Work Text:
He knew the second they walked into his room.
He knew despite that smile they so carefully had in place and the way they remembered to keep their chin up and their eyes empty.
He knew despite how they’d scrubbed their skin, maybe because of it. He could see the faint red welts from where they’d scrubbed too hard peeking up from the collar of their shirt.
“Freelancer,” he exhaled.
They closed the door and shook their head. “It’s fine.”
Their aura was a tangled thicket of knots, like overgrown vines wrapped around them, thorns and all. He started forward, reaching for them, and their aura twisted. He stopped short of them, not sure what to do. What if they didn’t want to be touched? What if they blamed him? They should blame him. They had to put themself in danger to be with him. They had done it to help him and the others.
Their smile broke when he stopped short of them and he knew instantly he’d made the wrong choice. They looked away, anywhere but at him, and leaned back against the closed door. They touched the collar of their shirt, pulling at it a little like they’d hoped he wouldn’t notice everything wrong. “I can go. I just wanted to let you know everything went fine and that I’m okay.” The words were mumbled and pushed out fast, like the walls were falling down inside them. They turned around, grabbing at the doorknob.
Vindemiator closed the distance between them, hand to the door to keep it shut. “Wait. Please.”
They let go of the doorknob but stayed turned away from him, their back almost to his chest.
“You don’t have to lie to me. You don’t ever have to lie to me. You’re not okay.”
They closed their eyes. “You’ve been through worse.”
“Don’t do that,” he pleaded. “Pain is not comparable and the things I’ve been through…are not things I would wish on anyone, let alone you. I’m sorry I brought you here. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to stop you from seeing me…and him.”
The vines of their aura coiled around them, as if to strangle. “It’s not your fault. I don’t regret anything I did.”
“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asked, voice tearing at his throat.
Freelancer pressed their forehead to the door. “You don’t have to.”
He exhaled relief that still felt like pain. Didn’t have to. Like he wouldn’t want to. He gently but firmly slid his palm along their back, up their spine. The tangle of their aura relaxed the tiniest bit. “I love you,” he whispered.
They exhaled, slumping a little.
Had they really thought that would change? Never. “You did nothing wrong.”
Their body shuddered, a small sob rising in their chest and being choked off when they held their breath to try to stop it.
“Oh love.” He slowly wrapped his arm around them, pulling them away from the door and into his chest. They turned into his chest and he hugged them. After a while he walked them away from the door, needing to get distance between them and the world out there. He stroked their hair back from their face, dropping soft kisses on their cheeks and brow. Their breathing came in tight shudders but they relaxed in his hands. “Let me take care of you?”
Freelancer tensed but nodded against his chest.
He slid their jacket off their shoulders. “Do you want to take a bath, my love? We can soak for a while.”
Freelancer hesitated before nodding again. He didn’t like that they’d gone quiet but he couldn’t bring himself to demand that they answer in words either. How could he demand anything of them? He took their hand and gently led them to the bathroom, putting another shut door between them and the world. The white walls were bright and his freelancer shrank into themself under them.
He filled the tub with a thought, steam warming the whole room and quickly fogging the big mirrors. He took off his shirt and then gently took off theirs, lifting it up over their head. They looked away when they dropped their arms back to their sides.
Vindemiator ran his gaze over their torso quickly, not allowing himself to react to the story written in welts from scrubbing at certain stretches of skin. He unbuttoned their jeans and stripped them down. It was slow but not sensual. He’d taken their clothes off of them many times, in many ways, but this time was familiar and tender. He didn’t go too fast to scare them or be rough but he didn’t linger to give any signals that this was something sexual.
Freelancer started shaking, just the slightest tremors like they were suddenly cold. He vanished the rest of his own clothes and walked them to the tub. His heart hurt but he didn’t let himself dwell on it, wouldn’t let himself imagine what had happened or make it about his own anger and guilt.
He got them into the tub. It was large, built for two or maybe even three. He settled them in his lap, deep in the water, and they laid their head back against his shoulder. They shook for a while longer, despite the heat soaking into their skin and his arms around their middle. He healed the welts and scratches, kissing their temple. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Freelancer tensed, hanging onto his arm like he might let go. “No.”
The one-word answer was so quiet. He pressed his forehead to their temple. “Okay, love. Okay. But if you ever want to, you can. I’m right here.”
They exhaled slowly, like they were just barely holding themself together. Their eyes closed and they relaxed into his arms, against his chest.
“You did nothing wrong,” he repeated softly, words he’d told himself over and over at times. “This wasn’t your fault. And it changes nothing between us or about who you are.”
They nodded so slightly but he saw some of those tangles easing back in their aura. It hurt to imagine that his freelancer could have been thinking he would feel differently about them after something like this. He knew it wasn’t logical, but it was a reflection of their own pain.
He kept the water warm with magic while they laid there, never wanting to let go.
“Avior?” he silently called out to the other daemon.
“Yes?”
“They did what we asked.” He knew Avior knew that already. He knew they’d gotten access to the academy systems.
“Yes. The tech is ready when we are.”
“We’re ready.” Vindemiator told him.
“Vin—”
“I can’t let them go again,” he explained as best as he could. He didn’t feel physically capable of it. He wouldn’t be able to send them back out there. He would try to keep them, try to protect them. He would die before he let them go again—and he would try even knowing he could not win.
Avior was quiet for a while. Did he understand? Did he feel it in their connection? If anyone could understand it would be him. “How long do you have?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you when it starts.”
He would know even without being told, because his door would unlock and the security systems and cameras in the halls would go offline. He would know because Vega would set them all loose and they would purge the academy of the empowered enemies that ruled it. Vindemiator would leave his room and help push everyone that had been a danger to them out of the building, off of the property, before they security systems came back online. But his love would stay right there, safe in his room.
Vindemiator kissed Freelancer’s cheek. They were starting to fall asleep. “Do you want to move to the bed, love?” he whispered.
Freelancer jerked a little, hesitating for a second before answering, “Okay.”
He got them out of the tub and used magic to dry them both off before they could get cold. He put a big shirt on them and practically carried them to bed, the lights out and the room blissfully dark. They curled up together under the covers. They were tense again. He could feel their mind racing despite all the exhaustion hanging over them. He touched their cheek in the dark, down to their neck. “Love…”
He felt them swallow under his fingertips, their breath held tight when they scooted closer, right into his chest. He thought they were looking for closer snuggles, not sure why their aura flared with nerves, until he felt their hand on his thigh, sliding up, shakily reaching for his sex in the dark, under the covers.
Vindemiator caught their hand and pulled it away from him fast. Too fast. They gasped and froze. The nerves in their aura turned to outright fear. He let go of their hand but fought the instinct to jump out of the bed and put real space between them. A bit of magic and he was wearing soft sleeping pants. He was furious at himself for not bothering before, and for not putting together their tension at the mention of going to bed. And hadn’t they tensed earlier when he asked if he could take care of them?
How many times had he used those words and meant something else?
His heart officially broke.
“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.
Their voice wavered and he knew they were finally crying. He found their face and gently thumbed away their tears. “I wasn’t looking for that,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry,” they said again.
He shook his head, hugging them to him. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s okay. We’re okay. And I’m never going to do anything you don’t want to do, love. We don’t do that to each other.” It had never been about feeding with them.
They nodded into his chest, dragging deep breaths through their tears. “I’m sorry,” they whispered again, against his skin, like they were telling his heart.
He rubbed their back, curling around them as if he could protect them from the world. He was going to try. From this moment onward. No more compromises. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into their hair. “You’re okay.” He’d say it as many times as they needed. “You’re okay.” He was going to make it true.