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Terry kneels down and presses his head into the railing that’s keeping him from falling over the edge of the bridge and into the traffic below. He sucks in air. He closes his eyes to get the waves of nausea to chill the fuck out. He’s ninety percent adrenalin and Celsius energy drinks at this point and it’s making him sick. His legs can’t hold him up. His brain won’t slow down. The fear and panic and growling need to feel safe overwrite each other trying to vie for his attention. The thing that keeps bubbling up is that they almost lost the fight. Or it felt like they might. Over and over people were down, spells were running out, there was blood and screams.
And yet they won.
They fucking won.
It’s okay. He’s okay. His stomach bubbles and he grits his teeth. He’s not going to fucking puke. His eyes water. Sparrow is healing Lark. Grant is helping the dads clean up. Nicky is checking the perimeter. Terry’s arm stings from a cut, and his leg is deeply bruised, but he’s alive. They’re all alive. It’s okay. They’re okay. Terry’s fingers tingle with residual fear. His heart beats and his breathing is so fucking uneven that it hurts.
“You’re okay,” he whispers to himself. “No one died. No one died.” Deep breath. “No one died. We can figure this out. Next fight won’t go like this. Just need more information before we get into the field. It’s okay. We’re okay. No one died”
Something touches his shoulder and Terry’s fear spikes faster than a bullet from a gun. He jerks away from the hand that tried to settle on him. He falls back on his butt and swipes out only to find that it’s Nicky he’s trying to fight. Other things twinkle in his vision, colors and dots and sparks. He’s fine. This is fine.
“Whoa man,” Nicky says. He leans his hands on his knees and squints at Terry. It’s night, but the streetlights mean it’s not that hard to see. Terry takes Nicky’s look for what it is; his boyfriend is scanning him. Terry forces a slow careful breath around the slamming of his heart. He’s fine. They’re fine. He’s exhausted, and scared, and relieved and scared and scared and scared. Terry covers his face with a hand and rubs down. His hand shakes. Maybe he can get his mind to calm down? Ten…nine… eight… seven… He starts to count. He notices his breath- too fast and shaky, and his heartbeats- heavy and scattered. He swallows down acidic bile. He’s fine. This is fine.
“Lark is awake and being himself,” Nicky says. Terry can hear his voice staying calm like he’s trying not to spook an animal. He’s giving Terry a run down of the situation to try and sooth him. “Sparrow’s taking him home. Grant and our dads have it mostly cleaned up. Mercedes is doing the last touches on the repairs. I came to see if you were okay.”
Terry pinches his eyes tighter closed and tries to sound certain of himself when he says,
“I’m good, I’m good.” Terry waves away Nicky’s concern and shuts his eyes. He’s fine. He’s dizzy and has been awake for four days, and just powered through a three hour fight against a concession stand full of doodlerized workers armed with poison soda and caustic hot dogs, but he’s fine. Totally fine. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Terry lets go of air through thin lips then opens his eyes in time to see Nicky’s finger a centimeter from his shoulder. It makes contact and pushes against him. The digit hurts as Nicky presses hard enough that it could ostensibly push him over if Terry weren’t so stubbornly staying upright. Terry gives Nicky an odd look.
“I was just seeing if you would fall over,” Nicky says. He frowns and pulls his finger back to inspect it like his finger was the reason Terry didn’t tumble onto his back.
“No,” Terry says. “I’m not about to fall over.” He watches Nicky with a soft glare until the man squats down comfortably and pinches his eyebrows together in a dubious once over.
“You want me to portal you home?” Nicky asks.
Terry sniffles and waits for dancing the lights in his field of vision to clear. Nicky sparkles a little every time Terry is sleep deprived and it’s a little annoying. A little lovely.
“Portal home?” Terry repeats. He thinks that’s what Nicky said, but the lights were distracting and he feels like he might not be all the way there.
“Yeah. Sparrow’s got the minivan with Lark, and Grant’s going home with the dads. That means you get to go home with demon uber.”
Terry huffs a small laugh at Nicky’s old joke. It doesn’t do much to relieve the tickling fear that’s still all over him. They almost died. The fight was so long and hard. He’s bleeding- Is Nicky bleeding!?
“Are you okay!?” Terry asks. His attention sharpens to look over his boyfriend. He watched everyone closely during the fight. He especially checked on Nicky but Nicky hides things. He hides feelings and injuries and weakness. Terry is about to lunge forward and start undressing Nicky to check for wounds when Nicky chuckles.
“Henry got my bum ankle fixed up again, otherwise I’m totally fine. Demon skin,” Nicky says. Terry leans up on his knees and checks Nicky anyway. Shoulder, arm, neck. He brushes a hand through Nicky’s hair like that will show some blood in the black. No blood, just soft locks. Terry checks down his other arm and then tucks his hands into Nicky’s black jean jacket and feels around for any wet blood patches on his tshirt. Nicky chuckles when Terry touches the places he knows are ticklish, but Terry only grumbles at him. He doesn’t want to stop touching his stomach and back– the sparkling gets so much brighter when he does– but it’s not the time for sleep deprivation sparkles. It’s time to check Nicky for injuries. Terry leans back and runs his hands down Nicky’s legs and over his shins. His right hand settles for a moment on his bad ankle and with a strong force of will he unlocks the last trickle of his powers to feel the remnants of a healing spell Henry left there. Nicky was telling the truth. Okay. At last Terry trickles his hands down Nicky’s boots and then feels a little more certain that his boyfriend is okay. He drops back onto his butt and closes his eyes against a wave of dizziness.
“You can just drop me off at my office,” Terry says, going back to their earlier conversation about how they’re getting out of here. He rubs his hands together and thinks about all the things they’ve learned from this fight. He’s got a list of spells he could learn, and potions that would have been helpful if he had just brewed them in time. He’s got some theories about how the doodler got to these people. He just needs to put the pieces together and next time they fight it will be better. Next time there won’t be any injuries, or death scares or-
“I asked if you wanted me to portal you home,” Nicky says. “Not portal you to your office.”
Terry opens his eyes and frowns at his boyfriend. He’s not really sure what to say to that. He realizes slowly that he might not be able to explain his way out of a paper bag let alone explain to Nicky that he needs to be in the office. Except he needs to go to the office. He’s got work to do and there’s still enough momentum in him that he can probably get at least a few hours of research done. In fact if he picks up his headlamp from his desk he could probably snoop around the site some more and see if there is any evidence that could help him-
“When did you sleep last?” Nicky asks. He frowns at Terry then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“It’s cool I’ve got a coffee pot in my office,” Terry says, knowing already that that’s not the right answer and definitely not what Nicky wants to hear. Nicky sucks at his teeth then sighs.
“We could watch a movie instead,” Nicky offers. “I’ve got some hell weed.”
“Don’t drug me,” Terry snaps. He doesn’t want weed he wants to research. “I’m just going to do an hour or two then I’ll sleep,” he lies. He feels fine. He doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to stop moving, or give up. The possibility of going to sleep sounds bad. It’ll give the doodler a chance to regroup. Stopping is dangerous. It’ll let terrible things happen.
“Terry,” Nicky says. “I cannot in good conscience let you work.”
“Then have a bad conscience,” Terry says with a glare. Nicky stares at him for a moment then snorts.
“Okay Mr. Grumpy Pants, let’s get you home.” Nicky stands up from his squat then leans down to pull Terry up by his bicep. Terry shoves him off then adjusts onto his knees.
“You don’t have to let me work,” Terry says. “You just have to leave me alone. I’ll catch a human uber.” He gets one foot flat on the ground and feels a startling discomfort. He’s so fucking tired. Can he even get up?
Is he okay?
Is this his body giving out?
Terry stand up!
His legs feel shaky. This is not good. What the fuck is wrong with him?
Nicky grabs a handful of his bicep as Terry gets his second foot underneath him. He pushes up and by some miracle gets to standing. He wobbles and feels weighed down by something as large as a car. He thinks his legs are shaking.
“Holy fuck,” he says and swallows. He feels nauseous again. He feels freaked out. His body can’t give up like this. Can’t. Shit. The lights around Nicky pop even brighter, the friendly paperclip who shows up when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep waves from behind him. He pulls his hands up to rub his eyes. He just has to stay awake and research some more. Look at the site. Not stop, never stop. Save the world. Fix this. He’s so fucking tired that he’s cold and dizzy and his eyes sting.
“Nicky-” he doesn’t know what else to say. Fix this. Let me research and save us, and let me sleep and nothing feels okay. My skin doesn’t feel okay. But he doesn't have those words, what he has is his boyfriend's name.
“I got you,” Nicky says. An arm suddenly wraps around his waist and another rests on the back of his head, guiding it until he’s leaning his cheek against Nicky’s shoulder.
“Terry-” Nicky kisses the side of his head and rocks a little. He’s a musician through and through. He’s always got a rhythm, always got motion. Terry groans. He needs words. He needs to explain how important it is to make potions and learn spells and fix this.
“The green berry. I got enough of it for-” the thing that was important. Fuck. What was it? “I needed it and I was gonna make stuff- potions.”
“Shhh,” Nicky says and sways back and forth. It is unfair warfare against Terry’s resounding exhaustion. Terry snorts through a half thought then in a fit of irritation pushes back from Nicky.
“I need to research!” he says loudly. It’s undercut by him stumbling a little as he tries to regain his balance without Nicky.
“Fucking idiot,” Nicky says. “We’re going home and you’re going to sleep.”
“I want to research,” Terry says. He doesn’t know how else to explain it. It’s important. The fear of losing his friends makes his heart thump too hard. He doesn’t want to lose people, so he has to be prepared. “What if we have fight bad. What if-” Terry for the life of him can’t put his appeal into the right order. He puts his hands on his hips and tries to pull up everything he knows about being a lawyer and trying a case. “I believe I- can-” there’s a long pause before all he can manage is a resolute “fuck.” He opens his eyes to a weaving trail of stars around Nicky. It doesn’t seem right. The paperclip gives him two thumbs up.
“Terry?”
Terry blinks. He kinda focuses on some lights, then some other lights.
“Ter bear?” Terry’s eyes sting, but he finally looks at Nicky. “I love you, but for fucks sake we need to go home, and you need to sleep.”
Terry makes a face and turns to the road. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone and though his fingers feel too big and a little weak he manages to swipe the screen and enter his lock pin. Nicky’s birthday. Disgusting how much he loves that stupid doofus. He slides around his apps trying to remember which one he needs. Uber, he remembers then swipes to the right. He briefly forgets then remembers. Uber. He finds the app just as Nicky’s hand appears over his screen. Nicky peels the phone from his hands.
“Hey!”
“Home,” Nicky says. He motions down the bridge and behind some trees to a place where they can easily portal from. Terry shakes his head. Uber. Office. He doesn’t even try to say as much. His mouth has been betraying him. He needs a ride. He looks back at the road and considers hitchhiking when he hears a soft hum. Nicky again, dammit. He’s humming something soft and sweet and Terry takes an unsteady step away from him to avoid how calm the song instantly makes him. Fucking fucker. When Nicky steps up to him again, Terry tries to shove him away. Nicky chuckles and dodges his hand. He swoops up behind Terry and next thing Terry knows Nicky’s warm chest is pressed up against his back, his arms are safely around him and he’s humming that same slow song into his ear. Shivers run down Terry’s back, it’s like the first hot stream of water from a shower after a cold day. It’s steam from chicken noodle soup.
“Mmmmm-” Terry tries to make his sigh of relief a whine, but it’s a weak complaint. “Need study-” Terry tries to explain. Nicky kisses behind his ear and Terry hears a sigh. Nicky is quiet for a moment before asking.
“Is uh- is this about you being scared that we almost lost the fight?”
Nicky is not the one usually willing to breach hard subjects. His nah it’s cool attitude and his fear that deep conversations will break something makes it hard for him to talk. Yet Nicky is intuitive. He knows more than he acts like he does and way more than he ever says he does. That’s why Terry blinks in confusion at Nicky’s words. Usually he has to pry thoughtful statements out of him with a crowbar. He doesn’t know how to respond. It’s about that and it’s not and it is and it’s so much more and he can’t put that into words right now. Instead he hangs on Nicky’s arms and leans against his hold. He shuts his eyes. He’s so tired, and so scared, and the two things are battling for control.
“How about you come home with me,” Nicky says. “And we watch a movie or have sex or do something, and then we can discuss research if you can stay awake through either thing.”
Terry wants to laugh. Does Nicky really think that will work? Terry is stubborn but there’s no way he’s staying awake through a movie, and being wrapped up in Nicky makes him so so sleepy.
“Offfiiicceeee,” Terry groans.
Nicky squeezes him then nips at his neck before kissing it.
“How about I make you food and then office.”
Also a no go, warm food will make him sleepy too.
“Terry you need to relax for a minute. I need to fix up your bleeding arm and we need to cuddle somewhere where I can feel you breathing.”
Terry hums in annoyance. Not sleep. Work. but he feels himself losing. Nicky’s hums turn to a song, a twisting sleepy version of something he remembers from high school. From his goth days. Nicky nuzzles into his locks and Terry’s muscles can’t keep up the fight. He starts to slump a little too much. Nicky laughs and holds him up and pulls him away from the road. Terry grunts in annoyance but doesn’t say anything when Nicky turns them toward the trees he noted before and starts walking Terry slowly forward.
“Noooo,” Terry whines, and Nicky nuzzles and says it’s okay. You’re alright. We’re alright. He keeps walking.
The fight and the fear, and Lark falling, and three hours of beating back the doodler, and it could have been faster, if Terry were smarter, if he just put in a little more work. Step by step until they’re on damp grass and slipping behind the trees.
“I don’t wanna go home,” Terry says.
“I know,” Nicky says all matter of fact. “Unfortunately I am in charge here, muahahah.” Nicky jostles Terry to get one arm free while still holding Terry up. There’s a brief moment of calm before fire splits the air next to them. Terry hates that he’s losing and loves the familiarity and safety of the ring of fire. Fire means Nicky is here. It’s a Pavlovian desire to be close to Nicky.
“Fuzzle you-” Terry says knowing that’s not right, “Fuck you, blargh.” he tries again. He can’t talk. Everything is sparkles and fear and Nicky.
“Home we go,” Nicky says, and Terry tries to gather enough strength to fight but Nicky manhandles him through the fire and there’s heat and his ears almost pop and then he’s in Nicky’s dirty living room.
“Should have portaled right onto the bed,” Nicky says with a small chuckle. He kicks aside a broken drumstick and shuffles Terry to the right. “Nicholas and I were going to tidy up yesterday but we got a little busy. The police chatter had us both fixated.”
“‘S how you - intel- got,” Terry takes a deep tired breath. “Doodler.”
“Yup. My brilliant boy got the deets,” Nicky says, referring to Nicholas and his police scanner.
“He good?” Terry asks. He always asks about Nick and Nicholas after fights. He has to know all of the people he cares about are okay. He forgot. He’s so dizzy.
“Can you stay upright for a second so I can clear a path?” Nicky gently starts to peel himself from Terry’s side. Terry focusses on his knees and his feet planted on the ground and then kinda grunts and Nicky lets go the rest of the way. Terry blinks hard and traces Nicky as he picks up a puzzle box and unplugs an amp and wraps up a cord. He looks so hot when he bends over. He looks so hot disheveled from a fight, and hot with that worried loving wrinkle in his brow and Terry’s reconsidering Nicky’s sex offer, except there’s no way he’s staying awake for something like that.
“Office?” he asks again just to clarify that he really can’t do that. “Coffee?”
Nicky doesn’t even pretend to answer him. He picks up Nick’s jean jacket and tosses it onto the couch. He peels off his own.
“Nick okay?” Terry asks. His brain is popping from thought to thought and not staying on one long enough. The paperclip flips upside down, bounces on its head then flips back. Terry blinks at it.
“Nick got off a few good shots and is happy. Nicholas is honestly being a bit like you. He thinks you should get to go to the office.” Nicky’s voice is lighthearted as he talks about his alters.
Terry hums.
“Nicholasssss’s right,” he says. “Listen…Nicholas.”
“Absolutely not, you dumb motherfucker,” Nicky says. He tugs on the front of Terry’s shirt almost pulling him off balance but he’s caught by Nicky’s arms and then, blissfully, his lips. Terry is pulled into the present for a moment as Nicky kisses him. Lips, then tongue then a hand on his hip. Terry is awake and alive, he’s sparkling with the lights that always surround Nicky. He doesn’t realize he’s whispering Nicky’s name until Nicky chuckles and says his back.
“Terry.” Nicky’s voice is sultry and rich. He pulls back and bops Terry’s forehead with his own. Terry wants to purr. He wants to curl up in Nicky’s arms and exist on his skin. He doesn’t have to wish long. Nicky has demon strength and after a feisty nip on his earlobe Nicky takes charge. He swoops Terry’s legs out from under him and pulls him against his chest.
“What!” Terry yelps, but he knows what. Nicky’s picking him up fucking bridal style and turning him around, but it’s still surprising. Terry quickly wraps his arms around Nicky’s neck and buries his head in his boyfriend’s neck. He closes his eyes against the sudden dizzying movement.
“Nickyyyy,” he whines. He does not need to be treated like this. He needs to be put down, except he’s not sure he can hold his own weight, and Nicky’s so warm and he doesn’t want to move, or hold himself up any longer.
“I have an idea,” Nicky says, ignoring Terry’s irritation. “I’m going to put you into bed and I’m going to take off all your clothes and I’m going to fix all your little injuries and make sure I kiss them all better, and you’re going to have to deal with it-”
“Fuck you,” Terry says. The motion of being carried is making him nauseous again. The warmth of being held is making him lightheaded. He needs Nicky to do exactly what he just threatened and he needs to go back to work and make sure everyone’s okay and he doesn’t know how to do both.
“Lark’s okay?” Terry asks. He was really hurt at some point, right?
“Sparrow fixed him up.” Nicky says. “You’re memories all fucked from lack of sleep. I already told you this info.”
Terry ignores Nicky.
“Sparrow?” he asks.
“Absolutely fine. Home with Larky.”
Terry grunts his understanding, but he needs to know more. He’s so worried.
“Grant’s fine?”
“Back at HQ putting away magical items and weapons,” Nicky says. Terry can feel Nicky’s words through the rumble in his boyfriend’s chest. Fuck if it doesn’t make Terry woozy with love.
“Nick?”
“Playing drums,” Nicky says. “Feels like a rock concert in here.” Terry huffs in a weak attempt at a laugh.
“Need ibuprofen?” Terry asks. Sometimes Nick gives his boyfriend a headache. He needs to take care of his boyfriend.
“Nah,” Nicky says. “It’s kinda sweet.”
“Nicholas?” Terry asks. He thinks it’s the last person he needs to check up on.
“He is chattering, but okay,” Nicky says. Terry feels a bed sink under him and Nicky peel away. The lack of warmth and his boyfriend’s skin next to him makes him whine. He doesn’t have long to complain before he feels Nicky’s fingers on the hem of his shirt, sneaking up his skin as he pulls it up. It feels good. All tingly and sparkly. He opens his eyes and sees the lights dancing around Nicky. There’s a blue one fizzing around every loose lock of Nicky’s hair. There’s another strand sparkling over his shoulders almost pointing at his strong arms. Terry traces down. There’s sparks at the collar of his shirt. Little loopy circles of yellow near his elbows. The hem of his shirt is being orbited by streaks of fluorescent green. Terry reaches up to them. He thinks maybe he feels a buzz of energy when the green touches his fingers, but that might be his imagination. It might be that when he touches the hem he’s close to Nicky’s abs and his skin and his trail of hair that leads into his pants. Terry tugs the shirt up. Nicky just laughs at him and pulls his hands away so he can wrestle the shirt off Terry’s arms and tug it over his head. His arm hurts. A sting and a throb that was distant is suddenly very present.
“Fuck,” he says. The lights suddenly strobe red instead of twinkle pleasant colors. Terry growls at the cut on his arm.
“Yeah, something got you,” Nicky says. He leans in and gently touches the skin around the cut. The space around Nicky’s fingers light up with color while the cut hisses like a firework about to go off.
“Don’t touch it,” Terry says. If Nicky touches it the firework will go off. Explosions and fire.
“I’m gonna have to clean it up,” Nicky says. “Just a warm washcloth and some antibiotic ointment. I’ll wrap it up.”
“Nnnnn,” Terry whines. Leave it alone. The hissing red and the fireworks. It’ll hurt. “Exploshum.” Terry tries to explain that something will explode if Nicky touches him, but it doesn’t come out right.
“Whatver you say,” Nicky says, but he leans away anyway. He leaves the room for a short moment, then comes back with a damp rag and bandages. Terry growls at him and tries to shimmy away on the bed.
“Baby,” Nicky insults. He tosses all the first aid goods onto the bed near Terry’s head then gets up on it and straddles him. His thighs on either side of Terry’s hips hold him in place.
Terry uses his good arm to flip Nicky off, but Nicky just snatches up the hand and puts Terry’s middle finger into his mouth. It’s wet and warm and Terry loves that mouth. Fuck Nicky. His boyfriend sucks a few good times in a way that makes Terry’s stomach flip and blood rearrange itself in his body then pulls Terry’s finger out of his mouth with a slobbery pop. He pushes his hand back against Terry’s chest as he squeezes his thighs around Terry’s hips. He rolls them once before leaning forward to investigate Terry’s injury again. Terry tries again to wiggle away, but there’s no moving with Nicky on top of him, and he doesn’t really know if he wants to move anyway. It’s kinda nice under Nicky. He stares at Nicky’s stars and Nicky’s lips and Nicky’s clothed chest.
“Shirt,” Terry demands. The buzzing lights are still everywhere, and if he’s shirtless Nicky should be shirtless and staring at Nicky’s abs will make the arm fixing go down easier. A spoonful of sugar and all that. Nicky smirks then slides his face over from checking Terry’s arm to leaning over his face. Terry sees his brown eyes and the starlight in them, the tinkling fairy lights trace down his nose to his lips before Nicky leans in and kisses him. It feels as good as the last kiss, but it’s so much easier now because Terry doesn’t have to hold himself up. He’s just on a bed, floating upside down and sideways and he’s melting into Nicky as the man sucks at his tongue and licks the roof of his mouth and is gentle and ferocious in back to back ways that makes Terry want to gulp up every inch of Nicky. Terry is drifting off into it. He could pass out tasting Nicky on him. The world starts to fade away until he hears Nicky chuckle.
“I’m kissing a corpse,” Nicky says. The kissing stops, and Terry’s head spins as he wakes up. Was he asleep? How did he fall asleep?
“I love you,” Terry slurs. “You…sparkles…” Terry tries to reorient himself to the present, but it’s hard. He was existing in Nicky for a while. Melting into him. He shivers in a sleepy wake up breath and blinks his stinging eyes. Nicky is glittering, like a vampire? Terry lifts a heavy arm and touches his skin to see if it’s real. Three paperclips spin and spin around his shoulders.
“You’re still…shirt,” Terry chides Nicky. “Abs?” his thoughts…like goo.
“Of course babe,” Nicky says. He leans back and Terry giggles with delight as Nicky peels his shirt up and over his head. He’s so pretty, lines between abs, and three familiar brown speckles and nipples he’s bitten and he’s so happy to see it. He clumsily reaches out and slips a finger into the band of Nicky’s jeans. God if he…if he could keep his eyes open…if his arms didn’t feel so heavy…if the world wasn’t spinning and sparking…he would ravage…
“Eat you,” Terry says. He wants to eat Nicky.
Nicky snorts then leans in to kiss Terry’s cheek. He loves the warm and the soft and the feeling of Nicky’s skin near his.
“Eat,” Terry repeats.
“Vampire,” Nicky says before licking Terry just a little and tickling his chest with his fingers. Terry lives in the feeling of Nicky’s hand speckling him with love then grabbing his hip and massaging, then running his hand up his chest and flicking his nipple and scratching down his chest and it’s so tactily perfect that he doesn’t notice what Nicky is doing with his other hand until a warm rags sparks pain into his cut.
“Ouch!” Terry’s glowing in Nicky’s touches breaks and he jerks away from Nicky’s rag.
“Gotta clean this up or Sparrow will kill me,” Nicky explains. He takes his nice hand away from Terry’s chest and holds Terry’s arm steady as he runs the warm rag along the cut.
“No no no, ouch,” Terry complains, but it does nothing, and he knows he should be brave and not a baby, but his brain is on baby autopilot and he just wants ouch to stop. “Ouch Nicky. No,”
Nicky holds him still and dabs and Terry sees him grimace and Terry tries to buck him off his hips and pull his arm away, but everything is slippery and he’s weak, and it doesn’t matter because pretty quickly Nicky says.
“Got it. Got it. Chill out.”
Terry snorts with annoyance, not believing him but Nicky tosses the bloody rag aside and grabs up gauze. He opens a few packages and folds up squares of pristine white. Faster than Terry can keep up Nicky squeezes antibiotic ointment onto his finger, slides it it down the wound, puts the gauze on and as Terry is staring in wonder at the speed with which Nicky is moving Nicky wraps his arm in gauze, tapes it off and gives Terry a look.
“See all done,” Nicky says. “All good.”
Terry glowers. It hurt.
“Ouch.”
Nicky snorts in amusement. Terry tries to pull his thoughts together enough to make some bratty remark but Nicky cuts him off with the scritch of his nails down Terry’s chest. Terry’s brain slips sideways and he kinda forgets what was just going on. Something is itchy and worried behind his ribcage. His arm kinda hurts and Nicky is straddling him and it’s kinda hard to keep up with everything.
“Worried?” Terry says stupidly, like saying it out loud will prompt Nicky to tell him what’s going on in his own head.
“Don’t be,” Nicky says. He rocks against Terry and moves his hands to push Terry’s hips against the bed. “Sleep.”
“Oh,” Terry scrunches his eyes shut and exhales. Sleep. No, that’s not right.
“Coffee,” he argues. That’s his defense against sleep. That’s always his defense. A flicker of thoughts comes back to him. The fight. “Shit!” His eyes fly open and he tries to bolt upright but Nicky is holding him down. So easy to hold him down. There’s nothing left. He feels the remnants of sweat from the fight. Sore muscles and deep exhaustion. What is going on?
“Everyone’s okay?” Terry checks. Everyone’s okay…and…he needs to do some research to make it better next time.
Nicky doesn’t answer. He slides his hands up Terry’s side until he’s leaning on his elbows on either side of Terry’s head. Terry feels Nicky’s chest slowly lean onto his. When Terry breathes he feels Nicky’s skin press a little closer to him. Nicky leans harder. Warmth and the uneven texture of skin and the rustle of hair between them. Nicky kisses him, then he nuzzles their noses together and Terry can smell peppermint and feel his hot breath. His hands are confused and stupid but he lifts them and finds Nicky’s perfect hips and the waistband of his jeans and with some work the band of his boxers and the skin underneath. There’s a clunkiness to the way their pants rustle against each other as Nicky wiggles on top of him. Terry grabs a handful of Nicky’s ass and Nicky moves his lips down to suck at Terry’s neck. It feels good, but Terry’s brain comes in and out of focus, and for a moment he’s being shocked by every light coming off of Nicky and then he’s floating away and then he’s moaning as Nicky sucks at him and then he’s lost track of his hands and he’s blinking his eyes open and finding his boyfriend smiling at him.
“Time to sleep love,” Nicky says.
“No,” Terry whines, but the argument comes to him from far away. He doesn’t really remember why he’s fighting. Maybe it’s because he wants to suck Nicky off, but he doesn’t think he can do that. Maybe it’s…”Everyone’s okay?” Terry asks. It seems important. So important.
“Sparrow and Lark are at home,” Nickys says. He kisses Terry’s left cheek. “Grant is at HQ,” he kisses Nicky’s lips. “Nick is playing drums.” Nicky kisses his right cheek. “And Nicholas is falling asleep.” Nicky taps his nose against Terry’s. “You need to sleep too.” Terry feels his eyelids getting so so heavy. The bed beneath him feels like clouds. He forces his eyes to stay open. So many paperclips are jumping around his vision and giving each other high fives, and there’s a fireworks show of sparkles around his boyfriend, and it makes his stomach feel all full and funny. He might throw up. Is he dizzy? Is he sick? Is he in love?
“You sparkle,” Terry says stupidly.
Nicky quirks a sideways smile at him, then he gently feathers his fingers over Terry’s cheek, he leans in. He kisses Terry’s lips.
Terry can no longer win the fight with his eyelids. They flutter shut. Nicky’s weight rests a little heavier on his chest. He loves the smell of Nicky all drying sweat and sugary christmas sweets.
“Eat you,” Terry mumbles, but his mouth is barely moving.
“Tomorrow,” Nicky nips at his ear. Terry hums. Things are getting fuzzy around the edges.
“Okay?” Terry asks. Everyone’s okay, right? He hears Nicky say something about Sparrow and Lark, but then he feels a soft kiss on his cheek and then he’s gone.