The party was exceptional. Even after two days, the crowd was wild and enthusiastic; the alcohol flowed, as did the food, and the sweets; music thrummed through every inch of the warehouse. It had been converted into spaces that could be used for whatever people wanted or needed. Downstairs, in the biggest open area, a dance floor, where the bass beat pounded off of the floor and echoed off of the ceiling and people thrashed to the sound. The bar in one corner was staffed -- by a couple of people who looked a bit bewildered but willing enough. Beau himself held court in one of the upper rooms, an open space filled with couches and tables, just quiet enough for conversation but still twined through with music.

In the back, games, enough room for whatever people wanted to do. At one point, there'd been an impromptu flag football. Tonight, it was cards, set up on the floor, and spirits were high.

And, of course, there was a quieter area, too. A place where people who'd imbibed too much -- or imbibed something strange -- could curl up on couches or cushions and relax, melt into the floorboards or fill their appetites.

---

It was exactly the sort of party a person going through an emotional upheaval would dive right into, and that's what Fletcher Lewis had done.  Two months after the separation of his band, five weeks after his last attempts to get Mal to change his mind and come back, and it was safe to say the bassist wasn't handling it all that well.

Being sober meant facing a crumbling reality, so the redhead had been doing everything in his power to avoid it.  Pills were his preferred, but when those weren't available he'd turn to drink, and when things got really bad he'd jump down the rabbit hole with something stronger.  Here it was easy enough to find all three.  It was the entire reason he'd bothered with showing up.

Problem was the entire scene reminded him painfully of parties he'd go to with Mal and Lacey, and for the last twenty-four...ish hours he'd be stuck in a vicious cycle of being blitzed out of his mind and a complete emotional wreck.

At some point he'd found his way, or been led, to the quiet room with the couches and the cushions.  He was curled up on the latter now, shirtless somehow, with his boots unlaced and his hair a complete rumpled mess, but he was sleeping, finally.

Or maybe passed out.

---

This wasn't a safe place to pass out. It was wild, it was fun, but the one thing it wasn't was safe. Beau Eastoft had invited everyone and everything he knew, and that included unsavories. Even just a few days into it, there had already been one girl who woke up with a strange hickey and a sense of disorientation.

He did nothing about it. He was just the guy who made the place happen, not the boss. He didn't have control over this thing, he'd just given it life.

So it was a miracle that Fletcher wasn't eaten up and spit out again -- that instead he got the opportunity to sleep for a while. Hours, if he wanted. All day, if he needed. And when he woke up, the quiet room would be mostly empty.

There were two girls off in one corner having an intense, quiet conversation, one of them half in tears. There were a handful of other people dozing draped over each other, in warm piles. There was, inexplicably, a giant dog that looked almost like a wolf with its head on a young man's knee.

And perched in a chair right beside Fletcher, dressed in dark green and gold paisley with a black tie and very expensive black loafers crossed near Fletcher's face, was a young man, nursing a drink the same bright green as his eyes.

---

It was one thing to wake up in a strange place you didn't recognize when the body beside you was warm and familiar and grounding.  It was quite another when it was a stranger, or in this case, the was no one else there.  Sort of.

Fletcher blinked blearily at the pair of pricey shoes a few inches from his face, tipped his head back to follow the legs attached to them up to the body they belonged to, and winced as a spike of pain shot through his temples.  "Fuck, ow."  An obvious hangover.

---

"You should drink more water,” said the man with what was probably absinthe -- settled lightly on his knee, now, the glass elegant and old fashioned. It suited him, in his suit and tie, with long hair bound into a complicated arrangement down his spine and silver rings on three of his fingers. But more so his face, too pretty -- and a bit hard to look away from.

---

He rolled, groaning as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.  It stretched him thin, showered off all that lean, long body.  Pale and littered with freckles, with a splash of a water color tattoo on his collarbone.

Moving felt like a challenge.  "That'd be great, do you have some?"  He dropped his hands, the pain subsiding enough to finally look up at the owner of the voice and that too made him blink, startled maybe.

---

"Do I look like your butler?" He smiled as he said it, though, a little quirk of his lips; wry and mocking. After a breath, his eyes cut away, around the room. If they'd been somewhere busier, he might have summoned someone to come help. But as it was, the place was too quiet. There wasn't really anyone to boss around.

---

"Not a butler, no."  His nose wrinkled as he said it, almost a smile.  "Hallucination, maybe."  He didn't look quite real.  Too pretty, too coordinated.  Like high fashion and high fantasy had a bender one night and this mystery man was the result.

With a yawn Fletcher smoothed both hands through his hair to tame it back, then moved to fold them over his chest, only to blink and lift his head enough to look down at himself.  "What happened to my shirt..?"  He'd had one before, or at least he thought he had.  That questioning thought showed loud and clear across pinched features before the angle got the better of him and he had to lower his head again.

---

"You never had one, so long as I've been here." His eyes raked down as he said it, over the freckles on Fletcher's stomach, just a smidge lower, and then back up again. "It was part of the appeal."

---

Oh.

"How long have you been here?"  And how long had Fetcher been out?  He didn't have a clue.  Did he have his phone on him still?  With a thoughtful frown he patted at his sides until he felt the familiar shape of the thin phone in one of the back pockets.  He didn't bother digging it out, instead looking back up at the man with the bright green eyes.  "What day is it?"

---

"Monday." He sipped at his drink, rolling his shoulders a bit and adjusting his posture; legs just a little more spread, head tipped so hair spilled over his shoulder, rings tapping against the glass. "It's after dark. What are you on?"

---

"Shit."  He'd been there longer than he’d thought.  Longer than it felt like, honestly.

The second question required a bit of thought, a bit of focusing on his own body before he flicked baby blues up again.  "Nothing currently, I don't think."  He didn't feel high or drunk or impaired in any way, which was a bit problematic.  "But uh, molly, I think.  I don't remember."

---

"Water, then." He flicked his eyes toward the corner -- there was a table with cakes and cookies and donuts on it. Or what had once been; by now, most of them had been dug into, broken in half, or squashed. "There's a little fridge over there."

---

It might as well have been a mile away with the way Fletcher stared across the room at it after rolling into his stomach.  Water meant clarity, and he didn't want that.  However, he also wanted his head to stop hurting enough to go find something to drink, or snort, or swallow.

Rising up on hands and knees was a task and came with a mumbled "fuck me," as the world tilted a little.  But he did eventually get to his feet, stumbling only a little, and catching himself on the back of the chair the mystery man was sitting in.

---

It made him smile, just a tiny bit: a quirk of his mouth that was hard to read, his head tilted back to look up at Fletcher. "You should get me something sweet, too."

---

He'd do it unquestioningly, bright eyes scanning the table for anything left that might be appealing even as he got himself a bottle of water from the fridge.  The only thing left that hadn't been picked over completely or demolished were a few lingering bonbons, so the bassist grabbed one(white chocolate with red sprinkles), offering it down to the other man as he made his way back to the cushions with the intent to return to bonelessly sprawling.

---

There was a definite glitter in his eyes as he tipped his head back and opened his mouth.

---

That made him stop, brows arching as he looked down.  "Oh."  Not exactly normal, but there was very little about the party that was, and as far as Fletch could remember the people in attendance ran a bit on the unique side.

So it didn't seem that strange, holding the treat close enough to brush the bud of the other man's lower lip so he could take a bite.

---

He took the whole thing, instead, and a nip of Fletcher's fingers, absently crossing one ankle over the other man’s foot. And the point of contact was -- lulling, soothing. It made the edges of things go a little sparkly.

---

The nip was a little startling, made his hand twitch without jerking back, but he did give the man in green a questioning look.

And he did feel better.  Not great, but better than he'd woken up, but he'd attribute that to just getting up and moving around.

---

"I know you." He spoke around the mouthful, which was an odd contrast to his put together elegance. "Don't I?"

---

With his hands free again he cracked the bottle open and took a drink, considering how to answer that question.  "Possibly, depends on what kind of music you listen to, or if you pay attention to social media news..."

---

"Social media news." He said it with a flicker of disgust behind it, chewing and swallowing -- and reached up, idly, to undo his tie. It put a healthy dose of smooth neck on display.

---

Blue eyes dipped inexorably down, and Fletcher seemed to lose track of what they were talking about for a moment.  "Um."  He frowned, brows creasing and eyes closing before finally getting back on track.  "I'm a bassist, the band I was in was all over social media a few months back."  Which was as much as he was going to say about it willingly.

---

"Oh, yes." He swiped at the corner of his mouth, too -- there was nothing there, but he did it anyway -- and then washed down the last of the sweet with a good sip of his drink. "And now you're here, destroying brain cells to forget."

---

His attention twitched up to his mouth, but he turned away at the question with a small, inarticulate sort of noise.  Which was as good a confirmation as words, and had the benefit of being the truth.

---

"Do you have enough to spare?" He smiled again as he said it, maybe to take the sting out. It didn't entirely work.

---

That pulled him back around and he looked down at the man with a gauging, thoughtful look as the fingers of his left hand sank into his front pocket. "I think that'd depend on what you're after, high wise."

---

When his own eyes dragged down, it was slow and unabashed -- raking over Fletcher's belly button and down to where his hand disappeared into his pockets. "I wasn't expecting you to expound on Socrates and Plato."

---

Oblivious though Fletcher may be, he hadn't missed that, and color darkened pale cheeks and the long line of his neck.  It made him laugh, a little awkward, self conscious huff of something that wasn't quite amusement, but he pulled the little baggy of brightly colored pills from his pocket.  "I mean, if you like uppers I've got plenty to share."

---

"Oh, honey." His smile shifted all at once, surprised and amused. He set his glass down and leaned forward a little. "I was talking about the brain cells."

---

He hadn't caught the joke, not until the other man pointed it out, and the blush darkened, gaze skirting away. "Oh, heh.." It wasn't something he would have missed before, but he was very certainly not at his best lately.  Sleep deprived, strung out, broken.

---

Rowan hooked two fingers into one of the straps on Fletcher's pants to draw him in a step closer. "Those'll serve in a pinch, but I bet I could do better."

---

It was unexpected for a number of reasons and the bassist stumbled a little, pitching forward, before catching himself on the chair over the other man's shoulders.  Little baggy still held between long fingers.  "Really?  This shits pretty strong."  Not arguing, bantering.

---

"I already ate all that sugar, I'm not sure I want to put more junk into my body." As he said it, he trailed fingers lightly down Fletcher's abdomen. It prickled and softened the edges of things again, drew all focus onto him.

---

There wasn't a whole lot he could say about that, which was just fine with how completely distracting the soft downward trail of those fingers along freckled skin was.  It would have shut him up pretty effectively regardless.

The muscles in his stomach jumped, goosebumps rolling up along his sides and down his arms.  Fletcher said nothing, did nothing.  Stood still and quiet, eyes following the motion of the mystery man's hand.

---

He smiled again, his own eyes going up to Fletcher's face and eyebrows raised just a little. "I have an hour or two."

---

An hour or two of distraction.  A chance to hand over control and care and worries and just let go.  Fletcher licked his lips as he thought it over, not that there was much to think about.  "Where?"

---

His smile widened just a touch, fingers still grazing light -- hot -- at the top of Fletcher's waistband. "You've been in a limo before, I'm sure."

---

He pushed with his fingertips to shift himself back just a little, enough to make it easier to watch those warm fingers teasing low on his stomach.  "Mmhmm."

---

He hooked his hand into the front of Fletcher's pants, then, and used it to haul himself upright -- which meant he was pressed flushed against him, chin tipped just a little, not quite mouth to mouth. "I could call one around."

---

He shivered at the slip of warm fingers against bare skin, arms tensing to brace against the other man pulling himself up.  Chest to chest the blonde was shorter, but that didn't matter.  There was an energy about him that Fletcher found incredibly appealing.  Familiar in all the best ways.

"Whatever works best for you."  And he meant it, not unfamiliar with exhibition when the situation fell in that direction.

---

"It's dirty here." He caught Fletcher's jaw in surprisingly strong fingers to tip his head, to take in the lines of his cheeks -- the color of his eye. It wasn't quite the way someone might look at a horse, but it was close. "And I can fetch you a new shirt."

---

The strength and command in those almost delicate seeming hands struck a chord with the bassist, and he moved easily, pliant.  Breath catching and eyes lidded.  "Whatever you want."  It'd thrown an internal switch, established clear roles, and Fletcher had always been so very good at following directions and order.

---

His smile went shark like as he pushed Fletcher back one step from the chair, off-balance. But he was also strong enough to keep him upright. "Do you sing, as well?"

---

Fingers slipped from the back of the chair to light on paisley print shoulders as he was pushed, balance off, back arched.  "Yes."

---

"Maybe I want to hear you sing, then." One more breath of them near flush against each other, Fletcher's skin prickling everywhere they touched, before he pulled away -- sliding off his tie and tucking it into his pocket. Briefly, he pointed to where the vintage glass sat near one leg of the chair. "Pick up my glass."

---

He'd do it, holding the glass carefully in thin fingers.  A little breathless, a little dazed, and if his pants hadn't been so tight and restrictive more than a little excited.

With a little distance he could breath again though, and he tucked his water under his arm so he could stash the molly back in his pocket.

---

His new friend was already starting for the exit -- stepping over the wolf-like dog and undoing the top button of his shirt as well. But he'd pause at the doorway to beckon Fletcher after with two fingers.

---

Fletcher was watching him with his head tilted, brows arched as his focus dipped to the undone button, the tie in his pocket.  A man that didn't believe in wasting time, so it seemed.  That was fine.  The redhead fell into step behind him after the beckon, unscrewing the cap of his water so he could take another, longer drink.

---

"Tell me your name." It wasn't quite a question -- and it came with a sideways slant of his eyes back toward Fletcher that was sly.

---

"Fletcher," he chuckled lowly.  "But you already knew that."  Maybe he'd just wanted to hear Fletch say it, though.  A power play.  Didn't matter.

---

"Fletcher what?" It was smooth. Maybe he genuinely didn't know the details, or didn't remember. He dug out a phone as he headed toward the back door.

---

The music was louder as they moved through the warehouse, and Fletcher looked like he might have forgotten where exactly he was.  That it was a party, and there were more people around than just the man in the suit and himself.  It distracted him a bit, slowed his answer.  "Lewis."

---

"Fletcher Lewis." Even through the noise, his voice cut: and when he said Fletcher's name, it was like chimes. Like a promise, or like a bargain. He licked his lower lip as he got a side door into the alley.

---

There music faded, or seemed to, the volume less overwhelming as he followed in the shorter man's wake.  "What do I call you?"  Names weren't always necessary, but there was a symmetry to tit for tat.

---

That got a little rumble of a laugh, a look shown over his shoulder toward Fletcher. Outside it was -- quiet. Shockingly so. Quieter than it should have been, like there was a bubble, almost, around the place. "Do you need something?"

---

A frown appeared when it seemed his question would go unanswered, replaced instead by another.  "Need?"  The quietness that closed around them as they stepped outside was almost deafening, certainly startling.  Fletch glanced up at the building, head cocked at a thoughtful angle as he tried to puzzle out how that was possible.  It was an old building, it shouldn't have been that soundproof.

---

"What would you call me if you were writing a song?" He tucked the phone back into his pocket and half-turned to just watch Fletcher.

---

"Hmm."  It was an odd request, and almost anyone else probably would have pointed that out.  Instead, Fletcher seemed to consider it, gaze going unfocused as he leaned back against the wall, one hand hovering before him with the tips of thin fingers twitching out a beat.  Like he was hearing music that had nothing to do with the soft echoes of bass he could just barely pick up from the warehouse behind him.

His head cocked, lips parting, and after a moment of this baby blues sharpened back into focus, glancing down at the glass in his hand before looking up to the other man.  "Absinthe."  A fingernail tapped softly against glass.  "Not for the obvious reason."

---

"Not exclusively for the obvious reason." He slid his hands into his pockets, head tipped -- just waiting, quietly, like he was chewing it over. There was a rumble from the end of the alley, and that finally made him move, head turned to take in the limo on the street. White, of course. "You can use it for now."

---

He grinned, head shaking.  "I can't give you any of that, but there is ice cream."  Setting the bottle down again Will got up and grabbed his plate, walking around Beau's stool to head towards the sink.

---

"Wine and ice cream is fine, I guess." He looked down at the steak and then gave up on self-restraint to just work his way through it.

---

"We can be all civilized and use bowls," he said as he rinsed his plate off and put it in the dishwasher, turning to grab the salad bowl so he could pitch what was left -- it wouldn't keep.  "Or, we can say fuck it  and just eat out of the carton."

---

"But we only got one carton." It was quick and immediate, head tipped to the side, speaking around another bite of steak. "Are you implying we share?"

---

"Mmhmm."  It was easy, the easy smile from earlier creeping back in as he leaned back against the counter to wait for Beau to finish his steak so he could take care of his dishes.

---

He hesitated as he looked down at the steak -- and then, sighing, ate the last of it.

---

Plate and silverware were removed as Beau finished up, both rinsed and loaded up in the dishwasher to be run later.  He added the pan from before as well, and anything else he'd gotten dirty along the way.  "If you just want a bowl, that's fine..."

---

"Might be wiser." It was absent, shaking his head. "Otherwise, I can go through the whole pint."

---

The smile slipped, just a little, but he got a couple of bowls down and some spoons.  The ice cream was cookies and cream, and Will scooped some into both bowls before putting it away again.

---

He put his own plate in the sink -- really, just put it in the sink, that was how this was going to go -- and swiped his hands on the sides of his pants. "...not a bad choice, though, at least."

---

Will made a sound at the plate in the sink but just shook his head and slid a bowl and a spoon to Beau.  "The shake you got was cookies and cream, so it seemed safe."  He shrugged, leaning in against the counter and taking a bite.

---

He made just a faintly amused sound, stirring at his ice cream with the spoon, slowly. "...I ate too fast."

---

Brows twitched up as he took another bite, licking the curve of the spoon clean.  "Stomach ache?"

---

He pulled a face up at Will, folding his arms over the counter and biting down on his immediate response.

---

He looked genuinely puzzled, frowning back with brows drawn down.  "What?"

---

Instead of answering, he nudged his wine glass toward Will for a little more, and took a bite of ice cream. Full or no.

---

Will huffed out impatiently but filled his glass back up, then went back to his I've cream.

---

Beau watched him, alternating between wine and ice cream -- whether they complimented each other or not -- and thinking it over. "I just miss it. I could fix things."

---

Will picked at his ice cream for a bit before turning his attention back to his wine, taking a long drink as he considered how to respond to that, or if he even should.  Honestly, not saying anything was probably his best option, so as he lowered his glass he looked up, listening.

---

It was all Beau had, though, apparently. He sipped at the wine, hair sloppy around his face, frowning just a bit at the ice cream.

---

Will finished his bowl off first, because if there was food in front of him it really just didn't last long.  He nudged it away to work on his wine, refilling it once it got low.  Relaxing into a comfortable buzz.  "We might as well finish this off."

---

"The bottle or the pint?" He'd drank most of his wine; the ice cream, though, was melting in the bowl.

---

He chuckled, head shaking, then had to comb fingers back through his hair.  "The bottle."

---

"Fill it up, then." He tapped the glass just lightly, agreeable.

---

There was enough left in the bottle to top both glasses off with a generous amount.  "Nice choice on the wine, this was good."

---

"It is." Enough to get Beau a bit blurry, if not actually drunk -- which, unfortunately, also seemed to make him just a bit morose.

---

Which was, of course, the opposite of what Will had been aiming for.  Big hands wrapped around his glass, he looked up at him thoughtfully, chewing something over.

---

He tapped nails against the side of his glass, ate a couple mouthfuls of ice cream, and blinked up at Will after a moment. The look on his face made Beau frown.

---

He dropped his gaze automatically but brought it back up again after a second or two, lips twitching in a flicker of a smile.

---

"What?" It held that exasperation, again, tinged with a bit of something self-conscious.

---

"I was hoping the wine would make you...happy, I guess.  Feel a bit better."  He looked down as he spoke.  "I don't think it worked."  At least it didn't seem like it had.

---

"Try ecstacy next time." His tone was sharply mocking, looking back down into his glass.

---

"I could just stop trying altogether."  It was quiet and cool as Will straightened up and walked around him, glass in hand, to pick his shirt up from where it'd been left on the couch.

---

"I'm not actually sure you could," Beau replied, watching Will out of the corner of his eye.

---

Probably true.  Will shrugged, features gone thoughtful behind the frames of his glasses.

---

"You keep throwing me toys to see if they distract but..." It was another of those honest moments, fragile and careful. "Honestly, the only thing I really enjoyed was trying to figure out your magic."

---

Shirt along over his shoulder, he crossed his arms loosely, glass coming up for a thoughtful sip.  "So keep doing that."  Pale eyes rested in Beau's face.  "If anyone's going to figure out how to get this shit under control, it'd be you."

---

"That's probably true, though, again, less true than it used to be." He leaned back slowly, twisting his glass against the counter.

---

"You're smart enough to work around that."  There was a hint of that familiar impatience leaking into his voice, but he was also going for encouraging.

---

He shrugged a tiny bit, taking another slow sip from the cup. "Certain things can't be compensated for. With magic, I could actually build a potion to light you up and see the power, probably."

---

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath.

---

"Kelly probably could, too." It came out slow and pained, like he hated to admit it; hated giving up that power, perhaps.

---

He just looked at him, patience battling with impatience.  Glass lifted but not touching his lips.

---

"If you wanted it dealt with."  It was almost like physical pain saying it -- giving up any leverage he might have.

---

"I'd rather not."  He'd been living with it for years, knew how to work around it comfortably.  "I'm not desperate to deal with it, I didn't even know it was an option until you mentioned it."

---

He shrugged just a tiny bit, though, not really approving. "It's not....I mean, why should you live a half life like this?"

---

"This is life for me, I can barely remember it being any different than this."  He tapped his finger against his glass.

---

"You're limiting yourself." He shook his head, polished off the glass of wine and finally straightening. "Why?"

---

"Until last night I hadn't even considered there might be a way, aside from dampening magic, to not have to rely on the gloves."  He leaned to the side, hip against the back of the couch.  "It's your theory, we can do it your way."  He shrugged, taking a drink.  "Besides, you enjoy trying to figure it out now, but how much fun would it actually be if I were getting memories and thoughts and visions of your life with every little touch."  He shook his head, a little bitterness creeping into his voice before he let out a heavy breath.  "No one wants that."

---

Beau scratched up the back of his neck, thinking about that really for the first time. Musing. "...I guess not."

---

"How Kelly reacted to you early?  That's how people usually react to me when they know what I can do."  He looked down at the couch.  "I don't care if it takes longer, I'd rather have someone not flinching away trying to help."

---

Just thinking about it made Beau rub lightly at his wrists again.  "I don't know. I'd want to be in control of it."

---

"I doubt anyone else skilled enough will want to help."  He took a drink, lifting his gaze back up to Beau, lingering on fingers scratching at his wrist.  "But it's a moot point, I wouldn't ask anyone else."

---

Not scratching, at the moment, just -- rubbing, fidgety. "How are you even still alive."

---

His brows creased, head tipping subtly to one side.  "Why wouldn't I be alive?"

---

"It's fundamentally isolating." The words blurred, but the vocab was still there. Beau blew out a sigh. "It separates you from other people."

---

"Yeah...it does."  He tipped back the rest of his wine, then straightened up to move towards the counter to set down the empty glass.  "I make the best of things, I guess.  Therapy helps, too."  He reached out to draw Beau's hand away from his own wrist again.

---

He resisted for about a breath -- then gave in, jaw relaxing and shoulders slumping. "I don't trust therapists."

---

"It's not easy, but when it's a good fit it definitely helps..."  He turned Beau's hand in his, eyes down, running his thumb along the tattoo to see if the skin was still irritated.

---

He couldn't leave it alone -- the touch made him twitch a little, head tipped to look down at Will's hands. "They always report in."

---

He let him go, but only for a moment.  Long enough to walk over to the cupboard above the sink so he could find a little tube of ointment.  He unscrewed the cap, dabbing a little on his thumb before reaching for Beau's wrist.  "They wouldn't if they were properly motivated not to."

---

He shrugged again, and looked -- completely unconvinced, in fact, his eyes turned down as he let Will take his wrist again. "I can't imagine what would motivate people that much."

---

He shrugged, smoothing ointment across the irritated skin, slow and thorough.  "Fear."

---

"They've already got that. Carrot and stick, to make sure both work." He settled in against the counter, halfway wishing he were sitting.

---

Hard to argue against that, especially considering Me. Eastoft's reach.  He could ask Zhi to help, but... He tried not to.

He turned Beau's hand so he could continue spreading ointment, thumb working in small circles.

---

He blew out another little sigh, slow, head tipping. "I don't know how much that's actually going to help."

---

"It can't make it worse."  He flicked eyes up to Beau's face.  "I can stop...if you want me to."

---

That got another shrug, and he didn't try to pull away, just fidgeted a little, uncertainly.

---

He waited for some word or sign of protest, but when none came, he turned his attention back to Beau's wrist.  Smoothing the ointment along the whole of the tattoo before letting that hand go to reach for the other.

---

Beau shifted a little, half-tilted his head -- if there was a stool somewhere, he'd perch on that, instead.

---

There was one close enough to hook with an ankle, if he wanted to drag it over.  Will had his side against the counter as he rubbed ointment along the side of this wrist.

---

He dragged it in to perch, if not fully sit, swallowing carefully. Maybe this wouldn't help the wrists, but it had definitely relaxed him.

---

He glanced up as Beau pulled the stool over, but only for a second or two, thumb working in slow circles around the whole of his wrist.  When he'd covered all of it the slow circling slowed further, almost stopped, and then moved down towards his palm instead.

---

Beau made a very soft sound, without pulling his hand back. "I don't think you're going to get my chakras to open up."

---

Fingers slowed again at the comment, but didn't stop.  "I don't think I'm trying to open them."

---

"Or close them." He added, elbow settling onto the counter for balance. He swallowed again.

---

"Not trying to do that, either."  He worked his thumbs in widening circles along Beau's palm before running his fingertips along the lengths of long, thin fingers.

---

His fingertips twitched in response, absently. "Just glad you can touch someone."

---

Will mulled that over, head tipping as considered his answer.  "That's part of it."  He took his time, rubbing down each long finger from tip to palm.

---

Beau closed his eyes for a moment, shoulders dropping again. "With your overprotected baby hands..."

---

It got a soft hum of amusement, blue eyes flicking up to Beau's face as he turned the younger man's hand in his, curled fingers around his wrist from beneath.  Holding as he worked along Beau's knuckles, the back of his hand and over his wrist.

---

Maybe he could have fallen asleep -- but he didn't. Just leaned into the counter and relaxed slowly, by inches, not even arguing or teasing now.

---

He smoothed his palm up along Beau's forearm, under the sleeve of his shirt, working the fabric up around his elbow.  Watching his face as he did so.

---

His fingers twitched again and, finally, he cracked his eyes -- awake even if his breathing was smooth and his arm had gone limp in Will's grasp.

---

"Do you want to go to bed..?"  Fingers curled loosely around his arm and smoothed down the length of it, nails grazing over the back of his hand and over his fingers.

---

He licked his lips, trying to focus. "I definitely don't want to sit on this stool in your kitchen."

---

He drew him to his feet by the hand still curled around his wrist.  Not in against him, but he hadn't stepped back either.  "Couch?"

---

"Sure." He blinked up at Will's face, his own features gone softer as he relaxed.

---

He looked back down at him and there was a mix of caution and calmness in tan features, like he kept waiting for Beau to pull away from him, but was also pleased he hadn't.  Half turning, he drew him around the side of the couch towards the corner Beau had been sitting in earlier.  As he sat he pulled gently, towards him, but light enough not to drag him that close if he didn't want to be there.  Hints and invitations.

---

Beau swallowed again, maybe finally picked up on it - blinking at Will and his mouth parting like he was going to say something - but couldn't decide what. His heartbeat twitched under Will's fingers.

---

There was no demand -- the couch was open to either side of him -- Will settled into the corner, pulling the shirt off his shoulder to toss it away as he tipped his head against the back to look up at the younger man, gauging.  His hand still curled around his wrist.

---

Still, though, he hesitated. Uncertain; he licked his lips and eased in one step closer, slowly.

---

Someone else came in as he was handing the bag over to Will -- so it wasn't completely dead, but it wasn't exactly thrumming with business, either.

---

Will took the bag with a smile, attention sliding back to the man behind the counter.  "Thank you."  It was a nice little shop, and between the tea, the herbs, and the baked goods it smelled great.

---

"Come back anytime." So maybe he wasn't all that worried about the BP or the Guard. Kelly shrugged at them, shoving hands into his pockets and turning his focus onto the newcomer.

---

Not much to worry about when you were operating legally.  Or had really good connections.  Will lifted a hand in a little wave as he pushed away from the counter, gaze flicking to Beau on the way to the door.

---

Beau drew a deep breath in as they stepped out onto the waterfront, mulling it over. "...I would really love a pack of cigarettes."

---

"We can pick some up at the grocery store."  He tipped his head to glance down at Beau as they walked, trying to read his expression, and not having any more luck now than he usually did.

---

He made a little sound, understanding, and started back toward the parking garage. Tightening his pants again, as they went. "I used to like that place."

---

"Why was he acting like that?  He was more cautious of you than of me."  It was quiet, Will keeping half his attention on Beau as they walked.

---

Beau blinked and then scowled at him, holding up his hands roughly -- so his sleeves pulled up and the tattoos showed.

---

He didn't scowl back, didn't frown.  Didn't seem to react to that anger at all.  "It's not a rash.  Touching you doesn't mean it'll spread."

---

"It still feels like shit, I'm sure." He scratched at it again, helplessly. "Like an electric shock, I'd guess."

---

"What's his ability?"  He frowned then, glancing back over his shoulder at the shop.  "I didn't get anything from it, or you touching me."

---

He hesitated, a little waffle, like he wasn't sure he should say -- but. "Healing."

---

That Kelly would get anything from Beau just seemed odd.  "It should have no effect on him."  And his tone suggested he thought maybe the other man had been over reacting.  But, it wasn't like he knew.

---

"I don't know. If you're used to getting something off people and then you don't, it definitely affects you." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully at Will.

---

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue that but paused, meeting Beau's gaze before looking away down the sidewalk.  "Getting nothing isn't the same as getting a shock," he said at last, frowning thoughtfully.

---

He shrugged a little bit, fidgety. "Bad analogy, I guess. More like touching something that looks alive, and then it's cold and dead instead."

---

He huffed out a breath like he still thought the reaction had been over the top.

---

"Empaths, healers...passive magic people in general..." He shrugged, rubbing at his arms. "They're more sensitive."

---

"Still."  He had passive magic and he hadn't reacted like that.  Different flavor of magic, but he still didn't like it.

---

"Yeah, well. I'm worse than normie now." He scowled as he lead the way toward the car. "I'm dead air."

---

He opened his mouth, then closed it on whatever it was he was about to say.  Exhaling a heavy breath as he reached up to rub a hand along the back of his neck.

---

Beau chewed over words, then shook his head a little bit, sharp. "I'm thinking about the look on your face when you touched me and nothing happened."

---

The comment made him blink, and the muscles in his jaw jumped as he glanced back down at him.  "Relief?"

---

"You fucking loved it, but that's because you hate yourself a little bit." It was casually dismissive, shaking his head. "Imagine if you loved that ability, instead."

---

He didn't say anything, couldn't say anything to that, because there was enough truth to it to make him uncomfortable.  Pale eyes flicked away, back down the street they were walking down.

---

He made a sound, like an uh huh as he looked Will over.

---

He kept his eyes on the ground, watching the sidewalk as they approached the parking garage.  He'd thought Beau hadn't been paying attention, but apparently he was more perceptive than he seemed.

---

Maybe he wasn't totally useless, or oblivious. He shook his head a little, crossing to punch the elevator button again.

---

When the elevator opened Will walked in and leaned back against the wall, attention focused on the wall, expression thoughtful.

---

Beau did the same, but with a bit more drama; thudding in against the wall with a huff of a sigh.

---

They could ride up in silence, and when the doors opened Will pulled the keys from his pocket as he stepped out, hitting a button on the fob to unlock the doors as they approached.  He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

---

Beau neither, and it obviously bothered him. He folded down into the passenger's seat and scratched at his wrists again.

---

Will climb in after him, but after a moment he finally looked up and over, gaze flicking up to his face before dropping to his wrist, and he reached out to draw Beau's hand back before setting the bag from the shop on the other man's lap.

---

He grimaced, thinking it over, clutching at the bag. "It's like a missing tooth. Sore socket."

---

He held on maybe a moment longer than was strictly necessary before letting him go again so he could start the car.  Anything he could think to say wouldn't help in this moment, so he just nodded.

---

He tipped his head back, sighing again sharply, fingers bunched in the bag. "...pack of cigarettes."

---

"...Right."  He put his seatbelt on before putting the car in gear and pulling out of the spot so he could pay at the little kiosk to leave the garage.

---

Beau nodded and relaxed just a notch, gone quiet as he looked out the window instead.

---

For once it seemed the quiet wasn't settling well for Will either, because after a few minutes he reached out to turn the radio on low, letting the quiet music fill the car as they headed back the way they'd come.

---

Beau made a sound again, halfway rude, like he knew exactly what Will was doing.

---

It got a flicker of a glance from the bigger man, but he either didn't know what the noise was for, or just wasn't going to acknowledge it.  But his jaw moved like he was chewing at the inside of his lip as he drove.

---

Or like he was biting his tongue, maybe; Beau didn't look at him, either way. He just settled in and looked out the window and tried -- failed -- to relax.

---

It'd take maybe ten minutes to get to the store, and as they pulled in Will scanned the parking lot for a space close to the front.  As someone backed out to leave, Will slipped the car into the newly vacated spot and killed the engine before undoing his seatbelt.

---

Beau sat up slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he did, grimacing again -- just a bit sore from the position. "Steaks. Salad?"

---

The question was a bigger relief than it should have been.  "Steaks are thawing.  I can blacken them, if you want."  Which wasn't an answer.  He reached for the door handle to open the door.  "Salad is fine, and anything else that sounds good for a side."  His shoulders rolled in a half shrug as he looked across at him before getting out.

---

"Pint of ice cream maybe." He shook his head just the tiniest bit, rolling out to follow Will.

---

"Sure."  Beau could grab any snacks he wanted, they were there for him.  He sank his hands into his pockets again as they walked up to the doors.

---

What he wanted was probably a bad idea, but. They could wander, get some fruit, some salad makings (sighing again), and yeah, a pint of ice cream. Beau would obsess over cigarettes on the way out.

---

Will added even more fruit, peaches and plums, before they paid and went back to the car.  Then he'd pull around to the gas station that attached to the parking lot, pulling up to a pump. He dug a ten out of his wallet and offered it to Beau before getting out to fill up.

---

"You're not going to let me smoke inside, are you?" He frowned up at Will as he took it.

---

"I'd really prefer you didn't, but I'll compromise.  You can smoke inside as long as it's next to an open window or door."  It was fair, he thought.

---

He made a very quiet sound, considering, and then turned to go figure out a pack of cigarettes, and thank his lucky stars no one tried to ID him in the process.

---

Will watched him walk up to the door before turning his attention to the gas pump to top the tank off.  When Beau came back he didn't ask for change, just slid back into the car.

---

Beau dropped it into the cupholder anyway, as he sank down into the passenger's seat -- turning the pack of cigarettes over in his hand.

---

He watched the pack turn in Beau's hands as he started the car, then sighed and hit the button to lower his window.

---

Beau blinked -- and looked at the window -- and then paused. "I didn't buy a lighter."

---

Will gave him a flat look before reaching down to open the arm rest between them.  "There should be one in there."  He had that, a flashlight, some old CDs, and a tangle of charging cords.

---

There was a moment's hesitation -- and then he went poking around, slowly. "I never needed one before."

---

"If you find the one in there you can keep it."  It wasn't like he couldn't replace it easily.  Or that he even needed it outside of emergencies.  It wasn't anything fancy, just a clear yellow Bic half full of fluid.  It worked though.

---

He turned it over in his hand slowly, shrugging at Will. "...I can wait. I don't even really want one right now."

---

Will shrugged, closing the armrest once Beau found the lighter.  "It's up to you."  Pale eyes lingered on him a second or two before he started them moving so they could head home.

---

Beau was quiet -- oddly serious, frowning down at the pack while he tried to figure out what to say. "It gives me something to do with my hands."

---

He stole a quick glance down at Beau's hands again as they paused at a stop sign, then eyes flicked back up to the road.  "That makes sense."

---

He made an agreeing sound, without looking up.

---

Home wasn't far, and after parking in the driveway Will circled around to grab everything but the paper bag from the tea shop.  He needed at least one hand free to get the front door unlocked and opened.

---

Beau dropped the cigarettes in and followed him slowly, a bit more subdued now. Tired, maybe. Or just distracted.

---

Will was already putting the groceries away, methodical and thoughtless.  It didn't take more than a couple of minutes.  When he had finished he walked over to check the meat in the sink.

---

"Can I computer again?" He was relaxed, kind of. Lethargic, more like. He dropped down onto the couch, combing at his hair.

---

He glanced over at him, looking him over, before rolling a shoulder in a shrug and walking over to gesture down at the laptop so he could unlock it.

---

He offered it up, slouching a bit as he looked up at Will, still a tiny bit flat. "Don't you have anything else you need to do?"

---

He braced his hip against the back of the couch as he opened it to put in the password.  "Besides cooking dinner?"

---

"Mm." It was agreeing, maybe, watching him still. "Don't you have friends?"

---

"Some."  He reached down to set the laptop on Beau's lap.  "Other BP agents mostly."

---

He turned it back in toward himself, shrugging just a little bit. "Don't have like a ... a group or something?"

---

"Not really.  We'll all go out for drinks together or occasionally other things, but usually it's more one on one."  He shrugged, lingering there.

---

"And work related?" His tone was mild, a bit wry, head cocked to the side.

---

"Not necassarily, but sometimes in the middle of something big that's all you can really focus on."  He slid the fingers of one hand between the fingers of the other, pulling the thin fabric of the gloves tight.

---

Beau's eyes dropped to his hands, and then down to the computer, shaking his head. "You don't go out much?"

---

"I used to, years back.  Not as much anymore, but it just depends on what's going on." His hands lowered to rest on the back of the couch, one almost close enough to touch dark hair.

---

"How do I convince you out?" He raised an eyebrow, seriously. "You seem pretty desperately in need of getting laid. Gotta control the magic first?"

---

He blinked down at him, Sandy brows arching.  "Are you offering to play wingman?"

---

"You obviously need it." He said it smoothly, raising his eyebrows in mirror of Will.

---

"Why do you say that?" He stood up, walking back around to the kitchen to pull a big plate down from one of the cupboards.

---

"Because you're attractive enough you should be getting laid every night, but you're not." It was absent, poking around on the computer.

---

"I don't know why that'd make you think I needed it."  He matched Beau's tone as he started prepping the steaks.

---

"All you have to do is take your shirt off and stand around, and yet somehow you're even fucking that up." He looked up, then, finally.

---

"Are you hinting that I should wander around shirtless more often?"  He'd pulled down seasonings, and he'd either exchanged his usual gloves for black and rubbery, or he'd just pulled them on over.

---

"You should definitely never wear a shirt," Beau agreed, with a flash of a smile across his face. "They should make that a law."

---

He hummed thoughtfully, like he was thinking it over, taking his time to season both sides of the filets thoroughly.  Then as he finished up and peeled the rubber gloves off again, he gave the barest shrug before dragging his shirt off and throwing it at the back of Beau's head.

---

He'd given up on it by then, gone back to the computer; that made him start a bit, almost drop it, and grab the shirt -- and, once he understood, he snorted and came into focus. "I see."

---

Will had watched him long enough for him to realize what had happened and then turned to start pulling things out of the fridge to make the salad.  Acting like he hadn't done anything at all.  "How do you like your meat?"

---

He folded the shirt over in his hands while he considered, watching Will with his head cocked to the side -- "....rare."

---

"Good answer."  He sounded pleased, a smile spread across his lips as he stretched up to grab a large bowl from a stacking set about the stove.

---

"What, would you have thrown me out if I said medium?" He was still watching Will, absently.

---

That made him look up, sudden and sharp, all of him tensing as he considered. "...public place."

---

He flicked the side of his phone to make it spin on the granite.  "I have to go in tomorrow, not for long, but we can arrange to meet him for lunch somewhere after."  Another flick.  "Stop at the shop you mentioned after, maybe."

---

"I hope you've got some cash, because he'll pick someplace expensive, and he's not going to pay for your lunch." He shook his head a little, his own fingers shifting uncomfortably against the side of the computer. "Probably the new hotel downtown."

---

"It'll be covered by work."  He shrugged, stopping the spinning phone with a light touch of his finger.  "I know you don't want to see him.  I'd postpone more if I could, but I'm sure you know how demanding he is."  If he didn't have the influence he had Will would have told him to go fuck himself already.

---

"Yes." It was resigned, gone quieter. Beau swallowed. "He'll probably try to enthrall you, too."

---

He nodded, looking down at the clock on his phone screen.  "You asked about protective charms before.  I do have some."

---

"I'd grab some extra." He looked down at the screen, tapping his fingers more sharply against the side.

---

He made a sound that might have been agreeing.  "We can ask about your phone."  No guarantee Monty would give it to them, but it probably didn't hurt to ask.  "If you mention you were considering trying to finish your course work do you think he'd offer to pay?"

---

He shrugged just the tiniest bit, his jaw tightening as he did. "I don't know."

---

He might have asked more but he glanced up in time to see the look on Beau's face and let it go.  Quietly standing there for another moment before walking around the island to pull meat from the freezer to set in the sink to thaw.

---

Beau scratched roughly at the back of his neck and closed the computer again, leaning back on the couch.

---

The easy mood from the basement was broken, between Beau's dad and a dead teenager.  Will let out a quiet sigh as he leaned against the counter trying to think of something helpful to say and came up with nothing.

---

Eventually Beau would, frowning down toward the computer. "I need something to do, I guess."

---

"What did you do before, aside from studying magic?"  He tilted his head, brows arched as he asked it.

---

"Threw parties." He said it with a flash of a challenge -- but without looking up at Will.

---

He snorted softly, cracking half a smile.  "Anything more solo, or at least not such a large scale?"

---

"We had a drag race watching party, went to concerts, weekend getaways..." He chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. "...if I say a lot of drugs were involved in most things I did, I incriminate myself."

---

"That was already a given."  He waved it away.  "Do you mean an actual drag race, or that Rupaul show?"

---

"The RuPaul show." He said it like of course, turning his attention up to Will finally with a frown.

---

Brows arched curiously back at that frown.  "He had the ladies from one season on another show he was a judge on."

---

"Yeah, and they're releasing new versions in the UK -- but the prizes are a joke, there -- and Canada, Australia..." He waved that off, relaxing just a notch.

---

"What is the prize over here?  I don't remember, or I never actually knew..."  He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

---

"A hundred grand." He cocked his head a bit -- and quirked a smile. "Thinking about entering?"

---

"I'm not sure I'd get past the first episode if I did."   An easy smile had returned as the mood shifted to things less serious.

---

"They work hard." He crossed his legs at the ankle, shook his head, attention turned downward while he thought it over. "I've done the dressing up but the shoes are killer."

---

"They look painful," he agreed, head tilting as looked across the room at Beau.  "Did you do the make up too?"

---

"Friend did." He shook his head a little; that picture hadn't come up on his instagram. At least not yet.

---

"I doubt I could pull off the make up well.  Even if someone else did it for me."  A little too masculine to truly pass.  "Did you ever watch To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything!  Julie Newma?"

---

Beau snorted at him, like that was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "Are you gay?"

---

"You think?"  He huffed back, eyes rolling as he helped himself to a glass of water.

---

"I mean, I didn't..." It was a little bemused, squinting up at Will again.

---

"I would have thought you'd have figured that out by now."  Especially after the night before, or Beau falling asleep on his shoulder and Will just letting him stay there.  "What about The Birdcage?"

---

"Why not just ask if I've seen Brokeback, while we're in the baby cuts." He shook his head, thinking it over. "Are you out?"

---

"You're also younger, and didn't seem interested in tv at all."  He tipped his glass at him as he made the point, the shrugged to the question.  "I'm not waving banners and announcing it on high, but I'm not going out of my way to hide it."

---

"Do they know at work?" This was actually -- maybe he sounded just a bit concerned.

---

The concern was puzzling.  "A few people, I'm sure.  Why?"

---

"My dad's an asshole about that stuff." He flicked at the hem of his shirt, jaw shifting a bit -- and then shrugged it off. "I don't know if he'd bother looking you up, though."

---

"I wouldn't imagine it's be public domain."  He'd certainly not made any mention of it on his little used Facebook.  "Of the people I can think of that might know, they wouldn't talk about it."  He shrugged, not very concerned.

---

He shrugged, quiet for just a moment, thinking -- "Anyway, you might as well ask if I'd seen Rocky Horror, bringing up To Wong Fu."

---

He grinned suddenly, all teeth and good humor.  "Everyone's seen Rocky Horror."

---

"That's my point exactly." He shook his head just a tiny bit.

---

Will rolled his eyes, but he did feel better.  "You want something to drink while I'm up?"  He'd move to refill his water, but he paused, waiting.

---

Beau looked up at him again, assessing. "Soda?"

---

"In a glass?"  He glanced at him as he opened the fridge.

---

Beau just shrugged a little, the frown settling back, across his mouth. "Whatever."

---

He'd grab a glass to put ice in it, then walked around the island to offer it and a can down to him.  "What's with the face?"

---

He took it slowly, shrugging up at Will. "I don't think people even really noticed I'm gone."

---

It wouldn't have been something Will would have been that worried or upset about, but he and Beau were definitely not the same.  "Why do you think that?"  Not belittling or dismissive this time around.  He watched the younger man as he circled back around to sit on the couch.

---

He gestured absently to the computer with his chin, pouring the soda over ice.

---

"People aren't asking?"  He glanced down at the laptop, tapping fingertips against the side of his water glass.

---

"Not really." He shook his head, hair falling into his face. "Mostly after potential parties."

---

"Hmm."  He was smart enough not to share his opinion on that.  "Maybe they think you're just laying low.  After everything that's happened."

---

He shrugged, rolling and brief. "Couple people asked for info on where they could find people they hooked up with, maybe, but..."

---

"Are these people you're really close to?"  He looked down at the melting ice in his glass.

---

He shifted a little, thinking it over -- and then shrugged. "I don't know. I guess not."

---

It didn't sound like it.  Fairweather acquaintances, at best.  Will wasn't sure what to say to that.  It couldn't have felt good, but Beau didn't always respond great to sympathy.  He was quiet for a long moment as he thought it over.  "Do you want to watch a movie?"  He asked it quietly, casually, pale eyes flicking up finally to rest on Beau's face.

---

He sipped at the soda and fought the urge to just shrug at Will again, sullen, fair or no. "Whatever."

---

Will rolled his glass between his palms, thinking.  When he set it aside to grab the remote it'd be To Wong Foo he searched for.  Trying to lighten the mood again, but not entirely sure it would work.

---

It was something; better than sitting in silence or struggling to fill the air. Beau sank down deeper and, eventually, would probably fall asleep.

---

He didn't notice it right away, but when he did he frowned across at him.  For a moment he considered just throwing a blanket on him, but he really didn't want to get snapped at again.  Of course that was assuming he wouldn't snap after being woken up.  "Beau." He tossed a throw pillow at his chest.

---

He twitched, definitely didn't catch it, closing his mouth immediately and blinking around. Not panicked, just confused.

---

"Didn't want you stuck awake all night again."  He said it like he was half expecting some sort of smack back.

---

He huffed out a breath, and then tipped his head back again, mulling that over. "...couldn't we go out?

---

"Out where?"  Not against the idea, but curious where Beau would suggest.

---

"Magic store's downtown." He hesitated, looking at Will sideways. "Grocery store?"

---

That wasn't what he was expecting the other man to say, but it was really easy to agree to it.  "Yeah, that's fine.  I can make dinner when we get back, unless you just want to eat something while we're out?"

---

"Buy chips in the store." He cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. "I mean, we could go buy you nicer gym clothes, instead..."

---

It had his brows arching, a flicking of a smile on his face.  "Do I need nicer gym clothes?"

---

Beau hummed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Depends on if you want to be single forever or not."

---

Will scoffed, settling in against the corner to rest his cheek on his knuckles.  "I work out at home, who exactly would I be trying to impress?"

---

"Your other mistake, probably." He closed his eyes again for a moment, working to haul himself into focus.

---

"And let's say I went to the gym, had the really nice clothes."  The humor had faded a bit.  "Met someone.  Then I get to try to explain why I don't want to touch them with my bare hands."

---

"Weird kink; I've seen weirder." He waved that off. "Not like you wear adult diapers or something."

---

"That's fine for fucking around and hook ups, but eventually people want to know if you spend enough time with them."  There was experience in his tone, and something else that didn't fit the half smile he was still wearing.

---

"So find someone in the know." He shrugged just a little bit, seeming -- well, unconcerned. Apparently it had never been a problem for him. "I mean, don't go slumming it with werewolves or anything but you could find a nice healer or something I'm sure."

---

"Right.  Silly me for not considering that."  He grabbed his glass as he rolled up to his feet and walked over to set it in the sink.

---

Beau didn't move, but he did turn his head to watch Will go. "I mean the other option is to lie, but I have a hunch you're an awful liar."

---

"You think I can't lie?"  It made him chuckle as he walked down the hall to his room so he could change out of the sweats.

---

"I think you're probably shit at it." He raised his voice to make sure Will would hear.

---

"And why do you say that?"  He came back out in the process of buttoning up his fly, a raglan shirt draped over his shoulder.

---

"You have an honest vibe." He shook his head just a little bit, eyes dropping to Will's fingers and then away.

---

He didn't seem to have noticed the quick flick of Beau's eyes.  "Choosing not to lie has nothing to do with the ability to lie."   Everything buttoned up, he slid the shirt over his arms and over his head.

---

"But practice makes perfect, I'd say." His eyes flicked onto Will again as he moved, head cocked to the side.

---

"I could just be a really good liar, then you wouldn't even know."  He flashed a smile at him as he smoothed the shirt down and leaned against the back of the couch.  "Are you staying in pajamas again?"

---

He dragged his attention off of Will down to his own legs. "...why not? Who'm I going to see at the grocery store?"

---

Will shrugged, not bothering to talk him into changing or bribing him.  "Just asking.  I'm ready to go when you are."

---

He stayed one more moment then shoved himself up to stand and hunt down shoes.  "Whatever."

---

He flicked a glance over at him before straightening up and shoving his sleeves back to his elbows.  He stepped into shoes, grabbed his keys, and waited.

---

Beau shoed on his own, sighing as he dragged his hair back, and settled in next to Will. "Now, if we were going to a bar, I'd dress up."

---

He bounced his keys in his palm, looking down at Beau.  "Would you behave if we did go to a bar?"

---

That got a pause -- and then a slow flicker of amusement. "What does behaving mean?"

---

"No trying to run off on your own, no getting high."  His expression was dubious, like he wasn't sure if Beau could toe the line enough for that sort of thing yet.

---

There was a pause, then a flash of amusement. "Where would I go, running off on my own?"

---

"I don't know.  You have a lot of connections."  He didn't even want to imagine what would happen if he lost the Eastoft Heir.  He doubted the worst of it would be losing his job.  Arms folding, he leaned back against the wall, head tipping.

---

"I don't have access to anything right now." He shook his head a tiny bit at Will.

---

"Wouldn't need anything more than to run into the right person."  Sandy brows arched.  "You disappear and it's my ass."

---

He shrugged a little, tugging his pants in tighter. "You can pick the lame bar, then."

---

He didn't dismiss the idea outright, at least.  Seemed to consider it as he finished off the rest of his shake.

---

"Magic is fickle. If you don't do it just right..." He hesitated the tiniest bit, and then shrugged. "It definitely has a sense of humor about fucking you over."

---

His head tipped to glance down at his own fingers where they curled around the now empty cup and he made a slight face before throwing it away.   "It's always been a hindrance for me, until the border patrol found me and gave me something positive to do with the ability."

---

"Just imagine if I'd found you instead." He smiled all at once -- the expression bright and amused.

---

He smiled back, tried to make it light and amused, but there was something serious that flickered through his expression before he looked down at his hands again and smoothed his palms together before walking around the island towards the couch.

---

That made his expression fall. Beau stood where he was for another moment before huffing out a little breath. "Can I use the computer again?"

---

"Yeah..."  It was distracted as Will sat and pulled the laptop over to open it.  "Yeah, for a bit, let me make sure I closed out what I was working on.

---

"Uh huh." He pulled away to the bathroom for abit -- to fuss at his hair a bit more, maybe. It looked better when he came out again.

---

When he came out the laptop was sitting on the couch open and unlocked, and Will had settled himself as far down into the corner as he could possibly go without laying down all together.  He had his phone in his hand, thumb moving slowly over the screen, lips drawn down in tight frown.

---

Beau didn't ask what was up: just settled in to pour his way through facebook and instagram, a little bit of twitter, frowning himself.

---

After about twenty minutes the phone had lowered to rest on Will's chest.  He had his head propped up in his hand, but his eyes were closed, breathing even.  The tv playing quietly in the background, some travel show.

---

Left Beau to do whatever he wanted on the computer -- though he stole glances sideways at Will, periodically, to make sure he wasn't watching.

---

Aside from the internet there wasn't much he'd be able to get into, and even on the internet there were firewalls in place, certain sites blocked off.  Will didn't move, appeared to have dozed off.

---

There was a sufficient enough internet. He'd probably settle in to watch videos on youtube, tiktok; settling on something fashion, with the computer on his lap and curled into the corner, volume on low.

---

Nothing that Will would have cared about if he had been awake.  Less of a risk than other social medias, to be fair.  The agent slept on for another hour and change before a subtle shift over balanced the precarious angle he'd had his head balanced and it dropped to the side and made him jerk awake.

---

Beau made a smothered sound -- definitely a laugh, half-swallowed -- as he looked up at Will.

---

He was wide eyed with his fingers dug into the arm of the couch, and his other hand wrapped tightly around his phone like his first instinct might have been to throw it after finding it sitting on him.  He blinked, swallowed and then turned his head to look at Beau as he tried half successfully not to laugh.  A second to process, and then he slouched back again.  "Shit."

---

"How's your neck?" That casual mockery was back, his fingers hovering over the keyboard -- video paused.

---

It didn't hurt right that second, but there was still adrenaline making his heart pound.  He rolled his eyes as he tipped his head against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.  "I'm sure it'll feel just dandy later."

---

"It's almost like you'd be smarter climbing into bed. But I guess no one ever accused you of being smart." He hit play and looked down again.

---

"If I go to bed now I'll be up all night."  Never mind that he'd slept away the whole morning, or that he'd probably continue to nod off until he finally did drag himself off to bed.  He blinked, head turning just enough to look at the back of the screen.

---

Beau made a faint, rude sound. "Sounds like my life."

---

He laughed, he couldn't help it, and he picked his hand up off the arm of the couch to push his glasses up his nose again, fingers combing his hair back from his face.   "What time is it?"

---

"Three, maybe?" He heaved a sigh and left full screen to check. "Two forty five."

---

He mulled that over, a finger tapping the back of his phone.  "Do you know how late your dad lingers at his office?"  He was supposed to call him back, but he very clearly didn't want to.

---

Beau twitched at that, and finally came fully into focus. "Why?"

---

"He demanded I call him back today, but I only have that number."  He sighed, apparently forgetting the other number he’d been given..  "If he's already left then there's nothing I can do today."

---

Beau shifted slowly, thinking it over. "He's still there. You should wait until six to call if you want to accidentally miss him."

---

His finger kept tapping, internally debating.  "He's probably going to be pissed either way, but I definitely don't have the energy to deal with him right now."

---

"So after six." He paused, though, chewing it over. Wriggling a little. "Six thirty to be safe."

---

Which gave Will three and a half hours to kill before leaving a bullshit apology for Mr. Eastoft's machine, or secretary.  He didn't want to keep falling asleep.  With a huff he pushed himself up a little straighter, rubbing fingers along his temples.

---

"Don't you have any hobbies?" He said it idly, attention turning pointedly back down to the screen.

---

He glanced at Beau, then back down at his own hands.  "I have hobbies."  It was vaguely defensive.  He rolled up to his feet, arching his back as he stretched all the way down to his toes before shaking his shoulders out and heading down the hall.

---

Beau's stole just a sideways look as Will stretched. "Besides the gym?"

---

"Cooking, collecting wine and other aged liquors, reading," he was listing as he walked into his room, but he was only in there for a moment, reappeared a moment later with socks and a pair of running shoes dangling from one hand.  "How about you grab that power cord and bring that thing downstairs."

---

He eyed the shoes, debating. "Why? What are we doing?"

---

"You can keep watching whatever it is you're watching while I use the treadmill."  And possibly the other equipment he had down there, but he wasn't sure he had the energy for it.  "Unless you feel like working out with me."

---

He thought that over more seriously, eyebrows lowering. "Are you wearing that?"

---

He glanced down at the sweatpants before quirking a brow.  "Minus the shirt."  Since Beau hadn't moved yet he sat on the edge of the couch to pull the socks and shoes on.

---

That made him smile and he closed up the laptop carefully, turning to unplug the cord and wrap it up.

---

There might have been a very small smile on Will's lips as he walked past Beau to a door nestled against the inside wall and opened it to reveal a set of wooden stairs.

The basement was semi-finished, divided.  There was a desk tucked into the corner, but no computer on it.  The chair tucked into it was nice, not cheap.  There was another tv mounted high up on the far wall, another couch that looked like it folded out, and then off to the side a large mat with a treadmill, weight bench, and other machines.  There was another door set into one of the walls close to the desk.  Will flicked on track lights as he went down.

---

Beau set the laptop down on the desk, looking the place over with his eyes narrowed. "This is less murder cave than it could be."

---

Will glanced over his shoulder at him before bending to grab a bottle of water from a mini fridge beside the desk.  "Why would it be murder cavey?"

---

"Older bachelor who lives alone and wears leather gloves all the time?" He arched an eyebrow as he dropped down to sit, legs sprawled in front of him.

---

"I don't wear leather gloves."  He wiggled his fingers at him over his shoulder before dragging the tee shirt over his head and dropping it on the weight bench.  "How about some music?"

---

"Are you asking me to choose?" He watched Will strip out of the corner of his eye, not quite subtle.

---

"Mmhmm."  He set the bottle in the cup holder on the treadmill as he stepped up onto it, then took a moment to tie the draw strings on his pants tighter.  It beeped as he hit a button to start it up.

---

Beau hesitated before he picked something upbeat, danceable, a little weird. It'd set a good pace for Will, and he could sit back to watch.

---

His brows twitched as the music started, gaze flicking over to Beau before he set a program and fell immediately into an easy jog.

---

Beau smiled at him, slouching and poking at the computer but mostly watching Will. "You do this every day?"

---

He could still talk, which meant he wasn't pushing himself as much as he should have been, but he also didn't usually have someone there watching and talking to him.  "Most days.  Missed a few though."  He had good form, looked comfortable despite having shitty sleep.  Like he could have kept up the pace for hours.

---

"Sleeping all through the day?" He was still comfortably mocking, draping an arm over the back of the chair.

---

"Been preoccupied."  With you.  He hadn't made it down to work out or run since he'd brought Beau home.  The treadmill revved up a bit quicker, incline creeping up, and Will had to adjust his speed.

---

He rumbled, scratching along the line of his jaw. "Do you get the runner's high? I've been told that's a thing, but mostly it just makes me feel miserable."

---

He shot a quick glance over at Beau slouched back in the chair and it made him huff out a laugh.  "Yeah, if I go long enough.  Gotta work through the miserable stage."

---

"Must be genetic." He cocked his head a little, eyes dragging down over Will. He was, obviously, shameless. "Some people get it..."

---

He couldn't shrug like this, but he tipped his head in something close.  "Dunno."  His voice was going a little breathless, and there was a fine sheen of sweat at his collarbone and along his back.  "You don't like it, do you?  Working out."

---

"Not at all." He made a sour face that softened quickly. "I like the gym, though."

---

Another amused sound.  "Window shopping?"  He flicked another look at him, but the treadmill kicked into a full on run and for at least a couple of minutes Will didn't have the air to spare for talking.

---

"Sometimes." He smiled up at Will, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Sometimes keeping company. Or taking pictures."

---

The next section of the program was a brief cool down and it slowed from a sprint to a brisk walk.  Will was definitely breathing hard now, and he reached for the bottle of water to take a long drink before he said anything again.  "Pictures?"

---

"For instagram." He wobbled a hand back and forth. "You know. Workout clothes, hair just a little mussed, bottle of water..."

---

He grinned, sweeping his hands back through his hair to smooth it away from his face.  "You in workout clothes?"

---

"They're really nice workout clothes." Definitely nothing like what Will had on. He smiled again. "You know instagram."

---

"I'm sure they're very nice looking."  Will didn't think it really mattered what you wore while you worked out, so long as you actually put the work in.  He owned nicer than the sweats he was wearing, but he wasn't that particular. Suits, on the other hand...

"And yes, I know Instagram."  He huffed, amused.

---

"No, I mean -- you know. Don't you ever look at peoples' instagram pictures?" He shrugged just a tiny bit.

---

"Yes, I know what you're talking about.  Faux casual, lots of staging to make things look effortless and perfect."  He waved a hand.

---

"A lot of effort to make it look effortless, yes." His smile was unapologetic. "You should look at my instagram. Before it rots and dies."

---

He flicked a hand at the laptop Beau had brought down with him but hadn't opened again, starting into a jog again. "Leave a tab up with it and I'll look at it later."

---

He looked aside at it, thinking it over -- and then half turned to get it going. "I'm surprised you didn't already."

---

"I don't really get into social media that much."  He had a Facebook, but it was woefully barren.  He hadn't posted anything to it...well, he couldn't remember the last time.

---

"But you researched me, didn't you?" He shrugged slowly, stealing another look up at Will.

---

"We have a file on you, there's quite a bit in there."  He tipped his head to glance back at Beau, caught him watching, but then he'd already known he had been.

---

It's not like he looked away. He still looked relaxed, in that chair. "That's an important one, though, don't you think?"

---

"Not usually."  Parole cases weren't usually this complicated.  And Beau's case had been complicated before Will had even gotten involved.  "You are a bit of a special case, though."

---

"I've been told that before." He smiled up at Will, then dropped his head to scroll absently for a gym picture.

---

His gaze lingered on that smile a moment more before Beau was looking down and Will was turning back to the treadmill as it entered into the final cool down walk, slower than the previous one.  He took another drink of water, wiping his mouth on the his arm.

---

Beau leaned back again, stretching out his legs and lifting up the hem of his shirt to scratch absently at his stomach. "I don't like it, though. The gym."

---

Will stretched his arms up over his head before lacing his fingers at the back of his neck, head tipped just enough to see Beau out the corner of his eye.  "None of it?  You don't like sports, or swimming?"

---

He tilted his head a little, thinking it over. "Swimming's okay. I didn't mind fencing, but I also wasn't particularly good at it."

---

"Doesn't surprise me that you know how to fence."  He was a little out of breath, but not too bad considering he'd just run most of a 5k.

---

He shrugged a little bit, tapping fingers against the desk. "Knew. It's been a while."

---

"Not like riding a bike?"  He dropped his hands to catch the sides of the treadmill as it came to a stop, then finally stepped down, sweeping his hair back off his face again.

---

"There are an awful lot of rules for fencing." It came with a wry twist of his mouth. "Not so much bikes."

---

"How do you feel about bikes in general?"   It came with a curious loft of sandy brows.

---

"I don't own one." He hesitated again, then flicked fingers at Will. "If you're trying to get me to join you, no thank you."

---

"Just curious if you liked riding."  But he said it with a grin, walking over to look down at the picture Beau had pulled up.

---

It was a really good photo, and he looked really good -- in a way that Will had never seen him. He was in the fancy clothes, taking a very long drink of water, leaned up against a machine, with his hair wild and tousled and halfway into his face.

---

He looked at it for a long time, expression hard to decipher, half bent beside the chair with a hand on the desk for support.  "No one ever looks that good when they're working out."  It wasn't a compliment, but it also sort of was.

---

There was the smile again, sudden, pleased. "Well, no. But everyone wants to." The like count was ridiculous.

---

No argument there.  Will wasn't much different.  Maybe he didn't pose, but he certainly liked looking a certain way.  "Looks like a lot of people approve."

---

"People want what they don't have." He scrolled absently through more pictures; him with girls, drinking a milkshake in one, looking out a window, until he got back to pictures of him with the Chinese boy -- and then, all at once, he closed the page. "You know, instagram."

---

It made him twitch, the muscles in his arm tensing like he'd had to stop himself from jerking away.  Probably completely not used to anyone really touching his hands, let alone fussing over them.  "I don't know."  An eye cracked open, watching again.

---

Beau's head was cocked, his eyes on Will's face. He looked, just faintly, amused. And he pressed down on that spot again. "Do you meditate?"

---

It wasn't a surprise this time, but it did make his pinky curl.  "No." In contrast, Will looked almost wrecked.  Tired, but with a tightness around his eyes, brows faintly drawn in.  Not entirely focused.

---

"Do you think meditating is bullshit?" It was sickly sweet, challenging; he pushed down more toward the middle of Will's hand, this time.

---

"No."  His hand twitched again, flexing on Beau's grasp then relaxing again.  "I never thought to try it."  He'd assumed there was no controlling it, and between the gym and therapy it just hasn't occurred to him.

---

He traced his thumb along the outside of Will's, then pinched at the tip of it, still watching Will's face. He looked just a bit smug. "It helps you focus energies, definitely."

---

Will was watching Beau's fingers, unaware that he was being watched.  His thumb flexed against the brush of Beau's rather than away, just a twitch.  "I don't know how."

---

"I could probably teach you." But he hesitated over it, chewing on the idea, eyes narrowed. "...but not for free."

---

The exhale that followed couldn't really be called a sigh, but it was close.  His eyes closing again, tension seeping back into his arm and hand.  "Is that so?"

---

"You'll have to offer me something, at least." It was frank, still watching Will's face, with both thumbs curled into the palm of his hand now.

---

He tipped his head against the glass in his hand, before straightening enough to look at it, then across at Beau.  "How do I know it would actually work?"  Not so much questioning Beau's knowledge, but his integrity.  Control was a powerful thing to offer up.

---

"You don't." He raised an eyebrow, easily. It was elegant. Even still dressed in pajamas as he was. "It might not."

---

He stared at him for a long time before he looked back at his glass, drained what was left of it, then set it down so he could pour another two fingers into it.  "Then here's the deal."  He set the bottle down carefully again, picking up the glass.  "What I'm offering for you to try to help me control this is conditional on the progress.  It's going to start out small."  He held the scotch out, brows arched, hand laying limply in Beau's grasp.

---

He licked his lower lip, head cocked slightly to the side; his thumbs curling into Will's palm almost absently. He had a gentle touch, and seemed to know just where to press -- "I can work with that."

---

The press pulled a breath from him, hand and glass lowering to rest against the arm of the couch, fingers slack around it.  And the buzz he'd been chasing since they'd gotten home seemed to roll in all at once with the last shot he'd tossed back.

---

Beau pulled one hand free to steal the glass out of Will's grasp before he could drop it. "What if the results are exceptional, though?"

---

"We'll cross that bridge when we reach it."  He wasn't sure if meditation would have any effect, but he'd also had a life time of being told there was no control.

---

He took a slow sip of the Scotch, with his thumb tracing slow circles on Will's palm. Thinking it over. "I'm very good."

---

"So I've heard."  It was distracted, unfocused gaze sliding back down to their hands.

---

"I've never had a talent for prophecy, specifically, but I had exceptional focus." He hesitated a little, head cocked while he thought it over. "Of course, this would all be easier if I weren't operating blind."

---

He made a small sound, fingers curling as he started to pull his hand back.  The first stirrings of anger and something else flickering through pale eyes as he looked pointedly away.

---

Beau shrugged and let him pull back, taking a long swallow of his drink before he set it down to peel off his gloves. "It's worth a try."

---

His head turned, chin resting in his hand, the other on his lap, thumb sliding along the the side of his finger.  "You probably didn't need those gloves to keep me from reading you."  He didn't look back again, brows creased over pale eyes.

---

He paused with them curled between his hands, head cocked to the side. "Do you think? Want to test it?"

---

One shoulder rolled in a shrug.  "That's up to you."  He doubted very much that there was anything as violent or fucked up in Beau's life as he'd seen an hour ago, so if he did get anything it wouldn't add to whatever was swimming circles up there already that left him looking so rough around the edges.

---

He folded up the gloves slowly and then reached out to take Will's hand again, the tips of his fingers -- soft -- sliding up over the inside of Will's palm.

---

Will's hands were probably softer than one would have imagined, but years upon years in gloves did provide a certain protection.  He closed his eyes as Beau touched him, bracing, and then his hand relaxed as nothing flashed into his mind.  It brought a wave of relief he hadn't been expecting, and his breath shook as he exhaled and finally looked down at their hands again.

---

"Oh honey." There was a laugh behind Beau's voice, his eyes -- dark. Teasing. "Has it been that long?"

---

"It's... there's nothing."  There hadn't been nothing since he was a very small child.  So young he could barely remember what it was like to touch or be touched without an invasive flood of other rolling over his senses.

---

Beau dragged the pads up his fingers up Will's, slow, just a scrape of fingernails behind it. "All you need is a magical cripple."

---

His fingers spread wider under the soft glide of Beau's nails.  Not only was it entirely new, it was a distraction.  It pulled him away from the nightmare he'd walked away from that house with.  Something that felt good.  He tipped his head to watch Beau's fingers as they moved and let himself be distracted.

---

"We might as well try some focus while you're here." He said it absently, his own eyes on Will's face. That amusement lingered. "Unless you're too far gone."

---

"I don't know."  There wasn't much focus in his eyes as he rolled them up to meet Beau's.  "We can try it."

---

"I suspect you're useless right now." Still. He held his other hand out for Will's.

---

His brows twitched like he wanted to protest, but the slight sway of the room as he lifted his head from his hand stopped him.  It was probably true, but he still reached out.

---

He took Will's hands between both of his own -- Beau had big hands, long fingers, they would have been elegant if not for the frayed nails and the angry marks around his wrist -- and slowly moved them in opposing circles, to rub Will's palms together. "Imagine light, between your hands."

---

He made a faint scoffing sound, features dubious as he looked between Beau and their hands.  Like maybe he did think it was stupid.  But what did he have to lose by trying?  With a sharper exhale he closed his eyes, tried to do what Beau was telling him.

---

"I made things happen with my mind, I don't see why it's so fantastic to think you shouldn't have the same ability. So. Light. Pale light. Cupped between your hands." He smoothed his own fingers over the back of Will's hands, soothing. "Small lights that gather around your joints, that settle into your heart line."

---

"It's not..."  He sighed, probably would have protested, but the stroke of fingers along the backs of his hands stopped him.  He swallowed, and a little of the tension eased from the set of his shoulders.

---

"It's usually light. Some people see something else, or picture something else; we can work with it if you'd like, but I suggest starting with light." His voice was gentle and soft, guiding Will's palms in slow circles against each other. "It's warm light. And it goes all through you, but right now you want it right here, in this space between your palms."

---

Hard to tell if he was actually doing what Beau was telling him to do, or just focusing on the feel of the younger man's hands on his, but he didn't protest again.

---

If nothing else, this would hopefully sap the tension out of Will's shoulders, leave him more relaxed, settled. Beau spoke to him softly, guiding him through some meditation with soft touches around the edges of his hands, guiding Will to focus on each part in turn, until his voice had gone a bit hoarse and Will was probably three quarters asleep.

---

Whatever the cause, his shoulders did loosen, long body settling a little more fully into the couch as he listened to Beau's talk.  It was all actually very soothing, but as Beau's voice started to go hoarse he blinked his eyes open again to look up at his face, lids heavy.

---

He licked his lips, his own expression gone distracted -- weary, really, like this had worn him out. Or maybe just sad, because all of this did nothing for Beau himself, now.

---

Will swallowed, a muscle in his jaw jumping before he drew his hands free of that gentle touch.  Catching Beau's hands instead to press them together between his own.  "You don't have to..."  He cleared his throat.  "I can't trade you what you want, even if this does help.  That's not something I can just promise to give back to you."

---

He went still, blinking -- and then tipped his chin up to drive that expression away toward something cool and distant, instead. "Obviously not. They're not even giving you proper training; you're low man on the totem pole."

---

He'd sat up a little straighter to rest his elbows on his knees, and instead of just letting Beau's hands go he kept them pressed loosely between his palms, reluctant to lose that connection, not that he seemed to notice it.  His head tipped down, hair falling into his face as he looked at the ground between them.

---

Beau was very still, his own head cocked to look down at their hands -- and then his wrists, a grimace pulling at the corner of his mouth. And he fidgeted, just slightly. Nervous, maybe.

---

He slid his hands up until he could curl his fingers around the other man's wrists, hiding the tattoos and the irritation.

---

That made him twitch, too, a muscle in his jaw jumping. He didn't jerk away, but he did go very still.

---

His thumb brushed the inside of Beau's wrist thoughtlessly, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.  And his jaw moved like he was working out something to say and couldn't seem to find the right way to say it.

---

"What?" It burst out of him sharply, all at once, like he couldn't help himself anymore.

---

He jerked, hands tightening for a second.  "You don't have to try to help me if you're only doing it for a chance to get these off."  Fingers loosened.  "Not if it’s just a reminder of what you can't do.  Especially because I can't just guarantee it to you, even if I wanted to."  He wasn't looking at him, hadn't looked up.  "That's not how you'll get them off."  There was no irritation, it sounded more resigned.

---

He twitched again, in Will's grasp, a muscle in his jaw shifting unhappily. It was too much honesty for Beau, clearly. "Well, I mean, if you don't want it."

---

"That's not what I'm saying."  He was surprised Beau hadn't jerked away or snapped at him, surprised enough to tip his head to look up at him.  "I didn't bring you here to take advantage of the pain you're in, or to make it harder."

---

He was getting there; all tense and uncomfortable and halfway wriggling where he sat. "I don't know, you made it pretty clear you think my pain is stupid and I should just get over it."

---

"That wasn't what I meant."  His hands went slack, not quite pulling away, but it wouldn't take much to shake him loose.

---

He pulled them back to grab his scotch and roll back up to stand -- climbing over the coffee table so he wouldn't get too close to Will. His pulse had been wild under Will's fingers.

---

He let Beau go, hands lifting to hold up his head instead as the younger man crawled back and away from him.

---

He downed the drink and raked fingers through his hair, trying to kill the sudden fight-or-flight energy, his wrists gone prickly again. "I need to go outside."

---

"Backyard."  He didn't lift his head, just flicked a couple of fingers towards the sliding glass door near the bookshelf.

---

Beau dropped the glass off in the kitchen and retreated outside -- where he could finally take a deep breath, and then drop down to sit on the grass, still oddly panicked.

---

The absence of Beau and the soft brush of fingers along his hands made it easy for the scene from earlier to roll back in and Will reached for the gloves to drag them back on before reaching for the bottle beside him again.

Then stopped, complexion a little on the pale side again.  He drew his hands back, holding them half cupped in front of him, and closed his eyes again as he let out a shaking breath.  It wouldn't be the same, but it did help.  Gave him something else to focus on while he sat alone in the semi-dark.

---

Beau didn't come back in; even if the yard wasn't private, he was going to sprawl out on the grass and settle there, to doze in and out maybe, to make up for what sleep he'd missed.

---

At some point, when it was obvious beau wasn't coming inside anytime soon, Will had gotten up to check on him.

There'd been a moment to waffle over leaving him there to catch up on sleep or try to move him, but in the end he let him stay there.  The yard was fenced in and warded, no one would get in or out without Will knowing.

He did drape a blanket over him, and instead of retreating to his room he settled on the couch, laying so he could see him through the door.

"Yeah, and now I won't sleep again. I'll have to sit out here and read your stupid books." He rubbed a hand across his eyes as he downed the water.

---

The small, half amused smile faded away completely as he looked away, fingers going still, closing, before he thumped his hand lightly against the armrest and moved to roll up to his feet.

---

He swallowed, and then pointed down to Will's laptop. "Unless you want to leave the computer out."

---

A muscle jumped in his jaw, and the calm from a moment before was replaced by impatience and irritation.  "You make it really difficult to want to do nice things for you," he said after a moment, not looking at him or the laptop.

---

Beau blinked at that, rubbing at his jaw -- still prickled with little injuries -- and frowned at Will. "I've got nothing, leave something, anyway."

---

"Why?" He lifted his head finally to look at him, brows creased and expression genuinely curious, if exasperated.  "It seems safer not to when you keep lashing out."

---

There was another of those little hesitations, Beau floundering with a snappy answer before settling on the truth. "Do you want to sit alone in a stranger's house with nothing but your own thoughts?"

---

"No, I don't," he answered truthfully.  "But I also wouldn't be snapping at that person for every nice thing they're doing, and expecting them to do more."

---

Beau puffed out a breath, just staring at Will. "I didn't snap."

---

"You have.  Whether you realize it or not, that's what you're doing."  He kept his voice even, not yelling, not letting his impatience bleed out.

---

"I don't really know...I don't know what you expect." He downed the rest of the glass and turned to put it in the sink.

---

"How about you don't blame me for you being up all night, when you fell asleep on my shoulder.  Just as a start."  He'd brought his arms up, crossing them loosely.

---

"That's your guilt speaking, I never blamed you for anything." But after a breath he did pause. "Though, I mean, I am technically your prisoner."

---

"Prisoner?"  He made a humorless huff, shaking his head.  "Really."  His hands came up to comb his hair back from his face and he turned to head down the hall.

---

"Technically." It was tossed off after him, struggling for bluster, but maybe just a bit confused.

---

"Okay, Abbott," was all he said back as he walked into his room, door swung back but not quite closing.

---

It did successfully leave Abbot alone with his thoughts in the strange house, though. He thunked around the kitchen a bit, not quite brave enough to smash anything, before dropping back onto the couch.

---

Will did an impressive job of ignoring him as he striped out of his shirt and sweats and walked in his boxers to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

---

Beau hadn't exactly been tidy, either with the shaving or the shower. The towel was folded over the back of the toilet, mostly crumpled, and the razor was still on the edge of the sink.

---

He sighed as he took in the mess, spent a moment or two picking up before getting into the shower.  It was later than was usual for him, and he definitely felt worn.

---

It wasn't exactly easy babysitting. Beau stayed just where he was, curled up on the couch, largely out of sight. and gone quiet now, at least.

---

He was still ignoring him when he came out 30 minutes later, clothes and gloves in one hand, towel held securely around his waist with the other.  He tossed the clothes in his room, tucked the towel tighter, and walked out to grab a glass of water.

---

He wasn't even reading; just sat on the couch with legs hugged against his chest, maybe half asleep again, cheek resting against his knee.

---

The water ran as Will filled his glass, but after a moment he flicked a glance at the back of Beau's head, frowning across the dim room at him.

---

He didn't look back: hunched and thinking, or dozing, There really wasn't that much else for him to do, aside from dig out books to mess around in classes he couldn't even go to anymore.

---

There was the tv, remote sitting on the table beside the couch.  Not what Beau wanted to do, but better than nothing.  Will exhaled sharply as he turned on his heel to head back down the hall towards his room.