Page 39 of Fear
Jake might just send this Marty Stouffer some kind of gift basket. Chocolates, whiskey, a taxidermy possum, whatever the man liked.
Tobias’s slow, even breaths and his light, relaxed weight against Jake’s side felt better than anything he could remember. Fuck yeah, Jake had kept his promise. Tobias was safe, alive, warm, and comfortable enough to sleep right next to him. If Jake just focused on this and today and nothing else, he could believe that everything he’d hoped for had come true. There wasn’t another damn thing he needed. He’d told Roger the truth: they were doing just fine.
He realized he was bone-tired, sunk into the couch like he had one of Roger’s trolls sitting on top of him. Even if he was willing to wake Tobias—and he’d rather have bitten his fingers off, unless the apartment was on fire—the steps between here and his bedroom seemed stupid and unnecessary. Not when he’d clearly found the best thrift couch in the world. Plus that whole thing about Tobias being here and finally at peace. Jake wasn’t going to give this up a second before he had to.
Tobias, of course, could go to bed whenever he woke up from his nap. Jake wouldn’t be keeping him here if he shut his own eyes for a minute or two.
Shifting slowly, he turned to stretch out along the couch. Tobias never woke up, never pulled away from Jake’s body, but nestled back against him with a soft murmur once they were horizontal. Jake tugged a pillow under his own head. Tobias was using Jake’s bicep as a headrest, which was just fine with him.
Their legs were notched together, but Jake wasn’t sure to put his free hand. After a moment, he gingerly laid his arm across Tobias’s ribs, letting his fingers curl onto the edge of the couch.
It felt good. Better than good. Better than anything he had words for. He buried his nose in the back of Tobias’s curls, inhaled him, and closed his eyes.
JAKE WAS PULLED OUT of sleep by a distant choking cough that grew louder the closer he came to full awareness. But he didn’t have the foggiest clue what was happening until he opened his eyes and saw Tobias hunched over, knees pulled up, clutching his throat, struggling to breathe.
That was the end of Jake’s early morning daze.
He shot up in panic, scrabbling at Tobias’s hand to try to figure out what the fuck was hurting him. For a few red-raging seconds, he thought some kind of spirit had gotten through the wards and he was going to kill that motherfucking son of a bitch a second fucking time and make it hurt. But Tobias shook his head, eyes closed, working to inhale, even as he choked, each breath an awful rasp.
Jake wasn’t sure if he was glad that it wasn’t something he could kill. Because yeah, maybe it was reassuring that Tobias knew what this was, seemed to have a handle on it, but that also meant there was not a damn fucking thing Jake could do while Tobias was choking on something Jake couldn’t see or understand. Maybe this was the way civilians felt, able to do nothing in the face of the unknown but hold on to their loved one’s knee and plead incoherently for it to be all right. “Breathe, Tobias, please, just breathe. Don’t do this to me. I need you to breathe, c’mon, you can, it’ll be okay.”
After what seemed like hours—entirely too damn long, fuck—Tobias gradually relaxed, managing short but even breaths, and then deeper ones, sagging against the cushions in exhaustion.
“God,” Jake breathed, and pulled Tobias forward, folding him against his chest and not caring for once about how he’d react. “Holy shit. Way to scare a guy shitless in the morning. Christ.”
“So—” Tobias gasped against his chest, voice raw. “Sor—”
“Shhhh.” Jake closed his eyes, unconsciously rocking Tobias back and forth. He couldn’t hear another sorry, not now. He focused instead on how Tobias relaxed against him, no tension or anxiety in his muscles. Tobias wasn’t confused about what had happened, didn’t seem to be fucking scared out of his mind like Jake. Which meant that this wasn’t the unknown for him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. After a minute, he forced out the important question. “Does that happen often?”
Tobias shook his head, nose brushing Jake’s chest. “Only a c-couple times since I came here.”
Jake swallowed, not wanting to think about Tobias choking alone in his room. Fuck, what if he’d passed out or something? “What about . . . back there?”
“No. It never happened . . . before.”
“Hm.” Jake readjusted his grip, shifting his legs so they could sit more comfortably, and tilted Tobias’s head back to look him in the face. “Any idea what sets it off? Is there anything that—helps?”
Tobias shook his head, gaze sliding down as he rested his head against Jake’s shoulder.
“Well, we’ll see if we can figure something out.” Jake ran his hands over Tobias’s head and back again, feeling panic’s echo in his pulse. He couldn’t get over how little he fucking knew about taking care of Tobias. How Tobias could be so close—lying right beside him in a salt-lined room—and those bastards hundreds of miles away could still do their best to choke the life out of him. So close, so close. Tobias had one hand lightly clutching Jake’s T-shirt, forearm bare, and the light lines of scratches—mostly healed, but still visible—clenched Jake’s chest unexpectedly.
With an effort, he let him go. “Good. Okay. We should totally get dressed and shower and shit, and I’ll meet you out here in fifteen. We’re going somewhere awesome for breakfast.”
TOBIAS FOCUSED DOGGEDLY on the task at hand, on Jake’s directions as he showered, dressed, and then ended up waiting in the living room. He could hear Jake’s shower running. Tobias hesitated, then took a seat on the end of the sofa, folding his legs under him.
So much had happened in the last twelve hours; his heart still beat a little too fast, a little less than smooth. He had never allowed himself to think for a second that Jake would want to sleep beside him. And not to do anything except hold and sleep and listen to each other breathe. The idea that he could ever have something as wonderful and perfect as that—it still made his hands shake when he thought about it, but he pressed them tight between his knees. He didn’t want Jake to see and think there was anything wrong when there wasn’t, there couldn’t be.
Jake hadn’t even been disgusted when Tobias woke him with his hacking—Tobias couldn’t control it, couldn’t help that edge-of-waking sensation that he was hanging by the collar he no longer wore, choking, dangling, scrabbling to support himself on toes that didn’t quite touch the floor until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. But instead of being frightened or angry, Jake had been—there was no other way to describe it—worried about Tobias.
Tobias didn’t completely understand, and that should have worried him more—terrible things happened when you didn’t understand all the rules—but it was hard to panic this morning. Hard to worry when Jake had settled against him for the whole night, when he had felt Jake’s touch for far, far longer than he could have ever expected.
When Jake emerged from the hall, his damp hair dark, Tobias tried not to jump or straighten or do anything but smile and look Jake in the face. He had learned that much, at least, because Jake’s whole face broke into an answering smile, bright and easy like Tobias hadn’t seen since the first day Jake took him away from camp.
Jake came over and held out his hand to pull him up. “C’mon, Toby.”
They didn’t drive far, just to a donut shop a few blocks away that Jake had pointed out on Sunday. He’d acknowledged that bagels were pretty good (“Especially with that chick’s cream cheese. I don’t know what they put in it, maybe cocaine, but it’s fucking worth it”), but they couldn’t come close to sugar-glazed donuts.
It was getting easier to trust Jake when they went out, Tobias thought as he stepped out of the car. Jake wouldn’t bring him somewhere people might recognize him for what he was, and he wouldn’t force Tobias into something he couldn’t manage yet. Of course Jake knew what he was doing.
