This time when Dane pushed Sean he peeled himself away. To Dane’s surprise, he picked up the gun. He accepted the other weapons from Hazel, too, eyes down. Dane shuffled forward, put out a hand when he stumbled, and grudgingly accepted Sean’s help. They made their way through the woods, Adonia and Hazel behind them, watching, eyes boring into Dane’s back. He was too tired to be very pissed with them, but he held them both as responsible for what had happened as anyone. If they’d actually paid attention to Percival, they could have stopped him from killing Bethany to begin with.
They stopped at Dane’s car and leaned against it.
“Keys?” asked Sean, then when Dane glared at him, “You know you can’t drive.”
Dane handed them over, swearing, and lowered himself into the passenger’s seat as Sean got in. He opened up the glove compartment and pulled out the flask he’d stashed there before going in.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“You want any before I drink it all?” asked Dane, and though Sean gave him a parental look, he snatched the flask and took a couple drinks from it. Then he passed it back and turned on the car.
Sean drove Dane home, to his apartment, and parked. The sun was well up now, other people sleeping in on their Sunday, lives completely separated from what he and Sean had just gone through. Dane felt like months had passed instead of a night, felt like something had changed between him and Sean, too. Well, if the fucker wanted to have nothing more to do with him after this, Dane could handle it. No problem. He could roll with anything, including being abandoned by the man who’d just saved his life. Twice.
“I saved your life, too, you know,” he said before he realized the words were out.
Sean sighed.
“Really, Dane?”
“You looking for me to be grateful?”
“I’m looking for you to—no, never mind. Expecting anything from you always leads to disappointment. Let’s get you inside.”
Sean didn’t complain about the state of Dane’s apartment—still filthy. He was never around and didn’t bother picking anything up until it was necessary, which was really only when he needed to do a load of laundry or actually use a plate. Sean led Dane to the bathroom—also filthy, also not something he complained about—and stripped Dane as gently as possible.
Still it hurt. Dane swore, caught a glance of himself in the mirror. Some of the bruises were so dark they threatened to hide a few of his tatts, and he’d gotten more scraped up than he’d expected. His wrists looked awful, even in the cheap light of the bathroom, rubbed almost completely raw. His cock, despite finally being able to rest, perked up a little again at the sight of Sean undressing. Dane moved to turn the shower on, fill the room with soothing, hot steam.
He got in. The water pelting him over his sore flesh hurt first, then felt good, the heat and pressure melting some of the tension away. Dane let his shoulders relax, breathed out long and felt less pain at the action. Sean entered, washcloth in hand, and moved to turn Dane to him.
“I don’t need you to wash me,” said Dane as Sean passed the soapy cloth over his skin, rubbing lightly to get the dirt and sweat and blood off.
“I want to. Please, Dane.”
Dane bit back the urge to make the comment sexual and acquiesced, surrendering his beaten body over to Sean’s care. Letting someone soothe him like this was an unusual experience, not anything he’d really allowed before. Dane didn’t like showing weakness, even to lovers, and this was about as weak as it got. But then, he felt different around Sean now. Like he could trust Sean with his life.
Which wouldn’t be weird, after what they’d gone through, but Dane had been in difficult situations before with other people and he hadn’t come out feeling this way. Of course, he’d never outright gunned anyone down, either, or had his mind fucked by too much magic. He didn’t want to think too much about it.
Sean let him return the favor, and they stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. It wasn’t sexual, although Dane wouldn’t have objected if it turned that way, even in his current state. Sean passed Dane the sole clean towel and waited his turn to use it.
“Do you want me to take you to get checked out?”
“You think I got insurance?” asked Dane, and snorted. Sean looked away. “If the beating hasn’t killed me yet, I’ll get through it.”
Sean didn’t try again. Instead he followed Dane back to the bedroom and sank down to the bed with him, still naked. Sean didn’t object to the state of the sheets at all, instead pulling Dane to him and holding him until they both fell asleep.
Chapter 29
“Fuck…”
Sean woke to Dane’s groans and blinked in the dark. He had no idea what time it was, and for a brief moment, he had no idea where he was. Part of him still thought he was in the dirt on the island, until he felt the bed beneath him. The air was stale here, though, and he remembered he was at Dane’s—Dane, who was thrashing now. Sean pulled Dane against his chest and held his arms down.
“Fuck you, let me go, Sean,” said Dane suddenly.
Sean released him.
“I think you were having a nightmare.”
“And I think you’re lucky I’m this stiff. I would have broke your nose.”
“Not a good way to convince me back to your bed again,” said Sean, and yawned. His stomach rumbled and he realized they hadn’t eaten in a day, maybe two. He was torn between curling around Dane again, the warmth and comfort of bed, or going to see whether Dane had anything edible in the kitchen.
He waited for Dane’s snappy reply but none came. Instead he heard Dane snoring lightly, asleep again. Sean got out of bed to piss, dug his phone out of his pants in the bathroom, and had a look at the time.
A little after one in the morning. And it was Monday. He blinked. Shit. He had class to teach today. He peeled his disgusting clothes off the floor and pulled them back on, heart heavy. Sean was loathe to leave Dane like this, especially when he ought to have someone watching out for him. But it wasn’t like they were really partners, he reminded himself. Wasn’t like he owed Dane anything, really.
But he was still so shaken from being held captive, from watching Dane shoot a man, and then continue to shoot him…Sean shook his head, put that from his mind, and went to examine Dane’s pantry. Instant food, mainly in cans, stared back at him, and the fridge held a wide range of condiments. Sean checked the time again, grabbed up Dane’s keys, and left.
Dane’s apartment wasn’t too far from Crypt Coffee. Sean walked, found his car alone in the lot, and drove to a 24-hour store. He left Dane a little food in the fridge, a bottle of orange juice, and texted Dane before leaving his phone by the bed, saying he’d left shit in the kitchen and he had to be on campus in a few hours.
Then he went home, cooked himself a large breakfast, showered again, and dozed on his couch until it was time to go to work. Sean waited all day for Dane to text back, let Sean know he’d woken up and was fine, but his phone never chimed. He wore his sleeves long and took care to not show his wrists, and droned on during his lectures.
By the end of the day, Sean was miserable.
Come over for dinner, he texted Dane, not wanting to annoy him with demands on how he was doing. Sean suspected Dane wouldn’t appreciate that. But his text back likewise wasn’t very kind.
Fuck no.
Sean sighed, dismissed various ideas on what to pick up at the store to eat, and instead went home to grade papers for a few hours. With still nothing more from Dane, he picked up a few burgers at a fast food place, swallowed down his disgust, and drove over to Crypt Coffee.
Dane was handling an issue with a customer making change, his movements stiff. Sean stopped, stared at him, a bout of relief washing over him. For the first time since stepping off the island, the ordeal felt truly over. Here Dane was, back at work; here Sean was, prodding him until he showed some level of decent human interaction. Alive. Practically back to normal.
“Can you eat that somewhere
else?”
Sean looked over at the table he was standing near, four young women glaring at him and wrinkling their noses.
“Sorry,” he muttered, and moved off to confront Dane with a meal the man would actually eat. Dane took one look at him, another at the greasy bag he held up, and went directly to the Lair. Sean followed and unpacked the food on the desk before taking the grilled chicken sandwich he’d gotten himself and unwrapping it. Dane took a huge bite out of a burger, chewed twice, and swallowed largely.
“Guess if you’re still here after all that shit, you’re impossible to get rid of,” he said.
Sean leaned back against the steps, rolling his eyes.
“Is it that hard to believe that I care about you?”
“About as hard as it is to believe you like me.”
“For as much as you resist feelings, you’re really fucking dramatic, you know that?” asked Sean.
He snagged a fry from the one box he’d ordered, ignoring the glare Dane gave him.
“I shot a man.”
“I know. I was there. Don’t make me think about it.” Sean watched Dane crumple the burger wrapper and reach for the next. “You want me to go?”
Dane ate the entire burger, not saying anything, and grabbed the last. Sean decided to wait him out, to force him to be the one to speak next. He took another fry.
“You have no idea how envious I am,” said Ned.
Sean looked over. The ghost moved across the Lair and stopped a few feet away from them, hovering several inches above the floor so Ned was about the same height as Dane. Sean could almost believe he was really standing there, if it wasn’t for the fact that for as solid as Ned looked, Sean’s brain still felt like he was seeing through him.
“Burgers,” said Dane at Sean’s confused expression.
“What, this crap?”
“That crap smells wonderful,” said Ned. He folded his arms as Dane ate more obviously. “And fuck you.”
Sean blinked, confused.
“I don’t…”
“What to you is cheap frozen food is something I wish I’d been around to taste,” said Ned, focusing his attention on Sean. It clicked.
“You lived before fast food.”
“And freezers.”
“What’re you here for, Ned?” asked Dane.
Ned drifted back a few feet.
“Met a guy in passing who said you shot him.”
Dane crumpled the burger paper and tossed it at Ned. Sean expected it to go through the ghost but instead it bounced off him. Dane picked up the fries and shoved several into his mouth.
“Dead, I hope,” he said, mouth full.
“Would I be interested otherwise?”
“Did he pass on?” asked Sean.
Ned raised an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t know. In passing as in we bumped into each other, not as in while passing on.”
“He say anything interesting?” asked Dane.
“He loathes you, so you’re aware. Might come after you.”
“Ghosts can hurt people?” asked Sean. He wanted something from one of Dane’s bottles, even if it didn’t go with his mass-produced chicken sandwich. He hated continually feeling like he was the last person to know anything. Dane tipped the fry box up to his mouth and ate the pile of crumbs and salt at the bottom.
“‘Course they can,” he said, crunching. “One possessed a couple of trees and tried to crush you to a pulp and you don’t think ghosts can friggin’ hurt you? Plus no knowing what the rest of his witchy little family are going to do with the corpse.”
“Oh, he was a witch,” said Ned. “I’m not sure I want to hang around here anymore.”
“What’re you afraid of? You’re already dead.”
“Don’t be such an asshole, Dane,” said Sean.
“I can see how you’d think that, not being dead yet,” said Ned. “It’s impossible to truly explain to someone like you. I won’t bother.” He paused. “Do I at least get the story?”
Dane gave a brief synopsis of going to the Cauldwells for evidence and getting captured by Percival. Sean helped him a little while covering what had happened on the island, since both of their memories of those terrible hours were a little skewed. For his part, Ned was a good listener, somehow both attentive and completely silent. Probably a skill he’d developed over the years.
“You’re going to have to write a report for the Order, aren’t you?” asked Sean.
Dane shrugged.
“Yeah, this week.”
“There’s no way the Cauldwells aren’t reporting you. How does the Order treat murder?”
“It was self-defense, and they’re fine with that. I’m hoping they’ll get those damn witches to give them a seed sample so they can match it with the shit that girl was poisoned with and that’ll back me up that Percival was dangerous.”
“Woman,” said Ned. “Bethany wasn’t a girl.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Sean tried not to think too much about it, but he was really worried now. Javalynne might be holding off her report, but there was no way the Cauldwells would leave him out of whatever complaint or lawsuit they were going to put in. He was running out of time. And he had no idea, really, what would happen to him when that time was up.
“You look like someone just dumped a load in your ass without a condom,” said Dane, and Sean blinked. “Not that I really care, but the hell is it? Your school going to fire you?”
“No.”
“Good. Didn’t think that was how that worked. You have a little club that looks out for you.”
“Tenure?” Sean shook his head. “That’s…not really what tenure is. At all.”
Dane turned and grabbed a bottle from his shelf, clearly not wanting to hear clarification on it, so Sean didn’t give it. He sighed and glanced at Ned, who almost looked bored. When he turned back, Dane was staring at him, waiting.
“Are you…going to mention me in your report?” he asked at last.
Dane took another drink from the bottle.
“I kinda fucking have to at this point. Sorry, professor. Won’t say anything that isn’t true about you.”
“You’re not going to tell them we’re…”
“Regularly fucking? I’d thought about mentioning it…” Dane grinned and Sean grabbed the bottle from him. Spending so much time around Dane was bad for his liver. “They actually don’t want to know any more than you want them to. It’s discouraged.”
“What, Decrypters shouldn’t fuck?” Sean gaped. It seemed inhumane.
“This Decrypter does what he wants. And we all fuck around anyway. It’s a suggestion ‘cause if it was a policy, most of us would quit.”
Dane sounded so smug, but none of this was lifting Sean’s mood. He glanced at Ned, but the ghost had gone, possibly to avoid the potential fight that could still technically happen if he pushed Dane’s buttons too much. He was in a good mood at the moment, but when those burgers wore off…
“What?” asked Dane.
Sean sighed. He didn’t want to stick around long enough to get in a fight, or to end up fucking on the stairs. His body couldn’t take it—not while this sore.
“It’s Monday. I’ve got a lot of professorial shit to do still today, and I’m tired as hell.”
“Yeah, good luck reading thirty of the same book report.”
Sean rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss Dane on the mouth, short and sweet. They’d never really done a goodbye kiss before and he couldn’t meet Dane’s eyes afterward. Sean went for the stairs.
“Let me know when you’ve sent the report,” he said, and left Dane alone in the Lair.
Chapter 30
Dane put off his report as long as he could, and when he started on Tuesday, he sent a text informing the Order he was writing something big up. It bought him a little time before they’d come knocking, especially considering the witches had probably filed something that Sunday. Dane drank, made up the outline of a report, and conveniently forg
ot it until texted on Thursday.
Drop 2morrow, stared back at him from the restricted number when he picked up his phone, and he had a drink. The Order had definitely gotten wind of the situation with the witches if they were giving him a deadline.
Dane got drunk, finished the report, and took it to the drop point in the middle of the night. Then he went back home and crashed in his filthy bed, waking just before noon to the sound of the neighbors having a fight. He rolled over, disappointed this side of the bed no longer smelled like Sean, and caught himself. What a fucking inappropriate thing to think.
So what if Sean had taken care of him at one of his lowest times? Had made sure he was clean and rested and fed, and hadn’t mentioned it again? Dane wasn’t going to get soft because of it. Even if he had, briefly, liked the consideration.
And the Order would be dealing with Sean soon now, anyway. Dane’s stomach sank at that and he got out of bed to get himself something to eat. He wasn’t going to be sad about this. He knew it was coming. He’d tried to play up how accepting and appropriate Sean had been in his report, suggested the professor was smart enough to keep quiet, but had stopped short of outright begging for him to be left alone—he didn’t want the Order knowing he and Sean were fucking. There wasn’t really anything else Dane could do.
Maybe the Order would offer Sean a job. Dane hated himself for feeling guilty. He pulled his phone over as he ate the last banana Sean had left him and sent a text.
Report is in.
Sean didn’t reply. Dane checked throughout the day, expecting something, anything, from the professor. Winter even caught him at it.
“You two have a fight?” she asked.
He looked up at her and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
“No,” he said.
She shrugged at the tone in his voice.
“Just asking.”
He stalked off, over to inventory to wander around beans and flavor syrups, then to the kitchen area, which was clean so late in the day. He resisted the urge to whip up something special for Sean—what the fuck was he thinking, anyway?—and went down to the Lair to drink instead.
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