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There was a protectiveness that came with being a weapon, but Spirit had long since lost track of whether it was instinctive or instilled. It didn't really matter at this point, anyway; whether it was caused by nature or by nurture, the result was the same.
Stein hit the wall hard, and Spirit went flying across the room, clattering to the ground. "Stein!" he called, panicked. His voice echoed through his blade. That hit was his fault; he hadn't been paying enough attention to the fight, he could've deflected it easily with a little strategic shapeshifting. He was out of practice; what use was a weapon who was no good in a fight?
Stein's attacker advanced, baseball bat swinging menacingly, and Stein was reacting, but not fast enough. Then Spirit saw the guy reach into his pocket with his other hand and pull out a switchblade. Stein's eyes were focused on the bat; he didn't see the knife hidden in the guy's palm, didn't see that hand pulling back, preparing to strike, an underhanded blow that would flip open the knife as he swung and bury the blade in Stein's gut.
"Stein!" Spirit shrieked, and he was already moving, already changing, throwing himself between his partner and their opponent because what else could he do? He'd already failed Stein once this fight. He couldn't sit back and do it again.
The knife made a sickening noise when it entered, right below his ribs.
The attacker looked utterly shocked. His eyes were on Spirit's face; Spirit didn't know what expression he was making, but from the look on the guy's face, it must have been terrifying.
"Spirit," said Stein from right behind him, tense and strained. Then the pain hit.
"Shit," Spirit breathed, and crumpled.
"Spirit!" Stein's voice was urgent now, and he caught Spirit as he fell. "Spirit, oh my god. Spirit." The guy was still holding the knife. It twisted horribly on its way out of the wound as Spirit fell away from it, and he felt blood start to pour out of him. Spirit wasn't an expert, but it felt like it had hit something important.
"Oh dear," he murmured.
The guy with the baseball bat had regained his composure; he raised his bat, but Stein slammed one crackling hand into his stomach and sent him flying across the room without even looking up. "Spirit, stay with me," he was saying as he lay Spirit out on the floor. "I'm going to take care of this guy and then we're going to get you home and fix you up and you're going to be fine." He stripped off his lab coat and draped it over Spirit as he talked. Spirit wanted to tell him it was fine, he didn't need to panic, but his mouth wasn't working well enough. His eyes weren't focusing right either. God, it hurt. Spirit didn't usually get hit in human form. It hurt a lot. He liked getting hit in weapon form better. It didn't hurt as much when he was made of metal. He didn't have nerves. He wondered why he could still feel at all, then. Did he have nerves in weapon form? That wouldn't make sense. Weapons didn't have nervous systems, did they?
Stein's concerned face had been taking up most of Spirit's vision, but then it went away, and Spirit saw Stein lunge over him towards where he'd sent the baseball bat man. Spirit felt cold. He heard sounds of combat briefly, and distantly, as though from another room; it sounded like Stein was beating the guy pretty handily. Then he heard Stein's voice again, calling his name, fading fast.
Spirit's last thought before he blacked out was, He would've been fine.
"Spirit. Spirit! Wake up, Spirit, please wake up."
Stein's voice registered gradually as Spirit floated, unconscious. When the words finished making their way into his brain, Spirit grabbed for consciousness with both hands and dragged himself towards it.
He opened his eyes a crack. Stein's face was right there, handsome and concerned. Everything behind him was moving, so Spirit ignored it. He tried to reply, but his mouth wasn't working. He managed to focus his eyes on Stein's face, but that was apparently all he could do.
It was apparently all Stein needed, too. He leaned down a little. "Spirit," he said, quietly but very clearly. "The wound is pretty bad. I'm going to have to operate. Is that okay?"
Spirit felt a rush of gratitude. He needs permission. His eyes wanted to slip shut again but he kept them open.
Stein was still talking. "I can try and find someone else if you'd rather — I could probably coach Naigus through it, or we could take you to a local hospital and hope they can handle it, this is a big enough city that they've probably got some qualified surgeons—" He had one hand on Spirit's stomach, pressing some cloth something against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. The pain had dulled to a potent ache that radiated out into the rest of Spirit's body. Stein's other hand was holding one of Spirit's. Spirit managed to close it around Stein's fingers, and Stein's eyes stopped wandering and snapped back to Spirit's face.
Spirit tried to smile, but his face refused to respond. He squeezed Stein's hand as best he could and tried to get his message across with just his eyes, since they were still under his control. I want you to do it, he tried to say. I don't want anyone else to do it but you. His control over his soul was clumsy, too, but he nudged its wavelength towards Stein's and tried to let his feelings spill over. You do it. I don't want anyone else but you.
Stein closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "Thank you," he said, so very quiet.
Spirit's vision was already fading again. He closed his eyes and released his grip on consciousness.
The next time he came to, the pain was muted. Spirit left his eyes closed for a few seconds, taking in what the rest of his senses told him first. The dull ache in his abdomen was still there, but numbed, presumably with very good drugs. He was lying on his back on what felt like an operating table. His whole body felt limp and slow to respond. He could hear the steady hum of machinery, and smell the cigarettes-and-coffee scent of Stein's lab under a layer of disinfectant.
"I think he's waking up," he heard Stein say from above him on his left. He sounded quiet and concerned.
Slowly, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lighting, Spirit opened his eyes.
Stein's face was hovering over him, shadowed by the lights overhead. His glasses were threatening to slide off his nose. Spirit reached up with one clumsy hand and pushed them gently back onto his face.
"Spirit," Stein breathed, still so tense.
"Spirit! You're awake," Death chimed in from somewhere past Spirit's feet, and Spirit dropped his hand back down to the table as though he hadn't just been idly caressing the side of Stein's face with his fingertips. He could always blame it on the painkillers. Stein would probably back him up on that. He tried to speak, then cleared his throat and tried again.
"Am I supposed to be at work?" he asked. His throat was dry; his voice came out as a croak.
"Oh my god," said Stein, sitting back, and Spirit could hear relief and exasperation in his voice. "You're such an idiot."
"Not quite," Death replied, and he sounded amused. His huge mask was filling the mirror above the plain steel sink in the corner. "Stein was just telling me what happened, and he asked me to stay until you woke up."
"Oh." Spirit turned to look at Stein. He was sat back in his wheely chair with his arms crossed and a stoic expression on his face that Spirit could see was masking nervousness and relief and a whole mess of other things. He felt an echo of the warm gratitude he'd felt when he'd realized why Stein woke him up. "I see."
Stein met his eyes. The tenderness in his gaze left Spirit reeling; he had to look away, back up at the ceiling.
"Well," he said after a moment, and went to sit up.
"Oh my god," Stein blurted, rushing forward to put one hand on Spirit's chest and one on his back to support him. "You were stabbed in the stomach, you dumbass. Use your arms, not your abs."
"Oh." Stein's hands were on either side of Spirit's heart. They felt cool and slightly rough against his bare skin. Spirit felt their soul wavelengths slip effortlessly into gentle resonance, felt his head clear a little as the connection settled into his bones. He braced his hands on the table and sat up. Stein helped him upright with those beautiful hands. Spirit tried not to think about them undressing him to lay him out half-naked like this. At least Stein hadn't needed his pants off, too.
Spirit waited a moment for the head rush to subside. Stein hadn't taken his hands off him, and Spirit didn't want him to, but he also hadn't told anyone about the fact that he and Stein had kissed, and he didn't think he wanted anyone to find out about it yet. Stein's hands were a little too personal on him, had stayed a little too long. "All right, Lord Death," Spirit said. Stein had left his pants but removed his shoes. Spirit found that inexplicably sweet. "I'm awake now, which I think means you're free to go."
"Excellent," Death replied, still amused. "Stein said you'd need a couple days to recover, so I'll see you on Monday." He held up one enormous hand and folded it into a peace sign. "You two boys play nice," he teased, a little too knowingly, then disconnected.
Spirit waited until the mirror had gone completely blank before turning to Stein, dangling his legs off the side of the operating table. Stein had stood to help him sit up; Spirit's knees settled comfortably on either side of Stein's narrow hips. Stein's hands were holding Spirit's rib cage now, framing him so delicately. Spirit looked up.
"Thank you," he said. It came out very quiet. Stein's face was so close, and his eyes were intent on Spirit's. He was so glad Stein had asked, but in any other circumstances, the time and effort he'd spent to wake Spirit up could have made everything worse. "Don't do that again."
"I could say the same to you," Stein pointed out, and Spirit flinched. There was a cold, sharp edge of bitter disappointment in his voice, and they were resonating strongly enough that Spirit knew what it was.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've trusted you to handle it." He didn't have to find words for the rest; he knew Stein could feel it. I didn't want to let you down again. I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt because I didn't protect you.
"Spirit, I took that hit because I was distracted, not because you didn't compensate for my mistake," Stein murmured, and Spirit flinched again, from surprise this time. He hadn't realized Stein could see that much. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Curious, he looked a little deeper at the tangle of feelings Stein was trying to hold back from him. The anxious tension was the strongest of them; Spirit felt it start to seep into him as he followed it like a river, looking for its source.
When he found it, the realization hit him hard, knocking his breath out of his lungs. "Oh," he gasped, and Stein's hands tightened briefly on his sides before releasing him. This was the table where Stein had been operating on him all that time. This was where it had happened, and now Spirit was sitting here, with stitches and bandages from another of Stein's surgeries, on the table where Stein had betrayed him in the first place.
Stein winced and shifted, and Spirit knew he was about to retreat. Without even thinking, Spirit hooked his ankles together behind Stein's legs to stop him. His heels brushed Stein's calves. Spirit wasn't really holding him, just making it clear that he didn't want Stein to leave. Stein stopped, waited.
"Stein," Spirit breathed, trying to look him in the eye. Their resonance was wavering; Spirit focused on it, did his best to steady it, and he felt Stein help him absently, unthinkingly. It was second nature to Stein to resonate with anyone he needed to. Spirit could just let him take control at any time, and never have to do any of the work ever again, but he knew neither of them wanted that. This kind of resonance, this casual intimacy, wasn't something people did with just anyone. They'd been such good partners when they still trusted each other. It was no surprise Lord Death wanted them to be able to work together like that again. Look at me.
Stein finally met Spirit's gaze. He looked haunted. Spirit could see the guilt in his eyes, feel it in his soul.
"Stop that," he murmured, and kissed him.
Stein gasped against his mouth. Spirit was dizzy with what he realized suddenly was fear. He'd trusted Stein to operate on him again, and now he was resonating with him just for the sake of it, he was sitting on Stein's operating table and kissing him because Stein let him. He'd made the choice to give Stein his trust again. It felt like stepping willingly off a cliff; kissing him felt like falling, but Stein caught him, Stein put his hands on Spirit's waist and kissed him back. The gentle resonance made everything clearer; Spirit didn't have the words to describe how right it felt. Stein's mouth tasted like stale coffee and heaven. Spirit could feel Stein's guilt still simmering under the surface, and he could feel hurt in both of them, hurt and fear and sadness. Spirit had never gotten the chance to properly mourn the loss of his first partnership, but he hadn't realized he'd been carrying that grief for so long. He felt it welling up, felt the delicate new trust gently unburying it. When he broke away from Stein's mouth, he was shaking.
"Spirit," Stein breathed, achingly sad.
Spirit leaned his head against the side of Stein's, mindful of both the arm of his glasses and the end of the screw emerging from his skull. He could be so difficult to touch, but Spirit was determined to try.
"I wish you'd asked," he said quietly, voice cracking.
Stein gripped his waist a little tighter, turned his head just a little towards Spirit's. Their souls were a tangle of guilt and regret and sadness. "So do I," he murmured.
Spirit felt like he had more to say, but he didn't have any clue what it was or how to say it. His throat was tight enough that if he tried to speak, he'd cry. He didn't want to cry. He cried so much. He gripped the edge of the operating table tighter and tried to stop shaking. His face was still hidden against Stein's head; he was glad of that.
"Spirit," Stein said again, and his voice was so soft. "You're allowed to cry."
Spirit let out a choked sob and dropped his face to Stein's shoulder. No. He would not cry, he was absolutely not going to cry. Then Stein moved one hand from Spirit's waist to rest on the back of his head, and the tenderness in his touch was too much to handle. Spirit couldn't stop another sob, then another, and as the tears started pouring from his eyes he grabbed at Stein's lab coat with both hands and buried his face in Stein's shoulder.
Stein held him quietly, one hand on his head and the other stroking gently up and down his back, as Spirit cried. He was sobbing, these great heaving sobs that wracked his whole body, and they hurt, in his lungs and his throat but also around the wound Stein had fixed for him, they hurt but he couldn't stop them. He wanted to wrap his arms around Stein and pull him closer; he felt Stein lean in a little, and knew suddenly that Stein wouldn't judge him for it. He'd forgotten they were resonating, but he didn't have the energy to think about that now. He wrenched his hands from the open sides of Stein's lab coat and wrapped his arms around him instead, clutching at the back of his coat. His knees were tight on either side of Stein's hips.
"Sorry," Spirit managed between painful sobs, but Stein shushed him quietly and held him tighter. Spirit could tell he didn't mind, but it didn't make him feel like any less of a mess.
After a few long minutes, Spirit's sobbing subsided. He took a shaky breath, unfurling his fingers from Stein's coat and sitting up. Stein let him, settling his hands on Spirit's thighs.
"Oh, god, your lab coat," Spirit said thickly, reaching out and pulling the wet fabric away from Stein's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine, it's washable," Stein said, and his voice was unsteady. Spirit looked up at him; Stein's eyes were wet. Spirit felt a pang of guilt. They were still resonating. They'd been resonating the whole time, and it had made Stein cry.
Stein just gave him a private smile. It's all right. It was worth it, he said.
Spirit considered that. He did feel better — lighter. Crying didn't usually make him feel any better, but this time, for whatever reason, it had. He sniffed and went to wipe his nose on his sleeve before he remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt. God, he was such a mess.
Stein slipped off his glasses to wipe his eyes briskly with the cuff of his lab coat. "I'm going to go find you some tissues," he said, sliding his glasses back on, and Spirit reluctantly unhooked his ankles from behind Stein's legs. Stein put a hand back on his thigh. "I'll be right back," he promised.
Spirit just nodded, curling his fingers around the edge of the operating table. Stein flashed him that smile again and left the room.
He was gone less than a minute, and Spirit could feel him moving through the lab. It was indistinct, but they were still resonating. Spirit wouldn't have been able to keep the resonance going over that distance with anyone else, but he was glad Stein could do it. He didn't want to feel alone just yet. Spirit could feel him returning; it was soothing to know where he was.
When he returned, Stein held out the box of tissues silently. Spirit took it and set it next to him on the table, grabbing a couple tissues. He sensed Stein move closer as he blew his nose, then felt him draping something around Spirit's shoulders, and Spirit looked up, swiping a clean part of the tissue across his cupid's bow. Stein had grabbed his blazer; Spirit felt gratitude blossom in his chest.
"Where's my shirt?" he asked. Stein had ditched his lab coat somewhere. Spirit could see a hint of a wet spot on the shoulder of his turtleneck.
"I put it to soak," Stein explained, putting his hands on Spirit's knees. The contact was nice — comforting, like the resonance. "It was a bit of a mess."
Spirit glanced down at his own abdomen, at the bandages taped over the wound just above his stomach. He brushed his fingers over it. The touch felt distant through the bandage. "I can imagine."
Stein reached out and smoothed down the edge of the tape with one fingertip. "He got you right in the liver," he said mildly, and Spirit shuddered involuntarily. He could feel Stein's mind keep going, tick-tick-ticking like the sound the screw made when he turned it, but he held his thoughts back from where they were resonating, and Spirit didn't pry.
"I'm glad you were able to fix it." It came out as a whisper.
Spirit felt an echo of fear through Stein's soul. "So am I," he said, and Spirit looked back up at him. He couldn't see the fear on Stein's face, but he could read it in his eyes if he looked closely, and he could feel it in the gentle brush of his fingers against Spirit's bandages.
Spirit nudged his knee against Stein's hip. "I'm gonna be okay, right?" He meant it to be teasing, but it came out worried.
"Of course," Stein replied without hesitation, meeting his eyes easily, and Spirit knew he wasn't lying.
"Good," he said, then leaned forward and kissed him again, simple and sweet. When he pulled away, Stein was almost smiling.
"Let's see if you can stand all right," Stein said, and took a step back to give Spirit room.
Spirit hopped down off the table, and his knees immediately buckled. "Whoa," he muttered, but Stein was right there to catch him and hold him up.
"Easy," Stein murmured, his hands gentle. "You lost a lot of blood."
Spirit blinked hard. "Yeah, standing is maybe a no," he said. His head was swimming and his vision was losing colour. "Definitely a no." His whole body went hot, then cold, then his legs were crumpling out from under him. Spirit felt Stein wrap one arm around his back, and he managed to drape his arm over Stein's shoulder before Stein scooped him up effortlessly like a sleeping toddler. His blazer slid off his shoulders onto the floor.
"What are you doing," Spirit tried to say, but he wasn't sure how well he succeeded. Put me down. I am older than you, you madman. They were still resonating; Stein knew what he meant.
Stein just hoisted Spirit up, adjusting his grip, and started moving. "I'm sorry, I should have expected as much," he said, nudging the operating room door open with his hip. Spirit clung to him helplessly, burying his face in Stein's neck. He'd have been blushing, but his head was still spinning. "You'll have to stay here for a bit. I'm not letting you leave until you've had some food and water and you're no longer in danger of fainting, which will give me time to wash your shirt as well." He was carrying Spirit easily, and moving, and talking at the same time, and he wasn't even out of breath. Then Stein was setting him down gently, sideways on his couch, and Spirit's head was clear enough now that he didn't feel like he was in immediate danger of falling over any more. He looked up. Stein was leaning over him; his face was very close.
"You don't have to baby me," Spirit said, to keep himself from kissing Stein again.
"I'm not babying you," Stein replied, moving away, and Spirit leaned back against the arm of the couch. It was even less comfortable than he remembered. Then Stein put a book in Spirit's hands, an old hardcover with a worn burgundy dust jacket. Spirit hadn't read that book in years, not since he and Stein had been partnered. He'd read it at least three times, but never bothered to track down his own copy. He looked up at Stein, eyes narrowed.
"You're not, huh," he said, but opened the book. He'd read a chapter or two, he supposed. He saw Stein move past him as he started reading, and then the familiar story sucked him in and he stopped paying attention to his surroundings.
They were still resonating gently, so he was vaguely aware of Stein moving in and out of the room, half-noticed when he draped Spirit's blazer back over his shoulders, but his focus was on the book. It felt like no time at all before Spirit's reading was interrupted by a wide grey bookmark sliding into the crease between the pages he had open.
Spirit looked up. Stein was smirking at him. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, "but as your doctor I have to insist that you eat."
Spirit looked down at the coffee table Stein was indicating. "Oh!" he said, closing the book. "Wait, you made this? Since when can you cook?"
"I would hardly consider canned soup and a grilled cheese sandwich 'cooking,'" Stein replied, amused, "but I have learned some things in the last decade."
"Fair," Spirit acknowledged, turning and putting his feet on the floor. He set the book on the coffee table next to the plate and picked up one half of the sandwich. Stein had cut it in half somewhere between evenly and diagonally. It was oddly nostalgic. "Your couch still sucks," he said, dipping the sandwich in his bowl of tomato soup. There was a large glass of water sitting there as well; Spirit suspected Stein wouldn't let him leave until he'd finished it.
"It still seems fine to me," Stein retorted, on his way back out of the room. "Don't stand up while I'm gone."
"Wasn't gonna," Spirit said around a mouthful of sandwich. The food tasted amazing, in the way that most food tasted amazing on an empty stomach. Spirit hadn't realized how hungry he was, or how thirsty, but he'd downed half the sandwich and two-thirds of the water before Stein got back. He glanced up, chewing. Stein was holding Spirit's shirt in one hand and carrying some sort of metal tool box in the other.
"Whassat?" Spirit asked, then swallowed his mouthful of food.
Stein set the box down on the end of the coffee table with a heavy clunk. "My sewing kit," he said, sitting down on the other end of the couch.
"Sewing kit? Wait, are you going to mend my shirt?" Spirit asked, picking up the second half of the sandwich. "You don't have to do that, I can buy another one."
"But why would you?" Stein countered, pulling at one side of the box. It unfolded into a set of tiered trays; he grabbed a spool of thread from one and a needle from another. "That's wasteful."
Spirit took a bite of his sandwich to delay having to answer. "I don't want to impose," he said eventually, but Stein was already sewing.
"By the time you come up with one legitimate complaint, I'll be done," Stein said mildly, and Spirit shot him a look.
"You think you're very clever, don't you," he teased.
"Well, most people seem to agree with me," Stein pointed out. He was focused on his mending, but the corner of his mouth was curved slightly upwards.
"Most people are also idiots," Spirit retorted.
"Says the guy who rushed to protect me from a blow I could've easily countered," Stein said airily, and Spirit knew he meant it as a joke, but it stung anyway. He took another bite of his sandwich, chewed it sullenly.
"I suppose I can't really blame you," Stein murmured. It wasn't an apology, but Spirit felt the rate of their resonance rise a little, and he knew it was meant as one.
"But you wouldn't have done the same," he couldn't help pointing out.
"No," Stein conceded, tugging on a thread. "If he'd been threatening you like that, I'd have just killed him."
Spirit felt heat rise in his cheeks. He looked down at his food, willing his face to calm down. Why did he find that cute? "How long did it take you to deal with him after I was down?" he asked. "It didn't seem like long." He took a bite of his sandwich.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stein shrug. "Too long."
"Too long?" Spirit echoed incredulously, mouth full. "It was, like, ten seconds!"
"Maybe fifteen," Stein agreed. "But you were in shock before you hit the ground, and you were losing blood, fast. Every second I took to deal with him put me one second closer to losing you for good."
Spirit wasn't sure how to answer that. "I mean, at least it gave you an excuse to poke around in my squishy bits again," he said. "I bet you enjoyed that."
"Hm," said Stein.
A comfortable silence settled over them as Spirit finished eating. As he picked up his bowl to drink the last of the soup, he saw Stein stand up and set down Spirit's shirt.
"What now?" Spirit asked, as Stein left the room.
"I need to iron it," Stein called back through the open door.
"No you don't," Spirit retorted.
Stein was too far out of earshot to reply. When he returned, carrying an iron and an ironing board, Spirit gave him an amused look. "No, you don't," he repeated.
"The mend won't sit properly if I don't iron it," Stein explained as Spirit set down his empty bowl and wiped his hands. (Stein had set out a cloth napkin for him, the same grey patchwork pattern as most of his belongings. Spirit didn't know a single other person who used cloth napkins.) "Besides, I like ironing."
"You are the single weirdest person I have ever met," Spirit declared, picking up his book again. It came out a little more affectionately than he meant it to; he felt a flicker of amusement from Stein as he leaned back into the couch and pulled his knees up to rest the book against them. "And I fucking hate your couch."
"I know," was all Stein said.
"Hm," Spirit replied, and opened the book.
The next time Spirit looked up for more than a sip of water, he'd finished the book. Oops. The window was twilight-dark, but the lights were on. Spirit's lunch dishes were gone; his shirt and tie were sitting on the couch next to him. Spirit could faintly sense Stein working on his computer in the other room. He reached out through the resonance, felt Stein stop typing and get up.
"I didn't mean to finish it," Spirit said when Stein was within earshot. He set down the book and looked up as Stein entered the room. "Why didn't you stop me?"
"I knew you'd be done by dinnertime," Stein said, leaning over the back of the couch. Spirit picked up his shirt and inspected the place where Stein had mended it. He could barely even tell it had been cut.
"I could've gone home hours ago, couldn't I?" Spirit asked. He shrugged off his blazer and slipped his shirt back on, buttoning it closed over his bandages. "I've been abusing your hospitality."
"If anyone asks, you can tell them I insisted you stay the afternoon," Stein said mildly, and Spirit shot him a look. Stein had wanted him to stay, he noticed, had enjoyed having him there, and he felt Stein abruptly pull his thoughts back from where Spirit could read them. A faint flicker of embarrassment followed, and Spirit politely ignored it.
"I will," he said, and reached for his tie. He had to lean towards Stein to grab it; the urge to kiss him flared up again, hot and intense. His fingers curled shut around his tie, too tightly. He could just keep leaning forward, press their lips together like he wanted. Stein turned his head to meet Spirit's eyes, and that brought his mouth even closer. Spirit wanted it so badly. He bit his lip and resisted.
"I'm going to grab you some painkillers," Stein said, and straightened up.
Spirit looked away, loosening his death grip on his tie. Relief and gratitude washed over him, and he knew Stein could feel them. He'd moved away because Spirit had needed him to. "Okay," Spirit said, draping his tie around his neck, and he felt Stein leave the room.
As he tied his tie, Spirit wondered, a little hysterically, what he was doing. He had never so much as considered wanting to kiss another man before, and yet suddenly he was obsessed with kissing Stein — who, as far as Spirit was aware, had never wanted to kiss anybody, but kept letting Spirit kiss him anyways. Spirit had never been so confused by something he wanted. He understood his attraction to women. They were soft, and curvy, and pretty, and flirtatious. Stein was none of those things. Spirit remembered the way Stein's eyes went intense when they landed on him, the strength and confidence in his hands. He'd never wanted anyone quite like how he wanted Stein, and he had no idea what to do about it.
His tie was uneven. Spirit tugged it off over his head and shoved it in his pocket. He could feel Stein returning; he did his best to stop thinking so hard about being attracted to him, but he couldn't get Stein's hands out of his mind. Shit.
"You should be okay in a couple of days," Stein said as he entered, graciously ignoring Spirit's discomfort. Then he leaned over the back of the couch again, offering Spirit a little orange bottle with a couple of pills rattling around the bottom. His hands were right at the level of Spirit's eyes. Dammit. "These are potent, so no more than two a day, at least six hours apart, with food. Don't drink while they're in your system, and if you can avoid smoking too, do it."
"The last time I had a smoke, I was sharing it with you," Spirit pointed out, taking the bottle and tucking it into his pocket. He felt Stein react to that information, but it was faint enough that he couldn't make it out. The rate of their resonance was dropping, he noticed.
"If you don't need them, don't take them," Stein continued, straightening up. "If you run out, switch to acetaminophen. If that's not strong enough, come see me."
"You worried I'll save them for recreational purposes if you give me too many?" Spirit asked. It wasn't really a joke, but he asked it lightly.
"No. Opioids aren't your thing," Stein replied matter-of-factly, and Spirit tried not to spill how pleased he was that Stein knew that. "If you need more than I've given you, it means something went wrong."
"Do you think something went wrong?"
"No, but I like to be prepared," Stein said, moving around the couch to stand in front of Spirit. Spirit looked up at him. Stein was holding out his hands. "Let's see if you can stand now," he said, and Spirit let Stein pull him upright.
The movement brought them face-to-face abruptly enough to leave Spirit breathless. They were pressed together from their chests to their knees; the rate of their resonance flared up. Stein's hands were cool and dry around Spirit's. His heart was suddenly pounding, and he could feel the murmur of Stein's thoughts again. They were so close that Spirit could feel Stein's breath against his lips.
"That looks like a yes," Stein said, and for a moment, Spirit couldn't remember what he was talking about, but he felt himself agree anyways. Yes.
"What?" he managed, and Stein smiled faintly.
"You can stand just fine," Stein informed him. "You're good to go."
"Oh," said Spirit, and Stein released his hands and stepped away.
"Don't forget your jacket," Stein reminded him, and Spirit turned to pick it up. His heart was still pounding. "Do you have your tie?"
Spirit patted his pocket. "Yep."
"Your shoes are by the door," Stein said, and Spirit swung his blazer over one shoulder and followed Stein's gesture out of the room.
Walking hurt. The dull pain in Spirit's abdomen flared sharper with every step, but at least he wasn't fainting again. Stein followed at his shoulder, and Spirit could feel his attention and simmering concern. There was something gratifying about how closely Stein was observing him, about being the centre of his focus, but Spirit didn't think he wanted Stein to know that. He tried to ease their resonance rate a little, and Stein let him without comment.
As promised, Spirit's shoes were sitting next to the lab's front door. Spirit went to set down his blazer, but Stein took it from his outstretched hand instead as Spirit leaned down to grab his shoes.
"Thanks," he said, turning and leaning back against the wall. He didn't think he wanted to trust his balance that much with a wounded abdomen; he let the lab hold him up as he put his shoes on.
When he straightened up, Stein offered him his blazer and a private smile. "Careful on your way home," he said, and there was something warm and soft in his voice and in his soul.
"Yeah," said Spirit, plucking his blazer from Stein's hand. Stein's smile was gentle and affectionate in a way that Spirit wanted to taste; he didn't even bother with a decision before leaning in.
Stein kissed back immediately, and as Spirit fisted a hand in the front of Stein's shirt, he felt their souls come crashing back together. He felt a surge of want pulse through them both, and he didn't know where it had come from but it didn't matter; it belonged to both of them, and any distinction was purely semantic. He tugged on Stein's shirt, stumbling back half a step, and Stein fell gracefully forward against him as Spirit's back met the wall, catching himself with his hands on either side of Spirit's shoulders. Spirit's eyes were closed, but he felt them hit the wall, and felt the shy thrill of pleasure that curled through Stein's soul as he pressed forward, tilting Spirit's head back. Spirit's throat released a whine without his permission, but Stein didn't seem to mind; when Spirit's lips parted under his, Stein pressed his tongue into Spirit's mouth, and when Spirit moaned, he felt Stein hum in reply, so quietly the sound got lost in Spirit's mouth.
There was something surprisingly sure about the way Stein kissed, and it stole Spirit's breath away. He had to break away for air far too quickly. The back of his head hit the wall with a gentle thump; Stein let him retreat. Some greedy part of Spirit wished he hadn't; he felt Stein notice it, and watched his eyes widen for the briefest moment before he huffed an amused breath into the space between them.
"I should probably," said Spirit.
"It's getting late," Stein agreed.
"—wouldn't want to impose on you any further," Spirit continued.
"—need to get plenty of rest, so you can recover properly," Stein finished.
"Right," said Spirit.
"Mm," said Stein.
Spirit blinked. Neither of them broke eye contact. Neither of them moved. Their souls were still all mixed up together; the resonance flowed between them like air being passed between their lungs.
Eventually, Spirit cleared his throat, and the spell broke. Stein stepped back, straightening first his spine and then his shirt. Spirit did his best at the same, but his head was spinning a little. He knew he should go home — clear his head, get some rest, and stop imposing on Stein — but a large part of him would rather curl up with another book on the uncomfortable couch next to Stein and lose track of time again.
"It's getting dark," Stein said gently, and Spirit started easing his soul out of Stein's. "You should go while you still have the light." He reached out and opened the door; dusk was falling. Spirit would have to be quick if he wanted to reach the city limits before dark.
"Stein," he said, stopping on the threshold and turning back.
Stein met his eyes steadily. "Yes?"
The words suddenly felt all jumbled in Spirit's throat. He grasped at them, tried to figure out what he'd wanted to say. "Thanks," he managed.
Stein tipped his head in acknowledgement. "If you need me, you know where to find me," he said, and Spirit gave him a sharp nod, turned briskly on his heel, and strode out the door before he could get distracted again. He'd be back soon enough.