We Are Bulletproof

Never again.

Never again did Niall ever want to experience that bunny... changing thing. He couldn't even believe it happened, but it was there, recorded for posterity on his phone. A selfie of a black bunny staring into his phone's camera.

"Typing as a rabbit was not fun, let me tell you, Kenny," he complained as they stepped off the bus and onto the concrete sidewalk. "I was trying my best the whole time and you just thought I was what, some retarded kidnapper? What were you thinking? I thought you were the smart one between us!"

Although to be fair, if Kenny started texting him in wildly shitty words... Actually, he would know right away it wasn't Kenny... Or he'd think it wasn't. So... same thing, really, since Kenny didn't believe it was him!

"But--but, here's the thing!" Niall quickly added, a hand on Ken's chest as they walked toward the apartment building. Apparently, somebody that could help was here. Seer or something. "I wouldn't know it was you because you're so... YOU. You know, so proper and all. But ME? Why didn't you just think I was drunk or high? I would've thought that immediately if it was me! I'm always high or drunk!"

And then thinking better of what he just said, especially since Ken was sure to give him a Look, he hastened to add, "Not that I am anymore but, you know what I mean...!"

He waved a flourish of a hand. Before he knew it, they were at the front gate of some fancy gated apartment building. Niall peered through the iron bars. "Think we slide through? Do we have to get buzzed in? Key? Number pad?"

Blue

Ken did give Niall a Look, specifically because he was told on a daily basis not to assume that Niall was either drunk or high, and then when it was convenient, Niall turned around and told him that he ought to have assumed that to begin with. Because that was necessarily better than Niall being a... whatever he was? Besides, they were talking about hunters and sketchy people laying in wait outside of their flat, so the natural conclusion was to believe that someone had snuck up on Niall.

He didn't reply because Niall was speaking so rapidly, but he listened. And he heard everything, even if his expression was severe but otherwise blank. The focus was to get away from those people waiting for them outside and to get Niall to the seer. It was a bit suspicious for a hunter to know a seer—when he was supposed to be hunting everything supernatural in sight—but that was never Ken's way. He didn't kill people just going about their lives. He killed dangerous monsters and, yes, there was a definite difference between the two.

That was something Jem wouldn't know about, obviously.

With good luck, he would be free of hunting altogether. Maybe this was a sign.

He steered Niall into the posh-looking apartment building, where they were stymied by a locked gate. While Niall peered in with his usual curiosity—and a half dozen suggestions—Ken simply took out his phone and texted the seer. In less than half a minute, the gate buzzed and unlocked and Ken pushed it open. "Get inside," he said tersely, seeing one of the hunters out of the corner of his eyes. It was the woman—the one with long wavy hair and a determined Look about her that he disliked very much.

Once he shut the gate behind him with a definite clang, he hurried Niall along into the courtyard. One of the doors opened and a woman with another determined Look about her waved to them. "That's her. Come on." Ken kept an arm around Niall as they approached. The woman took a good, hard look at them and then... rather rudely he thought, she rolled her eyes at them.

"Get inside, come on. We're running a special on gay fairy boys today."

Rude.

"Or that!" Niall made another motion in the air, pointing in the direction of the gate as it buzzed and Ken opened it. Look at that. All it took was a simple text. And here Niall was about to suggest attempting to climb over it. (Never mind that his pants would definitely tear if he tried, and probably right down the bum, too.)

But no climbing needed. Just... one scary ass looking woman staring them down in such a way that Niall cowered away from her with his hands up in defense and slightly crouching like if he made himself small enough, he could crab walk past her without being seen. No such luck; she had eyes like a wolf and she watched him like one, too, the whole way into the apartment building.

Inside, he found a rather tidy looking apartment with old and worn items.

"Cozy," was the first word out of his mouth. It had a warmth about it that Niall definitely didn't remember feeling at his family cottage in Dingle. Then he sort of startled and gave a second glance at the sofa, where two boys were already occupying it. Neither of them looked very... cheerful. One was lying in a fetal position with a blanket, like he was sick and the other was all bound up with his knees to his chin like he just witnessed a ghost.

"Hello, fellows!" Niall said, too loudly, as if they were deaf and not sick or traumatized. He entered the home like he owned it, coming to sit on one of the old worn chairs and crossing his legs like he had been here before. It was his nature; he went to a lot of places and he got used to making them temporary homes.

"What's happening to the lot of ya? I never saw such downed spirits me whole life and I grew up with grim faced hunter types and I'm dating that guy." He gestured to Too Serious Kenny. Sitting his elbow on the arm of the chair and resting his chin on his knuckles, he eyed the one who was sitting up. His eyes softened.

"It's all right, you know. Whatever's happened, it's not the end of the world. It never is." He sat back after that, sliding his hand over the arm of the chair instead, picking at a piece of it idly before looking back up at the poor fella. "Ghosts and goblins might be real but reality is, they mostly just leave people alone until they tear up their forest homes and such. I met a goblin once, real nice fella... kinda frightful looking... and smelly. But nice enough."

He reached over and gently gave the boy a pat on the leg.

"It'll be okay, lad, promise. I've been through everything possible at this point so you can trust me." He paused. "I'm Niall, by the way."

"Isn't it.." Said the seer, who seemed terribly fed up with Niall even before he'd said two words. Ken got that. Niall took a lot of caffeine to get used to, or to keep up with. He nodded politely to her as he entered and while Niall immediately made himself comfortable in an antique (he wanted to be polite) chair, Ken stood beside him with a protective hand on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the two boys on the couch were both little storm clouds. Ken could almost see gray clouds over their heads, dripping rain upon them. The one closest, sitting with his knees to his chest, looked at Niall as he started talking and... Shockingly the more Niall said, the brighter his expression became. He still looked quite down, but there appeared to be a little ray of sunshine breaking through the cloud over his head.

"Really?" He asked with the kind of guilelessness that would have made anyone want to pat him on the head and maybe ruffle his hair. A little brother type, wasn't he? No wonder Niall took to him; there was the suggestion of something sensitive about the mouth and a touch of innocence in the eyes that reminded Ken very strongly of Lorcan. This one also seemed eager to please and a touch coltish, just as Lorcan had been in life. "I'm Raphael. And this is—" He cast a half-fearful look over at the other boy, one with curly black hair and hazel eyes almost glaring at them—at Niall, correction. "This is Rhys."

"Ken," said Ken, and that was all he said while the seer came over to look at Niall. Right. Business first, introductions later. Ken touched her arm gently. "Can you see? What he is?"

The seer looked at Niall for a long moment, and then she looked down at the boy laying on the couch—the serious one who hadn't talked, the one called Rhys. He was about the only one who hadn't, honestly, which was refreshing (and quiet). "So. Got something you want to tell me?" The seer was talking to Rhys, not to them. "This is your brother, right? Don't even try to lie, you guys look way too much alike for this to be coincidence."

"Raphael! That's a proper angelic name, isn't it?" He smiled and turned his attention to the glowering Rhys under his blanket. "Hiiii, Rhys! Same goes for you, whatever you saw, it's not so bad. The ghosties are actually quite pleasant to be around, actually. I quite like them."

He tilted his head and ran a hand over the back of his neck in thought. He was actually about to go on, about how he didn't think there were many people or creatures he didn't like, which was true to life, but the seer woman and Ken were bulldozing over the chitchat for the serious Business of being here to find out what was wrong with Niall. (Who had been freaking out previous to arriving but couldn't help chatting when he met new people.)

"Huh?" Niall looked over at the seer woman as if she was half-mad. "We're not brothers, lady. My brothers are all in Ireland, being somber hunting men. Most of them, some of them I hear retired--"

"Yes." The one called Rhys interjected before Niall could keep going.

"See, we're not--what?" Even that shut Niall up. In his confusion, he turned toward Ken with a raised eyebrow. Was this guy for real? Calling them brothers? Niall never met him in his entire life. And he knew all of his brothers. One had passed, this was true... but that was definitely not Lorcan he was looking at right now. The kid next to him was more like Lorcan, though maybe not fully in appearance. Definitely something about him, though!

"That's not true," Niall said to the woman. "We're not brothers. We've never met--"

"We are brothers," Rhys said, sounding and looking weary to the bone. "Your mother is my mother. Your father is my father. They switched the Gallagher baby out at birth."

"Wh... what? I don't... what?"

"My name is Marge, not lady," Marge said through clenched teeth, "and if you'd shut up for two minutes and let someone else talk, you wouldn't be so surprised by this."

Rude. Ken frowned at her but she gave him a glare and even he felt a touch hesitant to get on her bad side. He would if she made moves on Niall for any reason, no doubt about that, but she seemed formidable. Plus, they needed her skills to find out what Niall was.

Or... who Niall was.

Even Ken was taken aback. He stared at Marge, and then at Rhys. The way he confirmed Marge's statements didn't appear to be in jest. If anything he looked completely serious, and completely worn out, as though he didn't even have enough energy to begin lying to them. Ken curled his arm around Niall. "I grew up with him. His brothers—I know all of them. How can this be? Who—who is the other Gallagher baby?"

Switched out at birth? Niall was a changeling? Ken looked down at him, at his Niall with his mop of dark hair and with his dancing hazel eyes. Then he looked at Rhys laying on the couch, with his mop of curls and with his serious hazel eyes. There was a resemblance... Yes, there was. They were both tall, a bit lanky at that, and the physical resemblance was striking now that it was drawn to their attention.

"You are his brother," Raphael said softly, and now his hand was on Niall's knee. "You're the second prince of the Fallen kingdom!"

That... added confusion on top of confusion as far as Ken was concerned. "Prove it." He looked between all of them—surely this couldn't be a concerted joke on himself and Niall. These people looked totally serious. "Prove that they're—that you're brothers."

Niall opened his mouth in protestation, holding up a finger, sitting up. Then thought better of it--she looked like she was getting pissed off.

"All right, who pissed in your whiskey...?" Niall gave her a sassy side-eyed Look before sitting back against the chair and flipping his leg up over the arm of it. Rude geebag... All he was doing was talking! He lifted his chin and looked over his own fingernails as if they were more interesting than her and her voice and her talking. An arm curled around him and Niall clasped his hand around Ken's arm, sliding down the back of the chair until his chin touched Ken's arm.

Who was this other Gallagher baby, though? That was what he really wanted to know. And although he was clearly sulking, he was also thinking. And remembering how his mother always treated him. Growing up, she definitely seemed to love the others more than him. And he remembered more than once, his parents fighting about him, but he just assumed it was because he was the strange one, the black sheep, the odd one out. Kinda made sense, if he was a changeling amongst hunters.

Also... kind of surprising he was alive. Why... was he alive? He contemplated his own hand on Ken's arm in silence, looking up only when he was startled back to the present by a hand on his knee. Then he laughed, because it was all so crazy and far fetched.

"Y'hear that, Kenny? I'm a prince! Somehow feels way wrong but appropriate at the same time, doesn't it? How's that song go? You should see me in a crown?"

Rhys, his apparent brother, closed his eyes, in a familiar way. Niall saw that sort of expression on a lot of people's faces when they were dealing with him. Nothing new.

"How do you want me to prove it?" Rhys asked. "A birthmark? A blood test?" Then he shifted slightly, turning to look at Niall sharply. Niall's eyes moved about, left, right, back at Rhys. What? What was he looking at him like that for?

"She's a seer. She can tell you he's a fairy, some kind of fae. But she probably can't tell you exactly what kind. Our mother is a pooka. You would have been a mischief maker... it's kind of the brand of a pooka. We can shapeshift into black colored creatures with golden eyes. Cats, horses, rabbits, goats, dogs, whatever. And if that's not enough for you--luck. You won't have mastered it so it might not always work in your favor but... pookas are masters of luck... good or bad."

Now he looked beyond Niall. Niall tilted his head up, to see that Rhys was looking at Ken now.

"Proof enough?"

Niall was being flippant, showing a kind of overdone careless attitude towards the situation, but Ken knew that this was his way of dealing with a most unexpected revelation. While his mouth flapped, his brain was working double-time, too. Niall wasn't stupid, no matter what people seemed to think of him. What they saw was exactly what he wanted them to see, Ken had no doubt about that.

Because Niall could be serious. He could be quiet and contemplative, he could be sitting properly in his chair and dealing with this like an adult. Instead he draped himself against Ken and he was agitating Marge, definitely, but not because he wanted to be 'difficult.' It was his way of coping. They weren't being given time to process this and new information kept coming. Even Ken was hard-pressed to take it all in and make sense of it at the same time.

He slowly tightened his hold on Niall as Rhys went on to explain a few things. The black rabbit, that part made Ken's brows lift. Luck—yes, everyone always did say that Niall was a lucky son of a bitch. No matter what he did, he always got out of scrapes with minimal damage. Even here, overdosing on all of those substances, he somehow managed to evade the terrible consequences.

The proof laid out before them appeared solid. Ken nodded slowly. "He turned into a black rabbit earlier. And sometimes... his eyes glow. Gold. They glow gold."

"When magic is being used!" Raphael piped up suddenly, sitting up. "Right? Rhys' eyes do that too, I see it all the time!"

"...yes. But why... Why was he exchanged with the—the other child? Where is the other one?"

"Satine," Raphael whispered to Rhys, and then quieted down when he seemed to have realized that he'd spoken out of turn. He even put both hands over his mouth, and squeezed up against the armrest, turning his face away.

Pooka.

Niall had heard of them. They were Irish creatures. They hunted them, back home. They weren't easy to hunt, either, because of the shifting and the luck. How did it escape Niall? Everybody always did say that he was lucky as hell. And he had tried numerous times to meet his maker only to come right back. Pushed back to life by the hand of luck, apparently. He never shifted before though. Why... was it happening now?

Studying the brother he never knew he had, he wondered if he knew. But he didn't ask yet because they were getting all excited about the golden eye thing. Ken asked why and Niall held his breath, but he was asking about the other child. Oh, right. The... the real Gallagher baby...

Rhys glared at Raphael for some reason, after he whispered something to him.

"She's been watching you," Rhys said finally, as if he didn't want to impart the information.

"Me?" Niall asked. "Why?"

"It doesn't really matter anymore."

"Wait. Hold up, wait, wait, wait. Go back. Did you say she? She? I have a sister?!" Niall sat up, excited by the prospect of a sister!

"That's not really how it works," Rhys said dryly. "You're not even a real Gallagher. But the men you know as brothers... they have a sister, yes."

This was getting out of hand. Ken had too many questions; Niall did too, he was willing to bet. And out of everyone in the room, about half of them were glaring at Niall and not giving him much by way of answers. Marge had gone back to her phone now, texting with someone while occasionally flicking her gaze up at them. Ken supposed that her job was done... Not that she had told them anything of value yet.

While Niall grew excited by the prospect of a sister—although Ken had to agree with Rhys that she wasn't his sister as such—Ken kept his own counsel. He eyed the boy called Raphael for a long moment, and then reached over and lightly tapped him on the shoulder. "May I have a private word with you, Raphael?"

Raphael looked startled, like a deer in the headlights. "M-me?" He asked, pointing to himself. "But I'm not—"

"Just for two minutes."

"Oh. Well..." Raphael glanced at Rhys again, apparently thinking about it.

Ken leaned down so that he could speak quietly into Niall's ear. "Sit tight. I'm going to try and get some answers out of him." He gently eased his arm away, but gave Niall's hand a light squeeze. Rhys appeared guarded, dispensing with information only grudgingly; Raphael on the other hand appeared eager to please. Ken thought he could use that to his advantage to get some real answers, because he was almost certain that Rhys was hiding something.

Disappoint. He sat back again, running his black tipped fingernails over Ken's arm idly. No sister. No family. Well, except a sullen brother who looked sick. Aw, maybe he was just sullen because he was sick. That made more sense. Niall wasn't easy to get along with when he was sick, either. (Though most people would have said he generally wasn't easy to get along with in general.)

"Okay...?"

Again, Niall looked at Ken, this time in confusion. Why did he want a moment alone with Raphael? Not with Rhys? Ooh, should he be worried? No. Not about Raphael--about the brother that looked quite like him! Niall gave him a distrusting look from where he still sat on the chair, like an overgrown child.

"What do you need with him?" Rhys asked, and he finally sat up from his fetal position. He really did look rather sick, Niall thought, when he sat up, all color in his face seemed to drain away and there were circles around his eyes. Not from makeup, either. Just like he wasn't feeling well. There was just a general sense of malaise in both expression and posture. But he sure made himself sit up when he thought Ken was going to take his... friend...?away?

"Whatever you have to talk to him about, you can say in front of me," Rhys said, looking pretty stubborn. Now that he was sitting up, though, Niall could see a family resemblance. But thankfully, he could also see differences. And he hoped they were differences Ken wouldn't care for.

"I'm not going to do anything to him. I simply want to ask him a few things while you and Niall get to know each other better." That was one excuse, at least. But ultimately he wanted to pump Raphael for information and he couldn't do it with everyone talking over each other. He also couldn't think properly or formulate cohesive trains of thought when everyone kept jumping in to offer new insights. It was better to sit down with one person than to listen to three.

Raphael reluctantly slipped off the couch. "I'll come talk to you," he said, with a kind of strange lift of the head. There was defiance in the act, Ken thought—though geared towards whom, exactly, he couldn't tell. Raphael was avoiding looking at Rhys, though, and Ken saw his hands balling briefly by his sides, then loosen and nervously slip against the side of his pants.

"Take the bedroom. Ignore the guy sleeping in there, he's a little tired," Marge lifted her gaze to them to say, with a little smirk. "And relax, baby boy, you've just reunited with your older brother. You could show a little more excitement. By the way Niall, there's another one across the courtyard, in case you were interested. He's a lot less... teenage angst than this little cutie here."

Ken slid an arm around Raphael's shoulders, in an attempt to appear friendly, and led him off to the bedroom. This was a delicate situation; he had to proceed carefully, so as not to spook Raphael. Obviously Raphael was willing to help them, but Ken could see that he was aligned with Rhys. That meant he had to choose his words with great care, if he wanted to get the whole big picture and not what Rhys only wanted them to know.

"Well all right then, queen," Niall said with a z-snap and a sassy head waggle. It was that weird lift of the head coming from Raphael, like where did that attitude come from? Then he realized pretty quickly that it was coming from a fight between these two storm clouds because Rhys looked even more storm cloudy than ever. But boy did Niall know that look in his eyes. Fear and hunger in one.

Niall used to look at Ken the same way, when they were no longer innocent kids kissing behind churches and touching each other near creek beds. The reason he ran away. One of them, anyway. One that still hurt less than the biggest reason. But still hurt.

"Teenage angst doesn't bother me," Niall said. "I'm kinda immature. I might as well be a teenager." Not that it was something to be proud of. But Niall could be as petulant as a toddler and as adult as... something adult if he really wanted to be.

Draping himself over the arm of his chair, Niall smirked and spun a finger at Rhys.

"You're in love with him, aren't you~~"

Oh yes, he was. Look at that little nostril flare before he pulled up his protective blanket like a shield. If looks could kill, Niall would be fried right now.

"What's the big deal? I'm in love and I love it. What's the point in torturing yourself with denial? It's so..." He made an 'ew stinky' face. "It's pointless, my friend. Brother. Little brother, is it?" Niall got up and plopped himself down on the coffee table in front of Rhys, crossing his legs and scattering a couple of books as he did so.

"You could die tomorrow and where would that leave you and your denial then? Hm?" He stroked his chin. "And to that end, he could be dead tomorrow and where does that leave you and your denial? See?" He threw up his hands. "It's stupid!" He patted his own chest. "Feel what you feel. Because you're gonna feel it anyway. Fighting yourself about it is just wasting time. Precious time." He put his hands together. "Very precious time."

He saw the thought flash through Rhys' head: traitor.

Well fine! FINE. Raphael was going to be a traitor then because he was no longer interested in being Fallen or belonging to any sort of Fallen group or community! There was no community anyway, just a bunch of people held together by fear of their King. Raphael was over that. He had good people by his side now, people who cared about him and his feelings.

Heck, even a stranger like Niall was treating him nicely! And this Ken person who was leading him off to the bedroom, where the first thing Raphael saw was--

"Ooh!" He covered his eyes. There was a naked man sleeping in the bed! A tiny corner of the sheets covered his private parts but he was definitely very naked, and Raphael now knew why it took Margie so long to come outside. Ahem. Well Charles was a good-looking man, he supposed. Very fair haired, blue eyed, tall, that kind of thing. Raphael preferred men with dark hair though. (Curly-haired? Hazel-eyed? Hmph.)

Ken went over to pull the sheets fully over him, which Raphael appreciated. Then they went to the far corner of the room where Ken began to ask him questions, and Raphael answered to the best of his abilities. Ken seemed interested to know about Rhys and Niall's parents, why they chose to put him with a hunter family. Raphael hazarded to say that it was the King's idea; he gave Ken a general idea of the royal court, what it was like to grow up there. He told Ken about the Fallen, and a little about Satine, because he knew that Ken was perturbed about her following Niall around.

"The King wants to reclaim his sons so he can... I think destroy the fae. Or turn them all into Fallen, like him, so he can control them all," Raphael said quietly, avoiding Ken's sharp gaze. "But if a fairy falls in love, they can't be turned. And I think... if I'm not wrong... it's too late to turn Niall." He offered up a small smile at the look of relief that passed over Ken's rather stern face. "The rest, you might have to ask Margie about, or... Rhys. I'm only a servant, so they don't trust me with many of their secrets. I'm sorry, I hope I was helpful..."

To his surprise, Ken put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Raphael You've been very helpful. And... whatever happened between you two, know that it will get better. It might feel like a terrible ordeal in the moment, but you know, something good will come out of it. If I'm not wrong, you'll come out of this stronger than before." And he smiled, a rather nice smile.

Raphael nodded. A lump came into his throat as he threw himself at Ken and hugged him, thanking him silently for his kind words. It did feel terrible in this very moment; it felt like he was losing everything he ever held dear and the future was frightening. Raphael didn't have all the answers, even if Rhys seemed to think he did. But if there were going to be people like this in his life, well maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Ken awkwardly patted his shoulder and then gently eased him back to arms' length.

They went back outside, leaving Charles sleeping on the bed. Raphael hastily scrubbed a hand over his eyes and put on a smile when he saw Niall sitting on the coffee table in an unconventional manner. Bonding with Rhys already!

Rhys
hated him.

He hated him. Niall Gallagher was a pox on the ass of the earth. Somehow, he managed to annoy Rhys more than Raphael had ever done. He was too nonchalant and careless, completely unaware of himself and the way he sounded and looked, the way he just let books fall so he could sit on the table, the way he lectured Rhys like he had any right.

Rhys scowled at him and his influx of words. His onslaught of words. So what if Niall Gallagher was in love and he loved it? Who was he? He wasn't Rhys.

And deep down inside, Rhys was... disappointed. He thought that of all the brothers, he might like Niall best. They were full blood brothers, separated by cruel hands. But if they would have been good as brothers, Rhys would never know. Currently, they were basically strangers and this basic stranger was sitting here telling him off about love.

So what if he died? What if Raf died? And nothing was said? What did it even matter to this incessantly chatty weirdo? But fuck if he wasn't... if he wasn't like Rhys might have been, had his wings not been torn from him. And maybe that was why it was so painful to look at him and listen to him. Niall Gallagher was like Rhys if he'd never grown up, with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Rhys didn't want to but he could picture what kind of kid Niall Gallagher had been. The same kind as Rhys. The kind that explored the outdoors and made up stories and got into all kinds of trouble--and dirt.

Niall, though, had never had his soul essentially flattened and ironed out. His personality had never been stolen from him. Despite what a difficult life he'd led, it was still not the same as living in the darkness of the fae realm, in the Fallen Kingdom. Niall was free to be who he was, even if he had to fight to be that. He was stubborn, though. Nothing was going to hold him from his freedom.

But Rhys let his be taken away and he let the grey seep into his soul.

Just before the others came back, Niall leaned forward and looked him in the eyes and Rhys could see the little flecks of gold. There was no mistaking him. He was definitely Rhys' brother.

"You looove him~~ Just feel it."

He reached out and Rhys didn't know what his plan was but he immediately batted his hand away.

"Stop that."

Niall batted at his hand back but he took it back, setting it on his own knee and shaking his head. He looked like he was going to say more--please don't let him say anything more--when Raphael and Ken came out of the bedroom. Rhys narrowed his eyes and looked them both up and down, not sure what he was expecting to see or what he thought happened. Annoyingly, he felt a nudge to his leg from Niall that he steadfastly ignored. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw that shit eating grin.

He hated Niall Gallagher.

With an unnecessary little spin off the table, Niall was on his feet--kicking off another book--as he trotted over to Ken. What did a man like that even see in Niall? But Rhys saw the trust between them and it hurt to look at. The easy way Niall fit next to Ken as he leaned into him and whispered something to him before winding his arms around his waist.

Rhys looked away from them, at Marge, then at Raphael. What happened? But he didn't ask anything because Raphael didn't listen to him and Rhys was... mad about that, for whatever reason. It felt like everything was just... making him mad.

"...I'm going back home," Rhys said. This was all bullshit. If he was going to be sick and tired, the least he could do was rest in solitude.

Ken didn't know what went on but by the way Rhys was reacting to Niall, probably nothing good. Probably a few pointed comments where it hurt--Niall had that strange knack of getting straight to the heart of things, in the most roundabout way. It was... a skill no one else could ever cultivate, to be able to hit upon the truth so brilliantly, but also pack in so much filler and digressions that one sometimes wanted to shake him and tell him to just get to the point!

Basically--he didn't blame Rhys for acting or looking the way he did. Ken could sympathize. However, he also knew that whatever Niall did, he did out of kindness and goodness and a genuine desire to be helpful--one of the many reasons that Ken loved him to bursting. He slid an arm around Niall's waist once he came prancing up, looking pleased with himself.

"I'm going home too," he murmured mostly to Niall. "I need to get some things. You should stay here with Marge."

Marge who was shaking her head at Rhys and telling him that he wasn't going anywhere, while Raphael looked suspiciously like he was back to being gloomy and dark and storm clouds again. Ken chose not to get in the middle of that. He did give Raphael an encouraging smile, though, as he resumed his seat on the very far end of the couch.

"I think maybe you should talk to that one.' Ken nodded slightly towards Raphael, whose face was buried in his arms. "You might do him a bit of good."

"He loves himmmm," he whispered to Ken, feeling quite pleased with himself for sussing it out. That was why they were little storm clouds. He wanted to tell Ken all about it, but... Niall's expression fell.

"What? Why? Take me with you!" Niall clung onto Ken like he thought he was going to start walking out the door at that instant, and as if him hanging onto him like a new belt was going to stop him. (Hey, Niall was a stubborn man--he could hang on tight if he wanted to--and he wanted to right now.)

He was feeling especially needy. There was a lot going on and he didn't know what to make of it. He wanted to talk about it. Was he a monster if he was a pooka? Was he going to be okay? Were hunters still coming after him? Was the only reason he was still alive because of Ken or was it the luck thing that they talked about? And he didn't know these people--and strangers were fine--he could make himself at home anywhere, it was true. And he made friends everywhere he went (or he perceived them all as friends) but in this case, he had the confusing role of being an older brother again. And he didn't know how, because even he could tell his method wasn't working on Rhys.

He could hear Marge arguing with Rhys. And Rhys arguing back. When Niall looked over, Rhys was tossing aside the blanket he'd been using as his shield and getting up. As tired as he looked, he somehow managed to make it look natural as he went for the front door.

"Oh!" Niall cringed when he saw his back. Rhys wasn't wearing a shirt and his back looked... bad. At least, the right side. It looked like something had torn him up really bad, like he'd been clawed by a wild creature. But still, he made it to the door, grabbing a drab colored cardigan from the coat hanger by the door and pulling it on. Probably not his. It didn't look like his style.

"Leave me alone," Rhys said coldly.

Niall looked over at Raphael, the one that Ken said he should talk to. Whoo boy...

"That's what I thought too," Ken whispered back with far less dramatics, watching the two boys on the couch darkening the room. Marge was arguing with Rhys and Rhys didn't seem too shy to argue back, and Raphael sat there looking quite forlorn. And this was what he was leaving Niall to... But he couldn't trust their flat, or the area surrounding it.

Plus, that woman he saw following them here...

"They're watching the apartment, remember?" He tried to disentangle himself from Niall--no small feat. "I'm just going to get my equipment, and then I'll be right back for you. You're safe here, there are wards and spells--"

There was a loud ZAP by the door and Ken turned to see a barrier over the door, briefly shimmering in a honeycomb pattern. He winced. That looked like it had to hurt. Marge was rolling her eyes and shaking her head, repeating her previous statement--that Rhys wasn't going anywhere until his back was healed. Ken saw the corruption at his back too, but... did he also spy something glistening near the shoulderblades?

"I promise I'll be back for you, Poodles," he whispered again to Niall, disregarding the others for the moment. Leaning in, he kissed Niall. "Be good. Stay here and wait for me, okay? I'll catch you up on everything when I get back."

"Ooh..." Niall winced as Rhys was zapped by some kind of spell on the door. He even heard him swear as he moved his hand off the doorknob. Apparently, he was stuck... here? Niall didn't like the sound of that. Staying close to Ken, he whispered, "They're not going to do that to me next, are they?"

He might like it a little. Electric shock therapy. He'd been through it a couple times, in a bid to "fix" him and his abnormal mental state. Didn't really work, he was happy to report. Niall liked being himself most of the time. Most of the time, he didn't even realize what that meant.

Sighing and pouting, he squeezed Ken tight before making himself let go. Meanwhile, Rhys was muttering something while he stalked off down the hall and into another room. Maybe the bathroom. The door shut very Firmly but it wasn't slammed, so at least he wasn't a total teenager.

"Okaaaaaay," he said petulantly into Ken's shoulder after he was kissed. "But hurry back. This place is weird."

"Rhys! Are you... okay..." Raphael trailed off as Rhys walked out of the living room area, leaving them there. He started to get off the couch to see if Rhys was okay or if he needed someone to help him but--then he remembered that he was no longer a Fallen, and also that he wasn't a servant anymore. He was Raphael Malai, a Person. A fae--or soon to be, if his wings kept growing the way they were growing now.

Imagine--him, a proper fae!

But still, even though he wasn't Rhys' servant, he still felt bad for him. Raphael caught Ken's eye and sighed. Then Ken started walking over to the door and he did leap off the couch this time, alarmed. "Wait, it'll hurt you too!"

"Nope. Just your emo little boyfriend," Marge said, sweeping her hand towards the door. "Go right on through. If you want to come back in, I texted you the door code."

"I'll be back soon." Ken smiled--at Niall. And then he stepped through the door and closed it behind him, while Raphael sort of stared at him.

Awkwardly, Raphael stood there twiddling his thumbs. He glanced at Marge, who was on her phone again, and then at Niall. Raphael offered a friendly smile. "Do... you like teacups, Niall?"

"Bye..." Niall said with the saddest puppy face he could make--and he thought he was pretty damn good at making those faces. It was meant to make Ken hurry-hurry! Niall wasn't afraid to be alone. It was just... this was different. The entire situation was so different that even he wasn't sure what to make of it. A brother! That... was no longer in the room. Niall looked down the hall where he'd disappeared off to.

Well.

Niall wanted to follow Ken. He could go with him to grab things! Unless Ken was going to do something else. Huh. Niall crossed his arms tightly and spun toward Raphael. For some reason, he was looking after Ken, like he... No. No, no, no. Niall was still staring at him when Raphael looked at him. He raised his brow but Raphael only smiled and asked if he liked teacups.

"What?" That took him aback. Teacups? He scratched the side of his head after a moment, then flopped down into the chair he'd abandoned earlier. "Not especially, no. But! I do like tea, like any proper Irishman but I like whiskey more. Good ole taste of whiskey in the coffee, that's how I take it. Or I did, before I was supposed to go sober. Lately, been thinking the sober thing might be why I'm changing into bunnies and..." He waved a dismissive hand. None of that mattered. He rested his chin on the back of one hand and eyed Raphael curiously, sweeping his gaze over him. "What did you two talk about? Why's Kenny really leaving?"

Yes he thought it was a good conversation starter: teacups. Conversation would flow from there, Raphael was sure. And it did. Niall was talkative and Raphael also liked to talk, but he liked listening too. And Niall seemed like such a fascinating person! He was oozing personality and charm--but of course he would because he was royalty!

"I can make you some tea!" He slipped right back into servant mode again--just for another prince. Raphael hopped over to the kitchen, which was adjacent to the living room. Good thing it was open plan! He could talk and make tea at the same time!

"Oh--and we talked about your parents. Ken wanted to know what happened, why they exchanged you, how Rhys knew about you. I'm afraid I wasn't much help, because I'm--I was just a servant back home, you see." He paused from filling the kettle to look in the direction where Rhys had fled to earlier. "I was... his servant... But anyway! If you have questions, I'd be happy to answer them!"

"With a splash of whiskey?" he asked hopefully. He met the woman's gaze and immediately regretted it. If anybody was going to tattle on him... Actually, it would probably be the over-eager boy in the kitchen, not her. Hah! He stretched himself out in the chair, toying with the string that hung from his garish half open shirt with splashes of random colors on it. Not tie-dyed but like... little flower blooms that weren't flowers. It was an interesting shirt. Niall liked to think of it as abstract.

"Ah, my parents," he said, as if that made sense. At first, he thought he meant the ones he had grown up with but then he realized he meant the ones Niall had never met. Why was Ken asking that stuff without him around? Did he think Niall couldn't handle that information? What gives? He stuck the string from the shirt into his mouth, then glanced in the same direction that Raphael looked. Where dear little brother had made his escape.

Niall had plenty of questions. But the way Kenny talked, it was like he wanted Niall to talk to him about other things. What did he say? Cheer him up or something? Those two did look like proper rain clouds when they arrived.

"So what's the deal with you and Rhys?" he asked, swinging one leg idly over the arm of the chair, pulling the string out of his mouth. "Big fight? Did you put the moves on him and he knocked you down a peg? Because... whoo boy..." Niall whistled. "Kenny did that to me forever. He kept making all these excuses, you know? Trying to protect me, didn't want to just jump me, I was in a bad place, blah, blah, blah. He loves me but he's so... so..."

He tried to think of the word for it as he twirled the string. "Over-protective? Ah, he overthinks too much, doesn't feel enough. Or he feels, don't take that outta context, it's just he has a tight control over his feelings and he doesn't like it when he can't keep it under control. Plus. Well..." He looked upward and sighed. "I am kind of an addict and I was on twenty different things....."

"Not here you're not getting any," Marge deadpanned as she looked up again, with a sigh. "Good stuff's over at Jack's place. The guy who owns this joint is sober and loving it." Her expression stated that she did not Love It At All.

Raphael laughed a little as he set the kettle on to boil, and in the meantime sought out chipped mugs in varying colors and patterns (so cute!) and found tea bags. And loose leaf too! He debated between the two of them as Niall began to speak again—but started to ask him about Rhys. Raphael's lips pinched into a kind of narrow line for a long moment. In that time, Niall hazarded a number of guesses, some of which were correct and others... Close.

"It's... not really... He's just. A prince," was his explanation, which didn't seem to satisfy Marge who made another exasperated sound. Raphael hastened to add, "But it's not his fault! Rhys, he... He had his wings taken from him. And when that happened, he lost his emotions. So he just has a hard time... feeling things."

"But he's growing the wings back, and he obviously wants in your pants," Marge eye-rolled, giving Niall a Look that Raphael didn't comprehend. "Classic case of stubborn emo boy willing to die from blue balls before he admits that he has feelings, you get me?"

Raphael ducked his head. It was more complicated than that!

"If you're an addict you came to the right place honey. Because you're going to be high and dry for a long time, thanks to Bee. He's the resident... so wholesome you want to choke guy. Across the way, with your other brother Jack." Marge smiled at Niall in a distinctly pained way. "Welcome to hell."

Well, color him disappointed. Of course there wasn't anything here; he should have realized that when he came in and the place was cozy. Kinda decked out like an old lady's home, actually. No, not that bad. Not like with the doilies and things but the teacups... a bit much.

Niall could tell immediately, he'd brought up the wrong topic if he was supposed to be cheering Raphael up. Welp. You can't win them all. He twirled the string around again. So what, did they actually fight about something? Raphael was Niall not too long ago; trying to get somebody stoic as a wall to look at him when he didn't want to. What wasn't fair in Niall's case was that he knew the whole time that Ken loved him. He just wouldn't do anything about it. For ages and ages!

But interesting development; this Marge knew that Rhys wanted in Raphael's pants. And Niall knew he was in loooooove~ even though he denied it so hard that he zapped himself trying to get out of the apartment. Ouch. Some hardcore denial there.

Oh, he got it. One hundred percent, he got it. Niall gave Marge a thumbs up. Sounded like she summed the guy up pretty much the same way Niall would have and he barely even knew the lad!

"Nothing?" he asked. "Not even a little hard cider?"

Who was this guy? A school marm from the 1800s? A priest? Even priests drank the blood of Christ, which was just wine; Niall wasn't having it any other way.

"Anyway, listen here, lad," Niall said to Raphael. "Don't let him climb into his little lonely hole. He'll just sulk in there with all his thoughts and all his feelings, not saying any of em out loud to you but they'll be there, alls the same. You have to be stubborn and it doesn't hurt to be irresistible."

He grinned. Oh yes, irresistible. Niall was stubborn and irresistible and maybe a little annoying but he could deal with that last part. As long as he knew that when he put his arms around Ken and no matter how much he didn't want him there, too close, he stayed right there. Maybe part of it was also a little fear. They were apart for a long time. A long time. Niall never thought he'd even see him again but there he was. Which was precisely why he thought Rhys was being a right git for hiding away and wasting time. It really was precious.

His grin softened into a smile as he let his head rest against the back of the chair.

"He loves you. But if he's having issues with feelings, staying away's not going to help. Remind him what feelings are. 'Cause him being in his emo hole isn't going to do anything except keep him in the same cycle, see, over and over again. Probably telling himself he's doing it for you, he doesn't want to hurt you, he's protecting you... Which is nice and noble and cute but... we can take care of ourselves, can't we?"

"Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. It's either tea or soup. Oh—try the soup later, it's actually almost like crack."

Raphael put the tea bags into mugs to steep once the big old-fashioned kettle whistled shrilly to let him know that the water was ready. He devoured every word spoken to him by Niall, taking mental notes, but he just didn't know. He didn't know if he could be stubborn like that, and irresistible? Irresistible to someone who had the pick of the most beautiful consorts?

Rhys didn't like him much at the moment, he thought. Although he wasn't outright hated! That was... something. Raphael listened avidly to Niall though, not wanting to miss any tips. It sounded like Niall had it pretty rough too with that Ken guy. But now they were happy! He even saw them kiss, and it made him feel envious and wistful and sad and also happy for them. They loved one another; they overcame all barriers. That was a beautiful story.

But Niall was a prince! He had the allure of royalty, he had a sparkling personality and he was so wise. He gave so much good advice! Ken didn't have a choice but to fall for him, Raphael was sure. Maybe if he was more like Niall, Rhys would take notice and... be less reticent and resistant to the idea of feelings?

Raphael went to him with a mug of steaming tea. "Rhys... is protecting both of us," he said quietly and resignedly. "If he lets his wings grow, he would be turning his back on everyone he ever knew. His father and mother—your father and mother. The kingdom. He would have to abandon all of that to come here and be with me, and that's if his—your father allows him to walk free without trying to reclaim him. I don't think... he's wrong to go back to them. He already protected me by not telling his father that I defected, so you see, he's... already done all he can for me. If he wants to go home, I won't stop him..."

"Soup?" Niall laughed. "Isn't that for when you're sick?"

Niall wasn't an avid soup fan but neither he was a staunch hater of it, either. It was just, the comfort food when he was sick. He never thought of it beyond that. If given a choice, he would eat most anything else. Soup didn't feel like a meal to him, but hey. If it was almost crack, he was willing to give it a try. Maybe it was a magic potion soup.

"Thank youuu~" Niall said as he was given a cup of tea. Knowing it was too hot to drink, he still greedily tried to take a sip and ended up yelping and blowing on the steaming liquid in a bid to cool it down faster. What a shame that it took so long to heat up the right way but then had to be cooled down for consumption. What a world!

"Well," Niall said, "somebody's stopping him." He saw that magic on the door! Rhys wasn't walking out without getting past that ward and apparently it was meant just for him.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong but... if they're growing, they're kinda... already there? Aren't they just going to keep growing regardless?" Also, it seemed to Niall that Raphael was right. Sounded like Rhys was trying to play protector to both of them and sucking at it. "Won't he be stronger with you? Maybe this sounds crazy but it's like the more I love Kenny, the more this stuff keeps happening. Powers. Magic stuff, I mean."

He tried a sip of the tea again and this time it didn't burn his poor lip in the process.

"Anyway! I say... get him good and alone and straddle him, right? Hands on his chest. Don't even try to take off his clothes. Just... feel him, like his heartbeat. Up over those pecs, around his shoulders. Look him right in the eye. Don't let him look away. Use your hands if you have to. Turn his head back to you. And tell him. Exactly. How you feel. All of it. Not just how much you love him. Tell him how much it scares you, too. And you don't want to live in a world without him. And how he makes everything you ever went through worth it. That just being near him makes you feel... however it makes you feel."

He took another sip of his tea.

"Guiltyyyy~" Marge sang with her hand in the air, looking inordinately proud of herself. "I bound him to this apartment so he can't leave. Well Charles did, but it was my idea." Her smile was downright... devilish.

Raphael sat back down now that the tea was made, cradling a mug himself. Marge had refused; actually she glared at him when he brought her the mug, so he kept it for himself. Blowing gently on it, he smiled despite himself when Niall's impatience got him burned. Okay, that wasn't quite a princely thing that just happened but... it made him so much more endearing. He was so human! So full of light and laughter and feelings!

"His father can remove them. And then he'll go back to feeling nothing again. I think he wants that more than he wants to feel... anything. Or that's what he said." Raphael took a sparing sip of his tea- that he blew on and waited to cool, and still burned himself on it. The water was scalding! He uttered a quiet ouch! and put the mug down; he'd drink it when it wasn't lava in a cup.

Good thing he did, too, or he would've spilled it all over his own lap! Niall's description was... was very... descriptive! Very very detailed—so detailed that Raphael could envision himself doing it. He tried earlier to make Rhys feel good, but Rhys told him no and he didn't want to push. Rhys wasn't in the wrong to want to do things while they were alone... And they might have, except this happened and Raphael defied Rhys outright by going off with Ken, so he imagined that that was off the table now.

"Everything you said just now, it's true. It's like you can read my mind," he said wistfully, gazing at Niall with nothing but admiration in his eyes. "You're so wise, Niall. I wish I could be more like you..."

Well, that would be why, then! Marge and whoever the fuck Charles was went and warded the guy inside. So... now what choice did he have? It was only for his own good. They were saving the bloke from himself. He was a bit like Ken, the more he thought about it. Looked like Niall, but acted like Ken. It was like their lovechild. Who was also Niall's brother.

Niall waved a dismissive hand.

"Nobody wants to feel nothing. Ew. No. He's just saying that because he's having a hard time having them turned back on or whatever." Niall paused, though. "Well. No. That's not true." Niall sighed and he swung his legs over the chair so that his feet were planted on the floor (nearly sloshing tea into his lap in the process). Holding the tea between his hands, he looked over at Raphael.

"Listen... I went through something like that for a while." He half shrugged. "Okay, for most of my life. I didn't want to feel anything. I just wanted to be numb. Gloriously, beautifully, numb..." He remembered it, too. The way it felt not to feel anything and it was glorious. It was beautiful. But only because there was so much pain in his life that he would rather be dead or numb than alive and feeling.

"I was... I really wasn't in a good place because when it was just me and my feelings, it just hurt. Everything. Physically, inside. It hurt so much I didn't want to be alive. I didn't have family or friends. I left home, I left everything behind and it was just me and all this pain."

He fell silent and he set the teacup down on the table.

"Having somebody who loves you makes the difference," Niall said. "Kenny made all the difference for me. And that's why I'm telling you this. Don't let him dig that hole and stay in it alone. He doesn't really want to feel nothing. He wants to feel something glorious and beautiful."

He smiled and reached for Raphael's hand to give it a pat.

"And that's why I'm wise, not because I can read minds. I just know what I'm talking about. For once."

Oh-oh! Oh!

Raphael's eyes welled up with tears. The pain in Niall's voice resonated with him, in his newfound ability to feel. To feel not only his own emotions, but to feel for other people. To sympathize with them. That was the cornerstone of what made humans human, he always thought—that they not only felt, but they had the capacity and the ability to understand others' pain as well.

He didn't have the same experiences as Niall but he had his own pain, too, that made his heart sore and break. The secret that he had to keep from Rhys, the people he was bound to protect with his silence, that was a unique pain as well. And people who experienced pain, even if they weren't the same kind, understood one another at a basic level. There was a connection between them now, a common thread.

"You felt that with Ken? Something beautiful? Special? Right? He does seem a lot like Rhys. Thinks a lot, says very little." Although Ken didn't appear to be full of ennui, he gave off that rather aloof and distant vibe too. Except when he spoke to Niall, and then all of his attention was on Niall. All of it! It even just looked like the world vanished for him, and all he could see was Niall.

Rightfully so. Rightfully so! Niall was a special person, deserving of all of Ken's attention!

"So if I—push him down and tell him how I really feel, maybe he'll... stop trying to resist his own feelings? We kissed earlier... We almost did stuff and he..." Raphael's cheeks burned. But he leaned forward, placing both hands on Niall's knee and gazing up at him hopefully. "He said we could do more stuff when we were alone..."

"There was more than enough time for you two to have sex," Marge sighed. "But it sounds like he needs a little push in the right direction. Can always count on those teenage hormones, can't you?"

Aw, what a cute kid. His eyes were welling up for him? Little old him? Well... Niall did have a nasty life up until now but it could have been worse probably. Still, what a sensitive kid. Niall smiled at him.

"Oh yes. Yes, I feel that with Ken. All the time. Even when he's frustrating and a complete stiff. And not in the good way... But yes. He makes being here worth everything."

Now, Niall wasn't strong enough emotionally--he was still kind of brittle--to say that he would do it all over again for Ken. He would hope he would... but honestly, he was given to his vices. He was an addict and he needed things. He needed them like a habit, he needed them to comfort him, whether it was a cigarette or it was clinging onto Ken like a koala. Some things were healthier than others. But he was a needy person and also a very vocal and grabby person. No way was anybody going to be loved by Niall the way he loved Ken and not know it.

Niall leaned in as Raphael placed his hands on his knee. And he raised a brow. They kissed and they almost did stuff? Niall stared at that innocent--so, so, so innocent--kid's face and he wanted so bad to laugh but not at him. Just the... cuteness of his naivety.

"Oh, honey..." He patted Raphael's hands. "You already have the okay? Then what are you doing here? And yes, do push him down and tell him everything. Make sure he hears it, too. Don't let him pretend he didn't hear you. Look him right in the eyes. That part's important."

He glanced over at Marge.

"You sound like you have a different idea... What do you got?"

"Relationship goals," Raphael whispered in rapt adoration, recalling the way Ken looked at Niall and kissed him before he left. To be loved like that... It must have felt so wonderful and so fulfilling. And Niall loved him back just as passionately, that was easy to see. When he spoke about Ken, his eyes got a little sparkly... They were so cute together!

Well, Niall wasn't going to be turned, Raphael could see that easily. The love he had for Ken and the love Ken felt for him, it was stronger than any corruption that the King might try to force upon them. That was something of a comfort, actually; Raphael wanted so badly to believe in the idea of true and lasting love. He was naive, young and just experiencing deeper emotions so maybe he was idealizing the concept of love, but... it sure was hard to be dissuaded when he was faced with Niall and Ken and Professor Jack and Brayden!

"I'll look him right in the eyes and tell him what's what!" Raphael nodded, full of conviction.

Behind him, Marge laughed. "Oh, don't you worry about me. But I think you should go over and pay your older brother a visit. I'll let Ken know which unit to find you in. And maybe I'll take a walk down to the—to work. To see how they're doing over there." She slid off the couch and headed for the bedroom where the naked fixer Charles slept. There was something kind of funny about her, though. Raphael blinked. He swore he saw a little glimmer coming from Marge, the sort of thing that happened when someone used magic.

Hmm... Or was it a trick of the light? Raphael turned back to Niall. "What if he still says no Niall? What if he decides he doesn't want to feel anything and pushes me away again?"

What? Did he just whisper relationship goals at him? Niall blinked. Well, why not? He smirked as crossed his legs and leaned forward to take another sip of his tea. By now it was growing cool. He should have toughed it out when it was still hot. Cold tea... was gross.

"All right," Niall said setting the tea back down and slapping his free knee. "Then get your arse in there and tell him! You tell him everything, boyo!"

And he better! Because Niall didn't usually dispense of advice because people didn't usually ask him for it. But it was nice, kinda. Being an older brother again. He imagined Lorcan coming to him for this kind of thing... And he would tell him the same things. He smiled as he lowered his gaze.

Then over at Marge, who had the suggestion to go visit the other brother. Niall popped off the chair and righted himself. Hopefully he wouldn't want advice, too. Niall wasn't sure how much he had to dispense. Just this once, he actually knew what he was talking about and had the advice to dispense. Looking Raphael over, he noticed his conviction seemed to have flagged.

"He won't," Niall said, taking his chin like a mother hen and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "He won't be able to resist this face."

He patted Raphael on the head. "Good luck." He gave him two thumbs up. "I'm rooting for ya, kid!" Then he headed for the door, looked at it suspiciously and tried it. It opened without giving him any trouble. Whew. He turned back to Raphael and smiled and gave him another thumbs up before leaving to find this other brother across the courtyard.

"Okay baby, it's all up to you now." Marge was leaving too, shrugging on a jacket while groggy Charles yawned and ruffled a hand through his blond hair. She gave him a one-armed hug and a pat on the butt. "Don't fuck it up, okay? We need that emo little boy in there to grow wings fast. Condoms in the bedside drawer, and lube. Bye~"

No... pressure... or anything.

Raphael watched her leaving with a kind of surging panic that made him want to run out and latch on to her hand and pull her back. Suddenly he wasn't sure about anything. And yet, something inside was propelling him forward. He felt the weirdest urge to go find Rhys. Even while internally freaking out, Raphael was moving back into the apartment, towards the tiny room that Rhys had holed up in.

Tap tap tap!

"Rhys?" Raphael swallowed. The feeling inside was growing stronger: resolve. He knocked again, less hesitantly this time. "Rhys, everybody's gone. Do you want to come out now?"

Rhys was spending
a lot of time in bathrooms lately.

And he didn't like it, particularly. Bathrooms here were purely functional. Back home, Rhys could spend upwards of three hours soaking in his tub but it was in the middle of an enormous chamber, filled with servants and consorts waiting on him, hand and foot. If he so chose, he could spend an entire day inside that tub. But it got boring after a while, just like everything else in his life.

Now it wasn't boring being holed up in a bathroom. It was insulting and humiliating, that he should be forced to spend his time in this trap of a room, curled up inside the empty tub without even the comfort of that old blanket to keep him warm. It was kind of cold in the bathroom. Not much warmer in the tub, either. Actually, he'd hissed with pain and cold when his back touched it, bare as it was. Which was how he ended up in this... awkward, half curled position so that his back no longer touched anything and he just... felt pathetic.

But he was also stubborn and he wasn't going back out there to be lectured by a brother who didn't know him, by some supposedly well-meaning witch with an evil stare, and most of all, Raphael.

Now, he'd tell Raphael to fuck off but if he found a way into the bathroom and found him like this... he would just rather not go through that. Sighing, he forced himself to climb out of the tub and unlock the door. Slowly, he opened it and peered out.

"...where did they go?"

Oh! He came out! Raphael must have looked surprised when the door opened, because he expected Rhys to tell him to go away. Blinking, he stared at Rhys for a moment. "They—Marge went out with the fixer and Ken went back home to get something and Niall's visiting Professor Jack and Brayden, so..."

It was just them now, all alone. All alone inside of Brayden's apartment, left to their own devices. No more safety nets, though. No one to give him good advice, no one to interrupt them or to help take away the awkward silence that fell after his explanation. Raphael stepped back a pace. "Do you want to rest? In the bed?" He didn't think Rhys would appreciate being told to get in bed so that Raphael could do what Niall told him to—straddle him and grab his face and tell him all the things that had been bottled up inside for... forever.

"I made tea, if you want some. Are you still feeling bad? Does it still hurt?" Rhys looked so tired still, so pale and haggard. Maybe this could wait... Raphael didn't want to upset him and he thought doing what Niall said would surely upset him! It sounded like the exact type of thing Rhys would hate! All emotional and full of sincere feelings and... and so un-Fallen!

There was a definite awkward silence after Raphael explained where everybody had gone. Rhys had asked, but he didn't know what he meant to do with the information. He just asked because Raphael said they left. Great. They were gone. So they stood there. Awkwardly. Because Rhys wanted to leave the bathroom but Raphael was still in the doorway. But oh, there. He stepped back.

Rhys opened the door. He'd discarded the ugly brown sweater he'd stolen and left it in the hamper, like an idiot. Another reason not to be found looking pathetic in the bathtub. He was even too good for somebody else's sweater. (He wasn't, he just hurt too much to put it back on after he took it off and got in the tub.) Now he pulled it back out of the hamper to put it on again, over goose pimpled skin.

"No. They had sex on it," he said, somehow annoyed by that. Even he couldn't explain why everything annoyed him. It was just having the feeling of anything--that was what was annoying. Still, he moved past Raphael, given the space to, and definitely passed the bedroom.

Actually, a bed sounded like heaven. But he wanted his own bed. Some part of him was homesick for his old chambers, the ones back home, not the apartment hovel they called home here. But even that bed would have been an improvement over the couch here, which had somehow become his... bed.

"I'm fine."

The living room was indeed empty but there were still books scattered all over the floor. Rhys remembered the things Niall said to him and felt annoyed again. There was truth to what he said, which only made it worse, especially coming from somebody like him. He looked like the sun could shine out of his ass and he was talking to Rhys about love and dying and acting like Rhys needed to just buck up. He sighed.

Where did he even go from here? The apartment was a luxury apartment and yet it felt too small and cramped, even when it was just the two of them, because he knew he couldn't leave and he was stuck here. The pooka in him couldn't stand it. He took the sweater back off. Every time anything touched his back, it felt awful. He hung it on the back of a chair and took his place back on the couch, only because it was comfortable and the only part of this place that felt like he was even really allowed to be.

"I'll take the tea."

"Ah—yes..." Marge and Charles did do things on top of the bed... Raphael felt as though he ought to have anticipated that and known, somehow, that it would displease Rhys. But by that reasoning he ought to have been able to read minds and anticipate Rhys' every need, which in fairness all good servants should be able to do. Except he wasn't a servant any longer. But he was still in that mindset and acting like it, because that was all he had known for the better part of a decade.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, subdued, trailing after Rhys as he made his way back to the couch. Raphael felt something odd inside his chest. Not an ache—that was normal now, whenever he and Rhys interacted. It was just a little niggling sensation, like somebody was urging him to do something he didn't want to do. A compulsion maybe. A quiet but insistent suggestion.

Raphael ignored it to the best of his ability. "Coming right up!" Tea he could still do, especially with the kettle still hot off the stove. Scurrying into the kitchen, he pulled the least chipped mug he could find from Brayden's cupboards and slid another tea bag into it, then poured hot water into the cup. Raphael waited in silence for it to steep, steadfastly avoiding looking at Rhys. The things that Niall said to him rang around and around in his head. Things for him to do, things he needed to take into consideration. Things about love and pain and not wasting the time he was given, and making good on this opportunity to let his feelings be known. The niggling feeling persisted and grew a little stronger.

He returned with the tea. "Careful, it's hot." A stupid, unnecessary thing to say as the mug was steaming furiously. Raphael handed it over and then absently set about picking up the books that had scattered off the coffee table, replacing them into a neat stack—just to have something to do. He didn't feel like he ought to sit there like a lump, silently struggling to be... stubborn and irresistible.

Things between them were strained. Anybody would be able to tell in a second. Even Niall knew and he met them for all of ten minutes. (Longer but who was counting?) Why did they all have to leave? All it took was one other person and they wouldn't be so... awkwardly sitting here like this. Or rather, Rhys wouldn't be sitting there awkwardly with a hot cup of tea while Raphael annoyingly flittered around like an animated house rat doing chores.

For a few minutes, Rhys just... let him but then it started to really grate on his nerves for whatever reason. Maybe because it was too quiet. (Never a problem for him before.) Or maybe because he could see him out of his peripheral vision even when he wasn't watching him and it was annoying. (Distracting.)

"Stop," he said in irritation. "This isn't even your house. You don't have to clean up after that pig."

That pig not being the owner of the apartment but rather that idiot brother of his, who seemed to have no regard whatsoever for anybody else or their space or their things or their thoughts!

"P-pig?!" Raphael stopped cleaning up and straightened, shocked and indignant. Brayden was not a pig! "You've never even met Bee!" He gasped, shocked that Rhys would go there and insult a person he'd never met—just because someone else knocked a few books off the table! Ooh, that crossed a line! Brayden had been the nicest one out of all of them! And he was a true fae prince, which somehow made it worse because he was everything Raphael would have liked to be. A real fae, a real prince, and a person who was liked by all.

Sighing, he stooped to pick up the last book and set it down onto the top of the table. Another thing he did that annoyed Rhys. What else was new? Nothing he did or said seemed to be okay. Every emotion he elicited was a shade of annoyance or irritation, and while Raphael was glad that Rhys felt these things—felt anything—he was personally affronted that... that he couldn't draw out any positive emotions.

Well all right then, he'd stop. Raphael sat down on the couch, exactly half a cushion away, with his hands sandwiched between his legs like a bad pupil waiting to be admonished by the head master. He kept his eyes on the edge of the coffee table, staring straight ahead. Not talking. He wanted to—there was a lot he needed to say—but he just didn't know where to start!

After a moment, he shifted a bit closer. Maybe an inch or two closer. His head didn't move but his eyes did, swerving over to catch the corner of Rhys' knee out of their periphery. Then he slid closer again, lessening the gap by a further inch or two. This repeated twice more—as if Rhys couldn't hear or see him quite literally inching closer. Raphael opened his mouth—he didn't know which of the questions crowding his mind would come out.

"Do you love me?"

Well. That one apparently.

"I wasn't talking about him. I was talking about my... brother."

The word came out as if it tasted unpleasant, although he wasn't actually certain how he felt about his brother. It was kind of nice to say, actually. Brother. He had a sibling. He had more than one. But he'd known that for a while. He had a brother to be annoyed with. Kind of strange. Most of the time, he wasn't very annoyed with Satine but she was there back before his emotions were all kinds of messed up. And then when they were messed up... well, she was just as messed up.

Warily, he looked over at Raphael. Not when he first sat down but when he first edged toward him. And then kept edging toward him. His wariness grew with each succession of scooting. What was Raphael doing, exactly? Earlier, Rhys only let him get close because he'd been too weak to do much else. Now, he was still weak but he was sitting up. He could at least shove him if he tried to do anything weird. Like kiss him again.

He fought the urge to move away because that was stupid and he'd only end up trapping himself against the other end of the couch. And then Raphael had to ask his question and Rhys sort of let his tea flip end over end, splashing hot fucking tea all over his own lap and his legs.

"Fuck!" He stood up immediately, as one does when hot liquid spills so close to sensitive body parts.

Niall was no pig either! He was a very wise and handsome and distinguished prince, full of good advice and kind words and he was a colorful, interesting individual. He must have led quite a life, too, judging by the look in his eyes. They were the eyes of a man who had seen the world at its best and at its worst, and had come out of it alive to tell the tale—if only anyone would listen to him instead of brushing him off.

No one was a pig here. Except maybe Keith, but he didn't factor into the current conversation. Raphael was waiting, not breathing. His lungs burned and his eyes hurt as he stared without blinking at the coffee table, which was when Rhys spilled hot tea all down his legs. On purpose?! To create a diversion so he wouldn't have to answer the question?!

"Rhys!" Raphael cried out in shock, seeing the damp patch seeping and pooling as Rhys leapt up, scalded. "Are you okay?!" He asked, concerned, and then—somewhat foolishly and indignantly, "Why did you do that?!" Because why did Rhys have to go and spill the tea into his own lap just to avoid answering the question? That was uncalled for!

But even as he was angrily accusing Rhys of evading his question, he was leaping up too and trying to remove Rhys' trousers, to avoid the tea spreading up into his crotch and burning him there too. Although he would deserve it!

"Why did you ask that stupid question?!" he said right back. Like he enjoyed having hot liquid all over him! He was already freaking shirtless! And then Raphael was coming at his pants with his hands and Rhys was pushing his hands away and swatting at him.

"What are you doing?!"

Did he want to strip him down right then and there?! But it wasn't like it was a move on him. Even if the question was a highly suggestive one (suggestive, not sexual), it didn't mean that Raphael was intending for him to throw tea into his lap so he could pull his pants off. Rhys knew that... logically.

"I can take off my own damn clothes."

Which was true but usually not a thing he had to say. Back at the castle, he had servants to do even that. Raphael was not one of them. He was the go-fer servant. Not the clothing servant. Not the bathing servant. Not a consort. So why him. Why. He turned away from Raphael and with irritation now aimed more at himself for being stupid enough to put himself into an awkward position, he tugged the pants off. And by the time they were off, he was tired and flung them across the room.

"And now I'm a pig too," he said angrily. "Don't you dare pick them up."

"It'll spread!" Raphael pointed to the rapidly advancing damp patch at the front of Rhys' pants, angrily. It was an angry point. The nerve of Rhys to insinuate that he was trying to do something untoward! When he only wanted to help! If Rhys wanted to sit in hot wet tea-stained pants, Raphael didn't know about it! He couldn't read minds!

And now Bee's couch was soaked too! ARGH! Raphael was indeed going for a towel from the kitchen to blot the tea out of the cushions, since Rhys had the pants situation on lockdown. Hmph! He came back and pressed the towel to the large wet patch on the couch, trying his best not to watch Rhys wiggling out of his trousers. Because yes, Rhys was shirtless due to the large corruption at his back, and now he had gone and scalded his legs. The skin there looked rather red and irritated—just like Rhys himself.

Raphael straightened when pants flew across the room. The—the nerve of Rhys to tell him not to pick them up! Raphael stood there, arms akimbo, feeling something snap inside. That feeling inside intensified to an unbearable level and he just... lost it. "Stop telling me what to do!" He snapped. "I'll pick up all the pants I want, when I want!"

He strode over purposely, glaring at Rhys the entire way, bent and grabbed the pants. And held them. And glared.

Clothes were going to be his enemy for a while. He was going to end up having to wear some kind of toga so his burnt legs would be free of chafing and his back open to air instead of also more chafing.

But Raphael was also making himself an enemy. More of an enemy than clothes. Rhys said not to dare pick up those pants and of course the first damn thing he did was stride over and pick up the pants. Rhys stared at him, glared back, too, jaw set hard. What the hell was his problem, anyway? Everything Rhys said, he did the goddamned opposite. Maybe he should tell him not to go play in traffic next!

"Put. Them. Down."

"Or you'll do what?" Raphael retorted, feeling angrier than he had ever felt in his life. Not only anger but outrage and deep, deep resentment. Not towards Rhys—never towards Rhys. Resentment towards the system and the unfairness that had oppressed him throughout his life. The fact that merely because he was born into poverty, his life was forfeit.

They dragged him from his home when he was six years old. Took him to the castle. Destroyed his body and took his soul and put it into the body of a dead noble boy, and expected him to be okay with it. All because he was a 'nobody' and no one cared what he thought or felt or wanted. And if he said anything—anything at all—they would have killed his mother and father and siblings, because no one valued their lives either, except as bargaining chips.

So yes. Raphael was a little upset.

"Make me." He held the pants up higher, virtually taunting Rhys now with them, flaunting his so-called authority in his face.

I'll call the guards! was an old favorite. But here was the problem with that: there were no guards. There wasn't even a Keith. There was nothing but himself and Raphael and a pair of wet pants. And for some reason, those pants set off more anger than he could even express. But he was pissed. He was angry that he'd grown wings and that he corrupted himself trying to get them off and that the blight hurt like a bitch and that he'd hidden in a bathroom for probably an hour or two while everybody else chilled out here.

And he was pissed that when he came out to nothing but silence that he didn't like it. And he was pissed that Raphael asked such a moronic question that shook his stupid hand into stupidity, which ended up in this. In THIS.

"Fine," he said. "Don't fucking eat the pants, Raphael." He pushed the books off the table. "Or don't put them on your head like a jackass." He grasped the pants that he'd tossed away and shoved them down, as if he could just make Raphael let go of them, drop them for whatever reason. "What, you're going to leave the books now?"

What could he ever do to Raphael that hadn't been done to him already? Boss him around? His whole life he'd done that! Glare at him? Better than being looked through as though he didn't exist, maybe, but so what? Just because things weren't going his way now, Rhys was going to start taking his anger and frustrations out on Raphael? Make a punching bag out of him because he couldn't handle a little adversity?

Well punching bags could hit back too! They swung back when punched and if a person wasn't careful, they could get knocked down on their ass!

He made an outraged noise when Rhys pushed the books off the table, nostrils flaring. Those books belonged to Bee! Bee loved them! He had collected them! For Rhys to blatantly disrespect them like that, it was unforgivable! Raphael kept a tight hold on the pants, refusing to let them go. Now Rhys was talking sheer nonsense, telling him to not eat them or put them on his head. He wasn't going to anyway!

And Rhys was the contrarian, not Raphael!

"Pick them up." He stepped into Rhys' space, eyes blazing. "Pick up the books! You have no right to do that to someone else's things! You can be a jerk to me all you want, and you have been your whole life, but don't you dare disrespect Prince Bee!"

"No."

He wasn't picking up any goddamn books. He put them there, why would he pick them up? Because Raphael tried to tell him what to do? And what did he think he was doing, stepping straight up into his space? Did he think it was enough to make him back up? Because it wasn't. Rhys would rather die than do a lot of things and one of them was deferring to somebody beneath him.

"Did you tell Prince Niall to pick up the books, Raphael?"

As he recalled, the books had been kicked around before by somebody else and where was Raphael then? Oh right, in the back room with the hunter boyfriend of PRINCE NIALL.

"Did you hold onto Prince Jack's pants?" Sheer lunacy; this situation was too strange to have occurred more than once.

"Do you want to serve Prince BEE?" He let go of the pants and stepped back. "You'd rather disrespect me, your actual prince. If you didn't defect, I'd dismiss you right now." He took another step back. His voice lowered. "And keep your wings. I'm going home where I won't need such frippery. Real or otherwise."

He moved past Raphael and back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, this time with a definite teenager style slam. What the hell was happening to him? He could not... keep it together. As soon as Raphael talked about another prince, everything started... falling apart. His eyes stung and his stomach hurt and he could not fucking believe it--something escaped and dripped onto the linoleum floor. One, two. Plip, plop. Not blood. Fucking. Tears. He was so fucking frustrated. He jammed his palms into his eyes and sank down. He hated. Everything.

(Ooooh he so jaaaalous)

What?

What?!

Prince Niall? Prince Jack? Hold on to his pants?! Why did Rhys make that sound so... so lurid? Raphael could only gape at him, shocked into silence again. Why was Rhys saying their names like that?! Why did it sound like he was insinuating that... that Raphael had been unfaithful? It sounded very much like that. Like he was bringing up past lovers or something, the way couples did when they got into a big fight—Raphael had heard one such argument out on the street, between a fuming couple.

"You—"

Rhys stormed past him and slammed the bathroom door, leaving him holding a pair of damp pants and shaking with anger and hurt and disbelief. "You—" He turned and marched himself right up to the bathroom door. Flung the pants at the door as hard as he could, so hard that he hurt his shoulder. "YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A JEALOUS ASSHOLE RHYS MCCABE!" He shouted at the top of his lungs at the door.

"I'VE NEVER SERVED ANOTHER PRINCE IN MY LIFE! AND I NEVER WILL! AND THAT INCLUDES YOU! YOU BOOK-THROWING JERK!"

He marched off, still shaking, with tears stinging his own eyes. How could Rhys even think that he would serve another prince? When Raphael told him—more than once!—that he was in love with him and could never be happy without him? Jealous asshole! Because that was what it was—jealousy. Raphael might have been naive but even he knew a thing or two. Rhys wouldn't bring up other princes—Jack, Niall, Bee—if he didn't like the thought of Raphael serving them. But to say that he would dismiss Raphael!

To still treat him like a servant instead of an equal! That was the last straw!

Raphael stormed out of the front door and he slammed that behind him, too. He took himself across the courtyard and banged on Professor Jack's door.

(Oooh he is, frand. He mad jelly.)

"Oh, I was never any good at hunting. Of any kind. I actually, this one time, just let the bow slide out of my hand, it hit real hard in me willy, straight down, just like... bam! Arrow barely missed me foot, too!"

Jack stared as Niall rubbed his foot--he'd promptly taken his shoes off when he arrived--as if the arrow did actually hit his foot and he was remembering it. Then Jack looked over at Brayden. He could have been still watching Brayden sleep... but he had to admit, Niall was kind of amusing. Although Marge wasn't kidding about him being a talker.

"I was actually in the archery club at Harvard," Jack said. "If you're still interested--"

A sudden and violent banging on his door made him jump and he turned toward the door in utter disbelief. Heart still hammering in his chest, he got up and went for the door as quickly as possible, afraid one of his friends was going to be half dead. Instead, he found himself looking at...

"Raphael? What are you doing here?"

Didn't Marge put him under some spell? Uh... Uh oh...

Bray actually had no idea what to make of Niall, but... he liked him. He liked his talkative nature and his overly friendly approach to meeting new people... by telling them everything about himself, pertinent or not. Words came from Niall like a torrent, and even someone who was used to being talked over was stunned at how rapidly Niall switched from topic to topic.

He sat beside Jack, bemused, amused. The long nap had done him a world of good; Bray felt a lot like himself. He'd even put some soup on the stove to heat up, feeling hungry and having eaten nothing all day. It was about time for some TLC! Jack could use it too. And Niall, and his hunter partner, whenever he showed up.

The resemblance between brothers was uncanny, though. Bray couldn't stop staring at them both. Curly dark hair, hazel eyes. Same effortless sense of style—though Niall's was a bit more... bold than Jack's. Both of them were extroverts, that was plain to see, and confident. Bray couldn't help but smile as Niall rubbed his foot, feeling some kind of phantom pain there as he described his mishaps with hunting.

Then—the banging. Bray started to his feet but Jack got to the door first and opened it to a teary-eyed Raphael. "He's just a big JERK!" Raphael shouted as he stormed inside and promptly threw himself down onto the couch, crying up a storm. His head landed in Bray's lap, so Bray gently stroked the back of his head as he stared wide-eyed at Jack and then at Niall.

"He—" Raphael sniffled. "He's a jealous big stupid book-throwing big stupid jerk! I can't believe he would even think I'd serve another prince!" When he looked up at them all, his face was splotchy red and his eyes were swimming in tears. "Can you believe he would say that?! And—and he still thinks of me as nothing but a servant!" Raphael spat the word out with venom in his tone. "A servant he gets to boss around forever!" His head fell heavily back into Bray's lap and he continued sobbing into his thigh.

"Well... all right then."

Jack closed the door, stunned by Raphael's rather dramatic entrance. So... Marge wasn't kidding when she said there was a lot of drama stirring over in the other apartment. And it seemed like all of the... Ripley brothers (for lack of any other name for them) were all very much entrenched in drama. Maybe it was just... genetic. Their father must be quite the drama queen himself.

"Who?" Niall asked. "Are you talking about the lad we talked about before I left? Was my advice bad? Ooooh, I knew I shouldn't be giving advice." Niall grabbed his own head. Dramatics. Jack sighed as he made his way back over to the couch and looked over at Brayden. Was this real life? Was this their life from this moment on? There would never be room for a family of their own; they would forever be mired in all their adopted children's antics. And brothers.

Also, who let Niall give advice? Jack let out a breath and shook his head at the sheer insanity.

"What advice," Jack asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, "did you give him, Niall?"

"What? I just, I told him to straddle him--"

Jack's hm was not one of total approval.

"--and look him in the eyes and tell him how important he was to him!"

Jack's next hm and head nod was more approving.

"I swear!" Niall put up both hands. "I mean, it worked for me. I don't know if that's exactly how it happened but it was something like that..." Niall looked to Raphael helplessly, reaching out as if to touch him, then looking like he thought better of it. And then thought again and reached over to pet his back soothingly. "If he thinks of you as a servant, then he's all wrong for you. I was wrong when I said he loved you, I just thought he did because all I know is Kenny, you know, and Kenny isn't good with words and he looked jealous as hell when he saw you leave with Kenny. Okay I was jealous a little, too so maybe I was doing that wordy thing that means I put my feelings on him. I misread him, I'm sorry."

The sobs didn't last long, thankfully; they were like the sudden storm outside, here and gone in a matter of minutes. But the aftermath was sure to be ugly; it was sure to have wide-spread consequences. Like them ever having a normal life. Like that beautiful golden vision of children and a dog and a home together ever happening when they were so busy taking care of everyone else.

Yet, Bray couldn't blame any of them. They didn't come here with the intention of disrupting Jack's and his life.

He stroked Raphael's hair as the crying stopped, and all there was left were sniffles. "I asked him if he loved me," He said, voice muffled into Bray's lap. "And he--he spilled tea on himself on purpose to avoid answering it!" The tear-stained face reappeared. "It's not your fault prince Niall! You--your advice was good! Rhys is just a big JERK! He was telling me not to pick up books or clean up and he--he took off his pants and threw them across the room and he said don't you dare pick them up like he was talking to a slave! He doesn't own me! He had no right to do those things!"

Yikes. Sounded like it all went out of control, but also that maybe wires had gotten crossed somewhere. Rhys telling him not to pick up things didn't sound like a man talking to a servant; he would have if he ordered Raphael to pick them up, if anything. Bray gently tried to ease himself out from under Raphael. "I think... I should go and check on my apartment," he said softly, while Raphael buried his face into the couch cushions. "Maybe he shouldn't be left alone in there."

"He's hiding in the bathroom," Raphael sniffled. "Big stupid jerk!"

Once he got some kind of handle on himself, Rhys felt like a fool.

His problem was that he was not in the least bit accustomed to these... feelings. Some of them were so unnecessarily strong, too. Enough to knock a man off his feet if he wasn't careful. And some of them were not easy to identify with. The last time Rhys felt things, he had been a child, where his emotions were simple. Happy, sad, angry, excited, curious. Now, the emotions were stronger and they were more nuanced. What seemed like a certain feeling wasn't quite that feeling.

Like all that anger; he was seeing now, alone in the bathroom, that maybe it wasn't just anger. Or even frustration. Oh, there was anger and frustration but they were layered over other emotions, the ones that caused the anger, the frustration.

Rhys couldn't even remember the last time he felt this huge, ugly ball of feelings inside his chest and the pit of his gut, like a big knot he couldn't quite swallow. It was taking over, pushing emotions out in physical forms, like tears.

Embarrassing--but he was glad they were behind closed doors so he could wash them quickly away.

It took him a moment to calm down. He didn't know how long he sat on the floor with his hands on his eyes, willing the feelings of frustration and jealousy and hurt to go away. Why was he even hurt, anyway? Something about the way Raphael talked about Prince Bee really set him off. Not expected, probably by either of them.

But eventually, the feeling slowly subsided. It didn't disappear but it became more manageable. He was able to get up. Wash his face. Wonder what he was doing here. What to do next. Rhys sat on the lid of the toilet. This was it, then. He... should go. Back home. But he had to find a way out of the apartment. To find a weakness in the ward to escape through. Or...

He had his phone. Where did he leave it? He sat in silence for a long, long time. Finally, he mustered up his courage and left the bathroom, peering down the hall. Everything was so still and quiet. It was probably on the couch somewhere. Or... He looked down at the pants they'd fought over. Leaning down, he started to pick up the pants when he heard the front door opening. Quickly, Rhys grabbed the pants and pulled them into the bathroom with him.

For the very young and inexperienced, one wrong word taken out of context could blow everything up. They felt too strongly about everything; they read too much into each word sometimes, when cooler heads needed to prevail. Bray had never been that type but he knew people like that. He knew that in the grip of love, feeling the way Raphael undoubtedly felt about Rhys, it wasn't easy to take a step back to reassess the situation and to see things for what they were.

Spilling tea after being asked a significant question didn't necessarily mean avoidance. Perhaps Rhys was caught off-guard. Or it could have been a sudden reaction. Whatever Raphael thought, Bray imagined that things weren't half as bad as he made them out to be. Plus, everyone was coddling Raphael but there was another side to the story too--there was another person who was hurt by all this.

He entered his own apartment in time to see someone bolting back into the bathroom with bare legs flashing and a pair of pants trailing behind him. Bray waited a moment, taking it to pick up the scattered books and to frown at the tea stain on his couch. Ah, well--that could be washed out. After a decent length of time had passed, he went to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.

"Hello? Rhys? Are you okay in there? My name is Brayden. Would you come out and talk to me, please?"

Oh, great. It was the amazing Bee. As if he hadn't heard enough about him from everybody who knew him. Naturally, Rhys didn't trust people who were beloved by everyone. To him, that wasn't possible. Somebody had to hate him. Maybe it was him. Maybe Rhys was the one to hate him.

Logically, he knew he wasn't making any sense but he was still struggling with the idiotic fight he just had with Raphael. When he looked back on it with a calmer mind, it embarrassed him greatly. He never got angry. There wasn't enough in him to care about anything enough to get that mad. But boy, grow a little wings and suddenly, he cared.

Rhys sighed and rolled his eyes. Should he tell him to go away? Why did he even want to talk? To convince him to apologize for hurting Raphael's feelings? Well, what about his feelings? Where did that idiot get off asking that question anyway?! How many times did Rhys have to say these wings on his back? They were Raphael's fault. That was admission enough. And he'd said it more than once now.

Taking in a breath, he reminded himself that Brayden was just another fairy prince stuck here on the human side. Slowly, Rhys got up and opened the bathroom door again, phone in hand. The wet pants were in the hamper. But he had fished the phone out.

"I'll be out of your hair as soon as they take the wards down," he said to Brayden with a haughty tilt of the head. "I was about to call another servant of mine to come and get me."

One thing the Ripley brothers had in common, Bray was beginning to find out, was their collective refusal to wear a full set of clothes. The person emerging from the bathroom was clad in... almost nothing. Underwear. No shirt, no pants. (No service?) Bray kept his eyes to himself, though, and only focused on the young man's haughty expression.

He did a very good job of appearing aloof, Bray thought. One of those people who were adept at pushing others away with a flick of the eyes and a sneer. But despite that, there was nothing truly unlikable about him. Nothing deeply, personally offensive. He was simply young. Inexperienced. That could be forgiven, surely.

Smiling in the face of his oh-so-unaffected facade, Bray stepped back to allow him some room. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you want." He spoke in a soft voice, not unlike the type of tone one might adopt with a skittish stray. Someone calm and collected was what Rhys needed, he thought—not someone who would fan the flames, like another little hothead surging with volatile emotions.

"Well before you do that, maybe we can find you something to wear? I heard you were injured. Your back. Do you think a robe would be okay to wear, until your--servant gets here?"

"I don't want to stay."

He wanted to leave. He wanted home. He wanted his huge bathing chambers back, his soft bed with its enormous four posts, the ability to be alone whenever he asked for privacy. He wanted to go back to feeling nothing, so he could sleep well at night. These wings brought nothing but heartache and he didn't want it. Nothing to do with it. He didn't want to have a volatile temper, he didn't like feeling angry, he didn't like being frustrated to the point of tears, he didn't like feeling misunderstood, he didn't like the way it felt when his words hit so hard that the actually did some damage. Maybe he always had that power but it never hurt him before.

"My pants are wet," he said tiredly. "I don't want anything on my back. If you have pants you can spare... I suppose I'll take them."

Then he lifted the phone. "In the meantime, if you'll excuse me..."

He moved past Brayden into the living room. Again. It was quiet again and everything was tidied but the stain on the couch was conspicuous. Rhys sat at the dining table and chose Keith's name from his contacts.

"All right. I'll find you a pair of pants." Bray moved towards the chest of drawers and the closet to assess what he had that might fit Rhys. There was a height difference but it wasn't terribly large. Maybe a few inches... He dug around until he found a pair of sweat pants that used to belong to Wyatt, which were loose-fitting enough and long enough in the legs to fit Rhys. Luckily he hadn't thrown it away... although he really ought to have, since Wyatt hadn't lived with him for about three years.

When he emerged from the bedroom, Rhys was seated at the dining table, so Bray set the neatly folded sweat pants down. So as not to pry or eavesdrop, he went to the kitchen to fill two glasses with lemon water and briefly sipped one while bringing the other back. Bray sat down opposite him, pushing the glass of water towards him.

"I'll try to talk to Marge about lowering whatever defenses she put up." He curled his fingers around his own glass of water. "If you really want to leave, we won't stop you. We're not here to take hostages." To confine Rhys to this apartment was cruel. He knew Marge and everyone else meant well, and that they were only trying to help, but this wasn't the way to go about it. If Rhys didn't want to join them, he shouldn't be forced to. Besides, he was more than old enough to make his own decisions.

"But..." He weighed his words here, trying to find a way to speak his thoughts without offending Rhys. "I think all of us would like you to stay. Including Raphael."

Well, calling Keith turned out to be a huge mistake. Change in management? What was going on with them? Rhys wished he still had contact with his father but whatever they used to ward him inside this place also appeared to ward his father out. The last time he saw his father, it was in that cafe mirror. He hadn't even been gone that long and everything apparently went to shit.

Also, now that Brayden was sitting across from him, Rhys didn't feel that comfortable speaking on the phone anymore. He made a hasty goodbye and clicked out of the call, not feeling entirely good about what had just transpired. Rhys didn't agree to anything but... Why was Keith targeting Brayden now? Still fucking playing his games. No wonder Keith was out and Pax was in. His father could control Pax in a way he couldn't control Keith.

Setting the phone face down, he pushed it down beside the glass of lemon water set before him. He wrinkled his nose as Brayden brought up Marge.

"Tell that to her. She thinks if she traps me with Raphael that we'll become the two of you."

And then wouldn't that just fix everything for them, tied neatly in a little bow? That wasn't how it was going to work. Rhys wasn't Jack and Raf wasn't Brayden. They were different people under different circumstances. And obviously, Marge's fucking plan didn't work. Pushing the two of them together only caused an explosion, not lovey-dovey sparks.

"And I highly doubt that." He took the sweatpants and sighed, pulling them on, standing to pull them on over his rump and then sitting back down. They were the last type of thing he would normally wear but he hardly had any choices here. All of his own clothes were back at the other apartment he would never see again.

The phone call sounded strained and strange. Bray didn't know who Rhys called but apparently they weren't much help, and it wasn't long before Rhys was hanging up on his other servant. It didn't sound to Bray like plans had been made to break him out. If anything, Rhys claimed that he would find his own way out, and whatever his servant said after that was displeasing to him.

Bray laughed—he couldn't help himself. "I hope you two don't become like us... But Marge probably just wants to see you happy, because you're Jack's brother and she cares a lot about Jack and everyone around him. Her—ah—personality takes some getting used to but she's not that bad, really. When Jack and I were just starting out, she gave me a bottle of wine to try and get us drunk so that we'd... get intimate." His smile was embarrassed, but amused, as he thought back to that night. It felt like years ago! "That's the way she operates, you see."

He politely averted his gaze as Rhys pulled the sweatpants on, and luckily they were a reasonable fit. Rhys was skeptical that everyone—or maybe only Raphael—wanted him to stay, but Bray couldn't think of a single person who wanted him to leave! Again he thought for a brief while before he spoke. "Raphael was very upset, but I think he would be devastated if you actually left. He told us a little about what happened here, but I thought maybe someone ought to come and hear you side of the story. If you don't mind telling me what happened. It sounds like there was just a misunderstanding between you two."

"Well she operates like a psychopath." And he should know psychopaths. He had just been talking to one over the phone! And fat lot of good he did anybody.

Rhys looked sourly down at his glass of water but he took a small sip from it. Feeling as unwell as he did, the water would probably do him some good. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since... Well, he didn't even get to drink at the cafe date that failed spectacularly. Honestly, he couldn't remember when he'd had anything to eat or drink and it was probably contributing to the general sense of malaise he was feeling.

His sip ended up being the entire glass. Apparently his body was thirsty and who was he to argue right now? It seemed like most of the fight in him had flagged after that ridiculous display with the pants and the books. Not anything he felt like divulging to a total stranger. He wasn't Raphael. Or that irritating Niall.

"We fought and he ran away. Not much to tell."

"...I can see why you'd say that." Margie did have a habit of trying to strong-arm everything. Now, she did it out of the goodness of her heart but it took a lot of understanding and getting used to. Accepting that Marge was going to have her way eventually helped ease things along. Then again, not everyone was as passive as Brayden...

"You fought over books and pants, right?" Bray stood up to refill the glass, since Rhys was thirsty enough to down the whole thing in one go! He brought the pitcher back too, in case Rhys wanted to have more. There was also still a pot of soup in the fridge that he noticed while retrieving the water, and he put that on to heat in case Rhys felt like eating something a little heartier.

"Raphael seemed to think you still see him as a servant." Bray sipped his own water pensively. "But you were telling him... not to do things that servants did, weren't you?"

This guy was a doormat. No wonder whatever that woman did worked for them. Rhys pointed out his friend was a psychopath and he just said oh I see how you can think that! Unbelievable. And he knew about the fucking books and pants. Lovely. What did Raphael tell him? Every sordid detail? About the tea spilling? Well he had to, if he knew about the damned pants.

Without really thinking about it, he took the refilled glass and took another drink but this time managed to only drink half the glass. Now that he thought about it, every time he tried to drink today, the world seemed against it. No coffee, no tea... At least the water wasn't getting flung around.

"He's the one acting like a damn servant," he said stormily. "If he doesn't want to be seen as one, he should stop acting like one."

"Well now, some habits are hard to get out of. He's been serving you his entire life, hasn't he? Maybe he does those things without really thinking about it, because it's become second-nature." That was sad, wasn't it? To live his entire life serving others... It was a role that placed Raphael beneath the person he served. By definition, servants were inferior; the masters were superior. There was a power imbalance and a distinct lack of fairness towards the one being subjugated.

"And maybe," Bray continued gently, "all he needs is someone to tell him that they see more than a person who cleans and fetches things and picks up after other people. Maybe that would help him to realize that he's worth something. Because you wouldn't have gotten so angry if he wasn't worth something to you, right?"

What Bray really heard from all of Raphael's outburst was that he was insecure and lacked confidence that he was worth being loved by Rhys—his master. And Bray, he knew quite a bit about feeling worthless and insecure and wondering if he deserved love after all, or if he was destined to wait out his life looking in from the outside. It took someone like Jack, with the gentle reassurance and confidence born out of true love, to coax him out of his shell. It took someone to affirm that he was worth being loved before he could accept their love—and learn to love himself.

It wasn't the habits that got under his skin. But it was obvious why Brayden thought so. Because it was what Raphael said to him, and because Rhys reacted to that with don't act like a servant if you don't want to be treated like one. That wasn't even why Rhys got so annoyed with Raphael in the first place.

It was his constant moving around, fluttering about, not sitting down. How was anybody supposed to have a proper or serious conversation when the other person was distracted with stupid menial chores and looking at anything other than the person they were talking to? All that fluttering around distracted Rhys and he couldn't get a quiet second to arrange any of those feelings he wasn't used to, let alone translate them into words.

So instead, he grew more irritated by the second. What was worse, he pushed his stupid question onto him without preamble. It was just silence and weird scooting and then blam--a super personal question that literally startled him. Not that he would admit it aloud but he was physically weak right now; was he really supposed to hold onto his damned tea? But no, Raphael thought he did it on purpose--accused him of it--and it escalated into the stupidest damn fight he'd ever been a part of.

"Whatever, right." So Raphael was worth something to him. "The rest of it's just bullshit. Do you even know what it's like to not feel anything and then have it all turned back on like a light switch? Of course not. You're not a recovering Fallen. So take it from one: it fucking sucks. He might have turned on the switch but he's too immature for me and I'm too fucked up for him. What did you say? He needs somebody to tell him all these things, to coddle him, and make him feel better about himself? That's not me. Not right now. I can barely fucking name my own feelings, let alone worry about his at the same time. And that's where this Marge has everything wrong, trying to push this thing. Sometimes, giving a fuck about somebody else isn't enough. Because you're right, that is what he needs. And it's not coming from me. That's what none of you people understand. You can't force a person into something they aren't ready for. "

He sat back with his arms crossed, winced, and sat forward again. Stupid blight. He finished off the glass of water, wishing it was something stronger.

"Trust me. I'm not ready to be taking care of anybody, even if it was ever in my nature in the first place."

Bray sat and listened and sipped his lemon water while Rhys unloaded quite a lot of frustrations. He could see where Rhys was coming from, why he sounded so upset. Everything he knew was turned on its head; he was experiencing some painful, confusing changes to his body that he had no explanation for. And... Bray didn't say it but he thought it: the symptoms of puberty were hitting Rhys quite hard in the moment.

And what did people most associate with puberty? The violent mood swings and feeling that no one could ever understand what they were going through! But Rhys' problems weren't unique, surely. Raphael was a fallen too and he had to have gone through some of these changes as well. If anyone could understand how he felt, Raphael had the best chance. Bray thought that if they could only communicate their feelings better and not bottle them up so much—not leap to so many hasty conclusions—they would both be a lot better off.

"Well now, that's not what I'm saying exactly," he replied slowly, after Rhys had finished. Bray even waited for a brief few seconds to make sure he was done—he didn't want to cut Rhys off. "I don't know that he needs to be coddled, or even wants to be. But he takes what you say to heart, and your words matter. To him, a little reassurance could go a long way. And I think maybe it goes the other way, too..."

Behind him the soup pot bubbled; he excused himself briefly to go and turn the heat down. Bray ladled out a bowl and brought it back—with a spoon. After making Jack fish around a bowl of soup with his fingers that one time, Bray never forgot another spoon ever again! "Here, have some of this. Careful, don't burn yourself. The dumplings get really hot."

Then what was he saying, exactly? Rhys didn't see how smushing the two of them together in a confined space was meant to make them fall in love~ when they were both pretty stunted in the emotional department in different ways. Maybe they were both qualified to know what it felt like to have no feelings to having feelings but that hardly meant much of anything to Rhys. Honestly, he didn't understand Raphael any more than he understood himself. And he could clearly state that Raphael didn't understand him.

"And my words aren't nice. He idolizes you idiots. He wants what you have with Jack; he doesn't shut up about it. I'm not either of you, nor do I want to be. He'll be happier when he realizes whatever he's looking for isn't with me."

He wasn't even getting into what he himself needed to hear. Rhys didn't even know what he wanted to hear. Just that he wasn't hearing it. Rhys fell silent as soup was placed before him. Apparently he didn't get the memo about Rhys' aversion to soup. Mostly, he just rolled dumplings around in the soup, even though his stomach rumbled for food.

"Is that what you really want? For him to find someone like me or Jack?" Somehow he doubted that. Rhys was keeping Raphael at arms' length and finding all the ways that they wouldn't work, focusing on everything that made them clash. He was afraid of not living up to the standard that he imagined Raphael had set for relationships, based on what he saw of Jack and Bray. And yet the wings... the look in his eyes, the physical cues that he couldn't quite hide, they told a different story. Rhys wanted what Raphael wanted, even if their methods of getting there left them stranded instead of meeting in the middle.

Bray watching him rolling the dumplings around, not eating. Well, the soup was still pretty hot; maybe once it cooled, Rhys would take a sip or two. He looked sickly and ill, and the soup was nourishing and full of healthy, wholesome ingredients. It did also smell very good, piping hot off the stove. It was good for him but... something told Bray that Rhys was one of those people to whom suggestions and well-meaning advice elicited quite the opposite reaction.

He was a contrarian, Marge didn't get that wrong about him, and not because he was stubborn but because it seemed to Bray like everyone had been forcing their opinions upon him without giving him much of a chance—or choice—to express himself. And maybe not doing what everyone told him, even if it was sensible, was his way of clawing back some control. From what Raphael revealed, Rhys had been groomed from an early age by his father to become... his father. Added to that the whole Fallen aspect, losing his wings and his individuality, small wonder Rhys seized control wherever he could—even if it was to his own detriment.

"I'm sorry." Yes, yes, Bray apologized a lot but that wasn't the real issue right now. "You've been through a lot lately, I can tell. Everything's been happening a thousand miles a minute, and no one's giving you any time or space to breathe and think. It's hard to make sense of... anything when the reality you know keeps changing and people keep showing up to add more uncertainty and confusion, even before you've had a chance to get caught up. And I'm very sorry that happened to you."

And if that sounded familiar, it was because Bray had been living that horror with Jack ever since that night at the ridge top, when Keith's golem appeared.

"No," he said, annoyed again. "Obviously not."

Or he wouldn't have been so pissed about the way Raphael talked about this guy right here in front of him. Or Professor Jack and how amazing he was. It felt like... everybody else was so amazing, why didn't he just run off with one of them? Which was way immature of him and he knew it and he hated it. And hating everything was tiring.

Great. Brayden could see right through him better than Marge could. He didn't think he much liked it, having everything plainly laid out like that. Another dumpling rolled around and he remembered doing this exact sort of thing when he was dead bored. Not hungry, not thirsty, not excited about or for anything. Just plodding along. But unlike Raphael, who seemed to have somehow managed to experience good, positive emotions, Rhys had only negative ones. It really salted up the whole having feelings thing for him.

"You got me. That's the gist of it. I don't know what you want me to say about it." Was he supposed to say thanks for giving a shit? Agree that he wasn't doing well with all these people and all their talking and the lack of time or space? He already did that.

"You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're not alone in the way you feel, and if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. And if you don't want to talk, that's fine too. You have options, even if it might not feel that way."

Rhys was still a little storm cloud, but Bray thought that maybe in time he would learn to trust them--and lighten up. Surely someone related to Jack and Niall wouldn't be this gloomy all the time! He gently pushed the soup bowl closer to Rhys, since he was merely toying with the dumplings. "Eat a little of the soup, please, even if you don't like it. It'll make you feel better. And stronger, so you'll have more energy to fight with Marge when she comes back."

Bray smiled across the table at him, then lightly patted his hand. "We're not your enemies here, please believe me. We don't want to make you feel bad about yourself or about your choices. I'll try to keep the others out of this apartment so you can have some time to rest. If you need anything, you can call me, okay?"

It really didn't feel like there were options. Maybe they were there but they felt robbed. Like the option to leave--totally taken from him. The option to keep to himself--well that had been off the table until now. It wasn't like he was going to hermit himself away forever but it felt like he couldn't get a single goddamn moment to sort through everything. It just happened--the wings, the feelings. They literally seemed to sprout up overnight. And then it was just... constant in your face pushing and pulling and talking and feel this, Rhys, feel that, Rhys.

If he wasn't already exhausted from the stupid blight, he would have been exhausted by all that mental energy alone.

He looked back down at the soup. Soup, he had always disliked. Even now, it stared at him, daunting. If he thought of it more like a stew maybe it was more tolerable. Maybe. It smelled good, that he could at least begrudgingly admit to himself. Or maybe that was just his hunger talking--because he was very hungry. The dumplings that he was rolling around weren't soup, so he settled first on that. Although it made him feel six years old, with his mother telling him to eat well so he could grow up strong or something.

"I don't feel bad about myself." His choices, he wasn't going to touch on that. The out-of-whack emotional bullshit was making all the decisions for him lately and that... he hated that. He felt so... human and he'd spent most of his life disdaining humans as garbage. Now he thought he was justified in that. Not having emotions had been a boon to his decision making skills. Nothing to get in the way of making a smart and rational decision over something muddled in emotions.

"And if you want me to rest," he said, "I'd suggest... changing your bedding."

Maybe it was just him but... he never slept in the same bed he entertained consorts in (or rather, they tried to entertain him). Humans and their... vices.

There, see? Rhys wasn't completely immune to someone talking sense into him. Bray nodded approvingly when he began to eat, knowing that with some food in him and with a little quiet and rest, he would feel much better about everything that had happened. Not fully good, maybe, since he was a virtual hostage here, but better than he felt now. And he really did look quite ill; it was unfair to expect him to engage in any sort of meaningful decision-making when he was like this.

Bray stood up. "I should have some spare sheets... I'll go see about the bed. You eat up, as much as you can." He left to go and find spare, clean sheets, not exactly wanting the details on what happened to or in his bed. It was better not to know sometimes... Besides which, clean sheets always did feel better for naps than ones somebody had slept in. (Not that Bray was dirty!)

He found the spare set and went about making the bed, though occasionally he peeked in on Rhys just to make sure he was all right. "There, the bed's changed, so you're good to go. I'll just be across the courtyard, and I left my phone number on the nightstand in case you need it. Have a good rest, Rhys. And I hope you feel better when you wake up."

Now... he had to go back and deal with that other little storm cloud... Hopefully Jack and Niall were having more luck over there!

Drama, drama, drama.

It. Was everywhere. Jack suddenly saw why Marge needed a few (hundred) drinks and some fucking. Because there was a lot of drama dripping from everyone and it wasn't just the brothers Ripley, either. Raphael was a good kid, he was. But he was also kind of dramatic. Maybe he was a long lost cousin. ...Which wouldn't be good news for him regarding Rhys but then, maybe there was no good news regarding Rhys. Also, he wasn't quite sure if Raphael still wanted that or not because he was pretty upset about a fight involving--of all things--books and wet pants.

For a moment, it was pure chaos after Brayden left. Because Brayden was the Voice of Reason. He was the Glue. And once he left, it all sort of came undone.

Niall was doing his best but Niall, it seemed, was sort of... flighty. He couldn't seem to remain on topic. He was doing his best--it seemed--to try and calm Raphael down but he was also... Well.

"You're not a servant and you shouldn't be treated as such! I would tell him off, if I were you. I'd march right over and tell him off for it. What's he got against you, anyway? Who throws tea on their nether regions on purpose?! Actually..." Niall paused and seemed to think on it, stroking his own chin in thought. "I think I have. Mind you, it was to get out of paying for this load of magical drugs I honestly didn't have the money for. Only it wasn't money they wanted, witches rarely do, you know, they usually ask for other things as payment. Spell ingredients, you know, for potions and such, and sometimes little niggling things like souls, which I personally have no idea how to get...? I was born with a soul--I think. Pookas have souls, right? But I don't want to sell my soul for a pinch of the good stuff, you hear?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jack said, putting up a hand and using the other to rub his aching temple. "Stop, stop."

Jack came to sit beside Raphael and his poor, tear-stained face. "First of all, disregard everything this one's just said--"

"Hey!"

"And listen to me instead." Jack ignored the pout--Niall's pouts had no power here. "Do you love him?"

"Have you not been listening this whole--"

"Tut, tut, tut. Shut up, Niall. Raphael... do you love him?"

"Yeah! And--YEAH! I did tell him off! I told him I'd never serve another prince ever again, especially not him!" Raphael was full of outrage now that Niall--Prince Niall--was full of outrage! He was kind of easily influenced, this was true, but especially by... actual royalty. Royalty who were real fae, with real wings (presumably), and ones with experience in feeling things.

And Brayden, he was a prince too! Prince of a now-defunct house, but still.

He didn't really think about what that said to Rhys, who... had been there his entire life. Sans wings. Emotionless. Exhibiting the bare minimum of interest. It was night and day, really, and the standard to which he now held Rhys was almost impossibly high. Raphael didn't actually think about whether or not that might make Rhys feel... inferior, perhaps? That someone Rhys grew wings for was now idolizing everyone who had beautiful full wings and who were capable of having fully realized emotions, and meanwhile he was struggling to hold on to a cup of tea.

But that gave him no right to fling books around!

Raphael listened to Niall's story as though it was the word of God. And then Jack interrupted and his attention was diverted to Jack, who held his face in his hands--probably a good idea, because Niall was being awfully distracting. Raphael's head was on a definite swivel between the two princes!

"I do love him. Ever since I saw him, that first time they brought me out of the castle! I love him so much I stayed all those years with him, even though my wings were growing and his father would have killed me for it like he killed the firs--" Ooh he almost let that secret slip! Raphael sealed his lips shut and looked pleadingly at Jack, then Niall.

Note to self: never leave Niall and Raphael alone. Niall was an instigator and Raphael was easily riled up. Niall was going to end up leading Raphael into territory he was never going to be able to fix. If Jack wasn't here, he could only imagine how an outraged Raphael would march over to Rhys and just... fuck up everything in one fell swoop. Jack had no idea who was in the wrong or right here and he could only trust that Brayden had things handled over there. And he did, honestly. He was pretty sure Brayden had things way more handled than Jack did.

But he was still a teacher and he wasn't an idiot. He could quell a riot if he had to and he could silence an idiot like Niall if he continued trying to incite one.

The important thing wasn't the weird fight and who was right or wrong, anyway. It really just boiled down to a single question. Did Raphael love him or not? Because that was kind of important. If he loved him, there had to be ways to salvage the situation. And if not, then that was an answer in itself. Love or in love, that distinction honestly didn't matter. Just love in general was enough to salvage the situation.

"Okay. Good." Jack was about to dispense with the advice--better advice than Niall was giving--but he was given pause by Raphael's strange admission. Killed him like the first what? Jack furrowed his brow, confused and concerned all in one.

"What?" Niall said, voicing Jack's exact thoughts on the matter. Even Niall only had the one word to say about it. Jack blinked.

"What?" he echoed Niall. "What do you mean, he killed the first?"

"Oh no... oh no..." Raphael wrung his hands. "I can't tell you! Oh believe me, I want to. I want to tell somebody but he'll kill my family! My whole family! He does that. The King, he's like that! He'll do it, I know he will!"

Miserably he turned away from Jack and Niall, both of whom were staring at him now with what he imagined to be suspicion--suspicion liberally sprinkled with shock and confusion. Raphael and his big fat mouth! "I'm sorry, please just forget I said that. And don't tell Rhys! Oh he'd... he'd hate me if he knew what happened to--"

Argh he was doing it again! Raphael clapped a hand over his mouth and stared over his fingers at them both pleadingly, shaking his head.

"Hey..."

Jack slid a hand over Raphael's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He didn't know what happened but he could sort of get the idea. Somebody died and Raphael was the replacement. He was forced to keep his mouth shut to save his family. Jack's expression was soft as he slightly stroked Raphael's arm.

"Hey, we won't say anything to Rhys. That's up to you. It's not ours to tell, right Niall?"

"...yeah! Right! Cross me heart, hope to die. I won't say anything."

Jack turned his attention wholly on Raphael and his miserable little face. It seemed like he went through a lot more than Jack could even start to imagine. No wonder he loved it here and he wanted to stay here. And... he wanted to share that with Rhys. Anybody with eyes could see that. Jack reached up to ruffle Raphael's hair in reassurance.

"You don't have to say anything you don't want to. You just... it took me--us--aback, that's all. We won't do anything to put your family in harm's way."

"Oh thank you!" Raphael lowered his hand, absolutely relieved that his secret was safe with Jack. Whether it slipped out from Niall... time would tell. He hoped not; he thought not. Niall wouldn't divulge his secret if it meant getting other people killed, surely! And while he dreaded the thought of having to one day tell Rhys... Today was definitely not the day to do it!

His hand seemed to want to cling to something--someone--for reassurance. He clung to Jack's arm, pulling it down from his ruffled hair. That was nice! It messed up his hair but it was such a warm, affectionate touch and he loved how it made him feel happier and safer. Ooh Rhys was so lucky to have a brother like this! Brothers like these, even!

"Rhys is going to hate me if he ever finds out." Miserably, he amended, "When. When he finds out..."

"Why?" Jack asked. "Why do you think that?"

Jack didn't know Rhys--at all. He had only seen him in passing through a window. He'd heard a lot about it from Raphael at this point, and from Marge. And he was sure when Brayden got back, he would have more insight. But for the time being, Jack didn't actually know him enough to have a true opinion of him. What he sounded like was a volatile kid with an inability to express himself properly. He would know more whenever he met him.

"Because," Niall said as if it was obvious, "This Raphael isn't that Raphael and if Rhys loved that Raphael, he's going to feel so betrayed, right? Like, who is this person, if it's not him?!"

"Excuse me," Jack said, disliking that Niall was likely scaring Raphael with talk like that (did he ever think before he started blabbering?!), he quickly said to Raphael, "That's not true, what he just said. You said he's just started growing wings, right? So you're the one he loves. Not... the other... one."

Jack didn't pretend to understand this convoluted twist of drama but he understood at least that much. Rhys' wings were a new development, thus... This Raphael was the one that tipped the scales. Jack leaned in to kiss Raphael's cheek.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "It seems bad now but when you work it out... you'll see."

Raphael's look over at Niall was a mixture of panic and fear. Yes--yes that was exactly what he feared! That Rhys would think he was some kind of traitor AND that he'd been deceiving him all along. All these years, lying to him about who he was, acting as if he was the Raphael that Rhys really grew fond of. He heard stories about how they--Rhys and Raphael--used to be close. They ran out of the castle grounds together and had adventures.

The real Raphael knew what Rhys was like before his wings were taken. Shortly after the fake Raphael was installed back by Rhys' side, Rhys had his wings taken. And then he changed, and fake Raphael never had a real chance to get to know him. The ennui set in; he became no more and no less than a servant to Rhys, from then on.

"Oh... I suppose..." But that wouldn't stop Rhys from being angry, would it? It wouldn't help him feel less betrayed--if anything he might hate Raphael more! He might doubt his feelings, wonder if they were for the right person, and... Ooh it was so horrible to entertain all of these doubts! Raphael let out a tormented sound--and then a purely surprised one!

He touched his cheek in awe.

"I'm never washing my face again," he whispered, staring at Jack. A kiss from a prince!

Just as Jack suspected. Niall said the exact wrong thing to Raphael at the wrong time. He sighed. He wanted to like Niall. But he was so damn annoying and there was a definite childish streak about him, as if he hadn't fully grown up. Jack had to grow up so fast that sometimes he envied people like him but there was another part of him that was exasperated by the childishness. The sad part was he probably thought he was being helpful... Just, he wasn't. Not right now.

"You know I'm right," Jack said, positive about it. Maybe Rhys loved this other... person, that was killed before. But he hadn't grown wings for that person. Maybe he would feel betrayed, too--that seemed in line with what he'd heard thus far about Rhys... So maybe... they either wouldn't tell him or they'd ease into it. There was no real telling which would work best with him. Jack didn't know him. But he could learn a few things when he did. Put that psych degree to good use.

Jack laughed at the unexpected reaction to his kiss. It was just his usual friendly kiss, not meant to elicit such an awestruck expression. But Raphael was looking at him like he saw stars.

"I hope you do, because you won't like what happens to your face if you don't wash it," Jack said, with amusement in his voice. "And try explaining that to Rhys, hm?"

"He's not coming anywhere near my face!" Raphael let out a soft hmph! and crossed his arms over his chest. While he hadn't worked out what to do with Rhys yet, being able to talk about his feelings and to vent helped him to feel better. That and—the kiss. From a prince. What an honor! Of course, he understood it to be platonic and nothing like a lover's kiss—more of a brotherly peck, he supposed. (Not grandpa peck because Jack was not a senior citizen!)

The door opened not long after and Brayden entered, looking... upbeat? Not down. Raphael immediately straightened, as though he were about to run off the couch and bum-rush Brayden to ask him how Rhys was. He totally wanted to but he forced himself to sit there and pretend that he didn't give two hoots about what Rhys was up to. Maybe not even one hoot!

"Hello." Brayden smiled; he made an immediate beeline towards Jack and slipped an arm around his waist. "Is everything okay here? Rhys should be sleeping now. I gave him some soup and he said he'd lay down for a while. Raphael, are you okay?"

Raphael nodded emphatically. "Yes! Prince Niall and Prince Jack helped!"

Brayden seemed amused. "Prince Jack, hm?" He side-eyed Jack. "Hm."

"All right..." Jack thought he wanted his face to come near his face but okay. Maybe that ship had sailed. Just because he loved Rhys didn't mean he wanted to be with him anymore. Jack understood that. It happened. It did make any advice he might have tried to give to him moot, though. Ah, well...

Niall seemed to think differently.

"Wait, so you love him and you've loved him for ages and now you don't want him anywhere near your face? How's that going to work? Didn't you just say you loved him so much that you--"

"Niall, please."

Another pout from Niall that got him nowhere with Jack. He only looked right back at him sternly, feeling a lot like he was dealing with an unruly student. Wasn't Niall just telling Raphael to march back to Rhys and tell him he was no servant and to stop treating him like one? Now he was talking about love and faces and... Jack didn't want him to start talking again--he might never stop.

Luckily, Brayden chose that moment to come back and Jack smiled at him in utter relief. His hand immediately slipped over the small of Brayden's back and he kissed him on the side of the head. From the looks of things, Brayden had taken care of business much better than Jack had. He looked downright at peace with himself. Even Jack raised his brows at being called Prince Jack, though. He side-eyed Brayden right back.

"I'd prefer Professor Jack," he told Raphael when he looked back over at him. Niall laughed but he didn't explain why. Jack sighed. "Anyway, I take it you were able to soothe some ruffled feathers, hm?" He leaned into Brayden and whispered, "I'm not doing that great over here. The two of them were a second away from grabbing pitchforks and storming your place."

Did the dramatic emotional overreactions swap faces? Raphael was looking more settled but now Niall was pouting, in a way that suggested he had been extremely hard done-by. Bray could have sworn that when he left, everyone was getting along fine, and worried about Raphael. Now Raphael kept touching his cheek and casting little guilty looks over at Bray, and Niall had a grievously injured air about him.

"I prefer Prince Jack, I think," he murmured teasingly to Jack, knowing how jarring it must be to be referred suddenly to as 'Prince Jack.' Although he was princely! If anyone deserved that title, it was Jack Ripley. But then again, at points Raphael referred to him as Prince Bee, which was both endearingly silly and unsettlingly silly. It sounded like he was the prince of bees more than anything.

"I think he... ah... he was under a lot of pressure to understand things he didn't understand. And you know how it was with us, with everything that kept happening and no room to think? That's him. He just needs some time to figure things out." Bray smiled up at Jack, wanting so badly to nuzzle him with him this close, but unable to bring himself to with so many prying eyes on them.

"I think we all need a little time to decompress too... Should we order some food, everyone?" That might forestall the pitchforks and the mad mob... And also Bray was starting to feel like he was being inundated with too much information again, and he desperately didn't want to feel that way. He let go of Jack reluctantly to go grab the stack of menus off the kitchen counter. Hopefully when he'd had a nap and settled down, Rhys would join them.

"Anyone have any preferences?" Bray brought the menus over. "By the way, Niall, did you ever learn to take off your glamor? Do you know magic?"

Niall was not sure how he felt about Jack. Honestly, he reminded him of his older brothers and not in a good way. Being hushed and given that look! Hmph! Well, he had older brothers already. Except he didn't. Er... yeah. He had an older brother... he'd traded in for this one. Bah. At least this brother wasn't a stiff. And he was kind of... Well, he wouldn't be well liked by his strongly Catholic parents, either. Or his... not his parents.

It was a bit chaotic, he had to admit. No wonder everybody was hyped up. Niall lifted the bottle he'd filched from the counter earlier, when Jack had been paying more attention to Raphael. It had been a prime moment for him to flutter on over to the counter and flutter on back into the living room, propping himself like a lazy princeling in a cozy chair of a throne. He snuck a long swig before stuffing the bottle between his body and the chair.

Easy to do because Raphael was looking at Brayden like he was going to be caught cheating and the other two were looking at each other like they really, really wanted to bone but didn't want to be watched by the two of them. Niall heard the bit about understanding things and no room to think. Sounded like... everybody involved in all this mess, to be honest. He wondered what Kenny was thinking of all this. Probably half the reason he left was to escape all this nonsense.

When Brayden went into the kitchen and Jack sat back down next to Raphael, Niall snuck another deep swig before hiding his bottle again. Then Brayden was back and Jack was noticing the weird look on Raphael's face and asked him, "What's wrong?"

And Brayden was asking preferences on something. Oh, right. Food. Niall didn't even look at them, just swept his hand through the air.

"Thai! Thai! I vote Thai!" he said enthusiastically until Brayden said By the way Niall and he thought for certain he'd been caught but no. He was asking about his glamor. Magic. Niall laughed. "No. I don't know magic. Some hunters do but they're usually anti-super spells. I was never good at any of it." Which he'd already told them in great detail. "Besides, what glamor? This is all me, baby."

"Nothing! Nothing!" Raphael was quick to deny, with a hand over his cheek, looking increasingly more guilty. "I think Thai food sounds good! Ooh can we get pad thai? With lots of peanut sauce? And spring rolls!"

Bray sat beside Jack, close and snug and cozy. "Thai it is! I'll get a lot, in case Margie comes back and wants something to nibble on too." As he flipped through the menu in search of good things to eat, he frowned. "Ah... yes, we heard you had been raised by hunters." That sounded... rather awful. To be a prince of fairies but taught to kill his fellow supernaturals. Bray felt a wave of sympathy towards him; it wasn't easy, he'd bet, to have to come to terms with something like that.

"Ah, I-I meant... magical glamor. It shields your true form from humans and others." He glanced up, smiling at Niall's humorous responses. Quite the lively person, Niall. Lots to say, lots of opinions that he didn't hesitate to tell everyone, whether or not they wanted to listen...

Wait.

Was that the tip of a bottle peeking out? Bray looked at length at it, and then lightly nudged Jack's leg with his own. He leaned in to whisper, "Is that a bottle behind him?"

Jack looked over Brayden's shoulder as he thumbed through the menu. He pointed to a couple of dishes he wanted. Thai sounded pretty good to him, too, if he was honest. And he was sure Brayden was right; they could all use something to eat. Once they were filled up, they would probably all settle down a little better. He smiled at Brayden as he watched him, just watching the way his gaze moved over the menu and the way his hair fell over his eyes. Jack reached up to gently stroke his hair back behind his ear.

"I know what magic glamor is," Niall said. "I just don't have any. How could I? I don't know how to use magic. Or... wait, you mean you think my parents put one over me? This might not be me after all?"

He looked down at himself in dismay and Jack rolled his eyes. Poor kid didn't know a damn thing. Never mind that Jack had been given a crash course over a short period of time, too. He started to rest his head against Brayden when his leg was nudged meaningfully and he looked up. Bottle? Behind...? Jack looked over at Niall and he saw it, too.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Jack got up and went over to Niall. No way was he going to ask him about it from where he sat all the way over on the couch because then Niall might do something stupid. Instead, he marched right over to him. Niall looked at him and it was clear he'd already had enough to drink to at least get him a little tipsy.

"I can't believe you," Jack said, reaching for the bottle. Niall looked at him with a tilt of the head.

"Are you hitting on me in front of your boyfriend?" he asked--before Jack reached past him and took the bottle away from him. When he saw the bottle, Niall put up both hands. "Oh, that--" He laughed. "I was holding it for a friend, dad, I swear~"

Jack was Unamused. "Aren't you supposed to be a recovering addict?"

"Emphasis on recoverING, all right? It's not easy with all this--this--" He waved a hand around. Jack sort of understood that, too, and that exasperated him even more.

Shaking his head, Jack moved back over to the couch, but he kept the bottle and took a drink from it, then looked over at Brayden before handing it to him to let him take it away.

"As much as I agree," Jack said. "Let's not."

"It's a... a distinct possibility that... they..." Jack was being very, very distracting. In general he was distracting but his hand at Bray's hair, sweeping it back, and the way he leaned in to point out what he wanted to order, did nothing for Bray's ability to speak in full and coherent sentences. Was it strange to be able to feel his smile too? As if it was a physical force?

"Ahem."

While Jack went to confiscate the bottle, Bray let out a low sigh of relief. Some time to regain his composure... When he glanced up, Raphael was looking at him with big eyes and an even bigger smile. It looked like he wanted to say something but wasn't able to get the words out. What? What was it? He was admiring... something about Bray, but what it was remained a mystery. Also were his eyes a touch misty, too? Bray leaned over to pat him softly on the knee, and to smile encouragingly at him.

Then they were both distracted by Jack and Niall's exchange, to which Bray could only frown. Recovering addicts shouldn't be allowed unfettered access to alcohol! And Jack's apartment was rather well-stocked... Although Bray made sure that levels of whiskey remained level and constant. But Marge also enjoyed a good drink now and then, and besides which--she was a bartender. When Bray brought up the idea of pouring the alcohol down the drain, she acted like he'd suggested putting a puppy in a blender.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat again when Jack returned but took a sip out of the bottle too. Well that wasn't setting a very good example for his recovering alcoholic brother! Bray was quick to take the bottle from him, and swiftly went into the kitchen area. There he not only put that bottle away, but all of the other bottles. Out of sight--hopefully out of mind. He would have to lock that cupboard later, perhaps...

While in the kitchen he dialed up the thai restaurant and ordered their food, and then returned to the couch. "Food will be here soon, so we can all... self-medicate with dinner." He smiled softly at Niall. "Also as I was saying... It's very possible that your parents cast a strong glamor over you. Otherwise your hunter family... they might have done something terrible to you. Are you interested in removing it? We can teach you how. And--and your powers will manifest too, after the glamor comes off." He cleared his throat delicately. "Alcohol also dampens magic..."

"Sorry," he said to Brayden, and maybe he was a little sorry. But he needed a little of the drink, too, all right? Just a little. One drink wasn't going to do anything. (It wasn't going to do anything--he doubted it would even help.) Thankfully, Brayden only cleared his throat at him and didn't give him a Look. Hey, he knew what he did. That's why he handed the bottle off to Brayden immediately afterward!

"That's one way of putting it," Jack said with amusement. Food could be a comfort; it wasn't the same as alcohol but they were probably all way past due for something in their stomachs at this point. Jack made himself comfortable as Brayden sat down again, drawing close and gently strumming the length of Brayden's arm with his fingertips.

Niall sighed and rested his head back like a teenager that was hearing a lecture he'd heard a thousand times. Only, nobody was lecturing him. "Honestly? Not... really?" He was still looking up, at the ceiling, like it could give him the right answers. "I don't want powers. I was raised a hunter... my lover is a hunter... I mean, he's talking about retiring but it's the only skill set he has--not that he's not skilled at other things, but what's he supposed to do if he stops hunting?" He lifted his head and propped his chin in one hand, looking tipsy, it was true, but also contemplative. "And t'be quite honest with you? Turning into a bunny just freaked me the fuck out. Yeah... It was so strange and kinda scary. I couldn't talk or type or communicate with Kenny at all. It was a feckin' nightmare..."

"...just cause you're raised one way doesn't mean you have to be that way forever," mumbled Raphael. It had been a little while since he'd last spoken that he surprised Bray, who looked over to see him with a half-frown darkening his brow.

"He's right," Bray nodded. "Being raised a hunter doesn't mean you have to be one until you die. People change jobs all the time, this isn't so different. Besides, learning to control your abilities means you won't have to suddenly change in and out when you least expect it."

He lightly touched Jack's hand as it slipped by on its way up (and then down) his arm. Speaking of practicing and controlling abilities... They hadn't even had a chance to help Jack realize his own powers yet. The futuresight was incredibly important, as was his apparent ability to conjure up visions of other lifetimes. Bray didn't even know the extent of his magic, or what else he was capable of. All of that got shuffled under the onslaught of drama and things happening.

"Maybe you can learn with Niall too, Jack. I mean, learn to harness and control your powers. It might help keep Keith out, if you can learn to strengthen the magical barriers in your mind by learning to use magic."

"What's got you so down, lil buddy?" Niall asked Raphael, who looked all sullen now for some reason. A second ago, he was grinning like an idiot! What, was it the thing he said about hunting? Niall swung his legs back over the chair so that he could sit cross-legged, yoga-style.

Brayden was a nice enough fella but he was so idealistic.

"Do you want to know how I made money to support myself when I left home?" He gestured with both hands starting from his shoulders and sweeping down his body with a flourish. "Never was clean enough for a proper job... Couldn't even get past interviews in any case. I know Kenny's not like me... even if he's not hunting, he's clever and strong and resourceful."

He stopped there, though. Ken was all those things. He was his favorite person in the whole wide world and if it weren't for him, Niall would still be trying to find ways to numb everything, kill himself, and just stop suffering. And he wished that he had something to offer up to him, more than just his body and his clingy affection and his constant need for his praise and approval. Ken put up with a lot from Niall and he knew it. A lot of the time, he took it for granted, too.

But this whole... taking the glamor thing off concerned him. Like, what if he wasn't himself? What if they literally glamored him into a whole different person. Good lord, he could be ugly. And what if Ken was disgusted by the magic in him? They didn't really talk about it before they came to see the seer. And it turned out that Rhys knew more about him than she did. Pooka, he said.

Nobody pressed him for details, for which he was grateful. Jack only said, "B's right, Niall. We could learn together. I'm new to this, too, so you won't be in it alone."

Niall looked at him, and at Brayden and at Raphael, too.

"Maaaaybe," he said finally. "But I'm talking to Kenny about this first."

"I'm sure he won't object if it means keeping you safe. It's dangerous to have a glamor that you don't control, and powers that you don't know the extent of. But I agree that you shouldn't make a decision like this without some thought, and without talking to your partner." Bray glanced at Jack with a kind of dawning realization just beginning to hit him. Surrounded by couples with problems like these--Raphael's inability to express his feelings and have them be reciprocated the way he wanted, Niall's uncertainty regarding his lover's opinion of him being a fairy--maybe their relationship was blessed by comparison.

It was only ever the circumstances surrounding their relationship that posed certain problems. People wanted to separate them; people were after them, putting their lives in danger. But between Jack and Bray, there was no discord and no friction. Anything they disagreed on was talked over and a compromise was always found that bridged both of their viewpoints and desires. They were in perfect sync in a way that the others weren't.

Feeling a wave of affection towards Jack, he lightly kissed Jack's cheek. As ever, it was difficult to keep his eyes off of Jack. Even in a crowded room with everyone being distracting in their own way, Bray's gaze kept wanting to drift over to him, catching the shape of his handsome profile, the glint of light in his hair or off the frame of his glasses. Jack still made his heart skip a beat when he smiled.

If only they didn't have all of this to deal with. Was Bray neglecting Jack by looking after everyone else? Jack was surely used to a certain amount of attention--physically but emotionally, too. Bray didn't want to overlook that just because he felt the need to help everyone else. He caught Jack's hand and held it, lacing their fingers together. Maybe when things settled down a little more, he could slip away with Jack. Or maybe he could slip off and see if he could find something to lift Jack's spirits and to remind him that Bray hadn't forgotten about him.

"Speaking of your partner... Ken, was it? Where is he? Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Really?" He didn't know it was dangerous but he guessed if somebody could put it on then they could take it off. Maybe they already did. But no, that maybe was why all the detectors didn't like him. Did that mean he wasn't so magic after all? That couldn't be it, either. That Rhys brother of his said his mother was a pooka (which honestly sounded like an insult now in his head--your mother's a pooka!) and that did explain the rabbit form. But he didn't think he wanted that kind of power, to be a rabbit.

It wasn't very exciting. But then, he supposed, that meant he didn't have to deal with anything overly powerful. Still, he would rather talk to Ken before doing anything crazy. He could only imagine if he came back to... some ugly pooka creature and decided nah, he would rather kill him... Which was kinda crazy to think because this was Ken, like the same guy who held his hand secretly when they were kids. Ken was Mr. Serious but he was... also kinda serious about caring about Niall.

And aww, weren't they cute? Jack and Brayden, Brayden and Jack. Niall might have been jealous that they were so free and open about their feelings but... Okay, he was a little jealous of it. But Ken was not a show and tell kind of person and never had been.

Niall looked down at his nails. Maybe he should try something less gothy next time. He kinda liked the idea of stripes. He liked stripes. He frowned. What was the question again?

"Kenny?" He dropped his hand into his lap. "Yeah... it might take a while. I know this town is small but I live in the shitty part of town. Guess that's why he wants to move." That and the neighbors. "Why? Do you think I should ring him up? Something might be holding him up..."

Bray frowned as he glanced out of the window. It took maybe half an hour to drive from one end of town to another, and even then, unless Ken was moving their entire apartment over to the Sunrise... But he didn't want to unduly raise the alarm, in case something actually was holding Ken up like bad traffic, or waiting too long for a taxi.

"Do you think he's really going to stop hunting?" He turned back to Niall, feeling anxious about the idea of a hunter in their midst. On the one hand, he wanted Ken to be safe—for Niall's sake. On the other hand, he wanted everyone else to be safe, too, and to be assured that no one would try to pull a gun on them for simply being themselves.

"I'm sorry, I-I don't mean to be rude but... I hope you can understand my concerns about him. We're all..." He glanced around, at Jack and Raphael, back to Niall. "We're all in danger where hunters are concerned."

"What?" Niall knew he had his own questions concerning that but to hear it coming from somebody else sort of riled him up a bit. And Brayden backtracked but... Niall didn't like it. He frowned. Ken grew up same way as Niall did but Ken wasn't switched at birth with some poor human kid. That was kind of a trip, wasn't it? Thinking that he was the black sheep of a family that was never his to begin with?

So why did it still hurt a whole lot when he thought about Lorcan? And how come he still felt a hole in his heart where his family's love ought to be? Just because they weren't his, didn't mean it didn't still hurt. His whole life, they were the family he knew. And there was no telling if his real family loved him any more than they did. Actually, evidence suggested the opposite. They switched him away for somebody else!

"He's going to stop," he said still frowning. "He wouldn't kill me. And if he's not going to kill me, then he's not going to kill the rest of you. He didn't kill my friends! And he knew they weren't human, before I even knew I wasn't human!" Never mind that Ken never explicitly said he wouldn't hurt them... (Or that they were Niall's friends.)

"He said he was going to retire from hunting." He was still frowning. Quickly, he pointed out Raphael. "He was alone with him and he didn't hurt him!"

Bray could clearly see that his questions and comments had offended Niall but... someone had to bring it up. He hadn't met Ken in person so he didn't know what sort of man he was. Bray was usually not a bad judge of character but he still had to see someone and speak to them first before he knew that they posed no danger. Still, he felt badly for how strongly Niall reacted, and perhaps under similar scrutiny even Bray would have felt a sliver of indignation, if someone accused Jack of being...

A murderer.

That was essentially what he accused Ken of, yes. But it was also the truth. He sat silently and let Niall have his say, giving him the chance to convince them that Ken was safe to join them. Bray wanted nothing more than to believe him, that was the truth. He really, really hoped that Niall hadn't misjudged Ken's character.

"It's true Prince Bee," Raphael piped up eagerly. "Ken was very nice to me earlier! I think we can trust him. I trust him!"

Bray smiled. He wasn't completely convinced but if both of them were vouching for Ken, then it was good enough for now. Until he could speak to him in person. Plus Marge had seen him and if she didn't raise any alarms, maybe he was being overly cautious (and he did have a habit of doing that).

"See?" Niall nodded to himself, satisfied that at least one other person in the room also had faith in Ken. He wouldn't go around killing a bunch of supers now that Niall was one! And--and anyway, he had to see with his eyes wide open now, that they weren't all bad. Nobody could kill somebody with a face like Raphael's! He was like... a little bunny himself!

"He already knows where we live," Jack said, sounding somewhat dubious. "If he wants to take us out, he knows where to find us." But he put an arm around Brayden and smiled as he nuzzled him. "I don't think he can take us, though."

The way he said it, it was like they had a secret weapon or something. Niall didn't know what to think about it but Ken was a good hunter. If he really wanted them dead... But he didn't! He didn't want them dead! And he did not appreciate them all making him question Ken like this! He crossed his arms like an affronted toddler.

"He's not going to kill anybody!"

"Not against a whole prince," Bray murmured teasingly to Jack as he leaned into the affectionate gesture. It was hard to feel properly alarmed and worried for their safety when Jack was acting so cute. And while Bray wasn't an exhibitionist and didn't go in for overly mushy displays of affection, it still felt so very nice to be loved and appreciated.

But now Niall was looking like a proper storm cloud, with his arms crossed and his brows drawn into a frown. "I'm sorry. Please don't be upset. I only want what's best for all of us."

"Prince Bee's just looking out for us! But I think Ken was super nice and he's also really handsome!" Raphael leaned forward with a secret little smile at Niall. "He's probably out looking for a present for you, Prince Niall! Like... like maybe macarons or... you know something yummy"

Bray's smile was amused. Looked like Raphael was hungry... And not long after someone knocked on the door, at which Bray got to his feet. "That must be the food. I'll get it." Raphael let out a low cheer while he walked over to open the door. And stared at the tall blond-haired man looking at him with a Severe Expression... and a large bruise all down one side of his face.

"Is Niall here?"

"Uh. Y-yes. He's—he's inside but—"

The man strode in toting a large bag in one hand. He was limping ever so slightly, Bray noticed, favoring his left side.

"Correction, B... Two whole princes," Jack said softly. And it looked like they were in a whole other world together. The way they looked at each other... Hard to maintain storm cloud status, honestly. But he also didn't like where they were going with the whole Ken thing.

If it came down to it, Niall couldn't choose anybody else. Ken was all he had; everybody else was just icing. Without Ken... he was just a suicidal hedonist with no real reason to live. Sort of floating, like little dandelion fluffs on the wind. No direction, just buffeted wherever the wind pushed him until eventually he disappeared. But to Raphael's well meaning words, Niall laughed.

"Oh, he's not the present giving type..." Ken was a minimalist. Things didn't show love. Only actions did. Still, it was a nice thought, even if it totally wasn't Ken. Drawing his knees up almost like a protective shield, Niall chewed on his thumbnail and waited while Brayden got up to get their food. He was seriously hungry, so he couldn't wait to pig out on all the tasty Thai grub--but alas! T'was not meant to be--because instead of a delivery food person at the door, it was Ken.

"Kenny!" Niall immediately scrambled up to his feet, so hasty that he nearly tripped himself. It was immediately obvious something happened; Ken didn't leave limping and bruised. "What happened?"

If he thought that it would be as simple as going home and retrieving his detectors, he was sorely mistaken. And now he was very sore all over, after cornering that dark-haired woman who had followed them here and confronting her. She had tailed him home; he surprised her by doubling back and trapped her in a part of the building.

And she didn't take that well.

She came at him with such ferocity that he was momentarily overwhelmed. On top of combat skills, she had a sort of magic that Ken hadn't encountered much in the past. Fallen magic. He assumed she was part of that whole pack out to reclaim the King's children, as Raphael had indicated during their brief chat in the bedroom of the other flat.

Eventually Ken overpowered her and got away, but not without sustaining some injuries. He hastened into the apartment and swept up everything of use or value there, and then hurried out, constantly looking over his shoulder to see if the woman was following him. She didn't get away scot-free, either; he did his fair share of damage. It worried him, though, that she now knew where they were staying.

The entire way back he debated moving away. Maybe they could find another hiding place... But realistically he knew that she would only follow them there, too. He didn't want to be caught alone with Niall, with no other support. The other hunters wouldn't be of any help to him, either; he couldn't risk exposing Niall to them, not at this juncture. So he decided that staying was their best and perhaps only course of action. With the others being fae and Marge being a seer, there was some protection for them.

Ken walked in and lightly set the bag down, so that he could free his arms to receive Niall. "I'm fine," he said tiredly as he held Niall close for a long moment. "It's nothing. Don't worry. I got everything we need." Reluctantly disengaging, he looked up at the others. The startled-looking man at the door, Raphael, the other man on the couch with waving black hair and hazel eyes.

"...your other brother?"

Niall practically threw himself into Ken's arms, clinging tightly to him, like if he let him go, he was going to disappear again. See? He was here. He was here and he didn't care what anybody else was thinking right now. However Ken sustained his injuries, it was for the best reasons, nothing shady, nothing hunter related!

"I wasn't worried about the crap!" Niall said. Like he cared if Ken was able to get all the items in the world. All he cared was that he came back in one piece. And he was a little worse for the wear but he was in one piece. Niall hovered close even when Ken eased back, half afraid Ken was going to move off without him. Just in case, Niall grasped onto the front of Ken's coat just to make damn sure he didn't walk too far off from him.

"Huh?" Niall followed Ken's gaze to Jack. Oh, here they went again. Every time they ran into one of his blood brothers, Niall felt a small prickling of worry that they would somehow manage to turn Ken's eyes away from him.

"Yeah, that's Jack." Niall reached out to cup Ken's face in his hands, mindful of the nasty bruise all on one side of his face. "Baby... what happened? You're not fine. Look at you."

Their similarity was startling, although perhaps not as much as Niall with Rhys. But it couldn't be missed; they were brothers all right. Ken's gaze lingered on Jack for a moment, assessing him, then it moved back to the man by the door who was just now closing it. Again, Ken assessed him, found nothing outwardly suspicious, and his attention returned to Niall.

This was probably the most worried he'd seen Niall in a long while. Generally it was Ken being the worried one, constantly telling Niall off for being too careless. Now Niall wouldn't let go of him, like he thought Ken would burst into a puff of smoke and vanish on him again. (Not bloody likely—Ken's only mission in life was to stay with Niall.) 

"I'm fine." His tone was firm, though lacking its usual severity. And his gaze softened briefly as he leaned forward to kiss Niall, to silence his fears, despite the presence of others in the room. Having that close call with the woman reminded him of how precious their moments were together. Sometimes it was okay to break protocol, to show his affection in a more public setting. "They're only bruises, they'll heal. Now I have to set up the detectors." He tried to loosen Niall's grasp on his coat while the doorbell rang again.

"Oh that's the delivery guy!" Brayden opened the door to receive a large amount of takeout boxes from a weedy looking teenager who goggled at the sight of Ken, all beat up and standing there glaring at him. He was quick to leave afterwards, clutching some bills that Brayden passed to him.

"Let's eat, everyone! Ken, we ordered some Thai food. Help yourself."

Ken merely nodded, but was going for his bag and unpacking the equipment that he needed to keep them all safe from both hunters and other creatures.

What a surprise! Ken actually kissed him in public! Well, not public, as such. But in front of others. He must really be feeling bad. Niall half frowned, concerned.

"But... it looks so nasty, Kenny..." Niall tried to continue clinging to Kenny but Ken managed to free himself in order to get about setting up detectors. Frowning, Niall looked at the familiar equipment. "Aren't they just going to keep going off around all of this magic?"

Not much time to say anything more--the doorbell rang yet again and this time it was actually the long-awaited food. Niall's stomach rumbled noisily, reminding him of how little he'd had to eat that day. To be fair, when he was on a bender, he could go literal days without food but... This wasn't anything like those days. Since Ken came back into his life, he'd been pretty good about eating normally scheduled meals. Mostly because Ken scheduled them.

Niall wanted to join the others as they began taking food out and passing it around but Ken was still unpacking items of protection and detectors. Setting his hand over Ken's to stop him for a moment, Niall asked quietly, "Kenny... what really happened? Is somebody after you? Us?"

"Not if I set them right. They should exclude any magic in this room..." Ken fiddled with dials and turned knobs and flicked switches. The detectors were delicate instruments, sensitive to the slightest hint of magic. They were passed down from generation to generation and in his father and grandfather's hands, they were used to track down magic users. Now, Ken was using them to protect the one he loved—who happened to be a magic user. The irony was not lost on him.

He nodded a thank-you to Brayden but didn't join the others at the dining room table. Ken placed his detectors all around the apartment, aware that Raphael was watching him avidly, that Brayden had a concerned expression when his gaze fell onto Ken, and that there was the faintest trace of alcohol about Niall, on his breath. He didn't see bottles... but he knew they were here. That was a conversation for another time, however.

Ken only stopped when Niall's hand stilled his. "Yes. The woman who followed us here. One of the ones watching us at the flat." His response was simple, truthful and direct. Ken was never the one to sugarcoat anything. "She attacked me at our flat, but I fought her off. She's probably one of the ones sent by your father to retrieve you. But I'm fine, Poodles." His free hand lifted to lightly stroke over the side of Niall's head, over the nest of dark curls. "Now stop fussing like an old hen, and go eat before they take all the spring rolls." A faint smile curved his lips, and then he was off and away again to set up more protection wards and charms.

"...not that I don't appreciate all this security but..." Jack was watching the hunter set up his equipment all over his apartment, which meant that he was planning on setting up house here. Jack could feel his heart sinking forever. He sent a look at Brayden. "Are you sure you want to set it up here?"

It didn't seem to much matter because Ken the Hunter was on a Mission. Even his boyfriend didn't seem capable of breaking him out of his task once he set himself to it. Again, Jack exchanged a look with Brayden before shrugging and joining Brayden at the dining table with the food. Maybe it was better to let it go for now and just... get some nourishment.

Sitting down and helping Brayden dole out food, he half eyed the hunter. Hunters didn't used to be a threat in his life but now this was the first time he had seen one or met one. He didn't look different than the usual person. Tall and good-looking but other than that, just a man with a very serious demeanor about him. Meanwhile, Niall clearly wanted more than he was getting out of him. But he was being rebuffed and eventually seemed to sulk, not going to the table for food--despite being the one to suggest Thai food--very excitedly if Jack recalled--and instead sitting back down on his chair.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Niall said, which had to be a lie.

"But your tummy was grumbling earlier Prince Niall, I heard it!" Raphael said helpfully with a spring roll dangling from his mouth, still watching Ken with obvious curiosity. "You need to eat, or else you'll feel faint and collapse and then everybody will be worried!" Grabbing another spring roll, he ran over to the chair and offered it to Niall.

Ken stopped to give Niall a stern Look. Shenanigans were not going to get him his way this time. They were working with an unknown group hell-bent on taking Niall and his brothers. It was time now to take things seriously and not to sulk, and if one were to sulk, they could at least do it while eating to preserve strength. Brayden was eating already, seated beside Jack. They exchanged some kind of knowing Look with one another too, and Ken heard a low sigh from Brayden.

"I'll set up more of these in the other flat too," He said to Jack, since Niall was uncooperative. Also, Jack was the oldest and therefore the one assuming command of his brothers—that was, according to Ken's mind, how the hierarchy went. "You'll just have to excuse them taking up space, but they'll keep everyone safe. I think we can all agree that's the first priority, until we know what we're dealing with." He assumed that Jack would have enough sense to see that he was trying to help. Hunter had a nasty connotation and Ken didn't blame them if they were suspicious, but for the moment they just had to trust him at his word—just as he had to trust that they wouldn't do anything to jeopardize Niall's safety.

"Ah, that makes sense," Jack said, feeling somewhat better about it. Not wholly happy but... it was what it was. He couldn't exactly be selfish but... between his job at the school and coming home to a circus everyday... It felt like there was barely any time to see Brayden. And then of course, there was his recovery time... in which Marge had been there most of the time. Jack wasn't even what he'd consider a loner--he liked being around people. That was why he went out to that club where he met Allie!

But... that was before Brayden. And it was selfish to say he'd like to spend more time with Brayden but... damn it... he thought he deserved to be a little selfish after so many years beating himself up constantly.

After a look between himself and B, he looked over and saw that Raphael was forcing an egg roll on Niall. Well, force wasn't quite the word. It didn't seem to take much to pull the sulk out of him. Or he still looked a little sulky but he took the egg roll. Right. Not hungry. Jack tried not to roll his eyes. But he did whisper to Brayden, "I feel like I'm dealing with a class at home now, too..."

Ken still seemed busy but Jack cleared his throat. "You're welcome to eat, too. Whenever... you're done." Since it seemed like Ken was the type to keep on going until his work was done.

"All part of the job of being Professor Jack," Bray sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused. He laughed, but he wasn't wholly happy with this situation either. If he thought having Marge constantly hovering was infringing on his time alone with Jack, this... Two new brothers, their lovers (or would-be-lovers), and all the rest of the gang—Marge, Allie, a new fixer... They all seemed to want to prove Bray wrong and to let him know that, yes, things could be so much worse than a hawk-eyed friend.

Ah, he didn't think he would say it, but he wanted those days back, when it was just him and Jack sweating it out under Marge's ever-present eye. Those... were the good old days...

His hand slipped over Jack's. At least they had this brief moment together, while Raphael was busy ferrying food between the table and Niall and Ken was buzzing around setting up strange devices. Would they really keep them safe? Bray had never seen a hunter's equipment before; he never warranted their attention, being such a hermit.

"Yes, I will. Thank you," said Ken stiffly, still busily tuning and tweaking things. Raphael came back to fix himself and Niall plates, gave them an obviously admiring smile, then was gone again to eat on the couch near Niall.

Against his better judgment, Bray laughed. It started out small, then ended up with him burying his face into Jack's shoulder, shaking with suppressed laughter. It was... ridiculous. The fact that he ever thought being trapped with Marge was bad... To this! "I'm sorry," he whisper-laughed at Jack. "But this... this is so... ridiculous!"

And Professor Jack thought he could shed the Professor part when he came home. Not so. Now he was Professor Jack full time. This was exactly the kind of thing that drove a man to drink. But at least he wasn't reaching for the whiskey anymore. Sighing, Jack ate a bit more, watching as the others did their thing. Raphael and Niall, Ken and his weird tooling around.

A hand slipped over his and he smiled. Well, at least amongst the chaos, they were still together in the eye of the storm. Jack's fingers threaded through Brayden's. Connected. They were connected in all ways. Always. He'd seen it and he hoped, too, to see it in thousands of futures, too.

It was strange how he could feel that way when his heart always felt quite restless. Jumping from man to man, believing he was in love but really, just wanting it to be love. That restlessness had to come from his heart ever-searching for Brayden, he was certain now. Once he found him, he was no longer like that. It wouldn't even take the force of a hurricane to make him turn away from him.

"Hey," he said, because Brayden pressed his face to Jack's shoulder and started shaking and he foolishly thought he was crying. Jack put a hand to his shoulder and then up into his hair to soothe him. It turned out he was laughing, though, and Jack blinked, then let out a laugh, too. Were they insane? Maybe a little.

"It... is absolutely ridiculous," he said, laughing as he whispered it back to Brayden. "It feels like we're going crazy, doesn't it?"

"Are we crazy? Or are they crazy?" Bray lifted his head to look at Jack, the laughter dying down to a few small outbursts now and then. He shook his head. "I'm not sure we're the crazy ones, Jack."

Because if they were crazy, then how could anyone explain Rhys and Raphael carrying on the way they were? Violent outbursts, tears, wings growing to indicate budding young love... And then Niall and Ken, one sulking in his chair and sneaking drinks, the other working on autopilot like a robot, placing strange instruments that supposedly would warn them of magic users nearby...

And Marge, now at the bar presumably getting smashed. Allie who had the good sense to get out of here before this madness started. And of course, Charles the fixer, whose predecessor had met such an unfortunate end.

All of them were caught up in this but only Bray and Jack felt like the sane ones. It was a little like being a normal person and getting committed to an asylum at this point! Another fresh wave of laughter overcame him and he buried his face back into Jack's shoulder, slipping an arm around his neck to hold him close. When the laughter subsided, he stayed close.

"We're going to have to arrange some kind of clandestine meeting outside of our own homes just to get ten minutes alone together, Jack."

"Both? As I recall, I am crazy in love with you, which counts as a kind of crazy."

And the best kind of crazy, thank you. He would take that crazy over this utter chaos. At least for the moment, they were left alone at the dining table. Niall and Raphael seemed to get along pretty well. Niall was no longer sulking, anyway. Now he was telling Raphael some story that was probably going to end up with Raphael doing something stupid to be just like Niall... Jack felt like he should get out in front of that but... Ah, let them be.

They were all adults here, weren't they? Raphael... maybe not. Jack didn't know his exact age but he surely looked like a freshman in his class, barely out of high school.

Jack laughed too, if only because Brayden laughed and he turned his head into Brayden's temple as he was drawn closer. He closed his eyes and smiled. God, he loved the sound of Brayden's laugh. He missed it in all this chaos. Then he let out a soft little laugh before he turned to look Brayden in the eye.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting... hm, Brayden Smith...?"

"That's the only acceptable kind of crazy, I think!" Being crazy in love was the least harmful kind of crazy—and the most beautiful. Bray loved Jack so much that it was all he could do to keep it to himself. He felt as if he couldn't express that enough, and he wasn't being given the opportunity to try. Even though he knew that Jack understood how he felt because Jack felt the same way about him, it would have been nice to start building a life together, around those feelings and that love...

Ah, well. Helping others was its own kind of reward, and some of these poor people did need help. The poor kids for one thing... Bray was fond of Raphael but he felt sympathetic towards Rhys, too. Ken was clearly able to take care of himself but Niall was vulnerable and just beginning to realize his heritage and powers. Everyone had their own problems; maybe the reason that he and Jack were here was to be their voice of reason. He sure hoped so. He hoped that this wasn't just unnecessary sacrifice.

"I'm... not suggesting anything," Bray said innocently, smiling back at Jack. His heart did its usual flippy floppy thing again merely at the sight of Jack's smile. He was painfully attractive at any given time, but especially when he smiled. Bray felt like he could do anything when Jack smiled at him; like it was the source of his courage. He leaned in and kissed Jack softly, briefly—too briefly. "But if someone could make that happen... they would have all of my gratitude forever."

"Well then..." He touched his nose to Brayden's nose. "Maybe somebody will..."

He wanted to follow that up with a kiss--a more involved kiss. But time was not on their side. Niall was at the table now, picking out more food and proclaiming that they needed to play a game, because he'd heard about these famous game nights and now he wanted in on it. Jack's hand tightened briefly with Brayden's. Ah, well... They would just have to make that getaway soon, then. For now, the thought was put on hold.

"What game is it you're wanting to play?" Jack asked, raising a brow at Niall.

"I don't know. What do you have? Only games I've ever played are strip poker and... probably just strip poker."

"That person is my new hero." Bray gently booped noses with Jack back, feeling silly in love and young again—but not as young as Raphael and his maelstrom of volatile emotions. But of course, even this tender moment was interrupted by Niall, who had returned. He seemed less sulky, at any rate, than he did five minutes ago. Raphael was now shadowing Ken, asking questions about the detectors.

"No strip poker." He put his foot down now. Nothing like that around their place, not with children present. Raphael couldn't be more than nineteen or twenty; it would be terrible to expose him to something like that. Bray's expression softened with his smile. "Actually we have a bunch of card games we've been saving for game night. Maybe we could get everyone in on it..."

He looked at Jack. "Courtyard? We could put up some lights, get some snacks and drinks and bring out a heater to keep us all warm. It'd be nice to see the stars again, too..." The last part he said wistfully, recalling the moments that he and Jack shared under the stars. Outside in the courtyard, that was when he first realized he was in love with his new neighbor. Then out on the ridge, Jack's most terrible secrets were revealed—they tested Bray's love, but his love held under the pressure.

Well, this was happening oddly organically. Jack was supposed to propose a game night with them all together, was he not? But he didn't have to. Niall did it for him and then Brayden leapt at the chance... which Jack knew he would. Didn't matter if it was Niall doing the suggesting. Brayden did so love his games. Jack, though, he preferred their game nights being confined to the two of them. Still, the way Brayden described this one sounded... nice.

"Why not?" he said. "It'll give you a chance to try out those games that are more fun with multiple players."

Supposedly. Some games were supposed to be better the more players were in the game. Jack still preferred his games to be played with Brayden but... that was natural. As Margie said, they were still firmly entrenched in the honeymoon phase.

He laughed as he nuzzled Brayden. "This is the nerdiest party I've ever helped throw." But it was said with affection and not a drop of derision. Finishing up his food, he reluctantly got up. "I'll find my christmas lights. We can string them up outside." Not really the best lighting but... fun lighting. Party style lighting.

This was all very fascinating! Raphael could barely tear himself away from Ken, who was putting up all sorts of intriguing instruments and machines. He followed Ken with his plate, munching on spring rolls and picking up mouthfuls of pad thai with wooden chopsticks, asking questions between mouthfuls. Ken, to his credit, didn't snap or yell at him—even though Raphael felt acutely that Ken would have preferred to work without interruptions. Even so, he didn't outright complain.

But then Niall was talking about a game night and Brayden was agreeing, and Raphael drifted back to them. He hovered on the sidelines. It sounded like they were inviting everyone, but Raphael hadn't been named specifically. He wanted desperately to play card games, or board games, or whatever they decided to do. And lights... snacks, drinks...

"It's not the kind of party you want, but the kind of party you need," Brayden laughed as he rubbed Jack's back assuringly, causing Raphael to make a soft noise of happiness. It was pure joy to watch them being cozy and sweet together! Oh, but it hurt, too. He knew that that could never be himself and Rhys. For one thing, Rhys wasn't that affectionate. He hated people watching him and with that whole big fight between them, it felt like they would never, ever patch things up.

But... at least Raphael still had his new friends! He trailed along after Jack, lightly tapping him on the arm. "Professor Jack?" Raphael looked at him pleadingly. "Can I... come to game night too?"

"Hm?" Jack opened up his closet and reached up to the topmost shelf, where he kept boxes of things he didn't need on a daily basis. Things like holiday lights, decorations, that sort of thing. As a teacher, he got used to at least celebrating these things with them. Most of his holidays outside of class, though, were spent in bars and clubs. It was better to be out with people than sitting at home, being tormented by guilt and unable to sleep it off.

He brought the box with the lights inside down and set it down on his bed.

"Of course." He looked at Raphael, who looked like a little puppy begging for a snack. "Why wouldn't you be able to play?"

Jack just assumed that the entire household was going to play and that included Raphael. As he opened up the top of the box to make sure it was indeed the right one--it was--he asked, "Are you going to see if, ah... Rhys wants to play, too...?"

"N-no reason! I just wanted to make sure!" Well if they were including him, he wasn't giving them any reasons not to voluntarily! Raphael beamed at Jack and trailed after him to watch him taking down a box filled with colorful lights. "Ooh those are pretty!" He pointed to a string of fairy lights. "Fairy lights!" He first saw them in the cafe and asked about them; their name pleased him so greatly that he promptly went out and bought several strings to decorate his room back at Greenwood apartments.

Raphael thought of his room and his possessions and collections with great sadness. Then—internal panic. Oh... yes. Rhys. If Rhys was left out of the festivities, wouldn't he feel terrible? Even if he would definitely play it cool and claim that he had no use for game nights, Raphael knew that it wouldn't sit well with him to watch while everyone else had a good time.

"I... think we should invite him," he said slowly, reluctantly. "But do I have to go? Can't Prince Bee go instead? Rhys must like him, if he got Rhys to eat food and take a nap and everything!" Was there anyone who didn't like Brayden though? Rhys probably gave it a good old try, he thought darkly. But probably even Rhys had to admit that Brayden was a good person.

"I don't think he'll come play card games if I asked him." He fiddled with a string of lights to untangle them. "He's probably really mad at me. Still."

He laughed now at the name: fairy lights. Jack had always called them Christmas lights, even when they weren't Christmas colors or for Christmas. He thought he liked fairy lights better, especially given... well. Wasn't it obvious? Looking over at Raphael while he pulled the lights out.

"I think," he said as he untangled a length of lights, "that maybe you should try talking to him yourself."

As good as Jack must have been with Rhys--he honestly couldn't imagine it having gone down badly, the way Brayden had come back looking peaceful and not harried--he didn't really think it was up to Brayden to ask. Besides, those two still needed to clear the air between them. Was it too soon, though?

"Hm."

Maybe. It could be too soon. Jack didn't know Rhys at all. Not as well as Raphael did. Also, if Brayden had to do the asking, there might still be bad mojo in the air between the two of them when they came face to face at the game table. At best, they would probably ignore each other. At worst, they might end up throwing wet pants again.

"He's eaten and had a nap by now," Jack said, "I bet he feels better than he did. And... maybe he regrets being mad at you." Jack lightly nudged Raphael. "You'll never know if you don't talk to him."

Jack made quite a lot of sense but then again, he was a professor! He had lots of knowledge to back up his advice! Raphael trusted him implicitly, of course. Anyone who made their lover smile and glow the way that Jack did to Brayden could never be rotten inside. He sighed and it was a little old man sigh. "All right. I guess it couldn't hurt to try talking to him again..."

His head lifted; he looked for a moment quite indignant. "But if he's a jerk to me, I'm going to—to do something really bad!" He didn't know what that was going to be, but rest assured—it was going to be bad. Maybe he'd headbutt Rhys. That would show him! (Or he might storm back and decry that Rhys McCabe was a jerk again, and fume up another storm. He didn't want to cry though. That was embarrassing enough!)

"Thanks Professor Jack!" Raphael flung arms around him in a quick hug, and then went outside. He caught sight of the food that Brayden had left out, since Ken hadn't yet eaten, and he fixed up a smallish plate for Rhys. It would at least give him an excuse to go over... And despite his protests, Raphael really did want to see Rhys and check on him. He was still horribly worried—Rhys had been alone over there for a long while!

"Where are you going, Raf?" Brayden walked him to the door, looking concerned.

"I'm going to see if... Rhys wants to join game night." Raphael lowered his voice. "I don't think it'd be nice to exclude him, even if he's a big jerk, Prince Bee."

Brayden smiled at him and it made him feel all warm inside. "Good luck," he whispered as Raphael walked out.

The trek across the courtyard felt like it took... oh, about six thousand years. He walked slow too, reluctance building with each step. Eventually though he had to get to the other door and he steeled himself before knocking on it.

Rhys assumed that even though he'd been given a soft and clean bed to sleep in that he would simply lie there and fume or think in circles until he drove himself crazy. What actually happened was that his head barely touched the pillow and he was out. It wasn't actually that fast--he heard Brayden leave--a gentle click of the door. And then he heard pure silence. And he thought it would be too much for him.

But Rhys was exhausted. Especially mentally. And once the silence descended upon him in that bed and with a stomach filled with water and soup, everything finally just shut down for a desperately needed rest. His back still hurt but it hurt a little less for some reason. Enough to let him sleep. And he had to sleep on his stomach, which he had never liked but again, exhaustion completely overtook him.

By the time there was any sound in the apartment--a knock at the door--Rhys had been awake for approximately three minutes. The kind of awake that could easily go straight back to sleep if given a chance. The kind of awake where he wasn't actually thinking but simply resting, eyes half open, not wanting to move or do anything but lay there. In a way, really, he was content. He didn't know it, of course. But that's exactly what he was.

Rhys didn't answer the knock, though. It wasn't his home and he didn't want to move. But after a minute or maybe half a minute, he didn't know time right now--there was another knock. And Rhys remembered that although this wasn't his home, he was the only one inside. Did Brayden forget the key to his own place or something?

Forcing himself to sit up, he groaned. His back still hurt and it flared up when he moved. It felt like somebody had dragged him on his back across asphalt; it burned insistently and it didn't like being touched at all. Yawning, Rhys slid out of the bed reluctantly and dragged one of the smaller blankets off the bed to gingerly rest over his shoulders as he went to the door.

The apartment was cold and the goosebumps on his skin rose up in full force. Ah, the door was locked. Rhys went to reach for the lock and--

"Ahh!" He jerked his hand back as it zapped him. Frowning, he called out through the door: "I can't open the door!"

He forgot that very exact same thing happened to him earlier when he tried to make an escape.

Rhys wasn't answering... Raphael wondered if he was still asleep. He could come back later! Later as in never! Because the longer he waited, the more he thought that this was a terrible idea. Rhys was sure to still be angry! Maybe he held a grudge. He never did before, but only because he killed people who annoyed him—but not before engaging in a bit of light-hearted torture.

Would he do that to Raphael? All signs pointed to no since Raphael had been annoying him since they were children.

But still! He didn't come to the door even after a second round of knocking and Raphael actually did turn away. He was about four steps away from the door, feeling relieved and disappointed rolled into one, when Rhys shouted through the door that he couldn't open it. Before that, there was a yelp that halted Raphael. He walked back to the door and touched it; it seemed fine to him...

Oh! ...right... Rhys couldn't actually leave because of the ward that Marge put up. Earlier he sort of bounced off of it. Raphael had totally forgotten that, with all that had happened between them. "Hold on! I'll get the key from Prince Bee!" He ran back to the other apartment, knocked urgently on the door, blabbered about a key, got it from a laughing Brayden—he was in a good mood, wasn't he?!—and then ran back puffing to unlock the door. THEN he forgot that he'd set the plate down back in the other apartment, and he ran off again with the door open, so that Rhys could... watch him dash away with no explanation whatsoever.

"...okay."

Rhys stood near the door because he wasn't sure what else to do about it. How long should he wait? It wasn't a long wait; Raphael came back huffing and puffing and Rhys blinked as the door opened and... Raphael ran off. Rhys tried to peer out to see what the hell he was doing but he was immediately zapped backward again. The contentment from his nap was wearing away and now he was starting to feel less confused and curious and more... annoyed. What the hell was happening?

He couldn't even shut the door because it seemed the entire area--doorway and door itself--had all been warded against him. Somebody had really been adamant about not letting him go anywhere. Rhys left the door open because he had no other choice.

With a sigh, he went into the kitchen, keeping an eye on the door. Raphael better notice it was still open because otherwise, somebody was going to just walk in and steal all of Brayden's not-worth-stealing items. He poured himself a glass of the lemon water, which was now lukewarm from sitting on the table. Not... as refreshing as he would have liked but it did remind him he had to use the bathroom. Better make it quick, he supposed.

He made a beeline for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him so he could relieve himself in privacy.

"Rhys?" Raphael was back with the plate of delicious Thai food. He walked in very easily because the ward was definitely meant for him, and closed the door behind him because—no, he didn't want anyone to waltz in and steal all of Brayden's precious items. The teacups were sacred to Raphael, especially once he learned that they were antiques left to him by his grandmother. Things like that were priceless!

"Rhys?" He asked again, peering around. Not in the kitchen! Not in the bedroom! The bathroom door was locked though. Raphael snorted through his nose. Not this again! Why was he hiding in there? Just to be childish? To prove a point of some kind? Raphael didn't see why he was acting like such a jer—oh. The toilet flushing told him that Rhys was relieving himself...

Running back out to the common area, he tried not to look flustered. Whoops! Rhys was in there not to hide, but to pee. Raphael busied himself looking for a fork in one of the drawers and then sat down on the couch with the plate balanced across his knees. Now that he was here, he didn't know what he should say. Ask Rhys bluntly to join game night? Then leave with all haste?

Try to make conversation? Smalltalk?

The thing was, now Raphael didn't know what would set Rhys off. Nothing he said seemed to be right and Rhys was so hard to talk to even on a normal day, without emotions...

Washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. He still looked like shit but at least he felt less like it. After his hands were clean, he splashed his face with a little water to help wake up and to freshen up. It didn't matter, really, what he looked like. It was just Raphael and he'd seen him in every state ever, since he was his assigned companion. Picking up the blanket from where he'd rested it on the counter, he pulled it back over his shoulders--careful... and then he opened the bathroom door.

Did Raphael ever come back..? He thought he heard him saying his name but... Oh, there he was. In the living room, sitting on the couch, with food. Rhys saw that the front door had been properly closed this time. Rhys didn't sit; he didn't quite know what to do with himself now. He just sort of stood there, feeling like his six year old self after waking from a nap--shirtless with a blanket and everything.

"Thought you chickened out."

Rhys came out and Raphael stiffened like a rabbit in the middle of the road with a car barreling down on it. He wasn't frozen in fear... but he was far from relaxed. Rhys looked sleepy, his hair was damp around his face and it seemed that the corruption hadn't gone away. It hadn't progressed too far either, though, which was good news. It was just that Raphael had hoped that maybe Rhys would feel and look better after a nap...

"What?" He looked down at the plate in his lap, foolishly associating chickening out with the lemongrass chicken on it. But Rhys didn't mean the food, did he? He was probably referring to the way Raphael ran away, like one of those mischievous kids who rang doorbells and hared off before they could be caught. "Oh! No! I forgot the—this plate of food back there..."

Slowly he picked the plate up and held it towards Rhys. "Prince Bee ordered some food for us. I thought maybe... you'd like some?"

Of course Brayden sent him over here with food. That guy was like the most motherly man Rhys had ever met in his life. It wasn't... a bad trait to have. But he certainly fretted over people like a mother might. Part of Rhys wanted that, though. His mother. Her hand in his hair, her fond names for him, her lyrical poetry. He remembered she loved poetry and birdsong. She had a whole atrium to herself. Rhys thought now that she felt like those birds; trapped for a lifetime of entertaining somebody when she could be free. All she wanted was freedom.

Rhys sort of understood it. He understood her a lot more now that she wasn't with him anymore. And he wished he could tell her that. But there was no way he would ever be able to. Because if he went home with that understanding, he would have to have wings. And he couldn't go back home with wings. Not to the castle, not to his mother.

He thought he must have dreamed of home, of his mother, of his childhood when he slept. But when he woke up, the knock had gently brushed the memories of his dreams away. Now he didn't remember anything, not details, not even broad strokes.

"Yeah, okay." His tone was somewhat guarded but he moved into the room, to sit on the couch, where he used his blanket to cover the tea stain he'd made--in case it was still damp--and sat down. He took the food. It smelled good. But he was still tired and he wasn't sure if he was really hungry or if he was just taking the food because it was offered like a peace offering.

He took an experimental bite. It was good. But he wasn't really hungry. He set it down on the coffee table in front of them. Then before he could wake up enough to change his mind, he slowly laid down, head in Raphael's lap. He was too exhausted to hold grudges. His nap and Brayden's soup had done wonders for his hair trigger temper. Now he was just... tired.

Oh it was most definitely a peace offering of the highest order. Rhys was no glutton but the food was good and Brayden paid for it—and free food that tasted good was like mana from heaven. Maybe... Raphael had been to too many school events where free food was offered. He was a bit of a glutton himself in that respect, and he was always curiously poking his nose into every event. Their small community college had an active student union; Raphael was going to join eventually, to help plan fun things like parties for the holidays and even career nights, so that students could network and mingle with their peers.

All of that was dashed, though, now that he was confined to this apartment. Raphael was rather trapped too, not by wards but by his own fear of the Fallen King. He knew that if he was ever found out, death would not be far behind. Here he was safe with people like Jack and Margie and even the new hunter friend, Ken—people with real power surrounded him.

And Rhys, too... he did his best to protect Raphael where others would not have.

It was nice to see him not being contrary this time and Raphael couldn't help but smile as he took a bite of food. Then he set it down; the smile faded. Oh. He didn't like it... Raphael shifted uncomfortably, about to say something silly again like apologize for bringing the wrong type of food—then Rhys collapsed with his head in Raphael's lap. And this time Raphael did freeze like a rabbit out in the road.

Um.

Well.

That was new. Rhys looked so tired still... He didn't know what made him do what he just did, but he was glad that they weren't fighting again. Maybe that nap did do something for his temper! Raphael slowly ran his hand over Rhys' forehead to shift his hair back, since it was damp. Maybe he'd washed his face earlier, when he woke up. He remembered that Rhys seemed to like having his hair played with so his hand remained, stroking through his curls affectionately.

"Are you feeling better?" His other hand snaked out gingerly to take a spring roll from the plate. If Rhys wasn't going to have it...

"Just tired..."

Tired of a lot of things, like fighting about stupid shit and tired in general. Physically tired and mentally tired. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this tired and lacking of energy. Even when he was bored out of his mind, he still had energy--he wasn't bored enough to fall asleep. It was boredom that came from a lack of interest and stimulation.

It was strange to eat a food and think that it tasted good. It was strange to wake up from a nap and feel content. It was strange to feel lonely when Raphael ran off. (When Rhys thought he was being a chicken shit.)

There was no moment where he could point to in order to say There! That's the moment! But he was aware that his feelings were made public before the rest of him was able to 1. comprehend said feelings and 2. accept said feelings. If he couldn't even do those two things, confessing them or admitting them to somebody, anybody, but especially Raphael was out of his realm of Things He Could Do.

But this... this was okay. He was a haughty, spoiled prince with too much unwarranted confidence before his own wings struck him down. Now he was just a humbled child looking for comfort. And he did like his hair being toyed with. Even some of his consorts knew and did their best to use it to their knowledge. But it wasn't quite the same as just... this.

He kept parting his lips as if to speak and thinking better of it. Sometimes, he was sure his mouth was what got him into so much trouble. Apparently, he lacked any diplomacy, since he didn't mince words and said it like it was--or how he saw it--and he had rather harsh opinions on basically everything.

"...you're not a servant anymore."

"I see. I'm sorry you're still tired."

What else could he say? That wouldn't upset Rhys? It was funny—for so long he wished that Rhys could feel... something, anything, and when he now did, it was all negative. It was like the channels opened but they all lead into irritation. Raphael was not the kind of person who knew how to talk to people, either. Arguably he was like Rhys in that he spoke his mind far too often than was good for him. There was nothing filtering his thoughts, nothing there that said wait a minute, hold on and think about this!

He wasn't gifted with a silver tongue, either, or he might have had more success getting his point across.

Raphael had merely been excited and over-eager. He felt so many wonderful emotions and he wanted to share that with somebody. He wanted to share it with Rhys, but rather than embracing these new changes, Rhys pulled back. They weren't on the same page about feelings from the beginning, although Raphael didn't believe for a moment that Rhys hated all of it the way he claimed. For all the confusion that feeling things brought, there were definite perks too, like... Like kisses. Kisses felt a whole lot nicer when feelings were involved. Like hot showers, and being able to slide between crisp sheets, under warm blankets. So many things that other people took for granted, they could experience for the first time—and truly appreciate them all over again.

As he sat there stroking Rhys' hair and eating his way through the spring roll, his mind raced to find things to say. Nothing. Rhys looked like he wanted to say something too, but. Nothing. Not until he finally came out with it, and Raphael frowned down at him for a long moment. That sounded kind of weird. His mind flashed back to the last thing Rhys said, that was so hurtful that it made him—good-natured Raphael who would have obliged if someone told him to scrub out a bathroom with a toothbrush—lose it.

"I know," he glowered. "You've already dismissed me earlier." His words and tone weren't cold or sarcastic or angry; he was just still hurt by that. Raphael thought that all things considered, he had been a good servant. He did his best to fulfill his duties, whatever they were on any given day. And truly, he hadn't gone and pledged his services to any other prince. There were plenty to choose from, and all of them were nice and kind and took him under their wing, but... the only prince he wanted to serve was Rhys.

"...that's not what I meant."

Didn't Brayden say something about servants? That it bothered Raphael? So why was he looking at him like that? Was Rhys not agreeing that he wasn't a servant? He wasn't trying to harken back to the moment when he talked about dismissing him (did he actually dismiss him or did he say he wanted to--he couldn't remember--it was all spoken in the heat of the moment).

Sitting up with great reluctance, because now he was likely to have his hair pulled rather than stroked, he frowned at Raphael, too. What did he want from him? He was so frustrating to deal with!

All he wanted to do was just go home but he was realizing that it wouldn't solve anything, really. All this... homesickness he was feeling would go away but only because he would be closing the door to everything again. Raphael seemed afraid of it; Rhys still wanted it. A content nap and some food that actually tasted like something and a few hair strokes didn't change that. It wasn't enough to make nothing sound like a bad thing.

But still, the things he wanted to go home to... wouldn't matter once he got there. Not because he'd have them but because he would be too nothing again to appreciate them. So it didn't matter. Either way he went, didn't really matter. And that felt almost like the self he knew. That nothing mattered. His gaze was hollow as he looked at the table and the books that had been neatly righted after their fight.

"I'm going back to sleep," he said finally. He probably should have said something else, a thank you for the peace offering or an apology for the fight--but they didn't really cross his mind. Rhys was raised a prince and a prince never thanked anybody or apologized for anything. He got up but he looked over at Raphael.

"You should tell that Brayden guy that Keith wants him. He tried to recruit me to trap him... If I wasn't warded, he probably would know where he is by now."

Then what did he mean? There was no ensuing explanation—he just said Raphael wasn't a servant, quite out of nowhere. Most people would have... he didn't know... went on to say more things to pad out the statement and give it context! Instead, Rhys slammed the door shut again and sat up, moving away from him while he still grappled with the actual meaning.

Why couldn't he just be normal?! Or at least not so... him!

Raphael sat on the couch staring at the plate of uneaten food with his hands in his lap, for once still. He didn't buzz around like a busy fly, unable to land on one place for more than a minute. He didn't try to find something to do because while his body was still, his mind wasn't. Rhys said something about Brayden and warning him against Keith and Raphael tucked that information away—he would protect Brayden to the best of his abilities. But he didn't go anywhere; he nodded ever so slightly to acknowledge that he had heard what Rhys said.

So he wasn't a servant any longer.

He wasn't
A servant
Anymore

It sounded like a dismissal only because it touched upon a very sensitive nerve. Raphael no longer wanted to be seen as a servant—as someone beneath Rhys. He wanted to be seen as an equal and he wanted, most importantly, to be treated as one. He wanted to be treated with respect, really. But... if he thought about it, Rhys didn't actually disrespect him without provocation (the fight notwithstanding). He never beat Raphael—and plenty of companions of noblemen were beaten for the slightest perceived infractions. Rhys didn't care enough to do so, true, but that didn't mean he wasn't plenty cruel towards others. His hunts...

So he didn't think of Raphael as a servant... anymore? Well then he should have said what he thought of Raphael as! Friend! More than a friend! How was a body to know anything when he never said anything! Rhys was terrible at this emoting thing! Gosh, if he could have only been more like... Jack or Niall or even Ken! Even Ken!

Then again, if he was like them, he wouldn't be himself. That was kind of pointless, wasn't it?

Raphael slowly got up. Rhys said he was going back to sleep, which was an actual dismissal. Well. If Raphael was no longer a servant, then screw his dismissal. He could go back to sleep; it didn't mean Raphael couldn't do whatever he wanted. Didn't mean he couldn't walk into the bedroom and climb into bed and curl up, snuggle up beside him. Hell, it didn't mean anything if Raphael wasn't a servant anymore, right? He was a free man now, goddamnit.

Raphael nodded. Okay. That was all Rhys needed to know, then. He would relay the information and... it would do whatever it did. He probably should have told Brayden himself when he was there but it didn't really come up. And now it was just sort of a... thing to say in parting because Rhys had no idea what else to say. It just seemed like the more he said, the more he buried Raphael into a hole. It wasn't intentional; it still happened.

So that was that.

No reason to stay. There wasn't really anywhere else for Rhys to go. He couldn't leave the apartment. And he was tired and maybe a little sick. Bed was where he ought to be anyhow.

But... he found he was not walking to the bedroom alone and he stopped at the doorway with a furrowed brow. Why the hell was Raphael following him? He told him his plans--to sleep--and gave him a good enough excuse to leave--precious Brayden could be in some kind of trouble. Probably not immediate; if Keith needed Rhys to keep Brayden in one place then he didn't have the means to do anything so far.

Still. Why wasn't Raphael scurrying off to go tell the world? Rhys turned toward him and looked him over.

"What are you doing?"

Yeah, he was free now.

Raphael casually followed Rhys into the bedroom, not really saying much of anything—just like what Rhys always did. Never explain himself because he was a prince and he got to do that to people. Well. Big old jerk, if he got to do what he wanted, Raphael got to do whatever he felt like! And maybe for once, Rhys could experience what it felt like to be shut out!

When he turned to ask what Raphael was doing, Raphael shrugged. "Whatever I want," was the casual answer he gave. "You're sleeping, right?" He looked past Rhys at the bed, and then he slipped past him and got into bed and rolled himself up in the cozy warm blankets. Hmm... it felt really nice, actually. Brayden had lots of layers over his bed and it just felt so much nicer than having one layer of blanket, for whatever reason.

What
the hell.

Rhys stayed in the doorway because what else was he going to do? This was not typical Raphael behavior. (Honestly, it really was more Rhys-like behavior, and seeing it from the other side... he didn't care for it much.) His brow remained furrowed as Raphael made himself at home in Brayden's bed. It wasn't Rhys' to get territorial with, although he was annoyed that Raphael was blocking him from doing what he wanted.

While he could just get into bed, he didn't particularly want to now. Rhys didn't like lying on his stomach when it was just himself. He really didn't like it with other people hanging around, not unless they were giving him a massage or maybe if they were fucking him. Neither of which he imagined happening in this scenario.

"No. Not anymore."

See, there were two places to rest. The couch, with its big tea stain—Rhys did that, all by himself—and the bed, with enough room for two people. That was it. Rhys could either stand or go sit on the toilet or curl up in the bathtub, none of which sounded like appealing alternatives to Raphael. He laid in bed, warm and snug, and looked at Rhys by the doorway. Still trying to act like a prince.

To who?

Because Raphael, he was no longer a servant. That meant Rhys was only fronting to appease his own sense of pride.

"Okay. Cool. You can watch some TV. There's this really cool channel where people show you how to cook things. Or you might like the news. I saw the remote control on the coffee table."

He burrowed down deeper like a little earthworm. "Hmm... Prince Bee's bed feels really nice though. It's not too soft! Too bad there's nobody here to share it with. It'd be nice if somebody could lay their head against my chest or something, and I could cuddle them." Raphael looked at Rhys. "Too bad somebody's just too plain stubborn to do that. Because it would be nice. And no one else is here, so nobody would even know."

Toooooo baaaaaad.

Watch TV? Rhys barely ever even looked at the TV back at their apartment in Greenwood. Raphael and Ripper seemed to enjoy it but Rhys had no use for it. Keith used it sometimes for updates. Their place had free cable TV, which was apparently an allure to some people. Rhys found it an unnecessary distraction. When it was on, he usually vacated the living room for the solitude of his bedroom--which wasn't even a fraction of the size of his chambers at home. Honestly, it could be a little claustrophobic in there.

He narrowed his eyes as Raphael unapologetically played at trying to lure him into the bed. It was true that nobody was currently in the apartment but that didn't mean much to Rhys. He still had his pride to look after; it felt like he had so little of anything else left. But Raphael was tearing it to shreds in front of him.

"When did you become such an asshole?"

"Now we're even!" Raphael sat up in bed. "You've been acting like an asshole forever, so now somebody else gets to act like one too!"

Damnit, if he was free and his own person, he got to say and do exactly what he wanted to say and do! Raphael crossed his arms. "You want to sleep but you won't just because I'm here. You like me and you expect me to magically read your mind, or somehow know what you're feeling and cater to you, even though you just said I wasn't a servant anymore. Well if I'm not a servant, then I'm your equal and you could at least respect me enough to stop playing games, Rhys."

He pointed to the empty space beside him. "There's more than enough space here for you to rest. I know you're tired and you want to sleep. So sleep. And fucking let me cuddle you and let me love you, you idiot! Enough games! The only person you're hurting is yourself! And—me! You're hurting both of us, okay?!"

Fair enough. Although Rhys never claimed to be not an asshole. It might have come with the territory of being a prince, spoiled rotten to the core. But it wasn't even just that. It was super easy not to care about other people or their feelings when he had none himself. How could he even begin to empathize with somebody when he didn't even know what it felt like to have hurtful insults hurled at him? All they did was bounce off him, or make him laugh at their ineffectiveness. (Which was definitely an asshole thing to do.)

It was just unnerving to see Raphael acting like a rotten prince. He must have had enough experience with it, what with watching Rhys and all.

But ever the contrarian, Rhys didn't take well to being told what to do, even from Raphael. Especially from Raphael. So he stayed rooted where he was in the doorway, neither fleeing for a bathroom or a couch nor getting into the bed with Raphael.

"I'm not playing games." If he was playing games, he would be having a lot more fun right about now. He wasn't having fun at all. Mostly, he was just tired and sad and frustrated. He wasn't really setting out to hurt himself or Raphael but he found he was really good at it. If nothing else, he was amazingly consistent in that department.

"You stupid fucking stupid prince!"

Raphael got off the bed in a hurry and FURIOUSLY stormed over. He was extremely FURIOUS because even while Rhys was claiming not to play games he was playing games! Maybe he didn't realize it or maybe he did. Hell if Raphael knew! But he could not remember being this FURIOUS in his entire life!

If this wasn't the last straw, nothing ever was! Rhys even made him swear! And he never swore!

He stormed over and marched right up to Rhys. Grabbed him by the infuriating games-playing face and kissed him. Furiously. Then he broke off for a breath, glared, and kissed him again. Even more furiously.

"Stupid asshole! Are you trying to chase me into another prince's arms? There's three of them out there!" He growled with his angry face no more than a few centimeters from Rhys'. "All of them are nicer to me than you are! You stupid asshole! Get in the bed! If you're too weak to fuck you can at least cuddle!" Since he finally had Rhys—by the face—he added, in a dangerously low voice,

"You were right. I'm not your servant. You're my prince. So get in the goddamn bed, or I'm going to do something you're really not going to like!"

Surprise didn't even begin to cover the way he felt towards Raphael's unexpectedly violent outburst. Had he ever heard Raf cuss like that? If he had, he certainly didn't remember it. And the shock of it was so great that Rhys couldn't cover it up, either. He stood like a stunned idiot while Raphael stormed toward him, with no recourse or not wits about him to defend himself.

Why Raphael was this pissed was beyond him. But he was pissed, there was no mistaking that. Rhys wasn't prepared for anything--an attack, a slap, a couple of whacks around the ears. Least of all, he wasn't prepared to have his face grabbed. For a delirious second, he actually thought Raphael meant to headbutt him and it was too late to even do anything about it except take it. Only he didn't headbutt him. He kissed him.

Angrily, though. Angry kisses, followed by more cussing. Rhys was so out of it that his head sort of half spun and he couldn't seem to gather his bearings. What... was happening here? Normally, he was right on the ball with this kind of thing. He did play head games sometimes, out of boredom, this was true. But he wasn't playing these so-called games now. He was mostly just trying to keep his footing while everything around him rocked and slid into his path, threatening to knock him off his feet.

In another lifetime, Rhys most definitely would have had something to say about those other princes out there. (Something incredibly rude, too, about how none of those princes would want Raphael.) But at the moment, he was trying to process the... everything. Also... too weak to fuck?! WHAT?

Rhys didn't know what to do. His hands, on auto pilot, reached up to grasp onto Raphael's wrists, tight, though, almost like a threat in itself. Excuse me? The words were there, on the tip of his tongue but then no, Raphael, he kept going. And Rhys' hands tightened on those wrists and he stepped into Raphael with narrowed eyes, not at all appreciating that tone or that threat.

"Oh? And what's that? You really think you can threaten me? A few curse words and a handful of kisses don't scare me, Raf." He pulled Raphael's hands down, away from his face. "You're going to have to try a lot harder than that to threaten me."

No.

It was too late for Rhys to try and claw back his position at the top because Raphael was asserting dominance. In this very moment, in this instance in time, Raphael was the one in charge of his own destiny and his own life, and he wasn't going to back down from some half-stunned Prince of the Fallen! If he abandoned the Fallen, he abandoned his former life, and his former sense of servitude. In this moment, Raphael was a fae and he was taking back his life.

What was he going to do? Corrupt Raphael? Use that hand squeezing his wrist to spread the blight? Raphael would like to see him try! He glowered right back, his eyes like lasers boring through Rhys. "You should be scared. You should feel threatened because unlike you, I'm not playing around. You can't hold my feelings hostage anymore, Rhys McCabe!"

Because Rhys never said anything but the wings were there--they were starting to grow, indicating his budding feelings. And knowing he was growing wings, that he had feelings for Raphael, made him unable to move on. There were other princes out there--they didn't have to be Jack or Niall or Brayden. They could be Wesley Carter, or the boy with sleek blond hair from psychology class, or the cute bartender at the club, or hell, even the guy he saw smiling at him from across the street! They could be anyone! They didn't have to be Rhys!

But he couldn't begin to consider them and he couldn't shift his feelings away if Rhys was here growing wings for him. Then threatening to go home and excise them, which... Well what message did that send? Did Rhys think about it? What it said to Raphael, who had all of these deep and significant feelings for him, to have him repeatedly claim that he wanted to cut off his wings?

So excuse him for being a little FURIOUS!

"I'm not going to wait for you forever." His voice went low again. Dangerous. "I love you, Rhys, but I won't wait forever." He would have shoved Rhys back but he didn't want to hurt him--the blight was still there, still trying to take over. Instead, Raphael stepped up to him until their chests touched, and they were practically nose-to-nose. Again he kissed Rhys, but this time more softly, more tenderly than he could remember kissing anyone. It hurt--it did. It hurt to love someone like this, to know that they felt the same way but was too stubborn to relent.

His eyes were stinging when he finally pulled back, only to rest his forehead against Rhys' shoulder. "I don't want to keep fighting your feelings," he whispered, heart-broken. "Stop fighting mine. Please. I'm not asking you for anything other than a chance. Don't I deserve at least that much, Rhys?"

"Well I'm not." He wasn't scared or threatened. What could Raphael even do to him? So what if he wasn't playing around? Did he consider all this shit that he'd been doing playing around? Then who of the two of them was really playing the games? Because Rhys certainly wasn't. Raphael thought he was miserable now? He could only imagine how miserable he'd be if Rhys put it to his mind to play fucking mind games with him!

But right now his quick and cunning mind was less quick and cunning and more... lethargic and hard to really comprehend everything. Not because of the emotions (although that did make things considerably more annoying) but because he was genuinely tired. He'd just woken up and this is what he woke up to. Wonderful.

And what the fuck was that even supposed to mean? That Rhys was holding his feelings hostage? Rhys rolled his eyes at that. Way to be fucking dramatic.

"Is that what I'm supposed to be scared of?" he asked, nostrils flaring slightly. Was that really supposed to scare him off, that Raphael wouldn't wait for him? He'd been trying to push Raphael away from him since... since the first inkling of irritation made itself known. Didn't he tell Brayden that Raphael was better off with somebody who could take care of him? Not that Raphael knew that but... come on. Raphael obviously deserved somebody better at this than Rhys. Hostage, he said. Like Rhys was trying to use Raphael's feelings against him. All he was doing was trying to keep to himself, to protect himself. His self preservation was kicking in, despite his apathy once.

He narrowed his eyes at Raphael more out of apprehension and unease than anger. "Don't fu--" cking say that. But the words were hushed by Raphael's lips on his. He didn't know if it was his current mood or if it was Raphael finally breaking down a key brick in his wall or if it was just the soft, different nature of the kiss but his breath caught in the back of his throat, swallowing his words. Maybe it was their proximity but his heart flipped funny and his eyes closed and for a moment, there were no thoughts, just feelings. Warm feelings, not unlike the feeling of fingers in his hair.

The kiss ended and Rhys' eyes remained closed for a long moment. Raphael stayed close, resting his forehead against his and Rhys caught his own lower lip with his teeth, breathing inward, afraid to exhale. What was happening?

He didn't put a name to the reason he had wings. Rhys didn't even really think about it until a growing restless agitation started making him irritable for no apparent reason. It was an itch where he used to be numb but he didn't know its portent. But he knew that he put up a lot from Raphael he never put up with anybody else. It snuck up on him, because he'd been an installation in his life for a good chunk of it. So when did it start warping into... something else?

What did a person even say to that? Of course Raphael deserved more. Rhys knew he put up with a lot in his life, that he didn't have it easy. But he had been assigned to Rhys. And although Rhys could be outright cruel to some people, he'd never really thought to be cruel to Raphael. There were memories, or a feeling of memories that kept him separate from the others, like Satine, there was something connected to his childhood that couldn't be erased.

How Raphael could love Rhys was kind of a mystery; he had watched him for a long time. Rhys wasn't... nice. He'd been known to grow bored with servants and have them dismissed. His consorts had a whole different mountain to climb. Raphael couldn't possibly see his interactions with them and want that for himself. Because Rhys was constantly bored, his lovers had to rotate. Sometimes he wanted it so hard that he'd bleed... unknowingly reaching for something to feel other than boredom, numbness.

Sometimes there were a number of them, five or six at a time, hoping to please Rhys, to erase that deep seated ennui. And somebody invariably got kicked out, berated for not being as good as that other guy but wait now that guy wasn't so good after all, get out, he was bored now. Very rarely did Rhys actually fuck anybody else. He expected to be entertained, not the other way around. Only a few times had he been inspired to do the fucking and the poor things left behind were left.... unsatisfied... to say the least.

Raphael had to know the drama of the consorts. He'd probably heard the gossip and the rumors about him. Why he'd want anything to do with Rhys in a sexual or romantic capacity... He had to be some kind of crazy. Some kind of masochist.

Still not knowing what to say, Rhys only closed his eyes for a moment, aware that Raphael was pleading with him, that he was waiting for him to say something. He said nothing. But he did reach up to cup the back of Raf's head. He did guide his lips back to meet his. Apprehension made it more of a brush of lips to lips before he parted them and let the kiss move organically into a real kiss.

This was it. This was love. It wasn't soft and sweet, like the love he saw between Jack and Brayden. It wasn't quiet but strong, like that which existed between Niall and Ken. It wasn't the strong, self-sacrificing love that he saw in Marge, towards Jack and Brayden, either. This love was painful and dark and pregnant with a thousand things left unsaid, secrets that couldn't easily be voiced. It was not an easy love and not an easy path that Raphael's feelings for Rhys had led him down.

But this was all he had. His heart's desire was in front of him, standing just behind a brick wall of denial that separated them. Raphael didn't know what else he could say to Rhys. There was nothing left. No anger, no frustration, nothing but emptiness because he had already laid himself bare before Rhys and this—him in this moment—was all that there was left. There was no more. Raphael didn't play games; he didn't hold anything back.

Was it because they were Fallen, that their path was studded with difficulty? Or was it not mean to be? In this lifetime, were they never destined to be together? Even if Raphael loved Rhys beyond sense, sensibility or even reason, and even though Rhys was growing wings because of his feelings for him, those weren't guarantees. Raphael could overcome anything—even those rumors flying every which way about Rhys in his private life—but he couldn't fight fate any more than he could fight his own feelings.

And if this was the end of the line... then he knew that he would survive, but he would never feel this way for another man again. His heart could not bear to be opened up this way again, just to be rebuffed and rejected. He might love again, but not like this, not this strongly, this fiercely, with this much self-destructive passion and feeling.

The longer it took for Rhys to answer, the more certain he was that Rhys' answer was no. And Raphael's heart started to crack. He began to look up when a hand curled at the back of his head. Then a kiss, so light that it was nothing more than the brush of their lips together. Raphael's lips trembled; his entire body shook. Even his heart jumped around in his chest, not knowing if it wanted to beat too fast or not to beat at all. He grasped onto Rhys as they kissed again and the physical agony of being so in love with him made his fingers curl, the nails dig into Rhys' arms. With an almost violent jerk of the head, he pulled back, breaths coming up ragged.

"Is that a yes?" He needed to hear it. The kiss was a response of its own class but he needed to hear Rhys say it. It was important.

A kiss never really felt like much of anything. Rhys normally didn't waste much time with kissing. Sometimes, a consort might try it and it was probably like kissing a mannequin for how little Rhys cared to kiss them back. Every now and then, there was a little back and forth but to be honest, kissing just felt... like a huge waste of time when he needed to get back to other things. Just fuck him, get it over with. Even his escapades in experimentation lasted for all of fifteen minutes or so.

Rhys didn't even know what romantic love felt like, from an emotional point of view. It looked sappy and fraught with annoying emotions. Or sickening, like the people Raphael so lovingly stared at with hearts in his eyes. Rhys usually just rolled his eyes at it all. Love. It felt like just as much a waste of time as a kiss.

Kisses before this, between the two of them, didn't have the best track record. Rhys did kind of slam Raf's head into a table for surprising him with a kiss. And the handful of other kisses given to him were not all that well received either. (Hard to be in the right kind of mood when he was agitated and sick, though!)

For once... he understood it. What it was that Raphael was yearning for. That ache in the chest that was somehow both fierce and sweet at the same time. How a kiss could stop time, how it could communicate more than his verbal vomit. And for once, he couldn't screw this up even with words because the answer was so simple.

"Yes."

"Rhys!"

Raphael threw himself bodily onto Rhys with such an energetic leap that he nearly managed to leapfrog over him. (Okay, not that dramatic but he did jump very high. But Rhys was tall!) He clung to Rhys with both arms around his neck and he kissed him again with an uncontrollable outpouring of emotion. Tears slid down the sides of his cheeks, something that he knew for a fact Rhys would chide him for—being so emotional. Well, being new to this world of feeling still, despite having had more time to adjust, meant that every emotion was a little overwhelming. Raphael hadn't had time to become jaded to all the new sensations and feelings yet!

But his heart was overjoyed. He swore his wings were going to grow into full-blown fae wings, if the way he felt was any indication of pure, unadulterated joy. Rhys wasn't promising anything but just a simple yes meant so much to Raphael. He... made a miracle happen. He gave Raphael his heart's desire, and there was something very magical about the ability of one person being able to do that with one syllable.

One kiss melted into another. Raphael couldn't—and didn't want to—stop. He kissed Rhys not only on the lips but on the cheek, jaw, the corners of his mouth, each lip individually, hell, even a little down his throat and off to the side, to the area under his ear. He was so happy! It was like none of the past... day happened. (Did they really fight so much over the course of one day? It felt like sixty years...)

Whoa, hold on. Rhys somehow managed not to be toppled over but just barely. Raphael was lucky that Rhys had such fine reflexes or they both might have gone tipping over. He was still weak from the blight! But his arms still managed to wrap around Raphael and hold him close.

"You--" Whatever he was going to say didn't matter. It was probably half rude, anyway. He was overwhelmed by a series of kisses and just like that, Raphael was more like Raphael. All that anger and haughtiness did not suit him in the least. (And Rhys had to admit, sitting back and basically watching himself was a nice sobering moment.)

Who knew... a single word could cause such happiness? And who knew that seeing Raphael so ecstatic could somehow translate to happiness for him, too? It was impossible not to feel it; it was like a contact high. Raphael's joy was a contagion and Rhys was infected by it. So many... kisses. It made him feel so... warm. Warm inside, like the best bubbling bath in the world, warm and peaceful and a touch of childhood.

He laughed. Before he knew what he was doing. It just... came out, like a sneeze or a cough; it had to be let out. (And it might have had something to do with him being madly ticklish near the ear area--something that was news to him.) "S-stop..." he gasped, but in such a light tone it was hard to believe it came from his own mouth. Somehow, he made it to the bed, collapsing onto it with Raphael.

All Rhys had to do from the very beginning was say yes, and not play hard-to-get! They could have avoided this entire embarrassing rollercoaster ride of emotions! Or—conversely—Raphael might have waited out the blight before tackling Rhys with all of the hard-hitting questions. But then again there was no guarantee that Rhys wouldn't have skipped out on him given half a chance!

At least all's well that ended well! In that moment Raphael didn't think about the heartache of the past few weeks, the drama of their explosive fight, the painful, wretched moments waiting for a simple yes or no from Rhys. He was bubbly and overjoyed now and his emotions and happiness refused to be contained. The kisses fell in a flurry, raining down faster as Rhys laughed and the sound went straight to Raphael's bursting heart.

He'd never heard Rhys laugh like that before! With genuine mirth! Ooh, he liked that laugh!

Raphael was the happiest person on the planet at the moment. Even when he was toppled into bed, he laughed, wrapping arms and legs around Rhys like a koala bear. "Be careful! Your back!" He wiggled around until he had Rhys in his arms, cradling his dark head against his chest. Raphael nuzzled his cheek against the top of Rhys' head and let his eyes close so that he could soak in the moment and the love and the contentment.

"This means you're coming to game night, right Rhys?" His eyes opened. Suddenly he remembered his mission! "They're having a game night! With everyone! All your brothers and Prince Bee and Ken and Margie probably and Charlie and... me! I'm sure Margie will let you go outside now!" He lightly stroked the back of Rhys' shoulder, avoiding straying too close to the blight on his back. "I wish they could heal this more quickly..." But it took strong magic to even hold back the blight, much less cure it. Raphael imagined it would take something like celestial magic—the holy magic that angels and other pure creatures had. Even fae weren't capable of casting magic of that order, sadly, which was why Charles the fixer could only contain the blight with all of his skills.

"I can hardly feel it anymore..." he confessed. He had also sort of forgotten about it in all the... whatever just happened. It felt good, though. All that tight, nasty, buzzing energy inside dissipated and dissolved into something buoyant and bubbly. It felt like... breaking the surface of the water after diving deep, like floating in a dream. So this was what Raphael was chasing so vehemently.

All the bluffing and fanfaronade in the world couldn't compare to just having Raphael hold tight to him. It was like his affection was everywhere, in his legs and his arms, in his smile. Rhys closed his eyes and allowed himself to just be held and cuddled. Funny, this was all Raphael asked of him earlier and Rhys was a big... dick about it. (But it also might have had to do with the way Raphael tried to order him to do it. Naturally, Rhys chafed against orders.)

"What game night?" he asked just as Raphael quickly began to explain it. Hah. Game night. That sounded so... dumb. Maybe it wasn't so bad, though. At least... it probably wasn't boring. (A high compliment coming from Rhys.) He sighed as Raphael stroked his shoulder. The blight... and he felt that itch again. He tilted his head slightly and tried to get a look through the corner of his eye but he couldn't really tell if anything was happening.

"I did it to myself," he moaned. "It's like a snake biting itself and being poisoned by its own venom."

Gasp—that wasn't a no for game night! For once Rhys didn't immediately dismiss an idea or a suggestion without first finding out if it was worth dismissing! That surely had to mean that Raphael had caught him in a rare good mood, and he should probably capitalize on this now, while Rhys was delirious off the kisses and confessions—and the high of a new relationship. Arguably, Raphael didn't think he had ever had a real relationship. How could a prince have a relationship with consorts? Or with a servant boy who trailed after him like an annoying yappy puppy?

"It was kind of a dumb thing to do," Raphael agreed whole-heartedly, with no thought to things like subtlety and not poking a sore wound. But even Rhys knew that corrupting his own wings was a terrible idea! Wings didn't work like that! He peered down too, trying to get a glimpse of the wings. When his own were growing, it felt awfully itchy. He kept scratching at his back; people at the college thought he had ticks or lice or something and gave him a wide berth for a long while. But eventually the itch went away, and now... He didn't know their condition but he was willing to bet that they were growing out very nicely, thanks to Rhys!

"I guess it's better than Keith doing it. Or your father..." The last one, Raphael whispered in a fearful tone—as if by uttering his name, the King would appear before them. Raphael was deathly afraid of him, that was a fact. "Do you think he'll come here to look for you, Rhys?" Raphael hugged him tighter. He was never letting go! Anyone wanting to separate them would have to pry Rhys out of his cold, dead hands!

Rhys was still without a shirt and he'd left his blanket back on the couch on top of the tea stain. So his back was sort of... exposed. It felt better that way, though, the itchiness not withstanding. He sighed, though and wished he could argue about how dumb it was that he went and corrupted himself. Instead, he just mumbled something about not knowing he could corrupt himself, so low that it was under breath and maybe not fully audible. He hadn't meant to exert the corruption in the first place. He just panicked, trying to rip the wings off with his bare hands.

Which was dumb, he couldn't deny that. It really was like trying to rip a tooth right out of his mouth without provocation or pull a finger off--the wings were as much a part of him as a tooth or finger. So what made him think tearing them off wouldn't hurt like fuck? Or that he wouldn't screw it up in the attempt?

"...yeah, he's going to come for me," Rhys said as Raphael held him tighter. "He was there when I tried to tear them off. He... wanted me to. Encouraged me to do it."

All three of the King's children were here. The three that Raphael knew of by name, that was—he was certain that there could be more heirs to the throne. Was it coincidence? Or was it fate for them to all converge here, to this one place? A chill ran down his spine. What if... the King brought them all here? What if he wanted them in one place for easier access to them?

"He must have known you couldn't tear them off on your own though!" Raphael frowned, letting his fingertips graze the edge of the blight. It stung horribly so he jerked his hand away quickly. Ouch. Rhys was powerful, so his corruption magic was strong, too. There wasn't much that Raphael could do for him in terms of magic, but he continued to stroke Rhys' hair and to hold him and love him to the best of his abilities. A few soft kisses fell against Rhys' forehead, temple, cheek.

"Maybe he wanted you to get hurt... Maybe... he knew I'd bring you to Margie..." Raphael gulped. He hated to even voice his concerns but he didn't know why else the King would want Rhys to do a thing like that! And afterwards the King was gone. He wasn't there when Raphael ran into the bathroom to check on Rhys. Why not? Why wouldn't he want to see this through? He hadn't reappeared here, either, so... was he not looking? Because he was already satisfied the work was done, to get Rhys here where his other brothers were?

Raphael lowered his head and his voice. "I'm scared, Rhys." For himself, yes—he was a traitor and a traitor's fate was death. But what about Professor Jack? And Prince Bee? And Ken and Niall? Margie? Charles? He feared for all of their safety and well-being.

"...yeah." Rhys knew better, too, but he still tried. Why would his father encourage him to do it, knowing it wouldn't work? Why did Rhys still try to go through with it, knowing that it wouldn't work? Because... He wanted that acknowledgement. And he liked feeling like he was doing right by his father's eyes... even if it wasn't right by anybody else's. He sighed. Look where it got him, though.

Well...

Not that right here was a bad place to be. Although, that--touching the blight--not so great. Even Rhys hissed a little, cringing at the way it felt. It hurt like a burn that just wouldn't go away. Some of the salves and magic that the fixer put on him soothed it so that it wasn't as unbearable. But it was pretty hard to ignore when something came in contact with it.

He closed his eyes, spoiled for kisses. It was nice. Letting himself be... loved. What a fool he played, pushing him so far away that he probably was about to lose him. He'd never seen Raphael angrier.

"Maybe."

Opening his eyes, he turned his head so that he could peer up at Raphael. What a place to be. He was pretty sure he never even dreamed of this. Raphael's lowered head and tone, though... Scared? Of...? Rhys being here with Marge? Raphael hadn't finished his thought about that, about his father knowing Raphael would bring him to Marge. Ah. He was worried that Rhys being here was basically... a trap.

"If he knew where I was, then Keith would know, too, wouldn't he? And he didn't know." He paused. "Maybe it'd be better if I passed on game night, Raf. I think whatever's warding me here is keeping them off my back, too."

Maybe it was another test of loyalty, to see if Rhys would do what he wanted without question. The King had a habit of doing that, Raphael noticed, as though he needed constant reassurance that his one and only remaining son was still loyal and obedient. Rhys never disappointed him before, so Raphael didn't see why the King was so concerned, but...

Then again here they were, locked in each other's arms.

Raphael wondered if the King sensed something amiss. He must have; otherwise how could he appear so quickly after Rhys grew wings? He must have been monitoring Rhys the entire time. What game was he playing, letting Rhys suffer like this? His own son, too! If he wanted, he could have excised the wings easily. There was no need to put Rhys through all this!

"Maybe they can extend the ward? It's only a few more feet outside..." It wasn't asking for much, was it? They could move the ward from Prince Bee's apartment to the courtyard, if it was indeed what was keeping Rhys cloaked from Keith or the King. At the mention of Keith, though, Raphael's expression definitely darkened. He thought fondly of Rip, his only friend in their small group, but he felt helpless knowing that he couldn't help Rip to escape. Raphael couldn't show himself anywhere near that apartment now. He wished he could have taken Rip with him, too, but Rip wasn't like Rhys. Even if someone had cloaked him, he was still connected to his creator and Keith could have traced Rip here without any trouble.

He sighed and nuzzled Rhys. "If they can't do it, then... I'm not going to join them. I'll stay here with you." It wouldn't be right to enjoy himself out there knowing that Rhys was trapped here, all alone on the outside looking in. Or... on the inside looking out? Anyway Raphael could never fully enjoy himself! He kissed Rhys' temple gently. "I belong here with you. With... my boyfriend." There was definite pride in his tone.

"Yeah, maybe..."

Rhys didn't even know if he needed the ward, though. He hadn't been warded when he arrived so the last place he was pinpointed would already be here... In the end, it didn't matter, ward or not. Anybody as smart as his father or even Keith could figure out that Rhys' last location had been these apartments.

Maybe they weren't even looking for him anymore. A part of him didn't like that but the logical side of him said that it would be best if they left him for dead. His father, though, wasn't that type. Frowning, he tried to push the thoughts aside but he couldn't help feeling like all of this didn't bode well for any of them.

He didn't give voice to his thoughts; Raphael seemed so... happy that there was no point in freaking him out or dragging him further down. He really seemed to want this whole stupid game night business, too. Rhys personally didn't see the point but that could be lingering boredom talking. Everything had been pointless to him not so long ago. Everything.

"Well then... come on." Reluctantly, he sat up. "Your boyfriend should try game night at least once."

Desperation had driven Bray to text Jack from across the courtyard, even though they weren't more than ten feet away from one another. He had been setting up the game area with blankets and cushions to sit on and a makeshift raised table for the cards and things. Ken was setting up too--more instruments to keep them safe. There seemed to be an endless supply in his bag that he drew from. Occasionally he would pause to converse with Jack, and Bray noticed that certain eyes would invariably watch them with rather suspicious interest.

Bray, however, was left largely to his own devices. He ended up hiding behind a tree out of embarrassment at having missed an obvious attempt at flirtation. It flew completely over his head, to be very honest. Even after being with Jack for all this time... He was still painfully oblivious about certain things. However, he was not oblivious about the deepening attraction between them--still. Every moment that passed, he felt as if he loved Jack more, just when he thought he couldn't possibly fall any harder.

It made hosting all these guests very difficult! But surprisingly, after their brief (joking, he thought) conversation earlier about sneaking out for secret rendez-vous, Allie texted him! Bray was all kinds of shocked. Jack worked fast! He couldn't get out tonight but the weekend seemed promising. Bray could leave for a bit; Jack  could join him after his lectures concluded at the college. It seemed perfect and Bray was buzzing with anticipation.

Maybe that was what gave him the confidence to text Jack, whereas before he would have cast silent, longing glances. In a few areas, Bray was still rather shy, but he felt that he was opening up.

Eventually he eased off the tree to go and check on Rhys and Raf--the youngsters. After sneaking a fond glance over at Jack, he went into his own apartment and heard voices from the bedroom. He came to the door as Raphael was flinging his arms around Rhys and almost... attacking him with kisses.

"Boyfriend! You said boyfriend!" He crowed joyously, oblivious to Bray standing at the doorway. "I can't wait for you to see the cute game area we're setting up! And--oh! OH! Prince Bee!" Raphael leapt off the bed and ran over to him. "Prince Bee! We--Rhys said he's coming to game night!"

Bray smiled, feeling Raphael's infectious glee. "I'm so glad! We're almost ready, so come out whenever you're ready. I think I can talk Marge into lowering the barrier." Marge had returned distinctly... sloshed. But that also meant she was susceptible to being nicer to Rhys!