The thin curtains billow inward. There's a light breeze blowing through the thin screening of the window that rustles the thin sheets.

From the closet, there's the scent and undertones of gun oil and blood. Near the stream of moonlight dancing over the planked flooring, Kenneth's leather jacket is draped over an armchair in the shadowed corner.

There's a pleasant cinnamon smell that Reid has begun to attribute to Hannah quite quickly, from her soap or shampoo clinging to her skin and hair.

It's nice to not be the clingy one this time.

Not that he'd want to be alone right now. Almost dying has that effect on a man. Reid had showered and taken to his room, more than ready to pointedly ignore the fact the bathroom downstairs is full of blood that he'll have to scrub and, oh right, that he's a vampire now.

Goodbye, humanity, and hello, evilness.

Hannah had burst in with wild, red-rimmed eyes, her hair mussed as if she'd been about to go to sleep. She'd dragged him, as he'd laughed, down the hall and to Kenneth's room.

Ironic, because Reid would have snuck in here anyway.

He's always slept better with Kenneth at his side, and with the craziness of this morning, there's a twisting in his gut that makes him loathsome to part.

Hannah will need to talk about what is bothering her; he knows intimately the damage keeping such dismal feelings to yourself can do.

But tonight, they'll sleep.

Then, there's Kenneth, impossible to ignore. It's not the man's scent of generic, minty soap; it's the sweet, dark flavour of his blood clinging to his skin, like the darkest and most enticing perfume Reid's ever smelled.

He wishes for a weak moment that Hannah had taken the middle and not Kenneth because the man is making sleep difficult. Reid wonders if he can make it through the night without gnawing on the other man.

Will Kenneth stop him if he tries? Can he? Maybe not; Kenneth's exhausted. He's a fighter and formidable, but right now, he's weak. He wouldn't have a choice.

Reid shoves the thoughts deep down with a stuttered breath. They're often like this after the bathroom: normal, and then his mind strays to darker and more twisted fantasies. He simply has to ignore them, and then they go away.

For a while, at least.

The bed isn't small, because Kenneth isn't small by any means and needs the space. But it's a tight fit for three adults. Kenneth isn't a man who enjoys being squashed, or cuddled, for that matter; he always places a pillow barrier when they share a bed.

The fact they're thigh-to-thigh in thin cotton is for one inarguable reason: Hannah.

The pair's relationship changed sometime when Reid wasn't looking. He feels happy that Kenneth has found a muse, but at the same time, cold fear hastens his heart. Will he be left behind? Why would Kenneth need to put up with the headache, that is, Reid, when he has Hannah?

She's safely on the other side, holding Kenneth's arm hostage. She's not shareable; that much is obvious. So, what positives does Reid bring to their relationship? Nothing. He's the reason they're battered. He's the reason a crazy vampire is chasing them.

They'd do better leaving, never looking back, and having a good life together.

Reid stares into the darkness, his cheek resting on a bent elbow. He feels on the cusp of something, burning and twisting his stomach into aching knots. He whispers, "I know our next move."

Kenneth grunts, obviously on the edge of sleep. He has an arm slung over his face.

"Alma Sinclair."

"No."

"He knew about the attack tonight."

"He's a dick."

Reid smiles. "Yes, and he might know a way to get to Azrael. He knew about the monster's plans somehow, didn't he?"

He startles when Kenneth drops his palm, whacking Reid's face, not gently. The hand remains, blocking his vision and making it hard for him to breathe through his nostrils.

Against the fingers, Reid whispers, "Club Dionysus is our only choice. If there's a lead to where he's hiding, it'll be there. That's where he spends most of his time."

Reid has the werewolves in his mind, but that'll be a bit trickier. Colby knows about Francine, but her father, Henrik, wasn't keen on vampires, so Reid will save that hump to climb for after they interrogate Alma and learn everything the slimy bastard knows.

"Stupid name," Kenneth grumbles.

Reid drags the hand from his face but doesn't give the fingers back, holding tightly. "It's the name of a Greek god."

"I know," Kenneth snaps, his voice hushed. "And it's fucking stupid."

Reid holds back his laughter, not wanting to disturb the quietness. He's never really thought about the lack of creativity in Sinclairs knack for naming their clubs after the Greek gods. Reid made it a habit to never step foot in one of their establishments when he was lost, and the theme made it easy to make sure he never did so by accident.

"Even if we find him, Alma won't tell us anything, but I'm sure you can convince him." Reid smiles wider at Kenneth's snort. "Beat him up. Please. For me?"

Finally, there's a promising tug pulling at the corners of Kenneth's mouth. The wind howls outside the open window. "Fine. I'll kick the shit out of him. Happy?"

"Thank you."

"Don't. I've made you a spoiled..." Kenneth mutters, close to sleep. A yawn, and then, "Brat."

Kenneth rises slowly, careful not to jostle Hannah, who's making cute huffs in her sleep.

Reid grasps the fingers in his hold tighter. "Where are you going?"

He's genuinely worried about Kenneth's exhaustion. The man needs to be in bed, not taking the covers off his form. The overuse of magic, all the fighting, the stabbing he'd suffered, and keeping Reid alive for however long he was in that bathtub teetering precariously between life and death. It's a lot.

And Reid doesn't want to let him go.

"I'm going downstairs to help Lucas keep watch. The wards are shot."

"You need sleep."

"I'll sleep on the couch."

"Lucas is on the couch."

"The other one."

Reid's about to protest, but the fingers in his grasp outstretch, grazing his cheek. He's quieted by the unexpected gentleness.

From the lack of Kenneth's bulk blocking his view, he can see Hannah with her brown hair strewn over her face, tresses rustling ever so subtly with her soft pants, and her limp arm dangling over the edge of the mattress.

Kenneth whispers, "Sleep. Keep Hannah safe." He forcibly takes his hand from Reid's grasp. "Do you remember where the guns are?"

"Everywhere."

"Reid," Kenneth chastises tiredly.

Reaching up blindly, Reid's fingers find the headboard, and beneath the engraved hanging edge, the cold leather of a holster grazes his fingers. His wrist is grasped before he can take the revolver out of its hiding place.

In the closet is a rifle, unloaded, but the bullets are close by. Behind the dresser, a shotgun, loaded. In the nightstand is another pistol, loaded.

He's sure he's forgotten some.

Kenneth draws Reid's hand away, pressing the wrist in his hold gently on the bed before letting go. "I'll keep watch."

"I can." Reid wants to fall asleep, knowing that Kenneth is also sleeping. There's comfort in the knowledge that the man is not going to fall over and die from exhaustion. He begins to sit up and take the covers off.

Kenneth shoves Reid back down, not gently. "Go to sleep. I've got this. No one's coming tonight. Trust me."

Reid's heart aches. He'd be lying if those words didn't comfort him deeply. "I'm not some prince that needs to be protected."

"Then stop acting like one," Kenneth whispers, smiling.

The gesture lightens Kenneth's eyes to a lovely green, and the deep scar on the man's nose becomes more prominent. He has a face made to smile; it's a shame he never does.

Kenneth's smile falls, and he asks, "What did Gabriel say?"

"When?"

"After you..."

Reid smirks. "Oh, he threatened my life if I ever, ever dare have a relationship with that man." He chuckles evilly at Kenneth's look of horror. "Yes. Oh, yes. Very specific."

Kenneth pales and shakes his head slightly, as if to deny the truth.

Reid purrs, "Yes. He did."

"No," Kenneth bemoans.

"I'm kidding," Reid teases. "How funny would that have been? I would have had to date Lucas just to piss Gabriel off." He laughs a little as Kenneth's tense body sags in relief. "He said he'd waterboard me if I didn't stop being a shit."

Kenneth inhales sharply. "He'd waterboard you? He literally said that?"

Reid hums. "Yes—it wouldn't be the first time." He wishes he was teasing. It's not fun in the slightest.

Kenneth swallows thickly. "Fuck off."

"No, really." Reid sighs at Kenneth's glare. "You're tied down. There's a cloth that goes on your face. They pour water—"

"I know what it is," Kenneth snaps. He lowers his voice when Hannah stirs a little. "Fuck off that you're telling me now."

"Oh," Reid says softly. He shrugs. "I wasn't keeping it from you; I forgot. I was like, fourteen—no, I was thirteen."

His father had decided to deter him by showing him how he'd be treated for his transgressions if he were anyone else. He broke quicker than ever before; it turns out he's not a fan of mock drowning. Gabriel never did it again, but he did use it as a threat when he wanted Reid to seriously listen.

Kenneth grabs at his hair, fingers shaking, and hisses, "That's worse. Way worse."

Reid stares. He's breathing faster. He knows it's not ordinary, but he finds some comfort in talking about it like it is. He doesn't mean to make Kenneth look at him with such despair.

"Sorry," Reid whispers.

"Don't you dare apologize." Kenneth gives him a wary look and seems to calm somewhat after a few moments of silence, dropping his hands. The splits on his knuckles have nearly healed.

"Why?" Kenneth asks softly.

"Why did he water—"

"Stop saying—I know, okay? Just don't say it again. It's pissing me off, and I'm about to get in my—your car and plan a fucking assassination, alright? So stop fucking saying it. I heard."

Reid smiles with a rapid patter of his heart. He knows Kenneth has a hard time showing emotion, and this is the closest the man can come to admitting that he's torn up.

Slowly, Reid's lips fall into a flat line. "I don't remember," he lies. "It was so long ago."

He can't say, 'Because I stole his car. Fooled security by flashing his stolen badge with the windows rolled down a little bit. All so I could see you when Gabriel forbade me'.

Because then, Kenneth will blame himself, and Reid doesn't want to give the man's expression a reason to twist deeper into despair.

Kenneth whispers tightly, "It's not your fault."

"Okay," Reid replies, uncomfortable.

They stare at each other, as if they can share telepathy if they simply try hard enough. There's too much mushy emotion, and they're both re-calibrating. Kenneth's lips tug into a strained smile, and Reid returns the gesture, flushing.

Then Kenneth whispers, "The vampire at the auction..."

"Lucas stopped her."

"She touched you?"

"With her lips," Reid says, smiling. "And her fangs."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You were busy dying."

Kenneth snorts and grumbles, "You're never leaving the house again."

"Careful," Reid whispers. He grins. "Threats of confinement are kind of my fetish."

"Just go to sleep," Kenneth groans, long-suffering. He pats Reid's shoulder. "I'll be right downstairs."

"I don't want you to go," Reid says without thinking. He really doesn't. The thought churns his stomach. "We should stay together. You know, after—stay with me."

"We need to be apart for a little."

"Why?"

"You know why. Until morning."

"Do you hate me for what I did to you?"

"You didn't know."

Reid's lips quiver. "I don't regret it. I want you with me forever. I'd do it again."

Kenneth regards him for a long moment before saying softly, "Let's not talk about this now. You're tired and don't know what you're saying."

"Tell me how you feel in the morning?" Reid feels close to tears. "If you do, regret it; we'll find a way to break this companion thing."

"Thanks, man." Kenneth pats his arm, and then his hand settles on the curve of Reid's throat, his calloused thumb brushing the skin there. The touch is immense. It's not overwhelming; it's the kind that could make a world fallen into chaos right again. "Now, stop being weird and go to sleep. We'll deal with all this shit tomorrow."

Reid drags the covers up to his shoulders. "Because you're leaving, does that mean I get to cuddle Hannah?"

From the other side of the bed comes a grumble: "Try it, and I'll cut off your hands."

Reid's expression twists with fear because that was said seriously, and he quite likes his hands.

And when Kenneth bursts into a rare bout of laughter, tired but genuine, it would be impossible not to follow.

Hannah giggles into her pillow.

For a moment, while basking in their shared presences, alive and happy, everything's perfect. And Reid would give anything for it to remain this way forever.

If only he knew what anything cost.