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After Damien and Leïto dropped off the bomb and kicked their way out of the building, Leïto asked, "Hospital?"
Damien nodded. He touched the cut above his eye and then felt his ribs. "Good idea. I think you broke something. Or maybe it was the Yeti."
Leïto smiled and cuffed Damien's shoulder gently. The heel of his palm was ridged slightly with calluses. "For Lola."
"Hospital for Lola," Damien agreed. She had abrasions from the restraints and drugs in her system, and also, Damien was fairly certain that he'd need some painkillers once the adrenaline rush faded. "Let's go."
They went to the nearest emergency room. Leïto and Lola were taken one way and Damien went another. He found them again hours later. Leïto was sitting by Lola's hospital bed, his arms crossed and his chin touching his chest. He had a butterfly bandage on his eyebrow.
Damien stepped inside the room and mimed "is he sleeping?" at Lola. She nodded and mimed "come closer" with her index finger. Damien came inside and stood awkwardly by her bed. He didn't feel comfortable sitting on it, although Lola probably wouldn't mind.
"Lola," he said as quietly as he could. "Did they drug you the entire time?"
She lifted her chin. She looked much younger without makeup. "Yes."
"Did..." Damien asked. His knees felt liquid and weak. "Did Taha --"
"No," Lola said. Her lips twisted in a snarl and then settled into a smirk. "He tried, but he couldn't get it up. He wouldn't let anyone else have me, didn't want to take the chance that I'd tell."
Sometimes Damien hated his job, but today wasn't turning out to be as terrible as he'd feared. "Have you thought about rehab?"
Lola didn't say anything for a minute. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at Leïto. He twitched in his sleep. "Yes."
"I'll set it up," Damien said, giving her a chance to refuse. She was smart. He didn't think she would.
She didn't. "Take care of my brother for me while I'm in there."
"This is it," Damien said. He unlocked the door. Leïto stood close behind him. Their clothes were dirty and bloody, and the neighbors were staring. Damien didn't know any of their names, so he simply nodded.
"Hm," Leïto said, and followed Damien inside.
He turned on a light. Most of his flat was covered in a thick layer of dust. It smelled stale and looked almost unfamiliar. If Damien hadn't known where to find the spare key, he wouldn't have been entirely certain that it was his home.
"Are you hungry?" Damien asked.
Leïto raised an eyebrow. "You can cook?"
Damien raised his mobile phone. "I can call for delivery."
Leïto nodded. Damien called for food. The first two restaurants he tried had closed, but the third was still open. He ordered food and watched Leïto randomly open closet and cupboard doors, producing a dust rag, a broom and pan, and a vacuum that Damien didn't even remember owning.
Damien closed his mobile. Leïto was sweeping the floor; he casually asked, "Do you have money?"
Damien patted his pockets, looked around his bare flat, and said, "Shit."
Leïto cleaned while Damien searched for his checkbook. He finally found it under a pile of dirty shirts, halfway hidden underneath his bed.
By the time the food arrived, the flat was nearly clean, or at least close enough for Damien's standards. They sat on the couch and ate with their hands, devouring every last bite of pizza. A few minutes later, exhaustion fell over Damien hard as if he'd drunk drugged wine.
Damien closed his eyes, just for a moment.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky was getting light and Leïto's cheek was pressed against Damien's shoulder. Damien shifted and couldn't suppress his immediate groan of pain. Everything hurt, his neck, his back, even his toes. Damien nudged Leïto. Leïto's cheek slid down Damien's biceps before he woke up enough to stop himself from falling. Leïto caught his breath audibly, and then eased himself upright with caution.
"Bed," Damien grunted, and then rocked himself forward and onto his feet. He trudged forward while he still had momentum. His bedroom wasn't far; when he reached it, Damien fell on the bed face-first. He didn't know when he'd last changed the sheets and his feet were hanging off the end, but he didn't care. A moment later, the mattress rocked as Leïto climbed in beside him.
Damien was too tired to care. The warm press of a body against his hip and arm felt good. He'd been sleeping alone for years, ever since Hélène had left him.
When he woke, Leïto was gone, but the shower was running. Damien turned on his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes when the shower taps squeaked and shut off. Damien was just thinking that he needed to use the toilet as Leïto came out with a towel around his waist. He had more tattoos on his legs, one down the length of his thigh and another smaller one on his calf. A bead of water slipped from his hairline and down his neck. He was compact and hard with muscle, dark freckles and red cuts dotting his skin.
"May I borrow some clothing?" Leïto asked.
"Of course," Damien said. He slid out of bed when he realized that he was still staring. He kept his clean clothes in a cheap dresser from IKEA. The drawers wouldn't stay closed, and the bottom panels bowed at the center. They were nearly of a size, so Damien pulled out trousers and a shirt, and after a moment's hesitation, a pair of boxers.
Leïto thanked him and dropped his towel, pulling on Damien's clothes. Damien blinked once, then turned his back on Leïto and went to the toilet.
"Breakfast?" Damien asked after he washed his face and got dressed.
Leïto shook his head, but his stomach growled.
"Come on," Damien said. "I'll pay. Then you go see Lola."
Damien moved to open the door, but Leïto snatched at his arm and pulled him close. "I will pay you back."
"You saved my life," Damien said.
Leïto frowned. "You don't owe me for that."
Damien shrugged off Leïto's hand. "That's my decision to make. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"
"Coffee," Leïto said. When Damien rolled his eyes, he said, "And a croissant."
Damien smiled and bumped his fist against Leïto's chest. "Let's go."
Damien took Leïto to the clinic and then went to work to see if he still had a job. His supervisors asked him if we was crazy and told him to go home, that he was on paid leave pending investigation. At loose ends and not wanting to return so soon to an empty flat, Damien wandered the city for a few hours. It was strange to see ordinary people going about their day and tourists snapping pictures; it was as if the last few days of his life had never happened. Until he saw the newspaper headlines about the bomb.
Damien opened his front door and discovered Leïto asleep on the couch. It was too short for him, and Leïto was curled awkwardly on his side. Damien leaned over and shook Leïto's shoulder so he could tell him to use the bed, but Leïto woke violently, and then Damien was airborne. They knocked over the couch and slid under the small dining table, bodies tangled, chair legs screeching and then clattering to the floor.
Leïto went for his throat and then sat up abruptly, bumping his head against the bottom of the table.
"You startled me," Leïto said.
Damien snorted and said, "I startled you?"
"Sorry."
Damien bucked, but all of Leïto's weight was pinning his hips and he couldn't get free. "Get off me."
Leïto made to sit up, but then simply bounced in place, smiling. It transformed his face, erasing his worry lines, and Damien wondered just how young Leïto really was.
"Make me," Leïto said.
It was a challenge Damien couldn't refuse. He shoved at Leïto's shoulders and Leïto fell on his back, giving Damien enough room to slither out from under the table. Leïto was on him in a flash, and they rolled across the floor until they rammed into the couch. Damien cracked his elbow on the wooden arm and flinched hard, nailing Leïto in the nose with his wrist. Leïto hissed and tried to curl up instinctively, but Damien was on top of him, so instead he covered his face with his hands.
"Sorry," Damien said, pulling at Leïto's wrists. "Let me see. Let me see!"
Leïto shifted his hands away and Damien cupped his face, tilting his head to assess the damage. No blood. Damien tested the cartilage with his thumbs.
"Not broken," he declared. "I owe you one."
Leïto raised his eyebrow. His eyes had watered and a tear slipped down his temple. "That's it?"
"What, do you expect me to kiss it better?" Damien joked, and realized that he was sprawled between Leïto's legs. They were touching chest to thigh, and Leïto had dust in his spiky hair. Leïto waited a moment and then covered one of Damien's hands with his own, lifting his chin. His eyes were guarded, watchful.
Damien wasn't good with people, not when he was being himself as opposed to playing the part of some lowlife, but this signal was clear.
Damien kissed him. Leïto opened his mouth readily, warm and slick, and not at all shy with his teeth and tongue. He ran his hands up Damien's arms and gripped his T-shirt, squeezing Damien with his thighs. He groaned and kissed Leïto again, stubble prickling at the skin around his mouth. Leïto bit Damien's lower lip and his chin, then flipped them so that he was on top.
Leïto grinned and took off his shirt. Not to be outdone, Damien pulled off his own shirt and then unbuttoned his pants. Leïto slapped Damien's hands away and pushed his hand inside Damien's boxers, rubbing at his cock, assessing with his strong fingers before he pulled his hand away and yanked Damien's trousers and boxers to mid-thigh.
Leïto wrapped his hand around the base of Damien's cock, winked, and then slid down Damien's body and took his cock in his mouth.
"Shit, fuck, God," Damien said. He put his hands on Leïto's head and grabbed at his hair. Leïto wasn't holding back. He licked and sucked and hummed, his lips pink and spit-slick, jerking Damien off with one hand and holding Damien down with the other. It was unbearably hot, and Damien came before he was ready.
He was sweating and panting, muscles lax, and he watched as Leïto leaned over and spit on Damien's shirt, wiping his chin with his forearm. Leïto sat on Damien's hips. He was hard, his cock pushing at the soft material of his trousers. Leïto cupped his cock lazily and smiled at Damien. Damien folded his hands behind his head and grinned back.
Leïto simply shrugged and slid his hand inside his trousers, jerking himself off.
"I can't see," Damien complained. Unconcerned, Leïto shrugged again. Damien flipped him onto his back, hitching up his own trousers and then pressing his hand to Leïto's mouth. "Spit."
Leïto bit the edge of his hand and then licked Damien's palm slowly. Damien pulled out Leïto's cock and stroked it hard and fast, roughly thumbing the head. Leïto moaned and pushed his cock into Damien's fist, his hands clutching at Damien's upper thighs.
"Come on, come on," Damien said. He leaned down and licked the tattoo on Leïto's left shoulder, his knuckles dragging against his belly as he continued to jerk Leïto off. Leïto tasted like clean sweat and smelled faintly of the soap in Damien's shower. Damien kissed Leïto's neck and then used his teeth. Leïto gasped softly and came in Damien's hand. Damien used his already dirty shirt to clean them both up and then rolled off Leïto; they lay side by side on the floor.
Damien scratched at his chest. "Shower?"
"Yeah," Leïto said. He hitched up his pants and stood up, offering Damien a hand. Damien used it to haul himself up.
"Then lunch," Damien said, thinking aloud. He nudged Leïto toward the bathroom.
"I can cook," Leïto offered. "But all you have in your kitchen are a petrified baguette and a can of sauerkraut."
Leïto was beautiful and could cook, and he fought better than anyone Damien knew. It was such a strange feeling, but Damien wanted to keep him forever.
"We'll get groceries," Damien said. "You cook, I clean."
"Deal," Leïto said.