Chapter 18
Ripping Zeke a new one, that was the plan. Unfortunately, Kieran underestimated the exhausting nature of time travel, plane travel, and generally being in Ash’s close vicinity.
The room is too quiet. Too tidy. Too Ash, despite it not being the room they normally share. Even the throw blanket at the end of the bed is folded with military precision.
It’s annoying.
Everything Ash does is annoying. He’s too calm. Too composed. Too everything. Confusingly kind and patient, like he’s been engineered in a lab to be the perfect antidote to Kieran’s chaos.
Kieran flips onto his side. Then back. Then stares at the ceiling again. Fucking hell, he’s exhausted, so why won’t his brain shut up? Instead, it’s showing him a montage of the past three days, analyzing every single thing Ash has done or said.
“Whatever I do, I do for you. With your best interests at heart.”
“I like to think I make you happy.”
“You were the most intriguing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I always want to be by your side.”
Kieran buries his face into a pillow and screams.
“I always want to be by your side.”
Ash had said it so simply, like he’s said it many times before. Like it was a fact and not something that could flip Kieran’s life on its head and send him into an early mid-life crisis.
What the heck is he supposed to do with that?
Sleep it off. That’s what he should do. With a bit of luck, when he wakes up in the morning, everything will make more sense, and this weird, squirmy ache niggling under his ribs will be gone too.
Next morning, the clock reads 6:17, and Kieran’s wide awake, which is offensive.
He’s somehow both exhausted and overstimulated from spending all night in a dream-based hostage situation.
A hostage situation starring none other than the asshole who’s no doubt sleeping like an angel next door, while Kieran is spending every minute of the day trying to keep his brain from exploding.
Ash has no fucking idea what it’s like to have his dream version say, ‘I always want to be by your side’, while the real version is out here just being a stable presence in Kieran’s life.
Fuck, he’s not equipped for this emotional turbulence.
He kicks off the blankets with a grunt, stalks out of the guest room, and makes a beeline for the master bedroom like a man on a mission. A furious, sleep-deprived, deeply confused mission with no clear objective beyond yelling at someone.
He pounds on the door. “Wake up! You’re not allowed to sleep like a peaceful angel while I’m losing my goddamn mind!”
A few moments later, the door creaks open. Ash appears, blinking sleepily, hair sticking up in fluffy disaster peaks, looking way too soft for this godforsaken hour. He’s also not wearing a shirt. Or pants. Because why would he, right?
Kieran glares at him. “You look like a damn cloud. I hate it.”
Ash squints. “...Good morning to you too?”
“No. There’s nothing good about it. I didn’t sleep, I’m cranky, and my brain spent the whole night airing a low-budget soap opera starring you. Because you won’t leave me alone, not even in my sleep. Probably not even in my death.”
“Sounds romantic.”
“It was not.”
“So you dreamed about me?”
Of course the fucker would focus on that part. “Against my will!”
“Hm…no, that doesn’t sound right. Consent is of utmost importance.”
“Great. So stay out of my head from now on. And get dressed. We’re going on a witch hunt, before Zeke messes something else up.”
“How about breakfast first?”
“No.” His stomach is already feeling weird.
“Coffee?”
“No. Let’s go. Now.”
“Can I have a coffee?”
“If I have to suffer, so do you,” Kieran informs him, absolutely not thinking that Ash looks cute when he pouts. Nope. “Five minutes,” he throws over his shoulder, stalking away before his brain conjures up any more disturbing thoughts.
Their arrival at Lost and Ground is marked by Kieran’s growling stomach. The smell of fresh pastries and roasted coffee beans hits him like a freight train of regret. Maybe he should’ve taken Ash up on the offer of breakfast.
But then he sees Zeke’s stupid, smiling, unsuspecting face, and his hunger is forgotten.
“Woohoo, look who’s here!” Zeke shouts, oblivious to the cosmic disaster he’s caused. “Gabe? Gabe! The chaotic husbands have returned!”
Kieran casts a look at Ash. Flat, judgmental.
“I have nothing to do with that,” Ash says, hands in the air.
“I don’t even care.” He would like to, he just doesn’t have the bandwidth.
A flash of messy blond hair appears in the kitchen window. “Are they? Yay! Gimme a sec, I’m all sticky,” Gabe yells back.
Behind the counter, Zeke fiddles with the coffee machine, which hisses like it’s being exorcised. Then he whips off his apron and rounds the counter.
“Alright, I’m all done.” He spreads his arms wide. “Come to Papa Zeke and give him a biiig hug.”
Kieran quietly bolts the door and flips the sign to CLOSED.
Zeke manages to get out a confused, “What are you doing?” before Kieran has him by the collar. “Eep!”
“You…” Kieran seethes. “You fucking menace. This is all your fault! Your stupid fucking cards and witchy shit. Reverse it. Reverse it now!” He tries to shake him like a magic 8-ball, but Zeke’s annoyingly solid, six-foot-something frame doesn’t budge.
Kieran might as well be trying to shake a fridge.
Zeke looks down at him like a Golden Retriever watching a pissed of Chihuahua. Fuck, Kieran hates being short.
Zeke’s gaze flicks behind Kieran, probably to where Ash is standing. Standing and doing nothing!
“You eat some mushrooms in Fiji? Do an ayahuasca trip?”
“Is this funny to you?” Kieran shakes him again, without effect. “Is it?”
“Of course not,” Zeke says, tone drenched in sarcasm. “Ash, please control your unhinged little wife.”
Bristling, Kieran draws his arm back, curling his fingers. “You’re fucking dead.”
The punch doesn’t land. Ash catches him mid-swing, trapping him in a bear hug. “Okay, Kieran, that’s enough.”
Kieran thrashes like a beached shark. “Fuck off! I’m not done here! Not until he fixes this!”
“Fix what? Hey!” Zeke jumps back when Kieran’s flailing leg nearly connects with his groin. “That's a national treasure right there.”
The kitchen door swings open. Gabe strolls out, drying his hands. “What’s with all the screaming, guys? You’re gonna scare away the custo—” He comes to a halt. “Wow. You’re pissed.”
“You think?!”
Whatever Gabe is about to say next gets cut short by a knock on the door. Everyone stills, expecting a horrified customer who nearly witnessed an attempted murder, but it’s just Ellis; granted, appropriately concerned.
Kieran is almost surprised that he recognized him so quickly, given he’s in the middle of a rage fest, and that it’s the first time he’s seen Ellis wearing something other than a suit.
He looks shockingly normal and less like a high-handed prick in his dark blue joggers and an oversized black shirt, hair flat on one side like he just rolled out of bed.
There’s also a fluffy orange rat next to his leg. On a leash.
“Did you lock the door?” Gabe asks, already moving to open it.
“Better keep civilians out of the crime scene,” Ash says.
“Crime scene?!” Zeke squeals, just as Gabe lets Ellis in.
“Hey, honey,” he greets him with a sickeningly sweet smile, leaning in for a peck.
The rat jumps on his leg and…barks. Okay, there’s a chance it’s a dog. A dog on drugs if the way it shakes on its short legs is any indication.
Gabe crouches to give it a few pets. “Hey, Lo. Miss me already?” In response, the rat-dog licks his hand.
“Bad time?” Ellis observes.
“Weird time,” Gabe says and stands up. “Not sure what’s going on.”
Graciously, Ash offers an explanation. “Long story short, Zeke was pretending to be a long-lost Halliwell sister and sent Kieran two years into the future. As in, to now.”
Funny how something so utterly life-wrecking can be summarized in one sentence.
“What?”
Four pairs of eyes turn to Zeke, who’s been trying to sneak back behind the counter, to safety.
“You did what?” Ellis asks.
“I didn’t do anything! I didn’t!” He pauses, head cocked like a confused bird. “Or…did I?”
“You fucking did, you scammer!” Kieran yells.
“Technically, this makes him not a scammer,” Ash notes.
He hasn’t let go of Kieran, arms wrapped strong and steady around him. When he speaks, his breath caresses Kieran’s neck, making him shiver.
It’s nearly a copy-paste situation of what happened in Fiji.
Back then, they were standing just like this, with Kieran unable to move because Ash was too damn strong, and his voice was too close and too deep, making Kieran imagine all kinds of weird stuff.
Weird, wrong stuff that left him confused and scared. And with a semi.
Nonono, it’s not happening this time. There are fucking people around, and Kieran is supposed to be furious!
“You wanna be next?” he growls, the threat probably less intimidating when he’s immobilized and glaring at Ash from upside down.
The fucker just gazes down at him like Kieran said something cute. For a second, it almost looks like he’s about to dip his head down and kiss him, but catches himself at the last moment.
Then he’s letting Kieran go, leaving him with a thundering heart and wondering what the fuck just happened.
“Maybe we should sit down for this?” Gabe suggests with a nervous smile. “Cookie, anyone? I just made a fresh batch.”
This is clearly a serious situation—
“I’ll have a cookie,” Ash says.
“Me too,” Ellis adds.
Zeke doesn’t dare say anything, but his eyes light right up.
“I hate you. All of you,” Kieran declares. Dammit, now he kinda wants a cookie too.
“Aww. I know that’s not true,” Zeke says.
“It’s a little bit true right now,” Gabe contradicts.
Jesus Christ, what kind of gang is this?!