AMAND
Two days later, Rowan’s breathing is finally normal again, which he has apparently decided means every other instruction the healer gave him has expired.
He makes it exactly six minutes after we get home before reaching for the case bag we left by the door, and Lev catches him with one hand already around the strap while I’m still taking off my shoes.
“What are you doing?” Lev steps between Rowan and the bag before Rowan can lift it, looking from his hand to his face with the kind of disbelief usually reserved for people who lick electrical outlets.
Rowan tells him he’s moving it, which only makes Lev plant both palms against his chest and push him back a step.
“With the lungs that were partially stone three days ago? The healer said nothing strenuous, not see how quickly you can fuck yourself up again.”
Rowan catches Lev’s wrists before he can shove him twice. “It weighs ten pounds.”
“That’s not the fucking point.” Lev tugs once against his grip, gets nowhere, and glares harder. “You nearly stopped breathing because you touched something after I told you not to. Can you make it through recovery before you start making terrible decisions again?”
That takes some of the amusement out of Rowan’s face, although not enough to stop him from drawing Lev closer by the wrists. I finish taking off my shoes and lean against the wall, watching the two of them while Lev stays planted in front of Rowan.
I laugh before I can stop myself, and Lev turns his head toward me while Rowan’s mouth finally gives in to a smile. “Don’t encourage him. He already thinks surviving his own stupidity means he won.”
“I’m not encouraging him.” I step away from the wall and take the case bag out of Rowan’s hand before he remembers why this started. “I’m removing the excuse so the two of you can stop arguing about ten pounds of evidence.”
Rowan lets me take it without protest. Lev catches that too, his eyes narrowing briefly before he looks back at Rowan. “See? Even Amand thinks you should sit down.”
“I think the bag needed moving.”
“You are both exhausting.”
Rowan still has Lev by the wrists, and instead of releasing him, he turns them slightly and brings Lev flush against him. Lev’s mouth closes for a second, irritation shifting beneath something warmer before he manages to recover enough to glare again.
“Let go of me.”
Rowan doesn’t. “You’ve been touching me all day.”
“That is completely unrelated to you manhandling me in the foyer.”
“You checked my breathing while I was brushing my teeth.”
“You keep bringing that up like it makes me look bad.”
I set the case bag on the table and come back toward them, watching Rowan slide one hand from Lev’s wrist to his waist. Lev could step away now if he wanted to. Instead, he plants his freed hand against Rowan’s stomach and stays exactly where he is.
“You’re still angry with him,” I say, stopping beside them.
“I’m furious.” Lev looks at me like I’m slow for needing clarification. “He picked up a severed magical snake after I specifically told him not to, nearly turned into architecture, and scared the shit out of me. I get to be mad until I decide I’m finished.”
Rowan’s expression settles, the teasing dropping out of it. “Fair.”
That seems to catch Lev off guard more effectively than another argument would have. His fingers loosen against Rowan’s stomach while Rowan keeps a hand at his waist without pulling him any closer.
I slide my hand around Lev’s hip and give Rowan a pointed look before he decides relief means he’s magically healed. “You’re still recovering, so whatever this turns into, you’re not proving anything tonight.”
“I know,” Rowan says, and this time I believe him.
Lev glances between us and snorts. “This is incredible. One near-death experience and suddenly I’m the responsible one.”
“You threatened to leave Rowan at Essence because he walked too fast.”
“He was walking irresponsibly.” Lev turns enough to hook his fingers into the front of my shirt. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
I let him pull me closer. “Your personal growth currently consists of threatening Rowan every time he stands up and trying to fight a medical scanner.”
“The scanner looked suspicious.”
“Everything looks suspicious to you.”
“That’s why I’m good at my job.”
Rowan’s hand moves around Lev’s waist again, and I see the exact moment Lev’s attention shifts. He looks over his shoulder, catches Rowan watching him, and whatever comeback he was about to give me disappears.
“You’re enjoying this,” Lev says, though he’s looking at Rowan now.
Rowan’s thumb presses once against his side. “A little.”
“That’s obnoxious.”
“You’ve been hovering.”
Lev’s eyes narrow. “Keep saying that and I’ll make you regret recovering.”
Rowan doesn’t answer. He just lowers his head until their mouths are close enough that Lev has to decide whether he’s actually going to keep arguing.
He lasts about two seconds.
Lev grabs the front of Rowan’s shirt and kisses him hard, all the anger from the last day turning into something much easier for the three of us to manage.
Rowan braces one hand against the table rather than putting too much strain through his chest, which is the only reason I don’t interrupt immediately.
I move in behind Lev and slide one hand beneath the back of his shirt. His body reacts at once, breath catching against Rowan’s mouth while his free hand reaches backward and finds my hip without looking.
When he finally pulls away, he keeps his fist tangled in Rowan’s shirt. “You are still not allowed to overdo anything. Being horny doesn't magically repair damaged lungs.”
Rowan catches Lev’s hand and kisses his knuckles instead of arguing.
Lev stares at him for a second before looking back at me. “See what I’m dealing with? Manipulation everywhere.”
“You’re still standing between both of us voluntarily.” I drag my palm slowly up his back, feeling his muscles tighten beneath my hand before relaxing again. “Your case would be stronger if you looked remotely interested in escaping.”
“I could leave whenever I want.”
Rowan’s arm settles more securely around his waist while I step close enough that Lev is boxed between us. He looks from Rowan to me, then down at the hand I have under his shirt, and gives up pretending any of this is unwanted.
“I hate both of you,” he mutters, but he’s already turning his face toward me.
I kiss him before he can add anything else. Rowan stays close at his back, careful with his own balance while his hand travels over Lev’s side, and the bond between us warms so quickly that Lev makes a frustrated sound into my mouth.
That sound changes the entire room.
I pull back just enough to look at Rowan over Lev’s shoulder. “Bedroom. Slowly.”
Lev gives me an offended look. “I’m not the injured one.”
“No, but you’re the one most likely to forget Rowan is.”
“I have been reminding everyone about his lungs for three days.”
“And now you’re about thirty seconds from climbing him.”
Lev glances at Rowan, then back at me. “That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.”
Rowan starts toward the stairs, and Lev immediately catches the front of his shirt again to slow him. “Careful.”
Rowan looks down at the hand holding him back, then at Lev.
Lev lifts his chin. “Don’t make it weird. I’m still mad at you.”
Rowan’s mouth curves while I follow them toward the stairs, already knowing that anger isn't going to survive much longer once we get upstairs.
Lev keeps one hand fisted in the front of Rowan’s shirt the entire way up, forcing him to take the steps slower than he wants.
Every time Rowan tries to lengthen his stride, Lev tightens his grip and mutters something about lungs and stupidity under his breath.
By the time we reach the bedroom doorway Rowan is smiling like the entire performance is the best thing that’s happened to him since he stopped turning to stone.
“You’re being dramatic,” Rowan says, voice low.
“You’re being an idiot.” Lev shoves him carefully backward until the backs of Rowan’s thighs hit the edge of the mattress. “Sit. Carefully. If you wince once I will leave you here and finish with Amand alone.”
Rowan sits. The careful part is genuine; he settles his weight slowly, one hand braced behind him so nothing pulls through his ribs.
Lev watches him like a hawk the entire time, then climbs onto the bed and straddles his lap without putting any real pressure on Rowan’s chest. His knees bracket Rowan’s hips, hands already sliding under the hem of Rowan’s shirt.
“Arms up,” Lev orders. “Slowly.”
Rowan obeys, and Lev peels the shirt off him with exaggerated care, tossing it aside.
The bruises across Rowan’s ribs are still dark, the skin around them faintly shiny from whatever the healer had packed on them.
Lev’s expression tightens for a second before he leans in and kisses the least-bruised spot just below Rowan’s collarbone, then bites the same place hard enough to make Rowan hiss.
“That is for touching the fucking snake,” Lev mutters against his skin.
Rowan’s hands settle on Lev’s hips, thumbs stroking slow circles. “Noted.”
I shut the bedroom door and lean against it for a moment, watching Lev work himself up further.
He kisses Rowan again, hard and a little mean, all teeth and the sharp edge of leftover fear.
Rowan lets him take what he wants, mouth open, forked tongue sliding against Lev’s in a way that makes Lev’s breath catch.
The scent of spicy Basilisk heat starts to thicken in the room almost immediately.
Lev breaks the kiss just long enough to look over his shoulder at me. “Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to help me make sure he doesn’t move wrong?”
I push off the door and cross to the bed. “I’m going to make sure neither of you forgets he’s still healing.”