It was a clumsy, imbalanced appendage now that couldn't seem to remember it was down a digit whenever he meant to use it. It felt as though it was still there. He flexed it constantly, pacing around his room, trying to get used to its new form and feeling a terrible thrum of physical tension in every limb that had no release. One evening he couldn't take it anymore and got down on the ground to do a set of sit-ups. It hurt, but he ignored it. The renewed burning in his abdominal muscles was a welcome sensation.
That's how Emery found him, naturally. He'd developed a keen sixth sense for whenever Kurt so much as set foot out of bed. "What are you doing? Stop that," Emery scolded coming in and kneeling beside him. "You'll hurt yourself."
Kurt snorted, pushing himself back to sit on the floor. "I'll do no such thing. Exercise will do me good. I've been stuck in bed for too long."
"Which is where you belong," Emery said. "Believe me, I hate seeing you like this more than anyone, but it's for the best."
"You're a bloody hard warden, Fletcher."
Emery gave him his best attempt at a threatening look. "Well then we're even."
Kurt smirked fondly as he watched Emery's hands fuss over his undisturbed bandages. "Emery, I've healed well enough." When Emery wouldn't stop, Kurt leaned forward and kissed him roughly, grabbing his shirt with his good hand so that he couldn't pull away. Emery tried for a moment but was fast persuaded to cooperate. Kurt broke the kiss first, giving Emery a hungry look. "Let me show you just how well."
Emery swallowed, eyes dar
ting between Kurt's chest and his devilish eyes. "Uh…"
"We both know I'm not above begging."
"Oh…" Emery bit a lip. "Alright. Alright, but gently. I mean it."
Kurt nodded in agreement and resumed kissing him. It had really, really been too long. Emery wouldn't even share his bed at night since they'd been here, convinced he'd aggravate Kurt's injuries. That may have been true at the start, but now the sod was just being paranoid and Kurt was all out of patience. They moved gradually to the bed and Kurt pushed him onto his side, sliding up behind him and gripping his waist as he moved his erection against his backside.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be on your back?" Emery half-moaned. "I can take care of you that way…make it easy on you…"
"I want it like this," Kurt assured. He rutted against him a little more firmly and kissed the back of Emery's neck. "Oh, I've missed you…"
That was all it took to make Emery entirely amenable. His back arched a little and made his rear end graze Kurt's straining hard-on, for which he received a hissing groan. Kurt raised his hands up to smooth over the planes of Emery's body, under his shirt to massage his chest. Emery felt like warmth and electricity and beautifully trembling nerves under his fingers and Kurt was getting perfectly high on the idea of this body finally being his again. He continued to kiss his neck and shoulder as he reached down and undid Emery's pants, shifting them towards his knees and clapping a hand lightly against his buttocks before squeezing hard.
"Oh, Kurt, yes," Emery ground out, covering his blushing face with a hand as he panted.
"You like that?"
"Yes…"
Kurt shuddered and struck him again, a little harder. He was rewarded with a light gasp. "I've barely touched you and you're already a wreck, love…It's been too long, hm?"
"It has."
"I'll make up for it," Kurt whispered into his ear as he smacked him once more. "I promise."
Emery whimpered and clenched his teeth together. Kurt felt a heady surge of delight and finished pulling off Emery's pants, working two long fingers into him in preparation. Emery turned his head and twisted his upper half slightly to reach an arm around Kurt's neck, pulling him into a fiery kiss that he gladly returned. He could feel Emery jolt responsively as he crooked his fingers. The man was like a live wire. Every little touch seemed to get him to spark. Kurt couldn't get enough. Teeth bit into his lip and he watched Emery's other hand trail down to grasp himself loosely and stroke.
Kurt let his own free hand join in, reaching down to trace patterns on Emery's stomach as he worked himself and then traveling down to fondle his scrotum. Emery rocked back against him appreciatively. Kurt took this as his cue and pulled his shorts down with his other hand, spitting into it afterwards and slicking himself before sliding in slowly. The pain in his chest was now just a faint echo, hardly there as he sank deep and buried his face in Emery's hair with a discreet obscenity. How had he gone two weeks without this? How had he gone eleven years without this? Sex after Graham and before Emery had been strictly mechanical—something Kurt only did because he needed the release to keep himself focused. The faster the better, and usually only after a few drinks if the opportunity happened to present itself with someone anonymous enough. It was incomparable with this. He never knew it could feel this intense before Emery stumbled into his life.
He reached down with one hand and lifted Emery's leg a bit to get a better angle as he continued moving. Emery's sudden, masculine growl at this action made him involuntarily thrust harder. Just that little bit was too much. Stars flooded his vision and he muffled a long, loud groan into the pillow behind them as ecstasy rattled his bones. He held Emery closer, the motion of his hips stuttering. It was so good to feel like a man again. Not a disposable henchman, a callous automaton, or a mindless killer, but flesh and blood and emotion—to feel unapologetically sexual and head over heels in love. After he was completely spent, he gripped Emery tight, raising his one hand to take over stroking him emphatically and keeping up his thrusts. He kissed Emery's neck up to his face reverently. "Ich Liebe Dich, Emery…"
"Kurt…!" Emery squirmed in his grip with soft, gasping cries, clutching at Kurt's arm as he was stroked and kissed. It was quickly too much and he followed Kurt over the edge. Kurt could feel the results of his efforts spurt up his arm as he kept pumping, leaking down over his fingers and flecking onto the bedspread. Emery couldn't keep still, twitching, jerking, but Kurt held him down until it was over and he was a panting, disheveled mess. After a moment of recovery he eased himself over onto his back and Kurt rose up on an elbow above him.
"Are you alright?" Emery asked, rubbing tentative circles on his lover's injured chest with a hand.
"Never better," Kurt replied candidly. He truly never had been.
They lay there for some time, Kurt snagging Emery back in his embrace and feeling heavy like he might sleep, but unwilling to leave the waking world. He closed his eyes eventually in defeat, but he tightened his hold.
"Stay with me," Kurt murmured into Emery's skin.
Emery chuckled softly. "Well I'm not going back to that awful couch tonight, if that's what you thought."
"That's not what I meant," Kurt said. "…Stay with me, Emery."
There was a lingering pause before Emery rolled over to face him. "…Of course I'll stay with you, Kurt. For as long as you'll have me."
Kurt cupped his face and kissed him long and hard.
* * *
In a different life, Kurt Gabler might have grown up a well-adjusted man. His mother might have lived. His father might have loved him. He might have never met Graham Robinson. It might have been the case that he went to school like all the other normal young men, made friends, got a degree, had his fun, and evened out by his mid-twenties to be the decent sort who'd never so much as fired a gun. Years later he might walk down a cloudy London street one day on his way to work at a real job, all ten fingers in his jacket pockets, and brush shoulders with a young, tormented soul without ever knowing him, or loving him, and never even give it a second thought. So when Kurt looked at Emery from across the table grinning brightly at some joke of Victor's, he was grateful for every scar. For every ounce of pain. For every hardship in life he'd endured that had led him to this moment. Because even though it was possible that he could have been content his entire life, none of it would have been worth a damn.
Victor went off to the bathroom and Emery turned back, realizing that Kurt was staring at him. He gave Kurt a funny look as he stood up. "Look alive, Gabler."
"…Sorry."
Emery studied him for a moment, hands leaning on the back of a chair. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
Kurt looked at him with a silent question.
Emery bit a lip contemplatively. "You realize that if you stick with me, there's a very good chance that you'll never be safe again."
Kurt shook his head. "I never was."
"But it'll be doubly so now."
Kurt stood up from his seat, walking over and putting his hand on the same chair to move in close to Emery's space. "Then I'll need someone to watch my back, won't I?"
Emery's answering smile was lovely. "I suppose so."
Kurt snaked an arm around his waist and leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. Emery clutched at his shirt and sighed agreeably against his lips.
"Uhhh, okay, as precious as this is," Victor interrupted with no shortage of sarcasm where he stood at the doorway a moment later, "Get the hell out of my house already. Seriously, you're costing me an arm and a leg, and I can't exactly have women over here either with you two hanging around. So scram. Let someone else get laid for a change."
Kurt withdrew from Emery and looked at Victor stonily.
Emery was blushing terribly but laughing, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a hand. "I think we might have overstayed our welcome."
"Nah, nah," Victor dismissed with a hand wave. "I mean, you were never welcome to begin with."
Kurt walke
d over to Victor, eying him thoughtfully for a moment. "I owe you my life, Vic."
Victor looked down as Kurt's hand was held out towards him. He blinked at it before looking back up, clapping his hand in Kurt's with a firm shake. "That's a debt I hope you never repay, Kurt…because if I'm really fucking lucky, this is the last time I'll ever see either of you."
"No more kidnappings for you then?" Emery asked.
Victor lidded his eyes. "Turns out that's not a very lucrative business."
Kurt released his hand. "Keep your head low for a while. Can't be sure if he has a mind to seek us out, but Eaton knows who we are. I might advise that you leave the country altogether."
"What? Like you? Canada's not my scene," said Victor. "It's good old England for this fuckin' yank."
Emery frowned slightly. "Be careful, Victor."
"I'll be fine. Broke as shit, but fine." He roughly slapped his hand down on Emery's shoulder. "Listen, Em, I'm…sorry. About all of it."
"I'm not," Emery replied.
They shared a knowing look for a moment before Victor nodded and squeezed his shoulder, drawing back his hand to give Kurt a salute. "Good luck, you fuckin' cunts."
Kurt regarded Victor with one more solemn look of gratitude before walking out the door, Emery in tow.
"Sure you're up to driving?" Emery asked as he shut the door and buckled his seatbelt on the passenger's side.
"Yes, I'm sure." Kurt started up the car, glancing into the rearview mirror at the blood soaked seat in the back. They'd have to get rid of this vehicle before long, but it'd get them far enough for now.
The first few minutes of the drive were silent. Then Emery sighed, stretching his arms and leaning back. "I think I'll miss it a little."
Kurt looked over. "Britain?"
"No," Emery chuckled. "Keeping you as my dirty secret."
"Is that it, then? Thrill's already gone?"
"Don't be dramatic."
Kurt smirked. "I'm sure I'll find a new way to keep you entertained."
Emery turned, staring out the window with a distant smile. "Do you know what I love most about you, Kurt?"