Chapter 19

ASH WASN'T NORMALLYthe type to plan out a conversation. When he needed to convince someone of something, he spoke from his heart, and hoped that his truth would be enough. But when it came to explaining Laurel's identity to his mother, he had a feeling that his usual approach wouldn't be nearly sufficient.

Grateful that he'd brought him up to her already, even if he'd been deliberately vague at the time, he ran through the things in his mind he'd need to make her understand. One, Laurel was the patient he'd been treating, with all those deep, complex issues. Two, he was a magic user, though his powers were vastly different than Ash's own empathic healing. It was a given that a magic user (not including ones born of bizarre circumstances like Ash, though he was certain that was an extremely rare group) would be of a noble bloodline, but the third issue was just how aristocratic he really was.

Despite the fact that Minael had his little rebellion regarding servants and private chefs and au pairs, the quality of their breeding was immediately and notably obvious. Helio's family must have been insanely loaded and purer than the virgin snow, Ash surmised, and even more now that the serious-minded man had made himself into a very successful business executive. Again, he was grateful for the fact that Helio had apparently not been affronted by the idea of a half-bred mutt diluting his family tree.

Though he'd never asked, he was fairly sure Ingrid and Laurel probably both had sizable trust funds coming to them once they were married off. He imagined that was why they both felt comfortable pursuing careers in the arts. They could make money with their passions, but they wouldn't need something stable and guaranteed.

And that concept circled him back around to Laurel's art. Laurel's exquisite, elegant, dazzling art. He'd been a prodigy, Ash thought, shaking his head in sheer awe at the memory of Minael's explanation of when he'd begun producing the gorgeous pieces. And Malory had destroyed that. It was infuriating, but he was far from a stranger to being infuriated on Laurel's behalf.

He assumed the sorcerer's plan was to continue making art once his magic was back to a permanently stable, reliable state, but he couldn't be sure. His plan was to ask today, but he knew Laurel well enough by now to know that a conversation of that magnitude was likely to end in anger. But that's why he had preemptively prepared a trump card.

Rising from his seat on the bed, he picked up the paperback book from the tiny bag it was still in from the bookstore. Balling up the paper receipt, he tossed it into the trash. As if on cue, Ash heard a knock on his door, followed almost immediately by the sound of it opening. He'd figured Laurel would be coming early to spend some time with him before Nero's other friends arrived to the castle, but he was a little earlier than expected.

Opening the drawer of the small dresser granted to him with the room, Ash dropped the book inside. Immediately noticing, Laurel raised up to his toes to try and catch a peek before the drawer was closed to obscure the cover.

"What's that?"

"Something for later," Ash said, giving the wooden panel a final little pat, signifying he wouldn't be opening it again until he was ready. "Have a good day so far?"

Though there was a twinge of irritation about having the door metaphorically closed in his face, Laurel knew the stubborn healer wouldn't give in and let him see what he'd put away, even if it was something small and silly. "It was fine, nothing too exciting to report. Ingrid's got rehearsal for her next concert, and my parents are at a business dinner with a potential client for my vatra's company so my house is empty."

"Lonely?" Ash questioned. "Is that why you've come to see me?"

"Well, what else would you like me to do? Take a bubble bath?"

"There's an idea," he acknowledged, lifting a brow at the very pleasant mental image. "You know this bathroom has one of those big, deep tubs with the water jets and all that."

Frowning, Laurel regarded him with a dry expression. "I just said the silliest, most useless thing I could think of."

"Stop," Ash pleaded, looking somber. "You're ruining the fantasy."

"Is that a fantasy of yours? Watching me take a bath?"

"Only if I could climb in with you so we could get all slippery and soapy together."

Considering, Laurel exhaled. "I suppose I'll put it on the list of things I'm willing to do for you."

Tilting his head appreciatively, Ash raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to show me that list one day. I'd love to keep a copy for reference."

Grinning, he let his fingertips creep up the front of Ash's shirt, teasing up and over his throat to rest on his jaw. "But I think it would be so much more fun to let you figure out the list on your own."

"Well, I'm no detective," Ash admitted, allowing himself to be pulled in by the sorcerer for a kiss. "But I'm willing to give it my best effort."

"It's too bad we're both clean already. If only there was an easy way for two people to get dirty in a short amount of time," Laurel mused, rubbing his chin mockingly. "Some things just aren't meant to be, I guess."

"Keep it up and I'll be yanking you in there with me whether we need it or not."

Shaking his head with a laugh, Laurel slipped by to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "How's your day been?"

"I went into town and bought a few things. Other than that, I've just been thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

Taking a seat next to Laurel on the bed, Ash reached into his small duffel bag on the floor for a deck of cards. "We have some time to kill," he said, flipping open the pack to pour them into his hand. "We'll talk serious later."

Sighing, Laurel felt the all too familiar spark of anxiety light up his stomach. "Why do we always have something serious to talk about?"

"Communication is key," Ash answered simply. "What do you want to play?"

"I don't know how to play many card games. Everyone else likes to play poker, but other than that I'm somewhat clueless."

"Really?"

"My vatra plays chess. He taught Ingrid and I when we were young."

"I've never played," Ash admitted. "You'll have to teach me sometime."

"Alright," Laurel agreed, shifting to give room on the bed for the other man to sit across from him so they faced each other. "I'm not any good at it, though. I've never been able to predict moves or think multiple steps ahead."

"I'll teach you a game that doesn't require any strategy or thinking, then," Ash decided, smiling as he shuffled the worn cards to deal them.

To Laurel's shock, nearly an hour passed without him realizing it as they played. He'd become surprisingly competitive, considering the object of the game was just to slap your hand down before your opponent at the sight of a specific card.

"You obviously have an advantage over me since you've been playing longer," he pointed out, cross. They'd played three games already and he'd lost each one.

"Yes, it takes many years to master the art of putting one"s hand down onto a flat surface," Ash teased, eyes sparkling with amusement when Laurel scoffed. "It's only a game, sunshine."

"A gentleman would have let me win," he pointed out, unable to prevent his own smile from blooming across his face as Ash let out a bark of laughter.

"Is that what you thought I was? A gentleman?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes."

"I hope you aren't issuing me a challenge," Ash warned. "Because I can think of a good handful of things I'd like to do with you that wouldn't support your theory on that."

"Sounds like you're the one who wants to make a list now."

"Maybe we could collaborate to make one. Imagine how much fun we'd have working through it."

"Maybe." Laurel gave a stretch, flexing his arms over his head for a moment as he watched Ash gather the cards and organize them back into a neat stack. He was relaxed, very nearly forgetting about the talk he'd been promised they would have.

"So do you think you'll make art again, once we've finished your treatment and you're able to use your magic?" Ash asked calmly, eyes on the cardboard pack he shoved the stacked cards into. When his question was met with stony silence, he glanced up to see Laurel looking stormy. A fallen angel, ready to smite all of humanity in his wrath. "Your dad showed me some of your pieces. You're so talented, Laurel. It blows my mind."

"Thank you." The words were hollow and scripted, like when he'd congratulated Malory on his engagement.

"You don't like being told that, huh?" Ash surmised, giving a nod in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad by bringing it up."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I know you don't. But I wish you had told me."

"Why does it matter? You know that I'm messed up and I can't make it work. I didn't know you needed every detail about all the things I can't do because of it."

"Not because of that," Ash corrected him. "I wish you would have told me because I can tell it's something you love. It's your passion. Or, it was."

Because the words were too true, and because the pleading tone squeezed his heart until it was painful, he could feel bitterness rising up in himself.

"You think you know me just because I let you suck my dick?" Laurel asked, snorting derisively. "You made me come, and thanks very much for that. But that doesn't mean I have to tell you every little thought that goes through my head. Just because you're obsessed with me-"

"No, no, no," Ash cut him off, shaking his head. "That's not going to work anymore. I know how you operate now. This is how you keep people from getting close to you, so you can't get hurt."

"Fuck off," Laurel said, shifting in an attempt to rise from the bed. Ash reached out, wrapping arms around him to keep him from slapping, and held the sorcerer to his chest. "Let me go."

"No."

Pressed into the healer's warm body, strong arms wrapped securely around him, Laurel felt Ash's lips press into the golden crown of his hair.

"What, are you just going to hold me here against my will?"

"I'd let you go if you really wanted me to."

"I do want you to."

"You're trying to push me away because I broke your rules. Don't get too close, don't ask about anything too emotional. You want me to let you wallow in your misery, but I'm not going to do that."

"You just love playing the hero, don't you? That's why you like me, so you can coddle me and fix me. Is that what you want, Ash? You want me to cry on your shoulder so you can mop up my tears and tell me everything's going to be fine?"

"You're wrong," Ash said, in a very matter-of-fact tone. "I like you because you're strong, despite everything you've been through. I've never once thought of you as a wounded sparrow for me to patch up. You're resilient and determined and so goddamn stubborn, it drives me insane. But I like you that way. Maybe I am an emotional masochist, like you said."

As they always did, each of Ash's words seemed to peck at him, systematically chipping away at the layer of anger surrounding him, leaving him raw and drained. "Maybe I'm an emotional sadist, then."

"No," Ash denied. Loosening his grip, he leaned back a bit so he could brush his fingers over the sorcerer's forehead to tuck back a few loose strands of hair. "You're just trying to keep from getting hurt. I know that, and I know why you have that instinct. The men in your life have all let you down in some way or another, but you don't have to keep your guard up with me, Laurel. I want to be the person you can open up to. I want to make you forget what it's like to hide all the time."

Though the majority of his anger had depleted, Laurel still found himself shaking his head, feeling despondent. "Ash, you're too…" He trailed off, unsure how he could say what he wanted to say. Or if he even should say it.

Settling back against the headboard of the large bed, Ash pulled Laurel with him so he was settled on his lap. "Tell me."

"You don't understand what it's like being me, and having you say those things, having you mean them. It's terrifying."

"Why?"

Part of Laurel still wanted to struggle, to squirm out of the healer's arms and curl up in a ball, away and alone. But he knew that urge was born of self-destruction. "Because what if I believe you? What if I let my guard down with you, and then one day you wake up and realize you don't want to deal with all of this anymore and you'd rather be with someone normal?"

"Is that really what you think? That I'm going to wake up one day and decide you aren't worth the effort?"

Laurel gave a shrug, but the answer was obvious in his burning eyes.

"That is never going to happen. I told you from the beginning, Laurel. You're not getting rid of me. I knew from the start there was something between us, and now I know what that something is. I want to be here for you even when you feel like no one else is. Please let me do that."

"You say that now, but it's too much to ask anyone to deal with."

Exhaling deeply, Ash stroked a hand up Laurel's narrow back, just enough pressure to coax him into relaxing against his chest. "I want you to consider this from another perspective. I know that you didn't get it at first, and you thought I was a lunatic. But you have feelings for me now, right?"

It was the last thing Laurel wanted to admit to in that moment. "Yes."

"So imagine if our positions were reversed, if I was the one who'd been hurt. Would you leave me?"

"No."

"You'd do whatever you could to make sure I knew that, wouldn't you? To make sure I felt safe with you, secure in our relationship."

"Okay," he breathed out, curling his fingers into the sturdy fabric of Ash's shirt, snuggling closer so he could lay his head on his shoulder. "I get it. I'm sorry."

"I've just spent the night meeting your parents, and I'm about to spend time with your friends for the first time, and you're still butting up against me because you're afraid of getting closer. You understand how absurd and contradictory that is, don't you?"

"Yes. I said I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to believe in me."

"Working on it."

"I know." Tucking Laurel's head under his chin, Ash gave the man's form a brief squeeze. "You saw me put a book in my drawer when you came in, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Would you mind grabbing it for me?" Ash asked. Wriggling out of the sanctuary of his arms, Laurel stood and opened the drawer, pulling out a brand new paperback. "I saw you have a few books on your shelf by this author, but you didn't have this one."

"This must be new," Laurel responded softly, turning it over to devour the blurb on the back with his eyes. Many of his favorite stories were by that particular author, and they were all very romantic. "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" Ash asked, reaching over to pluck the book out of the other man's hands. "I didn't buy it for you."

"Oh," Laurel said, feeling foolish for assuming. "Sorry."

"I'm willing to share, though," Ash clarified with a grin, gesturing for Laurel to lay down beside him. "It's about a cursed town. The legend is that the town had a vengeful jinx put on it by a witch whose husband was falsely executed by a jealous count who wanted to marry her instead. A hundred years later, people start dying mysteriously there. A detective from the big city nearby gets sent to investigate, and he ends up having to work with the great-great-grandson of the witch to solve the mystery. Sounds kind of spooky, right?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows with interest as he flipped open to the first page. As he began reading the opening lines out loud, Laurel interrupted him.

"Wait. You want to read to me?"

"Sure. Seems like the best way for us to get into it together, anyway."

Because he couldn't find any real reason to object to it, and because deep down in his most private thoughts he found it to be an unbearably sweet gesture, Laurel let his eyes flutter closed as the words flowed out of the healer's mouth and into his ears.

About one hour and three chapters later, Ash closed the book, looking pensive. "I get how these kinds of things go by now so I know they're going to end up together, but I just can't imagine somebody that jaded falling for somebody so ditzy." Hargrove, the hardened, no-nonsense murder detective had thus far shown very little interest in the airheaded clairvoyant, Jules.

Sighing, supremely relaxed, Laurel gave a small stretch. "Sometimes opposites just attract."

"Oh, yeah?" Eyeing him pointedly, Ash gave a questioning look.

The corner of Laurel's mouth twitched a bit before the smile slowly took over his face. "Sometimes."