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Kayn hears nothing but the steam of the hot shower hissing. Then the door to the bathroom is knocked merely once before Talon barges in.
Kayn whoops and nearly skids, and then harangues him, “What the fuck’re you doing?”
Pointless noise. He’ll see in a moment anyway. He yanks the glass door open and then the ruined navy blue sweatshirt, the blood, the wounds on his hands and face are all plain and evident, even in the steam.
When it counts, Kayn is quicker to action than to barking. He assesses, starts to think about grabbing the first aid kit, even when he’s the one standing stark naked under the spray.
Talon thrusts himself inside the glass cage of the shower and there is only so much space two grown men can take up without bumping into each other. The shower stains red, like a celebratory splash of wine when Talon stands right under the stream. He has to get the smell out first.
Kayn yawps his name in extreme indignation as red droplets splash all over his glistening skin. Dirty, stinking chem-laced blood.
Violently wrinkling his nose, Kayn continues, “What were you fighting, a giant sewer rat?!” He hop-skips out of the way so more blood doesn’t splash onto him. “Ughh, disgusting!”
With his less-fucked up hand, Talon lopsidedly tugs at his sweatshirt, ripping the last of the ragged threads covering his wound in an attempt to expose all of it to the water. His abdomen seizes up in pain of course: the adrenaline isn’t dulling it anymore. He becomes stuck awkwardly, the sweater half mangled but still strangling his torso.
Kayn watches before reluctantly reaching out, making him bend over, pulling the wet clothing off for him. The rockstar discards it onto the floor, kicks it into a pile against the wall. Freed, Talon grabs the shower head and hoses himself down, wet jeans and tennis shoes be damned. He notices Kayn staring, eyes raking over his face and the wound. When he glares back, Kayn pulls out of his personal space at last, leaving a cold pocket of air swirling in the steam. He doesn't even bother with a towel as he strides out of frame to get the kit. Talon’s skin prickles with goosebumps.
+++
While Kayn changes into a fresh set of clothes, Talon sits shirtless on the sofa, wrapping gauze onto his worse hand.
“Couldn’t you have just done this at your place? Fucked up your shower - not mine?”
The drawers bang open and shut as Kayn looks for needle and thread, the sewing kit Sett had forcedly gifted to him. Talon waits for him to pad over and bend down in front of him, examining the largest cut - it’s shallow, blood loss was the bigger problem. Talon grips the couch edge and tries to focus on the almost sandy quality of the weave.
Kayn is a little unsure. “Never stitched anything this big.” He shakes the saline solution, shifts back and forth on his heels.
Talon raises his gaze to the ceiling, not sure if he’s actually rolling his eyes or just looking for the right words to encourage Kayn, stuck somewhere on that ugly moulding. “Same as a small one. Wash it and stitch.”
Kayn tsks, pretends to hate being told what to do. “Hold still.”
“Start with a knot.” Talon shows him how.
And then the perfunctory words stop. Silence sets in, like the needles in Kayn’s steady hand sinking into his skin. Talon focuses past the pain; after years of this work, it’s easy by now, almost. He drinks the water Kayn has poured in a cup.
About a third of the way through, Talon looks down. Kayn is doing fastidious work. “They're good. Go faster. ”
The wet strands of dyed magenta shake as Kayn gripes again, “Why couldn't you have done this yourself?”
Cass gave him uppers so he could retrieve her latest test batch, stolen wayward. Even nearly an hour after the fight and here, surrounded by the familiar, dim walls of Kayn’s apartment, Talon's hands aren't steady enough.
When Kayn finally ties the last knot, he shoves everything back into the bag to deal with later and sags into the sofa beside him, radiating heat.
There’s a bottle of wine on the coffee table. Kayn prefers cold beer.
“That’s a good vintage.”
Kayn furrows his eyebrows at it, “Rhaast picked it out.”
“Wine?”
“It’s kind of a hobby of his. Guess it reminds him of the good old days,” Kayn shrugs, bemused. This must be one of those things about the demon that still remains a puzzle to Kayn. Then, he slides a sly, lidded gaze to Talon.
“You only have good taste in something when it’s related to a mark. Not thinking of taking me out, are you?”
After a beat, Talon leans into Kayn at last, deliberately melting their warmth together. “Staying in tonight.”
Kayn freezes, interested, “Oh?”
Talon wordlessly snags the bottle. The stitches remain tight.
“Alcohol isn’t -”
Talon uncorks it and swigs, just a few gulps, right in front of him to shut him up. Then, he shoves the bottle at the rockstar and saunters into the bedroom.
They’re not getting their hands on each other tonight.
He worms under the blankets and makes room for two. He watches as the lights are extinguished in the living room and the hallway and then Kayn reappears as a shadow, following him right in under the comforter.
Earlier, in the shower, they had been close, vulnerable, in dense rising steam, and Talon’s mouth and nose filled with the freshly-washed smell of him. Now, the scent of skin and heat is hidden under layers of warmth.
Kayn insists on huddling up next to him, putting himself between Talon and the door like a guard dog. He snarls his fingers into Talon’s sleeve, who turns his head to sleep facing him. Resisting the weariness for a few more seconds, Kayn double-checks, “You’re not going to wake up and keep watch on your own again, are you?”
“No.”
“Thank fuck.” Kayn sighs and drifts off within seconds of closing his eyes.
+++
In the morning, when Kayn wakes up, he finds the shower cleaned. The evidence of it all scrubbed right out of the tiles.