Chapter 16
presentation.pptx
“Seriously, what the fuck is this about?” Kit asked, not for the first time.
He slouched under Darius’s arm, fiddling with the cuff of Darius’s sleeve.
The borderline of warm, velvet skin. They sat on the couch together, while Holden hooked his laptop to the television and James wandered back and forth from the kitchen.
Bishop had left after seeing Kit and Holden safely inside.
Holden winked from across the room. “You’ll see in a minute. Don’t worry—it isn’t bad.”
“You know that’s guaranteed to make me worry, right?” Kit complained.
Holden leaned down to connect a cord, his shirt riding up his toned, tanned back. “Should I tell you to worry instead?”
Kit pouted. “You should tell me what you’re doing.”
He hadn’t been nervous at first, but James’s weird, distant energy was infectious. The way James kept moving from room to room was clearly an attempt to hide his pacing. Bringing cups in and out, forgetting his phone in the kitchen, grabbing a beer for Kit, going back for a bottle opener.
The constant movement made Kit want to pace too. But Darius’s arm was heavy and solid and nice. Like a weighted blanket, settling his nerves just enough to keep him still.
“Whatever you’re doing, hurry up,” Darius said, though he was the most patient of all of them. “Or I’ll find something else to do.” His hand dropped to Kit’s thigh.
Kit squeaked at the sudden pressure.
“Ready,” Holden said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His laptop sat on the coffee table.
The widescreen TV swapped to the image of a psychopathically tidy desktop. The background was a default sunset photo, and the only icons were the basic documents, pictures, recycling—and a lone slideshow file named presentation.pptx.
Holden swapped windows to reveal the file already open, and switched to presentation mode.
“For fuck’s sake,” Darius muttered under his breath, as James finally came to rest against the arm of the couch.
Kit went utterly still.
The presentation used a default theme, decorated with cheerful pastel flowers. Which was probably what Darius was muttering about. But Kit was transfixed by the title:
WHY THE FOUR OF US SHOULD MOVE IN TOGETHER
Okay, maybe Darius was muttering about the title, too.
Holden cleared his throat theatrically. “The following presentation concerns our current living situation.”
As Holden tapped his keyboard, bullet points showed up. Kit’s heart thudded with each one.
- Kit
- Holden
- D
- J
“Nobody calls me J,” James said, his tone light but his gaze sharply focused.
The next page was titled CURRENT SITUATION. More bullet points followed.
- James selfishly keeps Kit at his house
- I have a guest room/prison cell in Darius’s apartment
- These locations are 20+ minutes apart without traffic
“Kit is dating all three of us,” Holden continued, serene. “I still fantasize about killing Darius and James and keeping Kit to myself, but that’s just a normal daydream. Killing you would make Kit sad, so I don’t want to do that.”
“How sweet,” Darius said drily.
Kit cuddled closer to Darius. “Admit it, Holden. You’re starting to like them.”
Holden winked at Kit. “They have their uses. Now, the current situation is good. But it could be much better—if we were living together.”
He clicked to the next page. Amidst pastel flowers was the title NEED A NEW HOUSE.
“The current options all suck in various ways,” Holden said, as bullet points appeared.
- James’s house is bad
- Darius’s apartment is bad
- My apartment is bad
“James’s house is big enough, but it’s too far out of town,” Holden said. “Darius’s apartment is too small, plus I don’t like having external building security. If we murder or abduct anyone, it’s difficult to carry a body inside without getting noticed.”
“I don’t like to bring work home,” Darius said, unperturbed, though he felt slightly tense.
Kit couldn’t blame him. Calling Darius, James, and Holden his boyfriends was bad enough. Holden was proposing a whole new level of commitment.
“My apartment has similar issues, plus it’s much smaller and shittier than Darius’s,” Holden continued. “Plus, the lease is up when the semester ends.”
The next page simply added a word to the existing title: NEED A NEW HOUSE QUICKLY
“It’s a seller’s market right now,” Holden said, as screenshots of real estate website listings popped up under the title.
“Or a buyers-who-aren’t-us market? I don’t know much about real estate.
Except there was this one serial killer who…
Anyway. If you agree to this extremely reasonable proposal, we need to move fast. I found the perfect fucking place the other week.
A million bedrooms, great location. Giant basement—we could keep the game den and convert the wine cellar into a nice murder cell.
Everything. But it sold less than a day after it went up. ”
None of them had time to comment on the murder basement conversion before Holden moved to the next pastel page.
BENEFITS OF LIVING TOGETHER.
- Reduced commute = reduced stress
- Better work-life-sex balance
“Especially taking traffic into account, we spend way too much time shuttling back and forth between houses,” Holden continued.
“And by we, I mean you, because you still won’t let me drive.
I’m not even counting the times Bishop picks Kit up for detective work.
I have a chart tracking the time in the appendix. ”
“This presentation has an appendix?” Kit asked, fixating on the details rather than the larger sense of overwhelm.
The bullet points continued.
- Using less gas and consolidating utilities is good for the environment
“Going green is always good.” Holden tapped to a new page that just had one word slammed across the center.
SECURITY
James exhaled, forcibly relaxing his shoulders. Kit caught his eye for a moment before James looked away.
“You’re all involved in dangerous shit,” Holden said bluntly. “Being this scattered isn’t safe, even if your individual homes are decked out with the latest from James’s family business.”
The use of the word family had to be a deliberate prod at James, but Holden moved to the next slide. Another single word, this one even bigger among the pretty flowers.
KIT
“Moving in together will make Kit happy,” Holden said. “That’s all that should matter.”
It was Kit’s turn to exhale, as if the love and consideration were one-two jabs to his stomach. Holden was right. He wanted this so fucking much—even more now that Holden had spoken his wish out loud.
Which would make it that much more painful if James or Darius refused.
Three seconds of silence, echoing with doubt. Four. Five. Kit was on the verge of breaking it when Darius asked, “What do you think, Trouble?”
The low question was as heavy as the arm around Kit’s shoulders. A deflection sweetened with a pet name.
“Fucking coward,” Kit accused, extricating himself. Standing upright gave him the chance to glare down his nose.
Darius leaned back, unperturbed. “Or I genuinely want to know what you think.”
Yeah, no. Kit was not going first. But this wasn’t the right setup when he was outnumbered. After a moment’s thought, Kit seized the coffee table by the legs.
“You should move your laptop,” he advised.
Once Holden moved the laptop, Kit dragged the table away. Then he sat on the floor, with Holden on his right.
“Everyone sit on the floor,” Kit ordered.
If anyone asked, Kit wouldn’t be able to explain why. More of a feeling than a strategy. Something about getting on the same level, facing everyone eye to eye. But James and Darius didn’t ask. They just sat as told, Darius to Kit’s left and James across from him. Just out of reach.
Watching. Waiting.
Kit took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, then realized he might be interrupting. “Wait, is there more of the presentation?”
“Just the appendix,” Holden said. “You can take the floor, darling.”
Kit’s mouth twitched, a badly stifled grin. “Next presentation, I want one of those whippy stick things to gesture with.”
“I have a riding crop in the bedroom,” Darius offered. Such a gentleman.
The offer was tempting, but that was a delaying tactic. Time to face the matter at hand: the proposal to move in together, and the lack of immediate, enthusiastic yeses.
Kit pointed at Darius. “You first. What do you think?”
Darius looked surprisingly comfortable. His slacks wrinkled, but his overall demeanor read as if business meetings always happened on the floor.
“Relationships were supposed to be a retirement thing. A few years from now, if everything went well. I would stop killing people for money and start dating more seriously. Obviously, a certain someone fucked that up.”
“I’m problematic like that,” Kit said, leaning back on his hands.
Darius grinned. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
All the breath left Kit’s body. Not just the words, but the easy way Darius said them. In front of everyone else. So much for the cool, calm assassin—except he was still cool and calm.
“You make me want to retire early,” Darius said. “I’m not going to—I have some things to wrap up. But I want to. Every time you walk out that door, I want to pull you back in.”
Kit couldn’t look away. “I don’t like leaving, either.”
Darius leaned in, and Kit closed his eyes—his own moment of cowardice, hiding from the brilliant fondness. But the tenderness of the kiss plucked at his defenses anyway. Soft lips and warm breath left Kit dazed by the time Darius pulled away.
“I’m already failing at keeping my distance.” Darius cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “And I suppose I can tolerate these assholes.”
Holden blew a mocking kiss. James threw a middle finger, though the gesture seemed half-hearted.
Ignoring them, Darius finished, “Yes, I want to move in with you.”
“Great,” Kit breathed. Then he cleared his throat. “That’s great. I mean, thank you for sharing. Um. James. What do you think?”
Tension silenced the room.
Pink and purple light from the slideshow reflected from James’s glossy hair. It didn’t reach his dark, downcast eyes.
“Do you want the truth?” James asked.
Kit’s heart sank. “That’s all I want.”
“It’s complicated,” James said, still looking away. “Let me get through it all before you freak out, okay?”
“No promises,” Kit said, trying for funny, landing more on stressed.
“I would have said yes, without question, a couple months ago.” James glanced at Holden. “Okay, I would have had questions about Psycho Undergrad, but the question would be ‘do we lock him in the attic or the basement’?”
“Starting to think this is just a fetish for you guys,” Holden said, retying his bun. “Thanks, but no thanks—I’m only into Kit.”
Shit, this must be serious. James didn’t even rise to the barb.
“Things are different, now,” James said. “Or maybe the world is the same, I’m just seeing more of it. The closer I get to the Rat Kings? I’m scared of getting everyone hurt. Especially you.”
James promised him a place to live. No strings attached. Except neither of them could help the strings knotted around their hearts.
Kit’s stomach twisted. “Are you saying I should move in with Darius and Holden? Without you?”
“I’m saying I’m scared,” James said, rigid.
Darius squeezed Kit’s hand, then glared at James. “We don’t keep people safe by shoving them away, James. We keep them safe by keeping them close.”
Untrue.
Maybe.
There could be a grain of truth, in this specific circumstance. If they were talking about actual distance. There was a difference between physical hurt and deeper wounds.
There was a difference between safety and comfort.
“I’m glad you’re scared,” Kit said, fists tightening. “It’ll keep you from being fucking reckless. These Rat Kings sound way more intense than anything you guys have dealt with in the past. This is next-level organized crime shit. They make Ed Addersen’s gang look like playground bullies.”
The shit Dad always protected him from.
Kit ruthlessly ignored his own nausea. “Maybe the Rat Kings don’t know what happened to Melissa yet, but we have to be prepared if they find out. We need a base of operations, so we can protect each other.”
All three men stared. Holden looked enraptured. Darius looked impressed. James still looked worried.
All three reactions deepened Kit’s own worry. But at least they were listening to him.
“Also, I want to spend less time in traffic, more time in bed,” Kit added hastily.
James slumped in defeat. “You’re right, pretty boy. About everything.” A familiar, cocky grin spread across his face. “Which is why that house Holden liked, with the great murder basement? I’m the one who bought it.”