Sebastian stripped off the borrowed clothes, and then grabbed one of Wesley’s soaps and climbed into the tub. He took a moment with the soap and running water to wash off the sweat and dried blood. When he was clean, he turned the hot water tap up even higher and put the plug in the drain.
As hot water filled the tub, he sat back against the cold marble with a sigh. Out in the parlor, Wesley was still on the phone, and Sebastian couldn’t make out the words but the sound of his voice in the air was welcome. He closed his eyes.
A couple of minutes went by, and then the bathroom door opened. “That was Arthur, wanting to know what the doctor said. He’s given up even pretending he’s not New York’s biggest mother bear.” Wesley’s voice was much closer. “You’re having a bath? Are you a bath sort of man and I hadn’t realized that yet? Not that I’m objecting to the view.”
Sebastian cracked open one eye. Wesley was standing in the doorway, gaze locked on Sebastian. Despite his flirtatious words, however, his gaze was on Sebastian’s face—more specifically, on his bruised cheek.
Sebastian looked away. “I’m getting warm.”
Wesley gestured at his own body. “I’m not warm enough for you anymore?”
Sebastian leaned forward, turning off the taps. “Get in here with me.”
Wesley snorted. “Duck,” he said, slow and patronizing. “I’m not your lithe and lovely little Edith. I would not fit in there by myself, let alone with you.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Get. In.”
“Bossy tonight,” Wesley said, in an interested tone of voice. He reached for his tie. “If you insist. But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
A minute later, Wesley had stripped as well, and was settling into the other side of the tub. His long legs tangled with Sebastian’s, bony feet and sharp knees pinning him against hard marble. And Sebastian would concede they didn’t fit, and in a literal sense it wasn’t as comfortable as it had been alone, but the water was blissfully hot, everything smelled clean like soap, and it was better with Wesley there.
Wesley settled into the water, facing Sebastian, arms along the edge of the tub. “Did you take the powder?”
“Yes.” The bar of soap was floating along the water, light when Sebastian’s own chest felt heavy. “You don’t need to worry, you know. And you didn’t need to get in a fight tonight. I can handle a hit on my own, Wes.”
“Darling, really, do you have to make everything about you?” Wesley said, with a deceptive sort of lightness. “Has it occurred to you that perhapsIcan’t handle you getting hit?”
Sebastian blinked.
“You know, I actually wasn’t aware I was capable of that sort of rage,” Wesley went on, still with the falselightness. “I mean, obviously I’ve been angry many times in my life. Furious, even. But the way I felt when I saw that brute’s fist strike your face—knowing you had no defense because you gave your magic up forme—”
He shook his head, not meeting Sebastian’s gaze. “I do know I behaved like a bullheaded idiot, rushing to save you when you can take care of yourself, and starting a whole fucking bar brawl to boot. But what I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t take that as a knock to your ego. It wasn’t that I thought you couldn’t handle it; it was that I couldn’t bear it.”
“Wes.” The heaviness in Sebastian’s chest lightened, morphed, became something else, not embarrassment and shame at his own failure but something warm and sweet. He shifted, bringing his legs under him, because suddenly even tangled together in the tub wasn’t close enough.
He leaned forward, fitting himself in between Wesley’s legs as he brought his lips to Wesley’s. They kissed softly, Wesley seeming to hold himself very still, maybe so he wouldn’t accidentally put pressure on bruises. There was a trace of smoke in the kiss; Wesley must have lit a cigarette at some point, his nicotine addiction winning the battle tonight.
Sebastian pulled back. Wesley had struggles of his own and he was being honest; Sebastian was going to be honest about his own shortcomings in return. “My ego deserves the knock,” he admitted ruefully. “Billy would have beaten me to a pulp if you hadn’t stepped in.”
Wesley licked the lips Sebastian had just kissed, looking into his eyes searchingly.
“I don’t really know how to fight,” Sebastian confessed. “Under blood magic, someone else pulled mystrings, and with my own magic—” he shrugged helplessly “—I never had to learn.” He swallowed. “So you weren’t being a bullheaded idiot. I needed saving tonight. And I’m really lucky you were there.”
Wesley raised his hand off the edge of the tub. It hovered in the air for a moment, like he was about to touch Sebastian’s cheek, and then he lowered it. “Sebastian, I—” He uncharacteristically hesitated, then said, “You’re certain your magic wasn’t there?”
“I’m certain,” Sebastian said. “Why?”
“It’s just—there was a moment, in the Magnolia,” Wesley said. “Billy had a knife, and I almost didn’t see him in time, but before he made contact we both fell—”
Sebastian shook his head. “It was a fight, Wes. People fall. Magic has nothing to do with it.”
Wesley didn’t look fully satisfied by that, his gaze flitting over Sebastian’s face. “But maybe—”
“Hope only makes disappointment sting harder,” Sebastian said quietly. “You’ve always been right about that.”
“Christ, don’tevertake life lessons from me,” Wesley said, more sharply. “Keep those rose-colored glasses on.”
“But I’ve got to learn how to get through life without magic,” Sebastian said.
