"What are you gonna do with it?" Hey, it's his dead thing, he thinks he deserves to know. But then Nick is asking if he's alright again and Kavinsky resists the urge to pull away.
"I'm fine," he insists. "This isn't even the first time it's happened here. Shit happens. It's a consequence of the whole-- thing." He gestures vaguely, trying to remember what, exactly, he's said to Nick. My dreams are real.
He takes a moment and looks at Kavinsky. "Honestly? I was thinking of taking it apart for study," he says, because he won't do it in secret. "If you're okay with that."
He presses a kiss to Kavinsky's temple. "Otherwise, I'll burn it somewhere."
"I threw one in a dumpster," he admits. He turns his head to catch Nick in a real kiss and there's something biting and needy about it. When he breaks away, he looks back down at the mass of darkness and sharpness and hate.
He kisses him back, and presses him to the bed, but it's not in a sexual, desperate way. Instead he just needs some leverage, to pin him down a little, to assert some control. This is the kind of shit that leaves a person unmoored. A bad summoning can fuck someone up; Nick knows from experience. "You can be here if you want. There's all kinds of things you can do with...parts."
Some part of him wants to rebel, to fight against the way Nick is holding him down. He’s fucking fine, he’s killed dozens of these things. This is nothing. In the same breath, it feels so good to be held down, to be held together, after murdering something that has somehow come from him. His hands flex uselessly and he turns his head away, jaw tight as he stares at the thing on the floor. He just wants to get rid of it and all it stands for. Taking it apart makes him think of being flayed open and vulnerable.
"Potions, mostly," he admits. "All kinds of things. Eye of newts can make you clear eyed. Tongue of dog makes you tell only flattering lies." He shrugs a little. "I don't know what this could be."
"I'll clean it up," he looks at Kavinsky for a long time, and then rocks over so he can hold him, if that's what K wants. "And relax. You're tense."
“I wanna watch,” he says. “I wanna see everything. Whatever you make. Whatever you do to it. I wanna be there. It’s—mine.”
He doesn’t know why but it feels like a visceral need. It’s his, it came out of him even if he didn’t make it. Kavinsky sighs and closes his eyes as he leans into Nick. He tries to relax. He might have something in his pockets to help him out, he can’t remember. He looks at Nick.
"I believed you, you know," he says. "I know that there are enough things between heaven and hell," he says, quiet for a long moment. "You can stay and watch. I promise."
But then there's stillness; his hands move just a little, right in front of him. "Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu," he whispers, and he feels that warm rush of the protection spell move through him.
“Something about protection and... snakes? What was that?”
He wonders if the spell works the same if Nick translates. Kavinsky remembers sitting through Latin classes but he never thought he’d use it. Maybe he needs to brush up if Nick’s gonna be whipping it out.
“I know you believed me. But did you think I meant this?”
"A protection spell. For you," he says, gently. It's something that you do in the witch world when you care for someone else, and there's danger in their lives. Nick knows that Kavinsky could use a little.
He looks back at the thing. "I can't say I know what I thought. I've never met anyone else with that kind of power. We can go into each other's dreams, there are spells to take things and hide them in dreams, too."
Something— shifts in him and Kavinsky just kind of looks at Nick, stares at him, confused and uncertain and touched all at once. No one’s ever gone through that kind of trouble for him before. Not to try to protect him. He wonders if the spell can protect him from his own bad dreams.
Kavinsky pulls Nick close so he can kiss him again. He needs to kiss him. He needs to do something to bury this feeling he doesn’t know what to do with.
Kavinsky makes a quiet noise and between the kisses he manages to say: "It's not a spell."
That's all he gets out for a second because he's grabbing Nick's shirt, apparently refusing to let him go now that they're tangled together. But before long, he lolls his head to look at the thing on the floor.
"No one's ever tried to protect me before," he says out loud.
Kavinsky closes his eyes and pushes his fingers into Nick’s hair as those words rattle around in his head. I protect the things I care about. His grip tightens and he breathes a shivering exhale. He wants to tell Nick he can’t - shouldn’t - say shit like that to him but he also just wants to wallow in those words, to roll around in them and dig his hooks into Nick and never let go.
“They don’t ususllt go for me,” he admits. Sometimes they do, though. Those are always the worst. “It wanted you, first.”
"You don't usually sleep here," he points out, and he presses his head against Kavinsky's shoulder. Besides, what he doesn't say, is that protection magic is tricky to cast on himself.
He presses his nose to his cheek. "You can, though. If you want to sleep here, you can."
“Think Reggie would have problems with that,” he points out as his fingers strike down the back of Nick’s neck. Never mind that he’s pretty sure that there’s rules about Doms cohabiting. Maybe frequent sleepovers don’t count, but the last thing he wants is to give LIEs an excuse to bust in with black bags again.
"Don't." It's all he says when Nick pulls away but his fingers curl in the nearest bit of clothing. Kavinsky tries to drag him back in. He has no idea what the fuck he feels right now and he would rather not feel at all. He's got the means to do that. Nick never seems to care when he's high.
Kavinsky huffs out a sigh and forces himself to let Nick go. What the fuck is he doing?
"It's fine." He presses a hand to Nick's chest when he's close enough. "I should-- fuck."
He doesn't know what to do with himself. This has interrupted his entire script: usually he just gets rid of the body and goes the fuck on with his life. But Nick wants to keep it and it's just sitting there in the middle of the room.
"I'll take care of it," he says, and he gets up, but he doesn't leave the room.
Instead he just moves his hands into a spellcasting position, and he whispers a spell, and the thing is gone, then, along with all the blood - or ichor, maybe - that it spilled on his floor. He heads back to the bed, and sits on the end of the bed, gently.
It's still weird to see Nick do his thing, even though Kavinsky knows what he is, or what he can do. He moves closer to where Nick's sitting on the edge of the bed and drapes around him as he looks at the spot on the floor where the night horror was.
A faint smirk quirks his mouth when Nick gives that report. He doesn't fight being hauled into his lap, though he feels like he's all legs and arms for a second before he settles. He's exhausted, whether he's willing to admit it or not.
"I should just put myself back to sleep," he murmurs.
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"I'm fine," he insists. "This isn't even the first time it's happened here. Shit happens. It's a consequence of the whole-- thing." He gestures vaguely, trying to remember what, exactly, he's said to Nick. My dreams are real.
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He presses a kiss to Kavinsky's temple. "Otherwise, I'll burn it somewhere."
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"I mean, I guess. Never took one apart before."
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“What things?”
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"I'll clean it up," he looks at Kavinsky for a long time, and then rocks over so he can hold him, if that's what K wants. "And relax. You're tense."
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He doesn’t know why but it feels like a visceral need. It’s his, it came out of him even if he didn’t make it. Kavinsky sighs and closes his eyes as he leans into Nick. He tries to relax. He might have something in his pockets to help him out, he can’t remember. He looks at Nick.
“Told you my dreams are real.”
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But then there's stillness; his hands move just a little, right in front of him. "Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu," he whispers, and he feels that warm rush of the protection spell move through him.
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He wonders if the spell works the same if Nick translates. Kavinsky remembers sitting through Latin classes but he never thought he’d use it. Maybe he needs to brush up if Nick’s gonna be whipping it out.
“I know you believed me. But did you think I meant this?”
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He looks back at the thing. "I can't say I know what I thought. I've never met anyone else with that kind of power. We can go into each other's dreams, there are spells to take things and hide them in dreams, too."
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Kavinsky pulls Nick close so he can kiss him again. He needs to kiss him. He needs to do something to bury this feeling he doesn’t know what to do with.
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"I can try going into your dreams, if you want."
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That's all he gets out for a second because he's grabbing Nick's shirt, apparently refusing to let him go now that they're tangled together. But before long, he lolls his head to look at the thing on the floor.
"No one's ever tried to protect me before," he says out loud.
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-well.
Nick presses a kiss to Kavinsky's throat. "I protect the things I care about. I'm not losing you to whatever it is you pull out of your dreams."
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“They don’t ususllt go for me,” he admits. Sometimes they do, though. Those are always the worst. “It wanted you, first.”
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He presses his nose to his cheek. "You can, though. If you want to sleep here, you can."
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He moves away, then, but not because he's upset. "Just know you're welcome here."
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Kavinsky huffs out a sigh and forces himself to let Nick go. What the fuck is he doing?
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Looks at Kavinsky for a long moment. "Okay," he says, finally. "I won't go anywhere."
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He doesn't know what to do with himself. This has interrupted his entire script: usually he just gets rid of the body and goes the fuck on with his life. But Nick wants to keep it and it's just sitting there in the middle of the room.
"Can we dump it in the bathtub or something?"
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Instead he just moves his hands into a spellcasting position, and he whispers a spell, and the thing is gone, then, along with all the blood - or ichor, maybe - that it spilled on his floor. He heads back to the bed, and sits on the end of the bed, gently.
"It's gone."
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It's still weird to see Nick do his thing, even though Kavinsky knows what he is, or what he can do. He moves closer to where Nick's sitting on the edge of the bed and drapes around him as he looks at the spot on the floor where the night horror was.
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"I should just put myself back to sleep," he murmurs.
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