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It was late. Far too late for Bosco to be awake, tossing and turning on the edge of the giant mattress the three had bought after months of saving up their cash from grifting, thieving, and petty crimes.
Eventually, he gives up on sleep and extracts himself as gently as possible from Charlie’s arms to make his way to the kitchen. Hissing, he strips the shirt he wore to bed and grabs a pack of peas to ice the bruises still littered across his torso.
It had been a few days after their grand heist, and tonight was the first night there wasn’t at least one horseman sleeping in a random corner of their apartment. And yes, it was a big apartment for Bushwick, especially given that gentrification had increased the price of the neighborhood over the past couple of years, but it was still not at all big enough to house the three of them plus the five horsemen for days on end. He’s grateful to be alone, at last, and for a moment of peace after all the insanity. It was nice, of course, to share a cup of tea with Henley when they both couldn’t sleep, or to climb onto the roof to roll a joint with Jack or Merritt, or get some life advice coated in seven layers of sarcasm from the great J. Daniel Atlas. But, it didn’t leave him much time to decompress, emotionally or physically.
Bosco turns to collapse on the couch, and is stopped in his tracks by a five foot bundle of pure rage in the form of June. For a beat he’s confused why she’s so angry—it’s just past three in the morning, what is there to even be upset about—when he remembers she hasn’t seen the mottled tapestry of his skin yet. In a move that would bring him to his knees in any other context, her eyes slowly trail down his body, taking in the brown, green, purple, and blue marks littering his entire torso. Shit.
She frowns, takes a step forward, and hisses, low and dangerous, “Who did this to you?” Demands, really. He shouldn’t find it as attractive as he does.
“June, I—“ he stutters, and swallows. Her eyes are hard, furious, and Bosco struggles to find the words to explain himself.
“I got caught when I was pulling the distraction. Had to dislocate my thumb to get out of my cuffs, and some goons had a bit too much fun beating me up in the process.” He can feel the rage pouring off of her as she sighs. He remembers, vividly, every single time she and Charlie have sat him down and told him he’s not expendable to them. He’s spent a long, long time unlearning a lot of beliefs he’s had about being worthless and he has his boyfriend and girlfriend to thank for that. Only now, after years of trusting them, does he believe them wholeheartedly when they say they wouldn’t be able to live without him.
She crosses her arms over her chest and glares fiercely at him. “And you were planning on telling us this when, exactly?” He knows the thoughts running through her mind right now, and feels a pang of guilt in his chest for the hurt he sees flitting across her face.
Taking Bosco’s silence for the answer it is, she rolls her eyes and huffs. Gently, so gentle, always, with him, she takes his hand that wasn’t hurt. Then, she turns him around and jumps to sit on the counter, tilting his chin so he can look into her eyes. “Hopeless. Fucking men, I can’t believe the two of you sometimes. You know, Bosco, you’re carrying my heart around with you. Charlie’s, too. You’d better be more careful with them next time.”
Her eyes flash, daring him to make fun of her for the cheesy comment. But shockingly, it works, and Bosco kisses her forehead in agreement. “June,” he exhales, “I know. But I’d do it again without even thinking about it. We all knew the risks going into this.”
She pulls back a bit and says, “You’re so dramatic it makes me want to throw up. You know I’m gonna tell on you to Charlie, right? I bet you’ll even get his disappointed face.”
Bosco groans and buries his face in her neck. “You know I can’t take it when he does the eyes. They kill me. Please, baby, I’m weak.”
They’re both kidding; he knows he has to come clean. Their rule is no secrets, not like this. Their eyes meet again and he says, “You know I’m not going to apologize. Anything for the two of you.”
And there's a shifting sound behind them, and they both know it’ll be Charlie, rubbing his eyes and pouting. His warmth encompasses Bosco from behind as he collapses against his back and snakes his arms around his waist. His eyes are still closed, so he misses the bruises littering Bosco’s chest for now. He lilts out, “Woke up and you both weren’t there. Bed, please. Now.” He yawns, catlike, and drops his head on Bosco’s shoulder. Bosco finds him adorable, always shuffling around their apartment half asleep first thing in the morning and late at night.
Bosco lets out a breath and June says quietly, “Sorry, honey, was educating our resident dumbass on how much we love him. But we can talk about it more tomorrow.” She raises a pointed eyebrow at Bosco after this, to which he pulls a face.
She continues verbally, “Let’s get you back to bed.” They’re all craving normalcy and stability after days of having horsemen traipse through their home, and still emotionally coming down from the rollercoaster that’s been their lives for the past few weeks. Years, really. Decades, some could argue.
Charlie, useless in the middle of the night, simply hums. Bosco wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep on his shoulder, so slips out of their embrace and hands him off to June so he can put his shirt back on. They’ll talk about it more in the morning, but for now, they each take one of Charlie’s hands and lead him back down the hall.
Bosco, who usually sleeps in the middle, pushes Charlie to the center of the bed and curls around his side. June takes her place opposite, and begins running her fingers through Bosco’s hair in a way she hopes will put him to sleep.
It works, and Bosco’s mind is blissfully empty as he drifts off.