Chapter 22 #3
It was Fray who poked his head around the door first. “Okay, they’re not fucking, we’re safe. I’m no prude, but I don’t wanna see what eight tentacles can do to one man.” Then he stopped and gave that some thought. “Actually, on second thought....”
Sawyer laughed, but of course that made him cough again.
Fray grimaced. “You okay? Need a glass of water or something?”
Sawyer waved him off. “Drank enough water today, apparently, but thanks.”
“Everything okay?” Ciaran asked.
Otis popped his head up behind Fray, his smile wide. “We have gifts.”
“Gifts?” Sawyer asked. “Maybe I should get dressed.”
Fray put his hand up. “Just stay under the blankets. Unless you wanna pin me against wall without a stitch of clothing on again. I’m not gonna say no.”
Ciaran’s growl was low and rumbling and not altogether fake.
“Just kidding,” Fray said, his shit-eating grin evidence to the contrary. He held up a badly wrapped gift. “For Sawyer. Welcome to the family.”
Then Otis produced his much larger gift. “Mine’s bigger because size really does matter.”
Fray nudged him. “Hey. My sense of humour is compensation—”
“Guys,” Ciaran said.
They straightened up, and Fray handed Sawyer his gift. He opened it and barked out a laugh as he showed Ciaran the pink unicorn pool floaties.
Fray laughed. “If you’re gonna keep going in the drink, you need to learn how to float.”
“They’re perfect,” Sawyer said.
The pool floaties were not perfect, Ciaran thought. They were no more than a kids’ toy. But it was funny, and honestly, as a gift from Fray, Ciaran should have expected nothing less.
Then Otis stepped forward and handed his gift to Sawyer. “It’s from all of us,” he said.
Sawyer tore into the paper, and Ciaran knew what it was from the first glimpse and the unmistakable smell.
It was a full-body neoprene wetsuit. The kind humans used to dive in freezing cold water.
“We figured you might need it,” Fray said. “So you can go in with Ciaran and maybe not try to die as much.”
Sawyer turned it over, looking at it in detail, and Ciaran could feel the warmth of emotion Sawyer was feeling.
When he looked up at Fray and Otis, his eyes were glistening. “Thank you. This... this actually means a lot.”
He was right.
It wasn’t just a gift. It meant acceptance.
They were saying, “Hey, human, you can join us. You’re one of us now,” and Ciaran had to swallow down the lump in his throat before he could speak. “Thanks, guys.”
Fray gave him a nod that said, “Anytime, brother,” and Ciaran knew without a doubt that Fray had been the one behind the idea to get Sawyer a welcome gift.
But then because Fray was Fray, he looked at Sawyer and put his hand out again in a stop gesture. “No, please don’t get up. Like, seriously, please don’t. Still trying to unsee the last time you were naked. Don’t need another showing, thanks.”
Ciaran sighed, and Sawyer scrunched up some wrapping paper and lobbed it at Fray’s head.
Otis ignored them and looked at Ciaran. “Tobin’s gone to Southport,” he said. Then he clapped his hands together. “Also, my cousins told me to remind you they will come. If you need numbers, count them in.”
Ciaran was surprised by the bloom of pride and gratitude he felt. “I really appreciate it,” he said. “Kinda hoping it won’t come to that.”
“Kellan told you the Norway boys are coming, right?” Fray asked. “They’re not messing around.” Then he shrugged. “Which is kinda concerning, not gonna lie.”
“I know,” Ciaran murmured.
“Why is it concerning?” Sawyer asked.
Ciaran met his gaze and sighed. “Because they’ve dealt with her before; they know the signs. Many times over the centuries. Always in northern waters near the Arctic Circle.”
“But now she’s coming to the Antarctic,” Sawyer said. “Why? What the fuck for?”
“We don’t know.”
“Because she kept getting her arse beat by my people,” Fray offered.
Sawyer’s brow furrowed, and Ciaran could feel the flux of emotions rolling through him. “So how do we beat her arse this time? Serious question: How do we beat an old fucking god? Specifically, what is our play of operation here? Because unless you have Thor on speed dial...”
Fray and Otis both laughed, but Ciaran hadn’t missed how Sawyer had said “we.” How do we beat her? How do we do this? He fully included himself in their consortium. He was part of it. Not as a cephamorph, obviously, but as Ciaran’s mate, he was now a part of their family. Except for one thing...
Ciaran made a face. “Okay, so I love that you use the word ‘we’ because you are part of us now, but you won’t be doing any fighting. Or anything dangerous, for that matter.”
Sawyer stared at him and slowly raised one eyebrow. “The fuck I won’t be.”
Fray burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. “Ciaran, my brother, he is so perfect for you.”
Ciaran tried to shut Fray up with a well-aimed glare, but it had little effect.
Sawyer pulled the covers down to his waist and nodded to some sweatpants on top of the dresser. “Hey, can you pass me those, please? We have shit to do. I need to get up and—”
“Sawyer, you’re on bed rest,” Ciaran tried gently.
Sawyer shot him another glare that, even without the raised eyebrow this time, told Ciaran in no uncertain terms what he thought of that.
Fray and Otis both laughed, and with a deep sigh, Ciaran handed Sawyer his sweatpants.
Fray shuffled himself and Otis out of the room while Sawyer pulled his sweats on under the covers.
“We’ll let him get dressed,” Fray said. “Though I do love to see who wears the pants in the relationship, so to speak. And I especially love that it’s not Ciaran. ”
Ciaran couldn’t even be mad. He sighed again, gave Sawyer a kiss on the side of the head as he got out of bed, and then they followed Fray and Otis out of the room.