“Would you…like some clothes?”
Ender blinked and looked down, his face heating swiftly as he caught sight of his dangly bits out and free for the world to see. “Fucking dammit!”
He looked up sharply when Killian giggled, glaring on finding Cyrus now smirking at him too—the fucker!
In his borrowed clothes, which consisted of bottoms from Killian that fit well, and one of Cyrus’ shirts, that was practically a dress on him, Ender eyed the people, including many of his own, who were passed out, sleeping away in the halls as he walked the path back to his ship. Everyone was in various stages of dress, and he had to seriously fight against the urge to tell them all to wake the fuck up.
Ender could only assume that the Siren’s voice, which had calmed him down, had put everyone else into a deep sleep. Whatever, best they not see him on his walk of shame…
Ender paused as he neared the breach point, his brow raising on finding Soren passed out against the wall. It appeared hisbrother had resisted the Siren’s voice, until he saw with his own eyes that he was okay…
His gaze briefly flicked to Severo, who was snoring away, but he ignored him and marched right up to the Harpy, nudging him with his foot. “Wake up.”
When the normally easily woken, and he’d even say jumpy, bird didn’t budge, Ender rolled his eyes and grabbed onto one of his hands, dragging him through the connecting platform hall and onto Red Herring.
Once they were safely in his quarters, and far away from prying ears, Ender tossed the man’s hand away with a huff and barked, “WAKE THE FUCK UP, TODDLES!”
Soren flinched, his eyes snapping open. The Harpy stared for a brief moment before Ender found himself engulfed in the man’s arms, his brother holding tight.
He sighed as he felt Soren begin to tremble, the wetness on his shirt telling enough. “I’ve had about enough of tears at the moment. Could you not?” he groaned with exasperation, patting the Harpy’s back despite his words.
“I thought it was really over this time…” Soren rasped softly.
“Well, it turns out my snake is a sucker for a sweet voice. The weak ass fucker.”
His brother let out a watery chuckle. “All these years of trying to find a solution, and it turns out, all I needed to do was get a Siren and we’d be good.”
He snorted. “Yeah, who would have thunk it?”
Soren pulled back, his eyes scanning him. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? It’s…far before the date.”
That it was… He glanced towards the electric wall calendar. Still the 25th… Though it likely wouldn’t be for much longer.
“I feel…” Ender took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. He felt fucking sore, that was how he felt, and it was more than just the muscle soreness he usually had after becoming that beastlyfucking form. Ender’s ass hurt, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to tell Soren that. Aside from his throbbing ass though, he felt sad…tired…exhausted, yet… “Calm,” he said at last. “I feel calm, like it’s the aftermath. I don’t think I’ll have a relapse.”
Soren smiled. “That’s good.” The man shook his head. “No, it’s fucking great.”
Yeah, just fucking fantastic, but it would have been nice if it hadn’t come about because of me sleeping with two people less than half my damn age, he thought with a sigh. His ass was way too fucking old for this shit.
“I feel old,” Ender groaned.
His brother smirked. “You are old, Ender.”
“Yeah, well, so are you!” he snapped.
“That I am. Five years older in fact.” The Harpy laughed.
“Like those five years mean a damn thing now!” Ender huffed, before hissing, “Stop smiling like that, you annoying bastard!”
“I won’t. I can’t. I thought I lost you. So deal with it.”
He punched the fucker in the arm. Soren just chuckled.
Glaring, he snapped, “Just go wake all those assholes up! It’s time to fix the damn climate control on one of these fucking ships. Or the engine. One or the other, but I am definitely mighty damn tired of being cold!”
“On it!” Soren said way too fucking brightly, before walking out, leaving him alone in the room with his thoughts.
Ender stared at the door, frowning at the odd realization that came into his noggin. He hadn’t felt cold last night—or had it been this morning? Whatever time it had been, he’d felt warm for the first time since his family died. And he’d still felt warm up until he’d woken up and moved away from that damn couple that was far, far too fucking young and above the law for him.
