"Hey, bye bye birdie," he said. "D'you do touch ups?"
Finch had finished cleaning up her station after her last client. Her hair was slipping out of it's elastic and she reached back to tighten the unruly mass. "I s'pose I can be talked into it. What were you thinking of having done?"
"This spot got a bit blurred, and I've got a space here," he said, rubbing at his lowest ribs. "Unfinished work because the shop got raided." He snorted. "Good tattooist, stupid shit for running drugs out of the shop."
"Ah, yes, that does so many tattooists in," she remarked dryly. "Do we have any other appointments today?"
Thad headed shirtless to the books.
"Mmnope, Sheila was the last one," he hummed. "Unless you want to take any more walk-ins, but I think it's getting a bit late for that."
"Definitely. I've been feeling a little off lately, could do with an early night. I'll set up my things, you get on the table. What did you want done about the ribs?" Finch asked, wondering if she should talk to him about wandering around without clothes.
"Let me lock up first," Thad said, going to switch off the open light and lock the deadbolt. He return to lay out on the cushioned table, instantly relaxing. "Free hand something watercolor. Keep to the blues, if you would, but throw in your own flair, little bird." Leave a mark on me.
"You want it to match the calligraphy strokes you have over your shoulder?" Finch asked, readying her things. "The ribs, it hurts. I mean, worse. You going to be alright?"
"Do you see how much ink I have?" Thad said, looking lazily at her. "I'm not afraid of pain for beauty. Yes, I prefer to keep the Chinese-Celtic fusion, if you can manage."
Finch rolled her eyes. She sketched on his skin, loose guidelines of what she wanted to do, shaking her head. "I could draw anything on someone so trusting. You could end up with a prick on there, for all you know. Or 'I love Vance' in big letters."
Thad chuckled, sides moving. "You wouldn't do that," he murmured. "You pity me too much," he snorted. "Besides, you're all about the work. Just like your mother."
"I'm nothing like my mother," Finch answered promptly, even though she knew that to be a lie. She started to ink his skin, painting over flesh. "And I don't pity you. I just feel guilty he almost broke your face."
Thad's ribs vibrated with splashes of pain. For a long time, Finch's music played on in the background and he closed his eyes, hissing occasionally as she worked. He didn't have to watch. She was exactly like her mother, devoted to her craft, never cruel unless it were truly necessary and honest to a fault. Thad had long admired Moriarty's work, even before he'd known SHE was not a HE.
"I might have found a place, to go that is," he murmured after awhile.
"Hmm? That's nice," Finch said, entirely absorbed by what she was doing. "How soon are you moving?"
"Not sure," Thad responded. "Whenever Abs decides your brother is too much of an overbearing prat and we settle on a place we can both afford."
Finch sat back, looking at him with confusion. "Abby's leaving Spencer? That bitch, he'll be crushed!"
"Hmm?" Thad said, sitting up. "He was moving her to the downstairs flat anyway, to play with the monster upstairs. No' much difference if she's a bit further off. She's not breaking it off, she's doing me a favor and your bruvah one too."
"But Abby didn't like you. As far as I could see. Not that it matters to me, we're hardly speaking," Finch said, with eyebrows raised. "You're going to live with her?"
"Maybe she does like me," Thad said. "Maybe she likes me a lot. Is that a problem?" He was pushing her. Probably a bad idea with a tattoo machine in her hand and his ribs sore, but he wanted that bloody room back.
"N-No. Not at all," Finch murmured, and if she dug a little harder with the needle, she didn't feel bad. "I mean, I would be upset if she were two-timing my brother, but that's their business. Spencer is made for Bran anyway. He'll bounce back."
"Curious!" Thad hissed. "Even with the blood relation? You think Abs isn't good enough for your brother? Or not the right match."
"She doesn't like my boyfriend and she's going to sleep with you. It does show terribly poor taste on her part. My brother looks like Sherlock and Sherlock is pretty," Finch told him with a sniff. "And Spencer loves Brandon. It's not like the blood relation would be a problem, they are both male."
Thad tried not to laugh. "Well pity, as she's arse over feet for your brother, hates my ruddy guts, but needs to see if she still has a place is your freaky little brav's life," he said, breathing in through his teeth. "Easy, bird!"
"Stop calling me that. Only Vance is allowed to call me that," Finch sulked, but she eased on the pressure slightly. She pulled back, taking a moment to breathe. She'd felt like she was getting the 'flu over the last few days.
"What should I call you then?" Thaddeus said, voice velvety smooth despite the soft sheen of dampness across his skin. "Love, poppet, pet?"
"Boss? Or, and here's a wild idea, you could try my name! I do have one," Finch muttered. She sucked in some air.
Thad noticed the tension in the air change. He moved to sit up. She'd been working for awhile. He swung his legs over the side of the table reaching out to touch her cheek.
"Finch," he said, low and sweet with just a tinge of worry. "All right?"
"Just feelin' a bit off. Like I said. Touch of nausea, but they said the new pill would do that," Finch said, closing her eyes. "It's nothing to concern anyone over."
"Feels like a bit of a fever," Thad said. "Or at least you're a bit warm. Rinse me off, and wrap me up. We'll call it a night with this."
"Peck, peck, mama hen," Finch muttered, but she did as he asked, sniffling as she did so. "I'm taking tomorrow off. Reschedule the appointments we have. I don't want to tattoo anyone if I'm coming down with the 'flu. Maybe I'll stay in and rest tomorrow, work a late day following just to make up for it."
Thad reached for the crumpled sweater, pulling it over his head to properly look her over.
"I'll cancel them in the morning," he said. "Any other symptoms? I haven't been ill. Has Scarface?"
"Stop calling him that!" Finch said, swallowing hard. "The nausea I mentioned, but no. Vance has been fine. Oh, I hope I haven't made him sick."
"Nausea?" Thad said, raising his brow. "Throwing up?"
Finch blushed, and she stood, cleaning her space on unsteady legs. "Shut up. I'm not answering any more of your questions. Go sleep at Spencer's or drag Abby somewhere, just leave me alone."
"Sorry, love, I'm still at the shop for a little longer," Thad said, helping by cleaning off the table. "Unless you want to take me home."
"I do not," the curly-haired angelic girl replied. "I had the worst time to get you out."
"You didn't get me out," Thaddeus replied. "Besides, I'm asking this time. May I please kip in your spare bed for the night? I really need a place to wash this tat up."
Finch considered. She really didn't feel well, and she didn't want to walk home alone. She shrugged. "You have to leave tomorrow. Vance is out tonight, but he said he'll come home."
Thad grinned wide. "Of course, I'll have to come in early to cancel those appointments," he purred. "Just tick.." He popped off to grab a quick bag of his things. A warm shower, warm girl - wait! -
"Alright, ready?" he said, holding up his shop keys.
"Yeah, lemme just get my coat," Finch said, and she slipped the faded brown suede number over her shoulders. It was warm and soft and worn. "C'mon, let's go. I do expect you to be in early, those people need to be called."
"On my honor," Thad said, restless like a pup going for a walk. "I would like to keep my job after all." He locked up the door and turned to walk beside his tiny boss. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, offsetting the aching in his ribs. Or adding to it depending on whether he thought about her boyfriend or not.
He brushed his hand across hers as they walked.
She shoved her hands in her pockets.
She was too quiet. The nausea was creeping it's way back up her throat and the moment she let them into the flat she took two antacids, changing into soft sleep pants and a large tee shirt. Finch poked her head back into the living room, looking for Thad. "You know where everything is. Make sure you lock the door."
"Already done," Thad said. "Just going to shower and head to bed. I assume the place I slept last time, and not across the courtyard? You and boyfriend share the babygirl loft?"
"Yeah, the place you slept last time is fine. Don't you concern yourself over where I sleep." Finch paused next to the sofa, deciding to sit and watch some telly. Just in case her stomach didn't settle, she didn't have to worry about steps to get out of bed. She pulled a blanket over her. "Will I bother you if I stay here a while?"
Thad sat beside her, reaching to stroke her hair. "Should I sit with you?" he murmured softly, threading his fingers through her curls like he had when she fell asleep in his lap.
Finch smacked at his hand, scowling. "You're always touching me without permission. I don't need a babysitter. Go get your stupid shower."
"Yes, boss," he laughed through his nose. He didn't let her see the worried look as he headed for the hallway. She sleeps there when HE isn't home. She's lonely, and he leaves her. She waits for a crime lord to come home, for the violent, dangerous new Moriarty to take her.
He didn't hate Vance on principle. He ran shampoo through his long hair, luxuriating in the hot water. He'd chosen
He peered into the living room after his shower, hair still damp. She'd fallen asleep to the telly. As expected.
"Goodnight, love," he whispered.
***
Finch woke too early in a cold sweat, her body filled with a rocking, swirling, wavelike motion. She was staggering quickly to the bathroom without even fully waking up, hurling loudly into the toilet. Her stomach emptied, and then she started making the worst heaving sounds while she heaved.
Thaddeus woke suddenly, always having been a light sleeper. He was up and in the loo in seconds. He had Finch's hair gathered up as she heaved and shook.
"There, there, have it out," he murmured, rubbing her back.
"Ugh," Finch groaned, leaning forward, spitting. "I'm so sick. I hate being sick."
"This been happening?" Thad asked softly, reaching for a flannel to dampen and wiped her face.
"Just a few days." Her words were panted out between gasps. "I'll get over it. It's just the 'flu." Finch closed her eyes, resting her cheek on her arm.
"Mmhmm," Thad said, brows knitting. "How about I go and get you some medicine and soup, yeah? It's a bit early to go into the shop and make calls."
"O-" She heaved again, her face damp with tears and her skin clammy. "Okay. Don't think I'll be able to eat it. My heart meds are in the ca-abinet, can you get them?"
Thad reached in, picking up three bottles. "Which one?" he asked, crouching back down.
"This," Finch panted, picking the one out and holding it tight. She closed her eyes. "Water, and I'll take it."
Thad got her the cup by the sink, filling it. "Here," he said, handing off the cup. "Stay here, and I'll bring some things back for you." He petted her head. "Just stay, alright? Don't pass out before I get back." He said, backing out of the lav.
"Where the fuck am I going?" Finch muttered, not moving an inch. She heaved a few more times, and finally slumped back against the sink. Her fingers wrapped around the little cup and she sipped the water, trying to take her pill. Unfortunately, she ended up hurling over the toilet again.
Thaddeus got on his jeans and yesterday's sweater, running out the door - without locking it. He didn't stop to find the key. There was a corner market not too far off. He grabbed up all sorts of things to make a ginger-garlic Chinese soup. He wasn't a chef, but he wasn't terrible cook. He grabbed a few medicines promising to cure flu. Rushing through the shop, he slowed as he passed the feminine products aisle.
Tests.
Vomiting in the morning, slight fever. Needing the room.
He closed his eyes in pain as he reached out to grab one. He had a slight flush as the cashier rang him up. Two bags felt infinitely heavy as he walked back to Finch's flat.
He let himself back in, dropping the things on the kitchen's island. He pawed through the pantry to find an old plastic cup. He pulled the box of tests from the bag. Two pack, just in case.
"Finch," he called out.
"Coming," Finch said, but she hadn't moved. She heaved herself to her feet, stumbling through the flat. Her head ached. "Oh, fuck, I feel awful. Thank God we closed the shop."
Thad caught her up. "Whoa," he said. "I think you should sit back down, love. You're terrible pale."
"I feel pale," Finch whined, aiming her body at a bar stool. "I feel like death."
Thad helped her sit and chewed his lip before setting the box of tests in front of her.
"I was rather suspecting something a bit different," he said softly. "A bit more like life."
Finch raised her eyebrow, trying her best to snort. Her hair was stuck up on one side, and she had no color to her face. "You must be joking."
Thaddeus averted his eyes. "You need the room, right?" he said, looking at her cabinets. "Last night I stayed over, you were um - rather loud. It's none of my business whether you used protection with Scarface or not, but-" he made a vague gesture. "Better know than not, right?"
"But I couldn't be. That wasn't long ago-" Finch started to count days in her head, trying to make the numbers add up. "It couldn't be... I meant far, far in the future. N-not now!"
Thad looked at her, reaching to grasp her arm. She looked even paler than before as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She was cold from sitting on the bathroom floor. "Shh," he shushed, rubbing her cheek with a thumb. "Always so excitable."
"I'm hyperventilating. This is what hyperventilating looks like," Finch gasped, shivering. "I'm not- I'm too young- I'm-I'm- I can't!" But she wanted to. Oh fuck, she wanted it.
"I know that," he said. "Deep breaths, love. Deep breaths." He reached down to scoop her up, carrying her into the master bedroom to lay her down. "On your side," he said, laying her in the pushed back bit of blankets where he'd gotten up that morning.
"I don't feel well," Finch complained. She was weak and trembling, turning over on her side like he asked.
"Which is why I'm putting you to bed," Thad said, crawling up behind her. "Overwhelming possibility, isn't it?" He stroked up her back. "You've gone cold."
"It can't be true," Finch mumbled. She didn't push him away this time. "I can't be. I can't even say it. It's not true."
Thad snaked his arm around her middle. "Your mother managed it," he said softly in her ear, still keeping himself propped up with his other arm to look at her. "Twice, in fact. Though jury is still out on whether the Dark Prince is her spawn or not."
"You're always touching me." She didn't shift away, though. "Oh God, Mum! She's going to freak out. I'm in so much trouble!"
Thaddeus turned her head. "I enjoy touching you," he murmured. He bit his lip and leaned down. Just one kiss.
"I'm probably pregnant. With Vance's child," Finch said bluntly, Thad's face too close to hers. "Why are you trying to kiss me?"
Thad rolled his dark eyes, a smirk growing on his lips. "Probably is not a definitely until you know?" he joked. "A congratulations. To warm you up." He wrinkled his nose. "But you might want to brush your teeth first before we snog." He closed the distance for an overly familiar peck anyway.
"I'm not snogging you," Finch replied, repulsed at herself. She tugged a sheet over half her face. "I'm not brushing my teeth anytime soon- I feel like-" Her eyes widened and she wriggled out of his grasp, bare feet slapping the floor as she hurried back into the loo.
Thad looked distressed. He went back to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of cold water this time, the plastic cup and the tests. He wanted to crush them. Could he raise another man's child? Could he steal another man's pregnant lover?
"Finch," he said, opening the door. "I think I should help you to the doctor if you don't want the tests."
"Yeah. Yeah, doctor. Straightaway. But-" Finch paused, sucking in breath. "Don't think I can. Nope. I live here now. Can't handle the car ride."
"Then piss in the cup so you can tell your fucking precious Scarface whether he's got a sick girlfriend or a new bundle of joy to look forward to," Thad snapped. He knocked his head back against the doorjamb, dropping the things on the counter.
Finch looked up at him, confusion and hurt written on her face. She steeled herself, spitting into the toilet, before saying, "Get out."
"Not on," Thad gritted out. "If you pass out and hit your head, your father will gut me. Where's a laptop? I'll make the calls from the living room, check on you until Mr. Moriarty makes it back to the den." He clenched his fists. "Then he can take you to hospital."
A tear slid down Finch's cheek, and she slumped over the toilet, shaking her head. "No. No, I don't like you. Get out."
Thad slid down the door, crawling over to her. He pulled her into his arms.
"You're cold again," he muttered, feeling like crying himself.
"It's cold down here," Finch replied, her teeth chattering.
Thad pressed his lips to her forehead. It was the only warm place about her. His hand dropped to her waist, pulling her into his lap. "You should be in bed," he murmured against her hair. He couldn't stop touching her. Even knowing-
Baby.
"Can't go to bed. Legs wobbly," Finch said, leaning weakly against him. She closed her eyes. "We didn't. Use protection. But I'm on the pill-"
"None of those were birth control, Finch," Thad murmured. "You're on pills. It's been nearly three weeks."
"No, no, I do have the birth control, I keep it in the- Oh my God, what do you mean it's been three weeks? YOU MONITOR THAT?!" Finch said, inching out of his grasp.
Thad held her tight. "Since I was last in your ruddy flat, you psychopath," he said, hefting her up. "Since you and Scarface had your epic sexcapades and broke that loft in two." He grunted getting to his feet.
"Put me down," Finch mumbled against his throat. "I'll be okay."
"Mmhmm," Thad murmured. "Bed." He settled her back in place with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you something more to drink and a bin so you don't have to run to the lav. I can make the calls for your clients in here."
"Over reacting," Finch whispered, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness. There was a tightness in her chest. Hopefully it would fade, like it had yesterday, into a dull sickness that was manageable. "I'm okay."
"Hmph," Thad replied. He went to pick up the things from the bathroom, warming the hot water to drape a warm cloth over Finch's head. He stashed the pregnancy tests in her sock drawer on his way to the kitchen. He brought in a bin and several things to drink, checking on the girl who'd fallen asleep.
He lost himself in chopping things, dumping them into one pot. Soon ginger root, onions, garlic, chicken, and a few easy vegetables were simmering low and slow. He went to fetch Finch's laptop and his mobile, setting up in the living room to make calls for the next several days. He left many apologies, reschedules and even had to flirt a little not to lose business.
He leaned back on the sofa to tap out a message to Abby.
[see you tonight? TB]
After a few moments, a text buzzed.
[i guess. whats up? -abz]
[We'll always be outsiders. Don't forget that. TB]
[I made a mistake. TB]
[what time? - abz]
[half 7, I'll pick you up TB]
Thaddeus had just finished typing out the text when the door handle rattled. He sat up as Vance opened the door. Thad saw the moment of recognition as Vance's face twisted.
"What the hell are you-?"
"She's sick!" Thad blurted out, holding out his hands. "She-she got ill last night."
Vance dropped his bags and stalked through the flat.
"Finch! Finch!" he called out.
"Vance?" Finch started, heart pounding in her chest. She sat up, and had to pause to steady her stomach. "Is that you?"
Vance pushed into the master bedroom, flying to her side.
"Yes, yes, the bloody boyfriend," Thad said, pinching his nose. "She's only just been asleep a little while. I told you she has flu," he said, trying to catch Finch's eye.
Vance took Finch's face in his hands, touching her forehead. "You are a bit warm..."
"Stay. Stay with me," Finch murmured, putting her hands over his. "I don't feel well. I'm sick."
"See, just the flu," Thad said, scowling.
"Fine," Vance sighed. "Now get out." He leaned in to kiss Finch's lips gently. "Poor bird. never well when I'm away. It was only a night trip."
Finch's thin fingers stroked over his cheek, blushing through the sickly pallor. "Clearly I missed you. Don't go anymore. I know, I know, not possible. I just missed you."
"I missed you too," Vance said, relaxing as he heard the door slam. "There's something cooking. Do you think it's poisoned?"
"Probably. Couldn't possibly make me feel any worse than I already do," Finch said, gagging and then laying back down. She turned her face into the pillow. "Not ready for this."
"Salright," Vance said. "Just rest. I'm home now."
Thaddeus woke suddenly, always having been a light sleeper. He was up and in the loo in seconds. He had Finch's hair gathered up as she heaved and shook.
"There, there, have it out," he murmured, rubbing her back.
"Ugh," Finch groaned, leaning forward, spitting. "I'm so sick. I hate being sick."
"This been happening?" Thad asked softly, reaching for a flannel to dampen and wiped her face.
"Just a few days." Her words were panted out between gasps. "I'll get over it. It's just the 'flu." Finch closed her eyes, resting her cheek on her arm.
"Mmhmm," Thad said, brows knitting. "How about I go and get you some medicine and soup, yeah? It's a bit early to go into the shop and make calls."
"O-" She heaved again, her face damp with tears and her skin clammy. "Okay. Don't think I'll be able to eat it. My heart meds are in the ca-abinet, can you get them?"
Thad reached in, picking up three bottles. "Which one?" he asked, crouching back down.
"This," Finch panted, picking the one out and holding it tight. She closed her eyes. "Water, and I'll take it."
Thad got her the cup by the sink, filling it. "Here," he said, handing off the cup. "Stay here, and I'll bring some things back for you." He petted her head. "Just stay, alright? Don't pass out before I get back." He said, backing out of the lav.
"Where the fuck am I going?" Finch muttered, not moving an inch. She heaved a few more times, and finally slumped back against the sink. Her fingers wrapped around the little cup and she sipped the water, trying to take her pill. Unfortunately, she ended up hurling over the toilet again.
Thaddeus got on his jeans and yesterday's sweater, running out the door - without locking it. He didn't stop to find the key. There was a corner market not too far off. He grabbed up all sorts of things to make a ginger-garlic Chinese soup. He wasn't a chef, but he wasn't terrible cook. He grabbed a few medicines promising to cure flu. Rushing through the shop, he slowed as he passed the feminine products aisle.
Tests.
Vomiting in the morning, slight fever. Needing the room.
He closed his eyes in pain as he reached out to grab one. He had a slight flush as the cashier rang him up. Two bags felt infinitely heavy as he walked back to Finch's flat.
He let himself back in, dropping the things on the kitchen's island. He pawed through the pantry to find an old plastic cup. He pulled the box of tests from the bag. Two pack, just in case.
"Finch," he called out.
"Coming," Finch said, but she hadn't moved. She heaved herself to her feet, stumbling through the flat. Her head ached. "Oh, fuck, I feel awful. Thank God we closed the shop."
Thad caught her up. "Whoa," he said. "I think you should sit back down, love. You're terrible pale."
"I feel pale," Finch whined, aiming her body at a bar stool. "I feel like death."
Thad helped her sit and chewed his lip before setting the box of tests in front of her.
"I was rather suspecting something a bit different," he said softly. "A bit more like life."
Finch raised her eyebrow, trying her best to snort. Her hair was stuck up on one side, and she had no color to her face. "You must be joking."
Thaddeus averted his eyes. "You need the room, right?" he said, looking at her cabinets. "Last night I stayed over, you were um - rather loud. It's none of my business whether you used protection with Scarface or not, but-" he made a vague gesture. "Better know than not, right?"
"But I couldn't be. That wasn't long ago-" Finch started to count days in her head, trying to make the numbers add up. "It couldn't be... I meant far, far in the future. N-not now!"
Thad looked at her, reaching to grasp her arm. She looked even paler than before as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She was cold from sitting on the bathroom floor. "Shh," he shushed, rubbing her cheek with a thumb. "Always so excitable."
"I'm hyperventilating. This is what hyperventilating looks like," Finch gasped, shivering. "I'm not- I'm too young- I'm-I'm- I can't!" But she wanted to. Oh fuck, she wanted it.
"I know that," he said. "Deep breaths, love. Deep breaths." He reached down to scoop her up, carrying her into the master bedroom to lay her down. "On your side," he said, laying her in the pushed back bit of blankets where he'd gotten up that morning.
"I don't feel well," Finch complained. She was weak and trembling, turning over on her side like he asked.
"Which is why I'm putting you to bed," Thad said, crawling up behind her. "Overwhelming possibility, isn't it?" He stroked up her back. "You've gone cold."
"It can't be true," Finch mumbled. She didn't push him away this time. "I can't be. I can't even say it. It's not true."
Thad snaked his arm around her middle. "Your mother managed it," he said softly in her ear, still keeping himself propped up with his other arm to look at her. "Twice, in fact. Though jury is still out on whether the Dark Prince is her spawn or not."
"You're always touching me." She didn't shift away, though. "Oh God, Mum! She's going to freak out. I'm in so much trouble!"
Thaddeus turned her head. "I enjoy touching you," he murmured. He bit his lip and leaned down. Just one kiss.
"I'm probably pregnant. With Vance's child," Finch said bluntly, Thad's face too close to hers. "Why are you trying to kiss me?"
Thad rolled his dark eyes, a smirk growing on his lips. "Probably is not a definitely until you know?" he joked. "A congratulations. To warm you up." He wrinkled his nose. "But you might want to brush your teeth first before we snog." He closed the distance for an overly familiar peck anyway.
"I'm not snogging you," Finch replied, repulsed at herself. She tugged a sheet over half her face. "I'm not brushing my teeth anytime soon- I feel like-" Her eyes widened and she wriggled out of his grasp, bare feet slapping the floor as she hurried back into the loo.
Thad looked distressed. He went back to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of cold water this time, the plastic cup and the tests. He wanted to crush them. Could he raise another man's child? Could he steal another man's pregnant lover?
"Finch," he said, opening the door. "I think I should help you to the doctor if you don't want the tests."
"Yeah. Yeah, doctor. Straightaway. But-" Finch paused, sucking in breath. "Don't think I can. Nope. I live here now. Can't handle the car ride."
"Then piss in the cup so you can tell your fucking precious Scarface whether he's got a sick girlfriend or a new bundle of joy to look forward to," Thad snapped. He knocked his head back against the doorjamb, dropping the things on the counter.
Finch looked up at him, confusion and hurt written on her face. She steeled herself, spitting into the toilet, before saying, "Get out."
"Not on," Thad gritted out. "If you pass out and hit your head, your father will gut me. Where's a laptop? I'll make the calls from the living room, check on you until Mr. Moriarty makes it back to the den." He clenched his fists. "Then he can take you to hospital."
A tear slid down Finch's cheek, and she slumped over the toilet, shaking her head. "No. No, I don't like you. Get out."
Thad slid down the door, crawling over to her. He pulled her into his arms.
"You're cold again," he muttered, feeling like crying himself.
"It's cold down here," Finch replied, her teeth chattering.
Thad pressed his lips to her forehead. It was the only warm place about her. His hand dropped to her waist, pulling her into his lap. "You should be in bed," he murmured against her hair. He couldn't stop touching her. Even knowing-
Baby.
"Can't go to bed. Legs wobbly," Finch said, leaning weakly against him. She closed her eyes. "We didn't. Use protection. But I'm on the pill-"
"None of those were birth control, Finch," Thad murmured. "You're on pills. It's been nearly three weeks."
"No, no, I do have the birth control, I keep it in the- Oh my God, what do you mean it's been three weeks? YOU MONITOR THAT?!" Finch said, inching out of his grasp.
Thad held her tight. "Since I was last in your ruddy flat, you psychopath," he said, hefting her up. "Since you and Scarface had your epic sexcapades and broke that loft in two." He grunted getting to his feet.
"Put me down," Finch mumbled against his throat. "I'll be okay."
"Mmhmm," Thad murmured. "Bed." He settled her back in place with a kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you something more to drink and a bin so you don't have to run to the lav. I can make the calls for your clients in here."
"Over reacting," Finch whispered, closing her eyes to ward off the dizziness. There was a tightness in her chest. Hopefully it would fade, like it had yesterday, into a dull sickness that was manageable. "I'm okay."
"Hmph," Thad replied. He went to pick up the things from the bathroom, warming the hot water to drape a warm cloth over Finch's head. He stashed the pregnancy tests in her sock drawer on his way to the kitchen. He brought in a bin and several things to drink, checking on the girl who'd fallen asleep.
He lost himself in chopping things, dumping them into one pot. Soon ginger root, onions, garlic, chicken, and a few easy vegetables were simmering low and slow. He went to fetch Finch's laptop and his mobile, setting up in the living room to make calls for the next several days. He left many apologies, reschedules and even had to flirt a little not to lose business.
He leaned back on the sofa to tap out a message to Abby.
[see you tonight? TB]
After a few moments, a text buzzed.
[i guess. whats up? -abz]
[We'll always be outsiders. Don't forget that. TB]
[I made a mistake. TB]
[what time? - abz]
[half 7, I'll pick you up TB]
Thaddeus had just finished typing out the text when the door handle rattled. He sat up as Vance opened the door. Thad saw the moment of recognition as Vance's face twisted.
"What the hell are you-?"
"She's sick!" Thad blurted out, holding out his hands. "She-she got ill last night."
Vance dropped his bags and stalked through the flat.
"Finch! Finch!" he called out.
"Vance?" Finch started, heart pounding in her chest. She sat up, and had to pause to steady her stomach. "Is that you?"
Vance pushed into the master bedroom, flying to her side.
"Yes, yes, the bloody boyfriend," Thad said, pinching his nose. "She's only just been asleep a little while. I told you she has flu," he said, trying to catch Finch's eye.
Vance took Finch's face in his hands, touching her forehead. "You are a bit warm..."
"Stay. Stay with me," Finch murmured, putting her hands over his. "I don't feel well. I'm sick."
"See, just the flu," Thad said, scowling.
"Fine," Vance sighed. "Now get out." He leaned in to kiss Finch's lips gently. "Poor bird. never well when I'm away. It was only a night trip."
Finch's thin fingers stroked over his cheek, blushing through the sickly pallor. "Clearly I missed you. Don't go anymore. I know, I know, not possible. I just missed you."
"I missed you too," Vance said, relaxing as he heard the door slam. "There's something cooking. Do you think it's poisoned?"
"Probably. Couldn't possibly make me feel any worse than I already do," Finch said, gagging and then laying back down. She turned her face into the pillow. "Not ready for this."
"Salright," Vance said. "Just rest. I'm home now."
***
It was raining that night. Thad waited outside Baker Street, hoping Abby wasn't going to stand him up. He didn't want to text her again and alert Spencer. At exactly half-seven, the door opened and Abby stepped out, in her criminal clothes. Black yoga pants and a black hoodie, all zipped up. No purse, just a lot of pockets.
"What gives?" Abby asked, stepping up to him nearly silently in her black sneakers. "Everythin' alrigh'?"
Thad's hair was getting plastered to his head as they stood there. He swooped down, cupping the back of Abby's head and planted a soft, wet kiss to her lips. She flailed, pulling back from him, glancing up nervously at the Baker Street window.
"What the fuck you think you're doing, eh?" She shivered, glancing back at him. "I'm no' available for kissin'."
Thad reached back to pull her under the cafe's awning. "Aren't you though?" he said, pulling Abby close. The kiss hasn't set his heart racing, but it wasn't bad. "Run away with me. Out of London."
"No!" she hissed, shrieking. "No! No' on your life, you maniac. What's goin' on?"
Thad's face looked like someone had died.
"Finch - she -" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gotten involved. You shouldn't either. Your little prince'll leave you for his boytoy anyway."
Abby's heart clenched, but she steeled her nerves, gritting her teeth. "So what if he does? Ain't nothin' new to me. Everyone leaves. I'm not goin' to waste time worryin' about when, I just want to enjoy righ' now. Before it 'appens."
"Before he -" Men can't get pregnant. "He-" Thad tried. He clenched his fists, fury rising up. He shoved his palms against his eyes, shivering. He couldn't breathe. "Better to live with someone and like them a bit, then fall in love," his voice cracked. "And get hurt."
"What has got into you, mate? This isn't like you. You're always so fuckin' cheerful, even when you're getting torn to pieces by your gran. What the fuck you so sorry and pissy for?" Abby leaned closer, eyes on his face. "What happened?"
"She's gone and having a baby," Thaddeus laughed, still finding the idea absurd. "A baby, Abs! Can't argue with that! That's pretty much, 'this is love', right?"
Abby's jaw dropped. "She's knocked up? Righ' and proper? Wuz the mob boss say abou' it?"
Thad rolled his shoulders. "Said it's flu," he mumbled, shaking his wet hair. "She's not ready. Right and proper. They'll probably go to hospital tomorrow, or the next week, when she doesn't improve. It'll be a happy announcement, someone will cry. There's no more room at the inn."
"Righ'," Abby said, feeling sort of numb for some reason. Part of her hurt for Thad, but part of her- part of her worried that he was right. That they were all too close. Abby and Thad were outsiders... except... "He's an outsider."
"What?" Thad said, heart-broken face confused.
"Moriarty. He's an outsider. And he didn' even ge' a key to come in li'e you," Abby told him, blinking. "If he made it, why can't you make it?"
"Because. Because it's a kid," Thad said. "Right?"
"Who cares? Finch's got like five dads. Two ain't bad when you look at a number like that," Abby replied. She shrugged. "We're always gon' be outsiders. But when 'as that ever stopped someone like you?"
Thad looked put out. "When I started feelin' something," he said, leaning back in to kiss her. "Fuck, that would've never worked out." He shook his head.
"What on Earth are you doing?" a rain-drenched Brandon asked from behind them, glowering at Thad.
Thaddeus turned around, pulling Abby against his side. He mock-cuddled her.
"Stealing her away," he said cheerfully. "Figured you'd be happy about the lack of competition."
"Get your filthy hands off of her. She's not for you," Brandon spat, his words slurring slightly. Abby rolled her eyes. "Get off her or I'll make you."
"Oh, dear," Thad said, wanting a fight. "Make me." He pulled her closer. "This might be fun."
Brandon sneered and then deftly lifted Abby up and over his shoulder. "Fuck you. Go back to sniveling at the baby slut, this one isn't yours."
Thad's shocked expression was plastered on his face the whole way back to the quiet tattoo parlor.
Upstairs, Spencer was tapping away on his keyboard, working. His glasses were blue with the screen glare as his fingers flew over the keys. Being poisoned had put him out of commission longer than he liked.
"Let go!" Abby's shout was heard all the way up the stairs. "Put me down, put me down!"
"Stop snogging arseholes on the street!" Brandon countered, dumping her on her bottom end when he reached the top of the stairs. She landed with a painful sounding thud. Spencer put aside his laptop and hurried onto the landing.
"What the hell?" he swore. "Abs? I thought you were just leaving."
"She was out there ssucking face with that bloke that follows Finch around," Brandon ground out. He slammed into the kitchen for water.
"Ouch, mother fuckin' drama queen! I was not out snoggin' anyone or anythin'!" Abby replied, eyes squinted up with pain. "Arse. I was tryin' to talk 'im into going back."
"If by talking you mean shoving your tongue down his throat," Brandon mocked.
Spencer crouched, examining. "Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, pink," he stated. "Did it work?"
"Did wha' work? Oh! Sendin' 'im back to Finch?" Abby asked, blushing at his analysis. "Dunno. She's pregnant, he's scared because it ain't 'is. Probably ain't even kissed 'er yet."
A glass shattered in the kitchen.
"She's what?" came Brandon's quiet reply.
Spencer's knees thumped onto the wood. He turned Abby's face towards him. "She's what?" he repeated, fire in his eyes.
"Pregnant. So says Thad, anyway," Abby breathed, wincing back from his touch. "She's not been tested."
Spencer's face grew serious. He leaned in to kiss Abby, gently, softly. "Wait in the bedroom if you please," he whispered. "He's been drinking. And I need to speak with you. Please be careful walking through the kitchen."
"Yeah, alrigh'. Don't be too long," she murmured against his lips, kissing him again. Spencer leaned in for one more slow kiss. If he was left panting a bit, he chalked it up to still healing as he got up and headed to the kitchen. He straightened his shoulders.
"Murphy," he snapped.
"Holmes," Brandon rasped, clearly still taking in the news. Finch, his Finch, had- had- had-
"To your room," he growled, grasping Brandon's arm.
"For what? I brought the slag back when she was out messin' about on the front street," Brandon said, pulling at Spencer. "Leggo."
"For breaking my glass," Spencer said. "She'll get her own. Up. Stairs."
Brandon pulled a face, growling before he stormed up the stairs. It would've been more impressive if he hadn't stumbled over the top stair. He slammed open the door to his bedroom. Spencer covered the broken glass with a tea towel, leaning down to pull something from one of the lower cabinets. He followed Brandon at a slower, if more controlled rate.
Spencer closed the door softer than Brandon would've, turning tightly. His chest felt constricted.
Finch.
"On your knees," Spencer growled.
"Or what?" the blond boy tested.
Spencer sighed. He jerked, grabbing Brandon by the arm and kicked at the backs of his knees. "I said down," he snarled, pulling the rope he'd had set aside around Brandon's elbows with quick, but unpracticed moves. "You're being emotional."
"You're not ever emotional. Someone has to make up for it," Brandon snapped, his teeth set in a growl. Spencer tied off the knot around Brandon's ankles, forcing him into an awkward crouch. He had a pair of scissors in his backpocket to release him quickly.
"My sister is pregnant," he said. "Being emotional won't help anyone right now. You're being irrational enough for the both of us." Spencer smacked him across the face.
Brandon's jaw flexed, eyes watering. "At least I'm not made of ice."
"No, mostly you're make of alcohol at the moment, judging by your breath," Spencer seethed, snatching Bran's chin. "So you've lost. How many pints are you going to put away now? How many shots? Shall I have a room reserved for you when you finally poison yourself with liquor?"
"I just had a few drinks with my mates from my old job," Brandon ground out between clenched teeth. "It's fine. It's fine-"
"It's not fine!" Spencer roared in his face. "What now that my sister's pregnant!?"
"Shut up!" Brandon hissed, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter what she is. She's just havin' a baby. Lots of birds do it."
"She's doing it," Spencer said, jerking Brandon's chin back up. "And not with you."
"Stop implying-"
"There's no implying!" Spencer shouted. "You love her! You bloody love her, Bran. It's not some secret. Don't give me that 'I'm gay' shite, we all know there are exceptions. And it tears you up inside because you can't handle it!"
"She's like my sister," Brandon bit out quietly, struggling against his bonds. He threw his head, white hair fanning back out of his face. "She's havin' a baby and that's bloody grand, all well and good. Doesn't matter she's got a heart problem or nothin'. And I'm not, absolutely not, in love with her."
"Liar," Spencer said. "Lies. I'll leave you like that until you admit it. She is my sister. Not yours! Of course we both know she's daft, but she was daft to fallen in love with Mum's replacement."
Brandon looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, purple skin sagging into pale white cheeks. "Why are you doing this to me? Don't you love me?"
Spencer jerked back. "Don't pull that," he breathed, chest hurting. "Don't you- don't you do that."
"Do what? You're pushin' me. I can't love her, I don't. She's a girl," Brandon objected, eyes shining. "I repulse you. What are you so bloody upset about?"
"Wh-what?" Spencer said. He lurched forward, hacking apart the ropes with the scissors, letting them drop. He crouched in front of Brandon, cupping his face. "You think I'm repulsed by you?"
"Yeah," Brandon sniffed, wincing because even he could smell his breath. "I'm not good enough for either of you."
Spencer shook his head. "You could've- Finch loves you-" he said shaking his head. "If Abby is-" he stumbled over his words. "I could never make you feel the same."
"It's nothing, forget it," Brandon said, trying to turn his features hard, like they always were. "It's nothing. You have to have Abby. She's necessary. Even with treatment, it's not like I'm immortal. You need her. For after."
"No, no," Spencer said. "Father- Mum said that to him. Don't-" He reached for Brandon's loose hair, running his hands through it. "Don't. Because if you do, you'll have some dashing bloke steal your heart and cure you and I won't get any time at all. I- love you, Bran. It tears me apart I'm not worth you quitting the drink. Finch was able to get you better than lost, but I can't pull you back. It's killing me."
"I-" Brandon choked on his own words, pushing his head into Spencer's petting hand. "I don't know what else to do. I'm trying."
"There's the pills you can take. Make you throw up if you drink," Spencer said, voice full of sorrow. "I know your meds already make you ill- Bran, do you love me?"
Bran's jaw flexed, and his hair fell back over one eye when he nodded. "Yeah, Spencer. I love you."
"Love-love me," Spencer said, eyes hard - hurting. "Not just family love."
"I know what the question was. I'm plastered, not stupid," Bran snapped back, wincing at the harshness of his own voice. Spencer's mouth pinched as he tugged on Brandon's hair.
"And I'm angry," Spencer growled. "Do you love my sister?"
"Yeah. Like my own," Brandon said, his sneering smile back in place.
Spencer leaned into Brandon's face, pulling his hair harder. "Do you love me?"
"Yesss," the blond hissed, and something in his expression changed, enjoying the pain. Slipping.
Spencer opened his mouth, taking Brandon's lower plush lip between his teeth, biting - just so - as not to break the skin. "I'd stuff you full of my brats," he hissed.
Brandon laughed breathlessly. "Anorexic alien children with blond curls. Like statues from a horror movie."
"They'd be gorgeous and brilliant," Spencer said, tugging Brandon up as he backed to the bed. "Seeing as that's implausible, come snog me."
Brandon cackled. "Make me."
Spencer snarled, pulling on Brandon's shirt, pushing him and pulling him until he had him flat on the bed, lips being bruised by his vicious kiss. He was sliding his hands up Brandon's hot stomach, flat and silky soft. The lanky drunk boy was kissing back with equal passion, his cock growing stiff in his tight jeans.
"Spencer," Brandon panted his name.
"That's right," Spencer chuckled. "You've been holding out on me." He nibbled at Brandon's neck, sucking blooming marks as he ground their hips together. "And then you go and break my kitchen things over a little news-" He bit at Brandon's jaw as he pushed one of Brandon's wrists above his head. "Making me jealous. Drinking - making me angry."
"Ah-ah, I'm, I'm sorry." Brandon arched at the bites, gasping in a breath. "I've been so bad."
"Naughty," Spencer agreed, ripping down Brandon's trousers. He licked his lips. He wanted. Oh God, how he wanted. Maybe through latex some day, but it wouldn't be the same... He curled his fingers around the rigid cock, stroking it. "If you leave me-" he threatened, low and vicious.
"I won't," Brandon promised rashly, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusting his hips up. "Spencer, Spencer, careful-"
"Shh," Spencer said, coaxing Brandon's lips back against his own. He was going to have Brandon come. He nipped Brandon's lip again. "Come on, you gorgeous thing," he purred. "Come on. Come in my hand - Imagine it's my mouth around you. Because bloody hell, that is one amazing cock, and I want it - I want it in my mouth."
"So close," Brandon whimpered, the heat coiling in his groin. His eyes slid closed, and he nudged his lips against Spencer's. "Ah, I'm so, so close."
"Yeah? You'll stay close, Bran, because if you leave, I'll find you. I'll drag you back by those long locks of hair and tie you up good," Spencer said against Brandon's mouth, he flicked his tongue inside the hot, panting, liquor-flavored man beneath him. The possessive, dangerous talk was enough to push Brandon over the edge. He was whimpering and panting in Spencer's arms.
"Spencer," his name on Bran's lips.
Spencer gave him one last soft kiss before shoving his come covered hand against Brandon's mouth.
"Abby thinks I'm scary, frightening," he hissed. "Do you think so, Brandon?"
Brandon sputtered, shocked, against Spencer's hand. Spencer wiped his hand across Brandon's chest.
"Punishment," Spencer said, sitting up. His erection still quite visible through his trousers. "I'm not afraid of dying, Brandon. Between you, me and Finch, I've come close - and I'm not afraid of it. Between death and me? You should know who's scarier."
Brandon was still spitting out bitter come, glaring at Spencer. "You're fuckin' mad."
Spencer held up a finger. "Angry," he said, leaning in to kiss Brandon on the head. "Love you, though, whiny bitch. Have a shower and clean up your mess in the kitchen. Don't forget you've got another appointment coming up. You aren't missing this one this time."
"Fine," Brandon spat, but he didn't look as tense as he had earlier. He reached for clean clothes, digging through his drawers. "Go ask the slag why she was out mackin' on other men."
"Planning on it," Spencer said, swinging himself off the bed. Anger diffused somewhat, he felt like he could face Abby now without exploding at her. "Thank you for bringing her back home."
He headed down the stairs to wash himself up. He tossed his shirt and trousers in the hamper, making sure to scrub his hands good. Spencer caught a look at himself in the mirror. He looked completely sexed out. His cock was still happily upright in his underwear. It almost made him shy as he opened the bathroom door leading to his bedroom.
"Abs?" he said, voice still a bit rough from earlier play.
She was curled up in a ball on her bed, her knees to her chest, light purple hair falling around her shoulders. Her eyes were huge in her head. "Alright?"
"Complicated," Spencer said. "Erm, I should put on some - trousers. I'm sorry if you overheard.. any of that."
"I didn' mean to mention Finch. I'm sorry if I messed anythin' up," Abby told him solemnly.
"We're about even on the loose lips side of things," Spencer said, rummaging for a pair of flannel pants. "I'm more concerned about you snogging someone just below my flat."
"He's just upset over Finch. Thad's 'arborin' a bit of a crush on your sister," Abby said, watching him move around the flat like she was about two seconds from jumping out of the window. "I tol' 'im to go back and try again. What's it matter whose baby she's having?"
"Really? You think so?" Spencer actually laughed as he curled up on 'his' side of the bed.
"Yeah. I mean, if 'e loves her, who cares where the baby comes from?" Abby blushed, realizing what she said. "I mean, he don't love her. He just needs to get laid. Ever since Liz died, he's been a mess."
"So why not sleep with him?" Spencer said, tilting his head, curious.
Abby shook her head, scooting back to lean on the headboard. "I don't even like him. Not even a little bit. He's just a person I know. You should probably like a person if you're gon' fuck 'im."
"And yet you reset him on my pregnant sister. My ill pregnant sister," Spencer said, blinking.
"She likes him, too," Abby shrugged. "Don't you think?"
Spencer smirked. "Yeah a bit," he laughed. "Reminds me someone. Don't know who. She fell for Vance too quick. Then again-" He turned to look at her. "Sometimes your first sticks with you."
She smiled at him, eyes crinkling up. "Aww, how sweet."
"Now don't you," Spencer giggled. "I'm very cross with you!"
"Why? What 'ave I done? An', on top of which, I've already apologized!" Abby replied, lips still in a grin but her eyes gone tense.
"How are we supposed to act surprised when she tells us now!?" Spencer said. He caught her expression. "There it is again."
"We just smile and congratulate her. Besides, it's not even official according to the barmy bastard," Abby replied, taking his hand in hers. "There's what again?"
"Fear," Spencer said softly. "Just here." He touched the edge of her eye as he squeezed her hand gently. Abby winced, a minute gesture, but brought his fingers up to her lips for a kiss.
"I'm no' afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm just cautious. With everyone."
"Me especially. People are planting the seeds. Think I'm abusing you, hurting you. Because of Bran and I," he said, stroking her cheek. "It's consensual, with him." I think.
"It's alright. I know that," she replied, even though she didn't quite. Abby tilted up, brushing their lips together. "I don't mind what you do or how you do it. That's all that matters."
Spencer kissed her back. "You should. You know he's HIV positive," he whispered. "I'm careful, painfully careful, but there's always risk."
Abby nodded, swallowing. "I know, you told me. I'm- I'm trusting you, Spencer. So don't worry. I'm tryin' real 'ard to understand, to follow along. I love you."
Spencer pulled back slightly, eyes wide. He blinked.
"What."
Abby's lips turned down. "What?"
Spencer surged forward to kiss her, coaxing her purple hair through his fingers. She relaxed into the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, holding them close. Their slight bodies slithered together so well. Spencer rolled his hips, moaning. Oh God!
"I love you, too," he gasped, breaking the kiss to kiss up her face, over her jaw and behind her ear. "For fuck's sake, I do."
"I know," Abby told him, moaning, fingers brushing through his curls. "I know you do. Fuck, Spence, you're so good-"
"Awful, I'm ruddy awful," Spencer broke in, hands sliding up her shirt. Entirely different skin, enticing him. "I love you, though, I love you both so wretchedly. You deserve so much more." He kissed down her body.
"We deserve what we want," Abby replied seriously, letting her eyes slide shut. She wondered when she started to sound so wise. "And I wan' you. Oh, fuck, Spence, I want you."
Spencer mouthed through her shirt, across her stomach. "Want to taste-" he muttered, pulling down her sleep pants, nuzzling at her. He was feeling reckless. He moaned as he put his mouth to her mons, licking at wetness, feminine flavor on his tongue.
Abby blushed. She wasn't used to that sort of intimacy with a guy, but she didn't say anything. After all, he felt so damn good, so she brushed her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. Her lips formed sweet moans that sounded like music.
"Spence-"
Spencer licked and sucked. He was an equal opportunist when it came to bits. He'd wanked to any porn he could connect with - pleasure. He wanted to give people pain and pleasure. Sometimes the former, but always the latter. He dove his fingers inside Abby's body, rubbing her clit as he alternated with his tongue, pressing kisses to her cunt, licking at her folds. He was greedy this time though, his own neglected cock hung heavy and painful in his pants.
He continued to work her with his hand as he reached for the box of condoms on the table. He swiped his mouth across his shoulder to remove some of the dampness before leaning down to kiss Abby's beautiful mouth.
"Mine," he whispered. She pushed up, kissing him again despite the taste.
"Yeah, guess so," Abby agreed, but her features were soft. "Need you."
"Coming," Spencer said, laughing as he shimmied back out of the clothes he'd put on. "In a sense." He rolled on the slippery condom, sunk into Abby's body, cradling her close. He kissed her sweetly, sighing with pleasure into her mouth. Greedy. He batted away the thought. He loved her. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Abby breathed, fingers stroking his jaw bone.
"What gives?" Abby asked, stepping up to him nearly silently in her black sneakers. "Everythin' alrigh'?"
Thad's hair was getting plastered to his head as they stood there. He swooped down, cupping the back of Abby's head and planted a soft, wet kiss to her lips. She flailed, pulling back from him, glancing up nervously at the Baker Street window.
"What the fuck you think you're doing, eh?" She shivered, glancing back at him. "I'm no' available for kissin'."
Thad reached back to pull her under the cafe's awning. "Aren't you though?" he said, pulling Abby close. The kiss hasn't set his heart racing, but it wasn't bad. "Run away with me. Out of London."
"No!" she hissed, shrieking. "No! No' on your life, you maniac. What's goin' on?"
Thad's face looked like someone had died.
"Finch - she -" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have gotten involved. You shouldn't either. Your little prince'll leave you for his boytoy anyway."
Abby's heart clenched, but she steeled her nerves, gritting her teeth. "So what if he does? Ain't nothin' new to me. Everyone leaves. I'm not goin' to waste time worryin' about when, I just want to enjoy righ' now. Before it 'appens."
"Before he -" Men can't get pregnant. "He-" Thad tried. He clenched his fists, fury rising up. He shoved his palms against his eyes, shivering. He couldn't breathe. "Better to live with someone and like them a bit, then fall in love," his voice cracked. "And get hurt."
"What has got into you, mate? This isn't like you. You're always so fuckin' cheerful, even when you're getting torn to pieces by your gran. What the fuck you so sorry and pissy for?" Abby leaned closer, eyes on his face. "What happened?"
"She's gone and having a baby," Thaddeus laughed, still finding the idea absurd. "A baby, Abs! Can't argue with that! That's pretty much, 'this is love', right?"
Abby's jaw dropped. "She's knocked up? Righ' and proper? Wuz the mob boss say abou' it?"
Thad rolled his shoulders. "Said it's flu," he mumbled, shaking his wet hair. "She's not ready. Right and proper. They'll probably go to hospital tomorrow, or the next week, when she doesn't improve. It'll be a happy announcement, someone will cry. There's no more room at the inn."
"Righ'," Abby said, feeling sort of numb for some reason. Part of her hurt for Thad, but part of her- part of her worried that he was right. That they were all too close. Abby and Thad were outsiders... except... "He's an outsider."
"What?" Thad said, heart-broken face confused.
"Moriarty. He's an outsider. And he didn' even ge' a key to come in li'e you," Abby told him, blinking. "If he made it, why can't you make it?"
"Because. Because it's a kid," Thad said. "Right?"
"Who cares? Finch's got like five dads. Two ain't bad when you look at a number like that," Abby replied. She shrugged. "We're always gon' be outsiders. But when 'as that ever stopped someone like you?"
Thad looked put out. "When I started feelin' something," he said, leaning back in to kiss her. "Fuck, that would've never worked out." He shook his head.
"What on Earth are you doing?" a rain-drenched Brandon asked from behind them, glowering at Thad.
Thaddeus turned around, pulling Abby against his side. He mock-cuddled her.
"Stealing her away," he said cheerfully. "Figured you'd be happy about the lack of competition."
"Get your filthy hands off of her. She's not for you," Brandon spat, his words slurring slightly. Abby rolled her eyes. "Get off her or I'll make you."
"Oh, dear," Thad said, wanting a fight. "Make me." He pulled her closer. "This might be fun."
Brandon sneered and then deftly lifted Abby up and over his shoulder. "Fuck you. Go back to sniveling at the baby slut, this one isn't yours."
Thad's shocked expression was plastered on his face the whole way back to the quiet tattoo parlor.
Upstairs, Spencer was tapping away on his keyboard, working. His glasses were blue with the screen glare as his fingers flew over the keys. Being poisoned had put him out of commission longer than he liked.
"Let go!" Abby's shout was heard all the way up the stairs. "Put me down, put me down!"
"Stop snogging arseholes on the street!" Brandon countered, dumping her on her bottom end when he reached the top of the stairs. She landed with a painful sounding thud. Spencer put aside his laptop and hurried onto the landing.
"What the hell?" he swore. "Abs? I thought you were just leaving."
"She was out there ssucking face with that bloke that follows Finch around," Brandon ground out. He slammed into the kitchen for water.
"Ouch, mother fuckin' drama queen! I was not out snoggin' anyone or anythin'!" Abby replied, eyes squinted up with pain. "Arse. I was tryin' to talk 'im into going back."
"If by talking you mean shoving your tongue down his throat," Brandon mocked.
Spencer crouched, examining. "Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, pink," he stated. "Did it work?"
"Did wha' work? Oh! Sendin' 'im back to Finch?" Abby asked, blushing at his analysis. "Dunno. She's pregnant, he's scared because it ain't 'is. Probably ain't even kissed 'er yet."
A glass shattered in the kitchen.
"She's what?" came Brandon's quiet reply.
Spencer's knees thumped onto the wood. He turned Abby's face towards him. "She's what?" he repeated, fire in his eyes.
"Pregnant. So says Thad, anyway," Abby breathed, wincing back from his touch. "She's not been tested."
Spencer's face grew serious. He leaned in to kiss Abby, gently, softly. "Wait in the bedroom if you please," he whispered. "He's been drinking. And I need to speak with you. Please be careful walking through the kitchen."
"Yeah, alrigh'. Don't be too long," she murmured against his lips, kissing him again. Spencer leaned in for one more slow kiss. If he was left panting a bit, he chalked it up to still healing as he got up and headed to the kitchen. He straightened his shoulders.
"Murphy," he snapped.
"Holmes," Brandon rasped, clearly still taking in the news. Finch, his Finch, had- had- had-
"To your room," he growled, grasping Brandon's arm.
"For what? I brought the slag back when she was out messin' about on the front street," Brandon said, pulling at Spencer. "Leggo."
"For breaking my glass," Spencer said. "She'll get her own. Up. Stairs."
Brandon pulled a face, growling before he stormed up the stairs. It would've been more impressive if he hadn't stumbled over the top stair. He slammed open the door to his bedroom. Spencer covered the broken glass with a tea towel, leaning down to pull something from one of the lower cabinets. He followed Brandon at a slower, if more controlled rate.
Spencer closed the door softer than Brandon would've, turning tightly. His chest felt constricted.
Finch.
"On your knees," Spencer growled.
"Or what?" the blond boy tested.
Spencer sighed. He jerked, grabbing Brandon by the arm and kicked at the backs of his knees. "I said down," he snarled, pulling the rope he'd had set aside around Brandon's elbows with quick, but unpracticed moves. "You're being emotional."
"You're not ever emotional. Someone has to make up for it," Brandon snapped, his teeth set in a growl. Spencer tied off the knot around Brandon's ankles, forcing him into an awkward crouch. He had a pair of scissors in his backpocket to release him quickly.
"My sister is pregnant," he said. "Being emotional won't help anyone right now. You're being irrational enough for the both of us." Spencer smacked him across the face.
Brandon's jaw flexed, eyes watering. "At least I'm not made of ice."
"No, mostly you're make of alcohol at the moment, judging by your breath," Spencer seethed, snatching Bran's chin. "So you've lost. How many pints are you going to put away now? How many shots? Shall I have a room reserved for you when you finally poison yourself with liquor?"
"I just had a few drinks with my mates from my old job," Brandon ground out between clenched teeth. "It's fine. It's fine-"
"It's not fine!" Spencer roared in his face. "What now that my sister's pregnant!?"
"Shut up!" Brandon hissed, closing his eyes. "It doesn't matter what she is. She's just havin' a baby. Lots of birds do it."
"She's doing it," Spencer said, jerking Brandon's chin back up. "And not with you."
"Stop implying-"
"There's no implying!" Spencer shouted. "You love her! You bloody love her, Bran. It's not some secret. Don't give me that 'I'm gay' shite, we all know there are exceptions. And it tears you up inside because you can't handle it!"
"She's like my sister," Brandon bit out quietly, struggling against his bonds. He threw his head, white hair fanning back out of his face. "She's havin' a baby and that's bloody grand, all well and good. Doesn't matter she's got a heart problem or nothin'. And I'm not, absolutely not, in love with her."
"Liar," Spencer said. "Lies. I'll leave you like that until you admit it. She is my sister. Not yours! Of course we both know she's daft, but she was daft to fallen in love with Mum's replacement."
Brandon looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, purple skin sagging into pale white cheeks. "Why are you doing this to me? Don't you love me?"
Spencer jerked back. "Don't pull that," he breathed, chest hurting. "Don't you- don't you do that."
"Do what? You're pushin' me. I can't love her, I don't. She's a girl," Brandon objected, eyes shining. "I repulse you. What are you so bloody upset about?"
"Wh-what?" Spencer said. He lurched forward, hacking apart the ropes with the scissors, letting them drop. He crouched in front of Brandon, cupping his face. "You think I'm repulsed by you?"
"Yeah," Brandon sniffed, wincing because even he could smell his breath. "I'm not good enough for either of you."
Spencer shook his head. "You could've- Finch loves you-" he said shaking his head. "If Abby is-" he stumbled over his words. "I could never make you feel the same."
"It's nothing, forget it," Brandon said, trying to turn his features hard, like they always were. "It's nothing. You have to have Abby. She's necessary. Even with treatment, it's not like I'm immortal. You need her. For after."
"No, no," Spencer said. "Father- Mum said that to him. Don't-" He reached for Brandon's loose hair, running his hands through it. "Don't. Because if you do, you'll have some dashing bloke steal your heart and cure you and I won't get any time at all. I- love you, Bran. It tears me apart I'm not worth you quitting the drink. Finch was able to get you better than lost, but I can't pull you back. It's killing me."
"I-" Brandon choked on his own words, pushing his head into Spencer's petting hand. "I don't know what else to do. I'm trying."
"There's the pills you can take. Make you throw up if you drink," Spencer said, voice full of sorrow. "I know your meds already make you ill- Bran, do you love me?"
Bran's jaw flexed, and his hair fell back over one eye when he nodded. "Yeah, Spencer. I love you."
"Love-love me," Spencer said, eyes hard - hurting. "Not just family love."
"I know what the question was. I'm plastered, not stupid," Bran snapped back, wincing at the harshness of his own voice. Spencer's mouth pinched as he tugged on Brandon's hair.
"And I'm angry," Spencer growled. "Do you love my sister?"
"Yeah. Like my own," Brandon said, his sneering smile back in place.
Spencer leaned into Brandon's face, pulling his hair harder. "Do you love me?"
"Yesss," the blond hissed, and something in his expression changed, enjoying the pain. Slipping.
Spencer opened his mouth, taking Brandon's lower plush lip between his teeth, biting - just so - as not to break the skin. "I'd stuff you full of my brats," he hissed.
Brandon laughed breathlessly. "Anorexic alien children with blond curls. Like statues from a horror movie."
"They'd be gorgeous and brilliant," Spencer said, tugging Brandon up as he backed to the bed. "Seeing as that's implausible, come snog me."
Brandon cackled. "Make me."
Spencer snarled, pulling on Brandon's shirt, pushing him and pulling him until he had him flat on the bed, lips being bruised by his vicious kiss. He was sliding his hands up Brandon's hot stomach, flat and silky soft. The lanky drunk boy was kissing back with equal passion, his cock growing stiff in his tight jeans.
"Spencer," Brandon panted his name.
"That's right," Spencer chuckled. "You've been holding out on me." He nibbled at Brandon's neck, sucking blooming marks as he ground their hips together. "And then you go and break my kitchen things over a little news-" He bit at Brandon's jaw as he pushed one of Brandon's wrists above his head. "Making me jealous. Drinking - making me angry."
"Ah-ah, I'm, I'm sorry." Brandon arched at the bites, gasping in a breath. "I've been so bad."
"Naughty," Spencer agreed, ripping down Brandon's trousers. He licked his lips. He wanted. Oh God, how he wanted. Maybe through latex some day, but it wouldn't be the same... He curled his fingers around the rigid cock, stroking it. "If you leave me-" he threatened, low and vicious.
"I won't," Brandon promised rashly, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusting his hips up. "Spencer, Spencer, careful-"
"Shh," Spencer said, coaxing Brandon's lips back against his own. He was going to have Brandon come. He nipped Brandon's lip again. "Come on, you gorgeous thing," he purred. "Come on. Come in my hand - Imagine it's my mouth around you. Because bloody hell, that is one amazing cock, and I want it - I want it in my mouth."
"So close," Brandon whimpered, the heat coiling in his groin. His eyes slid closed, and he nudged his lips against Spencer's. "Ah, I'm so, so close."
"Yeah? You'll stay close, Bran, because if you leave, I'll find you. I'll drag you back by those long locks of hair and tie you up good," Spencer said against Brandon's mouth, he flicked his tongue inside the hot, panting, liquor-flavored man beneath him. The possessive, dangerous talk was enough to push Brandon over the edge. He was whimpering and panting in Spencer's arms.
"Spencer," his name on Bran's lips.
Spencer gave him one last soft kiss before shoving his come covered hand against Brandon's mouth.
"Abby thinks I'm scary, frightening," he hissed. "Do you think so, Brandon?"
Brandon sputtered, shocked, against Spencer's hand. Spencer wiped his hand across Brandon's chest.
"Punishment," Spencer said, sitting up. His erection still quite visible through his trousers. "I'm not afraid of dying, Brandon. Between you, me and Finch, I've come close - and I'm not afraid of it. Between death and me? You should know who's scarier."
Brandon was still spitting out bitter come, glaring at Spencer. "You're fuckin' mad."
Spencer held up a finger. "Angry," he said, leaning in to kiss Brandon on the head. "Love you, though, whiny bitch. Have a shower and clean up your mess in the kitchen. Don't forget you've got another appointment coming up. You aren't missing this one this time."
"Fine," Brandon spat, but he didn't look as tense as he had earlier. He reached for clean clothes, digging through his drawers. "Go ask the slag why she was out mackin' on other men."
"Planning on it," Spencer said, swinging himself off the bed. Anger diffused somewhat, he felt like he could face Abby now without exploding at her. "Thank you for bringing her back home."
He headed down the stairs to wash himself up. He tossed his shirt and trousers in the hamper, making sure to scrub his hands good. Spencer caught a look at himself in the mirror. He looked completely sexed out. His cock was still happily upright in his underwear. It almost made him shy as he opened the bathroom door leading to his bedroom.
"Abs?" he said, voice still a bit rough from earlier play.
She was curled up in a ball on her bed, her knees to her chest, light purple hair falling around her shoulders. Her eyes were huge in her head. "Alright?"
"Complicated," Spencer said. "Erm, I should put on some - trousers. I'm sorry if you overheard.. any of that."
"I didn' mean to mention Finch. I'm sorry if I messed anythin' up," Abby told him solemnly.
"We're about even on the loose lips side of things," Spencer said, rummaging for a pair of flannel pants. "I'm more concerned about you snogging someone just below my flat."
"He's just upset over Finch. Thad's 'arborin' a bit of a crush on your sister," Abby said, watching him move around the flat like she was about two seconds from jumping out of the window. "I tol' 'im to go back and try again. What's it matter whose baby she's having?"
"Really? You think so?" Spencer actually laughed as he curled up on 'his' side of the bed.
"Yeah. I mean, if 'e loves her, who cares where the baby comes from?" Abby blushed, realizing what she said. "I mean, he don't love her. He just needs to get laid. Ever since Liz died, he's been a mess."
"So why not sleep with him?" Spencer said, tilting his head, curious.
Abby shook her head, scooting back to lean on the headboard. "I don't even like him. Not even a little bit. He's just a person I know. You should probably like a person if you're gon' fuck 'im."
"And yet you reset him on my pregnant sister. My ill pregnant sister," Spencer said, blinking.
"She likes him, too," Abby shrugged. "Don't you think?"
Spencer smirked. "Yeah a bit," he laughed. "Reminds me someone. Don't know who. She fell for Vance too quick. Then again-" He turned to look at her. "Sometimes your first sticks with you."
She smiled at him, eyes crinkling up. "Aww, how sweet."
"Now don't you," Spencer giggled. "I'm very cross with you!"
"Why? What 'ave I done? An', on top of which, I've already apologized!" Abby replied, lips still in a grin but her eyes gone tense.
"How are we supposed to act surprised when she tells us now!?" Spencer said. He caught her expression. "There it is again."
"We just smile and congratulate her. Besides, it's not even official according to the barmy bastard," Abby replied, taking his hand in hers. "There's what again?"
"Fear," Spencer said softly. "Just here." He touched the edge of her eye as he squeezed her hand gently. Abby winced, a minute gesture, but brought his fingers up to her lips for a kiss.
"I'm no' afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm just cautious. With everyone."
"Me especially. People are planting the seeds. Think I'm abusing you, hurting you. Because of Bran and I," he said, stroking her cheek. "It's consensual, with him." I think.
"It's alright. I know that," she replied, even though she didn't quite. Abby tilted up, brushing their lips together. "I don't mind what you do or how you do it. That's all that matters."
Spencer kissed her back. "You should. You know he's HIV positive," he whispered. "I'm careful, painfully careful, but there's always risk."
Abby nodded, swallowing. "I know, you told me. I'm- I'm trusting you, Spencer. So don't worry. I'm tryin' real 'ard to understand, to follow along. I love you."
Spencer pulled back slightly, eyes wide. He blinked.
"What."
Abby's lips turned down. "What?"
Spencer surged forward to kiss her, coaxing her purple hair through his fingers. She relaxed into the kiss, arms wrapped around his neck, holding them close. Their slight bodies slithered together so well. Spencer rolled his hips, moaning. Oh God!
"I love you, too," he gasped, breaking the kiss to kiss up her face, over her jaw and behind her ear. "For fuck's sake, I do."
"I know," Abby told him, moaning, fingers brushing through his curls. "I know you do. Fuck, Spence, you're so good-"
"Awful, I'm ruddy awful," Spencer broke in, hands sliding up her shirt. Entirely different skin, enticing him. "I love you, though, I love you both so wretchedly. You deserve so much more." He kissed down her body.
"We deserve what we want," Abby replied seriously, letting her eyes slide shut. She wondered when she started to sound so wise. "And I wan' you. Oh, fuck, Spence, I want you."
Spencer mouthed through her shirt, across her stomach. "Want to taste-" he muttered, pulling down her sleep pants, nuzzling at her. He was feeling reckless. He moaned as he put his mouth to her mons, licking at wetness, feminine flavor on his tongue.
Abby blushed. She wasn't used to that sort of intimacy with a guy, but she didn't say anything. After all, he felt so damn good, so she brushed her fingers through his hair, encouraging him. Her lips formed sweet moans that sounded like music.
"Spence-"
Spencer licked and sucked. He was an equal opportunist when it came to bits. He'd wanked to any porn he could connect with - pleasure. He wanted to give people pain and pleasure. Sometimes the former, but always the latter. He dove his fingers inside Abby's body, rubbing her clit as he alternated with his tongue, pressing kisses to her cunt, licking at her folds. He was greedy this time though, his own neglected cock hung heavy and painful in his pants.
He continued to work her with his hand as he reached for the box of condoms on the table. He swiped his mouth across his shoulder to remove some of the dampness before leaning down to kiss Abby's beautiful mouth.
"Mine," he whispered. She pushed up, kissing him again despite the taste.
"Yeah, guess so," Abby agreed, but her features were soft. "Need you."
"Coming," Spencer said, laughing as he shimmied back out of the clothes he'd put on. "In a sense." He rolled on the slippery condom, sunk into Abby's body, cradling her close. He kissed her sweetly, sighing with pleasure into her mouth. Greedy. He batted away the thought. He loved her. "Love you."
"Love you, too," Abby breathed, fingers stroking his jaw bone.
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