Azkadellia's Okay, Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
I'd have made this here part fancy, but I'm laaaazy.
Azkadellia's Okay, Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
Note: this is the second of two posts! First can be found here!
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
Cont'd...
Cain just watched for another few moments and only moved forward when the gym lights were powered back on to signify that kids should find their ways to whatever the next stop was.
Of course, Nancy got there first. "Ambrose!" she said breathlessly, darting right out in front of him. "Hi! Sorry about that, I got pulled away," she laughed, a nervous guffaw. "You know how it can be. Anyway, we were hoping you might want to come back to my parents' place? You could maybe read some of our books in the library or we could dance some more...?"
Ambrose was polite, not stupid. He was reaching the point where even politeness was becoming unbearable. Nancy was young, yes, but there was only so much he could cope with. "I have to take Azkadellia home," he said flatly, hoping she'd get the hint and leave him alone finally.
The hint clearly flew right over her fluffy blonde head. "Well what about afterwards?" She was leaning closer to him, to an angle that Ambrose had to wonder if she was going to fall down. Another couple inches and it was either grab her or watch her hit the floor, and she was giggling as soon as he touched her. "My parents sleep like the dead, you know."
"This must be the drunk thing he was talking about," Ambrose grumbled, looking around for somewhere to drop the girl so she could hopefully sober up a little before going home.
Nancy's giggling got even louder, and Ambrose was too busy looking around for a nice empty corner not full of amorous teenagers or sobbing exes or wallflowers to even avoid her when she apparently decided it'd be a good idea to try and slip a hand down the back of his pants.
"GAH!" Ambrose yelped, jerking away as well as he could, but Nancy was firmly attached to him like her dress was some kind of taffeta octopus.
Cain chose that moment to intervene, prying her hand away gently and wrapping one arm around her back. "Nancy," he greeted politely. "How about we take you back over to the refreshments table and get you some water, okay?" he guided. He'd seen Azkadellia's group more often what with his routine attendance at the school to check on her and should have warned Ambrose before he left, but some things just slipped the mind.
"Hiya, Mr. Cain," she said, looking a bit dazed. "Are you here for the party?"
"Looks like it's breaking up, kid," he said, nodding to the bartender. "Nancy here is going to have a good and tall glass of water," he indicated, glancing around and nabbing down Patricia. "Hey, Patsy," he said with a smile. "Mind watching Nancy and helping her get to the after-party? I have to take Az and Ambrose home."
"She's not coming?"
"She's got an appointment in the morning," Cain smoothly lied, but it was better than telling Patricia that no, Azkadellia was not going because Cain and Ambrose didn't trust her to not be killed by a wayward assassin. "She'll send her best and have a great time, okay? Just don't show me the pictures." With that done, he slid away to approach Azkadellia and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. "You were incredible up there," he quietly said. "I'm real proud of you."
Azkadellia flushed and Karen seemed to take a step back, as if to give them privacy.
"Thank you for letting me come," she said, smiling at him. "Both of you. It meant a lot to me."
Ambrose smiled back, trying to convince himself that he wasn't using Cain and Azkadellia as a barrier between him and Nancy, who was slightly slumped over her glass of water. "It was my pleasure," Ambrose lied good-naturedly. At least they'd only have to deal with one prom, and now that it was over they could simply put the experience behind them. At least until Jeb went to prom. He barely restrained a wince.
She smiled lightly at Cain, and quickly walked over to speak with Karen, who received an actual hug from Azkadellia before she returned. She lifted one elegant hand up to rest it on Cain's arm, and smiled. "I'm ready to go when you are."
Cain gestured with his chin, digging out his keys and keeping one eye on Ambrose, trying to hide his bemused reaction. He couldn't very well touch him or do anything else while they were in public, so he kept it all very low-key and muted as he loaded them all up in the truck.
The drive home was short and Azkadellia seemed to spend most of it dismantling all her weapons and Cain made sure to avoid looking in the mirror while that dress was showing flashes of skin.
"Ambrose," Cain teased once they were in the truck and pulling into the driveway, his eyes still on the road. "I can't leave you alone for a couple hours before you start getting hit on by impressionable youths." He put the truck in park and leaned over the gearshift to cup his cheek and kiss him lightly, easing back to offer an inviting little raise of his brow. He glanced to the backseat. "You okay, Princess?"
"Just sleepy," she admitted, head resting back against the seat and staring at them tiredly. "It's strange to be here on the pivotal point of my life and not know what comes next."
"Bed," Cain advised with a nod. "C'mon. And tell Jeb to get back into bed." He didn't even need to go inside to know that the boy would be hovering and waiting for their return.
Azkadellia nodded simply, already pulling out hairpins as she walked up the stairs, knives held almost disturbingly naturally in her other hand. There was a hushed conversation between the children that they couldn't hear, but since it ended up with Jeb's bedroom door shutting, the topic wasn't very mysterious.
Ambrose let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I thought college students were bad enough. Now I can't wait for her to go," he said, still irritated. He frowned at Cain. "I am not going to Jeb's prom. You can't make me."
Cain just let out a quiet and hushed laugh at the vehemence, wrapping his arm around Ambrose's waist and tugging him closer once they were in the privacy of their own home and he eased their bodies into a boxed-position, perfect for dancing. "I'll go to Jeb's. Attend as a parental volunteer," he said quietly, coaxing Ambrose's head to rest on his shoulder. "So, your place or mine tonight?" he asked as he brought them into a slow, musicless sway.
If they couldn't have their proper dancing, they could at least make the best of it.
"Yours." Even without music, Ambrose found himself with a tempo in his head and his feet moved along with it, rocking slightly. He smiled against Cain's shoulder, the irritation fading into amusement as he thought about the night. "According to Nancy, this is a type of dance only seen in America. Looks like you're going native," he said.
"After nearly six annuals, Ambrose," Cain began, tugging at his hand and threading their fingers together, "I think I'm allowed." Besides, with another election coming up in the Sheriff's office and with Azkadellia graduating, they were starting a whole new chapter of their lives.
He wrapped his arm tighter around Ambrose's waist. "Come on, let's go to the house, see if we can't try a funner dance, huh?"
Ambrose wasn't sure if six annuals was far too short or far too long, but either way it seemed the wrong amount of time. Sometimes it felt like he'd been Professor Brown for his whole life, while at others it felt like they'd landed just a couple days ago.
Ambrose grinned at Cain and was more than happy to start moving towards the door. "What, like Lindy Hop?" he asked as innocently as he could manage, which wasn't particularly innocent.
Cain didn't even bother to reply to that with words and gave Ambrose's hand a sharper tug as he pulled him along to the back door, easing his lips next to Ambrose's ear to whisper just what he intended to do to him as soon as they go to the little pink house.
Upstairs, Jeb waited until he heard his father and Ambrose shut the door behind them, and then quietly knocked on Azkadellia's door. When she answered, he couldn't help but laugh a bit. She always looked a bit frazzled when she got out of bed, but apparently prom had turned her hair into an enormous waterfall of fuzzy clumps between ruler-straight locks.
"Yes, Jeb?" Azkadellia said as calmly as she could with him teetering on the edge from laughing in her face.
"I just wanted to ask if you had a good time," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.
To his surprise, Azkadellia didn't seem even mildly irritated at his amusement. Instead, she smiled brightly. "I had a wonderful time."
She didn't offer any details, and by now Jeb knew not to ask for them. When she did move her hands away from the door, though, Jeb didn't need to be told it was time for a hug. Azkadellia laughed softly into the air above him. "You heard them. Go back to bed."
Jeb nodded, and watched her door close before going back into his own room and curling up in his own bed as a sense of comfort creeped into both of the pink houses, warm and soft and content.
--
There were some days that the residents of the pink house in Baker regretted not installing proper air-conditioning throughout the house and as Kansas' temperatures began to soar come mid-July, the house's residents began to feel the pain of sweating far too much and began to enjoy the leisure of doing absolutely nothing.
"Dad," Jeb mumbled, sticking to the couch and staring up at his father pitifully. Cain had been on his way down to the basement with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses of ice for Ambrose, seeing as Cain had the distinct feeling that Ambrose wasn't keeping himself cool. "Can I move into a freezer?"
"Not unless you bring three coats with you," Cain replied, plucking a single cube of ice from the glass and flicking it at Jeb, who caught it easily and hissed as he applied it to his neck. Immediately after that came the happy moan and Cain took that as his note to leave and unlock the basement door with his spare key, easing down carefully and trying not to fall and break his neck (which might put a damper in his plans). "Ambrose," he called down. "I'm coming in."
"Watch the floor," Ambrose shouted back, even if it sounded a bit strangled. The floor was covered with schematics that were, for once, not related to weaponry. There were pages upon pages of schematics (wiring, strange-looking devices shaped like wedges, and what looked like some sort of twisty statue design) strewn across the floor. Apparently, this was because the rest of the tables were covered in codes.
Ambrose was leaning back in his rolling chair, positioned next to the whiteboard he'd installed. It was even hotter than upstairs in the basement, considering the heat generated from all the gadgets he had going and the fact air didn't move down there. He'd stripped down to his pants and the collared shirt, even if it was mostly unbuttoned.
"It's never been this hot here before, has it?" Ambrose asked. He picked up the marker again and scribbled some more code into the equation on the board, only to frown at it, run a hand through his hair, and immediately erase it.
Cain hissed at the wall of heat that seemed to come down on him immediately when he stepped into the basement and was glad that he'd put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt (which quickly turned into a dour growl as he noticed that Ambrose was wearing way too many clothes for the weather). "It's summer and it's a heat wave and you are being an idiot," Cain didn't even hesitate in his accusation as he stepped carefully down the stairs and avoided any pages. He set the tray down on the nearest surface and thrust a full glass of lemonade at Ambrose. "Drink. That's not an offer, that's a demand."
"Actually, I'm being very brilliant right now," Ambrose muttered, and then scowled at the board. "Mostly." It felt like the heat was swarming straight into his brain and frying everything inside, but weather had never stopped him from working before and he wasn't about to let it stop him now.
Ambrose was tempted to object or argue the lemonade, but he was a little thirsty so he sipped a bit of it, and finally motioned to the only other place to sit, which was more or less a tiny bit of table he'd left bare. Of course, it was bare so he could put more things down, but Cain didn't need to know that.
"So how's the weather outside?" Ambrose asked, half his brain taking care of the social part while the other half ran through equations and codes, trying to figure out all the answers in the heat.
Cain watched Ambrose with great caution and worry, but he perched himself down on the edge of that table, reaching out to tuck a sweaty strand of Ambrose's hair back behind his ear as he settled. "Not as hot as down here, sweetheart," Cain's amused reply came. "Jeb's upstairs. I think he got himself glued to the couch and Azkadellia has been sunning herself for about an hour. I nearly hosed her with sunscreen so she won't burn, don't worry," he added cautiously, hand still on Ambrose's cheek. "How're you doing with the temperature?"
Ambrose sighed, head tilting just a bit into Cain's palm. "I'm as close to fine as I'm going to get," he muttered, and shifted enough to take another sip of the lemonade. "I'm hot, Cain, not suffering from radiation poisoning or something. I'm just very warm."
He took another drink of lemonade - an actual drink this time, not a sip - and then handed the glass back to Cain. "I'll be okay. I just need to finish up here, and then you can shove me into a freezer or whatever would make you happy."
Except freezers produced a lot of extreme heat to work, but he wasn't about to point out the hypocrisy of an invention just about everyone relied on. It served its purpose and did it well, and that was really all that mattered.
Cain took the glass back from Ambrose and set it back behind him on that tray, shifting until he was straddling the corner of the table slightly, shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt just slightly and he reached out again to grasp at his wrist.
Hot summer days might have been the reason for his sudden interest and desire in saying something more, but it seemed Cain had something on the tip of his tongue. "Ambrose, come here. Hold up a minute, okay?" he requested lightly.
"Okay," Ambrose muttered, dimly aware that the heat was getting to him. Really, really getting to him, to the point where it now took his whole mind to pay attention to Cain. Even with that, it seemed like keeping up was hard.
It also seemed like the room was a bit twirly.
Cain's fingers brushed Ambrose's pulse and it worried him because it didn't seem so hot (he had to chortle quietly at his own little pun) and he nudged Ambrose in between his legs, bare knees brushing the fabric of his shirt. Cain reached his fingers up to toy with those unbuttoned edges and smooth them out there, just lapping up the silence all around them and not seeming to go anywhere with that.
He considered saying 'nothing, go back to your work', but he couldn't even manage to get that out. So instead, he just stared at Ambrose while he worked up the courage.
Ambrose stared right back. Staring seemed like it was the only way he could even keep Cain's face in focus. He was almost tempted to ask if Cain had spiked the lemonade, but he had more important things on his mind, like the thought that his head was going to catch on fire and he was going to fall out of his chair.
"Ambrose," Cain finally started with a deep inhalation to get him ready for this. "I know you and I are here on a mission and a task and you're definitely taking that to heart, looking at this place," he said, eyes scanning the general layout of the lab before returning his attention to the man himself. "But I'd like to tell you something if that's okay, being that we've both come a long way."
Cain cleared his throat, hand still around Ambrose's wrist and he moved it back to the hair, fingerpads touching sweat and reminding him that Ambrose needed to cool down soon.
"Ambrose," he said again, the name grounding him. "Ambrose, I love you."
Ambrose was staring at his mouth. Cain had said something. It looked like it had probably been important, too.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" was what he tried to say. Instead he got out a whiny "muhwee" noise, and then it was like someone had closed fuzzy black blinds slowly over his eyes since he couldn't see.
Ambrose passed out, and started slipping right out of his chair.
Cain immediately swore under his breath and shot right from his resting position to wrap his arms tightly around Ambrose's waist and steady him, resting his forehead to Ambrose's as he tried to keep him vertical and snapped out about three different kinds of profanity as he held on tighter than before. "Ambrose," he bit out angrily and shifted him, wrapping his arms snugly around him as he picked him up into a fireman's carry and brought him slowly out to the little pink house.
Jeb might have grunted at him along the way, but Cain thought it was more of a sleepy gurgle in the midst of his nap.
Eventually, Cain got Ambrose into the house and on the bed, sighing as he laid him on his back and started to slowly unbutton his shirt and yank his pants off, muttering as he did. "Can't possibly wear weather-appropriate clothes...gods damned stubborn...of course he isn't conscious to hear..."
Eventually, he had Ambrose good and bare and even had a couple of ice packs, which he was pressing to the back of Ambrose's neck and to his forehead to cool him off as Cain slowly reclined there to keep him company.
"You're an idiot," Cain sighed. "But I still love you for it."
--
It was a windy day, but the walk in the park was surprisingly pleasant. Karen paused and snapped pictures of the landscape every few moments, showing Azkadellia the reason for that particular angle with that particular light. The wind was rustling leaves hard enough to send some of them spinning to the pathway. Azkadellia dodged a leaf in their way, smiling at Karen's strangely apprehensive enthusiasm.
"You're going to be an amazing photographer, Karen," she said. Karen blushed, but smiled back.
Karen was the only friend Azkadellia hadn't planned on, and the only one she hadn't kept around for political reasons. She was simply fun, an intelligent and sweet girl that had a heart of gold and what seemed like a soul of steel. She'd been shy, back in middle school - still was shy, when she was flustered - but she'd grown up and become a friendly force to be reckoned with.
"I don't want to leave you here in Baker, you know," Karen said quietly, using her camera as a barrier between them. She was barely audible over the wind, but Azkadellia was well acquainted with storms. "You can't get too wrapped up in politics, Az. You need to make friends and find people who'll take care of you."
Azkadellia laughed. "I have plenty of people watching out for me, Karen, don't worry."
"But I have to worry. I can't help it," Karen sighed. "We looked out for each other. When I'm gone, I don't want you to..."
Azkadellia stopped walking, and put a hand on Karen's shoulder. She blushed, but Azkadellia ignored it, hand resting soft and careful on her friend's neck. "Karen, you're my best friend. I'm not going to replace you just because you think it'd make me happy."
"You should be happy, though," Karen practically whispered. Another gust of wind shot past them, and Azkadellia's long hair was riding the breeze for a moment, rippling dark and strong against the air. Karen swallowed. "I've always cared about you."
Azkadellia smiled, and leaned down to press her forehead against Karen's. "I know."
Karen let out a sigh. "But you don't."
She laughed softly, and moved aside to sit on a nearby bench, looking as composed as ever. "My uncle knows, too." When Karen's blush turned lobster, Azkadellia shook her head. "It's okay, Karen. I don't know why you never told me, but it's okay."
Karen's entire soul seemed to droop, her camera held limply in her hands as she looked at Azkadellia. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd never say yes." They could both hear the unspoken because you never say yes. Karen was far too good a friend to say that, too kind and too foolishly in love to even think of hurting Azkadellia like that.
Foolishly, hopelessly in love with the girl smiling and completely accepting of her while her hair was being assaulted by the storm on its way.
She swung the camera up and took a picture of Azkadellia, and then another and another as her eyes widened. Azkadellia hadn't ever wanted her picture taken, even when she'd been front-page news for the high school paper almost every month.
Before Azkadellia could demand an explanation, the words were rushing out of Karen's mouth. "They're just for me. Just me, Az, I swear. You know I'd never hurt you, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I'm too stupidly in love with you, just let me-"
"Okay."
Karen blinked, trying not to be shocked by the quiet acquiescence. Azkadellia looked slightly miserable, eyes on the ground.
"I'm sorry, Karen," Azkadellia said, the words so soft that they burned.
It took Karen a while to muster up a smile, but she did. "Don't be sorry, Az. You're honest with me. It's one of my favorite things about you." She cleared her throat, telling herself it was the wind that had her eyes so red and smarting. "Now come on. I want to get some people-watching in, okay?"
Azkadellia smiled and nodded. "People are always interesting."
And that was the end of it. It was if the conversation had never happened, like there weren't five images of Azkadellia on a park bench sitting in Karen's camera.
Karen nodded, heading towards the busier parts of the park. "Let's go try and figure them out."
--
Cain had been wary of Ambrose's health ever since he'd gone and passed out on him in the heat of the basement. It almost seemed like the gods above were also worried, being that they were pounding down cold rain on them in buckets. He'd sent Ambrose ahead of him to the house to get some rest and he was just finishing up in the little pink house, ready to join Ambrose in the main house for the night (his roof kept leaking and he hadn't had the time to fix it, what with the elections coming up again).
He was wearing only a white t-shirt and sweats as he crossed the house, jiggling with the door furiously to try and get it to loosen and come open, cursing the old architecture of the house, but it soon became clear that the lock had jammed, again. Azkadellia was out until later and he didn't want Jeb to go and blast it open with an explosive, so Cain staggered back out in the pouring rain, picking up pebbles and stones and pelting them at the bedroom window. "Ambrose!" he shouted.
Gods, it was freezing. Cain was shivering in no time and he kept throwing them, harder and harder.
"Ambrose, come on! OPEN THE WINDOW!"
It took the window nearly breaking from the force of one of those not-so-little pebbles smashing into his window for Ambrose to stumble over and open it up, ducking just in case another rock came flying towards him.
Ambrose looked down into the rain and stared at Cain for a moment. "What are you doing?! Get inside, it has to be freezing out there!"
"No, is it really?" Cain sarcastically snapped back at him, staring up at Ambrose and rubbing soaked hands up and down his arms to try and keep the warmth in. He opened his mouth to tell him to get the door open, to ask him to unjam it, but he stopped.
For some reason, he just stopped.
In that time, he stared up at Ambrose and his eyes roamed over him, the way he was backlit by the light in the room and he remembered the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones that had been ever since the day in the lab. All that time standing there, he didn't realize how long he was spending in the freezing rain. "Ambrose," he said, voice shaking just the slightest amount.
Ambrose held up a hand, restraining a scowl (why didn't Cain just come inside?), and moved away from the window. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and went back, tossing it towards Cain. It wouldn't help much, but it could help at least a little.
"Okay," Ambrose shouted down at him. "What can't you wait two minutes to tell me?"
The blanket floated down and Cain grasped it, wrapping it around himself tightly as he shivered and managed to stare up through the pounding rain, grinning stupidly because he knew. He might have thought it before, but now he knew inside and out. "The door is j-jammed," he got out, teeth chattering slightly. "And Ambrose!" he shouted out, voice booming and actually for once not caring if anyone was around.
If they ever asked, he'd attribute it to a feverish and hallucinatory state.
"I love you," he called up to him, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, even if it was fully wet by now, too.
Ambrose stared down at Cain for a long while. He finally ended up giving Cain a very confused look, because there was no way he'd heard that right. Nobody shouted 'I love you' up to people in the rain like some movie. Admittedly, Cain wasn't in the rain of his own free will, but still.
"I'm going to go get the door," Ambrose finally shouted down, figuring he could just ask what Cain had actually said when he got the sopping man inside. "I don't think I can hear you, and you've got to get out of that storm."
Cain let out a curse or five as he stormed under the porch and tugged the blanket tighter. It did absolutely nothing because it was still completely wet, but at least he'd said it and this time, Ambrose hadn't even passed out.
That was progress of a sort, wasn't it?
It took a couple firm yanks to get the door to open, and they were hard enough that Ambrose ended up nearly falling backwards when the thing finally swung inwards. He blamed his socks and hardwood flooring for that, but it also let him practically skate back over to the dry towel he had on the counter and present it to Cain with a frown, taking in how absolutely soaked the other man was.
"We might need to borrow Az's blowdryer," Ambrose said. He was also tempted to tell Cain to take a tumble in the dryer for a few minutes, but Cain didn't look like he was in a particularly joking mood.
Cain took the towel and wrapped it around himself, just tight enough to get his hair and ears warmer than they were a minute ago before he crossed the distance between them, grabbed Ambrose by his shirt and yanked him into a tight kiss, soaking the front of Ambrose with cold rainwater and barely caring.
He did have to wind up easing back and breaking the kiss when he was shivering and chattering too much for his own good. "I love you. Stupidly so, because you're stubborn, and an idiot, and occasionally too smart for his own good and you really can be fairly sadistic with m-me," he chattered, rubbing the towel up and down his arms. "And you give my son weapons and torture me occasionally with your..." He gestured to him. "Ah screw it, I love you anyway."
Ambrose stared at him, trying to figure out what the appropriate response was. He knew it sure as hell wasn't staring at the man like he'd been shot, though, so Ambrose's mind screamed and flailed to find the correct course of action. Reciprocate? Say thank you? Why did Cain love him anyway? It wasn't a particularly intelligent course of action to take, all things considered. He didn't know what to say or what he was supposed to even feel. There wasn't a correct response, there was no protocol or process to follow, and he floundered trying to find something.
While Ambrose's mind burned away at figuring out what to do, his body had moved forward and kissed Cain again, deep and deliberate as a hand clenched in the soggy material that was passing for a shirt.
Cain's hands struggled and eventually grasped at Ambrose's shoulders to hold on tight and firm, a vice-grip as he pressed up against the man and let one hand release to drift into his hair.
Until he had to pull away and sneeze loudly, a bray of a sound and he coughed slightly, tugging the towel tighter around himself. "Least you didn't pass out this time, huh," he mumbled, sounding a bit wet and cold and miserable.
Ambrose frowned. "This time?" And what'd he mean, least? He'd done something wrong, hadn't he. Ambrose shook his head. Of course he did - Cain actually knew what he was doing; he'd done it before. But there were more important things. Sort of. Maybe. Yes, it was more important. "You need to warm up. And you're dripping on the floor."
Cain was rubbing at his nose with tissues as he shook the towel through his hair again, trying to get rid of stray droplets of water. He was still looking less than up to par and stared at Ambrose with bleary eyes. "In your lab. I brought you lemonade and you had the good sense to pass out on me," he said, a heavy amount of sarcasm in his tone. He started to trudge up the stairs before he could be yelled at again for dripping anywhere. "We're staying in your room tonight," he mumbled as another sneeze caught him mid-step and he nearly slammed against the wall with the force of it.
Ambrose winced. "Can you even make it up the stairs?" he asked. The mental image of Cain sneezing and tumbling down the stairs to his death seemed far too probable for his tastes. He cleared his throat. "And I'm sorry I passed out on you." Gods. This was bizarre, and Ambrose honestly couldn't say why.
Cain just nodded wearily and swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he mumbled heavily. "Yeah, I can get up here." And now that he had said it, he was absolutely determined to do it, conquering every step like a country and eventually tumbling into Ambrose's room, grasping the clothes he kept up there and stripping off the wet gear and changing into a pair of flannels, eyeing the bed with a heavy degree of envy.
Ambrose shook his head and pointed at the bed, giving Cain a bland look. "You need to warm up." And since there was a conspicuously absent blanket thanks to it being a sopping mess downstairs, he went and retrieved another, throwing it on top of the bed. He considered going to get another, but decided that was enough for now, at least.
"Flannel's warm as I get," Cain protested, nose slightly stuffed up as he crawled in past the covers, groaning lightly as he accustomed to the warmth and buried himself under layers of sheets and the blanket that Ambrose had brought to the bed.
His eyes were closed, but it felt like a weight was off his chest, having said what he needed to say.
Ambrose climbed into the other side of the bed and tried to not stare at Cain, because Cain apparently loved him and that was definitely something that left Ambrose more than ready to stare at Cain for a good long while. He ended up debating whether or not he should get back out of bed and go mop up downstairs, but instead gave up and turned just enough to put his face towards the other wall.
Ambrose shut his eyes, and breathed. "Thank you."
Cain nearly lumped himself onto Ambrose when he was joined in bed, arm going over his waist while he rearranged the blankets and tried to make it the most comfortable it could be. Cain was already feeling the worst of something coming on, but he just sniffled quietly and closed his eyes.
He knew he was always jumping ahead first. First to kiss, first to want, first to date, first to love, but he felt like there was nothing stopping him anyhow.
"Don't mention it," Cain mumbled tiredly, feeling bone-weary suddenly and still cold and exhausted. "Brose? If you could have soup and medicine in the morning, that'd be good." That was all he said before he started to slip away into a heavy, snoring sleep.
"What, I'm your slave now?" Ambrose muttered, but Cain was already gone. And apparently he was Brose now, too. He shook his head again, trying to not like the idea of having a nickname.
Ambrose sighed. Nickname or not, Cain's own dumb fault or not, there'd be soup and medicine waiting for Cain when he woke up.
tbc
Azkadellia's Okay, Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
Note: this is the second of two posts! First can be found here!
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
Cont'd...
Cain just watched for another few moments and only moved forward when the gym lights were powered back on to signify that kids should find their ways to whatever the next stop was.
Of course, Nancy got there first. "Ambrose!" she said breathlessly, darting right out in front of him. "Hi! Sorry about that, I got pulled away," she laughed, a nervous guffaw. "You know how it can be. Anyway, we were hoping you might want to come back to my parents' place? You could maybe read some of our books in the library or we could dance some more...?"
Ambrose was polite, not stupid. He was reaching the point where even politeness was becoming unbearable. Nancy was young, yes, but there was only so much he could cope with. "I have to take Azkadellia home," he said flatly, hoping she'd get the hint and leave him alone finally.
The hint clearly flew right over her fluffy blonde head. "Well what about afterwards?" She was leaning closer to him, to an angle that Ambrose had to wonder if she was going to fall down. Another couple inches and it was either grab her or watch her hit the floor, and she was giggling as soon as he touched her. "My parents sleep like the dead, you know."
"This must be the drunk thing he was talking about," Ambrose grumbled, looking around for somewhere to drop the girl so she could hopefully sober up a little before going home.
Nancy's giggling got even louder, and Ambrose was too busy looking around for a nice empty corner not full of amorous teenagers or sobbing exes or wallflowers to even avoid her when she apparently decided it'd be a good idea to try and slip a hand down the back of his pants.
"GAH!" Ambrose yelped, jerking away as well as he could, but Nancy was firmly attached to him like her dress was some kind of taffeta octopus.
Cain chose that moment to intervene, prying her hand away gently and wrapping one arm around her back. "Nancy," he greeted politely. "How about we take you back over to the refreshments table and get you some water, okay?" he guided. He'd seen Azkadellia's group more often what with his routine attendance at the school to check on her and should have warned Ambrose before he left, but some things just slipped the mind.
"Hiya, Mr. Cain," she said, looking a bit dazed. "Are you here for the party?"
"Looks like it's breaking up, kid," he said, nodding to the bartender. "Nancy here is going to have a good and tall glass of water," he indicated, glancing around and nabbing down Patricia. "Hey, Patsy," he said with a smile. "Mind watching Nancy and helping her get to the after-party? I have to take Az and Ambrose home."
"She's not coming?"
"She's got an appointment in the morning," Cain smoothly lied, but it was better than telling Patricia that no, Azkadellia was not going because Cain and Ambrose didn't trust her to not be killed by a wayward assassin. "She'll send her best and have a great time, okay? Just don't show me the pictures." With that done, he slid away to approach Azkadellia and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. "You were incredible up there," he quietly said. "I'm real proud of you."
Azkadellia flushed and Karen seemed to take a step back, as if to give them privacy.
"Thank you for letting me come," she said, smiling at him. "Both of you. It meant a lot to me."
Ambrose smiled back, trying to convince himself that he wasn't using Cain and Azkadellia as a barrier between him and Nancy, who was slightly slumped over her glass of water. "It was my pleasure," Ambrose lied good-naturedly. At least they'd only have to deal with one prom, and now that it was over they could simply put the experience behind them. At least until Jeb went to prom. He barely restrained a wince.
She smiled lightly at Cain, and quickly walked over to speak with Karen, who received an actual hug from Azkadellia before she returned. She lifted one elegant hand up to rest it on Cain's arm, and smiled. "I'm ready to go when you are."
Cain gestured with his chin, digging out his keys and keeping one eye on Ambrose, trying to hide his bemused reaction. He couldn't very well touch him or do anything else while they were in public, so he kept it all very low-key and muted as he loaded them all up in the truck.
The drive home was short and Azkadellia seemed to spend most of it dismantling all her weapons and Cain made sure to avoid looking in the mirror while that dress was showing flashes of skin.
"Ambrose," Cain teased once they were in the truck and pulling into the driveway, his eyes still on the road. "I can't leave you alone for a couple hours before you start getting hit on by impressionable youths." He put the truck in park and leaned over the gearshift to cup his cheek and kiss him lightly, easing back to offer an inviting little raise of his brow. He glanced to the backseat. "You okay, Princess?"
"Just sleepy," she admitted, head resting back against the seat and staring at them tiredly. "It's strange to be here on the pivotal point of my life and not know what comes next."
"Bed," Cain advised with a nod. "C'mon. And tell Jeb to get back into bed." He didn't even need to go inside to know that the boy would be hovering and waiting for their return.
Azkadellia nodded simply, already pulling out hairpins as she walked up the stairs, knives held almost disturbingly naturally in her other hand. There was a hushed conversation between the children that they couldn't hear, but since it ended up with Jeb's bedroom door shutting, the topic wasn't very mysterious.
Ambrose let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I thought college students were bad enough. Now I can't wait for her to go," he said, still irritated. He frowned at Cain. "I am not going to Jeb's prom. You can't make me."
Cain just let out a quiet and hushed laugh at the vehemence, wrapping his arm around Ambrose's waist and tugging him closer once they were in the privacy of their own home and he eased their bodies into a boxed-position, perfect for dancing. "I'll go to Jeb's. Attend as a parental volunteer," he said quietly, coaxing Ambrose's head to rest on his shoulder. "So, your place or mine tonight?" he asked as he brought them into a slow, musicless sway.
If they couldn't have their proper dancing, they could at least make the best of it.
"Yours." Even without music, Ambrose found himself with a tempo in his head and his feet moved along with it, rocking slightly. He smiled against Cain's shoulder, the irritation fading into amusement as he thought about the night. "According to Nancy, this is a type of dance only seen in America. Looks like you're going native," he said.
"After nearly six annuals, Ambrose," Cain began, tugging at his hand and threading their fingers together, "I think I'm allowed." Besides, with another election coming up in the Sheriff's office and with Azkadellia graduating, they were starting a whole new chapter of their lives.
He wrapped his arm tighter around Ambrose's waist. "Come on, let's go to the house, see if we can't try a funner dance, huh?"
Ambrose wasn't sure if six annuals was far too short or far too long, but either way it seemed the wrong amount of time. Sometimes it felt like he'd been Professor Brown for his whole life, while at others it felt like they'd landed just a couple days ago.
Ambrose grinned at Cain and was more than happy to start moving towards the door. "What, like Lindy Hop?" he asked as innocently as he could manage, which wasn't particularly innocent.
Cain didn't even bother to reply to that with words and gave Ambrose's hand a sharper tug as he pulled him along to the back door, easing his lips next to Ambrose's ear to whisper just what he intended to do to him as soon as they go to the little pink house.
Upstairs, Jeb waited until he heard his father and Ambrose shut the door behind them, and then quietly knocked on Azkadellia's door. When she answered, he couldn't help but laugh a bit. She always looked a bit frazzled when she got out of bed, but apparently prom had turned her hair into an enormous waterfall of fuzzy clumps between ruler-straight locks.
"Yes, Jeb?" Azkadellia said as calmly as she could with him teetering on the edge from laughing in her face.
"I just wanted to ask if you had a good time," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.
To his surprise, Azkadellia didn't seem even mildly irritated at his amusement. Instead, she smiled brightly. "I had a wonderful time."
She didn't offer any details, and by now Jeb knew not to ask for them. When she did move her hands away from the door, though, Jeb didn't need to be told it was time for a hug. Azkadellia laughed softly into the air above him. "You heard them. Go back to bed."
Jeb nodded, and watched her door close before going back into his own room and curling up in his own bed as a sense of comfort creeped into both of the pink houses, warm and soft and content.
--
There were some days that the residents of the pink house in Baker regretted not installing proper air-conditioning throughout the house and as Kansas' temperatures began to soar come mid-July, the house's residents began to feel the pain of sweating far too much and began to enjoy the leisure of doing absolutely nothing.
"Dad," Jeb mumbled, sticking to the couch and staring up at his father pitifully. Cain had been on his way down to the basement with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses of ice for Ambrose, seeing as Cain had the distinct feeling that Ambrose wasn't keeping himself cool. "Can I move into a freezer?"
"Not unless you bring three coats with you," Cain replied, plucking a single cube of ice from the glass and flicking it at Jeb, who caught it easily and hissed as he applied it to his neck. Immediately after that came the happy moan and Cain took that as his note to leave and unlock the basement door with his spare key, easing down carefully and trying not to fall and break his neck (which might put a damper in his plans). "Ambrose," he called down. "I'm coming in."
"Watch the floor," Ambrose shouted back, even if it sounded a bit strangled. The floor was covered with schematics that were, for once, not related to weaponry. There were pages upon pages of schematics (wiring, strange-looking devices shaped like wedges, and what looked like some sort of twisty statue design) strewn across the floor. Apparently, this was because the rest of the tables were covered in codes.
Ambrose was leaning back in his rolling chair, positioned next to the whiteboard he'd installed. It was even hotter than upstairs in the basement, considering the heat generated from all the gadgets he had going and the fact air didn't move down there. He'd stripped down to his pants and the collared shirt, even if it was mostly unbuttoned.
"It's never been this hot here before, has it?" Ambrose asked. He picked up the marker again and scribbled some more code into the equation on the board, only to frown at it, run a hand through his hair, and immediately erase it.
Cain hissed at the wall of heat that seemed to come down on him immediately when he stepped into the basement and was glad that he'd put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt (which quickly turned into a dour growl as he noticed that Ambrose was wearing way too many clothes for the weather). "It's summer and it's a heat wave and you are being an idiot," Cain didn't even hesitate in his accusation as he stepped carefully down the stairs and avoided any pages. He set the tray down on the nearest surface and thrust a full glass of lemonade at Ambrose. "Drink. That's not an offer, that's a demand."
"Actually, I'm being very brilliant right now," Ambrose muttered, and then scowled at the board. "Mostly." It felt like the heat was swarming straight into his brain and frying everything inside, but weather had never stopped him from working before and he wasn't about to let it stop him now.
Ambrose was tempted to object or argue the lemonade, but he was a little thirsty so he sipped a bit of it, and finally motioned to the only other place to sit, which was more or less a tiny bit of table he'd left bare. Of course, it was bare so he could put more things down, but Cain didn't need to know that.
"So how's the weather outside?" Ambrose asked, half his brain taking care of the social part while the other half ran through equations and codes, trying to figure out all the answers in the heat.
Cain watched Ambrose with great caution and worry, but he perched himself down on the edge of that table, reaching out to tuck a sweaty strand of Ambrose's hair back behind his ear as he settled. "Not as hot as down here, sweetheart," Cain's amused reply came. "Jeb's upstairs. I think he got himself glued to the couch and Azkadellia has been sunning herself for about an hour. I nearly hosed her with sunscreen so she won't burn, don't worry," he added cautiously, hand still on Ambrose's cheek. "How're you doing with the temperature?"
Ambrose sighed, head tilting just a bit into Cain's palm. "I'm as close to fine as I'm going to get," he muttered, and shifted enough to take another sip of the lemonade. "I'm hot, Cain, not suffering from radiation poisoning or something. I'm just very warm."
He took another drink of lemonade - an actual drink this time, not a sip - and then handed the glass back to Cain. "I'll be okay. I just need to finish up here, and then you can shove me into a freezer or whatever would make you happy."
Except freezers produced a lot of extreme heat to work, but he wasn't about to point out the hypocrisy of an invention just about everyone relied on. It served its purpose and did it well, and that was really all that mattered.
Cain took the glass back from Ambrose and set it back behind him on that tray, shifting until he was straddling the corner of the table slightly, shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt just slightly and he reached out again to grasp at his wrist.
Hot summer days might have been the reason for his sudden interest and desire in saying something more, but it seemed Cain had something on the tip of his tongue. "Ambrose, come here. Hold up a minute, okay?" he requested lightly.
"Okay," Ambrose muttered, dimly aware that the heat was getting to him. Really, really getting to him, to the point where it now took his whole mind to pay attention to Cain. Even with that, it seemed like keeping up was hard.
It also seemed like the room was a bit twirly.
Cain's fingers brushed Ambrose's pulse and it worried him because it didn't seem so hot (he had to chortle quietly at his own little pun) and he nudged Ambrose in between his legs, bare knees brushing the fabric of his shirt. Cain reached his fingers up to toy with those unbuttoned edges and smooth them out there, just lapping up the silence all around them and not seeming to go anywhere with that.
He considered saying 'nothing, go back to your work', but he couldn't even manage to get that out. So instead, he just stared at Ambrose while he worked up the courage.
Ambrose stared right back. Staring seemed like it was the only way he could even keep Cain's face in focus. He was almost tempted to ask if Cain had spiked the lemonade, but he had more important things on his mind, like the thought that his head was going to catch on fire and he was going to fall out of his chair.
"Ambrose," Cain finally started with a deep inhalation to get him ready for this. "I know you and I are here on a mission and a task and you're definitely taking that to heart, looking at this place," he said, eyes scanning the general layout of the lab before returning his attention to the man himself. "But I'd like to tell you something if that's okay, being that we've both come a long way."
Cain cleared his throat, hand still around Ambrose's wrist and he moved it back to the hair, fingerpads touching sweat and reminding him that Ambrose needed to cool down soon.
"Ambrose," he said again, the name grounding him. "Ambrose, I love you."
Ambrose was staring at his mouth. Cain had said something. It looked like it had probably been important, too.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" was what he tried to say. Instead he got out a whiny "muhwee" noise, and then it was like someone had closed fuzzy black blinds slowly over his eyes since he couldn't see.
Ambrose passed out, and started slipping right out of his chair.
Cain immediately swore under his breath and shot right from his resting position to wrap his arms tightly around Ambrose's waist and steady him, resting his forehead to Ambrose's as he tried to keep him vertical and snapped out about three different kinds of profanity as he held on tighter than before. "Ambrose," he bit out angrily and shifted him, wrapping his arms snugly around him as he picked him up into a fireman's carry and brought him slowly out to the little pink house.
Jeb might have grunted at him along the way, but Cain thought it was more of a sleepy gurgle in the midst of his nap.
Eventually, Cain got Ambrose into the house and on the bed, sighing as he laid him on his back and started to slowly unbutton his shirt and yank his pants off, muttering as he did. "Can't possibly wear weather-appropriate clothes...gods damned stubborn...of course he isn't conscious to hear..."
Eventually, he had Ambrose good and bare and even had a couple of ice packs, which he was pressing to the back of Ambrose's neck and to his forehead to cool him off as Cain slowly reclined there to keep him company.
"You're an idiot," Cain sighed. "But I still love you for it."
--
It was a windy day, but the walk in the park was surprisingly pleasant. Karen paused and snapped pictures of the landscape every few moments, showing Azkadellia the reason for that particular angle with that particular light. The wind was rustling leaves hard enough to send some of them spinning to the pathway. Azkadellia dodged a leaf in their way, smiling at Karen's strangely apprehensive enthusiasm.
"You're going to be an amazing photographer, Karen," she said. Karen blushed, but smiled back.
Karen was the only friend Azkadellia hadn't planned on, and the only one she hadn't kept around for political reasons. She was simply fun, an intelligent and sweet girl that had a heart of gold and what seemed like a soul of steel. She'd been shy, back in middle school - still was shy, when she was flustered - but she'd grown up and become a friendly force to be reckoned with.
"I don't want to leave you here in Baker, you know," Karen said quietly, using her camera as a barrier between them. She was barely audible over the wind, but Azkadellia was well acquainted with storms. "You can't get too wrapped up in politics, Az. You need to make friends and find people who'll take care of you."
Azkadellia laughed. "I have plenty of people watching out for me, Karen, don't worry."
"But I have to worry. I can't help it," Karen sighed. "We looked out for each other. When I'm gone, I don't want you to..."
Azkadellia stopped walking, and put a hand on Karen's shoulder. She blushed, but Azkadellia ignored it, hand resting soft and careful on her friend's neck. "Karen, you're my best friend. I'm not going to replace you just because you think it'd make me happy."
"You should be happy, though," Karen practically whispered. Another gust of wind shot past them, and Azkadellia's long hair was riding the breeze for a moment, rippling dark and strong against the air. Karen swallowed. "I've always cared about you."
Azkadellia smiled, and leaned down to press her forehead against Karen's. "I know."
Karen let out a sigh. "But you don't."
She laughed softly, and moved aside to sit on a nearby bench, looking as composed as ever. "My uncle knows, too." When Karen's blush turned lobster, Azkadellia shook her head. "It's okay, Karen. I don't know why you never told me, but it's okay."
Karen's entire soul seemed to droop, her camera held limply in her hands as she looked at Azkadellia. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd never say yes." They could both hear the unspoken because you never say yes. Karen was far too good a friend to say that, too kind and too foolishly in love to even think of hurting Azkadellia like that.
Foolishly, hopelessly in love with the girl smiling and completely accepting of her while her hair was being assaulted by the storm on its way.
She swung the camera up and took a picture of Azkadellia, and then another and another as her eyes widened. Azkadellia hadn't ever wanted her picture taken, even when she'd been front-page news for the high school paper almost every month.
Before Azkadellia could demand an explanation, the words were rushing out of Karen's mouth. "They're just for me. Just me, Az, I swear. You know I'd never hurt you, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I'm too stupidly in love with you, just let me-"
"Okay."
Karen blinked, trying not to be shocked by the quiet acquiescence. Azkadellia looked slightly miserable, eyes on the ground.
"I'm sorry, Karen," Azkadellia said, the words so soft that they burned.
It took Karen a while to muster up a smile, but she did. "Don't be sorry, Az. You're honest with me. It's one of my favorite things about you." She cleared her throat, telling herself it was the wind that had her eyes so red and smarting. "Now come on. I want to get some people-watching in, okay?"
Azkadellia smiled and nodded. "People are always interesting."
And that was the end of it. It was if the conversation had never happened, like there weren't five images of Azkadellia on a park bench sitting in Karen's camera.
Karen nodded, heading towards the busier parts of the park. "Let's go try and figure them out."
--
Cain had been wary of Ambrose's health ever since he'd gone and passed out on him in the heat of the basement. It almost seemed like the gods above were also worried, being that they were pounding down cold rain on them in buckets. He'd sent Ambrose ahead of him to the house to get some rest and he was just finishing up in the little pink house, ready to join Ambrose in the main house for the night (his roof kept leaking and he hadn't had the time to fix it, what with the elections coming up again).
He was wearing only a white t-shirt and sweats as he crossed the house, jiggling with the door furiously to try and get it to loosen and come open, cursing the old architecture of the house, but it soon became clear that the lock had jammed, again. Azkadellia was out until later and he didn't want Jeb to go and blast it open with an explosive, so Cain staggered back out in the pouring rain, picking up pebbles and stones and pelting them at the bedroom window. "Ambrose!" he shouted.
Gods, it was freezing. Cain was shivering in no time and he kept throwing them, harder and harder.
"Ambrose, come on! OPEN THE WINDOW!"
It took the window nearly breaking from the force of one of those not-so-little pebbles smashing into his window for Ambrose to stumble over and open it up, ducking just in case another rock came flying towards him.
Ambrose looked down into the rain and stared at Cain for a moment. "What are you doing?! Get inside, it has to be freezing out there!"
"No, is it really?" Cain sarcastically snapped back at him, staring up at Ambrose and rubbing soaked hands up and down his arms to try and keep the warmth in. He opened his mouth to tell him to get the door open, to ask him to unjam it, but he stopped.
For some reason, he just stopped.
In that time, he stared up at Ambrose and his eyes roamed over him, the way he was backlit by the light in the room and he remembered the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones that had been ever since the day in the lab. All that time standing there, he didn't realize how long he was spending in the freezing rain. "Ambrose," he said, voice shaking just the slightest amount.
Ambrose held up a hand, restraining a scowl (why didn't Cain just come inside?), and moved away from the window. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and went back, tossing it towards Cain. It wouldn't help much, but it could help at least a little.
"Okay," Ambrose shouted down at him. "What can't you wait two minutes to tell me?"
The blanket floated down and Cain grasped it, wrapping it around himself tightly as he shivered and managed to stare up through the pounding rain, grinning stupidly because he knew. He might have thought it before, but now he knew inside and out. "The door is j-jammed," he got out, teeth chattering slightly. "And Ambrose!" he shouted out, voice booming and actually for once not caring if anyone was around.
If they ever asked, he'd attribute it to a feverish and hallucinatory state.
"I love you," he called up to him, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself, even if it was fully wet by now, too.
Ambrose stared down at Cain for a long while. He finally ended up giving Cain a very confused look, because there was no way he'd heard that right. Nobody shouted 'I love you' up to people in the rain like some movie. Admittedly, Cain wasn't in the rain of his own free will, but still.
"I'm going to go get the door," Ambrose finally shouted down, figuring he could just ask what Cain had actually said when he got the sopping man inside. "I don't think I can hear you, and you've got to get out of that storm."
Cain let out a curse or five as he stormed under the porch and tugged the blanket tighter. It did absolutely nothing because it was still completely wet, but at least he'd said it and this time, Ambrose hadn't even passed out.
That was progress of a sort, wasn't it?
It took a couple firm yanks to get the door to open, and they were hard enough that Ambrose ended up nearly falling backwards when the thing finally swung inwards. He blamed his socks and hardwood flooring for that, but it also let him practically skate back over to the dry towel he had on the counter and present it to Cain with a frown, taking in how absolutely soaked the other man was.
"We might need to borrow Az's blowdryer," Ambrose said. He was also tempted to tell Cain to take a tumble in the dryer for a few minutes, but Cain didn't look like he was in a particularly joking mood.
Cain took the towel and wrapped it around himself, just tight enough to get his hair and ears warmer than they were a minute ago before he crossed the distance between them, grabbed Ambrose by his shirt and yanked him into a tight kiss, soaking the front of Ambrose with cold rainwater and barely caring.
He did have to wind up easing back and breaking the kiss when he was shivering and chattering too much for his own good. "I love you. Stupidly so, because you're stubborn, and an idiot, and occasionally too smart for his own good and you really can be fairly sadistic with m-me," he chattered, rubbing the towel up and down his arms. "And you give my son weapons and torture me occasionally with your..." He gestured to him. "Ah screw it, I love you anyway."
Ambrose stared at him, trying to figure out what the appropriate response was. He knew it sure as hell wasn't staring at the man like he'd been shot, though, so Ambrose's mind screamed and flailed to find the correct course of action. Reciprocate? Say thank you? Why did Cain love him anyway? It wasn't a particularly intelligent course of action to take, all things considered. He didn't know what to say or what he was supposed to even feel. There wasn't a correct response, there was no protocol or process to follow, and he floundered trying to find something.
While Ambrose's mind burned away at figuring out what to do, his body had moved forward and kissed Cain again, deep and deliberate as a hand clenched in the soggy material that was passing for a shirt.
Cain's hands struggled and eventually grasped at Ambrose's shoulders to hold on tight and firm, a vice-grip as he pressed up against the man and let one hand release to drift into his hair.
Until he had to pull away and sneeze loudly, a bray of a sound and he coughed slightly, tugging the towel tighter around himself. "Least you didn't pass out this time, huh," he mumbled, sounding a bit wet and cold and miserable.
Ambrose frowned. "This time?" And what'd he mean, least? He'd done something wrong, hadn't he. Ambrose shook his head. Of course he did - Cain actually knew what he was doing; he'd done it before. But there were more important things. Sort of. Maybe. Yes, it was more important. "You need to warm up. And you're dripping on the floor."
Cain was rubbing at his nose with tissues as he shook the towel through his hair again, trying to get rid of stray droplets of water. He was still looking less than up to par and stared at Ambrose with bleary eyes. "In your lab. I brought you lemonade and you had the good sense to pass out on me," he said, a heavy amount of sarcasm in his tone. He started to trudge up the stairs before he could be yelled at again for dripping anywhere. "We're staying in your room tonight," he mumbled as another sneeze caught him mid-step and he nearly slammed against the wall with the force of it.
Ambrose winced. "Can you even make it up the stairs?" he asked. The mental image of Cain sneezing and tumbling down the stairs to his death seemed far too probable for his tastes. He cleared his throat. "And I'm sorry I passed out on you." Gods. This was bizarre, and Ambrose honestly couldn't say why.
Cain just nodded wearily and swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he mumbled heavily. "Yeah, I can get up here." And now that he had said it, he was absolutely determined to do it, conquering every step like a country and eventually tumbling into Ambrose's room, grasping the clothes he kept up there and stripping off the wet gear and changing into a pair of flannels, eyeing the bed with a heavy degree of envy.
Ambrose shook his head and pointed at the bed, giving Cain a bland look. "You need to warm up." And since there was a conspicuously absent blanket thanks to it being a sopping mess downstairs, he went and retrieved another, throwing it on top of the bed. He considered going to get another, but decided that was enough for now, at least.
"Flannel's warm as I get," Cain protested, nose slightly stuffed up as he crawled in past the covers, groaning lightly as he accustomed to the warmth and buried himself under layers of sheets and the blanket that Ambrose had brought to the bed.
His eyes were closed, but it felt like a weight was off his chest, having said what he needed to say.
Ambrose climbed into the other side of the bed and tried to not stare at Cain, because Cain apparently loved him and that was definitely something that left Ambrose more than ready to stare at Cain for a good long while. He ended up debating whether or not he should get back out of bed and go mop up downstairs, but instead gave up and turned just enough to put his face towards the other wall.
Ambrose shut his eyes, and breathed. "Thank you."
Cain nearly lumped himself onto Ambrose when he was joined in bed, arm going over his waist while he rearranged the blankets and tried to make it the most comfortable it could be. Cain was already feeling the worst of something coming on, but he just sniffled quietly and closed his eyes.
He knew he was always jumping ahead first. First to kiss, first to want, first to date, first to love, but he felt like there was nothing stopping him anyhow.
"Don't mention it," Cain mumbled tiredly, feeling bone-weary suddenly and still cold and exhausted. "Brose? If you could have soup and medicine in the morning, that'd be good." That was all he said before he started to slip away into a heavy, snoring sleep.
"What, I'm your slave now?" Ambrose muttered, but Cain was already gone. And apparently he was Brose now, too. He shook his head again, trying to not like the idea of having a nickname.
Ambrose sighed. Nickname or not, Cain's own dumb fault or not, there'd be soup and medicine waiting for Cain when he woke up.
tbc