Quinn: If you show up within the next two hours, you’ll be locked out and sleeping outside in the snow. I WILL barricade the doors.
“Is that Callahan texting you?” asked August, leaning into Quinn’s space, but a firm hand in the air stopped him.
Quinn held it there, watching the three dots that said Niko was responding, smirking when they disappeared and reappeared several times before he finally received an answer.
Unknown: Okay.
That was easy. It was a shame that dealing with August wouldn’t be quite as enjoyable.
“Lead the way,” Quinn told August, already unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. “I’m on babysitting duty until your roommate gets home.”
He couldn’t see August’s face, but he expected a scowl when he looked at him again, but…there was no scowl.
August was gazing awkwardly at the snow-dusted driveway, not meeting Quinn’s eyes as he shut the door and started toward the house. “Come on.”
Quinn peered at the neighbouring houses to see if anyone was watching him follow a bloodied-up August inside, but most lights were off, and the surrounding foliage provided good cover.
And the evening was turning out to be full of surprises, because when Quinn entered August’s home, he found warm brown hardwood, rich coloured wallpapers, and fucking antique furniture. There were no greys or modern-looking remodels, and when Quinn looked up and spotted the Tiffany chandelier, his mouth fell open.
“Right.” August rubbed the back of his head, like he was embarrassed about his beautiful, perfect home. “I know it’s gaudy, but I like the way it looks. Makes it feel like a home, even though I’m not here as much as I want to be.”
A thought struck him, and Quinn’s mouth snapped shut as he studied August’s back, glaring at him while the man took his coat and boots off. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about August’s choice of décor. The way it matchedQuinn’s preferences unnerved him, and heknewhe had told August about his dream home when they were younger.
It felt like some expensive fae trap.
Quinn sighed. He was thinking too deeply about this, and in the time that he had taken to have his mini freak out, August turned to look at him, frowning as he waited for a response.
“It’s…gorgeous,” said Quinn. “You had every right to be excited about showing me.”
August’s mouth began to quirk up, but then the strange numb expression returned before Quinn had a chance to see him smile.
“You…” August winced and reached for his head, and his already pale skin went bone-white. “You like places…like this. I forgot.”
Quinn’s stomach began to swoop, like he was on a roller coaster dropping from a great height. What in the hell was wrong with August? He was so all over the place that Quinn could barely keep up.
“You need to shower and wash the blood off,” said Quinn, taking a timid step toward August. “Has the bleeding stopped?”
Because he was a gross man and a typical hockey player, August wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing globs of congealed blood on what Quinn knew had to be an expensive dress shirt.
“It stopped,” he said, looking down and grimacing at the state of his clothes. “You can leave now. I’ll tell Cap that you stayed if it makes you feel better, but I don’t actually need a babysitter.”
“I like how you say that when you know I’m not going to listen to a damn word you tell me,” Quinn said, unzipping his coat and stepping out of his boots. He maintained eye contact with August as he set his coat on a hook and moved his boots to the side so that Niko wouldn’t trip on them when he came in.
August said nothing as he stared at Quinn, his stubborn demeanour slowly tapering away until he began to resemble a kicked puppy. Quinn wasn’t used to seeing August acting timid, and that was throwing him off, too.
In high school, August had been a gangly, hot fuck boy who walked through the halls like he owned the place. And while Quinn could seesomeof that in the man he was facing now, it wasn’t as pronounced.
But people change. Ten years was a long time, and Quinn wasn’t the same person he was in high school, either.
Crossing his arms, Quinn gave August one final look from his feet to his head and then lifted his chin. “Shower.”
August grimaced like a spoiled child who was being toldno, but then he sighed and started up the stairs, still wobbling a concerning amount.
“Feel free to find something in the fridge to eat and turn the TV on,” August grumbled, disappearing up the gorgeous grand staircase and out of sight.
Quinn had no interest in eating or watching television. His social battery was running on fumes after mingling with a crowd of Bigfoot enthusiasts, and the surprise detour to August’s place had drained whatever was left. But, since he was a nosy bastard, sitting still wasn’t an option, so he decided to explore the house while he waited for Niko to show up.
The place was old, but it had been lovingly restored. Ornate crown mouldings framed the ceilings, and the banister leading upstairs had the heavy, carved look of real wood, which meant it was probably the original. Every wall seemed to be adorned with vintage paintings that were probably worth more than Quinn’s car, and other items like antique clocks and interesting trinkets.
