Gentle hands touched his shoulders, and he startled, twisting away and reaching for a blade only to see white hair and familiar red eyes.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Storm said quickly.
Nathan’s head swirled with confusion. “Storm? What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.” He shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world, but worry cut deep lines between his brows. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Storm wouldn’t judge him for killing that boy, but Nathan couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’d done aloud. He shook his head, his face collapsing with grief. Tears ran hot down his cheeks, too fast for him to even wipe away.
“You’re freaking me out, sunshine,” Storm said. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and it was impossible to resist. Nathan pressed closer, and they curled around him, warm and comforting. Nathan only cried harder, hiding his sobs in the curve of Storm’s neck.
He heard the jangle of his keys, and then Storm was lifting him bridal-style, like he weighed nothing. Nathan clung to him, unwilling to raise his head.
A moment later, they were inside, and Storm closed and locked the door behind them, enclosing them inside Nathan’s private sanctuary.
“Where do you want to go? Sofa? Bed? Shower?” Storm asked, hovering by the door.
He was exhausted, but he needed to scrub his body until it was raw. “Shower,” he rasped.
Somehow, he didn’t expect Storm to undress him, but when they got to the bathroom, Storm set him on the bathroom counter and went to work on his military-style boots.
“I can?—”
“Shut up,” Storm said, his red eyes blazing. “I told you, you’re freaking me out. Let me do this.”
Nathan shook. “‘Kay.” He was too scattered to protest.
His easy acquiescence didn’t seem to set Storm at ease. He dropped one boot after the other to the floor, then turned his attention to the buckles holding Nathan’s knives to his outer thighs, scowling deeply when they didn’t spring apart right away for him.
Nathan wordlessly reached for the buckles around his legs, and when Storm saw where they were he swatted Nathan’s hands away and loosened them himself. When they were off, discarded to the floor with his boots, Storm paused, cupping Nathan’s face and studying him intently. His thumb swept slowly back and forth across Nathan’s cheek, and Nathan leaned into it, fitting his hands on either side of Storm’s waist and drawing him between his legs so he could rest his head on his chest. The languid, steady pulse of his heart soothed him, and Nathan felt as though he could breathe easy for the first time since the patrol.
Storm tried to peel himself away, but Nathan held fast. “I thought you wanted a shower,” Storm murmured, curling around him and squeezing reassuringly tight.
Nathan took a breath to speak, but it shuddered down into his chest and brought more tears to his eyes. He bit down on his lip, but there was no stifling it. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he keened. God, why couldn’t hestop?
“Don’t apologize.” Storm’s hand cradled the back of his head, threading into the short strands. “I’ll stand here for as long as you need.”
Nathan melted against him, trusting that Storm could take his weight. When his hitching breaths subsided enough, he gently pushed Storm away and gave him a nod. Storm backed away, keeping one eye on him while he reached behind the shower curtain and turned the water on. He was more surprised than he probably should’ve been when Storm removed his own shirt, dropping it carelessly on the tile floor.
Nathan’s sleeve was ripped, but it still hid the gauze well enough—that is, until Storm stepped into his space and tugged it off him. He made a soft noise under his breath, taking Nathan’s wrist in hand.
“What did this to you?”
He didn’t trust himself to speak yet. Instead, he unwound the medical tape and removed the gauze, revealing the very human-looking bite wound on his forearm, now closed with stitches and blooming with a dark bruise. The scratches from the possessor demon’s clawed hand hadn’t needed any stitches, at least. Storm’s finger gently traced the curved shape of the teeth marks. When his red gaze met Nathan’s, they were knowing. It probably didn’t take a genius to figure out what did this. Nathan had texted them all earlier in the day about a paladin who’d been killed by a possessor, after all.
Storm softened, taking Nathan’s face in both hands and guiding his face up to seal their mouths together. Nathan spared a thought for how gross he probably tasted, but Storm didn’t deepen it. It felt like gratitude, this kiss, a soft brush of lips like Nathan was as precious as spun glass. Like Storm was reminding himself that Nathan was still there. And Nathan needed the reminder, too.
“Come,” Storm said, tugging him off the counter. “Shower. Then bed.”
He helped Nathan out of his black cargos and navy blue boxer briefs. Heat flushed through Nathan at the intimacy of it, but Storm didn’t linger over the act or Nathan’s nudity. He held the curtain aside so Nathan could step under the spray, then shucked the last of his own clothes and stepped in with him.
Nathan didn’t expect that. He should’ve, since hesawStorm take his shirt off, but the minute Storm’s arms wrapped around him under the heat of the water, he lost it again. He tipped his head back to rest on Storm’s sturdy shoulder, the water pounding against his chest.
His plans to scrub himself raw were forgotten as Storm massaged shampoo into his hair and ran the soapy washcloth over his skin. Storm’s hardness was obvious, pressing against Nathan’s bottom, but it seemed to be an afterthought as he guided Nathan around and urged his head back. Gentle fingers coaxed the suds from his hair and down his body, and he kept his left hand on Storm’s shoulder the whole time so his stitches wouldn’t get drenched.
When they stepped out of the shower, Storm tended to him first, wrapping him in a towel and buffing him dry. The action had tears springing to his eyes again, because Storm was being so endlessly patient and caring, but he fought them down this time. He couldn’t keep weeping over every little thing. Falling apart didn’t solve anything.
Still naked, Nathan gestured to the sink and padded over to brush his teeth while Storm gathered their dirty clothes and his abandoned weapons, carrying it all from the bathroom. Nathan stared at the hollow expression on his own face as he brushed the aftertaste of vomit from his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale. He looked like hell, and he felt like it, too.
