Page 18 of Ride the Whirlwind
Coffee can wait, Fabian thought, turning around and heading to the bedroom Ira and Tarrin were sharing. Lately, Elias and Abernathy spent more nights there than they did at Leon's, the king size bed becoming really crowded on these occasions. The man cracked the door open and peeked inside, a serene smile appearing on his face at the sight before him.
Elias and Ira lay on their back, splayed on more than half of the bed, with Abernathy and Tarrin using them as pillows. All of them were wearing pajamas, to Fabian's great relief, the man worrying that otherwise they might get a cold, although the weather was still warm.
A small whimper coming from the bed made Fabian's eyes go wide with worry, making him step into the room. However, before he could get to the bed, three hands caressed Elias, the one having a bad dream, on the shoulders, head, and cheeks, calming him down almost instantly. All the four boys were asleep, to Fabian's pleasant surprise.
“They will be lifelong friends, the kind who walk through fire for one another,” the man said to himself as he watched how Ira pulled the blanket over Abernathy, whose head rested on his chest in the most natural, innocent way. They take care of each other even when they are asleep. Fabian smiled, leaving the room.
He went downstairs, heading to the kitchen where the smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled his nostrils, making them flare. Lance was sitting at the table, one steamy mug in hand while another was waiting to be savored by Fabian. With a small, content sigh, the man kissed his husband on the neck, inhaling the fresh scent of his body wash.
“Mmmhhhmm...tasty,” he whispered in a raspy voice, licking his lips. “I could eat you in one go. I'm beyond famished.”
“I am, too, but don't forget about the army of boys and young men we have to feed, so we better cook breakfast first,” Lance playfully said as he kissed his husband's lips. “Speaking of tasty,” he whispered heatedly.
“An army of hungry young men and boys, plus a girl and a baby,” Fabian smiled against the other man's mouth. “We have quite a large family to feed, so we’d better move our fat, old asses and start cooking.”
“Don't speak ill of my husband's sexy, tempting behind...or mine, for that matter.” Lance grinned, lightly slapping Fabian's ass. “What should we cook for breakfast? Toast, eggs, ham, sausages, some pancakes for Abernathy, what else? And how about the eggs? Boiled, fried, scrambled, or omelet?”
“I'd say you should go for the omelet. It's everyone's favorite. Oh, and one or two scrambled eggs for Rowan. Ham and sausages for everyone, toast with butter and strawberry jelly for Tarrin and Ira...that should do,” Fabian answered as he collected the ingredients from the fridge and pantry, putting them on the counter.
“I think so, too.” Lance rummaged through cabinets, getting the bowls and other utensils out. ‘Time for the chef to start working,” he grinned. “What's that?” the man frowned, listening intently.
“That what?” Fabian looked over his shoulder as he mixed the pancake batter. “Maybe the kids woke up and are racing down the stairs again, which is very dangerous if you ask me.”
“No, it's coming from outside. It's the sound of tires on the driveway. I better go out and check. With all the shit that’s happened recently, one can never be too cautious.” Lance spoke in a calm voice as he headed to the front door. “What the...” he left the sentence unfinished, gasping in shock at the sight of the man standing in the doorway.
“Special agent Abramsky? Berl Abramsky? I... I’m agent Matthew Danvers. You were my trainer at the Agency. Don't you remember me?” Despair started to creep into the man's voice, and he was on the verge of crying.
“Oh, yes, how could I forget you? The best trainee I ever had.” Lance came back from the shock, the sight of the tired and most likely hungry young man making his heart ache. “Why did you come here? How did you find me?”
The young man didn't answer. He just stood there in the doorway hugging himself, shivers racking his body. He was cold, hungry, and tired, but wasn't going to admit any of those things to his former trainer. The weak, pleasant smell of fresh pancakes and coffee hit his nostrils, making his pride kneel: he was there to beg.
Lance studied his former disciple with a critical eye. Matthew Danvers was in a bad shape: the short, neatly trimmed moustache and facial hair didn't manage to hide the paleness of his skin; the curly, dark-blond hair was disheveled; and he had dark circles under his eyes. Although he felt sorry for the guy, Lance decided a long time ago to let the past go, and Matthew Danvers was part of that past.
He will turn his back on me, the younger man thought, terrified at the perspective of spending another night in the car. The luxury vehicle could, and at some point, would, attract the unwanted attention of robbers, and he could end up on the streets if he made it out of the attack alive.
Seeing that Lance didn't come back, Fabian started to worry and decided to go and check on him. The sight of Matthew, barely standing, the defeat and emptiness in the man's eyes, and the coldness in his husband's stare made his heart wrench in pain. Judging by the expression on Lance's face, he and the poor guy knew each other.
“So, what do you want? Did the big bad bosses send you to bring me back? Are they so desperate that they need an old, discarded rag like me to do their dirty work so they can dump me the second the job is done?” Lance kept his voice down, but the anger bubbled inside him.
“I... the fuckers fired me, too, because I came across some big shit and kept digging in spite of them telling me to stop. My psycho boyfriend kicked me out, and I...”
“You don't have a roof over your head or money for food. We have both, so you are welcome to stay until you get back on your feet,” Fabian softly spoke. “Now get inside, both of you.”
“What my husband said.” Lance smirked. “It's his call because he owns the house. However, I have to warn you: break one of his rules, and you are out in the cold,” he continued on in a much harsher tone.
“You are not allowed to swear or use bad words in front of the kids. We try to protect them from bad influences,” Fabian sternly spoke. “Other than that, feel free to talk to them about...I don't know, any interesting and decent subjects.”
“Yes, sir.” Matthew mocked the military salute, a gesture met with an expression of disapproval by the other two men. “I'm sorry. I didn't think...it won't happen again.”
Meanwhile, upstairs, Elias mumbled in protest at the sound of the alarm clock, then smiled at the sight of Tarrin, who opened his turquoise eyes, staring at him, still sleepy. The blond put his head back on Elias' chest, giving him a squishy hug and sighing in contentment as he inhaled the fresh scent of his human pillow.
Ira, who was still sleeping, wrapped an arm around Abernathy's slim waist, keeping the younger boy firmly anchored on top of him. A few minutes later, he opened his eyes, worriedly examining Elias, who, with a serene expression on his face, ran one of his hands up and down Tarrin's back, just like he did with his younger brother.
Tarrin opened his eyes again and looked around, fully awake, then murmured a thank you, offering Elias one of his sweet, innocent smiles. The older boy's sapphire eyes brightened, a light blush creeping on his cheeks. Letting out a sigh, Tarrin left the bed, going into the bathroom where he took a quick, refreshing shower.
“Are you alright now?” Ira whispered worriedly, turning to Elias. “I heard you whimpering earlier, you must have had a very bad dream.”
“Yes, I'm fine, thank you.” The black-haired boy stared blankly for a moment, then continued in a whispered voice. “It was about Ardan. He needed help, and I couldn't do anything. I just stood there, watching helplessly as the darkness swallowed him, and...”