Page 24 of Rarely Pure and Never Simple
A smile tried to escape Damien's control. This was a damn psychotic subject to find funny no matter what Blaze said, but his sardonic delivery made Damien want to laugh. "Can you sleep?"
"Maybe. You gonna be here?"
"I may leave the room for a few minutes, but I won't leave the building."
Damien shocked himself by staying perched on the bed while Blaze fell asleep. He then tried, twice, to let go, but Blaze jerked in his sleep and clutched at his fingers. He didn't have the heart to pull them away. Only when those large, rough hands had relaxed their hold did he finally place Blaze's hands on the bed and return to his chair.
When he'd finished his reports and his itemizations on all the proper forms for their belongings so the feds would release their car and luggage and Blaze's weapons, Damien curled up in his chair and allowed himself a light doze. He wouldn't sleep, not in a strange place where he couldn't lock the door.
Blaze sat staringat what the hospital tried to pass off as breakfast. He didn't intend to eat the shit. The nurses might view setting it on fire as an extreme response, but with the mood he was in all bets were off. Damien had gone to deal with the feds, called in because, hello,murder. Weapons had to be signed for. Someone had to retrieve their things. Thank God all Blaze's carrying permits had been up to date. The whole situation still pissed him off. He scowled down at the pitiful excuse for oatmeal.I should be dealing with this shit, not Damien.
Not fair to Damien, of course. Somehow, he'd managed to navigate the world before they met without landing in jail or getting himself maimed. The guy was a grownup, even if he was bizarre.
Also not fair. Life had hurt Damien so badly that he had to hold the broken pieces together with ritual and repetition, afraid to smile, afraid to let anyone near him.
I'm not afraid, Blaze had told him, and he thought that maybe Damien believed it. The way he'd tried to offer comfort, the way he'd held on tight while Blaze pummeled the pain into submission… It was major breakthrough, right?
By the time Damien returned, Blaze had managed to coax the nurses into removing his IV lines and had pulled on a pair of pants.
"They give you all my pieces back? We ready to haul ass out of here?"
"Your weapons are locked in the car. All of them." Damien stared at him, back to his usual expressionless self. "You're not even dressed. And aren't those pants covered in blood?"
"That's why they're black."
With a little shudder, Damien put down the bundle he carried. "I brought you clean things from your bag and—"
Blaze sighed. "You were in my bag."
"Yes?"
"What did you see?" Blaze folded his arms over his chest.
Damien didn't have to answer. The blush said it all. "I'm sorry. But it's not as if I wasn't right there watching the medics get your clothes off the night you were shot."
"And you never said anything?"
"Blaze…" Damien heaved a slow breath, his eyes shut tight. "You were bleeding to death. It doesn't matter what you feel comfortable wearing under your clothes. And I… I thought they were nice."
"Nice."
"Yes. I… I think, well, they feel nice."
"Great. You've been fingering my underwear."
With a shake of his head, Damien put down the boots he still carried and retreated to his chair, apparently no longer willing to make eye contact.
At least he'd had the boots and the coat cleaned. "So which ones did you pick?" Blaze watched out of the corner of his eye while he sorted through the clothes.
"The green ones," Damien said faintly. "For your eyes."
With his back turned, Blaze grinned. Damien hadn't freaked out about his underwear habit. He actually seemed intrigued by the whole thing.
Blaze peeled out of the bloodstained pants, happy to give Damien a show, and shook out the underwear in question. They were the green ones, the synth-silk Brazilian thong with the lace around the legs, something of a daring choice. A sharp intake of breath came from behind him as he pulled the silky stuff over his legs and settled his package comfortably. That sound did all sorts of good things for his ego, and the smooth silk cradling his boys made him more comfortable in his own skin.
He didn't turn around to gloat, though, staying with his back to Damien until he'd pulled on the clean pair of jeans. Then he plunked down on the bed, suddenly tired.
"Are you sure you're ready to go?" Damien asked, his voice back to its soft, even tones.
