Paul nodded and started to run, the comm going black. Peter reached out for the comm. "P...Pauly!"
He looked up at Bowie, shaking. "H...h...h...he's c...c...c...coming home?"
"I don't know, Pretty, I just don't know." Bowie wrapped strong arms around him and held him tight. Bowie raised his personal comm unit up. "Jackson? Do you have him?"
"We've got him in sight, Sir, you want us to pick him up or follow him?"
"Follow him."
Bowie snapped the communit shut and kissed his forehead. "Come on, Peter. If he doesn't come home, the priv-eyes will bring him home."
Peter nodded, his hand sliding into Bowie's. "H...h...he looked t....t...tired. Sc...sc...scared. Sk...sk...skinny. I...I...I'm glad he c...called." He still wasn't sure why Paul had gone. He didn't understand. He didn't care. He just wanted Paul home. Now.
"I am, too, Peter. We needed him to call to pinpoint his location. We sure as hell weren't having any luck finding him just by trying."
Bowie strode over to the desk he'd added to the sitting room, taking a small briefcase out of the back of one of the drawers. Bowie opened it, looked inside and shook his head. "I sure hope this is enough. It would take days to trade in chips for more cash." Then Bowie held out his hand. "Let's go see if he shows up, Pretty."
"H...he will. H...he p...p...p...promised."
They headed down to the side entrance, holding tight to each other. Paul would come. He would.
Bowie looked so angry as they slipped out the side doors and waited. Pacing, back and forth, Bowie would growl every now and then, or come over and give him a hug and a kiss and tell him it would be all right.
Paul hurtled out of the public transport, landing hard on the port, a pair of big men following behind, shoving him with their feet. "You owe us for the transport, too, bitch. You'd better not be trying to stiff us."
Bowie puffed up, chest barreled out, and scowled, heading toward them after giving him a quick "stay put".
"You hurt him and you'll get a lot more than you bargained for," growled Bowie.
Paul sat up, wiping blood off his lip. "Not stiffing anybody. Not."
Peter fluttered, watching as the two men glared down at Bowie. "This piece of shit owes us thirty half-chits. Said you'd pay us."
He stopped, blinked. Thirty half-chits? But that was nothing. Nothing. Less than they made in an hour of working.
Bowie glared back, undaunted by the two men. "Thirty? What for? You wouldn't be trying to con us, would you?"
"Filthy little whore crashed in our transport last night AND we gave him water this morning. He said he'd pay us today." Paul shifted away from another kick as the man talked.
Bowie opened his briefcase and pulled out six old notes, handing them over. Peter had never seen real money before.
"Now get lost before security shows up." Bowie had puffed back up.
The men nodded, laughing down at Paul. "You know where to find us if you need a place to stay."
Paul didn't respond, just nodded.
Bowie stepped between Paul and the men, not saying a word, just looking intimidating as anything.
The men got on the transport as Paul stood, stepping away from Bowie a little, shivering. Those dark eyes looked over at him. "Hey, Petey."
"H...h...h...h...h..." He nodded, swallowing hard. "Hey."
Bowie's hand wrapped around Paul's arm, pulling him along, lips tight. "Inside, in case they change their minds or someone else happens along. And we'd better use the staff lift -- you reek."
Paul nodded, so quiet, so sad, stumbling along beside Bowie.
"D...d...d...don't hurt him, B...b...bowie. H...he j...j...just got h...h...here." He didn't want to lose Paul again.
Bowie gave him a startled look and the hand on Paul's arm loosened. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'm just anxious to get us inside, together. Safe."
Paul nodded. "S'okay. I'm okay."
They went to the staff lift and Peter got the chance to just look. Paul was almost bald, wearing the remnants of the pants he'd left in, the same shoes. The t-shirt was different, torn and stained, fingers chewed. So not pretty. His poor Pauly.
Bowie was doing some assessing of his own.
"Shower first. Then food. Then sleep. Everything else can wait until morning."
"Can... Are you going to let me sleep in bed with you?"
Bowie snorted. "You'll be lucky if we don't chain you there."
"Perv." The tease sounded almost normal and he reached out, twining their fingers together, squeezing tight.
Bowie just grunted, jaw working hard, clenching and unclenching.
Paul looked over at Bowie, then at the floor. "I... I can go, Bowie. I don't want to make things bad. I just wanted to... I mean, I missed... I mean, I just wanted to see you both."
He shook his head. "N...no. No. N...no g...g...going. No."
Bowie growled and grabbed the collar of Paul's t-shirt, slamming Paul up against the wall of the lift. "If you run away again I will hunt you down and beat you to death. Don't you dare ever, ever do that to us again. Ever."
Paul winced, a single tear sliding down the dirty cheek, throat working.
"Bowie!" He pushed in between Pauly and their lover, looking into Bowie's eyes. Bowie and Paul never seemed to hear each other right. "No. N...no. H...he's hurt. N...no."
Bowie took a deep breath and nodded, kissing him softly and then turning the green eyes on Paul again. "Promise you won't run away. I need to know you aren't going to run again, Paul. I can go if that's what you need, but you belong here. With Peter."
"I don't want you to go. I never wanted you to go. I didn't mean to run away, not really."
Bowie sagged, letting Paul go. "Let's go home, boys."
The lift opened and they got out, moving silently down the hall. When they got in, Paul just kept walking. "I'm going to get wet, okay?"
Peter nodded, taking Bowie's hand, holding him back. Peter picked up his comm and began to type. "Are you going to be okay? He's so scared, Bowie. So sad."
Bowie gave him a soft smile and caressed his cheek and then sighed. "It'll be all right, Pretty. I just needed to know he wasn't going to run again. I don't think I can do that again, you know?" Bowie looked so tired, old. "Do you want to go in alone? Welcome him home properly. I can..." Bowie looked around and then shrugged. "I can go wait for you in bed."
He shook his head, typing furiously. "This is about all of us. Three of us, remember? You promised me we would find him and be a family again. He needs us. He's scared. Please, Bowie. You need this, too."
"I just don't want to upset him, Peter." Bowie stroked his cheek again and then nodded. "Come on then, before he thinks we're going to let him get out of the shower without an orgasm or two."
"Tell Kestrel we need a couple of days off? Tell Kestrel Paul's home and hurt and we need time off." He handed Bowie the communit and went and locked the door so no one could go without alerting all of them.
Bowie nodded. "Look at you, Peter -- keeping us all together. You have no idea of the depth of your strengths, do you?" He got a short, hard kiss and then Bowie was dialing up Kestrel.
He rolled his eyes and grinned, putting food in the warmer and grabbing a pitcher of juice. He just was tired of his men not hearing each other. They heard him, didn't they? And he stuttered.
He heard Kestrel's happy cry. "Oh, good for you. I'll make arrangements. Do you need the doctor?"
"Thank you, I'll have to let you know, Kes. Once the grime's washed off."
Then Bowie was at his side, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the shower. The bathroom was filled with steam, the water beating down on Paul, who was sitting in one corner, covered in suds. Bowie quickly stripped them both and pulled him along into the shower.
Paul didn't look up, just kept washing. He reached down for the rag and the soap, kneeling down to help.
His poor Pauly.
Bowie was quiet until he'd finished washing Paul and then the big hand wrapped around Paul
's arms and his brother was pulled up against Bowie's body, Bowie's mouth crashing down on Pauly's.
Paul stiffened, then reached for Bowie, holding on tight. There were fading bruises and marks painting the thin back, ass, even Paul's thighs, but that didn't seem to stop Paul from pressing close, crying out into Bowie's lips.
The kiss was wild and hard, stopping only when they broke apart, gasping hard for air.
"Bowie..." Paul held tight, shaking. "I'm sorry. Please. I wanted to come home so bad."
Bowie's solid arms wrapped around Paul, holding him close. "You should never have left. Never ever ever ever believe that's what I want."
"I can't be who you want. I can't. I tried to be good, I did, and it didn't matter."
He just watched, tears sliding down his cheeks, needing them to hear each other so bad.
"That's not true -- I was so proud of you -- I offered you anything you wanted, Paul -- anything." Bowie shook his head. "I've been over that evening again and again since you left and I can't figure out how it went wrong."
"It wasn't just that night. I was trying to be good, but it wasn't what you wanted. You just laughed. Then being a brat wasn't what you wanted either because that made you mad." Paul shook his head. "I walked and walked that night. I thought about you and Peter and how you never once got mad at him, no matter what, and that's when I knew. It's not that you didn't want a brat or a sub. It's that I'm not who you wanted. Peter is. Peter is gentle and quiet and good and you love him and he loves you. I'm not necessary here." Paul pulled away. "I shouldn't have come home, but I missed you."
"Not necessary?" Bowie gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. "I've seen myself in the mirror recently, Paul. I have eyes and can see Peter -- we've been a wreck without you." Bowie shook his head, leaning against the back wall with a sigh. "I see now where my main mistake has been. I concentrated on Peter because I felt he needed me more, to bring him out of his shell and build his confidence. And in doing so I neglected you. I'm so sorry, Paul, that the thought ever even crossed your mind that you weren't needed. I can't speak for Peter, but I need you, Paul."
"Why?" Paul gave Bowie a long, quiet look. "What do I have that you even like, much less need?"
They were breaking his heart, but Peter stayed quiet, silent. Praying.
Praying hard.
"You mean aside from your beauty and your sexiness and the way that I have fallen in love with you? I like your sass and your verve. You challenge me. You allow me to indulge my sadistic side. I need that."
"Not beautiful anymore." Paul reached out, petting Bowie's arm, trembling.
Oh. Oh, yes. Please.
Bowie's hand slid over Paul's scalp. "No? You are to me, Paul. And it has nothing to do with the color of your skin or how much hair you have."
"I've been so scared, Bowie."
Peter nodded, agreeing. Yes. Yes. Him, too. All of them.
"Yes. You're home now though. Home. Where you belong."
Bowie reached out for him and Peter went, letting the strong arm hold him close with them.
He kissed Paul's cheek, fingers gentle on Paul's bruises. "P...p...p...p...promise. St...st...st...stay."
Pauly nodded. "'Kay Petey. You don't hate me?"
He shook his head. "N...n...n....need you."
Their lips came together and he didn't let go, not when the hot water chilled, not when Bowie tucked them all together in bed, not when he finally -- finally after hearing both his lovers begin to snore -- drifted into sleep. He wasn't letting go again.
***
Bowie slept long and hard, better than he had in months. Better than he had since Paul had left.
He slept with both of his boys, right like it hadn't been since Paul left. How could Paul not feel how right they were all together? How could Paul believe that he didn't belong? How could he have failed that badly?
Paul was back now and a stronger man might have backed out, left the twins to their precarious balance, but he couldn't do it. He needed these boys. Both of them. That much was clear to him.
He wasn't sure anything else was.
Peter was curled around Paul, hands on the bald head, fingers moving and petting, even in sleep. Paul was covered in fading bruises, plus a few new ones from the kicks the night before and his wayward one had gotten as skinny as his twin.
He slid his hand over Paul's belly, fingers stroking, moving on ribs and hips that were too close to the surface.
Paul jerked awake, eyes going wide and scared for a minute before they focused on him. "Oh. Bowie."
"Oh, Paul." It broke his heart to see Paul scared.
"I missed you." Paul's hand reached out, cupped his face. "So bad."
He nuzzled into the touch. "You shouldn't have gone."
"I didn't intend to, but then, when I was, it seemed like the right thing to do."
"Never ever do that again. You'll break Peter's heart." And mine.
"Peter had you." Paul leaned towards him, eyes serious and dark. "I tried to be what you wanted me to be, Bowie. I want you to love me so bad."
"Oh, Paul, don't you get it? I already do."
"I'm sorry." Tears welled up in Paul's eyes. "Will you be able to forgive me? I was so scared."
He held open his arms, needing to hold Paul. "You weren't the only one who was scared, Pretty."
Paul nodded, pushing into his arms and cuddling close. "I wanted to come home, so bad."
Peter frowned in his sleep, hands reaching for Paul. He reached past Paul, to pull Peter in, snuggling Paul between them. Peter's eyes opened and he got a warm smile, Peter visibly eased now that they were all together. His hand was taken in Peter's, placed on his Pretty's shorn scalp.
He massaged Paul's head, moaning softly. Paul relaxed against him, arms wrapping around and holding tight. He continued to massage Paul's head, his other hand sliding over Peter's cheek. Peter beamed at him, nuzzling into his touch and kissing his palm.
So strong; his sensitive, quiet lover had survived, grown without Paul there to protect him. What a flipflop. These two were almost too much for him. He was strong and stubborn though, he would persevere.
Peter leaned to kiss Paul's head, Paul's nape. "H...h...hungry, Pauly?"
Paul shook his head, holding on tighter. "Just wanna rest, 'kay?"
"I think we can manage that, don't you, Peter?" Staying just where they were sounded good to him.
Peter nodded, eyes happy. "S...so long as we're h...home."
"Yes, all of us together." He pulled them all into a tight hug.
Peter climbed over, snuggling against his back, fingers pushing into his hair, the softest whisper tickling his ear. "S'okay." He nodded, reaching back to pet Peter's thigh. The strongest of all of them; all Peter'd needed perhaps was a reason to find that strength. "L...love you. Love you b...both."
Paul nodded against his chest, tears sliding down.
"Sh. Sh. It'll be all right, Paul. You'll see."
"Promise?" Those pretty eyes looked up at him.
"I do, Paul." He kissed Paul and then kissed Peter, touching them both. "One day, when you are both sure of me, you will wear my collars."
"B...both of us?" Peter rubbed against him, relaxed and warm.
"Really? You would want us? For always?" Paul rested against his shoulder.
"Both of you. For always." He sighed. "I cannot imagine going back to life without either of you."
"Tell us what they'll look like?" Paul's fingers traced designs and shapes on his skin.
"Impatient, Pet." He smiled, giving Paul a kiss. "They will be mirrors of each other. I've been working with Mouse, designing them."
Paul laughed, the sound beautiful, happy, excited, filling empty spaces inside him.
Then those dark eyes gleamed up at him, dancing and teasing. "I bet Peep will show us, Petey."
He laughed; it felt good to have Paul teasing, pushing. "I bet he listens to Mouse better than you listen to me."
Peter giggled. "I... I...I don't kn...now.
P...P...Peep gets in m...more trouble than P...paulie."
"Really? That sweet little boy?" He'd been with the club a little over three months but the first few weeks had been spent with the boys, the last ones spent looking for Paul, but anytime he'd seen Mouse, Peep had been a quiet, sweet presence in the background.
His boys were laughing together now. "Don't tell Peep's secrets, Peter. Bowie likes him."
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