Azkadellia's Okay! Part 10: Prowler Exposed; Boyfriend Threatened.

[luchia13]

Banner by magicscalpel

AUTHORS: andrealyn and luchia13
TITLE: Azkadellia's Okay! (With Ambrose and the Cains' help), Part 10: Prowler Exposed; Boyfriend Threatened.
RATING: NC-17. Graphic sex and disturbing imagery! Not together though.
PAIRING: Ambrose/Cain (or Cain/Ambrose, whatever), VERY FUTURE Az/OC and Jeb/OC/OC
DESCRIPTION: When the Witch picks another target, everything changes. Including switching out the Roboparents for Ambrose and the only Tin Man who knows what's going on (and his kid).
This Part: Cain gets high, Azkadellia gets naked, Jeb gets to use a gadget, Ambrose gets a bit sadistic, Jane gets the courage to finally say something about Some Things, and Toto gets some actual screentime.

Part 1: Things Explode; Iceland Blamed.
Part 2: Pink House Purchased; Introductions Ensue.
Part 3: Fight In Classroom; Landslide Victory.
Part 4: Cain Doesn't Move; Children Scream.
Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
Part 6: Dog In Prison; Keys Lost.
Part 7: Woman Hurt; Ship Sinks.
Part 8: Judgment Questioned; Test Given.
Part 9: Knives Purchased; Masochism Denied.



Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 10: Prowler Exposed; Boyfriend Threatened.

The Science Fair was just around the corner and being that Azkadellia was in high school now, that apparently meant that it was a more serious competition. Cain still didn't understand a single word of it and he had it in mind that he was just going to avoid the mess (especially when he caught Azkadellia testing things with her magic and writing down equations). Still, it was hard to avoid it when it was in the kitchen and sitting on the table like that.

He didn't understand any of it. Not the formulas written on the side, not the bubbling chemicals, not even the pictures of people embracing each other. As far as he was concerned, it could've been the picture language of the Ancients.

Still, he wasn't sure he wanted to be touching it. Nonetheless, he pried the cork from one of the beakers and stuck his nose forward, wanting to find out whether it was any kind of dangerous. Gods, he hoped this wasn't poison. A couple sniffs here and there and a good deep whiff made him inclined to think it wasn't real dangerous, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he trusted it all-together.

Though.

Cain's head was starting to feel a little fuzzy and as he replaced the cork, he started to wonder if he ought to rethink his poison assessment because. Well, because he didn't feel so much like himself and that was a problem.

Ambrose walked in and was about to start complaining about how stupid it was to assign papers because he had to grade them later, but stopped when he caught sight of Cain. He looked...woozy was probably the best word for it. Or just dumb. Sometimes it was hard to read Wyatt Cain on one of his off days, and Ambrose's day had been very, very off.

He walked over a bit cautiously, tilting his head a bit as he looked at the sheriff. "Cain? You alright?"

Cain turned to look at Ambrose and let loose a disarming smile as he wandered closer and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning in to chastely peck his lips with a soft kiss, then another, and another. "Hey, sweetheart," he murmured, feeling a bit affectionate. Which in itself was strange for him, but he wrote it off to a long day at the office and his gods-given right to kiss the man he was seeing. He kept nuzzling his jaw lightly, pressing the lightest of kisses here and there. "Y'smell amazing," Cain praised, hands descending lower to cup Ambrose's behind snugly.

In Ambrose's mind, this was very wrong and slightly creepy. The kisses were too soft for either of them, the nuzzling was just weird, and Ambrose wasn't wearing any cologne or anything. Either Cain had suddenly begun to really enjoy the smell of their laundry detergent or this was the first time he'd decided to comment on shampoo or soap he'd been using since they got to the Otherside.

He nearly squeaked when Cain groped him, and it was even worse because it seemed like Cain was trying to be sweet about it. Groping was never sweet.

"You never said if you're okay or not," Ambrose commented. He was fairly certain Cain wasn't okay, even if he thought he was. Then he noticed the slightly slurred speech, and immediately perked up. "Are you drunk?" He probably asked it a bit too exuberantly, but if Cain was drunk, there was an explanation for all of this. Ambrose liked explanations.

"Not a drop," Cain assured, hand moving up to now massage in circles against Ambrose's back, swaying slightly. "Not dinner yet, thought I might break open a beer, but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't drag you outside." There were more kisses being laid on Ambrose's neck, lower and lower and his free hand buried itself in Ambrose's hair as he drew him closer. "Gods, I should tell the kids how much I love them," he realized. "They're good kids, our Az and Jeb."

"They're very good kids," Ambrose agreed, voice soothing and trying to just...calm Cain down while he ignored the kisses. He had no idea what to do, but at least he felt like he was trying to do something. "They're the best kids, in fact." He slipped out of Cain's grip and gently set him into a chair.

"Cain, are you high? Did you eat something suspicious? Did you smoke something unusual? Did you get some new kind of injection?" Those were all the drugs Ambrose could think of at the moment aside from sex, because Cain was cruel and probably knew what the neck-kissing thing did to him, light or not. (And sex didn't really count as a drug anyway, as far as he'd heard in all those 'Keeping Campus Clean' seminars.)

Cain sat for all of about thirty seconds before he canted his head to one side and stared at Ambrose with brimming love in his eyes. "Gods, you're so beautiful," he exhaled, as if shocked. "Not high, not anything eaten, not a single thing smoked, no injections," he ticked off the list and rose to his feet again, wrapping his arms around Ambrose and tugging him close -- Ambrose's back to his front as he leaned his lips against his ear, lips slowly prying Ambrose's earlobe between them and nipping lightly. "Come to bed," he encouraged, feeling a lot amorous all of a sudden, like he wanted to trace Ambrose's body with his lips and tell him a lot of things bubbling just past his lips. "Kids won't mind."

"I've...always liked your eyes?" Ambrose said, half statement and half question as he kept trying to diagnose What Is Wrong With Wyatt Cain. Plus being called 'beautiful' demanded reciprocity whether Cain was weird or not. It was getting hard - difficult, he meant difficult, with all the teasing and cruelty when Cain might have had a seizure or something to make him go all Teddy Bear. "So...Cain. Tell me about your day." Maybe someone managed a good knock on his head during the day? That could definitely make someone a bit addled.

Cain was happy to recount his day to Ambrose, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from kissing down his neck as he spoke. "I filled out paperwork in the morning. Thought of you from about eleven to twelve and that thing we tried in bed the other night. You know, the position. And the way you made me wear my hat?" Something warm made Cain shiver at the thought and he pulled Ambrose closer, trying to tug him to the door, heading for the stairs. "Skipped lunch and just had a granola bar and then I taught the kids in the first grade all about road safety and will you please let me undress you. I've got a fierce need to look at you."

"You skipped lunch, you need to eat," Ambrose said, putting it a bit firmly in the hopes that Cain would listen. Maybe after all this time the man had been hypoglycemic and that had made him loopy in the head.

He also refused to think about last night. Absolutely refused to think of last night or the way Cain kept moving him around or how that cursed mouth of his just kept going for his weak points. No hat, no bed, no... "You need to eat! Eat soup!" Soup required extra time to make it, unlike a sandwich.

Cain had eaten plenty at the school and he didn't point that out. He just took Ambrose's hand and tugged him back, dipping him effortlessly and leaning forward to kiss him on the lips, brushing soft and then assaulting hard, stealing the most passionate of kisses before righting him. "Then I came home, checked out Az's project, and found you," he finished his story of the day, stroking Ambrose's hair back from off his forehead while he kept kissing the neck. "Really. I'm just in a good mood."

Which, in itself, was a scary, scary thing.

"Oh, okay then," Ambrose found himself saying, putting a hand to the back of Cain's neck and kissing him hard and deep, finally deciding that hey, if Cain was just feeling cuddly, he was feeling cuddly.

At least that was what he was thinking until he noticed the checked out Az's project part of that sentence, and pulled Cain's arms off of him so fast that Ambrose nearly fell to the floor. He skittered back to the kitchen table, quickly looking over what Azkadellia - such a clever girl - had been writing and working on for so long, went through the notes and diagrams, and finally let himself gape at the last page.

He turned back towards Cain, and blinked very wide brown eyes. "She made Vapors. She made Vapors, and you're on them, aren't you." Ambrose was stunned to find that not only was he horrified by the project, but was dazzlingly proud of Azkadellia for figuring it out at the same time.

Cain just narrowed his gaze at Ambrose, a bit thoughtful and still a bit dazed. "I should go find Jeb and hug him," he said thoughtfully. "Right out there on the soccer field." His smile turned warm and a bit stupid as he looked at Ambrose again. "Guess I am. She made Vapors? Good for her. She's a smart one, gets that from you."

Ambrose knew it was horrible of him. Absolutely horrible of him, completely taking advantage of a drugged-up Cain, but he said it anyway. "Yes Cain, you should go hug Jeb, right on the soccer field. And I'm not biologically related to Azkadellia, but thank you anyway," he said, grinning. "Maybe you should even go hug Az because she's so brilliant."

"You're right here though," Cain pointed out and crossed the room again to tuck Ambrose's hair behind his ear, licking his lips. "Jeb's at soccer. Azkadellia's still at school. Whole house to ourselves and you. Well, you, gorgeous, wouldn't have to be quiet."

Ambrose thought for a moment. That had turned against the very, very squished and hidden practical joker inside of him, and now he had a horny, high Cain in front of him.

He found himself squinting at Cain, trying to find the non-drugged part of him that was in there. Somewhere. "Do you think you'd want to have sex with me if you weren't on Vapors?"

If it were possible for the real-Cain to shine through the Vapors, it was at that very moment in the form of a very impatient glare. "Since when don't I corral you for sex. What night have I not wound up in bed with you because I want sex? With your frame and your eyes and the way you moan," Cain described, eyes sparkling with a hidden (and high) mischief, lips curving upwards. "And that little look you get when you're screwing me into that mattress. Which is just about on par with the little shapes your mouth makes..." he spoke as his thumb traced Ambrose's lips, "...when you cry my name."

Ambrose ended up shivering and hated himself for it, while at the same time he was pulling Cain forward and kissing him hard and deep, hand already creeping underneath his belt and beginning to undo the buckle. He pulled away for a moment, smiling as he practically forced Cain's pants down. "Well, if you're going to put it that way," he said idly, and backed Cain up against a wall, pinning his hands to the wall.

He was smirking now. Because Ambrose finally, finally had a plan, and he liked plans almost as much as he liked explanations.

Cain felt the draft and the wall almost at once, but he was all too happy to watch Ambrose -- gods, how did he look so amazing from this angle too? -- as he went about what Cain hoped he was doing. "Highlight of my day is the kids going to bed. I get to read them stories and tuck them in and then I get to crawl in with you," he said, honesty tinged with that stupid and doofy tone of admiration in his voice.

"I like that too," Ambrose smiled a bit dangerously, and nearly slammed Cain's head against the wall with the force of his kiss, letting go of Cain's hands to pull off the coat - and pick a couple of the pockets while he was going - and let it fall to the ground. "But that part in the morning when I wake up to you and then get to watch the kids be sleepy, goofy children? That's pretty good too." He nipped at Cain's chin, one hand pulling him away from the wall and leading the drugged man back over to the kitchen. He spotted the nearest chair, and carefully sat Cain down in it, immediately straddling him. One more time, Ambrose grabbed his hands, putting them behind the chair. "And they're even better when we get some shower time in," Ambrose whispered, and kissed Cain hard, handcuffing him to the chair in the process.

Cain kissed back just as desperately, lips burning already and swelling slightly from the constant kisses, but he wasn't about to complain, not when Ambrose was undressing him like that. And the words, well, the words were just icing on that beautiful cake and speaking of beautiful things, he had Ambrose in his lap and...handcuffs?

He peered up at Ambrose and kissed him just as hard, hands bound and restricted now. So Cain just went the extra mile with his lips and tongue and teeth, tugging Ambrose's lower lip out in order to suck on it and then proceed to give him a giant hickey on his neck. Against his skin, he mumbled the words that came next, "Could definitely get used to mornings with you. All sleep-addled and sweet and gorgeous."

Ambrose pulled away, hands starting to work on the buttons of Cain's shirt. "Sweet and gorgeous? I don't think I've ever been called either until this." He smiled, and kissed Cain again, much softer. "You're creepily cute when you're high. Now, anything in particular you have in mind for this even-" He paused, looking out the closed blinds and remembering it was still day. "Afternoon, then?"

"I'm not high," Cain replied, kissing back as best he could, neck jutting out to capture more and more of those soft kisses. "I'm on Vapors, remember?" he very patiently lectured and writhed his hips slightly. "Could use a good ride. S'like they say. You never forget how to ride a cowboy."

"Thought that was a bicycle," Ambrose said, pausing for a moment as he thought about that, but finally decided there were other more important things to deal with.

He gave Cain a long, lingering, and kind of cruel kiss considering Cain couldn't do anything about it, and pulled off his coat, letting it fall onto Cain's pants. When he started on his shirt, he paused, feeling the handcuffs' key up his sleeve.

That made him pause. He looked Cain straight in the eye, head tilted to the side. "...if I were to hypothetically get rid of the handcuffs, would you promise to stay around me until tomorrow morning?" If it wore off before then, good, but who knew the potency of the actual Vapors? Azkadellia hadn't written down how much of her magic she'd stuffed into it.

Cain just gazed back at Ambrose through the strange haze he was living in, currently, and nodded slowly. "Provided you promise we can skip dinner and not leave the bed," he agreed, bucking against the cuffs and surging forward with a thrust of his hips.

Ambrose would have had a hard time arguing that on a good day, so to find himself staring at Cain (whose pupils had gone dark, whether with lust or by the Vapors, he didn't know) and feeling the friction that their colliding hips caused, well...he didn't exactly know how he was supposed to refuse.

"That sounds...acceptable," Ambrose agreed, his voice strained and as he rocked down, he leaned closer to Cain and pressed their chests together while undoing the cuffs. They clattered to the floor and Ambrose's lips were pressed to Cain's pulse and where he was, he could hear Cain's heavy breathing, belabored and thick.

He glanced up and it was probably the wrong idea. Cain's eyes were half-lidded and his lips were shining wet from all the licking of them he kept doing and now that his hands were free, they came to pick Ambrose up into his arms like he weighed nothing at all.

Cain kept his eyes on Ambrose's lips and it made Ambrose start to wonder just what was going to happen the moment they got behind closed doors. He knew it would be a decidedly good thing, though, whatever it was.

"Next time, Cain, you should really read the warnings," Ambrose pointed out as they nudged their way out the door, stumbling slightly when Cain inhaled a shaky breath and decided that right in the middle of the parking lot was the place to start giving Ambrose a hickey. "Not covert!" he announced in a panic. "Very not..." His words were interrupted by a moan. "Oh gods, Cain. So very not covert."

Cain was shrouded in the fogs of the Vapors, but they seemed to be wearing off, if only a little because Ambrose's words pierced through the vale and got through to him. He coaxed them back to the little pink house a little faster and then, from Cain's point of view, it all went very quickly.

There was a bed.

There was Ambrose and he was clothed.

In the blink of Cain's eyes, then Ambrose had shed all his clothes and Cain was straddling him, thighs pushing up against each other in a mild battle for dominance. Cain's breathing had stabilized some and he hadn't been swaying about the room like a drunk in a bar, which proved promising both for the two men, but also for Azkadellia's little experiment.

Ambrose seemed to be making a note of reaction time in his mind to add to the notes later. Cain seemed to be noticing, which meant he was a lot more aware of his surroundings.

Hazy as he was, Cain could still stare down at Ambrose, his mouth hanging open and his appearance dazed, and form a question. "Sweetheart, wanna...?"

"That's very open-ended, Cain," Ambrose replied, his face buried in Cain's neck, where he was busy giving a very large red mark in the shape of a welt, as if Cain's seatbelt had been irritating his neck and little else. He'd grown inventive with his hickeys annuals back, citing that he didn't have to just invent using the tangible. Cain's gasps were becoming heavier and he sighed with happiness. Ambrose was curious as to how much of that was the Vapors and how much was reaction to Ambrose being very, very good at what he was doing.

It stopped mattering when Ambrose's palms splayed out on Cain's bare hips (having nudged the pants down just enough to see the 'V' of Cain's hipbones) and the contrast of pale hands on just barely-darker skin sent a chill down Ambrose's spine and caused a visible shiver; one that Cain saw. He brushed his thumb up against Ambrose's lower lip as the tremble tapered off and that thumb descended to brush against his neck, followed by the other fingers on his hand and that hand stayed close to Ambrose's heart.

"Gods, the Vapors make you a sappy mess," Ambrose whispered with a scoff of a laugh, using his hands to push Cain's pants and his underwear all the way down, leaving the button-down on -- even if it was completely a mess.

Cain's fingers were busy stroking Ambrose's hips to get his pants off, so Ambrose found himself in control of doing that as well. Not that he minded, or Cain minded being taken control of, at least not during this moment. Cain usually glared a little thickly when Ambrose insisted on being the dominant one, but tonight he was rolling with it and letting Ambrose pin him to the bed and slick him up with cinnamon-scented lubricant from the local drugstore that he had bought under the pretenses of needing it to slick up a machine.

The cashier really hadn't believed him. Cain's mouth formed an 'o' and he began to make little hitches of grunts and moans and those didn't stop as Ambrose aligned himself at just the right angle to slide his way in, palm wrapping around Cain's cock, finger by long finger.

Cain still looked drugged, but there was a flicker of sentient knowing in his eyes that told Ambrose that he was there, whether he looked it or not. And the way he kept coaxing Ambrose with his words, soft and sure, "Ambrose, please, c'mon, c'mon," again and again, it made Ambrose sure that he knew precisely what he was doing.

Ambrose gasped as he slid in and filled Cain to the hilt and they both filled the air with their strangled sounds; Ambrose laughing breathlessly and Cain moaning louder, an octave higher than his previous one. That was all it took for Ambrose to go faster and faster, his free hand cupping Cain's hip, then pushing up his broad chest amidst the pale hairs there, clasping his shoulder, cupping his cheek. He couldn't stop it and he couldn't settle it, always needing to put it somewhere else to suit the thrusts and the way Cain was responding by rolling his hips upwards.

Ambrose stroked as he thrust, leaning down to kiss Cain's neck. He'd been breathless for some time now and at the pace he was going -- which couldn't get much faster, lest he spontaneously combust -- he wasn't going to last very long before he'd need to request oxygen.

Cain was a similar story.

He was wheezing and moaning and pushing hard, using both his hands atop Ambrose's to bring himself off with long and firm strokes and Ambrose could feel the calluses of Cain's hands atop his knuckles as they worked in tandem in that slow and sultry rhythm, pushing hard as Ambrose's hips snapped back and then drove forward. They were sweating in the Kansas heat and the sheets pooled around them, wrinkled by ankles and hips, hands buried deep in fabric to dry off before returning to their task. Cain widened his thighs and Ambrose slid in deeper, using the new angle and gasping Cain's name out with a guttural sound at the new sensation it brought about, the indescribable friction that made Ambrose see white spots as he drove deeper than he ever thought he could.

"Ambrose," Cain was still pleading, which went to Ambrose's head and made him light-headed and dizzy, all his blood preoccupied elsewhere. "Gods, Ambrose, yes. Yes."

"Yes," Ambrose whispered as he pushed harder and found himself perilously close to abandon as the white spots grew in his vision and his hands weakened, his thrusts slowed, and he came with a sudden burst of energy. The slowness dissipated and he gave in as he pushed faster and dragged his tongue up Cain's sweaty neck to steal a fervent kiss from Cain's lips as he increased the strokes of his hand. It wasn't weak any more and Cain parted his lips to coax Ambrose's tongue in and if Ambrose thought that the Vapors had been a bad idea at any point in time, he had been an idiot then.

They were the best thing in the whole O.Z. and the Otherside.

Cain came only two minutes later as they both murmured demands of the other to stroke faster, push harder, of more and more and finally, there was no more to give because Cain was coming hard and fast, the warmth spilling over their joined hands and Ambrose withdrew from Cain, collapsing atop his chest with a spent groan.

Cain grabbed a nearby towel and cleaned them up before idly playing with Ambrose's hair good and slow and sure. "Gods, you really are pretty," Cain mumbled, his words sounding as sticky as Ambrose's body felt.

"You're so high," Ambrose breathlessly accused, but couldn't bring himself to care as they lay there half-naked and sated.

--

Ambrose’s office was one of the best locations within the college and all the other professors envied its place. Not only did it have proximity to the classroom, but it had privacy and a window that overlooked the grounds. The window was frosted glass so that no one could see inside and Ambrose Brown had installed several sets of locks on the door after he claimed the office as his own and no one even bothered to ask him to move. It was his office, he’d decided. No one could sway him with offers of anything else. He often had visitors during his office hours, but most lunches, the Sheriff would drop by and either brought food with him or jingle his keys in a way that suggested an almost Pavlovian connection between that sound and fetching lunch.

Today, the Sheriff hadn’t brought lunch, so the students knew well enough that Professor Brown was going to be out of the office.

Sounds could be heard outside the office after Sheriff Cain went in and exchanged greetings with Professor Brown, but they were the garden-variety office sounds of conversation, a book dropping, and occasionally, the door or bookshelf being knocked against.

Jane Walker, though, knew better.

Even if her relationship with Ambrose had been short-lived, there were some experiences that they had shared in an intimate setting that were burned into her memory and though she’d been bitter at first that they were never going to work, she learned how to treasure the good memories and ignore the feelings of inadequacy. They had still had their own time beneath laundered covers that smelled of spring. She’d come to check her syllabus with Ambrose and heard the sounds that most people would dismiss.

A hitched breath here. A quiet remark of a name there. The desk being lifted and dropped, by the sounds of it.

Jane Walker knew the sound of people having sex against a desk when she heard it.

She also knew for a fact that the Sheriff had gone in and hadn’t quite come out. In either sense of that word. She clasped her folders to her chest and waited very patiently for it to finish and then she heard the jingling of keys and, “I’ll pull the car around,” in a normal volume. Jane was still standing there when the door with the frosted glass and Ambrose’s name in black letters was swung open and out came a very flushed-looking Sheriff, his cheeks pink and his lips parted and wet.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff,” Jane greeted him, very amiably.

She couldn’t help the momentary victory and the way it filled her up to see him stumble for words and stare at her like she had suddenly sprouted a second head. Jane pushed herself off the wall and nodded to him and Cain nodded back, fixing his collar - but not before Jane could see several unique little red marks that really couldn’t be blamed on anything but a mouth.

She really knew that she should feel far more awkward about all of this, but she was probably in shock. It would hit much later. For the moment, they stood opposed in the hall, the past and the present and Jane had to look him up and down and wonder why. Why him (beyond the obvious answer)?

She wasn’t a cruel woman and refused to ever blackmail Ambrose with this information as she felt that a person’s private lives should remain behind closed doors and didn’t deserve to be dragged out for public scrutiny. It didn’t mean she couldn’t feel slightly inferior, being the not-chosen one.

“How’s Ambrose today?” Jane politely asked.

“He’s…” Cain started, glancing over his shoulder and back to the room he had just exited from. “Relaxed.”

“I’m sure,” Jane agreed, not even daring to hide her smile now. She took a slow step forward, considering her next words very carefully, choosing them with a great modicum of thought put into them. “I know,” she finally decided on. “I know. About you and Ambrose,” she told him, keeping her voice hushed so that it wouldn’t carry past the both of them. “And at first, I didn’t like it in the least and I’m still not entirely sold on the idea, but I don’t hate it. Not completely.”

She wasn’t doing much to ease the situation, it seemed, because Cain looked ready to bolt from the looks of him.

“Sheriff?” Jane prodded lightly.

“I didn’t know anyone else knew,” he finally admitted, staring at her. “Are we really that bad?”

“It’s easier for someone to see it when they were in a similar position, years back,” Jane said quietly, offering the smallest of smiles and hating it when Cain looked at her with that sympathetic and kind look. This would have been so much easier had either of them been horrible or hateful, but for the most part, they were good men.

They stood there for a long moment and Jane took the initiative to step forward, fixing his collar to hide one of the marks.

That seemed to break the mood as Cain cleared his throat and lifted his keys into the air again to remind the both of them why he was out there in the first place. “I have to go get the car,” he reiterated and nearly sprinted for the parking lot so as to avoid further conversation.

Jane watched him go with a slight smile, although it disappeared rather quickly when Ambrose walked out of his office, shrugging into one of his coats that had been slowly moving towards fashionable over the years, even if it still stood out no matter where he went. Keys clicked into the locks behind him, and the other professor was heading for the door, only to stop when he caught sight of Jane. She got the dazzling smile and the friendly glint in his eyes, along with the mussed hair that would have told her everything just as easily as the noises had.

“Jane,” he greeted, still warm and so happy-looking it almost hurt. “I’m heading to lunch, but I can help you with something before I go if it’s quick.”

Sometimes she wished he could have just gone cold around her after they’d broken off their relationship like so many other exes had. Cold, or uncomfortable, or at least lied about that ‘still be friends’ part, but Ambrose was too good a man for that. He was too kind and considerate and gentlemanly and horribly attractive to hate or avoid.

Jane hesitated, but nodded, and Ambrose was immediately attentive. “I wanted to…” She swallowed, and instead of wishing she could hate him ended up close to disgusted with herself. Jane had managed to get a few months with him, and it was more than she would have ever managed without Azkadellia’s help.

She hadn’t realized she’d gone silent until Ambrose had put a concerned hand on her arm, frowning and caring about her even if it wasn’t in the way she wished for so badly. “Are you okay, Jane?” His frown deepened. “I…I could cancel lunch.”

Before she could remind herself of how bad an idea it was, she hugged him. He smelled like books and sex, sounded like she’d squeezed the air out of him, and hugged back tentatively.

“I’ll go tell Cain that lunch is-”

“Tell him if he hurts you, I’ll make him regret it,” she interrupted, and backed up just enough to see the shock on his face. It almost hurt to smile at him, but she managed it. “It’s what friends are for, Ambrose. Threatening each other’s boyfriends.”

He looked just a bit horrified, although Jane couldn’t even try to guess which part it was that had him so worried. “Jane, you-”

“Ambrose, go to lunch,” she interrupted again. It was one of the few things she was fairly certain she would always win at when it came to Ambrose. “If he’s what you want…well. I want you happy, and I’m not going to stand in your way.”

Ambrose smiled at her, but there was still a slightly manic edge in it. “Jane, if anyone finds out, it could end up very, very bad. I trust you, but Baker’s not exactly an easily accepting community.”

“Then trust me to keep my mouth shut,” Jane said simply. “And I really am serious about hurting him if he treats you badly.”

Ambrose nodded, the smile gentler now. “You’re wonderful, Jane. I’ll tell him. And thank you.”

“What else are friends for?” Jane asked, voice a bit wry, and it seemed like an equal amount of impulsiveness that had him setting a kiss on her forehead and heading out the door.

She watched him leave, and then headed for her own office. If he thought she was wonderful, Jane thought, what exactly did that make the sheriff?

--

For all the highs and lows that the house had endured over the annuals they had been there, the four Outer Zoners had settled into a vague routine of normality. On a Tuesday such as the one it was, Azkadellia would do her homework and then spend the rest of her time showering and doing her hair (she tended to finish quicker than Jeb, whether because of age or intelligence, no one ever said aloud) while Jeb finished up his math and sciences. Cain tended to have a late dinner in his little pink home and usually spent his time talking with Ambrose about the day.

It was just a normal Tuesday. Cain had waited until Azkadellia made her way upstairs before checking on Jeb's work and collecting two plates worth of food before nudging his way out the door and heading to his house, giving Toto a respectful nod as he went. "Jeb'll feed you," Cain promised, very seriously, using his hips to get into the car hold and he did a mildly coordinated dance to get him and the food to the kitchen table, waiting for Ambrose to join him.

It was getting to be wicked outside and Cain hoped that the roof wouldn't leak like it had the past few storms. He didn't have the time right then to do any repairs and the sound of crashing thunder on the horizon didn't bode well.

He kept checking his watch and heard the wind whipping against his screen door. "Ambrose!" he shouted out the window. "I'm eating your dinner if you don't get over here soon!" Slowly, Cain stripped off his hat and vest, draping them over one of the spare chairs before sinking down onto the couch, just waiting.

He had a bad feeling that he couldn't exactly shake. He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong either.

Gods, he hoped it was just worry over possible leaks.

The wind was just about absurd, with the force it whipped across Ambrose's path. He could barely hear Cain's shout, but knew the man well enough to know what he was shouting about. Threatening his food, of course. "Always threatening the food," Ambrose muttered, barely avoiding a leaf that seemed rather fond of his mouth.

Even with his hands free he had some trouble getting Cain's door open. It felt like there was something wrong, but Ambrose had practically lived with that feeling for...gods, he couldn't even remember how long it'd been since DG had been possessed. He ignored it, and stepped into the house, groaning as he caught sight of a twig trapped in his hair.

He grabbed the stick with one hand, glaring at the curling strands that had held it. "I will cut you," Ambrose threatened, and sighed, finally looking over at Cain with a small, slightly goofy smile before sitting next to him on the couch. "What's for dinner?"

"It's cold by now," Cain pointed out, tugging Ambrose with him as he slowly slid his back to the couch and tugged Ambrose along until they were horizontal. A sly and almost playful smirk crossed over his face slowly. "We'll heat it up later," he assured, his palm sliding up Ambrose's chest as he tugged him down.

"That'd better not be an innuendo," Ambrose grinned, nipping lightly at Cain's bottom lip. A hand had started working on the buttons of Cain's shirt when there was a massive thud of one of the trees being hammered against the roof, making Ambrose flinch slightly. "I hate windstorms. They're terrible on my nerves."

Inside the house, it was progressing as all usual Tuesday evenings did, with neither Azkadellia nor Jeb worrying too much about what Cain and Ambrose did out in the little pink house. Azkadellia was spending her time in the shower and after Jeb had fed Toto, he began to enjoy the rest of his night as a free man, so to speak. When Jeb had finished the last problem of his homework, he ascended the stairs in the talented way only a stomping boy could, crashing his way upstairs to check with his things and arrange them carefully, talking to himself in the mirror and muttering many a "Jeb Cain, Secret Agent."

Between the shower running, Jeb talking to himself, and Cain and Ambrose out in the little pink house, no one heard the sound of the trellis being strained with weight.

The thump of boots on the hall floor, however, had been very, very loud. It was loud enough, in fact, to carry all the way into Jeb's room and to his attentions. He frowned at that, since it was a happily-known fact that you couldn't hear a thing going on around the little pink house while inside the main one, so it couldn’t be Cain or Ambrose. Jeb paused, moving aside from the mirror. He could hear the wind whipping around the house, but more importantly, could hear the wind inside of it. Somewhere a window or door was open, and he knew it hadn't been opened by anyone who was supposed to be inside the house, since Toto wasn't big enough, and Azkadellia was taking a shower.

Jeb carefully pulled off his belt, ready to whap something with it (he suspected a racoon, really. The things were invading Baker) as he moved quietly, almost quietly enough to earn that 00-status he entertained himself with.

The house had been old when it had first been built and with every passing year had grown a bit more finicky. That contributed to paint-jobs being needed, repairs chipping away at Cain's free time, and the floors earning creaks that could set a person's nerves at unrest in the dead of the night.

And right then, the floorboards were creaking and Jeb was standing still. Toto also knew the footsteps didn’t belong to anyone in the house and had gone straight to the one place that could help.

Outside, amidst the sound of the wind whipping, Toto was struggling to dash from the main house to the porch of the little pink one, fighting past leaves from the fallen tree and barking as loud as he possibly could, again and again and again. Intermittent growls came too and with all his might, Toto seemed to be fighting the change back to man.

He was sounding the alarm.

Cain vaguely heard the sound above the wind, but he was mildly preoccupied by the fact that he was sliding out of his trousers and was in a half-buttoned shirt and his boxers. And the boots. He always seemed to have the damned boots on. "Did you hear something?" he mumbled against Ambrose's neck, glancing to the door.

"Dog in the wind," Ambrose muttered, kissing his way to Cain's ear, only to pause, barely stopping his hand from slipping into the other man's boxers. He pulled back slightly, frowning at the door. "Is that Toto?"

The dog was scratching at the door now, too short to even try and get at the doorknob, and he ran back and forth the front of the house, desperately trying to get their attention as the wind tried to whisk him away from the door. He knew there was someone in the main house that didn't belong there, and to add to his frustration, Toto knew there wasn't a thing he could do to help aside from getting the adults in the house and to the kids.

Cain nearly snapped to alert as his gaze met Ambrose's in the small space between them. "Sweetheart," he said, the panic mildly flooding his voice. "That's Toto," he confirmed, and wrapped his arms around Ambrose's waist to forcibly lift him up. "Up, go, get."

Jeb wasn't feeling much like a kid at the moment, even if he was only ten. He'd sworn to protect Azkadellia, and there was someone in the house. Human, considering the pattern of a boot's sole he'd seen on a squished leaf that had apparently come into the house right along with the intruder. Jeb didn't make promises he had no intention of keeping and he was going to stand by his promise to Ambrose, even if his life depended on it.

The man had seemingly come in through the hall-window (at the top of the trellis on the side of the house) and was now creeping further down the creaky floorboards towards the bathroom where Azkadellia was humming in the shower in a musical voice, words lilting, "Two little princesses dancing in a row..."

He was bald and lean, a man that was tall for his age and probably tall no matter where he was, the way he was towering in the hallway, bare head nearly bumping the ceilings and he wore a new leather coat that fell to his knees. He moved with deadly efficiency and his eyes (a cold blue) scanned the hall as he moved. There was a knife in one hand, glinting in the light of the hall and it caught Jeb's eye as he peered around his bedroom’s doorway, ready to attack.

Jeb had been trained for this and was equipped by Ambrose’s inventions and the constant lessons his father gave to him and he refused to fail. He had to protect Azkadellia and this man was heading right for her and she didn't realize it. It could all be over and Jeb wanted to be the hero and not the defeated.

James Bond never lost, he told himself as he followed the man with Ambrose's cloth-knife at the ready, belt in the other hand and even he didn’t know which he was going to use first.

The man crept on forward and then, miraculously, he stepped on one of the oldest planks of the house and it gave a screeching and seemingly endless creak and suddenly, Azkadellia stopped singing.

Jeb tried to scream in his head and hoped she would hear him, prayed she'd just use some of her magic and listen. He is after you, Az. Don't come out. Please don't come out.

And today, she wasn't using the full gamut of her abilities, seeing as she was stepping out of the bathroom clad only in a small white towel and now Toto was at Jeb's ankles, butting him with his head and Jeb had to tell him 'not YET!' without giving away his position, which amounted to a lot of angry mouthing.

"What do you want?" Azkadellia demanded of the man and even though she was clad in only a white towel with no weapons at her disposal, she still managed to make it sound commanding and threatening.

Out the door, through the other one, up the stairs - it was all done in a moment, Ambrose leading since Cain had needed to grab his gun. He could see the stand-off, could see Azkadellia holding her ground even in a wet towel.

"The Sorceress commands," the man said, voice eerily monotone.

Ambrose nearly ran over right then, ready to just tackle the man and hope for the best, but Cain held him back, already taking aim with the pistol when Jeb burst into action and his belt clicked once and wrapped around the man, sticking to him and binding his arms together while Jeb fumbled in his pockets for yet another gadget and tried to herd Azkadellia back into the bathroom while the assassin tried to free himself.

Cain was surprised, but not surprised enough to forget to shoot the man in the leg and take him down, Ambrose immediately heading for the groaning man, disarming the belt and grabbing him by the collar.

Azkadellia was refusing to just be herded, struggling slightly and smacking Jeb's wrist away, which happened to also loosen her grip on the very small towel (as it was) and it went slipping down. Unfortunately for the assassin, he likely would think later if he was alive to think it, he took a long look. Toto seemed to stare up at her and Jeb groaned and turned around to hide his view, in time to hear Cain's angry growl and a sound that was vaguely reminiscent of a punch to a man's face (which would be Ambrose, by Jeb's point of view).

Azkadellia herself had gone bright red, but had at least managed to get a hold of her towel again, covering up everything that had just been uncovered.

"Clothes, Az," Cain said sharply, gun still smoking from the shot and he looked ready to take another one. He gave Ambrose a long look, gun pointed at the assassin's heart, but attention all on Ambrose. "Why does Jeb have fancy gadgets that I could swear you invented down in your lab?"

"Because I wanted him prepared if something like this happened," Ambrose said, completely unrepentant while Jeb flinched at their secret being out in the open. However, Ambrose wasn't taking the time to explain any more than that, already pulling the bleeding man up and glaring at him. "You have quite a bit of explaining to do."

Jeb and Azkadellia frowned at the sound of his voice, never having heard Ambrose truly angry. Cain, on the other hand, had the phantom pain of a briefcase being smacked against his face.

The assassin managed to spit in Ambrose's face, and it took Cain's firm grip on his shoulder to keep him from punching the man again. "Not here." Or not in front of the kids, at least.

Cain received one firm nod while Ambrose wiped the spit off his face, and then Ambrose started pulling the groaning assassin down the stairs, heading for the lab.

Cain lingered for a long moment to look over Jeb and Azkadellia, as if Ambrose hadn't just carted off a bleeding and aware man down the stairs. First, his attention went to Azkadellia, who was awkwardly stepping from foot to foot and noticeably clutching the towel a lot tighter.

No one had yet to say a word about how Cain was in a state of undress in just his boxers, a half-undone button down, and his hat, yet managed to wield a gun. It was just one of those things that wasn't spoken about.

"Jeb, we'll discuss this later," Cain promised. "Az, get dressed and stay with Jeb and don't come out of your room until Ambrose or I say it's safe." With that, he lifted his gun and started hurrying down the stairs to join Ambrose with the assassin, slamming the lab door shut behind him and locking it.

When he found Ambrose, he took the safety back off the gun and leveled it at the man's head. "He's half-naked," the bloody man commented, of Cain.

"We sure found ourselves an observant one," Cain muttered to himself and glanced over to Ambrose. "Can I fire my gun?" With a look to the assassin, he leaned in, the gun now pressed up against his neck. "I haven't in a very long time and shooting you in the leg was just enough to remind me that I'm getting antsy."

Ambrose smiled slightly at him, finishing up with the duct tape on the man's wound. It'd still bleed, and it would really, really hurt. Exactly what he wanted at the moment.

"Aim for his kidney," he said simply, pointing to the right place on the man's torso. "I hear it's one of the most painful things you could ever die from, aside from some other very interesting things they invented in the middle ages. Interesting reading." Ambrose eyed the man, nothing even remotely kind in his eyes. "I know who sent you, I know why she sent you, but I need to know if you're alone or if you've managed to contact her."

The man glared again, as if that actually did something to them, and remained proudly silent. Ambrose twisted to look at Cain and then shrugged. "They always pick the hard way," he said simply, slipping aside and heading for the vault door.

"I always listen to Ambrose," Cain confided, as if playing the good cop in this scenario, even as he stepped back and fired without any remorse in his eyes, aiming for the kidney just as Ambrose had advised and through the litany of 'oh GODS! oh GODS! Wh-why would you...' and the screams of pain, Cain leaned himself forward, smoking gun leaning against the assassin’s shoulder and Cain pressed his other hand hard against the new wound. "That feels painful," he said thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder at Ambrose. "What do you know, you were right," he guaranteed, stepping back to lean himself against the wall.

One bullet casing fell to the ground and he made a point of spinning the cartridge and show off the other five bullets just waiting for a target. Lazily, Cain's attention turned to Ambrose.

"Your turn."

Ambrose's grin at those two words was slightly terrifying, and he hauled two dome-shaped things out of the vault, tossing them in front of the bleeding assassin and pulling up one of his rolling lab-stools, picking out a pair of scissors along with it. But, first things first, he put a piece of duct tape over the wound. "That'll keep your skin shut and the blood inside," he said, chipper. "And you'll likely die in twelve minutes unless I go back inside the vault and go get some medical equipment."

The man swallowed, staring at him and finally looking terrified. Ambrose beamed at him. "Now! I'm giving you a few choices. Option one." He pulled the first, larger dome onto his lap. "To cut all the scientific jargon off since you're not sticking around very long, this will pop a few important things in your brain wide open and you will die a very, very painful death that we will very much enjoy watching. Two!" The second, smaller dome. "Excruciating pain for however long I set it, and it might make you wish you'd picked the other one. And three." He picked up the knife. "You answer the questions and I'll let some of the blood get out, since I know that must be smarting."

There was something like fear starting to play across the assassin's features and it only grew worse with every passing moment that Ambrose continued to talk. Cain was like a shadowy figure that had lapsed into silence, now just studying the shoes on the ground and Ambrose had full control of the situation.

"W-what...what do you want?" the man asked, gaze snapping between Cain and Ambrose, somehow the words 'die in twelve minutes' having some effect. "She'll kill me. You can't send me back. You have to let me go."

"We don't have to let you go," Ambrose said, frowning. But, the man was talking, so Ambrose punctured a tiny hole in the leg's duct tape, and it worked almost like a hole in a dam, blood trickling out. "Now. Did you contact DG?" His eyes widened at that and his mouth clamped shut, so Ambrose let out a sigh and started reaching for the smaller dome.

"NO! No, no I didn't contact her, don't put that thing on me," he shouted, and without a pause his frantic eyes twisted straight for Cain. "DON'T LET HIM PUT THAT THING ON ME!"

Cain just shrugged haplessly from where he was standing, studying the assassin for a long moment and in that moment, he saw what DG's henchmen had done at the Central headquarters for Tin Men and all his mercy felt like it had frozen up. He holstered his gun away and wandered closer yet to study the man, to study Ambrose, and to wash his hands of the situation.

"I'll be upstairs with the kids," was all Cain said. "Try and keep it down, I'll be trying to sleep." He managed a smile, as if this were all good and normal (but pointedly didn't give any notion that he and Ambrose were more. That was the last thing he wanted the Sorceress inside DG finding out). "Night," he casually remarked.

He didn't look back, not when he ascended the stairs, not when he locked the laboratory door behind him, not even when he made his way upstairs in the now eerily calm night.

Desperate times called for drastic measures.