Page 91 of Marked by the Demigod

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Aimes wakes up in her own bed, Iakov fast asleep, his face pressed hard into the crook of her shoulder. For a few seconds she stares up at the stucco pattern in her little apartment ceiling, before rolling over and grabbing at her phone.

KATYA GOVERNMENT (6:02 AM): Did he take you home?

TRIXIE (8:17 AM): Do you need a ride from Sherman Oaks?

TRIXIE (8:45 AM): I swear to god if you don't reply I'm coming over.

TRIXIE (8:51 AM): You're already home??????

Aimes smiles, and Iakov snuffles sleepily into her shoulder.

AIMES (8:59 AM): He took me home sometime last night. I think.

She leans back on the bed, happy to see her ceiling again.

Of course he had taken her, while asleep, back home. Without consulting her or Katya or anyone else, and the fission of anger spikes again, even as he lays there asleep. As if he thinks he can make all the decisions for her, despite any consequences.

That needs to stop. Full on stop. He can't expect her to be okay with all the changes without doing anything himself.

TRIXIE (9:01 AM) Are you okay? I officially demand breakfast.

And that's fair, all things considering.

TRIXIE (9:02 AM): Unless you're in danger? Is that a thing?

AIMES (9:03 AM): Give me a bit, I need to shower.

Disentangling herself from Iakov's sleep grip, she sits up, shedding the makeshift hospital gown and jumping in the shower, cause she is officially disgusting feeling.

Not for the first time, she mulls over the entire likelihood that she's in way too much danger to do anything, but, without seeing an end in sight, the idea of hiding makes her skin crawl.

There's an entire possibility that Iakov's doing the smartest thing, and her entire being rejects it. It's...it's not how she works. It's not how she thinks.

And if Iakov had tried to kill his own brother, and failed, what the hell was she to do?

Her eyes suddenly fill with the type of tears that are hopeless and annoying and full of snot. After a moment of staring at her shampoo bottle, she lets herself have the mini breakdown that's been pressing at her sinuses for too long.

To Iakov, she is worth protecting and not worth the truth, or only glimpses of the truth. To him she is worth keeping safe, but not worth including. To be hidden away, like a precious belonging, but to not be by his side through all this.

Of course, of course she knows that he says it's dangerous. Of course she knows that they could just kill her, and then him, and that'd be making it easy on them. He lives the sort of life where people take shots at him, make him want to disappear, and...and she doesn't.

And on that thought, she scrubs away the last of the grime that settled on her from her days in the literal hole in the ground, and cranks the shower over with too much force that it makes the knot in her chest ache.

Because of course she's still sore.

Exiting the shower, she meets Iakov's eyes, and he sits up, only struggling a little. He doesn't speak as she dresses in something brunch appropriate.

AIMES (9:22 AM): Where shall we meet?

She can feel his eyes on her as she slips on her bra, the small intake of breath the only sign that he's there.

"Where?" He rasps out. The bed creaks as he stands, and he rests a hand on her bare shoulder as she struggles to turn her shirt inside out.

She risks a glance at his face, and there's two patches of red high on his cheekbones, a relief from the pallor of the last few days. "Breakfast, somewhere." She nods at her phone. "Trixie's turn to pick."

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