Page 31 of Gunpowder

He took a deep breath and knocked. There must have been something wrong with him, to be more nervous about seeing Wren than he had been about getting arrested. A deadbolt turned on the other side, the knob twisted and Wren opened the door. He didn’t say anything, just stepped aside for Blair to come in.

“I didn’t think I was going to hear from you again,” Blair admitted.

Wren closed the door and faced him. He was wearing that damn shirt from the time they’d had dinner, baring his shoulder and a long stretch of collarbone. “Why?”

“Well I didn’t know about Doc before, and I figured if either that or my stupid texts weren’t enough, what you saw at Incindious might have been.” The last part wasn’t completely true, the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before, but he wanted to throw at least one thing in the mix that wasn’t entirely his fault.

Wren leaned back against the door and raised an eyebrow. Part of his bangs were tucked behind one ear, letting the light wink off his earrings. “What part of ‘trauma surgeon’ doesn’t compute to you? That wasn’t the first time I’ve seen internal bleeding and it will hardly be the last.”

“Yeah, but what about—”

“As for your texts, you should know by now I’m not bothered that you aren’t particularly bright.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Wren pushed himself away from the door to stand in front of Blair, the distant rumble of thunder covering the sound of his footsteps on the marble floor of the entryway. “And as for Reymond, even I’m at a loss for how you thought that one up.”

Blair blinked and shifted, only then becoming aware of the puddle he was creating with his dripping hair and clothes. “The day you operated on Adam, you said you were going home with him.”

“And?”

“And that usually implies… you know. Stuff.”

“Oh,” Wren said, with a sudden look of understanding. “You are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Wren reached back to open the door. He pointed out of it and Blair thought he was telling him to leave, but there was only enough room for him to look where Wren was pointing, he couldn’t actually get out the door. So he stood next to Wren and followed his finger to a door down the hallway.

“I came home with him because I live here, genius, and he lives right there.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wren was right. He really was an idiot.

“So you guys aren’t together.”

“Gross. God no.” Wren closed the door again and, in a rare act of kindness for what little dignity Blair was still holding on to, didn’t make him say anything further on the subject. “You’re already here so you might as well come further than the front door.”

Blair’s stomach fluttered as he followed Wren further inside, hanging his coat up on the hooks by the door so there was one less article of clothing to trail water across Wren’s apartment. Blair was happy that Wren and Doc weren’t together. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling. He put it aside for the time being, letting his attention shift to the large space that opened up beyond the entryway. He let out a low whistle.

“Nice place,” he said.

“I guess. My father picked it.”

A black leather sectional faced the windows, which consisted of an entire wall of glass. There was no TV. A desk took up most of the wall diagonally across from the windows, with a keyboard in the center of three monitors, and books were piled on every available inch of space. A stack of papers sat next to the keyboard and there was more on the coffee table. After looking around the living room and glancing at the kitchen, Blair determined there wasn’t a flat surface in the place that didn’t have at least one empty coffee mug on it. That was the only sign of disorder in the apartment. Even the clutter of books and papers appeared organized in their own way.

“Did you ever go get your stitches taken out?” Wren asked with the doubtful tone of someone who knew the answer.

“I’ve been kinda busy.”

“You shouldn’t let them scab over, they aren’t dissolving stitches. They need to be removed.” Blair’s mumbled excuse was lost in a thunderclap. Wren rolled his eyes. “Sit down.”

Blair sat on the leather sectional as the room flashed white, followed almost immediately by more thunder. He was glad he wasn’t out riding his bike. The wind had picked up, he could hear it whistling against the glass.

Wren came over with his hair thrown into a messy ponytail and wearing a pair of the blue medical gloves he always seemed to have around. “Pants off.”

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