Page 8 of Playing with Fire

"Someone got through your security."

"Someone got through Leo's security," Xion corrected, jabbing his cigarette at me for emphasis. "Which means they're after him specifically. And you're what, just being a good friend? Taking one for the team?"

My jaw tightened. "He's mine to protect."

"Yours to protect," Xion repeated flatly. "Jesus fucking Christ, do you hear yourself? That's not something people say platonically, you idiot."

“He's my best friend. Excuse me for not wanting him to die."

"And I'm the Queen of fucking England. You think I don't see how you look at him? How you gotta touch him every time he's within reach? Hell, the whole compound's got a betting pool on when you two are finally gonna..."

I elbowed Xion when I saw Leo was heading back our way, clutching a singed backpack along with his laptop bag. Even through the smoke and chaos, something in my chest tightened at the sight of him.

"We're done here," I growled at Xion, already moving to intercept Leo.

"Yeah, run away from the truth. That always works great." Ten's voice followed me, rough with amusement and something that might have been concern. "Hey, don't fuck him up too bad, X. He's still our tech expert!"

I flipped Ten off without turning around, already focused on Leo. He looked smaller somehow. Everything he owned was reduced to two bags and the clothes on his back. The fragility of human existence made physical, embodied in the man standing before me.

"That all you could save?" I asked, eyeing his bag.

"Yeah." His voice cracked on the word. "My Sailor Mercury figure melted. I know it's stupid to be upset about that when..."

"It's not stupid." I cut him off before he could start apologizing for having feelings. Leo was always doing that, always diminishing his own pain, always pushing his needs aside for others. It was infuriating. It was endearing. It made me want to force him to acknowledge his own worth, even if I had to burn the value into his skin. "Come on. Bike's this way."

Behind us, Xion's rough laugh mixed with the crackle of flames. I could practically feel his knowing smirk burning into my back. But Leo was already moving with me through the maze of vehicles and equipment, trusting me to guide him even though his whole world had just gone up in smoke.

The bike waited where I'd left it, a darker shadow among shadows. Leo hesitated when he saw it, and something clicked in my brain. Two years of friendship, and he'd never actually ridden with me before.

"Put the backpack on," I said, helping him adjust the straps. "Laptop bag can go crossbody. You're going to need both arms free to hold on to me."

He nodded, following my instructions with those still trembling hands. When he was settled, I swung onto the bike and looked back at him.

"I won't let you fall," I said. "But you need to hold on tight. You trust me?"

"Always," Leo said, and something in my chest contracted painfully. He shouldn't trust me. Not after the things I'd done. But he did, completely and without reservation. That trust was a responsibility I carried with the same gravity as my hunts. Maybe more.

He climbed on behind me, movements hesitant. I felt him settle too far back on the seat, trying to maintain some polite distance that would get him killed on the first sharp turn.

"Scoot forward," I ordered, reaching back to grab his thigh and pull him closer. "You need to be right against me."

Leo made a small, startled sound but did as he was told, sliding forward until his chest pressed against my back. The contact sent a wave of satisfaction through me. Physical touch wasn't something I gave away easily. Each point of contact was a gift, a claim, a promise. And right now, every press of Leo's body against mine felt like completing a circuit I hadn't known was broken.

"Arms around my waist," I said. His hands settled too high, too loose. "No. Lower. Tighter."

I grabbed his wrists and pulled them down, guiding his arms to circle my waist properly. The way his fingers clutched my jacket sent a wave of satisfaction through my blood. I'd spent two years carefully rationing physical contact. A hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing as we passed tools back and forth. But this? Having him pressed against me, trusting me with his safety? This was different. Almost sacred.

"Like that," I said. "Don't let go. When we turn, lean with me. Your legs should be tight against mine."

Leo shifted, adjusting his position until he fit against me perfectly. Every breath he took pressed against my back, every slight tremor in his arms registered like an electric shock. The sensation of him pressed against me was intoxicating.

The engine roared to life beneath us, and his grip tightened instinctively. A smile curved my lips. Having Leo this close felt like claiming territory. Like finally having something precious exactly where it belonged.

I took the first turn slower than usual, giving him time to learn how to move with me. His thighs squeezed against mine as he followed my lead, learning the rhythm of the bike. The heat of him burned through my clothes, somehow hotter than the fire we were leaving behind.

Behind us, the orange glow of Leo's burning home painted the sky. Ahead, nothing but dark road and the promise of revenge.

And between those two points, Leo's arms around my waist, trusted with a kind of intimacy I rarely allowed anyone else to have.

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