Drift (Don’t… #8)

Chapter 34 BLOODED TIES

Hearing the Merc pull up, Gray stayed back in the reception hall with Simon as Jan headed for the door. It left Raif observing from CCTV in Ray’s obs room, but Gray didn’t want Drift swamped with people. Jan had said he’d be joining him in there a moment.

They’d gotten back from the MC hospital about three hours ago, and although Jan and Shelley had been given the all-clear, Ray had been moved over to the UK Health Security Agency. As Shelley still wasn’t showing signs of the virus, she had been allowed in to stay with him in a Hazmat suit. More tests were being done on the virus through Susan and her virologists at the Health Agency, but it remained quiet as of yet.

A hand in his suit pocket, Simon shifted stance, his look on the door, but then Gray had seen the footage over Light being asked to play guitar, then the fight. That was the first time he’d seen Light openly struggle emotionally outside of family, but the ease off over it with what had come because of Drift…?

“Hey.” Jan offered a warm smile after he opened the door and waited for footsteps to draw closer. “You’re West, right?” He offered a hand her way as she came in, although he seemed to struggle to keep looking away from Drift. “I’m Jan.”

“Jan.” West stood as tall as Drift, just as wary, and she stayed by him, their backs to the open doorway. But Jan, his natural ease around people, he dipped his head a little, searching West’s look. “According to Drift and his love of playlists, I’m also… mom.”

West suddenly choked a laugh and looked Drift’s way. “Oh you didn’t tell me about that balls up, you id’jiot .”

Drift blushed, shuffled from foot to foot, and she shoved into his shoulder before taking Jan’s offer to shake hands. “It’s a bad habit of many a kid,” she said to him. “Avoiding talk on the screw ups. Which he has plenty of, believe me.”

Jan smiled and waved it off. “I get a lot worse, trust me.” His look naturally strayed Drift’s way. “But it’s… it’s really good to see you again.” He offered him his hand too.

Another nudge off West had Drift glaring at her before taking the offer.

“You sure it’s good to see me?” Drift looked Jan up and down. “My last visit put one of yours in hospital.”

Jan paled, the barrel of Ray’s gun still looking too close. “Trouble’s normal around here.” His look went Light’s way. “But I’m glad this particular one is back on home shores too.”

Jan and Light hadn’t spoken since Light had taken Ray down, and it showed. Awkwardness came in Light’s nod, but he gently tapped Jan’s abs as he passed, a slight blush burning his cheeks as Jan returned it. It was a small way to mending bridges, but what happened with Ray had eased things on Jan’s part, just slightly. It had with Jack too, Gray had seen that. But then action always did speak louder than words, especially when it came to Jack.

Drift and West allowed Jan space to shut the door. They didn’t come any closer once it was shut, with Drift’s wariness staying on West’s, his grip on her hand, right up until Simon shifted and made a beeline for Light.

As Light handed over Drift’s laser pointer, a touch went to Light’s neck, another to his jaw, and for a moment, Simon got real close.

Light’s… distress had been painful to see and hear even for Gray when he’d first started to play. But Drift had drawn something out of Light when he’d taken up a guitar as well, but Simon had still looked Gray’s way, wanting to call stop. That had to be Light’s choice. Gray needed to see he could make it and not become too lost. Light had made the call eventually, came into his own on guitar without any of echoes of pulling someone’s ribs out of their back, but the long kiss Simon gave Light now wanted it confirming through a physical touch.

Surprisingly, Light returned the kiss, a quiet conversation between them that said yeah, he was okay, and the drop of intimacy in general, let alone in a public setting from him was… was the first time Gray had known Light show any emotion with people around him.

Drift watched Light and Simon a little too carefully as well, maybe with a bit of relief. He’d definitely not like Light being close to West back at Jackson’s. The kid was definitely sharp, but it seemed in testing phase, open to flaws with only relying on playlists. Playlists hadn’t accounted for Simon or Ray, and he’d almost boxed himself in to a corner. But Gray loved how subtle his touch was, with distraction tactics in mind if he did get caught, like with the startling blue streaks to his hair now and shifting his look to avoid tracking. Added to his first-class feeding skill and ability to move between groups…?

His natural ability to blend in and move around cells with being given access to inner workings on most of them was a rare find, especially with how non-threatening Drift looked. This Grant had taught him some damn fine skills. Drift had a temper with it, but that wasn’t necessary a bad thing at all.

And that temper didn’t seem to fade as Martin came downstairs.

Martin hadn’t slept either, but he seemed to be running on empty more than most. Hair was damp from a shower, feet bare, and he wore loose jeans and a shirt he wouldn’t ever tuck in. Casual, out of place to the suits most everyone else wore, he gave a sniff and ran his hand through his hair, getting it off his face before he came to a stop at the bottom of the staircase.

West followed Drift’s quiet, and her smile fell instantly.

Seeing Drift, Martin went to say something, but giving a wince, he dipped his head and rubbed fingertips into it.

Drift was here, in the manor, and… Christ. There’d been no other option available, but Jack had specifically asked for that not to happen. Had Jack picked something up? A camera flash with no audio to potentially pick up in some way that Drift was here, in the manor?

Gray didn’t interfere. Martin would let him know if he was struggling, and his push back of any hurt and look at Jude said he was handling it by giving no leeway on control.

The kind of fight Gray didn’t ever want between him and Jack.

West shot a protective look at Drift, went to move, to go over to Martin, her body language crying out she saw the connection to Jude in Martin and wanted to have a go, but Drift pulled her back.

“Night-walkers,” he said flatly. “Anything else waits.”

Martin did exactly what he he’d done with Light: he stayed back, watched, more had a look about him that said he’d wait until needed, whether Drift thought he needed him or not. And Martin’s look said Drift would need him.

Drift’s look said pretty much what it had with Light: Fuck you, cunt . I look after my own. Which he had been doing, for so long alone, without Martin or any of the money found here.

“How about a breather first?” Light went over. “Maybe time for a proper look around here. De-stress?”

Jan frowned his way, and Gray wished he knew what ran through his mind, because he looked troubled.

“How about you keep it to just yours and Simon’s over at the summerhouse?” Jan said gently to Light. Then he looked Drift over, West. “You hungry, you two? You want me to order anything in for when you’ve finished your talk?”

Drift shook his head. “Not hungreh.”

“Me neither,” said West, cocking a brief brow at Drift. “But thank you for the offer.”

“Okay. So how about you look at the order with me and order a mix-match of things in case you want to take home whatever isn’t eaten?” Jan suggested instead. “Lockdown, right? Just Eat drivers are gonna be busy for a few nights to come.”

West dug her hands in her sweatpants, and now her smile was easier. But it was Drift who spoke. “Yeah…” His look softened Jan’s way. “That’ll be really good. Thank you.”

Ah. Gray saw what Jan was doing, why he’d asked to keep any tour small, to the summerhouse. Drift kept his look low on the hall, the wealth and space behind it all, and anger simmered lightly in his eyes. He came from a rundown home, with six kids at least to a room, where beds were earned and fought for. Here? Here came with a half-a-dozen empty rooms, with enough food in storage to take into account any pandemic long before it started. So the anger wasn’t for what Drift hadn’t had, but what went to waste when it came to kids. But his look came with a two-way thought process: him and those back home, and if they weren’t hungry, he knew someone back at home could be if restrictions were being put in place so brutally. Jan more than most would understand all the complications and angers that came with going hungry and having family to look out for, then being shoved into a manor that had none of those issues.

Gray went over, winking Jan’s way over his quiet ask to ease off on swamping Drift. He offered a hand out Drift’s way instead. “We weren’t informally introduced a few nights ago. I’m Gray.”

Drift stared at it for a moment, then took the offer. “No surname thrown in with that?”

Gray offered a soft smile. “Trust. Works both ways, right?” The offer of a handshake did that too, especially when it came to pin pricks and bloodborne warfare.

Drift snorted. His return handshake had come with a lot of wariness of more than just a street kid. Gray offered the same to West.

“So you own this place, huh?” West took the offer as well, but her touch was a lot warmer, although the fading bruise to her jaw under her makeup stole his attention.

“It’s home,” Gray said eventually, and Drift’s frown made him look his way. “Problem?” added Gray.

Drift finished his look around the hall. “Newham,” he said eventually. “Someone was feeding you information on Grant.” He looked at Gray. “Where is he?”

Ah. The real reason behind why Drift had broken in a few days back. Gray tapped his ear. “He’s listening in for intel, but would like to meet you once we’re done, if that’s okay?”

“Hm. I definitely want to meet him. Tell the kid I’m damn sorry.” It came through softly off Raif, and Gray nodded as he did just that, then Raif mentioned something else.

“He says he knew Grant before he met you and Jackson,” said Gray. “And that someone called Suki… she was no parrot.”

Drift choked a warm laugh, and Gray was damn glad to see some of the tension finally break in him.

“Damn psychotic fucking pigeon.” Drift wiped a hand over his face as West laughed too. “Night after night of keeping it in that bloody cage and trying to get it to talk, it drove me, West, and Ava bloody insane.”

West’s smile fell, but Gray didn’t know why. She’d known Grant too, though.

“The jumpers he knitted for it did me in.”

“Oh don’t.” Drift looked her way, tried so hard to bury his smile and failed. “All the dresses he made her wear.” But then he seemed to sober as he looked Martin’s way. Gray’s. “You said intel.” He frowned. “That’s rozzer talk. But not street-level rozzer talk. Neither is the tech setup and knowledge you have here on biological warfare. So who are you behind all the money?”

Jan flicked a warning look Gray’s way, one that seemed to warn on over-swamping Drift too much again.

“MI5,” Gray said eventually. “Counter-terrorism.” He kept it at that, mostly to judge if Drift took it in honestly or showed signs of knowing something more. “I was the lead officer called into Wales to look into potential use of biological warfare.”

Drift looked him up and down. “So that was you, huh? Hm,” he mumbled quietly, which meant he’d been keeping track of what went down in Wales after he left. “Tell me. Do you trust the motives behind the hierarchy who sent you there?”

Gray tilted his head slightly. “I trust Isacc Newton: how every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Doesn’t matter who’s behind the motion, the pushback is just as hard all ways until life is forced to settle.”

“Yeah?” Drift came over, so much balls behind it. “I hope so for your own sake. I really do. Because if you’re smart enough to know they could be moving their poison from blood to airborne and you’re insane enough to go up against it on your own, not trusting those who sent you to do just that, then you’re also smart and insane enough to see that this has been years in the making, with a lot of people turning a blind eye to everything that fell off the back of those lorries to get it done.”

“Hm,” said Gray, folding his arms. “I think we need that talk now, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he looked Light’s way. “Head on over to yours. Get them settled. We’ll talk over there.”

As Light nodded, Simon came over, not looking comfortable with taking them… home, but it was a copper’s mistrust, one Gray wouldn’t ever begrudge him.

Drift threw Martin a glance as they headed out. Martin stood rubbing at his head, and waiting for the hall to empty, Jan went over.

Gray joined them a moment later as Jan rubbed at Martin’s arm. “You all right?” said Gray.

Martin looked up at him. “Oh I’m gonna be. Right after I work out why that kid would rather walk into these Night-walkers and take a faster death than live life at cattle pace with Red there.” He looked at where Drift no longer stood. “And why West looked like she’d happily end life for him when it comes to the Night-walkers.” He tensed his jaw. “She lost her smile on Drift’s mention of himself, West, and this … Ava .”

Light pushed on through to the summerhouse, then held the door for West and Drift as they followed him in. Then he paused in the kitchen and awkwardly nodded around. “So… this is, well, mine and Si’s.”

Simon gave him a wink as he came in last, and Light wasn’t surprised he’d come over. Always the copper, especially in his own home. But he kept his distance now, mostly getting the kettle on for a brew, and maybe just having a quick tidy up before Gray came over. Light buried a smile, loving the subtle giveaways to living life under Gray’s walk-in checks Light knew Gray wouldn’t ever do, but Simon still tidied up anyway, just in case.

As they stood in the kitchen, Drift and West glanced at each other, but Drift looked as awkward as Light felt. He looked too used to finding his own way into a home and walking around with no one watching him, where Light was too used to his own space, with no cameras or security here to watch him. He gave a sigh and glanced back briefly to the door, never feeling more displaced himself with having anyone but Brin around him outside of Simon. He’d left the guitar in the reception hall after the amp had been taken off him at the main gates, but Drift had picked it up, and Light gave a small nod seeing it, then took them off him. Again.

“Okay.” He tapped lightly at Drift’s abs as he eased into a smile. “Come on. Got just the thing to maybe ease the tension here.”

Not waiting to see if he followed, Light bypassed the lounge and the view of the indoor pool. The latter seemed to take West’s interest more, and she nudged into Drift, throwing a smile his way. A wink. A “You… definitely me.”

Light opened the farthest door, and as Drift came in behind him, burying a blush badly, his look went to the floor.

“Fuck….” Drift instantly slipped his trainers and socks off only to take a few paces forward and stand like he was at the water’s edge, dipping his toes to test how much he sank into wet sand flooring.

The custom-made Gymnastics spring floor was a new addition, brought in to ease damage on Simon with both Gray and Light bringing his skills up to a decent brown belt grade, and in order to fight all the stress away, Light figured Drift’s head and heart would always opt for a de-stress in the parkour cellar back at Jackson’s, a workout of the top parkour skills that did earn him a right to drift among crews.

True to theory, Drift tugged off his jacket, then a glance back at West, he tossed it almost blindly her way, earning him a groan, an “And he’s gone”. Then with a few stretches and maybe a little too much anger, Drift shifted so damn fast, his slip-stream body hitting a stream of effortless single hand front aerial flips and twists that left Light struggling to follow which was which. This wasn’t showing off, just pure aggression, and it saw him cover half the circumference of the large flooring before Light knew it.

But then everything around Drift seemed to change, became more… chameleon, pinpointing Drift’s ability to blend from crew to crew as he shifted into… into such a fine damn blend of classical ballet and lyrical dance, blending genres as much as Light blended intricate styles of music on his guitar because….

Christ. Music.

Drift had said it did strange things to his head—and whatever tune he danced to privately in his head, there it was: heat, drive, body, and pure artistic dancing… skill. But there seemed such a sadness to it.

In one way he called out to draw anyone in to play if they wanted to, yet in his self-isolation, in not letting anyone hear the music he danced to, dancing alone seemed all he was ever really condemned to do, and sometimes, maybe sometimes, it’s all he wanted. To be condemned to dance alone.

West’s drop in smile and her onlook from the sidelines called it as she eased down the wall and sat down. Her hum came softly, then as she started on some lyrics—Drift’s softer movement returned her call, bringing the hall to life.

Light knew the song. Ruth B’s “Lost Boy,” and West’s cover version was… soul-taking. In her view of the world, Peter covered Wendy in Pixie dust, making her a lost boy, both now forever caught running through the forest and hiding away from Captain Hook and life’s insanity, but they wanted it no other way.

Was that how they’d met? With Drift at her window, wanting in…. West always looking out, needing the escape? Or had it been the other way around?

Giving a gentle smile down at his feet, Light went over and sat next to West, then took out the guitar. He added a string of acoustics, and a knowing, soft look came from West that almost called out how lost boys always seemed to find each other no matter the years in between. And yeah, maybe Light would always be one of the lost boys…. Then she was as lost back on Drift, her song, Light’s music and Drift’s dance playing the hall.

Eventually West fell quiet for a moment, and Drift stopped in the same breath. Then as Light continued to play, Drift came over and offered a gentle touch to his heart West’s way, a kiss to his lips before offering his hand down to her.

West took it, then carried on singing as Drift twisted her gently around into the middle of the floor. Coming to a stop, he shifted in close behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. West looked down at his touch on her as she sang—then she was following all the complexity of his moves, caught in them but never wanting to be free of the Lost Boys story either.

Fuck. This— this was how they worked the street together.

This was how Drift earned his keep with Jackson.

Not the feeding, not the fighting, not the running, just him, West, and the way they owned each other through the music in order to forget all the horrors out there, if only for as long as the song lasted.

Movement by the door caught Light’s attention, and he looked over.

Knee raised, arm across it, Martin sat close to the door, his ear tilted towards the dancefloor. He’d been there for a while, but as usual, Light hadn’t picked it up.

Drift didn’t notice for a moment either, not until he drew the dance to a slow stop. His look never left Martin’s, and his hold stayed protectively around West as he looked over her shoulder at Martin now Light stopped his touch on guitar as well.

“Oh don’t stop on my account.”

Martin’s words came Light’s way, but it was meant for Drift and West. He’d said the same so many years back on first meeting Light in the hall, and Light hadn’t understood it back then, how this was a real glimpse at who Martin could be. Martin only came into play when Jack was under stress, so his first listen to live music back with Light had been the first. And now, listening to West… seeing Drift dance with her, he was seeing and feeling the performance in real time for the first time as well, and his quiet called he was such a natural lover of it away from all of the mind games. It was why Martin only had one song on his playlist. He preferred it live.

Drift didn’t move, not for a moment, then a side glance at West, he came over. Saying nothing, he sat facing Martin on the floor, and for long moments, all he did was watch, all wariness there in his eyes.

Martin watched him back, so relaxed, no rush in his eyes to disturb his calm.

After a moment, Drift nodded and held his hand out to West. West came over and took it, and Drift eased her down next to him.

“This is West,” Drift said quietly, even though Martin knew her name. “I carry too much dirt on my skin, and I’m terrified she’ll catch it from me. I’m worried I’ll take her down with it. She also knows I’m nervous, maybe a little more confused over how she’s transgender. But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve always only ever seen the girl I grew up with. Hitting puberty was the issue, not her, because as a kid, I’d laugh at how she’d have to toss one of my trainers in the Thames in order to beat me back home. But as a teen… as a teen I lived for how she’d toss that same trainer in the Thames to win the run home, all because she’d lean into my shoulder and her long hair would shift across her lips as she laughed with me for losing. And I’ll always be stood there, losing myself to that lean into my shoulder, into how the wind whips her hair across her lips.”

West looked down at the hands in her lap, hurt in her eyes, but it looked such a damn good hurt.

“Give me your goddamn word she’ll be safe around you when all my instincts are crying out to run far and wide from you, then us…?” Drift danced a finger between him and Martin. “We’ll be okay. But I need to know she’ll be okay around you, because I’m picking up that no one is ever really safe here. And I’m only really okay if I know she’s okay.”

Martin watched him for long moments, then shifted his attention to West.

“Peter Pan and Wendy.” He tilted his head as his eyes softened. After a moment, he offered his hand over. “Name’s Martin. I’ll be Drift’s father.”

West’s eyes didn’t startle. She’d no doubt worked it out, and she looked down at the offer of a hand for a moment, then reached and took it. “I—”

“The thing with being here, West, around us… MI5 players…?” Martin gripped a little rougher at her hand. “Neverland will only ever be a fictional landscape in a fictional tale. So us? You promise to remind him he needs to keep that instinct sharp over men like me, how it’s not safe play around these walls, then I’ll always keep the windows and doors unlocked for both of you to get out.” The barest dark offer of a smile. “He’s right it’s not safe around here, so you both keep your wits and an eye on a way out.”

West narrowed her gaze, then gave a small nod. “A way out it is. Because you feel… ill to me too.”

Every door came with locks, so the offer off Martin to always leave them unlocked would no doubt have more weight in their world than the offer of an open door to welcome them in.

“Good.” Martin sent a wink her way, then released her hand and eased back against the wall. He looked at Drift, and Light wished to God he had access to his head to see what worked in his eyes. A moment later, he offered a hand over to Drift. “Martin.”

Drift eyed it up, frowned, then took it. “Drift.”

Martin suddenly twisted his hand palm up, then ran a touch by a recent burn mark. Less angry ones marked the skin, and when Drift tried to pull away, Martin again tightened his grip.

“Someone else or you?” Martin flicked a look up at him.

“Flaws.” It came out so flatly. “A reminder off a good friend that I have some and screw up because of them.”

Martin let him go and eased back against the wall. “What kind of flaws?”

“It’s in the name.” He held Martin’s look. “I drift.”

Martin frowned for a moment. “Hmm. Harrison.” It came so quietly, and Drift returned his frown. “That’s my surname,” added Martin. “It’s part of who you are. So is your grandfather. Greg. Whether you stay or go, whether you trust me or not, always take those two names with you, look him up, and find some peace in order to stay sane and sharp.”

Drift screwed his face a little, maybe at the push away, and Martin looked around the hall. “I get the feeling that the money that this home represents, the space it offers, you don’t like it either.”

Drift shrugged and eventually glanced around. “Like you said, the money the home represents, the space… it’s wasted.”

Martin looked his way. “You earn your bed, money, and space, right?”

Drift snorted a smile. “It doesn’t come free for most outside of the born into it brood.”

Martin cocked a brow. “A debate on not classifying stolen goods as free income is perhaps best saved for another day, hm?”

Light winced, but Martin wasn’t one for backing off from the realities.

Drift didn’t seem too bothered by the challenge as he shrugged. “It still translates to skilled work bringing in money, which goes back into the pot to look after our pips.”

“All of it?”

Drift eased back a little, and West looked away too.

“Ah.” Martin pointed at Drift, then West and offered a small smile. “No judgement here. Like I said: you stay sharp and sane.” He indicated around the hall. “But from whatever skilled means, the money for this place is earned as well. More than.” He looked at Drift. “It’s also earned with the knowledge that family comes first no matter whose ‘pips’ are crying outside those gates. It’s brutal, but it’s sane play, one you are a part of now if you need it. Like Light and Jan, you come before anyone out there, but only if you call it, not me, not anyone else.”

Drift watched him back for a moment. “Here’s not my world. Understand that. I’m a thief, but if I take a phone, it provides a blanket to keep one of ours warm. I steal food, someone back home doesn’t starve. I take heroin from a pharmacy, I selfishly shoot up and have a few moments of false happiness over hours of shouting into the cold. That’s sanity in my world.”

Drugs? The mention of them had Martin leaning forward, his arms across his knees.

Drift shook his head. “Point being: move into bed-warming territory, here, it moves beyond survival into self-gratification, where percentages of thousands of pounds rarely move beyond an off-shore bank account.” He frowned. “Is it really sane play here? Because you’re going for the Night-walkers like it’s a hobby, fuck anything to do with professionalism over MI5. And whether smart or delusional, that’s a real fucked-up hobby.”

Martin tipped his head Drift’s way. “Like I said, you hold on to that ability to read people. It’ll keep you safe in the long run, especially from the likes of me and Gray. But talk…?” He nodded. “Oh I really need to hear you talk Night-walkers now and why you fuck up your head with drugs over keeping it clear when you really should be staying sharp with this.” He tapped Drift’s forehead a few times. “You take no more, or you’ll find out just what kind of bastard nightmares I come with, no drugs in tow.”

Light knew that blackness well enough as it crept into Martin’s look. Jack took damn good care of his physique, his mental health too as best he could, but Martin had his own ways. Even his choice over Japanese green tea in moderation aimed to cut anxiety, irritability, sleeping issues… all to help stay sharp. So yeah, learning Drift took drugs really wouldn’t go down well.

Martin got to his feet, and Drift followed up almost instantly as if expecting a fight.

“Give me a moment with Light, yeah?” Martin held out a hand to West and helped her up, and Drift eased off. “Go on through to the lounge.” A snort. “Try not to steal anything from Simon. He’s… delicate.”

Light shook his head at him as Drift glanced over his shoulder, then tugged West out. Martin came over a moment later as Light got to his feet and packed away his guitar.

“On fucking up…. Two things with you, Piper.” Martin held up a finger. “One, Simon mentioned to Gray that the music Drift filled the manor with a few days ago took you out of the game. Yet you walked into Jackson’s, which is full of sound waves, without you looking at ways to combat it.”

Light tightened his jaw.

“Two.” Another finger came his way. “You dropped your game back at Jackson’s. One with the guitar and losing your head to bad memories, two with being slow enough to get hit by Drift.”

Simon came and rested in the doorway, not looking happy at all with the closeness.

Light nodded and held Martin’s look. The fact Gray had said nothing over the I-dosing knock-on effect called out how he waited for Light to talk first. And that was Gray’s offer of a father lately: making sure Light found his damn voice. “I’ll talk to Gray and Si and deal with the audio issue.” It was a serious flaw, one that could knock him out of the game anywhere, although now he thought back….

Shit. The sound from the guitars back at Jackson’s hadn’t hit him, so had Simon and Gray worked something into the surveillance earpieces to dampen the effect, knowing he was facing music back there? Fuck… Light had gone in without even thinking about it, leaving Si and Gray to make sure he walked sound footing…. “As for the second one…?” Light frowned. “I dealt with it.” He snorted gently. “Well me and a smart-mouthed kid I’d like to hear play again if he’d just ease off fighting the whole world.”

Martin gave a small nod and a friendly pat to his neck. “Don’t care. Don’t fuck up like that again. Bleeding Hearts over there… by which I mean Simon… he’s worse than that goddamn cat of Jack’s when it comes to missing her bedroom toys. Head hurts enough without his whining adding to the mix.”

Light snorted a smile, and Martin turned away, heading past Simon and barely acknowledging him. But Simon seemed to barely notice Martin either as he came over.

Simon went to say something, maybe an apology for talking to Gray about the I-dosing, most likely saying he didn’t give a fuck he’d talked to Gray about it but—

Light pulled him in for a kiss, taking Simon back up against the wall.

Simon eased back for a second, eyes closed, and a hand cupped Light’s neck, pulling him back in so his lips hovered close.

“Now that’s… that’s you learning to be a lover who’s been missed.” His return kiss was so gentle. “That’s you holding on to something….”

“On to someone ,” Light said so quietly close to his lips. “ You .”