"You can take the bed; you look like you could do with a good night's sleep. But do you maybe want to hang out here with me for a while and watch part of a movie first? We can talk more in depth about things in the morning, but quite frankly, I'm exhausted. And while I don’t see the point of knocking without leaving a threatening note or a bomb unless it was someone that simply wanted to creep me out or prove they know where I live, I think I'd fall asleep quicker with you out here with me."
Body stiff, tossing another wary look at the door, he eventually eases down into the seat beside me. Within moments I pick up on the coppery tang of blood undercutting his normal woodsy scent of pine and sandalwood, mentally backpedaling to see if I can remember him giving any sign of being hurt. I didn’t see him limping or wincing when he moved, so if he’s wounded, it’s relatively minor.
Or, you know, it’s nothisblood. Reid didn’t outright say what it is they’re involved in that’s garnered enemies, but I’m not an idiot.
Well, maybe I am for sticking around and getting caught deeper in their web knowing full well it’ll likely come back to bite me in the ass. But a twisted, self-destructive part of me has latched onto the fact that this is the most interesting thing to happen in my life since... ever. I can’t go back to the mind-numbing, empty monotony of before even if it’d be the smart move. The safe decision.
I’m so goddamn sick of simplyexisting.
As the minutes tick by he loses a fraction of the tension in his shoulders, but he’s still far too tightly wound for someone that looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I end up resting my head on the arm of the couch, legs stretched out over his lap and staring at the movie without really seeing or hearing it, beginning to doze off. The twitch of his fingers against my calf draws my attention before I fall asleep, and I force myself to stay awake a little longer.
Eventually he whispers, "Aren't you going to ask where I was?"
Not wanting to shatter the fragile moment, I remain still, even though I want to curl into his side and absorb some of whatever pain he’s struggling to work through. "If you want to tell me, you will. I'm not your keeper, nor do you owe me any explanations. You already told me that you had to go out of town for work; not like you're sneaking around and lying, or blowing me off."
He's quiet for so long that I wonder if I wastooflippant and came off as disinterested or indifferent, so I backpedal a tad, voice soft. "I'm here if you need to vent, but I'm not about to demand answers like I have any right to them. It's clear that whatever you do isn't particularly fun and takes a toll on you, so it seems cruel to ask you to relive it simply to slake my curiosity.”
Releasing a heavy breath, I tug the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I didn't invite you over to interrogate you. I might be reading things wrong, but not many people reach out in the middle of the night without a reason. Besides, one might even argue that I missed you a bit this week, so no pressure, Bo. Seriously, I’m happy to simply not be alone together so that we can both get some much needed rest."
He doesn't respond, and I begin to drift off again, the TV droning on to keep it from being awkwardly silent, but gradually, the tension in the room lessens. A heavy sigh slips out of him, and the man that was already starting to shrink finishes deflating.
"I don't regret what we do, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean it's easy." He rubs a thumb over my leg in soothing sweeps. "When our parents died, we were able to take things in a different direction. They'd take any job presented to them, consequences be damned, and pissed off a hell of a lot of people because of it. They didn't ever ask why, only how much."
His thumb stills, fingers tightening on my leg. "But now we're incredibly selective about what jobs we decide to take. We dig into them first, make sure we have a full scope of the situation before agreeing to move forward."
He trails off in pensive silence, and I use my free leg to stroke over his thigh, subtly drawing his attention back to the present and out of his head. He releases the tight grip on my calf to gently massage my leg, clearing his throat.
"It's easy enough to put a cruel bastard down so that they can never hurt anyone again, but things aren't always black and white. This guy... his family." He shakes his head and scoffs. "Most of the time I can walk away without an ounce of remorse, knowing that the world is a better place with one less monster in it. This man tortured people for days before he murdered them, dumped their bodies like they were yesterday’s trash. Yet he treated his family like they were the best things to ever happen to him. And while his death saved who knows how many more people having to suffer at his hands, I may as well have killed those four right alongside him. A wife that was madly in love with the man she thought she knew. The kids that squealed in delight when their father came home, they were so excited. I ripped him away from them, ruined four happy lives; killed their blissful innocence and left them hollow, lifeless shells."
He clears his throat, voice still rough. "I did the right thing, but it sure as shit doesn't feel like it."
“The burden of being a good person. You don’t do the right thing to feel good, you do it because somebody has to. And sometimes it feels like a punishment, especially when everyone else is happier doing whatever they want.” Sitting up, I give him a sad smile. “I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to be like everybody else.”
His golden eyes bore into mine as he swallows, throat bobbing, and I save him from having to speak by getting to my feet and offering a hand. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, Boden came here in search of a reprieve, wanting time to pull himself together before facing his brothers so that he could continue to be the rock that they can count on to do whatever needs done.
“On second thought, I don’t want to be the first line of defense if someone breaks in. I promise to keep my hands to myself, but I’m going to use you as a human shield so I can get some decent sleep.”
Bo lets me drag him down the hall with a breathy chuckle. “Not only the honor of being a human sacrifice, but no wandering hands? How ever did I get so lucky?”
Squeezing his hand once before letting go, I pull down the covers on the bed and crawl in, rolling over so that he’s closer to the door. I don’t actually anticipate any issues, but there’s no way that I can erase the images haunting him right now. And though I could attempt to convince him that those people are better off in the long run, that they’ll adjust, to discredit their suffering simply to ease his mind seems a disservice to everyone involved.
I barely know him, but I can already tell that he’s appointed himself to the role of protector in his life. He needs to be needed, a purpose to keep him grounded. So while I can’t sit here and tell him not to be upset, I can make him feel necessary; wanted.
I can show him that I don’t think he’s a monster, but a big enough threat to keep the real ones at bay.
“Full disclosure, I snore.”
He scoffs, sitting on the edge of the mattress and kicking off his boots. “You do not.”
Pausing as I reach for the comforter, I frown at his back. “How would you know?”
If I wasn’t looking for it, I’d have missed the way he tenses up, but it’s there and gone in less than a second before he’s stretching out in his spot. Voice far too casual, he answers, “I tossed your drunken ass in bed, remember? Like I wasn’t going to check on the two of you at least once to make sure you didn’t get sick or fall down the stairs?”
Making a small hum of acknowledgment, I slide down, resting my head on my pillow. After a few minutes, I roll over onto my other side, tucking the pillow under my neck a little more. I make it all of five minutes before I’m sitting up, flipping my pillow to the cool side in a bid to recapture the elusive, perfect position I lost by getting out of bed earlier.
With a huff, Bo slips a hand under my ribcage, tugging me into his side. “You didn’t warn me you fidget. Maybe Ishouldtoss you back out on the couch.”
Using the crook of his arm and chest as a pillow, I sigh. “I’d have thought the obnoxious muscles wouldn’t be comfortable, but I’m happy to admit when I’m wrong.”
