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Wyatt sank onto his couch with a sigh, the day's exertions catching up with him. He twisted the cap off his beer and took a long pull. The comfort of it was muted by the ache in his side, his cracked rib throbbing with each breath. Wyatt winced as he shifted against the cushions, trying to find a comfortable position.
Soon, he'd have to get something to eat. Killing a man took a lot out of a body; there was a reason that lions ate the way they did. But feeling as battered as he did, the thought of going out for a meal was out of the question, and the idea of cooking was even less appealing.
In moments like these, he almost wished there was someone to meet him after a hard day on the job. Someone to fill the air with their chatter, someone different — someonehuman, guiding him back from being a monster.
The hollow ache of loneliness lingered within his chest, an emptiness the booze couldn't fill. Wyatt took another long pull, pushing the feelings down. He didn't need anyone. Hadn't for a long time. Caring about someone made you vulnerable, exposed. Weak. He couldn't afford that in his line of work.
Wyatt ignored the hollow place inside, staring at nothing as he steadily drank. He was used to being alone. Had mastered the art of closing himself off, numbing any softer desires. Tonight was no different. When the beer was gone, he would drag his battered body to bed and go through the motions of rest. The city would call him again soon enough.
Wyatt set his empty beer bottle down and reached for his phone. As much as he wanted to avoid human contact right now, he was hungry. Delivery would have to do.
He needed something hot and fast. Fuck the calories. He placed an order for delivery at the first pizza place that came up. Payment info entered, he set the phone aside and hauled himself gingerly off the couch to grab another beer. He twisted off the cap and took a swig, cold bitterness washing away the copper tang that still lingered on his tongue.
Soon, a knock at the door drew his gaze to the security monitor. The grainy feed showed a bored-looking young man holding a pizza box — just the delivery kid. Wyatt watched a moment longer, eyes scanning for anything amiss, before he was satisfied it wasn't a setup. He stood, wincing as his ribs protested, and went to answer the door.
"Hey." The kid thrust out the pizza box. He looked even less into human interaction than Wyatt did. Rough day, probably. Wyatt knew the feeling.
He took the box with his free hand. "Thanks."
The kid glanced briefly at Wyatt before doing a double take, eyes widening slightly. Wyatt suppressed a sigh. His bruises must be worse than he thought, if they warranted that reaction. So much for keeping a low profile tonight. He fished his wallet out and got out a decent tip.
The delivery kid looked like a standard depressed stoner, but that made his half-lidded eyes light up. "Hey, thanks."
"You deserve it for having to deal with my ugly mug," Wyatt groused.
At that, the kid's mouth split into a smirk. "Believe me, I've seen worse."
Wyatt froze.
He operated on instinct. When he was stalking his prey, when he was closing in for the kill — he always listened to his body's wordless reactions.
And right now, they were screaming at him.
Wyatt raked his gaze over the young man in front of him. Dark hair. Sharp eyes, underneath his detachment, but looking like he hasn't got a good night's sleep in years. Skinny, underneath his baggy shirt.
And as he smirked, in his lip...
Was a very familiar piercing.
Wyatt went very still, the gears in his mind turning. He knew that piercing. Had seen it recently, though the lighting had been far harder to see by.
Comprehension hit him with the force of a blow.
The sullen kid slouching on his doorstep was the nameless partner who had rocked his world at the Swan. The talented mouth that had teased him expertly to the very edge, before swallowing every last drop.
Wyatt's pulse kicked up, heat pooling low in his gut at the memory.Him?
He studied the kid more closely, noting the sharp jawline and sensuous mouth. His messy hair fell in his eyes, needing a trim, partially obscuring his face. But Wyatt recognized those lips now.
The kid — Zach, according to his name tag — shifted his weight uncomfortably under Wyatt's intense stare. "So, uh, are we done now, man?" His deliberately casual tone didn't match the wariness in his eyes.
"Yeah. Thanks," Wyatt said roughly, thoughts racing.
The pizza wasn't the only thing that had been delivered to his doorstep. Wyatt wasn't one to believe in signs from the universe, but this seemed too serendipitous to ignore.
Zach had already turned to leave. Wyatt knew this might be his only chance. He had to say something. Steeling himself, he called out, "Hey, kid."
Zach turned back, looking equal parts confused and wary. "Yeah?"
