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On call [Beau x Will]

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Offline Beejoux

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On call [Beau x Will]
« on: January 11, 2020, 05:35:54 PM »
It had maybe been a two hours after Will had gone to bed before his phone started to ring loud from the night stand beside him.  It woke him immediately, the sound startling him up, and he snarled a heartfelt curse at the damn thing when he pulled it in close enough to read the screen to see who was calling this late.

He knew the number, but it wasn't one that should have been calling him right now.  Not for another few months.  The fact that they were wasn't a great sign, and he sighed as he answered it.

About ten minutes later he was walking out of his room in jeans and a tee shirt, dragging on a black jacket.  His hair was all over the place, glasses falling off his nose, and had an odd look on his face that was halfway between pissed and anxious.



Beau should have been asleep; at this hour of the day, he should have been dead to the world, with his door closed and his expression peaceful. He wasn't.

Instead, he was on the couch with some of Will's books, looking zonked out, and eating something he'd found in one of the cabinets -- the closest he could find to chips. And when Will came out he froze, and looked guilty. A little.



Considering it wasn't the first time he'd found Beau midnight snacking it really want surprising, and especially not after what the younger man had said earlier.  He just blinked down at him, distracted, and stood there for a moment because he was a total loss for what to do.

If Beau had been asleep he probably would have left him there, not strictly on purpose, but considering the call he'd just received he likely wouldn't even have thought about it.  Now?  Now he wasn't sure, and it showed.

A moment to waffle, the muscle jumping in his jaw, then he sighed.  "We have to go.  Now."



"Where?" His mouth was full; he had to put his hand over it to keep chips from falling out.



"Crime scene."  He very clearly didn't like any part of this situation.



Beau blinked up at him, slowly, his attention turned away from Will to the book for a moment. Maybe he wanted to argue, but that definitely sounded better than being left alone here. So he got up (in his pajamas) and put on shoes.



His jaw was tight as he watched him, before Beau finally got to his feet to get his shoes on.  That got Will moving again, tugging his jacket into place as he stepped into a pair of loafers by the door.  You should probably bring the book."  It was more than likely going to take a while.  He clipped his SWBP badge on his belt and grabbed his keys.


"Uh huh." He looked at the books in a distasteful sort of way; he'd obviously already poke through some of them. "Wish you had some magazines."



"Next time."  It'd be easy enough to pick some up, but certainly not now.  He opened the door to usher Beau out and locked the door behind him, then walked quickly towards the car to drop into the driver's seat.



Beau grabbed whatever he'd been reading already with a sigh, and followed maybe a bit less quickly. "How are you this awake without coffee?"



"Because I know what's waiting."  He sounded down right grim as he started the car and started backing out, a hand on the back of Beau's seat as he twisted in his own.



Beau sank down and stretched out his legs, frowning up at Will -- watching his face. "I sure don't."



"You're better off not knowing."  It was definitive, eyes very steadily on the road.  Putting way more focus into driving than he needed to.



"Well, why're you bringing me, then?" He shrugged just a little, toying with the book in his lap.



That finally got him to look at the younger man and he gave him a look like it really should have been obvious.  "Because I don't trust you on your own just yet."



He shrugged the tiniest bit, frowning right back at Will. "So what, I sit in the car?"




"Yes."  There was another agent there waiting to keep an eye on Beau so Will could walk the scene.



"Honestly?" It was aghast, the frown turning into a full on scowl, now.



Will sighed impatiently.  "In or near.  You can't wander."  Not at an active crime scene.  For oh so many different reasons.



"You going to crack the windows at least?" It was sharply annoyed.



He didn't respond to that, just put this fill focus back on driving.  And it wouldn't take long to get to where they were going.  There'd be flashing lights visible two blocks away.  This late the crowd of looky-loos was scant, and there were officers moving from person to person to send them away.  Will drove up to park behind the ambulance that was sitting there waiting.

As he pulled the keys out, looking side long at Beau.  "Please, just stay here."  It was sincerely imploring.  Something about all this hd him on edge, and for the first time he actually looked genuinely anxious.



Beau crossed his arms and frowned up at Will. "So you can't leave me alone at home, but you can leave me here alone?"



That muscle in his jaw jumped again.  "You aren't going to be alone."  He opened his door and stepped out to lean against the top of the car, gesturing at someone standing against one of the other cars.  They straightened up to walk over, dark eyes flicking down to Beau before looking across to Will.  Their muffled voices didn't quite carry back into the car beyond the occasional word.

Will ducked his head back to glance at Beau once more as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto his seat.  Then he was closing the door and walking purposefully across the lawn towards the house, his fingers flexing at his sides.



Beau scowled anyway, staring up at the new guy -- and new guy was either going to have to stay silent or he'd probably have a bad time. Beau wasn't exactly nice.



The new guy was middle aged, shorter than Will, and looked fairly nonplussed to be there.  He leaned against the back passenger side door and smoked while Will was inside.



Beau thought it over and eventually softened enough to ask for a cigarette, at least, while they waited. He could go for a smoke.



The agent wasn’t much for chatter or small talk, but he did give Beau a cigarette.

It'd take a while before anyone came out of the house, and it wouldn't be Will that came out first, but a long, black bag being wheeled out on a gurney to be loaded up into the back of the ambulance they were parked behind.



That perked Beau's attention -- made him look up from the book with eyebrows raised, made him straighten like he was thinking about going over to properly investigate.



The babysitter was watching the techs load up the body with a thoughtful frown, but he didn't do or say anything else, just stood there with his arms folded, waiting.

But he did straighten up maybe fifteen minutes later as more people finally came out, Will included.  He looked from grime and a little pale, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed, and he was running the palms of bare hands against his own thighs.



Beau, sensitive as he was, looked up at Will -- smelling strongly of smoke -- and asked, "Who died?"



He didn't seem to hear him at first, head turned to watch the ambulance doors shutting, expression completely unfocused.  Then he blinked, pale eyes flicking down to Beau like he only just remembered he was there.  "What?"



He gestured toward the ambulance, sharply, unimpressed. "Who's in the bag?"



Sandy brows narrowed and Will shook his head, drawing his gloves free from where he'd tucked them at his waist so he could drag them back on with what might have been a relieved sigh.  "Get in the car, Beau."



He huffed out a breath, looking to the other guy as if to say can you believe him? as he turned back to the car.



To other guy shrugged before glancing over Beau's shoulder to Will, who nodded him off.  He walked away and Will slid into the car, started it, and then just sat there for a moment with his eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the steering wheel.



Beau thudded down into the seat, frowning hard again as he scrubbed at the line of his jaw -- where one of those little cuts was still giving him problems. "Was he torn up or something?"



Will nodded, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for a count of five before letting it out and opening his eyes again.  He still looked on the pale side, but he'd apparently collected himself enough to put the car in gear so they could get moving.


"Oh, well." Beau still didn't look that put out by it, just distracted -- head cocked -- thinking it over. "Did he deserve it?"


"No."  Not that.  He maneuvered them careful away from the scene and out onto the open roads back the way they'd come.  "It's going to get a lot worse."



Beau tapped fingers tightly on the driver's seat. "What the shit does that mean?"



Be hadn't meant to say it outloud and it made him hesitate before answering, licking at dry lips.  "It means people are going to die because he was being an idiot."



"Your sore spot." Beau maybe said it a bit too sharply; genuine frustration slipping past his dry teasing.



His jaw clenched, fingers tightening on the steering wheel as he exhaled sharply.



"He's dead, though." He shook his head a tiny bit, put a foot up on the dashboard automatically. "So at least you don't have to worry about that."



"No, it's already happening."  It was cryptic as hell, but there was only so much Will could say about it. "Him getting killed isn't going to stop it, it's just a means to an end."  And that made him grimace, something almost pained flashing across tanned features.



Beau shrugged, attention turned out the window. "But you don't have to lug him around and constantly find ways to make him feel bad about it."



Beau didn't see the surprised look Will shot him, or the shake of his head.  But he'd hear the exasperated sigh.



He tapped at his elbow, though, uncomfortably mulling it over. "This mean you get to foist me off onto someone else?"



"No, and if you're not under my care, you're back with your parents." It'd been his idea, his plan, and if something went wrong it was his neck on the line.




That got a twitch and Beau shut up immediately, just frowning out the window.



The silence was a relief, not that Will relaxed at all as he drove them home.  He was still tense as he pulled up the driveway and turned the car off.  Shoulders tight and expression unfocused again as he got out of the car and walked up to unlock the front door for them.



Beau sighed heavily as he followed, hands shoved into his pockets -- and wishing he had another cigarette. Or something. "You're not going in or something?"



"Not right now, but I'll have to later."  He needed to sleep, if he could manage it after that.  He ran his fingers through his hair as he followed Beau in and closed the door behind them, locking it again.



Beau just stood there squinting at him. "A good point. You look like shit."



He felt like shit, so he wasn't about to huff about the observation.  He did rub a hand along the back of his neck as he threw the jacket he'd barely worn on the back of a stool.  Then turned to lean back against the counter, head rotating in an attempt to loosen his neck.



He lingered there, uncomfortably, attention wandering around the place in search of anything else to focus on. "Did they just call you in to look at it?"



"Yeah," he said with a sigh, head tipping to let his gaze linger on the cabinet above the fridge, debating, a finger tapping against the side of the counter.


"Figures," was Beau's response, but it seemed almost -- consolatory? Almost. "Fuck magic til they've got a use for it, pretty much."



He turned his head to look back at him, expression hard to read, but Beau's comment seemed to have helped him come to a decision, because he pushed away from the counter to grab a lowball glass from the cupboard and a bottle from above the fridge.  Not wine this time, liquor.  His movements almost twitchy.



"Hmmm." Beau watched him do it, arms folded over his chest while he watched Will puttering around. "So what, exactly, do you do?"



He flicked a hand up, fingers wiggling at Beau before he poured himself a healthy measure of wha looked to be expensive scotch.  "Clairvoyant."  It came out flat and tired, pale eyes flicking up as he brought the glass up for a long drink.



Beau's eyes tracked the scotch like he was very thirsty. "Does that mean past, present, or future."



He curled his fingers around the bottle to drag it off the counter as he walked past Beau to the living room to sink down heavily into the spot on the couch he'd been sitting in earlier in the night.  "Past and present mostly."



Beau thought about it for a moment, and then followed -- not to sit on the couch, or in a chair, but to settle perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of Will. "Living things, or inanimate, or both?"



He looked up at Beau's face as he settled on the table in front of him, brows twitching thoughtfully before the question put a small frown on his face.  "Both." The bottle was set on the side table, but he still had the glass, and he brought it up for another drink.



He held out his hands, then, wiggling his fingers meaningfully -- an ask for Will's. "Since you were born? Puberty?"



He hesitated, the fingers of his free hand curling where it rested against the arm of the couch before he lifted it slowly to offer it out to him.  His gloves were black, tight and thin.  "Started when I was a child and got stronger through adolescence."



Beau took his hands and started to peel off one of the gloves, neatly and carefully. "Must make sex a bitch."



He was watching him almost apprehensively, or maybe suspiciously, brows drawn in and features thoughtful, but he didn't jerk his hand away.  "It's strongest through my hands, but it's still complicating "



"Oh god, it didn't even occur to me it might work through other parts of your body." He said it absently as he pulled the glove the rest of the way off.



He let out a little breath as the glove was pulled free and couldn't quite help an involuntary flex of his fingers.  His arm was tense, gaze fixed on Beau and what he was doing.



"How far back do you read?" He looked back up at Will as he carefully pulled the glove onto his own hand and went for the second one.



"It depends on the thing I'm touching, but the longer there's contact the more I get."  He licked his lips, transferring the scotch from one hand to the other with just a slight flicker of something in his expressing, so he could offer the other hand to Beau, curious frown more pronounced.  "The broach, the woman at the forge, that seemed 1800s."



Beau had to pause, blinking at him, before things kicked back into sense. He pulled off the second glove, carefully. "Ah. That makes sense, maybe. The gloves don't affect you?""



Again that reflexive finger curl, hand drawing back.  "No, they're charmed to be null.  And there's wards on this house to tone things down."



"Ugh." The idea of null gloves -- and the fact that he was hauling one on voluntarily -- made Beau pause. But then he finished, because it wasn't like it could make his life any harder. "Okay, give here, and spread your fingers. Is there any history of this in your family?"



"My grandmother, but she didn't do anything to protect herself.  Killed herself when my dad was a kid."  He couldn't even imagine what it had to have been like for her, powers manifested and nothing to keep out the rest of the world.  He put his hand out again, fingers spreading hesitantly as he took another drink.  Chasing a solid buzz to take the edge off.  "What are you doing?”



"Looking at your life lines." He smoothed his thumb up it, slowly, head cocked and hair falling into his face as he frowned down at Will's hand. "She had absolutely no control, either? Like you? Just a loose cannon?"



"I don't think so.  No one really talks about her much, and if there were others before her they don't get talked about either."  It implied a history of family shame where the gift was concerned.  "Why are you doing that?"



"All things can be controlled with the right kind of training." He still sounded absent -- but confident, tracking out one of the lines through the heel of Will's hand. "Has anyone ever tried to teach you?"



He shook his head, dragging his thumb along the side of the glass.  "Manage only.  Keep it under wraps."



"It's a curse." His tone was dry, mocking. "You just have to manage it. God, normies are so fucking predictable."



Curse seemed entirely accurate. His fingers twitched faintly as the glass rose again, but instead of taking a drink he just held it against the side of his head, eyes closing as Beau looked at his hand.



"It's probably tied to chakras. These things often are." He finally caught Will's hand to pinch down on a spot under his pinky finger. "Energy flow is blocked, maybe?"



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Offline Beejoux

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Re: On call [Beau x Will]
« Reply #1 on: January 11, 2020, 05:51:57 PM »
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.