“Idiots,” Sage sighed.
Patrick slung his arm over her shoulders, giving her a comforting hug. “Look at it this way. We deal with Estelle and her pack this weekend, and your wedding is in the clear next week.”
Sage was too proper to sulk, but she did side-eye Patrick something fierce. Jono laughed, despite the pain humming beneath his skin. “Let’s head home. If we’re meeting with the mayor today, I’m not bloody doing so in scrubs.”
It was one thing to go in front of news cameras and show the cost of fighting in the preternatural world while dressed in scrubs, quite another to do the same whilst bargaining with a politician in power. Appearances meant everything these days, and Jono had gotten better at playing the political game.
* * *
Jono steppedout of the shower and wasn’t surprised to find Patrick waiting for him in the bathroom, holding up a towel for him.
“Casale called,” Patrick said as Jono took the towel from him. “The mayor is willing to meet with us before he announces the curfew for the city under an emergency order.”
Jono wrapped the towel around his waist, reaching for the medicine cabinet and the deodorant there. “Didn’t think we rated an emergency order.”
“It’s us coupled with my now dismissed case and the Dominion Sect. The mayor wants people off the streets.”
“Can’t say I’d argue that.”
“Sage said you need to wear a suit.”
Jono sighed, thinking of how it was going to irritate his still-healing wounds. “I’d like to argue that.”
“You’re wearing a suit!” Sage yelled from the living room.
Patrick wrapped his fingers around Jono’s wrist, and he let himself be led out of the master bathroom adjoined to their bedroom. “Come on. It’s hours until we need to meet with the mayor. Let’s get some sleep.”
“Can we afford to?” Jono asked, thinking about everything that had happened and the fight still ahead.
“I’m not letting you fight Estelle sleep-deprived. Get on the bed. You’re hugging me until I feel less murderous that she tried to execute you in an ambush.”
Jono smiled wanly. “That’ll take more than a few hours.”
He still lay down with Patrick, the towel dropped to the floor once he dried off. Patrick remained in his clothes, suit jacket and tie somewhere else in the flat. He burrowed close to Jono once they were on the bed, hands gentle next to bandages still covering Jono’s bullet and gut wounds.
“I’m healing,” Jono promised.
“I should’ve been there.”
“You were facing down Ares in DC. I’m a bit more worried at how many gods are coming after you right now.”
“Gerard bought us time. He’ll fly back here tomorrow, and I’ll pick him up from the airport.”
“How is he?”
Patrick sighed, his breath ghosting over Jono’s collarbone. “Exhausted, I think. Fighting Ares took a lot out of him. He’s a demi-god, for all he’s immortal. It’s a different level of power compared to others.”
“Still took down a god of war.”
“Yeah, well, he was pissed.”
“Understandable.” Jono yawned, letting his eyes shut. “At least he’s alive.”
“And dealing with all the politics I left behind when Hermes dragged us through the veil. I’ll owe him for that.”
Jono stroked his fingers over Patrick’s upper arm. “Sleep, love.”
They slept through the middle of the day, tangled up in each other, their mobiles in Sage’s capable hands. Jono woke up hours later to afternoon sunlight pouring through their bedroom window and Patrick staring at him from the pillow they shared, propped up on one elbow.
