In a suspiciously thick voice, Nikita said, “I’ll talk to Brian. He won’t fire you.” Because he had Rasputin’s gift for persuasion, and he would use it in this case, to ensure Sasha got to keep the job he liked best.
“Thank you.” Sasha blew a warm breath against the side of his neck, gratified by the goosebumps it raised. “Help me eat the pancakes? My stomach still isn’t so good.”
Nikita made an assenting sound and let Sasha pull back.
Nikita was the last to let go.
They sat across from each other at their wobbly café table and Sasha smothered the pancakes in syrup, to which Nikita rolled his eyes. They were red-rimmed, but Sasha didn’t comment.
Instead, he said, “Tell me what happened.” Because he’d felt too poorly up ‘til now to hear the whole story.
Nikita told it in a bored voice, which was no less than Sasha expected. But his fingers twitched on the tabletop when he spoke of meeting Trina’s family –hisfamily. Sasha ached for him, thinking of Kolya, the son as an old man, meeting his unchanged, unknown father. He wanted to crawl into Nikita’s lap, but forced himself to shovel in pancakes instead.
“That was stupid,” he said when Nikita talked about walking straight in the front door of the manor.
Nikita shrugged. “But it worked.”
“Because you had more help than you expected.”
“Hmm. It worked out.”
“You said that.”
“I’m saying it again. That’s all there is to it.”
A dark worry blossoming, Sasha set his fork down. What he’d managed to eat so far rolled over ominously in his stomach. “Nik. It was a suicide mission.”
Nikita studied the fake wood grain of the tabletop.
“Did you…would you have cared if you died?”
Nikita’s head lifted, eyes slate gray in the late morning light. “As long as you escaped, I didn’t care what happened to me.”
Sasha groaned. “Ugh. You are terrible.”
Nikita tilted his head.
“No, youare. Are you so– Do you not– How do you think I would feel?” His voice cracked. “If you died. Do you think I would beokay?”
Nikita went very still.
“What do you think I would do? Shrug, and say, ‘Oh well, he didn’t care if he died, so I don’t care either.’ Do you think I would find a new roommate? Do you think I would beeven close to alright?” His voice shook, and it had nothing to do with withdrawal. “Or you so selfish that you don’t care what that would do to me? Or are you just an asshole?”
Nikita’s throat moved as he swallowed. “You know I don’t think that.”
“Then why are you so quick to sacrifice yourself?”
“Because I can’t…” The words grated out of him. “I can’tthinkwhen…” His chest lifted and fell, quick shallow breaths again.
Sasha did go get in his lap that time, though the kitchen chair groaned and threatened to collapse. Though there wasn’t room. He tucked his head under Nikita’s chin and was grateful for the hand that lifted immediately to run through his hair.
“I think,” he mused aloud, “we’re what they call codependent.”
Nikita snorted.
“Promise me something.” When Nikita didn’t respond, Sasha cupped the back of his neck and squeezed. “Promise.”
“Yes, yes, alright.”
