Gin and tonic was the best he could do at the moment; the drink burned its way down his throat, snapping him to attention momentarily before a pleasant numbness would take over. Letting his breath out in a quiet sigh, Marcel inhaled deeply, praying that the lack of sensation would free him from the coiling guilt at how much trouble he had caused the night before.
"He didn't try to kill himself or anything, Damien would never." Jumping at the first words the older wolf man spoke in over half an hour, the enforcer sneaked a glance at the broad-chested, intimidating figure who sat in one of his stools propped up against his kitchen counter table. Aware of how strongly this Ivan could convey his emotions, frightened of it too, Marcel looked away, palms sweating and unsuredly, a tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips.
Do I say anything in return to that? Does he-
"He's narcoleptic, he probably hit his head on the way down." There was no amusement in the other's voice, only a statement spoken with that certain foreign lilt that reminded Marcel strongly of childhood neighbors and of older days.
"...That, explains why I found him on the floor..." Trailing off, daring to meet the other's still steely gaze for but a second, he took his hands from the counter edge, stretching his arms and legs before leaning back, as if he could sink into the kitchen fixtures and disappear, hide away from here. A nearly tangible silence settled between them once more until he found the nerve to speak.
"I'm truly sorry for what I did last-"
"I don't forgive you." Snarling subtly, Ivan glared at the other wolf, baring his teeth for the single moment their gazes met. "You raped my lover, jaded his view on any kind of relationship, and will be the cause of months of nightmares. This is not the first time its happened to him, the only difference in this case is that he isn't in a coma right now that will last a near year!" His quick eyes saw those minutely trembling lips begin to move in a probable phrase of sympathy - not wanting to hear it given so flippantly for the sake of hearing such a story, Ivan stalked from the kitchen, intent on visiting the bedroom where Damien was resting.
That son of a bitch...
Scowling furiously at blue carpet, he let his stomping gradually decrease, not wanting to disturb his puppy's sleep. A glance down the hall from which he tip-toed down confirmed that he was alone. Resting his cheek against the door, he heard the rustling of sheets, a wavering voice that begged for mercy.
It's already started...
Leaning his forehead against the wood, Ivan clenched his hands into fists, anger boiling within his soul. A terrible wrong had been made, and given the chance, the wolf would've done anything to rewind the last twenty-four hours. Undo the events that led his lover to cry out while he slept, bear such horrible wounds that marred the younger's beauty.
"No matter what, dearest, you'll always be beautiful to me..." Whispering softly, he leaned over the bed, the back of his hand caressing a bruised, tear-streaked cheek. It had taken so much courage to enter the room after Damien's heart-wrenching pleas for him to leave. To have the one he loved so much beg for him to avert his eyes, to expect him to turn his face away in shame and disgrace. Removing himself from the younger's side for but a moment, Ivan pulled a chair from the corner of the spare bedroom and placed it by the bed. The smallest of sounds made Damien stir with a whimper, instinctively curling into a ball on his side. With a rapidly softening brow and moistening eyes, Ivan placed a hand on a slim shoulder and patted gently, shushing under his breath.
"This is not your fault, Damien, no..." Darkened lids from lack of sleep faltered, his gaze dropping to the thin sheets that covered his lover, "It was my fault. I took too long, you were waiting for me at our meeting place..." Easing his hand into the puppy's hand, mottled with cuts and wounds, Ivan held it so carefully, raising it to his lips at times to press kisses between his rambling that would hopefully ease whatever nightmare Damien experienced while he slept.
*
"You're a heartless bastard, did you know that, Marcel?" The alcohol he had downed earlier numbed his senses, his mind, so the fist he barely sensed before it met his cheekbone. Staggering away from his attacker, Marcel forced his vision to focus rather than stare and allow everything to blend into a color wheel. Glaring faces separated from looks of envy, of sadness and pouts. Most of the pack were here at the hidden cabin of the forest not half an hour from his home and town; they abandoned their usual conversations and stared down at him. Blinking wearily, Marcel held his temples,
"Lucien, I am pretty a heartless bastar--d, I concur..." Drawing out words, he rose a hand to gingerly touch the new bruise rapidly growing on his right cheek. With a brave attempt to laugh everything off, Marcel gave a faint grin and started for the deck stairs, stopped by the third in command of their pack.
"Drinking again! Fuck, that's what got you in this mess in the first place! You made the twins cry! I was up all night calming them down, telling that everything will be alright. You really had to fuck Damien, didn't you?" A fist rose once more, and with a wince, Marcel managed to throw an arm to block the blow that aborted itself in seconds. "I know what happened to Marie must have been hard," Lucien's voice, normally low and rough for anyone but the only twins of the pack, was almost sympathetic, the emotion not lost on Marcel's foggy mind. "But to take out whatever feelings on a pup like Damien..."
"M-Marie? Why, what happened to her?" A huge amount of willpower forced the alochol affects away which left him looking around with increasing worry as faces turned away, not meeting his desperate gaze. A cold pit of fear grew in his stomach, "Where is she? Is she hurt?"
"Gods, he doesn't remember..." A female wolf whispered quietly, sitting on a deck chair with her little one in her lap.
"Where the fuck is M-Marie? What-" His threatening growl was silenced, an older wolf with one blind eye stepping infront of Lucien, blocking him from Marcel's raised fist.
"She was killed by the neighboring clan, Marcel! That vile human drink has poisoned your mind, you were told this yesterday evening." The forest floor came into view, Marcel falling to his knees in shock. "What had been mere scuffles over territory has now turned to war. It is said that Marie gave them no reason to harm her, she wasn't even trespassing their boundaries. I am sorry to have to tell you this twice."
"We're having her burial at sundown."
*
Trembling, he held onto Ivan's arm, his dulled brown orbs darting back and forth as they approached the cabin. Other wolves tapped their neighbors on their shoulders, gesturing towards him and Ivan, a few venturing forth towards them. With the tiniest of whimpers, he pressed himself into his older lover's side, wanting nothing more than to disappear than be examined by those judging eyes.
"Out and about already, Damien..." Jessibel, mother to the twins Morokai and Nicolai, came forward in her slow walk. Her kind face, softer than ever, still scared him as did her hand, reaching out to touch some part of him; unable to stop himself, he whimpered pleadingly. She withdrew, giving a quiet apology,
"I'm glad to see you're healing quickly. If you'd like, I'll gladly find some herbs or medicines to ease any discomfort, Damien." Nodding, not wanting to reply to the pack's healer, he tugged Ivan's arm and their progress to reach the cabin continued.
"Hey, nice run last night!"
"Yeah, I wish I was Marcel!"
