It Ain't Nothin' Part 2
Aug. 30th, 2022 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: It Ain’t Nothin’ Part 2
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,981
Summary: It’s the day after and Zayne’s hurting and angry, taking it out on everyone in his sight.
Author’s Note: Written for ‘taking care of someone’ spot on my hc_bingo card. Also, because I got several requests for a ‘grumpy, recovering Zayne’.
God damn but his shoulder hurt. He tried moving it a little, just to loosen up the stiffness, and he winced. A bolt of pure fury shot through his arm and the upper part of his chest. Fuck whoever told him it was better to feel things than to constantly numb them with alcohol and sex.
Wait, no, he was pretty sure that was Zeklos who’d told him that. So, maybe not ‘fuck you’ but possibly ‘dude, why?’.
Zayne glanced at the clock. It had only been four hours since his last dose of pain medicine and he wasn’t sure if Zek would be willing to cough up another. Couldn’t hurt to ask, he supposed. Leaning heavily on his good arm, he finagled himself out of Zek’s bed and onto his feet. He took a moment to regain his balance before shuffling into the living room. Seeing that his partner was nowhere to be found, he turned to move towards the kitchen.
“I am in my office, Zayne,” Andrej’s voice floated down the hall.
“How the hell did I walk right past him,” he muttered, making an about face and heading back towards the bedroom.
“Likely because your stomach was leading the charge,” the redheaded narco said. He was sitting in a folding chair next to Zeklos’ desk, where Andrej had been completing random reports for work.
Making a face, Zayne took in the scene, irrationally annoyed that Zek was in here, with the narco, and not in the bedroom with him. “Actually,” he said, feeling exceptionally petty, “it’s my shoulder that drove me out of bed. You know, the one I got shot in? Trying to protect our boyfriend?”
Andrej frowned. “Zayne, is there something bothering you?” He glanced at Zayne’s bare chest, eyes drifting up to where the white bandage was taped to his skin. “Other than your wound?”
“Sounds to me like that dude missed an opportunity to shoot Reyes in the personality,” James snarked. “Would have to be an improvement.”
Zayne balled his fists, ready to throw down, even if it meant instant and long-lasting pain for himself.
“Jay,” Zeklos warned. “Not now. And you,” he said, turning to Zayne, “are being grouchy. Does your shoulder hurt again?”
He forced his fingers to loosen. Pissing off his caretaker was never a good idea. He’d be eating canned chicken noodle soup instead of the real stuff for dinner if that happened. “Yeah,” he admitted, hating that he was showing weakness in front of either of them, but mostly exposing his vulnerability to Rosewood. “It’s why I came to find you. I think it’s too early but…”
Zek checked his watch. “It is a bit early, but we can put an ice pack on it for a bit. You can have your next dose in half an hour.”
“I thought that it was every six hours.”
“You have been asleep for over five,” Zek told him. “You woke me at four, crying, remember?”
Zayne flinched. No, he didn’t remember that at all, actually. “I – I thought it was later than that. God, I’m sorry.”
“Do not be sorry,” Andrej replied. “You are injured and hurting; a certain amount of inconvenience is to be expected.”
“What about the grumpy, how much of that is to be expected,” James asked.
“A whole hell of a lot, narco,” Zayne shot back. Cringing at his outburst, he looked at his partner, expecting a reprimand. Instead, Zeklos was smiling.
“Go back to bed, Zayne,” Andrej said. “I will be there in a few minutes.”
“You really do have the patience of a saint,” he heard James say. “I couldn’t do it.”
“I am surprised,” Zeklos responded. “After all, you spent so much time caring for your younger siblings. I thought it wouldd be second nature.”
“Nah, the little shits could fend for themselves as far as I was concerned. If my mother wasn’t making me care for them, I’d have been doing something more entertaining.”
Shaking his head, Zayne went back to bed. For once, he couldn’t blame the narco for feeling the way he did. He wouldn’t have wanted to spend all his free time herding children either.
--
“Zayne,” he heard, followed by a gentle pressure on his uninjured shoulder.
He let his eyes open slowly, taking time to focus on the blur in front of him. Had he drifted off again? “Huh?”
“You fell back to sleep,” the voice, one he recognized as Zeklos’ now, said. “Let me help you sit up. I think you may have slept on your bad arm a bit.”
“Ow,” he yelped as Zeklos helped him get situated more comfortably on the mound of pillows. Fuck, that had hurt. “God, please tell me you have my pain pill.”
“I do,” Andrej said, giving him a look. “I also have your antibiotic and some food for you to eat, first.”
“I don’t think I can eat anything right now, baby,” he said, meaning it for what was likely the first time in his life.
Zeklos handed him half a bagel, smeared with a thick layer of peanut butter. “Take a couple of bites, otherwise your medications will make you ill.”
He gave his partner the best puppy dog eyes he could manage under the circumstances. No dice, Zek’s look only got darker, more serious. Sighing, he took the bagel and nibbled at it.
“Thank you,” Zek said, putting a plate on one of the TV trays he kept in the hall closet. “I am thinking that hunger is part of the reason why you were so awful to Jay earlier.”
Zayne made a face. “I wasn’t that awful to him,” he grouched. “He thought that son of a bitch should have shot me in the personality.” He did air quotes with one hand as he said the last word. “Dude’s on my last nerve.”
Zeklos said nothing, so Zayne took another bite of his bagel, realizing suddenly that he was ravenous. Finishing off the last bit of bagel, he licked his lips. “You got any more of that?”
Laughing, Andrej handed him the plate with the other half of the bagel, a couple pieces of turkey bacon, and some strawberries. “Your medication is in the little cup by your juice. Take them, finish your breakfast, and I’ll change your bandage when you’re done.”
“Okay,” he said, eyeing the bacon warily.
“It is the good stuff as you call it,” Zeklos said, watching him. “It is indeed turkey, but I bought it at Whole Foods. It is better than the regular stuff but still healthier than real bacon.”
“Someone shot my ass,” he said, reaching for the facon as he tended to call it, “while I was pulling you out of the line of fire, and yet, you give me turkey bacon.” He waved the strip of meat at his partner.
“Yes, because I love you enough to not want to compound your gunshot wound with a heart attack.” He kissed Zayne lightly and stood. “I will be back in ten minutes with the first aid kit.”
“Okay,” he said, repeating his earlier comment. “Just leave that fucking peroxide in the bathroom!”
--
“Gimme.”
Zayne looked up from the magazine he’d found on the bedside and frowned at the redhead hovering over him. At least it wasn’t the narco, he thought. “What do you want, Rollins?”
“Your plate,” she said, holding her hand out. “Andy wants to run the dishwasher before he tortures you with wound care.”
“Oh,” he said, setting the magazine down beside him. Lifting the plate towards her, he added, “Thank you.”
“So, it’s only the ginger narco you hate. Good to know.” She tossed him a wink and exited the bedroom.
“What did she mean by that,” he asked the room.
“Rosewood’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re being over the top awful to him,” Hilary said, coming into the room and climbing onto the bed beside him.
“No more so than usual, I don’t think,” Zayne said, honestly. He looked at Hilary and smiled.
“What,” she asked, wary.
“It’s been a minute since I’ve been in bed with a woman,” he joked.
Laughing, Hilary said, “And it’s going to be a long ass minute before you’re ever in bed with me again, too.”
“I am not sure I want to know what you two are talking about,” Zeklos said. He had the first aid kit in one hand, a bag, and a folding chair in the other.
“Just reminiscing about your partner’s fluid sexuality,” Hilary said.
It struck Zayne that there wasn’t an ounce of recrimination or sarcasm in her words. That she truly sounded okay with how things had worked out. She was doing better than he was. Sometimes, even now, after all this time, he still wondered what had changed and caused him to fall in love with Zeklos as hard as he had. But that was the drugs talking. It had to be.
“Do you mind if Hilary stays while I change your bandage,” Zek asked. “She wanted to know what needed to be done in case I wasn’t here to do it for you.”
“Where are you going to be,” Zayne asked, panicked. “You going somewhere?”
“No, Zayne,” Zeklos reassured him while sorting through the bandages in his first aid kit. “I am not going anywhere. Hilary is just trying to be prepared.”
Sighing, Zayne relaxed. “You’d better not go anywhere,” he said. He’d never survive on his own, not now.
“Are we patching up the cowboy,” James asked, poking his head into the bedroom. “And if it’s going to hurt, can I watch?”
“Shouldn’t you be out chasing a drug dealer or something,” Zayne shot back.
Andrej muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, causing everyone to look at him. “It was nothing. I promise.”
Trish stuck her head around James and chuckled. “We all know that deflection means you were cussing someone out in a foreign language, Andy.”
Andrej ignored her. More proof, Zayne thought. Question was, who was Zeklos cursing? The narco or himself?
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I took a couple of personal days, cowboy.” James moved into the bedroom and leaned against the dresser, watching as Andrej removed the bandage from Zayne’s shoulder. “Damn, that looks nasty.”
“I. Was. Shot,” Zayne said for the umpteenth time.
“No. Shit,” James replied. “You know what? I came to make sure you were doing okay and to see if I could help Andy out any. But forget it.” He looked at Zeklos. “Call me when he’s comatose again,” he said before stomping out of the room.
“Okay,” Trish said, “while I am not opposed to poking the ginger bear, what is with you today?’
Zayne crossed his arms, realizing at the last minute what a stupid move that had been. Eh, too late now he supposed.
“He is hurting, so he is lashing out,” Zeklos said, focus completely on the first aid kit. He dumped the bag onto the bed and out spilled the supplies they’d been given at the ER.
“I got that much, but why Rosewood?” Trish brought the TV tray over to Zek’s side and set it up for him. “Usually, it’s me he lashes out at when he’s in a mood.”
“Thank you,” Andrej said, moving some of the items to the TV tray. “My guess is that Jay is an easy target. He’s not likely to punch Zayne while he’s injured, and Zayne knows this.”
“Hm, so you’re saying he’s taking it all out on the narco because if he pisses you off, he’ll be sleeping alone.”
Zayne muttered something.
“What was that,” Hilary asked.
“I said,” Zayne repeated more loudly, “that if I piss off Zek I’ll be eating canned soup and white bread instead of homemade chicken and noodles with fresh biscuits.”
“Heaven forbid you eat like the rest of us for a meal or two,” Hilary laughed.
Zayne saw Andrej press his lips together before leaning closer to the wound. It was well known amongst them all that Zeklos believed everyone could cook like he did if they only made the effort. Hilary probably could, no doubt. But he, the narco, and Rollins were a crapshoot.
“Ouch,” he yelped, feeling the sting of alcohol on his skin. “Shit, Zek.”
“I would apologize,” Zeklos said, dabbing at the wound with a clean piece of gauze, “but it is necessary to keep the wound clear.”
Zayne’s hand floundered and was grasped tightly by Hilary’s. He glanced at her, grateful, trying to relax. “Damn, that hurts, baby.”
“I am almost done,” Zeklos said, his breath hot and damp on Zayne’s exposed skin.
“Good thing, because it’s not safe having you this close to me when I’m half naked.”
“Okay,” Hilary said, releasing his hand, “if you’re going to be like that, you can comfort yourself.”
Zeklos snorted out a bit of soft laughter. “This is what they call self-comfort, no?” He turned towards Hilary. “Like when a baby sucks his thumb?”
“Something like that,” Trish cackled. “You ready for the clean bandage yet?”
“I am,” he said, holding his hand out. Trish retrieved it from the TV tray and laid it in his hand.
Once he’d replaced Zayne’s bandage and assured that it was secure, Zeklos slipped off the edge of the bed. He placed a chaste kiss on Zayne’s forehead. “Get some rest. Jay will be back for dinner, and I expect you to be in a better mood.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zayne muttered, hating that he knew Zek was right. That he’d been grouchy with the narco because he was the easiest target. “You know,” he started, thinking maybe this wasn’t the best thing to admit to right now, “I wouldn’t push him so much if it wasn’t so easy to get under his skin.”
“Reyes, you could get under Mother Theresa’s skin,” Trish pointed out.
“Fine,” he said, realizing suddenly that he wasn’t going to win with any of them. “I’ll do my best to behave, but if I’m hurting and he pisses me off, it’s over.”
Zeklos sighed. “I will have a talk with Jay, too.”
“Okay, Zayne,” Hilary said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Trish and I are going to get back to work. Andy, you need anything, even five minutes of peace, call one of us, okay?”
He nodded but remained focused on returning the bandages on the bed to their proper spots in the first aid kit. Trish brushed a hand across the top of his head in that way she had. The briefest of contact that let you know you weren’t in the shit alone.
After they’d filed out of the bedroom, Zayne reached out and lightly touched Zeklos’ wrist. “Stop for a second.”
He heard Zek sigh, possibly gathering his thoughts before turning in his direction. “I am just organizing the first aid kid. Either you or Jay made a mess of it the last time.”
“I think that was the narco.” He saw Zek’s expression darken, and he rushed to clarify. “I only say that because my dumb ass cut my thumb peeling an apple.”
He thought he detected a hint of a smile at his admission.
“Zek?” Andrej met his eyes and Zayne frowned. “I’m really not doing all this on purpose. I don’t know why, but something about seeing Rosewood makes me want to lash out.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what is going on with me right now, but I’m sorry.”
“It is okay,” Zeklos said, resting his free hand on top of Zayne’s forearm. “I spoke with Jake about how you’d been acting, and how Jay has been so quick to snipe right back at you.”
“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. “And?”
“And,” Andrej said, situating himself so he was facing Zayne as much as he could. “And Jake believes that you are angry with Jay for not being there to help you protect me.” He held up a hand to forestall Zayne from complicating things with his usual bullshit. “Jake also believes that Jay is feeling guilty that he was not there to help you and that is why he is allowing you to get under his skin.”
Zayne looked down at where their arms were tangled together. Hansen was obviously smarter than he let on, although, some of that might be to protect the gingerbread’s ego. God only knew that Zek did that for him more often than he cared to admit.
“I’m sure I had some anger at James afterwards,” he finally admitted. “I mean, isn’t that why we’re here? To take care of each other, protect each other, in addition to loving each other?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I do know that you’re – Jake’s – probably not wrong about me. I doubt that Rosewood is feeling guilty about anything other than letting you stay partners with me.”
“He has no say in that,” Zek growled. “Ever. And do not let him try and tell you otherwise. That is something that is my decision and my decision alone.” He lowered his head. “Nor does he have any say in whether you are my boyfriend or not either, something I know he has claimed in the past. Know that if you are being kicked to the street, it is only because I am done with you.”
“Kicked to the curb,” Zayne corrected gently, loving it when Zek mixed his idioms up like that. “But thank you. Hearing that out of your mouth helps.”
“Good,” he said, raising his gaze. “Now, give me a kiss and get some rest. I have work to finish, and our captain would like me back in the station tomorrow. So, I need to know that I can leave you on your own, okay?”
Zayne nodded. “Okay, baby.”
Fandom: Romani Detective Original Fiction
Pairing: Andrej Zeklos/James Rosewood/Zayne Reyes
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,981
Summary: It’s the day after and Zayne’s hurting and angry, taking it out on everyone in his sight.
Author’s Note: Written for ‘taking care of someone’ spot on my hc_bingo card. Also, because I got several requests for a ‘grumpy, recovering Zayne’.
God damn but his shoulder hurt. He tried moving it a little, just to loosen up the stiffness, and he winced. A bolt of pure fury shot through his arm and the upper part of his chest. Fuck whoever told him it was better to feel things than to constantly numb them with alcohol and sex.
Wait, no, he was pretty sure that was Zeklos who’d told him that. So, maybe not ‘fuck you’ but possibly ‘dude, why?’.
Zayne glanced at the clock. It had only been four hours since his last dose of pain medicine and he wasn’t sure if Zek would be willing to cough up another. Couldn’t hurt to ask, he supposed. Leaning heavily on his good arm, he finagled himself out of Zek’s bed and onto his feet. He took a moment to regain his balance before shuffling into the living room. Seeing that his partner was nowhere to be found, he turned to move towards the kitchen.
“I am in my office, Zayne,” Andrej’s voice floated down the hall.
“How the hell did I walk right past him,” he muttered, making an about face and heading back towards the bedroom.
“Likely because your stomach was leading the charge,” the redheaded narco said. He was sitting in a folding chair next to Zeklos’ desk, where Andrej had been completing random reports for work.
Making a face, Zayne took in the scene, irrationally annoyed that Zek was in here, with the narco, and not in the bedroom with him. “Actually,” he said, feeling exceptionally petty, “it’s my shoulder that drove me out of bed. You know, the one I got shot in? Trying to protect our boyfriend?”
Andrej frowned. “Zayne, is there something bothering you?” He glanced at Zayne’s bare chest, eyes drifting up to where the white bandage was taped to his skin. “Other than your wound?”
“Sounds to me like that dude missed an opportunity to shoot Reyes in the personality,” James snarked. “Would have to be an improvement.”
Zayne balled his fists, ready to throw down, even if it meant instant and long-lasting pain for himself.
“Jay,” Zeklos warned. “Not now. And you,” he said, turning to Zayne, “are being grouchy. Does your shoulder hurt again?”
He forced his fingers to loosen. Pissing off his caretaker was never a good idea. He’d be eating canned chicken noodle soup instead of the real stuff for dinner if that happened. “Yeah,” he admitted, hating that he was showing weakness in front of either of them, but mostly exposing his vulnerability to Rosewood. “It’s why I came to find you. I think it’s too early but…”
Zek checked his watch. “It is a bit early, but we can put an ice pack on it for a bit. You can have your next dose in half an hour.”
“I thought that it was every six hours.”
“You have been asleep for over five,” Zek told him. “You woke me at four, crying, remember?”
Zayne flinched. No, he didn’t remember that at all, actually. “I – I thought it was later than that. God, I’m sorry.”
“Do not be sorry,” Andrej replied. “You are injured and hurting; a certain amount of inconvenience is to be expected.”
“What about the grumpy, how much of that is to be expected,” James asked.
“A whole hell of a lot, narco,” Zayne shot back. Cringing at his outburst, he looked at his partner, expecting a reprimand. Instead, Zeklos was smiling.
“Go back to bed, Zayne,” Andrej said. “I will be there in a few minutes.”
“You really do have the patience of a saint,” he heard James say. “I couldn’t do it.”
“I am surprised,” Zeklos responded. “After all, you spent so much time caring for your younger siblings. I thought it wouldd be second nature.”
“Nah, the little shits could fend for themselves as far as I was concerned. If my mother wasn’t making me care for them, I’d have been doing something more entertaining.”
Shaking his head, Zayne went back to bed. For once, he couldn’t blame the narco for feeling the way he did. He wouldn’t have wanted to spend all his free time herding children either.
--
“Zayne,” he heard, followed by a gentle pressure on his uninjured shoulder.
He let his eyes open slowly, taking time to focus on the blur in front of him. Had he drifted off again? “Huh?”
“You fell back to sleep,” the voice, one he recognized as Zeklos’ now, said. “Let me help you sit up. I think you may have slept on your bad arm a bit.”
“Ow,” he yelped as Zeklos helped him get situated more comfortably on the mound of pillows. Fuck, that had hurt. “God, please tell me you have my pain pill.”
“I do,” Andrej said, giving him a look. “I also have your antibiotic and some food for you to eat, first.”
“I don’t think I can eat anything right now, baby,” he said, meaning it for what was likely the first time in his life.
Zeklos handed him half a bagel, smeared with a thick layer of peanut butter. “Take a couple of bites, otherwise your medications will make you ill.”
He gave his partner the best puppy dog eyes he could manage under the circumstances. No dice, Zek’s look only got darker, more serious. Sighing, he took the bagel and nibbled at it.
“Thank you,” Zek said, putting a plate on one of the TV trays he kept in the hall closet. “I am thinking that hunger is part of the reason why you were so awful to Jay earlier.”
Zayne made a face. “I wasn’t that awful to him,” he grouched. “He thought that son of a bitch should have shot me in the personality.” He did air quotes with one hand as he said the last word. “Dude’s on my last nerve.”
Zeklos said nothing, so Zayne took another bite of his bagel, realizing suddenly that he was ravenous. Finishing off the last bit of bagel, he licked his lips. “You got any more of that?”
Laughing, Andrej handed him the plate with the other half of the bagel, a couple pieces of turkey bacon, and some strawberries. “Your medication is in the little cup by your juice. Take them, finish your breakfast, and I’ll change your bandage when you’re done.”
“Okay,” he said, eyeing the bacon warily.
“It is the good stuff as you call it,” Zeklos said, watching him. “It is indeed turkey, but I bought it at Whole Foods. It is better than the regular stuff but still healthier than real bacon.”
“Someone shot my ass,” he said, reaching for the facon as he tended to call it, “while I was pulling you out of the line of fire, and yet, you give me turkey bacon.” He waved the strip of meat at his partner.
“Yes, because I love you enough to not want to compound your gunshot wound with a heart attack.” He kissed Zayne lightly and stood. “I will be back in ten minutes with the first aid kit.”
“Okay,” he said, repeating his earlier comment. “Just leave that fucking peroxide in the bathroom!”
--
“Gimme.”
Zayne looked up from the magazine he’d found on the bedside and frowned at the redhead hovering over him. At least it wasn’t the narco, he thought. “What do you want, Rollins?”
“Your plate,” she said, holding her hand out. “Andy wants to run the dishwasher before he tortures you with wound care.”
“Oh,” he said, setting the magazine down beside him. Lifting the plate towards her, he added, “Thank you.”
“So, it’s only the ginger narco you hate. Good to know.” She tossed him a wink and exited the bedroom.
“What did she mean by that,” he asked the room.
“Rosewood’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re being over the top awful to him,” Hilary said, coming into the room and climbing onto the bed beside him.
“No more so than usual, I don’t think,” Zayne said, honestly. He looked at Hilary and smiled.
“What,” she asked, wary.
“It’s been a minute since I’ve been in bed with a woman,” he joked.
Laughing, Hilary said, “And it’s going to be a long ass minute before you’re ever in bed with me again, too.”
“I am not sure I want to know what you two are talking about,” Zeklos said. He had the first aid kit in one hand, a bag, and a folding chair in the other.
“Just reminiscing about your partner’s fluid sexuality,” Hilary said.
It struck Zayne that there wasn’t an ounce of recrimination or sarcasm in her words. That she truly sounded okay with how things had worked out. She was doing better than he was. Sometimes, even now, after all this time, he still wondered what had changed and caused him to fall in love with Zeklos as hard as he had. But that was the drugs talking. It had to be.
“Do you mind if Hilary stays while I change your bandage,” Zek asked. “She wanted to know what needed to be done in case I wasn’t here to do it for you.”
“Where are you going to be,” Zayne asked, panicked. “You going somewhere?”
“No, Zayne,” Zeklos reassured him while sorting through the bandages in his first aid kit. “I am not going anywhere. Hilary is just trying to be prepared.”
Sighing, Zayne relaxed. “You’d better not go anywhere,” he said. He’d never survive on his own, not now.
“Are we patching up the cowboy,” James asked, poking his head into the bedroom. “And if it’s going to hurt, can I watch?”
“Shouldn’t you be out chasing a drug dealer or something,” Zayne shot back.
Andrej muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, causing everyone to look at him. “It was nothing. I promise.”
Trish stuck her head around James and chuckled. “We all know that deflection means you were cussing someone out in a foreign language, Andy.”
Andrej ignored her. More proof, Zayne thought. Question was, who was Zeklos cursing? The narco or himself?
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I took a couple of personal days, cowboy.” James moved into the bedroom and leaned against the dresser, watching as Andrej removed the bandage from Zayne’s shoulder. “Damn, that looks nasty.”
“I. Was. Shot,” Zayne said for the umpteenth time.
“No. Shit,” James replied. “You know what? I came to make sure you were doing okay and to see if I could help Andy out any. But forget it.” He looked at Zeklos. “Call me when he’s comatose again,” he said before stomping out of the room.
“Okay,” Trish said, “while I am not opposed to poking the ginger bear, what is with you today?’
Zayne crossed his arms, realizing at the last minute what a stupid move that had been. Eh, too late now he supposed.
“He is hurting, so he is lashing out,” Zeklos said, focus completely on the first aid kit. He dumped the bag onto the bed and out spilled the supplies they’d been given at the ER.
“I got that much, but why Rosewood?” Trish brought the TV tray over to Zek’s side and set it up for him. “Usually, it’s me he lashes out at when he’s in a mood.”
“Thank you,” Andrej said, moving some of the items to the TV tray. “My guess is that Jay is an easy target. He’s not likely to punch Zayne while he’s injured, and Zayne knows this.”
“Hm, so you’re saying he’s taking it all out on the narco because if he pisses you off, he’ll be sleeping alone.”
Zayne muttered something.
“What was that,” Hilary asked.
“I said,” Zayne repeated more loudly, “that if I piss off Zek I’ll be eating canned soup and white bread instead of homemade chicken and noodles with fresh biscuits.”
“Heaven forbid you eat like the rest of us for a meal or two,” Hilary laughed.
Zayne saw Andrej press his lips together before leaning closer to the wound. It was well known amongst them all that Zeklos believed everyone could cook like he did if they only made the effort. Hilary probably could, no doubt. But he, the narco, and Rollins were a crapshoot.
“Ouch,” he yelped, feeling the sting of alcohol on his skin. “Shit, Zek.”
“I would apologize,” Zeklos said, dabbing at the wound with a clean piece of gauze, “but it is necessary to keep the wound clear.”
Zayne’s hand floundered and was grasped tightly by Hilary’s. He glanced at her, grateful, trying to relax. “Damn, that hurts, baby.”
“I am almost done,” Zeklos said, his breath hot and damp on Zayne’s exposed skin.
“Good thing, because it’s not safe having you this close to me when I’m half naked.”
“Okay,” Hilary said, releasing his hand, “if you’re going to be like that, you can comfort yourself.”
Zeklos snorted out a bit of soft laughter. “This is what they call self-comfort, no?” He turned towards Hilary. “Like when a baby sucks his thumb?”
“Something like that,” Trish cackled. “You ready for the clean bandage yet?”
“I am,” he said, holding his hand out. Trish retrieved it from the TV tray and laid it in his hand.
Once he’d replaced Zayne’s bandage and assured that it was secure, Zeklos slipped off the edge of the bed. He placed a chaste kiss on Zayne’s forehead. “Get some rest. Jay will be back for dinner, and I expect you to be in a better mood.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Zayne muttered, hating that he knew Zek was right. That he’d been grouchy with the narco because he was the easiest target. “You know,” he started, thinking maybe this wasn’t the best thing to admit to right now, “I wouldn’t push him so much if it wasn’t so easy to get under his skin.”
“Reyes, you could get under Mother Theresa’s skin,” Trish pointed out.
“Fine,” he said, realizing suddenly that he wasn’t going to win with any of them. “I’ll do my best to behave, but if I’m hurting and he pisses me off, it’s over.”
Zeklos sighed. “I will have a talk with Jay, too.”
“Okay, Zayne,” Hilary said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Trish and I are going to get back to work. Andy, you need anything, even five minutes of peace, call one of us, okay?”
He nodded but remained focused on returning the bandages on the bed to their proper spots in the first aid kit. Trish brushed a hand across the top of his head in that way she had. The briefest of contact that let you know you weren’t in the shit alone.
After they’d filed out of the bedroom, Zayne reached out and lightly touched Zeklos’ wrist. “Stop for a second.”
He heard Zek sigh, possibly gathering his thoughts before turning in his direction. “I am just organizing the first aid kid. Either you or Jay made a mess of it the last time.”
“I think that was the narco.” He saw Zek’s expression darken, and he rushed to clarify. “I only say that because my dumb ass cut my thumb peeling an apple.”
He thought he detected a hint of a smile at his admission.
“Zek?” Andrej met his eyes and Zayne frowned. “I’m really not doing all this on purpose. I don’t know why, but something about seeing Rosewood makes me want to lash out.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what is going on with me right now, but I’m sorry.”
“It is okay,” Zeklos said, resting his free hand on top of Zayne’s forearm. “I spoke with Jake about how you’d been acting, and how Jay has been so quick to snipe right back at you.”
“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. “And?”
“And,” Andrej said, situating himself so he was facing Zayne as much as he could. “And Jake believes that you are angry with Jay for not being there to help you protect me.” He held up a hand to forestall Zayne from complicating things with his usual bullshit. “Jake also believes that Jay is feeling guilty that he was not there to help you and that is why he is allowing you to get under his skin.”
Zayne looked down at where their arms were tangled together. Hansen was obviously smarter than he let on, although, some of that might be to protect the gingerbread’s ego. God only knew that Zek did that for him more often than he cared to admit.
“I’m sure I had some anger at James afterwards,” he finally admitted. “I mean, isn’t that why we’re here? To take care of each other, protect each other, in addition to loving each other?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I do know that you’re – Jake’s – probably not wrong about me. I doubt that Rosewood is feeling guilty about anything other than letting you stay partners with me.”
“He has no say in that,” Zek growled. “Ever. And do not let him try and tell you otherwise. That is something that is my decision and my decision alone.” He lowered his head. “Nor does he have any say in whether you are my boyfriend or not either, something I know he has claimed in the past. Know that if you are being kicked to the street, it is only because I am done with you.”
“Kicked to the curb,” Zayne corrected gently, loving it when Zek mixed his idioms up like that. “But thank you. Hearing that out of your mouth helps.”
“Good,” he said, raising his gaze. “Now, give me a kiss and get some rest. I have work to finish, and our captain would like me back in the station tomorrow. So, I need to know that I can leave you on your own, okay?”
Zayne nodded. “Okay, baby.”
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Date: 2022-08-31 02:29 am (UTC)Jake might be right. The boys need to talk this out before it explodes into a major, knock down, drag out argument.
Poor Andy.
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Date: 2022-08-31 01:24 pm (UTC)Eh, for once I think Andrej's doing okay. He knows they're being stupid. :D
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Date: 2022-08-31 08:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-31 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-08-31 11:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-09-01 01:29 pm (UTC)