Page 19 of Gunpowder

Blair couldn’t argue with that; he did want to see Wren again. Not that he knew why. By all accounts, Wren was awful. He’d repeatedly said his only reason for helping Tristan was for his own benefit, and to call him rude was an understatement. Wren was insufferable most of the time.

It was the rest of the time, though. Those rare moments when Wren wasn’t terrible. Those were the ones that kept pulling Blair back, that made him burn with curiosity to know who Wren actually was.

Blair couldn’t have been happier for their arrival at the docks to force the conversation to an end. He grabbed his crutches out of the back and looked around. With the dock under construction and not allowing large or commercial charters, it was oddly deserted. Only a couple recreational vessels sat on the water.

Koji awaited them on one of the piers, and he and Spencer exchanged pleasantries in Japanese while Blair checked the shipment. He opened a wooden crate covered in shipping markings and stamps, half of which probably weren’t real, and nodded to Spencer when he accounted for all the guns they’d paid for—much less than Incindious was going to sell them for, of course.

Spencer loaded the crate into the trunk of his car and they drove to Felix’s apartment. Spencer had yet to pick their earlier conversation back up but it was still on Blair’s mind. He traced the edge of his seat, following the stitched pattern in the cloth. It was easy to imagine it as leather instead. He could still feel the cool touch of Wren’s finger pressing against his lips. His hand curled into a fist against the seat. If Wren had kissed him, Blair wouldn’t have stopped him. That could be a problem.

Blair took advantage of the half hour ride to the boss’ place to try to clear his head. Thinking about what happened with Wren was just going to distract him, and he could do that on his own time.

“I’m coming in,” Spencer called, unlocking Felix’s apartment door. He punched a number into the blinking keypad for the security system.

It was a nice apartment that would have been a lot nicer without the laundry strewn across the floor and multiple ashtrays overflowing, but he’d heard Spencer lecture Felix on his housekeeping enough times to know the state of the place was never going to change. Blair was just glad it was on the first floor.

There was a groan from the corner of the studio apartment and Blair saw a head of artificially bright hair lift from the pillows. Felix was sprawled on his stomach in nothing but his CK briefs and an expensive looking wristwatch. He glared over his shoulder at the sound of Spencer dropping the crate on the floor.

“You fuckin’ mind?” Felix growled.

“I told you to slow down last night, don’t blame me because you’re hungover.”

Felix didn’t grace him with a response, just gave him a final glare before he went staggering to the bathroom. He came back out after a minute and dug in his discarded coat on the floor for his cigarettes. Spencer was already holding out his lighter when Felix stood up, and Felix leaned in to the flame. He straightened up once the paper began to blacken and curl away from the end of his cigarette. Felix ignored the crate in favor of going over to open the window; there could have been a SWAT team at the door and he wouldn’t have given a shit until he had his first cigarette of the day.

Blair leaned on the arm of the recliner and watched the boss with a small pang of jealousy. He was toned enough himself but there was nothing to remind him of his small stature like all six feet of Felix Bane’s inked, rock hard body standing around in his underwear. Felix crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray on the windowsill, making the red dragon that spanned the length of his back coil with the flexing of his muscles. Its wings stopped at the top of his shoulders and its tail disappeared into the waistband of his briefs where it curled around his hip, as Blair remembered from the couple times Felix hadn’t bothered with clothes when he had company. Felix lowered his arm back to his side and the dragon relaxed along with him.

They looked through the weapons, a fully automatic Glock 18 for Felix to have as a backup weapon, a FN Scar assault rifle to keep at the bar, and a few pistols to upsell to their usual clientele. Felix wanted to go back to bed, so it was a short visit.

Spencer dropped Blair off at home, and Blair slowly made his way upstairs with a dull pain in his thigh.

Blair washed up the few dishes he had accumulated and searched for anything around the apartment he could straighten up. He had left his crutches by the door, as he wanted to see how long he could stay on his leg before he needed them again. So far the worst part was still the itching. The biggest task he found was folding the laundry that had been piling up in his armchair. It had been washed and dried but never put it away, which took longer than he expected. It was less of a physical struggle than it was a trial for his short attention span.

He was sitting on the couch, almost done cleaning his Beretta when his phone rang. He swiped the screen by feel and put it between his ear and shoulder without looking at the ID. “Hello.”

“Hello, Blair.”

He released the slide too quick and had to jerk his finger out of the way before it got pinched. “What’s up?”

“Nothing in particular, I just got out of class.”

Blair resisted the urge to sigh, knowing it would be audible over the line. At least Wren had made good on his word to call but god, he had the conversation skills of a houseplant. He wiped the barrel of the gun with a cleaning cloth one last time. “You doing anything tonight?”

“Oh, asking me out on an actual date this time?”

“I… depends on whether or not you’re doing anything.”

That was not what Blair was supposed to say.

Of course he wasn’t asking Wren out. That would be a terrible, supremely stupid idea.

“I can be,” Wren said.

There was probably a double meaning there, but Blair didn’t let himself think too hard about it. “You are now. Hang tight at school, I’ll come pick you up.” So much for just keeping in touch to maintain a connection for the gang’s sake.

“You shouldn’t be driving yet.”

“You go to NYU School of Medicine, right? I’m guessing so since it’s the closest one to the hospital.”

Wren hummed his affirmation. “I’ll be waiting here for you, then.”

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