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[occultatum]

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[occultatum]

"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.

[likeathief]

“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?”

[occultatum]

"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."

[likeathief]

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.

[occultatum]

He kisses him fast, and faster, and he curls into him, and then they're there, together. "Another one?" he says, and he gives him a kiss.

"I can try going into your dreams, if you want."

[likeathief]

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.

[occultatum]

"Never?" he asks, and goes quiet. That explains-

-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."

[likeathief]

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.”

[occultatum]

"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."

[likeathief]

“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.

[occultatum]

Nick stays close, and quiet. "I can manage Reggie," he says, but he knows that Kavinsky is right. He doesn't move away, not at first.

He moves away, then, but not because he's upset. "Just know you're welcome here."

[likeathief]

"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?

[occultatum]

He stills, doesn't move away.

Looks at Kavinsky for a long moment. "Okay," he says, finally. "I won't go anywhere."

[likeathief]

"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.

"Can we dump it in the bathtub or something?"

[occultatum]

"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 gone."

[likeathief]

"Gone where?"

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.

[occultatum]

"My bathtub. Use the guest bathroom," he says, and he lifts his chin just a little, and nudges Kavinsky into his lap, his fingers in his hair.

[likeathief]

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.

[occultatum]

He considers this for a minute. "There are potions that prevent dreaming, you know. If you ever want one," he says, an easy offer. And he leans over and kisses Kavinsky on the temple.

He's gentle. He kisses him again. "Yeah. You should sleep."

[likeathief]

"I've got pills for that," he admits. "Shit that keeps me from dreaming."

They don't always work, but he doesn't say that. He wonders if that has something to do with him, if he made that flaw without realizing it. He's never tried to fix it. Better hit or miss than something that doesn't work at all.

He relaxes beneath the kisses.

"Just-- stay here. Sometimes it's better. Sometimes it helps."

[occultatum]

"Yeah? How's the mortal stuff working for you?" he asks, although Satan knows that plenty of warlocks can't sleep even with potions. But he's just running his hand through his hair. "I won't go anywhere."

[likeathief]

Kavinsky rolls his eyes. "You don't even know how my shit works," he counters, though there isn't much bite in it. Nicks fingers stroke along his scalp and all he wants to do is fall the fuck asleep.

"Are you not mortal?"

It's not the first time Nick's said something like that. He thinks of Magnus and he's just lucid enough to be curious.

[occultatum]

"You can illuminate me when you're not about to fall asleep in my lap," he says, and his fingers do not stop moving. He knows what's soothing. "I'm not mortal. We can live for centuries," he clarifies. "But I am eighteen."

[likeathief]

"You like me in your lap," he insists. "Pretty sure it gets your dick hard."

It's weird to think that Nick's gonna live for such a long time, but also strangely comforting that they're about the same age. He thinks of Magnus. Kavinsky doesn't think he'd want to live that long.

He barely wants to live til tomorrow.

"Well, at least I'm not robbing the grave or anything."

[occultatum]

He snorts a little. "Not yet, anyway," he tells him. "I think the other warlock from home is older, though," he says. Ambrose Spellman seems like he's probably easily in his second century, at least.