Work Text:
Freelancer came down the dark hall from the bedroom at the back of the apartment toward the kitchen at the front. Their legs were cold, big sleep shirt hanging down over one shoulder, and eyes still half-closed and sleepy. They were almost around the counter, almost stepping onto tile floor, when they realized they weren’t alone.
Their eyes opened and they woke up all the way in a flash, body jerking toward the living room and back hitting the counter. A man stood there, another behind him. They wore black hoodies and ski masks. Actual ski masks!
Freelancer had had their place broken into before, when they were first on their own, but they hadn’t been home. And they had been mugged once before too, all before moving to Dahlia, but the guy hadn’t bothered with a mask.
The second guy, the one behind the big one standing almost within arm’s reach of Freelancer, was frozen in the process of unplugging their tv from the wall.
Their first thought was, “Really? While I was asleep in the other room? Ballsy…” but that momentary appreciation of their guts was followed instantly by instinct to get out of this without a fist to the face, or worse. Freelancer slowly lifted one hand between them, fingers spread. “Okay,” they said, as though these assholes had offered a deal and they were taking it.
Calm. They just needed to keep things calm.
They would have taken a step back but their back was already to the counter. “Take it. I didn’t see shit.”
The two stayed frozen for another second before the big guy took a step closer, as if testing the imagined boundary between them, Freelancer’s hand still out. “You home alone?” he asked.
Their mind ran a thousand miles in the seconds after that question. Were they? No. Gavin was still asleep. But what was better, telling them that they were or telling them that no, in fact, there was another person in the back room who might be calling the cops right now?
Their thoughts were so fast and chasing old instincts that it never even occurred to them to use magic, or that Gavin was a daemon, all they could think was whether these strangers who had been willing to break into the apartment while they were asleep, would hurt him.
“No,” Freelancer answered without much pause, all those thoughts taking only a moment. Being alone wouldn’t be good. “My boyfriend’s still asleep.” They would scream bloody murder if either of these guys tried to go down that hallway though.
The guy unplugging the tv tsked and hurried to pick up it up. “Let’s go,” he whispered.
The other guy stared at Freelancer for another moment before stepping back and picking up their backpack off the chair nearest him.
Freelancer started forward to take it back on instinct. Their computer and books were in there. Their wallet and everything they had. They had had that backpack when they had nothing else. Sometimes it was hard to remember that it wasn’t all they owned still.
The big guy shoved them back hard, their back hitting the counter again, working the same spot. They hissed out a breath and winced more at the mistake of trying to get it back than the shove. A bruise was fine. That time they’d been mugged they’d gotten the shit kicked out of them. That seemed like a lifetime ago though. It sort of was.
Gavin walked down the hallway and everything seemed to freeze again.
The two guys snapped their attention to him only to relax when they saw him. Gavin was smaller than them, wearing only a pair of sweats and stretching sleepily. “Deviant?” he called, voice husky.
He stopped and blinked at the other two, one eyebrow lifting along with the corner of his mouth. “What is…Who are they? Deviant, is this…is this a roleplay thing?”
Freelancer felt like two worlds were colliding in their head. Gavin feared nothing because he was a daemon, an incubus, made of magic and well-fed. And Freelancer… Freelancer was magic too. They weren’t a lost, confused kid anymore.
Gavin’s eyes gleamed in the dark, flashing over the guy with the tv and then the other with Freelancer’s bag in his hand. “Oh,” he exhaled the word, the start of a smile vanishing when he suddenly understood. Did he put it together or did he feel it all in their auras? What would their auras tell him?
And then Gavin grinned. Of all the smiles, smirks, and grins Freelancer had seen, they had never seen this. It was all teeth and menace. He took another step forward, hips swaying like something feline. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.”
The big guy huffed a laugh but it was confused, choking on an instinct the man himself couldn’t place. “Careful, pretty boy.”
The air in the room shifted, growing heavier.
Gavin took another step, almost between the intruder and Freelancer now. “Put it down and leave,” he said, and it might have sounded generous if it wasn’t for the low rumble under his voice, like a storm on the horizon.
“G-Gav…” Freelancer tried, still caught between being afraid for him and knowing that there was nothing to fear at all. Caught between the instincts of life before and the knowledge of life now. They’d stepped closer to him, the fingertips of one hand to his bare back but their eyes still over his shoulder on the unpredictable stranger. They couldn’t let anything happen to Gavin. They couldn’t.
“Listen to your—” the stranger started but then Gavin was right there, in front of him.
Freelancer’s hand stayed in the air, where he had been. They couldn’t see whatever they saw on his face, but the one holding the tv dropped it. The plastic and glass crunched. They both gasped like it was hard to breathe and stumbled for the door but the big guy couldn’t get away. At first Freelancer thought Gavin had grabbed him, but he’d grabbed the backpack and the stranger had forgotten to let go. For long seconds he kicked at the floor, falling down and getting up and trying to get away but unable to as long as his fist was still clamped around the strap of their bag.
“Let go, dipshit,” Gavin growled.
He did, on his knees and crawling out of the apartment.
Gavin followed to the door, leaning out and watching them go.
When he came back in, he flicked on the lights.
Freelancer blinked.
Gavin stared back. His expression was soft but confused. “What was that?” he asked gently, crossing to them and putting their bag gently back on the chair on his way.
“I…I got up and they were… I should have…I don’t know, I just…”
Gavin stood right in front of them, touching their arms and nodding like he understood all their broken sentences. “Okay. It’s okay.”
“No. I…Fuck, why didn’t I do anything?”
He touched their face, dropping soft kisses. “Did you freeze up? That’s natural—”
“No, I just… I forgot.”
“Forgot?” Gavin blinked.
Freelancer felt heat rush their cheeks and tears prick their eyes. “I forgot I could use magic,” they confessed in a whisper.
Gavin stared for another second and they could tell he was torn between smiling and being amused or being very worried. “Has this happened before, Deviant? Before you knew you had magic, I mean. Were you ever…” He winced and flicked a hand at the room, as if encompassing whatever this was.
Freelancer shrugged.
Gavin frowned but nodded. “That makes sense then. You did what you knew.” He pushed the mess of their hair behind their ear. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“No. I’m fine,” they said and then sighed when they looked past him at their busted tv.
He turned, arm curling around their waist, and followed their gaze. With a little laugh and a little magic, the tv was back where it had been and fixed. “Magic,” he whispered, kissing their temple, and they sighed, sagging into him. “You’re okay,” he promised, hands trailing from the back of their head to the base of their spine.
Freelancer swallowed hard and nodded, scrubbing the tears from their eyes. He kissed their cheeks, soothing the tracks where they had gone. “Want to stay up or go back to bed, love?” he asked gently.
Freelancer sighed, leaning from side to side as they tried to decide. They weren’t sure they could fall asleep, but they were still so tired. “Bed and maybe sit up for a while?”
He smiled, kissing them on the mouth this time. It lingered and they felt a little better. They locked the door again, but couldn’t remember if they’d locked it earlier or not. Maybe they hadn’t? Maybe they’d gotten lax? They put on the chain lock too this time.
Gavin watched them, his heart in his throat. He had never thought to lock their door before. He had always viewed locks on doors as a means of keeping people from walking in on sex…which he didn’t mind.
It had never occurred to him that anyone would dare to come into is deviant’s home uninvited and with ill intent. What would have happened tonight if he hadn’t woken up when he had? What if he hadn’t been there? They would have used magic eventually, he was sure of it. If it came to a real confrontation, it would have been instinct. But if the assholes had just taken their stuff and left?
That flavor of carefully held panic in his deviant’s aura was still scraping at his nerves.
And the violence in that man who had been standing so fucking close to them. Too close.
After the deviant locked up and rubbed more would-be tears from their eyes, Gavin led them back to bed. He put up a ward around the apartment this time, making sure they felt it and his heart breaking a little when they relaxed against him. He settled them in bed, in his arms, and kissed their face. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered.
Freelancer huffed a tired laugh. “It’s not your fault. I probably didn’t lock—”
“It’s not your fault,” he countered. “They shouldn’t have tried to rob you.” He played with their hair, their eyelids heavy but their aura still rattling with too many thoughts, uncertainties, and nerves. He wished he could take those away. “Too bad it wasn’t a roleplay thing,” he joked in a whisper, rewarded by the instant curve of their lips and the lighter burst of their aura.
“Creepy home invasion fantasy?” they considered, wrinkling their nose.
He kissed that nose. “Ski masks and all.”
Freelancer hummed, unimpressed. “Maybe.”
He stroked their scalp through their hair.
“Did you really think it was?”
Gavin smiled. “I mean, it made more sense than unempowered criminals…”
Freelancer snorted. Good, humor at the thought of them forgetting they could use magic. “Can you imagine what Damien’s going to say when we tell him?”
Gavin kissed their temple. “We’ll have to tell him outside so he doesn’t set anything on fire…”
Freelancer smiled, drifting toward sleep again, their aura quieting in the gentle waves of comfort and affection he was used to.
Gavin sighed softly, kissing across their cheek. “You’re okay,” he told them, and himself.
The next day when they were in the shower, he would notice the bruise on their back. He recognized a countertop bruise when he saw one and gently prodded them into telling him again what had happened, with all the details this time. They shrugged off the shove and Gavin let it go, but he healed the bruise. He would always lock that stupid door and ward the apartment too. His human was precious.