Chapter 9 #2
“N-nobody asked for your opinion.” He rolls the window back up just so he can press his overheated cheek to it. Jesus, what’s happening to him?
“True. But I thought you might wanna know anyway.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.”
Finally, the car moves, making Kieran sigh in relief. The quicker Ash drops him off, the quicker he’ll be rid of him. Fuck, he can’t wait to fall into bed and sleep this weird-as-hell night off.
“It’s okay if you doze off. I’ll wake you.”
Kieran’s half-aware of mumbling something like, “I can stay awake for ten minutes,” just as his eyelids start to get heavy, his body following suit.
While it’s nice not to have to look at Ash’s stupidly handsome face, it has the unfortunate side-effect of amplifying the other senses.
The scent of almonds is now everywhere around him, so strong and potent it feels like it’s soaking in through his skin.
And then there’s Ash’s voice, smooth and rumbly, speaking Kieran’s name.
“What?” Kieran says snappily, refusing to open his eyes.
“We’re here.”
Here? Here, where?
Peeling his eyes open with an annoyed huff, he recognizes his apartment building.
How the heck can he be home already? He swears only a minute or so has passed since they’d pulled out of the parking lot. And what on earth had possessed him to relax enough that he fell asleep in Ash’s presence? Seriously, no self-preservation instinct at all.
Even as he thinks that, he feels his eyelids getting heavy again. The idea of sleep sounds really, really good. So good he can’t even muster the strength to get out of this stupid imitation of a car.
“Kieran.”
“Mhmpf.”
There’s a soft chuckle, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing, then opening again, louder this time.
A gust of air washes over him. It feels nice against his overheated skin, and the whiff of almonds that comes after makes him smile, though he’s not sure why.
It’s not like he likes almonds. He doesn’t hate them either, they’ve just never been important enough to have feelings about.
Why does it feel like they’re important now?
“You have your keys on you?”
“Hmpf.”
A sigh. “You don’t make it easy on a guy, you know that?”
Kieran’s brows pull together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean? He doesn’t have the strength to ask.
Strong, somewhat familiar arms slide under his own and wrap around his back.
Then he’s being hoisted up, his feet making contact with the ground for a second before he tilts.
He collides with something solid with a shriek of surprise, blinking through his blurry vision.
He’s pressed up against a chest. Ash’s chest. Right. Because Ash has brought him home.
“No touchy.” Despite the protest, he makes no effort to move away. To be fair, for someone with such a strong build, Ash would make a good pillow.
“Relax. Your virtue is safe.”
The next thing Kieran knows, he’s being manhandled like a weightless ragdoll.
He’s pushed backwards, against the car. Then his arms are placed around what must be Ash’s shoulders, except they feel way lower than they should be, considering Ash is a good 6’3.
Oh, he’s crouching for some reason. And his back is towards Kieran.
Then he’s hooking his elbows behind Kieran’s knees.
“Grab on and don’t let go.”
There’s a tug before the ground suddenly disappears from under his feet.
Producing a sound he’s not proud of, Kieran kicks his legs in the air uselessly, pulling a grunt out of Ash.
“Stop wriggling, unless you want me to drop you.”
Wide awake now, Kieran’s hold around Ash’s shoulders tightens, thighs wrapping around his waist. He can’t fall. His bony ass bruises like a peach.
“Good boy,” Ash says, and Kieran’s breath stutters. It’s almost the same feeling he got when Ash ordered him to get in the car using that dangerous voice. This feels dangerous too, just in a different way. “Try not to choke me, please.”
Realizing how tight he’s holding on, Kieran relaxes his grip. “And here I thought you’re into that.” As much as he’d rather not, he’s starting to get an idea what kind of shit Ash is into. It’d be hard not to with all the hints the pervert keeps dropping.
“Only when the other person is into it,” Ash replies after a drawn out pause, voice uncharacteristically gentle. It makes Kieran open his eyes, just to see what expression Ash is wearing, but all he can see is the back of his head.
“It’s not exactly my thing, anyway,” Ash continues, unprompted. “I prefer to hear my partners.” A chuckle. “Especially the mouthy ones.”
“Pervert.”
Ash laughs, the sound reverberating through his body and into Kieran’s, making him all tingly on the inside.
“Mind handing over your keys?”
Reaching blindly into his back pocket, Kieran passes the key card to Ash. “Eleventh floor.”
He tries not to ponder too much about why he’s not walking by himself now that his mind has cleared a little.
In his defense, his body does feel super heavy, and it looks like his coordination has been shit since they left the bar.
Plus, as much as he hates to admit it, being carried around like this is…
well, it’s not terrible. Due to his dad’s disk herniation and his mum’s complaints about him being too heavy, Kieran never got a piggyback ride as a kid.
That’s one thing he can cross off his bucket list. Not that he’s telling Ash that, though.
“Eleven is an angelic number,” Ash comments as they enter the building and wait for the lift. The fact that no one is around to witness Kieran being carried like a child is a small mercy.
Kieran’s groan is so loud he nearly gives himself a headache. “Don’t start. It’s bad enough that Zeke talks my ear off about that spiritual crap.”
Ash chuckles, stepping into the lift and pressing the button for the eleventh floor. “I take it you don’t believe in the supernatural?”
“This past year has been shit. If there are angels, they sure as hell don’t care about me. I don’t care either, about any of that woohoo business.”
“I could be your guardian angel.”
Kieran snorts. “Says the devil’s spawn.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ash says, and Kieran swears he can hear the smile in his voice.
He has a sudden, ridiculous thought that Ash might’ve been telling the truth when he said he simply enjoys Kieran’s company.
For all his teasing, he has never actually disregarded Kieran’s feelings.
He’s never said a word that would suggest that Kieran’s feelings aren’t valid.
He’s never made anything Kieran’s problem.
When Kieran had repeatedly made jabs at him, whether aimed at his job or his personality, Ash had never retaliated.
When Kieran talked shit about therapists, Ash didn’t try to convince him he was different.
When Kieran called him out on purposefully stirring shit up, Ash didn’t deny it, didn’t tell Kieran he was just overreacting.
Even through all the perverted comments and leery looks, he’s never made Kieran feel unsafe in his presence.
Which, if Kieran is being honest with himself, explains why he followed Ash into his car pretty much without protest. As if something about Ash makes him feel safe.
Which is a fucking ridiculous notion, because there’s not a single person in the world who puts Kieran on edge as much as he does.
It's official—Kieran’s gone insane.
“Which apartment?”
“Huh? Oh…yeah. 1134.”
Ash locates the door, and just as he’s putting the card against the sensor, Kieran remembers what state he’s left the apartment in.
“Wait—”
Fuck, too late.
“Okay, we’re he—” Switching the light on, Ash freezes in the doorway. “Wow.”
Kieran wriggles until Ash lets go of his legs so he can jump off. “I didn’t ask you to follow me here, so don’t fucking judge me.”
He’s not sure why he feels so humiliated all of a sudden.
Plenty of people have been to his apartment and he’s never felt bad about not being the cleanest person in the world.
Dawson always gives him shit about it, exaggerating how Kieran doesn’t even have cleaning products, but it’s not that bad.
His kitchen rarely gets messy because he doesn’t cook, and since he lives alone, cleaning his bathroom every few weeks works just fine for him.
He hates feeling yucky in his own skin, so he religiously takes a shower every day.
The only real problem is his lack of organization, and a weird inability to put things back where they’ve come from.
He’ll do his laundry, but will take weeks to fold or hang it when it’s dry.
He’ll wash the cup or plate he used, but it will stay on the drying rack for days, until there’s no space for more.
He’ll take out the trash, but it’s not until he needs to throw away something that he remembers he never put a new bin bag in.
As it is, there’s a bunch of clothes scattered around (he was planning to do laundry tomorrow, honest!) and cans of energy drinks on every surface.
Also, a trip-hazard in the form of a Lego game on the floor that he started last week.
He’d lost patience fifteen minutes in, but not wanted to take it apart just yet.
“I didn’t say anything,” Ash says calmly, his expression unreadable.
“As if you need to. I know what you’re thinking.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Not everyone can be prim and proper like you. I have a lot on my plate,” Kieran carries on, oscillating between shame and anger. “You can see yourself out,” he bites out and hurries to his bedroom, his eyes stinging. Why he cares so much about what Ash might think of him, he has no fucking idea.
He doesn’t bother switching on the lights—the large window provides enough light from the street—just rips off his clothes and slides under the covers in his underwear. He settles on his side with his back to the door, waiting to hear the click as Ash leaves the apartment.
Except, a whole minute passes without anything happening. The light in the living room is still on, and his pulse quickens when he hears approaching footsteps. Pulling the covers up to his chin, he stops breathing as the mattress dips on the other side.
“What are you still doing here?”
“I wasn’t judging you,” Ash insists. “I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”
It’s just empty words, so why do they make Kieran feel better? “You only ever give me wrong impressions,” he grumbles, pulling a chuckle out of Ash. With an exaggerated sigh, he turns onto his other side and fixes Ash with an expectant look. “So?”
One of Ash’s annoyingly perfect eyebrows arches. “So?”
“What were you thinking?”
Humming thoughtfully, Ash slides down until he’s propped up on his elbow. He looks so casual and at ease just lying on Kieran’s bed, as if he belongs there.
“I’d better not say,” Ash replies, his infuriating smirk back in place. “It might be a little too raunchy for you.”
“Fucking pervert.” Kieran scowls, lips pursed. While he wouldn’t put it past Ash to think pervy thoughts in the most unlikely of situations, he can’t fathom what could possibly be sexual about his messy apartment. And yet, Ash’s reassurance eases something inside him. “You’re not telling me, then?”
Ash’s eyes slide to his mouth, something in his gaze darkening. He reaches forward and gently pinches Kieran’s chin between his fingers. “Get that pout off your mouth.”
It’s a testament to how far beyond the realm of sensibility Kieran has wandered that he doesn’t even try to move away, continuing to dig himself into an even deeper hole.
“Or what?”
He’s convinced Ash is gonna respond with some perverted bullshit, something like: Or I’ll shove my dick into it. Still, he doesn’t pull away.
“Or you’ll grow duck lips.”
Kieran blinks, confused and, for some unfathomable reason, a little disappointed. Finally, he moves away, turning onto his back.
“At least they would be nice and full, and not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like this!” He angrily points at his mouth, which only draws Ash’s attention back to it.
“I see nothing wrong with them,” Ash says, dragging his gaze up to meet Kieran’s. “Whoever gets to kiss them will be very lucky.”
Struck speechless and gaping like a fish, Kieran’s first instinct is to roll onto his other side, his heart hammering like crazy. The urge to hide, from the whole world but especially Ash, is strong, so he does the first thing that comes to mind and pulls the covers over his head.
Ash’s laugh echoes throughout the room, bathing Kieran in a strange warmth.
He feels slight pressure against his back, buffered by the covers, but it sends a shiver through him anyway. It takes all he has not to lean into it, his touch-starved body instinctively responding to the contact.
“Are you gonna be okay? Are you feeling sick?”
“I’m fine.” It comes out steadier than Kieran expected, considering it’s a freaking lie. “You don’t have to hover.”
There’s a long pause. “I can stay until you fall asleep, if you want.”
There are a thousand ways Kieran could reply. Should reply.
‘Why would I want that? You’re a creep.’
‘So you can do weird shit to me in my sleep?’
‘Just leave me alone already.’
But he can’t bring himself to. As much as Ash’s presence irritates him, the idea of him walking out and leaving Kieran alone after he’d spent the night mentally and emotionally picking him apart feels scary as hell.
Thankful that Ash can’t see his undoubtedly tomato-red face, Kieran replies, “Do whatever you want.”
“In that case…”
The mattress shakes with movement, and Kieran’s stomach lurches when it seems Ash is actually leaving. Except he never gets out of bed, so Kieran pokes out his head to check what’s happening.
He finds Ash propped up against the headboard, legs crossed at the ankles and hands interlaced and resting in his lap. Talk about making yourself at home.
Smiling down at him, Ash answers the unspoken question. “You said I could do whatever I wanted.”
Face heating up to about 200°C, Kieran quickly slides under the covers again, squeezing his eyes shut. To his relief, he can feel sleep pulling him under almost instantly. Good. He can’t wait for today to be over.
“Sweet dreams, Kieran.”
Kieran couldn’t care less about sweet dreams. All he wants is to wake up and feel like himself again. No annoying, perverted therapists or weird, confusing feelings that make him question his whole reality.
Here goes to hoping that when he wakes up tomorrow, hungover as hell, everything will be back to normal and he’ll never cross paths with Ash Cleaver again.
He drifts off, dreams filled with an irritating, smiling face, and warmth that feels like home.