by C.M. Kars
“So you still want to be my friend?” His eyes are hopeful...and wary.
“I...I think I want to be more than your friend.”
A predator is wearing Hunter’s face – the transformation has me panting. His blue eyes are dark and knowing, nostrils flared like he’s trying to capture as much of my scent as possible. His cheek along my hand burns me, his mouth curves in a wicked smile that has butterflies bumper-car colliding in my lower belly.
I’m not sure I remember how to breathe.
I squirm in my seat, the leather of the couch letting out a groan, but Hunter holds my attention. He captivates me like the glass-covered rose entranced Belle, and I can’t look away. He’s working some sort of magic on me without the use of a wand. It’s just him, and me, and it’s even more terrifying that it could ever be in books.
“Thank you for my plate,” he says, and his voice has dropped lower, become tangible, like a caress along my arms and legs. I’ve gone dumb; I keep telling my hand to move away from his cheek but it won’t listen, no matter how many times I yell in my head.
I nod, not sure what unintelligible sounds will come out of my mouth.
“I’m going to need a few minutes alone, baby. Do you mind hanging with your friends for fifteen minutes?”
“Sure. I can do that.” Hunter turns his face into my hand, landing a kiss in the center of my palm. His kiss travels through my skin, into my blood running up, up my arm to settle in my chest, and gets stuck in my beating heart. Oh. My. God! “Call me if you need anything else.”
I move my hand from his face, and get up from the couch on shaky legs. I move to Alex’s terrace. I go outside without really seeing my friends, without processing the looks on their faces. I don’t really see Katie’s face set in a grim line, her dark eyes boring into the back of Tommy’s head like she’s going to use heat vision like Kal-El.I don’t see or hear Alex, Eli and Josh yelling at Tommy, who’s yelling right back, arms waving, beer sloshing onto the terrace and causing a mess.
A shame, really, ‘cause I could use another four Coronas to calm myself down, and to make my movements sluggish so I don’t strangle Tommy.
“See? She’s not even upset! I’m an asshole to everyone – equality for all,” Tommy says, grinning at me. God, I want to kill him, but I also want to thank him, since now I understand Hunter a little bit better. Nope, I’ve gone right back to having visions of ending him.
“I asked you to tone it down. How much more clearer could I be, Russia?” I snarl, stalking closer to him. I really want to punch him and give him a black eye that he’ll have to explain away come Monday morning at work – and he’ll remember it’s from me.
“Your thug’s grown up enough to understand that whatever I say is grounds to hate me, not you.”
My nose starts to sting, and wet coats my eyes. “Why did you do that? Why? I asked you, nicely, as a friend, to be polite, to be courteous. He’s a good guy. What did I do to make you treat me this way?”
Tommy shakes his head, a wince twisting his handsome features. “What did I say? I implied that he gave you a good orgasm, so good that you’d bring him food. I wasn’t mistreating you; I was commenting.”
“About me. You were talking about me. Am I bitch to you, Tommy? Have I not been a good fucking friend? Have I not listened to how you treat women and held my tongue because, hey, I know deep down you’re a good guy but you just like to mouth off ‘cause your dick isn’t as fucking thick or long as you’d like?” I pant, heaving in air. My shoulders are up to my ears, my hands clenched into fists. I can only see Tommy, his face, that fucking smirk that I want to break to pieces with my hands.
“I guess he got you all primed up tonight, kitten, without finishing you off. There’s no need to take it out on me, though. Or would like me to finish you off?”
I let out a war-cry, rage painting the world red, blood pounding in my muscles, through my veins with such power, I get high from it. I feel alive, strong, invincible. I lunge forward, fisting Tommy’s shirt with my left hand and letting my right hand fly.
The illusion is broken after that.
I let out another shriek as the knuckle of my middle finger twinges so hard, it feels like it’s moved out of place, the pain radiating up my metacarpals in an incessant throb that keeps time with my heart beat. I’ve punched his left cheek bone, grazing off the side of his nose so I don’t know if I broke it or not.
“Don’t ever talk to me again, you understand?” I say through clenched teeth. Josh and Alex are holding me back, while Katie stays in the corner, clapping her hands like she’s seen a particularly good UFC fight. Eli is sipping at his scotch, smoking his cigar like nothing really happened.
Tommy’s face comes forward, a hand going to his cheek. He sniffs and the flood gates open and blood comes pouring out of his nose to slick his upper lip and drops over his mouth in a red waterfall. The sight of his blood soothes the pain in my hand.
I shake off Josh and Alex, refusing to talk to anyone. I need to leave.
When I walk back into the apartment, shutting the patio door behind me, I take one last glance at my group of friends and cringe. I flew off the handle.
Hunter comes out of the hallway, eyes wide when he looks at my chest. I was still close enough to Tommy to get some blood on me and I’m cradling my right hand.
“I want to leave now, please.” My voice comes out strangled, and despite my powerful outburst of anger, all I want to do now is cry because my hand hurts and because I’m embarrassed.
I move to the door, stuff my feet into my Converse. Hunter has my purse in his hand, and he opens the door for me.
I clear my throat, denying the pain there. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m fine. What about you?” I just shake my head. “Where do you wanna go?”
We walk out of the building, Hunter jogging up ahead of me to open the car door. Once I’m settled inside, he jogs around the car to get to his seat.
“I think I want to go pick up Matty.” I can see Hunter nod from my peripheral vision as he starts the car and gets out of the parking lot. My hand gives a sweet throb of pain, the space between my index and middle finger knuckles turning a nasty shade of blue. If I look at it long enough, I can see a bone in my hand has moved out of its usual place. “And I want to go to the hospital. I think my hand’s broken.”
***
“Does this hurt?” The guy looks about my age, wearing a lab coat and some blue scrubs underneath. Probably gets off that he’s a medical student and I’m not. The way he prods at my hand, especially the blue part between my knuckles tells me so. I grunt an affirmative. “How about that?” I nod and grunt some more when what I want to do is punch him in the face with my other hand because, yeah, it fraking hurts!
“Either you have a high pain threshold, or you’re trying to impress me,” the intern says, flashing me a too-bright smile. His gloved hands keep prodding at my knuckles, and he writes a few things down on his clipboard when he’s done causing me pain. Hippocratic Oath my ass.
I smile weakly, trying to ignore the throbbing of my hand, or how my stomach’s turning and wants to pull an emergency evacuation on everything I ate tonight.
“How did you get this?” The intern asks, looking up from his notes with a cocked eyebrow. The question sits on his face like a loaded gun; I end up grinning at him. Hunter and Matty stand at my left side, the little guy keeping a death grip on Hunt’s hand. His little face has paled out, making his eyes seem more blue, more hypnotic, more alive – and scared. He has that look on his face because of me. I stop grinning.
“I punched my friend,” I say through clenched teeth, flashing a toothy grin that’s more badass than friendly.
The intern smiles, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. Yeah, well, I’m glad I could make him happy. Not.
“She must have pissed you off.” More scribbling on his clipboard.
“It was a he. And yeah, he pissed me off. I don’t go punching people for fun. Especially if it f
raking hurts this much. You’re going to send me up for x-rays, aren’t you?” I ask, resigned. I’m looking at another three hours waiting – at least. I look at both Hunt and Matty, who gives me a tiny smile and worries his bottom lip. Whatever form of vulnerability I saw at Alex’s house from Hunter is now gone, like it never was. It’s like he’s the Peter Bishop from our universe and he’s completely wiped himself out from both universes.
I frown at him, turn back to the intern.
“Afraid so. That level of blue usually indicates that something’s broken. We’re just going to make sure that’s the case. You’ll have to go up to radiology as soon as I get the go ahead.”
“Alright, thanks.” I nod, hopping off the examination table and moving with my boys to go sit in the almost empty waiting room. As it’s only nine-thirty, I don’t expect the weekend drunks in the forms of teenagers and people my age who should know better by now until at least midnight or later. I’m hoping I won’t have to stay here all night.
I check my phone one more time before having to turn it off – Loki stares back at me and tells me that no, no one has decided to call or text me to see if I’m okay. Assholes!
“Sera, why did you get in a fight?” Matty asks, patting my thigh, a silent question if he can sit on my lap. I use my left hand to drag him up onto my leg awkwardly, and after two tries, he’s sitting on me, both hands in his lap. His blue eyes stare at me, like he’s confused, but in awe at the same time. I feel stronger than the Hulk, more powerful than the Phoenix with that one look. I’d do crazy things to make Matty keep looking at me like that – like I’m the most amazing person to ever grace this Earth.
I curl my left arm around his body, pulling him close enough that his head rests in the crook of my shoulder. I keep my right hand turned up, forearm resting on my other thigh, wishing the Tylenol they gave me would hurry up and work already. I clear my throat – this is important, and I have to choose my next words carefully.
“She did it for me, buddy,” Hunter says. I turn to look at him, arms splayed over the back of my chair and the chair next to him, legs open and knees cocked. His knee bumps into mine, warming me through my jeans.
Matty lets out a yawn. “You told me I’m not s’posed to get into fights, Daddy. You said so.” His head settles more deeply onto the side of my neck, and he snuggles closer to my body. I relax my shoulders to give Matty’s head a better pillow, I curve my spine so my chest doesn’t mess up his posture, and allows him to use me as a bed.
“You fight to protect the ones you love, Matty, and you fight to protect yourself.” I lean my cheek on his forehead, and settle more deeply into my chair. I’m going to ruin my vertebrae but as long as the kid’s comfortable, I don’t matter anymore. “You fight to protect, little buddy, not to hurt another person because it’s fun, or because they really deserve it. It’s important you remember that,” I say.
Matty lets out another yawn. “You can sleep, little man. I’ll be here when you wake up,” I say with a grin.
His body stiffens up like I’ve poured cement into his bones, or forged them in adamantium like Wolverine’s. He palms both sides of my face, lifts his head to look at me – like he’s trying to see the truth without hearing it. His gaze travels all over my face, nose, mouth, chin, back up, forehead, eyebrows and eyes – like he’s memorizing me, like I’m going to become a memory sometime soon.
The pain in my throat waves hello again, and I can just feel my nose starting to turn red.
“Okay, Sera,” Matty says, settling back into a more comfortable position. His hands go to the hem of my t-shirt, twisting them in tight so I can’t go anywhere without them moving.
Warmth settles into my back and across my shoulders, and I follow the pressure to move to my right as Hunter curls us both closer to him. To get more comfortable, I swing Matty’s legs onto my lap with my elbow, his feet going through the gap the armrests create between adjacent chairs. I lean more of my weight onto my right ass cheek, elbow getting all of the armrest, the cool metal poking into my ribs. My head hits Hunter’s shoulder, and I let myself settle in.
“Did you have a good time, barring my friend being a giant jerkwad?” I whisper, stifling a yawn. The pain in my hand has become background noise; only there when I really look for it.
“You didn’t have to bring me a plate. I could have gotten it for myself,” Hunt growls, the rumble vibrating in his chest, travelling up my ear pressed to his shoulder.
“Bloody hell, when are you going to let me help you?” I suck in a breath, hoping I didn’t jostle Matty too much for him to wake up. “I brought you a plate of food. I didn’t tell anyone you were diabetic – not that it fraking matters.”
“It matters to me,” he says. The words fall between us like bricks forming a wall, even though we’re touching and I’ve never felt safer in my life.“And your fucking hand is broken because of me.”
I mad-whisper back, “How do you think this was about you? Tommy was being a dick to me, I hit him because he’s a giant asshole.”
“That fucker wouldn’t’ve made that comment if I didn’t need food. Or if he didn’t want to get into your pants.”
I snort. “Right. Tommy wants to get into my pants. Like that makes sense.” I snort again, thinking about it. “He’s just like that –always.”
“With everyone?”
“Uh...yeah.”
“Only with you, right? Not with your girl, Katie. He wouldn’t dare say something like that in front of her man, now would he?”
“Katie doesn’t have a man at the moment, so your argument is invalid.”
I can feel him smiling, cheek pressed to the top of my head.
“I was the trigger. You got embarrassed because of me.”
I take a deep breath, hold it, and push it all out. “I got embarrassed because you were there. I didn’t want them to presume something that hasn’t happened.”
“How does that translate into you bringing me a plate of food?”
“I don’t know if you get this, but all our parents are immigrants – we’re first generation Montrealers. Means that there are certain rules and traditions we’re all trying to break free of. The guys, they like to pull ‘the woman stays in the kitchen’ card, I think because it drives me up the wall, and I seriously think about places to hide bodies whenever they bring it up.” I snuggle closer to him. “I don’t bring them plates of food – like, ever. They make a kitchen comment, or how whatever I bake or cook is not up to scratch I get downright bitch-tastic. So, surprise, surprise I bring you a plate without any coercion.”
“So it’s the presumption that bothers you.”
I nod. “Exactly. I don’t mind bringing you a plate of food – you don’t expect that from me, and you appreciated it, even if you couldn’t tell me. I punched Tommy because he implied that what I did for you was relegated to a good roll in the sack. He belittled what you needed from me – and that’s what made me punch him and ruined a perfect Saturday night.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to show you how to throw a punch.”
“I don’t think I’m going to punch anyone ever again for as long as I live.” Matty lets out a sleepy snuffle, and burrows his head deeper into my neck. My heart just melts at the cuteness of it all.
“Just so you know, I don’t think women belong in the kitchen. You’ve met my mom – the lady has never stepped foot in a kitchen for other than a glass of wine her entire life. Neither did my sister. My life would have been a lot different otherwise.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yeah, I did, baby. She was sweet, and good, but she could be fucked up. I...I wasn’t a good brother to her.”
“I don’t think that’s true, Hunt.” I totally caught the past verb tense. Shit.
He keeps quiet for a time, and my eyes start to get heavy.
“Still believe I’m amazing?”
For as long as we both shall live. God, kill me now if I said that out loud. When the silence continues, I kn
ow it’s okay to speak. “Yeah, I do.”
“Keep believing that, okay, baby? No matter what happens.”
I frown, feeling him wrap me tighter to his side, closer to his beating heart.
“I can’t make that promise, Hunt.”
“Try. For me.” The words are short and harsh, like bullet casings falling to the ground. My throat gets thick, and I hate him a little bit, for ruining the moment. But everyone has a past they wish they could hide – and even if to me, it seems trivial – it doesn’t make his pain any less real, or any easier for him to endure.
“Okay.”
He kisses the top of my head, and my heart expands and contracts, like a pulsing star on the verge of supernova, waiting to burst into a show of light that touches everything with it.
“Thank you. Close your eyes, I’ll wake you when they call you.”
“Okay.”
The side of his mouth hits my forehead, and warmth floods my entire body. I kiss on the forehead might just mean that I’m more than just a piece of ass, more than just a listening ear or a friend. It means I could be the one he wants.
I close my eyes, smiling.
The first punch I’ve ever given somebody and I end up breaking my hand. I now have a cast with strict instructions not to get the plaster wet or Dean Winchester will sacrifice himself for Sam again, and Neverland will die. I just made that last bit up. But bad stuff will happen if I get my cast wet, so I’ll try not to.
We left the hospital after one o’clock in the morning, and I’m so tired my vision is going wonky, making all the crisp lines of objects and people fuzzy. Hunter opens my door for me, while opening Matty’s door to unbuckle him from his seat. I take my time getting out of the car, rubbing my eyes with my good hand, and trying to convince myself that sleeping in my bed sounds like a way better idea.
“C’mon, baby. Get out of the car for me.” Hunter’s voice floats to me like he’s standing twenty feet away instead of right in front of me. I sigh, and lean my head back against the headrest, rubbing my eyes harder. “Sera...”
