Page 34 of Marked by the Demigod

It all feels so clinical, and Aimes curls up her knees to her chest on the ratty armchair, a bubble of panic in her throat.

Katya narrows her eyes. "Who."

Iakov finally breaks the eye contact with Aimes to stare at Katya. "People," he says, deliberate. "I will go into it...later." He gestures at Aimes, at her curled up position and what was probably obvious distress on her face. "Can we, can we recover a bit?"

Recovering a bit sounds nice, and Aimes nods.

Katya doesn't sigh, but her shoulders slump fractionally, and she sits at the dinner table as if the strings are cut off. "Aimes, do you have food in here?" She asks, her voice soft.

"Trixie has my groceries, we were shopping when..."Aimes gestures at Iakov, who smiles, impish.

"Fuck." Katya scrubs her face again, "Fuck it, I'm ordering take out."

* * *

One incredibly awkwardmeal of Chow Mein later, Aimes feels a bit more human and a lot sleepy.

Iakov and Katya hiss at each other in a whispered other language, Russian or something, and she just can't give a damn. The cause of all the bullshit is in front of her, and they won't even speak a language she knows.

She closes her eyes, letting the rough syllables wash over her, lethargy slipping around her and into her bones. She didn't even know how he got into her apartment, or why he decided to camp out on her couch and --

One of her cats meows, loud, and the language stops abruptly. Katya with an incredulous face and her...Jake...raising an eyebrow as the small cat strides up and butts his head into Aimes's hand in a rare show of affection.

Jake - Iakov - leans back on the couch, lines of weariness across his face. "You didn't strike me as someone with pets," he says, his voice dipping into the accent. Still, he dangles his hand down and scritches the small cat’s back.

"My friend takes care of them when I'm gone." And then, "who are you?"

He raises the other eyebrow, setting his bowl aside and leaning forward, a spasm of pain crossing his frame. For a second it's like nothing else in the world exists and it's just the two of them, staring at each other.

It's a long moment, before he sighs, giving Katya a side-eyed glance and breaking the moment so quickly it's dizzying. "It's better if you don't know."

"Bullshit." Aimes snaps, and she's so incredibly, deeply, bone tired. "That's...no. I don't work that way."

"Aimes..." Katya murmurs, soft.

"I don't, I don't want to just be kept --"

"I'll tell you more when you rest." Iakov interrupts.

Aimes clutches the bathrobe to her closer, but the weariness seeps in, far stronger than before. "You were the one that was shot."

"Yes. That's why I'm here. I thought I would...leave before you woke." He sighs, leaning his head back, the long lines of his throat moving.

A sudden, vicious stab at that thought, and he raises an eyebrow, as if he can tell. "Please don't." And her voice even sounds weak to her.

His face softens, almost, but the expression disappears so quickly she might as well have imagined it. "I have a lot to discuss with Katya here," he says, voice laden with sarcasm. "You could sleep for a few days before she's done with me."

Katya's shoulders tighten at that, as if she wants to spring away at his words. "Go ahead and gets some rest, I'll stay here."

* * *

Hours later,so long that the light outside turns dim and gray through her window, her bed dips and she stirs, opening her eyes.

Iakov settles gingerly next to her, and they're face-to-face, close in the dying light. The bandage over his chest bleeds vivid red, stark. "Go back to sleep," he mumbles.

She scoots over on the bed to make more room, and he slides in, face pinching from pain. "How bad?" She reaches out, touching her fingertips to the hollow of his throat, over the bandage.

His hand covers hers, large and warm. "I'll live," he whispers, voice somehow cocky in the dim, hushed bedroom. "Go to sleep?" His eyes slip closed.

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