If the world was ending you’d come over, right?

[Jack Ripley]

"Am I?" he asked, because he wanted to hear it again and because he didn't know yet if he really believed in it. Maybe if he heard it a thousand times. Maybe if he lived with it sitting in his heart for a while. The darkness he felt overwhelming him for so long felt... lifted. As if the night had finally given way to the golden rays of the morning. It was never him... That... darkness. He still marveled in that revelation. It was still taking root inside, the realization that he hadn't hurt anybody, hadn't killed anybody.

Eyes closed. That little "Hm" sound that Brayden loved so much. Less of a thinking sound at the moment, more of a I really love it when you kiss me like that sound. He lifted his hand to stroke Brayden's hair as he opened his eyes again. See, even the love felt so tangible. It was a good feeling, though. The best feeling.

And then Marge went and ruined it with her shouting. This time when Jack closed his eyes, it was more as if he was trying to block it out. Was she... was she standing at the door the whole time? Jack didn't really care who saw him do what but... Damn, poor queen of his heart. She really was suffering.

"If we don't," he whispered back, into the side of Brayden's head, "she'll come for us."

And wasn't that a terrifying plight; if she kicked down the door... She just might, too, if they stayed in here forever. Or tried to wait it out for her to leave. Somehow, Jack doubted they could ever wait anything out against Marge. Her stubbornness knew no bounds.

Annnnd that was the sound of his phone, wasn't it? Jack tried to ignore it, whispering again, "That's probably just Marge again."

[Brayden Smith]

"Yes. When I think of love, I'll always think of you." There were certain people that came into one's life whose presence and whose memories could never be erased. They carved out their own special place. Jack was one of those people. Marge, too. They formed such a large part of Bray's life now that he couldn't imagine being without them. Their presence lent him strength; their voices raised him when he fell. To have found not only one person but two, Bray felt like the luckiest man in the world.

"If you fuckers aren't out here in five minutes, first chance I get I'm burning all your clothes, Jack," Marge called again, with an ominous clang that sounded like a pot lid being dropped. Or thrown. Forcibly. And with great annoyance.

Bray sat up reluctantly, disengaging from Jack. He wished he could lay there forever with his lover—ahh, that was never going to get old for him—and bask in the afterglow, but it seemed that their fifteen minutes were up. At least they... made love. Bray smiled, unable to stop himself. He leaned down to kiss Jack again feeling as light as air. Even his sore backside wasn't that bad, he found—but then again Bray did always have a high tolerance for pain. "I'm going to take a shower," he murmured as he slid his legs over the side of the bed.

"Three minutes!" Marge was throwing more things around.

Bray winced. "Here." He retrieved Jack's phone and handed it to him. A part of him wanted Jack to join him in the shower but then Marge might actually burn everything down to the ground—Bray wasn't willing to test her patience.

[Jack Ripley]

"Good," he said with a triumphant little smile and a cocky little tilt of the head. He liked knowing there was a part of him that would always be with Brayden. Not just physically, either. All the ways. Every way. And then there was Marge, shouting again. Nooo... Jack groaned and slid his hands over his face. Why was she doing this to them? Could they not just soak in the beautiful afterglow of sex and love and love and love? Mostly the love, although he had to admit, it was so satisfying to finally scratch that itch.

"She's really counting the minutes," he said in disbelief. And just because Brayden was handing it to him, Jack automatically put his hand out and took the phone. Once it was in his hand, he didn't even know what he wanted to do with it. Call everyone and tell them he was in love? Look, ma, he finally met The One! Tell everyone!

Jack held the phone to his naked chest but reached out with his other hand and held onto Brayden's hand for a moment. He looked at him as if he were the Jack from the Titanic movie and his Rose was being swept away from him. (Shut up, it didn't go with what happened in the movie but he was looking at him with such drama.)

"Fine, fine," he said, kissing those fingertips reverently. "Take your shower. If we don't open the door, she's going to kick it down."

He finally let go of Brayden, with all the reluctance in the world. And he waited until he was out of the room to look down at his phone, expecting it to be some threat from Marge. He half sat up when he realized it was a student. Hm.

By the time Brayden emerged from the shower, Jack was sitting, naked and crosslegged with his phone at his knee. When he saw Brayden, he made reaching hands for him.

"Ohhh, Beeee," he said in a tone that suggested he did not have good news. "Guess what?"

[Brayden Smith]

"I love you. Always." Bray murmured as his fingertips received the royal treatment—kissed, ah, so tenderly and so reverently. Jack had such a bad way of spoiling him! He was going to get big-headed and start thinking that he was actually worth all of this affection... Well, maybe he did deserve it. A little bit. It was so nice to be pampered and spoiled after being alone for so long, gleaning scraps from strangers.

The shower was lovely and warm—not too hot, he didn't want to boil himself alive. Bray didn't stay too long because a part of him was anxious about Marge, and what damage she might do to precious Jack. He got out with a towel around his waist and hurriedly went to find clothes to put on, only to find Jack lounging naked without a care in the world. Marge was sitting beside him eating soup, looking amazed with herself every other bite.

"Um?" Bray went over as directed, catching Jack's outstretched hand in his. "Is everything okay?" His private parts looked undamaged. Bray's cheeks felt warm as he recalled what pleasures those private parts imparted. Ahem. He. Ah. Needed to stop staring. Bray gently laid his towel over Jack's lap before sitting down on his other side and leaning up to kiss his cheek.

[Jack Ripley]

"Not really, noooo," he said, elongating that last word as he was kissed. Then he looked down at the towel on his lap and then at Marge like You see? You see how he treats it?! They'd had this conversation before! Brayden acted like his naked penis was some kind of affront to his eyes!

But no, no. That wasn't the issue at hand--for now. Jack would have to jump in the shower next and that meant clothes and that meant facing up to the real Problem at hand. Which was...

"Keith's not dead."

He blurted that part out first, he didn't know why; he was just--it was weighing pretty heavily on him. The minute the poor kid he was trying to rescue typed out that name... It was a common name, too. But just seeing it sent icy chills down his spine.

Realizing it wasn't the best way to bring it up, Jack tried to backtrack. "A student of mine contacted me and he's in... trouble. So I offered him a place to stay with us... I thought he was just forced into some kind of cult but it turns out he's part of that fallen fae group? And he knows Keith." He frowned. "And he kept telling me to shut the doors to my dreams or something like that."

[Brayden Smith]

"What?" Bray's mouth fell slack. "He—what?"

"Yeah Keithy boy? Not as dead as we'd hoped he would be." Marge was still eating away, looking rather too content for someone who had been throwing things around in a fit of rage earlier. "So what the fuck did we kill out there, is the question? And how do we get our hands on the real one so I can stomp on his balls and cram them up his eye sockets?"

Bray winced. That sounded... painful. But there was a lot being dumped on him now, that he suspected Marge had already had explained to her. A student. Cult. Fallen fae. That last one had no meaning to Bray, since his parents spoke so little about his fae lineage. It was like they were trying to shield him from something unpleasant, in the hopes that he would never have to come into contact with it.

"I—okay. Yeah. That's... not good..." An understatement, definitely. Bray frowned. "The dream thing, I think I can help. Maybe we can learn more from your student, too. Can you ask him to come over—"

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "Professor Jack?" Someone called out softly, then knocked again. Bray threw a panicked look at naked Jack. Marge just kept eating.

[Jack Ripley]

Jack smiled as he caressed Brayden's hand, the one he still held from when he'd pulled him over. He kissed him affectionately on the side of the nose.

"I knew you could help with that."

Dreams were his thing, right? Brayden had to know where all the doors were, probably. Jack had no idea. He didn't even know how people were getting into his dreams, let alone how to stop them. As for the student coming over... Well... Jack was about to tell him--get back to that part--when there was a knock at the door. Jack looked at Brayden, who looked like he had just seen a ghost. Or heard one.

"There goes my shower," Jack muttered. He couldn't very well leave the kid to these two. He was the one who invited him over and made all those promises... Oh he hoped he could keep them; he hated to disappoint a wide eyed innocent kid. Removing the towel over his crotch with a flourish, Jack marched over to his closet. There was no time for dressing so he chose one of his best robes, slid it on, glanced back at the other two, and then headed for the front door.

"Hello, Raphael," Jack said, as if it was perfectly normal to greet students at the door in nothing but a robe. He opened the door wider to let him in, although he peered outside, half afraid Keith was right behind him. "Come in, make yourself at home, my roommate made soup."

[Brayden Smith]

Oh gosh, Jack. He—he kissed strange places but all of them felt so right when his lips were on them. Bray kept getting distracted by the towel. Or... what laid underneath the towel. He wasn't usually like this but—damnit they had just finished making love. It was bound to still be on his mind, especially with Jack naked! This situation wasn't working out for them, clearly. But also he understood the urgency of the situation now that Keith was back in the picture.

"Uhh..." He thought Jack would put on some clothes but. No? Bray folded the towel absently as Marge slid over to sit beside him, forcing the spoon into his mouth to taste the soup she'd made. "Mm... good." It tasted just like his! He smiled at her, then blanched when her head tipped up and she pecked him on the lips. Ah. Yes. Bray sat stiff as a board as Jack opened the door to a smiling, sweet face.

"Hello professor Jack!" Raphael stepped inside when bidden, glancing them both over with a curious expression. "Ah, the crack soup! Yes I think I need some... right about now." He lowered his voice. "I posted the letter, professor Jack. I hope it works..."

"Hello cutie~" Marge was up. "Let me serve you some soup baby. Come this way, it's in the kitchen." She slid an arm around him and steered him away, while Bray sat there feeling... feeling the chances of him and Jack ever being alone again gently slipping away.

[Jack Ripley]

"About that--" Jack started but Marge was whisking Raphael away into the kitchen for some reason. Standing there with his hand half in the air, where he'd been about to place it on the boy's shoulder, he lowered it to adjust the front of his robe instead. What was that about, anyway? Watching them go off to have some soup, Jack backed up and dropped down beside Brayden.

"He's a good kid, a little--"

He stopped talking when he noticed the dismay on Brayden's face. Sliding his arm around his shoulders, he drew him in close and kissed his temple.

"Hey... B," he said, about to ask what was wrong but... he kinda got it. He got it too well. Closing his eyes, he pressed his nose to the side of Brayden's head. Ah, he smelled nice. Clean. With his expensive shampoo in his hair. Jack's lips upturned into a smile. Oh, he liked that. All the little reminders of them being together. Like shared beds and blankets and shampoo...

"I promise this won't be our life forever," he whispered, so as not to be heard by the others. And it wouldn't because he was pretty sure they'd both die if that happened. All they had to do was get this business with Keith situated, help Raphael, and... everything would be normal again.

[Brayden Smith]

"Hey," Bray whispered somewhere into Jack's shoulder, resting his head forward against it. Everything was so frantic lately in their lives. It felt like a thousand years ago that he bumped into Jack in the courtyard and exchanged a shy hello with him. It felt longer to think back on that night they spent under the stars, on the bench outside, or the first card game night.

Jack was an oasis in the midst of all the chaos.

He seemed to instinctively know Bray's thoughts and feelings. Were they written on his face? Lately he was less guarded, it was true. He felt less like the Brayden of old; he seemed to have changed and evolved. Emotions were less restrained; speech became less hampered. Sure he hemmed and hawed when he was anxious or nervous or flustered, but even then the words got themselves out faster than they did before. The scenarios he ran through in his mind were fewer now, further in between. Jack had brought out the very best in him, somehow. He was really a miracle—and a miracle worker.

"I know Jack. Things will go back to normal." Eventually. Bray nuzzled into him and closed his eyes briefly just to savor the moment. Marge was saying something to their new friend, Raphael, and he heard a surprised little yelp. Bray didn't open his eyes, though; he held on to Jack for a few beats longer. "I love you." This was worth it. To keep Jack safe, he would do anything, go through any number of trials. This was nothing if it meant keeping him out of Keith's hands. A few days without sex? Please—Bray waited three years. What was a few more days or weeks?

He smiled as he pulled back, running a hand over Jack's still-damp hair. "I love you Jack Ripley." His heart was at ease. Jack turned out to be everything he thought he was—and that was completely wonderful. The weight that settled over him when he learned of Jack's sordid past was gone. It wasn't Jack. Jack was innocent; he'd been set up by someone cruel and twisted and... insane. Having that knowledge, it powered Bray through these tough times.

He heard another yelp, and then the young man came back to them red in the face. He sat down on the far side of the couch cradling the bowl of soup and sipped it with a shellshocked look on his face. Bray looked to Jack, puzzled, then to Marge who was smiling... in a distinctly Marge-like way. Ah. Bray edged closer to Jack. Ahem.

[Jack Ripley]

"And I love you, Brayden Smith," Jack murmured with a smile. He could have heard how much Brayden loved him until the end of time but it went the other way, too. He could tell Brayden how much he loved him, too. There was no way he could tired of those words.

The sweet moment didn't last nearly long enough, though. Before he knew it, Raphael was coming back, looking distinctly traumatized. Jack sighed and looked over at Marge.

"Darling, you really need to learn to keep your hands to yourself..."

It was obvious to him that poor Raphael had been a victim to her handsy hands. Raphael was still young and he was extremely naive from what Jack gathered during their conversation and what he saw of him in class. Now it made more sense; he was a fairy, right? He grew up with a different set of rules and as far as he knew, a completely strict lifestyle amongst other fairies.

"Hey," Jack said, reaching out and gently giving Raphael's shoulder a friendly, reassuring squeeze. "She's just overly friendly. She doesn't mean anything by it." He sent a Look at Marge. "Does she, sweetie?"

[Brayden Smith]

"She hasn't gotten any while you two went and had couple time," Marge said in that frighteningly sweet voice of hers, smiling at them in a way that made Bray sink a little on the couch so as not to be noticed. "So maybe she did mean it."

Bray smiled encouragingly at Raphael, who had gotten some of the color back in his face. He was staring at Bray, though, with wide open eyes. And when he whispered, breathlessly, "A real fae prince! Can I see your wings?" Bray felt himself growing uncomfortable again. He didn't know if he ought to show just anyone his wings. Showing them to Jack was an intimate affair for Bray; it was a show of trust. He didn't know this young man...

"Ah... perhaps later?" he tried to deflect gently, and was surprised to see Raphael nod and accept it. Very odd young man, he thought. Very odd indeed.

"Professor Jack, let's see yours! Your glamor is weak enough that I think you can take it off yourself now! I didn't think you'd be at this advanced stage but..." He paused to smile very sweetly at Bray. "He seems to have had a greater influence over you than we thought! Oh, well. That's the power of royalty, isn't it?" His voice grew a little wistful, before he drank more soup.

[Jack Ripley]

"Hey," he said, pointing a pinky finger in Marge's direction. "Not with my students."

How old was Raphael? 18? 19? Couldn't be any older than 20! He was too young to be tangled up with Marge. He probably couldn't even legally drink at her night club. And then Brayden was locked onto. The real fae prince. Jack blinked--did... did he just ask to see his wings? Was this normal behavior for fallen fae...? He looked at Marge in question. Because he'd been told it was basically like asking a person to strip naked in front of them. Not something a stranger should be asking...

Jack was about to interject on Brayden's behalf but Brayden spoke up for himself... In a way. But not really. Jack frowned slightly, gently giving Brayden's knee a discreet squeeze. He should have said no. No way. It wasn't something he should be doing with just anybody, especially somebody who was associated with Keith. Jack liked Raphael and he wanted to trust him but a small part of him was wary of his story. A part of him wondered if perhaps he was here to act as a spy.

But he told me to shut the door to my dreams. That seemed like well meaning advice. He couldn't imagine he would tell him that if he was on the enemy's side. Still. Better safe than sorry and he didn't want Brayden exposing himself.

"I'm sorry. What?" The idea that he had wings still felt... absurd. Glancing side-long at Brayden, Jack tried to communicate with his eyes alone. Is this kid for real?

"That doesn't seem safe," he said after a moment. He personally didn't have any hangups with showing off wings--he hadn't lived with them his whole life and didn't fully understand the vulnerability present when they were shown. But even so, it really didn't seem safe to just... take down whatever glamor was there to show off... wings.

"Raphael," he said, deciding to change the subject, "about why you're here..."

[Brayden Smith]

"Oh..." Raphael looked crestfallen again as he swirled the contents of his bowl idly. "Yes... of course. I'm sorry, it's just that I've never seen a full set of wings before. Not... not grown fairy wings. Not the pretty ones with all the colors..."

Bray smiled understandingly at him, seeing his contrition written on his face. It didn't seem as though Raphael was very good at hiding his thoughts—that or he wasn't trying very hard to conceal them. He touched the hand at his knee and then decided to hold on to it. There was nothing to be ashamed about now, holding his lover's hand. His boyfriend's hand. It was there to be held.

"Yes, why are you here? I'm sorry, but you... were with Keith? The one who tried to-to hurt Jack?" And kill him, but to Bray, hurting Jack was the more important issue at hand. He watched the contrition morph into guilt, and Raphael swallowed a large gulp of soup. Somewhere from the kitchen, Marge was watching him too, very intently as she leaned both elbows against the counter.

"I... I didn't come to hurt anyone," Raphael said slowly. "Please believe me. I'm—I'm not a spy! I was part of the group but I couldn't bear to be around Keith and the others anymore. All they do is kill things. They're true Fallen, you see. I'm not... Not really. Professor Jack, you believe me, don't you? I want to help you. You said you could protect me and—and I can give you as much information as I have. You promised..." He looked miserably down at his soup, swirling it again.

"Well... if you promised..." Bray's gaze was soft as it rested on Jack.

[Jack Ripley]

Jack didn't know what to say to that but he also didn't feel comfortable either offering his boyfriend's wings up to somebody he only knew as a student nor attempting to show his own wings. He had no idea what it might do, to open himself up like that. But if he was going to, it certainly wasn't going to be in the presence of his student. Maybe if it was just himself and Brayden--and Marge. But not here, not now.

"Isn't there just fallen and... not fallen?" Jack asked, unsure as to how the whole deal worked. What was a true Fallen, then? And if Raphael wasn't one, then... what was he? He glanced over at Marge, who had a meaningful sort of look on her face--just before his phone buzzed. Jack looked down.

"I did promise," Jack said, as he replied back to Marge. As the conversation continued on the phone, he started to feel a sickening sense of dread. What did he just let into his home? He meant well, of course. But... if this thing was a golem like Marge said... Was this a common skill... or was it a skill Keith was known for? Because if it was the latter...

He really wanted to be as far away from this thing as he could get. Especially with Brayden right there. Although Brayden seemed attached to the kid and the two carried on a conversation while Jack texted Marge, he couldn't help feeling... not good about the situation. After a moment, he set his phone between his legs and looked over at Marge, then cleared his throat.