Chapter Text
A Club Of Some Sort
Where they went was a club. Nathaniel very rarely regretted his decisions, at least the ones which didn't get Jean punished, but the dawning realization of what this dark building swarming with bizarrely dressed people must be coupled with his stomach sinking deep into his bowels. Andrew and Kevin didn’t speak as they parked the car so Nathaniel didn’t either. He was still in his banquet getup - mostly. His tie was undone and the jacket hung loosely off his shoulders. For the first time he registered the way Andrew and Kevin were dressed: less vibrantly than some as they approached the building pulsing bass through the cement like an earthquake.
Still, though, the idea of Kevin Day spending his night in this pit of debauchery refused to compute. The idea that star athletes - even the embarrassing excuses of the Palmetto State Foxes - would or could abandon their court to ruin their bodies and reputations for an evening of misery was appalling.
Jean would have an utter conniption if he knew what his late hero was up to. The thought made Nathaniel’s lip twitch.
Unaware of his former teammate’s thoughts, Kevin was still staunchly ignoring him in the front seat. Nathaniel considered harassing him but instead tipped his head back and tried to calculate the difference between Evermore time and the dim digital display on Andrew’s dashboard - assuming the dashboard was remotely correct. Nathaniel had a phone, like all of the Perfect Court, but he liked to leave it behind when he could get away with it, or leave it unplugged when he couldn’t. The pressure to immediately pick up and respond to people on their whims rankled him. ‘My phone was dead’ was usually a decent excuse. He also wore a watch, but the simple mechanism didn’t have a way to be read in the dark.
Nathaniel didn’t know what he was expecting as they approached the club, but he watched with interest as the waiting line parted for Andrew Minyard. He couldn’t imagine that this herd of corset-and-chain clad inhebriants knew or gave a shit about their profession, so it had to be something else. Andrew was clearly a regular here, and judging from the nods and easy acceptance they were just as used to the sight of Kevin Day trailing along at his heels.
Nathaniel received more than a few interested stares. He found it deeply disconcerting. Too unfamiliar with the circumstances to flash the smile which usually scattered any weak-willed, unwanted attention.
Inside was in the strangest way almost a relief. For the briefest of moments dim lights and the heavy, angry press of bodies felt like Evermore.
Then any feeling of safety or familiarity disappeared. Nathaniel didn’t know which he liked less - the way he couldn’t predict the motion of the room or the way he’d almost thought of Evermore as home.
Nathaniel did not have a home. He did not need one. Evermore was a means to an end.
Kevin disappeared too, to his surprise. Abruptly unwilling to be abandoned in this throng Nathaniel quickened his pace to chase Andrew, moving with intent and the aid of a couple well paced elbows between tables.
Andrew didn’t look at him, “Kevin’s finding the table.”
“He can breathe without you for that long, huh?”
“Petty jealousy is unbecoming of an adult man.”
“Jealousy?” Nathaniel dismissed the thought, “Anything he had worth coveting died with his hand.”
“And yet, I still count ten fingers.”
“You know as well as I do how little that means. If he’s running on delusion, I’m not surprised. Kevin knows he should be dead. Of course he’s clinging to the only thing he believed in back when he meant something, I expected you foxes to eat him alive.”
He ran right into Andrew’s back as he abruptly stopped at a long table and took several quick steps back in case his host retaliated. Nathaniel’s retreat was immediately blocked by unwieldy bodies. Damn the way he couldn’t predict the room but still, as he waited for Andrew to flag down whatever he was looking for, Nathaniel felt himself settling.
The discordant pulse of a thousand different conversations happening in time to the music was slowly becoming less and less disorienting. Enough that he could focus on Andrew Minyard, an unreasonably interesting man, and the odd way he fit in here.
He knew the bar and the bartenders knew him, apparently. The man who trotted over looked like nobody Nathaniel ever interacted with, which was to say he was a smiling, good-natured and normal looking by the standards of a club. He greeted Nathaniel with the same deeply inappropriate cheer that he directed at Andrew.
For some reason Andrew accepted this without the involvement of one of the knives Nathaniel had no doubt was hidden on his person. Nathaniel generally assumed someone like Andrew carried knives.
Nathaniel declined to interact with this stranger and watched as he mixed the large array of drinks Andrew rattled off.
“You underestimate us.”
Nathaniel glanced to the side, “Do I? You’re the worst team in the country. A good game is one where you don’t use up all your subs on red cards and suspensions.”
Andrew looked bored by this conversation, “It takes one to know one. At least we retain minimum individuality.”
Nathaniel let himself smile, “Oh yeah? Kevin fucking begged for you, you know that? Swore up and down you’d be our number five. What turned you off, thought you’d blend in too well?”
Nathaniel knew he’d catch the several implications there, but Andrew deliberately bypassed them all, “You said it yourself, monster knows monster.” He pulled the tray cluttered with drinks across the counter.
Nathaniel scoffed, “Kevin isn’t a monster, is that why you refused him?”
Andrew flicked his attention to Nathaniel, “A man who settles for second has no right to demand my best.”
Nathaniel sucked in a breath through his teeth. Riko wasn’t here. Opposing sentiments crowded to his lips: to defend the honor of his king. . . or o stop judgement of someone who could never understand.
Or to explain why Kevin wasn’t allowed to be anything else.
“Kevin was everything he was supposed to be. He had what he needed.”
Andrew’s lip twitched, “Except the freedom to make his own decisions.”
Nathaniel snapped, “Riko always gave him everything he wanted. Everything. He had no right to demand more.”
“And now he wants you.”
Whatever else he had been about to say, Nathaniel pulled up short, “What?”
Andrew chose this moment to shut down the conversation. He gathered the tray of glass with surprising ease and disappeared into the crowd.
Nathaniel got over his surprise and chased after him, rapidly putting together what should have been imminently obvious from the moment Andrew Minyard materialized in some godsforsaken grocery store in the middle of nowhere Colombia, “You dragged me here because of Kevin.”
Still it made no god damn sense. “You’re here because he, what, wants revenge?” Andrew didn’t react, “He wants me to leave like he did?"
The words left his lips before the true heresy of the sentiment hit him.
There was no way. Nathaniel stared at Andrew as he unceremoniously knocked the last group’s garbage off their table and onto the floor. He searched in vain for the lie, but Andrew appeared utterly uninterested. He fell into a seat against the wall and started on a drink.
Kevin was nowhere to be seen.
Nathaniel stood, gaping. When he got the words out they were low, one did not discuss King too loudly. Anywhere, “He thinks you can steal me from Riko?”
Andrew at last placed his drink on the table and looked up, “He implied it would be nearly impossible.”
Nathaniel felt a horrified hysteria bubble up - “Nearly?”
Nathaniel would leave the fucking nest when the Perfect Court graduated. Together. Not before.
Fuck Kevin Day, fuck his cowardice, fuck his ill luck to have Tetsuji’s meddling ruin him, fuck it all.
Nathaniel would get them through, and from there they would soar.
Somehow. Somehow, when neither he nor Riko would ever outrun their names. When someday Riko would be too loud, and that leash would become a noose.
Somehow, when Nathaniel overstayed The Master’s welcome long, long ago. When it was only Riko’s fraying desperate pleas to his uncle which kept him alive.
Somehow, when Riko took pieces off Jean to keep himself sane every time his uncle beat him senseless for his defense of his Wesninski pet. When Nathaniel couldn’t let go of either of them. When one man would ruin the other, and they would all fall apart.
It had already happened. They’d already been ruined.
“Nearly,” Andrew echoed, “Because Jean would be impossible.”
Someday you won’t have enough to come back to.
Kevin fled. It wasn’t that Nathaniel didn’t see it - he could admit that here. In this bizarre pulsing room where nothing felt real and his heart itself was struggling not to fall into a beat he’d never considered before. He could see it. But there was nothing else.
Kevin failed, he would be ruined along with his ragtag foxes before the year was out.
But Kevin had tried.
But Kevin had tried - and that was something none of them had ever expected to be possible. In and of itself, maybe the attempt to escape deserved something like respect.
It hadn’t been an option for Kevin. It would never be an option for Riko. If Nathaniel -
Nathaniel took a shaky breath through his teeth and clenched teeth. He closed his eyes and let the mania of the room take him.
Nathaniel thrived on wrestling chaos into doing his will. On walking the thin precipice between defiance and destruction.
He opened his eyes and wrenched a chair out from the table. He fell into it and leaned forward, voice low and insistent only for Andrew.
"Don’t save me."
Andrew's drink paused halfway to his lips "You use the word save"
Nathaniel didn't let him steal the conversation again, "Save Jean."
Andrew slowly took a sip.
Nathaniel lashed out and snatched his wrist. Steadier than he'd expected; only a drop splashed to the table. Andrew only lowered his glass and stared Nathaniel down.
Threat thrilled through Nathaniel's unsteady pulse.
“Kevin thinks I’ll leave because I’ll be the first to admit this is is a fucked ass situation? What Kevin doesn’t get - what none of you will ever fucking get is that there is no other god damn option. Not for us.”
He took a harsh, quick breath again. This was the worst thing he’d ever done. This was betrayal. This was stupidity. He laughed, it was high and thin to his own ears “He thinks Jean is a lost cause.” Minyard wasn’t bored now. "Kevin wants me? Fuck that, he doesn’t get what he wants, not from me.'"
"I’ll say it once. Here's the deal. If your shit ass team wants us then meet us on the court. Make it to next spring, then I’ll consider it." Nathaniel smiled.
It was utterly ridiculous, the foxes couldn't beat the Ravens. The Foxes couldn't even make it onto the same court as the Ravens. But Andrew stopped pretending. A corner of the veil lifted, just for a moment Nathaniel saw something in his eyes which sent an unexpected trail of sparks down his spine. He had the monster's interest.
"Show me you're worth a single moment of my time, and I'll tell you how to get Jean Moreau. Because fuck Kevin and fuck his cowardice. If you want me, you take us both or you get neither."
Andrew's interest didn't fade. He didn't take Nathaniel's hand off his arm so Nathaniel didn't loosen his grip. They stared one another down until the thrum of the room matched the wild beat of Nathaniel's pulse and he felt the unbroken hammer of his opponents through the thick material of Andrew's armbands. The thud of the bass sounded like reverberation of court walls. The scream of the lyrics thrilled like orders and insults across a court, the violent waves of bodies on the violently lit dance floor radiated the energy, the slam of bodies and the high of the game. Nathaniel was sitting still but he felt freer than he did at full sprint.
He was beginning to see how Andrew loved it here, why he sought it out. It was intoxicating, the thrum of the room. The way Andrew sat here, a silent subtle and steady eye of the storm snagged Nathaniel and didn't let him go.
Nathaniel loved Riko because whatever his king was, Nathaniel understood. He understood the madness at his core. The way the hellbent movement of the court eclipsed everything else and made the world just for an hour or a day match the mania at the core of them. He understood what it was to be a monster born of monsters. Evermore was their only way out of the hellscape their names carved out for them. Exy was the only way to be something.
There was something incomprehensibly dangerous about the way Andrew didn’t give a shit about the one thing in the world that mattered.
Nathaniel stuck by Riko because he was the living breathing bloody embodiment of the only way not to be nothing.
Andrew offered something else. A completely different storm. Nathaniel didn't know what that was.
He didn’t want to.
It wasn’t for people like him.
But still, just here for just this moment it felt like a challenge, and Nathaniel was incapable of backing down from a threat.
His lip twitched, “Deal?”
Andrew did not smile, “Deal.” He hadn’t taken his eyes from Nathaniel. He was still trying to figure him out. Good.
Good? Nathaniel shouldn’t give a fuck about this meddling nobody. He knew that. He was too sober to feel this high, but this whole evening didn’t exist.
It couldn’t exist, this was too ridiculous.
Nathaniel dropped Andrew’s wrist to snag his glass. Andrew’s eyes at last flicked down from his face to the theft. He left his hand on the table where it fell, halfway between them. “It’s spiked.”
Nathaniel unfurled his full, unfettered lopsided grin, “I know.”
Andrew didn’t stop him, just watched as Nathaniel knocked back. . . whatever was left of. . . whatever the hell this was.
It was immediately evident how fucking stupid that had been. God it was sweet, it was so sweet. It burned, he dropped the glass and immediately gagged.
Was this what alcohol tasted like? Good god why did anybody drink this shit.
Jean was going to murder him
Riko was going to cut them into ribbons one by one while Jean lost his mind and Nathaniel begged to take his attention instead
Nathaniel popped up his head to catch Kevin’s eye as he returned from hiding. His former. . . friend’s teammate’s green eyes were larger than saucers, his lips were parted. He’d frozen midstep, buffered on either side by half-naked strangers who had no idea who they were jostling in their midnight frenzy.
Nathaniel tossed his hair from his eyes - red curls clinging to flushed, scarred cheeks with the heat of the room. He grinned at the ex-striker and ran his tongue along his teeth. A familiar move, searching for blood but this time it came back sweet. Whatever pale powder it was Andrew had been tossing back.
Just an ounce was already setting his blood on fire like the heat of a fight or the burn of a championship game. How the hell did that goalkeeper sit so still and silent. How loud was the voice inside for this to be lost in the storm.
Kevin wasn’t so stoic, with parted lips and wide green eyes. God, he had forgotten how innocent the man could be.
Nathaniel burst from his seat. Kevin recoiled, ready to strike but Nathaniel just laughed, “You want me, huh?” He placed an ungentle fist against Kevin’s chest and shoved. Kevin stumbled back so he grabbed his shirt instead, “Come dance?”
“What the fuck?” Kevin gaped at him. Nathianel wondered how much he’d drunk. “Andrew.”
Not even two sentences and he was calling for his bodyguard. Nathaniel tried not to feel disappointed. Kevin had never had the spine he tried so hard to force him to have.
Rather, he’d developed it too late, and then apparently immediately lost it again. Way to fuck us all, Day.
Nathaniel didn’t want to think about that tonight. He had Kevin - just for tonight. He didn’t have Riko or Jean. They would never be whole again, but maybe he could get just the tiniest bit of catharsis. Maybe he could drag out of Kevin . . . something. Anything at all.
A hint of life. A confirmation that he could cling to that any of this had been worth it.
“Come with me, coward. You don’t need that hand to dance.”
“Fuck you, Nathaniel. I don’t dance.” His words were too deliberate, the articulation of a man attempting to be far more sober than he was.
“You do tonight. Andrew agrees, right Andrew?”
The goalie leaned back in his seat; steady as Nathaniel was not. He let his attention drift between them, lingering on Nathaniel’s mad smile. At last he shrugged and plucked a shotglass from the tray. He slid it towards Neil across spilled, sticky liquid. Another he flicked at Kevin.
Kevin whirled on his partner, “Andrew!”
Andrew simply raised an eyebrow, “You said I’d find him interesting. You’re right, for once. Shouldn’t you be gloating?”
Kevin was not amused, “He’ll fucking kill me, Andrew.”
“Then don’t go where I can’t stop him.”
Kevin’s glare didn’t fade, but he took the shot. He downed it, slammed the glass on the sticky table. Without coming up for breath he followed it with two more.
Nathaniel tried not to take his eyes off this new side of Day. In the absence of his hand, this was what he’d turned to? Vodka burned far worse than the sugar had. Kevin only wiped his mouth with an unsteady hand but Nathaniel fumbled for a glass - anything at all that would make his throat feel less like fire.
He only had time for half the glass before Kevin snared his bicep in his right hand and hauled him away from the table like this was all his idea. Or like he was thinking of solving Nathaniel’s antagonism the good old fashioned way. Nathaniel laughed and stumbled into his back, pushing them both unsteadily down the stairs. It had been a while since Kevin really swung at him. He wondered if he’d be any less of a threat with his dominant hand all fucked.
Andrew raised a hand in a deadpan, mocking salute as they disappeared into the wave of swinging arms and hips.
The dance floor from above had been a whirl of bodies and light. The actual floor itself was indescribable chaos. Kevin could probably beat Nathaniel unconscious here and leave him to get trampled on the sticky floor. Or maybe the discordant crush of bodies would be enough to trample him to a pulp.
Nathaniel lost his footing at the base of the sticky stairs. He was a sprinter. He almost never went down, but this was a type of movement utterly unbecoming of a trained striker.
Kevin was a bad person to grab for balance, far too drunk not to sway too far back and grab Nathaniel in response.
He couldn’t help but laugh, at the wide-eyed stare Kevin hadn’t once lifted from him even while they both tripped into a wall. He leaned in, Kevin was easily dragged down for him to yell close to his ear, “Lost you feet along with your hand, Day?”
“I don’t dance!” Kevin’s aggrieved face this close was painfully familiar.
“Neither do I!” Nathaniel grinned. He had no intention of really ‘dancing,’ it all appeared to be hyperactive bouncing anyway, he just wanted to be down here: immersed in the chaos and the thrill with Kevin by his side.
It was the closest he’d ever get again to the way they’d once flanked the court.
Kevin was still owl-eyed. For the first time Nathaniel seriously considered, “You really think I’d try to murder you? Here?” He couldn’t keep the leer out of his voice.
Kevin flinched “Of course you fucking would, Wesninski.” Maybe he had a point. “Does Jean know where you are?”
Nathaniel hedged, “Sort-of.”
Kevin’s immediate, blatant disapproval was way too much. Neil smacked his chest, “You’re the one who fucking invited me here!”
“Andrew invited you here,” Kevin muttered, swatting him back. Ever the pedantic twat.
“On your orders, Day, don’t give me that shit. What did you do to get him wrapped around your finger?”
Not that Kevin didn’t have a wonderful, infuriating, undeniable ability to make everyone want to give him everything he asked for.
Kevin sniffed and tried to look down his nose at Nathaniel, fumbling with a hand to hold himself up against the wall, “I told him what he was worth.”
Poor Kevin, insufferable Kevin. In love with his own voice, never knowing the effect he had on the world around him.
Nathaniel wondered with a sick sort of revelation if Minyard was in love with Day. It didn’t seem possible, but neither had . . . love in the nest. If you could call it that. Nathaniel didn’t know another word.
“Did you? He said he’d never have gone over to the Ravens for someone who settled for second best.”
Kevin took a sharp breath, paling under bold lines on his cheek. He abruptly tilted his head back, too hard against the black wall, trying to look away.
Nathaniel frowned. The alcohol coursing through his veins made his fingers move in strange ways. It pulled words from corners of his mind he didn’t recognize and placed them on his lips, “Are you happy?”
Kevin choked again. His hand jerked up to press shaky knuckles to his lips. He begged through them, “Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel ignored Kevin’s plea. He didn’t step back, still pressed up against his former friend as the pulse of the world around them blurred through a haze of alcohol. His eyebrows drew in as he raised a hand to pull Kevin’s down. “No. You’re not second anymore. You won, didn’t you. Or did you let him take even that from you?”
Kevin let out an explosive breath and caught it in another sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, but Nathaniel would not go away.
“You told Andrew to target me, because you know Jean will die before he leaves the nest.” Nathaniel didn’t let go of Kevin’s hand. When Kevin didn’t answer, he squeezed it, pressing down on the white scars.
Nathaniel felt the impact through Kevin’s entire body. His hand shook violently in Nathaniel’s. The crippled celebrity’s breath came short. His lips moved in a silent plea.
Nathaniel had heard that plea before. He didn’t let go.
“Fuck you, Day.” He was out of smiles. The words fell steady and dark, “I’m not here to kill you. You’re already dead. You’re wrong. You’re a coward.”
Kevin flinched. A man so proud shouldn’t feel like tissue paper in Neil’s hands. “Well I’m not. I’m staying. I’m staying until the nest collapses and Riko shatters. I’m staying until The Master kills me. I’m seeing it through because I will never abandon the King. Even when every other raven in that nest falls on their god damn swords I won’t give up.”
He pressed Kevin close, hard against the wall. Day nodded, eyes shut. Lips in such a thin line they drained white. Misery in every corner of the broken man.
“I won’t leave until Jean does.” Audacity he should never let out, even if it was a lie. The lie was easy. It had always been easy to lie to Kevin.
Kevin’s eyes flew open.
The sheen in them broke Nathaniel’s heart. It made him want to crush healed bones in his own fist. Instead he released Kevin’s hand and grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look right into Nathaniel’s eyes, “I told Andrew I’d wait till next spring.” Kevin gaped at him, “Get them that far. Show me you’re not a fucking coward, Kevin. Show me it’s worth it, show me Evermore’s not the only way, and I’ll get you Jean.”
Kevin whispered, “He’ll die before he disobeys.”
“Then don’t give him that fucking option. Give him something to live for, Day.” Nathaniel let go of him but didn’t move back, pushing up so they were chest to chest, blue eyes to green, “You already gave up on him once. Don’t you fucking dare do it again.”
At last Kevin took a long, shaky breath. Some thin color flowed back into his cheeks. He still whispered, “I can’t tell Riko no.”
“I’ll deal with Riko. He’s mine now, not yours. Deal with your mess. Make them into something that can stand on its own. Stand on your own.”
Kevin tried to look away and Nathaniel hissed in frustration. He slapped a hand on his chest between them, shoving him again into the wall, “God damn it Day. I’m telling you to prove me wrong!”
At last Kevin quit quibbling. He pressed his lips so thin.
Nathaniel expected to be hit. Wanted to be hit, to know that this was still the proud, untouchable, immortal Kevin Day, and not whatever broken, drunken cripple followed him back and forth across the room with pitiful green eyes.
Still, he wasn't quite expecting it when he got his wish. Knuckles crushed lips into his teeth. Nathaniel stumbled and Day came unsteadily after him. “Fuck you, Wesninski. Fuck. You.”
Without another word he shoved off into the crowd, not towards the stairs but away.
Nathaniel swayed. The room rushed back in, waves of light sound and alcohol crashed over everything he’d ever wanted. He swayed, the crowd caught him. A man he didn’t know spun him around and shouted something in his face.
Nathaniel had his hand pulled back before he registered the concern in the voice. The idiot’s face swayed back and forth. He had no idea who he was dealing with.
None of them had a single fucking clue what they were dealing with. Nathaniel grinned and the stranger backed right off.
Another face swung forward and Nathaniel threw it out of the way. Hands jostled.
Light spun.
Bass stole his heartbeat, not like Andrew had but in a panicked stampede.
Nathaniel didn’t know how he made it back up the stairs. He collapsed at the table, tipping right over the chair and slamming his shins onto the floor as he sprawled.
Minyard’s impassive face appeared blurry above him as Nathaniel laughed and laughed.
It sounded like screaming. He wanted to break something. He wanted to pull Day’s ruined fingers from their sockets one by one. He wanted Riko, he wanted the release of his knives.
He wanted to scream but instead he laughed.
Something yanked him upright
All the way to his feet - not that they worked anymore. They shuffled pitifully on sticky floor.
Minyard.
Strong fucking bastard. He held nathaniel Nathaniel up like a ragdoll. His head lolled to the side, he pinched his tongue between his teeth and grinned at Andrew. He didn’t need to see his face to feel the madness in him.
He wanted Riko. Not Minyard’s disorienting acceptance of the wreck of a man he held in his hands.
“Kevin,” was all he said.
Nathaniel laughed until he gasped for breath. “Sobbing in the b - bathroom I bet.” He rolled his head back and heard something in his neck crunch.
Somehow this was incredibly funny. He barely noticed when Andrew dropped him, slamming knees and then hands into the ground. He looked up, struggling to breathe.
The room was spinning faster than Nathaniel’s delirium. “Jean.”
“Moreau? What about him?”
God damn the stone-cold menace, to stand so sturdy when the world was falling apart. “I need to get back.” Nathaniel swallowed his laughter and gagged on it.
You won’t have enough to come back to.
“Why?”
“Oh -” Nathaniel took a breath and pressed out airly, “He’ll kill himself. Or Riko will kill him.” He laughed, “It’s all the same, really. I said I’d be back before dawn.”
Something somewhere through all of this stupid night had split Nathaniel’s lip. He ran his tongue roughly across it and tasted blood. He barely noticed when Andrew disappeared.
With Andrew on a mission and Kevin gone to the wind, Nathaniel gripped the rough side of the table and hauled himself to his feet. It took two tries to get up without upending the furniture. When he sagged into a chair he dragged the remnant of the drink tray towards himself.
There were two full shots and the better part of one of Andrew’s cocktails left. Nathaniel held his breath and downed these one after another. Then he grabbed the water, drained it, and immediately spewed half back onto the floor.
When Andrew returned he found Nathaniel struggling to grip the glass in fingers which had somehow become made of styrofoam. He looked up and slipped. Not a single word of what Minyard said was any language Nathaniel knew.
Day lunged forward. He might have slapped Nathaniel, or maybe he fell over on his own. He might have grabbed the empty glasses in panic and stared at him, appalled, but Nathaniel wasn’t sure. Andrew’s hands were on him again. Then Day’s.
Then there was yelling. He thought someone might have slapped him but nothing existed anymore.
* * *
Nathaniel could barely see the stairs as he clawed his way up. Somewhere the sun was rising. Somewhere.
Maybe.
Maybe Andrew had crashed them all into a thousand foot ravine at the base of some gods forsaken mountain. Maybe this was the too-bright too-beige hallway to hell Nathaniel was tripping upwards. Somehow they appeared to have escaped the neverending cycle of highway and Waffle House exit signs.
Nathaniel was pretty sure the road to hell already existed on earth and it was the staircase into the nest. And that one went down. So maybe this really was the hotel.
He slammed into the wall at the top, spun unsteadily and crashed straight into the brick shithouse body of Zane Reacher. Nathaniel didn't particularly care about his height one way or another but there was something deeply obnoxious about people over a foot taller than you. Nathaniel reeled backwards, unable to stop the wild grin "Zane! Fancy seeing you here!"
Zane snagged him and dragged him close. Nathaniel raised a hand expecting a strike but was instead thrown into a door. He bounced off and caught himself on the frame. Adrenaline made his limbs numb, he felt like laughing and collapsing all at once.
He did collapse when the door opened behind him, sending him into an ungainly heap on the floor. The hands which hauled him up from behind weren’t Zane’s. Nathaniel swatted at them but they set him roughly on his feet and didn’t let go. He was twisting around to recognize Jean when Colleen’s sharp voice came from the open door, “Fucking christ Wesninski.” She sounded too shocked to truly lay into him.
Zane was equally appalled. Nathaniel tipped back into Jean and laughed at them all. HIs partner dropped him.
Nathaniel hit the floor in slow motion. He felt his skull bounce off shitty carpet. Sweat-soaked curls slapped his forehead. The ceiling spun like the whirling lights of the club. The floor was lukewarm and smelled like stale tobacco. He laughed again and rolled to the side, attempting to stand before he gave up and collapsed.
Jean’s voice was tight with disbelief, his accent heavy, “He is. . . drunk?”
He sounded so uncertain Nathaniel vaguely reached out to pat his shoe. Jean recoiled from him like the inebriation was contagious. Nathaniel giggled. He held up an unsteady hand, thumb and forefinger slightly apart, “Just a liiiitle bit, Jean! You should -” He coughed back bile, “ - see Kevin” He shook his head, it did nothing to sober him up but it sure did make him feel sick.
Nathaniel flopped over and retched.
Zane’s furious, ruddy face blocked the light. He had about two seconds to register that he should not have mentioned Kevin’s fucking name before Zane slammed his face into thin carpet.
It was covering cement, judging from the way Nathaniel’s nose crunched.
Jean made a sound but he didn’t move forward. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and his fair cheeks white as a sheet. He choked out, “. . . Kevin?”
His soft pain was utterly lost in Colleen’s shriek as her volume control slipped entirely, “Is that where he was? Is that where he fucking was? Kevin? With Kevin motherF U C K I N G DAY?” Neil felt the striker's heavy kick land in the back of his knee, and then a heavier one to his thigh.
Zane had held back (for which Nathaniel was duly grateful. A full strength strike from Reacher could break a skull), but his unofficial girlfriend had no such qualms.
Nathaniel dizzily thought that was pretty fair, honestly. He’d made them protect Jean rather than whatever else they might have done with a rare free evening. He hadn’t expected them to go as far as actually camping out his room with Jean.
It made him ache somewhere deep behind the pain and drugs. The Ravens could still care, even after all of this. They could still care for someone like Jean.
Nathaniel was not giving them much of a thank you. He spat blood and bile onto the carpet and kicked back at her, vicious but ineffectual from the floor.
They all froze as the sounds of curious, pissed off Ravens shuffled behind the row of neighboring doors. In seconds Zane snapped something. He and Jean roughly grabbed what they could of Nathaniel’s sprawled body and hauled him through the door. Colleen slammed the door behind them.
None too gentle hands didn’t bother to transport Nathaniel to the bed. Instead he was dumped unceremoniously halfway through the door to the tiny bathroom. Jean stumbled away from him immediately, recoiling from the association with his loose canon of a partner, but Colleen straddled him and Zane fisted his hair to drag Neil’s sweaty face inches from his own. His voice was a deep, humorless warning, “Wesninski this is too fucking far. We’re out. I don’t even want to know and if you’re really fucking lucky we’ll forget you ever said that name.” He pressed a forearm to Nathaniel’s throat and Colleen watched impassively as Nathaniel scrabbled at the trunk of an arm.“ If this shit comes back on us, I will kill you. Give us the numbers or gods be damned, I will stop putting my ass on the line for you.”
Nathaniel made an unintelligible sound three times before he choked out "I'm working on it.”
It wasn't enough but it had to be. For now. Zane simply dropped him in disgust but Colleen, usually one of the more reasonable of the bunch, slammed the toe of her shoe up between his legs to make their point utterly clear. “Jean, handle him before he fucking kills you both.”
The door crashed shut behind the pair as Neil writhed on the hotel floor. Eventually he did vomit. They'd had the mercy to dump his upper half on the fake tile, rather than carpet, but hotel bathrooms weren’t known for quality size or comfort. Most of what came up was vodka and sugar.
He flopped onto his back, heaving breath and trying to ignore the spasms running through aching muscle. He didn't know if he was still drunk or if he'd hit withdrawal yet. He had no idea what time it was, or how badly he'd just ruined all of their lives. All he knew was that he felt absolutely vile.
He’d had so much worse, but the alcohol sure made it a hazy, uncontrolled nightmare. Deliriously Nathaniel clawed at the floor - he wondered if Jean would be mad enough to let him sleep here in his own misery with the flickering light overhead.
* * *
He wasn't. Nathaniel didn't know how much time had passed when he felt Jean's hands on him. He could feel the sheen of sweat on his face and the cool water Jean was using to scrub the floor beside him. He groaned.
Jean ignored him. He cleaned the floor. He grabbed Nathaniel's face and twisted it this way and that, deaf to his weak protests, checking his bruising and the state of his eyes. Nathaniel winced away from the light, the simple motion made everything start screaming again.
He didn't want to look but it was hard not to know Jean in every subtle tension and downturned lip. He was hurt. Deeply, deeply hurt and Nathaniel didn't know how to make it up to him. Nathaniel kept Jean safe. Every action he ever made damaged Jean worse than anything else. He closed his eyes, exhausted. The whole world simmered but there wasn't time to sleep. Slowly he raised a clammy hand to Jean's wrist and tried to breathe through the nausea.
Jean stopped cleaning and turned off the light. He didn't leave. Nathaniel tried to gently squeeze his arm, but there was no reaction.
At last when he spoke Nathaniel didn't know if he was talking to him. “Kevin,” like a whisper.
Like a curse, like a prayer. Like a forbidden word.
Nathaniel slid his hand from Jean's wrist to his hand and laced their fingers. Alcohol and bruising lacerated his vocal cords as badly as Riko's knives, his voice was soft. “He's okay, Jean.” Nathaniel swallowed. He didn't know why those were the words that came out.
You should have killed Kevin.
The next time he wouldn't make that mistake -
Had he known that was a lie? Was that why he hadn't said it out loud?
When had the bone deep hatred of Kevin crept away in the night, so subtle he didn't recognize it was gone? When had he begun to understand?
Sometime before tonight.
Neil couldn't trust Andrew Minyard. He'd be ruined before the year was out, he'd never make it to fulfilling Nathaniel's promise.
For some fucking reason that hurt. Nathaniel had liked tonight. Maybe he was just as soft as Kevin.
That ‘something’ which Andrew promised was a lie. But it had been nice to pretend.
The consequences were a bitch, but if Nathaniel shied away from actions because of their consequences he would be a very different man.
If only Minyard really could keep Kevin alive. If only there was someone on the other side who could take Jean -
Jean. Jean was silent in the dark. Nathaniel didn't need to see him to tell he was still, no motion but for the death grip he kept on his partner's hand. “He's okay, Jean.”
They both knew he wouldn't be forever. Death would be a mercy.
Jean didn't say it, he didn't need to. When he let go of Nathaniel's hand, he thought he'd return to the bed but instead he moved to his other side. Nathaniel turned his head to watch the long, familiar weight of Jean Moreau stretch out beside him, the doorway too thin for him not to curl around Nathaniel’s shoulder. Eventually they both drifted off to sleep on the hard floor.