November 6, 2014

?A piece of you died when he did,? Salvador murmured quietly. ?You?ll never get that piece back.?

?So dere ain? no use in dwellin? on it. ****in? goddamn mundanes. Dat?s what I get fer not listenin?! Hah,? Cane laughed mirthlessly.

?We can?t choose who we love,? Sal sighed.

November 9, 2014

Sleep was quite possibly Canaan?s most favorite thing ever. It usually involved a warm, comfy bed and a warm, comfy body next to him. Sal wasn?t all that warm, but three out of four isn?t so bad. What?s bad is coming out of a dream and not realizing where you are. And for all of two seconds, you?re in a different lifetime.

?Jere,? Cane mumbled, startling awake. He was on his back, arms reaching out to either side as though to catch himself from falling. One hand found the edge of the bed. The other found a body. Relief flooded the Cajun?s system for moment, fingers smoothing over the man?s chest until it all hit him. This wasn?t Mississippi. This body wasn?t warm and it certainly wasn?t Jeremy.

A disappointed sigh rushed out of his lungs and Cane sat up, lifting his hand away from Salvador?s torso to run rub the sleep out of his eyes. Quietly, the Cajun slipped out of Salvador's bed to answer the call of his bladder.

In that moment when the Cajun?s body heat had vacated the bed and the chill of the room settled in around an already cold body, that?s when consciousness hit Salvador like a Mack truck. It was such a sudden change from the deathlike stillness in which he slept. One moment he was just barely breathing. The next he was gasping for air as if he?d just surfaced from drowning.

Dulled yellow eyes, from the previous night?s necessary bleeding for the potion to even work, snapped open. Spine arched away from the mattress beneath him, almost stretching the spikes to the point that when he came back down they could?ve done some damage. But he shoved his numb hands up over his face and hyperventilated into his palms, shaking, until they flattened again. Then he shut his eyes and rolled to his side with a muffled whimper.

Canaan had only barely made it past the door when Sal?s panicked gasps filled the otherwise silent apartment. His own moment of panic shot through his chest as he turned around to dart the few steps back to the bed.

?Sal?!? Watching the man turn over made Cane pause briefly before kneeling on the edge of the mattress. Reaching out a hand hesitantly, the Cajun grasped Salvador?s shoulder.

?Are you ok?? He?d managed to work the emotion out of his voice, speaking softly now in an attempt to calm himself.

Salvador had tucked himself into a fetal position, and was shivering uncontrollably by the time the Cajun reached out to touch skin that in addition to being cold was also now clammy. He twitched. The spikes flexed and rattled at their joints.

For the first several seconds, all Sal did in response was mutter incoherently into his hands. Even had the Cajun grasped enough Spanish at this rate to hold a practical conversation, this **** was far too rapid and broken in sequence to make any sense even to a native speaker.

He was still shaking when he turned to roll toward the Cajun and pretty much crawl into his lap. And he still wasn?t making much sense. ?S?not real. Always seems real,? he was whispering. ?You?re solid. You?re real. I didn?t do it. Ay gracias a Dios.? He clutched and climbed and babbled until he could just shove his face against Cane?s chest and cling to him.

Surprised, Canaan just sat there in stunned silence as Salvador fell apart before his eyes. He spared no thought for the spikes along the man?s spine as he gathered him close, arms tight around his body while Salvador burrowed against his chest. The Cajun?s mouth failed to transfer all the words he wanted to say into sound, they swirled around in his head along with his confusion. Adrenaline made his heart race and his limbs feel jittery.

Canaan continued to try in vain to say something, anything, to soothe the boy but nothing came out. All he could do was press a few fevered kisses to the top of Sal?s head and rub his hands along his back.

?Shhh,? he finally got out, a little lamely. He didn?t want Salvador to be quiet. He wanted to know what the **** was wrong. Cane assumed he?d had a bad dream, but couldn?t be sure and didn?t know how to ask.

Salvador got his arms around the Cajun?s back, pawed and gripped at whatever was available. Shirt or skin, it didn?t matter, so long as he could likewise grip the man fiercely and hold onto him for dear life. He wasn?t so much digging in his nails as his knuckles, though. Trembling was a constant, and in seconds he even squeezed his eyes shut and started to sob.

The spikes were twitchy and the points caught along Cane?s skin here and there, but they didn?t lift high enough for impalement to be an issue. Salvador?s heart was hammering too, from the residue of the fright and the panic he just woke from. ?Lo siento,? the boy hissed a midst the tears. ?I?m sorry, I?m sorry.?

An audible swallow added itself to the sounds in the bedroom. Cane could feel along with hear just how terrified the Spaniard was. It made him want to pull the man even closer, though he was already caught up as tightly as their positions would allow.

?It?s ok,? he choked out before sucking in an unsteady breath. ?Don? be sorry,? he continued after floundering for several moments. ?I?m?? Canaan frowned, still petting whatever bit of Salvador his hands were holding at the moment. ?I?m here, Sal. You?s safe an?... it?s ok.? Useful words failed him.

?Safe.? A whispered echo. Cane might not have felt that his words were useful, but they were. Salvador struggled a little longer on his breathing. Sharp, shuddering breaths came and went. He sniffled a time or two while his heart rate slowed too. ?S?. A salvo. Sano y salvo. T? me mantenga a salvo.?

Cane was able to piece that together enough to understand for the most part. ?Yes,? he assured the Spaniard, shifting to lean his back against the headboard. He pulled Sal back into position on his lap and tipped his head to lay a cheek on the top of his head. Salvador wasn?t good at talking, but Cane didn?t feel it would be beneficial to coax him into speaking until he was ready. Until then he?d just hold him, keep trying to make him feel secure there in his arms.

He moved still somewhat shakily, and fit himself against the Cajun however the man so willed. His grip loosened up from the Warlock?s back, and he settled a hand on his chest instead. ?I?m sorry,? he whispered again. Cane could say ?don?t be? a hundred times and it was still going to be the first thing Salvador said. ?You don?t need this shit from me.? That is to say, dude you?ve got your own problems without having to deal with mine too. He tipped his hand up off Cane?s chest to smother his own face in the palm. If he hadn?t gone and shaved all his hair off, he?d probably be pulling on it.

?Shut up,? Cane said with a lighthearted tone, lips twitching into a half-smile that felt out of place. As Salvador seemed to be coming out of whatever had had him so shaken, Cane?s hold on the man loosened. ?I?? like so many times before now, words failed him. Was he uncomfortable? Yes. Emotion was not something he knew how to handle with much grace, but what could he do? Sal needed him and he?d do what he could. ?Was it, um, is you ok? Was it a nightmare??

Though by now he had quit shivering, the word ?nightmare? alone for some reason or another made him flinch. Salvador turned his face against the Cajun?s chest again and splayed his hand beside it, forehead pressing hard when he nodded. He took a deep breath and then pushed back to sit up and twist away from the man. ?I have them.? He tried to shut down in that moment, play it cool, pretend Cane hadn?t just been subjected to the emotional tidal wave that had just happened.

?So do I,? Cane admitted.

This confession gave Salvador pause.

?I don? normally get woke up like dat, but?? he trailed off, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. ?Don? ah...it?s--it?s ok.? Meaning he shouldn?t be embarrassed. Cane wouldn?t judge. ?You,? the word was drawn out before he paused to clear his throat. ?If ya need ta talk about it, I?m...well, ya know I?m here.? Why was this so hard?

Not so much on the Cajun anymore, the Spaniard had turned his back on the other man and sat hunched forward with his head bowed. He reached for one ankle and then the other to drag and pull his feet up into a cross-legged position, just so he could lean his arms to his legs and bend that much further into himself. He nodded a few times, cleared his throat.

?I don?t?? Really. Why was this so damn hard? ?I?m always--? He was having difficulty even finishing that sentence. ?--killing, in my dreams.? And you?d think that wouldn?t disturb him so much, so even Salvador knew he had to elaborate. ?People I love.? He admitted that so, so very quietly.

Cane was confused and continued to look so until Salvador continued. His mouth opened, but he didn?t say anything yet. Tentatively, he swirled his fingers over one side of Sal?s back, just briefly, then let his hand fall onto the bed. ?How often do ya get ?em??

All the muscles in Salvador?s back tensed, just as briefly as the Cajun touched him, that one shoulder hiking up more than the other. After a deep inhale and long exhale, he relaxed and spilled backward, twisting to put his head on Cane?s lap, sighing, ?Every time.?

?Every time ya sleep?? He sounded alarmed. How did a person live like that? ?****, Salvador. I mean...****.? The Cajun started playing with the Spaniard?s hair, fingernails raking gently but methodically along his scalp.

Two little words that provided some very clear insight into why, perhaps, Salvador was a nutcase.

?Why...I mean, I?m sure not sleepin? fer a whole season is unbearable in an? of itself. But..if it was da only time I didn? dream I was killin? someone I loved. Damn. I can maybe help wit? dis, too, yanno. Dere are spells fer dreamless sleep.?

?No.? There wasn?t even a split second of hesitation on him turning down that offer. ?No spells. All kinds of shit can go wrong if you put magic on me. Miracle enough your potion works at all. It?s fine. I?ll deal with it. I always deal with it.? Cane?s fingernails raking along his scalp were also doing wonders soothing him. He closed his eyes.

?Okay.? He nodded a few times, looking down at Salvador. ?Okay.? He might not have been able to say the words right then, but Canaan didn?t think voicing them was necessary. He?d be there for Sal to help however possible. Right now that was by simply being there. He wasn?t going anywhere.

Salvador sucked in a sharp breath and opened his eyes, twitching for all of a second. He rolled and unwound from himself to lay on his back, head still on the Cajun?s lap but face turned up so he could stare at the ceiling now. He bent one leg up to prop his foot flat on the mattress and let the other fall aside so that his foot rested against his ankle. Better than letting his legs hang off the side of the bed at the moment.

?If you want to back go sleep you can.? Without a potion, there was no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep himself. ?Or maybe you need to eat.? He could so easily forget about that need in the Autumn, when the very thought of food made him want to puke. ?What time is it??

?I don? know,? Cane said, looking around for his alarm clock. It wasn?t pointed at the bed, so he leaned to turn the thing around and squinted at the neon blue numbers that illuminated the screen. ?Almos? seven.?

?Five hours.? Estimating, based on when they?d come back from Teas?n Tomes. Salvador drew in a breath and exhaled, ?Better than none.? Nightmares and all. He smiled ever so slightly, and reached up to touch the side of Cane?s face. ?Thank you.?

?Sure,? Cane responded easily, shrugging. No big deal. ?I?m goin? back ta bed.? He squirmed and added quickly, ?After I take a piss.?

Salvador grabbed the headboard to lever himself up with a chuckle. Head off the Cajun?s lap so he could escape and do his thing. ?Sorry.? He?ll apologize a hundred times no matter how many Cane tells him to shut up about it.

?Shut up,? calling over his shoulder as he disappeared through the doorway into the kitchen.

Naturally, that made Salvador smile. He flopped back down and re-situated to take up less room on the bed so that the Cajun could resume sleep whenever he came back. Meanwhile, he?d lay there and stare at the ceiling.

Before long, Cane slid back onto the bed and pulled the covers up around his face. He sighed, tipping his head over to look at Salvador. ?You staying??

?Only if you want me to.? If he was overstaying his welcome by hogging the Cajun all to himself for the past couple days, now was the time to say it.

Canaan responded by sliding closer and making an attempt to wrap himself around Salvador.

Salvador made no effort to escape the attempt, and so it was. He might have even smiled, and tucked his arms around the Cajun appropriately for some good old-fashioned snuggling.

November 16, 2014

After leaving the Red Dragon, Cane went for a walk. Nowhere in particular, just around. Thinking and walking. Walking and thinking. At some point he ended up back home in the living room with beer and his guitar. Melancholy galore.

Someone interrupted him by knocking on the front door..

After eyeing the door for a good ten seconds and doing some kind of witch-y magic to discern who was on the other side, Canaan resumed his idle strumming and yelled, ?It?s open!?

After a moment, the door opened and Salvador slid inside. He still had on that AZN t-shirt under his coat. He shut the door and tipped his head, looking the Cajun over with a dimmed down smile, but no less genuine. Hello just wasn?t his style, so he moved further into the room without a word.

Cane?s smile, which had never actually disappeared earlier, seemed less strained now that he?d had some time to process and breathe. ?Didn? expect ta see you again so soon.?

Salvador shrugged off his jacket and slung it over the back of the chair with enough force to make all the blades rattle in their slots. He stepped over the arm of the couch, onto the cushion, and gargoyle perched himself there. He was in a good mood.

Cane could tell. ?You?s in a good mood after dat screen-worthy kiss.? He winked at the Spaniard, recalling the scene he?d witnessed earlier in the evening between Salvador and his lover, Sinjin. He strummed another chord. ?Anymore gusto and I?d ?a gotten nauseated.?

There was that smile, that one Cane liked so much, the one with all the teeth in it. What could he say? Ah yes. ?He reminded me? We have time.? A vampire and a fae-child who would live? God only knew for how long. ?So he told me to come after you.?

?Tell him t?anks f?me. I was wonderin? how you was doin?. We never did get a chance ta talk about da potion I made for ya.? Before Cane had gone home to New Orleans, he?d made up a potion for Salvador that they were both hoping would block the nightmares he?d been having. Strum, strum. The Warlock let his head fall back against the couch, eyes closing.

?Weird.? That?s what he?d said in a text.

?So ya?ve said.?

Slowly, the Spaniard unwound himself from the crouch to sit his ass down on the cushion. Slid one leg off the front of the couch, knee bent and boot flat, but tucked the other sole to thigh. ?Nnn.? Wedging his elbow into the back of the couch, he tilted his head and shoved his fingers through his short hair.

?There?s this dream I have sometimes,? Salvador began, ?when it?s bad but not quite a nightmare. All of my dreams are bad, though. You have to understand that first.? He was looking at nothing in particular, at a faraway spot across the room. ?I never have good ones.?

Cane was still slouched on the opposite end of the couch, cradling the guitar in his lap. He?d quit strumming the strings when Salvador started talking, but kept his head back and eyes closed. He wore a frown, lips pressed together and brows drawn together, almost as if it required concentration to listen. Go on.

And so he did go on, only after a brief pause and without looking at the Warlock at all. He knew that silence well enough to continue. ?I?m standing on the porch of a house in the middle of the desert. Not the kind with drifting sand dunes, but the hard, cracked, dead earth kind of desert. There?s a paper pinwheel spinning nonstop, stapled to a fence post.

?And there?s this dog; it?s the ugliest goddamn dog I?ve ever seen.? Here his pause lasted a little longer. He blinked and turned his head to focus on the Warlock. ?You ever seen a striped hyena??

Nodding once, Cane opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. ?Not in da wild ?r anyt?ing.?

?All right. Well. Picture that. With the mange. Emaciated.? Salvador turned his eyes up, trying to think of all the right descriptive words that he was never any good at. ?Malnourished. Stinking. Ugly. Maybe zombie? I don?t know, but it?s fucking ugly.? Had he said ugly enough times yet?

?Anyway. There?s this dog,? the Spaniard went on. ?And it wags its stumpy tail, so happy to see me, turns, and leads me out into this wasteland of nothing. A whole lot of nothing and nobody. Just me, and this dog that starts following me after a while, like I know where I?m going. Which I don?t.? He stopped, as if that were the end of it, and then added, ?This goes on for a while. Just the walking and nothing, nobody.?

Salvador scrubbed his hand over his face and shut his eyes. ?And then I step on a mirror.?

?Mm.? The Cajun?s tongue ring clicked a few times. He set aside the guitar, propping it up against the arm of the couch and shifted a little to face the Spaniard. ?Sounds--? he paused. ?Is dere more??

?S?. That part?s different. That part changed.? A recurring dream once, altered. ?It used to be a piece of paper. I?d step on it and then hundreds of them would just swarm me, wrap me up, drown me. There wasn?t paper this time. There was the mirror. A big one. I stepped on it and it cracked. I picked it up and saw my reflection.

?I?ve seen that face before.? His hand fell away from his face here. ?Twice. I died a couple times. Did I ever tell you that??

?No,? Cane answered, surprised.

?Mm. Well. I did.? Sal smiled tightly, and it didn?t last long. Rusty eyes tipped down to regard some point beyond the Cajun?s kneecap. ?Both times I saw the monster inside of me. We talked. We didn?t talk in my dream, but I recognized him. He looked at me and smiled, then tapped on the glass from his side. I dropped the mirror and woke up.?

Salvador shrugged. That was it. ?At least I wasn?t gasping?? Again, he smiled, a little awkwardly. That was good, right?

?At least you wasn? gaspin?,? Cane repeated, agreeing with Salvador. He ran his teeth over his lower lip once and then wet them both with his tongue. ?You know anyt?ing ?bout dreams? What dey mean??

?Not really. I know a couple of dream spirits personally, though.? And by personally he means he?d like to fucking kill them. Or stay far, far the fuck away from them.

?I don? eit?er. Jes? some bits here an? dere. Like, deserts is supposed ta represent isolation. Neglect. Unhappiness or loneliness. I dunno ?bout hyena?s...ugly hyena?s, but dogs usually mean somet?in ?bout loyalty. An da mirror, well, ya kinda already said it. How ya saw your reflection. Mirror?s is a glimpse inside yerself.? Cane licked his lips again and scratched the underside of his jaw. ?Da pinwheel, I got no idea.?

Salvador smiled. By that translation, he should have been depressed. Hell. But hearing someone try to decipher what he otherwise considered mindless, maddening chaos? That pleased him. He shifted, twisted and flopped onto his back to put his head on the Cajun?s lap, face up. Hi.

Hi. Canaan dropped his arm across Salvador?s chest and went on. ?I don? always believe dat our dreams have some kind of deeper meanin?. Sometimes, we jes? ate Mexican food too late. But sometimes...I dunno. It sounds ta me like yer dream is supposed ta mean somet?in. D?oh, it?s like ya said...at least it ain? da kinda bad dream dat leaves ya gaspin? fer air.?

?I?d say it worked then.? The smile might have stuck, just a slight one but on there. Salvador shut his eyes and lifted his hand to touch the Cajun?s arm. Subject change time. ?How was your trip??

With his eyes closed, Salvador couldn?t see the way Canaan eyed the touch. How did the psychometry thing work? Did he have to touch skin? How much did Sal know already? Not that he would have lied, but sometimes it would be nice to keep some truths to himself.

The hesitation was enough. ?You don?t have to tell me.? He even withdrew his hand. See? Settled it on his own chest just below the Cajun?s arm.

It was only shame that stayed his tongue. And it was love that freed it. ?I...well, I didn? kill him.? That was a good start.

?Mm.? Neither approving nor disapproving. Just an acknowledging noise.

He drew in a silent breath, slow and steady. ?De only reason I didn? was ?cause I didn? get a chance.? Saying it outloud was even a surprise to himself. There hadn?t been much time to dwell on the preacher, given Nash?s immediate appearance.

Salvador was no mind reader. And this question was a clue to how much he could glean with a touch. ?Why not?? Or maybe he was being polite and wanted to actually hear the Cajun tell him instead of stealing glimpses of his memories.

More hesitation. He didn?t mind sharing this part of the story with Salvador, it was the end that he was loathe to reach. The more he spoke, the closer they got to it. ?Nash showed up.? He?d mentioned Nash before, right? ?Da preacher walked into da diner where me an? Petra was eatin?. It took everyt?ing I had ta look away from him. Dat?s when I saw Nash outside. He wasn? happy ta see me.

?But we both lef? ta go talk ta him. He made Petra leave us alone. I kinda t?ought he was gonna take me straight to da Clave. But he didn?.? Here he swallowed, mouth going dry. ?He, ah, took me t?see my old house.? Click.

The Spaniard listened intently, quietly, with his eyes closed. That last bit put a frown on his face and a furrow in his brow. His fingers lifted off his chest, but he stopped himself from reaching to touch the Cajun?s arm again. Instead, he let his fingers fall back down, drumming a tippa-tap of a rhythm out on the base of his own ribs.

Canaan continued, but backtracked to tell Salvador about spying on Emily before visiting the grave. How he was surprised to see his own tomb. About the fresh flowers and the moonshine. Standing there and feeling nothing but emptiness.

By the time he?d gotten back to where he?d left off, Cane was playing with Salvador?s hair with his other hand. ?It was like gettin? sent back in time. Da memories dat came floodin? back were so vivid an? real.?

?Rain falls up instead of down,? he murmured. The fingers in his hair might have had a part in making his brain a little fuzzy on matters, but he wasn?t complaining. ?I can walk backwards through time. Did you know that??

The hand in Salvador?s hair paused. ?Really? How?s?at??

?I don?t really leave. I don?t go from now to then. But any place? Any place with a history, if you take me there, I can walk back through the memories and see every one from now until its beginning. All I have to do is take off my boots and walk through the rooms. Streets, too, if it hasn?t rained recently to wash it all away. I can track people that way too. Go where they?ve gone until I find where they are.?

Did that make sense? He opened his eyes to look up at Cane?s face, to make sure. Sometimes he didn?t know if he was making any sense.

?You have ta be dere, where it happened?? Asking for clarification.

?For the clearest picture, yes.?

Wheels turned. For a long minute, there was some serious contemplation going on. He did not want to lie to Salvador. But the thought of admitting his cowardice felt like a knife in the gut. If he could show the Spaniard just how broken he had been, maybe he would understand.

?Oh.? This pause was laden with what was yet to come out of Canaan?s mouth. Not even the tongue ring interrupted the silence. ?How??

Salvador was not at all quite sure exactly what the Cajun was asking him. ?How,? he repeated, losing the inquiring inflection. His brows came together. ?I?m? not sure how to explain. How do I do it? How? do I see it? How? what??

He hesitated before asking, ?How can I show ya??

?Oh.? Salvador turned his hand over, palm turned toward his own face, and looked over the arm across his chest to consider his own lifeline for a moment. He cleared his throat. ?Um. Give me your hand.?

Still more hesitation. Cane lifted his hand, but didn?t press it into Salvador?s just yet. ?Jes? what I wanna show ya??

?So long as you concentrate on that, yes. I won?t dig for anything you don?t want me to see. You have my word.? Which was as good as goddamn gold from a fae, even a half breed. As a slight afterthought in the pause, he added, ?You?re in control.?

That was all Canaan needed to hear before slipping his hand into Salvador?s.

The Spaniard shut his eyes, instantly threading his fingers through Cane?s and locking their hands together. For a long length of several seconds, there was nothing. But if Canaan was watching, soon enough he?d notice the very thin bands of carapace armor slithering up Salvador?s arm.

?This is going to sting,? he warned the Warlock. Once the threads reached his wrist, they lifted like razor sharp dangerous little hairs and shoved between their two palms. The sting was a bite, opening a cut in Cane?s palm. The next sting was a burn when Salvador gripped his hand tightly. There?d been two cuts done by that armor, see. To both their palms. Blood to blood. He pressed some of his own right on into the Cajun?s veins.

The feeling, at best description, was like a tiny drop of ice slithering up the Cajun?s arm, through that major artery, and all the way up to the brain. Connection made. Salvador?s spine arched and he tipped back his head with a flutter of closed eyelids. He was actually, quite literally, crawling around in Cane?s memories. On a single drop of blood.

It was the most foreign and unsettling feeling he?d ever experienced. Had the Cajun not cared for Sal as much as he did, he?d probably view it as a violation, despite having asked to do it. Cane?s eyes closed, too. As he braced himself against the feeling of his best friend crawling around his mind, the Cajun hunched in and sort of curled over Salvador where he lay on his lap.

The particular memories Cane wanted to share were of his mental and physical state after Nash overloaded him on memories, love, and pain. The tears, his drunkenness, the screaming on the floor, the emptiness and loneliness that seemed to swallow him whole. Incessant and all-consuming pain. All of this while Nash looked on with seemingly stoic indifference.

There was a blaring car horn and headlights as Canaan stumbled out of a vehicle?s path. The smell of ocean water mixed with the river. Nighttime. Despair. And then panic as he tried to peel himself away from Salvador?s mind.

This was, quite frankly, the most intimate act that Salvador could ever possibly engage in with another person. The secret of everything that he was resided in his blood. And there it was, poking around and making copies of memories and emotions, transferring those copies from one brain to another. He lived it all, everything Cane wanted him to see, as if he?d been there and it had been his own experience. And that was going to stick with him.

He did not fight the Cajun and keep him from pulling away. By that point he was digging the heel of his boot into the couch, writhing and gasping and was more than happy to let him go. To sever the connection. That one, lonely little drop of blood that had slithered its way up into Cane?s mind turned to dust, and might work its way out as a nosebleed. That happened sometimes. The Warlock?s own natural white blood cells would take care of the foreign bodies that remained. Easy when attack mode was turned off by the self destruct being activated.

It was done just like that, and while Salvador might not have got all of it, what he?d experienced was enough to make him press his hands to his face and groan, ?Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.?

That was not what Cane had expected at all. He should have asked more questions. Demanded detailed answers from the man who was notorious for his incapability to speak with much clarity. The Cajun?s gut instinct, the moment they were severed, was to shove Salvador away so he could get up off the couch. But instead of doing that, Canaan gasped sharply and straightened up from his previously hunched position.

He was terrible at explaining things. He was all action and little words. Always doing, never saying. The tangle in his head drowned out much of everything, but there was a lingering awareness that had Salvador stretching his leg out to hook the heel of his boot to the armrest and pull himself down, slide and drop his head off the Cajun?s lap.

The struggle to get up himself involved dozens of calculations on how best to do that without touching anything, so he didn?t get much further than that, hands still pressed to his face and elbows together. He was about as hunched up into himself as he could get.

To his credit, Canaan didn?t escape. He told himself more distance wouldn?t scrub the feeling away any faster, so he just sat there in silence hands wrapped around the back of his neck. ?Was it as bad fer you as it was fer me?? A little joke, likening the experience to sex in what was, perhaps, poor taste, but a defense mechanism nonetheless.

It did the trick of making Salvador release a breathy laugh into the palms of his hands, so that was something. ?Sorry,? he mumbled, a single muffled word. A shudder ran through him and he pressed his hands down over his face even harder. He kept this up and he was going to suffocate himself. He pulled them way from his mouth, though. ?I don?t know how to explain that.? There really weren?t words that could!

?Mind ****??

That earned the Cajun a bit more breathy laughter, but it turned quickly into a whining groan while Salvador rolled to his side and pretty much right off the couch. He tucked up in the process so his shins hit first and he wouldn?t have to touch the floor with his hands, which remained pressed to his face. ?Sorry,? he breathed at his knees.

?I thought?? What? Certainly not what it had ended up being. Canaan just shook his head a couple times and blew out a heavy sigh. Hazel eyes watched Sal for several moments, then flicked over to the door that led into the kitchen. ?We can lay down if ya wan?. Ya don? have ta touch me.?

Salvador did not respond right away. There was a long stretch of silence in which he was still hearing car horns and seeing flashing headlights tumble around behind his eyes. And all those feelings? He inhaled and exhaled in heavy spurts, shuddered, and then removed one shaking hand from his face to lift over his head. ?Okay.? Help him up, though, that?s what the upturned hand said. So touching was all right, unless the Cajun himself wanted to avoid the skin. Either way, he wasn?t getting up on his own.

After that mind**** of an experience, he didn?t care if touching Salvador meant he saw things...as long as the Cajun didn?t have to feel the Spaniard ever crawl around in his mind ever again. There was little hesitation as he gripped Sal?s hand and pulled, catching the man at the waist when he stood with his other hand for a brief moment. The expression he wore asked, are you okay?

Once he was up on his feet, Salvador tipped his hand off his face to set it on Cane?s shoulder. He?d been covering his face to try to hide them, but there were tears. His eyes and cheeks were wet, completely. He shivered a little violently from the aftershock. ?I?m sorry. I?m so sorry.? Little glimpses had been one thing, but a full onslaught like that might?ve broke him a little.

?I didn?t know,? Canaan rushed to comfort him somehow. He kind of thought maybe they?d be able to gloss over this whole thing, but seeing the tears dripping down Salvador?s cheeks might?ve broke Canaan a little, too. If Salvador came willingly, he?d pull him close in an attempt to quell the shivering. ?I had no idea you?d...dat you?d feel it. I t?ought you?d see it.? The Cajun felt selfish now for dumping all of that on his best friend just to try and buy himself a little understanding.

Salvador understood now, there was no question of that. He stepped in close when pulled and slid his arms over the Cajun?s shoulders to just hug the crap out of him. Face to neck, hand to back of head. He couldn?t stop the tears. There was just too much to stop them right now. He wasn?t outright sobbing, but the dam on his tear ducts was broke. ?Feel. See. Hear. Smell. Taste. All of it. If it?s? if it?s from a person. All of it.? He was still shivering a little, definitely not because he was cold.

What scared the Cajun was that he?d only shared his feelings of despair. Everything that led up to the desire to throw himself off the top of a bridge. But he?d already worked past those emotions while Salvador was now stuck with them. He should have kept going, kept sharing. The moment when hope rekindled itself in his chest. It was only a little flickering flame right now, but it was better than the emptiness he?d dumped on Sal.

Cane couldn?t get enough of the Spaniard in his arms. Spikes be damned. In truth, he hadn?t even worried about them, though with how tightly he was squeezing his friend, he might end up with a reminder. ?I?m da one who?s sorry. I?? trailing off, at a loss.

?No. Shut up.? Salvador lifted his face out of the Cajun?s neck, still wet with tears that just kept on spilling. He pulled his head back to look him in the eyes anyway, brows knit tight in some measure of disapproval. ?Don?t you ever be sorry.? His hand fell away from the back of Cane?s head and came around to cup his jaw. Then came the other, and then he just fucking kissed him, fiercely.

That kiss was a heady thing and the Cajun gave himself over to it all too easily. But not for long. It started with a noise and then a slight shake of the head before breaking the lip-lock altogether. ?No,? he frowned, eyes closed. ?You don? know everyt?in yet.? Trepidation rolled through him.

Salvador pressed his forehead to Cane?s and shut his eyes, breathing and listening. He shook his head some too. ?I don?t need to.? The well of his tears had almost run dry. Calm was starting to settle in little by little, to the point that the shivering and threat of spike impalement were now nonexistent.

But Canaan needed to say thank you. ?I have people. My friends at da bar. Caitie an? Lacey. Cris. S--? a slight pause, followed by a loud swallow. ?Salome. Merrick, even if I don? talk ta him no more. Zynn. Sabine. You. Especially you.? His best friend. ?An? what?s left ?a my family. I have people.? People who care. ?I realize dere?s more den him.?

Oh that ?you, especially you? got quite a smile, even if he also exhaled a breath of a laugh. Beyond that, Salvador did not interrupt. His hand slipped back to the nape of Cane?s neck and the other down to his shoulder, and he just listened.

?I almos? t?rew it all away.? Cane tipped his head a little, their foreheads still touching but tilted so he could brush the tip of his nose along the Spaniard?s cheekbone while breathing in.

?Te quiero, t? tonto guapo,? Salvador said quietly. He was still smiling.

One of those words was a mystery. The others were not. And so, Canaan kissed him.

November 26, 2014

Another afternoon at Matadero, the scene considerably less heated than a few others. They hadn't even gotten around to making out at all. The two were seated on the floor by the chess board, taking their time on a game they'd started days ago. Canaan had every intention of breaking Salvador's multi-year winning streak and that required a lot of concentration.

"So." He leaned his back up against the couch, watching Salvador ponder the pieces. "I wanna talk to ya 'bout somet'in."

Salvador had a rather laid back approach to life, and the way he played chess wasn't much different. He sat on the floor, using the base of the sofa as a back rest, and slouched. Close enough to move the pieces when need be.

"Mm?" That was the cue he was listening. Rusty eyes were set on the board, though, making dozens of mental calculations.

"Dat night ya..." pause, counting backwards so he wouldn't have to bring up specifics. "Saturday, er, Sunday mornin'. Whichever. When ya called me, I was in da middle 'a talkin' wit' Aoife."

That drew his attention up off the board just as he was moving a piece. Cane became his center of focus, then. Salvador had an excellent poker face, though. His expression remained rather neutral despite the momentary glint of light that hit his irises when her name was dropped. Go on, said his stare.

The only reason he suspected Salvador might be hiding his true feelings about the subject was because Aoife insisted that the half fae would not allow it. Surely there was a reason why. So he was careful in how he continued. "I told 'er I'd broken a promise when I helped 'er."

A briefly puzzled furrow hit his brows. Salvador looked away to process this, eyes turning a slow circle as he sorted through his memories. He found the one easily enough.

"You promised you wouldn't touch her." Ah. That. "Nn." And then he had, to heal her. Yes, he was quick to put those pieces together. He looked back at Cane and forced up a reassuring smile.

"It's okay." I forgive you, he refrained from saying, but it was there in his eyes. His expression dropped to something a little more melancholy and he looked down at the board again. "You helped her. I couldn't. Thank you."

The Cajun nodded. Ok. That was good. It settled him in a way he hadn't realized he was needing to be settled. "I've been worried 'bout what's gonna happen. Waitin' fer somet'in ta crawl in my head an' eat me alive." He looked away now, out one of the large windows to his right. "Afraid ta sleep. An' I told her as much. I asked her what she was gonna do. She said she'd let me sleep. Asked if I'd let her." Click. "I wasn't aware dat I had a choice. But she said since I chose ta help..."

Salvador's eyes tipped up off the board to look across it at the Cajun the instant he heard that click. He shifted a little more upright and alert, fingers drumming a silent, slow rhythm against his knee. He was silent for a long time, trying to think of what to say here.

"You're a friend. You were kind to her where others have always been cruel." His teeth bared on that last word, and it was a little strained, recalling how much he knew of her. What she had done. How she had behaved. He was always conflicted about where he should stand with her.

The word cruel had the Cajun's brows drawing together and sounding an audible swallow. "How ya described her ta me, I've been viewin' her like some..." he didn't need to say the word. Rocking back out of the position he'd been hunched in for a while now, he planted a palm to the floor as a prop and bent one leg so he could drape the other arm over his knee. "I t'ink I hurt her feelin's, Sal. It didn' click 'til I shot m'mouf off an' seen her face in da wake 'a my words. It's like Sabine said. We's all monsters in our own right. Dat don' mean...." Canaan shook his head, attention returning to the Spaniard. "She wants ta sing me a song. Said it'll make everyt'in go away."

"She just wants to be real," he said quietly, sadly. Salvador reached across his chest and over his shoulder, to self-massage a kink out of the muscle. He went on to say more, but kept his voice low. "Do you know what it's like to not feel real? To have everybody looking at you like..." A monster, sure. There was that, but it was more. "Like you don't belong. Like... you're a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. That's how they look at her. They see her as a thing, not a person." Salvador knew what that was like. He drew in a shaking, shivering breath, ending on a sharply in-drawn hiss, and put his hands over his mouth.

Canaan watched Salvador for close a minute without speaking. At one point he tilted his hand to inspect his nails while turning words over in his mind. "I don'..." pausing to take a deep breath and lift his eyes to meet Salvador's. "I don' see her as a bomb. Not anymore. Maybe a little worried about da t'ings she'll find in my head but--" he pushed up out of his lean and crawled around the coffee table to sit next to Sal. "--I'd rat'er ya not get pissed at me. She said you wouldn' let her sing ta me."

Salvador pressed his hands up over his face and breathed hard. He shuddered and struggled to control his calm. Hearing the Cajun move around and sensing him in his proximity likely helped. "I don't want her to hurt you," he mumbled into his hands. That was a confession that caused him to deflate. First an inhale, and then a staggered exhale. He tilted sideways to lean against Cane's arm. "That last time I let her sing to somebody he came back--" Decimated. "He... he was a wreck."

Cane's head fell back against the cushions when Sal leaned into him. "I don' understand how...how lettin' her sing me ta sleep is gonna wreck me."

Salvador's hands fell away from his face finally, and he sank down a little to rest his head on Cane's shoulder. His fingertips touched against the Cajun's hand idly. "I don't know to explain. She... She feeds on dreams. She's walked through mine so many times."

Cane's hand turned palm up invitingly. He stared blankly at the ceiling, inflection-less words scraping up his throat and out of his mouth. "My dreams can' torture me more'n dey already do."

He slipped his hand over Cane's, palm to palm, and interlocked their fingers. Aw, hand holding. He turned his head to put his chin on the Cajun's shoulder and look across his upturned face. "I can't be with you every night," he mused quietly. How was that relevant? "Do you..." He swallowed. "Do you want her to?"

The first statement sparked a smirk. Cane lifted his head after a moment, though strained to the side so he could look into Salvador's eyes. He squeezed the man's hand. "I don' know yet." And then he let him go. "I jes' wanted ta tell ya firs'."

There was worry in Sal's eyes, for very real reasons. He could never explain. Never warn people properly of what to expect. Eye contact lasted no more than half a minute before he blinked and lifted his head with a nod, turned to look away. "Okay."

The Cajun got to his knees and then his feet. While in the process of standing, he grabbed one of his pawns and moved it so he could turn his back on the game to gather his thoughts.

Piece placement gave Salvador something to concentrate on other than the worry. He didn't want to make Cane uncomfortable by dragging the conversation out. The Cajun was a grown man and could take care of himself. Didn't need Salvador trying to protect him. Hell, he hated it when people tried to protect him, too!

Within a few seconds of studying the board, he noticed the mistake. He ticked his eyes up to stare at the back of Cane's head. Then he inhaled, looked back at the board, moved his queen into position with a sigh, and quietly, dispassionately, proclaimed, "Checkmate."

By the time the Cajun turned back around, he wore a tired, lazy smile that was a poor mask to hide his pain. "Well ****. Rematch soon?" He reached for his jacket there on the back of the couch and pulled it on. Was he leaving?

Salvador assumed he was and tried not to look so disappointed. He only looked up long enough to assess the situation, then looked down blankly, more through the board than at it directly. With the barest perceptible nod and starting already to pick at his nails, he said, "Okay."

Climbing the couch rather than walk around it, Canaan stopped to stand on the other side of where Salvador sat. He looked around the room, mostly speaking over him instead of at him. "You'll come get me? In da mornin'?" To run, he meant.

"Yeah." Another slight nod. Nothing more than that. Sal kept picking at his nails and peeling bits of dead skin off his fingers. Cane could let himself out, as usual.

And he did so without another word.


_______________

((OOC Note: I just had to share that this was the the very moment that alerted us both to the fact that things had changed between our boys. We had no idea they were in love with one another until finishing this scene. It wasn't a thing we expected to happen, this wasn't something we'd been attempting to work toward. It just happened! A very happy accident. I've had a blast writing these boys' lives for the last year. Thanks for all the fun, Delahada.))

November 27, 2014 - Part 2

Again, Evelyn made no sense to her but Zelda smiled none the less and followed after her, "Um....can I sit with you too?" She didn't want to impose on the little group that seemed to know each other well but being along was...well....lonely.

"Sure! Sit. Tell us something about yourself. Or nothing! I can tolerate a few mysteries," she said, and pushed the little war-chest of booze between herself and Zelda, offering her a drink.

Zelda claimed one of the rugs as her own and sat down Indian-style as well, accepting the drink with a 'thank you', "Ummm...well...what would you like to know?"

The Cajun dropped down onto one of the rugs, legs kind of curled up with one arm behind himself used as a prop.

"What do you do? As a profession, hobby, dedicated fetish, ongoing public lifestyle performance art...?" Evelyn smiled at Zelda.

Amusement stuck in his expression. It took Sal a little longer to join the circle around the new fire pit. He hovered around behind the Cajun mostly, hesitant about sitting.

"Sal, sit your perfect Spanish ass down." Evelyn grinned around her cigarillo up at him as she tugged the cap off of a beer. Sip.

"Yeah, Sal. ****in' sit down. Geez." Cane glanced up and over his shoulder, trying to look serious but failing miserably.

Well damn. Perfect Spanish ass? His brows hiked up. Sal lifted one hand off his arm -- they'd been crossed -- and smeared his fingers over his amused as shit smiling mouth. Cane was closer, so he kicked him lightly as he stepped around to lower into a crouch on his right. Best he was going to manage for a start. He wasn't too sure about these rugs. He balanced on the toes of his boots, elbows to thighs, and hands rubbing together. Sitting, maybe, he'd get to eventually.

"Um...I travel, hunt and make due?" Zelda frowned a little, hoping it made sense but she would elaborate a bit. "Things are different here...people need money to get things and there is magic. Back home, we barter and trade for things that we need. Working means you have a place to sleep inside and maybe a meal a day. I used to be a scout or gate guard in the winter months...it gets cold outside so working is a good way to survive those months.?

?So you?re a hunter and a scout,? Evelyn commented. ?What?s the strangest thing you?ve come across??

"Mutants." Came the quick answer. "...they're creepy and dangerous...a regular bow isn't enough to put one down, you have to have a gun to keep them away. Thankfully they're pretty stupid so they don't think to look in trees most of the time....I sleep in the trees sometimes...it's not safe on the ground. It's weird sleeping in a bed every night here....certainly not bad, just...different."

"I'd prolly die wit'out m'bed. I have an affair wit' it every night."

Salvador cut a still rather amused look aside at Cane but refrained from comment.

Evelyn hummed softly. "So, Cane ****s his bed. But hiding in a tree from mutants still sounds like a more terrifying sleeping arrangement."

Zelda blinked at Evelyn's rather blunt comment and flushed a little, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Then she cocked her head to the side a bit, curious, "...an affair....so...you have another bed that you are um cheating on?" The idea just sounded ridiculous to her.

"Yes, Cane. Tell us about your oh-so-steamy bed-man-bed love triangle. We need details." Evelyn killed her first beer, and focused on her cigarillo for a bit.

Folding his hands together, Sal touched them against his mouth and laughed quietly against them. Mostly breath.

"Alrigh," Cane started, sounding reluctant. "When I firs' moved 'ere, I lived in dis' cabin by a lake. My firs' love. But den I moved into da city and found dis 'ot'er bed..."

"Round pillows?? Evelyn interrupted. ?Thick sheets? Thin sheets? Soft or firm mattress? You should be setting a mood here, but this isn't exactly starting my engine." Scattering cigarillo ashes into the alcoholic fire in front of them.

Salvador slid down a little lower. Boot soles flat. His butt finally sat. Knees drawn up and folding his arms over them. His grin was all teeth when he looked aside at the Cajun. Tongue tucked between his teeth on the left side. Not helping you out of this story, buddy. Nope.

"Mm," leaning forward, Cane?s eyes narrowed slightly. "Firm mattress, definitely. An' oh, dem thick sheets." He inhaled through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Don' e'en get me started on what kinda pillows I like."

"I assume round," she explained to Zelda and Sal, using hand gestures to demonstrate the motion, "so that he can slide himself all smooth in between? And when he wants to get kinky, he does it all under the duvet."

Cane laughed.

Salvador shifted again, sliding his left foot forward so he could tuck the right ankle to heel of boot, folding that leg down. He leaned against his left thigh, arms wrapping around it. Right hand to left shoulder, chin to wrist, and left hand to right bicep. He grinned at Evelyn, laughing silently, and then smiled when Cane laughed.

Evelyn smirked around a fresh bottle of beer, taking a few healthy pulls. "Is the city bed Egyptian cotton? I bet that's why he strayed. I mean, given the chance," aside to Sal, "I'd *** the hell out of Egyptian cotton. Right?"

"They're definitely stronger than most sheets." Sal smirked. As if he has some experience with excessive sheet shredding. Ahem.

"I would think they'd have to be. You're pretty big." Zelda said to Cane.

What he'd been about to say died on the tip of his tongue. The Cajun just shook his head, ticking that amused expression from one person to another--ending with Zelda. He nods sagely. "Oh, absolutely, cher."

"Thanks, I think," Evelyn replied to Zelda as if she'd meant her, lifting up her own breasts with both hands to make an assessment of their size.

The Cajun held a hand out, palm up, at Evelyn. "What is you doin', cher?"

"I mean, I have to strap the girls in pretty tight whenever I share my bed -- or bed a bed -- otherwise I might swing them around... hurt somebody." Arrogant stretch, sigh. "What?" She blinked at Cane. She was going to play this straight for as long as humanly possible.

Cane?s hand dropped down to his thigh with a slap. Teeth clamped down on his lower lip and he shook his head again, trying to stifle a smile.

"I don't know what's gotten into him. Must have duvets on the brain." Siiiiip.

Salvador unwound a little more. Sitting up, he let go of his leg and shifted into a cross-legged position. A slow, wildly amused grin stretched again, looking down at his own hands where they settled against his calf. Idly picking at his nails.

"Sorry...what's a duvet?" Zelda sipped at her own drink.

Canaan shifted, stretching out his right leg just behind Salvador and nudged him in the back. Quit it. "Plain an' simple, it's a blanket," he said to Zelda.

Sal flinched, pulling his hands apart, and not knowing what else to do with them forced himself to cross his arms instead

"I'm getting you a duvet for Christmas," Evelyn informed Zelda. "And it's like a big... fluffy... hmmm... So imagine a pillow and a quilt loved each other very very much, and they decided to make bedding of their own together."

"I'm sensing a theme here with bedding...it....it isn't really animated, is it? I mean...these are just things we're joking about right? Not sentient creatures?" Poor Zelda...so many things were new, it wasn't really safe to assume anything.

"I ever meet a sentient blanket I'm lighting it on fire,? Sal said. Some things are just too weird, even for him.

Evelyn?s cigarillo was done. She pitched the remainder into the fire and took another pull of her beer. "As a rule, no, most bedding is not animated. Not even duvets. And I won't get you a duvet capable of sexing for Christmas unless you specifically ask for one."

Zelda giggled at Sal before nodding to Evelyn, "Okay, good, just....just wanted to be certain. And n-no....we don't really know one another, you don't need to get me anything for Christmas."

"Just say 'mother****ing snakes' at it," Evelyn joked to Sal, who chuckled and nodded.

Sabine wandered in shivering. She came down the stairs and stuffed her gloves into the pockets of her coat. "Think warm thoughts." repeated to herself over and over.

"Sabine!" Crowed the Cajun after spying the little mouse. He was up off that rug in a heartbeat, happy to put some space between him and the group for a moment. "Let me warm ya up, cher."

Sabine?s eyes went huge and she smiled, although she looked a little scared there for a second. "Hi to you." Grin.

"Bonjour, cher," he grinned, wrapping her up and cranking up the heat. Sweet lord, he just needed to breathe.

"Oh Jesus." Sabine melted against him. So warm. But why was he warm? "You okay?" mumbled against his chest with concern.

Canaan held her in silence for a good ten seconds before answering quietly. "I miss 'im." He gave her a tight squeeze before releasing the mouse from his hug and ran a hand through his hair. "Come sit wit' us by da fire. Dat'll warm ya up, too."

"Mm." Sabine nodded when he released her, her hand reaching out to stroke his, fingers touching fingers for a moment. "Love you." said softly. Reassurance if anything that she was a friend and would be there. She was no good with the right words and she wasn't going to risk it. "Fire sounds nice." She started to move and kissed his bicep.

Over at the fire, Evelyn asked a question of the two remaining. "Is RhyDin one of those places that gets warm late in the year, like Australia? Or cold?"

Sal had watched Cane get up, the sudden movement startling him a little. But the Cajun's reason made him smile, a little thing but no less genuinely pleased. He watched him and Sabine a moment, and then looked down at some blank space of nothing along the floor between himself and the stone ring housing the fire. Quiet. Thoughtful. Content. "Cold." Answering Evelyn. "It'll be Winter soon." God, he couldn't wait.

"Winter, hmmm... I should build, arm and armor a snowman army," she mused. "No... no. That's grossly irresponsible," Evelyn shook her head firmly. "A snow-woman army."

Sal uncrossed his arms thoughtlessly and dropped his hands back to his calves to resume picking at his nails. "Cane showed me the one he built with you." He looked up with a soft smile and then laughed quietly at Evelyn's self-correction.

"Isn't he the best? I hope he's okay! I haven't seen him since..." She frowned at the six hands on her watch. "...Tuesday, I think. Maybe that will be my gift to RhyDin. Ambulatory everything." Never mind it was *Cane's* magic that had animated the snowman.

She used a big word he didn't know. Sal spent a moment mouthing 'ambulatory' and trying to find a definition somewhere in his memory. "I don't... I don't know what that means. Ambulatory." Saying it much more slowly.

"Like... something moving around under its own power that normally doesn't. Like my trunk, Olaf."

"Ah." So he thought about it, and made a face. "I don't know if everything would be such a good idea. My coat's full of knives. I'd probably die trying to put it on." Hah.

"Maybe if you had a knife-whistle or some other cue to command them.?

"Mm." Now he was trying to imagine the merits of having an animated knife army at his command. Still didn't settle well with him.

"I can see the obituary..." Evelyn spread her hands, imagining the words typed out in the air between them. "Sal: literally cut down in the prime of his life while putting on a coat full of knives. No, it wasn't a sex thing."

And then Sal was laughing. Ah, she had him there. A wild, toothy smile and mostly quiet, but laughter all the same.

"Love ya, too, cher," Cane replied to Sabine, pleased with how her care seemed to settle him. Yes. He had people. He liked his people. The two of them walked up on the group by the fire and Cane took his seat again, resuming his previous position with one leg outstretched. What a conversation to come in on!

Evelyn grinned. Then she raised her beer for another long drink. "Hi, Sabine. We have gin, champagne and beer."

November 27, 2014 - Part 4

"I forgot." Sabine mumbled to her lap. That was probably for Sal. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, she went for braiding. It was her favorite way to keep her hands busy.

Sal made a dismissive gesture at Sabine. No, really. Go. Enjoy roasting marshmallows with the girls. Geeze!

She gave a weak smile to Sal. She really loved marshmallows, although she'd probably only allow herself one or two. "I'm not allergic to marshmallows,? Sabine admitted to Khoom. She held out her hand for one, if he would be so kind.

Khoom winked at her, holding up the metal skewers. He fixed one with a marshmallow and passed it over to Sabine. He proceeded to share with his acolyte everyone?s name who was seated around the fire.

"Thank you." A quiet aside for Cane. Sal shut his eyes and leaned to rest his forehead against Cane's jaw. Nice and close. Nicotine's just another poison that can't do shit to him. Second hand smoke? Psh. "I can just take your cigarette if you want one." He wasn't going to keep the Cajun from indulging if he wanted some either!

One, two, three, four. Aoife counted the steps she took, remembering each. Restless fingers had already gathered too long sweater sleeves into her palms for worrying. Five, six, seven, eight. Sometimes distraction robbed her. She tipped off the last step and onto the main floor, promising to keep the wallflowers in the garden. Surely she'd end up somewhere.

"Doctor Evelyn *Augusta* Bell," she corrected Khoom as she collected her marshmallow, then grinned broadly, teasing. "Evelyn's fine."

"My apologies. Evelyn Augusta Bell." Khoom winked. "And here I thought my full name was tongue twister ... "

After a long, slow inhale, Cane handed the cigarette over to Sal, then, and he let's his breath out in a rush. "Evelyn Augusta Bell." He loved her name.

That drew a warmer, special look for Cane. Eyes half-moon, small smile curling. Evelyn held the look for a long moment, before breaking it to make sure her marshmallow didn't catch on fire.

Sal leaned away, taking the cigarette, so Cane could get up. He drew up his legs to rest his arms on his knees. Then stuck the cigarette between his lips and just let it dangle there to burn on its own. He wasn't a smoker.

Click. Cane's smile tightened and he swallowed, shifting away from Salvador as he leaned away.

After a moment, Sal rocked and rolled up to his feet. Deciding to drift away from the fire and all the jolly marshmallow roasting before the cigarette died out on him. He went wandering toward the locker room, likely to dig up another shirt out of somebody's locker.

The songbird was hovering the perimeter of the room, catching a bit of this and a bit of that and a bite of Sal in his wander.

Salvador scratched his arm, brows knitting. He hadn't noticed the songbird. Lost in his own head and forgetting the signs of feeling her near. Into the locker room he went.

Forcing himself not to watch Salvador's departure, he turned his attention to the rug beneath him, plucking at fibers absently, not really paying any attention to the swirl of conversations as they continued on around him.

Evelyn slurped more of her cider. Let her eyes wander around the fire again, finding Cane, again. He wasn?t really looking at anything, except, perhaps, the fire. Blank expression, fingers still pulling at some fiber on the rug beneath him.

Sal found a shirt! And he'd put it on before re-emerging from the locker room. Instead of returning to the group by the little fire pit, he wandered over to the closer couch where he'd left his coat and settled there. Still some cigarette left. These things burn slow when you don't puff on them.

Sabine inched over to Cane. "Hi." Whisper.

Without looking away from the fire, Cane leaned a little to bump his arm against Sabine's. That was silent Cajun for 'hey'.

"Can I come invade your space or you need to breathe?" Quiet for his ears only.

Canaan looked around, blinking several times. "I'm jes' tired, cher," he lied. Well, not quite a lie, but also not quite truth. Still, the mouse got a smile.

Evelyn started to shift off of her rug, but Sabine was checking on Cane now. She looked at the fire for a little while, listening to the ticking from the six hands on her watch, four clockwise, two counterclockwise. Or was it the other way around? She could never remember, and she swore they changed sometimes... Right now, the ticking seemed very loud.

"Mm." same as before. "You want me to get you your drink?" Sabine pulled her knees up to her chest and rested an elbow on one and then rested her tilted head on her upturned hand. Eyes on him.

"Nah, nah. I'm fine." Cane told her with a shake of his head. No alcohol to loosen his tongue. Everything needed to stay where it was. "How was yer day, cher? Do anyt'in fun?"

"I slept in. I slept really good actually." she smiled. "Aoife and I had a nice night." She eyed his hand, fingers reaching out to curl around his wrist, an attempt to bring it to her. "Did you do anything for the Holiday? It's one of yours right?" And by yours, she meant an American Holiday.

Aoife wandered toward that couch. The one with the coat.

And now... Now Sal spotted Aoife. He was sitting the way he liked, spine angled to the corner where armrest and back met. Rusty eyes tipped up to peer tiredly through a haze of drifting cigarette smoke. "Mia," he sighed.

"Mmm." The songbird hummed a note for him. She'd been watching the fire dance, forgetting her fingers. Around the opposite end of the couch before she paused and sank to balance on her toes. She set her forearms on the armrest in a fold and her chin on top. Through the cigarette smoke, she watched him quietly.

He eased down lower into his slouch until the back of his head rested on the armrest beside her elbow. Burning ash was going to drift off onto his neck if he kept this up. Sal didn't seem to care when he asked her and the cigarette bobbed to do just that, quietly. "Have you come for a secret?" Maybe he had one he wanted to tell her.

Aoife?s head fell to the side, cheek to arm. She watched the cigarette bob in his mouth where it didn't belong. "Can I have one?"

The smoke was almost dead anyway. Sal plucked it from his mouth and flicked it over the back of the couch. This was the kind of place that if a random fire started up where it didn't belong it'd be quickly dealt with anyway, so he didn't care. He turned onto his side, ear to armrest so he could meet her eyes.

She watched the dying embers sail up and over. Sal shifted. Aoife?s eyes slipped to meet his. Her patience was a virtue.

After a long moment, Salvador lifted a hand with a finger crooked in a c'mere, come closer so I can whisper it in your ear, gesture. Or just enough so that nobody else would hear the murmured words. Not that they'd likely understand it anyway. He knew she did, though.

His eyes. His finger. His eyes. The elbow closest to him dipped off the armrest and Aoife edged her chin into its spot close enough to listen.

A great weight off his chest. Salvador sighed his secret, and that was it. He shut his eyes, and blindly slid his hand along to seek a touch of her. Chin, cheek, perhaps a fingertip. Just something to silently invite her into his space. It had been so long.

He'd catch her cheek for she hadn't moved. Aoife?s fingers skimmed the back of his hand, light and soft as the black feather she'd lost. It had been a long time. Silence was a song they shared well.

By the fire, Evelyn stretched her legs out long, crossing them at the heels, bouncing them lightly in front of the fire. Her gaze went back that way, too, dancing over the flames, counting and changing the hours, minutes, seconds she had between different events, and the forces that determined each timespan. Made all the harder by the five -- six? -- drinks she'd had tonight. "**** it, I should sleep while I have the chance," she murmured, dropping her feet to the floor, pushing herself upright. A golem, possibly the same one from before, came by with her coat and scarf, holding the coat out for her while she put her arms through the sleeves.

"Didn' do not'in. 'Cept--" Canaan paused, looking up as Evelyn got up to leave. "Ya bailin', cher?"

Evelyn tightened her scarf and buttoned her coat, lit another cigarillo, and smiled at Cane. "Yes. I've got eleven hours ahead of me until the next jump, and I'll fill as many of them with sleep as I can."

Nehivena arrived, then, all sunshine and smiles for her new friends. Surprisingly, there was no voluminous skirt for Nehi. Oh, no. The African was wearing a form-fitting red dress- but not too short. And heels. Well, those were dangling from two dark fingers. Ah, well. Scurry scurry to Sabine.

Sabine laughed softly, but looked to Evelyn. "Good to see you." and she meant it. Sabine was actually in an okay headspace that she wasn't overwhelmed by the woman. When Nehi came to her, she reached up to tug her arm. Come. Come sit. Even in that dress. "You look stunning." commented quietly so that she wouldn't embarrass the girl.

"She's right, you do," Evelyn agreed with Sabine about Nehi, grinning at the other woman. "Good to see you, too," to Sabine.

Nehi grinned at Evelyn and slid down to sit next to Sabine and slung her arms about her for a hug. "I have had a lot of champagne tonight."

'We had champagne too!" Sabine leaned in for a hug, not minding the closeness. "Been at a holiday party, then?"

"Yes! A holiday party. It was fun. I haven't been to one in years."

Cane stood, too, excusing himself quietly from Sabine and Nehi?s company for a moment. Brushing his hands on his pants, he stepped closer and stole a hug from Evelyn without asking.

Cane got a firm squeeze, and she stood on tiptoe in the embrace to hold and kiss the side of his head. "You're the best. Okay?"

The Cajun lifted a hand to cup the side of her face, stroking her cheek with a thumb. "Thanks, cher," and he touched his forehead to hers. A brief moment when he didn't feel like he was suffocating.

Evelyn lingered there for a long, tender moment, and grinned across the close distance at him... kissed her thumb firmly, then rubbed it on the side of his nose and grinned. "Pervert."

Chuckling, he pulled away and rolled his eyes. "Go on, now. Give bed-lovin' a try." The Cajun winked down at her.

"I'll make you jealous. You'll hear me screaming clear across town." Pushing away from his chest with both hands. After a few backwards steps, Evelyn forced herself to turn around and stroll out the door, and she had to be rolling her hips on purpose. Waving over her shoulder as she went.

While watching her leave, Cane had a hand cupped around the back of his neck and a lip tucked between his teeth. Turning further still, back to the group, Cane spied the two on the couch and paused. Too often Salvador acted like he wanted to stay away from her and the Cajun wasn't sure he should be allowing their little scene to continue. He couldn?t hear them, but he could watch.

"Do you want to sit with me?" Salvador asked Aoife, like she was a real person. Asking instead of telling, grabbing or pulling. His fingers slid down to her jaw and then her chin. Feeling the tingle pass over from her skin to his. Mind you, he wasn't really sitting so much as laying on his side, shoulder wedged in against the armrest, and legs still off the front from when he had still sort of been sitting.

With his eyes closed, he missed the shift in her expression. "I want to." Three words, many meanings. She fell back onto her heels and stood, catching herself when she slipped her fingers between his that had been on her chin. She moved around to the front where he was sort of, draped, using his hand and arm as a guide. She may have been tug pulling, a hint.

Was she making him get up? He opened his eyes when he felt her proximity shift away. With some measure of reluctance, because he was goddamn comfortable, he shoved his elbow into the cushion to push and prop and then rock upright, sideways, into a sitting position. Three words. So many meanings. He stared. If she urged much more strongly with her tugging and pulling, he'd stand.

There was hesitation, a pause between the tug and pull where she looked down at him. He'd asked her to sit, not go. Fluid with grace she sank into the corner she'd pulled him from, fingers losing their tangle with his. So many meanings hidden in the depth of her eyes.

Behind Cane, Sabine continued to chatter with Nehi. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." She grinned a little at at the witch, who was pointing at the very lost-looking Cajun.

"I did. I think I drank too much." An expression took over Nehi?s face, as if she had to think about it. Finally, she nodded. "Anyway. What's going on tonight?"

Sabine watched for a moment longer and Nehi speaking again had her tearing her eyes away. "Hm?" Blink. "Oh. I just had a little champagne. I haven't been here very long really. We've just talked a little and roasted some marshmallows"

"Are there any left?" Looking around curiously.

One of Khoom?s golem?s appeared out of nowhere with skewered marshmallow?s for Nehi.

Sabine pointed at the Golem. "Ask and you shall receive." Her eyes continued to drift, brow furrowing a little as her eyes landed on Cane again

It surprised the little witch a bit. Sabine might half an African witch on her. "Omigoshwhy??"

Sabine?s head whipped back to look at Nehi now in her lap. "Huh?!"

?Those things scare me!" Or it was the champagne.

Sabine cradled Nehi. "Did you just... omigosh?" because one of these things was not like the other. Didn't fit. "You're scared of a golem? Arn't you like... a witch?" Eyebrows went up.

"I am one!" Stoutly. "But things just sneak on you unawares and it's like- CANE!" Cane Cane Cane. "Can you get me a marshmallow from that golem and throw it to me?"

His name being shouted startled him. Looking around, again, Cane blinked down at the frightful Nehi. "What?"

"You're drunk." Sabine giggled and pet Nehi's head, since it was all up on her. She turned her own to look at Cane.

"You're drunk." To Sabine. In retaliation. Although she clearly isn't. Then she beamed at Cane. "Marshmallow." Point point at the golem. "You. Me." Nehi made a motion like she was throwing something.

"Oh." They could probably accuse him of being drunk, too, in all his distractedness, but for once everyone would be wrong. The Cajun smirked and plucked a marshmallow skewer from the golem and a couple of the squishy white things, then stepped across a couple rugs to hand them down to the witch.

"Thank you, Cane, you're like my marshmallow fairy godfather." She reached up to take the skewers. Eyeing him a moment. "I don't care what the Bible says, you're not cursed." Smile, kissy lips to him, and then she's sliding down a bit so she's half-laying on Sabine. The skirt rode up a little, but she didn't notice.

The smile disappeared from his face immediately and the Warlock straightened, jaws clenching together tightly.

Sabine made a bit of a surprised face, wincing. Well that sounded... no words. She had no words for that. "Cane." Barely a whisper as she watched his disposition and posture change.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Canaan moved away from the fire pit briskly to retrieve his jacket.

Nehi was about to start talking to Sabine, but then looked back over, up to Cane, and blinked. She immediately looked confused. "What?" Drunk or not, she got the feeling something was wrong. She sat up. "It's just a name. Like Abraham or Sarah." It probably was not the best time to harness your love of comparative religion, Nehi.

"So is Israel." Cane rumbled, slinging the jacket on quickly as he jogged up the stairs.

"He's not having a good night." Sabine told the witch softly. She looked torn between staying there and getting up.

She looked back to Sabine. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset anyone!"

"He'll be okay. Just a sec?" Sabine slipped out from beneath Nehi and went running that-a-way up the stairs. "Cane!" Called out once she was on the stairs, hoping to get him to stop. She stood by the door for a few seconds, keeping it open with her hip and watching and then slunk away, back down the stairs.

On the couch with Aoife, Sal hadn't even noticed Nehi come in. Nor Khoom leaving. Nor Evelyn. Nor anything... He could get lost in the songbird so easily. Would even the Cajun's sudden movement catch his eye? Oh. Yes. The jog did it. He blinked several times and focused again, catching the tail end of Cane's flight and twitched his hand away from Aoife's with concern.

Aoife hadn't really settled, more so perched on the edge. When Sal released her fingers they had become lost inside the sleeve of her sweater. She watched Cane. Chased Sabine with her eyes. Looked at Sal. "Go."

Oh good. Nehi was about to cry and he was not the kind of person suited to deal with that. He sucked in a breath and turned his head to look at Aoife. He stared, puzzled and perhaps even disbelieving, for all of three very long seconds. Then he reached back to catch his coat while he stood, stepping away from her and the couch. He slung his coat on when he was far enough away so as not to hit her in the face, and moved directly toward the stairs, passing by Sabine on his way up without a word.

Aoife?s features were muted, neutral. Time lept. It poured through fingers like water, lost. She was a shadow standing in the wake of Sal's departure. His words sat heavy.



((I hope I cleaned this log up well enough to flow nicely. It's long, I know, but the tension was just too good to skip out on sharing.))

November 28, 2014


Some vile creature was prowling the rooftops instead of walking along the street like normal people do. He stalked his prey in silence, watching the Cajun in particular as the man trudged up the street, headed for the inn. He wasn't washed in lamplight but his face was faintly illuminated by the cherry red embers of the cigarette stuck between his lips. Further still behind Cane was a little bird.

The chilly air made ghosts of Aoife?s breath, opaque puffs rising only to disappear beneath the black smudge of the clouds. Street lamps cast yellow halos on the sidewalk, spotlights on a stage. She skirted the edges quite a ways behind the Cajun, though from beneath the fall of her sweater sleeve, her fingers dragged through the flood of light as each was passed.

Here was the tree cat looking down upon a little bird as she flitted from stone to stone, and another jungle beast ambling along. He was a drifting gargoyle who could sprout wings and swoop down on his prey whenever he might so choose. But for now... he was careful of the snow drift on the ledges so as not to kick any over and give himself away.

Sal watched Cane dodge a horse whose rider just didn't care that he was in the way, then jog the last few yards to the porch where he paused at the top of the stairs to suck one more breath through the filter before flicking the thing away into the yard.

Somewhere in the darkness high above, the monster smiled at his friend, his lover. He did not give chase. Not yet, even when the Cajun left the porch and ducked inside the inn. He'd let the Cajun play for a bit. His job, right now, was to keep a watch over a humming songbird as she moved along.

Don't step on the cracks. Aoife was being so very careful. Head tilted down, lips in a light press. Her hair fell in a Snow White black as ebony curtain. She reached up and caught it at the back of her neck. Must not be distracted, someone once told her there were monsters in the dark. After looking both ways, she crossed the street.

Salvador lowered into a crouch to watch for now, to make sure his little bird got inside safely before picking his way across to the other side.

-----

Inside, Cane noted a couple familiar faces, none of which were paid much attention. He tossed his coat on top of the piano and he moved further inside, winding around tables and chairs alike. Taneth waved at him from the bar, so he rumbled a quiet hello through a smile just for her. Once he?d gotten behind the bar and procured a drink, he took more time to properly greet those around him. There were nods all around, even for Sandy, though he might?ve smirked a little before taking a drink of his beer.

Taneth squinted at Cane and Sandy, pointing a finger at the both of them. ?No fighting,? she said.

?Of course,? Sandy replied, nodding his head for emphasis.

Cane squared his shoulders. He didn?t say anything to Taneth, but he drew an X across his heart.

Tannie gave a pretty smile for the two boys and she puckered her lips for airkisses before flouncing out from behind the bar.

A cloud of silvery smoke (sparkling with red and green glitter) issued from the hearth; one Evelyn Augusta Bell emerged from it, dressed in a bright red dress and matching Doc Martens and peppermint-striped tights... and a headband with reindeer antlers. Olaf, her luggage trunk, arrived in a far less festive fashion by tumbling out of the supply closet and landing upside down with a long-suffering groan. Evelyn looked left and right, spotted Olaf with a smile, and snapped her fingers three times -- with another puff of silvery smoke, Olaf reappeared upright, next to the couch. "Better?" Olaf creaked his lid and grumbled at her. "Now, Olaf, don't swear."

She saw a few friendly and familiar faces, but how to greet one in particular... "Think fast, Cane!" she called a second later than would have been appropriate, when the snowball she hurled was already in motion for the general vicinity of his head.

Canaan, of course, not having that extra second of a warning, got beaned in the face with a snowball. He flinched, eyes closing, and just stood there a little surprised.

Taneth rushed to cuddle Cane. ?My poor baby,? she crooned.

Olaf (the trunk) flapped his lid in an approximation of a mocking laugh as Evelyn skipped happily up to the bar.

"Hello, everyone," Evelyn said brightly to Taneth, Sabine (who was also smirking at Cane?s expense), and everyone she spotted in a wide angle between the hearth and the bar.

-----

Aoife veered a little to the right with the tilt of her head, balancing on a cobblestone less she teeter and fall. Arm out, she caught herself with a dancer's grace. Safely across. Trouble seemed to be busy for the time being. She released her hair when she took the first step up to the porch. Two, three, four, and five? Well, those remained to be seen as she paused in a hummingbird hover with her back to the street.

Could she feel his eyes on her? They were intensely watching.

She'd left the railing alone, fingers peeking from beneath her sweater, waiting. Silent. Her lullaby hum drifted into silence. The songbird swayed side to side, so quiet it was almost missed. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth three times. Always three.

Three was a rule. His nail tick-tick-ticked on the roof ledge, silently to anyone not within his exact proximity; an echo, though, whether he heard her or not. A subconscious response. He rose slowly out of his crouch and took three steps back, vanishing through a Veil and into the Between places.

There was an alley mouth nearby he peeled out of instead. Tonight was a climb over the porch rail from the side sort of night, instead, he had decided. And there he was. Up and over with a jangle of the metal in his coat and thump of boots.

A few of those little fingers twitched and she inhaled. Tucking her chin against her shoulder, Aoife watched her Amhr?n creep his way into sight. With his coat. And all the things inside it. Watching? Staring. Intently.

Salvador edged up to the window casing, careful not to step into the outward spill of light, but angled just so he could peer inside through the glass to see who was around. One face, in particular, caused a smile. But he murmured a single word observation that kept him lingering outside. "Crowded." He knew his M?a was there. He leaned his shoulder to the wall and crossed his arms, tipping back a little more into the space by the rail.

And then she leaned just so and spun about in a slow turn. Time to visit. Though she did keep her eyes in a trace along the wall following it to the window.

He stayed where he was leaning, watching her... come or go?

She was coming. Closer to him. "I couldn't find you," she said skirting around the spill of light from the inside out.

Sal turned to put his back to the wall more completely, an arm turned out to open the space against his side for her. "I felt the memory of you there," he confessed. "Are you hungry?" So much meaning.

?I want to," she echoed when she ducked into that space. She fit well enough to rest her forehead against his jaw. A few of her fingers tickled the edge of his coat.

He tucked his arm around her, and then the other with a quiet sigh. It was like she was made to fit there. He shut his eyes and turned his head to breathe in her scent from her hair. "We always want to," he murmured.

Wildflowers. Wildflowers and sunlight. Dreams and madness. She smelled of fairytales. "Mmm." It was the beginning of a hum that was a sigh against his neck. Her fingers were bold things, pulling his coat open to take a two fingered tip toe waltz across his stomach. "What do you want?"

-----

Evelyn canted her head. ?Cane, you've got a little something..."

The Cajun tipped his head forward to shake off the melting snow and grabbed the collar of his gray t-shirt, pulling it away from his body as what was left of the melted snow dripped down the front of his chest.

"Do you want us to get you a blanket, Sugar?"

When Evelyn neared, he lifted his gaze to meet hers and inclined a brow. Taneth, who was still snuggling him, was given a quick wink. "Nah, cher, I'll be ok."

Evelyn looked at Cane looking at her, blinked innocently, and raised an accusing finger to point at Olaf. Little bells inside her reindeer antlers jingled when she turned her head.

"Do we agree on corporeal punishment?" Cane asked, trying not to get distracted by the ridiculous antlers.

"Would non-corporeal punishment be punishing the spirit? Like acting really passive-aggressive, or making me watch infomercials?"

Some guy barged his way behind the bar, paying no mind to those already there, but had the gall to flip off sweet Taneth while getting his drink.

Since Taneth was right there next to him, Cane was well aware of the display and he frowned at the offender. Who could ever be rude to Taneth of all people?!

Evelyn made an equally obscene gesture back at the man.

Somehow, it's alright if the doctor does it. "Evelyn Augusta Bell," he said, attempting to sound reproving but it really just came out in his usual drawl.

"What? We do it at translocational science conferences all the time," Evelyn protested. "Make me a coffee?"

"Yes ma'am!" Spurred into movement, Cane left his beer there on the bar-top. He checked the pot for freshness, made a face, and set about making another.

"I almost never get yes ma'am'ed. It's nice," she said, and sat on the edge of the bar and fidgeted with her antlers. Ring, ring.

"Don' expect ta hear it from me anywhere else." Could she see his grin in the back-bar mirror?

"Hmm... is that a challenge?" Evelyn tipped her head slightly, antlers ringing again, meeting his gaze in the reflection.

"A promise," he snorted, pouring some coffee into a bright yellow mug with a black smiley face on the one side. He added honey and just a touch of milk to the coffee.

"Perfect," she murmured, and scooped the mug up for a very slow sip. Then she looked left. Right. Over her shoulder, slowly. Back at Cane. "Where's everyone's holiday stuff?"

"It ain't Yule yet," Cane laughed, resuming his lean. Beer lifted for another sip.

"But it's the day after the day of thanks! I lit a bonfire and shouted lots of over-inflated compliments at the ancient gods of this place and credited them with all my good fortune and everything, which means that it's time for Christmas slash Yule slash the holidays slash solstice slash et cetera."

"Not all 'a us is as festive as you, cher. I could be Scrooge f'all you know."

Evelyn set her coffee down delicately, folded her hands underneath her chin, and leveled her gaze at him. "Explain."

"Yanno....Scrooge. Ebenezer Scrooge? A Christmas Carol?" He puts his beer down, too, but his hands lay on the bartop.

She lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug. "I'd be happy to listen while you relate your traditional myths to me, though. Or is it a song? You may sing me this Christmas Carol."

Lips parted and a slow smile stretched them wide to reveal two rows of straight, white teeth. "It's a play. Dere's songs, but? I don' exactly sing f'jes anyone."

"You actually sing? I was just hoping you'd embarrass yourself for me, but I didn't know you were musically inclined..." That earned him an extra curious look. All this head-turning, of course, kept ringing the bells in her reindeer antlers headband.

He gave a slow nod and licked his lips. There was a flash of metal and then it was gone. "I? have had a lotta time on my hands over da course 'a my life. Filled it wit' music. I can sing an' play da guitar an' piano."

"You play the piano?!" Nearly upsetting her mug, sloshing the coffee around with her eager lean. "I think they have a piano here! Or I hallucinated it." Evelyn checked. "No, it's either a recurring hallucination with a fixed location or it's real."

Oh **** she's going to ask him to play, isn't she. His eyes widened, but a few short nods were given. "It?s? over dere."

"Do you feel the same way about the piano that you do about singing?" she asked quietly. "It's fine if you do."

The Cajun hesitated, but eventually pushed up out of his lean. "I'll play. Jes really ain' keen on singin' wit' dis many people around."

Evelyn deployed the same obscene gesture on Cianan that she had used earlier. Then she cleared her throat and straightened up in her seat like a polite lady, gaze returning to Cane. "Only if you're up to it -- but, if you are... I'm honored to hear it." Little grin, angled dip of her head.

Cane dipped his head and finished his beer quickly before slipping out from behind the bar to wander over to the piano.

She carefully collected her mug of coffee and followed him. Gave the piano a few testing pokes, to verify that it was not, in fact, a collective hallucination; satisfied nod. She took up a lean.

The bench groaned beneath his weight while he got situated, the toe of his right boot pumping each of the pedals once to make sure they worked. A few steadying breaths were taken as performance anxiety invaded his chest. And then he started to play. At first, it's a light and sweet melody.

Evelyn shut her eyes, warming her hands around the coffee mug while she listened to the piano right behind her, close enough to hear the secondary sounds of him pumping the pedals and striking the keys.

It was a lullaby, really. His eyes closed almost instantly, mouth closed and brows pinching together every so often with each shift in the notes.

-----

She smelled perfect. The inhale that followed the catch of her scent was staggered and shaky. His fingers slipped up to tease along the very ends of her hair where it spilled down her back. It was cold out, so he was wearing a plain burgundy tee under his coat. Dark red. Her favorite. Just his luck. "I want--" Where did he even start?

Aoife didn't notice the color quite yet else she would have paid him attention. Forehead to his jaw she was looking beneath his chin through the window. Perhaps it was one of the 'watches' he sold that her fingers were seeking inside. "I want to." She'd said it again. Between the two nights that was three times. Her other arm was caught between them. What were those fingers doing?

There were so many 'watches' for sale. She was close enough to browse freely and take her pick. He wasn't stopping her. His fingers teased through her hair, though. The piano inside had come to life, and that drew his eye. That thing didn't see a lot of use as he recalled. He turned his head to peer slantways through the window. "Everything I want I can't have," he sighed.

Those fingers. The ones between them. It was just a single one to blame. She was dragging her nail back and forth across the skin beneath his chin. "You--" and then the music started. Aoife inhaled and held her breath, holding very still. Suddenly, she wasn't tucked against his side any longer but pressing him back into the wall. There was space and time where she'd managed to slide her way to his front and take hold of two belt loops in his jeans. She wanted to see.

-----

Across the room, next to the sofa, Evelyn?s old-fashioned Seward trunk, Olaf, creaked his lid open while he listened. Was he... drooling?

Two minutes into playing, the song morphed into something powerful and full of emotion. He was tense, shoulders tight and so many different expressions crossing his face. Broad, calloused hands moved with practiced ease across the keys.

Okay, yes, Olaf was definitely drooling.

The end of the song tapered back into the lullaby, finishing quietly. When the song was done, he sat there a moment before opening his eyes to look around. Oh, hi Evelyn.

Evelyn had turned her chin to her shoulder, watching Cane play out of the corner of her eye, lips curling. "Hi," she said, when he finally opened his eyes, too. She finished her mug of coffee, set it down on the nearest table, and sat down on the bench beside him. Carefully, since she'd heard it creaking earlier.

The Cajun had to take a deep breath again, but he smiled a little self-consciously. "So, yeah. I play."

"You play," Evelyn echoed, and lifted his hand in hers to kiss his piano-playing fingers once; lowered it again. "You play beautifully, and I couldn't carry a tune in a cargo freighter. I'm jealous."

"Jes' takes practice, Evelyn."

"Hmm... well... I've programmed a few robots that've made some pre-tty spectacular music, if I do say so myself," she considered. "I could build you a band. Just not any of the songs they sing," she laughed, and lifted her head to smile up at him.

"You can make jes' 'bout anyt'ing, I reckon. Music included." Click. He let her fingers go and slid both of his hands down his thighs to his knees. "I'd like ta see some'a yer musical robots one day."

-----

And then there was nothing left but the memory of the song when she peered over Sal's shoulder into the window. But certainly enough that was a Cajun at the bench.

All her weight leaning into him certainly kept him pinned. This also made it difficult for him to look in through the window anymore himself, so he concentrated on her hair. "Me," he whispered. A change-word echo. She'd been going somewhere with a thought that vanished. It's cool, though, because he didn't have much of his own at the moment beyond: pretty girl, all up in my space. The fingers of both hands sifted through her hair now, gathering some up to twine around a knuckle or two in plac

Her exhale was that sigh he'd waited for, a wash of cool breath across his ear. She tugged against his belt loops. "He makes music?" She was still looking in the window.

One hand disentangled from her hair to slide his palm down the curve of her spine. She was pulling; he was pressing. "Yes." A hissed word. He shut his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall behind him. Thunk. Stars jarred to life and vanished in the span of second across the insides of his eyelids.

Aoife tugged to see, pulled to be closer. The need was of several pieces that fit together in all the wrong ways but made to be right. Something tapped against the back of her hand where it was buried inside his coat. She released a belt loop and went seeking further in. "Does he make music for you?" She'd said it so quietly, in that strange way where notes hid inside the words making them sound like lyrics. Her nose skimmed his neck, but still, she peered over his shoulder and into the window setting the weight of her gaze on the Cajun.

Along the back of his coat was the stitched in sheath for the tanto. Four inches of braided grip and eight inches of sharp steel locked in its case. He exhaled a breath that, a sad little laugh. "Hah. No. For his memories, maybe, but not for me." He spoke still in a whisper, quiet words only for Aoife, so as not to shatter the stillness of the night. Still he wound and wound and wound her hair around his fingers and kept her locked in place with the hand pressed to the small of her back.

"Mmm," an exhale. She seemed satisfied with his answer. Seeking fingers had found the tanto and she traced it back and forth. Her lashes tickled the line of his jaw when she blinked. It was slow, marked for time. "Are you going to leave?" If he wasn't careful with his fingers and all the twisting winding of her hair, it would start to pull.

"No." His head was still tipped back against the wall, face angled up and eyes closed. He shook his head in an exaggerated rolling side-to-side loll. And then yes. There was the tug of resistance when he'd met the end of the rope, or hair in this case locked into the scalp. His fingers stopped twining, but he did not let it all go yet. A nice tight bundle wound around his fingers settled between her shoulder blades.

Another tickle of lashes. They were wrapped up in such a way that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. "Where?" She mimicked his whisper, sharing secrets in the shadows on the porch.

"Where," Sal repeated, murmuring more and whispering less. He lifted his head up only to find his chin landing on the crown of her head. He turned his face aside and tipped it low so that his lips were by her temple. "Where." Processing. He said he wasn't leaving. Hadn't planned on going anywhere. She was asking something else entirely. "Did you want to go...?" Somewhere?

-----

"Well, I'd have to make new ones. The last ones... exploded," she grimaced. Paused. "Hey."

"Of course dey exploded." Half a smile, glancing at his jacket briefly before her 'hey' drew his gaze. "Hm?"

"Would it be horrible of me to make another pass at you?" She raised her eyebrows.

A terrible wave of confliction struck him, though it managed to keep from marring his half-smile. But maybe she'd see something in his eyes. Assent? Hesitation? It was hard to tell.

"A little horrible, then," she said, her lips twisting. "I'm kind of stumbling my way through this," she offered, by way of apology.

"C'mere." Sitting a little straighter, Cane offered a hand, but meant for her to sit on his lap.

She took his hand and slid into his lap easily, curling an arm around his back.

Cane put his chin on Evelyn?s shoulder and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep the piercing from clattering noisily and giving him away. "I told someone else recently dat I don' know what I'm doin'. I've got dese feelin's an' dey's pullin' me in two differen' directions."

"Feelings?" The 'two directions' part hadn't even hit her yet. She was still working on the 'feelings' part, evidenced by the rising color in her cheeks.

"Fer you." He was surprisingly direct. It was a relief to get something off his chest. Perhaps now his heart wouldn't feel so heavy. "An' someone else." Could be anyone. Like that dead lover of his.

Nothing scared her (other than Sal exploding a tray of gin), so why was her heart hammering away at her ribs? "Oh... well..." Evelyn stared at his chest, fidgeting with his shirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. "Who else?" she asked, playing for another moment or three to sort out her brain.

Cane froze. Click. "Someone I can't have."

"Listen... I'm pretty sure you drive me crazy -- crazier than I already am. Really, really crazy," Evelyn laughed, and looked up at his face again. "But... I'm bad at this. Really bad. The only relationships I had were for convenience, wound up messed up and unhealthy more often than not, and it's been years. I'm not the jealous type. I don't know if it's because I can't be, because of the traveling, or if I just don't have it in me. So... if you have room in your heart for someone else you can't have... as long as you have room for me, too, and I don't -- I'm not a placeholder... the thought of that doesn't twist me up inside, so I guess it's... okay?" She blinked several times, and then playfully glared. "You devilish s.o.b., you've put the Evelyn Augusta Bell at a loss for words."

Cane thought he'd feel better hearing her confirm she'd allow what was left of his heart to be shared, but he didn't. Then again, this was still very new to him. All the same, the Cajun laughed and tipped a kiss against her temple. "Well now, cher, dat is quite a feat, I'll say."

"I travel a lot," she said, looping her arms around his neck. "I mean, you know that, but now this information is framed in a different context. I travel a lot. I am trying, and managing to achieve, additional levels of stability, but even once I assert enough control to stay put for as long as I want, I will probably still want to travel a lot. And we're both historically polyamorous." She looked left, right, over her shoulder, at Olaf with a suspicious narrow of her eyes... then back at Cane. "And we're having this conversation in the middle of the Inn. I think we should go out for a walk, talk and snog."

"Dat's prolly a good idea, cher." Gently, he shifted her off of him and stood, reaching for his jacket.

She slid off of him, giving his hand a quick squeeze before going to check on Olaf. She stepped carefully around his glitter-stained drool, making a face, and collected a few warm winter things to wear -- coat, hat, mittens, scarf.

-----

Beneath Sal?s coat, she'd gotten ahold of something. The hilt was small enough for her fingers to wrap around and press into her palm where it settled well. The blink was followed by another and she was looking down. At his shirt. She released the belt loop to smooth her palm across his chest. Red smeared beneath it. "Can I sing for you?" Somehow, in some crazy way or another, the blade of his own knife ticked against his skin right by his hip. She just wasn't paying attention with that other hand. Because red.

Quite likely a throwing knife. They were scattered about in pockets and slots all through his coat for easy access. The cold lick of sharp steel against his hip had him flinching a little. He withdrew his hand from the small of her back and slid his fingers along her forearm to catch her wrist and keep it still there in his coat. He drew in staggered breath. That wasn't what he wanted to do at all, but... He turned his head and opened his eyes to peer sideways through the nearby window. He swallowed, blinked slowly, and exhaled some measure of defeat. "Yes," he sighed. And he turned his face back to nose her cheek.

It hadn't been intentional, not quite yet. His fingers around her wrist stayed her hand. Perhaps she'd stolen something curved that simply swayed with her growing restlessness. Aoife was working away at his shirt with her palm as if it were a thing she'd never seen before. Her breathing was slow, staggered. In, hold. Out, hold. All over him. "I want to." The echo was a promise against his jaw.

Salvador tucked his elbow in against her back, hauling her in closer. His fingers were still wound tight in her hair, and mostly they had lost circulation at this point. His breath was cool across her cheek and neck. "Okay," he sighed. Holding her close, he pushed off the wall. One step, two step, and a third to cross over the Veil. They were going to take a shortcut. His heart was pounding with desire now. All he wanted to do was, well, what they do. Did those exiting see the residual shimmer in the corner of the porch. Maybe a figment of the imagination. They were there, but then gone.

-----

As Canaan slid on his jacket, he pulled the phone out of the right pocket and checked it for messages...finding none from the one person he?d been waiting for all this time. Sliding it back into place, he stepped to the door to wait for the one and only Evelyn Augusta Bell.

Evelyn offered Cane her arm as she booted open the door. Yes, that was role reversal. She did not appear to care.

And neither did Cane, given that he took it with a breathy laugh and tugged her out onto the porch.

Outside, Evelyn blinked at a flickering light. "Did you see that, too?" she asked Cane, quietly. She could never be sure what was real or imagined.

A glimmer, sure, but he shrugged, seemingly not bothered by it. "Well," he breathed before releasing the doctor. Cane slipped that arm around her shoulders instead and started leading her off the porch. "More coffee? Someplace quiet..."

"Sure," she said, slipping an arm around her waist as they went. "Someplace quiet."

November 29, 2014 - Late Evening


Whenever it was the Cajun got himself back to his apartment, he?d find the temperature inside to be incredibly ****ing cold. And that was because the bedroom window was wide open. See. It had been opened from the outside. Someone had climbed in. Someone had broken in! ...and was still in his bed.

It was almost seven by the time the Cajun waltzed in the front door. Over an hour spent wandering while he waited for a response from Salvador after he'd broken down and texted him once he and Sabine parted ways. When none came and he?d finally gotten tired of battling the cold, Cane went home. The thought of being around people, for once, did not sound appealing. If he couldn't hang out with Salvador, then he wanted to wallow in a self-made mire of his own misery.

?Je pense que je suis assez ivre pour vous conduire ? la maison maintenant~? He was singing. A caustic and melancholy tune laced with, what could only be assumed without looking at his face, anger. The door got slammed. ?Je garderai ma bouche maintenues ferm?es sous cl?~?. It didn?t register right away that the place was cold until he took off his jacket. The temperature hit him just as his coat hit the wall--he?d flung it there. And then he stilled. Cane?s singing cut off immediately, head inclining towards the doorway to the kitchen. Confident that no one could get in without having previously been invited, he moved out of the living room without caution and resumed singing, though now his voice was softer. ?Ce cabinet est rouill?, pas de mensonge~.?

One of the mismatched table chairs scraped along the floor as he pulled it out and sat down to untie his boots. The singing drifted off into humming while he kicked off his shoes and sat there for another thirty seconds trying not to get his hopes up over what he was going to find when he went into the bedroom. More creaking, this time from him standing, followed by the quiet shuffling of sock-clad feet against linoleum. The more recent sound ceased when he stopped to loom in the doorway.

There were a pair of boots at the foot of the bed that looked awfully familiar, situated haphazardly in a way that suggested they?d been kicked off and flung across the room to land where they were now. As previously mentioned, the window was wide open. Frost lined the window sill and decorated the glass, some of it red. The blankets were all tangled up with a body that had a face stuffed into a pillow, lying all the wrong way, head toward the foot of the bed and one mostly bare arm stretched to the corner closest to the door. Salvador was in there somewhere, burrowed in blood-speckle-stained jeans and a burgundy t-shirt.

The Cajun allowed himself one moment to pretend like this was a sight he could come home to forever. Just a moment, though, before the thought was cast aside and he propelled himself into the room. One knee to the bed so he could lean, reaching to close the window. This close to it now, he noted the red frost and concern struck him so suddenly he had to repeat the word ?no? several times in his head to keep from launching himself at the cocoon of blankets.

Cane took his time, retracting himself from the bed so he could pull off his shirt and throw it in the corner. At the foot of the bed now, he paused to let his gaze slide along the length of Salvador?s arm. When he?d worked himself into a right state, Cane exhaled a shaky breath and climbed onto the bed where he proceeded to try and burrow under the blankets to find the Spaniard. Fingertips glanced along cold skin and he smiled shifting some more so the blankets stayed all around them while he pressed himself into whatever part of the Spaniard he could. ?Usually de monsters is ?posed?ta lie in wait under de bed.? The Cajun?s voice was low and there was a smile caught up in the sound of it.

Salvador had wedged himself in there in an almost fetal position, belly angled down but not completely flat on the mattress. He had one arm hugging the pillow up to his face, angled down. That other arm, outstretched as mentioned, stuck out, and Cane might have missed the twitch of his fingers signifying that he was, in fact, not asleep. Not that it was likely expected he was in any case. The spikes stayed settled flat as the Cajun fit himself against him, and the Spaniard hummed a satisfied noise. The chuckle was muffled, but Cane could feel it. ??ll ?member that for next time.? Mumble, mumble.

One of Cane?s legs was tangled over Sal?s at the knee, the other stretched out straight and poking out of the blankets. He, too, was on his side, but tipped into the Spaniard as best he could. His face was on the pillow, but shoved up against the man?s upper arm for now. ?Nex? time, huh? Who says dere?s gonna be a nex? time? Maybe I?ll get a lock fer my window.? Cane shoved his arm up under the pillow to find a hand.

There was a hand there! Salvador?s fingers twitched and inch-crawled to get closer to the Cajun?s much, much warmer ones, even. ?Then I won?t be able to climb in here in the middle of the night, naked, and sprawl all over you. What fun is that?? Still muffled by the pillow, but with Cane?s ear right there on it too he probably had no trouble understanding.

?None. None at all.? Cane?s chuckle was quiet and far too short. As their hands, cold and hot, collided, Cane sighed and slipped his palm over the back of Sal?s to entwine their fingers. ?How long have ya been waitin? on me? I was havin? a really late lunch wit? Sabine.? The Cajun?s breaths were shallow and a little fast. ?I finally caved ?n sent?cha a text on de way back home.?

?Uh,? Salvador said smartly. Time. Always time with people. ?I think your clock said three? I don?t know.? Checking his phone had never occurred to him. He withdrew his hand from Cane?s just as they were getting cozy, but only because he was sort of laying on the other one. He twisted, wriggled and wormed himself around so that he was laying mostly on his back, then. Even pulled his outstretched arm into the warmth of their shared cocoon. He searched his pockets rather quickly. ?Think I left my phone at home.? Oops!

When the Spaniard pulled his hand away, Cane balled his into a fist and closed his eyes. All the shifting around on Salvador?s part had him tipping away to lie flat on his back. He brought his arms in close, crossed over his middle and worked at keeping his breathing steady. ?It wasn? important. Jes? askin? if you was someplace I could bother ya.?

Pocket check complete, Salvador wriggled and rolled some more so that he was laying on his other side and facing the Cajun. He slid a leg over Cane?s two and his fingers over his nearer forearm, worming in close enough to stick his face in the side of the man?s neck. ?Bother me, he says.? Pshaw.

The Cajun swallowed. Everything he wanted to say was going to come out needy or jealous. And while he was the former, he did not want to come across as either. He turned his head so their eyes could meet. ?Is you ok??

In the dark, under the blankets, Salvador?s eyes glinted like red steel. He smiled and leaned his head in to press their foreheads together. Bump. ?I am now.? To reassure him further, he pressed a kiss to the Cajun?s mouth, short and sweet. Then he withdrew to narrow his eyes at him suspiciously. ?You?re not.? He could tell.

How quickly he wheeled through a variety of emotions: concern, reassurance, happiness, contentment, unease, fear, pain. Then, like a shade being drawn, everything was gone and he turned his head away. Cane?s steady breaths couldn?t hide the lie his pounding heart betrayed. ?I don? know what I?m doin?.? How many times was he going to have to say it until someone understood? ?Evelyn was at de inn las? night. I was waitin? f?you ta show up an? den we started talkin?.?

Oh. Waiting for him was he? Salvador?s hand lifted away from Cane?s arm, and he leaned back from him some. Surprise hit his face pretty hard, as did a faraway look as he recalled the previous night. How he?d stolen glances through the window while the songbird interrogated him.

The Cajun hid his eyes and forehead in the crook of his arm, his hand coming to a rest between their heads. ?I lef? wit? her. Had coffee an? talked ?bout ****in? boundaries. Boundaries ?cause I had ta go an admit I liked her. But--? He was getting too close to dangerous territory. The ice on which he stood was already cracking. ?I thought it was what I wanted, but it ain?. So now I feel like shit ?cause I gotta go tell her I made a mistake. I?m pretty damn good at makin? ?em.?

Gosh, Cajun. Par for the course with running your mouth into the ground tonight, aren?t you? That arm over the eyes probably didn?t help him see the way those words stung. Salvador leaned away more until he was on his back again, and his leg slid off of Cane?s in the process. His breathing was quiet but unsteady, brows knit tight while his mouth worked to try to form the words he wasn?t even sure he wanted to ask. He didn?t want to sound childish, so he kept a lid on it, lips together, and swallowed, shutting his eyes. He?ll just listen. That?s the best thing to do.

Cane?s head followed, turning to look at the Spaniard as he pulled away. He could only see out of one eye with the way his arm lay, but that one eye was narrowed. Every time Sal retracted himself, Cane felt like he was taking more with him than just his touch. Maybe the walls weren?t imaginary. ?An? obviously you agree.?

Could the Cajun see him picking his nails under the blankets? He twitched his head, a negative response though not entirely emphatic. Salvador held his breath after pulling it in over slightly parted lips, the lower tucked between his teeth so he could chew on it. He exhaled through his nose before swallowing. His eyes were still shut. ?What, um?? His words caught and he cleared his throat before trying again. ?What mistakes do you think you made??

The Cajun stared. Silence filled the space between them. Shifting the arm to lay over his head now, Cane angled his face to watch Salvador?s profile carefully. Every line of his expression was weighed down by tension. The air beneath the covers grew warm. ?Merrick. Evelyn. An? almos? Sabine.?

Relief washed over him and spilled out on a huff of air. ?Right.? Yes, right. He might have forgotten about two thirds of those mistakes. They were just jammed way back too far in the back of his memory, really. Not something he puts much thought into.

?Why?re you here?? Pause. That didn?t come out right. He should try again. Canaan propped himself up on an elbow to peer down at the Spaniard, pushing the blanket down so they could breathe fresh air. It was starting to get a little stifling under it with his raging emotional hard-on. ?I mean, why did?ja come earlier? Ya may?ve been fine once I got here, but?cha weren? fine before.?

All that shifting and the suddenly colder air had him opening his eyes, which he then blinked wide and slow. Damn light change adjustment. There was a bit more glinting going on in his irises. He stopped picking at his nails in favor of lifting his hand to his face to drag his fingers and thumbs over his eyes, pausing to squeeze the bridge of his nose. ?Uh. I was? I went to see Thorn.? Long story short.

Oh. Some of the tension bled out of his body and he sagged a little, reaching over to drag his fingertip along the cotton covering Salvador?s side. ?Went dat well, huh?? Ha ha. No, not really. That smile didn?t exactly reach his eyes because he wasn?t happy that the two of them were having issues of any kind. Happy Salvador = Happy Cane. Sad Salvador = Sad Cane. That?s just how things worked. ?So what was ?er problem??

?I don?t even ****ing know,? he groaned. ?I?m still ? processing it.? His head hurt. Salvador tilted more toward the Cajun when he turned his head and ground the heel of his hand against his forehead. ?She had me read her. It?s a ****ing? nngh.? He didn?t even have words for it. Just a lot of disgruntled noise. But this was a very good distraction to take his mind off other matters, so he wasn?t complaining too much. The fingers of his other hand went searching across his own stomach for the one Cane was using to drag along his side.

The Cajun blew out a confused breath. ?None ?a dat made any sense, so I can? help ya. But I?m sorry...it don? sound like y?all actually worked anyt?in out.? His hand stilled when Salvador?s fingers found his. First one, then two, three, and four--a tantalizingly slow tangle of digits without progressing into actual hand holding. ?I know she don? like me fer whatever reason, but I hope dat ain? why y?all ?r fightin?.? He could put two and two together. They were friends up until shortly after Cane arrived on the scene. He was the first to get the cold shoulder and now Salvador was beginning to fall under the weight of her judgement. None of it sat right with the Cajun.

Not quite hand-holding, and Salvador?s fingers wouldn?t stay still. Slow, barely there touches wherever he could put them along the Cajun?s hand, were what they had a mind to do. He folded his other arm and settled his hand atop his own head. He exhaled slow and heavy, relaxing for the most part. ?You?re part of it,? he admitted, frowning. ?She said some bullshit line about how she could never get a touch in on me because you and Sabine were always hanging on me. I didn?t ask her why she doesn?t like you two, but it?s clear she doesn?t. I had to leave. There?s just? too much.? His fingers lifted off his hair and patted back down to try to explain. ?Too much in my head right now.?

He shifted uncomfortably. His eyebrows pulled together and teeth worried into his lower lip. ?I?? He wasn?t sure he could force the words out of his mouth. Not the words themselves, really, but what it meant he had to do. ?I don? wanna come between you ?r anybody.? There was honesty there in his voice, but what came next sounded almost like it pained him. ?If backin? off is gonna help y?alls friendship--?

?Shut up,? Salvador interrupted him.

Canaan swallowed. ?Why.?

?Don?-- Don?t you dare.? He turned his head to look up at the Cajun?s face, a hard furrow set in his brow and nearly a frown. His mouth worked over words that weren?t fully formed yet. Things he could say, couldn?t say, wanted to say but didn?t want to say all at once. ?If staying friends with her means you backing off, she can take her friendship and shove it up her fine bitchy ass.? His fingers slid back against Cane?s hand to grip it tight.

He didn?t laugh. He didn?t return the squeeze of his hand. Hazel eyes locked with Salvador?s and there was a contemplative expression on his face. His stupid heart was beating so hard in his chest it was painful. Cane pulled his hand out of the Spaniard?s grip and straightened the arm he had been using to prop himself up. Without a word, he untangled himself from the blanket, crawled over Salvador?s legs and slid off the bed.

Once he was standing, back to the other man, Cane paused to rub his forehead and then left the room.

Well, hell. Let?s just absolutely baffle the Spaniard and leave him wondering what the fuck he said wrong, shall we? He twisted after a moment, turned over onto his stomach and wrestled with the blankets to disentangle himself from the nest he?d burrowed into earlier. He wasn?t usually in the habit of chasing after people, but for the Cajun he?d make an exception. He got up to his knees and was getting ready to slither over to the end of the bed when the man returned.

He loomed in the doorway, silent, clutching the neck of his guitar in his left hand. Could the Spaniard see how anxious he was? The way he practically shook, though it could have easily been passed off as a shiver due to a draft. That window had been open quite a while. Never mind it was uncomfortably warm in the room.

Canaan must?ve been holding his breath, because it broke free in a jagged rush a moment later. Standing there for entirely too long, he seemed to be struggling with whether to come or go. Another thirty seconds passed before the Cajun stepped into the bedroom and sat immediately on the edge of the bed with his back to Salvador.

With the guitar propped up on his thigh, positioned to play, Cane finally remembered how to speak. ?Uh?? Very eloquent. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry, tongue ring clattering wildly as he attempted to generate some moisture there. After licking his lips, the Cajun tried again and took a deep breath. ?I?ve been workin? on dis fer a while. But I only jes? finished it yesterday.?

Salvador had stopped moving the moment he?d seen the Cajun looming in the doorway. He ended up lowering so slowly to sit back on his shins that it might have seemed he?d been like that the entire time, during all those long seconds it took for Cane to muster up the courage to come back into the bedroom and sit down. Even now, the Spaniard didn?t say a goddamn thing. He watched and he stared, giving Canaan his full attention, even if it was only at the back of his head from this angle.

Calloused fingers slid down, then back up the strings along the neck of the guitar and settled into their starting position. When he started playing, Salvador would probably pick up on the tune as something Cane had been humming for...well over a week. Maybe two. And now that music flooded the silence, Canaan could breathe in a couple shaky lungfuls of air to steady his pulse. The intro to the song needed to be played several times until he was positive the suffocating wonder of whether or not this was going to backfire wouldn?t completely **** up the song.

Once he started singing, let himself feel the song, his worry drained away. Still felt a bit like a coward for doing this with his back turned, but Sabine had said to try. So he was fucking trying. Three and a half minutes later, the tension returned as the music stopped and he turned his head towards the Spaniard, chin to shoulder, braced against a negative reception.

If the Cajun hadn?t sat with his back to him, he would have seen the impact hit Salvador forty seconds into the whole song. Tangled up in the lyrics he was hearing were other words, whispers in the dark from only the night before. Does he make music for you? A little bird had asked him, and he had laughed at her. He had told her no. He?d had no idea how wrong he was until this moment. A moment that made him gasp quietly when the realization struck home. He set one hand over his mouth and then the other over that to smother any other noise that might have wanted to come out of him and interrupt. He shut his eyes tight and listened.

His heart twisted, hopeful but conflicted. Logic wanted to override feeling and tell him not to jump to conclusions now. Cane had said he?d written it, but hadn?t specified for whom. Maybe he was still wrong. Maybe he hadn?t even noticed that Cane was looking at him, because he was too busy trembling from the swell of emotion that had punched him in the chest.

Not exactly the reaction he expected, but it wasn?t the one he?d hoped for, either. Canaan watched the Spaniard out of the corner of his eye and waited for a moment. Something. Anything. **** it. The words were out there. He couldn?t take them back--not that he wanted to. Might as well throw caution to the wind.

Propping the guitar against the nightstand, he then crawled onto the bed to kneel in front of Salvador with his heels beneath his buttocks and knees angled to either side of the Spaniard. Cane?s palms reached out and planted themselves on the other man?s thighs. ?I ain? askin? fer anyt?in ta change. I don? need anyt?in more from you den whatcha already give me...?cept maybe ta hear I ain? alone in feelin? dis way.?

Salvador?s hands pulled away from his mouth, turned out and hovered there an inch or two away from his face. He was trembling still, and the breath he pulled in shook wildly. Holding that breath tight, he managed a short nod, and then another, and then he let that breath go and let his fingers touch against Cane?s chest. ?S?, s?,? he whispered, lifting those hands to touch either side of the Cajun?s face and leaning in to touch their foreheads together. ?Te amo, t? tonto guapo. No quise decir que amar t?, pero lo hago. C?mo no puedo.? Well done, Cajun. The Spaniard forgot how to English.

Them?s a lot of words. And none of them in a language he spoke. None of it mattered, however, because the very few words he did understand were all he needed to hear: affirmation followed by te amo, not te quiero. A halting breath was expelled as their foreheads touched and Cane reached up to lay one of his hands against the fabric covering his collarbone. An overwhelming need to feel more of the Spaniard had the hand creeping up and up, inching slowly, fingertips finding cool skin to slide across until he?d gotten that hand cupped around the back of the man?s neck.

?Te amo,? Cane repeated in that horrible accent and through a smile before they kissed.


-----------------------------
((The end! But really, it was just the beginning. I'm stupidly excited about their story. They're so sappy and adorable; it makes me sick, but I love it. If you're curious about the song Cane played, here's the link - with a minor lyric change from "this ain't love" to "this is love". D'aww. Yeah. See, Cane's a secret sap. HOPE YOU ENJOYED!))