Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4764071.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Half_Life_Trilogy_-_Sally_Green
  Relationship:
      Nathan_Byrn/Gabriel
  Character:
      Arran_Byrn, Nesbitt_(Half_Life_Trilogy), Celia, Victoria_van_Dal,
      Annalise_O'Brien
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-09 Words: 10818
****** The Letters In Your Pictures ******
by Elementum
Summary
     Post-Half Wild: Nathan finally learns how to show Gabriel he cares,
     but can he figure out how to tell him too? Little bit of smut, lotta
     bit of fluff.
Notes
     All the apologies for any inconsistencies. It's been a little while
     since I've read the books (Although I started listening to the Half
     Wild audiobook and it's SO GOOD).
     Also I wrote this while listening to Breathe Me by Sia on an infinite
     loop for some reason.
See the end of the work for more notes
Standing in front of the door I ask myself, and not for the first time, 'what
exactly am I fucking doing?'
The remaining Alliance members have been running for two months, and we've been
at this particular safe house for six days, finally out of the woods
(literally). I'd still much rather be outside. At least there I didn't have
doors blocking my view, didn't need a reason to look over at him while he slept
because he was right there.
Most people share a room. I share with Arran, Van shares with Nesbitt. Celia
has her own room and so does Gabriel.
For the last few days I've been unable to sleep. This isn't new. Normally my
sleep is interrupted by nightmares or, most recently, thoughts about killing
Marcus and eating his heart. Some pretty unpleasent shit. But lately it's been
something else. It's the distance between my room and his, the charge I feel in
every inch that's between us.
So tonight, after Arran fell asleep, I rolled out of bed, and I walked until
those inches separating us got smaller and smaller and I was standing outside
his door.
And now I'm staring at it wondering 'what exactly am I fucking doing?'
Nightsmoke graces the hallways. We've set up the house so all us Black Witches
can roam anywhere at night without feeling completely sick, although the
corridors aren't as dense as the rooms, so I'm feeling a little quesy standing
here. I'm not entirely sure if this is due to just the nightsmoke or the
prospect of knocking on Gabriel's door at 2am.
I'm certain he still loves me, but after leading him on once already, will he
believe I actually want to stay with him this time? Or will he think I'll pull
him in, give him just a little bit more and then run away again?
There's no part of me that thinks I'll do this. Not this time.
I swallow hard and knock on the door, hoping the soft raps are loud enough to
wake Gabriel without alerting the other Alliance members that I'm here.
Although I'm sure I can make up some excuse if I need to.
Or I can just tell them to fuck off and mind their own business.
(Not like they would).
The house is quiet, that heavy, muffled kind of silence that presses on your
ears, but I still can't hear what's going on behind Gabriel's door. I'm about
to knock again or maybe just turn away and head back to my own room, although I
don't want to do that. I know I'll lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking
only of him until it's light enough for me to get out of bed. But finally I
hear soft footsteps heading my way. My heart jumps to the back of my throat as
the door opens just enough for Gabriel to peek through.
"Nathan," he says. His voice is soft and rough with sleep and, for some reason,
hearing him say my name this way makes my heart thump a little harder. "What's
wrong?"
"Nothing." I feel incredibly stupid. Like, what do I normally do with my hands?
Do they just hang there like that all the time? That's stupid. I must look
stupid. Like a monkey with arms that are too long and they just hang there
looking so so fucking stupid--
"What do you need?"
I realize I've been staring at him instead of explaining 'what exactly am I
fucking doing here?' I'm so stupid.
"Can I come in?" I just rush the words out without thinking about it. Better
that way.
Gabriel looks a little surprised but then he nods and opens the door all the
way, stepping aside to let me in. My nerves increase but the doubt fades a bit.
Because as Gabriel watches me walk into his room, dimly lit by only a small
lamp near the bed
(the bed)
his expression looks excited too. He's glad I'm here. My arms feel slightly
less long and stupid.
I don't get far, a little afraid of the fact that the room is kind of small and
there's really only one place to sit and it's that bed, and even though we've
sat on a bed together a number of times before, it doesn't feel the same.
Tonight doesn't feel the same. My skin is prickling and my limbs feel like
they're throbbing with nerves, and I'm trying to remember how to put words
together to make complete sentences but that feels fucking impossible for some
reason.
The sheets on the bed are tossed aside from when Gabriel got up to answer the
door, and I imagine that it's still warm from his body, and I can all too
easily see him laying there looking at me and waiting for... Something.
So I stay and lean against the door and so does he. We're facing each other in
this dimly lit room with the cozy bed, one of us wondering what the other is
doing here and the other not knowing.
Or maybe just not admitting to it just yet.
"Can't sleep?" Gabriel says, and we're standing pretty close together. I can
feel the question on my face. It's warm.
"Never."
I was joking, but Gabriel knows there's way too much truth in the word, so he
frowns a bit and looks at me in that way I know he saves just for me.
I seriously don't deserve him.
"Does this door lock?"
Gabriel blinks at me in surprise, probably thinking I was here to talk about
nightmares or something. But I don't want to talk about all that. Fuck the war.
Fuck the Hunters and the damn Council and responsibilities way too big for
someone my age. In front of me is someone who is loyal and brave and remarkably
beautiful and he loves me, and he's all I want to think about.
I don't want to talk about bad things. I don't want to talk at all.
So when Gabriel backs away from the door to look at the handle and says, "I
think so," I reach for it without a word. The door has a latch that I fumble
with because my hands are shaking, but I do manage to click it into place. And
once I've locked out everything that could possibly disturb us, I turn to
Gabriel and kiss him.
I grip the front of his shirt and pull him against me. Gabriel only hesitates
for a second before he responds, his mouth opening up to let me in, his own
hands grasping my upper arms and holding me tight like I might run away. The
kiss is slow but frantic, intense. We're like two magnets that have been on the
verge of connecting for way too long, the pull strong, the magnets fiercely
reaching for one another. They just needed that final push before flying
together, joined in a hold that would be near impossible to rip a part.
And I don't know what I expected when I wandered to Gabriel's room tonight, but
I know I needed this. I needed to kiss him because the memory of doing so
before is still fresh and absolutely wonderful, and I had to know what it would
be like to do it again. And it's--
I can't catch my breath. I can't kiss him hard enough. I need him closer, need
his hands on every part of me while I put my hands on every part of him. His
mouth is an oasis and I've been dying in the desert for months, for years, and
kissing him is the first gulp of cool, fresh water I've ever tasted. Gabriel
has been trickling life back into me since the day we met. He has been good and
gentle and kind and how the fuck did I ever think he was only just my friend?
I touch his face, enjoying the stubble that tracks across my fingertips. The
nape of his neck is as soft as I remember as I bury my hand in his hair.
Gabriel lets out a moan that I feel vibrate against my fingers. His hands find
my hips, and he pulls me close. We're both in comfortable pants for sleeping,
so I can easily feel the effect I'm having on him.
Now that is definitely new.
I press my body into his because I'm excited in a way I never have been and I
want him to know, but that seems to snap Gabriel out of it, and he pulls away,
ripping the magnets a part, and shoves me back with something close to a growl.
I hit the door and stay there, looking at Gabriel's flushed face and hair mused
up from sleeping and
(I need to kiss him again)
he rubs his face with his hand.
"Don't do this to me, Nathan."
He won't look at me, so I step from the door and inch closer, but Gabriel backs
away like I've got the plague or something. I'm starting to feel stupid again.
Like I clearly misread everything and Gabriel doesn't want me here.
But I know that's not true, so I move faster. I take his neck with both my
hands and force him to look at me. He's completely torn, like everything he
wants is in front of him but he's afraid to take it, and I know then that I
didn't misread him. Nope. Not at all.
"Don't do what?"
I get closer until our noses touch and our lips are just a whisper away. We're
both breathing hard and desperate for more. I push further, let our mouths
graze against each other a little. Gabriel gasps when I do, but he doesn't kiss
me. He backs away. Not far, my hands won't let him. I wait.
"We've been here before, and then you ran off. I can't go through that again,
okay?"
I don't know what to say to that, but Gabriel doesn't let me try anyway before
he's speaking again.
"I love you, Nathan. I love you in that way, that crazy way that tells me I
won't stop loving you until I'm dead. I can live with that, but I can't live
with you doing this. Coming to me and then running away."
I seriously don't deserve him.
No one in all my life has ever loved me that way, and I know they never will.
Gabriel has the gold metal for the Who Loves Nathan the Most Award. Not that
there are many participents in the competition but still. At least a couple of
people gave it a try.
"I know I fucked up." Gabriel lets me stay close, and I'm grateful. I can't
imagine backing away now. "I'm so sorry about that day, Gabriel. That-- That
day in the bathroom."
He puts his hands on top of mine. They're warm and calloused. I'm surprised to
find I don't mind when he touches my scarred hand. It's like he's seen it all
anyway. I'm not a broken fuck-up to him. I'm just Nathan.
"You're sorry you kissed me?" I'm not sure but I think he's leaned a bit closer
when he asks, but I can tell he's afraid of what I'll say. Those Black Witch
eyes are boring into me, and while his Fain ones were nice, these are...
Let's just say the whole getting Gabriel his body back thing was worth it just
for these eyes.
"No," I tell him. "I'm sorry I stopped."
Everything on his face softens, and I know that I've actually said the right
thing for once. I want to kiss him again, but I'm unsure now. Him pushing me
away has deterred my confidence and
(that's what you did to him, you fuckwit)
I'm not sure if I have the courage to try again. So instead I trace his mouth
with my thumb. His lips are smooth, like fresh paper waiting for the touch of a
pencil. They part slightly at my touch and his warm breath caresses my finger.
Ever so slightly, Gabriel's tongue appears and grazes my fingertip and while
his breath is warm, his tongue is hot. I can't move as he leans forward a bit
and presses his mouth to my thumb.
He breaks away suddenly but I don't have time to be disappointed before he's
kissing me desperately, passion building like a forestfire, wild and out of
control and we're stumbling towards the bed
(the bed)
And I don't even want to try stopping it. There is no stopping it. It would be
like trying to put out the forestfire with a glass of water. No use. Best to
let it roar.
His hands are under my shirt. They're rough and moving slowly across my hips,
my stomach, up and up and up until we pull away long enough for the shirt to go
over my head. Gabriel drops it on the floor. His mouth trails down my neck and
to my shoulder. We've finally reached the bed, and I nearly fall when my knees
hit the back of the mattress, but Gabriel catches me.
I still go down, just much slower, Gabriel guiding me the whole way with hands
that feel like sun rays on my skin. He keeps kissing me everywhere, and I'm
starting to think it's a little unfair that he still has his shirt on, and I'd
quite like to taste him again, but his kisses are leaving marks on my body that
are scorching hot until he pulls away to press his lips somewhere else, making
a wet spot that turns chilly in the air. The sensation leaves goose flesh on my
skin, and I can't stop a soft moan that escapes my mouth and disappears in the
quiet of the bedroom.
He's reached some of my scars, and I find myself watching him. While I was in
the cage, I imagined Annalise kissing all of my scars and was happy when she
did just that.
But Gabriel doesn't just kiss the scars. He traces each one with his fingers,
looking at them with a brew of sadness, love, and a touch of anger in his eyes.
His silence is heavy with what doesn't need to be said: that the people who
gave me these scars won't be forgiven. We won't ever forget. They'll regret the
day they dared to mark me, his Nathan, and he'll do everything in his power to
make sure I'm never harmed again. He seals each promise with a kiss.
Annalise kissed my scars. Gabriel is making love to them.
He reaches my hand by trailing the length of my arm and lingers on the burn
marks there. I don't look at them. I look at him, at his wavy hair, his face
that is so near perfect I can't believe something so beautiful is paying this
much attention to me, at his mouth and teeth and tongue and I need him so bad
it physically hurts.
I thought he'd stop there, but Gabriel keeps going until he reaches my
fingertips and, even though there are no scars there, he kisses them too. When
he gets to my forefinger, he licks the soft padding so gently it almost
tickles, then puts the entire finger in his mouth and
(fuck)
his rough tongue rubs the bottom part of my finger as he slowly pulls it out,
lips sealed tight, pressure building because he's sucking in a little bit too.
He stares at me the whole time, and I suddenly very much need him to do what
he's doing somewhere else.
Gabriel smirks when he's done, still holding my hand close to that wonderful
mouth of his. I manage the slightest glare.
"Proud of yourself, are you?"
He leans over me, hands on either side of my head, waist between my legs, that
fucking smirk still aimed my way. He pushes his hips into me and we both react
and it's so obvious that we're turned on.
"I'm very proud of myself," he says, a little breathless. "Nathan."
I grab his hair with both my hands and kiss him again. It's even heavier than
before, tongues tangling together like two wild animals. He still doesn't feel
close enough somehow, so I reach under his shirt too and toss it aside when I
get it off him. Gabriel drops to his elbows and presses himself against me, and
it's like the electricity I felt between us, that charged air that crackled and
demanded to be brought together, sparks between our bare chests.
I kiss down his neck this time, nibbling my way down until I reach the muscle
between his neck and shoulder which is much harder than the tender skin above.
It demands a stronger bite. I clamp down with my teeth, not too hard but hard
enough. Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath of air and his whole body shudders a
little in my arms, between my legs.
He pulls away enough to look down at me. "You would bite," he says.
I laugh but don't tell him I never have before. I was just certain he would
like it, and the goofy grin on his face is proving me right. I lean forward to
take his mouth and nibble on his bottom lip and that makes him groan. Then he
devours me completely. His weight covers my whole body, forces me into the
mattress, and I love how heavy he feels, love how I'm completely under his
control and it doesn't even bother me because there is absolutely no one I
trust more than Gabriel.
Gabriel grinds into me, and I push back, my hips almost leaving the bed, and
both of us gasp at the sudden friction between the thin material of our
clothes. This makes Gabriel even more frantic, and he pulls his mouth away and
forces my hips back into the sheets. The waistband of my bottoms is down before
I even realize he's pulling at it, and my erection is free from where it's been
waiting to burst.
I have just enough time to say, "What are you--" before Gabriel's mouth is
around my cock and I lose the ability to form complete sentences.
There are too many sensations to focus on at once, and my mind goes utterly
wild and dizzy trying to put any piece of thought together. I grab Gabriel's
hair, partly because I need something to hold, but also because I want to see
him, and his long hair fell in the way. His eyes are closed and his mouth is so
so hot and wet and I have no idea what he's doing with his tongue but it feels
unlike anything I've ever experienced. I know instantly I'm not going to last
long.
But I want to know what Gabriel is doing because watching him devour my cock
like it's the most incredible thing he's ever put in his mouth makes me want to
do it right back to him. Trouble is, I have no idea how. And what he's doing is
so good
(so fucking good)
That it seems unfair to do a lackluster job in return.
Gabriel's fingers dig into my skin, and I try to make a mental note of what
feels good for future reference but literally everything he's doing feels good.
His hands, his mouth, even his hair clenched in my fist is heavy and hot and
perfect, and there's no point, really. No point in attempting to figure out how
this moment is so wholly wonderful because the answer is simple: It's Gabriel.
He makes everything wonderful. So I just relax against the bed and enjoy it.
The second I do Gabriel pulls his mouth away, and I groan out a, "nooooo," in a
voice that doesn't sound like me at all. Gabriel smiles and moves to kiss my
stomach. He's kissing and licking and biting my lower abdomen, my thighs,
everywhere around my cock, which is left alone and aching for the warmth of his
mouth again. His breaths are heavy between each nip on my skin, and I can tell
he's starting to agitate himself now too, and seeing him so mad with lust is
almost enough to finish me off on its own. I need him more than I've ever
needed anything in my entire life.
"Gabriel," I breathe out. "Please."
And then he can't take it anymore and dives back in and the heat and pressure
is so sudden that I actually cry out in surprise.
My breathing is hard, and I'm squirming against my will, and I'm pretty sure
I'm saying Gabriel's name too, along with some other choice words, but it's
impossible to know for sure. Gabriel seems to like how delirious I'm getting.
His head bobs even faster and he moans deep in his throat and I feel the
vibration because I'm so buried inside his mouth. The sensation makes me sigh
from the thrill of it.
I'm still looking at him when he opens his eyes, and the second his eyes lock
with mine, I just can't fucking take it anymore.
"I'm going to--"
But he already knows, and instead of backing away, Gabriel grabs my hips and
pulls, and he's so far down now I can actually feel the back of his throat. I
throw my head back and call out his name to the ceiling, my voice a breathless,
desperate whimper as I cum in his mouth.
My grip loosens from his hair, but I keep my fingers tangled in there anyway
because I need to touch him and my arms feel too heavy to move. Gabriel keeps
his mouth on me, slowing down his movement as the orgasm dies down, and I'm
left shaking, floating somewhere high above us, unable to make a sound beyond
small, quiet sighs that drift around the room. It doesn't sound like me. I
don't feel like me, but it's in a good way. Like the Nathan I am has never been
this okay with life before, and I'm not used to it.
Gabriel finally pulls his mouth away. He rubs the skin just below my
bellybutton with the tip of his nose and then plants a small kiss there. He
rises and pulls the waistband of my bottoms back, and when he comes to settle
next to me, I wrap my arms around his neck. We end up side by side, facing each
other, and I groan and bury my face in his chest. He leans his chin on the top
of my head, and I don't need to look at him to know he's smiling.
"I'm not even going to ask you how you're so good at that," I say.
He chuckles, and I hear it in his chest because I'm leaning right against him.
The sound makes my heart twist. "I didn't realize I was."
I'm too lazy and tired to roll my eyes. "Yeah, okay." And I'm not stupid.
Gabriel is Gabriel. He's confident and charasmatic as fuck and way too good
looking for it to be fair. I can only imagine how many people have thrown
themselves at him, and while I know Gabriel well enough to be sure he didn't
jump in bed with all of them, he probably didn't turn down every single one
either. At least until he met me.
"Well you are," I assure him. My eyes are closed, and my body feels like it
would be impossible to move. I nuzzle his neck with my nose. "Although I guess
I don't have anyone to compare you to."
I blush at the admission, glad Gabriel can't see. Until he pulls away and looks
down at me, that is. "What?" He says. I redden more at the disbelief in his
tone. He makes a humming sound. "Well that explains why it didn't take so
long."
(Fucking hell, you little...)
I'm horrified and Gabriel laughs a little and I'm positive there is nothing in
the world redder than my face in that moment. "I-I don't-- Oh fuck off,
Gabriel."
I try to roll away, but he grabs me, still smiling, and gets in my face. "No,
don't, I'm sorry." He doesn't look sorry, but I'm still reeling a bit from
what's happened and finding it hard to actually be mad at him. "I like that it
didn't take long. It's flattering."
I mumble a few swear words but accept my embarrassment.
"I'm just surprised, that's all," he says. "You and Annalise--"
I'm astonished he even says her name, more astonished that he doesn't spit it
out like her very name is poison, which is what he usually does. I shrug. "We
just had sex."
I expect a scowl or some kind of jealousy, but he actually laughs. "Oh that's
it, huh?"
For some reason I can't seem to glare at him, and I'm smiling like a damn
idiot. "Yeah," I say and shrug again. "I don't know. It seems less personal
now, you know? Like--" I hesitate, but Gabriel, always so patient with me while
I search for the right words, just watches me and waits. "Like it was just sex
but you--" I touch the side of his face and find myself amazed by him. "I don't
even know what you've done to me."
The smile he gives me is dazzling. "Well whatever it is, I'm glad to do it.
Every night. Forever."
I snort and actually do find the energy to roll my eyes that time. "That's a
big promise."
Gabriel dives into my neck and plants a kiss there. "I mean it." His hand
caresses the side of my head, then my neck, then down to my chest, and it
reminds me that he's definitely still turned on. "Forever. Or as long as you'll
have me."
I tackle him, straddle his waist and pin his arms down. He blinks up at me.
"Forever then," I say, and Gabriel's face lights up in a way I've never seen
before, and I decide I'd like to make him look like that again sometime.
Tomorrow, maybe. I'll find a way.
I lean down like I'm going to kiss him but stop just short of actually doing
so. Gabriel strains to reach me and groans when he can't. There's a chance he
could break out of my hold if he wants to, a chance but not a good one. He
doesn't try though, let's me tease him, and I'm realizing I love having the
power just as much as I love giving it up.
The bulge in Gabriel's pants is prominentbeneath me, and I wriggle a bit just
to fuck with him. His mouth opens to sigh, and I lick the inside of his upper
lip. "I want to help," I say. "Tell me what to do."
He smiles and his back arches a little, so I press against his erection a bit
more. Gabriel whines and tries to break his hands free, but I hold them tight,
grinning quite wickedly at how much he's riled up. "Tell me what to do," I say
again.
So he does.
***
I wake up tangled in limbs and hair and the smell of Gabriel. He's holding me
like he never wants to let go, and if I didn't have to pee so bad, I wouldn't
want him to.
He's still dead asleep, and I can't blame him. We spent hours exploring each
other, touching, kissing, talking, laughing, and only fell asleep a couple
hours ago. I can still feel his hands in my hair, see his eyes glossed over,
hear the way he whispered my name when I made him cum.
I thought Gabriel and I knew each other completely, but now I feel like we do
for real. We didn't have sex, but we both saw sides of each other that were new
and exciting, and my heart feels filled to the brim with so much emotion I
think I might just puke it up all over him.
But first, peeing.
The hardest part about pulling myself out of Gabriel's grip is letting him go.
His hands always felt insanely good touching me, even long before I thought
about the two of us together. I manage to slide away from him, and he only
stirs a bit, reaching out and cuddling up with the corner of the sheet instead.
I smile and decide to make fun of him for it later.
My shirt is on the floor, and I scoop it up and toss it on before sneaking out
of the bedroom. The halls are empty, and I don't run into anyone on my way to
the toilet. I think it's early enough that everyone will still be asleep, but
I'm proven horribly wrong when I wander to the kitchen after relieving myself
to make some tea.
Four sets of eyes look up at me, and I stop in my tracks. Maybe if I'd acted
completely normal, I would have been safe, but something about my face must've
given me away because when I look at Arran, he has the most shite grin I've
ever fucking seen on him.
"Morning, Nathan," he says.
I mumble it back and go to put the kettle on. Celia has made a pot of coffee,
and I decide to grab some of that too. I'm sure Gabriel will appreciate coffee,
even if it was made by Celia. I don't particularly like being in such close
quarters with the witch who locked me up, but I've gotten used to it. Gabriel
still looks at her like she's the spawn of pure evil though, and I think about
the way he looked at my scars last night and know he must have been hating her
something fierce.
"Say, what time did you get up this morning?" Arran goes on. "You weren't in
the room when I got up, and that was an hour ago."
I turn towards the group and, hell, they all look so damn smug I want to hit
every single one of them in the face. Nesbitt lounges at the table next to
Arran, and Van and Celia are leaning on the counter behind them. They, at
least, look relatively disinterested. Although I can't tell if they're just
pretending to be disinterested.
"Anyone want tea?" I point at the kettle behind me.
Celia swirls her coffee and, without looking up, she says, "That shirt looks a
little big on you, Nathan."
I look down and my cheeks flame so hot I'm pretty sure they help get the kettle
boiling. In my rush to leave the room, I'd grabbed Gabriel's shirt instead.
We're close to the same size, but he's a bit taller, and it doesn't quite fit
me properly.
There's a chorus of snickers that I ignore because I've decided to just not say
anything about the comment at all, or else I'll surely run the risk of
escalating the situation, and I'm pretty positive if Nesbitt says some stupid
ass remark, I will throw him into the kitchen table.
"Seriously," I say. "Tea? Anyone?"
I get a mug for myself and prepare it, silently begging the water to just hurry
the fuck on already because why in the hell did I leave the safety of Gabriel's
warm embrace for this shit?
And the thought of him makes me think of the night before and the way he
(Oh Nathan)
said my name. I guess I can put up with a bit of teasing for him.
Nesbitt leans forward on the table and smiles in a way I do not like one bit.
"Say, have you seen Gabriel yet this morning?"
I sigh and grab a second mug before stealing the pot of coffee. "I'm taking
some of this," I tell them, still deciding to ignore the idiots I've been
forced to bunk with.
"Coffee and tea?" Arran says in a voice that makes it obvious he knows exactly
who I'm getting the coffee for.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore ignore ignore--
"Why, Arran," Nesbitt chimes in, "I think that's how Gabriel takes his coffee."
I freeze because he's right. I'm preparing the coffee exactly how Gabriel likes
it and I didn't even realize. The kettle starts to steam from the stove.
"Last call for tea," I say, a little louder now. "Seriously, tea, anyone?"
"Come on, Nathan," Arran says, kicking out a chair. "Talk to us. Sit down."
Nesbitt raises an eyebrow. "Can you sit down?"
Fucking. Hell.
I face them and, for the love of everything, even fucking Van looks like she's
trying not to laugh. Arran doesn't bother. He laughs so hard there are tears in
his eyes. I just give them all the best glare I can muster.
"So no one wants tea?" I ask. "Is that what I'm getting here?"
They don't even bother to answer, and I make myself tea so fast it must be
record breaking and book it out of the room before Arran calms down enough to
add to Nesbitt's delightful little comments.
When I get back to the room, Gabriel is awake. He's leaning against the
headboard and looks surprised when I come in with two steaming mugs and a
glare.
"Well that didn't stay quiet long," I tell him, handing over the cup of coffee.
He smiles down at it like I just handed him a basket of puppies. "What's up?" I
ask him.
"Nothing," he rushes out. "I just thought maybe--"
He trails off, and it takes me a moment to know what he's trying to say. "You
thought I ran off didn't you?"
Gabriel looks appropriately ashamed. "Woke up and you weren't here," he says.
He takes a sip of his drink and doesn't look up from it. "Sorry."
I settle down next to him and lean over to press my lips into his neck. He
smiles and looks at me. "It's okay," I tell him. "I haven't exactly been
reliable in the past."
"Yeah but you apologized for that." He kisses me, and we stay close, and I
don't know how I missed him so much from just getting some tea from the
kitchen, but I did. "So I'm sorry. I trust you, Nathan."
My name sounds perfect in his voice, especially after the annoyingly pompous
way my brother, Nesbitt, and Celia all said it a moment ago. "They all know I
spent the night here."
"Who?"
"Everyone." I grimace. "They're all a bunch of--"
Gabriel smiles and drinks his coffee and looks totally captivated as I rant
about the tossers in the other room, using every colorful word I know. Which is
a lot.
"Do you mind?" he asks me when I've finished. "That they know?"
I only need to think about it for a second. "No." I shrug. "But they don't have
to be such knobs about it."
He snorts. "No but they're going to be." When I sigh, he puts an arm around me.
He still has no shirt on, and I happily lean against his bare chest. He feels
good, so good, to be around, and I realize it doesn't matter what the others
think or say. It doesn't matter at all.
Later that night, I don't even bother hiding the fact that I'm going to bed
with Gabriel. Or the night after that, or the night after that...
***
Our fooling around and sleeping together eventually turns into sleeping
together, and it's unbelievable. I could tell we were both nervous the first
time, but we also know each other better than anyone. Mistakes were laughed off
and communicating openly about what to put where wasn't nearly as embarrassing
as I thought it would be.
It takes us a bit to find our rhythm, but once we do, oh once we do--
Gabriel is captivating to watch. He grips the back of my neck in one hand and
twists the other in the bedsheets, and his hips rise up to meet mine with every
thrust, and I'm torn between watching his chest and his stomach and his face as
he gasps with pleasure. I want to take it all in but can't, so more often than
not, I just end up on top of him again later in the night.
After a while, I start to get curious. Gabriel seriously seems to enjoy what I
do to him. He cums easily when I stroke him while we're fucking. Sometimes
he'll get impatient with how much I tease him, and he winds up doing it
himself, which is just fucking incredible to watch. Eventually I learn how to
get him off without either of us needing to touch him, although it can be
difficult and isn't possible all the time. Either way, he always ends up a
wobbly mess afterwards, like a puddle of love-struck mush, and really, it's
somehow both adorable and sexy at the same time.
So, one night, I ask if he wants to be on top of me instead.
I was more nervous than I thought I would be, but Gabriel somehow manages to
guide me through without laughing or making me feel like a total idiot. He goes
slow for me, insanely slow, and at first I don't think I'm going to like it
because even though he's going slow and we maybe kind of stole Arran's fancy
coconut oil from the kitchen, it still hurts. He can tell, but I insist he
keeps going anyway just in case it gets better.
It got way better.
After that sex turns into us wrestling for control, or sometimes just giving up
right away and letting the other do what he wants. It's all trust and love, and
it's fun. I never would have attached the word fun to sex before sleeping with
Gabriel, but every second with him is like new. He can make me laugh like no
one else and then get me serious and moaning with pleasure in a matter of
seconds.
Gabriel surprises me by being rough. While gentle that first time on top, the
following times are not so delicate. He likes to grab me with rough hands, flip
me over and pin me down so I have no say in what happens next. He is the animal
I let out in the wild, biting, scratching, pulling, and I shudder with the
thrill of being under his control. I know he'll never hurt me more than I
admittedly like.
I surprise him by being compassionate. When he lets me take over, I always find
myself going slow, savoring the feel of him beneath me, knowing he is and will
always be the most important person in my life. I press my forehead to his and
kiss him everywhere and hold eye contact whenever I can. Eventually I end up
with my face buried in his neck, holding him tight as I push into him deep and
hard and he grips my hair and whispers French words in my ear that I think I'm
finally starting to understand.
After Annalise shot Marcus, I didn't want to think about life after the war. I
felt like I wasn't going to have one, but now I know that's not true. I know
what I want to do after the war. I want days out in the sun with Gabriel,
eating fresh fruit under the clouds and pushing each other in the lake and
making fun of Arran until he laughs so hard he can't breathe. I want nights
listening to Gabriel read me stories while he runs his fingers through my hair
and kissing him till my lips go numb and pleasing each other to the point of
exhaustion.
I want him.
Our future is what I'll fight for.
***
Annalise looks like she's been to hell and back.
Her normally smooth and shiny blonde hair is so coated with filth that it looks
brown. It's raggedy and clumps stick to the side of her face, which is
glistening with sweat and covered in dirt. There's a gash on her forehead that
runs blood down the side of her face from when Nesbitt tackled her in the woods
a few minutes earlier. The blood snags on bits of mud, creating twists of red
through the brown like a crimson stream going through a canyon.
She's sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room area staring up at
the lot of us with wide, blue eyes. They're the only clean part of her face and
stand out even more than usual, bright high beams of light begging for mercy.
I'm not sure if we're inclined to show her any.
Arran looks uncomfortable, avoiding Annalise's eyes and choosing to study the
carpet instead. Van and Celia are unreadable but equally intimidating in
different ways. Nesbitt looks proud as hell and stands beside Annalise like
she's his big catch at a fishing tourney.
I don't know what to feel and have to refrain from going to Gabriel, who has
retreated to the furthest corner of the room. A dark cloud has been pulled over
his face, his arms are crossed, and he's refusing to look at anyone.
Annalise shifts the tiniest bit in the wooden chair Nesbitt tossed her in, and
all of us are at attention in a heartbeat. She goes completely still, unmoving
aside from a slight tremble in her bottom lip and a shaking in her chest
whenever she breathes.
"Sorry," she says, so breathy it's almost a sigh.
There are a million questions to ask, but we all seem to silently agree that
asking would be pointless unless she's forced to tell the truth. As if sensing
my train of thought, Van floats to stand in front of Annalise, trailing a cloud
of pink smoke.
"I can get a truth potion," she says, "but it's going to take time."
Nesbitt grips the back of Annalise's chair. Annalise stiffens. "We don't
exactly have a prison to keep her in before that happens."
A few seconds of silence. Van takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows it
Annalise's face. "We don't." She leans down and looks at the white witch
trembling in front of her. "We should kill her."
Annalise reacts immediately, but Nesbitt is there to grab her shoulders and
hold her in place. "Please don't," she says. "I won't hurt any of you. I can't
hurt any of you."
"You shot Marcus," Van reminds her. "You shot the most powerful member in the
Alliance."
Nesbitt leans down to speak in her ear. She jumps and tries to pull away from
him but can't. "We lost almost everyone because of that. All because of you."
A bit of an exaggeration. I blamed Annalise for a lot, but it wasn't her fault
the Hunters set us up. Probably. But she did shoot my father, and him being out
of the fight made it go horribly wrong. And then I had to kill him. I could
still taste his heart, feel bits of it sliding down my throat--
I look over at Gabriel to see him staring at me already. He looks how I feel:
Angry, confused, tired. I want to be furious at Annalise. It would be easier.
But seeing her beg for her life just makes me exhausted. I'm so tried of
running and fighting and killing and why can't I just have that nice house with
Gabriel already? Life would be so much simpler. We wouldn't have to make life
or death decisions anymore and could just worry about what to eat for dinner or
whose turn it is to do the dishes.
"We can't kill her," Celia speaks up. I look away from Gabriel and find myself
back in the fray. "She could be useful. Even if she was't a spy for the
council, she could have some information in that pretty head of hers."
"I don't know anything," Annalise says. We all ignore her.
"And what do we do with her in the meantime?" Nesbitt asks. "Tie her up? Hope
she doesn't break free and stab us in our sleep?"
"Why not?"
Nesbitt stares at her like she's gone mad. "Because she could break free and
stab us in our sleep."
"I don't think she's got the balls, honestly."
"She shot Marcus do you really think--"
"Heat of the moment. Killing someone in their sleep is different."
"This is ridiculous."
"Let's vote." Everyone's eyes go to me, and it actually takes me a second to
realize I've spoken out loud. "We'll vote on it."
Annalise locks eyes with me for the first time since being brought in, and they
beg for me to let her go. I feel a bit sick to my stomach because I can
remember her looking at me in so many different ways but now she seems afraid.
She's afraid of me, and I never wanted to be a person Annalise was afraid of.
But she shot my father. And his heart.. I can still taste his heart, and I will
always hate her for that.
"Bit of a problem there, mate," Nesbitt says. "There's six of us. We need odd
numbers for a vote."
I look around at the people I've been sharing a space with for over three
months now. "I won't vote then." I nod my head at the decision. "I'll leave it
to you guys. I'll back up whatever you choose."
They all think about that for a minute and I let them, and Annalise keeps
staring at me with those begging eyes, and rather than make me hope they spare
her, I'm actually starting to hope someone will just take her out back and put
a bullet between those stupidly imploring eyes once and for all.
"Well you know my vote," Nesbitt says.
"And you know mine." Celia.
"And mine." Van
"So that's two for killing her, one for keeping her," Nesbitt eyes Arran. "What
say you?" He laughs like he's hilarious and we're not standing around voting
whether or not to murder a girl in the room.
Arran looks at Annalise, and I realize I've never really known what he thinks
of her. He was never excited about my being with her, definitely not like he is
with my decision to be with Gabriel. After his teasing, he made it clear that
he was happy with my choice.
"He's good for you," Arran had told me while we were lazing in the sun one day
by ourselves. "You're more relaxed around him. More you."
And I actually kind of know what he means by that. Like I'm a me that's better
than any other me. I've become the me Gabriel has loved since day one and
always knew was there.
Arran twists his hands together. "I'm with Celia," he says. "She might know
something."
I don't say anything, but I'm pretty sure that's not the reason he wants to
spare her. Arran deciding that someone should die is just not something he
does, and I hate myself a little bit for asking him to do it.
"Right then," says Nesbitt. "That leaves the deciding vote to--"
We all turn and look at Gabriel and I fucking can't help it. I know we're
making a brutal and cruel decision, and I know Annalise is scared beyond all
reason, and I know it's entirely inappropriate and horrible, but I just start
laughing.
I cut it off fast. Annalise looks horrified.
"I'm sorry," I tell her honestly. "It's just-- I mean, of all the people."
And I'm sure if we all weren't standing there casually talking about murdering
her, she would have seen the humor in the situation too. Because it's really
quite hilarious.
Gabriel doesn't crack a grin though as he pulls himself away from his little
corner and goes to stand in front of a girl I know he despises. Everyone makes
way for him, and Annalise goes so completely still she looks like a statue.
I want to touch him because he looks frustrated and torn. His face is pure
stone, it's anger and bitterness that I know is just under the surface of his
skin. I hate seeing him this way. Gabriel is not stone. He's not anger. Gabriel
is the sugar you put in tea, he's the heat on your face from the fire on cold
nights, the glow of the sun shimmering over clear waters, radiance and beauty
and shine.
He's the reason I exist.
And right now he's hurting, and it's my fault, and I never wanted to be the
source of his pain again.
Gabriel sighs. The stone crumbles and falls, revealing a face of defeat that is
so heart-breaking I can barely stand to look at him. I know what his choice is
before he speaks because Gabriel has always had it in him to do the right
thing, even if he hates it.
"We'll keep her alive," he finally says. "But you're in charge of her," he aims
that at Celia. "And if anything happens, if she hurts Nathan, I'll kill both of
you without a second thought." His voice shakes with emotion, and I have no
time to react before he turns around and flees the room.
We listen to him stomp his way down the halls and stay quiet after he slams the
door to our bedroom. I stare down the dark space he disappeared in with a
weight so heavy in my gut it feels like I've swallowed a bag of rocks.
Something's wrong. Without looking back, I walk away from them, barely hearing
the sounds of a new argument about what to do with Annalise next.
Gabriel is already sitting in bed and looks like he's just popped open the book
we've been reading for the last week. We don't know who this house belonged to
before we got here, but whoever it was loved eerie mystery novels. Gabriel and
I have already gone through two, and now he's reading me The Night of the
Hunter, an old book about a bank robbery and a disturbing serial killer. It's
been infinitely more engaging than I imagined it would be.
He looks surprised when I come in and flop on the bed next to him.
"Were you going to go on without me?" I ask, nodding at the book. I intended to
only pretend like I was hurt by this, but I didn't actually have to pretend at
all.
He looks down and plays with the edge of the cover. I wait for him to say
something, hating the hard silence because it's awkward, and Gabriel and I have
gotten to a place so comfortable I can't remember the last time any of our
silence was awkward. It's always serene, peaceful. Gabriel makes the space we
share feel like home.
"What's wrong?" I finally have to break it. I want to hear his voice. His last
words are echoing in my head and they were so grim and harsh that I need to
hear the music he speaks whenever he talks to me, the soft notes and harmonies
that make my heart dance inside my chest.
Gabriel breathes in deep and it shudders the whole way in. "I'm surprised
you're here."
I blink. "Where else would I be?"
We've been sharing a bed for nearly a month now and it has never once occurred
to me that I should be anywhere else. I don't think I could even sleep without
Gabriel next to me, without his soft goodnight kisses and the warmth of his
body laced with mine.
He doesn't say, and his jaw tightens, and it hits me so hard that I can't
actually believe it. He couldn't possibly think what I think he is thinking.
"You thought I'd go to Annalise?" He doesn't answer, doesn't have to. "After
everything that's happened with her, after everything that's happened with us,
and you thought I'd go to Annalise?"
He doesn't hesitate this time. "Yes."
And he might has well have just shot me square in the chest with that answer
because I feel split open, bleeding out and dying right in front of him.
Gabriel looks up and it must be on my face, the pain from the bullet hole his
word left because his anger sheds fast, snakeskin that slips and flutters away.
"Nathan, no, I'm sorry."
He reaches for me, but I recoil away. And then I spit out the only thing I can
think to say to him with the fury and disbelief that clouds my thoughts. "Fuck
you." I'm up and out the door before he can say anything else, sick with
rejection, my whole body shaking with the hurt that plows through my veins like
a toxin.
I make it halfway to Arran's room, the room we used to share, before it all
drops away. It's so sudden that my skin tingles and my head feels foggy. I stop
and stand in the dark and feel so unbelievably foolish. Because of course he
thought I might go to Annalise, of course he would. Why wouldn't he?
Even though I apologized, and even if he's forgiven me, the fact still stands
that I led him on once and then threw him back and then ran right to her. And
now she's here and it's not completely ridiculous for him to be worried. I
spent so much time talking about her, saving her, being with her, and now she's
here.
And it's not like I didn't know how Gabriel felt about me when I kissed him
that time. I knew. I knew and I led him on anyway. I kissed him like I wanted
him only to push him into the wall and leave him there to go be with someone
else.
Gabriel has opened his heart to me more than once now, and I've never even-
- I've never even told him that I love him.
I came close once. Gabriel had been particularly frisky that night, and we had
barely closed the door to the bedroom before he was tearing my clothes off, and
before I knew it I was on my back, hands pinned above my head, Gabriel's mouth
attacking my neck like he couldn't taste me enough. We were both so exhausted
by the time he was done with me that he didn't read much before I was drifting
off to the sound of his voice.
I was in that state of almost sleep where you can feel your muscles twitch as
they relax. Gabriel had stopped reading, and I assumed he would turn off the
light and pull me to him like he always did, but instead, I felt his lips on my
temple as he placed a light, lingering kiss on the soft skin there. He stayed
close, nose buried in my hair, and quietly whispered, "I love you, Nathan."
It wasn't the first time he told me he loved me, but it was the first time I
was absolutely sure I wanted to say it back. I told my body to move, told my
eyes to open, told my mouth to say, "I love you too, Gabriel," but they
remained stubbornly in place, and before I knew it, I was asleep. The next day
I wasn't sure if it had even happened or I just imagined it.
I've never told Gabriel how I feel about him. A month of sharing a room,
sharing everything, and I've never even shared that. We could die tomorrow, or
he could or I could, and it would all happen without Gabriel hearing me say the
one thing I know he needs to hear.
I change course and head for the kitchen instead, glad I don't have to pass
through the living room where I think everyone is now trying to figure out who
should guard Annalise while she takes a shower. It would be mildly entertaining
under different circumstances, but Gabriel needs me, and he comes first now and
for the rest of our lives. He's first.
My sketchbook is where I left it on the kitchen table. It's a beautiful
sketchbook, leather with pages that devour the lead from my pencils with a
beauty other paper doesn't have. I had lost my other sketches when the Alliance
fell a part. I spent days drawing on any paper I could find, which wasn't much
because we were living outdoors at the time, when one day Gabriel handed me the
book with no word on where he even got it. He still hasn't told me.
When I turn to head back to our room, Gabriel is standing in the entrance of
the hall. He looks near tears, and I feel guilty for hurting him more.
"Nathan." He comes over and looks like he wants to touch me but isn't sure if
he's allowed. "I'm sorry. I said I trusted you and she showed up and then I--"
"It's okay." He doesn't look like he believes me, so I stroke the side of his
face. I wonder if touching him will ever lose its thrill. "Come on," I say. I
take his hand and lead him back to our room. He follows without a word.
I guide Gabriel to the bed and sit next to him. "Here," I say, placing the
sketch book in his lap. He looks down at it, then looks at me, then looks at
the book again. I laugh. "Open it, go ahead."
I normally don't share my drawings, not for any reason really, but I guess they
feel a bit private. But this is Gabriel and he needs to know, needs to see how
important he is.
His hands tremble a bit as he opens the book. He's gentle, like the pages will
disintegrate if he isn't careful enough, and I find myself smiling at how
perfectly magnificent he is. I love him so much, and I don't know why that's so
hard to say but it is. I'm terrified.
The first few pages are of Marcus.
"After--"
(I killed Marcus)
"After Marcus died, I drew him a lot. I was having these nightmares, and it
helped to get them on paper for some reason. Like I could sketch the thoughts
away."
The first couple of drawings are Marcus alive and well. He's powerful and a
little scary, but he was my father, and I cared for him in my own way. I think
it comes out in the pictures, but I'm not sure. The pictures turn from Marcus
alive to Marcus with his chest open. There's one with my hands holding his
heart, Marcus's body dead before me. I drew his animal forms, some that I had
seen anyway, all of them lifeless on the ground, chests open and bleeding and
empty.
Gabriel keeps going, and the drawings turn from my father to the world. We
spent a good amount of time in the woods before finding a safe house, so I drew
what was around me. I drew the trees twisting and climbing around the campfire,
creeks splashing with fish, the sky open and huge and terrifying.
"It helped to be outdoors," I say. Gabriel is still and quiet, only his hands
move to brush lightly across the pages and his eyes dart around the pictures,
drinking them in. He looks amazed, and I think he understands how hard this is,
how special he must be to see this part of me that no one else ever has or
will.
My heart thuds a bit because we're now to what I really want him to see. He
turns the page and it's him. It's Gabriel. So many pictures of Gabriel. They
start with small sketches of him doing everyday things. I drew him reading,
laughing at Nesbitt, having some deep conversation with Arran, and even though
there are often other people in the drawings, it's obvious who the focus is.
The focus is him, always him.
Gabriel stays silent, and I'm wondering if he can hear my heartbeat because I
definitely can it's so damn loud. The sketches go from small, quick depictions
to page-sized drawings that are incredibly detailed, and they're still all of
him. Gabriel tucking his hair behind his ears, Gabriel sprawled out in the
grass staring at the sky in wonder, Gabriel looking right at us with that
tender smile he only ever gives to me.
"I couldn't stop drawing you," I say. My voice is quiet and the room feels hot
and stuffy all of the sudden. "I can't stop drawing you."
He gets to a picture of him asleep and clutching the edge of the bed sheet.
"That was after that first night," I tell him. "That's what you looked like in
the morning. I couldn't get it out of my head."
He stops turning the pages and finally looks at me. His eyes are wet and a bit
red, and when I reach up to touch his cheek, a single tear falls down to my
hand. I brush it away for him.
"Gabriel," I say. "You're the only thing I've been able to draw for months.
Trust me, I've tried drawing something else, fucking anything else, and I
can't." I laugh a little, and I'm happy when he smiles too.
"I'm not great with words," I go on, glad he's letting me speak. "But I thought
maybe if you saw this you'd-you'd get it."
"I think I get it." His words are thick with the tears he won't let fall. He's
still smiling. It's a smile I've never seen before on him and it's wretchedly
beautiful.
But I know he still needs to hear the words, and I don't know why I thought
this would be difficult. I just say it.
"I love you."
He finally does let those tears fall from his eyes, and I take his face in my
hands, his cheeks warm and damp beneath my palms. "I love you," I say it again,
"I love you, and I'm so scared, Gabriel. So fucking scared because we're kind
of safe right now, but I know we won't be here forever."
We're soldiers and not involved in the strategies of war, but the others have
been pouring over maps and plans and I know one day they'll tell us to pack
what we can carry because we're leaving. We'll have to leave this bed we've
made love in more times than I can count, and I'm terrified of when that day
will be.
"I love you," and it's so fucking easy to say why did it take me so long?
Gabriel chokes out something between a small sob and a laugh and falls forward
to rest his forehead on mine. "And I don't know how long we've got, but I
really don't care. It could be one day or a million, it doesn't matter, because
I know that I want to spend every single one with you."
Gabriel doesn't need me to tell him I'm done talking. He always just seems to
know. He grabs me, lets the sketchbook fall to the floor, and pulls me to him.
"I thought you weren't good with words," he says.
I smile. "Maybe you've fucked some poetry into me."
That makes him laugh. He's so close I can see the wetness on his eyelashes and
feel every single breath he takes. He kisses the tip of my nose and stays
close, our faces touching but not kissing, not yet. "I love you too, Nathan,"
he says, and of all the times Gabriel has told me he loves me, this one is my
favorite. Because he didn't have to say it first.
Our lips finally do meet in an urgent kiss, and I don't fight Gabriel as he
pushes me down and climbs on top of me. When we strip each other, it's slow,
careful, like we both want to feel every little moment that passes, every brush
of our skin just as important as the last.
He isn't rough this time, doesn't flip me over or pin me down. He is attentive
to every inch of me, and I can't get enough of him, never will get enough of
him. We could do this each night for the rest of our lives, and I know I will
relish in his light every single time.
I don't know where we'll be next week or how this war will end or if I'll ever
get that house by the lake with the man I love more than anything in the world,
but I know I will fight for it. I'll fight to make him happy because he
deserves it.
And he makes me feel like maybe even I deserve it too.
End Notes
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