Page 39 of Rarely Pure and Never Simple
"Just about ready, Twitch? You take longer than a teenager."
"Oh." Damien was out of the pool now, toweling down. "I'm sor—I should have realized." He pulled on jeans and stomped into his boots, not bothering with anything else, before he held out a hand to help Blaze up. "How do you feel?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Blaze…"
He held up a hand to forestall the gentle scolding. "I'm all right. Really. It's just an ache. Don't look at me like that. Would you be happier if I told you I felt crapulous?"
Damien choked on a hacking laugh sound. "You feel… is that a word?"
"It is. Look it up, genius. Unless the dictionary completely jargogles you."
That got a real laugh, a sharp, helpless bark of it that echoed off the cave walls. "You've been hiding things from me."
"Oh?"
"You're a sesquipedalian."
"Am not!" Blaze tried to look stern but ruined it by grinning. "A what?"
"Someone who likes long words."
"I repeat, am not. I just like obsolete ones. The ones people've shoved into corners."
"So you dust them off and make them feel wanted. Nice of you."
"Only when I need to."
"Preterist."
"Curmudgeon."
"Slangrel."
"Like a mongrel?"
"No." Damien was laughing helplessly now and even as something eased in Blaze's chest.
Why do I want what I know is bad for me? Why?
Damien's fingers laced through his, the unexpected contact making Blaze freeze in place. "You are so fucked up."
"Not news, not to anyone." The laughter died, but Damien's eyes were clear of melancholy and bitter memory.
Blaze grunted and led the way to the unoccupied cave farther up the canyon where Shudder had promised them a bed. Good as his word, the little cave had been swept and sawdust laid down on the dirt floor. A mattress stuffed with something relatively soft sat in the middle, piled with folded blankets and pillows. Blaze shucked his coat and hung it from a rock outcropping. When he turned back, Damien was pacing the perimeter, his lips moving as he counted silently.
He glanced up, a flush coloring his pale cheeks. "I… have to do this."
"You do what you need to. I shouldn't touch the blankets yet, should I?"
Damien shook his head and resumed his measured pacing. "You don't sleep with your guns normally, do you?"
"What? Oh." Blaze looked down at where he perched on a rock ledge and realized he had been taking off his boots before removing his holsters. "Not usually. Nearby, yeah. But not on me."
Shudder had made sure the kids returned his weapons, and a couple of the minions had flown back to the pit trap to retrieve the Raptor, which now sat outside on the canyon floor, all of their belongings intact. Blaze didn't want to think too hard about Shudder's motives, why he was being so nice, so reasonable, so trusting. Maybe it was some leftover attachment or guilt over how he'd deserted Blaze in a fit of self-righteous fury, though that wasn't how Shudder would remember it.
He realized he was sitting there, one boot held in his hand, the other still on, staring into nothing, when Damien suddenly appeared in his peripheral vision.
